#CLEAN re: their JOB lmfao

[bibleofficial]

literally saw my flatmate & he asked abt it too bc NEITHER of us cleaned it - we didn’t even ask the 3rd bc we know his ass ain’t do it 😭😭😭

walked into the kitchen for it to not reek of decay & actually clean & i feel like im being punked like im deadass looking around wondering who cleaned this bitch

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cheating Heart

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

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

Word Count: 20.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“--soon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes harden as reality sets in. 

John. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you care?

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

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

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

The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut the fuck up!

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

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

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

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

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

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

John’s hands clench, jaw following suit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was your Captain. You were working under him. 

You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset. 

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

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

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

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

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

You still felt disgusting. 

—

Nothing you did made sense to him. 

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

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

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

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

But he knew that would only make it worse.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.

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

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

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

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

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

– John”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When had this place stopped being home for you?

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

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

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

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

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

What’s that noise?

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

But you weren’t stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John looked so sad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bell at the front door jingles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Two.”

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

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

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

Why were you not saying anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.

John’s eyes slowly widen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It couldn’t be helped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I might have sucker-punched him.”

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

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

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

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

“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”

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

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

…Why was his hand still on your back? 

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

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

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

Leon was gone.

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

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

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

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

Stop it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A quiet grunt carries over the space.

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

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

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

“You bet.”

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

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey–!” 

“What in the–!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Anytime, Dear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s cute when he’s flustered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leon was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.

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

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

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

God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annoyance swirls.

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

A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want him naked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck you were on fire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He trails.

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

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

“Easier.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“That’s it, I'm coming in!” 

“Wait!” 

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

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

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

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

“Out!” 

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

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

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

“Wait till the boys hear about this!”

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

Well, secret’s out. 

[raviposting]

hi janie! congrats on 8k followers you deserve every single one of them!! could i request ✨ + /tagged/* please? thank you!! <3

Aaaah thank you!! Abigail this was so hard narrowing down to 5 why did I make this 5 asdfjkl me and my self imposed rules </3 I've kind of made this into different effects you've done that I've noticed and really really love!

This gifset is different from your usual style of sets that I've seen re color wise but I think it's just SO wonderful. I think it puts more focus on the scenes you've chosen and the words associated with them both. I struggle with typography a lot and I've genuinely have this gifset link saved as inspo for whenever I want to try being artsy with my typograhy lol. (Your typography in general is just stunning, I'm OBSESSED with how you made this gifset as well!)

This is just SOOOO beautiful!! Your blending in general is just MWAH amazing and the typography is fantastic as always. You do such a good job blending together two different colors and they always look so cohesive together.

I'm already cheating and it's my event so big tie between this and this. You manage to put in a lot of gif effects but it just doesn't feel out of place, too fast, or cluttered - once again it looks like such a cohesive set and like everything was meant to be there, but there's also enough that you can really take time and sit with these sets and notice something different.

I don't even watch Teen Wolf but I just keep going back to this gifset and I can't even verbalize why lol. The blues are just very pretty and this itches my brain in the right spot, of a gifset with very clean coloring on their skin, beautiful blues that are their own distinct shade without looking off from one another, really vibrant without looking unnatural. tumblr tells me this is from 2017 and it just seems like a really nice like idk. Foreshadowing for how you usually do sets and what goes into it lmfao

God I love this set sm! Again, I'm a sucker for the pink and blues and the ink drop transition is MWAH.

Bonuses: This because holy shit I can't imagine how long it must have taken and again, the typography is blowing me away, and this bc I am a simple bitch who loves colors and this once again itches my brain in the right way <3

✨Janie's 8k Celebration✨

[myristicisms]

@valour-bound sent;;

🖋 for Chris and Squall for Zacks RE verse 👏👌

for plot ideas! Still accepting!

SOL,,, u do not know what you've done today bestie!!! Basically lemme just,, hehe okay!!

For Chris

So basically because I'm such a gene ass with my foresight or whatever I have multiple RE verses for Chris and Zack to interact in or whatever, so we'll go chronological!!! Kinda!! More or less I do have a revelations verse where Zack works with the B.S.A.A (just made sense) and so there's the possibility of Zack being in contact with Chris and Jessica (shit talking Jessica in his mind because something's off abt her to him and he does not trust her), possibly giving more details or even exchanging information with one another some time between the sinking of the Queen Semiramis and Queen Zenobia and the exploration of the last ship that I cannot remember the name of, ofc that'd be around the point where Zack has to kill Angeal.

THEN there's the in between of the prequel DLC to re5 and re5 itself where Zack briefly ends up paired up with Chris on the occasional mission, both of which sort of help each other grasp that they're not responsible for their partner's deaths (or ig death for Angeal and Jill's going MIA bc we know she ain't dead LMFAO)

Ofc there's also re6, where Zack could briefly cross paths with Chris and Piers (me when I bust out my Piers knowledge and hcs bc I wrote him for like two years) or Zack communicating updates to Chris as captain of the team beta or whateva, also possibly helping Chris cope with the loss of Piers or being the one to help with getting Chris out of the ocean and chatting about the after math in the "haha that didn't happen" kind of way or whatever, maybe dinner together like in Chris's ending scene because two dudes having steak hehe

And finally there's also the re8 verse!!! Zack is No Longer affiliated with the B.S.A.A and is now a mercenary that takes on jobs he feels people need his assistance or whatever and so he's chilling in the village trying to protect the villagers or whateva, this one is Not Developed Much but I could see some odd little "hey I know you 🤨" shenanigans going on, possible reminiscing before they blOW UP THE VILLAGE LFMWJDBS idk idk

Anyways for Squall 🥰

This one could def be a little bit on the harder side since it heavily depends on which part of the timeline you're wanting him in but??? What if after revelations (where Zack kills Angeal bc gotta fuck up his life somehow) Squall ends up being assigned Zack's new partner on missions or whatever, be it for basic recon or straight up clean up of B.O.W shenanigans or whatever, something something opening up to a new partner + working with someone who I imagine prefers to work solo being new (me when they'll probably end up kissing on the mouth idk/j) or we could def have them bump into each other in raccoon city, establish them kinda already knowing each other (Zack getting separated from Angeal??? Crazy but so very likely LMFAOOO) and then going from there? Or they could be mercenary pals for 7/8 too, lots to do for them and it's very flexible which is why I'm struggle bussing!!!

But those are my main ideas for them!!!

