#IS JOHN A FULL BIRD YET

[javelinbk]

The Beatles at the Washington Coliseum, 11th February 1964 - part three (part one, part two)

#I love it when ringo goes full animal from the muppets #haven’t decided which muppets the other ones are yet #although something is putting the image of big bird in my head for paul #john lennon #paul mccartney #john and paul #ringo starr #the beatles #it was sixty years ago today #the first u.s. visit #javelin’s gifs #javelin’s gifs: 1964

[hier--soir]

heart to heart

john price x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: john takes you away for the weekend, and nestled in a cottage on the countryside, you show him just how much you've been missing him. warnings/tags: long term boyfriend!john, john price never finishes his cigars, explicit smut, a little body worship, oral [m receiving], fingering [f], unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasms [m], some overstim [m], come eating x2, brief cock warming, idiots in love, porn with minimal plot. word count: 4.4k masterlist a/n: this was born out of me being physically unable to stop thinking about that middle picture being john price, so here we go follow @hier--soirupdates if you’d like to be notified when i share my writing

It hasn’t rained in six days.

Late autumn spins the countryside in its grasp; a warm cloak that sends the leaves golden and the grass dewy. In a small, unfamiliar kitchen you drop teabags into mugs and gaze out the window. Admire the vast acreage that surrounds the cottage, and the marshland beyond that.

The early morning rays are bright and cool, turning the cabinets a washy yellow colour around you as you wait for the kettle to boil.

Everything is quiet, calm. If you listen closely, past the sound of birds chirping and water bubbling, you can hear John’s heavy snores down the hall; still catching up on sleep after a long few weeks away.

When he came through the front door two nights ago, you’d been quietly surprised to see him home so soon. After not hearing much for almost a month, you’d resigned yourself to getting on with things in his absence. A fairly covert operation, you knew, so you’d spent your days waking to an empty house. Working and eating and showering alone and never exceeding the appropriate number of messages you could send him in one day without stirring worry. Little Angus with his long orange tail and his soft whiskers your only company in John’s stead.

Home at last, he’d wrestled out of his heavy boots and draped himself over where you lay on the couch. Soap opera long forgotten on the tele, he’d slipped an arm around the back of your head, held you to his chest and said, Let me take you somewhere.

The kettle whistles and you pluck it from the stove, still smiling at the memory. Douse the teabags in boiled water and watch as the windows cloud with steam. You leave his black, just the way he likes it, but soften your own with sugar and milk. Your toes are numb against the cool tile, and you rub them against your calf in search of warmth. Inside, your body is at sleepy old war with itself. One half longing to be back in bed, or perhaps to have not gotten up at all yet; the other half taking great pleasure in the mundanity of doing things like this for him again, after so long of not. Tap tap tap of an impatient finger against the counter until his tea turns the perfect colour, and then you’re on your way back to the room.

Leant amongst paisley patterned pillows and white linens, John looks a little out of place knuckling sleep from the corner of his eyes. A little too rough around the edges, too big, too hardened for such soft surroundings. In your brief absence, he’s drawn the curtains and nudged the window beside the bed open a crack. A long arm stretches out toward the sill, ashing a cigar onto the small dish he’s balanced there.

Naked as the day he was born, he lifts the cigar to his lips and blinks drowsily at you. Stretches his legs out, the muscles in his thighs straining, curled toes skimming the end of the bed. Eyes wandering, you kick the door shut with your foot and slink to the end of the bed, holding out his mug.

“’Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. Accepts the tea with a soft smile, the skin beside his eyes crinkling as he watches you crawl in beside him. Hands full, he twists an ankle around yours, face pulling up at the feel of your cold skin against his. “Jesus, you’re like ice. I’ll shut the window.”

“Don’t move,” you hush, nestling your head against his shoulder. “You’re right where I want you.”

John laughs softly, warm body vibrating against yours. “Is that right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You watch him tap his cigar against the dish, sipping your tea and trailing fingers through the dark hairs on his stomach. Enjoy the way his body draws tense beneath your cool touch, goose flesh sprouting across his skin. “Middle of nowhere… unfamiliar town… no one will ever find you. You’re all mine out here, Price.”  

“M’all yours everywhere,” he says, abandoning his cigar in the dish so he can tug on the neckline of your—his—t-shirt. “This proves it, yeah?”

“I suppose,” you smile, lifting your mug to hide behind a sip. He watches you move, calculating and quiet as he sips his own tea. You fidget beneath the intensity of his stare, painfully aware of how well he knows you. That your want, your need, must be painted across every inch of your face.

“Love you in my clothes, sweetheart, I do.” John’s fingers curl beneath the hem of the shirt then, rough callouses tickling over your collarbones. “But you’re makin’ me feel awful naked.”

Heat flares in the base of your stomach and you chuckle, matching smirks splashed across your faces as you sit up and drag the shirt over your head. He watches as you flick it to the floor, gaze darkening as he looks over your body, focusing on the thin grey panties that cover the skin between your thighs. A thick arm curls around your waist, tugging you back onto him, and as you settle there his fingers slip down to fiddle with the band of your underwear.

“Cute,” he comments airily, middle finger dropping under the band to caress the skin beneath it.

Mug discarded off the side of the bed, you put both hands to his stomach now. Tickling his soft skin, playing with the hair there as you lean in and press a kiss to the centre of his chest. And then another, and another, with John simply humming, palm flattening against the small of your back to hold you against his side.

Your lips part, tongue dancing lazily against his nipple. Soft strokes until the flesh is stiffening and you’re practically purring against his skin, drifting across to the other one. You hear the soft clink of his mug hitting the side table, and then John’s hand falls against the back of your head. Thick fingers twist through your hair, playing as you kiss and lick over his collarbones, and the little tugs he gives have a low throb starting up between your legs.

“Feelin’ needy this mornin’, hey lovey?” John asks. His fingers come to the front of your face, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. Big blue eyes watch you pout, cheeks squished between his fingers as you nod.

“I missed you,” you say, turning to press your nose into his palm and inhale the smell of him.

His eyes soften, and all sense of teasing seems to slip out the window. “I know, sweetheart, m’sorry. Come here’n give us a kiss.”

His lips are soft against yours. Warm, and familiar, with a hint of Darjeeling. Pulling you up to straddle his waist, he coaxes your chest down against his and huffs into your mouth at the feel of your nipples against his skin, teeth sneaking out to smart at your bottom lip.

“Thought about you every day,” he mumbles against your lips. “Missed you every second, love, always do.”

You feel something hot and sharp spark behind your eyelids at those words, and flick your tongue against the seam of his lips, pushing it away, not now not now. You go soft and pliant against him; let him guide you through the kiss, coaxing your mouth open with his long tongue as his fingers dance down your spine. When his hand reaches the round of your ass he grips your flesh there, kneading it between his fingers and pushing down so your clothed cunt comes flush with his cock.

“Feel that?” John says, pulling away an inch to nose at your cheek. His cock is heavy between your legs, thick and stiff where it presses against the gusset of your panties. You gasp as he rocks his hips up, grinding against you until the damp fabric slips between your slick folds and rubs over your clit. “That’s how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

As he talks, the hairs on his moustache prickle against your lips, and you find yourself opening your mouth. Breathy moans spill as you roll your hips against his, lathing hot opened mouthed kisses over his jaw.

“Looked at your picture every night,” he continues raggedly, breath hitching as you suck at the hollow of his throat. His cock twitches against you, the slide only getting smoother as more slick spills into your panties. “Thought about comin’ home ‘n’ never leavin’ again, just so I could play with this pretty little cunt whenever I like.”

Your hips stutter into his and you whine, a tiny glimpse of an orgasm fluttering through you just from those words.

“S’yours,” you whisper against his skin, the words he spoke moments before dancing through your mind. “All yours everywhere.”

Faster than he can stop you, you’re slipping off his lap and settling beside him on the bed. Continuing the onslaught, you lick hot, messy kisses over the skin of his neck, across the broad span of his shoulders.

“My big man,” you say tenderly, fingers itching their way across his chest. You skirt your teeth down the middle of his sternum, squeaking a little when he murmurs in enjoyment and presses a hand to your ass again. “I missed your body so much.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me then,” he goads lightly, grunting around a smirk when you sink your teeth into the soft flesh over his ribs in response.

His fingers toy with the material of your panties as you drag your tongue over the dip of his belly button, and when you kiss the soft curve of his lower stomach, nose buried in the dark hairs above it, you feel him grip the fabric tight. You can see his cock in your peripheral vision. Swollen and heavy against his hip now. The tip has turned a pretty shade of dark pink, accented by little streaks of white where pre-come oozes from his slit and glides down his throbbing shaft. With your mouth on his belly, you reach out and wrap your fingers around him.

“Fuck,” John grunts, head lolling back against the pillows.

You smile, stroking him slowly as you drag your nose through his thick happy trail, all the way down to nuzzle against the dark thatch of curls above his base. Insistent now, his fingers push beneath the edge of your panties and drag through your slick seam.

You whimper, forehead resting heavily against his skin as he slides two fingers through the wet mess of you. Lewd sounds of your arousal fill the room as John traces featherlight circles around your clit, and your face heats against his stomach, fingers returning to their lazy pace around his length.

The throb between your legs has become a second heartbeat now, so strong that you’re sure he must feel it beneath his fingertips. If he does, he just sighs softly. Lets the thrumming of your cunt sync with the pulse in his fingertips, heart to heart, and murmurs low encouragements as you tilt your head to the side and begin mouthing at his cock.

“Missed my cock.” Your voice is low and unfamiliar in your ears, mouth overrun with desire and spilling your guts before you can stop it. “So pretty, John��”

Circling your entrance with a thick finger, he just says, “I know, love, s’yours. Go on.”

As slow as you can bring yourself to be, you lay gentle kisses down the entire length of him. Wetting your lips and gliding them over his warm, silken skin, before dipping lower and sucking his balls between your lips. A harsh grunt sounds behind you, and, as if in retaliation, he sinks two thick fingers inside you. You moan around his sensitive skin, holding his balls in your mouth and jerking him off until he’s trembling beneath you, broad thighs straining as he tries to hold himself together.

“That’s good, love,” he murmurs softly, almost speaking to himself as he curls his fingers inside you, humming when you grind into his hand. “Need ta get my fuckin’ mouth on you.”

But you just shake your head. Let his balls slip from your mouth with a soft pop before sticking out your tongue and guiding the weeping tip of his cock towards your mouth. Hasty, too needy for your own good, you slip your lips around him and try to take him deep on the first pass. Out of practice after weeks away, your throat constricts and you choke a little around him. So big, so overbearing, you’re too eager to be filled by him that you push and push until you’re gagging and sputtering. Cheeks hot and eyes downturned, you draw back, skin prickling as you hear him say something past the rushing in your ears. Take a moment to catch your breath and ground yourself, fingers tight on his thigh as your tongue swirls around his tip.

“This what you missed then?” he’s saying, collecting your hair in his fist to keep it off your face. “Hm, missed bein’ all full of me?”

“Mhm,” you hum around him, pulling back with a gasp only to press his head against your cheek. Eyes closed, you rub his ruddy tip against your chin, your lips, painting your skin with his precome. Feel the weight of him warm your skin and sigh in quiet delight. And when he groans, exhaling a heavy, ragged breath, you press your mouth around him again, desperate to hear him make that sound over and over again.

“Easy, darlin’, lemme see you,” John chokes out, thumbing sliding over the apple of your cheek. “So pretty with your lips around my cock.”

Heat floods your chest, and you drool around him. The words seem to trigger something in your mind, some insatiable desire to please, to make him feel good, because you’re relaxing, sinking your mouth down further on him. A low, drawn-out curse falls from his lips, fingers curling in the hair behind your ear.

Gaudy sounds of sucking and slurping fill your ears, and you would be self-conscious if it weren’t for the way John’s growls met them in the air. Wordlessly, he slips a third digit inside and the stretch brings a dull burn that has your mouth slowing against him.

Your eyelids flutter as his thick fingers stroke at your walls, searching for the spot that makes you spill every time, but your wanton cries of desperation are muffled by the heavy weight of him on your tongue. In slow, measured movements, he begins to shift his hips in time with your head. Feeding his cock to you and grunting when he feels your throat go soft and easy around him, letting him slip further in until your nose buries in the hair at his base.

John watches you, the blue in his eyes almost entirely swallowed by desire fattened pupils. Rakes his gaze over the way your lips stretch around his thick cock, tears dancing on your lashes as you take him in your throat. The heady taste of him is intoxicating, and you can only hold his gaze for so long before your eyes are rolling back, stomach pulling tight as you swallow around him.

Stuffed to the brim with John, John, John. He’s everywhere, filling your mouth, your aching cunt; it sends your heart racing, thighs trembling as your orgasm begins to crest.

Molten heats swims in the base of your stomach, curling and bubbling there as he you ride his long fingers, moaning his name around his cock. But just as you feel everything begin to go tight and tingly, John’s pulling on your hair and dragging you off him.

A thin strand of spit dangles between his tip and your mouth and he snarls at the sight, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Fuck, c’mere,” he huffs, squeezing insistently at your shoulders. “Wanna feel you on my cock when you come for me, yeah?”

Mind a hazy blur, you let the weight of him fall from your mouth, the hinge of your jaw still burning as you peel your underwear down your legs and spread yourself over his lap. John doesn’t pull his hand away though. No, he keeps his fingers between your legs, pumping them in and out, slowly, as you hover over his cock.

“My girl,” he says, eyes focusing on where the puffy lips of your cunt almost touch his cock. “My filthy, sweet girl.”

“John,” you puff his name, abdomen tensing when he rubs his thumb against your clit. Balanced on your knees and the tips of your toes, your legs shake a bit. Fingers dance forward to touch his shoulder, desperate for an anchor.

You frown a little, swollen lips parted in a torturous mix of desire and confusion, but he just offers a filthy grin and says, “Tell me you missed me again.”   

“Oh, fuck off,” you smart instinctually, lips twitching when he barks a laugh and slips his fingers from your wet clutch, grasp drifting to your waist. “Please.”  

“There she is,” he rumbles, jaw tensing as you glide his tip through your folds, coating him in your slick. A heavy rush of air spills from his nose. “My impatient girl.”

Once he’s got you on his cock, it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart.  

He lets you keep having it your way for a bit. Watches, gaze heavy, as you bounce on his cock, hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. You squirm on him, face twisted up as you adjust to the thick stretch of him after so long. It burns and aches between your thighs, but you can’t help but keep coming back for more, sinking down on his length faster each time. He tilts his head forward to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning against the plush of your breast when you arch your back, crying out at the feeling of his teeth on the sensitive bud.

After a while he slots his greedy lips against yours. Presses hot, sucking kisses to your mouth, swallowing down every gasp and moan that crawls its way up your chest. The bristles of his facial hair scratch at your cheeks, your nose, and you love it. Have desperately missed the way it warms your skin as he presses his tongue inside your mouth and tastes behind your teeth.

Using his hold on your hips, he rolls you against his lap. Meets you thrust for thrust until you start to soak his length, jaw going slack as he growls into your open mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love, that’s it,” John groans, fingers tightening on your waist as your cunt pulls tight and hot around him. Thighs shaking, you let your forehead fall against his chest and ride out the flood of your orgasm. “I know, darlin’, I know, I’ve got you.”

Fingers fly up to grip the back of your neck, his other arm snaking around your waist as he continues fucking up into you. His cock presses hot and heavy into that soft, gushy spot deep inside you and you shudder against him, helpless little moans slipping from your parted lips. Face smushed against his hairy chest, you drool a little. Feel it pool between his pecs and smear across your cheek as your eyes roll back, dopamine pounding in your veins as he pushes you relentlessly through the high.

“Gonna let me fill you up?” he’s panting, feet planted on the bed now as he bucks into you, hips stuttering as he sinks closer and closer to his end. “Fuck, I’m gonna make a right mess of you, darlin’. That’s it, lovey, show me that pretty face.”

“John,” you mewl, toes curling against the sheets. “Shit, oh shit.”   

“Christ,” he grunts when you meet his eyes, jaw pulled tight. “So tight, m’ gonna come—”

“Wait,” you mumble suddenly, senses sharpening despite the way your thighs still shake against his hips. John stills immediately, grip tightening on your waist. “In my mouth, I want you in my mouth.”

His face crumples at that, a guttural noise sputtering from his lips as you lift off him and slip down to rest between his legs. He nods, brushing hair back off your face as you sink your mouth down on him, slick tongue hungry on the underside of his pulsing cock. He mutters your name, tells you how perfect you feel as he rocks his hips forward, tip nudging the back of your throat with every careful thrust.

“My sweet girl, doing so good for me,” he breathes, a coy grin on his face and a firm hand at the base of your skull. He holds your head in place as he fucks your mouth with slow, steady strokes. Groans every time you swallow, warm wet throat drawing tight around his swollen head.

“Look at me, let me see those eyes,” he mutters urgently, tugging on your hair until you’re blinking, focusing blurry eyes on his face. He thumbs at the teary streaks on your cheeks and gives a rough, prolonged groan as he begins to spill down your throat. “Fuck, fuck.”

You bob your head as his cock twitches and jerks against your tongue, sucking until he’s filled your mouth with warm come and it starts seeping from the corner of your mouth, dribbling down his shaft. You catch the spill with your fingers, swallowing his thick spend down and then licking what’s left from your trembling hands.

John watches on, chest heaving, and tuts fondly when you whimper, head spinning with the salty taste of him on your tongue.

“Bloody hell,” he exhales after a moment, dragging his knuckles over his face. “We’re never goin’ home.”  

You laugh, drowsily nuzzling your cheek against the inside of his thigh as his cock softens against his stomach. John cards his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, legs still twitching and eyes drifting closed as he tries to catch his breath. Lips slick with spit and come, you lay soft pecks along his sweaty skin. Smile when he shudders, fingers tightening against your scalp, but doesn’t pull you off.

There’s a hot flush of red splashed across the skin of his neck, his cheekbones, and his stomach is still warm to the touch when you reach out to graze his soft flesh. Sated and sleepy, he wets his lips and continues to play with your hair. Lovingly curls strands of it around his fingers and tugs gently before letting go, only to pick a new strand and do it again.

Overcome with emotion, and unable to stop yourself, you lean forward and take his soft cock back into your mouth.

John hisses through his teeth in surprise, eyes flashing open.

You don’t do anything crazy yet. Just let him feel the warmth of your mouth around him, the soft glide of your tongue against the ridge around his head. When he doesn’t pull you off after a second, you give him a little suck. Not hard—just enough to make his hips flinch down into the mattress and his legs pull tight at your sides.  

