#and whatever tf he and john have going on

[arttful-dodger]

Anyone else write angst that is almost purely complaining about your own life but with the nice wallpaper of -insert character-?

.

This time, an actual curveball here I know, the “wallpaper” is Sam 🧡.

.

I just feel like the divine comedy of kissing your parents ass and neglecting yourself for them SO much that you start going deaf due to chronic ear infections and get so sick and tired of it all you just fucking move out is just -mwah- chef’s kiss.

[superhoeva]

could you imagine the faces of tf 141 if you were to turn the tables on them during sex? (w/c: 0.6k | +18/mdni)

kyle garrick would absolutely lose his mind when you start to throw it back on him. oh, the poor, pretty man–all he can do is watch, mesmerized with his eyes rolling back a little at the stroke you establish. you're fucking relentless, you. gaz's stomach is clenching and he's doing all he can to hold back the load threatening to explode from his tip. the guy can't even ask you to slow down, each word across his lips morphing into a swear or praise of how fucking unreal you are by the time they leave him. grabbing handfuls of your ass, kyle watches with a huff in disbelief, and his orgasm smacks him across the face. there's no time to pull out–not that you would let him–so he spills inside you... shaking and panting and sobbing out when you show no signs of letting up.

john price is, to put it kindly, beside himself. god, he should've known when he'd seen the glint in your stare when you'd finished the knot that you we're gonna be trouble. now, you're sitting front to his back, hands behind the man and squirming–him, captain jonathan price of the s.a.s.–and groaning with a thrown back head into the hand you have clamped over his mouth. you're stroking him with a squeezing fist, stopping every time a stream of grunts give away how close he is. fuck, he's losing it, and it's killing him, price thinks. this is how he's going to go. hands tied, rock hard, and a pretty bird jerking him to his grave... not the worst way to go, but still. his cock is red and throbbing and red, leaking out slick that you pauses to taste every so often with a swipe of your tongue across your palm. he's growing desperate. hips rocking and chest rattling. part of him is surprised you've lasted this long–tormenting him like this. stunned, even, that he hasn't ripped these thing ropes and yanked you onto your stomach already.

johnny mactavish comes. immediately–and without one ounce of shame about it. not with how you're looking down at him when–just a mere ten seconds ago–he was the one on top. in the blink of an eye, you'd flipped the man and pressed a hand into his hairy pecs to keep him down. the new angle plush the rush of pride that fills him is an instant push over the edge. coming, johnny wails from deep in his chest, and he think's he's kicked the bucket and drifted off to whatever heaven awaits him as you milk his cock with solid grinds. when his hands try and grab your siren hips, you drag them away and pin them to the bed. any other time, and johnny would have broken from the hold easily. however, today–right now as he's nothing but a milked-out mess–he just comes again. flooding you with cum he thought was all gone and going fucking blind at the way you grunt out how it's not his cock anymore–it's yours.

and simon riley never forgets. it's burned into the very depths of him, how you repositioned his legs with a surprising heave, draping them over your hips before sinking down onto him with a bit lip. gripping him at the knees you buck however you feel like as he lies there. taking it, and even egging you on with low words here and there. 'pretty likes bein' on top, hm?' 'likes bein' in charge of a cock that could split you open 'f it wanted to.' them hips 're somethin' else. didn't think ya had it 'n you...' ghost stares at you the entire time, fist nearing ripping the sheets as his body bucks with yours. he'll never forget you like this. not stopping when he warns that he's close and cooing at him when he comes with a frustrated grunt and lost words. bouncing and taking him for all his worth.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[tojisun]

!! it’s very silly and unserious and the only reason it’s long is because it’s so vivid in my head. unedited as hell </3

nosy neighbours tf 141 got me giggling. and it’s not even inherently sexy nor attractive, it’s really just them being in people’s (or a person’s) business.

thinking about how, in retirement, they still bought a house together because it’s so odd to have separate lives. and so they bought one in the suburbs, with five bedrooms and four baths, and a really big backyard. kyle picked up gardening so the backyard was not just a plus but a damn requirement.

so they move in, not giving a damn about that one old WASP couple across the street watching them all with a sneer because apparently moving in with your mates is unusual. well, whatever. fuck them.

then they meet their new neighbour. you’re single—divorced, price would tell them later—whose life is centred around your 9 to 5 job at an office in the city which you wake up at 5am for.

you leave the house at 6:30am and then amble back home when it’s pushing 8pm. it’s a boring life; a boring routine. not even your little front lawn of cared-for wild flowers managed to hold their attention longer than a day.

so with that said, they’d like to go on a record and say that it’s all johnny’s fault.

friday evening, he started the game by saying, “she bought a baguette.” he paused. “and a bottle? it's shaped like lube?”

john blinked, setting his book down. “what.”

mactavish shrugged, still peering from the crack in the curtains. kyle walked in then, his apron all dirtied. “hey, i’m craving a baguette.”

johnny laughed and looked at price like price was supposed to get something from that. of course he didn’t, but johnny’s always been good at carrying the momentum so, to no one’s surprise, he repeats the observation three days after the previous one.

“bag’o coal and lemon bread. what the hell.”

“that’s a disgusting dinner combo,” kyle chirps, switching the channels.

simon throws a pillow at him because he had been watching a documentary about moths when kyle changed the program without asking him.

“it’s just monday,” john finally replies, cementing his participation in the game. “why’s she buying lem—did she not grocery shop?”

johnny looks at him, wide-eyed. “that’s a good question, sir.” then he turns, ignoring them again to peer at their neighbour. john’s sure you’re back in your home so he really doesn’t know what johnny’s watching at that point.

simon was successful at wrestling the remote control back to him, and the program’s returned to the moths.

.

thursday evening, two and a half weeks after monday’s lemon bread and bag of coal, the game picks up again.

“who the hell makes a rug purchase during the weekdays?” kyle asks, his voice teetering between fascination and concern.

“how long’s the rug?” johnny replies, all of them watching as kyle stands in front of that slip of window they now use for ‘bird watching.’

kyle spreads his arms out—2.5 ft.

“huh,” johnny says. “for the toilet, you reckon?”

“probably for the cat, actually,” simon cuts in.

“what cat.” john doesn’t even know who asked that, but really—what cat?

“a round thing,” simon answers. “grey fur.”

“aww,” johnny croons. “that’s cute.”

john sighs and turns back to the morning paper’s crossword puzzle for the day.

.

you don’t join the neighbourhood’s annual summer barbecue party much to their disappointment. although, in all fairness, john understands your decision because they wouldn’t have gone to it anyway had they not found out that the host this year was going to be that WASP couple who still sneered at them every chance they get.

the wife, of course, couldn’t turn them away in front of the other neighbours who particularly loved kyle and, shockingly, simon so there they are, eating what is begrudgingly some good ribs while listening to the neighbourhood gossip.

and while each story was riveting, nothing could honestly hold a candle to their ‘bird’ and your peculiar grocery runs.

.

one evening, you come home with a man. john tells them it’s your ex-husband, admitting to them that yes, he’s now used up their once-a-month pass to accessing ‘special’ resources with regards to finding more about you.

“think they’re fuckin’?” johnny asks, no longer feigning disinterest.

kyle groans because it had been more than a minute now since johnny dropped a card from his stack; they tried their best to be patient as they waited, thinking mactavish needed more time since, apparently, he’s never played cards before—growing up as a catholic boy, he’s always been told that any form of gambling was a gateway to eternal damnation.

john didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t have to make bets to be able to play cards.

“maybe,” simon replies, ignoring kyle’s angry grumbling. “why else would she bring him home? her house ain’t really a wonder.”

“…how do you know that?” kyle asks, his words measured and slowed.

simon blinks, then he sniffs, before looking away.

“hey!” mactavish screams, catching on. “we agreed no tampering with anythin’ of ‘ers!”

“yeah? well tell ‘at to cap’n too—he was already there when i broke in.”

johnny turns to him with a theatrical betrayed look. kyle drops his head on the table because the game’s been fully abandoned now.

“sir,” johnny says, his voice airy like he’s speaking mid-gasp. “you didn’t.”

john licks the back of his teeth, then, “jus’ wanted to see ‘er cat, s’all.”

