#i promised shite here you go

[elemmeno-p]

@pixelsbuildmysoul

#i promised shite here you go #request #reqs open #commission #but not technically bc it's free I'm just fuckin around #they'll get better #you just WAIT i got the goofiest request i love it coming up #sorry pixels Ú-Ù these little dudes came out like the first batch of pancakes #paving the way #and edible #but anestheticly ahead of their time #hozier #shitpost #artists on tumblr #my art #requests #please please please #anyway #doodle #digital art #goofy #frog art #frog #snek #snake #cute hat #thank you for the support #and thank you for the req <3 I'll always remember u pixelsbuildmysoul

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cheating Heart

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot

A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.

“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”

 “Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.” 

Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”

Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.

“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”

“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”

“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”

Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.” 

The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison. 

Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.

Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.

It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell. 

“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”

“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”

“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”

Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.

“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”

Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.

“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”

“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.

“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”

“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”

“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”

The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.  

You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.

Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes. 

“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”

Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.

“--soon?”

You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.

“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”

Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood. 

You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.

“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you. 

If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.

“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!” 

His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.

“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath. 

Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.

It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.

Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.

Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform. 

“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on. 

Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.

Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories. 

John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps. 

You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain. 

As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly. 

The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations. 

“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”

“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”

“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”

“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”

You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…

Your eyes harden as reality sets in. 

John. 

“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own. 

Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down. 

Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock. 

Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all. 

A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.

Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.

“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”

“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”

Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.

The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?

John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in. 

Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong. 

For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him. 

“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.

If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath. 

It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.

A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly. 

Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.

Why did you care?

Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man. 

“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.

John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks. 

The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion. 

“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy? 

Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound. 

If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.

“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”

“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”

“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”

“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder. 

Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.

“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”

Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?

Shut the fuck up!

A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.

Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?

That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.

“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.

“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”

Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes. 

John’s hands clench, jaw following suit. 

You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up. 

“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.

John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself. 

No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it. 

That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.

The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!

But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you. 

Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.

Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.

If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in. 

You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling. 

That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority. 

But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.

“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”

A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.

“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”

When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.

“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?” 

As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight. 

If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you. 

But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force. 

He was your Captain. You were working under him. 

You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset. 

But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.

“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks. 

John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late. 

Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds. 

Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.

You still felt disgusting. 

—

Nothing you did made sense to him. 

John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all. 

She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail. 

I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.

Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong. 

But he knew that would only make it worse.  

“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”

But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that? 

Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.

Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given. 

It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent. 

You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.

John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair. 

The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky. 

Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.

—

The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in. 

You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home. 

Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.

He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too. 

Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown. 

You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.

Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge. 

“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.” 

The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.

Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.

“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation. 

You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.

Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’

John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories. 

On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand. 

John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters. 

“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight. 

– John”

Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.  

More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.

You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago. 

Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances. 

It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.

John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation. 

You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.

“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”

Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch. 

Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking. 

But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands. 

When had this place stopped being home for you?

“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…” 

You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it. 

“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”

“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”

Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch. 

What’s that noise?

“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”

But you weren’t stupid.

A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet. 

You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.  

Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles. 

Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.

“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!” 

Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend. 

“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”

Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided. 

“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!” 

Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”

“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers. 

“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them. 

Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained. 

You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house. 

“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly. 

“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door. 

Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too. 

Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.

The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.

“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”

Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip. 

You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.

“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”

Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.

“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”

“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!” 

“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”

Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”

Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more. 

A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.

“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”

Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.

“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an–”

Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least. 

You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.

Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.

The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed. 

Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle. 

Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise. 

Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood. 

Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot. 

John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through. 

Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.

That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.

“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.” 

Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat. 

The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.

John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.

“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”

“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”

When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off. 

“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”

The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright. 

Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.

Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his. 

John looked so sad. 

His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.

“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.” 

“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor. 

“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting. 

“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head. 

You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack. 

It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something. 

You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.

When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone. 

Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.

Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)

He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.

“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”

—

Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter. 

“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?” 

“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?” 

Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.” 

John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod. 

The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.

After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.

“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.

Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about. 

“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”

“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”

“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”

“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”

“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue. 

To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out. 

It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it. 

“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’

Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from. 

“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.” 

“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”

John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket. 

“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–” 

The bell at the front door jingles. 

Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips. 

A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth. 

You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.

“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”

The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.

“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”

Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”

A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.

Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.

His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.

“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.” 

“...Two.”

“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”

“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?” 

A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation. 

Why were you not saying anything?

John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles. 

There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face. 

But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.

Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.

What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…

The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.

Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.

“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two. 

John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?

He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.

You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.

John’s eyes slowly widen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

—

“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”

“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!” 

“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”

“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”

“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved. 

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them. 

John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”

“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”

Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens, 

“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?” 

Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name. 

The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress. 

You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.

But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.

Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me? 

It couldn’t be helped.

When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter. 

Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship. 

Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?

You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.

“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon. 

“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.” 

Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.” 

The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out. 

“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”

You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”

“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder. 

Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. 

Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.

“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”

“...I might have sucker-punched him.”

John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums. 

“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.

He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again. 

“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.

“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”

“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.

You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back. 

…Why was his hand still on your back? 

“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you. 

John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.

It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.

Leon was gone.

“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”

The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”

John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you. 

His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.

Stop it.

“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”

“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.

Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.

Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did. 

If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart. 

“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.

“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”

“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand. 

“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”

You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.” 

Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.

“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”

Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.

“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.” 

He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.

“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”

A quiet grunt carries over the space.

You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.

Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”

“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“You bet.”

“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey–!” 

“What in the–!” 

Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny. 

“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.

“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”

“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.  

You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.

This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold. 

After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?

Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.

You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.

“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head. 

His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water. 

“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out. 

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?

“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.

“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place. 

His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.

“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.” 

The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.

“...Anytime, Dear.”

Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.

The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head? 

When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake. 

Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat. 

“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.

You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?

He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt. 

“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”

“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.

“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty. 

“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.

“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.” 

John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk. 

He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”

Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach. 

Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.

A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.  

You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.

“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.

If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.

Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore. 

Leon was gone.

“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?” 

Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire. 

You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior! 

Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless. 

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, “It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”

But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.

It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.

But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?

And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you. 

“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.” 

So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his. 

John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths. 

His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke. 

“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.

“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.” 

His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this. 

Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.

The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.

It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.

Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.

“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”

“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?

His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.

“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I’ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths. 

Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.

“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”

He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.

You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.

That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action. 

His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”

Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow. 

God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.

John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee. 

You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers. 

“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”

“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point. 

Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now. 

“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever. 

Annoyance swirls.

“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”

A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.

“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you. 

John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner. 

He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.

You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you. 

John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets. 

“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?” 

Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.

Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs... 

You want him naked. 

“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest. 

The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.

You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.  

When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.

John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand. 

He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.

You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube. 

“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.

Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.

John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug. 

“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”

You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.

A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release. 

Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”

“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”

Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again. 

“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”

His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film. 

John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.

“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.

You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release. 

“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.” 

Fuck you were on fire.

Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you. 

John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar. 

Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt. 

“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”

He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.

“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue. 

The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind. 

And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.

John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.

“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”

The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot. 

Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.

John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still. 

Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.

You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.

His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.

“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.” 

You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly. 

“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it. 

Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.

“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”

“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”

Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away. 

“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”

You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.

Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.

“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving. 

How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.

But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.

The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.

You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.

Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.

“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself. 

John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.

“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.” 

“John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”

“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”

He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.

“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.”

The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.

You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too. 

“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes. 

“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”

“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”

Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.

“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.” 

The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same. 

“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made. 

Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available. 

Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it. 

“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.” 

He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.

John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.

A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”

“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.” 

Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.

“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”

“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.” 

John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”

He trails.

“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”

Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.

“Easier.” 

It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.

“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”

You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.

Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind. 

John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.

There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared. 

—

“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.” 

Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–

“That’s it, I'm coming in!” 

“Wait!” 

But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick. 

“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?” 

“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–” 

“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?” 

“Out!” 

Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck. 

John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”

Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.

“Wait till the boys hear about this!”

The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.  

Well, secret’s out. 

#john price #captain johnathan price #captain john price #john price x reader #John price x you #captain price #x reader smut #cod #cod x reader #cod smut #cod mw22 #cod x you #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #MW #MW2 #Call Of Duty MW2 #mw2 2022 #x female reader #female reader

[thegnomelord]

Hii, here for the prompt game of yours!

What about prompt 1. Where the reader is the one suggesting it to Ghost? Like, big ass guy sitting on your lap I think it'll be interesting. If you haven't gotten any ideas maybe there aren't enough seats in a vehicle and he's forced to just sit? But if you've already got a few ideas for this please use yours instead! I love your writing and how your brain works.

You've been doing great! Thank you for your hard work! Fighting man

Anon you and I share the same brain waves lol I legit made that prompt with Ghost in mind :Dd Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Do you-" "If you suggest I sit in your lap I'll kill you."

CW:NSFW, Sub Top M!Reader, Dom Bottom Ghost, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, quickies.

Simon's going to kill him. Stab him, shoot him, feed him to the dogs. And Johnny just looks at him like an innocent puppy with a smug look in his eyes. Of course Soap would suggest going to Vegas and of course he'd rent a car that's too small to fit them all, and of course Simon's the last one to get in...

"Come on LT, hop in already." The Scotsman grins, settling next to you in the back. Gaz is riding shotgun and Price's behind the wheel since he doesn't trust any of you to drive. "Wouldn't want to miss out on loosing all yer money."

Simon's contemplating strapping Soap on the roof or sticking him in the car's boot when you pat your thighs. "Do you-"

"If you suggest I sit in your lap I'll kill you." He cuts you off, glaring at you. He knows he's dead on the target when you give a sheepish grin, honestly he doesn't understand why you'd want him of all people to sit on your lap when he's at least a hundred pounds heavier than you.

"Oh come on Ghost," But you just give a charming grin, confident like a chihuahua against a wolf. "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself." You raise your arms up in surrender, giving him your best puppy eyes.

"Fine," Ghost relents. The shuffle into the car is awkward and he bumps his head on the roof a couple of times, knees knocking into yours before he finally sits down. He's not even surprised when your arms wrap around his waist and you pull him down on your lap further, your hands unable to meet on his front from how big he is.

"That's a comfortable seat, yeah?" Gaz snorts as you nuzzle your nose into his broad back, he's so big you can't even look over his shoulder, his weight pressing down fully on you.

"Aye, look happy like a hog in shite." Johnny snickers, trying and failing to duck from Ghost's hand, ending up getting knocked upside the head. "Ow- that hurt!"

"There's nothing inside there to hurt." Ghost snarks, feeling your chest shake as you muffle your snickers into his back.

"Settle down boys." Price grumbles as Gaz laughs next to him, Price's eyes meeting both Simon's and Johnny's. They mutter out low 'yes sir's before he humphs, turning the car on. The engine rumbles to life like a dying geriatric.

"Christ MacTavish where did you find this piece of shite?" Ghost asks incredulously, and Johnny answers something in Gaelic. He looses track of time when he starts bickering with Johnny until Price turns on the radio, resulting in Gaz and Soap belting out songs at the top of their lungs. He feels your hands squeeze around him, reminding him that he's currently sat on your lap; strange how he could forget that.

The drive to Vegas is hell, the road's bumpy like a teenager's pimply face and Simon bumps his head on the car's ceiling every time Price drives over a pothole. It wouldn't be as bad if he didn't feel. . .you. . . brush against his arse every time it happened.

He was lucky he was wearing his mask so no one would notice how hot he became, hands clenching into fists each time your cock poked him, his throat becoming dry. He could feel you stiffen, suffering under the same problem he was, heat slowly burning in your veins.

And of course Price had to pick the bumpiest road he could, not a second would go without the car rocking and making you grind against him, the bloody bastard probably did it on purpose. At least none of them mentioned how you and Ghost had become silent, you literally biting down on his jacket to keep silent.

Finally after a few hours of hell on wheels Price stop at a gas station that looks like it hasn't seen human life since the 80's. Simon doesn't even wait for the car to shut off before he's jumping out of it, "With me," he growls with a hand firmly grasping the front of your clothes.

You don't resist him as he pulls you into an equally sleazy bathroom, the type of which you'd find in a brothel. "Simon, what-" You suck in a breath as he all but throws you down on the toilet lid, locking the stall behind him.

"Shut'it." Simon growls, pulling his face mask down to kiss you roughly, blindly opening your pants to fish out your cock. You're both hard as rocks, Simon separates from the kiss to push his fingers against your lips. "Open."

Simon groans as you take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers. If you had more time Simon would have had you eat him out, but fingers will have to do for now, especially with how you look when he catches your tongue between his fingers.

"So eager." Ghost hums, undoing his belt and dropping his pants and underwear, bracing a hand on your shoulder as he leans down and roughly pushes two fingers inside him. He groans and kisses you again, quickly stretching himself just enough so he doesn't tear anything.

"Just for you." You mutter against his lips, sucking in a breath when Simon pulls his fingers out, spits on his hand and lubes your cock.

"You better be." He grins, swiftly turning around so his back is facing you. Holding your cock in one hand he moves so your tip is poking his hole, slowly sinking down. Your hands fly to his hips, gripping firmly but not trying to slow him down. "Yeah, that's a good lad." He groans, relishing the burn and stretch, the sizzle of pain muddling with pleasure, electricity running up his spine.