“Fuck,” he exhales, face pinched. His hand trembles against your head. “Fu—hang on, fuckin’ hell, love.”

You peer up past his stomach to where his mouth hangs open and his eyes are shiny and wide. His nails scratch against your scalp. Needy little nudges that blur the line between too much and not enough. You hum in pleasure around him when a choked sound falls from his mouth. Feeling a little mean, though, you pull back, licking your lips and smiling apologetically.

“Sorry,” you murmur, face hot as you squeeze his thigh. “Just want to love on you a little longer, that’s all.”

He hums deep in his chest, brow creasing a little as he brings his big hands to cup your face. His thumb swipes at your chin, smearing the saliva there, and you part your lips for him. He makes a sort of pained sound as he slots the digit into your mouth and watches you hollow out your cheeks out around it, swirling your tongue and sucking like you’d done to his cock just moments ago.

“Christ,” John breathes. Something needy and desperate glints in his eye, and he slips his finger from your mouth. Grips the back of your neck and gives a short nod. “Gonna be the death of me, ain’tcha?”

Guided by his hand, you take him back in your mouth and sigh in relief. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you rest your face against his hip, taking deep breaths through your nose and just holding him like that for a while. You can hear the way his breathing goes haggard above your head; short sharp bursts of air huffing from his nostrils. Sensitive as he must be, John lets you have your fun, shivering and spiting low curses as your touches get increasingly needier. And when you begin to suck softly at his length again, he seems unable to help the way his strong legs writhe against the mattress.

He says your name, rough and urgent, when you pull back only to snake your tongue out against his slit. Eyes fluttering open, you look up at him as you lathe your tongue down his length, smiling at how red his face has gotten, at how he seems to be holding his breath. John’s cock starts to swell and stiffen beneath your touch.  

“D’you want me to stop?” you whisper, tracing the blue vein that pulses down the side of his length with your tongue.

“No,” he pants, head lolling from side to side. “Fuck no, gorgeous. Just go easy on me, yeah? It’s ohh—” he winces “—s’a lot.”

You nod understandingly and press a kiss to his tip, smearing the fresh pearl of precome there against your lips. He’s fully hard now, throbbing when you wrap your fingers around his thick base and wrap your lips around his head. A guttural sound rips from his chest and he’s tugging at your hair. For a moment you pause, unsure, but then he’s pushing a little on you. Nudging you closer, further, so you take him deeper and deeper until his tip is nudging against your throat.

“Fuck,” John gasps, hips stuttering against your palms, sensitive cock twitching against your tongue. “S’too much, love, it’s—oh fuck.”

With a ragged grunt his cock pulses in your mouth, and a little spurt of come dribbles from his head. You moan, eyes closed, and swallow tight around him, milking every last drop of spend from his cock until he’s winded and clumsily pushing you off of him.

Breathless, you fall flat on the mattress beside him, feet dangling off the end of the bed. John’s broad palm cradles the back of your head still, a comforting weight as you wipe your face against the sheets.

Ears pricking, you realise it’s begun to rain outside. Soft patters of liquid that knock against the window, thin rivulets that drip down to splash and splutter against the sill. Long forgotten, his cigar sizzles and dies beneath the spray.

“Another tea?” you murmur finally, pushing up onto your elbows.

But with a soft, startled laugh, you find that John’s eyes are closed, chest rising with steady breaths; already back to sleep. Shaking your head a little, you smile fondly at his lax form, and consider closing the window. You settle instead for pulling the duvet from the corner of the bed. Curled against his thick side, you settle the blanket over the two of you and lay an arm over his stomach, content to have a proper lie in after such a busy morning.

thanks for reading, i'd love to hear what you thought x

#my writing #fic: heart to heart #john price x reader #john price smut #john price fanfiction #john price x you #john price cod #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD Men ? - AU civilian

Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, König, Rudy, Alex, Nikolai

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written, mid or if they're OOC)

SOAP as a firefighter : 

-"911, how can I assist you today?"

-"I think there's been a break-in at my place!"

-"Could you describe the intruder, ma'am?"

-"It's... a turkey."

-"A turkey?"

-"Yeah, one of those gobbling birds! My neighbors use a live one for their Thanksgiving, and it somehow busted loose. It barged into my place through the door, gave me a real fright. I dashed into my bathroom, but it went all 'Rambo' on my door, and now it's busted. My handle is broken, I'm stuck in here!"

-"Don't worry, help is on the way."

-And that's when you met Soap. There he was, showing up at your doorstep in full firefighter gear.

-"Hey there ?" he greeted, axe in hand, ready to face off against the rogue turkey.

-You weren’t kidding, he thought.

-He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the havoc that bird had wreaked in your place.

-Your poor sofa was toast, and your table was in pieces. Slowly, he made his way to the damaged door.

-"Hey there, Ah’m a firefighter. I’m here tae break down the door. Please step back."

-"Oh thanks ! I was starting to think I'd be spending the night bawling in my bathtub."

-He chuckled.

-"Wouldnae want a lovely person like yerself spendin’ Thanksgiving solo."

-"Thanks," you replied.

-"I'll get started," Soap said as he began dismantling the door.

-"Here, it looks like the turkey's gone," he reported.

-But when he turned to you, he noticed something amiss.

- Normally, people were relieved to see him, not scared out of their wits.

-His gaze shifted back, and that's when he saw it—the monstrous turkey, ready to pounce.

-Without a second thought, he scooped you up, effortlessly carrying you despite whatever size or weight you were, and bolted past the bird.

-"Why's that thing so fast?" he exclaimed.

-"They're practically dinosaurs, I swear!" you cried from the safety of his arms.

-You both made it to the street. Soap dialed up a wildlife specialist to handle the feathery menace.

-"Ah’l swearin’ off turkey forever," he vowed.

-"I think finding a new place to live might be a good idea," you whispered, still trying to calm your nerves.

-"Aye, yer neighbors are some real characters for pullin’ a stunt like this."

-"Thanks again for this. I mean, I'm sure you've got more pressing cases."

-"No’ really. Usually, it's just family squabbles. Last time, Ah had a grandma tryin’ tae kill her son wi’ mashed potatoes," he joked.

-"Grandma can get wild," you chuckled.

-"Ye have no idea. Name's John, by the way. Sorry for forgettin’ ma manners."

-"Hey, a wild turkey trying to take me out can do that to a person," you quipped. "I'm Y/n," you added.

-He grinned.

-“I owe you big time, Soap," you said, finally stepping out of the bathroom. "Guess this Thanksgiving, I'll be giving thanks for firefighters and sturdy bathtubs."

-Soap gave you a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's all in a day's work. Plus, -it's not every day I get to play hero to a person in distress... from a turkey."

-After the turkey trouble was sorted, Soap bid his farewell. Little did he know, two days later, your new neighbor would be attempting to cook aluminum in his microwave. Maybe this time he'd find a moment to ask for your number.

-------

GHOST as a chef : 

-The poor waitress had asked you twice if you wanted to order by the time your date arrived. But it was painfully obvious. 

-You had been stood up.

 -You tried to ignore the looks, the sensation of your clothes feeling too tight, too constricting. You felt like a clown.

-Staring at your phone, you sent messages, hoping for excuses like traffic or an important matter.

-Maybe he had a flat tire, or perhaps his boss demanded he stay late. Yet, two hours later, you were still there, feeling like a fool.

-That's when the message came: "Oh, I was just joking, you're not my type, you know."

-Tears welled in your eyes as you felt the humiliation wash over you.

-How could someone flirt for two months just as a joke? He messaged you every night; how were you supposed to know it was all a farce?

-Biting your lip, you stood up.

-At this hour, you hoped there were still buses running.

-You couldn't afford an Uber. Yet, as you gathered your things, the waitress approached.

-"Excuse me, but your food will arrive."

-"I... I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't afford anything here, and my date stood me up. He was supposed to pay, and..." you rambled, feeling ashamed, but she led you back to your seat.

-You felt even more ashamed. This place was so luxurious.

-"I really can't afford it, madam," you whispered.

-"It's on the house. The chef offered it," she said gently.

-"Oh."

-You didn't know if you felt grateful or not. It felt like pity, but food from a Michelin-starred restaurant was still a luxury, so you ate. It was unbelievably good. You felt so thankful to the chef.

-"I... could I thank him?" you asked after finishing your dinner.

-"He doesn't speak to clients. That's why he opened his own restaurant — so he could remain unseen by his patrons and not be obligated to accept their thanks, As he says “I Ghost clients”" the waitress explained.

-"I see. His dishes are so precise, it's impressive."

-"Yeah, he's good with a knife."

-"Well, thanks again for offering me this. It was a crappy night, but at least I ended up in heaven," you said.

-She smiled, and you left.

-But you felt indebted to him. Dishes like that cost a lot.

- Even if you didn't doubt he could afford it, you felt like you had to do something in return.

-So the next night, you baked cookies.

-You felt ridiculous with your small Tupperware and homemade cookies.

-They'd probably taste awful to him, you thought, but you wanted to repay him.

-"Hi, I... wanted to give this to Ghost? He offered me dishes last time, and I wanted to thank him. I understand if you say no. I mean, it could have poison in it, but..." you rambled to the waiter.

-"No need, we'll take it," the waiter with a mohawk said with a smile.

-You felt like he knew something you didn't. As you were about to leave, a tall, blond man walked over, holding a cookie.

-"Thanks," he said with a gruff voice behind his mask.

-Shit. Ghost was... this man?

-This mountain of muscles made those beautiful dishes? Those meticulous details came from his hands? You were impressed.

-"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure.

-"Best cookies I've tasted."

-"I know you're lying."

-"Second," he admitted. "My ma's were better."

-You chuckled.

-"I can give you the recipe. I mean, you really saved me last night. It was so... humiliating."

-"It's not. The only one who should feel ashamed is the bloke who stood you up, love."

-"You're right, but still."

-"Come back again, Friday. With the recipe."

-"I can send it by email."

-"I want you to taste a new dish."

-"Oh."

-"Having someone honest is nice. It's a change from all the compliments."

-"Okay," you agreed.

-Little did you know, Simon would always find new dishes to make you come back.

-Of course, he could ask his sous-chefs or waiters to taste, but seeing your smile or frown after a taste was so much better.

-(I need a long fic about Simon being a chef, like this AU has so much potential, plus in kitchen you have “brigade” which could be like 141)

GAZ as a primary school teacher : 

-You were on your usual delivery route, this time dropping off packages at the primary school.

-As you made your way through the corridors, you spotted Gaz, the primary teacher, who greeted you with a smile.

-"I was waiting for you," Gaz said cheerfully.

-"Oh, am I right on time?" you responded, glancing at your phone in confusion.

-"Yes, but the kids are eager," Gaz explained.

-You furrowed your eyebrows. Eager for what? Seeing a delivery person? Or perhaps the contents of your package were something special, like paintings or other intriguing items?

-"I see," you said, still puzzled.

-"Follow me," Gaz instructed, leading you into his classroom before you could protest.

-As you entered, you were met with the curious gaze of twenty pairs of eyes.

-It dawned on you as you glanced at a piece of paper – Gaz had mistaken you for the guest speaker, an athlete scheduled to address the students.

-"Sir, I think there's been a mistake," you whispered to Gaz, but before you could say more, a child wrapped their arms around you.

-"I'm so glad you're here!" the child exclaimed, melting your resolve. How could you shatter their excitement?

-You couldn’t bear to crush their excitement. Besides, it was clear that the athlete wasn’t going to show up; it was already 10 AM, and they were supposed to be there by 8AM according to the schedule on the board.

-And so, you found yourself spinning tales to answer their questions, pretending to be the athlete they expected. 

-“Um, hey there ! Being an athlete is pretty cool, you know” you improvised, trying to sound convincing.

-“How does it feel to do sports all day ?” one curious kid asked

-“Well it’s tough but you know riding horse is fun”

-“I thought you were running”

-“RUNNING ! Of course, horse is just a hobby” you blurted out

-Despite your fibs, the kids beamed with admiration, hanging onto your every word.

-After a couple of hours, Gaz approached you with a knowing smile.

-"You're not the athlete, are you?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

-"How did you figure it out?" you replied sheepishly.

-"When you mentioned unicorns helping your coach – that was a dead giveaway," Gaz chuckled. "But I appreciate you playing along."

-"I couldn’t bear to disappoint the kids. Kids' dreams are important," you admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt.

-"Yeah, they are," Gaz agreed. "Thanks for going along with it."

-"It was more fun than my usual deliveries, anyway," you admitted with a grin.

-“Wait, your boss won’t be mad ?! I mean two hours, sorry you must be so late, no ?”he said worried

-“Don’t worry you were my last”

-As you prepared to leave, Gaz introduced himself properly.

-"Thanks against or helping out. And by the way 'm Kyle, but the kids call me Gaz – it's easier for them," he explained.

-"It was nice meeting you, Gaz," you said sincerely, touched by his kindness towards the children.

-As you left the school, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment. And to your surprise, when you made your next delivery, there was Gaz, offering to lend a hand. 

-"Thought you might need some help this time," he said with a wink.

-Maybe it was repayment for your earlier assistance, or perhaps the kids had teased him about having a crush on you – either way, you were grateful for his company.

PRICE as an uni history teacher :

-It was about 10 PM, and there you were, sprinting in high heels, your wig dangling precariously.

-"Oh, for the love of all that’s good," you muttered under your breath.

-The situation was straightforward, yet utterly absurd.

- You, a university teacher, found yourself at a costume party with a Bridgerton theme.

- After hastily getting ready at your friend’s place, it dawned on you that you had forgotten your house key.

-Sure, crashing at your friend's was an option, but you had a furry friend waiting at home who needed your attention.

-So, off you went, driving back to the only place your keys could be: the teacher's offices at the university.

- Picture this: you, clad in an 18th-century outfit, a fake wig teetering on your head, and a petticoat swishing around, all the while cursing your luck and hoping no students would spot you.

-Finally, you reached the office, finding it deserted. You located your keys and—

-"Quite the accurate ensemble, I must say."

-You froze, turning to find a man with a rather impressive beard. "Um, I can explain?"

-"Are you a student?" he asked.

-"No need to butter me up; I know I don't exactly look like one," you confessed.

-He chuckled. "Sorry, I was just trying to give you an out. You know, student parties and whatnot."

-"Thanks, but yeah, I'm the… new teacher. Guess we haven't crossed paths yet. Been here about a month," you said, extending your hand.

-"Well, isn't this a fortunate coincidence?" he remarked.

-"How so?"

-"I’m John Price," he revealed.

-Your eyes widened. Oh, crap. You just met THE history teacher of the campus dressed as a Bridgerton character. What were the odds?

-He laughed. "Nice to meet my new colleague. Heard quite a bit about your work."

-"Likewise, and… sorry about the attire," you apologized.

-"No need. It suits you. Makes me feel like a proper gentleman seeing someone dressed like that," he said with a grin.

-You chuckled nervously. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Price."

-Little did you know, your next class for the first year was a shared one with him. Dodging him might not be as simple as you thought.

NIKOLAI as a F1 pilot :

-Your friend's desperate plea over the phone stirred something in you.

-"Alright, I'll come help with the shoot," you conceded, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension.

-As you arrived at the location, taking in the serene surroundings, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the bustling crew.

-Your specialty lay in capturing the untamed beauty of animals—dogs, cats, and the like.

-This commercial setup felt like a far cry from your usual stomping grounds.

-Engaging in conversation with the staff about the artistic direction, you couldn't help but notice the artificiality of the setting, with fake plants and trees surrounding you.

-Nevertheless, you settled in, adjusting lights and preparing for the task at hand.

-"The model is here," an assistant announced, drawing your attention to the center of the room where a man stood, completely naked.

-"Why is he naked?" you whispered in disbelief, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks.

-"It's for the charity event, featuring naked pilots for calendars," the staff explained casually, oblivious to your discomfort.

-Stunned, you turned to your friend, silently questioning her decision to involve you in this unconventional endeavor.

-"I photograph nature and animals, not... naked humans!" you protested, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

-"Well, technically, you photograph a big snake," she quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye.

-You rolled your eyes, suppressing a sigh. "Ugh, don't even mention his...thing, please."

-"I don't mind being called an anaconda," the man interjected with a smirk, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart race.

-Caught off guard by his boldness, you shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity.

- "Sir, I'm sorry, but I wasn't warned about these... circumstances," you stammered, struggling to maintain composure.

-"I understand. If we need to reschedule, no problem, Солнышко ," he reassured, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

-"What did you just say?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of fluster in your tone.

-"Sorry, I meant no problem to reschedule, sunshine," he clarified, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

-"But you're... a star?" you questioned, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

-"I'm a well-known F1 pilot, yes. But I'm closer to retirement than those young ones. I doubt people would buy the calendar for me," he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle, his vulnerability tugging at your heartstrings.

-"I'd certainly buy it for you," your friend chimed in, breaking the tension with a playful grin.

-He laughed, his gaze lingering on you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. "And you?"

-"I... maybe? Okay, we'll do it, but I can't guarantee anything. I'm more accustomed to animals, so..." you trailed off, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the prospect of working closely with him.

-"Let's get started," he suggested, his smile softening the edges of the room and easing your nerves.

-And so, the shoot commenced, with Nikolai proving to be a surprisingly adept model, effortlessly charming everyone with his wit and charisma.

- As you directed him through the poses, you couldn't help but notice the subtle tension between you, a magnetic pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

-"Thanks for today. Need a ride?" he offered, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

-"No, I came in my car," you replied, torn between the desire to stay and the need to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.

-"The red one?" a staff member inquired, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between you.

-"Yeah, why?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach at the thought of your car.

-"Sorry, mate, your car got impounded," they informed you, their words puncturing the bubble of tension that had enveloped you.

-You sighed, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. "So, a ride?" Nikolai offered, his gaze softening with concern.

-"Yeah, I guess. What a crappy day," you muttered, cursing your luck.

-"Don't say that, it was great," he insisted, his voice gentle and reassuring.

-You nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude towards him for his unexpected kindness. In his car, as he drove you away from the chaos of the shoot, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling that was only amplified by his soothing presence.

-"Not what you were expecting, huh?" he remarked, his tone playful yet sincere.

-"Well, I wasn't expecting a race car drive, but yeah," you chuckled, feeling the tension between you slowly dissipating.

-"I drive safely. Sometimes you need low adrenaline," he explained, his words resonating with you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

-"Thanks again for the ride," you said, turning to him with a smile that felt more genuine than any you had worn all day.