.

the ex-husband leaves three hours later with a familiar rug tucked to his side.

.

“huh,” simon murmurs, his voice so faint that john almost missed it. “tulips and tuna today.”

johnny and kyle would’ve loved the update but the two are away for the week.

john messages it to the group chat.

suds (19:21)

> holy shit she’s improving.

.

oddly enough, it took them six months since they moved in for them to finally talk to you.

or, well, for you to talk to them.

“i’m havin’ a yard sale tomorrow,” you say after the introductions have passed, your lips tugged up in a shy smile.

john honestly couldn’t even remember how he used to envision you—old age caught up to him and for a whole while, you were nothing but a coloured blob in his eyes since they turned out to be more damaged than expected—but whatever that had been was erased the moment you stood before them.

shy and awkward, your back slouched just a little like you’re trying to curl into yourself in the face of their rapt attention, but even then you’re beautiful.

“yeah?” kyle asks, smiling; the first to break out of the trance you put them into. “and would y’need help, pretty miss?”

“oh, you,” you murmur, strained laughter peeling from your lips. “and yeah, i do. would that be alright? i tried moving my old couch downstairs and my back almost gave out. i swear, i thought i was going to see the lord today.”

johnny laughs, loud and booming. “well we’re glad that you didn’t die today, otherwise who would take care of little truffle, huh?”

john barely stopped himself from heaving out a loud sigh, an attempt made more challenging when he caught the way kyle whirled his head to glare at mactavish, the act not any less subtle since it startled you too. simon grumbles something incoherent—it’s lost amidst johnny’s petering laugh and your swelling horror.

“…how, exactly, do you know my cat’s name?”

[lustjunkiie]

1. I think it's so cute that we can call you Mrs. Beth.

2. It's getting warmer out, and I can't stop thinking about the 141 finding out their girl wearing a sundress or skirt without panties... I feel like Simon and John would be freaks about this. (In a good way)

Yes! I am Mrs. Beth <3 Here for all your fanfic needs.

As a Texan girl, I love me some hot weather.

And I’m starting to think the boys would love it just as much as I do.

TF!141 (Individually) x Fem!Reader, Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of public / bathroom / work intercourse! (I think that’s it).

SIMON:

Simon doesn’t think much of the dress at first, just sees you bringing him ice water while he works shirtless in the back garden, picking at weeds and tidying up the area for the little one you’re both expecting.

“Mm, thanks, luvvie,” he sighs, sipping the water and handing it back to you before explaining what he’s been doing to the yard and how he eventually wants to arrange it for the baby.

Then, the wind catches, and you yelp a bit, frantically moving to pin your dress down to your thighs — escaping the cold breeze. He raises an eyebrow, whatever gardening tool in his hand is long forgotten.

He steps forward, hand traveling down the side hem of your dress until he reaches the hem, dipping under it to discover that this dress is all you have on. He takes a deep breath, his head momentarily lulling back as he thinks.

“Get in the house.” He demands softly, his voice rough with promise.

JOHNNY:

Now, with Johnny, (and maybe Kyle a little bit but we’ll expand on that soon), I feel like he already knows. It’s a power thing. Especially if you work with him, and you guys have a little affair on the side.

“Ye ain’t wearin nun under yer civvies, are ye?” He’ll text you a few hours before a night at the bar with the team, causing you to bite your lip and roll your eyes. But you comply, wearing a tight dress with nothing under. And when he sneaks you two away to the seedy bar bathroom, he’s grinning like he won the lottery.

And to him? He did. With you.

KYLE:

I feel like Kyle is secretly a freak. Like shibari with ribbons and lace kinda freak. So he buys your lingerie, and asks you to wear it on y’all’s date tonight. Thinking it’s an innocuous enough request, yeah? He just wants to see his baby in something frilly and pink.

But, to his surprise, he feels you up at the dinner table (freak) only to discover there is nothing there. And, while it’s hard to catch a vigilant man like Kyle off-guard, he is stunned for a long second. As you innocently smile at him and usher the waiter over for another drink.

It’s a miracle he didn’t pay then and get everything to-go, truthfully — while he sat there with his fist bunched against his jeans and his cock twitching against his zipper.

JOHN:

John is an old dog, with not many new tricks. Not saying he’s vanilla by any means, but he knows what he enjoys and he doesn’t really think much to expand outside of that. Until you.

He’s at work, buried in paperwork and contemplating a career change when his lovely bird strolls in through his office door — and his shoulders feel lighter. He feels like he can breathe again. Gestures for you to sit on his lap, and he doesn’t notice anything at first. Until you two get to kissin’ and bumpin’ and grindin’ and he feels a wet spot form on his pants.

Finally, he checks to see. No fucking underwear. For a moment, his brain is fried. He almost asks if you forgot to do laundry until you snicker softly at his face of realization, and then he understands what’s happening.

“Mm, naughty bird,” he laughs gruffly as he grips the fat of your ass, “you know I love easy access,” he teases, grinning against your lips.

author’s note! i am back! trying my best to hack away at some asks and such. love you all.

[dckweed]

tiktok made me do it!gf vs tf 141 boys

You’ve seen the prank all over TikTok—sending song lyrics to your boyfriend over text and seeing how long it takes before he either catches on or panics.

But with your boyfriend? It goes exactly as expected.

(forgot to post this morning)

warnings: elisions to smut, ass smacking, borderline angry bfs.

Captain Price – "talk is cheap”

(Song: Take It On The Run – REO Speedwagon)

You: Heard it from a friend who heard it from another you been messin’ around.

John’s reply comes immediately.

John: …Pardon?

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh.

You: They say you got a boyfriendo, you’re up late every night.

John: Who the hell is “they” and why are they about to get a lesson in not spreading shite about me?

You: Talkin’ about you and it don’t seem right.

John: What the fuck?

You: But I know the neighborhood and talk is cheap.

You stare at your phone, waiting for a reply. Instead, you hear the distant sound of boots stomping down the hall, as if coming from his office not too far away.

You barely have a second to react before Price throws the door open, his expression deadly serious.

"What the fuck is this about?" he demands, holding up his phone.

You freeze. "Uhh…"

He squints at you, chest heaving. "Sweetheart. Tell me this is some kind of joke before I start making some phone calls."

You burst out laughing.

"*Oh my God, babe, it’s a song!"

His eyes narrow. "A song?"

You nod, still wheezing. "REO Speedwagon! Take It On The Run! It’s a prank!"

Silence.

Then—Price lets out the deepest sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ, woman. I thought I was about to go interrogate the whole bloody street."

You snort. "I love that your first instinct was to fight everyone."

Price gives you a look. "You really wanna test my patience right now?"

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You’re so hot when you’re all protective."

He sighs again but kisses you anyway. "Damn woman’s gonna kill me someday."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "are we fighting?”

(Song: One More Night – Maroon 5)

You were bored, okay? the man left you to go on a run, he’d been gone for nearly an hour by now and you missed him..so what better to do than your favorite pass time of getting on his nerves? There was something your followers had been asking for since the last video you posted with him, and to you, it looked like the perfect opportunity has arisen..

You: You and I go hard at each other like we’re going to war.

Gaz: …What?

You: You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the door.

Gaz: Babe???

You: You and I get so damn dysfunctional, we stopped keeping score.

Silence. Then—

Gaz is calling…

You ignore it. Stay strong.

Gaz: Answer the phone.

Gaz: Right now.

Gaz: BABY.

You: I know I said it a million times…

Gaz: Said WHAT a million times?!?

Then—suddenly, the door to your bedroom bursts open.

Gaz stands in the doorway, wide-eyed and panting. "Are you okay?!"

You stare. "Kyle."

"Baby, what the fuck is going on? Are we fighting? Did I do something? Why are we—*" He stops mid-rant as he sees your phone screen—still on the text chat.

His face drops. "Oh my fucking God."

You lose it, falling onto the bed in hysterics.

"You absolute menace," he groans, rubbing his temples. "I just ran through the entire fucking neighborhood like an idiot."

You wipe away tears of laughter. "I love you so much."

He groans again, flopping onto the bed beside you. "You’re lucky I love you, too."

