#aye I’m back from my tiny break

[mjtheartist04]

Hey pookies I miss y’all🩷👹

[enwoso]

Would you do a follow up to 'Pretty Chains' where Leah gets Tiny a Hamster and Less freaks 😂

YOU BETTER BE JOKING — alessia russo x child!reader

hey guys! long time no see ay? but this will probably be my last normal fic of the year as i have next the twelve days of christmas uploads coming. there may be a few before the new year but if not i’ll see yous all in the new year!

i’ll be here and there over the next few weeks, dw i’m not disappearing and if you ever wanna drop something in my inbox feel free, whether that’s a question about a fic, series or character.

but if not i’ll see you on the other side🙃

grumpy masterlist

“le?” you paused looking up to the blonde as leah walked you around the arsenal complex hoping to keep you occupied for the half an hour while your mummy was in a meeting. leah hummed as you held her hand.

“when am i getting my hamster, the one you promise me” you asked so casually. it having been playing on your mind ever since your first match.

your football had actually progressed too as you had actually started playing your games and alessia and some of the girls had shown up in their numbers — as always — but they were yet to break the spell where you’d spend the entire warm up picking at the ground and making daisy chain.

but with each one you gave your mummy, she kept the daisy chains in her long black puffer coat pocket — well until they died.

it had been a week and half since you had been promised your hamster — much to alessia being non the wiser of the promise actually being made come true.

a small cough came from leah as she was slightly caught off guard as the topic was slightly different from the previous conversation you’d just been having with the blonde about your new favourite colour — of the week.

“oh-“ leah hummed, “i- i have been trying to get you one. i promise!” leah rambled out as she opened a door to the canteen for you.

“okay, just i have my named picked out already and i’ve already started making him his own little arsenal corner in my room!” you said so proudly as leah internally awed, it being such a you thing to have done.

“well i’ll get searching then! but as for right now should we go and get lunch before katie steals all your favourite crisps again” leah smiled as she swung your arms hoping to change the topic and hopefully you would forget about the hamster as you began to pick the pace up a little bit, not wanting katie to steal your favourite crisps from the canteen.

much to leah’s dismay, you didn’t forget about the hamster. quite tho opposite actually as for the last three days every time you saw the english captain all you spoke about was your hamster which you didn’t have, yet.

so which is how leah found herself sneaking a hamster into her girlfriend’s house hiding it under a blanket as she brought other bags in to hide the rest of the things she had been convinced to buy in the pet store.

this hamster was going to live like royalty.

so while alessia was on a call downstairs, leah had strategically gotten the hamster up the stairs with a little help from you as you’d been too busy watching the tv but you noticed leah sneaking around up and down the stairs.

“what under there?” you asked as you peered around the doorframe pointing at leah who was carrying a large-ish box which was covered by a red blanket as she looked down at you looking like a deer who’d just been caught in the headlights. but she was quickly telling you to shush and to follow her.

so with a small shrug of your shoulders you followed the blonde up the stairs along the landing and into your room where leah placed the box onto your set of drawers.

“take the red thing off-“ leah pointed to the blanket as you cautiously pulled it off a loud gasp coming from you as you a huge smile appearing on your face as you turned back to hug leah, repeating thank you over and over again.

“can we take it out?” you asked looking back at leah as you peered at the crate with the hamster which had grey and white fur. leah nodded as she moved to help you take the little fur ball out of the crate.

“you wanna hold it?” leah asked as you nodded, the two of you sitting down on your floor, leah telling you how to hold it which admittedly was just how the lady in the pet store had instructed leah how to.

small giggles came from you as you could feel its little feet across your hands and legs. you falling in love with the little fur ball it being more than you had dreamed of for the past two weeks.

“is it tickling you?” leah asked as you nodded, a wide smile on leah’s face seeing how happy this small hamster had made you as she started to show you all the accessories she had got the hamster. from hamster balls, tunnel to weird little snacks she had seen for it in the shelve which looked well interesting.

“what you gonna name it then?” leah asked as you looked in awe of the small hamster humming and haring for a few minutes mumbled names to yourself to see which fitted best.

“benny” you smiled as you lifted benny the hamster up, a proud look on your face as leah grinned, “hello benny” she cooed as she stroked his head with her finger.

the two of you sat and watched benny crawl along the floor, small giggled coming from you a his feet tickled your legs. leah almost forgetting the fact that alessia was also in the house and she had no idea about benny well until-

“leah!” alessia called from the bottom of the stairs, hearing her sock covered feet start to climb them. leah scrambling to get to her feet to stop her before she had a chance to explain the hamster.

“yes love” leah smiled as she stood a few metres from the doorway of your room hoping she was blocking the view of you sat with a hamster in a small hamster ball.

“where’s lovie?” alessia asked as she could of swore she could hear the two of them laughing from downstairs, knowing that when the two of you were quiet it meant you were more than likely up to no good.

“oh- i- she’s um, she’s asleep” leah stuttered out as she tried to play it off cool, failing miserably though.

“swear i heard her voice less than five minutes ago?” alessia questioned as leah hummed shaking her head, a confused look starting to faze over alessia’s face.

“no noo- she’s been asleep for at least 15 minutes” leah was dragging her words out something she did when she was lying as she looked down at her watch on her wrist making up a reasonable amount of them for how long you’d been asleep.

“well i’ll just quickly check on her then we can have lunch” alessia smiled sweetly, still slightly wary of leah’s odd behaviour but shrugging it to further back in her mind.

“oo lunch why don’t we go now. i’m pretty hungry, are you?” leah rambled taking a step towards alessia who quirked an eyebrow confused as to why her girlfriend was acting weird. alessia made a move to take a step closer to your room but leah moved in front of her.

alessia tried a few times more but leah kept moving in front of her completely blocking her attempts to try and get into your room.

“leah, move. i would like to see my daughter.” alessia sighed as she was starting to get a little agitated with the small childish antics.

“baby i’ve told you she sound asleep-“

“mummy! look look at benny the hamster!” you giggled as he crawled up your arm, alessia’s jaw dropping as leah blinked wincing slightly as she saw alessia’s initial reaction.

“and where has benny the hamster come from?” alessia asked so sweetly and for a moment leah thought maybe the blonde wasn’t going to do annoyed about the new furry addition to the family.

“leah got me him!” you smiled so innocently as did alessia before sending a glare towards leah and that was when leah realised, alessia wasn’t annoyed — she was furious but of course she wouldn’t show that in front of you. not wanting to dampen your excitement.

“oh lovie he’s lovely, why don’t you put him back in his little crate while we have lunch” alessia cooed so sweetly as she had kneeled down to your height, probably more inspecting the small fur ball in your hands.

“leah. you better be joking me.” alessia said with an angry look on her face once you’d scurried back into your room.

“i love you?” leah winced not really knowing what to do or say that may make the situation the slightest bit better.

“you’ve got five seconds to run, leah cathrine williamson”

[itsmarsss]

hunchback of notre-dame [Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Reader] (Marvel)

You get this ridiculous idea that you just need to mark a huge heart into his back.

Word count: 1,945

Warnings: sexual innuendos and jokes all around, mention of logan being a 'free pass' in your relationship lol, wade having a hard time grasping intimacy that isn't of a sexual nature, wade feeling self-conscious and speaking badly of his own appearance. established relationship. so many ridiculous and over-the-top pet names.

kiiinda loosely based off this ask- "Deadpool with s/o who keeps biting him? Not sexually (mostly) but I need to CHOMP this man."

“Please? Please please please please please please? Come onnnn sweetie-pie. Darling-dear. Baby boy. Baby.”

“Oh my God never call me ‘darling-dear’ again, what is this, medieval england?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Geez Louise why do you wanna do that so bad? Is it like a biting kink or something?”

“It could be.” You shrug.

“I’m listening.”

You roll your eyes at his reply. “‘Course now you are. I just wanna see how it looks!”

“It’s gonna heal in like two seconds, you know that, right?. I’m not sure it’ll even show.”

“Yeah but get this- what if you tried really really hard to stop it from healing?”

“I… don’t think that’s how it works, pookie-bear,” he tells you, booping your nose along with the ridiculous pet name.

You ignore it. “You don’t know that!”

He stops to think for a couple seconds before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. This once.”

“Yes! Take your shirt off. And throw it in the wash, how many days have you been wearing it for?”

“Oh, too many to count, sweetheart.” 

“That’s gross, Wade.”

“Hey now, I’m gonna revoke your biting privileges!” He threatens, but proceeds to take the shirt off as and throw it in the hamper anyway.

“Nuh-uh, no take-backsies.”

“Then stop insulting my habits!” He sits down on the bed and you sit yourself on your legs right behind him. 

“What? When have I ever done that?” You feign confusion, kissing his shoulder.

“Now that’s just gaslighting. You’re a gaslighter. A mean, evil, toxic gaslighter and you’re gaslighting me.��

You laugh. “Oh whatever, grown man who needs to be reminded to do his laundry. You ready?”

“No?”

“Why do you even care so much? You get, like, stabbed on the daily.”

“Yeah but this isn’t… stabbing. Stabbing I’m used to.”

“I can stab you if you want me to.”

“Can you really?” 

“If you’re into that,” you play along.

“Oh you know I am, baby. No but that’s not what I meant.”

You kiss his lower back without a warning, and you can’t contain a smile at the way he shivers. “What do you mean, then?”

“This is… different.” He fidgets with his own hands as he talks, eyes trained on them over his own lap.

“What, not every person you’ve ever dated that’s asked to bite a heart into your back?” You continue kissing your way up his back, up until where you want said heart to start.

“Oh no, everyone asks me for that on the reg actually. I’m actually super mega lucky that I heal so fast, otherwise I’d just have to come home with all those hearts on my back all the time and you would not be happy with that would you?”