-"No problem. I mean, you've seen me naked, so..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

-"Yeah, sure," you laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you at the playful banter.

-"If you want, you can still come to one of my races," he offered, his gaze lingering on you with a hopefulness that sent a flutter of excitement through your chest.

-"I'll think about it," you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips as you contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead.

ALEX as a lawyer :

-You couldn't believe your eyes.

-A client was after you for a cup of tea—yes, you heard that right, a freaking tea!

-The same tea you accidentally spilled during a chaotic rush, and she tripped you with her feet, claiming you scalded her with hot tea. The kicker?

-You knew it was iced tea.

- But it was your word against hers, and she had a squadron of lawyers ready to pounce, while you were broke. It was pretty clear how this would end.

-You sighed, resorting to searching for lawyers online, but all you found were scams.

-One promised to chase after dead people, another claimed you'd make thousands just by being pretty, and the rest boasted about defending infamous criminals with laughably bad Photoshopped images.

-Feeling desperate, you reluctantly agreed when your mom mentioned your cousin knew someone who knew someone. You certainly didn't expect a model-lawyer showing up at your doorstep with a bright smile and legal expertise.

-"Hi, I'm Alex," he offered his hand.

-"Hi, I guess you know about my... case?" you replied.

-"Yes, there's a high chance of her winning since similar cases have ruled in favor of people like her. Remember the McDonald's hot coffee incident?" he explained.

-"So I'm screwed?" you muttered.

-"Not necessarily. I can prove she's acting out of self-interest."

-"...before you say anything, you know, I can't... afford it?" you interjected.

-"Yes. I... I used to be a prominent lawyer. Perhaps you've heard of the Shepherd case?" he mentioned.

-"The CEO who got off the hook despite everyone knowing he committed tax fraud?" you recalled.

-"Yes, I was his lawyer," he admitted.

-"Oh," you murmured, taken aback.

-"I... I'm not proud of the people I've defended. I didn't realize the harm I was causing to victims. For me, everyone deserved representation, but when I saw what Shepherd did with his ill-gotten gains... I couldn't continue down that path. I signed up to advocate for people. Not evil," he confessed.

-"So you took on lost causes like me?" you mused.

-"You could say that," he smiled.

-"Well, it sounds like Daredevil. Maybe I'll catch you wearing a latex suit at night while fighting crime," you joked.

-"You might be onto something there," he replied, his expression serious.

-"Wait, you're joking?" you asked, but he didn't crack a smile.

-"Mr. Keller, you're joking, right?" you pressed, but he just smirked.

-"Let's focus on your case," he redirected.

-"You can't just dodge my question. I need to know—" 

-"Boxing. I box at night, nothing illegal. I train kids, and I've competed in the past," he confessed.

-"I see. Why do I find that hard to believe?" you teased.

-"I'm a damn good liar. I'm a lawyer," he retorted.

-"Fair point," you chuckled.”well at least I believe in the latex suit at night”

-“Kinky”he joked, you smiled.

-Alex got down to business, helping you devise a strategy.

-Maybe with this super lawyer on your side, you stood a chance. Yet, you couldn't shake the curiosity about his secrets. Who knows what uncovering them might bring?

KÖNIG as a baker :

-König had just opened his bakery.

- Eager to be neighborly, he sent some cookies to the local shops nearby.

- However, when his customers arrived one day, one of them expressed hesitation: "You know, I was hesitant to buy here because I heard you made the florist down the street sick."

-König couldn't believe his ears.

- Ashamed, he double-checked his ingredients, but everything seemed fine.

-So, he decided to switch things up and bake some croissants instead.

-Yet, the next day brought news that the florist had fallen ill due to food poisoning.

-Determined to make amends, König sent something different the following day.

-And the pattern repeated itself. After a week of this, he finally decided to confront the florist.

-Entering their cute shop, he whispered nervously, "Hallo."

-"Hi," you replied.

-"I'm König, the—"

-"The baker," you interrupted.

-He froze.

-Well, he certainly hadn't made a good impression.

-After seven incidents, he couldn't expect a warm reception, but he hoped you’d understand he hadn't done it intentionally. He wasn't a villain.

-"I'm sorry about the pastries," he began, "I swear I don't know what went wrong. Other shops ate them and had no issues. I—"

-"I know you're not trying to poison me," you interjected.

-"Oh, but... then why?" he asked.

-"I thought someone would have told you, maybe Horangi, the chef at the restaurant. But I'm lactose intolerant. I assumed you knew, so I ate your pastries thinking someone had informed you. Then, I realized that wasn't the case. But if I didn't eat your gift, you might have thought I was upset with you, so I still ate them, and—"

-"It was a misunderstanding," König finished their sentence.

-"Two anxious people overthinking things, but yeah," you admitted, laughing.

-"I promise to bake you something lactose-free," he vowed.

-"Thanks, it'll be appreciated. Your pastries were good, just not for my digestive system," you replied.

-He nodded and returned to his bakery, pondering the idea of introducing gluten and lactose-free versions of his pastries. Surely not because of the cute florist who seemed to visit more often now. Nah.

RUDY as a librarian :

-You were a young journalist, eager to dive into investigative reporting, but your editor relegated you to the local sports section since you were the new kid on the block.

- It wasn't exactly your passion, but you made the best of it. Your current assignment: write about Rodolfo Parra, a former boxer.

-Avoiding the internet due to its unreliable nature, especially for local stories, you opted for the library.

- As you searched for information on Parra, a man approached.

-"Need a hand?" he offered.

-You glanced at his badge, confirming his name as Rudy.

-"Yeah, I'm digging up info on the boxer Rodolfo Parra. I heard his early days were at the local club, so I figured the archives might have something," you explained.

-Rudy smiled. "Rodolfo Parra, huh?"

-"Yeah, you know him?"

-"You could say that, but I've heard he's not too keen on journalists."

-"Exactly why I couldn't land an interview," you sighed.

-"But why write about him? He retired two years ago," Rudy questioned.

-"My boss wants it, so here I am," you replied with a hint of resignation.

-"I've got some info, but can I trust you?" Rudy hesitated.

-"Absolutely, I'll respect his privacy. I just want to know his story, his struggles. I've heard rumors about a fixed fight where a coach, El Sinombre, forced him to lose," you shared.

-Rudy's expression darkened. "It was more than that. I'm surprised you know about it."

-"I've delved into El Sinombre's dealings before. I wanted to write for investigative reporting," you confessed. "I found it odd that a sports club had ties to a pharmacy."

-"They developed stimulants to win fights, and more... potent substances," Rudy revealed.

-"So Rodolfo lost to a doped-up opponent?" you concluded.

-"Yeah. Rumor has it, El Sinombre threatened his family if he didn't comply. Rodolfo vowed never to lose, so El Sinombre took matters into his own hands..." Rudy trailed off.

-"And Rodolfo ended up paralyzed," you finished solemnly.

-"Yeah, but with rehab, he's probably walking now. But he can't fight anymore," Rudy confirmed.

-"Having your dreams crushed like that must be devastating. A fighter silenced," you mused.

-"Maybe it was for the best," Rudy countered.

-"You think so?" you questioned.

-"Boxing isn't a lifelong career. Maybe retiring was a blessing," he reasoned.

-"I don't know, having your dreams shattered like that... it must take a toll. Imagine if someone burned down your library," you countered.

-"Well, this library was my backup dream, so I'd just have to find another," he quipped.

-You nodded, then realization dawned. "Your backup dream?"

-"Yeah," Rudy admitted. "Rudy for Rodolfo. Not the smartest move for a future investigative journalist, huh?"

-"Hey! You—yeah, I was naïve, but you could've given me a heads-up," you teased back.

-"Now, tell me about your boss. Things might be more complicated than we thought," Rudy suggested.

-"Do you think El Sinombre is after you?" you pondered.

-"We'll find out," he replied cryptically.

-Maybe your beat would evolve over time...

If you want more : my masterlist

I still need to write Alejandro, Lasswell and Farah, maybe in a next part with other characters :) !

#cod x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #call of duty x reader #captain price x reader #alex keller x reader #nikolai x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rudy x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 4 all chapters

Winter is making you stir crazy, so on your day off you decide to go for a hike on one of the copious mountain trails around your town. There’s still snow on the ground, and in the middle of the day you seem to have the woods nearly to yourself.

You like being by yourself.

The mountain is quiet, but for the wind in the trees and some determinedly chipper little birds chirping.

You nearly have a heart attack when you round a bend, and there is a large figure in all black. For a split-second you mistake him for a bear, before you realize it’s Mr. Wick.

“Jesus, you scared me,” you huff.

“Sorry,” he says, seeming genuinely apologetic.

“Where’s Dog?”

“I left him at home. Too cold.”

You like it, that he considered Dog’s comfort in the matter.

With a small frown he peers around you. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. I hike alone all the time.”

You hope he will spare you the lecture, even if it secretly pleases you that he is a little worried for you.

He sighs a little. “I wish you wouldn’t. You never know who you might run into out here.”

You cant your head, finding this statement slightly ironic, considering.

“I can handle myself. You’re looking at a junior Tae Kwon Do black belt, I’ll have you know.” The latter you deliver with a sassy grin, because even though it has come in useful on a few occasions, in the real world you know it doesn’t mean shit. You were just a child, and it was a long time ago.

This actually succeeds in winning you what is nearly a full-on smile, for him. “Well then. Remind me not to piss you off.”

The thought is absurd to you. You’re no willowy waif by far, but you can tell right now that this totally fit—and fine as fuck, if you’re being honest—man could snap you like a twig, if he wanted to. You snort in answer.

“I’m sure it won’t come up.”

He levels you with a long look then, that you don’t entirely understand.  

“So…you like hiking in the cold?” you ask, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

“I guess I’m used to it,” he answers. “I was born in Belarus.”

“Oh.” There is no hint of accent in his words. You reason he must have come to America at a very young age.

“And you?”

“I was not born in Belarus,” you confirm. It’s his turn to huff, and your heart skitters in your chest when he takes a step closer. He veritably looms over you, so tall and broad shouldered. You have a moment of clarity in which it really sinks in that you are totally alone out on the quiet mountain with this man, and he really could do anything he wants with you.

The thought titillates more than it disturbs, and maybe you have a screw loose.

“You’re a cheeky girl, aren’t you?”

There is a look in his eye, and for a moment you think he’s going to bend down to you. Crazier yet, you would have let him. But his hands remain in the pockets of his expensive down coat. The weight of his gaze alone is enough to make you feel as though he’s touched you, and you narrowly suppress a shudder.

It’s not because of the crisp mountain wind.  

“So I’ve heard. I don’t like the cold,” you answer his real question. “But I do like the snow.”

He frowns a little. “How does that work out?”

“It’s an aesthetic thing.”

“Ah. Your artist’s eye.”

“I guess.”

“You’re very good.”

It is, in fact, freezing cold out there in the woods, but suddenly you feel warm, standing there with him, basking in his praise.

“You’re kind.”

He tilts his head, his hair falling in his eyes. “Not really,” he says, and it almost sounds like a warning. “But maybe, just for you. Can I walk with you?”

You were enjoying your solo excursion, but you find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to turn down the opportunity to spend time with your mysterious but favorite customer from the coffee shop.  

“Ok. Are you making the loop?”

“Partly. My house isn’t far from the north fork of the trail.”

“Ah.” He must have just moved into one of the insanely expensive mansions tucked back in the woods, you reason.

It’s too cold to stand around and talk, so you hit the trail together. His legs are long, boy are they, but he matches his pace to stay with you. You don’t say much, but you enjoy each other’s company in the outdoors. You follow the line of a steep bluff on one side, old growth trees towering all around. It’s not a sunny day, but still bright from the freshly fallen snow. Later the forecast calls for more.

When you slide a little on an icy rock he makes a grab for you, and suddenly you do find yourself tucked in against the hard line of his side. It wasn’t entirely necessary—you’re wearing knobby boots, and you would have landed on your feet.

But it is endearing that he was worried for you.

The strength in his grip squeezing you steals your breath away. You only manage to get out a wheezy, “Thanks.”

He acknowledges your gratitude with a grumble, releasing you almost as quickly as he grabbed you. You get the sense that he is annoyed, somehow. You, however, know the memory of his body against yours is going to haunt your dreams that night.

Suddenly too warm, you unzip your jacket a little.

When you reach the trail marker for the north fork that will take him closer to home you look at him, expecting to say goodbye, certain he will be glad to be rid of you. But he keeps walking. “I'll get you to your car,” he says. 

“You don't have to do that.” 

“I want to,” he insists. “If you don't mind?” He’s softened again to you, for whatever reason, and you swear his moods could give you whiplash. Having this man to yourself for another mile isn’t the worst way you've spent an afternoon. 

“Ok, if you insist.” 

When you get to the parking lot, there is a shifty pair of guys hanging out in a beat-up Dodge van that might as well have “FREE CANDY” spray painted on the side panel. You look to John curiously, who is staring down the driver with a hard look in his eyes. Even though that look isn’t directed at you, it gives you a little chill.

The man behind the wheel confers with his bearded companion, and they decide to start up and chug away. 

You feel like you narrowly missed a passing danger, like a shark swum past your hiding spot in the reef.

“How... did you know?” 

“Seen them around the past week or so. Maybe promise me no more solo hikes until they move on?” 

“Yeah. Ok.” Maybe they were just two guys down on their luck hanging out in a van…but they definitely gave you the creeps.

“Can I give you a lift home?” He would have miles to go, uphill, in the bitter cold otherwise. 

“Thanks.” 

You pause at your late model Rav4, kind of embarrassed. He drives a very nice black Range Rover, and though your car is a soldier, bless all four of its cylinders, it kind of looks like a piece of shit. “Um...sorry,” you say, moving some books out of the passenger seat.

However, he seems non plussed. 

“No worries. Thanks for the ride.”

You start the engine, letting it warm up a little. He rubs his hands together, blowing on his fingers. “So…do you pick up strangers from the woods often?”

You laugh quietly. “You’re not that strange.”

 He tilts his head in that way that makes you feel unnervingly seen.

“You don't really know me, y/n.”

Why do you feel like he's trying to warn you?

“So... you’re saying I should make you walk back up the mountain in the freezing cold?” 

His low laughter tugs at your insides, making unbidden warmth spread through you.

“No, now that I'm here that really doesn't sound appealing.” 

You dare to wonder if he means here, with you.

“Ok then.” You put the Rav4 in drive. “Where are we headed?”

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #john wick fic #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine

[suraemoon]

I adored your headcanons!! Any way you would be willing to do Bucky Egan and reader relationship hcs?

John Egan Headcanons

~Relationship Edition~

🎶: Am I willing to do Bucky headcanons? Of course I am, dolly! I’m so so happy that you enjoyed the other ones I did. You adored them? I’m flattered. I adore you. I hope the ones I have cooked up are good enough. If not I’ll do more.

💋: Bucky Egan x Reader. Fluffy relationship headcanons.

Bucky loves physical touch

He follows you around whenever you ago, it’s like having a little puppy in your tracks or a second shadow keeping you company

You two are constant hand holders, you’re always hand in hand. He traces the lines of your palm, kisses each of your fingers, the back of your palm is an ideal kissing zone

He squeezes your cheeks and gives your lips a quick peck before you can even process that it happened. It’s a quick series of warmth. His warm eyes looking down at you, the warmth of his pink lips, and the warmth of your cheeks as you blush after the fact.

When you sit next to him, his hand stays on your thigh with the occasional squeeze

Sitting on his lap > Sitting in the chair next to him

He loves pulling you onto his lap. The closeness, the intimacy, the plush of your ass placed on just the right spot.

A room full of people and you’re comfy on Bucky’s lap, his arm wrapped around your waist protectively

He’s a cuddler

You two trade big spoon and little spoon.

How does a 6’2 unit of a man little spoon? Where there’s a will there’s a way.

You like to sleep in? Bucky gives your face soft and gentle kisses in the morning. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. He admires your side profile while you sleep, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the way your soft lips are parted.

Your boobs are his favorite pillow. So warm and comforting, he wants to stuff his face into them at all times.

More of an early bird? You can wake up early but you aren’t getting out of bed easily. Bucky’s arm is around your waist and it is not letting go. If you manage to get away from the grasp, it isn’t long until his eyes flutter open too. Your weight and warmth are gone.

Also...thigh riding

I mean, look at a picture of this man’s sturdy tree trunk thighs. They're the perfect size for straddling.

If you get excited about something, best believe Bucky is just as excited. Just seeing your smile and happiness is contagious for him.

You know those guys who suddenly act too cool for their girlfriends around friends? Hell no. He’s very proud of you, never ashamed. He’ll tell anyone about you.

Even a random stranger he’s getting directions from on the street. He’ll say loudly, “This is my girl right here! I’m taking her to…”

Chatting to old friends from Wisconsin about baseball and then out of nowhere, “You’ve met my girl yet?”

You were zoned out staring at his face

So, several pairs of eyes all of a sudden being focused in your direction pulls you out of your little trance after a quick “Huh?”

He’s brings you up whenever he can. “Oh, my wife is the same way.” “My wife told me about that yesterday.”

Ever since you two got married, he’s loved the fact that he can officially call you his wife to other people

That one time you went to try on dresses for yet another friend’s wedding and brought Bucky?

You come out of the dressing room and he immediately stops a sales consultant “Excuse me, ma’am. Sorry to interrupt ya but ain’t my wife gorgeous? Blue’s her color right? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her…Mhm. She says she’ll bring some more for you to try on, babe.”

It doesn’t even have to be a fancy outfit. You could come out of the bathroom after getting ready for a regular day out and you’re met with a long whistle.

“You’ve gotta do a spin, baby.”

You decide to take him on a trip to New York for the first time and this man talks a big game on how he’s gonna blend in so well. “I’m such a big Yankees fan, I might as well be an honorary New Yorker.”

When I tell you he is the most obvious tourist ever, believe me

We ain’t in Wisconsin anymore

The buildings look so much higher than they do in the pictures, he’s gotta look up and stare with wide eyes while people hurry by getting around him.

Bucky resembles one of the trees in Central Park, so he can easily cause traffic when stopped in the middle of the sidewalk

Taking him to his first Yankees game and he’s trying to explain every rule of baseball to you

Meanwhile you’re too busy focused on the big bucket of delicious popcorn he bought you before the first inning

You nod along though, pretending to know all of the different terms and player names that he’s rattling off at you

“They should put me on the field, I wouldn’t have missed that.”

If this man is going to do anything, it’s call you a pet name. Every one in the book.