Simon "Ghost" Riley – “cryptic bullshit”

(Song: Love You Like A Woman – Lana Del Rey)

Simon had been gone all day, off at the base doing routine trainings and whatever else it is that he did (he never really told you his exact job description), he hadn’t texted you since breakfast and you assumed he was busy, but, you couldn’t resist screwing with him a little bit, you knew it wasn’t nice of you, but you truly enjoyed keeping him on his toes..

You: Talk to me in poems and songs.

Ghost: …What?

You: Don't make me be bittersweet.

Ghost: Sweetheart, what the fuck are you talking about?

You: Let me love you like a woman.

Ghost: …

You: Let me hold you like a baby.

Ghost: …

You: Let me shine like a diamond.

Silence.

Then—

Ghost is CALLING…

You ignore it, which admittedly isn’t your smartest move in the grand scheme of things..

Ghost: Answer the fucking phone.

You: Let me be who I’m meant to be.

Ghost: WHERE ARE YOU?

You: Talk to me in songs-

No response, you figure he’s gone back to work, that he’ll respond later. It doesn’t cross your mind that he could be making the ten minute drive home until you hear tires screeching as they come to a stop.

Through the curtains you can see the silhouette of the truck, of him jumping out and rushing to the porch. The front door swings open so violently that it nearly comes off the hinges.

Ghost stands in the doorway, all 6’4” of him, broad-shouldered and seething. His skull mask is pushed up onto his head, revealing his sharp, exasperated glare.

He crosses his arms, staring you down. "Talk to me in poems and songs? What the hell kinda cryptic bullshit is that?"

You crack up, practically folding in half in the armchair you’re perched on. "Oh my God, Simon, it was a prank! Song lyrics! Lana Del Rey!"

Ghost blinks. "You pranked me?"

"Yes!"

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "You had me thinking you were having some sort of existential breakdown and ignoring my calls for LANA DEL FUCKIN’ REY?!"

You wheeze, clutching your stomach. "You should’ve seen your face!"

"You should see yours when I’m done with you," he mutters, already closing the door behind him.

You blink. "What?"

His fingers flex. "Oh, sweetheart, you wanted my attention, didn’t you?*"

Your stomach drops. "Simon, wait—"

Too late.

Ghost lunges, sweeping you up effortlessly and tossing you onto the couch.

Your squeal is drowned out by his low, amused chuckle. "Let’s see how poetic you’re feelin’ after I’m through with you, love."

(Lesson learned: never mess with Ghost unless you’re prepared for consequences.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "in the club doin a murder"

(Song: Gorgeous – Taylor Swift)

You had just come back from girls night, tipsy and craving your favorite persons attention, though he’s nowhere to be seen as you toss your bag onto the empty couch, the tv was playing what looked like an old football match, and there were a couple of beer bottles littered on the coffee table..stumbling to the bedroom you toss yourself lazily onto the bed, half on, half off, ass pointed towards the door as you swipe your phone open, pulling up your message thread, you felt like fucking with him a little.

You: You should take it as a compliment, that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk.

Soap: EXCUSE ME??

You: And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us.

Soap: WHAT FUCKIN BOYFRIEND?!

You: He's in the club doing, I don’t know what.

Soap: I’M ABOUT TO BE IN THE CLUB DOIN’ A MURDER, WHO THE FUCK—

You: You’re so gorgeous!

Soap: YER DAMN RIGHT I AM, BUT WHO THE FUCK IS THIS BOYFRIEND YER TALKIN’ ABOUT?!

You: I can't say anything to your face.

Soap: WELL YE BETTER FUCKIN START BECAUSE I AM TWO SECONDS FROM LOSIN’ IT.

You: ‘Cause look at your face.

Soap: STOP TRYIN’ TO BUTTER ME UP AND ANSWER ME, WOMAN.

Then—

Soap is CALLING…

You ignore it, pouting because you were in the middle of typing something and he interrupted.

Soap: ANSWER. THE. PHONE.

Soap: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YE?

Soap: YER ACTIN’ SHADY AS FUCK, LASS, I SWEAR—

His little bubbles go away and you start typing again, wondering if he was checking your location so he could come whisk you away. Before you can even finish typing another response, you hear the thunderous stomp of boots approaching. He mustve been down in the basement..

Then—BANG.

The door slams open.

Soap stands there, looking red-faced and furious, chest heaving like he just ran to find you. His hands are braced on the doorframe, like he’s physically holding himself back from shaking the answers out of you.

"What the fuck is this?!" he demands, holding up his phone.

You burst into laughter, barely able to breathe. "Oh my God, Johnny, it’s song lyrics!"

His eye twitches. "Song lyrics."

"Taylor Swift, babe! It was a prank—"

Soap lets out the most dramatic groan, dropping his phone onto the table as he scrubs his hands down his face. "*Ye mean to tell me I just sprinted through the fuckin’ house for TAYLOR SWIFT?”

"I’m so sorry—"

"Yer not," he accuses, glaring at you. "Ye knew I’d lose my fuckin’ mind over that shite!" He stalks towards you, you’re still half off of the bed, ass facing him.

You wipe away tears of laughter. "Aww, you got all jealous and protective. That’s kinda hot, Johnny."

He glares at you, and you don’t see his hand raise until he’s swinging it down, landing on your ass with a thwack. “Wanted to fuck around and find out, hm? Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, lass."

Your eyes sparkle. "Promise?" You wiggle your ass playfully, sly smile on your face..

Soap’s expression shifts—his jaw clenches, his blue eyes darkening just slightly.

You don’t have time to react before he lunges, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you over onto your back like a sack of potatoes, spreading your legs as he notches himself between them, the skirt of your too mini for his liking dress riding up to your waist.

"JOHNNY—!"

"Ye wanted my attention, lass? Well, ye fuckin’ got it now."

(Turns out, pranking your highly emotional, dramatic Scotsman has consequences.)

[systlin]

ooooo summarize the one where tarl gets called bosk by a mean lady and it rewrites his brain chemistry

Oh, Telima! The Mean Domme! LMAO it's so funny.

So Tarl is boating down the Big Fuckass River to Port Kar where a dude he wants to meet up with lives. Port Kar is a notorious hive of scum and villainy but has far fewer Han Solos to shoot douchebags in the face unfortunately.

We get like, ten pages of Tarl talking about how longbows are good at killing people, because duh of course they are. However, for some fuckass reason Goreans usually consider it a low class and disgraceful weapon, and Tarl is considered weird for liking it. I will give Norm credit for Tarl, raised an Englishman, having a favorable view of the longbow even in a society that views them as dishonorable. Reluctantly. Anyway.

He's in the Vosk delta, which is a vast labyrinth of swamp mostly covered in a reed called Rence, which is used to make paper and also parts are edible. It's inhabited by Rence Growers, who are actually kinda cool?

They make like, floating boat towns, and hunt and fish the marshes, and they take in fled slaves sometimes and let them live as free women. Like. They kinda rock actually?

Instead of any actual plot for a bit, we get like twenty pages here of Norm outlining Rence, how it grows, how it's harvested, how things are made from it, ect ect. This completely derails the story for a jarring length of time, and it will not be the last time such a thing happens. Norm loves his annoying and dumb infodumps.

Anyway, Tarl is in their territory, and happens upon a free woman fishing in the marshes. He is, predictably, what he thinks is polite but from her POV is intrusive and annoying, and her village takes him captive.

THEN we get to the wild shit.

 

A Sorp is a turtle, btw. And legit this is like, one of the 3 reasonable dudes we get on Gor. Ho Hak you're a king love you bro.

Champion shit.

ANYWAY.

This, in the hands of a better writer, could have been the moment when Tarl realized that, oh, shit, yeah okay in this situation he will act just like the women he's enslaved before who complied rather than be beaten or killed. It could have been a watershed moment.

It will not be.

ANYWAY, Tarl is taken slave, and Telima absolutely rearranges his whole brain with ONE SINGLE NIGHT OF BEING A MEAN DOMME.

He will go by this name FOR THE ENTIRE NEXT THIRTY BOOKS LIKE GIRL JESUS CHRIST.

He's chasing this high for the entire rest of the series. He never gets over this. Like holy shit. Fuck.

Anyway so some Port Kar slavers raid the place and take some people captive, whatever, there's not actually any plot in this book it's just here to get Tarl topped and get him to Port Kar. He fights the knowledge that he can be enslaved like he's enslaved women this whole time, and again somehow manages to do no actual growth or introspection. It's really incredible.