You punch his shoulder lightly and he smiles. “You bet I wouldn’t! Only I get to do this, you hear me?” You exclaim, feigning offense.

“Wolvie carved a heart into my thigh once. Hottest thing to ever happen to me. No offense.”

“None taken.” You bite the skin of his back right where you’d just kissed before. Not so hard that it’s meant to hurt, it’s not that kind of night, but not as if he’d break either, since, well, he kind of can’t. You suck lightly on the skin to make sure to leave a tiny mark and it’s a little funny to be doing this with no ulterior motives. “Especially since that for sure never happened.”

“It could have.” 

“If Logan ever carves a fucking heart into your thigh and I’m not there to witness it I will be so mad.” 

“Hey I thought we had a free pass with him!”

“Not if I’m not involved! Or at least get to watch.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Anything else you wanna witness between us, sweetcheeks?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m done, how about that?” You grin before resuming your work, biting and sucking on the scarred skin until you can see the aligned marks almost forming the shape you want them to. 

It’s a shock that it gets him to shut up for even just a few seconds, so it’s no surprise that the silence doesn’t last all that long. “This is…  It’s different… It’s… It’s really intimate isn’t it? Like overwhelmingly so. Is it hot in here, are you hot?”

You stop immediately. “Hey. Don’t freak out on me. I know I insisted a little but I didn’t think you were hesitating ‘cause you were uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have-” 

“No- no no no no no, it’s fine. It’s… Nice. It’s silly, but it’s nice. Just different.”

You stare at him until he manages to get himself to look up at you and nod, easing your worries and letting yourself believe him. “Okay. But only if you’re sure. And don’t call me silly!”

“You’re making it really hard, sugartits.”

“Hey!” You flick the back of his head.

“Ow! What was that for? It’s obvious that by ‘it’ I meant my dick. I was dirty talking. Clearly.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You bite into his skin again. He stays still and weirdly quiet once again, eyes closed and still shivering occasionally as you trace kisses along his back before following them with bites and, finally, the main goal- the hickeys. 

“You done?”

“Almost. Missing three.”

“They all still there?”

“They’re fading, but they’re still there. You trying to keep them?”

He shrugs, very obviously trying his hardest to pretend he doesn’t care. “Well you wanted me to, didn’t you?” 

You smile, cupping his jaw with one of your hands and turning his face to the side so you can give him a quick kiss. 

“Almost done,” you promise.

“Do it harder.”

“What?”

“Bite harder.”

“What, is this you saying you have some sort of biting kink?”

“First of all, you should have guessed that. Second of all, no, I just don’t want them to fade so fast.” 

“So someone’s enjoying the idea now.”

“Enjoying is pushing it. Curious is a better-fitting word.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Making the last of the marks, you lean back to admire the work. “Done,” you announce, tracing the shape with the tips of your fingers. 

“Well, can I see it?”

“Yeah.” You pull him to his feet and lead him to the full body mirror in the corner of the room. Turning himself around so his back is facing the mirror, he looks over his shoulder so he can see it too.

“Oh.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I thought it would… you can barely see it with the… you know. The scars.”

“Of course you can see it! Look!” You trace the shape on his skin with your pointer finger for him to see in the reflection.

“You know what I meant.” 

“I- didn’t want it to make you feel bad. It was really silly anyway. You can let it heal if you want to.”

“It’s not- it’s not that. Fuck, I know this was supposed to be this whole funny haha silly cutesy little thing but I just- I don’t even know why you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Put up with it.”

“What exactly?”

“This. It’s not really the best view in town, is it?” There he goes, unable to look you in the eye again.

“Sorry?”

“Like why would you even want to see this? You just spent like ten minutes staring at my back, which frankly looks like I single-handedly brought leprosy back to fashion and then you- just- like even just my face is enough for people to, like, projectile vomit. Why’d you make yourself do this right now?”

“I didn’t make myself do anything. I had to convince you to let me do it´.”

“‘Cause you wanna prove something.”

“What would I wanna prove with something so dumb?”

“I don’t know. That you don’t see me as a monster or something.” 

“I don’t see you as a monster. But I wasn’t trying to prove anything.”

Letting his face fall into his hands, he lets out a frustrated sigh, as if he hadn’t meant for the conversation to come to this. And he probably hadn’t, really, but he already did so much of pretending to be fine all the time. It sucked to see him like this, but at least he was letting himself be real, be honest with you about the way he was feeling. 

You’ve come a long way to gain this kind of trust. 

“Sorry. Ruined the moment. Way to go, Wade!” He apologizes.

“You don’t have to say sorry, you know that by now.” 

He glances at the mirror again and sees all the marks have gone away already, his mind going elsewhere and interrupting the focus he’d been putting into trying to put off the healing of them. He finally turns around to actually face you. “See? Can’t even have this one fucking silly little thing you wanted. It’s gone already cause, guess what, I’m a fucking freak of nature now. Like The Hunchback of Notre-Dame or something. I don’t know, I didn’t watch the movie.” 

You laugh. “Well I’ll just be Esmeralda then.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh you’d find her so hot, dude. But doesn’t matter.” You walk up to him, kissing him gently from his ear to his jaw to his neck to his lips. “Don’t fucking question why I love you ever again, that’s, like, so rude.”

“Oh that was just so sappy, even for you babe, massive sap vibes all over.”

“Oh shut up you big baby.” You place a last gentle kiss on the palm of his hand. “I have an idea.” You pull yourself away from him, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Yeah? Does it involve pity sex? Cause I’m feeling down and I am ready to pounce if you are and-“ He raises an eyebrow in question when you come back holding up something. “That some new vibrator or something?” 

“Can you wait like ten seconds?” 

“Ten seconds? Babe, you know that’s asking too much of me when I’m this horny. They don’t call me The Flash for nothing.” 

“Who is ‘they’? And what does that even mean?”

“Sorry, wrong franchise. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Huh?”

“Back to the vibrator.”

“It’s lipstick.” You turn to face the mirror, taking your time applying the dark red color to your lips. “Kay, turn around, pretty boy.”

“Oooh, kinky! You gonna gimme a rimjob with that lipstick on?  Wait is that another kink? We are full of surprises today.” He quips, turning around as asked. 

“Wade please shut up.” 

“You know I can’t do th- aaahh what are you doing?” He flinches, taken by surprise by the kiss you place on his back, right where the heart you’d marked on him had been.

“Well you can keep these ones a little longer.” This time, he keeps quiet the entire time you take to mark the heart on his back once again, with the lipstick this time, reapplying it before every other kiss so the marks truly showed. 

“Fuuuckkk I’m never washing my back again,” he comments as he admires the reflection in the mirror.

“Don’t even start.” 

“I’m staying dirty forever and it’s gonna be your fault, sweetheart,” he declares as he turns around to face you, and it pleases you to see his mood seems better. 

“We are taking a shower in a couple hours and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“We?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively at the implication.

“If that gets you to actually shower for once.”

“Hey, I shower all the time!”

“Then you can shower without me like a big boy.” 

“Actually I don’t take showers I don’t know how.” 

“Yeah, yeah I figured.”

A/N: hey send me stuff for deadpool i actually enjoyed writing this lol it was v fun and cute!! i hope it isn't much too ooc lol i still gotta get the hang of writing wade

[bmtillerbabe]

Feel free to ignore, but Poly!141 with reader who is terrified of any tiny mistakes from a past shitty relationship? ✨

(I actually love your work!)

    I absolutely love this ask!! :D Just imagining little scenarios in my head for each one is so delicious.

Hope you enjoy, Anon!! :)

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CW : References to past abuse, mostly unspecified.

NSFW

MDNI 18+ ONLY!!

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Dropping a dish (With Ghost, Soap and Gaz) :

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   It really hadn’t been your fault.

  This damn new brand of dish soap your boys had decided to buy you left a slick film on every piece of stoneware you owned, and when you turned just a little too sharply to put it away – it had just …. Slipped out of your hand.

  Simon had been sitting at the bar, looking up quickly at the sound of the shattering plate; and already you could hear Soap and Gaz barreling down the stairs towards the kitchen. But you weren’t paying attention to any of that – only red-faced and gasping like you were drowning, bending down to quickly start grabbing at the shards, muttering a thousand apologies over and over and over.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Oh, God, fuck, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I just – it slipped and I’ll fix it, I’m sorry—”

  You hadn’t realized Ghost kneel down next to you in your embarrassment until you flinched – hard – when he placed his hand gently over yours.

  You looked up at him, tears welling in your eyes and your breathing still off-kilter and fast. The look in Ghost’s eyes damn near broke your heart – the worry, the concern, the care – the love – that swam so deep in them made your bottom lip quiver.

  Soap and Gaz panted softly somewhere above you.

  “Ye alright, bonnie? We heard a noise, an’ came runnin’.”

  You nodded, shaky and unsure of yourself, and before you could answer, Ghost spoke up softly as if trying not to spook you.

  “Love …. It’s fine. Iss’ justa dish. No harm done. Are you hurt?” His hand tightened softly over yours. Shaking your head, you began to pick up the pieces of the plate scattered around the tile, still bright-cheeked and muttering softly; your movements slow and shaky.

  “I----I’m f-f-fine, I just, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to b-b-break anything, I didn’t---”

  Ghost grabbed your wrist again and lifted it to his stubbled cheek, rising and pulling you with him to your feet. Then, without warning, you were pressed firmly into his broad chest, his hands snaking around your small frame to hold you close. The action alone seemed to be enough to undo you, and you broke down and sobbed quietly and softly into his big arms.

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh, it’s a’right, love. It’s a’right.” Simon cooed at you warmly, gently rubbing the back of your head. You felt him shift above you, nodding to the boys to finish helping clean the mess. Soap and Gaz didn’t need to be told twice, dutifully sweeping up the mess.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry …” You whispered softly, voice cracked and broken as you clutched at Simon’s frame.

