#Kyle: I thought we had something special...

[ammoknightsofficial]

Translating the Dev's Headcanon Spread for Kyle's Family

Alright, so, I've gotten my hands on the Monster Hunter Stories 2 Art Book! That means it's time to translate This Image, piece by piece! The text on this is quite small, and the halftones can interfere with legibility at times, but I managed, for the most part. I'll be including notes for each section, particularly anything that may seem like an odd or interesting choice, for Maximum Transparency!

Everything's Under the Cut!! Have fun!

母：優しく穏やかな女性 // The Mother of The Family. A Loving, Gentle, and Quiet Woman.

I've chosen to write this in full sentences, rather than the original format, since that feels easier to communicate. You may notice that "Gentle" is both Green and Blue, and that's because 優しく and 穏やかな both communicate a kind of Gentleness, with 優しく being more like "Tender" and 穏やかな being more like "Calm".

カイルがまだ幼い頃に���にかかりこの世を去ってしまう // She Fell Ill when Kyle was Very Young. She never Recovered, and Passed Away when he was still just a Child.

Before I Get Into Translation Notes - I Have Some Thoughts.

I'm going to be fully transparent - this part is one of the main reasons I got the book. I had my suspicions that she was terminally ill and died when he was young, but I didn't want to make any absolute statements until I could properly translate this passage. I had basically no doubts about it, though - this particular scene here is absolutely striking, and communicates what's going on extremely well even if you can't read it. Kyle's too young to understand what's going on. He thinks a flower will make her feel better. Meanwhile, you have the second youngest brother that's just barely old enough to know, and in that horrible point where he understands what's happening, but doesn't know what to do or how to handle it. Then there's the middle child, with enough emotional intelligence to know that comforting the second youngest and not dissuading Kyle's - the youngest of them all - attempts to help is the absolute best course of action here, to keep everyone strong while their mother (tries, and fails to) fight(s) her Terminal Illness. It's really amazing character work, all in one simple image.

This explains a lot about Kyle's actions during the course of the story. It's kind of difficult for a lot of people to understand why he reacts the way he does to his father getting injured, but with the context that he watched his mom die of a Terminal Illness when he was practically just a baby, and was powerless to do anything about it... It really makes sense, doesn't it? On a personal level, I mean. It also puts this post-game line into some new perspective...

"I'm not putting on a brave face" is such particular wording, and such a particular reassurance to give. He's had to before, and the way he's saying this almost implies - to me, at least - that maybe the player character is intended to, perhaps, know about that bit of history. That's all Speculation, though - I just find it an incredibly interesting string of implications.

As for Translation Notes...

The main thing that may seem out of place is the fact that "She never Recovered" is in both Red and Green. That's actually nothing special, it's just the fact that her illness and her death are being linked together in this passage. She died because of her illness - not because she got, I don't know, eaten by a dragon or something later, in some odd unrelated event. She was Terminally Ill, emphasis on Terminal.

カイル家族イメージ　―　作中には出てこない設定イマージです // Headcanons about Kyle's Family - These are Characters + Character-Establishing Headcanons that Do Not Appear in the Story.

Apologies for putting the Document Title all the way down here. I wanted to talk about Kyle's mom first, lol. I've already explained my reasoning for translating イメージ as Headcanon. I don't think anything else is all that noteworthy.

A Chart Depicting the Developers' Ideas for What the (Living Members of the) Family Looks Like. In Birth Order, we have...

長男：真面目・優等生　―　23年

First-Born: Serious + An Honor Student - 23 Y.O.

次男：自信家・明るい　―　21年

Second-Born: Self-Confident + Cheerful - 21 Y.O.

三男：優しい・賢い　―　18年

Third-Born: Kind + Wise - 18 Y.O.

四男：勝気・負けず嫌い　―　16年

Fourth-Born: Determined + Hates Losing - 16 Y.O.

Me, personally, I think the birth order sounds right, but I'm not a huge fan of how young everyone is. The Fourth-Born looks 19-21 to me, the Third-Born looks in their mid-20s, so on and so forth. But that's partially just the fact that I, myself, am currently in my 20s, and generally really prefer writing + drawing adults. Straight up, I clocked Kyle as being at least 18 when I was doing my playthrough of the game, but this image seems to imply he's about 15. Extremely weird thought to me. I will personally continue writing him as an adult, and his siblings as generally way older than the Devs are estimating. That has no bearing on this piece of Dubious-Canon, however, just something I wanted to mention as a bit of an oddity to me.

Also, the second Kanji in the Birth Orders actually specifies that they're all sons (男), but I'm using the Gender Neutral forms of the Birth Order terms just because I find that more comfortable and less clunky, personally. No other reason.

And, no, I don't really know what that bit of handwriting next to the Third-Born's head is. I also currently cannot fully decipher what this passage (originally below the Headcanon Spread) means, though that's likely just a Skill Issue.

If I figure it out, I'll likely Reblog this Post with an Update, but for now, I think I've covered what I can.

Thanks for Reading!! Hopefully you found this interesting, and maybe you found it useful!! The print on this spread was really, really small, and at times quite frustrating to decipher - hell, I just straight up gave up on the above passage - so any comments or compliments in the notes will be appreciated!!

[junespriince]

Dick, writing: how the hell you spell show-fer?

Wally, reading: Chauffeur, C-h-a-u-f-f-e-u-r.

Dick, offended: OoooOO *in a southern accent, even tho Wally is midwestern* Fancy pants rich McGee over here!

Dick, flipped him off: fuck you.

Wally, gasp dramatically:

Dick, walking away: spelling bee ass...

Kyle, gasp, hand on chest: You're cheating on me!? With him!!

[writingoddess1125]

Annoying Shit They Do

COD Men X GN Reader

Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle, König, Horangi + Bonus

NOT PROOF READ

This is all tongue and cheek. Enjoy!

Simon

Simon was a very.. Well thought out man.

He was always prepared-

Painfully prepared.. for every situation and some situations that weren't even possible.

You knew Simon loved knowing what he was going into at all times. However it can be a bit much at the best of times.

Ever had 2 different types of navigation tools including a compass while going to the post office?

You have-

Ever had hiking gear loaded into your car cause you where going to a local park to jog?

You sure as fuck have!

Thanks to Mr. Always Prepared Skull Man!

You swore this man was prepared for a Mutant zombie apocalypse with the amount of supplies and preparations he had constantly.

Sure while it wasn't something you thought about often and it was clearly in a loving way, He wanted to make sure you were always safe and you appreciated it deeply-

However when you go into your kitchen and see MRE's and emergency dried food to last 30 years next to your chips-

It can get a bit much..

It was always a bit power struggle with the broody man. You'd have a better time fist fighting a brick wall or bringing a rock to a orgasm then winning over the Lieutenant when it came to stuff like this.

Which lead you to staring at the hard black suitcase that was being loaded into the back of the SUV along with your guys few shared soft luggage bags.

You rub your temple, perfectly in between the two emotions of either crying or laughing at your partner.

"Simon-.. I love you. So so much. However I don't think, We need a literal military grade survival kit.. on a couples get away to a private resort"

He looked to you calmly-

"Never know.."

You look up to the sky, Begging whoever is up there that he leaves the kit in the car the whole vacation- and that he doesn't bring a tactical knife into the resort..

Price

John, the love of your life. The apple of your eye..

A good man and a Captain of a special Ops team...

Also..

The bastard that leaves one God damn bit left of whatever he touches and tells no one!

From toothpaste where there is only a bead sized amount left.

To even leaving four chips in the family size bag you'd gotten.

Leaves a single bite of ice cream in the pint and puts it back like it's still full.

Ever opened a box of what used to be Chinese takeout and seen literally 6 noodles, 12 grains of rice and a single piece of meat with a perfect green onion on top?

You sure as fuck had.

You knew it started out as something he genuinely did naturally. However once he figured out it annoyed you- It was on.. he now did it cause he knew it annoyed you.

The fucker-

Just how now you stared at the empty jug of what used to be white grape juice. Now with maybe a shot glass worth in the bottom.

You supress the demonic feeling of wanting to Hex your spouse.

Walking upstairs to his office area where you knew he was both smoking a cigar and drinking from his private stash while watching football (soccer).

Opening the door slowly you make direct eye contact with him. Price slowly raising an eyebrow at the serious look on your face.

"Yes Dear?"

You hold up the empty jug of juice and shake it a little showing the literal trinkle of juice left in it.

"Couldn't just kill it off could you?-"

John gives a smile at you as he takes a sip of his scotch.

"Well, Wanted to save ya some-"

John laughed loudly when you threw the empty juice jug at his head after that.

Kyle

Kyle likes to mess with stuff...

Always moving stuff around, always touching stuff, messing or bending things.

If it's in reach his hands seem to find it-

He's like those children you used to see that had to have their hands on the cart at all times or in their parents pockets cause they would always touch stuff.

Kyle was one of those people in adult form- You'd even heard his mother yell at him saying 'Idle hands are the devils workshop' when he visits and continues the practice.

While in most cases you didn't mind, it was a bit irritating when things got moved from where you'd left them or things just appearing out of thin air.

Your tube of chapstick? Suddenly in the Livingroom.

Phone charger? Now sitting on a random shelf.

You knew it wasn't on purpose but damn, Hell he didn't even seem to realize it himself.

He'd be sitting there, shaking his knee as he rolled something between his hands casually. The two of you talking about something random in the livingroom.

You can't help but narrow your eyes a bit as you see something silver in his palm which he was rolling like playdough.

"Sweetie, What are you messing with?"

He also looks confused for a second, not even realizing he had been messing with something. He looks over whatever had been in his hands.

"Uhh Looks like a oat bar-"

You scrunch up your face a bit.

"We don't even have any granola bars in the house? Where did you get that?"

He shrugs having no idea himself.

Johnny

He buys bulk in everything...

Once he realized that it was a thing he could just do-

He did it with everything..

Bulk Paper towels, Bulk Soy Sauce, 45lb tub of Nut Butter? He got all of it, Leading you to staring up at what was equivalent to a Military food storage in your downstairs pantry.

Leaving you currently staring up at the 25lb cloth bag of table salt on the top of the easy 10ft tall pantry shelf wondering if this was worth the possible 80% death rate trying to fill up the salt shaker.

As you stare up at it, the man of the hour pokes his head in. Seeing you staring at the bag of salt.

"Love?-"

"Johnny My Dear- We have essentially a bunker of Bulk everything. I don't think we need anything else.. I cant even get the salt without risking a skull fracture"

Johnny chuckles at this. Setting down a box to grab the hefty stool kept in the pantry and pulling down the bag, Setting it next to you on the floor.

"Well just saves us the hassle"

He chimed with a chuckle. However you silently disagreed.. Before looking to the large box hed set down.

"What is that?.."

Johnny gives a shy chuckle as you move over opening it quickly you see a massive mountain of 250 individual bags of Welch's Fruit Snacks.

"Johnny.. Why is there enough fruit snacks to kill a small child?"

Hong-Jin (Horangi)

So you're darling husband, He has a wonderful terrible habit of just disappearing..

Walking through a store?

Going to a Restaurant?

Hell going down the hallway of your house!?

The Poof-

He's just gone.

Which always leaves you stranded looking around like a crazy person.. Currently in a giant ass world grocery store he had been the one to drag you to- Aka you knew nothing!

"God Damnit-"

You mumble looking around the aisles trying to see if you could spot him. The place was like a maze, each aisle was a different part of the world it seemed and had at least 60 people crammed in each section.

It was hell! Why did he leave you here!? Now rushing around to just find a spot that wasn't being occupied or in anyone's way.

Aisles 43!? You thought you where at 12!? Where is the Exit!?

Standing there confused by what seemed to be some sort of brooms, you feel a small tap and see Hong-Jin standing there calmly.

"Found you. Got what I needed, We can go now"

He holds up a single small package of a seasoning mix he liked.

...

There was a small tick in the back of your brain that said to shove that packet up his ass.

König-

One word-

ONE GOD DAMN WORD

Lüften...

While sure, it's good to air out the room..

However not when there is 4ft of snow outside and the heater is off because of König wanting to 'Save Gas'.

Bullshit to save gas, He just likes the cold. Correction.. He Loves the cold.

More then most around you or anyone probably in this country. He will happily have the window open and let the house freeze like the arctic saying its refreshing new air.

Ever seen those weirdos that walk in a blizzard in shorts, sandals and a shirt?-

That's him.. damn near skips when a snow storm hits.

However he drags that brand of cold enthusiasm into the house. Leading you huddled under 4 blankets as you have to turn the heater onto Max.

"I swear- If you open that God damn window.."

You mumble to you're spouse as you look up from the blankets of your guys shared bed hiding from the cold that was already in the room as the heater works hard to make the room livable.

Seeing König standing by the large window ready to open it- His hands on the little handle as he stared wide eyed at you.

"But-"

"There is a snow storm going on. The house does not by any means- 'need to be aired out'"

"It feels nice Liebling and it's goo-"

"Felix- I will turn the heat on during peak summer and leave you here... to melt"

And Bonus!

Nikto

This man will eat anywhere at anytime..

You leave him alone for .24 milliseconds?

He's munching on something in record time.

Sure he seemed to burn it off but it was the amount he could eat, what he ate and then if it was close to dinner. He would eat again-

You where honestly starting to worry about his health.. He was concerned about the scars on his face but not the amount of sodium he just drank from the pickle jar.

It made it so when you left to grab one of his prescriptions from the pharmacy which you swore was 15 minutes tops you walk in and see Nikto there with a mountain of food on your coffee table watching TV.

A opened pickled onion jar which was now empty- juice gone too, Some sort of packaged meat that seemed was mostly gone and what seemed to be a rolled newspaper filled with the shells of sunflower seeds and seemingly walnut shells (You hadn't even bought either of them-) And now he was cutting up an apple with a knife and using it to eat the slices.

"H-How, Its been 15 minutes... We don't even have walnuts in the house?"

Nikto looked to you eating another slice of apple and shrugged.

"We got hungry-"

He said plainly before looking back at the TV you standing there both worried and frustrated.

"How we just had dinner? There are leftovers!"

"Not anymore. I ate it-"

[3amfanfiction]

Our Girlfriend pt 2

The morning after.

You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.

Part one

The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.

You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.

You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.

"You awake, love?"

Because real life always came knocking.

You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.

Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.

Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.

The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"

As a matter of fact . . .

"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"

He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."

Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"

Oh shit. The rest of them.

How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.

All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.

Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.

Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.

"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."

"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.

It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?

Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.

"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.

You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.

So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?

You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.

They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.

You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.

Next

[novemberheart]

{overview} you and the boys decide where to go on leave. You sit in on a training session and Simon attempts to make further amends

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, mentions of being horny, slight sexual innuendos

Chapter 18 <- Chapter 19 -> Chapter 20

“Beach?”

“Nah, not too fond of it.”

“Who doesn't like the beach, mate?”

“I’ll go for you peaches.”

“I don't want to go if you don't want to go,” you sighed.

“The beaches here aren't even nice, Bon. Could save a beach trip for the Bahamas or the Mediterranean or something. How about mountains?”

“That's boring.”

“Not asking you city boy.”

“It's almost summer. It'll probably be pretty,” you commented.

“See, our girl likes it. That's all that matters.”

“Lovie, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You don't know what's good for you when it comes to vacation.”

You rolled your eyes as Johnny and Kyle continued to bicker. You still weren't clear if they were putting this much thought into it because they wanted to make it special for you or because they wanted to make it special for them. Either way, you would be a recipient.

“I know!” an idea suddenly popped into your head. They stopped immediately turning their attention to you. John had pointed that out to you a few weeks ago. They had been arguing over some weird fact about koalas when you sniffled. They stopped immediately thinking they had upset you, not taking into account that you were still trying to adjust to the spring air. Ever since then, it's been your little superpower. “What if all of you pick a place, write it down on a piece of paper and we put it into a hat and shake it?” you beamed.

“Not bad, Bonnie.”

“Just can't use Caps hat, it'll ruin the paper.”

“Like yours is any better.”

“You been avoiding me?” you jumped. Simon grunted, skidding his back against the wall so he was sitting on the floor, next to you. He had too much leg for his own good.

“Not purposefully,” you assured, scooting back. “We just haven’t had much luck with our conversations lately.

“Meaning”……

“We’ve been fighting Simon,” you reminded.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours. For being moody.”

“I think you're the moody one.”

“You know”- you cut yourself off. “See,” you grumbled. He chuckled and you quickly caught that he had been pushing your buttons.