God, he's so big compared to you it does your head in, your hips bucking up to meet his, chasing the tight heat enveloping your cock. "Fuck, Si," You groan, biting the back of his jacket to silence your moans as Simon starts riding you. He's unable to get a good leverage with the awkward position so you two end up rutting like animals, your hand coming around to stroke his cock, feeling his walls tighten around you.

You two cum in record time, a low moan leaving his lips as he shoots cum across the stall door. His hole flutters and clenches around you, muttering 'come on, give it to me' over and over again until you're cumming inside him, his walls milking you for all you have.

You feel him slump against you, tight heat still trying to pull more cum from you. You both are breathing heavy, bliss coursing through your veins as you tilt your head to kiss the nape of his neck lazily.

"Oi, quit snogging else we're leaving yer here!" Johnny's voice rings from the other side of the stall door.

Oh, you are going to kill him.

#Gnome's Prompt Game #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #cod x male reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley x reader

[sgiandubh]

The door faces North

This has been, by far, one of the most complex investigations I have ever done in this fandom, and I am truly sorry for the long wait I had to inflict on many of you & for the uncharacteristic radio silence in DMs and comments. During this peculiar journey, I checked, double-checked and cross-checked as many details as I could and I carefully considered at least two different theories, of which I still think they do not exclude each other. I am now confident enough to make not only an educated guess, but also a daring bet on SRH's next whisky move.

Also, sorry for the length of this post. Truly sorry - think of the completely pulverized night sleep I had to give up, in order to bring this to you.

But first, a word on Marple's obvious PR tip on the Hopetoun Estate refurbishment and distillery old/new project. I am fair game enough to tell you the obvious: her overall recounting of the principals is roughly correct, spare perhaps one or two minor details. Correct, but dry - she limits herself to the technical documentation submitted by Golden Decanters and The Hopetoun Estates Trust to the West Lothian Council for approval. She correctly points out that S is not a visible part of the deal, at this point in time and she does a decent summing up of a very, very, VERY plethoric amount of bureaucratic information. She concludes, and I think she is partially right, that he might be interested in becoming an investor (I am taking things a bit further, though). But in doing so, she focuses on the development phase of the project only: the possible connections with SRH and his own spirits business are less, if at all, obvious.

I am going to give you my view of all this charade and, if I am going to mention (and probably repeat) some things already found by her, I am going to focus on the people: this is where the whole story starts to become remarkably interesting, at least to me. After all, I remember promising you some more clarity. Here's an honest, fair play take.

Little did I know, when I started to write about that (now defunct) company, Midhope Castle Distillery, Ltd (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/748597198794670080/the-info-provided-above-is-correct-but-outdated?source=share), that my investigation would turn to this:

... for it was to be just an almost random layer of a juggernaut matryoshka of defunct or still active companies, featuring roughly the same people and no less than 6 different name combinations centered around Midhope, Hopetoun, etc.

The following pics will give you an idea - feel free to open them in a separate tab, for clarity . I preferred this synthetic approach, because otherwise you will curse the shite out of me. But it had to be done, with or without Depon, Advil's Greek cousin (and before you ask a graphologist, this is my handwriting, and nobody else's 🙃):

The only explanation for the whole almost frantic Midhope/Hopetoun crisscross/hopscotch (LOL) combos I can think of is two people trying to secure one (several?) credit lines or to attract significant investors for their project and ultimately failing to do so. But I might be wrong (although I doubt that, thank you). Out of this entire maze ( I swear I now have a migraine), there are only two active companies remaining: Golden Decanters Ltd (renamed GD Spirits Ltd, in April 2022) and Midhope Ltd (renamed Skosk Ltd, in July 2023). It is on them I am going to focus my gaze.

GD Spirits Ltd was incorporated in Berwick-upon-Tweed, England (just across the Scottish border), probably for tax reasons, on March 11, 2015, the nature of its business being listed as 'wholesale of wine, beer, spirits, etc.'. It started with a team of two women: Julia Mackenzie-Gillanders and Ann Medlock, whose names we are going to see over and over again in all the eight corporate avatars. Later down the timeline (LOL for three decades and a half), on January 30, 2018, they were briefly (until July 19, 2018) joined by two very interesting professionals: Mrs. Margaret Boswell, an attorney at the very prestigious international law firm Gide Loyrette Nouel (Paris and London offices)...

...and Ken Robertson, former Corporate Affairs Director at Diageo Whisky, a subsidiary of the international Diageo group, one of the major players on the world spirits' market:

The second company, Skosk Ltd, was incorporated in August 2021, in Perth, Scotland, its nature of business being listed as 'distilling, rectifying and blending of spirits', with the clear intention to align with the exacting criteria prescribed by the 2009 Scotch Whisky Regulations:

[ Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scotch_whisky - sorry, I don't have time to wax lyrical on this, and neither do you]

This time, we only meet again the two distillerettes, Gillanders and Medwick. Up until now, at least, nobody else (attorney, former sales executive, whisky expert) has joined the platoon - TBC? I would not speculate and leave all options open.

There is little to 0 transparency on Skosk's financial situation, at the moment and to be honest, it looks very much like S's co-star (hehe)'s Irish business venture...

... but I was a bit more lucky, and the numbers more chatty, as far as GD Spirits was concerned:

Paging all shipper chartered accountants out there, but to me, it doesn't look great, at the moment. Cash is ridiculous, the net worth is hemorrhaging and the current assets are negligible, compared to 2020, when I think they managed to secure one or two credit lines, but not nearly enough for what they needed. Just enough to pay themselves and their external consultants and cover the operating costs, if you ask me.

The revised Planning Statement, of 8 February 2024, posted first by Marple, echoes my initial guess (COVID blew it up, see link to the first post) and the above assessment:

Mark this: 'Discussions are now proceeding with investors and there is a realistic prospect that work will begin in the near future (2024/2025) to implement the permission.' Given that they will start with the road and parking rehabilitation and upgrading, probably overlapping with the distillery building, it would make sense to begin this autumn at the earliest, with the most urgent: access to the site itself.

The initial Planning Statement, dated 9 July 2020 and re-posted on March 21st, 2024, tells a more detailed story. This is part and parcel of the current project as well, since the revision is just pointing out the changes operated, not the entire rest, which remains unchanged. You be the judge:

Also keep in mind this tiny, tiny thing: the Business Plan is 'submitted (...) under Private and Confidential Cover'. See where I am looking?

The initial plan was (and still is) for GD Spirits to produce their own booze, using Midhope's own barley (this is very important for the rest of my theory!). They even offer an overview of the real impact of their project on the local economy:

20 to 38 initial new job creations for a £ 15 to 30 million investment is not 'huge', madam Marple. Cumbernauld is huge. This? This is rather modest, if you ask me. But hey, what do I know about the labor market, right?

That initial Statement tells also the story they want to tell about the genesis of their idea, the scouting for the right location and a couple of other interesting details:

So they are telling us they started to look for the perfect location in 2018 and oh, hello, they found the Hopetoun Estate rather quickly, already starting the pre-planning application consultations as early as July 2019 (don't get me started, please):

If so, then why did they incorporate not one, but two different companies clearly linking them to the Estate (Hopetoun Estate Distillery Ltd and Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd) the same day and as early as May 23rd 2017 (and both dissolved in December 2022), as my above penciled timeline (LOOOOOL) shows? Who is really behind this project and why this entire ballet? It's like me pre-emptively looking for rental properties in (let's randomly guess) Lisbon, when it's just wishful thinking, heavily projecting and with 0 guarantees I will be posted there, right? I mean, I adore and deeply know Lisbon and I would be thrilled to go there. But I am not currently looking for any rental property, just like that, because that would be a #silly, rookie mistake. In their case, I think there's a different situation - again, you be the judge.

A first answer, as to who is really behind that project, was given by the UK media, back in 2020:

How odd, when we know that both Mrs. Boswell, the well-traveled attorney and Mr. Robertson resigned from GD Spirits in July 2018. Do they still say hi to the two distillerettes? Do they quietly keep an eye on the project? Are they silent partners? Business angels? Shareholders? Time to remind you that under UK law, there is 0 visibility on the shareholder's structure of a company. You just see the officers (Director, Secretary, etc), on the Company House website. On an umpteenth, last- second cross-check, it became apparent that Mr. Robertson remained involved in another company of the distillerettes, Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd (yes, the one mentioned above), until its voluntary strike-off, in December 2022.

Their best laid plans do mention OL, and how could it be otherwise? But all this £ 15 to 30 million hullaballoo for 20.000 people only (who counted them and how?), on a seasonal basis?

High-end restaurant, luxury B&B, event spaces, you name it. Interesting, to say the least.

And, for the people in the back, who still think SRH has a 100 years lease at Midhope (Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the stupidity!):

This is why he commented as a 'member of the public'. At face value, there is no public involvement into that project. Yet. But it is my belief there is a vested interest in all this, justifying the comment, the visit, those papers rolled in his fist, etc. At first, I thought that was a visit to Lallybroch by the Exec Producer of OL's Season 8, to discuss technicalities - and shared that privately with a wonderful friend only. I mean, why not and still perfectly possible. But then, as I could not sleep tonight and felt guilty to have you all waiting, I started to connect some tiny dots.

Like this one, for a start:

Yes, I know, Marple told you that FIRST, I would not dare say otherwise, because if I did there would be a transcontinental screech. That trademark application was filed at the US Patent and Trade Office in September 2023 and I thought (and still partially do) it was a potential rebranding solution to The Sassenach's EUIPO nightmare (much exaggerated by the fandom's toothbrush experts):

But you also know I am an idiot and I always check people's CVs, when I follow a thread. This morning, the one Distillerette I am particularly interested in is Mrs. Julia Hall-Mackenzie-Gillanders (née Scales) and not like *urv would be.

Her LinkedIn profile is exceptionally talkative, too:

... and a BA (with Honors) in Fashion Design, class of 2005, at the Northumbria University.

The Financial Times article 'From packing boxes to wine deals worth millions', you can read on her LinkedIn page, tells a very interesting story. It is the story of a shy underdog (lots of temple bells clinging, at the moment), who made it by sheer persistence. It starts like this:

'When a painfully shy young woman contacted a fine wine merchant and said ' I have no qualifications- can I help?', she got the job and today is signing deals worth millions of pounds.'

It obviously did ring a bell and if SRH knows she exists (she is married, *urv!), and I dare to speculate he does, it must have struck a deep chord. Would I do business with her? I wouldn't speculate, although I am not very sure. Would he? He'd probably listen very carefully to what she has to pitch, for a start.

And what she has to pitch is also very interesting, in his world. A brief look at the Golden Decanters' website shows a first high-end single malt sourced collection of 4 exceptional expressions already sold out:

And when they mean high-end, they mean gold leaf labelling and all the tralala:

And, some last minute news, too:

Remind me, because I am an old woman, after this white night: wasn't The Sassenach (no comment, we agree to disagree and I am very skeptical), a blend?

We have these dots, then:

Bold Underdog ->spirits business->high-end collection of single malts sold out->business partnership with owners of Midhope Castle, fictional Lallybroch in OL, including a distillery and whisky production with Midhope/Lallybroch barley -> visit by the male lead and spirits entrepreneur (also the fictional Lallybroch laird) to Midhope/Lallybroch and vested interest in the estate's most recent business project....

What if The Sassenach would be included, for a start, in that new Blended Collection? And could it really be fanfic to imagine a future high-end, limited edition, Lallybroch whisky produced at Midhope, with Midhope/Lallybroch barley? It wouldn't be the first time, would it: after all, they did it with that limited tequila batch.

As I said, because I am (remember Someone? LOL) a 'silly cow', I was hoping he wouldn't do it. But my guess is he might very well do exactly that, with those people and under that label.

It's half past eight AM, local time and I need a strong, black coffee.

I rest my case (and I am bracing myself for the screeching). I will answer Anons later, after I come back from the hairdresser's. Appointments must be kept at all costs. Thank you all for your patience.

#boozewars #business #fandom #shitshow

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Little Bit More

25/12: Promise & Phone Sex - Billy Washington Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m) A/N: this exists in the Every Little Bit universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

He always knew it was coming around, and yet he always hated it.

Her dad’s birthday was in between Christmas and New Year, that weird time where you don’t know what day it is, never seem to have enough food in and where you’re so disorientated in the post-Christmas haze that it’s like coming down from a sugar high.

It was the few times of year where she went away by herself, wanting to spare Billy from the absolute torture of being around her parents for a few days as she made excuse after excuse as to why they weren’t married yet.

Not that he minded, there was only so much of her mum Billy could take.

He’d seen her off at the train station, her duffel bag looking very much as big as her in the cutest way possible as she skipped off to the platform in her winter overcoat and scarf, the chill nipping at her cheeks.

It was only a few days. It was only a few days. He had to keep reminding himself. 

Billy sighed, tapping the remote control against his knee, only half-watching whatever terrible Friday night tele graced his flat. The pizza box was closed shut on the coffee table, having tried to cheer himself up with a takeaway.

His phone buzzed, and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his face, seeing her name in bright white letters on the face of it.

She'd promised to ring 9 o’clock on the dot, after all.

“Hiya, ya alright?” he answered, his voice sounding perkier already, his muscles relaxing once he heard her voice.

“Hey, you sound happy”, she replied low down the phone, and he could tell she was smiling by the way she said it.

“I am now,” he grinned, “just finished a 12 inch on my own.”

She groaned over the line, “Billy.”

“I'm joking, it's because I've heard your voice again.”

“Better,” she laughed breathily, “what you up to? Other than missing me, of course.”