  He pulled you back to look into your eyes, cupping your cheeks softly. His brows furrowed deeply in sympathy and his lips were pulled to the side in concern.

  “When you’d mentioned before, the …. Relationship ….” He bit out the word angrily, “… you’d had before us, I didn’t realize tha’ it ….” He paused with a sigh and pulled you close to his chest again, shaking his head. “I swear to God, if I ever find where that cunt ran off to, he’ll be wishing he was dead – cuz Hell will be better for ‘im than what I’ll be doin’.”

  You became aware of two other bodies behind you, crowding closer, cocooning you in their warmth and safety, and slowly, your shakes and sobs subsided.

  Johnny kissed the side of your head softly.

  “Aye, lass – you never have to worry about him, about any of this, ever again.”

  “We’ve got you, babydoll. Now, and always.” Gaz rubbed your arm.

  Never, in all your life, had you felt the truth in words like you did with theirs. Or had you ever remembered feeling so safe.

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Missing a Text (With Price) :

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  You heard Price’s keys jingle in the lock of the front door – but instead of the normal elation and joy filling your heart, your mind raced in panic as you jumped to your feet and ran to the kitchen to find your phone you’d left on the counter.

  “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” You cursed yourself, opening the screen and confirming with a sinking feeling in your gut that you’d forgotten to answer Price’s text earlier, asking what you had planned for dinner, if anything.

  “Doll?” Price’s deep voice rumbled from the door as he called for you, and you felt your heart freeze as you clutched your chest; your lungs suddenly squeezed tight and unable to get any air in.

  You barely had the time to turn and face the doorway as his figure appeared, frozen in place, eyes wide with fear.

  Price’s eyes met yours, his own widening in concern as he walked towards you. “Hey, luvie, hey – what is it? What’s wrong? Is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

  “I---” You squeaked out, your breathing still tight and short. You felt light-headed. “I was doing laundry – I didn’t – I forgot – I –“ You swallowed softly, clutching the phone in your hand to your breast.

  Price quickly realized what was wrong, letting out a soft breath and relaxing his shoulders, quirking his brow in warm sympathy.

  “Luv, I know you’re busy most of the day. You’re taking care of the house – of us – it’s alright.” He smiled softly at you, cocking his head and halting in his tracks when the fear in your eyes remained. He knew the fear wasn’t towards him, no … the fear was rooted deep, inside your heart, your mind, your soul – and he knew it would take him and the men longer than just a few months to clear out the remnants of the asshole that had done this to you.

  You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out, and you continued to clutch your chest, wheezing softly in your panicked state.

  Price held out his hand to you, palm up – offering. “It’s alright, Luv. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong. Come back to me. Come back here. You’re not there anymore, he can’t hurt you anymore, luvie.”

  Swallowing thickly, you seemed to break out of your trance at his soft words and choked out a soft sob; running headfirst into the safety of his chest and arms. He wrapped his strong biceps around your tiny frame, shushing and cooing at you softly.

  “It’s alright, Luvie …. Shhh …. You’re okay … I’m here, you’re okay.” He kissed the top of your hair softly as your breathing steadied and your heartrate slowed. “You did nothin’ wrong, doll. Absolutely nothing.”

  After he was sure you were okay, he pulled back to look into your eyes and smiled brightly, wiping your cheek with his calloused thumb.

  “Now … what say you to a bit of ice cream with the rest of the boys, eh? Simon should be here soon from the grocer, and Gaz will be out of his meeting in the next hour ….” He leaned in close to your cheek, pecking it softly and brushing his thick mustache against the shell of your ear, whispering, “… Gives us plenty of time to have a lil bit of fun before they get home …”

  You sighed the last of the fear from your chest, smiling at one of the four loves of your life, nodding eagerly.

  Ice cream and sex sounded absolutely perfect.

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Nightmares (with all four men) :

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  The two California kings that were side by side in the huge, open room, served as almost a ‘nest’ of sorts for the five of you.

  What with the size of Simon alone, you’d known you were going to need a large bed – and when you’d gotten involved with all of them, you all realized quickly that one bed wouldn’t do anymore.

  Especially for all the …. Activities you liked to do together.

  It was in the center of the tiny mountain of pillows and blankets that all of you slept now – or, had been sleeping, until you awoke with a start and a sharp yell into the darkened room.

  Simon was the first to awaken, sitting bolt upright like he’d been shot; Soap next, lifting his head from where he’d been sleeping on your stomach, blinking away the sleep and looking at you with deep seated concern.

  A soft ‘click’ and Price had rolled over to turn on the lamp next to the bedside table, and all four men were sitting around or in front of you, watching you gasp softly and cry as you buried your face in your hands.

  You clutched at your side where the wound long since healed gave a phantom heartbeat of pain – the memory of that horrid night flashing clear as day into your sleeping head as if it had just happened fresh all over again.

  Gaz leaned close, cupping your cheek. “Another nightmare?” He asked softly.

  You nodded, breaking down into a quiet fit of tears when the images flashed through your head again of the day you thought you were going to die.

  Soap kissed your stomach softly, rubbing your thigh up and down, working his way to your knees, calves and ankles. Simon, from his position on your side, cuddled you closer to his chest, stroking your hair. Gaz pulled you to him for a sweet kiss to the forehead, holding your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on the top of it.

  Price, ever the gentleman, had left the room to go and grab you some pretzels and a glass of warm milk – coming back in with a small tray of assorted snacks and drinks for the others as well.

  After he settled back onto the bed on your opposite side and tousled Soap’s mohawk, he looked at you, offering you a tissue.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you all up …” You whispered, blowing your nose.

  Gaz chuckled softly at you, shaking his head and giving your hand a squeeze.

  “Don’t ever apologize for needin’ us, babygirl. That’s what we’re here for – each other.”  He brought your hand to his mouth to kiss each finger gently.

  Soap hummed softly, his eyes locked onto Gaz’ mouth at work; swallowing thickly with a noise in the back of his throat. Price snorted and slapped the back of the Scot’s head playfully, making him flinch.

  “Can’t even make it two minutes without thinkin’ wiv that cock, can ya?” The older man chuckled.

  Soap blushed a crimson red, grinning wickedly as he looked back at you. “Well, I dunno about you all, but I know the missus here could use a wee bit of a distraction …. And what better way to distract than with some nice, hot sex?”

  You felt more than heard Simon grunt approvingly from your side, already seeing the indent of his chubbing cock thicken through his night trousers. Leaning over to sniff your hair deeply with an approving growl, he rubbed his large hand up and down your arm.

  “Well? What do you say, luv? Down for another round?”

  ….. Suffice it to say that none of you got absolutely any sleep that night.

.

.

.

Xoxo – Hope you enjoyed!!   😊   Happy reading, and much loves!  <3

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) epilogue

summary: they ass is NOT doing homework 🤣

wc: 1k+

A/N: That's a wrap, guys! tysm for reading and enjoying!

prev 'if you believe in me'

“Miles, what is this emo shit you got me listening to?” you laughed.

Miles was currently in the middle of an imaginary drumming solo next to you, with two mechanical pencils as drumsticks. Once the final cymbal crashed, he turned to you to respond.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s emo, that beat goes crazy. You done with your conclusion yet?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“No, but I’ve got all my body paragraphs together.”

“That shit is due Monday,” the boy adjusted his glasses, “Mr. Padilla don’t do extensions.”

Shutting your laptop in protest, you got up and stretched your arms. “Can we take, like, a ten-minute break?”

Miles smirked. “The last half hour felt like a ‘break’, but sure.”

The smirk fell from his face when he noticed you staring at something on his desk.

“Aye, don’t touch nothing–”

“Is this me?”

Too late.

Miles’ notebook was already in your hands, flipped to a page full of sketches of your face. There were little lines scratched out next to each sketch, as if he were measuring the proportions of your eyes, nose, ears... 

His lines were sharp and geometrical, as always, but they softened at your hair and lips. Speaking of lips, there was an oddly-detailed sketch of them off to the side. He’d even managed to include the suggestion of gloss.

You looked up to see Miles standing in front of you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. 

“You done invading my privacy yet?” 

“Nope,” you placed a finger on the page. “How long did you need to stare at my face for this?”

You held back a laugh when he tensed visibly.

“Not long enough for it to matter,” he deadpanned, finally snatching the notebook out of your hand. “It was just a study.”

“Oh, so you’ve been ‘studying’ my lips? Got it.”

Miles’ eyes flickered down at them as you spoke before he returned to his spot on the bed. “Whatever. Break’s over.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you teased as you followed him, “the drawings are nice! You made me look prettier.”

The boy looked at you like he wanted to say something - to argue - but he remained silent. You elbowed him playfully in the side.

“What, you think I’m ugly, then? I’m telling you, Morales, one day we gon’ fight–”

“No,” he interrupted.

“Complete sentences, please,” you mimicked, laughing when the boy sucked his teeth in response.

“Fine. No, you’re not ugly, and I like drawing you. Can we move on?”

With a triumphant smile, you finally cracked open your laptop again. “Yes, yes we can. I need your genius powers to proofread this for me.”

Miles leaned in to get a good look at your screen, hitting you with the crisp scent of sports deodorant and some generic brand of lotion. You watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read your work out loud to himself in a low mutter. While he read, your gaze drifted away from the screen and landed on his side profile. His ears were now delightfully occupied by tiny gold studs that you would’ve missed at a farther distance. Past his jawline at the nape of his neck, a thin gold chain peeked out at you from beneath his black graphic tee.

Your eyes met Miles’ the moment you brought them back up to his face, amusement playing on his features.

“Yo, are you good? There something on my shirt?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Go back to reading.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m done. I just said you need to switch these two body paragraphs so they flow better.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he laughed, dimples on display. “I’m scared I’mma get my face stolen one day. Do you stare at everybody like that?”