“I think you're still a bit upset over what I said that night- the night you overheard me and Johnny talking,” he suggested. “I wouldn't blame you if you were, pup. I still think about it too.”

You hadn’t thought about it like that. His words have been in the back of your mind since it happened. It made the other things he had done or said to you since then seem……fake.

“Do you think I'm useless? Really not worth the trouble all of you are putting in?” You thought about the most recent fight with Simon. He had gotten onto you about causing trouble, again. Maybe he was right. It wasn't like you had improved their life drastically. Sure, they reaped the benefits of your healing, but they could get that with any omega. One that was easy. One that didn't seem to be constantly fucking up.

“Easy, pup,” Simon brought you back down to earth. Even outside the smell of bitter lemons seeped through his mask. “Want the truth?”

You quickly shook your head.

“I want what won't make me cry,” you pleaded.

“You are a lot of work,” Simon admitted. You turned your head away from him. “But good things never come easy to me.”

You gasped your head whipping around.

“Oh, Simon,” you nearly whimpered. You leaned closer to him and wrapped your arms around him as best you could, your head resting against his thigh. “That's the most romantic thing”-

“Let's stop right there.”

You reached your hand into one of John’s beanies, gripping on to a tiny piece of paper and pulling it out.

Scotland

“Johnny, you can't just write Scotland,” you whined. “That's a whole country.”

The others rolled their eyes a little disappointed that their paper hadn't been picked- but the sparkle in Johnny's eyes quickly changed that.

“It's a surprise, Hen. Can't have you lookin’ it up before we get there,” he smiled. Every time he smiled at you like that you just wanted to kiss him. It wasn't fair. You pulled the rest of the papers out taking a peek at each of them.

Cornwall

York

London

You knew Gaz was London, but you couldn't figure out who was who for the other two.

“Where’s Cornwall?” you questioned.

“It's on the beach,” Simon explained. “Said you've never been and it's one of the nicer ones.”

“Well now I feel bad,” Johnny huffed. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his bicep.

“I can't wait to see Scotland,” you assured, making the glint reappear in his eyes. He bent down planting a quick kiss against your lips. “Thank you, Simon. I still want to go one day. And to London and to York,” you added quickly.

“No reason we can't get to all of them,” John smiled, running a hand down your back. “Time to get back to business,” John commanded. They all moved from the stools, grabbing some drinks, snacks and using the bathroom one last time. You smiled, pulling his beanie on your head. It was too stretched out but you didn't care. “Now that's a sight,” John grumbled, rolling the edges up so he could see your eyes. “We have one of the gyms to ourselves today. There's a yoga ball,” he hinted, causing your eyes to go wide.

“I can come?” you beamed.

“Course, only if you keep the hat on,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against your neck. You erupted in a purr before you could stop yourself, jumping at the noise. “Go put some comfy clothes on,” he chuckled at your reaction but found it challenging to pull himself away from you. Especially after you purred so pretty for him.

You had been occupying yourself on the high-tech bicycle when Johnny and Kyle sparring on the mat caught your attention. Now it was all you could focus on. John had called it sparring, but it looked like grinding to you.

You could take a guess as to why they got this room to themselves.

Johnny hissed suddenly, pulling his hand away.

“Bastard bit me,” he growled.

“You stuck your hand in my mouth, mate. That's not in any handbook anywhere,” Kyle smirked. You loved when Kyle was cocky. His normally melted eyes transformed into sharp ones, his lips pursed ever so slightly like he already knew he had won. Johnny sprang forward slamming the other beta onto the mat, the sound making you jump. It didn't seem to have the slightest effect on Kyle, who quickly gripped Johnny's shirt, and used his leg to switch the position so he was on top.

This continued for a few turns neither one of them able to get complete control over the other.

“Think they need someone to show them how it's done?” Simon asked, eyeing John up and down.

“What do you think, pretty girl?” John hummed. Your mouth went dry at the thought.

“That's a good idea…I think I could benefit from a demonstration too,” you faltered, making both of them chuckle.

“Can’t say no to that, ay?” John smiled, clapping his hands. Johnny and Kyle rolled away from each other, low growls still rumbling in their chest. “Cool it. Like feral dogs chasin’ their tails. I know both of you wanted to win to look good to our girl. So next time, win,” he said, patting both of them on the shoulder.

Kyle and Johnny hid their smiles bounding over to where you were. Johnny grabbed you off the bike, sitting down with you so you were between his legs.

“This’ll be good, babygirl,” Kyle chuckled, knowing something you definitely didn't. Johnny squeezed you with his legs, resting back on his hands. You weren't sure how much more you could handle, your mind still reeling from John’s “our girl” comment.

Holy shit.

Your hands gripped onto Johnny’s shorts, the only thing keeping you from floating off into the atmosphere. You had to move to sit on your knees, hoping to catch some distance so you wouldn't leave a wet spot on the floor. It felt cruel actually, making you watch something like this.

Four hundred plus pounds of raw muscle and experience going at it. Arms and legs tangled, the floor practically shaking as they threw each other to the ground. It was violent not in the way Johnny and Kyles had been. If you didn't know any better you would think they were trying to kill each other. Simon groaned as a particularly hard jab was thrown at him. You put a hand against your lips to keep from whimpering at the sound.

God, you were pathetic.

You didn't hide it very well, the sound spurring both of them on. They grunted and growled things in each other's ears, too quiet for you to hear.

“Smell that?” John taunted, his beard scratching against Simon’s mask.

“Don't get too excited, old man. She's all warm for me,” Simon growled. The smell of melted peaches and vanilla in the air was mouth-watering, it vibrated through their bodies as the prehistoric parts of their brains roll over. Their mate was in the room, one that needed providing and protecting. What better way to prove they could be that for you than to beat each other?

Besides it making you needy, it was impressive to watch. Simon’s moves were calculating, he put a lot of thought behind them. John’s moves seemed natural, like this was just a warm-up for him. It also didn't help that they seemed to know what the other was going to do before they did it.

“They��re showing off for you,” Johnny whispered, his nose tickling you behind your ear. The thought made you clench. You weren't sure who was winning, every time one pulled ahead the other one quickly caught up and beat them.

“Does it normally last this long?” You hummed, looking over at Kyle.

“Oh, lovie,” Kyle sighed. “These two can go all night.”

You didn't bother holding back a whimper that time.

John had Simon right where he wanted him. They had thrown each other off the mat, John sandwiching Simon between him and the wall, his arm bent backward in a headlock. Simon tried to get out of it but there was no place to move. The experienced alpha reminding him of his mastery. John knew Simon would never tap out, especially with you there, but all four men knew who won.

“Nice work, Cap!” Kyle and Johnny cheered, clapping. You quickly joined in, although you were too busy watching their chest heave up and down to really care who won.

“Rematch, later?” Simon questioned, patting his alpha on the back. There was only one person in the world he wouldn't mind losing to.

“How about next month,” John chuckled.

“Alright, let's get the pup peeled off the floor and get some food in her,” Simon chuckled, taking in your flushed appearance.

“I don't think she's here with us,” John whispered, looking at your spaced-out eyes.

“I am. Just trying to commit everything to memory,” you whispered, eyes still trained on their twitching muscles.

You yawned your eyes coming up to rub at your eye.

“My turn,” Kyle said, tossing a look at Johnny. The other beta huffed, sliding even further down the couch. Kyle put his arms under your tired frame, carrying you bridal style towards your bedroom.

“I can walk,” you murmured, cuddling your head into his neck.

“What's the fun in that?” He smiled. You thought he was going to your room but he went past it into John’s room. A happy rumble leaves you as the smell of campfire and tobacco hits you. John had been careful to preserve your nest, hoping it would encourage you to wander into his bed. He was lying in bed already, your eyes widening once you realized he was without a shirt. The wide expansion of his chest was covered in dark curly hair that trailed all the way down below the sheets. His body was bulky and strong in his chest and arms but narrowed down around his waist. He was covered in a layer of fat but one slightest movement had his muscles peeking through his skin. Your nails itched to dig into his strong shoulders. His arms flexed as he took you from Kyle, resting you against the part of him you were just drooling over.

You purred gently, pressing yourself against him. The hair was a bit coarser than you thought it would be, but you didn't mind. John matched your purr, his hands smoothing up and down your sides, carefully sliding under your shirt.

“So soft,” he murmured, against your head. His large hands took up your whole back, one resting on your upper the other resting on your lower. You couldn't help but shiver at the callous’ on his fingertips. His palms were a bit smoother- he must wear gloves- but not by much. That was a theme with all of them. Kyle moved one of the walls of your nest, hoping you wouldn't be too upset, and crawled right in next to John. You smiled, your hand already darting out to grip his shirt. One of John's hands left you, to worm its way under Kyle, tugging him even closer. Kyle rested his head on the alpha's shoulder, his hand taking a place on your back as well. Kyle had been fortunate enough to feel your softness many times, but it always made his chest rumble.

Your warming scent reminded John of something he had been meaning to ask you.

“Sweetheart,” he started. “Your heats comin’ up in a few weeks.” around two to be exact. He faltered when he felt you and Kyle stiffen. “Don’t need to discuss it, just wanted you to know I hadn't forgotten. It's all your choice,” he assured, causing you to relax. You said nothing but planted a kiss against his cheek, curling back up against him.

“You take anymore time, we'll leave you here,” Simon shouted from the couch.

“Could help her pack, mate,” Kyle shot him a look, heading towards your room to help.

“Am I always the asshole?” Simon grunted, kicking his feet on the coffee table.

“That's very good self-awareness, Simon,” John chuckled, moving so he was standing in your doorway. John whistled at you causing Simon's head to snap to your door. “You’ll be breakin’ necks, sweetheart,” the alpha chuckled.

Johnny heard from the kitchen weaseling his way into your room. He could hear the Scotsman swallow harshly.

“Deadly, Bonnie, deadly,” he tsked his eyes wracking over your form. You weren’t sure what the big deal was, it was just a skirt with a sweater. Maybe it was the tights you had on underneath? You rolled your eyes beginning to pick up your bag, and all three of them quickly swooped in to grab it. Kyle won, smirking as he flung the duffel over his shoulder.

“See you in the car,” Kyle brushed the two members of his pack off, heading out the door.

“Are you sure no one is going to come here while we’re away?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure, pretty girl. Besides, things like that are for me and Simon to worry about, not you.”

“I would recommend bringing all your undies though, Bon. Wouldn't want anything happening to those,” Johnny said- a little too seriously.

“I think my boring white undies will be fine Johnny. Besides I feel like they’re more at risk if they come with us,” you chuckled.

Hello everyone! Hope you enjoyed this next installment! Chapter 20 (omg) will be posted tomorrow!!!! 🧡

[misshorneigh]

thinking about them w/ a reader that has brainrot humor

Task Force 141 consists of a group of white middle-aged men and yeah, it could be a possibility that you sometimes forget about that fact. They were quite a bit older than you and they, of course, didn't know the first fucking thing about things like memes or pop culture references. For fucks sake, John was still using a cell phone with buttons from the last century until a few months ago and you recently had to explain to Simon who Ariana Grande was (and why her current boyfriend was controversial).

Sometimes, it felt like there was a language barrier between you, even though you all spoke English to each other. You were already holding back and minimizing your vocabulary most of the time, but some references just had to be said out loud and sometimes you were just surprised at how little these men knew about the internet.

For example, one time on a mission, you had to infiltrate some rich guy's fancy gala in London and of course, you dressed accordingly. It was a little special because you never really wore anything other than the military stuff, let alone a dress that was quite nice on you. You watched yourself in the mirror with a small smile as the others came dressed in their suits. "Damn, body so tea, the British are coming," you said with a grin as you turned to face them.

The lads looked at each other in confusion and Simon just frowned in irritation before finally speaking up. "What the fuck does that even mean."

Yeah, your mood was ruined. You really thought this was the one, I mean come on. "Okay guys, I know you didn't go to uni or anything, but let's at least try to understand things in context, yeah?" you said, slightly annoyed, meeting Simon's gaze. "It was a joke. Calm down and don't get your knickers in a twist." you told him.

Gaz tried to de-escalate the situation, which did the complete opposite. "Okay, so if your body is the tea and the British like tea -"

You sighed loudly as you made your way to the door. "Stop trying to explain the joke, Kyle. You've all already trampled on it and I don’t need you to piss on its grave, too."

The men just watched your annoyed figure like kicked puppies since they could feel your disappointment. Then, a few seconds of silence ensued among them once you stepped out of the room. "I don’t understand what we were supposed to do," John finally spoke up.

Johnny shrugged his shoulders. The images of you in that dress were still something he kept in mind. "Laugh, probably," he replied as another few seconds of silence followed among them. "Her ass looked real good in that dress," he spoke everyone’s thoughts aloud, the others agreeing with silent hums.

[preppyacademy]

Breaking and Remaking : No Thoughts, Only Obedience

Kyle or Prescott's story

Kyle was in his senior year of high school and part of the football team. Academics were secondary for him—it was sports in the morning, sports at noon, and sports in the evening. He hoped to earn a scholarship by being one of the top athletes in his school. Unfortunately, Kyle always acted before thinking, which sometimes led to avoidable accidents.

One game night in early November, his team faced an opposing high school team. Kyle, prone to arrogance, didn’t warm up much, believing he didn’t need to—after all, he was one of the strongest players. His team was scoring well, but in the final decisive minutes, time seemed to slow down. Rain had started to fall, making the field slick. As he caught the ball mid-air, Kyle slipped on the wet grass and crashed violently to the ground before being tackled by several other players. His teammates, still in action, grabbed the ball and scored, securing victory.

As for Kyle, he ended the night in the hospital. His team won, but his medical results were far from victorious. A fractured collarbone, six to twelve weeks of recovery, immobilization, and rehabilitation. He was told he had to remain bedridden for weeks before he could even move.

Kyle had no choice. The hospital that admitted him had to transfer him to a specialized rehabilitation center, located six hours away but renowned as one of the best. His family spared no expense, wanting only the best care for him.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Kyle felt well received. He quickly noticed that most of the staff were male, which struck him as unusual. He was assigned to Dr. Pritchard.

Dr. Pritchard: "You’ll be well taken care of here. You’ll be staying with us for at least six weeks, possibly ten if your condition doesn’t improve. I hope we’ll get along well."

Kyle: "I hope so too."

The first few nights, Kyle struggled to sleep. The feeling of being far from home and his friends weighed heavily on him. Moreover, a low, constant noise resonated throughout his room—a repeating frequency that played over and over. The following nights were the same, but Kyle gradually became accustomed to the sound.

Dr. Pritchard: "I know time may feel slow, but here, rehabilitation is not just about physical recovery—it’s also about relaxing your mind and body. From now on, no more phone screens. We took yours last night. You need rest and must adapt to our institution’s methods."

Kyle was furious but couldn’t fight back—his body was in too much pain, forcing him to comply with the medical staff’s instructions. How was he supposed to survive weeks without his phone?

Dr. Pritchard: "When you wake up, the screens in your room will display relaxation and meditation videos. Follow them, and you’ll see—time will pass much more quickly here."

The next morning marked the beginning of Kyle’s first session with the videos. They consisted of breathing techniques and mantras to repeat. A spiral accompanied the voice-over, guiding him through the instructions.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, my body is relaxed, I let myself be carried by the waves, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss, I feel calm, every word I hear is a new way of thinking to embrace, to listen, and to learn."

Each day, Kyle was captivated—hypnotized—by these screens, which seemed to absorb his attention completely. Slowly, his thoughts began to change, and time passed in a rhythm dictated by the spiral and the mantras. Over time, the words evolved into something else.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, I am happy, my body is relaxed, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss. I am obedient, I listen to what I am told, I must act as I am instructed, I feel calm, I love to obey, I want to learn to obey."

As the days and weeks passed, Kyle healed not only physically but mentally as well, thanks to the soothing words of the spiral. His mind was gradually shaped into a model of perfection, discipline, and obedience.

Kyle: "I wish to submit to the orders of superior men, I wish to obey them, I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy. You have found true relaxation within your body."

Like a machine executing programmed instructions, Kyle regained mobility in his body. His absolute obedience, now stripped of all arrogance and rebellion, made rehabilitation much easier.

Then, the final week of his stay arrived. Kyle sat on his bed, staring into the distance, still repeating the obedience mantra.