[irresistiibles]

@mvsicinthedvrk​ submitted: this is about to be a long message but you know what? you are used to that from me in at least one thread of ours, so it is what it is!!!

thank you for your nice, too-nice words about my adminning. i wrote maig a whole essay about getting hired alksdj;lasdjf and i wont retype it for you, but i’m really happy to hear from your message that i set your mind at ease in terms of inviting someone new on the team. i set out really wanting to help do a good job, and i think it sounds like there are no outright performance complaints on your part re: my work here lmao, so i’m glad. your videos were LIFESAVERS, and i watched them so many times that for a while i heard your voice in my head anytime i did anything on the main. you seemed really comfortingly organized in terms of teaching me everything i needed to know. it was a lot, definitely, but i appreciated it. please know that i will literally never yell at anyone to get on the main, i physically do not have it in me to be able to do that, but if asks start piling up in the inbox you can all simply assume i am leaving it as a gift for someone else :’) lmfaoooooooo. but i do know that my work cleaning the inbox out regularly does NOT go un-appreciated, so thank you for making me feel like i am a useful member of the team.

and to compliment YOU, you’re always so good at dealing with ooc issues (which i really had no idea happened until i joined the team lmao) but you are so good at working things through and having a plan, and you’re so inventive in terms of events, like i cannot WAIT for the upcoming event that is based on your entirely unhinged doc. who could even come up with all of that other than you?? i’m really obsessed with everything you come up with.

and then in other admin group nonsense, too, you’re SO funny. every time i get to play jackbox with you all i have such a blast, and you specifically always have the best commentary. i really do think you need to start a podcast or something because the world should be forced to witness and appreciate your wit and humor. also related to jackpost i love how hard you are to beat at murder trivia, lmao. you have also made me see so many terrifying and/or cursed posts and links in the discord, many of which i will unfortunately never be able to cleanse from my memory, but i have such a good time in the chats in general regardless of that. really truly, thank you for letting me join you all, i really look forward to every week knowing that i’m going to have a good time talking to you and that i’ll get to help contribute a small part of helping make this rp run, because hidden really is such a special place. i know i’ve only been here for three years of the insane hidden five, but at the same time, i’m like-- wow, i’ve been here over half the time now, and i really can’t imagine my daily life without being part of this in some way. i wish you (and us???) success for the upcoming years!!

if you thought i was done writing this message, you would be wrong. now moving into WRITING positivity-- there’s so much i could say to you about getting to write with you, but our beefleaf threads. your shi qingxuan. they are my everything. i cannot think of a rush of endorphins and anxiety stronger than when i get a beefleaf reply from you: endorphins because i am so hype to read the next installment of their story and anxiety because i KNOW its going to hit me right in the gut, lmfao. and writing for those threads have challenged me in such interesting ways because of the many layers of complexity and having to figure out how to express what i want to say in a way that makes sense for he xuan; i’m so grateful to you that the beefleaf threads have helped let me explore that emotional depth in the narration. (if someone told me i’d be happy to sit working on one reply for four hours and get no other replies done that day idk if i’d believe them, but that’s what beefleaf makes me do sometimes) and seeing the end result is so so satisfying once i push through the distress, haha. so thank you for that, and i’m forever hoping that one day they will resolve the conflict (for their sakes, and ours!! rip). and then obviously i appreciate our other threads as well-- gu zi is such a delight. i’m obsessed with your fixation on qinghua; reading his replies are the pinnacle of entertainment for me to read, especially your threads with kasey between qinghua and qingqiu, please, they take me out. victor and yuri are such a reliably fun set of characters to throw together. and i still LOVE your nie huaisang headcanons! i think i owe you an unaware starter for him and wei wuxian, so that’ll happen at some point this week if i can get my shit together.

anyway i AM going to force myself to shut up now before this starts getting ridiculous if it’s not already. thank you for everything this year, and i’m really pleased that i can solidly look forward to another of the same laughter and emotional distress and chaos and compassion. i’m deeply lucky that i can call you my friend. much love, sincerely, ollie.

the fact you sent me so much i’m going to have to long post tw this ollie!! should be a crime!! when i can afford lawyers you will be hearing from them for emotional damages!! also would not reccomend calling me funny it is the type of compliment i will hold onto forever ahhhhhhhh but truly you are incredible. i am so so glad we’ve been able to meet and be friends going to sky beam all my love to you

[mikhailoisbaby]

————

I’ve had this fic sitting in my Google docs for a while and I finally had the confidence to post it after re reading for the hundredth time.

Im not a writer by any means but doing weekly galladrabbles has made me what to write more as well as having the love to writing I’ve had since I was a small child

also want to say I have dyslexia and I was diagnosed since I was primary school so I know this might be a load of shit lmfao but I wanted to post along with the art I have created for it.

So enjoy it , tell me bits that don’t make sense or where I could improve because I want to rediscover my love of writing

————

Read on Ao3 here or below ⬇️

It was 7 o’clock in the evening, dinner was just eaten and the bedtime routine was set in play. The messy pots were stacked high in the sink ready for Mickey to load the dishwasher while Ian had the task of putting their one-year-old to sleep.

He can hear the soft mummers of his husband's voice through the baby monitor on the kitchen counter, he's reading ‘goodnight moon’ their daughter's favourite book currently, and the crackles of the baby monitor once again peak when he can hear the light laughter at Ian's silly voices for different parts of the book; The sweet moment of father and daughter reading distracted Mickey from loading the dishwasher at times.

“Book book,” Delilah in soured baby speak knowing that she just conned her father to read another book, this will go on for while Ian will finish a book only for the little ginger to ask for another and her father falls fatal to her bright blue eyes.

Mickey continues with the job of the dishes until all is put away neat like there was never a hurricane of a one-year-old and 8-year-old eating messy spaghetti bolognese in their kitchen/dining room.

As soon as Mickey is done cleaning, a strategic plan so the kid isn’t forced to help clean, the little 8-year-old pops up around the corner. He ruffles her ginger locks as he convinces her father that she is allowed to stay up to watch more tv and Mickey agrees it’s a weekend after all.

He tells her to go get her pj's on and brush her teeth as Mickey moves to lightly tidy the living room where monster trucks are scattered over the multiple surfaces as well as nerf bullets although the toy guns were confiscated, not from the children but Mickey, Ian apparently doesn’t find it funny to be constantly shot by his husband.

Once the house it’s put back together only to be destroyed tomorrow, not that he minds he like the constantly playing and having fun the kids have, something he didn’t much in childhood, he sits down next to his oldest daughter who is now dressed in Spider-Man PJs and breath smelling like mint.

“ Where's dad?” Franny asks.

After Debbie left for Texas with her convict girlfriend leaving her daughter behind for the rest of the family to take care of, reminiscent of Monica leaving her children for everyone else to deal with, Ian and Mickey took on the role of parents of Franny. Mickey jokes that it’s their test kid and if Franny fucked up so they can blame Debbie but they are doing a good job parenting Franny so far, good grades, multiply friends, happy and healthy so yeah they pat themselves on the back now and then with how well Franny growing up as well she rarely asks about her mother too concerned about her baby sister for the past year.

They never expected Franny to call Ian and Mickey's dad but it just happened once, Franny was legally adopted and the new baby arrived Ian and Mickey constantly called themselves dada and papa especially when Delilah started talking she also picked up the habit of calling Ian dad and Mickey papa.

Franny was not confused she knew they aren’t biological her fathers and who her mother is but they took on the role of parents and after many conversations to make sure that she did understand that if she just wanted to call them uncle Ian and Mickey it would be fine but dad and papa suck for her and that how it’s been for the last year.