He sighs, “Being a sad cunt, staying in with a beer watching whatever shite is on Channel 4.”

“Ooh dear,” she says unenthusiastically, “sounds dull, babe.”

Billy hummed in agreement, “What about you? What you up to?”

It was her turn to sigh, “fuck all, really. Mum and Dad went to go and see Mum's mate Jill, you know Jill don't you?”

“Yes, babe.”

“Yeah, well they left at five and are yet to be back. Convinced she's got them tied up in the basement.”

Billy laughed through his nose, “That actually sounds better than what she might actually be doing, chatting their bloody ears off.”

“Poor buggers, eh,” she laughed, “so I'm sat here on my tod.”

“What a shame you've got me to talk to then.”

He could hear her smile, “could be worse. You missing me?”

The alcohol had offered him a kind of confidence, and he sucked his teeth, holding back a grin, “You could say that. Missing something anyway.”

He heard her mischievous tone even over the crackle of the phone.

“Are you now?”

The line went quiet for a while, before a notification buzzed and Billy turned her on loudspeaker for a moment as he pulled his phone from his ear to check.

…has sent an image.

With one flick of his thumb, his jaw dropped, the depths of his gut becoming tight and hot by the picture she'd sent him. It was her figure reflected in a mirror, wearing clearly nothing but a large t-shirt (his, he noted) and pulling the spare fabric to one side to show her curves as well as her pebbled nipples beneath it.

“Jesus..”

She giggled over the phone, “is that a good ‘jesus’?”

“I-fuck, yes…”

Another one arrived, with her pulling up the hem of her shirt over her hips and expanse of her stomach, just beneath the shadow of her breasts.

“Christ, babe, what are you doing to me?”

She hummed, “sorry, you said you were missing me.”

Billy sighed looking at the photos, every now and then closing his eyes to will the feeling of her skin onto his fingertips, the warmth of her, the sounds she'd make for him. 

His breathing grew shallow as he reached into his jeans, wrapping one hand around his length, to softly pump himself, already half-hard since the moment the first picture arrived.

“Are you enjoying them?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Mmhm..” he murmured.

Another few arrived, in various stages. One where the shirt was fully over her breasts, one where she was wearing nothing at all leaning back to show her full naked torso, and one sat on the bed, the lines appearing where her hips met her thighs.

“Oh fuck…”

Over the phone, she could hear the clinking of his belt as he pleasured himself, “are you touching yourself, baby?”

He could only make a sound in confirmation, his throat closing as he fisted himself to the photos of her.

She sighed, as if her touching herself was expelling a deeply rooted desire, her hands sliding between her legs, the other holding the phone to her ear, “Mm…wish you were here…”

“-ffuck-me too, baby-”

His strained voice was enough to coax some slick between her fingers, using it to pleasure herself, laid back on the bed.

“are you on the sofa?...”

He swallowed, breathlessly replying, “yeah..”

“Do you remember before I left…” she started, and the memory nearly made Billy dizzy.

He was sat right where he is right now, legs apart to accommodate her kneeling there. She'd been annoyed that he was playing Xbox, and so, in an effort to make him lose his game, had knelt in front of him, pulled his sweatpants over his hips and eagerly took his length between her lips.

She'd gotten what she wanted. Before long, his controller was long forgotten and instead, his fingers were threaded through her hair, guiding her pace on him.

He can feel his stomach tightening at the memory of the sensation.

“Do you remember, baby?”

“Yes…”

“Hm..” she hummed, over the phone, while in her own bed began to hasten the pace of her self-pleasure.

"If I were there...do you know what I'd do?"

"What..." he breathed, his hold on his phone so tight without realising.

"I'd get up...off my knees...on top of you..." she muses, sighing at the feeling herself beginning to crest, "...maybe tease you a bit..."

"Fuck-no, baby, don't tease me-"

She let out a breathy laugh, "but why not? It's so much fun."

Her hips canted towards her own touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she held the phone loosely as the pressure tightened in her gut.

"What would you do, baby? If I was right there on top of you..."

His voice came strained, every stroke of his length in his fist drawing him close to fulfilment.

"I would - I'd fuckin' pull you down..."

She could tell he was close by the tone of his voice, and she bit back a smile, knowing he was much too far gone to even form a coherent thought.

"I'd let you fuck me...right there...be your little fuck toy..." She mused in a sort of whisper, "...you could cum inside me...as many times as you want, baby..."

Billy's lips parted, not even realising how his movements had become rapid, needy and quick.

"Oh fuck-"

On the other side she was close herself, and then she heard the prompt and pulled the phone away from her ear to see a request to switch to video call. She accepted without thinking and felt her gut twist at what she saw.

His jeans were pushed around his zipper barely, only enough to free his cock as he pumped it quickly. She was entranced as Billy pleasured himself in real time, her face growing warm at the effect she'd clearly had on him.

And then she heard it, a long shuddered whimper of her name, followed by, "Oh baby-"

She felt her thighs tremble as she came, warmth rushing beneath her hips and a tingling sensation rushing from her toes all the way up her spine, as Billy groaned deeply and spilled all over his fingers for her to see.

Her hand has slowed, overstimulation gnawing as she touched herself with Billy's languid thrusts into his hand continuing to pull a deep arousal from her.

Over the video she heard his laboured breaths, gulping for air.

When the video turned off she smiled tiredly and pulled her phone back to her ear, hearing his tired, exhausted voice.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed. She could imagine him, all spent and limp on the sofa, and the thought made her smirk and press her thighs together with want.

"Mm, you're telling me. Do you feel better now?" She asked demurely.

"Fuck you," he teased, "fuck, I can't wait for you to get back..."

She gave a short laugh, "Oh yeah? What you gonna do when I am?"

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd heard her, her brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted to ask him if he was still there.

But realistically, on the other end, a wide smile graced his face, his blue eyes all aglimmer with mischief.

And what he said had the power to shut her right up. Excitement made her stomach flip, wondering what version of Billy she seems to have unleashed. Gone was the shy, unconfident Billy she'd found. Her efforts in getting him to...unwind somewhat shocking even her.

"How did you put it, hm?" he laughed, with a smile so bright like he'd just opened a present, "My little fuck toy?"

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

#billy washington x oc #billy washington x y/n #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington fanfic #billy washington smut #billy washington fic #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington x you #billy washington x fem!reader #trigger point series #trigger point fanfic #trigger point billy washington #billy washington trigger point #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #12daysofsmuff

[annmarcus63]

It's a pleasant night. His belly is full, his feet throbbing after dancing all over the tavern like he was the eighteen-year-old bard he used to be. He's no longer that foolish child, not after everything. The only thing left from the eighteen-year-old Jaskier is Geralt. Jaskier smiles at the thought. Speaking of a certain witcher, he's sitting on the chair by the window, the light from the fire coloring his side with an auspicious orange hue. He’s so handsome. 

It's been a while since the last time he traveled with Geralt, quite a while since the last time they were traveling to a big town, Oxenfurt specifically. That's the reason he feels so content, lightheaded in the best of ways and a little bit excited. You see, he's received a letter from the university. He will be named Artist of the Decade in a major award (obviously) as part of the Oxenfurt Music and Arts festival. Artist of the decade, him, Jaskier. Valdo Marx shited in his pants when the results were published, Jaskier imagined.

"I hope he'll be there! I want to see his cherry plump face when I'm called to the stage. ‘Vulgar art’ he said, he called me untalented, the bastard" The bard is beginning to remove his clothes before going to bed, he's undoing the laces of his boots while talking like eighteen-year-old Jaskier used to. "I'm sure he'll be there. That snake. There was a time he told everyone at the music guild that the lyrics of my song were false, that you weren't even my friend!” 

"Most of the lyrics aren’t exactly true" says Geralt in the background, Jaskier ignores him. 

"Oh oh oh I want to see his face when he sees you there"

“Jaskier” Geralt calls

"Take that mister 'i'm better than you' "

“Jaskier” Geralt calls 

"Yes, darling?" Answers Jaskier with fond exasperation. He's having a big monologue here and that's the moment Geralt decides he wants to add to the conversation. He's been quiet lately. 

"I'm not going" Jaskier feels a bold blow on the center of his chest. His heart hunching on itself at registering those words. He understands perfectly well but decides to play dumb anyway. "Where, darling?" and apparently Geralt wants to play dumb too because he stays silent. 

"Can I ask why?" Jaskier crosses his arms in front of his chest, already defensive and Geralt is there, still sitting, with a somber expression. This is going to end in an argument, both of them can tell.

"I can't" 

"Alright..." Geralt hates being prompted to talk when the conversation is tense, but Jaskier can help it, and doesn't want to help him.

"I'm sorry" at least here he looks remorseful. 

"No, no, Geralt. You promised!" 

"I'm sorry, something has come up..." Jaskier takes two steps forward and Geralt stands raising his hands in a placating manner. 

"What has come up...?" And then Jaskier remembers, the black speck against the window in the middle of the night a week ago. "Does this have something to do with that raven?" Geralt growls, sometimes he forgets his bard used to be a Redanian spy. “Is it because of Yennefer?”

"I'm sorry" Geralt nods, giving the truth. "Is important" 

"This is important too!" 

And now the bard is shouting at Geralt, he hates doing that, but the witcher is not helping either.

“It’s an award, you have plenty” 

“It’s NOT an award, is THE award” 

They are standing in front of the other, speaking to the other’s face, up this close Jaskier can see the pattern of tiny scars all over Geralt's face. The bard takes a couple of calming breaths, trying to keep his temper. He hates arguing with the witcher. "Can't she wait?" he asks, but Geralt only denies with his head, already so sure "What is it about?" the witcher doesn't reply "You don't even know!" There goes Jaskier temper again, the bard throws his arms in the air, exasperated and frustrated. This is important to him, and Geralt knew it and it pains him to realize that the witcher would so easily push him aside. A if Jaskier achievements aren't a thing to cherish and celebrate, as if... he's not important. "She didn't tell, she said It's important" Says Geralt followed by a heavy sigh indicating that he thinks  Jaskier is being childish.

"This is important to me, Geralt - "

" - I know..."

" I asked you to come last year, remember? I told you that I might win the award and you promised you’ll come! I know you don't like big cities but..."

“-I’m sorry” And that's it. Jaskier can feel his heart turning into dust and falling heavily to the pit of his stomach. It's not the same as the mountain, but it feels similar in a way. Jaskier is realizing just how much he means to Geralt. Again. Jaskier holds Geralt's eyes from below, at least the witcher looks ashamed. 

And then after a long, resigned sigh the bard murmurs "Whatever" It keeps happening, repeatedly, suddenly and inexplicably he keeps getting hurt with by his own naivety by thinking that someday Geralt would choose him, not over Yennefer, Ciri or the other witchers. Just choose him because he wants to. Because it's fair, because Jaskier wants him to be there. 

He likes Yennefer now, he even catches himself thinking of her with love. The kind of love you have for the one that makes your true love happy. But he also knows that she can fend for herself and that it is possible for Geralt to wait at least a day before responding to her siren song. She gets to have him forever, why does Jaskier can't have him only for a fucking day? And now he's being pitiful, and he hates himself a little bit for that.

Maybe he's overreacting, maybe it's not that important… but it is! He wants Geralt to be there, to share the award with him. But at the end it's not Geralt's fault, he'll not resent the witcher for having priorities, a family to take care of which includes Yennefer and the others but not him. Maybe it's time for Jaskier to find his own. He has already spent enough effort in becoming part of Geralt. Jaskier goes to search his travel bag for his notebook, he needs to rework on his acceptance speech. 

"I'll gather we'll be parting ways at the crossroads tomorrow?" Jaskier turns around briefly, wanting to see the witcher’s expression, to be suddenly confronted with an uncomfortable and unexpected feeling at reading on Geralt's face, a lot more than surely the witcher wants to convey. Shame, uncertainty, fear of not knowing what went wrong and how to prevent it from getting worse. And Jaskier feels sympathy, despite everything that has happened, what is happening, Geralt tries, on his own, albeit slow way.

"Yeah" 

"Good"

Geralt starts fidgeting on the same spot from before, when Jaskier decides he has had enough and turns. The witcher hasn't moved an inch, he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, the bard can tell. But it won’t come to that. Not anymore. Enough of this, enough of scraps. 

"I'm going out, don't wait for me" Jaskier murmurs  when he's at the door. Geralt calls for him, but Jaskier pretends to have not heard. 

In the morning Geralt arrives at the stables to find Jaskier already waiting for him by Roach. They travel side by side all morning, Jaskier holding his notebook in front of his face, he seems to be reading and rereading the speech, which is weird because he said he's already memorized it. They haven't spoken much, and Geralt hates it. He should be saying something, anything! Something along the lines of "I'll go with you" but Yenn... what if? 

Jaskier stops and turns around to face him from below, one hand scratching Roach's neck. They are at the crossroads; it's almost noon and Geralt doesn't know what to say. Their gazes lock for a long time, the wind singing softly around them, the leaves of the trees falling like orange rain. It's so calm. "Take care, Geralt"  Jaskier says in the softest of voices and turns right. Geralt watches marching away, wondering why it feels like a goodbye.