But of course he has a special nickname for you that he comes up with not too soon after meeting you

Maybe it’s something you remind him of, a certain feature you have, a specific talent you possess

It’s very personalized

Bucky insists on trying to do your makeup one time because “It can’t be that hard” and you end up looking like a Ringling Brothers circus clown

The blush is bright red, the mascara is not limited to only the lashes, the lipstick is over lined to oblivion

He took a picture of you and now it’s taped to the mirror of your vanity along with a bunch of other random photos that have collected over the years

“Now when you do your makeup, you can be reminded of how horribly I did. Whenever you have to wipe something off or redo something think…wow, at least I don’t look like that. You always look beautiful, honey, even when I do your makeup.”

According to him, you don’t need makeup anyway

He loves taking pictures of you. Pin up photoshoots by the beach, candid snapshots of your relaxed resting face while you aren’t looking.

Sometimes the lighting is a little dark, maybe the photo came out a little blurry. But you’re in it, so it’s perfect.

And he’s clingy. He doesn’t like when you’re gone. If it’s been one hour, that’s three years in Bucky world.

Bucky is such a girl dad

You have your first little one and she’s so tiny swaddled in his arms, the sun shining softly through the hospital room windows

A little bit later, he’s shirtless and she’s laying on his chest

He’s whispering to her but it’s so soft, only him and his little girl can hear. The most beautiful little secrets that will stay between them forever.

You get a lot of attention post birth too

He’s thanking you, telling you how strong you are, how you’ve changed his life forever, you’re the love of his life, he loves you, he loves you, oh how he loves you

The second baby comes not too soon after the first and it’s another little girl

Baby number three is another girl

The fourth little darling has plenty of bright eyed big sisters waiting for her at home

There’s a drawer full of hand-me-downs but there is also an array of brand new stuff because every baby is her own person. They all get the same amount of preparation, dedication, love, and care..

Did he used to dream about having a son? Sure.

But girls make amazing little baseball players

And dads make amazing fairy princesses

Bucky becomes very accustomed to tea parties, glitter, sparkles, and having his nails sloppy painted

Eyeshadow used as blush, contour, and foundation all in one

He doesn’t tolerate anyone who makes a backhanded comment about his girls

One day, you got back from taking the kids to the grocery store

The moment you see Bucky, all of your Egan girls run to hug him

It’s not long before he has two little girls clinging to each of his legs, one with her arms around his neck, another holding his hand with no intent of letting go

You quietly recounted to him later in the day how the grocery store cashier remarked upon glancing at all the pink, “Your poor husband. You refuse to give him a boy, huh?”

Bucky was ready to drive to the grocery store and give that worker a piece of his mind

He has healthy, happy kids. What’s there to be poor about?

(Years later, when you two thought you were officially done having kids, the pregnancy test is positive. It’s a little boy. He’s the baby of the family and so much like his dad.)

Another lucky girl gets her own Egan to cherish!

Bucky is protective of his family, even before little Egan’s got added to the family, he’s always been protective of you

If someone ever bothers you, makes you uncomfortable or says something bad about you, he has to confront them

even if you insist to him over and over that it’s no big deal

He keeps you so close to him not only because he cannot imagine being too far away from someone as amazing as you,

I mean, you smell fantastic

also that dress fits you so well

and your smile makes him lightheaded

your voice is so soothing

Wait what were we talking about? Oh yeah…he’s protective. He keeps you so close because he cannot fathom something happening to you.

You can accidentally trip over your own feet and Bucky will find a way to blame himself

Something fell on the floor and you stumbled over it, Bucky should have seen it and picked it up before you had the chance to even get close enough to fall

Bucky’s a man who lives off of reassurance

He loves praise

But he’s not aware of how much he needs it, how much he thrives off it

A compliment will make this man’s day

Reassure him of how amazing he is

Tell him how good he is and how lucky of a girl you are to have him because you are so so lucky

He values your opinion, so your compliments mean so much more than anybody else’s

Every anniversary he writes you a love letter

Always so heartfelt, detailed, and meaningful

He talks about all the reasons why he fell in love with you and continues to fall in love with you every single day he breathes

All the little quirks and habits that you don’t pick up on, but he adores

Maybe something you did the same day he wrote the letter and it’s so fresh in his mind that he has to talk about it

Something special that happened that year

A baby that was born, a trip you went on, and special event, a funny moment, a specific date, something you said to him this year that he continues to think about all the time

Anything that comes to mind

They collect over the years and you put them in a pretty little keepsake box

When you eventually pass on, all of his letters are buried with you

What makes Bucky frustrating sometimes is the fact that he doesn’t like to talk about what he is feeling

He’ll claim he’s fine when something is clearly bothering him

He’ll walk away from an argument declaring that he “doesn’t care anymore” and “you can do whatever you want”

but the reality is he does care

He just hates to yell around his wife, let alone yell at her. It makes his skin crawl.

Bucky lets all the feelings build up inside but just his facial expression alone can tell you that he isn’t alright

And it leaves you feeling confused because why doesn’t he trust you and confide in you enough to communicate?

It’s late at night when you two resolve the conflict

His voice is soft and it takes you by surprise

In situations like these, you always wait for when he’s ready to talk

And when he does his voice is always so small and broken

All is forgiven, all is resolved, everything always ends up okay

No small disagreement or petty argument can break you two apart

Don’t tell Bucky that you are ever insecure about something because he will be utterly appalled

You’re a goddess to him, he worships every single inch of you

Whenever you take your clothes off, he’s taking in all of you with adoring eyes and a parted mouth

Every curve, every beauty mark, every stretch mark

It all comes together to make the perfect picture

He loves the way he fits so snug inside of you, the way you taste, the way your noises blend so perfectly with his to make the most beautiful of melodies

Every moment with you is heaven

How did he go so long without you? He thinks about that often.

His heart has never been so full of love, his mind has never been so full of hope

You two complete each other in every way

He was the first to say “I love you”

You were taken back at first because a man who’s so magnetic, charming, handsome, likable, the center of attention in any room he’s in

He’s in love with you

Little did you know he was just as taken back to hear you say “I love you too, Bucky”

He remembers the first time he saw you across a room and how his eyes immediately gravitated towards you

He remembers how nervous he was to talk to you, which was so unlike him it was scary

Maybe his hands were shaking just a little, tapping his foot to a nonexistent beat, a never fading smile on his face

And over the years the two of you exchange thousands of “I love you”s

You can talk for hours on end about nothing “important”

Chatting about the random topics that pop into your minds, asking to be discussed

Accompanied by matching glasses of wine

Those conversations are your favorite because it’s a little bubble with you and the one you love, nothing else matters

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed reading and I hope it was alright lol

If there’s any specific requests or anything I didn’t touch on that has you wondering “how did she miss this?” please let me know, lovey

Ahhh I love Bucky so much

#masters of the air #mota #john egan x reader #john egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x reader #bucky x reader #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfiction #mota fanfic #mota headcanons #headcanons #not proofread

[auspicioustidings]

The Ghost

Blue Blood Part 6

Summary: The conclusion to Blue Blood, you are finally hunted by the Ghost.

Words: 1.8k

CW: Most of this chapter is smut!

“It’s too much, it’s too much!” 

You thought you might die. The marble altar you were on was cool beneath your skin but you were on fire. An hour of fragrant ritual oil being massaged into every inch of you had already gotten you unbearably wound up, but now Johnny had three fingers massaging inside you and Kyle was right by your ear giving you delicious little praises that made you squeeze involuntarily at the fingers and John was standing just looking with such an intensity in his eyes that it was difficult to look away.

“You can take it Duchess” the Duke said firmly.

“I can’t! Please I-” you begged, a moan cutting your words off when you tried to move your hand to touch yourself where you needed only for the Prince to grab your wrists to stop you. Johnny pressed his thumb hard to your clit, not moving, just pressing almost painfully.

This must be some form of torture, not letting you cum. You felt so dazed, like you were starting to float outside of your own body. You tried to move your hips so that Johnny’s thumb would change from an uncomfortable pressure to getting you to the high you wanted, but he pressed a hand to your stomach and held you in place. You think you may have been babbling incoherent curses at them, threatening them with anything you could think of to just touch you properly. There wasn’t even a burn from the stretch anymore, the drooling from between your legs was encouraging the fingers pumping in and out if anything. You think you screamed when they left you.

Desperation was not something you understood before now. You needed more, there was nothing outside of that need anymore. Emptiness and want was all that there was, the need to be full and touched. Without their hands on you, you felt untethered, not even aware of what you were saying or doing.

“Fuuuck ye beg so pretty don’t ye?”

You were vaguely aware then that you were reaching out to Johnny, begging him to come back to you. Begging him to use you how he wanted, satisfy himself with your body if that meant he would let you cum. The Duke grabbed onto his hair and yanked him back sharply, stopping him from getting his hands back on you. Stopping him from putting more than his fingers inside you. You all but squirmed off of the altar, finding your knees weak and legs shaking at trying to even hold up your weight. Johnny looked near feral, the Duke now having to put in some effort to hold him back.

“Kyle!”

At Price’s shout the Prince moved to back Johnny against the wall. The Duke came to stand in front of you then, blocking your view of Kyle going to his knees. What a sight you made, the oil on your skin making it shine in the moonlight pouring in through the skylight of the little ritual chamber, your eyes wet and shining from unshed tears of frustration. You looked up at him so wide-eyed and trusting that if Duke John Price were a weaker man he would have taken you right there and then.

“You’ve already done so well little bird, just a little more. It’s time for you to run” he said, hand coming to caress your cheek. “It’s going to be scary but you need to trust he would never do anything that would permanently hurt you. You’ll not be able to see me, but I promise I will be right there if you need me.”

With a hard squeeze to your hip you were all at once outside.

–

You are running. The earth beneath your bare feet is soft and damp. The moon is high and bright, light filtering down through the trees and turning the woods into some otherworldly realm. Time isn’t linear here, you think you may have been running for hours, yet only seconds ago you had been married. You are scared of being caught and yet your body craves it. Every glimpse of the figure stalking you heightens your nerves until you lose the ability to hear anything but the blood rushing through your veins and throbbing needily between your legs. 

You are caught.

–

The Ghost panted above you, his cock throbbing even through the layer of fabric at your ass. You wanted to turn and see him, but you were pinned down into the dirt, face barely able to turn so you could breathe. He was growling lowly, shifting so that you could feel his hot breaths right on the shell of your ear.

“Thought you could run from me? Stupid thing, there is nowhere you could go that I would not hunt you down.”

There was the tear of gossamer as he ripped at your gown. If either of you had any sense then it would just have been rucked up, the thing was designed for easy access, but you were both so far gone that it didn’t register. You writhed under him, scrambling to get away or get closer with no sense of certainty on which. He wrenched one of your arms to pin it painfully to your back and you howled out in protest as your other hand clawed at the dirt to try and drag you forward and away from him.

“Quit fucking squirming. Think I can’t see how needy that cunt is little girl? Fucking gagging for it.”

He was mean and your hips pressed back against him in response. You had turned into something mean too. 

“Throwing stones at glass houses, you feel plenty needy.”

He barked a laugh and used his free hand to pull his cock out of his clothes, stroking it only once before running the head through your soaked folds. When you felt the heat of it against your clit you fought as hard as you could against his hold to try and rub against him. 

“Want it pretty girl? Want my cock inside you?”

You whined and kept trying to move back against him in answer which only caused him another mean laugh and a sharp smack against the flesh of your ass which you screeched at.

“You were so happy to talk back, what happened? Use your fucking words. Beg for me.”

It didn’t matter that his cock had already caught on your hole, that he was already starting to push into you. You were getting what you wanted but you were so gone, so desperate to get everything he could give, that you choked out an answer anyway.

“Please please, need you inside me! Take me, I’m yours. Ah! I’m yours! Please I- ah!” you screamed as you felt the heat of him sink into you inch by inch. “Full, m’too full.”

“You can take it Duchess.”

Him repeating the words that Price had said had you choking on your own saliva with the possibility that the Duke had given him advice on how best to handle you. When you thought there could not possibly be more inside of you he let go of your arm to put his hands on your hips and pull them up, your chest still pressed into the dirt with your ass now high. He sunk impossibly more into you and you whined long and low. It felt like he was in your fucking stomach. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” Ghost groaned as he gave a few slow thrusts, making it deeper each time until he bottomed out.

When one of his hands came to press low on your stomach, when you both realised at the same time that he could feel himself there, you felt your walls flutter and pulse around him and came very close to cumming from his moan alone. His hand on your hip tightened until it was bruisingly tight. He was fighting himself.

“I can take it.”

That snapped any self control Ghost had and he started fucking you with a fury. The air was punched out of your lungs with every hard and deep thrust of him inside you and you were light headed from the lack of oxygen. It was intense, it was too intense. The hand on your stomach moved back so he could ram you back onto his cock again and again, using your body for his own pleasure. It was intense and pain and pleasure and if you did not cum you would die. You couldn’t verbalise it, the only noises you could make were sobs and moans as he ruined you. 

“Perfect cunt, all wet and squeezing at me. Want you to cum on my cock, try fucking strangle it.”

His fingers only had to touch you for moments before you were screaming your throat raw, the orgasm making you see white. Your pussy choked on his dick the way your throat had on Price’s, body overwhelmed and trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, take it!”

He fucked you hard through your orgasm and gave one last push, spilling himself deep inside of you. You went completely boneless, head totally empty and body exhausted. It meant you didn’t notice how despite him being in the same situation, he still made sure to catch himself on his forearms as he collapsed on top of you to protect you from his weight. 

You were barely conscious by the time he pulled out and rolled off of you, dragging you with him so he could hold you close there on the earth and Simon Riley could mutter soft praises into your hair, telling you how sorry he was for hurting you and how proud he was of how well you had done. He told you he loved you. 

As the darkness of sleep took you, you couldn’t help but think that despite how little you knew the man holding you, you loved him too.

–

“I like rainbow butterflies so much!”

“Aye? Is that right wee yin?”

“I pick red, your turn!”

You hide your laugh in Ghost’s shoulder, but he does very little to hide how funny he finds the sight of the scary Blood Druid once again hanging on every word of nonsense your toddling daughter says. The War Duke is happily sat right next to the two of them, following orders and picking out a gemstone which earns a delighted laugh and an exclamation of “blue!”. 

The Wild King is holding your sleeping newborn, gazing down at the baby with soft adoration. It had caused quite the scandal when your second child had been so clearly not your husband’s, but behind closed doors the only tension had been Kyle endlessly teasing the others that they would simply need to try harder next time if they didn’t want every other child you had to have the same soft brown skin as him. 

“Are you happy, my gentle little Duchess?” your husband asks.

“Blissfully.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #cod au #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #look besties Mhairi is pretty ok at writing fluff but not as ok at writing spice #so this is low key mortifying

[literatecowboy]

Love, Peace, and Cows

Author’s Notes: Happy (soon to be) Valentine’s Day @ontheoddoccasioniwritestufff! This is my submission for the Valentine’s Day event hosted by the lovely @bunnyreaperer - thank you so much for putting this together! Don’t forget about all of the candy discounts tomorrow y’all. This piece features a GENDER NEUTRAL reader. Fluff only. No instances of y/n.  Synopsis: It’s a lovely day on your little farm whenever John is home.

—

It’s…odd to have John inside in the morning when he’s home. Rarer still that he sits on the couch with the TV on and a mug of tea warming his hands, a blanket over his lap. The sight of it, of him relaxing for once, makes you happy. It’s just a shame that it had taken a broken leg to get him to sit the hell down. 

You toed your boots off carefully after you came through the door, doing your best to contain the mud outside. The dog that John had begrudgingly let you adopt and then fallen in love with cared not for keeping the floors clean and bounded inside, tail wagging and eyes bright as he leapt up onto the couch and tried to climb into John’s lap. 

“Oh, no, you little bastard!” you giggled, unable to contain your laughter as you watched the dog plaster kisses all over John’s face. He laughed and pushed the dog away playfully before scratching the pup behind his ears.

“Did you track mud in, you naughty thing?” he asked, turning to look up at you as you set the box of freshly collected eggs on the kitchen counter and came into the living room. 

“Just a bit, but I was going to mop later anyway. Eggs and toast for breakfast? Got five from the lovely ladies today,” you said, kissing John on the cheek and glancing at what was on the telly. 

“Thought I might cook this morning, if you don’t mind. Knee’s been feeling better so I want to be up for a bit, give it a stretch,” he said, pushing the blanket off of his lap as your dog jumped to the floor. 

“That sounds lovely, actually. I haven’t finished in the garden yet. I’ll bring a few tomatoes in to go with it,” you said, picking up your glass of water from where it sat and taking a long drink. John grabbed his crutches and hauled himself slowly to his feet. You were quick to help him steady himself and earned a kiss in thanks. 

“What do you think about going into town to see a movie later? We haven’t been out that way in a while. We could get dinner, make an evening of it.” John suggested, making his way toward the stove with the box of eggs you’d retrieved from your hens. 

“John Price, are you asking me on a date?” you asked with a smile, fetching a pan for him so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. 

“I am, actually. Is the venue a little too cliche for you, my love?” he asked, setting the pan on the stove and turning the burner on. 

“No, I’m just happy that after all these years we’ve been married that I still get butterflies in my stomach when you ask me out.” you said, wrapping your arms around his torso and hugging him from behind. He took your hand in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. 

“I love you,” he murmured. You rested your cheek against his back, tracing the fingers of your free hand up his torso. 

“I love you too,” you said, smiling. 

—

The rest of the morning passed as peacefully as you could hope for. John hobbling about the kitchen to make breakfast, your dog running excited laps around the backyard in between barking at birds flying overhead, and the clucking of your hens as they scratched at the dirt in search of bugs all made quite a bit of excitement, and you found solace in your garden. 

In order to avoid boredom when John was away for long periods of time at work, you’d taken to caring for the little farm that had sprung up from what had once been a few scattered tomato plants in the yard.

Eventually, with John’s blessing, you had left your job to make it a full-time endeavor. You sold fresh bread and preserves along with produce and eggs and all of the other little productions that had resulted from your farm. It was a small operation, but one popular with the locals, and not a day passed that you didn’t have visitors at the farm stand. 

It operated on the honor system for the most part, but on weekends and after school your young niece May would bound over to assist the influx of customers for some pocket money and sweets. She and the dog were beloved by your customers and her parents, who lived in town, were happy to see her spend so much of her childhood outdoors. 

John coming home was always an event heralded by your neighbors. The man who lived next door was an elderly world war 2 veteran, and as soon as he saw John’s car in the driveway, he’d invite you over for tea and at the end would always promise to keep you and the farm safe when John was gone. You and John thoroughly enjoyed his company.

