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moondirti · 18 days

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kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

#unedited!#this idea's been over my ass like a symbiote #cackling and rubbing its greedy little hands together #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader x john price #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader #john price x reader #john price x kyle garrick #pricegaz #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #captain join price #john price #x reader #female reader #call of duty

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ghcstao3 · 3 months

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Ghost knows that Soap flirts for his drinks. He knows that Soap isn’t above using his charm and good looks to get what he wants for free, and Ghost knows this well because he’s seen it many times, and almost just as often has reaped Soap’s rewards as well.

So why does this time have Ghost feeling like his chest is about to cave in?

He watches as Soap leans against the bar, batting his eyelashes and flashing a fierce smile at a stranger, worming his way into getting his free scotch. He dances teasing fingers over a shoulder, splays out his hand on a lower back, whispers something into an ear of the unsuspecting man Soap has chosen as his prey tonight.

An unsuspecting man with a broad frame. With muscled arms and dark tattoos and blond hair. A man with dark eyes peering up at Soap like he’s a prize to be won, like he thinks he’s in charge of their interaction.

Ghost wants to vomit. He wants to storm over there and claim Soap as his own. He wants Soap to flirt with him, genuinely, to not have it be some game like it is with other men and women. He wants to—

He wants. But he can’t. And that, Ghost realizes with a start, is exactly why he currently feels so miserable observing Soap’s routine.

And maybe the fact that the man Soap is currently flirting with shares far too much likeness to Ghost himself.

Eventually, though, Soap does return from his brief escapade—though only with a single glass in hand as a show of his victory. And, surprisingly, it’s Ghost who he sets it in front of.

“You look like you need it more than me.” Soap nudges the drink closer to Ghost as he sits, an almost shy smile toying on his lips. “He wasn’t that fun, anyway. Cheap, too. Sorry if the bourbon tastes like piss, at least more so than usual.”

Ghost rolls his eyes, but gratefully accepts the drink. The weight on his chest has lifted a little, but not fully, not yet. Ghost doesn’t know if it ever could, not while he can’t have Soap to call his own.

He takes a sip, trying to let his thoughts blend into the buzz of the bar’s patrons—but it’s difficult, when Soap’s eyes won’t leave Ghost’s face. Or, at least, what of it can be seen.

“Something the matter, Johnny?” Ghost hums.

Soap’s gaze is unwavering, and staring back sends a pleasant chill down Ghost’s spine.

“Not at all,” Soap murmurs, voice distant. “The opposite, really.”

Ghost cocks an eyebrow. He doesn’t break eye contact as he takes another sip of his bourbon.

Soap’s mouth opens then closes, repeats, then his lips pull into a thin line as he shakes his head. Soap shifts in his seat, eyes darting away from Ghost as if he’s snapped himself out of a daze. Ghost thinks, if he squints, he could make out the faintest blush dusting over Soap’s cheeks.

“Just enjoy your drink, LT,” Soap finally says. He flashes Ghost a smile, one much warmer and sincere than he had offered the stranger, then lets his attention wander away.

Ghost wishes he could understand. Wishes this was easier. Wishes there wouldn’t be any repercussions to kissing Soap right here, right now.

But for now, all he can do is oblige Soap’s gentle command.

He’s always been a weak man.

#not my finest work but we make do #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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meryldian · 9 months

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⭑Growing up with TOKIO HOTEL pt.3 ⭑

AN .°˖✧: It feels so good to be back writing!! I know I said I would have more time to work on my blog but unfortunately, this summer’s proven to be more busy with work than I anticipated. I hope you guys are still as invested in this little series as I am!! We’re finally getting to the band’s big breakthrough moment.°˖✧

This part may potentially feel slow and not very crucial but! It marks the transition between being a teen band that played at the local club into being blasted into stardom, so I suggest reading it through with just as much love and care :)

Before you read ~ Disclaimers .°˖✧

- The reader is established as songwriter/rythmic guitar/backup vocalist but! The role is barely mentioned so you should be able to imagine her as you please.

- I said “her” because in this series, the reader is female. This is merely for plot reasons as it is very interesting to touch upon the reality of being the only female member in a “boyband”

- As usual, this is heavily based off Bill’s autobiography “Career Suicide” (as well as stories told from the guys themselves in interviews, Kaulitz Hills, q&a’s, et cetera) so expect heavy themes to be touched upon.

- Now that we’re getting into the main story, I must address that this series will be strictly platonic. For romantic interactions between the reader as 5th member and the band there will be separate posts. This is so I can allow you to imagine your own story based off my headcanons without imposing you a relationship.

WARNINGS: Underage drinking, underage smoking, mentions of depression, panic attacks, mature language, sexual themes addressed (non-explicit), “weirdos” (sadly, it’s the reality of the music industry).

Happy reading ~

We left this at what you really had gone to Hamburg for, making music.

Working with David Jost was like a treat. He taught you how to write an ear catching hook, the importance of a strong chorus, how to incorporate a bridge. He was like your music fairy godmother, and you loved it.

On Bill’s side, he grew impatient easily. He just wanted to put his thoughts on paper and sing. He wanted to instantly feel the bass shaking, the sound of the drums and shredding of the guitar.

Tom was rather interested by the production process of making a song. Back then, he didn’t know that little interest would grow into his biggest passion.

You spent days on end locked in a studio, conditionning your songs, coming up with new ones. Having gummy worm fights with Tom and reading shitty magazines with Gustav.

Nights on end destroying your fingers while coming up with new riffs and of course, attempting the riffs your producers shoved at you.

It was definitely a slap in the face to realize that as an artist you couldn’t just write everything yourself. You had a greedy company behind your back that looked for money rather than creativity. And well, as young kids you really had no idea how to actually produce music.

The amount of flat no’s you got to your face when sharing your ideas was insufferable and it made your blood boil.

Georg is the person you’d usually go to. He always listened to you rant and would join your anger in order to have you release it all.

I realized that I refered to both you and Gustav as the glues holding the band together so; let’s look at it this way: you’re the glue making you guys stick together and Gus is the scotch tape that makes you five inseparable.

So, back to the studio, back to writing, back to composing.

Overtime your endless sessions over the summer payed off and delivered the gem that we know now as your debut album. “SCHREI”

Picking the lead single proved to be a hard task, til someone’s girlfriend saw the potential of “Durch den monsun”

David Jost had once spotted the words “Hinter die welt” (beyond the world) on one of Bill’s songwriting notebooks that he shared with you and he was fascinated that such young kids could write such melancholic things.

With an album ready and a single to be released, it was time for the real action

You had a free week prior to the music video shooting. Bill and you took advantage of this to grab your allowance and start ofd by going to the hair salon and perfecting your hairdos. A little trim for him and anything you needed on your cute head.

You were supposed to have a gaming sleepover with Gustav to beat Devil May Cry 3 on your dusty PlayStation 2 and rock out on guitar hero, but your excitement for the music video shoot was so big that you spent all night brainstorming about how your life as stars would be.

Your manager took you guys shopping! The budget did not allow a new outfit for each and one of you but you all at least got a new item.

Cool jeans for Gustav, a new hat for Tom, a punky t-shirt for Georg, an item of your choice and the iconic leather jacket Bill wears in both Monsoon music videos.

A week of rest really flies by, and now the day of the video shoot arrived. You guys were newbies and being completely honest, the label didn’t quite believe in you yet.

Your budget was low and crew not the most promising. Most of these people were new ad had never worked on a project of the kind before.

Funnily enough, many of the people that started working with you guys from the very beginning would be the ones to stick with you through thick and thin and create your little tour family.

At least there was an idea. It was ambitious to film it all in one day and you five knew, but the producers kept reassuring you that most of the work would be done in post-production.

Your day started at 4:30 am when your alarm rang, not a soul up, not even the sun.

It didn’t take you long to get ready, as you’d be dolled up for the camera on set. You did your morning routine, packed your essentials, your outfit, and barely got time to eat before you had to get on the sleek black van that picked you up at 5:15 flat.

The boys were already all inside in exception of Georg, whom you’d go fetch right away.

You would’ve expected the ride to be chatty with excitement but you were all surprisingly calm, the nerves were starting to kick in.

The uncomfortably familiar fear of what’s to come, thinking of every single worst case scenario, what if you sucked, what if people hated you, what if your debut was a flop.

You tried to ignore the bad thoughts by drifting off on Gustav’s shoulder til you reached your first location.

A very public lake, where some families swam freely and unaware that a music video would be shot on their layback spot.

It was disappointing to you guys, particularly to Bill who dreamed of a tremendous production, but you would have to do with it.

David just gave him a pat on the back, it couldn’t be thaaattt bad.

When arriving on set you were given a tiny taste of what the rockstar life would be like.

Catering set up a table of, cheap, yet varied snacks for you to munch on. Makeup and hair station was installed in the back of the van and out of a truck rolled many cameras and new equipment you’d never seen before.

You could see Georg, with his newly permanently slicked hair, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Of course the first one to get ready and start shooting was Bill. Once he started his first scenes the makeup crew took care of the rest of you.

As annoying as it may be to accept, the label wanted you to look as pretty and dolled up as possible. Having a female member in the band was a bet they were willing to take and if their gambling went well, you’d become the cashcow real well.

Extensions were put in your hair, mascara and eyeliner adorned your eyes and a sticky pink gloss glazed your lips. Nothing too extravagant yet appealing enough. You still had to look like a rock chick after all. The delicacy of your look adorned with how punky your outfit probably was made the perfect balance the label was looking for.

The boys probably made fun of you but, they never meant wrong.

You munched on sandwiches and played on your old Nokia as you waited for your turn to take photos and record your scenes.

It’d been quite amusing to see Bill upside down on a weird pole structure to then dunk his head in a dirty fish-tank.

Certainly fabulous.

Suddenly you’re up on a metal platform above water, playing your unplugged guitar and getting drenched by icy water raining down on you.

You played it off (literally) and in one take you were done with your first few scenes. No cuts and no chance to do it again. You had to save time so, if you looked like crap it was your problem.

Nowadays you probably cringe at some of your facial expressions and missed notes on the clip.

Quickly enough some of the guys helped you get down from the platform back onto solid ground and one of the makeup artists wraps you in a towel.

Now, you sit all wet while watching the boys repeat the same steps as you. As a girl tries her best to dry your damp hair before attacking it with a flat iron. Who has time to think of heat damage when you have another outfit to get in and more scenes to film.

The day went on smoothly, but the recording certainly felt rushed. By the end of the day you were left with a feeling of doubt.

The big day arrived.

August 15th, the day “Durch den Monsun” would drop.

You met with the twins at their house and the little family consisting of Bill, Tom, their mom & step-dad and dog Scotty! + you, whom they took in like if you were one of them.

Gordon, Bill and Tom’s step dad set their vhs recorder ready, just in case the music video would never be aired again, you wanted the memory.

The ad break ends and VIVA (German music channel) announces the debut single of Universal’s newest band.

Tokio Hotel with Durch Den Monsun

Somewhen in betwen the start of your journey with record labels the name Devilish was left behind and you guys adopted the new and stylish Tokio Hotel. But that’s a story for another day.

The wind blows a candle and Bill’s face in slow motion was shown on screen.

You could not contain your excitement! Bill and you held hands and shook them in the air as you watched the product of one long stressful day.

Your future self sees the video and points out the numerous flaws and low quality but back then it was so cool to you. You thought you were on top of the world

Honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.

Tom didn’t speak much. He simply watched in awe, a smile of admiration and pride forming on his fine lips.

Later that day, you’d gather up with the rest of the band, David Jost and some crew members to celebrate your debut with cheap gas station champagne and ham and cheese bites the twins’s mom prepared.

You didn’t have much yet, but you’d just made a big step.

In the coming weeks you would see the immediate effects of monsun, were you ready? Who knew. What was undeniable was the immediate success that would follow.

AN: AAAAAA I kinda hate this ⋆｡ﾟﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ It was needed to include some of the process for your debut though! Take it as the calm before the storm I guess! Next part will take on the effects of your quick rise to fame on your everyday life and relationships. It will definitely dig more into your link with the boys, as this part barely had any interactions :(

As usual, take care, remember to eat and sleep!!

Love, Meryl <3

#tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing x reader #gustav schafer x reader #tokio hotel alien #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokio hotel imagines #tokio hotel scenarios #gustav schaefer

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writercole · 2 months

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Dangerous Distraction

Summary: A secret mission. A formal gala. Two agents that hate each other. What could go wrong?

Words: 2105

Warnings: Suggestive dancing, Jake Seresin as a secret agent.

Credits: @princessmisery666 for beta reading this, @ryebecca for being the absolute best hype woman and twin that I could ask for. My ride or dies 💕

A/N: This has been in my drafts for a bit now. I found it when I found the other Jake story and…it was finished too. I hope you enjoy.

The mission couldn’t be worse. Not only was she paired with her worst enemy, they had to make everyone believe that they were a couple on their honeymoon, madly in love with one another. She was a skilled agent, one of the best, but even she had no idea how they would be able to pull it off.

Jake Seresin, code name Hangman, had made his feelings abundantly clear from the moment they were introduced. He thought little of her, making demeaning comments about her abilities, her skills, and her training. Though, he claimed, it was never because she was a woman.

He dismissed every idea or strategy she proposed, often tearing them down publicly, causing a fight that only ended when one of their bosses intervened. He walked away smug, calm, collected while she was visibly seething. On multiple occasions her colleagues pointed out where he wormed his way under her skin, undermined her confidence, and worst of all, she let it affect her; it was then that she decided she hated Jake Seresin.