Kyle: "I listen, I obey, I serve. My will is that of the Academy. To doubt is to fail. To resist is to fall. Order is my truth, obedience is my virtue. I bend, I disappear, I become. Every command is an honor, every task a privilege. I do not need to think—only to answer: Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy, you make me proud. You’ve done well in your exercises, and now, after ten weeks, your time with us has come to an end. Unfortunately, we must make room for new arrivals like you."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "As you say—'your will is that of the Academy.' Your mind has been shaped for the Academy—the Preppy Academy, to be precise. Would you like to join the Academy, my boy?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You no longer wish to return to your old high school, correct?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You will remain a good boy—obedient and disciplined?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "We will now relieve you of these hospital clothes—you no longer need them."

Dr. Pritchard placed a harmonization device over Kyle’s head. It resembled a large lamp with a metallic tube beneath it, sending electric signals into the subject’s brain. He activated it while Kyle continued to chant his desire to obey.

Kyle remained immobilized, paralyzed by the machine—unable to move of his own will. In his mind, the words "Obedience," "Submission," "Discipline" flashed over and over again.

Two nurses arrived, cut off Kyle's clothes and stripped him naked. Dr. Pritchard pulled a chastity cage from a drawer and locked Kyle's penis in it. He locked the cage and gave the key to a nurse, who left with it.

Dr. Pritchard: "You'll learn that your sex is no longer of any use to you; it belongs to the Academy. You only need it to urinate, because that's a natural need. But to urinate, you'll have to ask permission. If you feel pleasure, your penis, now the size of a phalanx, will be compressed, you'll feel pain and you'll learn to live with pain. Pain is a gift to be cherished, the very essence of a good Preppy Academy student. The more time passes, the more you won't even feel it anymore, you'll get used to what you've become."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle did not flinch. Who he had been just weeks ago had disappeared into the abyss of his mind. Sometimes, though rarely now, he could hear a faint inner voice telling him this wasn’t him, urging him to fight. But that voice was slowly drowning beneath the waves of his consciousness.

Dr. Pritchard: "Now, we will dress you. You haven't learned this here yet, but you will soon understand that being a good boy means being elegant at all times. Appearance is an extension of your obedience. It’s not about having style—it’s about proving your submission through every detail of your attire. Dressing preppy is fundamental. It is a duty, not a choice."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle was dressed from head to toe, like a boy being sent off to school. A neatly pressed, button-down plaid white shirt, tucked into light khaki shorts held up by thick brown suspenders. Long white socks and polished black loafers completed the outfit, along with a large, subtly checkered bow tie.

When Dr. Pritchard tied the bow tie around Kyle’s neck, Kyle opened his mouth—not in surprise, but as if this attire had been meant for him all along, as if the relaxation of feeling truly himself in this clothing had loosened his jaw. His body and mind understood: he was meant to be a good preppy boy.

Dr. Pritchard: "That’s a good boy."

By late morning, Kyle was transferred to the Preppy Academy, placed in a class appropriate for his age. He was quickly integrated among other students eager to learn submission, obedience, and discipline.

He embraced the academy’s dress code without hesitation, developing a particular fondness for plaid patterns—the very motif Dr. Pritchard had introduced him to. In time, the administration and Kyle himself sent a letter to his family, informing them of his transfer and his wish to continue his education at the Preppy Academy.

Kyle’s father had heard of the institution through a friend whose son had returned home completely transformed—eventually becoming the family’s butler. Pleased with the results, and reassured that this was Kyle’s own request, his parents placed their trust in him.

Dr. Pritchard frequently visited the Academy to check on Kyle. Over time, he began calling him Prescott—his middle name—which suited him far better and carried a more refined sound.

Dr. Pritchard became Master to Prescott, who, with the Academy’s approval, would come to serve him every weekend—submissive and obedient. For example, he offered him his mouth to be filled with the doctor's cock from times to times.

Dr. Pritchard decided how Prescott should dress. He had even noticed during Prescott’s hospitalization that he often squinted from staring at the spiral for too long. As a result, he gifted him a pair of elegant glasses—enhancing his preppy and exemplary style even further.

Far from the field, far from his arrogance, Prescott had become a good boy. He could thank the Preppy Academy for that.

Who’s next?

[lushrue]

frozen hearts pt. 6

long time no see! sorry this part took me so long, life and motivation and all the things got in the way! now we start the fun stuff! should have some more writing coming your way this week, so stay tuned :) also i came up with a title, please lmk what you think

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

you’d changed your outfit five times since the first time you got dressed. you started with a satin outfit that you only ever pulled out for special occasions. then you figured it was too formal, so you changed into a t-shirt and jeans. then you thought that was too casual, so you changed into a different formal outfit, then another, then another. now, you’d settled on a nice pair of pants with a dress shirt and shoes that would get uncomfortable if you stood in them for too long. twisting and turning in the mirror, you fought the urge to rip it all off and start over. it was a good outfit, but was it first date-worthy?

all kyle had told you was that he was taking you to his favorite dinner spot. you’d racked your brain for hours after that text, trying to remember what restaurants he talked about. a man like him had expensive taste, you were sure of it. maybe he was taking you to some five star joint and you’d get kicked out for not following a dress code. your cheeks burned with embarrassment at the mere idea. but would it be worse to show up to a fast food restaurant in what could only be described as business formal? glancing down at your phone, you realized you had a quick solution to your dilemma.

you stood in front of your mirror and snapped a photo, your face obscured by the phone but the rest of your outfit clearly visible. before you could convince yourself that it was a bad idea, you opened up your messages and started a group chat with johnny, simon, and price. the photo whooshed onto the screen, your fingers furiously tapping out a message to go with it.

“not sure about the outfit for tonight. any thoughts?”

the five of you had been chatting nonstop since your conversation at the coffee shop, your phone constantly buzzing with a message from one of them. johnny liked to send pictures of the dogs he saw on his morning run, and everyone would take turns guessing at its name. simon was mostly a passive observer, but he would occasionally send updates about his day or clarify plans with the others for later. it was through his messages that you figured out they all lived together. 

kyle liked to share playlists and songs he’d heard on the radio that he liked. mostly for his own memory so that he could add them to his spotify later, he’d explained, but he’d remarked a few times that he’d like to see you skate to his recommendations. price texted like your 60-something aunt who shared motivational minion memes on facebook. all caps when he didn’t mean to be yelling, he just wanted to show some enthusiasm. sometimes he’d send “good morning” gifs with flowers and glittery font.

johnny was the first to reply in your new, smaller group chat. three fire emojis, one after the other. you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself. of course he thought you looked good. he’d barely been able to keep his hands off you now that he knew you wanted it. simon’s reply was next, concise and to the point.

“you’d look good in a potato sack, lovie. kyle’s gonna love it. don’t worry that pretty head of yours too much.”

where johnny had boosted your confidence, simon had soothed your anxiety. no doubt kyle had told the others where he was taking you tonight. simon’s assurance that kyle would love it assuaged the fear of being over- or under-dressed. john texts back as you’re putting the finishing touches on your appearance, adjusting your hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time. you look down at the message, laughing at the gif he sent. it’s a clip of snoopy from peanuts, eyes heart-shaped and bulging out of his head. clearly, your outfit was a winner.

your tendency to get ready for things a half hour early shoots you in the foot here. now, all that’s left to do is wait for kyle to show up at your door. he insisted on picking you up, like a gentleman. he was properly courting you. part of you wondered if he’d show up at your door with flowers, all nervous smiles and saccharine compliments. the thought made you blush, excited energy thrumming in your body. you felt like you were back in high school again, going on your very first date. the minutes ticked by with an agonizing fatigue. time clearly had no regard for your feelings.

you’d forgotten to check the clock in a while with all your fretting, and the knock on your door caught you off guard. fumbling for your house keys, you opened the door, putting on your brightest smile. there kyle stood, flowers in his hand. predictable. “hey,” he said, holding the flowers out to you. “figured i should get you these. ‘s only proper for the first date, yeah?” you took them in your arms, leaning down to catch a whiff. it was a beautiful arrangement, wildflowers and baby’s breath. it looked like something you’d seen on one of your pinterest boards. 

“they’re lovely, kyle! thank you.” you started to step back in to tend to them, but he placed a hand on your arm. “wouldn’t give them to you and make you do all the work. i’ll trim ‘em and put ‘em in a vase for you when we get back.” that made your heart flutter. you tended to shy away from flowers as a gift because of the work you had to put in. trimming them, arranging them in the vase, giving them flower food. not having to do that almost made you enjoy the flowers a little bit more. you set them on your entryway table, glancing back at them with a silent promise to tend to them when you returned.

you shut and locked your door, turning to meet kyle’s waiting gaze. he held his arm out for you to take, a confident smile on his lips. he was clearly enjoying playing suitor to you this evening, and you wouldn’t begrudge him that. you wrapped your hand around his bicep, letting him lead you to the waiting car. “don’t worry, john prepared me,” he said, and you almost wondered what he meant before he opened your car door for you. you stifled a laugh behind your hand, giving kyle’s bicep a squeeze. john was the most traditional of the four, the most concerned with chivalry. you could almost imagine him lecturing kyle, giving him a crash course in how to treat a date with decorum.

you slid into the passenger seat, running your hands over the leather beneath you. it felt expensive. hell, the whole car looked expensive. clearly, kyle had a taste for the finer things in life. idly, you wondered if that included you. he slid into the driver’s seat beside you, flashing you his perfect smile before shifting the car into gear and pulling off.

the restaurant was nice, but not fancy. just like the others had said, your outfit fit the occasion perfectly. what’s more, you matched kyle. you had both picked navy tops, but if you had to answer honestly, you’d say that his looked better on him. a nice polo, the top two buttons undone so that you could just barely see his collarbones. you’d been staring at it far too much, you noticed. you took a sip of your water, scanning the menu for anything that sounded appetizing. as you read the details of each dish, you willed your stomach to unknot itself so that you could enjoy something delicious.

“their salmon is good here. if you like seafood, that is,” kyle said, his knee barely brushing yours under the table. you give him a smile in return, flicking your eyes up to gaze at him over the menu. “i’m eyeing the grilled chicken. kinda hard to mess that up, right?” he chuckled in response, nodding his head. “yeah, suppose that’s smart.” the waiter came and took your orders, and kyle threw in a bottle of red wine for the two of you. merlot, like you’d mentioned in passing was your favorite. the realization that he remembered flustered you a little bit.

now the two of you were alone. well, not entirely; the restaurant was packed to capacity and kyle had commented how lucky he was that he’d gotten a reservation. but it felt like you were the only two here. the way kyle’s eyes fixed on you, the way he didn’t even acknowledge anyone around you, it felt special. he made you feel special. you smiled and shoved down the nervous butterflies that started to flutter. “so…how does this work?” you ask, folding your hands on the table. “i’ve never been on a date with a friend. it feels weird to do the whole ‘getting to know you’ thing like i usually do.” kyle smirked at that, raising his water glass to his lips and watching you over the rim of the glass. “go on that many dates, do you?”

you blush crimson, turning your eyes down to your lap. that didn’t come out the way you’d intended it. while yes, you had been on your fair share of dates, he didn’t need to know that when he was on one with you. “well, i mean,” you start, flustered. “not that many. just enough to have a formula, i guess.” kyle swallowed his drink and set the glass back down. “tell me about this formula then.” you hesitated, but decided to go along with it. it couldn’t make things any more uncomfortable than they already were.

“well, i always start with where they’re from. it tells me a lot about them, especially if they’re really closed off about it.” “london,” he answered without hesitation. “grew up in the city. ‘s not all it’s cracked up to be, tha’s for sure.” his answer caught her off guard, not expecting him to actually go along with the formula. “yeah, i know-” you start, but he cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “this is our first date, yeah? you know me as a friend, but i want you to know me as more than that. some things i only tell once someone’s committed.” with that, you sit back, content to listen.

“i’m the middle child. got an older brother, showed you pictures of ‘im. younger sister too. she’s at uni, studyin’ interior design.” you smiled at the mention of his sister. your old college roommate had done the same thing. you volunteered the same information in turn, talking about your hometown. you were an only child, so your discussion of your family was much briefer than his. kyle gave you his full attention, all eye contact and leaning forward to hear you better. he nodded along with your words, taking in everything you had to say. he crossed his arms over his chest, facing you down like an opponent on the ice. this “formula” of yours was a challenge to him, a way to make you see that he was different from the rest. he didn’t fit the mold. he knew it, and he wanted you to know it too. “alright. what’s next?”

by the time your food had come, you had only made it halfway through the formula. usually, you’d have finished your line of questioning by now, trying to get it all over with as quick as possible. dates were painful, agonizing affairs that left you feeling worse about yourself and your prospects. with kyle, though, it felt like the easiest thing in the world. it was natural and simple. just talking, that’s all it was. you laughed as he finished a story about an old football injury he’d gotten playing with his friends in primary school. as an easy silence fell, you decided it was time to deviate from the formula.

“what made you choose hockey?” the question seemed to catch him off guard and he scoffed around the bite of food in his mouth. “always go on dates with hockey players, love?” he asked, and you tried not to squirm at the pet name. “no, but i can tweak the formula a bit for you.” you both smiled and his foot brushed up against your leg beneath the table. he cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine, swirling it in the glass. “i really love team sport,” he said, the answer almost sounded rehearsed. “played everything i could. i just like being a part of something bigger than myself. it feels good when you get a win that’s for more than just you. it’s for the team, the fans.”

you didn’t think there was a right answer to a question like that, but if there was one, that was it. the sincerity that sparkled in his eyes, the set look on his face, you knew he meant it. this wasn’t valiant bullshit, this was him. this was kyle. it took you a second to recover from that, your heart warmed. you’d bagged a good one. “yeah, that’s…that’s a really good answer.” he chuckled, taking another bite of food and motioning towards you. “what about you?” he asked, cutting a piece of salmon. “why’d you start skating?” you took a breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking.

“mostly because i was obsessed with watching figure skating as a kid,” you said, holding your wine glass and gazing down into the deep red. “i pestered my mom until she signed me up for classes and i fell in love with it as soon as i stepped on the ice.” you smiled fondly, remembering your first years taking skating lessons. you hadn’t intended to compete at first, but your coach had pushed your parents to sign you up. the routines, the glittery costumes, the magic you made when you danced on the ice…it all kept you coming back for more. it was hard to remember a time when you weren’t skating. “i’ve never lost my passion for it. i always assumed i’d grow out of it at some point, but i never did.”

kyle was looking at you with fondness, enraptured by you. the truth was, he found you amazing. more than that, you were overwhelmingly fantastic. from the first time he saw you skate, months ago before you even knew who they were, he knew you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. when you skated, you embodied music itself, swaying and drifting with the ebb and flow of the melody. your routine to moonlight sonata was what sealed the deal for him. maybe he was a selfish man, but he wanted that beauty and grace all to himself. he wanted some kind of claim on you, because how could someone not fall for you when they saw you skate? that kind of charm was irresistible.

you squirmed under the weight of his gaze, choosing to take another sip of wine rather than splutter out words that really didn’t matter anyway. the silence was comfy, the two of you basking in the glow of something new and unexplored. adoration, affection, something blossoming into love. with kyle, it was so easy. it was like you’d known him forever rather than a few short months. you shared a knowing smile with each other and returned to your meals.

true to his word, kyle came back to your house after you finished up at the restaurant and took care of the flowers. he let you pick the vase, but that was the last time you lifted a finger. you sat at your kitchen island, watching him as he trimmed the stems on the flowers to make them fit. he cut them at an angle and placed the stems in a neat pile to be thrown away later. your head felt floaty, three glasses of wine going straight to your brain and casting a pleasant haze over your thoughts. it was his arms, mainly. you watched the veins and muscles flex as he arranged the flowers for you.

he looked back at you and smiled, letting out a huff of air as he looked at your spacey eyes. you weren’t stumbling drunk, but you had a good thing going. he finished putting the flowers in the vase and placed them on the island in front of you. his smile was full of pride, presenting the arrangement he’d made. “how do they look?” he asked, catching your gaze. you brushed your fingers over the petals, feeling the delicacy of them. they looked almost as lovely as they had wrapped up in the paper. kyle holding them made the image even more perfect. “beautiful,” you breathed out, your eyes darting between him and the flowers.

in truth, you meant it in both ways. the flowers were beautiful, yes, but so was he. he was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen. his skin was soft, smooth and well taken care of. you reached forward and brushed your fingers over his cheek, eyes rapturous and fixed on him. his hand came up to meet yours, holding it against his face. he was warm, the slightest hint of a flush on his cheeks. he’d hardly had one glass, so you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. “what’s goin’ on in your head, pretty?” he asked, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand.

you hum, staring at his eyes. hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day, the rings inside of a fallen tree, light shining through fall leaves. “thinking about how much i want to kiss you,” you said, filter fully lowered under the influence of the restaurant’s finest merlot. a smirk tugged the corner of his lips up, his eyes boring into yours with the same intensity. “what’s stoppin’ you?” your eyes widen ever so slightly, but your surprise only lasts for a moment before you’re leaning in and catching his lips.

he tasted like salmon and red wine on the surface, but beneath it was his natural flavor. he was sweet, like honey, with a hint of spearmint. the cheeky bastard, that’s why he’d popped some gum in his mouth on the way home. it was soft, gentle, but no less passionate. your lips danced together delicately, much like you did on the ice. suave motions, no harshness or roughness to it. it was calculated, methodical. you tried to press for more, opening your lips to let his tongue in but he stopped you, pulling back.

you had to hide your disappointment, your lips still tingling with the sensation of being kissed. your eyes opened, catching his smiling face once more. “gotta take my time with you, sweet thing. got three others that want a taste. i’d never hear the end of it if johnny found out.” you giggle, the thought of the scot’s ire amusing to you in your buzzed brain. you pulled back from him as well, settling back into the barstool. as he made for the door, you followed, making sure he gathered his coat and keys. “thank you for an amazing night,” you said, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. he gave you a half hug with his free arm, squeezing you tight before pulling away.