Mickey snapped out of thought when Franny was pulling on his sleeve “where's dad?” She asks again in an exasperated tone

“ upstairs putting baby meat to sleep” the nickname makes Franny giggle she snuggles further into Mickey's side placing a corner of her faded baby blanket on his knee and wraps the rest around her lap as they watch some kid's animation tv show where the 3 different types of bear apparently they are brother it confused Mickey at first but Franny likes it so that all that matters.

He is unaware of how much time passes and still watching ‘We bare bear’ he learnt the show's name at least so Franny will be proud and he thinks Ice bear is the best, he would ask Franny who her favourite is but she passed out slumping under Mickey's armpit. He pulls out his phone to check the baby monitor app because Ian still isn't down only to find both baby and father passed out in the rocking chair with a clear pile of books next to them.

Mickey can’t help but chuckle. He turns off the tv and picks up the passed-out Franny who clings to him and her beloved blanket like a koala bear when carried upstairs but never opens her eyes not even when Mickey places her in bed and leaves a small Kiss on her forehead with a “good night sleepy face ” and small return of “night papa”. He clicked on the night light that sits in the corner of her dinosaur-themed room, leaving the door open in a crack in case she gets a nightmare or needs water during the night as he exists.

Mickey makes his way back down the stairs Turning off all lights and checking the door and windows are all closed as he wanders back to the stairs of the 3-bed house ready to put the baby in the crib and get his husband to bed. He passes all the picture frames lining the wall of the staircase. Most of them are Franny and Delilah over the past year but there are old ones like wedding photos of Ian and Mickey being sickly in love, some from Tami and lip engagement party just before Delilah was born, the most recent put up was one from Liam's last birthday party. They are some other random ones that Mickey can’t quite remember where they were taken but he knows Ian would be able to say.

Once his mind is cleared of memory lane he goes into Delilah's room, Ian’s dad snores coving over the soft baby snores he would tease Ian if the moment wasn’t so sweet so he snaps a quick photo of the sleeping duo before he picks up Deli ( a nickname that came from Mickey always calling her baby meat and a somewhat shortened version of Delilah) placing in her crib; just like Franny, Deli didn’t open her eyes when Mickey gives her a good night kiss. He moves over to his husband and gently shakes him and tells him to get his ass to bed.

Once both are settled in bed Mickey is dressed in Ian's old t-shirt that has faded and lost colour with a couple of small holes dotted throughout and a pair if loses fitting boxers, Ian is dressed in a white vest probably Mickey judging by the number of stains and (just like Mickey) in loose-fitting boxer do they both share the final good nights and small but loving pecks on the lips. Ian snuggles into the back of Mickey being the big spoon he always is with his arm wrapped around Mickey's waist protectively.

Mickey hears Ian's light snoring, not as bad as they were in Delilah's room; he peeks at the baby monitor one last time. It’s sitting on Mickey's nightstand next to a wedding photo and a book he has been currently reading. He can see Deli's face, peaceful and relaxed. The knowledge that his family is safe and asleep helps him drift off into slumber.

[forsworned]

I miss them a lot. So how about the hashiras (after .. after everything) finding new jobs or what would they do now?

lmfao thanks dude i really enjoyed writing this hopefully u will enjoy reading it :) ALSO SORRY FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THIS AND HAVE BEEN SPOILED THERE ARE SPOILERS SO SPOILER ALERT

k y o u j u r o u

I feel like just like in the academy au, kyo would feel most comfortable being a history teacher

he loves kids and loves teaching and adores history so why not combine all three together?

he loves kids and loves teaching and adores history so why not combine all three together?

we already know he's a fun teacher and makes his students re-enact battles

nobody ever fails his class and he's been teacher of the year every year since he started working there

g y o m e i

he is a daycare worker because he loves kids

due to his soft nature he is very popular with the ladies

he is almost always flustered because he is constantly getting cat called by women

when he is holding a baby the women FLOCK to this man

he usually just brushes off the inapproriate comments made towards him

popular inapproriate comments include: "you would look so good holding my baby in your hands." "so when are we gonna make one of those?" "you should be holding me like that instead"

these women are ruthless and are usually the married women jfvsjvfidjifvds

o b a n a i / m i t s u r i

canonly they are married

they would work in their own restaurant

they have five kids that gyomei takes care of except for their two eldest

they insist on helping their parents, taking orders and serving food

the locals absolutely love it, they think it's endearing (not in a child labor way is cute way fvskfvskm)

mitsuri always makes obanai wear a pink apron that says "i love my wife" all the time, but obanai never minds because he is head over heels with her

s a n e m i

a big ol grump who shouts at kids to get off his porch

he's a fireman because who likes police officers acab amirite

he's the most hardworking in his unit

hardly has time for himself because his constantly working

enjoys his job a lot because much like his hashira days he is saving the lives of others and it makes him feel fulfilled

meets the (second) love of his life while rescuing them from an apartment building that went into flames

they now live together with their pet cat reiki

s h i n o b u

she would definitely be a scientist

like come onnnnn

she is an absolute genius and would fit perfectly in that field

she is a perfectionist so if it's not here she will not leave her space until it is to her liking

super hard working and doesn't have time for your shit

has an aquarium at her house because she wanted to upgrade her home to look hella cool

also has a beautiful garden she tends to everyday and if you touch anything from it she will absolutely 1000% know

g i y u u

he would most likely spend his days as fisherman and sells mostly salmon by the sea

everything is super fresh and sells out super quickly, because well, giyuu is a heartthrob

he is oblivious about it though cuz i mean have u seen the guy?

when he's not working he is at home with his pet kitten

he found that this little guy was always starving and was attracted to the smell of samon and he would give in to feeding him

soon the little kitten won him over due to how cute he was and they are inseparable

he named him salmon, because he is unoriginal

salmon can be found perched on giyuu's head or sitting in his spot that giyuu made for him that is attached to his stand

t e n g e n

stay at home dad right here

his wives work and provide for him

so he spends his day with his kids and cooks and cleans for everyone

his wives are always greeted with him in a cutesy lacey apron with a baby in one hand and a mop in another

the house is SPOTLESS

he always greets and goodbyes them with kisses and hugs before they go off or come back from work

[meetmeatthecoda]

I’ve gotta word vomit this out to a fellow Lizzington since it’s been floating round in my head all day... (these though are pre- promo photo release). So I know loads of people are pushing the R*derina theory and on twitter there’s a lot of Lizzington fans doing a great job of coming up with loooaaaddsss of complex reasons why it can’t really be a thing (dialogue, script, etc), which is great. Thing is, I don’t understand in what world people think the promo (video) would make any sense if Reddington is in fact her mother. It just doesn’t make sense that Liz would walk around a park holding hands (INTERTWINED AS WELL) with someone she’s just found out is her mother... doesn’t that strike you as weird? I mean that’s the kinda thing you do on a date, not with a newly discovered parent? What do you think? I’m not going crazy right?? THIS WEEK HAS MADE ME FEEL INSANE

Omg, yes, Lizzington word vomit, my favorite 🙏 And long story short? I AGREE. YOU'RE NOT GOING CRAZY. THIS WEEK HAS MADE ME FEEL INSANE TOO. *ahem* Yes, anon, I agree that that the hand-holding in the promo would be very weird if Red was her mother. (I can't believe I'm actually typing that sentence lmfao every cell in my body rejects the insanity.) But look: let's pretend for one hot second that the Redarinas are right. (Ugh.) Okay, so Red reveals that he is, in fact, the mother she's been spending the last season seeking revenge on him for killing (wow), realizes he has been lying to her about his identity for 8 years, & left her all alone to think she didn't have a mother/her mother was dead/she wasn't wanted by her mother/whatever when he was really right by her side the whole time??? Call me crazy, but I don't think her instinctive reaction would be to cry, "Oh, mommy dearest, there you are at last!!" & hold hands with him & take him on leisurely walk in the park to play with Agnes. Like ????? You'd think there'd be a lot of processing & re-adjusting & coming to terms with things before they reach the Taking A Walk step, let alone the Hand Holding step.