They had been at the hotel undercover for three days, playing the perfect couple in public, barely speaking behind the room’s closed door. She was grateful for the foresight of the planners to book a suite with a closed off bedroom. She took it over quickly, citing the need for privacy to dress and prepare.

Jake balked at first, whether out of true opposition or the need to be contrary she didn’t know. Regardless, his choice was removed as soon as she slid the doors shut.

Night three happened to be the night of the gala that they had been sent to infiltrate. She was getting dressed, ignoring the way Jake continued to give updates on the time through the closed door. As her lipstick glided across her bottom lip, a knock echoed through her suite.

“How long can it possibly take to get ready?” Jake sassed, “the gala started half an hour ago.”

“Beauty takes time, Hangman,” she replied.

“There isn’t enough time in the day to make you as beautiful as some of the women I’ve seen here,” he muttered under his breath, fidgeting with his watch before he called, “just…hurry up.”

“Why don’t you pull the stick out of your ass and head down to the bar. I’ll meet you there.”

“Fine. But I will handle this without you if you don’t hurry.”

She let out a sigh of relief when the door slammed shut, taking a moment to enjoy the silence before she had to go downstairs to the stuffy ballroom and pretend to be madly in love with a man she detested, one that also despised her.

Jake had been down in the ballroom for ten minutes and had already spotted their target and devised a plan to complete their mission. When another ten minutes had passed with no appearance from his partner, he felt an uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. He rested his glass of scotch on the bar and allowed his eyes to sweep over the room again before he went searching for her.

The sounds echoing off of the walls faded to nothing and Jake followed the way everyone’s heads had turned to the door. He stood up straighter while his jaw fell, his gaze raking up and down the body of his partner scanning the crowd.

A blinding smile spit her face in two and she began moving across the room, every gaze following her path.

Jake’s ears picked up the middle of a chord change and realized that the music and conversation hadn’t actually stopped; his senses blocked them out when he caught sight of his partner. Seeing her in a different environment, a formal setting, sparked a reckoning that had not previously crossed his mind.

The beauty that radiated from her stirred a warmth and giddiness in his chest, one that intensified with every step she took towards him. Her smile faded to a smirk and his heart skipped a beat. Jake became intensely aware that in the last minute or two he hadn’t needed to act like the doting newlyweds they were supposed to be.

She was stopped by a man with wavy hair and a mustache before she could make it to Jake’s corner of the bar. He felt an anger rising up as the man brushed a strand of hair back, caressing her bare shoulder as her hand covered her giggle. An unfamiliar sensation washed over him and he abandoned his drink, stalking over with his shoulders back and his chest puffed out.

His arm slipped around her waist as he made it to his date. He pressed a kiss to her temple, cooing, “there you are gorgeous.” His eyes focused on the way she looked up at him, wishing for half a second the desire he saw there was real. “I was beginning to think I’d have to come find you. Actually, I was counting on it. Finding you locked up in our room with alternative plans for the evening.”

“And just who are you?” the mustached man asked, ire and disdain lacing his tone.

“I’m her husband,” Jake answered as his grip on her waist tightened, his fingertips digging into her soft hips. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to make sure my wife knows how beautiful she looks tonight.”

Jake pulled her away to the dance floor, twirling her into his chest as he slipped his hand in hers.

“That was far from subtle, Hangman,” she mumbled quietly.

“Aren’t I supposed to be playing the doting husband?”

“The doting husband doesn’t have to be insanely jealous and try to mark his territory in front of a room full of strangers,” she countered, a smirk crossing her lips as her brows rose in challenge.

“When you look the way you do tonight, any husband would want to mark his territory, doting or not,” he replied sincerely, dipping her low as the song ended.

Her eyes searched his face for a sign, for something, for anything that might clue her in to his actual thoughts. All she found was a softness lingering in his slight smile, a hunger in the narrow eyes that flitted down from her eyes to her lips.

The tempo shifted as a new song began and he pulled her upright, stopping her when she tried to leave the dance floor.

“Jake, I can’t dance to this,” she hissed as he spun her around, pulling her back flush to his chest.

“I can,” he muttered against her neck, sending shivers up her spine. “Follow my lead.” His right foot slipped between hers and kicked them apart, a smirk dancing on his face at the gasp she tried to hide.

Jake led her in a tango, twirling and dipping her, his hands wandering over her body as they moved across the dance floor. She followed his lead fluently, her moves becoming second nature as she leaned into the trust she had for the partner who was surprising her this evening.

A heat built between them, the fire in their eyes as passionate as ever, spreading throughout their bodies with every touch, every glance, every whiff of their scent. By the end of the dance, when Jake had their chests pressed against each other, their panting breaths mingling millimeters from their faces, he could no longer hide the fact that he was attracted to her tonight. The evidence was pressed tightly into her hips.

“Seresin,” she hissed under her breath as his hands gripped her tightly. The crowd around them applauded wildly, all eyes she could see focused on them in the middle of the dance floor.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, his eyes darting between hers anxiously.

She waited a beat before nodding slightly, feeling the tension in his shoulders release.

“Just a second, then.” His hand slid up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades, holding her tighter as his head dipped to her ear. “I have eyes on the target.”

“I’m assuming my six,” she muttered back with a grin.

“He’s at the bar. You step out onto the terrace and block that exit.”

“And let you get all the credit? I don’t -”

“Do you trust me?” he repeated. His grip loosened when she nodded and he led her off the dance floor, pressing a kiss to her temple as they reached the balcony doors. She stepped out of the door and he turned to the bar, letting out a curse as his eyes widened.

The mark had vanished.

The breeze sent shivers up her spine. The entire situation had her on edge. Hangman had a reputation for leaving his partners high and dry and taking all the credit for the mission himself. The soft click of footsteps prompted her to release a tense breath, her shoulders relaxing as she turned. “Jake, I thought -”

She stopped short when she saw their mark, his face adorned with a dark grin.

“I’m sorry to disappoint. But I must say, you look beautiful this evening,” the mark said as he buttoned his jacket.

Two additional men materialized from the shadows and advanced towards her, causing her to take steps backwards. Her heart thudded in her chest and her breathing became labored, gasping for oxygen to fill lungs that fought expansion. There had been no training for a situation where you’re being approached directly on a balcony.

A piece of tape covered her mouth and a black bag draped over her head before she could scream.

The mark disappeared. Jake swore under his breath as he scanned the room again fruitlessly. There was no sign of him anywhere. His eyes widened and he darted for the balcony door. His stomach fell to the floor as he stepped out onto an empty terrace, the lingering smell of her perfume the only sign she had ever been there.

“Shit,” he swore while he pulled out his phone. “Shit fuck fuck shit.”

Dialing a contact, he paced frantically across the small space, counting the steps he took back and forth. One, two, three, four, turn.

“Control.”

“Fucking finally,” Jake barked into the phone. “I need extraction for myself and the location on my partner.”

“I’ll need approval from your mission leader for those,” the tech on the other end of the phone explained.

“No, what you need to do is find her. I think she was taken by the mark.”

Agonizing minutes passed while he waited on hold with control. The sound of a helicopter landing on the rooftop next door drowned out the response of control and spurred Jake into motion. In one swift motion, he climbed onto the iron railing and jumped to the neighboring building, his shoulder taking the brunt of the landing and propelling him into a roll. Pulling his pistol from his holster, he approached the chopper, finding that the occupants had evacuated and left the pilot.

He raised his weapon and stepped into view. “You’re flying me now.”

The pilot looked at him and shrugged, flipping a few switches and handing over a headset as Jake settled into the front seat. “Where to?”

Jake only had an inkling of where the mark would have taken her, and barely a guess as to what they were driving but he had to do something, anything. If he didn’t…well he refused to think about the possibilities.

The duct tape over her mouth chafed as she wiggled her lips, trying to loosen the tape enough to moisten the area and get the tape off. The zip ties they placed around her wrists cut deeply as she shifted. She took deep breaths to counter the rising panic in her chest; she had been trained for this. She knew what to do.

“You really shouldn’t struggle so much. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

She couldn’t tell which of her abductors had decided to comment on her escape attempts, but he was on her left. The black cloth they had placed over her face was melting the meticulous makeup she applied before the gala and it pissed her off that she didn’t even get a picture before it was all ruined. Defeated, she slumped back against the seat, her shoulders squeezed between two of the giant men that had taken her hostage.

Her mind reeled with details from her training, what to do, when to do it. She had been in dangerous situations before but this time, something was preventing her from acting.

This time, she was the collateral. This time, she was relying on someone else to rescue her. And that was terrifying.

#cole writes #writercole #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman seresin #secret agent au #undercover au #top gun maverick au #tgm au

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jewbeloved · 1 year

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South Park Masterlist 6.0 🦴

Blog introduction/request rules

💒 The Main Four 💒

💙 Stan Marsh 🥤

Stan getting pantsed by his s/o

Stan with an actor s/o

Yandere Stan with a s/o like mikan

Stan with a genderfluid s/o

Taking a shower with Stan

Stan's reaction to you being a worm

Stan with an Insomnia s/o

Stan with a tall rich gf

When you feel left out (Stan)

Werewolf Stan with a piglet s/o

Stan with an artist s/o

Stan with a flirty s/o

Stan being comforted during a panic attack

Stan with a s/o who has a pet dragon

💚 Kyle Broflovski 🌲

Kyle getting pantsed by his s/o

Kyle with an actor s/o

Cuddling with Kyle

Yandere Kyle with a s/o like mikan

Kyle with an s/o who gets excited around him

Kyle with a s/o who is close with his mom

Kyle with a genderfluid s/o

Kyle with a crying s/o

Taking a shower with Kyle

Kyle's reaction to you being a worm

Kyle with an Insomnia s/o

Kyle with a tall rich gf

When you feel left out (Kyle)

Kyle with a memory loss s/o

Kyle when his s/o parents hate him

Kyle with a s/o who likes to make flower crowns

Werewolf Kyle with a piglet s/o

Kyle with an artist s/o

Kyle with a hockey player s/o

Kyle being comforted during a panic attack

Kyle with a s/o who has a pet dragon

❤️ Eric Cartman 🍲

Cartman getting pantsed by his s/o

Cartman with an actor s/o

Yandere Cartman with a s/o like mikan

Taking a shower with Cartman

Cartman with an Insomnia s/o

Cartman with a tall rich gf

Werewolf Cartman with a piglet s/o

Cartman with a s/o who has a pet dragon

🧡 Kenny Mccormick 🐁

Kenny getting pantsed by his s/o

Kenny with an actor s/o

Yandere Kenny with a s/o like mikan

Kenny with a crying s/o

Taking a shower with Kenny

Kenny with an Insomnia s/o

Kenny with a tall rich gf

Kenny with a memory loss s/o

Werewolf Kenny with a piglet s/o

Kenny with an artist s/o

Kenny with a flirty s/o

Yandere Kenny with a s/o who loves him

Kenny with a s/o who has a pet dragon

🧼 Craig and those guys 🧼

💙 Craig Tucker 🐹

Craig with a genderfluid s/o

Craig's reaction to you being a worm

Craig with a memory loss s/o

Craig with an artist s/o

Craig with a flirty s/o

💛 Tweek Tweak 🙀

Tweek with a genderfluid s/o

🤎 Clyde Donovan 🌮

Clyde with a timid s/o

Clyde with a s/o who likes to make flower crowns

Clyde with a flirty s/o

💜 Token Black 💐

Token with a s/o who likes to make flower crowns

💛 Jimmy Valmer 🃏

Jimmy with a s/o who gets excited around him

🥏 Other Characters 🥏

🖤 Wendy Testaburger 🌺

Wendy with a s/o who gets excited around her

💛 Leopold Butters Scotch 🍔

Butters with a tall rich gf

Butters being adopted by the reader

💚 Heidi Turner 🌾

Heidi with a streaming s/o

🧡 Timmy Burch 🧑‍🦼

💛 Bebe Stevens 🖼️

Bebe with a streaming s/o

❤️ Damien Thorn 🔥

Damien with a genderfluid s/o

💛 Phillip Pip Pirrup 🍨

Phillip with a goth s/o

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waytooinvested · 1 month

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Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 2

Still reeling from finding out the truth herself, Lena suddenly finds herself in the midst of an odd role reversal in which she knows that Kara is Supergirl, but Kara no longer has any idea she has ever been more than an ordinary human.

And what’s more, Lena has no choice but to keep the truth from her for her own protection…

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Hello little sister’.

Lena jumped and whirled to face her brother, who was leaning with an air of performative nonchalance against the doorway she had just come through, a knowing smirk playing about his lips.

How the hell had he managed to sneak up on her like that? He must have been right behind her and yet she hadn’t sensed a thing, despite the unnatural, heavy stillness of the air down here. She was clearly allowing her emotions to blunt her edge, and that needed to stop right now. If she and Kara were going to make it out of this alive, Lena had to be smarter than that. Smarter than Lex.

‘You know, it took you a lot longer to get here than I expected – I’ve been sending out that signal for nearly two days now. For a moment there I thought you really might have cut the leash and let your little pet go for good, I was about to be so proud, even though it would have been a waste of my efforts. But it turns out that you were just too incompetent to work it out sooner. You’ve really let me down Lena’.