A beat of silence passed as you considered whether to say something bold a second time, if not just for a reaction.

“...Nah, it’s just you.”

Miles blinked, the smile dropping from his face. “Huh?”

“You’re nice to look at, and I can’t draw you in my notebook to make it last longer,” you tilted your head comically. “Staring will have to do.”

Like clockwork, the boy’s hand shot up to his ear to toy with his piercing. He glanced out of the window. 

“The sun’s setting, you should really get that essay done,” he blurted out before narrowing his eyes at you. “What’s so funny?”

You had a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, “it’s funny when you’re nervous.”

Miles scoffed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you sang, beginning to type your conclusion paragraph.

There was no response. 

Your typing slowed as the silence grew long, feeling Miles’ eyes on you until you finally stopped to look at him quizzically.

“Yes?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He leaned in closer until your noses were in danger of brushing each other, looking determined despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You met his gaze with a challenge.

“Well? You just gon’ sit there?”

Miles couldn’t hear anything above the heartbeat pounding in his ears, his eyes squeezed shut as he closed the distance between you. 

No one told him that kissing would feel this weird.

For one, your lip gloss wasn’t half as sticky as he’d anticipated it to be, tasting like artificial fruit flavoring. Your sweaty palm came up to rest on the side of his face and kept him anchored as his breath stuttered. Having no idea where he would put his hands (another thing no one had explained to him), he kept them flat on the mattress for support as you deepened the kiss and he leaned back. 

Your hand was gripping his chin now to guide his face. Having kissed at least two other boys before, you had a vague idea of where it was supposed to go. Unlike the other two, Miles was tense, almost unmoving, despite being the initiator.  

Miles’ head buzzed when you pulled away, chuckling softly.

What the hell was so funny? The boy felt white hot blood rapidly coursing through all of the veins in his body at once. He thought he might start floating, like a hot air balloon. Or explode. Or vomit. Preferably the first one.

“Are you okay?” you asked, dropping your hand. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

He blinked slowly, three times. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. That was, um…” 

Hand on the neck. “Interesting.”

“A good interesting, I hope,” you laughed.

Miles tilted his head, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“I don’t think I’d mind doing that again.”

Handing the boy your phone, you said, “I think you’d need my number for that.”

-

[butchersboobs]

Twist (Part Two)

A Billy Butcher POV fic

You may need more tissues.

NSFW under the cut- MDNI

READ PART ONE HERE

-------------

I musta been 'ere at least three hours now, an' I swear t'God - that boy ain't stopped bombin' about once. 

'Appy little chappy, 'e is. Always yappin' and gigglin' away - eyes bright as a bloody summer’s day. 

For someone 'oo's never played a game wiv a kid before today, I don't fink I'm doin' too bad. I've bin chasin' the little bugger 'ere, there 'n every-bloody-where for the last 'alf hour, makin' 'im laugh wiv me ridiculous dinosaur noises - an' I'm fuckin' knackered. But the way 'e looks at me - like e's 'avin the best day of 'is life? Bloody'ell. Even completely fuckin' knackered feels good. Real good.

And then you walk in.

You stand there in the doorway, arms crossed tight across yer chest. And you got that fuckin' look on yer face - one I know all too bloody well. The one that says yer about firty seconds away from bustin' me bollocks over summink that's narked ya.

The whole room suddenly feels off, some'ow. Like ya sucked all the warmth and joy out the place the second ya stepped frew that door.

"Alright, Ollie, time to tidy up now," you say. Christ - even yer voice is stone cold. I bet you've been sat frew there plannin' whatever this is gonna turn into all afternoon, aintcha. Some fings never change.

Ollie’s face falls straight away. E's confused, poor lad. 'E looks up atcha like ya just told 'im Christmas is cancelled. "But me an' Billy playin’, Mummy. Five more minutes pleeease?" he asks, bless'im, holdin' five fingers up.

But you don’t care. Ya don’t even blink. "No - not today. Billy’s got to go. It’s time to go get your jarmies on. Now please, Oliver."

What the fuck ya bein' like this for? We were  'avin a whale of a time, me 'n 'im - five more minutes won'urt, surely? Are ya really that fuckin' desperate to take 'im away from me again? Jesus Christ. No need to upset the boy like this, f'fucksake.

"Can Billy come play t'morrow?" he asks, 'is bottom lip wobblin', tears in 'is eyes..

I'm about to say 'Yeah, I'd like that..' when you let me 'ave it - both fuckin' barrels.

"Billy’s a very busy man, baby. We won't see him again after today. So let's say byebye, and then get ready for bed, yeah? There's a good boy…"

Me stomach drops. The fuck you just say? I can't believe you actually just fuckin' said that. And ya never even flinched.

I can’t fuckin' fink straight. 

I just watch Ollie, me 'eart breaking. 'E runs over, wraps 'is tiny arms round me legs and just sobs. "B….bab-bye, b..Billy."

I bend down 'n pick my beautiful little boy up - little fing's light as a fevva. And I 'old 'im close t'me. I don' ever wanna let 'im go. I rub 'is back, rock 'im gently for a minute or two.

I kiss the top of is 'ead, 'n I tell 'im "There then, s'alright mate - don't you worry yerself, right? Don't you cry. We've 'ad a lovely day playin', ain't we, ay? I've never 'ad so much fun in me life! Now, listen t'me, yeah - I promise ya, I'll come back 'n see ya as soon as I can, right? You're a good lad, Oliver. Now, can you do me a favour and go play in your room, yeah? Put them dinosaurs to bed. Billy needs to 'ave a little chat wiv yer mum, OK? There's a good boy." 

I set 'im down, an' off he mopes, all dejected.

And when 'e's gone upstairs, summink inside me snaps.

I can’t 'old it back no more. The rage. I fuckin' can’t. 

Me fists are clenched that tight I can feel me knuckles turning white. 

I’ve been patient. Kept me fuckin' mouth shut in front o'the kid.

But now - I’m fuckin done. 

Done wiv you, ya fuckin' bitch.

"'Appy now, ya spiteful cunt? Some fuckin'   muvva you are. Fuck me…"

"I won't be happy 'til you get the fuck out of my house and away from MY fucking son, Billy…'

“Are you fuckin' stupid or summink? You seriously thought I’d just show up 'ere, play wiv'im for an hour, and then just fuck off like it’s no big deal?” Me fuckin' anger's still spirallin'. "You really believe that’s all I fuckin' came 'ere for?"

You just stand there, all defensive. Fuckin' arms crossed again, like you’re waitin' for me to apologise for givin' a shit about me own kid. You got some fuckin' nerve, girl, after everyfin you've done.

"You knew what this was," you say, all calm and collected, as if I’m the one in the fuckin' wrong. "You just wanted a chance to meet him properly. That's what you got. And now, you can fuck off."

I can feel the blood rushin' to me 'ead.

Fuckin'ell. 

"Yeah, I said that, didn’t I?" I snarl atcha,  steppin' closer, not even givin' you an inch. "And now, I’ve changed me mind. I ain't fuckin’ goin’ anywhere. You fink ya can stop me seein' 'im, do ya? Fink that's your fuckin' decision t'make?"

You keep yer gob shut for a fuckin' change, probly finking ya got some kinda power 'ere, some kinda control. But you fuckin' ain't. Not no more.

"You can kick off all ya fuckin' like," I yell, takin' another step toward ya. "But you ain’t keepin' my son from me. You fucking 'ear me?"

And then I see it. You’re scared. 

You're tryin' ya best to 'ide it, but I can see it in yer eyes. 

You fink I’m gonna back off, dontcha, ay? Fink I’m just blowin' steam. Well, I fuckin' ain't, I can promise you that, love.

"Who the fuck d'ya fink you are, ay? You fink ya can keep me out 'is life, like I don’t fuckin' matter? He's my fuckin' son! An' i'm fuckin' tellin' ya now - you ain't fuckin’ walkin' away wiv 'im again. Not now, not ever. Do you fuckin' understand me?"

Your face twists. You’re angry now. But I don’t give a fuck.

I ain't fuckin' interested in anyfin' you gotta say right now. I can't even bear to be in the same fuckin' room as ya. So off I fuck. I'm so fuckin' mad I pretty much rip yer fuckin' door off, just openin' it. I stand in the doorway and look back over me shoulder.

“I’ll be back to see the boy again, very soon.” I tell ya, tone bitin', venomous. "And God fuckin' 'elp you if you try t'stop me."

----------

Tags: @babyfri3dric3 @dumpy-little-nobody @bohemianblasphemy @smallsadjellyfish @frank3nfag @noonwardmoss @rebelled-angel @karlurbanism @jax-the-oregonian @chocolategiverzombie @scxrchedearf @bluemerakis @enchantedflameandflower @allirose18 @chiefcreatorcreation @bobabilbil

[charliemwrites]

https://www.tumblr.com/charliemwrites/734894560372785152/i-feel-like-johnny-would-keep-his-pet-in-a-place

could you write a one shot about this please?

Hi there! Sure, I can take a crack at it.

(Warnings for chasing and crying, shy thing does not enjoy this game of tag)

It takes a month for Johnny to let you outside. He coos that you’re too skittish and little to be out there even with supervision - something will scoop you right up!

But you’re desperate enough to get even a glimpse of the outside world again that you fully commit to asking. Legs tucked under you on the couch, hands on his chest, eyes big and mouth soft.

“P-please?” You ask with just a little whine in it. “I wanna see the rest of my home.”

Even though he’s kidnapped you, lying never feels good on your tongue. Like tiny needles injecting venom into your tastebuds, it’s bitter.

But it works.