ALSO (& more importantly bc I refuse to believe Redarina is even a possibility, & if they run with it? LMFAO WHATEVER ASSHOLES, NOT MY CANON, BC YOU'RE FUCKING RIDICULOUS)... Red & Liz have never held hands like that before. They have patted hands, squeezed hands, held hands while stationary. This is walking with intertwined fingers. Some may say there's not a huge difference but I SAY THERE IS & IT IS HUGE. It's all in the body language & what we know of the characters: the gesture itself is inherently romantic & they don't have a history of doing that. AND - if/when Red comes clean with her about everything & she finally realizes they are on the same side & they love each other - that's a much more reasonable leap to hand-holding, imo. Like, they've been there before in the almost-stages as described above, so hand-holding is the next logical step of intent & dedication & love, which you'd think we could assume is the cathartic moment we've been waiting for, given it's a season finale & Megan's last ep. But..... this is TPTB we're talking about 😠

Sooooo, long story short, anon (AHA), I fucking agree with you. And that singular one second clip of them swinging their intertwined hands while walking in Liz's fantasy? (*cue uncontrollable sobbing*) Is the one reason I can't give up hope completely that they aren't pulling WHAT I THINK WOULD BE THE BIGGEST TWIST OF THEM ALL & making Lizzington canon at the very last second. Ugh, this finale is gonna kill me before it even airs 😭 Anyway, rest assured, I AGREE with you, anon, THANK YOU for sharing your word vomit, & MUCH LOVE to you!! ❤️

[greengay]

THAT’S WHY I POST SO MUCH FYI.....IT’S COS I FEEL ANY BIT OF LONELINESS SO INTENSELY. and i feel loneliness so intensely because i can’t distract myself with Tasks and Activities easily bc of the executive dysfunction that comes with adhd. so it’s just....i feel a tiny spark of discomfort from not being in contact with someone......and i’m basically paralyzed?

AND IDK. POSTING MY EMOTIONS ONLINE WHERE I KNOW AT LEAST ONE OR MORE PEOPLE ALWAYS WILL SEE MAKES ME FEEL LESS ALONE. BUT. THATS NOT GOOD. I WANT TO BE OKAY WITH BEING ALONE, I WANT ANOTHER COPING MECHANISM BESIDES SOCIAL MEDIA BECAUSE IT’S JUST A SHADOW/CHEAP IMMITATION OF WHAT J ACTUALLY WANT.

I WANT TO BE CONTENT WITH BEING ALONE. that makes me want to cry because it makes me feel so panicked.

CONSTRUCTIVE THINGS TO DO INSTEAD OF REACHING OUT TO PEOPLE OR POSTING ON SOCIAL MEDIA:

write fic????? (lol yeah right)

write out my feelings

meditation

finish zines!!

get film ready to be developed

organize/clean/unpack my room

take care of plants

go for a walk

for for a bike ride

work out?? (lol)

yoga? (lol)

ceramics!!!! sculpting!!!!!!!

watch MOVIES (not trashy reality tv) that I HAVEN’T SEEN BEFORE

re-edit photos for portfolio

get desktop ready

practice guitar

practice drums

DRINK WATER

WORK ON D&D JOURNAL

WORK ON NEW D&D CHARACTER

practice painting miniatures

DRAWING?!

I NEED TO LET MY MIND WANDER AGAIN. i’m losing my imagination cos i keep numbing myself with social media, alcohol, trashy tv, and food -_-

it’s okay to be alone w my thoughts....maybe i should delete the tumblr app for a hot sec.........i truly love the validation and sense of community..............but it’s putting a bandaid on the gushing wound that is being lonely..........

djsjdkwkdjsjxow i haven’t had a consistent job since the beginning of the pandemic and i have been making more on unemployment than i have working so i haven’t.......felt a rush to get a job...........but i think i need one, solely so my brain isn’t always plugged in.......i do my best daydreaming when i’m supposed to be working lmfao

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #240

end of the year one!