Somehow, even though she knew and despised the truth of who Lex had become, his words still managed to worm their way through the cracks to find the part of her that had once been a little girl desperate for his approval, and she had to bite back the instinct to defend herself. She refused to be drawn so easily into an ego contest with Lex. It wasn’t what she was here for, and it would be a waste of time in any case. There had never been anything she could say or do that was enough to convince her brother that she was worthy of his approval, and for all her inner six year old might yearn for it, she knew now that the last thing anyone should aspire to was to be approved of by this man.

Instead of responding to the jibe, Lena raised the gun she had brought with her and leveled it at Lex’s chest.

‘If you’ve hurt her-’

‘Oh calm down, I didn’t kill your itty bitty kitty. I’ve done you a favour actually. I just couldn’t bear to see you so upset over her lie about being Supergirl, so I fixed her for you. Call it a birthday present’.

‘It’s not my birthday, and I didn’t ask you for anything. What the hell are you up to Lex?’

Throughout this exchange Lena was subtly scanning the room they were in, seeking whatever advantage she might be able to dredge up from the space. It was unpromising. The room was an unbroken expanse of bare white tile, save for the dust and a few dirty scuff marks on the floor where there had clearly once been furniture. There were two closed doors leading off to other parts of the bunker, but no indication as to which might take her to wherever Lex was keeping Kara. Lena weighed up the possibility of making a dash for one or other of them, but quickly discarded it. Lex was bound to have anticipated such a move, and if he had rigged up a booby trap she failed to notice in her haste it could cost both her and Kara their lives.

‘I told you, I got you a present. Want me to tell you what it is? Say please’.

Lex’s voice was jovial and teasing, as if they really were just talking about a new sweater or a bottle of her favourite scotch and not the life of the woman she-

Hated.

Obviously.

But still felt responsible for now that her own brother had taken her hostage.

‘Screw you’.

Lena released the safety catch on her gun, and Lex raised his hands. The gesture should have looked like surrender, but on Lex it just looked mocking, as if she was pointing a stick at him in the garden and shouting ‘bang bang!’ in a fit of childish pique.

‘Ah ah ah. If you do that, you’ll never find out about the little surprise I’ve left for you in Kara’s brain, and if you don’t know how to play with her properly you might find she gets… damaged. We wouldn’t want that would we?’

Fucking Lex.

He had got her in check and he knew it. But at least she was still the one with the gun aimed at his heart. That was something. Enough anyway to allow her room for a little bit of snark.

‘Okay Lex, lets do this your way. I know you love a good supervillain monologuing session, so lets do it. Here I am, your captive and attentive audience, wide eyed and oh-so-impressed by the great homicidal maniac himself. Please, tell me of your great cunning plan so that I can marvel over it’.

‘I know you’re being sarcastic, but I actually love that tone for you. It reminds me of old times. Alright then, since you ask so nicely, I will. You see Lena, once again your big brother has stepped in to pick up the pieces of your broken toys. You were so hurt to find out that Kara Danvers was Supergirl? Well, now she’s not. I’ve split out the alien part of her mind and tucked it securely away for safekeeping. As far as she’s concerned she is now and has always been, plain old Kara Danvers, bumbling human reporter and former friendless orphan. Isn’t it the most perfect revenge? Now you know her secret, and she doesn’t! I laughed so hard when I thought of it, it really is priceless. So, you can either keep your little pet, now she’s been properly domesticated, or if you find you don’t like your cats declawed after all, you can discard her for good, secure in the knowledge that vengeance has been served, even if you didn’t have the guts to do it yourself. You’re welcome’.

‘That’s… completely unhinged. Not to mention impossible’.

‘Impossible for you maybe. I however am cut of a finer cloth. I not only can do it, I have done it. And I not only did it, I enjoyed it’.

‘So what, you’re expecting me to just play along and not tell her the truth? Even if I did agree that she deserved this, there are plenty of other people who know Supergirl’s identity and would be pretty eager to fill her in’.

Lex threw back his head and laughed.

‘Oh baby sister, please, please try it. Only let me know when you’re going to and I’ll make sure I’m there to record it. I thought your irritating noble streak might get in the way of enjoying my present, so I added in a fail safe. Here, I’ll walk you through it at a level you’ll understand. Kara’s mind has been split into two pieces, the one she can access-’

He held up a fist to demonstrate

‘-and the Supergirl part, which she can’t’.

The other fist.

‘All this time you’ve been failing to look for her, Kara’s clever little brain has been busily creating false memories to fill in the gaps left by the missing Supergirl, and it’s getting awfully crowded in there’.

The fingers of one fist expanded outwards, pushing the other off to the side as if he had taken hold of an invisible tennis ball.

‘So to avoid overload, her mind is rejecting the side it can’t get to. If you tell Kara the truth her own brain will fight to keep the separation in place, and she’ll find reasons to deny it to you, as well as to herself. Think of it like two magnets repelling each other’.

He moved one fist towards the other, while moving that one back, as if she was still a four year old child and he was explaining the fundamentals of physics to her for the first time. It was deeply patronising, but Lena let him talk – the more she knew, the more likely it was that she could undo it.

‘Really? That sounds interesting. How did you do it?’

‘Lena, your attempts to outsmart me are laughably juvenile. I’m not going to just hand you the keys to my kingdom’.

She shrugged. It had been a long shot, but you never knew with Lex. Sometimes he just couldn’t resist letting you know exactly how clever he was.

‘Fine. It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ll find a way to get through to her’.

‘Ah, but, this is the truly delicious part: If somehow someone does manage to convince her of the truth, the poles will flip and the two parts of her mind will smash back together with such force that her head will literally explode. Tell me sis, have you ever wondered what a Super looks like with blood pouring from their eyes, ears and nose? I have. I think it would make for a nice holiday movie, what do you say? We could watch it together at Christmas as a cosy little family tradition’.

‘Fuck you Lex. Undo it. Now’.

‘I have to say you’re being a little ungrateful. I did this for you’.

‘Then you can undo it for me, or I can shoot you. For me’.

‘I don’t think so. I did this for you, yes, but I happen to think she’s better this way. And if it all goes well and she doesn’t find a way to unite the two sides on her own, I can do the same thing to Superman’.

‘Oh, there it is. I should have known it would all come back to Superman. You dress all this up as some great revenge on Supergirl for my sake, but this was never about me, or even Kara. It’s only ever about Superman with you’.

Lex shrugged, arrogant in the unshakable certainty of his own unparalleled brilliance.

‘Lena, I hope you know me better than that. At any given moment I have no fewer than seven ulterior motives in play, but yes, of course one of them is Superman. You think your dumb blonde is enough to warrant all this on her own? She’s just like you – a lesser imitation of the real power in her family’.

If it had been safe to take her focus away from Lex for long enough to do so, Lena would have rolled her eyes.

‘You really need to find some other hobbies, this obsession is getting beyond creepy. I know you’re still sore that I’ve been able to beat you at chess since I was four years old, but there are plenty of other games you could take up that don’t involve trailing round trying to get Superman’s attention like a bitter rejected fanboy. Maybe try Connect Four. Or Bingo’.

At long last Lex’s smug look slipped, and for the first time since he’d appeared he seemed actually riled by what she’d said. If there was one thing her brother couldn’t bear, it was being made to feel a fool. He scowled, and when his response came the jocular air was gone from his voice to reveal the cold steel beneath the faux-friendly facade.

‘I thought you’d be more pleased. You always made such a fuss over me killing anyone, even cockroaches like those two, and yet when I find another option you still keep whining. Maybe I should stop trying to be so nice to you and just cut Supergirl’s throat right now while she’s unconscious’.

Lex reached into his jacket and pulled out a stiletto knife, testing the point with his finger and drawing a tiny bead of blood.

‘You know what, I think I will. It’s more humane than she deserves, but I suppose I can make one last concession to your pathetic little crush’.

That was enough, Lena was done playing games.

He had told her all he was going to about what he’d done to Kara, and now she had to stop him before he followed through on his threat, or escaped to enact the rest of his plan against Superman. It was time to do what she had promised herself she would when she’d set out to follow the signal here.

Lena’s knees felt weak but her hands were rock steady as she took aim and placed a finger on the trigger.

‘I’ll tell you what would be more humane. Killing you, and saving the world from any more of your vile schemes’.

Before her brother had time to react Lena fired, twice. Heart and then head, just to make sure he wouldn’t be saved at the last by a bullet proof vest.

The head shot went a little wide, seeming to skim past his temple without leaving a mark, but the heart shot flew true and hit Lex squarely in the chest, passing cleanly through his body to lodge in the wall behind him.

Lex looked down at his front, then back to Lena.

‘You actually shot me! Congratulations, I truly didn’t think you had it in you’.

But the shot was a little too clean. There was no blood marring the pristine white of his shirt, and Lex remained standing upright, the look of infuriating smugness now firmly back in place, as if he had been waiting for this ever since their conversation had started.

Lena swore.

‘It’s a hologram’.

No wonder she hadn’t heard him coming up behind her when she’d first arrived, and he had seemed so entirely unconcerned by the gun she’d had aimed at his chest throughout their interaction. She really should have put the pieces together sooner.

‘Well of course it is, I’m not a moron. Besides, I pinged the DEO as soon as you got here, and there was no point taking chances on still being nearby if they actually manage to figure out their asses from their elbows and pick up the signal. I could escape again of course, but prison is such a waste of time. Also, I think it will be more fun if I leave you to explain why they can’t tell their favourite action figure that she’s not just the Barbie doll she thinks she is. I wonder if they’ll believe you after the way you behaved during your little falling out? I’m guessing you’re not really their favourite person these days. Don’t forget to record it for me if they try to convince her she’s an alien will you? See ya round, sis’.

The hologram flickered and disappeared, leaving Lena alone in the derelict bunker.

The whole thing had been a set up. Of course it had been, and Lena had blundered straight into it exactly as Lex had planned that she should. She was furious, and there was nothing she could do but play the part he had written for her.

She had to find Kara.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #my fic #supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #kara x lena #multi chapter fic #If you enjoy it consider leaving me a comment on ao3?#Forgotten Not Forgiven

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divinekangaroo · 3 months

Text

WIP: a honeymoon fic teaser for @deliciousnutcomputer for such patience :)

tommy x lizzie; drinking/inebriation, friction, very unreliable (drunk) narrator XD

(it might not seem it but this one will have the most terribly sweet ending i can possibly imagine)

Day 1:

5:00 PM: Arrive at Victoria Embankment in London to board the Orient Express. 6:00 PM: Departure from London towards Dover. Enjoy dinner in the dining car. Socialise in the lounge and bar cars. Live music and conversation. Admire the passing countryside and towns as the train continues its journey. During the evening, compartments will be prepared for sleeping with the seating converted into luxury beds.

‘There’s fingerprints.’

Lizzie looked up from her plate. Quail at perfect moistness, green peppercorn. Some kind of broccoli sliced into the thinnest of curls, transparent as if green glass, or a museum’s pressed dissection of a small tree. Never particularly been intrigued by the idea of matching wine to meal, one of those things the upper classes pretended was real but wasn’t just to create another barrier, Lizzie learned otherwise: something about the way the white wine, selected for her meal especially, that made everything taste so much better. Hadn’t been the first sip, but layered, as if taste was something that could build over time, acquired, and she was in the thick of complementary layered bliss on her tongue right now.

The green-eyed sommelier explained it to her with a masculine grace and an attention she’d felt warmly gratified by, as he’d seemed to recognise instantly Tommy wouldn’t pay attention, and instead poured his French-accented charm onto her instead. She’d listened, rapt, and drank everything he gave her.

As if giving a toast, Tommy raised his tumbler to the burnished chandeliers that gave the dining car such atmosphere, frowning.

‘See? Fingerprints.’

‘Are they your fingerprints?’

‘Course they’re not mine. Look, there’s specks of dirt in this glass.’

‘Tommy.’

Now he was sniffing the contents. ‘Is this scotch? Taste it for me. They’ve given me scotch. In someone else’s fucking unwashed glass.’

‘Can you please get your glass out of my face—’

‘Where’s this bar car? I’m not taking this.’

How was she supposed to know if he didn’t? ‘Given there’s only two directions you could possibly go, I’m sure you’ll find it.’

Tommy gave her an unreadable look, untucked his chair, and stalked out the back end of the dining car, holding the glass out as if it was some dripping bloody organ. Then he hit his shoulder on the doorframe as he passed and paused to glare at it.

Lizzie looked at her plate to avoid seeing if he'd start a fight with mostly inanimate architecture. She ate another careful mouthful of quail with a slice of broccoli folded onto the gold fork by way of the gold knife. There were still three forks and three knives on the table next to her plate, and three spoons in different sizes arranged at the top of the gold-rimmed plate. She assumed one set had been for the prawn thing in the glasses Tommy waved away before the waiters could approach their table, which she forgave because a disgust for shellfish couldn’t be argued with; another for the soup course he’d looked at and sent back without checking with her, which she didn’t forgive when she’d not even the chance to see what it was. But she wasn’t sure about the final cutlery set because it wasn’t meant for dessert, was it?

She'd lost her taste for sweet things, anyway. Now she would never know.

Five minutes later, Tommy crossed through again to exit to the front of the car, still holding the offending glass, giving her a passing frown.

Lizzie looked at his plate, steak with the slightest blush of pink at the centre; she could tell because he’d sliced it thin as the broccoli, precisely, end to end, complaining it wasn’t cooked through, didn’t they know uncooked meat gave people worms or worse, he’d had better from a gutted squirrel at a fucking street stall grilled over charcoal on a stick. He’d pushed all the potatoes off the plate in the process of his slicing, exactly like Charlie at his petulant worst, staining the tablecloth.