It's funny how loneliness comes in the strangest of forms. Surrounded by dozens of people shouting his name from the square in front of the stage. Wasn't this what you wanted? his mind supplies unhelpfully. Yes, he did want this, the love and admiration of the masses. He is, after all, the artist of the decade. But, well, in retrospect he was young with little knowledge of life. It's only natural that your aspirations may change through the years. Don't get him wrong, older Jaskier wants the same as younger Jaskier, but now, he understands that the love of the masses can't fill the void of being unloved and unwanted by people close to him, or people he thought were close to him. So, he accepts the award with the biggest smile on his repertoire, mocks Valdo Marx and goes to the tavern with a bunch of scholars like him. He drinks, he laughs, he sings a lot of his songs, flirts and plays gwent.  And with every sip of wine and ale he peels a little bit of his sorrow, his wounded self-esteem, his beaten heart, and self-pity. He wished Geralt was here, with him, but he's not here, so be it. Enough of wanting, enough of this ever-present loneliness. He's resolute. He'll find a place to call home, and he won't resent Geralt. Ok maybe a little. 

The celebration has reached the part where everyone is drunk enough to dance and sing at the top of their lungs. Jaskier is standing on top of a table surrounded by the taverns, he's leading the song. He's sweating all over, his hair a brown wet mess. He's happy. When the front door swings open, it's Geralt. The witcher removes his hood and instantly locks eyes with the bard. Like a hunter finding his prey. Jaskier stops singing, right there and then, hopefully no one notices because the song continues its course. 

No, no, it's too late. Jaskier thinks. I've already made up my mind. The bard climbs down from the table and pushes through the crowd. His mind it's a volatile compass, pointing at his resolution and to Geralt. It tries to decide how to proceed. It tries to decide which path will hurt more or less. 

"What are you doing here?" Jaskier is proud of his steady voice. Not even the ale could break him.

"I thought I'd make it on time, ''Geralt replies , his eyes trying to find Jaskier's, but the bard is looking at a spot on the witcher's shoulder. 

"You're late" In that moment the blue eyes look up to meet yellow ones, defying Geralt to name the issue. To name the hurt on Jaskier’s eyes the night before. To name the emotion that is now on the bard's eyes.

They both know this isn't about the ceremony, not anymore.

"I'm here now" Geralt says heavily and Jaskier laughs cause it's funny really. i'm here now so it must be enough. 

And this is the thing, he forgave Geralt many times thanks to sporadic care and attention that would be forgotten later. His heart is screaming within his chest, the poor thing wants to take Geralt back. But no, Jaskier won't listen to it anymore. 

"And you are late" 

A girl walks past them holding a tray of beers, Jaskier takes one and drinks half of it in one go.

Geralt watches him, anxiety sewing itself on his veins. He can feel that is it. He fucked up, again, but this time for good.

"I thought Yen’s message was important" Jaskier wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, cursing internally, his tongue loosened by the alcohol. He sounds bitter and resentful. He hates it.

"It is, but this is too" and oh the witcher is trying but instead of being charmed Jaskier gets angry.

"Oh, now it's important, I see. Well, maybe if you have arrived on time for the actual ceremony..."

“…I tried”

"Maybe it wouldn't be too fucking late" A young couple turn to look at them. Feeling embarrassed, Jaskier lowers his voice and continues. "I appreciate the effort, Geralt, but it is an unnecessary one. I’m sorry my friend” says Jaskier, reaching out to place a hand on the Witcher’s muscular arm, trying to convey comradery, an olive branch if you will, for Geralt to take and be gone without blame. If Jaskier dared to look at Geralt's face one more time, he would find sadness, grief, shame, and fear. Every emotion that the witcher always tried to conceal from everyone, especially Jaskier.  “There's an open bar, enjoy the celebration. Rest. I'm going to sleep" In that instant Jaskier's heart broke even more. Oh, how he wanted this man, how he longs for him, decades on end. Even in his resolution he still wants him. 

He needs to rest too. He's not young anymore, his feet hurt, and his thighs are trembling from the exertion. So, he turns around up the stairs to his room, closes the door behind and with clothes and all, he gets into bed and sleeps like death.

---

I'm posting this fic again because I just realized that I never posted the ending. I'm stupid. I'm sorry.

#geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #Geralt does not appreciate Jaskier #Jaskier x self-respect #it took him more than twenty years but is an achievement all the same #Jaskier wants to be part of Geralt's family #geralt x jaskier #joey batey #angst with a happy ending #if loving one self can be considered as a happy ending #the witcher netflix

[talaok]

Hi I don't if you are taking requests still but could you maybe write Spencer with a Mexican reader and how when the reader speaks Spanish it turns Reid on. It's just that I don't see many or any stories of Mexican reader. Please?

funny you asked me 'cause I studied Spanish for a long time and I'm still absolute shite at it. but with a little help from the internet, here we are. (thank you for the ask💗)

“You like it?” You asked Spencer, referring to the movie you had convinced him to watch.

IT, your all-time favorite film, not exactly his style.

“Yeah,” he said, unconvincingly, making you laugh softly.

“ you don’t have to lie baby”

He sighed, a shy smile tugging at his lips “It’s just-it’s a bit…”

“Improbable”

“Improbable”

You both said at the same time.

You bit down a grin, as your hand went to his cheek “You and this improbable thing…” you sighed “It doesn’t have to be realistic to be cool”

“I know, but like- they don’t even explain how he was born,” he said “Was he created? was he born like that? They don’t tell you anything”

You couldn’t do anything besides letting your head fall in the crook of his neck, depicting your exasperation.

“But you like it, so I want to watch it” he said, stroking your hair.

“You sure?” you raised your head “We can change it if you don’t like it”

“I’m sure” He promised, leaving a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you” you murmured, kissing him once more.

You went to watch the movie again when a ringing sounded across the room.

You groaned, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

“It’s Camila,” you said, and he paused the movie

“Go on” he urged, and you smiled in return, picking up the phone.

“Hola, que pasa?”

Spencer heard a mumbling voice from the other side of the line.

"Que!?" you almost shouted.

You couldn't believe your ears, Sofia and Jacob, your long-time friends had broken up.

"No me lo creo" you said "Cami, es imposible, ¡Han estado juntos como una década!"

She was as shocked as you, as she tried convincing you of what she had herself just heard.

"¿Me estás tomando el pelo?" you exclaimed as she told you the story.

" no! Que hijo de puta, la engañó?"

He had cheated on her.

"es murto para mi, nunca más hablaré con él." you promised "Pero lo siento por Sofía, la llamo más tarde, ahora estoy con Spencer" you told her you were gonna call Sofia later since you were with Spence, and she immediately understood, starting to end the call.

"vale" you spoke, "hablamos después, hasta luego" you bid farewell, hanging up.

You turned to Spencer, and just as you did, noticed a weird expression on him.

"what?"

"nothing" he said with a thin voice.

"Spencer..." you raised your brows, shifting closer to him "what?" you asked again, more sweetly "i can see there's something going on in that big brain of yours"

"it's-it's nothing I just-I never hear you speak Spanish"

"mh-mh" you nodded, "and..." you urged him to keep going.

"nothing- it's-it's cool" he gulped as you inched closer, a smug smile tugging at your lips. You had a hunch about what was really going on.

"cool?" you asked, taunting him

"I-I like it"

You smirked, cocking an eyebrow "Te gusta?"

he nodded, his knowledge of Spanish coming in handy.

"cuánto?"(how much?)

“A-a lot” he confessed

“Te excita?”(does it turn you on?)

He looked at you shyly, slightly avoiding your gaze before nodding.

“Cariño” your fingers grazed his jawline “no tienes que avergonzarte”(you don’t have to be embarrassed) you spoke slowly, noticing the way his eyes focused on your mouth as his cheeks flushed pink “El español es un idioma muy sexy” you giggled, your hands going to his hair

“I-“ he tried to speak, but for some obscure reason, he found he couldn’t force a word out of his throat.

“Que?” You asked “Que queries?”(what? What do you want?)

You were mere inches from his face, and Spencer felt on the verge of a heart attack.

“Sabes que?” You bit your lip before kissing his cheek “Creo que sé lo que quieres” (I think I know what you want)

“Qué te parece si vamos al cuarto?” (What do you think about going to the bedroom?)you murmured “Así que también puedo mostrártelo” (so that I can show you), and to that, Spencer couldn’t do anything other than eagerly nod as you took his hand in yours and started towards the bedroom.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x mexican!reader #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader

[suugarbabe]

OMG congrats for 1k!!!!💚

Since you said would like Enzo requests, and your celebration seems very cute, a Enzo x Nott!Reader with the prompt of Soulmate aus?

Maybe Reader is Theo's younger sister and goes to another school, and knows/has heard of Enzo through Theo, and somehow they become pen-pals? Just writing letters to eachother, very sweet and friendly.

Then Theo invites his slytherin friends home, Enzo and Reader meet and they realize they are soulmates? With a sprinkle of overprotective older brother Theo.🤭💚

I really do love Lorenzo, please guys send me more Enzo recs i need them biblically

Enzo would have met you during summer holiday going into his fifth year, you in your fourth. You were instantly smitten (how could you not be). Being a Nott, you had your boldness to you as well, so you wrote him first.

When the owl dropped the first letter down in front of Enzo, Theo originally thought it was for him, given it was your owl. However, when he saw Lorenzo Berkshire in your loopy handwriting he instantly became angry; over protective.

"Why in the bloody hell did you just get a letter from my sister?" Theo threw the letter at Enzo, who's cheeks instantly flushed, "I-I don't know..." Which was the truth, he had no idea. He made the choice to not open it there, despite Theo's demands that he do.

Enzo instead opened it after everyone else had went to sleep. You were straightforward, flirty, telling Enzo how smart you thought he was, how kind his eyes were, how attractive you found him and how sad you were that you wouldn't be able to see him again until next summer.

He wrote you back, telling you of your beauty, admiring your wit and admitting that he was slightly afraid of Theo given the look he had received when your letter arrived.

But it went on like this, back and forth for weeks on end, Enzo even learning a little Italian to put it in his letters to impress you (and it did). And you found yourself growing fonder and fonder with each letter exchanged.

When Christmas holiday came around, Theo barged in your room, "My friends are coming next week and staying through New Years. Stay away from Enzo."

You scoffed, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I know you're his little bloody pen pal or whatever you two call it. He's not allowed in your room and you two are not allowed alone together."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Who do you think you are? My father?"

It was Theo's turn to scoff, "Please, you're lucky it's me and not Papà."

You knew he was right, but you were just as stubborn as him, "I'm not making any promises." Theo stalked out of your room after that.

When the boys arrived, you appeased Theo and kept your distance. For as long as you could, anyway. Enzo had thought maybe he had done something wrong, written something that had upset you in his last letter before he arrived.

So when New Years Eve arrived and he felt himself being pulled from the hall into a room he was sure it was Theo about to beat the shite out of him.

When his back was pushed against the wall and he saw your face instead, he instantly let out a deep sigh, "Merlin's sake, love, I thought you were your brother."

You faked offense, "You expected Theo to bring you in to his room and snog you?"

"No! Wait, what did you say?" Enzo's face went through a few emotions. First shock, then his cheeks flushed and he couldn't help but stutter.

"I said," you took a step closer to him, "I pulled you in here with maybe not the most innocent of intentions."

You wrapped your arms around Enzo's neck, his hands finding solace on your hips nearly on instinct. You stood on your tip toes, lacing your fingers at the base of Enzo's neck and pulling him down slightly.

He responded without hesitation, his lips finding yours like a magnet. You knew in that moment that this one kiss wasn't going to be enough. His lips were too soft, fit yours too perfectly. He hands felt too good on your body and they barely strayed far from your hips.

When you finally pulled back Enzo was chasing your lips, successfully landing one, two, three more pecks on your lips before finally allowing you to speak.

"You should get back," he was saddened by your words, but nodded in understanding. "I know, but right now I feel like I would be okay with Theo being mad at me."

You giggled, thumb lightly tracing his cheek, "Well you know which room is mine, now you can come back after he falls asleep." Enzo held your face in both of his hands, placing one last long, hard kiss to your lips which you took as an acceptance to your plan before leaving you in your room alone, thoughts of later that night dancing in your head.

#nonny bo bonny #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire fluff #enzo berkshire fluff #enzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #golden era

[writersdrug]

hehe hi! anon here! didn’t know what you wanted in terms of request but 😭 how about like a comfort request? i’ve just had a pretty bad academic related experience, so maybe head-canons of any character of your choosing for comfort?

Ooooh I like this a lottt.... of course I'll be using the CoD boys, but I might throw some random ones in here too, be prepared lol. Thanks for the request!!!

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE OMGGGGG

CoD 141 Headcannons: Comforting You through a Rough Academic Period

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He wasn't really the academic type, so he couldn't entirely understand why you let yourself agonize so much over your studies.

But he respected the fact that you were working so hard to achieve your goals. Something he never got to do often for himself, since most of his job was just following orders.

He would sit there and watch as you sat, neck stuck out towards your computer and your back hunched. He'd sigh, moving behind you to roll out your back, wincing as it popped.

"Christ, love - get up and walk around for a second, yeah?"

"I'm almost done with this module, just let m-"

"Up. Now." He'd order you to move, but would drag you out of your seat whether you started to move or not. "You'll get stuck if you sit like that for too long, looking like an old man."

"Like you?"

"Oi!!"

Simon would practice your flashcards with you, although he wouldn't be very helpful. He'd just shake his head when you got the answer wrong, not bothering to help you find it.

"... is it the femur?"

"No."

"... the tibia?"

"Nope. Try again."

"Can I get a hint?"

"No."

"..."

He knew to NOT distract you when you were on a roll. He can manage keeping himself busy while you studied, doing his own work or helping with chores around the apartment.