The only thing of note here is that there is a dude named Clitus, which is inexpressibly funny to me. I bet no one can find him.

Tarl becomes a Captain of Port Kar by killing one of the other Captains. There's like, a war with Cos and Tyros, which are also naval powers, and we are supposed to root for Port Kar but honestly I do not give a single shit. It's mostly so that Norm can jerk himself off to pictures of Greek war galleys and Charlton Heston as Ben Hur, tbh.

How TF Tarl knows without trying how to captain a war galley, you ask? And is somehow so good at it that all the other captains are in awe? Well because he's a Speshul Boy, of course.

Of course Tarl wins the war and shit, it's pointless, I don't give a single shit about Port Kar vs Cos Vs Tyros and I want Tarl dead.

Anyway, Tarl hooks up with Samos, but not the way Tarl would really like. Stupid PK vs Kurii plot shit is droned on about for like fifty pages. It's all stupid, the end.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{Heyyy so I know I haven’t really been active lately but I’ll try to get back to stuff but in the meantime have…whatever the fuck this is}~

•Snow•

When John Constantine woke up that morning he already had a bad feeling about…something

Ok he didn’t really have a thing to have a bad feeling about so far the day has been uneventful (which is odd considering it’s HIM) so John really didn’t know what was going on to make him so unsettled

But just in case (oh gods he’s starting to sound like the bats) he checked all of the protective runes on the house of mystery than checked every room for anything that all but when nothing turned up he just thought he was being paranoid

And while trying to calm himself down on the couch he heard something from behind him so he looked and when he did he saw

The Bloody Fucking Door

It was on the floor and a Being with white hair and that’s all he could really see from the hood covering their face and a mask with some of their hair coming out from under the hood kicked it the door down but before John could do anything the being grabbed him and throw him through the portal that was not there a second ago 

What has John’s life come to at this point he thought before he passed out with a cold feeling on his back and the blurry figure walking through the same portal

John wakes up to poking in his face and the sound of two pre-teens arguing

“Are you sure this is the right guy, he looks like a alcoholic” says a younger girl voice coming from his right side and probably the hand that’s poking him

“Yes, I’m sure this is the right guy he was in the magic house and he has the trench-coat” replied a boy around the same age as the girl and coming from his left side

That’s when John opens his eyes and are met with the faces of two pre-teens

~{ And that’s about it }~

•-—••••••••••••••••—-•

•Explanation•

Danny (With de-aged Dani and Dan who have been renamed Dawn and Dusk for plot purposes) had to dip from his home dimension but not the reasons you may think so

Vlad was being his usual asshole self and with Maddie shutting down any and all attempts at getting a date (I HC that he’s obsession is family because he was left alone in the hospital with a secondary obsession on control because he couldn’t do anything about he’s condition or help himself, but it’s still not a excuse to be a creep) so he was holding on by a thread at this point now to get off topic of this for a sec

Meanwhile Dani~Dawn and Dan~Dusk had to de-aged and Danny was taking care of them with a little bit of help from his parents when remembered they have children (Somewhat good Fenton parents! That’s rare in this Fandom) and a very busy Jazz has she is dealing with college stuff and everything is chill

Until Vlad’s obsession starts to change from dating Maddie and keeping Danny as his son to just keeping Danny but in the way Ra and Slade are and of course Danny is creeped TF out and starts to get ready to dip and somehow this gets back to Vlad and that’s what makes him go off the deep end and he starts to go after Danny

And in the fight to leave Jazz, The Fentons, Sam, Tucker all get got by Vlad and Danny gets injured but he is able to go through the portal and destroy it from his side with Dawn and Dusk with him

And they end up in Danny’s Lair and this leads us to now

•Explanation Done•

•—-••••••••••••••••—-•

•Outfits•

John Constantine-

Nothing really changes it’s basically the same as always

Danny-

Dusk-

Plus

( For his coat, Dawn and Dusk have to wear warmer clothes because they have a Wind and Water Core instead of just Danny’s ice core and they HATE IT )

Dawn-And her coat

•Ending•

~{And that’s it! I left this mostly unfinished so if anyone wants to take this I’m fine with it as long as you tag me so I can read! Anyway that’s about it see you gremlins soon byeeee}~

[paleepeaches]

John Wick Yandere Headcanons

Never done this before so be kind to me! But anyway I just had these thoughts and needed to word vomit them up!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, ddlg,

A/N: Wouldn't a fic be cute?

Okay so I know I'm not the first to say this and won't be the last but John is a fucking Yandere.

He's a full-blown stalker who probably sees you at a bar or even something so normal as a grocery store.

This man is LONELY af. Since Helen passed he can not find someone else for the life of him.

That's until you come along with your pretty doe eyes and sweet nature.

You can be younger than him and he'll be fine with it. John doesn't mind babysitting a cute bimbo like you

You'll catch his eye with your soft voice and sweet smile. Most people his age have a smoker's voice or are married.

He becomes OBSESSED with you quickly. I mean very swift like within 2 days of seeing you not even talking.

He'll just stalk tf out of you probably at your work. He'll see you bagging groceries or serving drinks and just observe you with customers.

He'll take note of what days you work and don't. He'll mark it on his calendar, and circle it in red like the old man he is.

Once he figures out your schedule and what time you get off, what route you take, if you drive or walk he'll follow you.

He's a skilled hitman so he knows how to disappear and follow someone without them noticing.

He'll stalk you all the way to your apartment and once he's sure you're asleep he'll break in.

He's scoped out your place enough to deduct that you have no pets. Even if you did he'd know how to handle a dog.

John is precise and determined which is why he'd be so keen on placing hidden cameras all over your house.

He'd position them in the living room, kitchen, shower, and even your bedroom.

He'd want to see your most intimate and private moments but not totally invade it.

Of course, you wouldn't find out. Your head is too stuffed in your phone scrolling through social media or online shopping. You got an addiction but it's okay once you're his he'll spoil you! John has a lot of pocket money from all his jobs!

How will he get you?

John doesn't half-ass anything. He's learned to see through tough missions. Even ones he didn't enjoy. Capturing you though...? He would enjoy it.

He'd enjoy setting a date, waiting outside your apartment with his car off.

He'd prepared all the necessary equipment such as ropes, duct tape, and a gun if he needed to threaten you but he'd find that would only scare you more and he didn't want his little girl frightened of him.

He'd go about it more skillfully, more stealthy.

John entered your home after he was sure you entered the deepest REM cycle. He snuck in the window you often left open. Poor forgetful you, always leaving windows unlocked.

One time he found your door unlocked which was a dreadful surprise for him. He locked it right after he watched you sleep for a whole two hours.

See? You needed him to look after you. He'd try to justify his insane actions with that.

With a completely guilt-free head, he'd enter your home, make his way into your bedroom, and see you asleep all cuddled up in your pink plush covers.

You'd look so cute and docile breathing softly.

He'd smile, admiring you before pulling out a clean needled from his jacket pocket. John pricked the needle into a vial of clear liquid, sucking up the fluid before administrating it to you.

Your eyes didn't even flutter open as he injected it.

"Such a good girl." John would speak softly to you, smoothing down your hair and kissing your forehead.

He'd pack your favorite stuffed animal, clothes, and even your cute collections of calico critters or sonny angels, whatever cute trinkets you collected.

He'd want you to feel comfortable at his home. Y'all's home.

[sstormyskyess]

Tender Love and Care

author's note: aftercare is probably one of the cutest things in the world so i had to match up some classic types of aftercare with the boys

cw: fluff, implied off-screen sex, massages, cuddling, shared baths/showers

word count: 1200+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley [massages]

♡ Ghost is not a very handsy man and never has been; he keeps to himself 90% of the time and even with you the physical contact you share is minimal. It doesn’t bother you, of course, since it’s simply a part of the way he operates.

♡ However, after coming down from the sweet high that you brought each other to, he needs to be close to you. He gets so swept up in the pleasure that he needs something to ground him and having his hands all over you is the perfect solution.