“this was just the start, pretty. you’ve got three more comin’ your way.” with that, he wished you good night and headed back out to his car. you’d only just shut your door and thought about what he’d said before your phone buzzed in your hand. it was a text from johnny.

“free on friday? got someplace i wanna take ya ;)”

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew @kaoyamamegami @lolly145 @linaangel @bestbookfriends @callsignang3l @livingoutsidethetardis @msecho19

[rainybubbles]

"Dance with me" + 141 x reader

Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Price

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

GAZ :

— Congratulations, Garrick, you whispered.

He barely heard you. Honestly, you doubted he even knew your name. Soldiers, especially those in special forces, rarely paid attention to the cooks unless they wanted an extra helping. At those times, flattery became almost a routine game.

But Kyle… Kyle had always been different.  

He was the only one who gave you a genuine smile when you served him. The only one who would chat with you, arrive early to help in the kitchen, and stay late to clean up.

Kyle had been there.  

In that endless cycle of meals, dawns, and dusks, he remained. So at the medal ceremony, you had hoped, just for once, to step into the light with him, to talk without the barrier of those ridiculous hairnets.

But Kyle was standing there, a companion on his arm, and suddenly, you felt utterly foolish.  

Where you had hoped for a slow dance, it turned out you were just tap-dancing alone.

So, after everyone else had offered their congratulations, you added your own, feeling a wave of shame wash over you, making you sweat. That knot in your stomach tightened as the lights grew blinding, every gaze seemed to pierce through you, and everything felt absurd.

You felt absurd.  

With that stupid outfit that was too tight, a tie that was too blue, shoes that were too shiny. Anxiety crept in and took hold, forcing you into an unwilling dance. Desperately, you tried to calm yourself, to find an escape, a place with fewer people. The door seemed so far away. Your vision blurred. And then…

Fresh air hit you.  

Finally outside, you sat down. Everything was swirling inside you. You wanted to cry. But you couldn’t even manage that, as your boss appeared.

— The caterer is late; get in the kitchen, we can’t ruin the evening.

So you resumed your dance: uniform, hairnet, apron, safety shoes. What you thought was a duet was clearly just a solo.  

Peeling carrots and chopping vegetables, you listened to the barked orders with the other kitchen staff.

The food was enough to satisfy everyone’s patience, and the caterer eventually arrived.

Alone, you scrubbed the floors.  

You were the only volunteer anyway. Searching for crumbs, cockroaches, or dirt, you scrubbed until your knees ached and bled.

— Aren’t you at the party?

Kyle was there. Of course.

— I was.

— Oh, I—

— Don’t worry about it. There were a lot of people, we probably just missed each other.

A lie.  

You had seen him, had even spoken to him. But to him, you hadn’t even existed.

— Yeah, I... Sorry they made you work.

— It’s fine. It’s a nice change from the usual rations.

— Yeah... I guess so.

An awkward silence fell between them, the first one they had ever shared.

— I feel like something’s off, admitted Gaz.

— Off? How do you mean?

— There’s this tension... Did I do something wrong?

No.  

You knew you couldn’t blame him; it was your own fault.

— No, nothing like that... How was the party? I mean, you’ll probably get promoted soon.

— It was nice. There was even a ball.

You knew that.  

You had gone there hoping for a dance.

— Really? Who did you dance with, Garrick?

— A childhood friend. I didn’t want to ask someone I didn’t know well.

Oh.  

So… you weren’t even considered a friend. Just an acquaintance.

— I hope they didn’t get too bored.

— They ended up in the infirmary.

— Oh, what happened?

— I… I’m a terrible dancer, and let’s just say my weight isn’t exactly light when it lands on a foot.

— You broke their foot?

— No, it’s not—

You burst out laughing.

— Stop making fun of me, he said, though he couldn’t help but smile.

— Sorry, but you can hit targets from a distance, and three steps are too much for you?

— I’m just not good at ballroom dancing.

— So what would you have preferred? The Macarena?

— Maybe.

— I can totally picture Price doing that.

He grinned.

— But… if I had been better at dancing, I would’ve asked someone else, anyway, he admitted.

— Asked them what?

— To go with me.

— Oh.

— I just didn’t want what happened tonight to happen, and then we wouldn’t talk anymore.

— They’d be silly to let that come between you.

— You think?

— Yeah.

— So… can I assume you’re not silly?

— Why are you—

Oh.  

— You wanted to invite me.

— Yeah.

— But…

— The dance was mandatory, and I didn’t want to embarrass you. I’d rather embarrass myself.

— Why didn’t you say anything…

— I didn’t have the chance.

— ...Well, I’m not sure I’m convinced. I mean… dating someone who can’t dance? you teased.

— I can do the Macarena.

— Go on, then.

And slowly, in the kitchen, with his phone blasting the tune, Kyle started dancing, and under their shared laughter, you realized this might just be the dance he preferred after all.

_______________________________

SOAP :

Soap gave you a slightly unsteady grin.

— I missed you, he murmured, his words slurred.

You shook your head, watching him struggle to redo his shoelaces with clumsy fingers.

— Johnny, you're drunk, you said, a glint of amusement in your eyes.

— Maybe… but I still missed you. Best roommate in the world.

— I'm the only one, you replied, laughing softly.

— That's why you're the best, he said, giving you a clumsy wink.

You handed him a glass of water, a gentle smile on your lips.

— Drink this, and I'll fix you something to eat.

— That’s why you're my favorite.

— How was your night? you asked as you busied yourself in the kitchen.

— L.T. dared me.

— And of course, you accepted.

— Naturally.

— And got your ass handed to you, didn't you?

— Hm, he mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

He finally managed to sit down, struggling to stay upright.

— You know… I've never seen you dance, he said suddenly.

— What? you responded, surprised by the comment.

— I've never seen you dance. It’s a shame.

— I'm not really the type to go out dancing, you know that.

— Yeah… He thought for a moment, then added, We could dance right here, right now.

— And why would we do that? you asked with a curious smile.

— Because I want to see you differently. To feel you close to me.

— Johnny, you see me every day, you said, laughing softly.

— It’s not the same. This way, I could really see your eyes up close, smell your coconut shampoo…

— You already know all that, you replied gently.

— Yeah, but living it is different. I could touch you, feel your heartbeat, your hands on me… just you and me.

You looked at him for a moment, touched by his vulnerability.

— You’re really drunk, you murmured tenderly.

— Just one dance, he insisted, almost pleading.

— One dance?

He stood up with a bit of effort, swaying slightly but determined. He reached for your hands and pulled you close. The world around them seemed to blur into a haze.

Each step was awkward, each movement hesitant, but nothing could shatter the bubble they had created. To him, this was a precious, almost sacred moment.

As his eyelids grew heavy, he let himself relax into your arms, finding a sense of peace and contentment.

They shuffled in the confined space of the kitchen, their movements creating an unsteady rhythm that was as endearing as it was clumsy. You held him close, guiding his steps with a gentle hand on his back. The light of the overhead bulb cast a soft glow, illuminating the warmth of their shared moment.

The kitchen, usually bustling with the mundane tasks of everyday life, had transformed into a quiet, intimate space where time seemed to stand still.

The clatter of pots and pans was replaced by the gentle rustle of their clothing and the soft shuffle of their feet on the tiled floor. The contrast between the chaos of the night and this tender, private dance was stark but comforting.

Soap’s head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat that mirrored your own.

There was something deeply satisfying about this moment of stillness amidst the chaos.

His breathing, slow and steady, was a soothing reminder of their connection. The way he relaxed into you, his body melting against yours, spoke volumes more than words ever could.

As they continued to sway together, you could sense the vulnerability and trust in his movements.

His occasional missteps and the way he leaned into you for support only highlighted the depth of his feelings. Despite the awkwardness, there was an undeniable grace to their dance—a testament to their bond and the quiet understanding they shared.

— You’ll dance with me again, won’t you? he murmured, half-asleep.

— We’ll see tomorrow, you whispered, guiding him gently to the couch.

He collapsed from exhaustion, instantly drifting into a deep sleep, still wrapped in the memory of their dance.

As the first light of dawn began to creep through the window, you moved about the kitchen, preparing breakfast with a newfound sense of tranquility. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the gentle sizzle of food in the pan were soothing. You stole glances at Soap, who was still deep in sleep, his breathing even and calm. There was something deeply satisfying about this morning routine, a feeling of normalcy and peace that you hadn’t realized you’d missed

The comforting aroma of breakfast filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of whiskey that still clung to the air. The contrast between the warmth of the kitchen and the cold light of dawn outside created a sense of cozy isolation. You moved with practiced ease, your actions steady and deliberate, a quiet testament to the care you took in your daily routines.

Eventually, Soap stirred, his eyes fluttering open with the kind of groggy confusion that only a hangover can bring. He squinted in the light, struggling to get his bearings. When he finally registered your presence, he gave you a tired, lopsided smile.

— What I said last night… I meant it, he murmured. And this time, you can’t say I’m drunk.

— Technically…

— Technically, I’d love to kiss you and ask for another dance.

— You stepped on my feet more than twenty times last night.

— I know…

— And you reeked of whiskey.

— …

— Not to mention your snoring that kept me up all night.

— Okay, so I’m not perfect…

— But despite all that, I enjoyed our dance.

— Really?

— Even if choosing Blue Da Ba Dee for a slow dance was a terrible idea.

— That was me?!

— Yep.

— Damn… Let me make it up to you, he said, dropping to his knees in front of you.

You laughed, amused by his dramatic gesture, then knelt down in front of him, running a gentle hand through his hair.

— Alright, one more dance.

— One more dance, he repeated, a smile spreading across his face.

___________________

GHOST : 

The room gradually fell into silence, despite the constant chatter of the journalists on the screen. No one was really paying attention to the news broadcast. Simon was staring at his still fresh cuts, watching the red darken to brown.

— Want to dance? he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You looked up, surprised, then let out a small laugh.

— Dance? Now?

— Yes, now.

He reached out his hand to you. You hesitated, then finally placed yours in his. Exhausted, you let yourself lean against him. Simon picked out a vinyl, and soft music filled the room as they swayed slowly from side to side. He felt your warm breath against his neck, your body seeking refuge in his arms. His hand, still trembling, held yours tightly.

— You’re stiff as a board, you murmured with a smile.

— I’m managing, he replied, slightly offended.

— It’s like you have two left feet. Relax a bit, you added, a playful grin on your lips.

Simon couldn't help but smile inwardly. He had missed that smile so much— the real one, the one that made your eyes sparkle and your dimples appear, a stark contrast to the hollow gaze he had seen recently.

— It’s all over, you whispered.

You wasn’t talking about the dance.

— Yes, it’s all over.

Neither was he.

— Will I ever be able to dance again? you asked, doubt creeping into your voice.

To love. To love again.

A few weeks ago, Simon had returned from a grueling mission, only to find your home surrounded by police. The sight of the flashing lights and the presence of uniformed officers had sent his mind spiraling into a whirlpool of fear and dread. He imagined the worst, his thoughts racing with the possibility that his desire to keep you close had ultimately endangered you. He had feared that, like so many others before you, you might have been irreparably damaged by his choices.

But…

Under the harsh, unforgiving lights of the police cars, he had found no body, no immediate evidence of a catastrophic event. Yet, when he had seen you amidst the broken glass and the wreckage of their lives, you were nothing more than a shadow of the vibrant person you once were. Your eyes were vacant, the walls bore the scars of a recent trauma, and the TV was stuck on a loop, replaying the same game over and over, as if it were mocking the endless cycle of their suffering. The word "Sorry" was scrawled repeatedly, a haunting echo of remorse and helplessness.

.

Simon had understood the weight of the moment. With a gentle hand, he had helped you up from the floor, guiding you through the aftermath with a steadfast determination. He had been by your side for every medical appointment, every police report, and every painful statement. His presence was a constant, unwavering support as they navigated the wreckage of their lives together. Gradually, they began to live together, two lost souls seeking something more as they danced together that night.

A home, a dream, a soul?

No, it seemed they were searching for something more elusive—a ghost of their former selves, the remnants of a life that once held promise and joy.

— I’ll be here for you, Simon said softly.

— Then you better improve your dancing, you retorted with a hint of teasing.

— I promise, he murmured.

If becoming a dance master was what it took to help you rediscover the rhythm of life, then he was willing to dance for you, over and over. For he knew that no day should be spent with a heart broken by another. As they continued to sway to the music, the simple act of dancing became a symbol of their shared commitment to healing and moving forward. It was a testament to their resilience and to the enduring hope that, despite the pain, they could still find solace and joy in each other’s arms.

______________

PRICE : 

The flames in the fireplace crackled softly, casting shadows across the now-empty room. The guests had left long ago. John approached you slowly, deliberately, sliding his arms around your waist. He took a deep breath, letting your unique scent—something distinctly you—fill his senses, anchoring him in the present moment. The weariness of the past two months seemed to melt away as he embraced you. Finally, he was home.

—Something on your mind?, you asked, a hint of amusement in your familiar tone. It was a sound he had missed—something about your tone always made him feel like everything would be alright.

—I missed our date, he replied, a trace of regret in his voice.

—You've been on a mission for two months, John. I didn’t expect you to show up every Friday night for our little routines, you said, your laughter soft and genuine, like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. The light in your eyes, though, told him that you understood more than you let on.

—I could have tried.

—And how would that go? 'Hey guys, hold on a sec, I need to leave for a romantic date with my partner?"

—I'm sure I could’ve convinced them, he said with a smirk.

You burst out laughing, shaking your head.

—Maybe, but I doubt El Sinombre would have agreed.

—Probably not, he admitted, his tone softening as he pulled you closer, But I couldn’t give you those moments that are just for us.

—John, you sent me more than enough money; don't worry about that.

—That’s not the kind of moments I meant, he said gently, his fingers tracing light circles on your arms, the touch both tender and reassuring. His caress was a silent promise of the moments yet to come.

—Oh...

—I love our dates, all those little memories. I remember the day a stray dog pushed me into a pond, or the time you ended up with cream on your nose at the restaurant, He chuckled softly, the memory of those times clearly cherished.

—And which one’s your favorite?, you asked, turning to face him.

Their faces were just inches apart, their lips almost touching, but neither gave in to the temptation. It was a game, a silent challenge.

—Our wedding day, he finally said.

—That wasn’t a date, you replied with a playful smile.

—It was, on the dance floor.

—Oh, that moment...

You remembered how John had surprised you, revealing that he had secretly taken dance lessons for months. That slow dance had transported you, as if the whole world had disappeared, leaving just the two of them, their steps perfectly in sync, their love shining like a star.

—I can’t even remember the steps, you confessed softly.

—Let me remind you, he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The intimacy of his voice and the proximity of his body sent a shiver down your spine, making the room feel even cozier.

With infinite tenderness, he gently took your hands, his rough fingers guiding you with a careful precision that spoke of countless hours spent perfecting their dance. As he began to lead you through each step, humming the tune from their wedding, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. A tender smile lit up your face, and you looked up at him, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

—I love you, you finally whispered.

—I love you too,he replied with a sincerity that warmed your heart.

Slowly, the lights around them seemed to dim, the room growing tranquil as the dance came to an end. They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts beating in harmony. The fire continued to crackle softly in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over them as the night settled into a peaceful calm. In that serene moment, surrounded by the remnants of their love and shared memories, they found solace in each other’s presence, cherishing the quiet beauty of their reunion.