—

In the evening after the movies, you pulled back into the driveway. Not ready to end the night yet you sat on the porch swing together, his arm tucked securely around your shoulders. He smoked idly, chewing on the end of his cigar as he studied the horizon. 

“You alright, love?” you asked, leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. He nodded. 

“Was just thinking, sorry,” he said, running his fingers through your hair and smiling at you. You smiled back and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“About what?” you asked, settling back into his side as he pulled you closer. 

“Starting to think about retiring - what life will be like. I…I want to spend more time with you,” he said. 

“It’s up to you, John. You do good work, but I won’t lie - having you home more often would be lovely,” you said.

“Was thinking, when I retire and am back here for good - what do you think about expanding the barn a bit? So we might add a few dairy cows to the little zoo you’ve started here?” he asked, gesturing out past the barn and toward the muddy clearing. 

“Could make a good paddock back there. I wonder if cows would get along with the goats? I’m sure all of the animals would appreciate more space to roam.” you said, doing your best to picture it in your head. 

“Two or three at most - can’t just get one without getting it a friend, though. It was like getting you that pup, couldn’t leave you without a friend,” John said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and elbowed him gently, making him smile. 

“Very funny, mister. But yeah, I like that idea quite a bit. You know, May’s been asking for a pony for a little while. Think we’ve got space for one?” you asked teasingly.

“That’s more of a Christmas present, I think. And I think your brother and sister-in-law would kill us,” John said with a laugh.

You settled back into silence together, listening to the chirping bugs and hooting owls as you gazed up at the stars, basking in the love of your husband.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #captain john price x you #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x gn!reader #captain price #captain johnathan price #tf141 #task force 141 #gn reader #call of duty modern warfare

[agent-black-heart]

[John enters watcher world the same way as last time, making an absolute beeline for Icarus’ tent]

- @john-macnamara

[Once John gets into the tent Icarus is already performing.]

Well, I’m the reason they call it an “Irish Goodbye”!

And I hope I don’t choke on my vomit tonight-

Well I bet that a bottle of brandy so bitter’d be better than bitin’ the bullet and betterin’ myself, sorry if I slur~

Take my anxiety and my sobriety, I’ll kill two birds with one stoner~

So if you see me, please take my keys, I don’t wanna be an organ donor yet!

Well we’ve had enough power since the blackout started for an EKG for the broken hearted.

I’d try to see the glass as half full…

But I’d probably just a-drink that too!

Glass half full, I'd probably just a-drink that too!

#hatchetblr #hatchetfield rp #hatchetfield oc #icarus talks

[lazybutsmexy]

Emotional support bird

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

Warnings: none. Pure fluff.

Word count: 850~

PT. 2

On AO3

A/N: take this as a little apology for all the angst I've been posting for this OT3 🫶♥️

“Simon, you’re not gonna believe what we saw at the market today!” (Y/n) greeted him with a wide smile as he held the door open for her and Johnny as they carried their full tote-bags into his house. Simon took a brief moment to admire the rosy apples of her cheeks, and her ever-present sparkling eyes, before she rushed into the kitchen to leave her bag on the counter. Johnny followed after her with a grin, offering Simon a wink as he headed straight to the fridge to leave the cold produce in it. 

“...What did you see?” Simon inquired, his curiosity peaked as he shut the door and locked it, before following after his partners to help put the groceries away. They had decided to spend their mandatory two-week post-mission break at Simon’s house, but he had been severely understocked of food, hence the decision was made that Johnny and (Y/n) would make a trip to the closest farmer’s market and gather a few things they would need for the next few days.

“An emotional support dog!” she cooed as she handed him the jars that had to be stored away in the upper cabinets, “a beautiful chocolate lab, her coat was very shiny and she looked super cuddly too!” Simon took the small jars in twos, carefully setting them in their correct places as he listened to her, the hint of a smile teasing his lips as he listened to her. “She was with a family, but I think her owner was the smaller kid, he was holding the leash.” She glanced at Johnny, who still hadn’t been able to wipe the grin off his face. He had already listened to her ramble about the dog, and found it impossible to resist her contagious enthusiasm. 

“Those dogs work for different kinds of people,” Simon commented, “wonder why the kid would need one.” 

“I don’t know, didn’t ask,” (Y/n) shrugged, handing him the last jar - a gallon jar of pickled peppers, her latest obsession, “I didn’t want to approach them and make them think that I was questioning them for having one.” 

“...Do we really need a jar this big?” Simon arched an eyebrow as he picked the jar, nevertheless putting it in place with the others and silently thanking his past self for purchasing such sturdy kitchen cabinets.

“Yes, we do,” (Y/n) nodded in all seriousness, before her beaming smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared, “Oh! She even had her cute little vest on!” she cooed, a pout tugging at the center of her lips as she ended with a whine, “She was so~ cute!”

“Aw, Tweety-bird, don’t be jealous,” Johnny reached over and planted a wet smooch on her cheek, instantly tinting her entire face in a flush, “I think you look even cuter when you wear your vest~.”

“‘m not a dog, though,” she whined, and John and Simon shared a knowing look.

“So, you agree you look cute in your vest,” Simon smirked, his finger poking her nose and causing her to erupt in a giggle, gently swatting his hand away from her face.

“Oh, shut it, you know what I mean!”