What did you do in 2019 that you’d never done before? Uhhhh. Wow. I honestly don't really know; not a lot. Uhhhh... oh, I was sexually involved with a girl, I worked at a deli for A WHOLE TWO HOURS!!!!, I'm still a shameful shit that being on that damn pill actually drove me to masturbating for the first time (yes, I know it's not "bad," but), OH! I very recently found myself to relate to Neo-Paganism so kinda identify as that now, I finished a full semester of college, and uhhh. It's funny, '18 and '19 kinda blur together for me, so I can't say with certainty when some certain things took place, so it doesn't even feel right putting them here? Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I didn't make one; I pretty much never do. This year, however, I just might. Like I've always thought "dude it's just another day there is literally no actual difference," but I want to focus on the actual symbolism. No, there is no physical difference, but it's the idea I want to appreciate. I want to make something about self-improvement this year, probably mostly about AvPD and its "I'm embarrassed by myself omg people think I'm weird" factor irl, because that FUUUUCKS WIIIITH MEEEEE. I want to be comfortable as me, y'know? Oh, and I should definitely work on independence. Did anyone close to you give birth? No, but my sister is pregnant. Did anyone close to you die? My dog Teddy. What countries did you visit? I didn't leave and have never left America, yaaaaay. Fun. Adventure. What would you like to have in 2020 that you lacked in 2019? An income. Let photography go somewhere or some shit, please. What date from 2019 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? November 28th, when Teddy was put down. That's something I can never forget. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Said lasting a college semester!!!! I failed my math course as I expected to, but I mean, I lasted. What was your biggest failure? To ME anyway (people have assured me otherwise from their perspectives), it would be the first "professional" wedding I shot. I put so much into that day and the DAYS of post processing, and they never bought any of the pictures. Said they were going to discuss which ones they wanted and get back to me and then poof, vanished. I was very suspicious by another person, I think family, being there taking pictures pretty much just as much as I did, even posing people, and by now I'm pretty sure they used me (or her, idk) as backup. My only guess is my pictures weren't what they wanted so they chose the route of not paying, which, TECHNICALLY, isn't against my terms of service; you just have to pay the sitting fee, you see previews w/ watermarks, and THEN you pay for each photo you actually WANT. That's a loophole I probably need to fix, because I can honestly say $20 did NOT cover my time, hyperhidrosis e x p l o s i o n, anxiety, and my previously-mentioned DAYS-long editing period. Not to mention I was and still genuinely am proud of how the pictures turned out. OKAY WOW I'm seriously ranting but yeah I'm obviously still tilted. Did you suffer illness or injury? Did I? I don't think so. At least nothing serious. I did have a fall, but the resulting bruises and twists were negligible. What was the best thing you bought? A fuckin honeybun from the school snack machine lmao. I don't have my own income, so I just get little cash from Mom if needed for when I go out or anything. Where did most of your money go? See above. So, food lol. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Sara coming on my birthday, Ozzy re-announcing his tour for next year (WITH MANSON Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!) and Mom and I being like "um fuck yes we're going," and that's all I can think about right now. It's not common I get like, THAT excited. What song will always remind you of 2019? *shrug* None off the top of my head stand out. Compared to this time last year, are you: Happier or sadder? Older or wiser? Thinner or fatter? (I've been at a weight loss stalemate for two fucking years now, so neither.) Richer or poorer? (No personal income, and I don't know the exact financial position Mom's in compared to last year.) What do you wish you’d done more of? See Sara and Dad much more, reach out to more friends, exercise, cleaning alksdjfawei, studying. What do you wish you’d done less of? Sitting on this computer gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh- I honestly would prefer to just not dwell on this "I wish I had..." subject. How did you spend Christmas? Breakfast and gift opening with Mom and my younger sis, then we went to my older sister's house that afternoon to celebrate with her and the kids. What was your favorite TV program? I didn't watch TV. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? No. What was the best book you read? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. What was your greatest musical discovery? Hm... I don't believe I discovered any new bands, but I got waaay more into Motionless In White. What did you want and get? Making it through my first semester in college, Teddy reaching his 13th birthday, seeing my grandmother for probably the last time, seeing Sara for my birthday, uhhh other things that aren't coming to mind. What did you want and not get? Lose more fucking weight for a change, more photography growth, new glasses, the courage to drive more and get my license, SEE SCARY STORIES TO TELL IN THE DARK AS WELL AS THE LAST HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, other little things I don't wanna dwell on. What was your favorite film of this year? I do NOT get the hate of the live action The Lion King. I fucking adored it. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I don't remember other than hang out with Sara and the fam and probably eat at Olive Garden for dinner. I turned 23. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Photography reaching the level of being able to call it my *real* job. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2019? Pajamas. Just... pajamas whenever possible lmao. What kept you sane? My mom and Sara, MUSIC, gaming, Mark and the other YTers I love way too much, school getting me out of the damn house. Oh, and medication lmfao. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? The day I don't answer this with "Mark Fischbach," I IMPLORE you to commit me. What issue stirred you the most? I'm guessing you mean political? If so, the Amazon wildfires and how the fucking SA government handled it. NOTHING in the political world has ever had me that livid, heartbroken, and ashamed of the greed of the human race. Who did you miss? A good number of people, plus Teddy of course. Who was the best new person you met? Good question. Probably a teacher or adviser at school. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2019: I think more than anything, there's been a lot of focus on the fact that you can't always run at the first sign of trouble/stress. That's one of my biggest weaknesses: I flee the moment I'm under stress, but now with school, I've had to learn to fight this. It's an ongoing process, but I'm getting there. Some battles need to be fought to reach a better place.

[purely-psychotic]

Alright. I’m feeling pretty psychotic again.

Too excited for my own good. I have to be sure to really rest this time. Really really rest like I used to.

Maybe play some diablo or call of duty. Anything to make me less crazy. Usually I’m obsessive about call of duty, and that’s how I stay sane. But the games have been in rotation lol I’ve been getting hung up on one after the other. I think I need to get un-obsessed with imvu and re-obsessed with call of duty probably.

Maybe then I’ll snap out of the fog.

& what was it that he realized about himself on his way home??? Eating to feel better?

That can’t be it hun... it’d been a solid 7 hours since he had breakfast... anyone would’ve been hangry.... is that what it was?

I am in another world rn. I need to snap out of it. I wanna stay in it... it’s quite hard to think of much else, including anything hurtful when thoughts are consumed. But still... I feel myself slipping again. I can’t very well remember to call my dad tomorrow again if the thought never occurs to me. Or ask my mom how she’s feeling since her breakdown tonight. Or ask Bonnie if she even likes any of those games. Or decide when to clean the house so I can rest & get back to Keyon about doing her make up this weekend. Which is a terrible idea but... when else will I have time to do it? And fixing Aidens fb messenger I have to do that. I couldn’t concentrate on the book. :(

I’m actually fine with it really but I don’t know... maybe our text messages need to be spaced out 30 minutes each. That way things can be done, other relationships are equally prioritized, we are still talking, and if much need to be said... simply call. And try to limit those to like 30 minutes during the day... and night time is our time so it wouldn’t matter.

Don’t be nervous to call me. I’m not going to be upset about it. I like talking to you... and I want to talk to you. Especially if there’s something specific you want to talk about. Long as it doesn’t distract me too much to where I don’t reach my daily goals.

Like tomorrow/today... first... I’m gonna sleep. Then I’m going to try to read some while I drink my coffee. I’m going to promise myself right now that I will do nothing else until my place is clean again. It’s not terrible rn. Well... not as bad as last time. I might have to uninstall imvu lol at least until the stinkin place is clean lmfao.

I can already see myself checking that app so many times and wanting to fuck with it, that I won’t clean. Hopefully by the time I reinstall it, I won’t be obsessed with it, and stop contemplating overdrawing my account for it...

I feel like... in all seriousness, if I’m gonna do that, I should buy a week of my karaoke... I’m doing a shit job of coping without singing.

& I cannot believe you fell asleep during our wedding! 😂😂😂 you best believe I went to the club after that! Lmfao 😁 we did not “consummate” our marriage so technically... lmfao 😂😂😂 it was fair game to go to the club and be spiteful 🥰

God damn it was fun. The whole scenario. I put on my devil horns and red dress. Dudes stripping dancing on the tables. I saw your eyeliner I think? I dig it honestly. I’ve always liked that if done right.

Feel like god damn I have so much to say but... I never really get to talk this much... anddddd I’m okay with it. Bc one of these days lol I’m gonna give you a run for your money on talkin.

Ohhhh so it’s 5 am rn again, and I’m finally gonna take some Benadryl and some Naproxen hopefully feel good enough to get a good rest in.

Man I needed to clear my head so badly.

I finally feel clear headed again.

It does occur to me that when you are here. I might sometimes need to talk talk to you because usually like in the mornings and stuff I’ll talk to myself to organize my day.

Or... if I can’t finish everything I needed to talk about before you talk about something else lol I’ll have to put my headphones in for a while. At least in the mornings/waking up.

Lol Aidens dad always said... I hate feeling like I’m always walking on eggshells with you.