If you want more : masterlist

[starlightsuffered]

Ruin her Innocence (Part 2)

Warnings - oral (female receiving), making deals for sex, telling someone to start birth control, sacralige during sex, innocent reader, short reader, petite reader, inexperienced reader, first time, alluding to penetrative sex, communion, eating food off body, body shot kinda

I hadn't been able to stop thinking about Kyle since he'd stolen my first kiss. However, I was determined not to have it happen again. Kyle would not have any more of my firsts.

We were sitting in a reserved study room. I was pouring over the information we needed, trying to find ways to condense it.

"Kyle," I snapped, he was reading his damn book.

"Yeah?" He asked lazily.

"I literally gave you the book, and opened it to the page you need, all you need to do is read," I begged.

"I could, but I don't want to," he smirked.

"You think I want to? What I want is a good grade, so I can get into a good college," I said.

"There's a way that you could convince me," he said with a dirty gleam in his eye.

"Oh no," I said, my heart some how sinking and panging at the same time.

"Let me give you your first kiss, and I'll behave," he offered.

"You already did, remember?" I gritted out.

"No, to your other lips," he said.

"What? You're making no sense."

He rolled his eyes.

"Let me eat you out," he explained.

"Eat me out?"

"You know," he said, making a V with two long fingers and waggling his tongue in the space between them.

"Oh, that," I said in near horror. "Why do you want to do that? Don't men hate giving head?"

"Not this man," he chuckled darkly.

"But that's where I pee, and have my period, and you want to put your tongue in there?" I asked.

"Very badly," he nodded.

"And you PROMISE you'll do the work if I let you do..... that?" I asked.

"Today I will, you may have to convince me again other times."

I weighed my options. I needed a good grade. I'd obsessively gotten all As in English since I'd ever done it. He could ruin my perfect streak. On the other hand, it would make him disgustingly cocky, and I'd be giving him another first. There was a small part of me, the part that thought about him at night while my cunt ached, that wanted this to happen.

"Okay," I sighed and he looked like he could shout for joy. I began to take off my pants.

"Ah, ah, ah," he scolded, " all of them, I want everything off."

"You want me naked?"

"Yes, bless my eyes with your form," he pleaded. The need in his voice nearly made me shiver. No one had ever been this... desperate for me. I knew it was just the turn on of me being a virgin, but it still made my body light up.

"Lock the door," I demanded. He went to do that as I took off my clothing. Once I was bare before him, I shrunk in on myself in shame.

"Don't do that, you're gorgeous," he said, removing my arms from hiding my breasts.

"So petite and small, how will my cock ever fit inside you?" He asked.

"We're not doing that," I snapped.

"Only a matter of time," he said with a wolfish grin. "Now, lay down for me."

I did as he said. Instead of coming to me, he grabbed something from the window sill. He then dropped down and straddled me. His weight felt nice on my aching core. I nearly wanted to rub myself on his dress pants for some relief.

He took what he was holding out. He placed a communion wafer on each of my hard nipples. Then he was pouring wine into my belly button, I gasped and he smirked. I could feel his hard cock in his pants, and I didn't necessarily know what was considered big, but he felt big.

"In the name of the father," he said, lips picked up the first wafer on my left nipple. I gasped as I felt his lips touch the sensitive flesh.

"The son," and there went the second wafer, and I was panting.

"And Holy Spirit," he finished by sucking the wine from my belly button.

"Oh my," I whimpered.

"Let's feast," he said, and began to lap at my heat. I couldn't keep still or quiet. How had I not known how wonderful this would feel? I didn't even masturbate.

"Mmm, there's something special about this pussy, the best I've ever tasted," he complimented, and my headiness became nearly overwhelming. Hearing him praise me did something in my stomach.

He continued with tiny licks to my clit, which he found immediately. I felt like I was going to pee, or explode, or something, it was an unknown feeling.

"K-Kyle," I moaned. He hummed into my cunt and I felt like lightning struck me.

"Oh, oh, so good, so good," I heaved. My breasts moved up and down rapidly with my arousal. His tongue was dipping in and out of me. I wanted to scream from pleasure. It was unreal how I felt.

"Somethings happening," I cried, "My legs feel weird, I feel like I'm about to burst!"

"You're going to come y/n, just let it happen," Kyle told me gently.

"I c-can't," I wailed as he dove back in, massaging the skin of my thighs. "I can't, Oh!"

The most wonderful feeling washed over me. I was shaking as he moaned into me. I couldn't help the small sounds that came from my lips. It was bliss reverberating through my body. It was like shockwaves overtook me.

"Oh, oh, uhhhhhh," I whined. I was coming down now, but I wanted it again. I wanted to feel that way forever.

"Feel good?" Kyle asked, his face slick.

"So good," I groaned.

"Here, taste yourself," he said, climbing up and trying to get me to suck on his tongue.

"What! That's so weird," I said, pushing him away.

"It's not, you'll like it, you taste good," he said, and put out his tongue again.

"This can't be normal," I said. He rolled his eyes.

"Y/n, I'm not some hedonistic demon who knows sexual things the world hasn't yet seen. This is plenty normal. I've tasted my own on girls' tongues before."

"Oh all right," I huffed. He bent down again, and I squealed as he replenished his tongue. I sucked on his tongue and tasted the tang of myself. I did feel my core heating again.

"There we go," he said, and removed himself from me.

I got up and began putting on my clothes.

"You have to study now," I pointed at him.

"Not this very minute, I need to change," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I came in my boxers when you did," he said plainly. I heated all over. He was so casual about it, but the idea did nothing to help my regrowing desire.

He came back moments later, in new pants. I wondered how he wasn't ashamed of having cum filled boxers in his locker.

"Alright," he cracked his knuckles. "Time to get to work.

I was appalled to see he was magnificent when put to the test. He could've easily helped me get an A, but he'd tricked me into this deal.

"By the way," he said as we left the room. "You definitely need to get on birth control, I'm not letting this go," he said, and cupped my pussy over my school skirt. I pushed his hand away shakily with a reproachful look.

"Not in public!" I hissed.

"You'll be eating those words soon," he said with a wink, and then he left.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

A Spark To Ignite (Bodyguard!141 x Famous!Reader Preferences) Mild NSFW

Summary: You see each other every day. He works to keep you protected - a perk of your job and his. Occasionally feeling moments of passion and promises of something more between you two are only normal, right?

AN: I've got another bodyguard!AU for the 141 that's more angst based. I'll post that later. I've also got a Price x Escort!Reader in the works plus the end of "Star-crossed in the Crosshairs". Let me know if you have any requests/anything you'd rather see first <3

Content warning: Minors DNI, 18+ only, allusions to sexual tension/arousal, second person, no use of Y/N

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another notification of being tagged in the same paparazzi image hit your notification inbox, yet you still opened it and shared a giddy grin at the Instagram feed.

You hadn’t been fussed about going running; it was the company rather than the activity that attracted you. But one thing you were certain about the sport was that no one ever looked flattering whilst doing it.

Yet there he was, your Kyle, looking like a model for Sports Direct. He was snapped midstride, his biceps practically rippling in the glow of the morning sun. There was even a hint of his lean washboard torso with the flap of his t-shirt’s raised coyly.

However, his dimpled smile aimed was the main focus of the headline – mainly because it was aimed at you and your equally elated expression. You blamed the euphoria of exercised endorphins but the way the photo was framed (plus the gaudy text declaring it so) made it seem as if you and Kyle were a true couple in love. It looked incredibly staged. Kyle was an “unknown” though so most budding theorists did not support any claims of it being a publicity stunt. Just two lovers out on a jaunty little run together.

You saved then added the photo to the folder of photos that captured you out with your bodyguard and the headlines that (sadly) misidentified him as your new boyfriend.

“Hey Kyle!”

Blending some fruits. His duties did not include head chef but you had long since allowed him access to your kitchen, even storing some of his favourites around the cupboards and fridge in case he fancied a snack.

Your phone was thrust up into his eyeline, you beaming behind it, “Another Pulitzer.”

Abandoning his smoothie temporarily, Kyle cupped his hand around yours to steady your swaying phone.

“They need to up their standards. Taking you for a jog is hardly a date you deserve,” He commented.

“Ooo, do tell: what do I deserve?”

“Well,” Kyle began pouring the smoothie into a glass, “I could go classic, take you to out on the town to a special place only I know about.”

You leaned onto your    elbows, chin resting in your palms, cheeks creased in a cheeky smile. “Mm-hmm.”

“Wine you, dine you, treat you like a deity,” Kyle said as if he was listing off menial tasks on his day to day whilst collecting another glass for the remaining smoothie. “Take you back to mine if you fancied it, another drink whilst we talk the night away and time passing without us noticing.” Graciously, he slid the other one across the countertop, and your fingers locked against his warm ones wrapped against the cool glass. “Then work up a sweat in a whole other way.”

Blinking away the glaze that had coated your eyes, you restrained the urge to gulp back your desire. A fresh breath in your lungs recovered you quickly and you managed to conjure a teasing quip amidst the fog that had settled over your thoughts.

“Think you could keep up with me?” You said before sipping the smoothie.

The sweetness of it countered Kyle’s smirking reply: “You and I both know I can more than handle you.”

“Better train harder then,” You said, proud of yourself for not stumbling over your playful banter, “I’m a catch, so you better be fast enough.”

“Jog, same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.” And, not missing in the reflection of the oven door how Kyle – for a split second – looked you up and down, you did your best not to collapse or squeal during your return to the sitting room.

-----------

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You leant against the ropes of the new boxing ring with a panting chest and aching legs. Jellied bones dared to let you collapse to the ground but at least, since your self-defence training had begun, you were lasting the full session rather than just after the warm-up.

“I think we’re done for today! Did good, held your own.” Johnny gave you a hearty slap on your back that almost ricocheted you off the ropes. “I’ve still got a few reps to get in.” He leapt out the ring and swigged from his water bottle, tossing you your own.

“Show-off!” You called out after him, though all in good fun, as you caught your bottle and your breath.

Technically, since you didn’t have anything else to do, you could get a head-start on getting cleaned up. You were in the privacy of your own gym, added at your request so that Johnny could train you better and you could do so without being ogled or papped.

Quite hypocritical it was then, that you lingered in the ring to watch Johnny stack up his weights on either side of the bar (the ones you purchased as part of his perks of working for you).

Your day-job came in handy with pretending to do some cooldown stretches, sipping from and pouring your water bottle over yourself. Well, you were actually doing those things but acting as if they were the only things that occupied your thoughts was the main role you were playing. From the corner of your eye, you observed Johnny squatted with a stack of weights lining each shoulder. God, those arms were practically popping, his thighs bulging with the effort of remaining planted on the floor and folding up and down beneath the hefty set. Mesmerising, you forgot to keep up your pretence by the second load of reps.

It left your lips before you could reconsider for the tenth time: “Bet you couldn’t lift me.”

Soap paused in a deep squat and looked up through his lashes at you. Meeting his steely blue gaze was easier than anticipated but maintaining it as he righted himself and rested the weights back on the rack with a restrained grunt was the difficult part.

At first, you thought maybe his silence was his answer. Then Johnny knelt down and assumed the plank position.

“Get on,” He said, loud and clear.

You still doubted him, “Seriously?”

“You made the bet. Now lie in it.”

As elegantly as possible, you dismounted the ring before making your way over to his side. He showed no signs of tiredness during your journey, nor did he when you balanced yourself across his broad back.

“Ok, ready,” You said, your voice close to wobbling.

And so it began. Up and down, you could feel how his body sustained you through both your and his workout gear. His back muscles rippled beneath you and his elbows kissed yours each time he lowered you both to the floor. Out of nowhere, you began giggling and you couldn’t figure out how to put a stop to it. Giddiness flooded your entire system until you were beyond drunk.

Suddenly, your world tilted and you rolled off onto the mat but Johnny refused you any respite, flipping you over onto your back again, like a pancake.

“I win,” He panted, “What’s my prize?”

Still giggling, you felt your cheeks burning at the sight of him hovering over you, his skin glowing, his chest panting. His unrelenting stare had you locked beneath him, barred between his trunk-like arms. If this was your prison, you’d commit any offence to stay in there. God you were so close you could kiss him-

Nope.

“You finish your workout early so you can have a nice hot shower sooner?” You said, covering your mouth to cough and clear your airways of whatever shit you breathed in to make you even consider making out with your bodyguard. You must’ve looked so daft; you blamed the endorphins. Then you blamed Johnny completely as he started to laugh down at you, sending your thighs quaking as he crawled off you and ordered you to get cleaned up – that he’d be in shortly after as a hint to not use all the hot water. As you drifted back to the bathroom, you tried not to think about him in the shower or how you wanted to offer to scrub him down.

-----------

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Say the word and I’ll have him removed.”

For a man so stoic and intimidating, Simon sure made you smile a lot. You needed it after that… “interesting” conversation with one of the party’s guests – someone who you knew to be a detractor behind your back.

“It’s fine, really,” You insisted with a winning smile.

Casting a glance over your shoulder where your shadow dutifully remained was a reward you would never be exhausted of. Simon looked so good in his tux. Plus he’d humoured you and worn the silk black mask rather than his usual. You were brimming with privilege at seeing his hair styled beyond the flattened fuzz it would take on after being beneath the balaclava for twenty hours at a time. Even more so, you got to see his tattoos pairing nicely with them like a good bottle of wine.

You could hear the smirk hiding beneath his mask. His veined hands clasped firmly in front of him as he leant close, just his mask separating his lips and your ear.

“We could make a break for it. Ditch these twats. Get a drive-thru.”

He knew you never would agree to it; this gala meant a lot to you. Such a tempting offer though, in such a tempting voice too. His rough tone did nothing but delight you when you heard it. Turning to look at him, you took note of the two mere inches between your face and his.

He continued, “You’ve shown your face long enough.”

“Getting jealous of them stealing my attention?” You asked provocatively.

Simon let out a low laugh, shaking his head fondly with just a hint of patronising, “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people who are dying to still talk to me.” You gestured with the glass he’d gotten (and checked for any malicious interference) for you around at the room, those who would never have the privilege of being a part of your and Simon’s bubble.

“Just as long as you and everyone else knows that I’m the one who takes you home.”

The implications of that statement swelled in your chest, nestling into your heart like a cat in a warm patch of sunlight. Intently, he looked at your face for your reaction. That was the thing with Simon: always observing, recording every flicker, every possibility in that incredible mind of his. You were certain he could see into your soul with those all-seeing eyes. He kept you safe, kept you on your toes, kept you happy.

But the bubble burst before you could hit back and you abruptly checked yourself back into work mode. The person who’d spoken loud enough to bring you back down to Earth didn’t seem to notice your slip up. You, however, were more than acutely aware of Simon’s lingering presence at your side. So close the hairs on your arm extended on goosebumps, coaxing and begging to touch him.

As you were once again left alone, you found yourself stifled by your need to be nearer to Simon and quickly decided the alcohol was to blame. “I need the bathroom.”

“This way.” His hand grazing the small of your back had an impact tripled, but you managed to submit it to travelling through your nose, rather than gasping out your mouth. But you were certain that Simon had caught you. He never missed a thing.

-----------

John "Bravo Six" Price

After shaking hands again with the presenter and declaring a few thanks to the crew, you were guided straight to the dressing room by Price. You took off your own microphone and handed it to him, which he immediately passed to a nervous stagehand. Your name in Arial font on an A4 sheet of paper greeted you from the dressing room door.

Sometimes you needed that extra time to decompress and he knew before you did more often than not. Today was not one of those days, though you did request to stop and pick up the bouquet that had been there to welcome you in when you first arrived. It was so large, your favourites blooming in the dew-dropped cellophane, that you had trouble waving to the folks who’d stuck around at the barrier, Price’s arms keeping you walking and guiding you towards the car.

For your safety, you had to go in the back where the tinted windows offered you a hint of privacy. It was a thorn in your side though. You longed to sit beside Price as he fought playfully with you over the music, grumbled with the directions his phone offered, collected your drive-in order. Then maybe your daydream of being his partner could have a little more to stand on.

A true gentleman as well as your protector, Price walked you up to the house and let you set up your evening meal while he made final checks to secure your house again. Normality for you was hearing him walk around and jiggle door handles and returning only when he was certain none had been tampered with and your cameras were fully functioning.

“Anything else you need from me before I leave for the night?” He asked, standing at ease in front of you.

You gestured to the bouquet you were cradling like a baby, “Thank you for the flowers.”

His brows furrowed for a split second then a sheepish smile smoothed out the lines in his forehead, highlighting his eyes instead.