He knew, from experience, how easy it was to forget to take care of yourself - so he did it for you. He brought you water every time you emptied your cup. He would bring you snacks periodically, or he would cook a meal for the both of you. He'd sit and eat with you, not making any conversation so he doesn't distract you.

"Anything you need, love, just tell me."

If he caught you getting distracted, whether you would glaze over what you were reading, or your conversation with him would go just a bit too long, he would redirect you back to your work.

"Finish that bit and then take a break with me."

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish:

He hated the fact that all of your time was being consumed by something other than him. When he would walk out of your bedroom first thing in the morning and see you bent over the table with your laptop and notebook, he would groan internally. He'd rather you be be bent over the table for him.

But he remembered how often you waited for him while he was deployed, so he patiently waited for you.

Well, as patient as he possibly could be.

After about three hours, you'd be the one lecturing him, telling him to go watch tv or go out and do something so you could finish. Every now and then, he'd only agree to leaving you alone if you would promise to go out to dinner with him, whether it was casual or fancy. After agreeing - and several kisses for convincing - he'd let you be.

"Wear your favorite jeans, ok?" he'd say.

"You mean your favorite jeans?"

"... yeah." he'd smile ear-to-ear.

He would stand behind you, his head resting on top of yours, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as he read along to the biochemistry textbook you had on your screen.

"Shite, hen, you studying to be a fucking wizard? What is all that keech?"

He'd constantly throw passive-aggressive praises at you, saying how you're so strong for sticking with your studies, and how he would have given up after looking at the first page.

"You gonna remember me when you're up there with the brainy blokes?"

"Of course I will, you're helping me pay for this."

"For feck's sake, I forgot 'bout that."

More than once, when you dropped your head down in frustration, he would walk over and hold it back up towards the screen.

If you studied in your bed or on the couch, he would sometimes lay with his head in your lap, wrapping his arms around your thighs with a tired pout on his lips.

"Hold me when you're finished with that, yeah?"

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He admired your determination to get your degree - he felt a sense of pride every time he saw you studying, especially on the days where it was particularly hard for you.

He was your #1 supporter, constantly encouraging you, praising you, and helping you see what your working towards. He'd be carrying you through the lows of your emotions, making sure you didn't feel hopeless.

"Of course you got this, babe, you're so fucking smart!"

While you were reading the module in the textbook, he'd be looking up videos on his phone about the subject, watching it on the lowest volume so as not to disturb you.

He'll sit on the floor with you, your notes strewn everywhere, listening to you talk about the subject you're working on. He'd do his best to engage in conversation with you about it, hoping that it helps you retain the information better.

Truth be told, he doesn't know much about the subject, but he's just happy to help. He'd let you vent about your current frustrations.

"It says that this piece is in 3-4..." you'd mumble.

"Yeah?" he'd reply, not sure where you were looking at on the page in front of you, but doing his best to follow along.

"... and that this one is in 4-4 too, but each note is made up of triplets."

"Triplets?!"

"Yes! And THIS one is 2-4, ALSO with triplets!! They all sound the same!!"

"How the fuck are they different?!"

"You tell me!!"

You knew he wasn't sure what you were talking about, but that he knew what you needed - a shoulder. And he always provided you with that, no matter what kind of day he'd had.

He'd encourage you with snacks, going through your flashcards with you and tossing you a pretzel every time you got one right.

"Tchaikovsky's 'Swan Lake' starts off in a blank chord."

"Melancholic?"

"Close, but try again. Think simpler."

"... minor?"

"There you go." he'd toss you a pretzel from across the couch.

Captain John Price:

Mans goes full dad-mode when helping you study.

He has a week away from missions? You'd best believe he's spending it at the dinner table with you. He'd work on his own things, sitting next to you, while you study.

He had a no-phone rule at the table while you worked. At first you whined and fidgeted with your hands, itching to check your phone for any form of distraction. Eventually, you gave up, diving into your studies as Price smiled smugly.

Like Simon, he'd be bringing you snacks and water throughout the day. Lots of shoulder massages, scalp massages, and stretch breaks (he'd try to participate, until he'd strain his back too much).

If he notices you struggling, evident in the way you scowl and grip your hair near the scalp, he'd sit right beside you and try to help you understand the material.

Unless it was math. He couldn't stand math.

"What's that?"

"That's mu."

"Come again?"

"It's a Greek letter, it represents the population mean."

"English, love."

"N-no, it's Greek!"

"Huh?!"

"Never mind, John, I got it from here." You'd kiss his cheek, thankful for the moment of amusement he'd provided. He'd continue staring at the screen, grumbling about how ridiculous math had become over the years.

For at least one of your breaks, he'd insist on taking you for a walk. You'd stroll around the neighborhood, basking in the chilly Autumn air mixed with Price's warm arm around yours. As hard as it was for him to drag you out of the house, you were thankful for his stubbornness to get you moving. The pace of the walk and the sound of the atmosphere around you helped clear your head of any frustration and brain fog. You'd close your eyes and lean your head against Price's shoulder, trusting him to take the lead.

A day spent studying was rewarded with an hour or two either in front of the tv, lying in Price's embrace, or the two of you just sitting on the cough together, having a conversation free of your school subjects. Most of the time, you'd fall asleep before him, and he'd let you lie there for a minute before he'd carry you to bed.

"Try not to work yourself too hard, love. Y' need to be strong for me tomorrow."

#cod #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #gaz #price x reader #john price x reader #john price #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #141 x reader #141 headcanons #soap

[absolutebl]

Hello. I was wondering if you have a master list of all the shows that got released this year? I've looked through the 2023 upcoming list and there are some missing and some that never premiered.

I wanted to see what I may have missed.

Thanks.💜 my-rose-tinted-glasses

Sure thing, hon! Here ya go!

All BL 2023 releases

So far, that I have on the spreadsheet. Not sure how you want it organized so I did it by country and then alphabetically.

Japan

Blue Sky Complex

Can I Buy Your Love From A Vending Machine AKA Sono Koi, Jihanki de Kaemasu ka?

Candy Color Paradox AKA Ameiro Paradox

Egoist

I Cannot Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai

If It’s With You AKA Even If I Fall In Love With You AKA Kimi to nara Koi wo Shite Mite mo’

Jack o'Frost

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo Tabetai

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2

My Beautiful Man 2 AKA Utsukushii Kare Season 2

My Beautiful Man: Eternal AKA Utsukushii Kare Eternal

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho

Naked Dinner AKA Zenra Meshi

One Room Angel

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku

The End Of The World, With You AKA Bokura no Micro na Shuumatsu

Tokyo in April is AKA Shigatsu no Tokyo wa

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2

Korea

A Breeze of Love

A Shoulder to Cry On

All the Liquors

Bump Up Business

Happy Merry Ending

Individual Circumstances

Jun and Jun

Love Class 2

Love Mate

Love Tractor

Our Dating Sim

Our Winter

Sing My Crush

Star Struck

The Director Who Buys Me Dinner

The Eighth Sense

The New Employee

Unintentional Love Story

Why R U?

When it was good it was very very good, when it was bad they were dying.

Taiwan

HIStory5: Love In The Future

Kiseki: Dear to Me

My Tooth Your Love

Stay By My Side

VIP Only

You Are Mine

Thailand

609 Bedtime Story

7 Days Before Valentine

A Boss and a Babe

Absolute Zero

Bake Me Please

Be Mine Super Star Superstar

Be My Favorite

Bed Friend

Between Us

Beyond the Star

Boyband the series

Cafe In Love

Chains of Heart

Cooking Crush

Crazy Handsome Rich

Cutie Pie 2 You special

Dangerous Romance

Destiny Seeker

Dinosaur Love

For Him the series

Friend. Boy Friend

Future the series

Hidden Agenda

Hit Bite Love

House of Stars

I Feel You Linger in the Air

I Will Knock You

La Pluie

Laws of Attraction

Love in Translation

Love Syndrome III

Low Frequency

Make a Wish

Man Suang

Middleman’s Love

Moments Of Love

Moonlight Chicken

My Biker

My Blessing

My Dear Gangster Oppa

My School President

My Universe

Naughty Babe

Never Let Me Go

Only Friends

Our Skyy 2: A Boss and a Babe

Our Skyy 2: A Tale of Thousand Stars

Our Skyy 2: Bad Buddy

Our Skyy 2: My School President

Our Skyy 2: Never Let Me Go

Our Skyy 2: Star in My Mind

Our Skyy 2: The Eclipse

Our Skyy 2: Vice Versa

Pastsenger

Pit Babe

Playboyy

Remember Me

Senior Love Me

SHADOW

Step By Step

The Luminous Solution

The Promise

The Sign

The Whisperer

Till the World Ends

Tin Tem Jai

Tin Tem Jai special

Twins

Venus in the Sky

Wedding Plan

The Philippines

Ever After

My Story

Our Story

Stay

The Day I Loved You

Tie The Not

(underreported, I don't keep track of Pinoy stuff anymore)

Singapore

Pure Vanilla

Hong Kong

Stay Still

Myanmar

The Love Ring

China

Stay With Me (Addicted + moar censorship)

I bolded anything I rated over a 7/10. Although some of these I opted not to watch and others are still airing (and thus as yet unrated). So don't take an unbold as necessarily a negative.

I haven't assessed how many are releasing in December

(I probably should deal with the "The" but I lazy.)

#all the bl in 2023 #so far #that I tracked #asked and answered #Japanese BL #Korean BL #Taiwanese BL #Thail BL #Pinoy BL #Singapore BL #Hong Kong BL #Myanmar BL

[katz-chow]

Coming from puff puffs blog 🤧🤥 hope you don't mind 😝🙈🙉 ur also totally gaining a new follower..

WHAT ARE YOUR HEADCANONS ON SOAP? 🥰🥰🥰 unless you've already done this before then I am so sorry 😓

relationship with soap headcanons

warnings: sfw, fluff, some angst, relationship arguments, family trauma mentioned, religious trauma, homophobia, bad dad

a/n: my fav cod man is soap so this took my top priority!!! i think about this man a lot, 09 and reboot version. reboot is my fav though, realistically, he's who i would actually get with. here’s all the things i’ve thought about him, there’s probably more tbh… OK OK HERE :))

childhood hcs

johnny soap mactavish comes from a large family of 5 siblings, he's the second oldest. it's elsie, him, blair, callum, and olivia.

growing up in a family of mainly girls got him on that respect women juice. he would always have to make sure his younger siblings are ok and aren't you know, being bullied. his parents were adamant on 2 year age gaps between them all.

his cousin, jack, was an sas operator and that was what made him want to join. they had to call security forces to arrest him out at some point because he kept sneaking in to watch them do stuff lol

elsie left for uni with her bf to live in soho when johnny was 16, the same year he would talk to recruiters around his hometown, driving hours and then getting rejected the same day due to his age

9th grade (year 10) chemistry got him obsessed with stem and its *explosive* results. he aced chemistry and then took advanced chemistry and physics just because he loved it so much

after this, as soon as he turned 18, he went to sign his papers THEN graduated school (he's just like me fr). his mom was so worried for him, especially when her sister told her about the danger that jack would get himself into. in the end, he promised he'll always call her and his siblings

his dad's an ass, hes an alcoholic, a cheater, a *bitch*... he would always take the kids to church on sundays and twisted the religion into a reason for his behavior. claiming that johnny's mom being at home was just "their culture"

she makes a killer shepherd's pie though

always had had some sort of love-hate relationship with the catholic faith. on one hand, it was nice to know there's always at least someone watching out for him, but after hearing the constant belittlement from his father, claiming he wasn't "manly enough" for not willing to give his life up in the service, he started to resent the “all merciful”.

he ended up blaming god for all his faults, letting him take accountability. this especially happened when he got diagnosed with adhd when he was 17, his dad didn’t believe in mental health. his mom was only a bit better about it, they both refused meds for him.

he's bisexual, leans towards women though. found this out after a truth or dare game in junior year (year 12) and some beers in a closet

at one point, callum acccidently let it slip at dinner when johnny had first moved out that he had met a cute guy and their dad screamed and yelled at the whole family, especially their mom, about "raising a fucking whore of a son, dragging the family down to shite"

blair called and told johnny a few days later and johnny rushed his work as quickly as possible and begged his chain of command for a few days off to go back home to his family

his family gets loud…like really loud. there’s 7 people what do you expect?

it gets especially bad when it’s sunday morning and you gotta get 7 people awake and looking their church best for an hour and a half 😔

johnny is the quickest everything there is, which has its downsides too. he could run and swim the fastest in the family, but he was also the quickest eater…meaning he’s on dish washing duty. he’s quick at that too so by the time everyone’s finished, he’s washed all the other dishes that took to make dinner

broke his arm chasing a cat through someone’s yard (he was 14)

had a goat scream and kicked him because he wanted to give it a hug

he got a part time job at a local bakery in 10th grade (year 11). the pay wasn’t much but neither was the work really. olivia, who was 9 at the time, made him promise that he’ll get her a doll to have tea with. her tea set had 4 cups but only one of her, so she must get another one to join her! he kept his promise; he ended up getting three dolls for her

he can make amazing soda bread and brioche loafs now too, still keeps a starter from the owner of the bakery to this day

he had a mountain bicycle that he would take everywhere. had room behind his seat for packages and his backpack, which he would tie down. that thing had such a loud bell too, would ring constantly to “let people know hes coming and get ready”

was terrified of selkies for some reason, always had the window closed and made callum sleep by it while he slept by the door

wasn’t much of a troublemaker, but would get into trouble with his adventurous heart.