Yeah, they knew. 

~~~~~~

Two weeks later, as the team prepared to go on yet another mission to the other side of the world, Canary ran her checklist again, making sure everything was packed and ready to go. She was interrupted by two sharp knocks on the door, and she was pleasantly surprised when Ghost appeared at her doorway when she answered her door. 

“Oh, hi! What’s-”

“I have a job for you,” he cut her off, and her brow tightened slightly at his serious tone, “follow me.” He left no room for questions as he swiftly turned around and began marching down the hallway in the direction he had come from. Canary was hot on his heels, wondering what this important job could be, being so close to the start of their new mission. 

They headed straight to the infirmary, and her confusion only grew when she found Soap sitting on a chair, his left sleeve pulled up all the way above his shoulder, and the nurse waiting patiently next to him with a ready syringe. 

“Ah, there she is!” Soap declared brightly, lifting his right arm and holding his hand out to her, “come here, I need you.” 

Canary blinked but didn’t hesitate to hold his hand, still confused about the ordeal, “Um, what do you need me for?”

Soap couldn’t stop his grin from widening even more as he squeezed her hand, “Emotional support, duh,” he glanced at the nurse and tilted his head back to Canary, “this is my emotional support bird.” 

Canary’s face burned as the nurse shook her head in amusement, getting on with giving Soap his booster shot. His eyes were trained on her in a soft gaze, and she debated whether she wanted to kiss him or smack him in the back of his head, leaning towards the latter as she noticed Ghost clearing his throat to disguise a chuckle behind her. 

She still held his hand, though.

#ghost x reader x soap #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley drabble #simon ghost riley fluff #john soap mactavish fanfiction #john soap mactavish imagines #john soap mactavish drabble #john soap mactavish fluff #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 fluff #cod mw2 fanfiction #cod mw2 drabble

[grizzersmamma]

Omg omg omg omg I just read both of your Deamon AU fics???? They are so good!! And beautifully written!!!

please please if not too much trouble, can I please request for that Au?? Maybe like all of 141 meeting each other and Deamon’s for the first time?? I picture Gaz has some kind of bird like a mourning dove or a humming bird and Price has a stronger dog breed- like a Shepard of a sheep bearding dog — y know something protective?

UGH I LOVE THIS AUUU A

((sorry if you aren’t taking requests on this, I just wanna say it’s the best thing I’ve read💕💕💕))

Requests are always open! (I just might take a while because I'm slow af lol)

I wanted to get this out this weekend just passed, but I got a fresh 'rona shot on Friday and it took me out with more precision than a sniper bolt to the face jfc. I absolutely adore the thought of Gaz with a little birb (a pretty one ofc), but I'd actually already picked something out for him, so I hope you like it almost as much as your idea. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: John Price has hand picked every member of his Task Force carefully to create the perfect team we have today, even if it hasn't always felt like that.

Notes: Written from Price's POV reflecting on the team's past.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Taglist: @heyitsropi

The first time John met Simon, he was only that, Simon Riley. The Ghost was yet to exist, and in his place, was a young man still full of life. He was friendly enough to the men close to him, but with a weariness toward anyone unknown.  

That caution, of course, extended toward John in the early few days. The first few times they interacted, he was strictly professional, his daemon even more so. The panther would stalk along beside her human, remaining in silence throughout all discussions, coming and leaving as quietly as a shadow. 

But over time, the younger man gradually began to settle. Simon certainly wasn’t the only person in the military to suffer from a rather poor childhood riddled with trauma and pain, and his team were kind enough to never push him too far. He would always maintain a slight distance between himself and the rest of the men on his squad, but he was often quick to smile and joke with them, telling what very well could have been the worst “dad jokes” known to man.  

Both Simon and Elanor seemed to revel in the pained groans his terrible jokes could invoke, smiling innocently as if not understanding why everyone was so upset. It wasn’t a surprise to learn that Simon had a younger brother, he certainly had the annoying-older-brother act nailed down perfectly.  

After a few good missions together, Simon was less reluctant to talk about his family with John in the room, discussing what he planned to get his nephew for Christmas, where he wanted to take his mum out for lunch during leave, and how he was going to get Tommy back for getting a stain on his ManU jersey.  

Simon was a good man and a great soldier, and John was disappointed when the time came for him to return to his own unit. John was to travel up north toward Herefordshire and Simon was to meet with some of their American contacts to help root out a cartel down in Mexico.  

Ghost was not the same person as Simon. He had the same daemon, the same brown eyes, but he was not Simon. He lacked the underlying gentleness in his eyes, and he’d grown to be cold and closed off toward everyone around him, friend or foe.  

If Simon’s daemon had been quiet before, she was dead silent now. Liz would trot over to the cat with a slowly wagging tail and try to greet her, but the panther would just look at her, before slinking off to go rejoin her human. It was heartbreaking to see a daemon who had only just started to come out of her shell become so walled off again.  

Sometimes he wouldn’t even see the animal in the same room and couldn’t help wondering where the daemon could have vanished to. Just seeing a daemon so far away from its human sent a shiver down John’s spine whenever he thought about it, his fingers instinctively curling themselves into the soft fur of his own.  

The reports he had seen about what had happened to Simon to create this Ghost, some of them first-hand from Simon’s own therapist, sent his stomach rolling uncomfortably, and the parts about their treatment of Elanor? He had sweat beading his forehead and Liz pulled into his lap. The rough collie did her best to comfort him, but he could feel her own distress at just the thought of such a thing happening.  

It took well over half a year before Ghost and Elanor were comfortable with turning their backs on John and Liz, and several before they were comfortable working alongside them. The Ghost and his daemon worked alone, but John and Liz were gradually, slowly, at the rate of a melting glacier, becoming an exception to the rule.  

This made it particularly difficult when Ghost was introduced to Soap.  

John MacTavish was, and still is, a loud and confident man. He doesn’t tolerate nonsense and will proudly stand behind his own personal morals and beliefs, even if it’s to the detriment of his professional career. He stands for what’s right, regardless of the consequences, and he’s entirely unapologetic of that fact.  

Soap’s daemon, Gwen, is a perfect match for him. A honey badger, just as unconcerned with the thoughts and feelings of others, and entirely fearless, even when up against daemons easily twice her size. They share a fierce aggression that would have most shaking in their boots, and John has seen firsthand even lions fleeing from their warpath.  

To say that Soap was a bit... much... for Ghost would be an understatement. Soap is so openly friendly with every team he works with, both verbally and physically, and his rather emotional responses to things seem to constantly have the masked soldier on edge.  

Since their first meeting, Soap has learned to reign in his emotions and has matured greatly with the help of experience and the guiding hands of more seasoned soldiers. But several years ago, fresh out of SAS selection, he was far too much for a quiet Ghost who could hardly stand having even John working with him at the best of times.  

While their first meeting didn’t exactly go swimmingly, it ended amicably enough since Soap didn’t seem to take Ghost’s reluctance to socialise to heart. Meanwhile, Ghost just appeared glad to have a break from spending time around someone so bright and bubbly, almost immediately vanishing on a solo mission for a week.  

Kyle was a much safer bet for working alongside Ghost. The young man, while inexperienced, was the top of his class and always eager to learn more. He was like a sponge, soaking up every little piece of advice he’s given and doing his best to apply it to his work. He always asks the right questions at the right times, and always thinks on his words before speaking.  

His daemon, a friendly marbled polecat by the name of Milly, was the first daemon Elanor was willing to open up to. She wasn’t insistent like many of the other daemons in the military, providing the panther with plenty of space, but always choosing to sit beside her, greeting her with a happy chirp. These simple greetings were eventually returned with small nods or pleasant rumbles, and over time, and two daemons fell into the rhythm of being at one another’s side.  

Gaz was always seeking out new things to learn and Ghost had plenty to teach. No matter how difficult the lesson, he would always have the determination to see it through to the end, and his mature, competent nature was gradually winning over the stubborn lieutenant. On the rare occasion where Kyle wasn’t with John, he could be confident that Ghost would have the younger man’s back.  

But Gaz brought more than plain professionalism to their team, he also brought the fun, youthful spark that the group had been missing. His sassy remarks during OPs and cheeky behaviour off the field was worming its way under Ghost’s thick skin, and John could see it in the way his lieutenant began to offer banter of his own in return.  

It was like watching a grizzled old dog interacting with a friendly young pup, slowly relearning what it meant to actually enjoy life here and there. Sometimes Ghost still needed that time to be alone with Elanor, but Kyle and Milly were drawing them out of the dark and back into the light again.  

More often than not the two could be found sitting peacefully together, doing nothing but enjoying the company of their fellow brother in arms. Whether it was eating meals together in private where others wouldn’t see Ghost removing part of his mask, running on the track first thing in the morning to wake themselves up, or claiming the bench under the old tree where they could discuss upcoming schedules or laugh at the young recruits just learning to walk, it was all done by each other's side.  

John could see the pride in Ghost’s eyes whenever Gaz managed to get an upper hand on him in training, he could see how Elanor now greeted Milly with a gentle headbutt, how trust was building between them and their team was solidifying into something unbreakable. Gaz was a loyal man, almost to a fault, but he had awarded that loyalty to John and Ghost and, in return, had been given it back tenfold. 

But the team was yet to be complete, and it wouldn’t be, not until John MacTavish joined them.  

John was admittedly still not certain how well Ghost would take to working so closely with Soap after finding the other man a tad overwhelming the first time, but with Liz’s encouragement and seeing how much Ghost was beginning to come out of his shell, he had no choice but to commit to the selection. Soap’s file reported nothing but constant rapid improvement. He was a talented, driven man, and precisely someone John wanted on his new task force.  

The offer was sent out and immediately accepted.  

Soap and Gaz were, understandably, complete menaces. Two young men eager to prove themselves and have a little fun while they’re at it. They’re thick as thieves and both just as determined to inconvenience John as much as possible while dodging reprimands like the plague. “A bunch of children” he’d called them one day, earning a grunt of agreement from Ghost, Liz and Elanor sharing a look of endless suffering. 

As for the relationship between Ghost and Soap, the best John was hoping for was for them to learn to accept one another, even if that was just enough to be able to put their best foot forward during missions. And it worked well enough, until Las Almas happened. Until Sheperd happened. 

Until Simon happened.  

Years of hiding away, and suddenly it wasn’t Ghost standing before him. It was Simon.  

Soap was looking right at him, and Simon was looking right back.  

Something had changed between them. From the report he got from the two soldiers about the events that transpired he couldn’t tell what, but it was clearly something significant. It had changed them from work colleagues to something far more dangerous. A better man would have nipped it in the bud before it had the change to potentially ruin them, but John has never claimed to be a good man, good men don’t last long in their line of work.  

If he and Gaz are a good team, Ghost and Soap are unstoppable.  

When they think he’s not looking, John has caught how Gwen excitedly jumps around Elanor’s body, learning against the dangerous predator and covering her with affectionate licks. More surprising, is how Elanor returns the behaviour, nipping playfully at the badger’s feet and tussling about on the carpet like a pair of kittens.  

It isn’t until he sees Soap’s bare hand brush through Elanor’s fur that he knows the depth of what they are to one another.  

He just hopes he hasn’t made a horrible mistake.  

#call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #writing #daemon au #his dark materials #crossover #soapghost #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #we love the gaz and ghost relationship #and I'll write it myself if need be

[lisas-song]

FabFiveFeb - Scott

Author's note: Been a while since I've uploaded anything, so I hope the format is okay. Also, this may be the shortest fic I've ever written!

*******

Wake-Up Call

Scott Tracy woke slowly, letting his consciousness take its time coming back online. He vaguely remembered tumbling into his bed the night before, and a brief review of sore muscles and assorted bruises told him that staying there might be a good idea.

International Rescue had had a rough week. Back-to-back rescues had kept them running all over the globe, until Scott and Virgil had both maxxed out their flight hours, and Gordon was right behind them. No one argued when Grandma shut them down for 48 hours. Scott even allowed himself to be forced into postponing his usual early morning run.

Now, he lay on his side, watching the sunlight filter through the curtains from the balcony and wondered what had awakened him from his first lazy morning in far too long. The waves down on the beach and the various tropical birds that shared Tracy Island were too familiar to have roused him. He did have a vague sense that something was going on today that he should be remembering, but his brain wasn't fully in gear yet. A TI meeting? He didn't think so. There were reports to be complete for both the family businesses; but again, that was too commonplace to stand out.

He was just debating whether a shower might wake him up a bit when he heard it: soft footsteps, a rustling sound … someone was in his room, behind him, blocking the door. Instincts - learned at a time and place far behind and yet ever with him - had him freezing in place even as his brain protested that he was safe at home.

And then came the whispering.

"Shh!"

"You shh!"

"I'm not the one tripping over those flippers you call feet!"

Instantly, Scott knew exactly who was there, and exactly what was about to happen. He felt someone bump his mattress, and then they were right behind him. He readied himself as a voice hissed:

"On my count - five, four, thr-"

Taking full advantage of the element of surprise, Scott flung himself over with a roar, wrapping one arm around each of his startled, shrieking youngest brothers and dragging them onto the bed with him. There followed a minute or two of wrestling - and laughing - and then three Tracys lay breathless across Scott's mattress.

"See," Gordon huffed after a moment, "I knew you couldn't keep quiet."

"Me?!" Alan squawked indignantly.

"Guys," Scott interrupted before things could get out-of-hand again, "Maybe we should leave the stealthy stuff to Kayo, huh?"

"Fair," Gordon conceded as he sat up. "Now come on. John's down, and he's making pancakes."

"Yeah," Alan added. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed Scott by one arm, pulling him along. "Happy birthday, Scotty."

#fabfivefeb #tagfic #thunderbirds are go fanfic #fabfivefeb 2024

[caffiend-queen]

Do NOT Say 'Always After My Lucky Charms,' Or I Will Stab You

Welcome to another addition to the Holidays in Hel series! Where Loki and Mina attempt to save the Avengers from yet another catastrophic holiday fuckup.

I've been cleaning up and adding bits to my Holidays in Hel series because really, it's my favorite. I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

Chapter Two: "Why Do I Always Smell Like Something Dead That Washed Up On The Beach?"

In which Mina discovers that the Fair Folk are not only not Fair, they're kind of assholes, and it's looking like another holiday shot straight to Hel.

Mina...

“Wh- where the hell am I?”

You were in the middle of a miraculous forest clearing with brightly colored birds swooping gracefully and gnarled tree trunks that looked ready to come alive and scold you. The sky was a vaguely eerie lavender and a single, wistful pipe was sending out a delicate tune on the wind. You could just see the sparkling sapphire and golden tints of a wide river meandering through the woods. Anxiously checking, you heaved a sigh of relief to see you were still in your sweater and tartan kilt. And, you were resting on a bed … uh … couch… “Is this like a throne?” you mumbled, “Because there’s that one spiky part that looks like it’s got a crown carved into it, but there’s blankets and… why does this shit happen to me?” The couch/bed/throne whatever you were sitting on was remarkably comfortable and rose grandly above the clearing. “So was I roofied? Loki’s the one who bought the drinks, so… Poofed? Is there someone aside from Loki who can poof people in and out of bars? Ugh. I’m beginning to feel like John McClane in Die Hard, why is it always us?”

One of the tiny, jeweled butterflies ventured closer to you and made an inquiring sort of sound. Admiring its iridescent patterns, you crooned, “Hello, you little sweetie. Don’t suppose you could show me where the exit is, huh?” The glittering creature landed lightly on your upturned hand, and two eyes popped open above the concealing swirls on its thorax. You jumped a little, “Oh! Hey, look at you! I don’t suppose you talk?” There was another delightful, high trill from the butterfly, and then a shocking amount of pain as it chomped down on the sensitive webbing between your thumb and forefinger. 

“OW! You little shit!” You shook your hand furiously but the butterfly had surprisingly sharp teeth and stubbornly hung on until you smacked it sharply on the head with your index finger. “Bad! Bad butterfly!” With a spiteful chitter, the creature fluttered away.

“Babe! You’re up!” Two arms wrapped around you like a particularly stubborn strain of ivy, a hand heading straight for your breasts.

And suddenly you were fighting off the long-limbed advances of a very handsome man.

An extremely gorgeous man with pointed ears.

“Hands off, pal! Who the Hel are you?”

He chuckled indulgently, leering at you - shit, were his eyes silver? - and took a swig of something out of the golden cup with one hand while gripping you around the waist with the other. You managed to eel free from his grip - mainly because you knew his attention was on his cocktail. Stumbling back, you took a wild look around before focusing again on him.

He was beautiful. Beautiful in the perfect, unearthly way that Loki was. Likely as tall and perfectly muscled with long, flowing golden hair and pointed ears.

Pointed. Fucking. Ears.

“Aw, damn it. You’re one of the Fae, aren’t you?” Loki had warned you about those guys.

The elf smiled again, full red lips and so alluring as his lids dropped to half-mast, looking you over thoroughly. "You are so hot. Babe, we are gonna PARTY," he paused, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “and then I'm gonna find your pot o' gold.“ He chortled loudly and for a minute, he reminded you of your ex-boyfriend Ted, president of his fraternity and notorious for the high alcohol poisoning rate on campus.

“I beg your pardon?” you gasped, “Look, I don’t care who you are- just send me back, and- wait, where’s Monty? You didn’t hurt the poor guy, did you?”

He began laughing magnificently, really, no other word would do, his head thrown back and mouth open to show his sharp, white teeth. “I am that shriveled-up old dude. I’m Monty with just a touch of glamour to make me ordinary. Now look at the real me! What a step up in your love life, huh?”

You glanced over your shoulder - was there an exit around here? A portal? A Greyhound bus? “This cannot be happening,” you groaned. “Yeah, uh… your name’s not really Monty, what is it?”

Taking another gulp of mead, or whatever the Hel the Fae drank these days, and giving an extremely rude belch, your supermodel fairy kidnapper offered, "Aengus. Prince of the Tuatha Dé Danan." He winked at you over the goblet he was drinking from, "And your fairy for Youth, Love, and Summer. I know you're honored, 'cause you are my chosen lady-babe."

“Angus?” you attempted.

“No, babe. Just- it’s Ah-hen-gess.” He put his long fingers on your jaw.

“Uh, Ah-hingus?” you tried again.

“Draw it out, gorgeous, just elongate your jaw like a snake and say, “Ah-he- Look, never mind, babe. Here,” he thrust a goblet (chalice? flagon?) into your hand and you sniffed at it. “Uisce beatha. The good stuff. It’s the second most delicious thing to come out of Ireland.” The smarmy bastard had the nerve to look pointedly down at his junk as he said this.

“M’lord, the other humans are totally bitching about getting stuck in the tree castle. You want me to knock ‘em out?” Another spectacularly good-looking elf with the body of a Ken doll and the expression of a village simpleton interrupted your little interlude.

“You- wait, there’s other humans here?” You froze in your efforts to bat away the wandering hands of Aengus and frowned at him. “How many people did you kidnap?”

Glaring at his tattle-tale elf buddy, your captor tried to smooth it over. “Babe, don’t worry about them. Let’s chill, take some clothes off, drink a brew or two…” he leaned forward, his beautiful face wearing a dashing grin. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine. It’s…” he giggled, “magically delicious!”

“Really? Oh, my god, just- geddoff me! I mean it! You do not want the Hel that is about to rain down on you in the form of my boyfriend Loki!”

Both elves stopped dead and stared at you. Aengus even put his flagon of uisce beatha down. “Did you say… Loki?” he asked hoarsely.

You rarely invoked the Name of Loki. You preferred to handle your own problems. You didn’t expect or even want Loki to get involved in all the petty details of your life because he had a tendency to attempt to take them all over in order to “assist” you. But if it freaked out these douchey Irish Fae then you were going to wield Loki’s reputation like a blunt instrument.

So… “Yes!” you hissed threateningly, “You’ve interrupted a very important night for us and Loki, Prince of Asgard, rightful King of Jotunheim and God of Mischief and Lies does NOT like to be disappointed!” 

You were pissed. You didn’t get your traditional corned beef and cabbage dinner. You did not get lucky with Loki - wait, that sounded like a dating show - but this was really the worst kind of bullshit! You may have been shy when Loki first plucked you off Madison Avenue (literally) but time and a series of disastrous holiday fuckups had definitely helped you find your voice. And your temper. You leaned forward, staring into his startled silver eyes. “And of course, you probably know Loki best as the most terrifying of the ten things that invaded Ireland. Remember the Vikings? I’ll bet you do, Angus!”

“Aengus,” he correctly absently before looking at the other freaked-out fairy. “Get the other babes, I don’t care if they’re hot, this is turning into a total buzzkill, man.”

Your eyes widened, Shit, did I just get us all killed by invoking the name of Loki? 

Loki...

“Why does this always happen to us?”

It could have been any one of the Avengers whining, and really, Loki had to agree it was a reasonable question. It had been repeated over and over, on every holiday since Stark had first insisted he attend the billionaire’s ridiculous Yule festivities.

“We are cursed,” Thor said, slumped over Mjölnir, which he had been swinging around in an extremely unsafe fashion as he shouted about “Betrayal!” and “Vengeance!” until he’d nearly caved in the skull of one of the terrified bartenders and had been threatened by Tony. 

“I will shave you bald. Point Break, if you don’t put that stumpy piece of shit down! You remember that doorman you put into a coma? Do you? That was Happy’s second cousin’s kid!” 

Trying to ignore them all, Loki was walking through the deeply uncomfortable patrons of the Dead Rabbit, which had been locked down the moment they discovered their dates had been - yet again - abducted. Bucky was following close enough to have scuffed his exquisite Bolvaint onyx dress shoes, but, well, there was more important business at hand. Also, anyone willing to attempt to get testy about being detained was instantly quelled by Bucky’s glare. 

Leaning in close to Loki, he murmured, “What are we looking for?”

Lips barely moving, he answered, “Our women were taken through some portal with that vile troll Monty,” Loki sneered, “so I am attempting to discover this portal. But upon occasion, a creature of supernatural origin might also act as the portal. So no one shall leave until -” His sharp eyes just barely caught a tuft of hair moving stealthily along the mahogany bar, and he vaulted over the shining expanse and seized the tuft of hair and the body attached to it.

“Saor mé nó bás!” The diminutive man was kicking at Loki fiercely, though his legs were too short to make contact.

Holding him up to eye level, he snarled back, “Phooka, I should have known. You must be mad to attempt Maidentheft here!”

“Wait?” Steve poked his head over the bar. “Maidens? Theft? Is this some human trafficking ring?”