Having drained her glass of impeccably selected white wine staring at his plate, Lizzie waved the waiter over to fill her up again. The couple at the table next to her looked at her, not exactly aghast, but politely puzzled. Possibly you weren’t supposed to click repeatedly at a waiter like that in first class. Possibly you weren’t supposed to even call them. Maybe it was all done through some strange set of social signals no one was allowed to explain, because you had to be born into it.

No one seemed to stare at Tommy like that no matter what he did, though, so men must have a free pass. Either that or he’d found a better book of etiquette than she ever had and not deigned to share.

‘You might as well leave the bottle. Are you allowed to do that?’

‘Of course, madam.’

‘Ta. Thank you, I mean. Thank you.’

‘At your service, madam.’ From the cow-eyes, he looked like he wanted to kiss the back of her hand. Surely that wasn’t reasonable? Lizzie looked away, slightly disturbed, and the couple at the table across offered her near-identical conciliatory smiles, sweetly, which made her realise they weren’t a couple but rather brother and sister, and that was perhaps an invitation to participate in some of that much lauded social conversation listed on their itinerary.

In the corner of the car, on a small elevated triangular stage, a trio of young violinists set up quietly. Two women with hair piled high in identical crowns-of-braids and one man, dark skinned. At some unseen cue, they all began to play, ethereal and compelling. Lizzie thought distantly of Charlie’s practice, wondered if he’d keep his attention on it long enough to become this good. Violins were amazing instruments. Having mostly filled her days and a good few nights of marriage so far with various entertainments now available to her, including orchestral performances, Lizzie had decided violins might be her favourite. Not just because of Charlie, but because even his faltering practice made the instrument sound almost human in some way, even if with him it was more crying than singing. Now, in the hands of masters, the instruments pulled her into another place where baby new potatoes weren’t rocking gently on the tablecloth with the motion of the train.

Frisson, that’s what it was. Lifting her from the mundanity of having endured without comment the now hours-long litany of Mr Thomas Shelby’s complaints of raw steak and dirty glasses and the station queues and the traffic on the way in and how could she forget her fucking passport all while pretending he hadn’t forgotten his and the stupid imperfect and fundamentally flawed itinerary the latest useless office lackey put together for this whole affair, the crammed luggage and the lack of information on the weather that would be awaiting them so they couldn’t even pack clothes properly as if he'd ever wear anything other than a bloody three-piece in public and the time this would take away from important business and she’d better be happy and why France, Lizzie, why fucking France, when he’d been the one who picked it—

Nothing was left in the bottle. Lizzie realised it was late enough the car was nearly empty, offending plate and potatoes cleared, and she was almost liquid in her chair, suddenly conscious of how she must look. Eyes half-lidded, face soft, listening and looking, free hand curled at her chest as if wounded, and a total degradation of posture.

The young violinist caught Lizzie’s eye and winked at her, inclined his head so briefly towards the rear end of the car. A lifted eyebrow, in enquiry and offering. He put an extra little effort into his bow arm, the tilt of his chin, and held her eye in a particularly meaningful way.

‘Do you want to fuck me,’ Lizzie asked the empty chair opposite her, jarring and vicious and in her poshest attempt at the King’s English.

The chair didn’t answer.

Then she went to find the bar car or her bed, whatever showed up first in the grand linear journey that was navigating a train where apparently everyone except for her husband actually did, in fact, want to fuck her, blaming her sway and the nearly-rolled ankle along the way on the motion of the carriage.

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wjehfshs · 11 months

Text

Some head-canons for cod characters while I work on a request and I’m at a family birthday party

Kinda suggestive on Keegans part, mentions of alcohol and smoking

Gaz

Held his mums hand in public until he was 17

Mamas boy

Had the type of father son relationship where they would play catch outside

Hot chocolate >> coffee

Absolutely terrified of kids but kids are all over him when he’s out in public or anywhere with kids

Whenever he got face paint as a kid at birthday party’s or something he always either got a tiger or Spider-Man

Gaming nerd

Constantly worried for Price because Price smokes

Most in tune with pop culture and social media

Has a tik tok account with 40K followers

He just posts training videos and self defence and people eat it up (people meaning me)

Pretty average childhood

First job was at a hotdog stand when he was 16

Ghost

Goes mute on rare occasions

Complete opposite of Gaz, loves kids but they’re terrified of him

Was a hot wheels kids but considering his childhood he would always just play with his friends hot wheels

Autistic

Secretly really attached to Price in a father son way but would rather die than admit it

Body is a HEATER. Literally never cold always complaining about how it’s hot

Insomniac (probably a trauma response but we don’t talk about that)

Joined the military to feel stronger than his father but stayed because he actually enjoyed it and made friends

On the rare occasion he does sleep he’s out like a light for at least 10+ hours

Type of kid in high-school to have no friends but didn’t care

Price

Favourite food is a scone

Scotch drinker

Trying to quit smoking for Gaz but struggles, needs a stress reliever from time to time

Body is also a heater but not as bad as Ghost

Was a sports kid in high-school

Kids are all over him and constantly think he’s like 97, he doesn’t mind tho he’s like a father

Typa dad to play catch with his kid

Recovering alcoholic

Very much popular nice kid in high-school. Everyone loved him and he got good grades

Sneezes like an explosion went off

Probably needs glasses to read

Soap

Basically deaf, “Huh? Huh? Huh?”

Kids hate him and he hates kids he likes it that way

Ate straight up mud and worms as a kid

Eats cereal RELIGIOUSLY

Body feels cold but he’s always saying how hot it is

Typa guy to walk an old woman across the street

Has a god awful amount of hair gel that he doesn’t even use because his hair defies gravity

Plays the bagpipes but not very well

Wakes up first. Without fail.

Ate dog food as a kid

No one touches the Mohawk (except Ghost)

Has a tik tok but like 72 followers and he gets so excited when he gets over 10 likes, he shows Gaz and Gaz doesn’t wanna break his heart by telling him that’s really not a lot

Loses his train of thought mid sentence

König

Also goes mute sometimes

When he gets too anxious and someone tries to talk to him and he’s not mute he’s speaking German and German only

Cold, all the time

Bounces his leg when he sits

Cant sleep properly for shit

Cuts his own hair because he hates having to communicate to people

His first birthday present was a fake crown from his parents

Kind of kid to hide behind his parents legs when he was little

Doesn’t drink or smoke or anything because it makes him sick

Likes soup idk why he just likes soup

Animal person but he’s so scared of hurting them especially really small animals like kittens

Gets sunburnt really easy

Sleeps with 5 thick blankets + 1 weighted blanket

Like soft fluffy things

Has to sometimes make his own clothes or blankets considering his size

Had a childhood cat that he considered his best friend

Keegan

Calls everyone who’s younger than him “kid” even if they’re just an hour younger or smth

Swears he’s a good driver (he’s canonically not)

Bit of a perv honestly (by bit I mean very much). He’s not creepy or anything just dirty minded

Was a Lego kid

Avoids children like the plague

Drinks beer but ever rarely

Also chronically cold

Was always the cooler older cousin

Like his steak burnt to a crisp

Spicy food enjoyer

Also good with pop culture and social media

Has a Twitter with 60K followers

Posts stuff in tactical gear

Knows what he’s doing if you know what I mean

Listens to metal

Also likes playing games

Really really nice hands

Ok that’s it for now. Can you tell I like Gaz and Keegan the most? Yeah. I want them

It’s so cold outside rn wtf

#cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw x reader

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fanartandfanfiction · 10 months

Text

In honor of Aesop’s birthday, I wrote this fic. I sat down and wrote it in one sitting and didn’t proof read it ✌️ enjoy!

Happy Birthday (Aesop Sharp one-shot)

Aesop hated his birthday.

It just marked another year of getting older, more gray hairs sprouting, more trouble with his leg. Most years he spent his birthday with a book and a bottle of scotch. But this year he’d made a mistake…

Lydia Collins was the new muggle studies teacher, and if you thought Mirabel Garlick was a ray of sunshine…Lydia was the sun.

At some point, she’d managed to befriend him. He wasn’t sure how or when it happened, because he had no desire to be friends with the human equivalent of a golden retriever. But somehow, she’d wormed her way in.

They were eating lunch in her office, which they did occasionally. Her classroom was closer to the great hall and he didn’t feel like packing his lunch all the way back down to the dungeon.

“-so anyway, I’m screaming, the puffskein is screaming, and neither of us know how we got there.” She grinned as she told some sort of humorous story, he’d zoned out a while ago. “Helloooo? Aesop?”

“Hmm? Oh, apologies. I was lost in thought.”

“About what?”

“Nothing in particular. Go on with your ludicrous tale of tomfoolery.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I was going to offer you half my brownie, but…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I always get irritable this time of year.”

“Because it’s hot?”

“No, because of my-“ he looked up and realized his mistake.

“Because of your what?” She grinned.

“Because of my…allergies?”

“Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Liar.” She threw a Cheeto at him. “So what are we doing?”

“WE are not doing anything. I don’t enjoy my birthday. I’d prefer it to just be like any other day.”

“That’s ridiculous! Birthdays are supposed to be special! It’s a day all about you! And you get cake! Why would you not want cake?” She was gesticulating with her fork and he dodged it as it flew out of her hand.

“Because it means I’m getting older! I’m turning into my father.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re older than you were five minutes ago. And when I finished that sentence.”

“Your point?”

“My point is that you can’t look at it that way or you’ll be grumpy and depressed. Look at it as a victory. Fuck you, life! I’ve made it another year! Watch me do it again!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think I’ll still celebrate it the way I always do. With a book and a bottle of scotch.”

“A bottle? Keep going at that rate and you won’t have that many more birthdays.” She threw another Cheeto at him. “If you’re going to get drunk, at least do it with other drunk people so you’ll all have fun.”

“Stop throwing these at me!” He placed the cheeto on the desk. She promptly launched another one and it got stuck in his hair. “Lydia!”

“Ooh! Ooh! Open your mouth! See if you can catch it like Shamu!”

“I am not an exhibit at sea-“ she threw a cheeto and it landed in his open mouth and she cheered. “That’s it. I’m going back to my office.”

“Come on, I’ll let you throw them at me!”

He rolled his eyes and picked up his lunch. “Goodbye, Lydia.” Another cheeto bounced off his head. He left with a small smile.

The dreaded day way here. At least it was a Saturday so he didn’t have to teach. He got dressed for the day and decided to go get some breakfast.

He opened his door and jumped back as a party horn was blown in his face. “Lydia?!”

She was standing outside his door with an armload of balloons, wearing a party hat and blowing a dragon tongue party horn. She blew it again and when it uncurled, Aesop snatched it. “Aw.” She frowned as he tossed the crumpled horn aside.

“Why? What have I done to you to deserve this punishment?”

“I’m your friend, silly, and I’m going to make sure you have a fantastic birthday!”

“No, I don’t think we’re friends anymore.” He smirked.

“Here, these are for you.” She handed him the bouquet of balloons and while his hands were occupied, rushed forward and strapped a party hat to his head.

“LYDIA!”

She pulled another horn out of her pocket and blew it, then tossed a handful of confetti at him.

“You’re exhausting.” He yanked the party hat off.

“I thought you might not like the hat, so I compromised and got you this button.” She stepped forward and pinned a button to his shirt that said “BIRTHDAY BOY!” In enormous letters.

“I’m going back to bed.” He started to turn around when Lydia grabbed his hand. It was warm and soft, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched his hand.

“Please. I planned a day I think you’ll enjoy. If you hate it, then you can leave and go back to bed.”

He looked into her light blue eyes and sighed. “Alright. But I’m not wearing the button.”

“Ok!” She grinned excitedly. “Let’s go get some breakfast and pick up the others.”

“The others???”

His cell phone began ringing and he pulled it out and looked at the screen. “Excuse me for a moment, it’s my mother.” He stepped away and took the call. “Hi mom.”

“Happy birthday Acey!”

“Thank you.”

“Any plans for today?”

“Yes, actually. A friend of mine has planned something.”

“Oh, wonderful! Can I speak to Lydia?”

“Um, sure?” He held the phone out to her. “My mother knows you by name and wants to talk to you?”

Lydia grinned and put the phone up to her ear. “Hey Diana! You were right, he tried to get out of it.”

There was a pause and she laughed. “I know! Hey, how are those orchids coming along?” She gestured for Aesop to follow her and they began walking to the great hall. “I’m glad to hear that! I bet they’re beautiful.” Another pause. “Oh, how sweet! How about next weekend?” Aesop’s eyes widened. “Alright, Di, I’ll see you then. Here’s your son back.” She handed the phone back to Aesop with a smile.

“How do you even know each other, and what’s next weekend?”

“Oh, your friend Lydia called me and explained that she wanted to surprise you for your birthday and asked what you would enjoy doing. She’s a lovely girl, we ended up chatting for quite a while, she gave me some wonderful tips for my garden. Next week we’re having tea. She’s a keeper!”

“Mother, we’re just friends.” He said quietly as Lydia literally skipped down the hall ahead of him.

“I don’t know, Acey, she seems to care about you an awful lot. And it’s sweet that she went to such lengths to surprise you.”

“Yes, well thank you for calling. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a day of god knows what awaiting me.”

“I think you’ll enjoy yourself! Happy birthday darling, I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.” He hung up the phone and glared at Lydia. “You talked to my mother?! How did you even get her phone number?”

“I have my ways!” The blonde grinned at him.

They walked to the great hall and Aesop groaned as he saw the birthday banner. His coworkers were waiting for him and whooped as he came in.