got lost in the woods once and after a while of fake courage, he sat down and cried until elsie found him. he was 20 yards (13 meters) away from the clearing 😭😭

laugh at that guys, mf was 15

personality & relationship hcs

johnny is such a fun lover. he’s handsome yeah, but what makes ppl flaunt over him is his humor. he’s what jessica rabbit said “he makes me laugh”

such a charismatic and charming person, gets it from his dad. he could talk about just about anything, also the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store. then end up with their number and a date or helping them dog sit

this isn’t always a good thing though, one time before he was medicated, he would talk on and on, his story becoming incoherent due to the amount of self-interruptions he made, that a group of guys got so annoyed at that pub, they punched him.

he was young, 19, and couldn’t fight, so he didn’t win and came back to the barracks with a nasty black eye

he likes to be the big spoon, has to hold something in order to sleep

feel like he’s the type to wrap his arms around a pillow and lay on his stomach to sleep

speaking of sleeping, he HATES sleeping with socks on. he tried it one day and he just shivered at the feel of it, woke up and his socks were missing (he found them under the bed)

i also feel like he sleeps like a log, unmoving once he finds his comfort, i also think it's because he had to sleep in the same bed as his siblings at one point and he didn't want to wake them by moving, so he got accustomed to being a still sleeper

one time he accidentally got into a fight at a bar when a guy kept being misogynistic and was arrested and kept in jail for the whole night until one of his civilian friends bailed him out

johnny's the type to race you in the rain to the car. again, he's quick so he's always ahead of you but then he slips from the rain and ends up all wet and muddy and in the car.

his favorite thing to do is hear you laugh. he'll do anything to hear you laugh.

whenever you're sad, he'll purposely stub his toe or trip down the stairs or make you kiss his "owie" (a papercut) to get you to cheer up. like yeah it hurts like a fucking bitch but seeing you sad hurts more than a silly tumble

number one date event is city exploring and hopping. like cafe hopping, pub hopping, museum hopping, restaurant hopping, anything that makes you get up and get going with time to sit and chill at the same time.

feels like he can eat a lot, he's the type to eat your food if you end up not liking it or being too full

when he gets home from missions and the initial excitement of seeing you dies down, he also dies down and nap for hours until it's the middle of the night and he gets up to eat something.

he loves naps. feels like he needs a nap time every day if it was possible

he's a very kind lover, he's easy going so its not hard that sometimes people take advantage of this and push his buttons until he can't take it anymore

causes a huge blowup because he can have a nasty temper whenever he bottles stuff up and pushes things aside

not a physical manifestation of anger, but definitely a verbal anger, will say things he doesn't really mean just to say it and realize right after the words leave his lips that he fucked up

but he'll stake out in front of the guest bedroom in which you've locked yourself in until you come out and he gets the chance to forgive you

the type to stand in the rain and hold a sign saying sorry right outside your window, a very cheesy romcom style (gaz made him watch them)

he loves you more than anything and loves you even more than you can keep up with him and laugh at his jokes, no matter how awful they are

he wants 4 kids by the way

#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod #modern warfare 2 #fanfic #john soap mactavish #captain john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #call of duty modern warfare #katzwrites

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 19 - Prompt: Note. @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 500 words

Tw: threat of violence

<<<Previous Part Or Start Here

“Sirius, I need a drink. Now. Right now.” Regulus wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. “Later” wasn’t going to cut it either.

His brother stopped abruptly and frowned. “What? Why?”

“Listen to me very closely,” Regulus said, his voice dripping with condescension. “If you don’t take me to a pub, I’m going to violently shag your best friend. Is that what you want? Hmm?”

“As in…consensually? I mean, love is love, so-”

Sirius bit his lip hard, clearly fighting back a laugh. It was official. Regulus was going to strangle his brother, then shag James senseless, and ruin everyone’s holiday. It was not a laughing matter!

“I’m aware that you haven’t seen my ‘joking face’ in awhile,” he retorted, clenching his teeth. “I assure you that this isn’t it.”

“Oh, oh shite. Yeah, come on then,” Sirius said, smirk evaporating as he closed the space between them. He gripped Regulus’s shoulders and searched his face. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“No, of course not. This is me, perfectly fucking fine.” Regulus was seething. If he didn’t numb this intense need to devour James immediately, he couldn’t promise the bloke would survive. His bite was notoriously sharp.

Sirius winced as he released him. “Yeah, right. Let me leave him a note at least. Then, we’ll go.”

By the time they reached the pub, Regulus was ready to rip the skin from his bones. The sight of James Potter jealous over him was entirely too much. He’d barely contained the visceral need to claim him, like a ravenous wildcat wrenching opening its jaws and eating him whole.

“Here, two shots to calm your tits and a gin and tonic to nurse,” Sirius said, grinning as he set the drinks on the table. “Go on.”

He ignored the shite joke and downed two vodka shots with a straight face. Regulus was in no mood to fuck around. He was here to get pissed and intended to succeed. He slammed the g&t for good measure as well.

“Whoa! Take it easy, Reggie. Your tolerance isn’t high enough for that.”

“Wrong. This won’t do much.”

Sirius huffed as he swivelled on his heel. “I’m ordering food this time too. I don’t want to carry your arse home.”

A basket of fries and a table full of drinks later left Regulus properly pissed. Sirius hadn’t bothered to keep up or mentioned his threat of violent sex with James. To be honest, he’d expected a repeat of his objection from earlier.

“You’re not curious what he did?” Regulus asked finally, slamming his umpteenth g&t on the table.

“Not really. James would never hurt you, so I assume it was something good that you can’t process.”

The fact that he was right was even more infuriating. “He defended me, Sirius. The prat…was jealous. Do you understand?”

“Mm-hmm. He’s hot when he does that.”

“For fuck’s sake, I will hurt you,” Regulus warned.

Sirius snorted a laugh and waved his hand. “Stand down, Phthonus. We’re just friends.”

Next Part>>>

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #the marauders #starchaser #marauders #sirius black

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 9

Find the series masterlist

You make sure Kate knows that you are Displeased with the current situation. The 141 gets front row seats.

Warnings: Swearing, Ace is a little shit, mention of blood, mention of injury, mention of stitches. Bits of Ace's backstory.

Word count: 1.2k

Wordlessly, Captain set down a laptop, fiddling with it. Masked man settled into a lean against the wall, while Garrick nodded to you and chose a seat with an empty chair between you.

You were really going to dislike this, you could tell. 

“Kate,” Captain greeted, taking a step back from the laptop. 

“John.” Kate sounded the same as ever. You hunched your shoulders a little, feeling the reprimand coming on. “Ace.”

“Katie Kate,” you grumbled. “And here I thought you couldn’t ground me from another continent.”

“You’ve never tested that theory.” The humor was clear there to you, and you huffed. “Figured it’s time you knew everyone, since they’ll be your backup.”

“Backup?” You sat up straight, ignoring the pull in your side. “I don’t do backup, Kate. Or teams. You knew this at one point in time.”

“You also didn’t go poking around Russian business,” Kate shot back, voice a little harder. “You kept your head down, for the most part.”

You blinked once. Ah. The assassin must have gotten a picture of you, although you doubted that would go far. You were very careful about pictures, after all. “So I’ll find a nice little villa to camp out in for a month until they forget about me.” 

“I can’t give you a month. Not yet.” Kate didn’t even sound apologetic. “Not with the intel you brought back on the Russians and AQ.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” you grumbled, tapping your foot a few times. “What do you need?” 

“Nothing yet,” Kate promised. “But I do need to know that you’re in.”

You sighed, lifting one hand to rub your forehead. “Katie Kate–”

“Ace.” She softened her tone, just a little. “We need the intel and you need the help, for now.”

You tapped one finger against your lips, gaze dropping to the floor. Doing this would set a dangerous precedent - what would stop Captain or Kate from doing this again? Then again, circumstances were unique. You didn’t often get shot, even less frequently got involved in this kind of danger. You and Kate had worked well for years now, you doubted she’d risk that to try something like this again. She understood she would risk losing you altogether. 

So you decided to risk it.

“This is revenge for crashing that date, isn’t it?” you asked, smirking, leaning back in your seat to your somewhat comfortable slouch. 

Kate sighed. “Ace.”

“Never should have introduced you to your wife,” you continued, gaze darting around the room. Garrick’s mouth dropped open, and Soap’s eyes were huge. “You were less meddlesome when you were buried in your work.” 

“You’ve made your point.” But Kate didn’t sound upset. Win. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll play nice. For now.” You shifted, hiding your pain as your side reminded you that yes you had been shot and you did have stitches in. 

“For once.” Kate huffed. “John.”

Captain didn’t quite roll his eyes, but he was amused. “I’ll keep you updated,” he agreed before ending the call.

“Didn’t know anyone could pull that kind of shite on Laswell,” Soap said, openly curious as he eyed you.

You shrugged. “I have special privileges.” But you were maybe feeling a little bit smug. Just a bit. 

Until you felt something wet drip slowly down your side. Aw, fuck. 

“You never finished my tour,” you said to Soap, blatantly ignoring Captain and Masked Wonder now. 

“Uh.” Soap blinked, looking a little bewildered. 

“Medical.” You stood, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I’ll take you,” Garrick volunteered, popping up out of his seat.

“We’re not done here,” Captain rumbled, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on you.

“Yes we are,” you shot back. “This is me playing nice by staying out of your hair.” You started for the door. 

And halted when Masked Wonder stepped in front of it, casually intimidating. He was even taller than Captain, using his height to his advantage to glower down at you. 

“Are you volunteering too? Very sweet of you, but I’ve already got an escort.” You smiled sweetly up at him, resisting the urge to tuck your hands in your pockets, or ball them into fists. 

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m aware, that’s why I’m trying to get to medical.” You kept calm, ignoring Captain’s muted swear. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Captain strode over, waving Masked Menace out of the way and taking your elbow in his hand. 

“Because it’s not a big deal?” You frowned at him, pulling your arm free of his grip. “Look, Captain, this isn’t going to work if you start fussing over every little drop of blood. I do as a matter of fact know my own limits.” 

“Do you?” He gave you a rather impressive side-eye, looking unconvinced. “It doesn’t seem like you do, showing up here not having slept and having gotten shot.”

“Grazed,” you said, frowning at him. “And that was an aberration, not the rule.” 

“Even so.” He deposited you yet again on a cot in medical, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Shoo.”

He raised one eyebrow slowly. 

“You heard me. I’m not your employee and I don’t want you here. Shoo.” 

For a moment, you were sure he was going to ignore your wishes. Then he nodded once, jaw tight, and left. 

The nurse gave you a look, and you held your hands up. “Don’t even start,” you grumbled. 

While the nurse tutted and replaced the stitch you had popped, you went back to planning how to get out of Dodge. Before you went mad and/or murdered someone. 

(Before Captain had a chance to hurt you.) 

The nurse told you to wait after bandaging you up, probably to find one of your minders again. You just… conveniently ignored that suggestion and sauntered out the other door. 

Let this be a test, then. See how long you could wander. 

Admittedly, sunshine felt nice. It had been… a while since you’d allowed yourself a chance to relax. And you weren’t truly relaxed, not here. You wouldn’t be until you were somewhere far away and alone. But… Well, nobody was going to shoot you here, and there was a bench in the sunshine, and you were kind of tired still…

You jolted awake to someone sitting down next to you. Garrick mercifully gave you a few moments to recombobulate yourself and remember what was going on. 

“You alright?” He kept his voice quiet, looking up at the sky. 

You blinked at him. “Of course.” The answer was easy. It didn’t even occur to you to give him anything more than that.

His lips tightened, just for a moment, before he nodded. “Think Soap’s pulling out a board game, if you want in.” He grinned at you, warm and inviting. But he was smart, this one. He didn’t push, he offered. 

His Captain could learn a thing or two from him. 

“Sure,” you agreed with a shrug, pushing yourself to your feet. “Why not.”

#waking lions #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

[yve-barr]

Promise braids

Warnings: legolas (yes he is a warning), use of Y/n, touching someone without consent, reader is half elf half human, also this is my first fic ever so sorry it'll be shite <3

Pairings: legolas X F!reader

Au where Gandalf goes to Rohan alone and tells the three besties to go someplace safe until he can meet them again.

I've always liked the idea that the braids in elves hair are promises made to them so that's what's happening in this.

You heard a knock coming from the door. Walking towards it you called out,

"who is it?"

"it's me Legolas, me and my companions need a place to sleep tonight," he replied.

"how many of you are there?" You asked whilst opening the door.

"Only three," answered a dwarf to legolas's left. You stepped aside and gestured for them to enter.

Once everyone had entered and the door was firmly locked, legolas took you aside. "We are being hunted, we need a safe place to stay. With someone we trust."

"who's chasing you?"

"Orc's but we will be gone before they arrive," he took your hand in his. "You need not worry about us, about me."

"but what about the town, if the orcs think you are here they will burn this place to the ground and me with it." You pointed out.

"well you would come with us, you shalln't go all the way with us to Isengard but-"

"To Isengard? Your going to Isengard? Why?," You cut him off.

"I can't tell you my love, all I can say is that we need your help."

"and you know I would do anything for you, and yet you still refuse to stay by my side for long."

"I promise you this is the last quest the last adventure before I am yours."