“You caught me,” He said quietly, sparing a look at the flowers he asked the host to order for you, then back at you.

Squinting mischievously, you asked, “Were you really hiding it?”

“I suppose not.” He let his smile soften and dull. Back to business. Yet you could’ve sworn he glanced at your mouth before he asked, “Anything else you need?”

Your heart yearned to beg him to stay and tell you what else he did behind the scenes without a hint of expecting more, so that you could show him how much you cared in an appropriately equal response. His favourite whiskey perhaps for when he was off duty, or one day doing something together that he wanted to do so it wasn’t just looking after you. It was more than that, the job. He’d told you so. But you didn’t want to just be a job to him.

Quietly, you maintained your decorum, “No, thank you.”

John nodded his head, “Of course.”

It was as he was about to cross the threshold when you started to ask, “Do you-”

Not even three words made it out before Price whipped around, already returning to where he’d stood before. You could feel your lungs struggling under the strain of maintaining steady breathing at the gesture, suspending all the blood in your face (and maybe your groin). It stopped your question in its path, as if it was waiting until Price was listening attentively (he always was for you).

“Yes?” He prompted, his voice soft as if to coax you out of your hideout.

Fidgeting with the bouquet still, you cleared your throat and began again, “Do you want to join me, for dinner?”

Price’s hands, now at his sides, tapped on his thighs thrice before he said, “Two conditions.”

“Name them.”

Perhaps you said that a little too quickly because it made him laugh, which only made things worse for you. You had a real weakness for that laugh.

“You teach me whatever you’re planning on making, and you let me help you make it.”

Your heart accelerated and you dismissed his with a smile and a slight self-deprecating remark to soften the weight of this decision you were both making: “It’s nothing special.”

“Those are my terms,” Price insisted. His eyes creased as a smile grew on his face, more beautiful than the flowers forgotten the second you placed them into the vase. But at least it gave you to excuse to look away and gather your expression into something more collected as you ordered him to go and wash his hands.

[lunamoonbby]

Cult!141 x Fem!Reader

(Dress described in the story)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT MDNI

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Dark Content, Manipulation, allusions to past abuse very brief not in depth, female reader, swearing, pregnancy, birth, poly relationships, smut, Cult AU, the use of lord in terms to worship, Price being referred to as Father

If you or a loved one is experiencing abuse, know that there is help, and please help anyone that you know to help them escape from that abuse.

⭐️Author's Note: The religion that the villagers follow is not defined, but it is NOT associated with Christianity, Judaism, Islam, or any other type of religion there is⭐️

Chapter 4: A Rough Morning

It was morning time, and the sun was peaking through the window in your room, "I should get ready so I can walk to the church to have morning prayers." y/n said while getting out of bed and heading towards the vanity to get her daytime dress. She grabbed the bag and headed towars her bathroom. There, she took a nice warm shower, brushed her teeth, and got dressed. When she saw the dress she was in awe it was a dress made for royals, the base color of the dress was white with a sheer blue fabric over it and silver floral lace decorated the entire dress, and the sleeves were off the shoulders, "I definitely need to thank Father Price for this dress, wait...It has pockets too!"

After getting dressed and ready for the day, y/n left her room and locked the door, putting her key in her left pocket. "I should go to the tavern and have some herbal tea before I go to the church." y/n walks to the tavern and enters, "Good morning." Y/n smiling brightly, but was only met with weird looks, 'was it something I said.' She started to frown. "AH BONNIE LASS GOOD MORNING." Johnny exclaimed, "can you be any louder? Good morning y/n how can I help you?" Kyle looking at Johnny and then to y/n. "Good morning, Johnny and Kyle. Can I have that herbal tea that I got yesterday, I'll pay you back when I have the money." Y/n smiling at Johnny and Kyle. "You should have thought about that before buying that fancy dress of yours. You either buy something or get out!" Exclaimed a random patron.

Before y/n could react Johnny was already verbally attacking the patron, "Do not tell me how to run my damn tavern and if you must know I'm willing to help out someone in need, cause our lord says that kindness will be returned back to the sender. You must have forgotten, since you don't attend mass for the first and last days of the months, and on special holidays too. Since you have a problem, then you are going to pay for her herbal tea and apologize!" Johnny exclaimed . "And after you pay for your meal and drink, and for y/n's drink, I want you to leave this tavern and find somewhere else to eat your food!" Kyle was livid. How dare you talk to her that way. "Here you go, a nice warm herbal tea." Kyle handed the tea to y/n. "Thank you, but that person is right -" y/n got cut off. "Stop right there. If we had a problem with helping you out until you get back on your feet, then we would have definitely said something." "But we don't so drink up." Kyle and Johnny interrupted, looking at y/n with sparkles in their eyes.

"What are your plans for the morning?" Kyle inquired, y/n looking at her tea, "after I drink this tea, I'm going to the church for morning prayers, and then I'll take it from there." "Sounds interesting bonnie, just so you know we are closed for the rest of the day, but if you want a meal to eat just let myself or Kyle know we stay on the luxury floor of the inn your staying at my room is 203 and kyles is 202." Johnny stated. After drinking her tea, "Thank you for letting me know, I'm off to go to the church now. I'll you both later." Y/n waving a good by to Johnny and Kyle.

You arrived at the church, "Father Price, Good morning. I'm here for morning prayers." Price loving how devoted she is, "good morning, my child, I see you got a good nights rest. I love how devoted you are, come let's go to the altar, you know what to do." Y/n gives Father Price her hands so they could have their morning prayers. After prayers, y/n pulled four flowers to place in the offering bowl, "ah flowers that means love will find you soon." John noticed that despite having no money, she still brought something unlike some "followers" in this village. "So how was your morning? I trust you had a good nights sleep." Father Price asked, walking y/n to the pews so they could sit.

"I did have a good night sleep. My morning was great until I reached the tavern." Y/n was looking down at her lap. John already knew what happened cause Kyle phoned him right after y/n let to head to the church. "What happened?" Y/n sighed,"a patron yelled at me for not having money to pay for my tea, but Johnny and Kyle took care of it." "I see, many people are jealous, you are handed blessings left and right meanwhile they're not getting anything. Do you know why is that, my child?"

Y/n looks at Father Price, "it's because I'm devoted, I'm receiving so many blessings, but the non devoted receive nothing." Father Price pats y/n's hand, "you're a smart girl stay on your path of devotion and you'll recieve plenty more blessing my child, while I'd love to stay and chat with you all day I have errands to fulfill." Y/n gets up, "oh of course Father Price sorry to hold you back, also I'm going to ask Johnny and Kyle to use their kitchen I want to make you, Johnny, and Kyle a brisket pot pie, but I don't have brisket money." John loving the sound on how his little bird is going to make him food, "I'll get you the brisket and we can have that pot pie for supper at the tavern just the 5 of us." "Five?" Y/n looked confused. "I have another friend that I want you to meet." Price looked at her. "Oh, alright, I'd love to meet this other friend of yours, Father Price." Y/n smiles and walks away from the church. 'I loved how it didn't take much to convince little birdy, stay compliant little birdy, and you'll get so many blessings.' John smiling to himself while watching y/n leave.

Taglist is open comment if you would like to be added

@yourloverslost @tabbslouuformer @angelrissa @freefallingup13 @readingcatinacorner @sylvanasthebansheequeen @casualunknownrunaway @thatpersonnamedrook @rip-cod-brainrot @hoodiepandaninja16 @spacecrawllerr

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

4th of July Special [IKYLHT]

~2.9k Words | Series Masterlist | Prev | Next Chapter [Coming Soon]

Hope you enjoy this very very overdue special chapter. It's part of the larger timeline of the story but considering we just had the 4th not too long ago I figured I'd post what I had so far just to keep you held over until chapter 8 is finished. It will very much be expanded upon in due time. Much love

-

There are three holidays you force yourself to celebrate as an active member of the military.

Veterans Day, the obvious.

Memorial Day, also obvious.

And the great ol’ 4th of July. Independence Day, a celebration of our great freedoms, our national pride.

More importantly- a day filled with beer, fireworks, and a rack of ribs, all without the threat of having to clock in that morning.

The boys had called you a yank when you’d first suggested it, mentioned something about the ridiculousness of the American desire to clog your arteries while lighting shit on fire.

The sweat of the 98° day dripping down Johnny's back, soon to be washed away by cool pool water. An ice cooler filled with Coronas, freshly cut limes on the table. Slow cooked rack of ribs on each plate while the burgers sizzle on the grill. These were things you’d pitched to the boys only moments before they’d laughed in your face.

The idea of leaving the Queen’s land to shack it up with a bunch of blue-coats celebrating the day they’d left the commonwealth felt blasphemous, especially for Simon and Price, the true patriots they are. Kyle didn’t care much, he’d actually been quite excited to visit the US again. The west coast was unexplored to him, and he’d be lying if the prospect of seeing a few celebrities during his stay in California didn’t excite him. Truthfully, Johnny would take any chance to subtly spite the Brits. He’s a proper Scot, after all.

But you’d pushed the idea hard.

It was Sparks’ annual 4th of July barbeque and there was no way in hell you were going to run the risk of missing him lose a finger trying to light the extra explosive fireworks he’d bought after a mission in Texas.

You’d gone that route first- having Shane call Price to personally invite the task force to his home in San Diego with the promise of good food and drinks. When the invitation didn’t seem to make it to the group chat, you’d stepped up your game. You thought maybe a polite Captain-to-Captain request from Griggs would suffice. It did not.

Fortunately, you were in the perfect position to seal the deal.

“You know, I just think it’d be a great team bonding activity.”

You hear his groan as your movement stops, feel the way his hands fly up to grasp at your waist, but you ignore him entirely.

“I don’t understand why you insist on impeding my job, John. I thought it was a captain’s duty to assist his subordinates?”

His fingers dig into your hips, trying their best to move you but you keep yourself steadily perched atop his lap.

“I think this is team bonding enough, love.”

You look around the room, turning your head as far as you can in each direction, before you settle your eyes on his form once more.

“I don’t see the rest of them. Seems like it’s just you and me here, Price.”

A small moan he clearly tried to conceal slips out as you lean forward, planting your hands on his sweaty chest and feeling the way his heart quickly patters. The bed shifts under you, sheets molten hot with your combined heat.

“Want me to go get them? I can roam the base in search of them. Would be faster if I skipped getting redressed-”

“-Alright, alright. I’m listening.”

You go to speak but shoot him a stern glance as you feel him attempt to move from under you.

The coy smile he lets out feeds your soul, his cheeks flushed from exertion, eyes hungry with want.

“We’re going.”

He laughs, eyes glancing down to where he throbs inside you.

“You think this is the best time to bring this back up, sweetheart?”

Shifting enough to make his breath hitch, you flash your own big smile.

“I do.”

Glancing at his watch, he quietly huffs as he mulls over his options.

“California?”

“Yes”

“During peak travel season…”

“Yup”

“For a holiday only you celebrate?”

“In a country you don't wanna revisit. I know, it’s not ideal.”

“So we’re doing it because?”

“Because it’s for me, John. We’re doing it for me. So I can go home.” Your smile is pleading.

He gives a small nod, lifting your hand off his chest and kissing the back of it.

“Okay. I’ll call Sparks and let him know we’re coming.”

“It’s okay! I’ll just text him-” You can’t control your smile, damn near flying off the bed to grab your phone if it weren’t for Price hooking an arm around you and flipping you beneath him.

“-You can text him once we’re done here. I still have another fifteen minutes with you.”

Admittedly, you didn’t call Shane until the following morning.

With Price on your side, it was easy getting everything in order. He dealt with the logistics- plane tickets, hotels, rental cars- while you did the fun part.

Helping the boys pack.

Kyle was by far the easiest. He naturally had good style, all you’d needed to do was inform him of the typical San Diego weather and how to transition those outfits into something a little cooler for when you’d venture up to Los Angeles.

Simon and Price came next. Simon’s was physically easier, just more mental gymnastics. Despite being in many’a hot biome before, he refused to admit his all black ensemble just wouldn’t do. Cargo pants and combat boots weren’t adequate pool party attire, especially when you knew he’d want to prove his usefulness attending to anything he possibly could (you prayed Shane had fixed the dishwasher leak or you knew you wouldn’t be seeing Simon until well past sunset). Price was more physically demanding. He didn’t care much what you dressed him in, he trusted you enough to ensure he stepped outside looking handsome- you’re 99% sure someone had told him about the ‘girlfriend effect’ and he just ran with it. The difficult part was actually buying the clothes. He had no problem handing his card over, but he didn’t seem to want to send sizes, measurements, color preferences, anything of use. You’d resorted to taking a measuring tape to his biceps as he oversaw drill exercises, the width of his shoulders as he sat doing paperwork, the length of each limb as he stood at the gym’s cable machine.

Johnny was quite a bit more difficult. Having been to your home in LA a few times before, he knew how hot it’d get in the dead of summer and thus decided it was prime time to dress in nothing but swim trunks and his favorite pair of vans. Despite being told numerous times that he’d need to pack at least one shirt, every time you checked his suitcase that shirt seemed to have vanished. Your only saving grace was Price’s scolding when he’d gone over the group’s tax write offs and seen the recurring £5.25 Tesco charge for a single men’s t-shirt.

Still, somehow you’d all managed to make it in one piece. And best of all, without a single complaint.

Price stood at the grill chatting with Griggs about various meat charring techniques while Ghost supervised refereed the game of chicken Soap and Gaz were playing with the rest of the Demon Dogs.

The liquor was free flowing and gave you the opportunity to utilize this annual event for what it truly was- a chance to check up on everyone.

And who better to do it with than your closest confidant and his therapist wife.

Convenient, really.

“How’ve you been, kid?”

Nodding as you glance over at Johnny balancing Kyle upon his shoulders, you can’t help but smile.

“We’ve had our moments. Can’t complain, though.”

Alison nods, and you see her head tilt ever so slightly. She’s going into work mode as best she can without raising your suspicions. She’s well trained, probably what’s saved her marriage with Shane. To her dismay, you are also well trained.

“How do you see your future together?"

“Alison, you'd know better than most that people like us don’t get futures.”

“You can spare her the melodramatic self loathing, she’ll just whack you upside the head.”

She glares at Shane’s retort, gives him that ‘stop joking I’m trying to fix shit’ look you’ve seen so many times before.

“I guess I haven’t thought about it. Genuinely. I think it’ll be good though. I love him… and all that mushy shit you’re dying to hear me say.”

“Okay. Well, that’s a start. What about the rest of the task force? Do you think you work well as a team?”

“Oh yeah, we’re a well oiled machine. My doing, of course. Successful or not, our missions can always be described as top tier.”

“And how about off-mission? Do you get along with everyone?”

You fight the urge to glance over at the four men whose hands you’d put your entire life into in more ways than one.

“Uh, yeah. We’re good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.” You shrug.

Her response is cut off before she could even start it, two shorts car honks bouncing off the wood of the open side gate leading to the front of the property. She cranes her neck to see the car from her position in the backyard, just catching the conversation between Raines and his wife as they begin to unload the car.

Alison turns back to you after waving hello, pointing a finger and making a stern face.

“We’re not done here.”

“Aye Aye ma’am.” You jokingly salute her as you internally thank Raines’ kids for making him late to every event he’s ever been invited to.

You and Shane wave to the couple as she walks up to say her greetings, Shane walking towards the cooler to grab two beers.

“I warned her against interrogating you. But we all know how she feels about listening to me.”

“She’s lucky. She’s the only one that can ignore you and call you a dumbass without repercussion. Sometimes I envy her.”

Popping off the cap, he makes his way to two lounger seats off in the corner of the fenced backyard, plopping down with a sigh.

“Gonna have to retire soon. Or take up being a desk jockey. Whatever keeps my knees from going out.”

“Not showing up to your PT appointments, Sparks? I do recall you scolding me for doing the same.”

“I’ve been showing up, that’s the problem. Ain’t bouncing back like I used to.”

You nod in understanding. You’re not even that old and the aches had already settled in. The military really does take your best years.

“Alright, kid. Enough stalling. How’ve you really been doing?”

“I told you, Johnny and I have been good-”

“-I don’t mean your relationship. I know you two are doing good. God knows I’d be getting a call from MacTavish asking how to fix it if y’all weren’t. I mean about the mission.”

“Oh. Yeah, no. It was fine. It’s over.”

“Heard it was a rough one up top.”

“Uh, yeah. Always is, I guess. We would’ve loved to have traded places with you.”

“Don’t underestimate the stairs, kid. Was damn near out of breath by the time we’d gotten up there.”