Simon frowns at the quiet groan you let out while his hands massage your stomach, soothing the muscles underneath. “I didn’t go too hard, did I love?” You smile at his concern and hold his wrists, giving them a squeeze. “It’s okay, Si, just a little sore.” You assure him. He hums, still worried but trusting your words regardless.

You sigh happily as you feel Simon’s hands rubbing languid circles into the skin of your thighs, soothing over the bruises he left there unintentionally. His thumbs slowly move down to your calf and bring your ankle up to his lips, kissing it softly. A shiver goes up your spine at the way he stared you down, his eyes trailing down your body with adoration in his eyes.

He places your leg down gently, shifting his attention to your wrists, the anchor he used to hold you in place earlier. Carefully, he pulls you up by your arms and has you sit chest to chest, eyes locked onto your hands, massaging your palms with his thumbs. You watch him kiss each of your knuckles and whisper a quiet, “I love you.”

John “Soap” Mactavish [cuddling]

♡ This man. This man. Soap is absolutely addicted to cuddling, whether he’s the big spoon or small spoon, face-to-face with you, or laying on top of you and vice versa. It doesn’t matter how, he just needs to kiss your skin: cheeks, hands, chest—anything. He also loves it when you kiss the marks you made on each other, reminding him exactly where you paid the most attention to each other.

♡ He whispers sweet nothings to you and tells you how much fun he had and how good you felt and how good you were for him.

After wiping the both of you down with the cold, damp washcloth you’d put on the bedside table, Johnny has you cocooned in your favorite fluffy blanket, holding you close. He tucks your head under his chin and lets you play with the hair on his chest, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips when your fingers start to tickle him a bit. He holds you tight, hands around the small of your back and the back of your head.

You hum and start to wiggle out of his hold. “I gotta go pee really quick,” you mumble into the skin of his neck. A grumble fills his chest when you start moving away, his grip tightening. “Johnny, let go…” You whine, struggling in his hold. He frowns and shuffles to lay on top of you, pushing the air out of your chest with a little ‘oof.’

You worm your arms out from under him and try to pull him off, tugging on his shirt. “Get off!” You squeak, but all you get in return is even more pounds laying on your chest. He laughs and starts covering your face in kisses, a wordless attempt at keeping you right where you were. “Nope, you’re staying right here, dove.” He nuzzles his face against your shoulder.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick [snacks/water]

♡ Often, Gaz has already gotten something for you both to drink and snack on while you’re laid up next to each other, watching whatever’s on the TV sitting on your dresser. He knows how much your evening activities can wear you out, so he always wants to replenish your energy before heading to bed.

♡ If he hasn’t prepared anything, he’ll pick you up and carry you to the kitchen with him to keep you close, not wanting to part with you for even a second. He’ll have you wrapped up in a blanket and sitting on the counter while he fills up a bottle with water and cuts up some fruit for the two of you to share.

Kyle’s eyes widen when you grab one of the grapes in his fruit bowl. “Hey!” He pouts while you giggle quietly, a smile on your face. Popping it into your mouth, you look up at Kyle who had his handsome face locked on you with stars in his eyes. You can’t help but bashfully laugh and look away, your cheeks warming under his adoring gaze.

His hand rested under the baggy t-shirt you’d stolen from him, fingers wrapped around your bare hip. You frown when a breath of cold air slips into the blankets when he reaches to the bedside table for his water bottle. “Kyle, come back…” You whine, tightening your hold on him. He laughs and comes back with the bottle, handing it to you before readjusting the blankets. “Drink up, baby.”

You cuddle up closer to him and open it up to take a few gulps of water before handing it back to him. It ends up haphazardly dropped onto the bed sheets when Kyle tosses it aside and leans down to kiss you on the head, on the cheeks, and all over your face. You start to giggle, trying to push him off; then, when you do, you see Kyle with his hand in your bowl of fruit, stealing a grape of his own, much to your dismay.

John Price [showers/baths]

♡ Sex with John can get fairly filthy; he loves making a mess of you and it often ends up with both of you covered in more than just sweat, so cleaning you up is a first priority once you’re done. He’ll wash you ever so gently and clean off anything that tainted your skin over the time you spent under the sheets.

♡ He’s invested in a variety of things to put in the bath, ranging from oils to bath bombs and salts, all in your favorite scents. He loves the feeling of your soft skin after being pampered, running his palms all over you just to feel it.

The bath bomb at the end of the bath has almost fizzled out by now, the bathwater now a light pink. John hovers over you and stares down at your relaxed face, eyes shut with a tiny smile perking up your lips. He chuckles when you press your head into his hands as he caresses you, his nails scrubbing along your scalp gently. You take a deep breath of the lavender oil coating his fingers and exhale, the steam from the bath shifting with your breath.

His hands dipped under the water and ran up your thighs, his fingers gliding across your skin smoothly. “You feel lovely, darling.” His lips brush along your shoulder as he speaks. You smile wide, letting him kiss up your shoulder and neck, all the way to your cheek.

You wiggle a bit when he gets a nice handful of your thighs and squeezes, a small laugh leaving you. You retaliate by reaching back and pinching him on the cheek. He joins in with his own laughter, pulling you closer to him and running his nails up and down your sides, tickling you. You squeal, trying to pull his hands away. “John, the water’s gonna spill out—!”

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[therainscene]

Stranger Things 4 is themed around A Nightmare on Elm Street -- Vecna is a child-killer-turned-demon who murders teenagers from within their own minds; his heavily scarred skin and clawed hand resemble that of Freddy Krueger; and the actor who played Freddy himself plays his father.

I think Stranger Things 5 is gearing up to do something similar with The Terminator. Linda Hamilton (Sarah Connor) is the upcoming guest star this season; Vecna's exposed skull and vine-covered neck resembles the T-800--

--and Will's speech at the end of S4 bears striking similarities to Kyle Reece's famous "it can't be reasoned with" speech.

If Vecna is the T-800... then the Mind Flayer is the perfect candidate for Skynet.

[And Hawkins National Laboratory is Cyberdyne Systems -- a military-funded lab that meddled with phenomena beyond its ability to control and paved the way for a sinister hive mind to enter the world.]

I'm pretty sure that the Mind Flayer lies at the heart of whatever timey-wimey stuff is going on. It's suspiciously linked to timeline inconsistencies -- Will is already able to sense it in his neck before his possession in S2, and young Henry in TFS is haunted by the spider monster he wasn't supposed to create for another 20 years.

I've already written a theory on how a causal loop could tie Will and Henry to the Mind Flayer -- whatever's going on is probably more complicated than this, since my theory doesn't explain why the Upside Down is frozen -- but it's worth a read, I think, as it's the same type of time paradox as the one in Terminator and could easily be at the core of ST's time shenanigans.

Will is Kyle Reece or Sarah Connor -- so does that mean he's going to be a gun-toting badass?

No.

This scene is Will coming full circle from that moment in the shed at the start of S1: backed into a corner and forced to resort to violence because he sees no other way out. He doesn't want to kill the monster; he has to.

But the difference is that he's not cornered anymore.

This time around, Will knows his enemy, and he has supportive friends and family at his side. He's just so beaten down -- by Vecna, by Hawkins, by perceived rejections from Mike -- that he's lost all confidence in his ability to stand up for himself on his own terms.

I know it seems at first glance that Will advocates the use of violence in desperate times, but consider the context of the episode in which the above scene appears:

Joyce is reminiscing about her missing son while dealing with Lonnie telling her what to do and feel about it. Shortly after, she realizes how manipulative he's being and permanently kicks him out of her life (and the show lol) -- no violence necessary.

Will's advice hadn't been about the value of violence, but about the value of refusing to play by abusers' rules -- a key lesson in Stranger Things, as we've been watching El learn it the hard way over the course of four seasons.

Will cannot self-actualize by "finally" pulling the trigger on an approach that symbolizes his homophobic father's macho expectations. S5 is going to be about him regaining his self-confidence and allowing his authentic, gentle nature to guide him to the real solution.

So, to return to the "he's not gonna stop" speech: the theme at play here is inevitability, and it's one of the central themes of The Terminator -- not simply because the titular assassin is unstoppable, but because of the love story that drives the plot:

If Skynet hadn't sent the T-800 back in time to kill Sarah Connor before she could give birth to the leader of the human resistance, then Kyle would have had no reason to go back in time and end up unknowingly fathering John. No matter how hard Skynet tried to snuff John Connor out of existence, the rebellious love that created him was just as inevitable as the T-800.