“Of a sort,” Loki said, not taking his gaze from the writhing Phooka. “The Fae enjoy stealing mortal brides upon occasion. But the victim must agree to dance with them first before they can be pulled through the portal.” He gave the flailing creature a brisk shake that nearly took his tufted red head from his body. “You are the portal, goblin! Where have you sent them!”

Steve just couldn’t help himself. “Don’t you mean Leprechaun? Or is that rude? Little person? Or-”

“Call him what you want, Capsicle,” barked Tony, “but he’s snatched the girls and we need them back! Pepper’s never going to let me forget this, so let Loki do his mystical mojo shit before she has me sleeping out on the balcony for the next year!”

“Ní inseoidh mé go deo! Lig saor mé!” The glamour was wearing off Phooka and his limbs were lengthening, hair turning long and silver-blond. But then the image shimmered and he returned to the gnarled little creature he’d been before. 

“Oh, no, Cluricaun, I will not release you. In fact,” Loki’s arm raised higher, easily holding the struggling creature at eye level, “I shall bind you into this form forever.”

“Nil! Nil!” he screeched, thrashing like a trout on the hook.

“Oh, yes…” purred Loki, an unholy look of joy gleaming in his eyes, “no longer of the Fair Folk, the beautiful creature who bespells all who see him. You shall be in this lumpy, repugnant form forever. Warts covering every inch of you. Oozing pus.” Phooka shrieked and kicked, fruitlessly waving his stubby arms as Loki’s grip remained steady. 

Bucky pulled an alarmingly large KA-BAR USMC Utility knife from… somewhere. The dim light of the bar glinted off of it as he pointed it at the troll that kidnapped his Darcy. “Let me soften him up for you, huh?” Everyone crowding around them backed up three steps.

“No need, my friend. Is there, Imp?"

Looking angrily between them, the creature slumped in Loki’s grasp. Expertly spinning his knife between his fingers, Bucky looked at the rest of the Avengers. “Armor up. Let’s go get our women.”

Mina...

“No hard feelings, huh?” Aengus was examining his perfectly shaped fingernails and flicked off a bit of a fish scale. “Your dudes should be here sometime, so… you know.”

“Wait, what?” You were waist-deep in fish guts. Pepper was sliding headfirst off a mountain of what looked like rotting seaweed and slime, and Jane and Darcy were trying to fend off the seagulls who were apparently assuming they were part of the fish offal and thus fair game. “No hard feelings? You kidnapped us, you dick! And now you’re leaving us… where the hell is this, anyway?”

There would be no further information forthcoming from Prince Asshole of the Fae, because Aengus and his fairy henchmen disappeared with a sparkly ‘pop!’

“What the hell just happened?” screeched Darcy, swiping at a seagull trying to get his beak into her hair. “Get off me, you flying barnacle!”

“I’m… I don’t know,” you admitted, trying to raise one foot out of the fish guts and losing a shoe. “Ugh! This is so nasty! But I think I freaked him out by telling him we know Loki and this was really going to piss him off.”

Pepper was gagging as she slid sideways in the disintegrating fish intestines, her immaculate white suit now an unspeakable Rorschach test of nausea. “How long before your boyfriend figures out where we are, Mina?”

“Loki’s not some kind of a magical bloodhound,” you groaned, “I dunno. Did these idiots try to hide us, or is this like just dumping us off on the side of the highway like a carjacker leaving you to die?" Looking around as you struggled to free yourself from the decaying remains of what had to be half the sea life in the Atlantic Ocean, you were getting concerned that this was option number two.

There was no sign of life around you. 

“Now what?” sulked Hedley Kow, who’d really been looking forward to scoring on this night, of all nights! The Fair Folk were all hot, but man, there was something about bagging a human chick… there was nothing like it. Unfortunately, he’d attempted to woo Natasha, so he was currently sporting two black eyes and a broken arm.

Sighing elaborately, Aengus glared at him. “Ring up the Aos sí. You know there are some serious babes there, especially the Pinkets. Tell ‘em we got barrels of Uisce beatha and a live band. Those chicks will be topless by midnight!”

Loki...

When their feet hit the ground of wherever they’d been portal’ed to, the Avengers were ready. Armed, teeth gnashing, weapons bristling, and ready to bring down the entire Leprechaun Kingdom to avenge their abducted comrades. But there was no one to admire their ferocious presentation, aside from a couple of listless seagulls pecking at the bloated carcass of what was possibly a seal.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Steve said doubtfully, “I just figured the Fairies would have a… fancier setup?”

“We are in the correct place,” snarled Loki, “but not in the kingdom of the Fair Folk. They have discarded the women in this benighted place.”

Tony was levitating in his suit, thrusters firing randomly as he turned in one direction, and then the other, trying to spot Pepper and the others. Loki could feel a searing headache creeping up his spine as he had to put out the small fire Tony’s suit had created on a dilapidated shed before he set this malodorous fishing slum ablaze. 

“Hey…” Bucky put down his AK-47. “I think I know where we are. This is Port. It’s an abandoned village on this tiny island off the coast of Ireland. Donegal. In World War Two, we were doing reconnaissance on the Nazis…” His ocean eyes went blank for a minute before he seemed to reboot again. “It’s supposed to be haunted. It smelled like fish guts and mildew. That part’s just the way I remember it.”

Spreading his long, pale fingers, Loki created a sizzling rope of green fire. He whispered to it, twirled it in an endless loop between his hands, and then flung it free, like a bird set loose from its cage and it soared toward the sea. “They are here,” he said, “but hidden. The Fae are spiteful, even in defeat.”

“Hey, what’s that?” Darcy was pointing a fingernail with chipped red polish at the sky.

Sliding free from the pile of fish offal, Jane still managed to slip and fall into a particularly rotted, gelatinous mass. “Damnit!” she howled, Just So Done With This.

Putting a hand over her eyes and trying to shield them from the salt-laced wind, Mina squinted. “That’s…” she knew that signature, the coils of green flame twisting elegantly as it circled around them. “That’s from Loki.” She gave an excited little jump and slipped too, ending up on her ass with a “splat!’ in a decaying barrel of… of course, fish guts. “Ugh! But that means they’re here. They’re looking for us! HEY!” Mina shouted, jumping up and down, waving her filthy arms, “Here! We’re over here!”

Within an instant, the tall, beautiful form of her lover, her god, her Loki stood before her, cradling her face in his cool hands. “And here you are, lovely.” He bent to kiss her but Mina backed away. 

“Don’t! I love you and I’m so glad you found us but don’t touch me! You’ll have to burn that suit and you know I love the Tom Ford jackets on you!” Loki’s elegant nose was wrinkling, despite his best efforts and she sighed. “Why is it that I always smell like something dead that washed up on the beach whenever you rescue me?”

“Ah,” he raised one finger, gently tapping her nose. “I did not rescue you on this particular disastrous holiday. The Fae set you free.” She shivered, looking doubtfully around the filthy pier and Loki chuckled, pulling off his jacket and helping her into it, mourning briefly. It really was one of his favorites… ah, well. “How could this happen? We were prepared for battle.”

“It was genius,” Jane said approvingly, “Mina terrified them into releasing us.”

“How?” asked Thor, clumsily petting her hair and snarling it into dreadlocks with a hint of decomposing marine life lacquer. 

“She evoked the name of Loki” Darcy interrupted, as she always did. “She scared the shit out of the head fairy guy. Man, were those assholes a letdown! I thought fairies were supposed to be so magical and mysterious? They were like frat guys! Even stupider than frat guys, which I did not know was possible.”

Loki raised one elegant black brow. “Really, my clever girl? What did you say that so discouraged them? The group of you are an extremely desirable prize to the Fae.” The women simultaneously looked at themselves and shuddered as one. “Well, not at this moment,” he allowed, “but you are delectable.”

Mina allowed herself the smallest smirk, the tiniest bit of gloating. “I told that dickhead Aengus that surely he remembered that of the ten most terrifying things that invaded Ireland, you were the worst.”

“I was there also!” protested Thor, who’d given up on trying to soothe Jane and was attempting to wipe off the gelatinous fish residue from his hands. “I was very terrifying! The Fae must sing songs of my power in battle-”

“Yes, yes brother,” Loki interrupted, emerald eyes narrowed, “did you say Aengus?”

Mina nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that shut down his sleazy seduction scene in a hurry. You should have seen-”

His elegant hands waved furiously in the air, and they all disappeared from the dilapidated remains of Port with a loud “Pop!” that scared the seagulls.

The stink from the group was so appalling by the time Loki had “poofed” them back into the Tower that F.R.I.D.A.Y. politely informed them that, “I have taken the liberty of opening the gym showers for your group, and there will be a cart to take your clothes to the incinerator.”

Watching something that might have been a fish eyeball fall out of her hair and swirl down the shower drain, Mina smiled a little to see even Natasha, who had somehow remained untouched gratefully lean into the warm water. “Everyone okay?”

“You know that when the tower’s AI refuses to let you on the residential floors without a decontamination that you smell really, really bad,” sighed Pepper, shampooing her hair for the third time.

But finally clean at last and dressed in warm, fresh clothes, Mina sighed with relief, falling into the firmly muscled arms of Loki. “Thank you for being historically terrifying, sweetheart.”

“But I was there, too!” protested Thor, still upset and looking vaguely ridiculous in borrowed sweats that barely reached his shins. “Did the sprite not mention me?”

“Uh…” Mina was trying to not actually inhale the corned beef and cabbage dinner, grabbing another scoop of creamy Colcannon before Bucky took it all. Tony was insistent that no one was heading off to bed without polishing off the Irish dinner his chefs prepared. “Try the mustard sauce, Loki,” she said, spooning some of the fragrant yellow sauce onto his corned beef. “So, I still don’t get this. Leprechauns are really just fairy guys who use it as a disguise to trick human women into like, dating them?”

Loki shrugged, elegantly slicing into his meal. “There are Leprechauns. But they care for nothing but their gold. Their interaction with mortals is minimal. But their appearance is one easily taken and the Deamhna Aerig can use it to walk among you. No sweet girl like you would turn down a dance from…” he sneered despite his attempts to remain calm, “such as Monty, now would you?”

His Mina’s chin went up, a bad sign. “I won’t ever be sorry for being kind to people.”

Sighing, he tried to backtrack. “I know, lovely. But this is also what these craven fools count on.”

Natasha was finishing off another two fingers of Redbreast 15-year whiskey. Slamming the glass back on the table, she said, “What matters now is what happens to this мудак! How do we teach them a lesson?”

Even knowing he was about to say something terrible, something probably rather evil, Mina still felt a tingle in her girl parts as Loki leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as a slow, savage grin spread across his beautiful face. “мой друг, this is happening as we enjoy our dinner. Though,” he added graciously, knowing the Russian’s desire to handle her own ‘business,’ "I am happy to deliver the fool who assaulted you to a location of your choice for your own brand of justice.”

She just couldn’t help it, Natasha started laughing, this arrogant сволочь knew her so well. “I’m looking forward to seeing your Evil Genius. I assume you have a way for us to enjoy it?”

“Well,” Loki allowed modestly, “since you have requested it…”

It was as clear as some well-filmed high-definition film, but the scene the highly entertained Avengers were watching wasn’t fiction, though the sight of the ethereal forest of the Fae would seem so. But the vile, sweating mass of Leprechauns were anything but enchanting.

“No, ladies, just hold-” a giant fart ripped through the desperate attempt from Hedley Kow to salvage the evening. Two nymphs reared back, waving their pretty hands in front of their faces as they gagged. “I mean it, we’re just gonna switch back to our real forms and-”

“If thou could have, thou wouldst,” sneered one. “Come, sisters. It is time for the Aos si to take our leave.” Groans rippled through the forest as the silvery forms of the nymphs disappeared.

“What is happening, man?” screamed one of the Fae, pulling at his ratty red hair as he belched miserably, sending up a cloud of fumes so toxic it was almost visible. “This is on you, Aengus! No babes! We’re in Gnome Hel, man! It was Loki, huh? You pissed him off again and shit- I can’t stop farting!”

Their leader gagged, feeling another one of his monstrous pimples spurt pus onto a chest so hairy that he appeared to be wearing a sweater. “He’s just being a dick! I’ll fix it, y’know, when Loki cools down.” The sweating mass of hairy, pimpled, gaseous trolls moaned, a chorus of ear-splitting farts their only answer.

Mina...

“How are you feeling, sweet girl?” That sly devil you were in love with, the god who’d rescued you yet again from a colossal holiday fuckup that was guaranteed in the company of the Avengers, was stroking your neck very softly and it was doing things to you. 

“Better, I guess,” you were trying to not melt into some needy, shameless puddle because you were standing just behind the rest, who were still enjoying the complete shit show that the Irish Fae had found themselves floundering through. “At least we got our corned beef and cabbage dinner.”

“Mmmm…” he breathed against your ear, the vibrations tingling up and down your spine. “And is that all my darling Mina wanted for her ancestral holiday?”

“Well,” you allowed, “I’d hoped for… you know. A special moment. No matter how godawful our holidays are, the sex afterward is always so…” you sighed mistily, “spectacular.”

His long arms tightened around your waist, and you felt that strange pull at the base of your spine that told you within an instant you would be somewhere else, swept away by this magical god, who for some reason loved you. The room disappeared, and you fell onto your bed, pillows flying in all directions, and in an instant, you were naked and Loki was thrusting into you. You yelped in shock. Usually, it was a production, a slow build as your delicious god toyed and cajoled you into being ready for him. 

But this!

You were ready, oh, god you were ready and you had no idea how it happened so fast.

“W- wait, one minute we’re watching the Asshole Fae Reality Show and now we’re- oh, GOD!” He’d given a particularly savage thrust and you just howled.

“I fear I cannot be patient tonight, cailín daor,” he groaned, “I have wanted to be inside you since I heard of your genius, your terrifying of the Fair Folk until they retreated from the field of battle.”

“Th- th- they dumped us in a pile of fish guts in a haunted village!” you managed, the mattress bouncing vigorously and your hands slipping over the slick skin on his back, trying to hold on. 

“Ah,” he chuckled breathlessly, a deeply arousing growl that made your thighs clench harder against his hips, “you were cunning, my love. You were outnumbered in combat against a well-armored - though profoundly stupid - foe, and you drove them before you like sheep. You used your wit, your cleverness and I have never,” he thrust hard again and your legs flew up, toes pointing to the ceiling as the silky tip of him pushed higher inside you than you knew was possible. “I have never,” he continued, “desired you more.” Loki was speaking with his mouth against yours, not kissing so much as taking in the breath of each other, his body iron-hard and driving fiercely through you, big hands groping your breasts greedily. “So tonight, mo shióg deas, I shall fuck you, as one warrior would another after combat.” Heaving up and back on his heels, he hauled you along with him, still connected as he bent you, back arched over his arm, his other hand pushing gently against your heaving stomach. “I can feel myself,” he panted, “here.” 

You let out a screech as he pressed harder. The feel of him inside and outside of you was unimaginable. It was wild and overwhelming and so fucking sexy and it was turning you into some kind of lunatic because you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and reared up, biting his neck with your sharp little teeth. Loki let out a low, harsh groan and you could swear his cock just doubled in size.

“Do it again.” His fingers gripped the back of your hair and pressed your face to his throat. “Again.”

Grinning, you did, biting into that luscious muscle just over his prominent collarbone and seizing a handful of his thick, silky hair as well.

Loki was always smooth, exquisite, and slick in his seductions. He was not one to lose control but you felt a savage sort of victory as his sinuous hips stuttered, pushing harder, sloppier into you. “Again,” he rasped.

Now both hands were in his hair, tilting his head sharply as you bit into the other side of his neck, and to your shock, your mouth filled with the lush taste of his cool blood as your cunt filled with the heat of his come.

Shivering against each other, Loki’s hands squeezing your ass and your still gripping thick handfuls of his hair, you were still, frozen tightly together. “Holy shit,” you wheezed, “I never… That so goes on our list of stuff to do to each other again!”

Loki began laughing, a huge, hearty laugh that so rarely came from him, an unguarded moment he rarely allowed and it was wonderful. Also, it was making his cock jolt inside your swollen girl parts and rubbing up against some really sensitive places. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you started giggling, too. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day, baby,” you managed, “now, that’s celebrating like a true Ireannach!”

“And to you, my love,” he managed, “and to you.”

Ireannach - Irishman mo shióg deas - my pretty fairy

Deamhna Aerig - air demon

Uisce beatha - from the genius misreall, it means "water of life," early whiskey and the rare thing that the Fae would be guzzling on a night like this.

I'm starting over with a vague memory of who might like my Loki and Avengers tales. If you would like on or off this list, please let me know! Thank you. Mwah!

@what-is-your-plan-today

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@the-soulofdevil

@americasass81

@mdemontespan1667

@sultry-rachael

@myoxisbroken

@gigglingtiggerv2

@notpedeka

@narnianarcher

@sylviefromneptune

@winterslove1917

@kimanne723

@hawkeyes-queen

@grymrayven

@stevihj

@lizette50

@jevans2

@wolfsmom1

@devikafernando

@wegingerangelica

@nildespirandum

@alexakeyloveloki

@thebatshitcrazyfangirl

@thehumming6ird

@archy3001

@iheartsebastianstan

@tomstinkerbell

@wolfpawn

@rayofdawnworld

@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

@dangertoozmanykids101

@alexakeyloveloki

@nuggsmum

@boredbrooder

@fairlightswiftly

@inkededucatednnerdy

@nonsensicalobsessions

@viv-annelore

@eleniblue

#tumblr besties and beloveds #loki fandom #loki smut #tom hiddleston #bucky barnes #Avengers Holidays in Hel #yet another Avengers holiday fuckup #St. Patrick's Day with Loki

[llolianarchives]

RAMSHACKLE DORM HEADCANONS (REVISED)

Our little home is not appreciated enough so I shall take matters onto my own hands and spread self-indulgent ideas 😤😤😤 Behold! PS: I made something like this before so this is like a revised version.

“UNCLE” GHOSTS

The Ramshackle Ghosts were each given personal names by the Prefect, corresponding to the ghost's existing letter.

This was done after Yuu got tired of calling them Ghost [insert letter of the alphabet] all of the time, whilst also adding to their individuality.

Why did the Prefect have to give them names? Don't they have names of their own? Well, they used to when they were still a part of the living. The ghosts still remember who they were and what they excelled at (such as being a chef or a magift player) but they cannot claim namesakes or identities as their own when they're already dead unless you harbored much significance when you were alive, recorded in history to not be forgotten such as Eliza.

"Ghost A" is now "Archie" — very rough and tumble. He is a ball of ferocious, mischievous energy enough to rival Grim's own. Despite his size, Archie is quite the fighter. His first reaction to the Prefect's problems is to suggest that they duke it out headfirst! But in truth, he is plenty caring and easily fusses over Yuu and Grim's physical health (complete with dark humor). He teaches the duo sports whenever the opportunity arises. His extreme head ruffles are the silliest things.

"Ghost B" is now "Bernard or Bernie" — who's full of joy and fun (maybe that's why he's so plump). He's always ready with a joke to brighten Yuu's mood, always eager to please Yuu and Grim by pampering them with already-in-the-house gifts or food. Spooky mischief is his favorite pastime. Yuu believes that he gives the best hugs and cooks the best food.

"Ghost C" is now "Clyde" — who's generally a very laid-back and lax individual. Among the three, he's one of the wiser ghosts, always willing to set aside his tomfoolery for a heart-to-heart conversation with Yuu, giving advice and being an open ear. However, he still is, of course, a lover of mischief and spooks. (Note: Do not accept the “therapeutic” cigarettes he offers.)

The Ghosts are skilled at sewing clothes of their own (hence their tailored hats and capes). They were the ones who made Yuu and Grim's Halloween costumes, but they've also helped Yuu expand their wardrobe by using extra textiles and fabrics. The ghosts sew ribbons for Grim as well (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

They love oldies music. Stuff like ABBA, Don McLean, Micheal Jackson, Queen, John Lennon, The Smiths, Air Supply, The Carpenters— you name it!

They can also shift their voice into an exponentially low range, similar to Alto, Bass, and Baritone. Every now and then, they comically break into a chorus for fun.

RAMSHACKLE BUILDING

Prior to the building's renovation post-VDC, 70% of its rooms were either barricaded still, or very unclean. Yuu and Grim, themselves, had yet to fully explore their dorm in fear of collapsing wood, nesting bugs, or hidden rats— things that they didn't want to deal with if they could help it.

A garden stands in the dormitory's yard, by the farther side of it. Yuu had taken up gardening sometime after BOOK 1. They discussed with Grim that walking back and forth to the canteen wasn't very efficient. It started small and expanded into bearing vegetables and fruits. Eventually, the prefect built an arch trellis for the vines to grow, bringing the whole look together. (Note: While the produce their garden grows does give them the opportunity to cook/ bake at home, their inventory still wouldn't last the entirety of the winter holidays. It also wouldn't be efficient to eat the same meals over and over.)

Birds like common sparrows, crows, and ravens tend to perch or nest on Ramshackle's barren trees. They're such a regular sight that Grim and Yuu have stopped trying to drive them away, instead welcoming them into the property.

Ramshackle, while seemingly unimpressive at first, does wield an aura of unease once you're indoors. When you're wandering the halls by yourself, it oddly feels as if you're being watched... Something vague might've peeked out from a corner. Or, did that painting just glance at you? It totally did. Are you mad? This feeling is increased tenfold in the evenings. Yuu and Grim were disturbed by this initially, but have come to accept it as the house's second nature. Ace, Deuce, and the VDC boys were also victims of this phenomenon.

THE GREAT GRIM: ARCHMAGE EXTRAORDINAIRE!!!

When Yuu and Grim first began cohabiting in Ramshackle Dorm, the Prefect had given him an intense cat bath to wash away any grime, tangled-up fur, or Seven forbid... fleas.

Grim sleeps with Yuu on the bed but doesn't use the blankets, instead opting to curl up beside his henchman or lie flat on Yuu's stomach (much to their annoyance and Grim's amusement).

He pouts when Yuu is away for too long, concern and loneliness crawling underneath his skin because how dare his henchman leave their boss like this?!

Despite how much he complains about housework, gardening, maintenance, and such, he still tries his best to help out whenever Yuu works. It actually ends up being rather fun though.

MISCELLANEOUS

The Headmage occasionally comes over for tea and chats with a box of whatever snacks he's managed to grab. Usually, however, it's only because Crowley has another heinous assignment for the Ramshackle Duo.

#ramshackle's like a second home to me<3 #i mean the vibes are just vibey #and so are the inhabitants! 🥺🥺🥺 #twisted wonderland #twst #ramshackle dorm #ramshackle ghosts #grim twisted wonderland #twst yuu #headcanon #canon?-yeah-in-my-heart

[rhinestoneskye]

Woman Jn A Dream

I don’t know what kinda home the Kiszka boys grew up in, but their music just reminds me of that country home down in the hollow, where nothing really matches but at the same time it does because it’s a mess of patchwork decor and it all has one thing in common: the simple fact that it’s crunchy and probably passed down by other family members. Like the frosted colored plastic cups, and the fake wood walls that match the floors, and the orange yellow lights and all the old quilts. Like I had grandparents who’s homes were like this and I LOVED it. So that’s kinda the vision I had for the home in this fic.

Edit- I found Pinterest photo examples!

Josh x Fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, the fear of losing loved ones, a random moan, Josh in no pants.

Word count: 3.1k

————————༒————————

The peace that surrounded us was like many mornings before. And yet this one, no matter how similar to the rest, was unique. They were always unique.