I’m inclined to asked you how you like these eggshells. Lmfao I love you.

[creaturebehavior]

like i used to be better at masking and i fully burnt myself out

also btw. i know i do have bpd, and i haven’t mentioned this in awhile, and maybe it is just bpd, and maybe everyone with bpd feels like i do (i am still researching and trying to learn about my diagnosis) but, i still wonder if i’m autistic and i just don’t know what to do about that. it also could possible be adhd. i feel autistic as fuck and i have for a long time and for many years that’s what i thought was my main issues but i have so many issues it’s just so hard to know.

either way, even if it’s just the bpd + cptsd + ocd + ed + addiction which is plenty, i have wasted all my energy all my entire life masking and i even got fully clean and sober and i masked my ass off for nearly two years before u burnt out so hard i literally was like if i don’t leave school and start smoking a little bit of weed i’m gonna literally commit suicide or worse so.

God i need help. i don’t feel ready to start trying to heal again.

being sober was a nightmare. feeling is going to kill me someday. bpd famous last words? lmfao god i wish i were dead god i wish i weee dead.

i’ve gone to therapists when i wasn’t ready in the past and they fired me as a client after a few sessions and it was a waste of time and money and resources

the world wants me to be ready for them. the world only wants me to go to therapy so i can get a job and every time i try to work with people i get so burnt out and i go crazy and i start getting all these thoughts about hurting them and hurting myself

no one cares about me being ready to heal and to process just for me. i’m not ready and i don’t want to. but i have to take medications and go to therapy so i can work minimum wage right? that’s the only reason any of us are alive

i’m so unhappy

i thought i was pursuing my career and i actually thought i was going to press on and push through it like i just needed to vent and get re-motivated or some extra support whenever my therapist suggested to me that maybe i made the wrong decision in picking the career i did she started questioning my passion because school was stressing me out so much. i was mad at first that she would suggest such a thing instead of encourage me through the next couple minths until graduation. but yeah instead i began to reconsider everything and as much as i realize she was actually projecting her own feelings about her career onto me (she shared openly about her own insecurity in college since she changed her career so late into life and about how she’d been putting off taking the final exam to get her license) i still am just sick enough to distort whatever it is she may have actually said to me into me feeling like what she said to me was “you’re not making any progress. you should give up.” and i heard her loud and clear on that one. i tried to ignore it and tune it out and try to get my brain to think rationally and “she didn’t say that and why would any therapist say that that’s not how she meant it.” but my brain keeps saying back to me that she was suggesting i chose the wrong career and i feel insecure enough to agree with her.

like this is how insane my brain is. like it’s know it’s crazy but ever since she said whatever it is she actually said, all i can remember is how it seemed like she was suggesting i give up

and so one day i said to myself she’s right i chose the wrong career. i won’t ever be successful in this career. because i already believed these things.

i already believed i wasn’t good enough and that i wouldn’t be able to make it through so whenever she suggested maybe i made a mistake in choosing my career path i was like i guess all i needed was one person to agree with me but of course it had to be my therapist who suggests i made the wrong decision

we lost touch shortly after this. it became harder and harder to see her

and yeah i am highly suggestible and yes i believe that’s a symptom of whatever is wrong with me

i already believed i couldn’t do i just needed someone else to agree with me

[mm3n2]

2/22/22 two two two

Well.. I’m sorry to say that I didn’t get the serving job in time for Vday. There’s still time before the end of the month though, and I WILL have it by then, period. I’m going to re-follow up with Hanon right after this. 

Roomies are going well. Before I get to that, I’ve been whipping the apartment into shape. We did the closet clean-out, and I’ve taken initiative on the kitchen which is satisfying me. I said I wanted to wait for Ariel and Dillon but I think they would’ve been in way over their heads as they don’t even use the kitchen, and my control freak tendencies are being soothed. I’d say I’m about halfway there. Ariel set up the donation pickup. She’s been really helpful, like even in terms of moral support lol. I really get along with her. Akiyo was supposed to leave, several times over LMFAO but i think today might be the last day for real. I won’t hold my breath though. I know he flies out tomorrow. It’s been fun having him here.

Dillon.... where to begin. I do like Dillon, he has a very calming energy. It does frustrate me when it comes to his .. self confidence I guess. When people let their anxieties rule their sociability it wears me down. For example, he had a completely normal interaction with somebody who he used as a drawing reference. Completely normal is a stretch I guess. I would be far too anxious to ever say something like that to a model but anyways. The exchange went smoothly, but somewhere between leaving the store and getting home he must’ve gotten in his head, because when he told Ariel about it he presented himself as this like complete idiot, and despite my protesting every time after, he’s reinforced that idea of himself as one. This might seem so minute but... straws on a camel. I just feel myself getting the roommate ick.. I hate it. It’s been three weeks! I need to chill. But also, I think we’re just completely different people. He likes karaoke bars and hates techno, I hate karaoke bars and love techno. Such a small example. Am I searching for reasons to hate somebody? This is ridiculous, because he’s sweet and kind. I really shouldn’t have any issues with him. There’s also the Bryan stuff, I don’t know how I see that playing out. To be more specific, I feel as though the more I hear about it, the more I side eye it. Or like.. it seems as though Bryan does so much apologizing and Dillon is never in the wrong. And I think I’m partial, biased towards Bryan because we have so much in common. We can literally talk for hours on end, and have multiple times. I said to Con, “I don’t see finality for them. With Grayson and Derek, it’s marriage. That’s the endgame and I love it for them. I just don’t know if I see it for Dillon and Bryan.” 

Enough about them. That’s none of my business! Literally none.

Con is so interesting. I feel like I can’t get a read on them.. yet again I feel myself scrounging for people to hang out with and latching to the few I can reach out to. I hate feeling like this, but is this just friendship? This was Santa Cruz to the max. I should talk to Nico or Cara about it, if they ever felt suffocated by me. Anyways, I want Con to be more receptive and responsive, but I’m not the best at that either. I think I’m just latching. I need more friends.

Where the FUCK are the fire and air signs? I have not met a single fire sign. Not ONE. I’ve met one, maybe two air signs. I don’t know where the fuck they are but these earth and water signs are killing me. All I have to rely on is Claire for fire sign energy. None of this is real but it is.

Tonight is a dinner party hosted by Ariel. I don’t know why but I haven’t really felt the urge to make others’ friends my friends, save for Bryan and maybe a little bit Con’s friend Kim. Con’s friend group, the LES crew plus Mia and Brittany... I found them to be ummm I wouldn’t go out of my way to spend time with them let’s say. They had the anxiety prone disposition that I love sooo much. Am I being judgmental? Why yes... yes I am. Brittany was cool, and Mia seemed cool, but when it came down to leaving I got so irritated 😭 Like leave or don’t, but imma go.... wishy washy shit drives me nuts, but also straight people drive me nuts. And then the hemming and hawing please don’t be mad are u mad please dont be mad u seem mad like OMG that shit is such a turn-off. We’ll see what happens, because I might be eating my words and that’ll be bestie two months from now.