This, I think, is the message at the heart of both Terminator and Stranger Things, and is the reason why The Terminator would be the perfect choice for S5's theme movie:

Sometimes the horrors wrought by humanity are inescapable...

...but so too is the hopeful human drive to love each other and overcome them.

Read Brenner's role in creating Vecna as a metaphor for homophobic Reagan-era fear-mongering and it all clicks into place, I think.

[sevs-corner]

Another quick shot ideas on- Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Link to Prev parts:

Currently on Ch 2- Mini Epilogue, and you can find it here :D 👇

A/N: 1st Edit of adding onto Price’s part + the other TF 141 boiyos will get their own on a separate post✨

So here’s the sitch folks

Price👏has👏the👏moola

Which means that he will not hesitate to spend it all for you

But he keeps it lowkey, he isn’t the show-y type (cough Soap cough)

So he starts slow, aside from giving you his apparels, he wants to give something to call your own

But if he asks what you want, you’d suspect him

‘Smart sweetie,’ he thinks, whenever he sees you give him that inquisitive look

Eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk

If only you knew the things you do to this man behind closed doors

He starts giving you simple stuff, a bracelet - something that was sleek in design but had good value (both sentimentally and economically)

Because, when he gave that bracelet to you

It was the day he, tells himself this, officially fell for you- wanting to do his damnest to court you however possible way he can

Imagine a cold December, the worst possible season ever for you.

You hate the cold, as much as how it cool it becomes when the rain rolls in and rattles your bones.

No, you’re not old, just weary.

You always hated the rain, but why- as you stood hand-in-hand with this mafia boss- did you want the rain to continue.

Currently, you were running through the rain with him, laughing all the way until you found a tiny closed up shop with an awning over it.

Pointing at it with a quick, “over there! Som cover!”

Price nods and speeds up his pace, making you squeal— complaining that he should slow down or you’ll both slip but he insists.

“I’ll catch you,” he says so reassuringly, “don’t worry.”

And you didn’t.

Even when you both slid under the awning, with you almost slipping past-- but luckily he was there.

You then realize he is a man of his word.

Catch you he will, and catch you he did.

With his hands on your waist, you swore to yourself that you haven’t felt this more secure than ever in your life.

John Price on the other hand, was tethering-- barely able to keep his hands to himself once he got a taste on holding you in his arms.

He pulled you closer, not letting his hands leave you for a second, as he lets his inhibitions go, resulting with his arms wrapping around you securely. (That even if you did try to escape you wouldn't be able to- not like you wanted to anyways.)

Once he fells no resistance coming from you, he breathes in deep, trying to live in the moment as much as possible as you relax in his hold- both of your giggles dying out and letting the patter of rain consume space instead.

"You know," you whisper, "I hate the rain."

You could feel Price's chest rumble, and his voice respond right next to your ear.

"I know that, lovie."

You let that stew in you, humming out a reply that just came to the top of your head.

"But I don't hate it right now."

Price wanted to ask why, but he knew-- inside he knew why you didn't at that moment. Though it didn't feel right to voice his thoughts at the moment and simply holds you closer instead, hoping to reassure you through it that,

'its okay to hate things most of the time, but then like it when you're with someone.'

And he thinks to himself, maybe... it was like that with you too.

He never liked going out on dates- he never had time for those frivolous things.

He wasn't a gift giver, but always found himself giving you whatever you wanted or needed.

He wasn't a lover, but damned the world and his existence would be if he couldn't find himself not to love you.

Squeezing his arms close to you made him snap back to his reality, the reality that you were in arms-reach.

And that tether?

Now fully loose and wrapped around you-- just as his arms are.

Once you arrived back at your apartment, John knew that now was the right time.

So he tugs at your coat from the bottom of the stairs, barely able to catch you before you leave his sight.

“Hey.”

He watches you turn around, a crooked smile on your face as you copy him.

“Hey?”

“I-,” he stumbles, “-could you..?”

He lips feels dry, the saliva he gulps becomes hard to do with his throat feeling like sandpaper, his hands get clammy and he has to shove it down his pocket to avoid you seeing it shake.

You stare at him, head tilted as you return back his words to him- hoping to coax out whatever he wanted to get out.

“Could I..?”

With a deep breath, he forces eye contact with and asks,

“Will you accept this?”

From deep within the recess of his pocket, he hands you a small dark navy leathered covered box, gold engraving on its front— and it made you pause.

“John…” you step down the stairs to stand chest to chest with him, “…what’s this for?”

You wrapped your hands around his, entrapping the box between his hands.

If there was moment in his life where he felt his heart drop in- this would be the number one.

What if he overstepped—?

Moved too soon, way too early? Fuck- he just messed up didn’t he-?

“John?”

But your voice forces him to resurface from the deep spiral and he shakes his head. Splitting him from fantasy and reality.

He tries to ground himself further by dropping his head to lock eyes with you, and he swore that the stars still shined in them, just as the day he met you.

“I,” he licks his chapped lips, “I thought of you when I saw this.”

You released his hands for him to open it and once he did, you gasped, eyes snapping back and forth from the silver bracelet and his face- oh his face.

It was so twinged in nervousness but at the same time, a sense of softness and vulnerability that you instinctively knew that he never shows this kind of side of him to anyone.

“I got a couple of charms on it,” he points out with a chuckle, “thought it’d be nice to add onto it whenever we go to places.”

“Like a keepsake…” you mutter, thoughts unable to be kept within as you feel your chest tighten.

He nods, “precisely.”

“And this,” he points to the rain droplet charm, “will be a reminder of today.”

Any thought that came onto your brain was incoherent and words, if it were to be spoken right now, felt too cheap to say.

So you settle for a hug, one so tight and comforting that Price greedily wishes that he could be in it forevermore.

Eventually you had to let go, dry your eyes, and tuck in for the night.

“John!”

You call out one last time by your window, and said man turns, his usual smile softened by the glow of the moon.

“I kinda like the rain now!”

His laughter resounds through the night as he carries your words next to his heart.

‘One day,’ he thinks to himself, ‘one day we’ll get to fill up that bracelet.’

[wyrmarchives]

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Knock Off

TF 141 x Reader

I know COD MW Reboot is set in 2019, but I had an idea…

Future themed, like 80 or more so years in the future (like 2100-2200) where science has progressed some, but not a lot…

Slight insinuation to omega-verse (John can “smell” reader, like twice); wasn’t sure if I wanted to go that way or not though🤔

Simple mission. It was supposed to be simple. Get in, kill, extract information, get out. Why can’t it ever be simple like planned?

John smelled you before he saw you; that’s what derailed the mission. Rifle at the low ready, his men ready to breach the door; deadly team ready for whatever they find… so they thought.

Nothing prepared them for the scene alike to a human butcher shop. A mad scientist’s wet dream… Human blood jarred in glass canisters, skin pinned to a display board and drawn on mapping out tests, charts upon charts of anatomical drawings etched with half coherent data and notes.

The further they walk in the room, the worse it gets. Rotting flesh singeing the noses from the dead bodies left abandoned on gurneys and morgue tables… then came the weird part…

The glass pods; most broken and bodies spilled across the glass dead. Seemingly accidentally killed in rushed transport considering the knocked over trollies.

There was one though, the one John sniffed out having caught wind of something… *Odd…* A single surviving competent pod, filled with an eerie blue glowing liquid suspending a body curled in fetal position in the center. The information screen attached to the pod is blacked out. Turned off or dead, one of the two. Body left for dead, suspended and abandoned.

His jaw sets at the disturbing sight; watching as muscles twitch from the unconscious form. Akin to how a babe might when in womb…

“Bloody hell…” Gaz breathes feeling sick to his stomach, staring at the pod beside John with horror.

“Computers don’t work.” Ghost informs as he pulls a hard-drive from a server tower. “Whatever *it’s*,” he glances at the pod, taking in the wires and tubes connected to the platform it sits on, “running on has to be connected to a backup generator or something.”

Soap simply grimaces at the sight as he looks around, keeping his rifle at low ready alongside the Lieutenant, “Well, wha’ever it runs off ‘f, we nee’ t’ get out ’f Dextor’s Laboratory, aye?”