The hardwood floor and the matching -vertically placed- wood wall adopted an orange-brown appearance. The doily blinds on the window across from the bed had never been drawn the night before. Josh and I got into town too late in the evening to mind. His childhood bedroom was decorated with mementos of music and theatre. Just as one would expect. Old programs of shows he’d been in painted the wall above his desk. John Denver records sat on a shelf -on the opposing wall- that flexed downward in the middle only in the slightest. There were a few framed pictures hung about. Ones with the band when they first formed. Photos of garages they’d played in, the first article written about them, a stray graduation photo.

Josh and I had spent almost a week together after tour before he had asked if I wanted to go home with him and his brothers to visit their parents. I couldn’t say no. I loved the boys, and I loved their family as well. I had extended a further invite to Danny after I discussed it with the three boys. Karen had a guest room, and Danny had been ecstatic to go with us.

A yawn escaped my lips, making no attempt to remain particularly quiet. Usually I tried to mind Josh’s sleep schedule, but he was home. I knew the moment his eyes cracked open, they’d never shut again until the evening hours. He’d want to be up early. Then again.. there was a good chance his mother wasn’t even up.

My head lulled toward the night stand on my side of the small bed, eyeing the old alarm clock as I tried to read the blinking number. Just barely 5:30 in the morning. The dew would still cover the grass, the air would still have a humid chill to it. The birds were just beginning to rouse. Their songs faint in the world outside. I heard the comforter rustle. Felt a leg brush my own. My gaze drifted back toward the man sleeping at my side. Josh was anything but a peaceful person. He was chaotic and excited. He had a mind full of wonder, and held so much love for the world that I never understood how he didn’t explode. I could never comprehend how he loved everything. Cared so deeply for even the things that hurt him.

The thorn of a rose could prick him and he’d rather bandage the damaged stem than his own finger.

His lips parted, bare chest rising and falling slowly with a heavy exhale. His hair was a hot mess. It reminded me of the years of our childhood, when we’d get up after sleepovers, and I would watch Karen fix his hair in the bathroom while I sipped on juice.

A thud tore my gaze from my sleeping lover, staring at the door in anticipation. It was a distant sound. I was uncertain who it came from. Then I heard feet trample down the steps. It had to be one of the boys.

The gentle caress of a hand against my arm warmed my flesh. I hummed at the feeling, peeking back at Josh to see his head turned in my own direction. His eyes just barely began to flutter, another heavy breath escaping.

“Morning, love.” I whispered, turning onto my side and propping myself up on an elbow. He seemed to barely register the words that left my lips, his eyes closing once again. I chuckled softly at his exhaustion. He’d done quite a bit of driving the day prior. “Josh.” I called his name softly. My objective nothing more than to bring him from whatever world of dreams had a grip on him.

“Not yet.” His whispered words were accompanied by the gentle squeeze of his hand before it fell from my arm and back to the mattress. I carefully reached out to brush the middle of my index finger against the bridge of his nose, relishing in the way his head tilted up into the feeling, until I reached the space between his brows. “I can’t keep you here.” He mumbled incoherently, a statement I didn’t completely understand. But Josh often said things of that nature when half asleep. Emotional or thoughtful things that he wouldn’t explain at a later time. These were the rare moments when his mind was too groggy to guard itself. When he was vulnerable enough to share just a little of what went on upstairs. If one could pry enough from his lips at times like those, one could understand his mind much better than before.

“You’re not keeping me, Josh.” My finger trailed from one brow to the next, before I dragged my knuckles down the side of his face. Too much contact would wake him up faster. Not enough would allow him to wander back to sleep. “I don’t mind laying with you.”

“S’not like that.” His brow creased. I stopped my movements.

There were often moments when Josh got so lost in his own mind, that he forgot reality. Moments when he couldn’t enjoy life because he got caught up in the idea of it ending. Not that he wanted to end it, or that he ever had anything wrong enough to be so morbid, but even as the day is long, night still creeps in. Josh’s biggest fear was that of losing the things around himself. His family, his friends, the life they’d built. Me. We had a good relationship. We were happy, stable, healthy. His concerns never rose from the fear that he was doing something wrong, but rather that I might cease to exist one day. He never liked to vocalize the word, ‘death,’ but I always imagined that’s what he meant. He was afraid I might pass and he’d be alone.

“Why don’t you open those pretty eyes, huh?” I prompted after a moment of silence. Another long exhale followed, this one more labored than the last. Threaded with dread and worry. I moved my hand from his jaw to his chest, felt the pendant of the gold J he wore, then dragged my hand further toward his abdomen. “Josh.” I leaned forward to kiss his shoulder. He stirred slightly.

“Please not yet.” His eyes squeezed. I could sense the tension. “I just wanna keep you a little longer.” He was more coherent. I could tell by the sound in his tone. “Please.” His voice was trapped between a quivering plead and the sound of a man who’d simply given in. A little scattered.

“I’m right here.” I leaned forward and kissed just beneath the outer corner of his eye. I felt the way his lashes fluttered against my skin. “You can keep me all day if you open your eyes.” In his head, I existed forever. In Josh’s mind, I never had to disappear. He was in love with me, the physical me, but attached to the memories and pictures his mind created. His dreams offered the comforts that I could not, because he never let me in too much when it came to his darkest concerns.

“You’re right here.” Josh repeated softly. Distantly. I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or the girl in his dream. A girl I desperately wanted to see. Myself. Through his eyes.

I gently traced the few bumps on his sides, faint spots where I could feel his ribs. Then my hand dipped lower to the bruises on his hip.

“Josh.” I repeated more sternly. “Your mom’s gonna be waiting for you.” He’d live forever in a dream if he could. Where the world was perfect and people didn’t die. Where nobody left and he could spend eternity with his family. Sometimes I wondered where the fear came from. Josh never spoke of somebody close to him passing away. I always assumed his fears were what happened when somebody was so full of love and wonder about so much. If you love everything, then you have everything to lose.

Another heavy breath left Josh’s lips.

“My mom.” His tone became a whine. I dragged my hand back up his side, toward his chest, up the side of his neck.

“Jake‘s gonna get to see her first.” I whispered tauntingly, brushing my thumb against his jaw. “Five minutes before you.” He stirred, leg pushing against my own once again.

Just bring him out of his own mind. Just distract him from his world.

“I think I hear her right now.” I gently tugged on one of his curls. Josh’s eyes fluttered once again, a bit faster than the first time.

“I came out first.” He clearly wasn’t comprehending the entire conversation, which helped me understand that most of our previous conversation had been in his subconscious mind. I cooed at the sight of his dazed expression, pushing my hand through his messy hair.

“I know you did, honey.” I answered softly. To use sarcasm, or make fun of him too early, would only cause greater confusion. He just needed somebody to agree with him while he gained full awareness of the world around him. “The birds are singing for you.” I whispered, “hear ‘em?”

“I always do.” His eyes closed again, a blissful look adoring his smooth features as a smile overtook his face. He was finally awake. “Mourning doves.” It amazed me how he could always tell what they were.

“You wanna go find your mom?” I pulled my hand from his hair and sat up, stretching my arms over my head and extending my legs toward the end of the mattress.

“What time is it?” Josh’s eyes opened again.

“Almost six.” I peeked back at the alarm clock.

“She won’t be up until eight.” I would have questioned his logic if I hadn’t known him longer. Over time though, I had learned Josh knew his mother like clockwork. He knew almost everybody as such. “Let’s get something warm and go sit on the porch.” His hand found my thigh, giving a gentle squeeze before he sat up with a groan. His hip bothered him, I could tell. Not in a severe way, but simply when he moved in certain directions. That damned tambourine.

“Tea?” I suggested.

“I think I might actually be in a coffee mood.” His brown eyes looked like pools of honey as the sun reflected off a mirror in the room, lighting up half of his face and the area behind him.

“You got it, dove.” I rested my hand below his chin and guided his lips to my own.

Josh let out a sound as he pulled away, nothing short of an obscene moan that he always knew irritated me. I didn’t mind in certain situations, but after such an innocent kiss, I knew he only did it to annoy me. I gently pushed his chest and slid out of bed, hearing his amused giggles. “Get dressed, you ass.” I scolded in a lighthearted manner, reaching for the shorts I’d discarded the night before. I slipped them on before I found my way over to his old dresser. I rifled through a drawer before I found a t-shirt to change into. I had packed a bag, but nothing felt better than wearing Josh’s clothing. Clothing that fit me fairly well all things considered.

“Oh, yeah.” Josh’s flirtatious tone had my head whipping in his direction as I changed from one shirt to the next. His eyes trailed the back of my body. I flipped him off.

“I love you too, honey.” He responded to the gesture with sarcasm and a cheeky grin.

After I got the new shirt on, I grabbed a hair tie from his nightstand and slipped out of the bedroom.

The blinds in the living area had all been opened, the beautiful morning sunlight cast upon all of the furniture, and Danny, who was on the couch with a book in his hands. His head raised when I reached the bottom of the steps, earning a grin from him.

“Morning.” His soft voice rang out.

“Coffee?” I offered, though he shook his head.

“No thanks.” I slipped into the kitchen, and it wasn’t long before the drummer followed. I made quick work of finding the coffee pot, and the items I needed to get the caffeinated beverage brewing.

“You guys left late last night.” Danny commented as he found a seat in the kitchen.

“We didn’t plan on it, but Josh is late to everything. He didn’t pack until like- maybe six?”

“Jesus.” Danny’s quiet laughter brought a smile to my lips.

“That’s what I said when he was running around like a madman freaking out because we were gonna be late. I told him he should have packed earlier, and he said, ‘I was busy!’” I mocked his voice with a soft chuckle.

“Thanks for inviting me by the way.” I turned away from the coffee maker and smiled, looking up at the tall drummer.

“Of course. You’re a brother from another mother.” I teased, watching the way his cheeks flushed. Danny always felt embarrassed to be called part of the family. He never wanted to intrude, but I wondered when he’d realize that he wasn’t. They all loved him. Especially Karen, because he was always ready to eat when she made something, and much like a grandmother, she could offer food over and over, and he’d never turn it down.

The scent of coffee quickly overtook the kitchen. I folded my arms over my chest as I waited for the pot to fill, my senses brought to attention by the familiar smell. I didn’t have to wait much longer before the last drop filled the pot. I went looking for mugs, only to accept the assistance of Danny when I found them on the top shelf of a cupboard. He pulled two out, and I filled them with both to the brim. Mine didn’t need much doctoring before I went on to perfect Josh’s coffee how he liked it. I heard feet on the steps the minute I tapped the metal spoon I found against the side of the cup.

“Ready?” Josh stepped into the doorway, walking through the kitchen and slipping behind me to pull a mug off the counter. His bare arm was the least of my worries, but the moment I turned to look at him, a gasp slipped my lips.

“Joshua!” I scolded. “I said get dressed!”

“It’s fine.” He argued like a moody teenager, and certainly walking away from me like one as well. My brow creased with worry at the sight, his ass clad in boxers. He made a trip to the living room for something before I heard the front door open. “I can’t do it sometimes.” I muttered incredulously, shaking my head as I grabbed my own mug. Danny laughed. “I really can’t.” I scoffed, glancing at the drummer before I followed my boyfriend outside.

“Would you go back inside and put something on?” I scolded, watching him sit down in a white whicker chair. Josh set his coffee down on the small table outside before he unfolded the blanket in his other hand, draping it over his legs. We made eye contact. He wore such an innocent expression that I wanted to strangle him.

“No.” He answered simply before patting his legs. “Come sit with me.”

I huffed out a breath.

“You’re stubborn as a mule.” I muttered, walking over and sitting in his lap. A breathy laugh fell from his lips. I shifted to sit sideways, leaning my back against one arm of the chair, and draping my legs over the other arm. I leaned into his chest, holding my cup of coffee between my hands while Josh grabbed his own from the table.

“I’m headstrong.” He corrected.

“You’re gonna be head-up-your-ass here in a moment.” I warned.

“Yes ma’am.” He knew I was telling him to quit with the attitude, even if I didn’t have to make the request. I looked out toward the wet grass. The forest in the distance, the bird feeder that hung from the tree in the yard. All the birds signing. I felt his hand tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“I dreamt about you.” He commented thoughtfully. I took a sip of my coffee.

“You always do.” I teased, eyes trained on a pair of turtle doves flying together close to the tree.

“Because I love you.”

“You love everything.” I took another sip of my coffee, finally peering back at Josh.

“That may be true, but I’m obsessed with you. I don’t dream about things that I love. I dream about things that I adore. That I can’t live without. I am.. absolutely smitten.” The grin on his lips was almost childlike. So full of wonder. So Josh. “I am devoted to you in a way I will never devote myself to anything else. You are my dream.”

I never believed a man felt much other than lust until I met Josh. Then I found myself wondering how someone could be so full of emotion. How did he feel all those things and never get exhausted.

“I wish I could see the world through your eyes.” I whispered, nestling my side further into his chest.

“I wish you could see yourself through my mind.” His free hand rested behind my back. “I’m gonna write a song about you one day.”

“Please don’t.” I whispered with a breathy chuckle. “Don’t Swift me.”

“No.. her songs couldn’t measure up to the one I’m gonna write for you. Your song will be sung by only the best choir of angels.” There went his mind again. “It’ll be as beautiful as you are.”

“I don’t need a choir, J.” I wrapped my own arm around the back of his neck. “I just need you.”

“I’m afraid my voice won’t be good enough to sing your song, love.”

“You’re the only man I want singing praises to my name.” I lifted my head from his shoulder. “If there’s any other, I’ll be miserable.” The doves interrupted our conversation with their own. Josh and I both looked toward the tree, where they sat side by side, enjoying whatever feed Karen had set out.

“The birds agree.” I whispered jokingly, earning a quiet giggle from Josh.

“Hey..” I turned back to him, brow risen in expectation. “I love you.” A smile turned my lips upwards. I nodded in understanding.

“I love you too.”

“I’m gonna keep you forever.” He whispered, “please let me do that.”

“I won’t stop you.”

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fluff #danny wagner #jake kiszka #sam kiszka

[dimension20npcofalltime]

Preliminaries Round B

Propaganda Under the Cut (May contain major spoilers for one or more of the campaigns listed above)

Marina Astrovsky - I've heard of a cat scan

Ronald Manticaster - Peppermint with a face that was apparently so substantial they made art for him

John Feathers - Hot bird who wants to wear people clothes

Captain Galatia 9 - A protagonist of the starstruck comics who shows up to help the wurst during the final battle. She's got a Krystal the size of the Ritz and family drama out the wazoo. Too bad in d20 she only has a few lines.

Mrs. Maugly Dimweather - librarian at fantasy high that i forgot about until 10 seconds ago

Baba Yaga - She is cunning, clever, hilarious and the most powerful magic user in this story. She also loves a little kitty.

Lord Calroy Cruller - No npc leaves a lasting impression more than Calroy. From his physical design to his charming personality, wonderful inside jokes and intense plot twist he is an incredible, one of a kind character. No npc has such an epic backstabbing speech, nor such impressive pants. He charmed us all and his betrayal impacted not just King Amethar but the audience as well. His secret genius plan, his murder attempt against the king, his killer one liners. Nobody beats it. In the background from the very beginning, he is an essential part to a crown of candy and helped give us the most badass survival of any player. Amethar for sure should have died there, and yet he survived. Calroy MAKES a crown of candy. He elevates it to a truly glorious game-of-thrones-but-better story full of the perfect traitorous secrets and blindsides the show needed. Nobody can beat that.

The Unicorn of New York City - funny voice

Willy - the reason I say Kingston Brown form uptown. Who wouldnt love him!

The Cubbys - Anarcho socialists, say ACAB, broke the bad kids out of jail, physically cannot stop slaying

#dimension 20 #dimension20npcofalltime #dimension 20 bracket #dimension 20 tournament #d20 #fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year #the unsleeping city #a crown of candy #coffin run #escape from the bloodkeep #a starstruck odyssey #neverafter

[suraemoon]

MOTA: Post-war

~ Easter Sunday Headcanons ~

🐣: Easter Sunday lends itself so easily to daydreaming about post-war suburban life. Here are some ideas I thought up yesterday of how some of the boys and their families celebrate Easter. I hope you like some fluff. (Bunnies, eggs, and happiness galore)

💛: @precious-little-scoundrel gave me the idea to post these after I was yelling them to her yesterday. I hope you all aren’t Eastered out just yet.

Being some of the earliest birds to the nationwide baby boom due to a four-week New York getaway, the Crosby’s quickly become professionals at the Easter Sunday routine

After an hour of hiding yawns and dozing off while standing in their pews at Easter Sunday Service, all the neighborhood kids show up at the Crosby house for their famous annual Easter Egg Hunt.

As soon as their car rolls into the driveway, Jean and Harry watch in wonder as their crew of excited kiddos doubles, triples, and soon quadruples in a matter of minutes

Hiding spots are determined days in advance and as the years go on, the amount of eggs that Jean has to buy grows exponentially to account for the adopted little bunnies that come strolling by with baskets the size of their whole torsos

Mrs. Jean Crosby puts out chairs and a group of adoring parents get to gradually watch their children grow up before their loving eyes every April

The same toddlers who first waddled around on the newly mowed grass trying to find their footing all those years ago soon become elementary school kids with minds enthralled by the competition

Soon these toothy grinned kids become teenagers who keep the magic alive for the newest toddlers while also taking the time to show the next-gen elementary kids who are the professional easter egg hunters

The Crosby’s haven’t always had the holiday nailed though

One year after much convincing from his wife throughout the whole month of March, Harry agreed to dress up as the easter bunny

When he suddenly stuck his costumed head out from the top of their white picket fence, a church choir of crying and screaming ensued

Instead of being faced with the excited wonder-filled faces that he expected, Harry was met with wide eyes full of terror and dropped jaws full of shock

Children flailed to the protection of their mamas instead of going to hug the famous mascot of the season

He spent an hour going around to every child with his furry head off and shamefully cradled in his hands

apologizing and ensuring that yes, it was just Mr. Crosby, not a giant rabbit who hopped out of nowhere and scared the communion wafers out of them

In his adult life, John Bucky Egan never really cared for Easter festivities up until his eldest daughter was born

When sunny April came around the year that Little Miss Egan turned two, Bucky was excited to take her to the Easter egg hunt ran by the local Church

While the older kids go haywire in their now dirtied church suits and fancy dresses trying to pick up as many eggs as people they counted in church pews just a half hour before, Baby Egan waddles around gently.

Every egg she picks up is taken slowly and carefully from the soft grass beneath her Mary Jane’s, looked at with soft eyes as if being examined and if found fit, is put into her pink basket

Bucky, being impatient and full of excitement for this newly unlocked family activity, sneaks a few extra eggs into her basket to make it look like she has more

His little princess shouldn’t have to hunt for all her own eggs and risk getting her white lace dress dirty anyways

Egan is the only adult collecting eggs with a bunch of random kids. His excuse is that he and his little one share a basket of course. She needs her daddy to teach her how egg hunts are done in order to be better prepped for next year.

The Egan’s aren’t the only ones with a knack for egg hunts.

The Rosenthal children do not celebrate Easter but it does not stop them from showing up to the park’s “Eggstravaganza Hunt” every year

Being the determined little Rosies that they are, they dominate the competition. These kids will have their baskets full to the brim with eggs in a matter of minutes.

You notice a child with a head full of bouncy brown curls, pink cheeks, and grass stained knees run by you? You better hope that your little Bobby can keep up.

Rosie watches on like a focused parent at their child’s soccer game

His children with their chocolate and sugar covered faces furrow their eyebrows and tilt their heads when a random woman with a crying child tells them “Do y’all really need all that candy? Jesus would want you to share, don’t you think?”

The Mini Rosenthals come back home with sugar rushes that can power the whole neighborhood for a week straight

An upside for Rosie and his wife who have to deal with these energized little roadrunners is that the kids crash an hour earlier than usual

leaving room for extra alone time on a cool Sunday night

One easter, Benny Demarco randomly walks through the foyer of his home with a white floppy eared bunny wearing a perfect little bow tie

Is that the one you wore to our date last weekend? His wife can’t help but shake her head at her husband’s audacity as the children gather around their newest sibling with eyes full of happiness

The kids are excited but Mrs. Demarco has to try to put on a smile because “Who the hell is going to take care of that thing?”

Soon enough, a hutch is built in the backyard and more bunnies are added to the family

Mrs. Demarco falls in love and calls them her “bunny babes”

She’s met with a “I knew it was a good idea” from her husband every time she is seen cradling and baby-talking to one of their beloved pets

I mean…they are both major pet lovers. It’s one of the reasons they work so well together. But is one more responsible of the two? Definitely.

The excited squeals of children and adorable nose twitches of cute little bunnies makes it all worth it

The Demarcos aren’t the only 100th household with their own personal Easter Bunny

When John Egan jokingly told his four year old that leaving a baby carrot under her pillow would lead to a special gift from Mr. Easter Bunny himself, he did not expect her to take it seriously.

At midnight, Bucky wakes up with eyes hardly open and gets out of bed with a mission

This annual mission is to tiptoe into his daughter’s bedroom and carefully exchange the aluminum foil wrapped baby carrot tucked carefully under her soft pillow for a few cents from his wallet

As more children are born, the tradition continues

Even future generations of Egans continue to buy bags of baby carrots as Easter Sunday approaches

Not only to snack on them all of Spring Break but also to place one in a sandwich bag or wrap one in saran wrap to hide underneath each child’s pillow

Not necessarily knowing why they’re the only house that participates in this unusual tradition

Not knowing that it started from the unbreaking belief of a wide-eyed four year old and her father who stopped laughing when he realized that he was stuck playing off-brand Tooth Fairy for the rest of his life

Gale Cleven’s household has a more relaxed Easter Sunday compared to the rest

After Church, some Easter themed activities, and a well-needed nap upon arriving home, the Cleven’s go to their garden to plant new flowers

Fresh tulips, chrysanthemums, and pansies are all beautiful, refreshing signs that spring is here

Why do the Cleven’s have such green thumbs you ask? Maybe their blonde hair resembles the comforting sun, the plants can’t help but feel warmth. Maybe their caring blue eyes are as nurturing as water, the plants can’t help but thrive.

They started growing flowers and vegetables in their garden when the first after they bought their house

It was the Clevens’ first step towards making it a home

The flowers represented new beginnings, fresh starts, and growth. Essentials after everything they have been through.

————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed! Wishing everyone a happy, happy Spring🌸 My first time writing something and posting it in 4 months…ahhhh. There’s more where this came from, my mind just does not stop.

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #gale cleven #john egan #masters of the air fanfic #headcanons #buck cleven #bucky egan #harry crosby #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #benny demarco #easter