Johnny takes you out back with your hand firmly in his, fingers interlocked like a couple. Your heart sinks a bit when you see just how isolated this cage is. Forest as far as your eyes can see, dense and untamed. No fence or walls though…

You tell yourself you’re biding your time and strategizing when really you’re just working up the courage. The consequences for failure, you’re aware, could be fatal if not painful. Or both. You try not to think about it as the luxurious, soft life he says he’s offering becomes ever more tempting.

One day he lets you out untethered. He’s been letting your radius for wandering expand a little more each time, assured by your consistent return when he calls. Today he gets a call, left his phone inside but you both can hear it from the yard.

“Ah, that’s the LT’s ringtone. Behave, doll, I’ll be right back.”

You only wait until he’s past the doorway before bolting. Have no idea where you’re going or what you’ll do. Just need to get far and fast. Branches and brush scrape at you, you almost trip three times. Feel like your heart is beating out of your chest because this has to work. You’re terrified of what it means if it doesn’t.

It feels like you’ve been running for a small eternity when you hear it - a loud snap behind you. You chance a look over your shoulder and nearly scream. Hes right there. And that grin on his face….

You dart between trees, hop fallen logs. Every step of the way he’s right behind you, pacing you.

You see a break in the trees up ahead, pray it’s a road or something and run as fast as you can, burst through the tree line-

“Gotcha!”

Johnny takes you tumbling down into the soft grass, covering your head and face, rolling with the momentum until you’re pinned under him. Tears are already spilling over as he laughs above you.

“Silly baby,” he coos, “should have told me if you needed some exercise! That was so naughty.”

You stutter out an “I’m sorry” praying for mercy now.

“Now, I’ll be nice since this is your first time, but you are getting punished.”

You shudder, tears coming faster. He tsks and gathers you, starts walking you both back towards the house.

“Now, now,” he chides teasingly, “if you’re brave enough to go wandering in the woods, you’re brave enough for a little discipline, aye?”

[saintship]

Ok imagine this.... force 141 meeting price twin sibling reader that's a retired captain but here's the twist they think reader is an imposter when in reality their just here to visit price and take him to his favorite restaurant for his break...

This is so old I’m sorry :,)

Protective 141 my beloved

“Leaving, on a jet plane..

Don’t know when I’ll be back again..”

Your soft voice cut through the music, singing along as your tires dug across the dirt road leading to the base entrance.

Your keychain swayed gently from the rear view mirror, a tiny toy soldier John had slipped into the pocket of your slacks the day you were promoted to Captain.

As much as you were at peace with retiring from your position, those small pieces of your career never seemed to disappear.

The security personnel were all smiles seeing your truck pull in, joking and teasing as they’d done for so many years. While your car was taken care of, you were lead to your brother’s office before being left to greet him. You listened through the door, only hearing the tapping of his keyboard.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

You grinned like a child when you heard a low curse and angry footsteps. The door flew open.

“You are a pest.”

“Good to see you!” You beam.

“Mhm.” He grumbled, though he guided your shoulders inside carefully.

It had been strange since you left, but just being in his office was reassuring. He told you what he could now that you weren’t in on classified info, and you told him nearly everything. The nightmares, the daydreams, the panic attacks, disassociation.

Talking to him always reminded you that even though you ached to be back in uniform, leaving was for the best.

You displaced his office decorations and spoke with him for a few hours before he hugged you goodbye tightly, reminding you that this was still a version of home, and he was here.

“Always here.” He said.

You closed his door gently, hesitating a moment to run your thumb down the groove of the door seam in thought.

“You lost?”

The voice nearly made you jump, though your years in service didn’t let you show it as you turned to see a young man in uniform, scanning you with a furrowed brow.

“Do you need assistance?” He repeated, adjusting his cap.

You blink in realization. “Oh, I’m-"

“This is a restricted area, mate.” Another voice joined the first, accompanied by an intimidating figure that had appeared from behind a corner. Not an inch of him was uncovered apart from his eyes, his build and layers making him look even more threatening. He seemed to puff up like an angry cat; amusing to your trained eye.

“John is my brother, I worked here with him before your task force transferred here.” You replied smoothly.

“Price doesn’t have siblings.” The masked soldier spoke lowly.

You smiled despite yourself. “Well, that’s news to me..”

“Need some directions?”

Another?

Your patience thinned.

“Look. I served here, he’s my brother. If you open this door, he’ll tell you.”

The first soldier eyed you suspiciously.

“Forgive me for not taking your word for it, uh..?”

“Price.” You deadpan. “My last name is Price.”

The capped soldier hummed, seemingly still off-put.

You sighed, exasperated. “Please open the door.”

“Yeah, alright.” The masked man starts toward you, and you fight the urge to skillfully escape his hold when he guides you by the shoulder back into the office.

“I hope you’re not lying..” The Scottish soldier from before murmured as you passed, and John lifted his head from his work.

“Claims to be your-”

“For Christ’s sake, release your death grip from my sibling!”

His exasperated tone makes you smile as the three soldiers flank you. The hand on your shoulder leaves along with a tense apology that only deepens your amusement.

“If I wasn’t, I think they did a pretty good job interrogating me.” You say lightly.

“I’m so sorry.. what’s with you lot, aye?”

He shut down the protesting of the capped and Scottish soldier with a raised hand, sighing as he brought you to face them.

“Should have thought to introduce you..”

Capped soldier was Gaz, Scot was Soap, mask was Ghost. Their apologetic shuffling of their weight made you comfortable already.

“It’s nice that you’re so..protective.”

You hoped they sensed your amusement and didn’t really think you were rattled. It would have taken a lot more than a strong arm to trip you up.

“They’re idiots.” John corrected, sitting back down.

“You served?” Ghost murmured.

“I did. I retired a few months ago.”

“You’re.. Price’s age?” Gaz’s tone was disbelieving.

“Oi.” John glowered.

“You can’t say that..” Soap nudged Gaz harshly.

“The exact same actually. Well..” You glance at John. “I am three minutes older..”

“And yet you’re the child.” John bit back.

“Why’d you never tell us you have a twin sister?” Soap gestured to you.

“Not your business?” John replied.

“Aye..” Soap rolled his eyes.

“You three should come with us for dinner.” You suggested.

John’s ‘No’ was overshadowed by the resounding enthusiasm of his task force.

“You’re supposed to be on my team.” John grumbled.

“I’m retired, John, I work alone.”

He glared at Gaz’s quiet laugh.

“7:00. We’ll be at that little run-down near the bar.”

“You’re taking them there? I thought you were family.” Ghost shifted his weight.

“Good chips.” You and John both defended the restaurant of choice at the same time.

“Oh, they’re twins for real..” Gaz murmured. “Creepy.”

“See you tonight.” You gently shoved John’s head before excusing yourself.

“See you!”

“Bye!”

“Cheers..”

When you had left the building, the three turned back to John. Soap didn’t get a chance to open his mouth before John rumbled a warning.

“If you so much as think about it, I will tear you apart.”

[onegianthotmess]

“Shoo-”

When Floyd Comes Into the Kitchen During the Weekend Lunch Rush

Floyd: *casually walks into the kitchen* Hey, Zebrafish! How ya, doin’?

Sparrow Jane: *pointing at a counter* OI! ONE OF YE SLIMY TOED MONGRELS SPILLED SOME SAUCE! WIPE IT UP NOW OR YOU’LL BE SWABBIN’ THE DECK BY YOURSELF WHEN SHIFT IS DONE!

Octavinelle Student 1: Ye- I mean, aye, Captain!

Floyd: Zebrafish! Ya didn’t answer me! *poking Sparrow Jane’s cheek* I’m bored!

Sparrow Jane: Unless you’re here to be part of the crew for some reason, leave until the rush is over at least, Floyd. I won’t be having idle onlookers in my kitchen when we need all hands on stations.

Floyd: Ah, you’re such a buzzkill while ya work! Jus’ come with me for ten minutes, it won’t be long! Let’s have some fun!

Sparrow Jane: *whacks Floyd’s hand with a wooden spoon she pulled from the void*

Floyd: GAH, WHAT THE HECK!??!?

Sparrow Jane: *points at Floyd with the spoon* No one, and I mean no one, tells me how to run me crew, Floyd. Not you, not Jade, not even Azul. I’m the captain here, therefore my word is a god’s will until shift is over. Understood?

Floyd: Yeesh! I’m just sayin’ that you could take a tiny break for a second and that no one would notice.

Sparrow Jane: Please, do tell me, then, who would be the captain? No one here is captain but me. *points to a random cook* You, are there two captains here?

Octavinelle Student 2: N-No, Captain.

Sparrow Jane: Then, who is the one and only captain here, laddie?

Octavinelle Student 2: You are, Captain?

Sparrow Jane: And who am I?

Octavinelle Student 2: S-Sparrow Jane Black?

Sparrow Jane: So, you’re saying that I, Sparrow Jane Black, am the only captain here?

Octavinelle Student 2: Yes- A-Aye, Captain.

Sparrow Jane: And the captain is the one who runs things and the crew here?

Octavinelle Student 2: Aye, Captain.

Sparrow Jane: So no one else here can fill in for me if I’m gone because no one else here is a captain? Is that what you’re saying, laddie?

Octavinelle Student 2: A-Aye, Captain. Are…Are you alright?

Sparrow Jane: Yes, yes, I’m fine! Go back to yer work, ya lubber!

Octavinelle Student 2: Aye, Captain!

Sparrow Jane: *turns to Floyd* So, you see, Mister Floyd Leech? No one here can be in my stead while I’m gone because no one here is captain except for Sparrow Jane Black, who is me and I am her and that’s my name. Is that understood?

Floyd: Zebrafish, I followed none of that. Your back and forth talk is so confusing!

Sparrow Jane: Basically, if I leave, everything goes to pot.

Floyd: You can leave for a second! C’mon, Zebrafish!