One final thing before I go- I have to make space to write about Mayson’s passing. It feels unreal. I wrote an instagram post about her, which I’ll paste below, because I think I summed up most everything I could have said:

Mayson was a real ass bitch. Maybe the realest bitch I’ve ever known. Mayson commanded every space she walked into. She was just That Girl. To be on her bad side was terrifying. To be loved by her, though, was to know absolute warmth. Although I only knew her for a short time, Mayson seemed to hold a special place in her heart for me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve meeting her, but I thank the universe every day for bringing her into my life. One of my regrets is that she’ll never know the impact she had on me. Amidst all the heaviness of this news last night, I still went out dancing. I went dancing for Mayson; even though it seemed she lived a fuller life than many of us do with the time we’re given, she deserved to live a hundred more. I know the great beyond isn’t ready for you, but I’ll see you there angel. The abundant love you shared with those around you is where you live now, and you will live forever through that. Rest easy my love.

She is missed immensely. She was a matriarch to her chosen family, and I can’t imagine what they must be feeling. I hope I can see Alex soon so I can give her a big hug. I love her so much.

Julian is coming to the city soon and I will be seeing him, period. Also Lauren might come in March, and I will be seeing her too obviously. okay goodbye for now x

[portectorisms-a]

So this post kinda follows this one. Like this wasn’t what I was originally thinking this morning but this is what came out of it. lmfao I don’t even know where this came from in reality, just happened and Bellamy wanted me to write it. This follows a number of verses thrown together and honestly, after re-reading, sounds like a bunch of rambling but alas. @wolfscldier tagging you for reasons. =3 Also putting it under the cut cause it kinda got long.

Dear Mom,

Where do I begin? I haven't talked to you or thought of your memory in a long time. I haven't brought myself to be able to. So much has happened. So much has past that I wanted to say. In the beginning, I hated you. I loathed everything about you. The way you treated Octavia. The way you always left us alone and how you only came back to change clothes and make sure we were still alive. You only really cared about me and it took me a long time to understand that. It took me a long time to accept the fact that you never wanted Octavia in our lives but because I made that promise and I cared for her, you didn't have much of a say. You just showed it in a different way. I wanted to yell at you. To make it stop. Octavia didn't deserve any of that. She didn't deserve what you did to her and I tried to give her a better life than what you ever tried to do. You're my mother and it took me a long time to remeber that I did, I do love you. You taught me actions spoke louder than words. You taught me to hide my feelings because they showed weakness. I had to be the strong one. Not just for Octavia but for you too. I didn't have a childhood. I never learned what it was like to be a kid. I grew up the day I was able to walk. I learned to cook and clean not long after that. I didn't have a choice. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be alive and I never hated you for that. I never blamed that on you. I just accepted it as normal and kept going. How stupid was that? I should've said something. I should've told you how much you were failing. I picked up your habits. How proud of that would you be? I slept around a lot. I guess I used it to cope. To fill a void in my heart after you died in my arms. I should've saved you. I should've tried harder and I should've called for help. I was fifteen and I was scared. I was thinking about Octavia and how I promised to keep her safe and so I did the only thing I knew that would. I let you die. You'll never read this. No one ever will so I might as well be honest, not just with you, but with myself too. I started writing this with different intentions than a confession of guilt. Funny how that happens, isn't it? I'm sorry. I don't say that out loud and if I do, it's to two people. I'm sorry I let you die. I'm sorry I didn't do enough to save you. I should've tried harder. I'm no Atlas, no matter how much I have upon my shoulders. I have to be strong. I have to hold the world up but I'm on my knees today and I'm crumbling. I guess we should move on from this though. I began writing this to tell you that I forgive you, which is funny, cause that falls in line with everything else I've wrote. Forgiveness is hard for me, you taught me that too, but, I do. I forgive you. I don't forgive you for what you did to Octavia but for everything else, I do. Things have happened. Amazing things that I never thought would happen. I fell in love. Hell, I'm still falling. Hale. His name is Hale. He's the sky for me. His eyes have every planet in the galaxy in them. With what you taught me, I never knew what love was and he's teaching me. I don't want anyone else. I don't care about anyone else. I'd take a bullet for him even if it killed me. I joined the Marines for awhile. I climbed the ranks, I was a commanding officer. I left active duty though. I got a job on the base. Hale and I live together. We adpoted a baby girl. You'd be a grandma. What a funny thing to say out loud. She's beautiful and she's ours. I know that you wouldn't be proud of the son that I became. Of the person. I've done terrible things and I try to make up for them. I try to make things right. I'm okay with the fact that you wouldn't be proud of me but I do hope that you'd be proud of the daughter that I'm going to help raise with the man that I love. I'm going to stop writing this now becuase I'm torn between letting the anger I feel take over and shred this,, or keep it. Either way, no one else is going to ever read it.

Your son, Bellamy.

[checkyesifulikeme]

okay wow so much has gone on over the past couple of days i’m still reeling in shock but it’s almost a blissful state of shock if that’s even possible LOL. first things first i’m feeling very anxious abt getting a new job, i’ve been unemployed for a little over a month now and my guilt is picking at my brain and heartstrings like those little fish that eat the dead skin off of the bottoms of ppl’s feet. 

SO i’m definitely going to Saddle Up and apply to whatever coffee spots are hiring, although i know my chances of being hired will be much greater by the END of next month (graduation = university students quitting their jobs&going back home) but i can’t wait that long because i feel like the universe is fixing me with a judgmental glare. i haven’t taken time off of working since high school really so maybe i’m just a bit of a workaholic despite Hating mindless labor idk i feel guilty/useless very easily ok !!!!!! but it’s not as bleak as it sounds. i’ve actually had an amazing month being unemployed (my bday month!) and i’ve finally started my journey on bettering my mental health which is something i’ve continuously put on the back-burner my entire life. so this was long overdue. i believe the prozac has actually been helping a ton (it’s the same anti-depressant my mom is on N we’re very very very similar in our mental health so makes Cents). i’m still looking for a therapist and i’m on a waiting list for a second opinion from a different psychiatrist in my city (there r unfortunately very few psych doctors where i live) because the one i originally went to diagnosed me in a kind of alarming manner??? i questioned it immediately but everyone told me to just trust him but fr he diagnosed me based off of 1 appointment and my answers on a sheet of paper, not even bothering to ask me about any of my symptoms in depth at ALL and immediately prescribing 3 different medications idk i was super weirded out but at least i got a good anti-depressant out of it lmfao (i’m not taking the other 2, both of which are anti-psychotics that left me brain dead). 

aside from the mental health stuff i’ve been feeling extremely elated and joyous about life lately. i’ve gotten back into reading (read an entire book in 3 days and i’ve gotten a little over halfway through the goldfinch which i began reading like 2 or more years ago by now lolll) which i’ve been meaning to do for years and years. i finished my first sewing project! gotten a lot better w/ maintaining a clean space, watering my plants on a schedule/much more efficiently than before (i don’t have to haul them all into the tub every time they need to be watered) and i’ve been a lot more in tune with my emotions and needs as well as the needs of those i love. one of the worst parts of my mental health is the chafing irritability i feel for no good reason and the erratic ebb and flow of my feelings but since being put on prozac i’ve felt like i have a healthier grasp of things which makes my heart burst with joy because much of my life i’ve spent living in a perpetually ‘muddled’ state. it’s nice.