“Aye, mate.” John finally turns, looking away from the pod, carefully stepping over the tangle of cords and tubes connected to the experiment.

Gaz isn’t as fortunate as he follows his Captain’s lead; foot tangling in the mess as he slams into the ground pulling tubes off their plugs. “Shite!” The liquid gushing out of the platform and sparking wires as the pod drains.

John snatches Gaz up by his uniform as the team scatters backwards away from the blue-tinted watery slime that pools.

That’s when the information screen lights up; rebooting with the spark of live wires. Static and binary code race across the screen before it displays a connection error and flashes the last know screen with a couple error filled lines. It’s enough to read though.

Experiment: 2212

Name (Records) : [Error]

Year Born: [Error]

Year Died: [Error]

Cloned (DD/MM/YY): [Error]/[Error]/[Error]

Then the glass cracks.

“Well… shit…” John flips his safety as he gives the order and drops knee, “Safeties off.” He takes aim when the person who is now laid on the bottom of the pod floor breathes, “Gaz, get us intel off that drive.”

Ghost passes Gaz the drive as he moves to position, second on the right in Echelon, Soap to the first right, while Gaz loops around behind and moves to the control panel and plugs in the drive into the now powered terminal.

It’s tense; and John’s nose still tickles with the sticky scent of earlier, even if accompanied by rancid the musk of stale- and questionably- water.

That’s when your head lifts, hazily and weakly looking at the four uniformed soldiers in confusion and disorientated anxieties.

“Bloody hell, Mother Mary and Christ…” Gaz breathes loud cutting the silence with awe and shock; his head snapping away from the computer screen and keyboard to glance between his war brothers and you.

He doesn’t even know how to explain the situation, but still, he speaks; “They Wolverined their arses.”

That was the best explanation he had for what he read on the drive.

Nerd.

C.Ai Disclaimer

Link to bot (omega-verse) | Other Bots

Tag List: @wickizer

[s0apmactav1sh]

Minors, fem alinged do not interact with this blog you will be blocked!!

Taskforce 141. A tight knit group made up of monsters. Soldiers who were on a whole other level to the rest all because they were supernatural. Price, the captain of the TF and a dragon hybrid. His boys were apart of his hoard, the things he found irreplaceable and precious. Even with one wing enemies trembled at the sight of such a large man coming towards them. Ghost, the lieutenant and a wraith. What could be said about him, with shadows at his mercy and the darkness being apart of him there wasnt a way to kill a man who was already dead. Soap, sergeant number one and a werewolf. All hell breaks loose when hes able to transform, the team being his pack so he does whats needed to protect them. And lastly, Gaz, the harpy hybrid. The taskforces eyes in the sky. A bird of prey as other soldiers call him.

Thats all the infromation you had been given when you were first introduced to Kate Laswell. You had been handed files but most of the information on them had been classified and blacked out. Laswell had mentioned breifly how she had to practically seek you out, going to people she assumed would have an idea on where you would be. However no one could tell her what you were or where you were mostly because you kept on the down low and only popped up on the map during certain times. How she had caught you while you were in a bar in blackpool was a question you held back from asking.

"Whats in it for me?" Your voice was gruff, not in the way johns was from his years of smoking and barking orders, but in a softer way like you werent expecting to have to talk tonight. Help always came with a price. Yours especially, since you'd be working with monsters you were unfamiliar with. It wasnt like you were different persay but mixing your type of monster with theres didnt seem like the greatest idea in your mind but with Kates promise of a large sum of money and the few pints she bought you it was enough for you to agree to work alongside the taskforce for a few weeks until you were no long needed and could slip back into whatever hell you came from.

-

A Nightcrawler, a monster so unheard of they practically didnt exsit anymore. A creatures that lurked in the darkness where it could lure its victims into it and get rid of them, feasting on them after. Price had to put down your file the minute he read what type of monster you were, everyone knew that trusted one of you would end with death. The shiver that crept down his spine had him removing himself from his desk and leaving his office going directly to the resting room he knew his boys would be in. If he was going to accept kate purposal of accepting you into the taskforce, even if it was for a few weeks, he needed them to voice there opinions first.

"No. Not a chance" Was the first answer he got from ghost once it was finally brought up. Soap was to busy tryna keep his tail still so Gaz could brush out the muck and dirt he had in it from the missions they had been on. "We'd never be able to trust something like it." Ghost was set on declining having another person invade his space. He had enough trying to deal with a werewolf a harpy and a dragon, thrusting a nightcrawler into the mist would cause chaos.

"Its not a good idea, nightcrawlers have a tendancy to go rouge and attack everything within range" was the next response price got from gaz this time, the harpy also turning down the idea of having a nightcrawler join them. Although he voiced his reason as to his decline a lot more clearly than the wraith did. Still Price was hoping atleast Johnny may say something positive so he doesnt look like an asshole for not listening to them even though Kate had went through the pain of trying to get you to come and help them. But with prices luck so far with getting his boys to agree to allow you onto the team there was little hope that johnny would agree.

"Are you mad? A nightcrawler on our team. Ain't no way thats happenin" like he expected he was instantly turned down by the werewolf. Now explaining to Laswell that none of them wanted you on the team because you were a nightcrawler would be the difficult part since the woman was so persistant on getting them another to work with them. Dialing her number once in his office, all price could do is hope she hadnt gotten a chance to even figure out were you were.

-

The sound of kates phone ringing knocked you out of your small buzz as you picked it up and handed it to her turning away and getting another drink for yourself in hopes of drinking yourself to sleep once more before you set off to this taskforce. The sound of irritation soon hit your ears as kate tried getting whoever was on the other end of the phone to agree and take you in even if was just for one mission. Clenching your jaw you reached over and took the phone listen to the sound of the voice coming through.

"Kate there isnt a thing I can do to get the lads to let him join. They dont want a nightcrawler on the taskforce I cant force them."

A small scoff leaves you before you hang up the phone and pass it back to kate. "Thought they were on board with me joining."

-

JDBSJSVDUDBDV i have struggled i mean struggled to finish this. I honestly hate it with a burning passion and I have half a mind to delete it all and start over but here is part 1 of a fic im not even sure Ill finish.

[nrdmssgs]

TF 141 + Nikolai taking you home from hospital after minor injury

Masterlist

Fluff, comfort and romance.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

First of all, you are getting a plushie. Even if you are older than him, and that mature, grown up, always very serious type, you are getting a plushie!

The moment he enters your room - the whole space becomes illuminated with his happiest, bright smile. Because Kyle is your personal portable sunshine.

Prior to picking you up, Gaz spent a few hours, coming up with a nice joke, to immediately make you laugh, when he meets you. Might even have tested it on Soap to make sure, it works just as he wants it too.

Overall princess treatment. He has your comfort playlist + movie + treats ready at home. He wants you to forget about time spent in the hospital as soon as possible.

If you convince him, you are not in pain, and he can't hurt you - you won't see the end of that favorite movie of yours.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

As soon, as he helps you sit comfortable in his car - you are inundated with news about everything: from world politics to the latest stories from the life of Johnny’s family.

Talks more than usual, because he was worried sick all the time, that you spent in a hospital. Even if Johnny knew, it was nothing serious, he still hates it, when you are far from him, and he is left to wait, till they let you out.

Asks you if he should stop talking and let you rest in silence, but cant keep quiet for more than ten minutes. (you don't mind though, since you missed his voice so much)

Carries you from the car to the house. Accepts no objections.

"Johnny? You know, I'm fine and can walk on my own?" "Aye. Still a little help won't hurt?" "You'll make up any excuse just to carry me around, won't you?" "... weesht."

Captain John Price

Giving care and attention is in his very nature, so buckle up. When he enters to pick you up - he already has a full list of meds, that you'll need to fully heal.

You can feel, how tense he is, when Price approaches you. "Hey, lovely, docs say, you're doing well here, yeah?" He gives you a big warm hug, but you feel, how unusually careful he is.

John hates seeing you hurt. Mentally, he takes responsibility for everything bad, that happens to you. He should have been there, should have prevented whatever caused your injury, should have, should have, should have...