Sparrow Jane: *blinks*

Sparrow Jane: *pushes Floyd to the ground*

Floyd: HEY-

Sparrow Jane:

Floyd: Make me-

Sparrow Jane: . . .

Azul: Where is Floyd?! We need him in the floor!

Jade: I’m unsure at the moment. Maybe he wandered to-

Sparrow Jane: *drags Floyd out of the kitchen and drops him by Jade’s feet* I believe he’s yours, sir.

Floyd: You’re being mean, Zebrafish!

Sparrow Jane: And ye intervened with how I run me crew, ya bugger! Now shoo!

Sparrow Jane: *walking back to the kitchen and yelling at the cooks* I WANT ALL HANDS ON STATIONS! ONE OF YOU SWAB WHERE THAT POT WAS SPILLED AND THE REST OF YE MAKE DO WHILE THATS GOING ON OR IT’S OVERBOARD INTO THE LOUNGE’S TANK FOR YOU! NO BITCHING OR SLACKING OF WHILE YOU’RE PART OF MY CREW!

Azul: I never thought a first year would scare me…

Jade: She’s fun and intriguing, if I’m being honest.

Floyd: She’s a buzzkill while working, that’s for sure.

Azul: Floyd, go take orders! We need another server!

Floyd: Ugh, fine! Buzzkills…

A/N: Jack Sparrow shooing away a rock/hiding crab is now one of my favorite things-

[cynicalrosebud]

Echoes of Duty (COD Sentinel AU) - Locked In Scenarios

Series Masterlist

Aka locked in scenarios with each of the 141!

Being locked in refers to a Sentinel entering an intense sensory focus where they lose awareness of everything outside their primary sense. This hyper-focus makes them highly effective but vulnerable, as they become reliant on their Guide to help pull them back or ground them. It can happen due to stress, sensory overload, or a combination of both, making it a dangerous state if the Guide is unable to intervene. The bond between Sentinel and Guide is critical in these moments, as it allows the Guide to calm and redirect the Sentinel’s attention, breaking the “lock”.

Setting: Late evening in the safehouse, Price’s office

John Price sat hunched over his desk, piles of paperwork scattered in front of him. His head throbbed from hours of staring at mission reports, but it wasn’t the paperwork that was overwhelming him—it was the sound.

The safehouse, normally quiet, felt like an amplifier to Price’s heightened sense of hearing. Every creak of the floorboards, the distant hum of electronics, and the muffled conversations from the other rooms felt as loud as if they were happening right next to him. The overstimulation was unbearable, each tiny sound striking like a hammer against his already splitting headache.

He rubbed at his temples, trying to focus on the task at hand, but it was no use. He was drowning in a sea of noise, each sound crashing over him with increasing intensity. The tension in his jaw tightened.

“John?”

Y/n’s soft voice broke through the chaos, and though it was the only voice he could tolerate, even that sent a ripple through his heightened senses.

Price looked up, his gaze tired and strained. “Y/n... It’s too much.”

She moved toward him, recognizing the symptoms immediately. His senses were overwhelmed, the burden of his Sentinel abilities catching up to him. She could see it in the tightness of his expression, the way his fingers clenched the edge of the desk.

“I’ll help,” she said softly, already stepping close to him. “Close your eyes, and let me take it from here.”

Without hesitation, Price obeyed, closing his eyes and allowing her to take control. Y/n knelt beside him, her hands gently resting on his arm as she focused on guiding him, filtering out the barrage of sounds that were tormenting him.

“Breathe, John,” she whispered, her voice a quiet anchor amidst the noise. “Focus on my voice. Block out everything else.”

Gradually, the tension in his body began to ease as Y/n helped him narrow his focus, silencing the overwhelming flood of sounds. She created a bubble of calm around them, her presence a shield against the sensory onslaught.

The ticking of the clock, the soft rustle of papers, and even the faint sound of his own breathing began to fade into the background, muted by her careful guidance. Price could finally relax, the pounding in his head easing as the world around him became quieter.

“There you go,” Y/n murmured, her thumb tracing soothing circles on his arm. “Just my voice, John. That’s all you need to hear.”

Price’s lips twitched in a brief smile, the overwhelming strain lifting as he focused solely on her. The relief was immense, the silence she brought a balm to his senses.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers with unspoken gratitude. “You’ve got a way of fixing things no one else can,” he muttered, his voice low but sincere.

Y/n smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “That’s what I’m here for.”

As she moved to stand, Price caught her hand, bringing it to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss against her knuckles. It was a simple gesture, but filled with depth—a thank you beyond words.

“Thanks again,” he said, his voice sincere.

Y/n nodded, her smile warm. “Take it easy, John. The paperwork will still be here tomorrow.”

Price chuckled softly, a hint of his usual confidence returning. “Aye, it will. And so will you, I’m sure.”

Y/n gave him a reassuring nod, turning back to him before leaving the room, “Always, John.”

Price watched her go, the echoes of her calming presence still lingering around him. His hearing had returned to its normal sensitivity, the overwhelming sounds that once plagued him now just a faint memory. But her voice—that remained, steady in his mind, a lifeline whenever he needed it most.

Setting: After a particularly grueling mission, at the team’s temporary base

The tension in the air was palpable as Kyle "Gaz" Garrick sat on the edge of his bunk, his hands flexing and curling into fists. His head hung low, shoulders sagging under the weight of the day. The mission had been brutal, close combat and intense physical encounters, but the worst part was the aftereffects.

For Gaz, it wasn’t just the mental exhaustion. It was his sense of touch—constantly heightened, always aware of every shift in the ground, every subtle movement of the air, every vibration through his gear. Now, after the mission, his body still screamed with the sensations that hadn’t let up, each one amplified, keeping him on edge.

He could still feel the recoil of every shot, the tension in every muscle he’d used, even the dull scrape of the rough fabric of his fatigues against his skin like sandpaper. It all grated on his nerves, his skin practically buzzing with overstimulation, as if his entire body was stuck in overdrive.

Y/n noticed him from across the room. She could sense the strain rolling off him in waves. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched, his hands restless. She knew that look. It wasn’t just the aftermath of the mission—it was the burden of his enhanced touch, every tiny sensation amplified, overwhelming him in its persistence.

Quietly, she crossed the room, stopping just in front of him. “Kyle,” she said softly, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. “You’re feeling it, aren’t you?”

He didn’t need to answer, the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his hands, all spoke for him. His touch sense had been in overdrive all day—every hit, every jolt, every shift in his surroundings hammering him long after the mission had ended.

Y/n knelt down in front of him, placing her hands on his knees, grounding him. “Let me help.”

Gaz let out a shaky breath, his hands dropping into his lap, the tension still humming under his skin. “It’s like I can’t turn it off,” he admitted, his voice rough with fatigue. “I can still feel everything… every punch, every damn vibration. It’s too much.”

Y/n nodded, her hands gently wrapping around his, fingers brushing his palms. “Focus on me,” she said softly, sending a pulse of calm through their bond. “I’m going to help filter it out. You don’t need to feel everything right now.”

He exhaled, trying to let go, focusing on her touch. Her presence began to take hold, like a gentle wave washing over him, dulling the sharp edges of his overstimulation. Slowly, she helped him narrow his focus, channeling the chaotic flood of sensation into something more manageable, more bearable.

Kyle’s breathing evened out as Y/n guided him, her touch grounding him in the present moment, smoothing away the strain. The vibrations running through his muscles began to ease, the overwhelming sensations gradually quieting as she worked.

“Better?” she asked, her voice soft but firm, still holding his hands in hers.

“Yeah…” Kyle’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the relief was clear in his tone. “Feels like I can breathe again.”

She smiled, her hands giving his a light squeeze before pulling back, though her presence remained a steady, soothing hum through their bond. “That’s the point. You don’t have to carry all that weight alone, Kyle.”

He looked at her, gratitude clear in his eyes, though his words came slow and soft. “Thanks, Y/n. I… don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d figure it out,” she teased gently, standing up. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

As she started to leave, Kyle sat up a little straighter, finally starting to feel like himself again. The overwhelming edge of his heightened sense of touch had receded, leaving only the steady pulse of relief in its wake.

Setting: Safehouse, post-mission late afternoon

Ghost sat in a darkened corner, his mask pulled down, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were shut tight, jaw clenched as if holding back a flood. The mission had been brutal, but it wasn’t the fight that weighed on him now. It was his enhanced sight—always a gift on the battlefield, but a curse when he couldn’t switch it off.

Every detail, every flash of light, every movement in the room felt like a knife in his skull. He could see too much—the shifting shadows, the glint of metal from across the room, the smallest flicker of the fire. Everything was magnified, overwhelming, burning through his already frayed nerves.

Y/n had seen him like this before. She moved silently across the room, feeling the waves of tension and frustration radiating off him. Ghost’s senses were overstimulated—his enhanced vision had been pushed to its limits during the mission, and now, without the adrenaline of combat, it was threatening to shut him down.

She knelt beside him, her presence a calming force. “Simon,” she whispered, her voice soft and grounding, cutting through the overwhelming flood of sensory input.

He didn’t move at first, his breath coming in shallow, measured bursts. His eyes stayed shut, as if opening them would make everything worse.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” she asked gently, her hand resting lightly on his arm, letting him know she was there. He didn’t need to answer—she could feel it in the tension rippling off him.

“Too bright,” he muttered after a long pause, his voice rough. “Everything’s too damn bright.”

Y/n nodded, already reaching out with her Guide energy, her calming presence washing over him like a cool breeze. She could feel the overstimulation, the way every flicker of light and movement pressed in on him. Slowly, she began to help him narrow his focus, dulling the sharp edges of his vision, bringing him back to a state of calm.

“I’m going to help you turn it down,” she murmured, her voice steady, soothing. “Focus on me. Block everything else out.”