on top of all this, last night by ex best friend texted me a longggg apology/explanation of why he disappeared from my life about ~4 months ago and it made me cry. he’s flying back from london and will be back on monday so i’m probably going to meet up w him and my sister sometime next week! i almost felt this coming but didn’t at all at the same time lol idk how to explain. i was extremely hurt losing him as well as my other ‘best friend’ at the time but since then i’d sort of deaded those emotions and pushed forward and i’ve actually been doing really well for myself even if it can be lonely at times. i still had my online friends who i cherish so so so dearly, my boyfriend and my family and have been focusing on just Me and my inner workings and habits and how i can be better to myself and those around me, more involved more present more vocal about my love for them. more open to sharing myself. sharing myself has always been one of my biggest road blocks because i am so debilitated by fear (of rejection of judgement of being fully Seen). but i’m trying to move past this. i really am. i think i can overcome this fear by utilizing the even stronger force inside of me that craves connection, craves being seen but even moreso seeing others too and allowing them to know that they are loved and heard and cared for and i am here to help. although me and this friend’s relationship has been literally all over the damn place i truly believe from the bottom of my heart that he is a loving person. he has been damaged but we all have. idk. forgiveness is beautiful to me and i just feel so deeply that re-connecting will only make our friendship that much stronger. with so many of my ex friends i do not feel this way. re-kindling does not feel needed or entirely possible, really. but i have met very few ppl so in tune with my mindset, we’re very very different and have lived through VERY different circumstances but our inner workings resonate, if that makes sense. and he brought that up in our conversation last night and it just brings tears to my eyes. he said something along the lines of “i just don’t want to lose a genuine connection with another person especially in a fucked up world like this because they truly are so rare.” and i agree. i connect w so many people in different ways, i think all of us do or have the capacity to at least, but that deep understanding and history and mutual growth and love is rare, i think. i don’t feel like i can fully explain it here and now but idk i’m just super emotional over this because like i said i had previously deaded the possibility of reconnection in my mind, largely because i no longer knew how my (previously) best friends saw me anymore or had potentially even seen me to begin with. but him reaching out allowed me to understand a little bit more and i am certainly not beyond forgiveness because GOD KNOWS i have not been a perfect person. none of us have. my boyfriend is apprehensive but i know it’s just out of his protectiveness over me and he’d never hinder my autonomy to chose where i go from here. and i understand. he’s the one who had to stay up with me countless nights while i cried and lost my mind and blew up his phone with texts about how worthless and angry i felt and beat myself up time and time again so believe me i understand. it’s going to be a process but i just know forgiveness is absolutely the right choice. part of this journey for me is listening to my heart and she wants to forgive. see and be seen. hear and be heard. love is all that matters to me at the end of the day and i am not going to deny it. 

[calpicowater]

Day 102/365: April 12th 2017 | Last Day of School + PositiviDAY

BEFORE WE START LET’S APPRECIATE TODAY’S SUPER CUTE BACKGROUNDS

Today was so fun! Woke up at the ungodly hour of 8:40 with about 6.5 hours of sleep. Got ready and headed to the Quad to set up for PositiviDay. Started off by carrying 10 chairs from CAB to Quad and I hit the back of my leg really hard so I’m expecting another bruise (RIP MY LEGS). After gathering chairs, we began making balloons and honestly I only one made balloon and helped Jing tie off her balloon before people started to arrive so I had to guard the bouncy castle/obstacle course HAHAAHA. Sam came really early so we didn’t take a photo together but I’m glad she had fun at the obstacle course and the rest of the event!! Anyway, I did photobooth with Erica for the first hour and it was so fun LMAO!! We literally just scream at each other 80% of the time lmao we’re both so loud???? It’s great. Charmy and Raymond came to visit too woot woot~ we took some weird photobooth pics together HAHA. I wanted to take normal photos too but Raymond kept cutting off our legs AHAHAHAHA *insert Charmy yelling “U HAD ONE JOB”*. It was really cool to talk to strangers and take photobooth pictures for them!! AHAHAHA one person saw me and told me that my eyeshadow looked really nice!!! I was so happy :’) They were wearing pink/red eyeshadow too LOLOL pink/red eyeshadow twins~ >:D

After the first hour, I had to do table for the bouncy castle so I basically just told everyone to sign the waiver forms before they went inside. I was lonely so I made Alex sit with me even though he was supposed to be “roaming” LMAO!! Kristin and Vivian both came by during this time as well and made my day n_n !! After the second hour ended, I went back to the photobooth station (LJHDSF me: is totally meant for the photographer life tbvh) but during this hour, the weather turned SUPER COLD because the sun was being blocked by clouds and the wind was SO strong and cold. Everyone kept going into group huddles because WE WERE SO COLD!!!!! At one point, I was literally praying at the sun to come out with Rigel hfkjsdgkjg it was so ridiculous wtf AHAHHA !! Eventually, I went inside CAB to warm up and Erica gave me half of her Vietnamese sandwich (THANK YOU!!!!!!) and I ate that while chatting with Erica and JoAnn ^_^. We went back out and ate cupcakes + cookies (with our name on it)! Then, I went on the obstacle course with Erica and both of us failed so bad like LMFAO we were both so slow???? And I was supposed to let Erica win but I ended up sort of winning??? LMFAO anyway we both got STUCK at one point, it was so ridiculous because JoAnn literally had to go in to save Erica because I couldn’t do it JHSJFHJFSJF RIP!!!!! We’re so ridiculous omgsjdkahg we were just screaming and laughing in there for like a solid 6 minutes LOL what is life....

When it was time for the group photo, I gave my camera to the person who was taking the photo but they didn’t take it with my camera :-( they did apologize so it’s totally fine but I’m still disappointed LOL just a little... Oh well~ After the photo, I went to class for like 15-20 minutes because I was 17 minutes late hkjsahgksg my clinical psych prof still made me laugh for the last time... this school year was awesome because she has consistently provided every single MWF with humour that I’d never thought that I needed! It was lovely to have her as my prof for two different classes. I’ll miss her jokes so much (and apparently VICKY will miss her too LOL)!

After school, I went home and rested for ~2 hours before heading to Nofrills for my last grocery shopping trip of the school year. I came back home, rested for around one hour before cleaning the entire apartment with my roommates. I was in charge of the kitchen with Alice and we were scrubbing the stove for a solid 20 minutes. Took out a SHIT TON of garbage with Jane + Alice and called it a day. THE APARTMENT IS SO EXTREMELY CLEAN NOW!!! What a crazy, fun and productive day --- but it was good ^_^ I was really happy!!!! (Even interacting with my roommates wasn’t painful ;;)

Only 2 more weeks until I am officially done with 3rd year. 75% done with uni... wow...