“Now I owe Mirabel $20.” Ronen said sadly.

“Why?” Aesop asked.

“I bet her that you would find a way to get out of it.”

“Don’t hand over your money yet.” He grumbled. “So what IS on the agenda for today?”

“That’s a secret.” Lydia grinned. “Sit down, have some breakfast, drink some coffee and pull the stick out of your ass.”

They ate breakfast and he sat quietly as his coworkers chatted around him. After they ate, Lydia turned to him with a grin. “Alright, I can fit three people in my car. Who’s riding with me?”

“I’ve seen the way you drive, I’m not getting into a car with you.” Ronen chuckled.

“Fine, I’ll take the birthday boy and Mirabel. You and Dinah can take your car. I’ll text you the address.”

“Why are we taking cars?” Aesop asked.

“Because we’re going to a muggle town.” She grinned. “No wands from here on out.”

“Seriously?!”

“I teach muggle studies, what did you expect?” She gave him a sunshiney grin. “You can have lots of fun without magic. Alright, everybody ready?”

“Let’s get this over with.” Aesop sighed.

“Try not to be so enthusiastic.” Lydia winked.

Fifteen minutes later, Aesop was in the back of Lydia’s car, which was bright pink. “Is this your car or Barbie's?” He asked with a smirk.

“Oh hush. I always told myself that, when I could afford it, I would get the pink car I always wanted. It’s a milestone. How about some music?”

He sat in the back and groaned internally as Lydia and Mirabel dueted an Elton John song.

“DON’T GO BREAKIN MY HEEEEART!” Lydia sang and passed the imaginary microphone to Mirabel.

“I couldn’t if I triiiied!”

“Oh hooooney if I get restleeess!”

“Baby you’re not that kind!”

He found himself humming along quietly in the back with a small smile on his face. Lydia had put on gaudy Elton John sunglasses covered in rhinestones.

They drove for about 45 minutes before pulling into a wooded area. “We’re here!” Lydia said happily.

“Where? The place where you intend to leave my body?” Aesop asked.

They all got out of the car and Aesop saw the sign. “Pauly’s Paintball? What’s paintball?”

“It is RIGHT up your alley, my friend.” Abraham clapped his shoulder as he and Diana joined them.

They walked to the entrance of what looked like a log cabin. A muscular man greeted them. “Hey, Lyddie! Welcome to Pauly’s Paintball! Have any of you played?.”

“Nope, today we have paintball virgins. They’re gonna need the whole intro.”

“Sounds good. Why don’t you all go ahead and get changed in the locker rooms and meet me back out here?”

“Change? I didn’t bring a change of clothing.” Aesop said.

“There’s a jumpsuit and protective gear on a shelf with your name on it.” The man, presumably Pauly, said. “Are you Aesop?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Pauly Collins. Nice to meet you!”

They had the same last name. He’d never noticed if Lydia wore a wedding ring or not.

“My sister has spoken highly of you. Based on what she’s told me, I think you’re gonna enjoy yourself.” Pauly grinned at him. He was apparently just as sunshiney as his sister. He felt an odd feeling of relief that this man wasn’t her husband. He cast a glance down at her hand and noticed there was no ring.

“Did my new helmet come in yet?” Lydia was practically bouncing with excitement.

“Sure did, though it’s just going to make you stand out more.” Pauly reached under the counter and pulled out a pink helmet.

“I LOVE IT!”

“Don’t blame me when you’re out in two minutes.” Pauly smiled and handed her the helmet. She bounded off towards the locker room. “Lydie can be a lot, believe me, I get it. But she’s got a good heart. I think you’ll have fun today.” Pauly clapped him on the shoulder and Aesop gave him a small smile and headed for the locker room.

He looked at the stack of items on the shelf. There was a jumpsuit, a helmet with a face guard, boots, and padding for his chest, elbows, and knees. “What exactly are we doing?” Aesop asked, wondering what the hell all the body armor was for.

“We will be shooting balls of paint at each other.” Abraham responded, zipping up his jumpsuit.

“I still don’t see why that requires this armor. It’s paint.”

“From what I understand, it is quite painful.”

“It’s PAINT.”

“I don’t know, I am basing my information off of what I learned on the internet.” Abraham shrugged and tied the boots.

Aesop got dressed, feeling like it was all a bit silly. He finished dressing and he and Abraham headed back out to the lobby.

The girls were already out there and Dinah was examining a gun of some sort. Pauly looked up and smiled. “Alright! Now that everyone is here, let me go over the basics.”

Aesop listened and was surprised at how physically intense the sport was. After their lesson, he turned to Dinah. “Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Oh Aesop, I’m much more spry than I look. I’ll do just fine.” She winked at him and flipped the face shield down over her eyes.

“Alright, you’ll need to divide yourself into teams. We have an uneven number so I’ll be playing as well. Since we’re the most experienced, Lydie and I will be captains.”

“Come on Aesop, you’re gonna want to be on my team.” Lydia grinned. “We’ll kick Pauly’s ass.”

“I think I’d like to join your team as well.” Mirabel smiled.

“Alright, that puts Abraham and Dinah with me. Put these patches on so your own team doesn’t shoot you. Go to your base and you’ll have three minutes to strategize. At the sound of the horn, the game has begun. The object is to capture the opposing team’s flag and bring it back to your base. If you get shot, you’re out for five minutes. You’ll have one hour to capture the flag. If at the end of the hour, neither team has successfully captured it, the team with the least hits will be the winner. Everyone ready?”

The group nodded. “Remember, no hits above the shoulder. Let’s go!”

Aesop, Mirabel, and Lydia headed to their base. They all had red patches on their chest. Lydia took the lead.

“Pauly is aggressive, he always focuses on offense, not defense, so I think our best bet is to hide out and defend our base. One of you needs to stay here, one of you will come with me.”

“I’ll stay here.” Mirabel said.

“Good. Shoot anyone that comes through that door. Aesop or I will shout RED before we enter so you don’t shoot us. Come on, Aesop.”

She took off at a jog and Aesop followed her. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fan of such a violent sport.”

“Oh I love it! Gets the heart pumping. If your leg starts bothering you too much, let me know and you can switch with Mirabel. Station yourself behind that tree to your right. I’ll be over here. Pay attention, I’ll give you a hand signal when I want to move forward.”

Aesop nodded and headed to his spot. This reminded him of his days as an auror, staking out locations and waiting for the enemy. Though it was more fun when the threat of death was removed.

The horn sounded and Aesop began scanning the horizon. Thirty seconds had passed before Abraham came running towards them in the middle of the field with no cover.

He let out a yelp as both Aesop and Lydia pelted him with paintballs.

“Maybe try being more stealthy!” Aesop shouted with a laugh before a paintball hit him in the chest. “Son of a BITCH!” Ok, now he understood the armor. He and Ronen headed to the benches on the sidelines. He saw Dinah roll out from behind a tree and fire at Lydia. He was surprised at how spry she was.

Lydia dodged the shot and fired one in return, clipping Dinah in the shoulder. “Damn!” Dinah trudged over to the bench.

There was another man by the benches and he handed them each a timer upon arrival. “Welcome to the time out zone. After your timer goes off, take the path back to your respective base. I’m Chad, I’ll be your timekeeper. First time, huh?”

“Was it that obvious?” Abraham asked.

“You’re on Lydie’s team, huh?” Chad asked Aesop. “She’s a killer. We’re usually co-captains.”

“Do you play paintball often?”

“At least once a week.”

Lydia came trudging over a few minutes later, head hung low. “Bastard climbed the tree.”

“Does that mean the fate of our team relies on Mirabel?” Aesop asked with a smile.

“Shit. It’s just her and Pauly!” Aesop’s timer went off and Lydia jumped. “GO GO GO GO GO!” He took off at a run towards the base.

When he came out at the end of the trail, he saw Pauly heading straight for the base. He was raising his gun to shoot when he heard the rapid firing of a paintball gun. Pauly trudged out with his hands up.

“Good job, Mirabel!” Aesop shouted.

He trotted back towards the spot he’d been in first and hunkered down. Abraham and Dinah were back in so he was on the lookout. He heard girlish laughter and looked over towards the time out benches. Chad was standing awfully close to Lydia and seemed to be flirting. He glared at Chad. Shouldn’t he be paying attention to the game?

A paintball flew past his head, narrowly missing him. He saw Abraham dive behind a bush and watched for Dinah. She was much stealthier. He saw a flash of blue and fired a paintball.

Dinah fired a few shots at him and he rolled out of the way before springing up and returning fire. This time he caught Dinah square in the chest as she prepared to shoot at him again.

He jumped as Lydia tapped his shoulder. “Pauly and Dinah are benched, we have a very small window to advance for the flag. I’ll take the lead, you follow close behind. If I get the flag, I’m going to run as fast as I can. Go!”

Lydia dashed forward and rolled behind a bush. Abraham fired a quick shot and hid. Lydia rushed forward again and this time Abraham stood up to shoot her. Aesop got him in the arm and Lydia took off at a dead run. He knew Pauly’s time was almost up so he ran behind her and kept an eye out. She dashed into the base and came out with a blue flag.

She was running like her life depended on it towards him. He saw Pauly step out and he fired a few shots, which Pauly easily dodged.

“AESOP TAKE IT AND GO!” Lydia screamed as she ran towards him. She held out the flag and he snatched it just before Pauly shot Lydia in the leg. “GOOOOO!”

Aesop ran as fast as he could, a grin on his face as he did so. This was exhilarating! He was approaching their base so he shouted “RED, MIRABEL, RED!”

He heard the sound of the paintball gun from behind him and dove forward.

The horn blared again. Aesop stood up and held the flag up victoriously. Mirabel cheered and hugged him. Pauly shook his hand and grinned. “So how do you like paintball?”

“I loved it!” He was nearly knocked off his feet as Lydia slammed into him.

“YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! SUCK IT, PAULY!” She was bouncing up and down and jumped towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. He surprised her by catching her and spinning her around before setting her down.

“That was fantastic! Thank you, Lydia.” Aesop grinned.

“I knew you’d love it!” She was beaming. “What did you think, Mirabel?”

“Oh it was exhilarating! I didn’t do much but I enjoyed watching you guys!”

“Not true, you shot the shit out of me!” Pauly grinned and pointed at his paint-covered chest.

“What a wonderful activity!” Dinah was grinning. “It felt good to get out there and fight. Did it bring back your auror days, Aesop?”

“Oh absolutely!” He still had an arm slung around Lydia.

“Come back anytime.” Pauly said with a smile. “There are showers in the locker room if you need to wash up. Where are you headed to after this?”

“That’s a surprise as well! But I promise it won’t be violent.” Lydia grinned. They all headed back to the locker room and Aesop and Abraham got changed.

“I thoroughly enjoyed myself!” Abraham grinned. “I have a feeling I’ll be sore tomorrow.”

“Me too. It was nice to do something so active and out of the box. I never would’ve considered trying it.”

“If you like trying new things, you’ll enjoy the next stop.” Abraham winked.

“I’m enjoying my birthday more than I expected to.” Aesop smiled.

When they left the locker room, Lydia was having what looked to be a heated discussion with Chad.

Aesop walked over and joined Mirabel and Dinah. “Everything alright?”

“From what I’ve gathered, Chad is her ex-boyfriend and still hung up on her.” Dinah said.

Chad finally stomped off into the back and Lydia rejoined her friends. “Sorry. You guys ready to go?”

“Let’s go!” Ronen grinned.

The radio was playing quietly and Mirabel and Aesop could tell she was upset. “Soooo you and Chad have a history?” Mirabel asked.

“We dated for a year until he decided to fuck one of my friends.” Lydia sighed. “I’m over it, he won’t let go. He’s a douche and I enjoy shooting him in the nuts with a paintball gun.”

She turned the radio up and seemed to have moved past it. She rolled the windows down and enjoyed the fresh air. Their drive was shorter this time and they pulled up to a whimsical looking building with colorful plumes of smoke coming out the chimneys.

“Welcome to the Bertie Bott’s factory!” Lydia grinned. They parked and joined up with Dinah and Abraham. “We’ve got a private jellybean tasting!”

“My mother must have told you about my sweet tooth.” Aesop smiled.

They walked into the factory entrance and a man in a striped uniform greeted them. “Hello! Here for the tour?”

“We have a reservation for a taste test under the name Collins.”

“Wonderful! Right this way.” The man walked them down the hall and into a colorful room. There was a large round glass table in the middle of the room and they each took a seat around it. Aesop ended up sitting next to Lydia, and he couldn’t help but smile. She’d put so much work and attention into making this day special for him.

Once they’d all taken their seats, a scroll appeared in front of them. It was a menu of sorts.

“You’re welcome to try as many as you’d like, these are the categories. Just say the one you’d like out loud.” The man left them and they began looking at their menus.

Aesop couldn’t decide. The categories were salty, sweet, desserts, fruit, vegetables,around the world, breakfast, unpleasant…he wondered to himself why anyone would choose unpleasant.

“I’m going to start with desserts.” Lydia said. The scroll rolled up and a tray of jellybeans appeared in front of her.

Ronen chose breakfast, Dinah chose around the world, and Mirabel chose fruit.

“I think I’ll try sweet.” Aesop said and a tray appeared before him.

“This tastes just like bacon!” Abraham proclaimed.

“Why would you want a bacon jellybean?” Dinah asked.

“Why would you want a curry jellybean?” He asked in response.

“Fair enough.”

“This tastes just like fresh, juicy strawberries!” Mirabel smiled.