Ghost exhaled shakily, his eyes still closed as he felt the pressure begin to ease. He focused on her—her voice, her touch. The overwhelming sensory input began to fade, the blinding details around him slipping away as Y/n helped him filter out the chaos.

Bit by bit, the tightness in his body began to release. His breathing slowed, and his muscles, once rigid, softened under her influence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes. The world no longer assaulted him with its overwhelming brightness. Everything felt softer, calmer, and most importantly, manageable.

“You did it,” Y/n said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Feeling better?”

Ghost gave a slight nod, his shoulders still tense but no longer coiled with that unbearable pressure. “Yeah… thanks.”

He didn’t need to say more—his gratitude was clear in the way he relaxed under her touch, in the way his gaze softened just a fraction as he looked at her.

“I’m always here, Simon,” she reminded him, her voice firm but gentle. “You don’t have to fight it alone.”

Ghost gave her a brief nod, the words sticking in his throat. He wasn’t one for emotional displays, but he didn’t need them with her. She knew.

As she rose to leave him to rest, his hand shot out, gently catching her wrist. His dark eyes, still shadowed beneath his mask, met hers.

“Stay.”

It was a single word, rough and unpolished, but it was enough. She nodded, sitting back down beside him. The two of them sat in the quiet, the bond between Sentinel and Guide humming softly, soothing the storm that had once raged in him.

Setting: Early afternoon, training grounds

The sun beat down on the training grounds, dust kicking up as Soap MacTavish barked orders at a group of recruits. He had been running them through drills for hours, but their performance was sloppy at best. His patience was wearing thin.

"Come on, ya daft lot! Get it together!" Soap shouted, his voice carrying across the field.

The recruits scrambled to fix their formations, but the disorganization grated on his nerves. The sharp scent of sweat, gun oil, and dirt filled his senses, mixing with the frustration that had been simmering all morning. For a Sentinel like Soap, with his heightened sense of smell, the intensity of it was suffocating.

Each recruit carried a unique scent—some were nervous, others exhausted, and a few reeked of fear. It was overwhelming, bombarding his senses with a cocktail of emotions and adrenaline. The anger in his chest grew as the stench of failure filled the air.

Soap slammed his fist into the nearby post, startling the recruits as he tried to ground himself. But the smells were too much, too sharp, too strong. He couldn’t block them out, couldn’t focus.

"Jesus Christ, ye smell like shite!" he snapped, earning a few nervous glances from the recruits.

That was when Y/n, sensing the shift in his emotional state from the other side of the training grounds, made her way over. She could feel the anger radiating from him, his frustration feeding into the intensity of his Sentinel senses.

When she approached, Soap immediately caught her scent—calming, familiar, like fresh rain after a storm. The chaos of the training ground faded, and for a moment, all he could focus on was her.

"Johnny," she said softly, coming to stand beside him. "You’re pushing too hard."

Soap grunted, his jaw clenched, but didn’t respond. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of dirt and sweat still lingering in the air around them, the tension in his muscles refusing to ease.

Y/n stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Let me help," she offered, her voice calm and soothing.

Soap glanced at her, the familiar scent of her presence already starting to work its magic. He nodded once, reluctantly, as if ashamed to admit he needed it.

She took a deep breath, extending her Guide abilities to him, her touch grounding him. Slowly, she helped him filter out the distracting smells—the overwhelming mix of sweat and fear that clouded his senses. Instead, she focused his attention on more neutral, calming scents. The earthy smell of the grass beneath them, the faint tang of gunpowder that always lingered around Soap’s gear, and most importantly, her own scent, which had always been a source of comfort to him.

Gradually, the tension in his body began to ease. His breathing steadied, the overwhelming sensory input fading to a manageable level. The anger and frustration that had been bubbling inside him dissipated, replaced by a steady calm.

"Better?" she asked, her thumb lightly brushing against his arm.

Soap exhaled deeply, his eyes closing for a moment as he savored the reprieve she’d given him. "Aye, much better."

Y/n smiled, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Good. Now take it easy on them, yeah? They’re new."

He let out a short laugh, the sharp edge of his temper softened. "Aye, but they still smell like fear. It’s distractin’."

She chuckled softly at that. "Not everyone’s as fearless as you, Johnny."

Soap’s lips twitched into a grin. "Damn right."

As Y/n began to step away, Soap reached for her hand, his grip gentle but firm. He brought her knuckles to his lips in a soft, grateful kiss, lingering just long enough to convey his thanks.

"Thanks, lass," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers.

"Anytime, Soap," she replied, giving him a warm smile before turning her attention back to the recruits.

As she moved away, Soap’s eyes followed her, the lingering scent of her calming presence still anchoring him. He shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips as he looked back at the recruits.

But a new thought crossed his mind as he watched her scold the recruits for their lack of focus. The way she handled them—firm but fair—left Soap wondering what she’d be like as a mother, especially to the 141’s future children. The image made him smirk, a sense of warmth filling his chest.

"God help the poor bairns if they take after me," he muttered to himself with a chuckle before turning his attention back to training.

[awingedinsect]

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 7

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Strong allusions to/descriptions of to Self h@rm. bl00d, swearing, general 18+ content but nothing way too explicit this chapter. Some slightly fluffy vibes as a break from all the shit because my boy has been through it.

“Have you forgotten, my Vessel?”

“No.”

“Does it tempt you? The light?”

“Not as such. The light hurts my eyes, and there is no music in it. I cannot be somewhere where music is not.”

“You do well. Stay in the dark, my pretty voice. And wait for my words.”

“Yes…”

It’s not a dream. But at the same time, he’s not awake. He’s locked in the space between his mind and his eyelids; a dark place where he can’t move or think beyond the words coming out of his mouth, words that don’t even feel like his own. And yet here there’s a strange sort of peace here; a foreign, fearless, silence of his thoughts. He knows his purpose when he’s here.

“Yes…” his lips form the word over and over. He’s glad he’s finally found the point of having his mouth; to create the word and know that in this void, he is approved of because of it.

Suddenly there’s eyes in the dark. They’re blue as glaciers and round as planets and for a second he feels his Eden being invaded. Then the vision suddenly vanishes, and in its place is sunlight.

And a headache.

A splitting, horrible headache.

He blinks a few times to get the world into focus, and suddenly realizes that someone is standing directly over him. He barely has a second to process the enormous blue eyes blinking down at him before the person turns their head and yells out of the room, “guys! He’s wakin’ up, guys!”

It’s the drunk drummer he met at the bar.

Vessel tenses, fingers clawing the blanket now half on the floor and pulling it up over his bandaged chest. He’s still blinking, trying to figure out if last night's events were real and, if so, where the hell he is, when a second person comes into the room. He looks more put together than anyone he’s seen so far, leaning against the doorframe with a calmly curious look on his face. He eyes Vessel slowly, smiling politely when their eyes meet.

“Goodmorning.” He says.

Vessel is starting to feel enormous sympathy for every bug he’s ever uncovered and examined when flipping over garden stones.

There’s dusty sunlight pouring in through the window frames, bathing both him and the tiny living room/music room/three men live here and it shows room. And the big blue eyes of the drummer are still on him, hovering about two feet away and waiting patiently for him to do something.

“Hello.” Is what he manages.

“Damn, you’re a bit busted huh mate?” The drummer says, eyes sympathetic now as he swipes his unruly hair. “Not great.”

“No, not great.” Vessel has to agree. He still hasn’t moved. “Um, II, right?”

The drummer smiles. “Nice memory! Good on you, man. IV, come introduce yourself.”

the guitarist shrugs off of the doorframe, wandering over casually and nodding down at the man on the couch.

“IV.” He says.

Vessel nods awkwardly, trying not to stare at the very noticeable sling around his shoulder. But the guitarist obviously notices his inner turmoil, because he instantly waves him off. “aye, I’ve got a break from practice for a few weeks, I’m grateful. If III tries to blame you though tell him he’s crazy, it was my clumsy ass.”

Before Vessel can reply, another voice fills the room.

“Don’t try and make him feel better.”

All eyes suddenly turn to the doorway, where a now familiar figure is standing, messy hair pulled back in a knot and an enormous steaming mug in his hand. His robe hangs loose off his angular frame.

He just hovers there, eyeing the space between II and Vessel like at any moment the caffeine might kick in and he’ll jump for it; ready to tear the half-living singer a new one if given any reason. Vessel takes the warning and doesn’t so much as breathe too deeply.

Meanwhile, II sits down beside him without a fear in the world.

“Sorry you had to put up with III as a nurse.” He laughs, folding his hands in his lap. “One time I tripped on the step and sprained my damn ankle, and he had to carry me bridal-style back inside. Grumbled the whole way, then just fucking dumped me here too.” He gestures at the sofa and the man currently trying to shrink himself on it, a laugh still on his lips. He glanced back at III. “didn’t even make me soup.”

“I can’t fucking make soup.” The bassist says, gripping his mug with ring-decorated fingers- a few of the stones Vessel recognizes, some of the fatter rocks and symbols he doesn’t- and taking a long swig. “And if you didn’t get soup, there’s no way he is. We’ll probably have the cops beating down the door any fucking second looking for his busted ass.” He glares at Vessel, making eye contact sharp enough to cut new stripes into his skin. “Time to head out, bruv.”

A sudden flush of embarrassment climbs up Vessel’s chest, turning his bloodless cheeks pink as he blinks back. He feels practically naked right now; wearing his emotions on his face and a pair of baggy black sweatpants low on his hips. And the increasing certainly that he’s incapable of walking doesn’t exactly make him feel safe right now, either. Who are these people? Why are they held up in a cabin in the woods, and how much goddam witchcraft have they been doing up here? For all he knows, they could be in league with Venus. Is the voice in his head something they conjured up?

Silence!

The command rips through his brains like a bullet. He winces, scrunching his eyes as a gasp leaves his mouth. A gentle hand grabs his shoulder.