You let out a hum, more of an acknowledgement than an agreement.

“I know it’s hard for you to sit and watch. But you gotta remember your roots, Water.”

A snort escapes you, humor and nostalgia behind it.

“Haven’t heard you call me that in what, five years?”

“You retired it. You may call me an asshole but I do have a heart.”

“Well-”

“-Don’t change the subject, Carrots.”

“You know I’m still mad you told Kyle-”

“-Rabbit. Come on. Talk to me, kid.”

He stares you down, gives that same stern look you’d always seen after cracking a joke a little too soon after a mission gone awry.

“Nightmares?”

“A couple.” You murmured with a shrug.

“Just a couple?”

“A few.” You manage another murmur.

He studies your side profile a moment longer before trailing his eyes towards your line of vision.

Kyle sits on the pool ledge right where the deep end becomes standable again, using his dry hand to feed Johnny chips from the paper plate he teeters on his thigh. Every time Soap gestures as he speaks, pool water flings from his position standing in front of Kyle’s shins and onto the plate.

Shane thinks back to the first time you’d shown up to an event like this. He watched you, a newly-appointed baby-faced private first class awkwardly clutching a plate with a burger you had no intention of eating, and was reminded of how out of place you had felt in this small sliver of normalcy.

He thinks back to how utterly determined you seemed to not make friends, to not form attachments.

He thinks back to how, despite your reservations, you found yourself slowly easing into the environment.

Despite being so quick to adapt, you’d never been fond of change. And you couldn’t be more different now from the person you were before.

He thinks about how embarrassing it was for you to admit you'd even been having nightmares, let alone what they were about.

“Ok kid. I’ll let you avoid interrogation for now. No use in ruinin’ a good barbeque.”

You pat his knee with an appreciative smile before you heave yourself out of the low chair, setting your sights back onto Kyle as he rejoins Johnny in the pool.

“Hey Rabbit?” You hear Sparks call out after you.

You look back at him over your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

You look at his blank face. You’ve known Shane long enough to tell he doesn’t want to spook you off but is begging for answers. He's giving you the opportunity to tell him on your own volition, no questions asked.

There’s a small demon resting in the back of your throat. He decides now’s a good time to carve at your esophagus. He urges you to spit it out so he can escape his imprisonment in your windpipe. To say what can’t be retracted, to just get it out there.

You stay silent, facing forward again and walking up to Price. He scrubs char off the grill rack, seemingly abandoned by Griggs.

That answers who lost the coin toss.

“Hey Cap,” You bump shoulders with him, tugging on the string of his boonie hat that rests against the back of his neck.

“Hey sweetheart” He mumbles back.

“You look handsome” You whisper with a giddy smile.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm”

“Hungry yet?”

“Only for you, big daddy” You manage to get out between a laugh and an over the top wink, just narrowly missing the way he goes to swat at you.

“Behave, Rabbit.”

“I always do, sir” You nearly purr.

As the earlier heat of the day began to cool, the sky painted itself in hues of orange and pink. You were finally feeling contentment settle deep into your bones. Your favorite part was soon and very much worth skipping your main meal, even if Price disagreed.

You and Soap had helped set up a small fire pit in the center of the yard- marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars all laid out for s’mores. Kyle, still somewhat in subdued awe of the whole spectacle, watches from your left as the others talked around the fire, their faces illuminated by the steady flame. You watched the way his eyes constantly bounced around, so deeply invested in the stories of your comrades.

Johnny sits between you and Ghost, his usual spot for the last nine months or so since Las Almas. You go to search for Price but are almost startled out of your seat as his arm misses your face by about two inches, draping over your lap a red checkered blanket he’d found thrown over one of the lawn chairs.

You grab his shirt by the collar before he gets the chance to pull away, pulling him down to kiss his cheek.

It was risky, there was no guarantee everyone outside of you five had been distracted by the sudden start of the neighbors fireworks, but you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care at that moment.

Grabbing the metal rod Johnny holds out for you, you shove the marshmallow on the prongs and lick the stickiness off your fingertips. You’d always hated the residue, but the practicality of Johnny hand feeding you the squishy candy didn’t negate how sickeningly adorable it was to witness.

“Care for a s’more, Ghost?” you asked, leaning forward and holding out a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

He looked at the stick, then at you, and finally at the fire. It was a simple, almost childlike gesture, but there was something undeniably comforting about it. He took the stick from you with a small nod.

Johnny was already assembling the graham crackers and chocolate for him, adding an additional little chocolate square in the center.

Simon holds the dessert, examining it on all sides before looking up at the group before him. No one is paying any attention to the three of you, something you’d requested from both your old team and Price and Gaz.

You nod as encouragingly as you can when he scans the group once more, whispering just enough to be heard by him.

“It’s alright Simon. Go ahead.”

His black surgical mask is only down for a second before half his face is covered again, now with significantly more graham cracker crumbs settling at the bottom of it then before.

He hands the s’more back over to Johnny as he nods his head.

“See? Not so bad, right?”

Ghost looked over at you, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the firelight, and nods once more. “Not bad at all.”

Soap, munching on the last of the s’more, looks over with a smirk.

“Told ya. Next time, we’ll get you on karaoke.”

Simon goes completely deadpan but chuckles softly.

“We’ll see about that.”

-

<3

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[moody-alcoholic]

Special Delivery Service

Chapter 9 - The Old Friend

Summary: Simon x Reader. 3.7k words. 141 are in France to investigate the terrorist cell causing havoc, but maybe they should have been looking closer to home.

CW: mentions of fictional terrorist attacks, angst.

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Enjoy <3

It was the first time you felt out of place, like you weren’t supposed to be there. When you walked into the storeroom with Simon it felt like daggers when everyone's eyes turned to you. John’s was the worst. You hung your head feeling embarrassed, you almost wanted to just leave say you’ll see Simon when he get’s back. But he insisted it was okay, and that you should come along. 

“A word,” John said to Simon through gritted teeth. You sheepishly walk over to the table where Kyle and Johnny are. There is gear and paperwork everywhere somethings stacked in neat piles other stuff just spread out with markings. 

“Ever been to Paris lass?” Johnny asks. Even though you definitely don’t belong here he still has a massive grin on his face. You nod taking another step up to the table. You can see maps of what looks like Paris and other cities you don’t recognise. 

“What are you going to do? Kill some terrorists?” You joke trying to lighten the heavy feeling in the air. Kyle raises an eyebrow at you Johnny’s smile fades a little. You swallow hard watching their expressions change. 

“I’m joking.” You say feeling embarrassed. 

“How much has Si told you ‘bout our old jobs?” Johnny asks. You open your mouth to answer but the door opening behind distracts you and has your head turning to see Simon and John walk in.

“Laswell is meeting with us at Heathrow.” John says, there’s an edge to his voice, he sounds annoyed. You want to turn and look at Simon who you can feel behind you, you wonder what they talked about they weren’t gone for long. Everyone's listening to what John is saying but it feels like he’s being intentionally vague. 

“-it’s a shame none of you learned French.” You hear John say. 

“I speak French.” You say. They all turn to look at you.

“Fluently?” John asks you nod. 

“I had a knack for languages in school.” John looks around the table and down at the plans. He thinks for a second then nods. It’s almost like you can hear what he’s thinking. Guess you’re not totally useless after all. 

 ——————————

You’re nervous, tapping your leg under the table, so much so Kate has to put her hand on your knee to get you to stop. You wrap your hands round the coffee you’ve almost finished. What if you couldn’t understand them? What if you can’t help and John has wasted his chance. You push the thoughts away as you wait for the other man to show up. It was supposed to be simple, that’s what John said when you all arrived at the rental you were staying at. Two guys having a meeting, your job was to listen, translate, and do as you’re told. John showed you pictures of the men in question and you had them burned into your memory, looked like your average looking middle eastern guys. They looked young maybe early 20’s it made you sad to think people so young had so much hate. 

“How long have you and Riley been together?” Kate asks suddenly. You try not to look shocked at the question. 

“It’s not like that. We’re not..together.” You say taking a sip of coffee, or maybe it is, you just haven’t put a label on it yet. 

“I see the way he looks at you.” Kate says pushing her sun glasses back up on her face. You look back down at the coffee, trying to hide your blushing. 

“How long have you worked with them?” You ask. Changing the subject. 

“Years, when they were still active duty we used to work very closely together.” Kate says. You still don’t know what you think of her but from the reunion at the airport it seemed at least her and John were close. All smiles and hugging. Kate Laswell CIA, John introduced her as. You shook her hand as she looked back at John confused. You wanted to pick their brains ask them all about her but it felt rude.

“You and John seem close.” You say trying to pry information from her. It didn’t mean to come across as a dig at her but it felt like one. Especially after she asked about Simon.  

“Yeah, he’s saved my ass a couple of times, I saved his too.” She smiles sipping her coffee. She looks older then John, or maybe they’re the same age. John doesn’t even seem that old, you keep forgetting to ask Simon how old he really is. You suspect the bags under his eyes and wisps of silver hair you seen now and then make him seem older then he is. 

“Did you to ever..” You trail off not really knowing how to ask. She smiles and lets out a little chuckle.

“Strictly professional, besides he’s not my type.” You smile at her. She’s nice at least and doesn’t seem to be bothered by your presence. You look past her seeing the man you’ve been waiting for walk into the cafe. He greets his friend and sits down. You turn your body so you can hear them better. The conversation starts off normal up until their coffee is bought over. The it turns to something more serious. 

“They’re talking about the attack.” You relay to Kate, keeping your voice low. You’re trying to listen for specifics. Your fingers tap the table as you try to keep up with what they’re saying. You haven’t really practised French that much and they are talking quite fast. Kate told you to pay attention to dates, numbers, locations, specifics like that even if they didn’t make sense. 

“They’re not happy the second bomb was found.” You say, you’re surprised they’re talking about this so open in such a public place. It makes you nervous, they’re not afraid if innocent people get hurt. You try to relax focusing all your effort on trying not to look so obvious listening in to their conversation. 

“They know a guy on the inside, who works for the metro. He’s the one they’re using to plant the bombs, apparently he’s under too much suspicion, he can’t do it.” You look at Kate she’s writing down what you’re saying in a notebook. 

“They’re talking about an airport, not Charles de Gaulle, another one. They have tickets, they’re leaving tonight.” You say hearing one of the men hand over a ticket to the other. 

“They’re talking about another target. Somewhere big, that’s why they have to leave. It’s in Paris.” You try to will them to say a name anything. Instead the conversation abruptly ends with the buzzing of a phone. The man who showed up later says his goodbyes and takes his leave. You watch as he passes you and Kate out the cafe. 

“We need someone to tail the mark, he’s leaving now, with a plane ticket. Get the ticket.” Kate says on the phone, then turns to you. 

“Order us another coffee.” You nod waving the waiter over asking for a refill. You watch as the man leaves the cafe, a few seconds later you see a glimpse of Johnny. Your heart starts beating rapidly as you watch him weave through the crowds after the man. You sip the coffee letting it burn your mouth suddenly worried about him. He knows what he’s doing. You remind yourself they’re SAS soldiers.

Kate keeps a conversation with you about something generic, you’re only half listening your ears still burning like you’re waiting to start listening to another conversation. It’s almost midday now the sun is belting down, the coffee not helping. Before you know it you’re uncomfortably sweating, you know you have to stay until the other man leaves. You hear a phone ringing it’s the man behind you, you look at Kate who smiles moving her hand to the pen.

You listen carefully, it’s harder when you’re only getting one side of the conversation apparently. Your breath catches in your throat as you hear the words out his mouth translating them in your head. You almost want to turn around and ask him to repeat it, then you remember the situation. 

“The other man knows he’s being followed.” You say to Kate. Before she can respond the man gets up from the table rushing out the cafe in the direction you saw Johnny go. Kate is already on her feet on the phone before you have chance to process what’s happening. You follow her blindly back to the house you came from. You hope Johnny is okay and they managed to get the word to him. You rush through the doors to see John and Simon gathered round the table. Kyle and Johnny are not here, they turn to you as you walk over to the table.

“Good work.” John says to you and you smile looking down at the map on the table. Kate and John talk when something grabs your eye, it’s a piece of paper with part of a poem written on it. You pull it out from the stack. There is a rough translation scribbled next to it. It’s a bad translation though. 

“What’s this?” You ask holding it up. John almost looks annoyed your interrupted their conversation. 

“Part of a poem we think, they’ve been using them to send messages, thought it was important but the translation says otherwise.” Price says crossing his arms.

“Chanson de la Seine.” You say looking at it. “The translation is bad though. Notre dame jalouse. It’s not; our lady is jealous, that’s a direct translation. It’s talking about the location on the river seine, the Notre-Dame cathedral.” You look at them waiting to see if they understand. Then it hits you what it means. Shit.

  ——————————

You’re laying on the sofa watching the TV when everyone leaves. The news is showing the recent ‘terrorist scare’ which as lead to the Notre-Dame being evacuated. You smile, you helped cause that. It was a good thing, the safest thing to do. Johnny and Kyle came back from chasing the guy not long after John and Kate had made calls to the French authorities. They didn't get him instead coming back when John called them. You weren't really listening much after that, they all kind of went around doing their own things for about an hour before they were picked up by some gendarmes.

Even Kate went with them, you wished you could have gone too but instead you were told to stay here and expect them to be back in a few hours. John had given you all the rest of the poem and song verses they had collected and asked you to look over them. You haven’t bothered yet looking over at the pile lying on the coffee table. You should make a start though its the least you can do to help them out, and they probably need them done sooner rather then later.

You sit up picking the pile up while watching the TV. It kind of feels like your in school again doing your French homework for the week. The first two have been translated well so you put them too the side. There are some old classic poems you recognise from your french classes, the rest are songs old and new. The verses are nitpicked though not in any kind of order. Maybe there was an order but you didn’t have all the information. Some were dated and had locations on them others were blank.

You look back up at the TV as the news caster says a British counter-terrorism unit has been sent over to aid with the ongoing attacks. You see John in the background as the caster moves to the side, then Simon and Kyle. Simon has that scary mask on the one that looks like a skull, even from the brief shot before they move away it sends shivers up your spine. You don’t see Kate anywhere, you assume since she was the only one who left the house without all the military gear on, she’s probably behind the scenes.

You don’t have time to think about it much longer before there is a sharp knock at the door. Your body freezes in fear as your hand grips the paper you were reading. You wait a second looking towards the front door. There’s another harsh knock that goes on for longer. You turn the TV off waiting, not knowing what to do. If it was them they all have keys, plus you just saw them all on live TV. You wait for the next sound expecting another knock but instead you hear a power tool.

You panic, they’re going to break in. You stand up clutching the papers in your chest with your phone thinking of a place to hide. There’s a chubby in the kitchen where the cleaning supplies are, you could go in there. You head over to it but the decide different. There is an en-suite in the master bedroom, that has to have a lock.

The drilling has stopped and you hear metal clanking you have to pick. You rush into the master bedroom leaving the door open and lock the en-suite as you hear voices. You slap your hand to your mouth so you don’t make a sound the papers falling from your arms. Someone says search the place. You can’t hear them very well but you hear footsteps in the bedroom. You hold your breath hoping he’ll think the door is a wardrobe and give up when he can’t get in. The door handle jiggles but thankfully the person gives up.

You hear more people talking, there must be at least 4. You scoot over to the door and press your ear up against it. You try to concentrate on them talking your ears ringing as your heart pounds in your chest, you press your hands against the door your body shaking. 

“How did they know?” Someone says. 

“The woman she’s American CIA.” Another replies, you’re struggling to hear your mind racing at 100 miles an hour at least you don’t have to translate for anyone. Then you remember your phone, you pull it up in your shaking hands. Who do you call? You go to your contacts pulling them up and thinking. Maybe you shouldn’t call you can’t really talk right now. You hear power tools again. 

“Are you almost done with the door?” Someone says. “Have you finished setting the bugs up?” 

“Yeah, should I put some in the bedrooms?” A new voice asks. 

“Only if you want to sort through hours of snoring audio.” 

“Come on let’s get out of here, before they come back.” The same deep authoritative voice says. You’re shaking as you type on the phone, you don’t even know what to say. You think you hear them leave but you’re too scared to look instead sitting up against the door. No one replies to your message, you feel tears streaming down your cheeks as the adrenaline wears off. You stay in the spot on the bathroom door for what feels like hours when you hear the front door again.