You sighed, "Would they like to eat?" You gestured a thumb towards the ranger, and the dwarf who were now talking of hobbits and wizards you didn't know.

"yes, we haven't eaten in a week." Legolas looked ashamed.

"this must be an important quest my love." You kissed his cheek before walking of to your pantry and gathering foods enough for three meals.

When you returned your guests were sitting at the table patiently waiting. Gently you placed hams, cheeses and fruits in front of them, before fetching plates, cutlery and 2 glasses filled with wine.

"If anything is not to your tastes please tell me." You said before fetching a pint of ale for the dwarf. Who beamed upon your generosity.

Once your guests were eating they told you tales of orcs and hobbits, until all the food had gone and you showed them to rooms.

"master dwarf you can sleep here tonight, the lavatory is the door across from yours in the hall and through that door," you pointed to a door inside the room, "is master rangers room."

"please call me Gimli," requested the dwarf shaking your hand.

"of course, sleep well Gimli." You said before closing the door.

"master ranger this is-"

"Aragorn," he said before slipping inside the room and closing the door.

"well that's that then," you said before taking legolas's hand and entering your own bedroom.

"Are you sure it is wise for us to share? I do not wish the others to find out about us," he asked as you took of your dress and tucked yourself under the duvet.

"well then by all means sleep on the floor, but I do not have anymore rooms," upon hearing that he undressed and slipped under the covers to join you.

When dawn came you awoke to legolas sleeping peacefully beside you. And not very hushed whispers coming from down the hall.

"It is not impolite to awaken first Gimli."

"Aye but it is rude to wander someone else's home whilst they sleep," you decided to go and see what all the fuss was about. Sitting up you swung your legs over the side of the bed and felt a soft hand glide down your side.

"Where do you think your going?" Murmered a sleepy legolas. As he trailed kisses up your back.

"to go and help my guests." You slipped out of bed and pulled on the same dress as yesterday. "Should I expect you to get up?" You asked kissing his forehead.

"yeah, give me a moment," he pulled the duvet off of him, and you left him to dress.

Walking into your front room you saw Aragorn and Gimli sitting across from eachother.

"would you two care for breakfast?" You asked already making your way to the kitchen.

"yes please," Gimli emphasized the please and Aragorn rolled his eyes.

You pulled out four bowls and filled them with porridge and honey topped with toasted acorns. Putting them down infront of the two you then sat on the right of Gimli. And you all began to eat.

"You know legolas never told us your name," commented Aragorn matter of factly.

"My name is Y/n," you told them and Gimli smiled.

"a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he grinned at you.

"The dwarf is right it truly suits you," added Aragorn. You were about to reply when Legolas entered the room, now Fully clothed.

Silently he took his seat next to Aragorn and started eating.

"I'm going into the market today," you announced. "You are welcome to come with me or stay here."

"we need to go into the town's library, if you'll take is to it?" Aragorn said.

"of course, but may I ask why?" you asked.

"to meet a friend of ours." Answered Aragorn simply.

"will you be leaving after that? Or will I have the pleasure of your company for longer."

"we don't know, although I suspect we shall take our leave," you nodded before taking all the empty bowls and bringing them into the kitchen and beginning to wash them along with the plates from last night.

You were just finishing cleaning the last plate when you dropped it and it shattered against the hard floor.

"oh, bastard," you swore as a shard tore into your ankle just bow the hem if your skirt.

Holding onto the wall for support you got off the stool you had been sitting on , picking up the shards of porcelain you binned them and placed your foot upon the stool.

Carefully sweeping your hair out of your eyes you assessed the wound.

Biting your lip you yanked on the small peice of porcelain and it sliced across your skin enlarging the cut to almost triple the size.

You cried out at the sharp needles of pain traveling through your nerves.

Suddenly legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were in the room.

"sorry I saw a bee," you lied quickly dropping your skirt so it hid the blood pouring out of the gash.

Legolas grabbed your ankle and tugged the skirt up to your knee watching as the blood dribbled down your foot and dripped onto the floor "quite a nasty bee," he said making eye contact.

"I cut myself on a bit of broken plate," you couldn't lie with him looking at you like a puppy denied attention.

"you will be the death of me Y/n, wheres your first aid kit?" He shook his head resigningly.

"top shelf on the left." Aragorn Hurriedly lifted it down and handed it to legolas.

"well we'll just be through here then," said Gimli then he and Aragorn left.

"you must be more careful my love," legolas scolded, "had you been sitting on the floor it could have been your eye," legolas gestures to a shard of plate left stuck in the wall next to where your shoulder had been.

"you say it like I dropped the thing on purpose," you rolled your eyes.

"No I am merely concerned," legolas wrapped a bandage around the wound after putting a weird ointment on it. "Make sure you change this regularly or the wound may get infected."

"why would I do that when I have you to do it for me," you scrunched your nose in amusement. But he didn't seem to find it funny. As you turned back to the shelf and lifted the kit back up to it you felt strong hands on your waist slowly trailing up and down your sides. Then you felt his hot breath on your neck.

"you should really listen to me you know," he kissed your neck. "Because one day I'll stop repeatedly telling you, and you will have no idea what to do with yourself."

"well I manage just fine when your not here, which is pretty much always."

You could feel your blood boiling, he was never here but when he was he always had something to scold you about.

"I'm here now," he kissed the spot just under your ear before taking your earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it gently.

Your blood was filled with a new kind of fire as legolas left your ear to suck a mark into your neck.

"Legolas," you gasped, your voice barely audible. But he heard and spun you round in his arms.

"yes my love?" He whispered.

"not here," you were surprised you could talk, as your thoughts were lost in his eyes which were blown dark with lust, his pupils almost ingulfing his entire iris.

Legolas left a quick kiss on your lips before he left rejoining the others.

Breathing heavily you took a few moments to gather your thoughts back together before following him.

"So this is the market?" Said Gimli.

"yup this is it," you gestured to the many stalls and shops laid out in front of you. "I just need to buy a few things before we go to the library."

"well then what are we waiting for," said Aragorn. As he tried to enter the mass of people.

"Wait do you all have money?" You stopped him.

"no why?" He answered.

"take this," you handed all three a small bag of money, "I wouldn't want you to be mistaken for theaves. Plus the more money you have on you the more you will be respected, so try not to spend it all."

"I shall not spend a single penny," said Gimli before he disappeared into the crowd, swiftly followed by Aragorn.

"Well in we go," you muttered before moving towards a small stall selling rings. Pretending you didn't know legolas was still by your side you examined one of the many rings. It was a band of muted gold woven round ruby's of the finest origin.

"If this is a hint directed at me, consider it ignored," legolas sighed.

"I was only looking," you tutted but placed the ring back down and moved to the next stall, filled with fabrics and ribbons.

Picking up a roll of white cloth you rubbed the corner between your thumb and forefinger.

"How much?" You asked the kind old woman behind the stall.

"Eight casters deary," smiled the woman sweetly. Silently you handed over the money and placed the fabric in your bag.

Legolas stared you down in this time.

"what did you need that for?" Legolas asked.

"well it's my job, that you would know nothing about because your never here," legolas was about to protest but you shushed him. "I'm a seamstress, I make various garments and such."

You started walking away again when you heard a kerfuffle to your right, turning towards it you saw Gimli running towards you at top speed, pushing people out of the way as he went.

"your right I shouldn't have spent it all," Gimli puffed. Behind him you could see 5 guards running alot faster towards him.

"stand back I'll handle it," you said and pushed him behind you.

The gaurds stopped infront of you.

"is there a problem?" You inquired.

"We suspect that dwarf of theiving," boomed one of the gaurds.

"well did he steal anything?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"No, but he has no money, what would someone without any money be doing in a market if he wasn't theiving," pronounced the gaurd proudly.

"well maybe he has just spent all his money in said market."

"Ah but then he would have something to show for it wouldn't he," said the gaurd before saying in a more menacing tone "are we gonna have a problem pretty lady?" then he leered over you trailing his right hand down your cheek slowly bringing it lower until it rested on your breast, a wicked grin on his face.

You felt legolas move his hand to his sword and Gimli shift into a fighting stance.

"no sir," slowly you turned to Gimli.

"What did you buy with the money?" You asked kindly.

Looking ashamed Gimli looked down.

"I bought myself some more ale," he mumbled.

"see, if you so desire we shall find where he bought the ale, but I wouldn't want to waste your time sir," you tilted your head and stuck your bottom lip out just enough that you wouldn't notice the difference but your lips would look slightly bigger.

"no that shalln't be necessary," he said before leaving, the other gaurds following close behind.

"That was close," you sighed before turning back around.

"Why did you let him touch you," legolas grimaced and Gimli nodded.

"Well if I didn't it would have made things worse."

"I thought we made a deal," Said legolas in elvish as he stepped closer. Your breathe caught in your throat as legolas trailed his finger along the braid neatly woven into your hair.

"legolas," you warned and he stepped back again.

"Legolas," called a voice from the crowd and milliseconds later Aragorn appeared. "Gandalf has arrived."

The two others quickly followed as Aragorn hurried up the library steps and into the vast halls filled with books. With you trailing behind them almost tripping over your long ankle length dress.

When you finally stopped it was to find yourself before a tall old man with long white hair and a beard to match. You ducked behind a bookshelf and listened.

"Gandalf what happened?" Asked Aragorn.

"Saroman had corrupted the king's mind, but worry not all is well," Gandalf smiled. Although you could feel a but coming. "But you three must go and fight at helm's deep."

"where?" Gimli asked.

"it is a fortress north west from here. I assume the people of Rohan have fled there?" Aragorn explained.

"yes and they need some help."

Legolas's hand went to the braid woven on his right. His fingers felt the length of it before he took his hand back down.

"I can't go," he said briskly.

They all looked at him shocked.

"But you have to!" Exclaimed Gandalf.

"You said the fortress was Northwest, well Rohan is southeast, meaning the enemy must pass through here."

"yes well it is but a small town a small sacrifice compared to how many would die if you did not come. You cannot save these people legolas."

"I don't care about the people, but her, no. I shall not leave her, nor will I bring her to die."

"legolas, saroman cares not for these shack's. We need you at helm's deep."

"did I stutter? I won't leave her here."

"Legolas, you would let innocent people die for the sake of one girl?"

"she is not a girl she is my best friend and besides I shall not be missed I am but one archer."

"I thought I was your best friend," muttered Gimli.

"we need all the help we can get," Gandalf boomed, several people turned to look and the librarian did not look amused.

"we cannot talk here, where are you staying?"

The three exchanged looks. Feeling they had noticed your absence you quickly fled, hoping they didn't see you leave.

Rushing down the library steps and into the now deserted side streets, market day could wait.

You dashed down alleyway after alleyway until you found yourself at the stables on the edge of town.

You allowed yourself a moment to catch your breath before you walked past the stables and down to the moorlands.

Looking around you found yourself alone.

Subconsciously your hand shot up to the braids in your hair fiddling with them.

You thought of what legolas had said. He wasn't leaving you. Not this time.

Walking around the last outskirts of town you saw your own house sitting with its neighbours next to the main road.

Slipping inside through the backdoor you were greeted with the sounds of frantic arguing.

You gulped, they had beat you back.

"where is she?"

"she's probably still at the market."

"I swear she was just behind us."

"arguing won't find her."

"Y/ns smart she'll know we're here."

"but how will we know where she is."

"maybe she's still at the market."

"we searched the market 3 times she's not there."

Stepping into your main room you spoke up making sure you were heard. "wow three whole times and yet you still failed to look else where,"

"Y/n!" Legolas jumped up and rushed to you stopping just short he squeezed your shoulder in his left hand. "Thank god your safe, we were worried."

Suddenly Gimli poked your side hard.

"Ow," you exclaimed.

"that's for makin us worried, and this," Gimli hugged you tight. "Is fer coming back,"

"it is good to see you too, I'm afraid I walked the long way back so-"

"The long way," scoffed Aragorn, "you took 2 hours," Then he stood and walked over to you and patting your back. "You scared us, don't do it again."

"I'll try not to," you smiled. Before the same man as before cleared his throat. "who's this?" You asked.

"I am Gandalf."

"I assume you are the person they went to meet?"

"yes I am and the four of us must leave within the hour," legolas swiveled around his grip on your shoulder tightening.

"Gandalf!" He warned.

"you two should pack your things," Gandalf ignored legolas. Gimli nodded, then he and Aragorn left.

"Gandalf I have told you once I will not go with you," legolas let go of your shoulder and took a step towards Gandalf.

"and I told you hundreds will die if you stay."

"may they rest in peace," legolas spat.

"legolas," you gasped. Horrified at his words. Both of them turned to you. "If people will die you must go."

"if I go you will die," legolas tried to reason.

"that is no excuse I am but one person if hundreds will die you must go!" You were astonished that he could even consider this matter.

"no I won't leave you, not again," he said sternly.

"legolas!" You exclaimed.

"No Y/n," legolas raised his voise and you stopped arguing. "I love you to much, if I leave and you die I will never Ever forgive myself, especially if I could have done something about it," legolas tucked one of your braids behind your ear.

"then let me go with you," you nagged.

"I shall never leed you to your death like that."

"I'm not asking I'm telling, take me or leave me just pick one, but you must go," you said exasperatedly.

"I thought you wanted me to stay?"

"I do my love but not-" slowly he bent down and captured your lips in his own. Softly curving his mouth across yours. You melted into him, before recoiling in disgust.

When he saw your expression he frowned.