So he makes it his №1 priority to make sure you heal fast and easy. Price may forget to eat, to sleep, but he never forgets to remind you to take your meds, or go for a little walk, or have a glass of water.

Many forehead kisses. To make you feel better, to lull you to sleep, to feel you close to him finally.

Simon Ghost Riley

Pretends, It's nothing special, and he definitely hasn't been waiting for a minute, he can at last take you home. Is very calm and collected with medical personnel, but makes sure to thank every single person, who helped you.

Doesn't show any signs of extra care. But when you sit in his car, you feel something unusually soft under your back.

"Sim- Ehm, this looks, like my blanket." "It is. Your favorite one." "You brought my best blanket, just to make me cozy on our way home? That's actually sweet."

Will deny it so hard, but actually he did want to make you feel safe and cozy.

Back at home, he will sit you on a couch, sit on the floor before you and study your features in a dead silence. He needs to know if anything still bothers you, but Ghost can be sure only if he sees the answer in your eyes and in your posture.

Will trace invisible lines on your skin, not daring to lean closer and kiss it. Simon will make sure, you are alright before going any further with his touch.

Nikolai

"Nu privet, tridtzat` tri neshyastia.*" While kneeling down to meet your eye level.

He will not limit himself to a simple “how are you?”. Nikolai must know all the details. Does it hurt when you walk? And when he presses here, doesn’t it hurt? And now? Are you absolutely sure?

Won't listen to you, even if you swear, you already have all the necessary medical prescriptions on hands. He must find your doctor and talk to him personally.

When he is calmed down and convinced, that you are going to be fine - Nikolai finally takes you home.

Makes sure, you're cozy and comfortable on your first night home (ideally in his hands, so that he can wake up any minute and help you if it hurts).

Will try to hide the fact behind a thousand jokes, but he missed you so much. Don't mind him hugging you to sleep and pressing your body against his so strongly, taking in the feeling of you in his hands.

*Nu privet, 33 neshyastia - well hello 33 misfortunes

[robron-til-the-end-of-time]

Could you do a prompt of how we all want Aaron to react to Roberts date? Not the non chalonce Emmerdale are going to give us 😂

I'm not convinced it WILL be all "yeah whatever" from Aaron tbh. He might front it out in front of John, or the village at large, but (also, if Aaron genuinely doesn't care why tf would John kidnap Robert? Mind you, he rarely makes sense...) Anyway. ____

Aaron wasn't supposed to see it. That was the thing that made the jealousy raise Aaron's hackles. He knew Robert had been flaunting his dates, trying to get a reaction from him, but Aaron had been stubborn, teeth digging into his bottom lip and refusing to give Robert the satisfaction of rising to it. But this time? It wasn't done for Aaron's benefit, and that made all the difference to the potent jealousy Aaron felt instantly.

The bloke was leaving Robert's (or Vics) early in the morning. Aaron had gone for a walk, as John hadn't come home. Again. He needed the fresh air, and that was when he saw the guy, slipping his jacket on. Maybe Vic got lucky? No. Robert's blond head appeared over the guys shoulder, smiling at him. It didn't quite reach his eyes but it was there.

Aaron felt like he'd been sucker punched. The air had just disappeared from his chest, mouth hanging open. He wasn't doing it to make Aaron jealous, he was doing it because he was single, and he could. Oh God. What if he actually met someone? Someone serious? Robert had always been this glorious, terrible option for him. Even in prison, he was always there in Aaron's mind, hovering in the background. But this? It could really happen. He could lose the possibility of ever having more.

The bloke left, but the door didn't close. Robert had seen him. The smile faded a little, but there was something in his eyes that Aaron couldn't read. He thought he had all of Robert's expressions down, but this? Robert gave almost a half shrug, then closed the door and Aaron sighed. Someone was touching him, kissing him, sleeping with him. It just felt so bitterly unfair. Aaron hated every second of this, and what made it worse is Robert had offered him everything on a plate. And Aaron had said no.

[ivymarquis]

I saw that post that @ceilidho shared of Barry looking all “tf are you doing out of bed” and then I had to write this down for John. Sidebar the title of this in my google docs is “John decides he’s keeping his ONS”

Get Back Here

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| T Word Count| 863 Content/Warnings| This is post coital with them having fucked like rabbits but everything is above board. This theoretically would be such a nice jump off spot for a darker twist BUT my heart is still mostly fluffy for the cod boys. I am working on something a lil unhinged with Price tho.

While this piece is rated T, I am an MDNI blog. Minors + ageless blogs will be blocked.

If she has any sense in her head, she’ll slip out from the sheets while he’s snoring beside her, get dressed and fuck off back home.

Of course, how much sense she has at the moment is debatable at best because he went and fucked her brains right out of her skull.

Forget pipe- The man laid infrastructure earlier and it’s already screwing with her head. Making her really have to try and talk herself out of the urge to see where things go. The only thing she needs to see is where the fuck her drawers went. Getting dickmatized is a real struggle and while she doesn’t often go out, she lets the soldier sweet talk her on the expectation that there would be a fair degree of “get in, get done, get out”.

Post nut clarity is nowhere to be seen on his end, as he’d tucked her into the spot next to him with the promise of breakfast in the morning. A well deserved reward on her end for all her hard work.

Maybe her brain just likes to torture her but she starts to think that she’s just not meant for casual hook ups like this. He is kind and respectful and a phenomenal lay and her brain is already trying to twist this to justify finding a way to wrangle down another night with him. She just needs to rip this bandaid off and go.

Chalk this up as go-to spank bank fodder the next time she’s lonely.

It’s easier this way, she tells herself as she peels back the bedding he’d cocooned her in.

Less humiliating this way, to sneak away in the night as the cold bites at her as she gathers her clothes. All the while he’s snoring up a storm, assuring her that he’s still out of it and unaware of her escape attempt that is delayed by not being able to find her damn bra.

There’s a small part of her that somewhat feels bad for planning to sneak out in the middle of the night, but there’s a larger part of her that doesn’t want to hear whatever is his go to prompt when it’s time to kick his partner out of bed and back to the rest of the world.

She fixates on locating her wayward bra to the point she doesn’t notice the lack of white noise as he -John- stirs at the loss of her. She doesn’t see the way he gropes blindly at the space she was occupying not five minutes ago, nor the way his expression screws down into a scowl as realization sinks in when he fully awakens.

She does hear his huffed “The fuck are you doing?”, lacking any bite to it despite the phrasing. What she’s doing is fairly obvious given how her clothes are gathered in her arms as opposed to rifling through something she shouldn’t.

“I, um,” she blinks stupidly. He’s a gorgeous man, just enough moonlight filtering through the window so she can see him even in the dark. “I’m getting dressed,” finally her brain clicks into place.

His eyes are squinting at her as he blinks back sleep, shuffling partly up to get a better look at her, the blanket pooling at his waist. Christ her knees are already weak just looking at him again. “None of that,” he dismisses firmly, “it’s too cold, love. Come back to bed. Promised you breakfast in the morning anyway.”

She has a decision to make, she realizes- if she’s adamant about leaving it’s not like he’s going to keep her hostage. He has to let her leave.

But, her thoughts trail off, it is fucking cold. And that bed is incredibly warm. And she still doesn’t know where the fuck her bra is.

“Come on then, back you get.” He prompts with a pat to the spot she’d previously occupied, and that’s enough to make her fold (she can’t deny that she’s been lookin for a reason to fold all night, even if a part of her knows this is a bad, bad, bad idea). Setting her clothes back in a neat pile rather than them being strung all over the floor-still sans bra-, she returns to the bed and slides back under the covers he’s lifted for her.

Immediately his arm bands across her torso, pulling her in snug against him. Well, there’s certainly no sneaking away now. After a bit of shuffling as they settle in against each other, John ensuring there will be no more half hearted attempts to flee.

He doesn’t snore-likely keeping an eye on her to ensure she’s not going to run again- until she’s securely in that half-awake-half-asleep limbo. It’s incredibly easy to slip into. The room is cold, he is warm and the bed is so incredibly cozy. The math is very simple and the end result is her dozing in the arms of a man she can very stupidly see herself getting attached to- even if he snores like a bear.

Come morning, John makes good on his promise for breakfast.

She doesn’t end up needing to find her bra until two days later.