This time using a key, it has to be them, a second later you hear their voices. You stand up your body stiff legs aching as you leave the safety of the en-suite. You’re shaking as you go out into the living room seeing them all turn to look at you. Concern washes over their faces. You put your finger to your mouth your eyes wide looking round them all. They look confused you reach out grabbing John’s arm and pulling him towards the bedroom gesturing for the others to follow. They do if not very slowly, when they’re all in the room you close the door behind them. 

“People broke in while you were out, they were looking for something. They knew about Kate being CIA. I think they were planting microphones, something around the place. But not in the bedrooms, they said they didn’t want to listen to all the audio of snoring. I don’t know how many there were but they broke the door with power tools.” You pause for a second realising that you’ve just been blurting words out. Your eyes flick up to Simon, you wish he could hold you right now, you wish you could see his face. His scary mask is gone but he’s still sporting the ski mask you’ve seen him in before. 

“Okay, sit down.” John says pressing your shoulders so you sit down on the bed. 

“Take a breath and start again.” He says. You follow his instructions talking in a big gulp of air and starting again. You go over everything how you were watching TV when you heard them knocking on the door. You hid in the en-suite and listened to them talking. They said they were planting bugs and then you were too scared to leave. You show them the word vomit text you sent then the next thing you remember is hearing them come back. 

“Soap, Gaz search the place, Ghost stay with her, Laswell with me.” Everyone but Simon leaves the room. You’re still gripping your phone when Simon rests one of his hands on your shoulder, it makes you tense up for some reason but he gives you a gentle squeeze anyway. You try to relax as you wait for everyone to finish doing their jobs.

“You did good.” Simon says, you look up at him, he’s looking down at you his expression soft. You smile at him, your cheeks still puffy from crying.

“How did it go, did you find anything?” You ask. He shakes his head and you nod. You don’t know if that mean’s they didn’t find anything or he can’t talk about it until they know the place is clear. 

“Got one.” Johnny says, you look through the bedroom door to see him throw something on the table. A few minutes later Kyle throws one on the table. Then Johnny with another. You feel sick it reminds you of when Kyle found the cameras in your place. This is different though way more dangerous, these people are planting bombs to kill people. You watch as John picks one up in his hand before looking over into the bedroom. His eyes meet yours for a second then he looks up at Simon. 

“We’re leaving tonight.” John says suddenly. Simon walks out the room over to the table while you sit there watching them rush around to pack everything up. You had barely been in Paris 12 hours and now you’re already leaving. You head into the en-suite picking up the papers you dropped when you rushed in there. You bring them out to hand them to John who’s stacking papers back into folders. 

“Did you manage to go through them all?” He asks. You shake your head. He goes to open his mouth again but then a phone starts ringing, then another. John take his phone out his pocket. You hear Kate talking too. You watch as they both lock eyes with each other. John goes over to turn the TV on. You sneak past him watching the news caster, your stomach drops when you see the footage. It's London. You’re not even listening to Kate and John on their calls just watching the plumb of smoke rise up out the underground station entrance. 

“Holy shit.” You gasp your hand flying to your mouth. Simon, Johnny and Kyle come over to see too. 

“What are they saying?” Kate asks now she’s off the phone. John leaves going into the bedroom closing the door behind him. 

“It happened about an hour ago, evening rush hour. They’re not sure who did it.” You say looking round as you translate. It’s making a lump form in your stomach. 

“12 people dead, more injured thats the preliminary numbers.” You feel your phone start vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out it’s your mum. 

“I have to get this, my mum will be worried.” You say going off to the side. When your mum answers the phone you hear sniffling. Everything stops your body freezes you feel a lump form in your throat.

“Mum?” You say hoping she’s just worried about you. 

“It’s Dylan” She sobs. You can’t breathe, your brother Dylan. You feel sick and dizzy all at once. 

“Mum?” you say again your voice breaking. “Is he dead mum?” She doesn’t answer her sobbing just getting louder.

“Oh my God.” You breathe down the phone gripping it as hard as you can. Your stomach’s doing flips. Your little brother, this can’t be happening. He’s the good kid the one who was supposed to do something with his life. 

“Hello?” There is a new voice on the line now. It’s familiar though you recognise it. 

“Yes, hello?” You say fully sobbing now, you hear the door to the bedroom open behind you. 

“It’s Christine from next door. Dylan is alive, at least that was the last update we got.” She says.

“W-when was that?” You as trying to wipe the tears away. You feels someone come up behind you. You hope it’s Simon, all you want now is to get back to the UK. 

“About 10 minutes We don’t know what is happening I assume you heard about the bomb?” She says.

“Yeah.”

“He was on the train, he was injured. A paramedic called us, but we have not had an update since.” She says. You can hear the sadness in her voice too, and your mother sobbing in the background. 

“I’m so sorry.” She says. You don’t know what to say. 

“Please keep me updated.” You say your voice breaking again. You don’t want to hang up you can’t not while your mother is breaking in the background. You wish you were in London, you wish you were home. You put the phone down turning to see everyone's eyes on you. It was Johnny who had come up behind you, you swallow hard holding the phone up. 

“My brother was on the train.” You manage before you just turn into a sobbing mess, the reality finally hitting you. Johnny doesn’t hesitate wrapping his arms round you and squeezing you tight. You wish it was Simon holding you instead, you wish your brother was okay. You wish you were home. 

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This chapter failed the bechdel test so hard. I will make it up next chapter...

[wendytestabrat]

kyle LOVES cartman's determined attitude

what i rlly liked abt the end of obesity special was it showed once again how all of the shit kyle acts like he hates about cartman is what he actually loves, as i've talked about before 483836738 times. kyle actually loves cartman's unapologeticness and sass even though he shits on him A LOT for it, evidenced by the the fact that he gets all annoyed when cartman starts suddenly acting good LOL (i.e stunning & brave, all of season 20, and post covid). but mainly what he loves about cartman is his DETERMINATION. as i've talked about before, that's one of the main things C&K have in common is they're both EXTREMELY stubborn and passionate and never give up when they set their mind to something (and i analyzed this in their MBTI types bc they're both Js) even if they're both fighting for completely opposite things and this special RLLY emphasized how much kyle shares that trait in common with cartman when the insurance guy is like "i didn't realize i was dealing with someone who had so much determination" LOL. i remember i talked abt in a rant once a longass time ago how that's the main thing cartman loves about kyle and i used the moment in imaginationland where cartman is like "KAHL YOU'VE NEVER WALKED AWAY FROM ANYTHING IN YOUR LIFE!1!1!" as evidence, but i've never rlly talked much about how much kyle appreciates that trait in cartman too. this special rlly showed how kyle LOVES cartman's tough boisterous obnoxious attitude and he appreciates his persistence in getting pretty much anything he wants. that's why kyle was DISAPPOINTED to see cartman so upset and easily giving up when he couldn't get the weight loss drug. he doesn't understand how cartman is tough and has willpower with literally everything EXCEPT his health (and other things that are good for him such as his school grades, i mean according to kyle bc i don't give a shit about grades either) LOL. that pep talk kyle gave cartman about being tough rlly helped cartman and got through to him bc fighting for the shit he wants is his whole thing and kyle was reminding him who the fuck he is. (yeah heidi could never lol). the fact that kyle even thought of that as something good to give cartman advice on, shows it's something he's observed and even ADMIRED about him over the years. so that's how we know in all of those moments when kyle would shit on cartman for being bad, breaking the rules, and always needing to get his way that he was just full of shit and lying bc he likes it LOL. like i remember back in "scott tenorman must die" how kyle kept telling cartman to let it go and drop it when he saw how cartman wasn't giving up and kept trying over and over to get his $10 back from scott, but the fact that kyle was even observing how much cartman wouldn't give up, shows how much this trait about cartman rlly stood out to him and INTRIGUED him. and the main reason why cartman's tenacity interested kyle so much and he was going out of his way to shit on him for it is bc kyle knows damn well he can be like that too, so either he was shitting on cartman for being overly tenacious bc he's insecure that he has that quality in himself, or he just secretly admires the trait in cartman and doesn't know how to process it (it's probably both) LOL. i'm sure kyle liked how there was finally someone else in south park, let alone in his friend group, that's as persistent as him and can match his energy bc he's tired of being the only one in town who's extremely extra lol. this DEF goes hand in hand with that rant i did a while back about how the reason why kyle hates seeing cartman sad and it hits him way harder than when he sees stan sad is bc he's used to seeing cartman's tough over-the-top extroverted personality and LOVES that about him even though he won't admit it, and this special just further proves my point. so thank you once again matt & trey for proving me right for the 47383573838 time.

[indigosunsetao3]

I would like to request a comfort story in which either Kyle or Johnny are comforting a Reader who has been slowly enduring an increasingly awkward, hurtful, and one-sided childhood friendship over the past few years. I know these guys would never make Reader feel passed over or unworthy.

(This may or may not be inspired by my current situation with my roommate. I understand now why it is common advice to never move in with a close friend. 🫠)

Oh no! I'm so sorry you're going through this 😔. Living with someone can be so difficult, and things can be even rougher when it's a friend and things start to sour. I promise I value you. I enjoy all our back and forth, and I always look forward to your comments! And you know what? Kyle (and Johnny) for sure would as well. Hope this helps a bit 💙

What are you doing?

You sigh and reach out for your phone sitting on the nightstand and drag it toward you.

What I'm always doing.

You hit send roll back on your back and start mindlessly flipping through your apps. Another night left alone in your room. You thought maybe tonight, just maybe, it would be a little better. You had been so excited to tell your friend about the promotion. Maybe go out to dinner together, window shop, stop at the new smoothie place for dessert. Do the things you used to do when you were younger, and life wasn't as complicated. Or weird.

But again, you were let down.

They barely acknowledged what you had to say, clearly absorbed in whatever was on their phone. Or whoever. And when you paused to see if they had anything at all to say to you, they just delved into their day. Their issues. And their plans that didn't involve you in the least. Except to ask a favor and feed their cat.

Years of being friends, back when you used to gush about your crushes while walking to school, was seemingly wasting away. Moving in together had always been the goal, the dream. Who needed other people when you had one another? Then, when you were old enough and finally found that special person, you'd live next door to one another, your families blending and blissful. Friends until the end.

But it seems you are the only one who has continued that dream. You hold onto it and try to breathe life into it, hoping it was just a weird rough patch in your friendship. But life was taking the two of you to different places. And while growing apart happens, you never expected it from them. Not like this anyway.

Get out of bed and go do something. Like what? I'm tired of going out to eat by myself. Then don't go by yourself. Who am I going to go with? I was asked to feed the cat by my roommate while they went out with their new friends. Again. Me You're...well, wherever you are. Did you want to facetime? I can make some sad macaroni. I'm about ten minutes away from your place so put some clothes on. When did you get home? Nine minutes, you're wasting time and I'm starving. I will drag you to the Thai place in pajamas.

You shoot up out of bed and frantically look at yourself. Kyle knew you too well, even if you hardly ever got to see him these days with his work. He still managed to figure out your habits through texting and facetime, or at least took the time to pay attention.

Grabbing the freshest clothes you can find, you throw them on and make your hair as presentable as possible. You know the Thai place he's talking about, it's just down the street and a little hole in the wall. There's no need to get overly dressed, but you have an extra minute to throw on some moisturizer and wipe away the smeared makeup from the day that you hadn't washed off yet.

And right on time there's a knock on the front door.

Slipping your shoes on, you whip open the door to see Kyle standing there. He's still in the clothes he traveled in based on the crumpled look, and his eyes reflect exhaustion. But the smile he gives you is anything but tired.

"Jacket," Kyle says with a nod toward the rack by the door. "Figured we could walk, and it's a little cold."

"You should have told me you'd be home!" You exclaim as you yank a hoodie off the hook and work on slipping it over your arms. You wrestle with it for a second before Kyle untucks the hood so you can put it on properly.

"It was last minute," he replies as you finally get situated, shutting the door to keep the nosey cat in, then leap onto him for a hug. When he laughs and wraps his arms around you, you sink further into him, savoring the hug you haven't felt in weeks.

"How long are you going to be back for? Was it just you that got leave?" You inquire as he pushes the front glass door of the apartment complex open for you to walk through.

"Not here to talk about me," Kyle answers as he gently maneuvers around you. He walks closest to the street, keeping you between him and the buildings. "Tell me about the promotion and everything else…then we'll get to me."

So you do. You delve into everything, including all the hard work you've put in, the long hours, and all the accolades you've received. He already knows a lot about it, but he still stays engaged while you talk. His eyes remain locked on you while you both eat, and he's always grinning as you babble about things that probably go over his head.

"And why were you hiding alone in your room this evening?" Kyle asks after you wrap up, and he shoos your hand away when the check comes. "If I didn't get in so late, we would have been out on the town. As you should have been."

"You know why," you say with a small sigh as you pick at the last bit of noodles on your plate. "It's like they don't even…care. I'm just there."

"Then you go out without them!" He states as if that were obvious. "You don't need them to have fun. Go find people, there are plenty of people that want your company."

You don't answer, just hum around your fork before setting it down on the plate. You know he's right, but no one talks about how hard it is to make friends as an adult. There isn't the easy sharing toys on the playground option, nor are there school allies when the teacher is being intolerable. And friends at work? Always a risk and never long lasting when one of you inevitably gets a new job.

"You can make more friends," Kyle chastises as he nudges your foot under the table with his. "You won me over," he smirks.

"I love you," you answer with a laugh, "but I do not want to make anymore friends if that is how I have to do it."

Piccadilly had been more than enough for you in this lifetime.

"Well, what do you want to do now? I mean, we can always still go downtown," he looks at his watch before looking at you. "But I have a feeling I already know what you want."

"Movies and ice cream," you state with a nod before linking your arm in his heading out of the restaurant.

Fully expecting the apartment to still be empty, you nudge the door open with your shoulder only to be hit with music and laughter. Lots of laughter. It halts you in your steps, and you look into the living room where your friend is with their friends playing some sort of game on the coffee table.

"Oh," your friend states, standing up suddenly awkward. "I…thought you were in your room." They gesture to the group, "it was my turn to host game night..and I didn't think you'd be interested." They glance at Kyle and you already know what is coming. "Would you like to join?" An invite you weren't afforded and was only being offered now because they were put on the spot.

"No worries," Kyle states with a saccharine smile that does not meet his eyes. “We don't need a pity invite for your…" he gestures vaguely at the group sitting in silence, staring. With that, he takes your hand and guides you back toward the bedroom, careful to shut the door a smidge too loudly.

"Kyle," you hiss as you sit down hard on your bed.

"Nope. You don't get to be upset with me," he states as he shoves your ice cream at you with the plastic spoon. "You get to be upset with them. It's time you figure out that being second or last choice is not an option."

He takes a seat next to you on the bed and wrestles the wrapper off his spoon before tossing it in the trash and looks at you expectantly.

"We've been friends since we were kids," you start as you look at him, the ice cream freezing your hands.

"That," he points with his spoon, "is not a friend. They thought you were here and didn't even bother to ask? They don't ask about you or how you are doing; it's always about them." He takes another bite of his ice cream to let you process. "I'm not saying I need to be your new best friend…but you need to find another one because that is not it."

You sigh and finally take a bite of your dessert, though it doesn't taste nearly as good as you had hoped. Disappointing truth has that unfortunate side effect.

"I know you're right, it's just…hard," you reason with a small shrug. "It's like a breakup. No one talks about how breaking up with a friend works."

"You don't have to return their things in a box and pour sugar in their petrol tank," Kyle jokes, "I may have had a pissed ex or two in the past." He tacks on at the look you cut him. "Just…start giving that distance back. Don't be there at their beck and call, don't show up for them when they can't even bother to check if you're even home."

"I know," you huff before stabbing your ice cream with the spoon and adjusting on the bed. "Speaking of showing up," you raise an eyebrow, "How long is your leave?"

"I have to catch a plane back at ten tomorrow," Kyle answers nonchalantly with a small shrug as your eyes widen. "Quick turn around."

"Kyle! You're going to be travelling longer than you were even here!" You exclaim. "And you look exhausted as it is! You need to go to sleep. Forget the movie." You move to rise from the bed, but he holds a hand up.

"Friends show up for friends," he states as if it were as simple as that. "Pick a movie. I can't guarantee I'll make it to the end awake, but I'll do my best."

You hesitate as you watch him, but he simply inches back on your bed and settles on the pillows, staring at your television, waiting. Knowing you aren't going to win the argument, you grab the remote and decide on a cheesy action movie.

As you both sit there laughing at the absurdity of the action, Kyle picking apart everything that is not realistic, you realize something. That while Kyle said he doesn't need to be your new best friend, you are fairly certain he's stolen that spot without even trying.