“I’ve got a chocolate brownie one that’s delicious!” Lydia closed her eyes and savored it.

Aesop popped the first one on his tray into his mouth. “How appropriate, birthday cake.”

They chatted and tried dozens of flavors and dared each other to try disgusting ones. After they’d had their fill, Lydia smiled at Aesop. “Ready for the last stop on the Aesop Sharp birthday tour?”

“Let’s go.”

He knew their last stop as they strolled up to the three broomsticks. Sirona smiled as they walked in. “Happy birthday, Aesop!”

“Thank you, Sirona. It’s turning out to be a great day.”

“The upstairs room is all yours, your other guests have already arrived.”

“Other guests?” Aesop asked.

Lydia grinned. “I think you’ll be happy.” They climbed the stairs and Lydia opened the door. Aesop’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Jake! Bobby!”

“So you are still alive then?” Jake stood up and pulled him into a hug. “Nothing for years, then we get a call from this lovely lass. She tells us you’re a teacher!”

“How ya doing, Aesop?” Bobby grinned and hugged Aesop.

“How on Earth did you find these two?!” Aesop was grinning widely. “These are two of my best friends from my auror days.”

“Oh! What a nice surprise!” Mirabel smiled.

“And we’ve got plenty of embarrassing stories to tell on him.” Jake grinned.

“Oh, god.” Aesop groaned.

45 minutes later, they’d all had several drinks and were laughing and cutting up. “I’ve gotta get some air.” Lydia said and went out onto the balcony.

“Me too.” Aesop followed her out and Bobby and Jake whooped.

“Thank you, Lydia, for making my birthday enjoyable. You put so much care and thought into everything. I…I really appreciate you.” He leaned against the railing she was leaning on, and their elbows touched.

“Of course. You deserve to have a happy birthday, Aesop.” She smiled at him and put her hand over his. He placed his other hand on top.

“It’s a beautiful evening.” Lydia turned to look at him.

“I don’t really want it to end.” He replied, looking into her eyes.

“It’s not over yet, Aesop.” Their heads moved closer together. Just as their lips were about to meet, Abraham rushed outside and threw up over the railing.

“That tasted like bacon.” Ronen said as he wiped his mouth. “Too many jellybeans and too much to drink. Sorry to disturb.” He stumbled back inside and closed the door to the balcony.

“I suppose we should go back inside.” Aesop said, feeling disappointed.

“But I believe you were about to kiss me. If we could step a little further that way and away from the jellybean vomit, I think this could be quite a romantic moment.” Lydia grinned.

Aesop stepped backwards and grabbed her hand, taking her with him. He brushed the hair away from her face and tipped her chin up towards him. He leaned down and kissed her gently. His hands rested on her hips and her arms wrapped around his neck. She pulled away and they rested their foreheads against each other. “Happy birthday, Aesop.”

“Happy birthday, indeed.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #fanfic #hogwarts legacy modern au #professor sharp #aesop sharp #aesop sharp fanfic

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wiypt-writes · 2 years

Text

Brothers In Arms

Part 5: I Guess I Like It Like That

Co-written/beta by @spectre-posts

Summary: Following his beating from Ari, Ransom tries to go about his business as normal. But when someone close to you both is injured, your paths cross again. And the reunion doesn’t go quite as well as he hoped.

Warnings: Bad language words. Talks of blood and injury. NSFW 18+. Contains Dark themes which may or may not be triggers.

Pairing: MOB Ransom Drysdale x Reader/ MOB DARK Steve Rogers x Reader.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5.3k

Brothers In Arms Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4: Put Yourself In My Place

The day after Ari had come to see him, Ransom had sent your car over with Carter and a box of your personal things. It broke him to watch it go, but he knew he had no choice. Nearly a week after the spy's visit, Ransom was leaving with his own tail between his legs and his head hung low for you to come collect the rest of your belongings.

When he returned to your once shared home later that evening, he wasn’t surprised to see you’d taken the bare minimum. Whilst you had loved the finer things, allowed him to buy you expensive dresses, shoes and jewelry, you’d always insisted you didn’t need them. Instead you had taken a few outfits for work, jeans, sweaters, trainers, your books and some trinkets. The diamonds, gold, Jimmy Choos and Louboutins, the Gucci, Dolce and Armani remained in what had been your shared walk in closet.

Looking around at the room in its lack of disarray bothered him. He expected haste and dropped items, opened drawers and shuffled neatness. He headed for the en-suite and found nothing had been touched. He picked up the vase of Pampas from the counter and hurled it towards the tub, the glass smattering against the marble.

“Boss?” A soft voice spoke from the doorway and Ransom turned to look at Carter.

“Whatever she hasn’t taken, box up and get rid of it.” He spoke simply as he swept from the room, heading down to his study.

"Yes, sir," Carter nodded.

In his study, Ransom skipped the glass and went straight to the bottle of scotch as he stood, leaning against the fireplace. His eyes stung against the healing green bruise on his face, the smattered and reset lining of his nose burned with emotion and the gash on his lip was threatening to split back open if he bit it any harder.

It wasn't his ribs, still broken, that ached and bit at his insides, it was reality that had finally hit home. He’d lost the best thing to ever happen to him, you. The girl who had seen through his bullshit and wormed her way into his life so seamlessly, it was as if he had known you since the day he had been born.

A long, long pull of the bottle gave him a burn as if it were forming an ulcer down his throat. Thoughts and images flooded his mind and if he closed his eyes, all he could see was the pain on your face as he left you there in your shared bed, destroyed and un-engaged.

He had done exactly what he had sworn never to do; hurt you. He had refused to listen to your explanation, instead he’d reacted in a way that now shamed him. And he wasn’t used to feeling that. He didn’t like it. Shame equaled guilt, guilt equaled weakness. But that’s what you were to him, a crack in his armour.

Carter's second, Blanc, asserted himself in the doorway with a clearing of his throat. "Sorry, boss," he started, "but we need to get going. You have that meeting uptown with Chi and his crew."

“Right…” Ransom took another large pull from the bottle before he placed it on the table, “Stark meeting us there?”

"So I'm told." The man nodded.

Ransom made a noise of understanding, before he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his pistol. Checking it was loaded, he clicked the safety on and tucked it into the waistband of his blue tweed slacks. He picked up his camel coat, scarf, and then gave Blanc a jerk of his head. “Let’s go.”

With his mind occupied with business, you sat still in the forefront, shrouded by a dark shade. This meeting was important, only set to further cement his dealings with Stark, thereby keeping his brother at bay. Chi was to help enforce muscle at the docks.

But half way through the meeting, he was forced to push you from his mind as Chi said something that had his blood boiling.

“What do you mean, your price has doubled?”

“Exactly what I said,” the man leaned back, exhaling his cigar smoke into the air of the conference room. “It was three million, now it’s six.”

“Eat shit,” Ransom scoffed.

“Take it or leave it.”

“Then we’ll leave it, get someone else.” Stark shrugged.

“Good luck with that,” Chi smirked, “from what I hear, we’re the only option you have left seeing as Rogers has been very vocal with his intentions to get the Maximoffs on board.”

"What did you just say?" Ransom growled.

“Your dearest brother is making moves to partner with the Maximoffs and people are seeing it as a direct challenge to you,” Chi arched a brow, “you surely can’t be telling me you didn’t know.”

“Course I knew, I’ve got Stark, so he has a gap to plug, I just fail to see your point?” Ransom snapped.

“My point is, if he succeeds, ain’t nobody this side of the country that will get in the middle of that feud, well, except me. For the right price.”

"Listen here you cum stain trash, you take the three million or I'm going to make sure every fucking container you expected with your name on it goes right back from where it came, no matter the cost."

It was a real threat, given Chi's dealings were in trafficking of 'fragile' goods that could 'expire' in timely fashion.

“Five, final offer.” Chi took a sip from his glass that lay on the table, “and I’ll forget your little threat.”

"Four." Stark deadpanned.

“Done,” Chi nodded.

“Just like that?” Ransom scoffed, “my brother can’t be that much of a threat…”

“The look on your face tells me otherwise.” Chi snorted, “truth be told, I was happy to do it for three, but…I’m a business man after all. That said, you’d do well to heed my warning. If he does get the Maximoff twins on board, you’ll have a hard task convincing anyone else to go up against them.”

And just like that the meet was through. Chi and his men vacated the office leaving one guard, Stark, his man "Happy", Langley and Ransom.

Langley, who'd been quiet until now looked at his boss. "The threat's credible. And you can't afford to be going toe to toe with Rogers and the Maximoffs, boss."

“Fuck them and fuck him.” Ransom snapped. “Wire Chi the money. We're done."

Langley pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and walked out of the room. Ransom and Stark were next, Happy in protection formation as they went.

Ransom climbed into the waiting car and sank back into the leather seat, his hand running down his face.

"Fucking shit show. Who the fuck does Chi think he is? Six million, fucking shit stain."

"He's right about one thing," Langley snorted.

Ransom glared, "Well, don't leave my dick wet."

"Well, as you pointed out, you aligning with Stark has taken Steve’s prime ‘logistics’ partner off the table.” Langley shrugged, “and by hiring the Maximoffs, he’s making a straight shot across the bow, that he doesn’t give a fuck who he partners with as long as it makes life hard for you. I mean, Pieter and Wanda did him dirty over that drugs deal in Sokovia, really ripped him off. But, by getting into bed with them, well, he’s letting it be known that he means business, and woe betide anyone who gets in his way. I'll give Rogers credit. He knows how to fuck with you."

The last line echoed round Ransom’s head, and with a snarl he gripped Langley round the throat and slammed him into the side of the car door. “That supposed to be funny?”

Langley gagged for air, "no."

Ransom felt the nerve in his jaw tick, and then a soft voice spoke from the front.

“Boss, he didn’t mean anything by it, let him go.”Carter's words were clear as he looked over his shoulder at him. Blanc sat stoic behind the wheel.

Ransom let go of Langley and slunk back into his seat.

"Home, boss?" Carter wondered.

"No."

“Okay, where?”

"Just drive."

“Right you are.” Blanc nodded.

Blanc circled the city limits for nearly an hour, the holiday season lights taunting Ransom, a reminder of how much you loved it all. Never one really to understand the fuss, he’d embraced it because you had. Now, it loomed before him, a reminder of what he had lost, and he took a deep breath. You’d both agreed to spend Thanksgiving this year in Boston, but now, well he wanted nothing but to cancel his flight the next evening and wallow in his own pity with a bottle of scotch. Eventually, Ransom instructed Blanc to turn back toward home.

He barely spoke a word to anyone as he headed back inside, retreating once more to his scotch and memories and bitter anger at how he fucked everything up, just how everyone had expected him to.

"You want dinner, boss?" Carter wondered as he poked his head into the room.

Ransom raised his tumbler and shook it, "got it right here."

Carter opened his mouth to say something but closed it and shook his head with a sigh before he left.

Ransom sat, miserable and pouting, thinking. He thought about you and wondered how you were. He thought about Ari and as his wounds started to hurt just at the notion of your brother, what he heard were those words, "I'm going to kill him." Words that he himself had spoken, ones he intended to keep.

The question was, how? Since you’d left, he’d been racking his brains, trying to figure out a way to get past his Steve’s security detail. And apparently, so was your brother. But he’d heard nothing from Ari, and the problem was, Steve’s guard was as tight as his own. How Rumlow had managed to pull off the botched hit that killed Peggy, Ransom had no idea. And he couldn’t simply ask the hitman, as he was dead.

"Carter…" He shouted.

Carter appeared once more in the doorway he had vacated fifteen minutes or so before hand. “Boss?”

"I need a chat with our special agent," he grimaced. "And find out from Stark on when I can pay a visit to his office."

“You didn’t ask Stark before?” Carter looked at him.

Ransom glared. "No."

“Alright,” Carter nodded. “I’ll make the calls.”

“Ask Levinson if he’s made any headway, he’s been trying to find a way in…if he’s half the agent he brags about being then he should have one by now.”

“On it,” Carter nodded and disappeared.

Ransom watched him go, before he reached for the scotch, poured himself another glass and then leaned back in his chair, once more losing himself to his brooding.

*****

You sat in the small restaurant, pushing your food around your plate. You’d weren’t hungry, not in the slightest, but Ellie had insisted on bringing you for dinner.

“So how long is Mr Not-so-tall, but reasonably dark and handsome gonna be watching your ever move for? You gonna be setting a place for him for Christmas?” Your friend jerked her head towards the man sat a few tables away, nursing a coffee and a burger.

"Until he's asked not to," you sighed. “And he joined us for thanksgiving so…”

“Right…”

"Look, Ellie, it's complicated."

Ellie popped a shoulder, “whatever, I’m not asking. I don’t wanna know…”

"It's better that way."

“So, have you heard from him?”

"No. Ari told me when I could get my stuff, so that's what I did. That was a few weeks ago now.”

“And…are you okay with that? I mean, I don’t particularly like the guy but…”

"I don't know."

Ellie looked at you for a moment, before she took a deep breath. “Is it definitely beyond repair?”

Your eyes misted over, "I..I think so, yeah."

Truth be told, despite the fact you understood Ransom’s anger, you didn’t think you would be able to forgive him. Not simply for the physical way he had hurt you, but the way in which he had refused to listen. He’d dismissed your explanation, had reverted to that cold and callous business persona that had never breached your personal relationship before. And that hurt you the most.

“Y/N…what happened? You keep dodging it when I ask.” She reached over the table for your hand, giving it a squeeze, “I’m your best friend, you can tell me.”

You swallowed. "Ellie, I know. But for once, it's better you don't."