"don't ever try to manipulate me like that again." With that you turned on your heal and marched into your bedroom fuming.

"wait Y/n!" He called after you.

"I don't want to hear it!" You mumbled through the tears coursing down your cheeks .

Half an hour had past and you still lay in your bed trying to delude yourself with possible reasons to why legolas would do that.

When the justling of things had ceased you were met with the quiet discussion of how to say goodbye to you.

Just then your door creeked open and legolas stood in its frame. He took a step into the room and shut the door.

"what do you want?" You asked a fresh tear sliding down your face.

"to apologise, I didn't think and-" he stopped something had cought his eye. He took a step back and slid down against the wall.

"What?" You didn't bother turning your head to look at him properly.

"your braid," you could hear his voice shake with unshared emotions and his eyes fill with unshed tears.

Bringing your hand up to your hair you felt through the crinkles on the left side of your head.

"you broke your promise, I undid the braid. I don't see a problem."

"I didn't mean-"

"but we can make new promises, you can try again." You sat up the hair tie still in your hand. Carefully you sat down in-between his legs facing away from him.

Silently you passed him the hair tie.

"what do you want me to promise to you?"

"your honesty," you murmured. So quietly that had it not been for legolas's elvish sences he would have missed it.

Once he had heard the tears he had been holding back slid from his eyes and he leant his forehead against your shoulder.

You leant back against him so his back was firmly against the wall. Your own tears mixing with his.

"I'm sorry, Y/n, your everything to me. I just didn't want to lose you too," he sobbed into your neck.

"I don't need an explanation," you turned your head and kissed his temple.

"I love you," he said through his tears.

"I love you too."

Part two

https://www.tumblr.com/yve-barr/739251847858126848/promise-braids-part-2?source=share

#legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf x reader #promise braids #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #legolas fanfiction

[agroupiewhore]

Some random headcanons about what it would be like to date Fran. I haven't wrote anything in ages so apologies if this is shite. Please no hate. 💗💖🍓💕❤️🎀

*Disclaimer: This is my own work and my own self-indulgent ideas, none of this is based in reality.

If anyone wants a part 2 please let me know or has any questions or suggestions for improvements then please let me know, I apologise in advance for spelling and grammar errors.

🎀 This man can cook. He is amazing in the kitchen, will make you whatever you fancy no matter what time it is or whatever you fancy, nothing is too much trouble for him. Cooking you something is his love language.

🎀 He would much rather read then watch something. On the evenings you spend together you're sat on the sofa together reading. He will also read aloud to help you fall asleep.

🎀 No matter what the time is this man will come and pick you up. "But babe, I'm probably gonna be staying out till like 3am" "Ok mi amor, I come get you then" "But aren't you due on set at like 5:30am?" "Yes, and? I come pick you up at 3, I love you."

🎀 Will pay attention to all the little things that you like and remembers them so he can surprise you later on.

🎀 Never ever puts you down or makes fun of you when you're practicing Spanish with him and vice versa for when he is talking with you.

🎀 100% that annoying couple which never seem to argue. Just a walking disney film. The guys all tease him about it. "But you must argue over something, anything!?" "No, nothing" "I bet he leaves the toilet seat up" "No, always puts it down"

🎀 Believes in the art of letter writing and writes you letters in that fancy calligraphy writing. (Something he learned for a part in a theatre production)

Here is a small imagine, no TW etc, a little bit of making out etc, pg/13

A surprise

"My love" Fran said as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. "I can finish the dishes, it's ok".

"No I got it" you said as you began drying off some of the plates. "Besides you must be tired after yesterday's wrap party".

"It was fun, you need to come to the next one" he said as he brushed your hair aside to kiss your neck softly. "I missed you alot, the others were asking for you".

"I'll be at the next one babe, I promise" you answered setting the plate down and turning to face him. Fran was beautiful and you couldn't believe how lucky you were. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your forehead against his. "I think you need a second helping of that dessert you made. You need it". Fran smirked and kissed your nose.

"I said you don't need to ever worry about me. I promise, I'm going to be ok" he answered.

"Oh I got you something, to celebrate the film being done" you said going to pull away.

"No wait, just one more second, I want to stay like this forever with you" he said enjoying the moment, he felt he could be anywhere in the world but as long as he was with you he was home. You smiled and held onto him a little tighter.

"You did not have to get me something. I already have everything I need, I'm very lucky like that you know. Can carry everything I'll ever need in my hands" he smirked as he picked you up, catching you off guard.

"Fran!" You laughed as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. "O my gosh put me down, I need to go and get your present". You looked down into his beautiful deep eyed and cupped his cheeks and began kissing him. He had the softest lips and skin. He kissed you deeper savouring the taste of your peach flavoured lip balm. Peaches were his favourite fruit. A fact you'd noted quite early on. You remembered the look of surprise and satisfaction on his face the day he'd realised your lip balm was the same flavour as his favourite fruit.

"Fran... I need... to get... your gift" you said between kisses. "Please mi amor". Fran smiled against your neck, there was something extremely hot about you using Spanish pet names for him. He was so in love with you it was unreal.

"Just one more my dear, please" he begged staring up at you. How could you say no to him? You lent down and kissed him, twice though. It was a small little ritual the two of you had. He would always ask for one more kiss whether it was before going off to sleep, before he would leave for set or an audition or before going on stage. You always kissed him twice just to be safe. He gently set you down and stroked your cheek.

"Te amo, mi amor" he smiled.

"I love you more" you answered before squeezing his hand and leaving. He heard you going upstairs and into the second bedroom. He was excited at the prospect of seeing what you'd got him although he was more excited to see your face at his gift for you. He smiled wider as he placed his hand into his trousers pocket and felt the box with an engagement ring inside.

#lsdln #the society of the snow #francisco romero #franciso romero imagine #x reader

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Home Pt. 6 || cbf!Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rating: M Words: 1.5K Pairing: cbf!Simonxafab!reader / teen!Simonxteen!Reader Summary: Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other… CW: fear of being home, yelling/arguing, homelessness (if you squint). Tags: you/your pronouns, breaking up, arguments, crying, emotional distance, teen romance (or lack thereof). a/n: not proofread. ALSO: If the cursive is illegible for you, check image description/alt text to be able to read the postcard below better!

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You’re seventeen, he’s eighteen.

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING DEPLOYED!” You shout at him as you wave the postcard in the air in front of his face. You received it a week ago and you had 5 days to stew on it.

And yet you still blew up.

“YOU PROMISED, RILEY!” You said as you waved your hands, your eyes welling up in tears. “YOU SAID IT’D BE HERE, THAT YOU WOULDN’T GO OVERSEAS, THAT YOU’D IN THE UK!”

“WELL, I’M NOT THE ONE THAT DECIDES THIS SHITE, Y/N!” He shouts at you in return, throwing his arms up in frustration. “I GO WHERE THEY TELL ME!”

He begins to pace in front of you, side to side, your eyes following him as the tears you’ve been holding start spilling down your cheeks. You’re tired and overwhelmed, your brain clouded with feelings you don’t know how to express and end up showing as frustration and sensitivity.

You’ve barely slept since you got the stupid postcard, not that you’ve been sleeping all that well for the 18 months, either. “We had a plan…” You whine as you look up at him, your body trembling. 

Simon stops in his tracks and looks over at you, huffing loudly and running both hands over his forehead and hair. His fingers are rough. Rougher than they used to be. He’s been working hard, breaking the skin.

“I know we did, darlin’.” He says. He’s forcefully trying to calm himself down as he keeps his hands, fingers interlocked, on the crown of his head. “And we can still keep with it when my deployment ends.” He tells you. 

Once again, he’s trying to convince you so desperately that things will get better, his voice trying to hold firmly to his convictions, not that he believes in them. And, frankly… you don’t either.

“And when is that going to be?” You retort as you press your lips together and look away, your eyes taking in the sight of the darkened area around you. The viewpoint you’ve come to call home in the last 2 years since he left… Where you spend the night, sleeping in Mr. Riley’s car.

“I… I don’t know.” He admits and huffs, while looking away, crossing his arms and resuming his pacing. “Six months? Eight?” He adds.

“Yeah, that’s the issue, Riley...” You tell him as you look up at him. It’s getting hard to breathe now. Very hard to breathe. Your chest is squeezing with nothing if not heartbreak all over again.

“What’s that supposed to bloody mean?!” He asks you as he stared at you sharply once more, his voice increasing in volume steadily.

“It’s supposed to mean that I’m tired, Riley! You said you’d get us out of here!” You retort.

“And I am!!”

“NO, you’ve gotten YOURSELF out!”

“Oh, fuckin’ hell, Y/N, really?!”

“Yeh, really! You’ve gotten away from this shit hole of a city, away from your dad, and you’re leaving me behind!” 

Suddenly, he’s in front of you, a large hand squeezing onto your bicep as he glares down at you, making you look at him.

“You think goin’ off to Afghanistan to a goddamn warzone, riskin’ my bloody life is any better?!” He asks you, shaking you a bit by the arm. “You think that’s ‘getting out’?” He adds.

At first you can’t answer, all you do is cry. You’re so exhausted.

Things have gotten so much harder at home. Even when you don’t/can’t take Mr. Riley’s car out, you spend your time in the street, or at work, having found yourself a little apprenticeship that keeps you busy so you don’t actively go insane. These days, you barely step foot in your house.

But Simon doesn’t know that. And you aren’t telling him.

“IT SURE SEEMS LIKE IT!” You shout as you look him in the eyes. “ANYTHING IS BETTER THAN THIS, THAN BEING HERE!” You try to shake him off your arm, but his big fingers dig in, preventing it.

You’ve been without Simon Riley for the better part of two years. That, coupled with the lack of sleep and the stress, is taking its toll on you. You’ve found that you’ve got to rely on yourself because Simon has been away and will continue being away.

“You promised…” You tell him, looking up at him, eyes full of tears. “But you’re leaving me behind… Having to fend for myself… over… and over…” You shudder with tears. 

“What about me?” You ask him as you sniffle away your tears. “I wanna get out too, Riley...” You remind him.

Simon finally lets go of your arm, turning away sharply and running his hands over his head again, his elbows spread wide as he paces away from you. You can hear him huffing in frustration, filling his cheeks with air and letting it out through puckered, strained lips.

You clearly resent him for going away, that much is clear… And he doesn’t know what to tell you. He wishes he could get you out right now. But, as it stands, he’ll only be able to do so in the future…

And if being an hour and a half away from you (which is now actually four hours after he moved garrisons to join the Paras) was hard enough on you both… He can’t imagine what’ll be like when he’s in a whole different continent and timezone for months on months without any contact.

That’s when the realization hits him like a freight train. 

He feels like he grew up… and you stayed the same. He’s a grown man now, a soldier. You’re… still a girl. Still the girl he fell in love with, of course. And that’s part of the problem.

He can tell you’re still the same, still sinking down that rabbit hole of the abuse you’ve been experiecing. You need someone to hold your hand, someone to hold you close, someone to kiss your forehead and make you all sorts of promises. You need to be coddled. And two years ago Simon would’ve gladly done that, beecause you would’ve done the same to him… 

But he’s not a child anymore. 

He’s got the Army to worry about. He’s going to go overseas and face his death in less than two weeks. The last thing he needs is this argument. He wants it to be done.

Simon turns swiftly to look at you, eyes stern and hard as his hands drop to his side. His spine stiffens and he raises his chin. “THEN LEAVE!” He shouts at you, his words stinging like venom. You find yourself holding your breath.

“Stop bloody relyin’ on me.” He orders, his brown eyes locking onto yours with a coldness you never quite saw before in him. “If you’re so fuckin’ unhappy and ungrateful of what I’m doin’ for us both…” He trails off. “Then grow up and leave. Get yourself out.” He adds, his jaw clenching and his left eye twitching lightly.

Your whole face scrunches, your heart squeezing in your chest at the pain of the things he’s saying, the way he’s acting. This isn’t the Riley you knew. This isn’t even Simon. He’s changed. And you hate it.

You don’t even know what to say. Is there anything to say? You doubt it. You can’t find the words either way, your mind too noisy and tired to make sense of anything else to say.

Huffing one more time, he walks past you and grabs the car keys from his pocket. “Let’s go. I don’t wanna ruin my sleep schedule.” He tells you with a tone so cold and dismissive you’d think that he was talking to his father, and not to you. He gets into the driver’s seat of the car and waits as you shuffle along to the passenger’s seat.

You sulk and try to stop your crying, sniffling away the tears. He drives with his jaw clenched, occasionally letting out annoyed sighs. Neither of you talks on the way home.

Two weeks later, it’s his mum that drives him to the station so he can go back to the garrison and report for deployment. As his mum and Tommy are saying goodbye to him, he checks over his shoulder a few times, his height an advantage to look over other people’s heads and look for you.

The announcement rings over the platform, announcing the soon departure of his train to Colchester. He jumps into the train, finds his seat and parks his bergen backpack on the floor between his feet, while looking out the window.

He waves goodbye to his mum and Tommy and searches for you one last time… but you’re nowhere to be found.

The train hisses and pulls out of the station like it did the last few times he’s had leave. But this time, it feels different.

You’re not there to wave him off. 

You didn’t kiss him goodbye. 

You didn’t wish him luck.

Maybe it’s for the best.

You don’t seem to be the luckiest of people.

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#ikea writes 💚 #home cbf!simon fic #cod fanfic #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #childhood best friends to lovers #cbf #cbf!simon #teenage love #masterlist #angst #yelling