“Okay.” She fell silent and then cocked her head to the side, “you wanna watch a movie or something after this?”

“Erm,” you glanced over towards Sammy, one of your brother’s colleagues from the CIA and you popped a shoulder, “Ari should be home when we get back but, sure, we can use the den.”

“Where’s he been?”

“I dunno,” you said, and it wasn’t a complete lie. It had been a week or so ago when he had taken a call from someone whilst you had sat eating dinner and when he came back, he had waved away your question. You could tell he was keeping something from you, and you had a horrible feeling it was to do with Steve and Ransom.

The next morning, he’d told you he was going to be on business for a while, and that was the last you’d seen of him whilst he’d left you with a twenty-four hour armed babysitter.

You eyed Sammy answer his phone and listen to the other line. He twitched a little, spoke lowly and then hung up. He then glanced in your direction, and you could see from his expression something was wrong. Sammy stood from his table and immediately came to yours, he leaned down in your ear and whispered, "we gotta go."

“We’ve not finished!” Ellie glared at him.

"It's an emergency, Eloise," Sammy snorted. "The bill is covered."

“This…I…oh, whatever.” Ellie scoffed.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke softly, your heart heavy as you stood up. “I’ll call you…”

"Yeah.... if I answer." She sighed.

Sadness filling your chest, you went as Sammy took you outside by your elbow. The car pulled around, Kabede at the wheel. He opened the door for you and you slid in, Sammy coming round to the driver's side back door and slid in next to you.

“What’s going on?” You demanded.

"Ari's in trouble."

You swallowed, “what…what sort of trouble? What do you mean?”

"I don't know." Sammy replied. "He's at St. Vincent's."

At that, your blood ran cold. “He’s…at the hospital?”

"Look, I need you to calm down, y/n. All I know is what I know. He's in trouble and they took him to St. Vincent's."

"Who told you? Where's he been? What's going on, Sam? I have the right to know."

"Jake and Max. They were..."

Before Sammy could finish his answer, you heard your phone in your bag. Scrabbling for it, wondering if it was the hospital you paused as a number you shouldn’t remember but did flashed on your screen.

“Who is it?” Sammy asked.

“Him…” you whispered, your hands shaking. “It’s…”

“Rogers?”

You nodded.

“Answer it, put it on speaker.” Kabede instructed from the driver’s seat.

"Hello?"

“You know, Doll, for a supposed secret agent, your brother has all the subtlety of a panzer.” Came the drawl on the other end and you swallowed, your eyes brimming with tears.

“What did you do to him?”

"My hands are clean, Buck's however..."

You glanced at Sammy who was clenching his teeth.

“Likes to play with knives, does Bucky, bad habit“, Steve continued. “People get hurt. Badly. Sometimes, they die…”

You went pale and a cold sweat formed at your brow. "Is he...did Barnes kill him?"

At that, Steve chuckled, “not as far as I know, don’t think he went deep enough to hit any vital organs but…if he didn’t make it to the hospital in time, who knows.”

"What do you want, Steve? This has gone too far." You held back a sob.

“You had your chance to finish this, you blew it.” Steve replied, his voice calm as he spoke, “but you know what I want. You. And I always get what I want, one way or another. The question is, how many more people are you willing to sacrifice before that happens, because I can do this all day, sweetheart.”

The line went dead and you swallowed before shouting at Kabede to pull over. He barely had the car to a stall when you threw your door open and let go of what little was in your stomach. Sammy was by your side in a flash, eyes scanning around your surroundings.

With a groan, you shakily stood up straight, tears in your eyes as you looked at Sammy. “Let’s get you to the hospital,” he spoke softly, “then we can find out how he is.”

St. Vincent's was busy, more than usual for the time of day, so, Kabede headed around the back where Max and Jake met you. Jake was covered in blood as was Max and immediately Sammy scolded them both.

"What are ya thinking? You couldn't have changed your god damn shirt." He scowled. "Get in there, get her up to see him and keep her close."

“We got a problem,” Max looked at him. “Police are sniffing all over this, one of the nurses called them.”

“Fuck.” Sammy hissed.

“We can call base,” Jake said, “get them to have the cops cool off but…look, I don’t know what he was doing but I know it’s off book so-“

“No, don’t…” you pressed the heel of your palm to your forehead as you swallowed, and pulled Sammy to one side, “call Tony, he and…he and Ransom have half the police force in their pockets. He’ll know what to do.”

Frankly you couldn’t have given a shit if the entire NYPD came swarming in, but what you did care about was this going any further. Who knows what Steve would do if the authorities started sniffing around him too much, not to mention the shit storm that would hit Ari.

If he survived…

“I just wanna see him,” you sniffed, “please.”

Sam nodded, "Stark it is." He passed you off to Jake, "take her up."

Wordlessly, you followed Jake into the hospital and through to the elevator. Your mind was racing, your heart thudding. You couldn’t lose your brother, he was the only thing you had left.

"He's in surgery, but we wait here, he'll be out soon." Jake explained. "He'll pull through, he always does."

"What the hell happened, Jake?"

Jake shook his head, “I don’t honestly know. He was working on something, off radar, but he called saying he needed to speak to us, he’d found something and he wanted us to check it out but when we arrived to meet him at the house, well, he was on the doorstep covered in blood.”

"This is all my fault," you sobbed as you fell into a chair, your head in your hands.

“Look, I don’t…I don’t know what’s going on, not sure I want to.” Jake sighed, “but Ari is a law unto himself, you know this.”

"Mr. Morano," a middle-aged blonde woman with Eastern features appeared. "I'm Dr. Reiter. It's my understanding you're here for Mr. Thomas?"

“I’m his sister…” you immediately stood.

“Ms. Thomas, I'm so sorry for us to meet under these circumstances. You brother, Mr. Thomas, is being moved into recovery. He's in a bad way."

“How bad?”

"Well, he's quite lucky. There's no denying that one quick movement in the opposite direction, he'd have bled out. It was almost as if his attacker knew exactly where to hit and what to miss.”

You swallowed, your conversation with Steve running back through your head and you took a deep breath.

“He always has been a lucky bastard,” Jake mumbled.

"Will he live?"

“He lost a lot of blood and we had to remove his spleen.” The Doctor sighed, “he also had three broken ribs but there were no complications in surgery. He’s not completely out of the woods but…well, we’ll know more over the next twenty four hours or so.”

"Thank you, Dr. Reiter." Jake nodded. "When can we see him?"

"Ten minutes, I'll have a nurse come for you."

You nodded and sank back into the chair, your head in your hands. This had gone too far, just way too far. You knew Steve was ruthless, absolutely despicable compared to his brother, but what was left for you to do? Could you turn back? Fall into Steve's embrace? Would it stop, even then? Ransom was through with you.

Lost in your thoughts, it took a gentle squeeze on your shoulder from Jake to jerk you from them. As you glanced up through your tears, you barely heard the nurse speak to you. You followed her on auto pilot to the room where Ari was and stepped inside.

He was led up in bed, an O2 tube down this throat and his veins being pumped full of blood and fluids that hung from bags on hooks. A steady beep came from the machine that monitored all his activity. The inhale and exhale of air from the machine hissed in the dim space.

You let out a loud sob as you stumbled into the chair by his bed, reaching for one of his hands. Gripping him tightly you cried into the blanket tucked in around him. You squeezed his hand as you sobbed apologies and whispers of shortcomings. You kept on like a broken record that his state was all your fault and you were to blame. You were sorry, so very sorry. You never meant to put him in this situation.

As the sun set outside, the room was illuminated by the soft fluorescent overhead lighting and you sat, numb, watching your brother for any sign that he could hear you. Then, after half an hour, there was a commotion outside that made your head whip round so fast you were sure you’d given yourself whiplash.

“You can’t go in there…”

“Eat shit.”

Sammy stood quickly to block your view of your incoming ex. You stood there behind him, uneasy and very aware of how your whole body shook in that moment. Fear, worry, pain and guilt all settled inside you and you again felt sick but stood tall, despite your unease and waited.

"Get the fuck back, Drysdale." Sammy declared.

Ransom scoffed, but his eyes then fell on you and you saw his face flicker with a look that you couldn’t quite place. He seemed to slide through several emotions in that split second your eyes connected; remorse, care, worry, compassion, an undercurrent of anger.

“Sam, it’s okay.” Your voice was croaky as you sniffed, “let him in.”

"You sure?" Sammy asked. "Cause if he's gonna be a problem..."

“You’re right outside.” you nodded, the turned to Ransom, “whatever you’re carrying, leave it outside.”

He held his hands up, "I got nothing."

You stared at him, those crystal blue eyes looked right back and you took a deep breath, you believed him.

“Fine.” You popped a shoulder and returned to your seat.You waited for him to speak, but of course he had nothing. "Well, you're here, for what I do not know. Clearly, you need something." You spat.

“Stark told me what happened.” He spoke after a moments pause. “The police have been handled.”

“That’s it?” You shook your head, not bothering to look over your shoulder to where he stood still by the door, “that’s why you came, to tell me the police had been handled? You’re so full of shit, Ransom, why don’t you tell me the truth.”

At that, he scoffed, “like you told me the truth about you and my brother you mean?”

"You son of a bitch," you stood so quick, you dizzied. "How dare you compare the two?"

Ransom stood still, his eyes on you as you advanced towards him. “Y/N…”

You cut him off with a stinging slap to his left cheek. His head snapped to the side, and then you lost it.

“This is all your fault!” You sobbed, your hands pounding at his chest as you hit blow after blow, “you and your brother and your stupid, stupid feud and shitty, shady dealings. I hate you, you asshole…you fucking asshole.”

Ransom stood there and took it, each blow as you gave it. You beat on him until your fists ached and your head grew woozy and you felt yourself falling as heavy arms caught you.

“Shit, here…sit…” he gently guided you to the chair, helping you awkwardly to sit down.

“Don’t touch me…” you feebly pushed him away.

He stepped back, hands raised in surrender as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

The door to the room opened and Sammy and Carter both stepped in.

“Y/N?”

“I need some water.”

“She needs a doctor.”

“Fuck off, you don’t get to tell me what I need.” You spat, looking at Ransom, “If I didn’t see a doctor after you raped me I don’t want to see one now.”

The room went silent as all eyes were on the two of you.

Ransom swallowed, his eyes fixed on yours before his head bowed, “I’m sorry.”

"You're too late."

“I know, but…” he shrugged, “I just wanted you to know.”

You licked your lips as your nostrils flared. Sammy slid your glass of water between you and your apologetic former other half. You downed the clear liquid quickly and with a shaking hand, handed it back to Sammy.

“I think you should go,” he spoke to Ransom.

"Y/N....." he whispered.

"Just go." You whispered.

Ransom took a deep breath, “you can’t go back to Ari’s. It’s not safe. I’ll have Stark find you somewhere.”

"I'll stay at the tower." You stated.

With that he nodded, and headed for the door. He paused, turned back to look at you, but whatever it was died on his tongue as his head dropped. He took a deep breath, and then he left.

Neither Sammy nor Jake said a word as the air thickened around the room. Ari was still out cold and Max was just outside the door. You sighed and carefully stood, "Send Kabede home to his family. There's plenty of you here to babysit me."

“Okay,” Sammy nodded, “erm, do you want one of us to fetch you some things from the house?”

"Sure. I guess, I don't know." You sighed. "I don't plan on leaving here any time soon."

Neither of them argued, or tried to convince you otherwise.

“I’ll grab a bag anyway, least you’ll have a change of clothes.” Max stated, his voice soft.

"I want a sweep and report back as soon as you're done. Anything out of place, and I mean anything as small as a blade of grass, I wanna know." Sammy stated, his finger in Max's face and his hand over his shoulder.

Max nodded as he left. Once he was gone, Sammy closed the door once more leaving you alone with your brother.

"What did you do?" You cried as you again were crouched over his bed, his cold, limp hand between your two warm ones. "I'm nothing to go to war over, Ari....."

Of course he didn’t answer, there was nothing in response but the steady beeping of the machinery. You lay your cheek on your arms, looking up at your brother, your eyes growing as heavy as your heart.

****

Steve tossed his jacket down on the back of the sofa, making his way to the drinks trolley which stood by the huge window of his Brooklyn penthouse. But, as he reached for the decanter, he found it empty.

“What the…”

“You could have gotten the decent stuff,” a familiar voice spoke and he whipped around to see his grandfather sat in the chair in the shadows of the room.

“I prefer that one.” Steve replied flatly.

“You always did have questionable taste,” Harlan sighed, as he clicked on the lamp to his left, “goes with your questionable judgment. Stabbing Levinson? Seriously? You stupid little shit.”

"He's a threat. I don't like threats." Steve raised a brow. "And I don't like it when unwelcome guests take my things."

“Like you took your brother’s fiancée you mean? Jesus Christ, Steven, you always have been a self-entitled little fucker but this…”

“Look, if you didn’t want me to hurt him, why did you tell me he was tailing me?”

“To stop you doing something stupid!” Harlan snapped, “because despite what you think, I don’t want to see you or Ransom dead or in jail. You’re my flesh and blood, both of you. But I swear to God, if Levinson dies, I’ll bury you myself. You’ll have lost me my security, the person that kept the authorities off our back.” Steve’s nostrils flared as his grandfather stood up, “Ari had every right to be pissed, what you did to that poor girl, it’s unforgivable, all to get at your brother. Your mother would be disgusted in you, and I sure as hell am.”

“He killed Peggy…I want him to suffer!”

“No, he didn’t, Steve.” Harlan shook his head, “he didn’t order that hit.”

"Ha, please," Steve scoffed. "There you go, always covering for him. Your precious Ransom, your pride and joy."

“Oh listen to yourself!” Harlan slowly walked towards him, “you sound like your father, he was a paranoid, woman beating piece of shit too. I should have had him killed long before he managed to do it to himself.”

"Why are you here old man?”

“You know, I had high hopes for both of you. When your mom came home, I was overjoyed. My family, back together but then…she died,” Harlan bowed his head, “and Linda and Richard took you both in but it just wasn’t enough. Not for you. I failed you, clearly, so I was trying to right a wrong. Ari wasn’t just tailing you, he was digging. Digging into who exactly ordered that hit. And he’d found something. Only your attack dog managed to shank him before he could tell me. So I repeat what I said before, he best pull through. Because if he doesn’t, the answers you need and want die with him.”

"Are you done?" Steve seethed as Harlan stared down at him.

"For now." He said simply and walked on. “Oh, there is one last thing…” he paused in the doorway and turned back to look at Steve.

Steve's hands fell to his hips in anticipation, bored anticipation at that.

“I want you in Boston tomorrow afternoon. You come alone.”

“You do realise that Thanksgiving was last week…”

“I’m well aware of that.” Harlan snapped. “Stop being a facetious asshole, Steve. It doesn’t suit you.”

Silence fell, as Steve stared at the unwavering face of his Grandfather, before he sighed and shook his head. "You understand this ends one way, don't you?"

“I don’t want to see either of you dead, but if this carries on it’s inevitable.” Harlan stated, a resigned tone to his voice. “That said, I’m going to try one last time. It’s in both your interests to find out who ordered Rumlow to kill you. If I can get you to both see that, maybe you can work together. And whilst Ransom is never going to forgive you for what you did to his fiancée, maybe you can find a sliver of that brotherly love you once had growing up, if not for each other but the memory of your mother.”

Steve swallowed, the nerve in his jaw ticking.

“Boston, tomorrow.” Harlan instructed, “and stay the fuck away from Y/N. She’s suffered enough at the hands of both of you. You so much as send her a message, I’ll hand Ransom the fucking gun and watch.”

With a final quirk of his eyebrow, Harlan turned and left Steve staring at the empty space where he had stood.

****

Part 6

#brothers in arms #mob ransom drysdale x reader #mob steve rogers x reader #mob ransom drysdale #mob steve rogers #mon ransom Drysdale x you #mob Steve Rogers x you #dark steve rogers #mob au #Steve rogers #ransom Drysdale #chris evans characters

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welcome-to-ratterrock · 2 hours

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Random question but uh- what's Padraic and Sage's favourite meal/dish? (Maybe also the crew too? If it's alright to question it:D)

Oooh, this was fun to think about! Thank you so much for sending this!

Locke: Locke tends to forget to eat, especially when he’s in the midst of a case or an experiment. His usual meal consists of a simple egg and a cigarette. But for a meal that brings him comfort, true comfort, he has a fondness for buttered toast, eggs over easy, and black coffee with sugar, bittersweet and strong.

Once upon a time, a certain someone would cook all sorts of things for him and he tasted heaven…but that was very long ago.

Regal: Padraic has impeccable and discerning senses, especially when it comes to food, so when he eats he wants to relish in a dish, and while he has sampled a plethora of cuisines, he adores French and Italian the most. For French dishes, he loves a lavish coq au vin or a beautiful bouillabaisse, and for Italian…oh, nothing can compare to the carbonara his mother makes.

Sorcha: Sorcha is a lot like Padraic, loving both French and Italian dishes, but she likes a lighter fare that’s still intensely flavorful, like a caprese salad or a salade niçoise, or an excellent fish dish.

Lorcan: Lorcan loves his mother’s cooking, especially her spectacular lasagna. He’s also a big fan of a thick, hearty stew with fresh baked brown bread to sop it up and a big fat sizzling steak with a nice scotch.

Rilla: Rilla adores fresh fruit, especially apricots and cherries, raspberries and strawberries and blueberries. A bowl of fresh fruit with clotted cream? Heavenly. She also loves a baked sweet treat like scones!

Brig: Nothing beats a big fat steak and the perfect glass of whiskey. She doesn’t get to have it because steak is so expensive but she had it with the Regal’s once and oh, she loved it.

Luella: Luella loves her mother’s vegetable soup, warm and comforting, and the rosemary bread she would serve with it. Even now the smell of it brings back comforting memories.

Bogdan: Bogdan is a bit of a health nut, and likes his food to reflect that - only the finest quality of cricket and moths for him, and lots of fresh caught fish cooked expertly over the caves fire pits, maybe drizzled with a light sauce to really set it off.

Casimir: Casimir LOVES spicy foods, he would burn a hole through his tongue with his favorite if left to his own devices. He also enjoys the ground dwelling fatty worms he’ll claw up from the dirt, slurping them down in front of a disgusted Bog. His ideal dish would probably be a spice basted worm stew of sorts, and he would make a big show of enjoying it in front of Bogdan.

Clifford: Clifford likes tucking into a classic full English breakfast - bacon, fried egg, sausage, mushrooms, baked beans, toast, potatoes and grilled tomatoes. Add a strong cup of coffee with a dash of milk, and he’s had a lovely start to the day.

#ratterrock replies #ratterrock #sage locke #padraic regal #sorcha regal #lorcan regal #rilla mackenzie #luella woodmouse #brig o’brion #inspector clifford #bogdan nightshade #casimir nightshade #ratterrock trivia #ratterrock character information

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messydiabolical · 2 days

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Personal ask meme: 7, 11, and 26?

7) What animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium? All the crustaceans I bloody love crabs and crayfish and lobsters they are so friend shaped

11) Anything from your childhood you’ve held on to? My mum had a bunch of great grandma hand knitted blankets that were once her baby blankets and then mine, but a couple years ago silk worms got to them (honestly we were both fascinated by the process like those things DEVOURED a trunk of blankets holy shit. A shame, but nature is so interesting). She also has lots of notebooks and drawings and such, I was always a doodler. Oh my god and a bag of baby teeth and matchbox of my first haircut. She can keep those lmao no thanks. 26) how’s your spice tolerance? medium? I don't like eating things that are hot for hots sake, I just love flavour so i'll give things a try. Jalapenos and franks hot sauce are no problem, curries with scotch bonnets can be a struggle but I love the taste, is the scale i'm at if that helps lol.

#md answers #ask meme

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happybird16 · 2 years

Text

Don’t Get Me Started

Another little sfw drabble as I struggle to get in the mood to write smut

Tw; alcohol use

“Hey Levi,” Hange starts, twisting on the couch to look over at the man sitting behind it. The sudden turn has their arm and leg bumping hard into your side, pushing you further against Erwin.

Calmly sipping his drink at the dining room table, Levi seems to be the only one actually watching whatever movie is playing on the tv. You stopped paying attention to it two drinks ago, your mind too hazy to focus on whatever the male actors are discussing.

It’s an action movie, you think, judging by the occasional pop of gunshots.

Whenever the two of you come over to Hange’s place Levi always seems to make himself as small as possible, afraid to touch anything. Barely perching on the edge of her wooden dining room chairs, the whole area not-at-all-discreetly wiped down before he’d even made the attempt.

“Don’t you dare spill your drink, Four Eyes,” Levi returns, leveling them with a stern glare as Hange’s beer bottle tilts dangerously.

“Ooops,” they tilt the mostly-empty bottle back upright. “Hey, what’s your opinion on almonds?”

“For the last time I’m not playing your shitty game,” Levi spits, resolutely taking a sip from his barely spiked tea.

“Oh come on! You’re such a spoilsport! Sitting over there all alone and moping,” Hange whines, leaning dangerously far over the back of the couch and kicking their feet.

“It isn’t like there's room on the couch, especially with Erwin’s giant ass taking up a seat-and-a-half—”

Squished in between two warm bodies, you think that Levi is more or less right. With Hange excitedly bouncing pressed to your right side and Erwin sitting stiff and still on your left, there’s barely enough room to stretch your legs.

“Don’t be rude, Levi. I’m not that big-”

“Not to mention you still haven’t explained those stains to me,” he snarks, scrunching up his nose as he eyes the odd splotches of bright purple on the otherwise pristine tan fabric. “Plus it’s barely even a drinking game.”

“Don’t Get Me Started is a classic! We used to play it all the time back in college, remember?” With a hard slam onto your shoulder, Hange jostles you excitedly, “Even your sweetheart over here is playing with us! Embarrassed themselves and everything!”

“Hey-” you start.

“Stuttering and mumbling, they barely made it thirty seconds,” Hange laughs, slapping your shoulder once again. You think alcohol somehow makes them even more hyper.

“It’s my first time playing and Erwin gave me an impossible prompt,” you point out, rudely gesturing at Hange with a single finger. Why would you know anything about the Battle of Gettysburg?

“-Your historical knowledge is just lacking-” Erwin chimes in from your left, barely tipsy despite being on his fourth drink.

“Plus improv is not my strong suit,” you point out. Admittedly your face is still a bit red from your embarrassing attempt, though that may also be the fault of the alcohol filling your veins.

Silvery eyes meeting your own, Levi tells you, “Hange only likes to play because they always win.”

“Not always,” Erwin corrects, taking a long draw from his scotch. Smug from the several points he’s earned with his impassioned speech on worms -Hange’s prompt. “They are the best at padding out the time though.”

“Because they can ramble about any nonsense for hours,” Levi snipes.

“So you're playing? I even gave you an easy prompt!” Hange twists onto their knees to bounce excitedly on the couch, finally fully facing your boyfriend.

“No,” the words are resolute, though you can hear an underlying sense of resigned dread.

“Chicken,” Hange taunts in a sing songy tone. “What about something else then? What are your thoughts on milk tea?”

Hard ceramic cup slamming loudly onto the hardwood table, Levi responds, “Shut up!”

Elbows digging into the back of their couch, they lean forward to squint at the smaller man, “Or maybe you’ve forgotten how to play? See… you have two minutes to blurt out an impassioned rant on your prompt subject-”

“Are you really going to try to they-splain me into playing?” Levi huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Heedless of the interruption, Hange continues their mocking lesson, “-the rest of us give points, zero to three, based on how you do. If you fail to get any you chug whatever’s left of your drink, maybe even do a dare if we’re feeling frisky. Then you give someone else a prompt. Winner gets gloating rights.”

“That’s not going to work,” Levi states, hackles rising.

Hange only smirks wolf-ishly in response, bright white teeth gleaming dangerously in the overhead light. “Or maybe that one’s too hard for you?” they frown exaggeratedly, mimicking sympathy. “Hey Levi, why don’t you have an electric kettle?”

“Don’t-” Levi starts with a sharp bark.

“They’re quicker and more efficient,” Hange notes with a hum, gripping their chin in a well-faked curious motion. “Wouldn’t they be superior?”

Reaching over you across the couch, Erwin lightly taps Hange’s shoulder to get their attention. “Careful Hange. He could kick you again.”

You hadn’t heard anything about that before, but you can tell there’s a story there.

“They’re not-” Levi spits, visibly gritting his teeth.

“Maybe you’ve never tried one,” they continue regardless of Erwin’s warning. “I’ll have to get you one for Birthmas-”

“Fucking- do you know how much fungus can secretly build up in those things,” Levi starts, pointing angrily at the brunette. “They’re nearly impossible to get perfectly clean! Do you know how bad it is for you to regularly consume mold? Not to mention it’s normally black mold-”

As Levi continues his impassioned speech, Hange turns to you beaming with pride and waggling their eyebrows exaggeratedly. Speaking quietly, they whisper, “Player four has joined the game.”

“It seems like we finally have some competition,” Erwin notes, a fond smile on his lips.

“That feels like a jab at me,” you remark, pulling up the stop-watch app on your phone. “Should I have started the timer?”

Gesticulating wildly, Levi continues, “-and do you know how often those shitty pieces of cheap plastic break? You maybe get a handful of months out of one before it just stops fucking working. And don’t even get me started on how much electricity they drain-”

“I think he’ll be going for a while,” says Erwin, watching his friend rant with a nostalgic look in his eye. “I don’t think he’s even paying attention to us anymore.”

“Should we stop him?” you ask. You're a little worried, to be honest. It seems as though Levi hasn’t even taken a pause to breathe. Maybe he’s had a bit more to drink than you’d thought.

Plopping back down to sit on the couch like a normal person, Hange says, “Nah, but I’m gonna need more booze if he’s going to rant for an hour.” As if to prove their point, Hange swirls their empty beer bottle in front of your face. “Want anything from the kitchen?”

“Just don’t mention microwaving as an option and he’ll stop eventually,” whispers Erwin, patting your shoulder in a friendly manner.

“-and you can’t even regulate the temperature! What’s the point of an electric version of something if it’s inferior? Companies just keep doing that! And the taste is completely off without the added metals to bring out the-”

“I could use a refill if you're getting up,” Erwin swings his arm towards Hange, jingling the ice cubes in the glass.

“I’m good.” You take a sip of your cocktail, fighting a smile as you watch Levi move on to describing the specific notes of various teas.

#sfw #tw; alcohol #Levi Ackerman #Erwin smith #hange zoe #levi x gender neutral reader #levi/reader #levi ackerman x reader #don’t get me started is a fun game!!#I don’t know if it’s too popular #I just wanted to write Hange goading Levi into a rant #attack on titan #fanfic #mydrabbles

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