“Hey, you alright mate?” II asks, eyes searching his miserable face.

“He’s not going anywhere.” IV says, blinking down at the sight. He turns back to III, who himself even looks a little concerned at the way Vessel is shaking.

“He’s got no strength in him, man. I’m gonna make some fuckin breakfast, then we can talk.”

The guitarist walks past his friend in the doorway, sliding into what must be the kitchen.

“Fine.” III says, passing his mug between his two hands and tapping painted nails on the porcelain. “But if the cops show, one of you two is answering the fuckin door.”

And just like that he leaves, turning back down the hallway and closing himself up in the same bedroom he’d got the sweatpants from.

“Don’t worry about it, man.” II says, trying to look understanding as the trembles in Vessel’s shoulders settle and he gathers his breath, blinking his eyes back open to the world. “Whatever happened to you, you can tell us or not. ‘Matters is, you’re fine now, eh? IVy’s gonna cook something up, then you can just hang around long as you need. Make some music.”

The idea of singing feels like it hasn’t crossed his mind in millennia, much less doing it for them. But there’s a strange comfort in the way the drummer looks at him with those big, soft blue eyes.

He manages a grin, and nods.

Meanwhile pots are starting to clang in the next room, the smell of eggs wafting into the dusty parlor like a sign from god.

• • •

He remembers the feel of the carpet beneath his feet. The way his shoulder collapsed against the wall, rattling the picture frames smiling down at him.

“…m,mom?”

He remembers clutching his wrist, seeing double as something seeped dark and thick from between his fingers. He didn’t mean for there to be that much.

“M…mom!”

Her silhouette filled the end of the hallway, casting a shadow down to him. Her face went white as a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” She demanded, hurrying to him. She wrenched his arm off of his chest, a horrified gasp leaving her lips.

“Jesus Christ, how did that happen? Did you do this on purpose?!”

“It was an accident.”

“You’re fucking thirteen. You know not to play with knives, fucking hell…”

“I’m sorry.” He sobbed. His heart was gonna beat out of his chest. He was dying.

Her hands felt cold on him, prying at his fingers around the warm blood to get a better look.

“Get into the bathroom right now.” She ordered. She sounded like she might cry too, but not now- she always did her crying later.

“And stop crying.” She said, ushering him down the hallway. “You’re gonna wake up your sister.”

“I’ll do it.” II says, reaching an arm across Vessel. IV takes the salt shaker from his friend's hand and nods his thanks.

Vessel shakes from the daydream, shoving his arms underneath the table. The sleeves of II’s hoodie barely go past his wrists.

“Huh?”

“That bandage coming loose on your head?” III asks, picking at his steaming pile of eggs and toast. “IV was talking to ya.”

“Sorry.” He says, reaching for his own fork. The sleeve slides up his arm again and he tugs it back down with an age-old instinct, trying to politely search for a bite.

“What was that?”

“Just asking for the salt.” IV says, trying to smile at him. Though the thing comes out looking pretty full of pity. “Hey, how’re you feeling now, mate?”

Truthfully, he feels like he might throw up any minute. But at least the imminent threat of passing out seems gone.

“I could use a cup of tea.”

III’s face seems fixed in a permanent look of distaste, but he doesn’t say anything as II jumps up from the little round table and heads to the counter, filling the kettle from the tap. “Oh, fucking me too!” he says, bringing that same endearing enthusiasm into every word he says. Vessel’s heart flutters a bit at the man’s eagerness; when was the last time someone made him tea?

“Pick your poison, Vess.” He says, turning on the stove and reaching for a little decorated box beside the sink. “We’ve got Earl Grey, English Breakfast… and this funky Jasmine Rose one III got. Tastes a bit ass, honestly. Not good with milk and sugar.”

III shoves a forkful of eggs into his face and rolls his eyes. “Anyone who needs milk and sugar to enjoy tea doesn’t get a damn opinion.” He’s very blatantly avoiding Vessel’s face now, just glances at IV as II chuckles and pulls out two bags of English breakfast. “IV, you like it don’t you?”

The guitarist just smirks, taking a slow sip of his creamy coffee. His eyelashes flick down to Vessel, who’s currently fumbling with only his third bite of food. “No comment.”

“What?! I thought you liked it, I fully got another fucking box in my bag, man! You were slurping it down the other morning during practice.”

IV shrugs, seemingly content when a fourth bite passes Vessel’s lips. “Felt good on my throat… Still tastes shit.”

“You sing?” Vessel suddenly asks, surprised to hear his own voice. He sits up straighter, casting his eyes to the man beside him.

Suddenly II starts laughing behind III, clinking a lid down on a pretty brown teapot. “not like you, he doesn’t.” He says, eyes twinkling in the steam. “He screams. I swear to god, if we had neighbors they’d be scared shitless. At least the squirrels don’t seem to mind.” He pulls two mugs from the cupboard and sets them down. “I think they’ve made him their banshee leader.”

IV’s laugh is deep and soft, filling the little kitchen with even more warmth than the sunlight streaming in. “I can sing normal, too.” He swipes his hair out of his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. “ jus’ not as fun.”

“Aye, not so loud.” III says. And now his eyes dart to Vessel’s, gluing him down. “We’ve got a soft tenor in the room.”

Vessel’s eyes go a shade darker. He doesn’t peel them off of the bassist across from him.

“I can scream.” He says.

IV seems intrigued, though both he and II seemed fixed on the tension between the singer and bassist. “Oh? You like to fry?”

Vessel swallows. “Sometimes.” He says, breaking eye contact only long enough to take the mug II offers him. He mumbles a thank you.

“But I like it deeper, goes better with my songs.”

“You’ve gotta sing for us at some point, mate.” IV says. “That performance you gave at the bar was something else, but if you’re serious about it, you can’t hold out on us. We could harmonize.”

“Maybe.” Vessel’s eyes go a little wide as II tips a jug of milk into his tea, stirring a mound of white sugar into the mix like a true Englishman.

“Maybe later.” The tea scalds down his throat, but the taste is a comfort all the same. His tongue darts out across his lips and he rolls them awkwardly, uncertain how much longer he can take the eyes of the bassist on him. He forces a chuckle. “Not sure if III would uh, like that.”

“You kidding?” II says, smiling contentedly after a long sip of his nearly completely white tea. “III loved your singing, said it was the best voice he’d ever heard! Your pitch could go so well in a heavier mix, and he was about ready to play a riff for you right then and there when I found him before our show.” He doesn’t seem to notice how red III’s face is turning, instead smiling over at IV, who seems more than amused. “If shit hadn’t gone down on our set, I think III woulda hauled you up on the stage with him in a heartbeat.”

Vessel is speechless. There’s no way III actually liked his voice. Although, there was the healthy gap between his performance and the black eye he received for the man to have had second thoughts on the scrawny kid and his fucked up keyboard. Vessel’s wide eyes go straight to his lap, any and all words escaping him as III turns progressively redder across from him.

“Isn’t that right, III?” The drummer asks, now potentially aware of the effect his words have. He’s grinning too big. “Didn’t you say you wanted to hear him sing with some bass?”

“Bass can level up any performance.” III says, planting his elbows on the table. His hair falls into his face as he looks down to pick at his chipped nail polish. “But it’d be better with an actually good scream.”

“Don’t worry.” Vessel says, something brave stirring in his chest now that he’s got a sudden vantage on the man who’s been pushing him around like a trolly ever since they’ve met.

“I can scream loud enough, for you.”

The imminent silence is interrupted as II chokes violently on his tea.

[racmune]

a sweater - scout x pauling fic

general audiences, 2,195 words (jan 10th, 2022)

ao3 mirror here

Plastic curtain rings rattled as Scout pushed aside the blinds to peer through the kitchen window.

No sign of her yet...

It was only around five o’clock and the streets were already cold and dark. The only light in the streets was the snowflakes being blown around, carrying the artificial glow of a porchlight; which had been turned on, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Miss Pauling.

She had made plans for dinner with him and his family earlier for her Christmas off.

Scout propped himself up against the wall and crossed his arms. Miss Pauling was late, which was unlike her...

The decor and the smell of peppermint scented candles (Ma’s favourite) had everyone in a festive mood. Jazz softly played from an old forty-five. Scout fixed his eyes onto the spinning record in hopes that it would take his mind off the wait, but it drifted easily.

The doorbell rang and Scout rushed out of the kitchen, anxious to check through the door’s peep-hole. Miss Pauling stood nervously on the porch, fixing her hair and toying with the strap of a small pleather purse slung over her shoulder.

Scout licked his fingers and attempted to slick back his hair.

.

The lock clicked and the door opened. “Uh, hey Miss Pauling!”

“Hey Scout.” Miss Pauling said, letting her hands fall to her side.

Scout let her in and closed the door behind her.

Miss Pauling’s glasses fogged as she came in.

It’d been a while since they were face to face. At least that’s how it felt. It had been a little over two weeks that Mann Co. gave the mercenaries time off for winter break. ..It was surprisingly lonely at work without his constant pestering. She sighed and leaned in to tightly hug him, to his surprise. Her body was cold from the outdoors and her jacket crinkled as he squeezed it.

Miss Pauling sighed, pulling apart from him.

The journey from Teufort to Boston was long and treacherous, especially on a tiny moped during a blizzard...

Miss Pauling rubbed away a tear that had somehow welled up in her eye. “..Sorry about that.”

 “Ay, anytime, Miss Pauling. I missed you.” I missed him too, but I can't say that out loud, he'd probably annoy me even more at work..

Scout looked down. “Hey, your hands look cold.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I could just—” Miss Pauling sputtered as Scout grasped onto her hands.

Her chest tensed up at the innocence of the gesture.

His hands were a lot bigger than Miss Pauling’s. They looked even more so while wrapped around hers like this. She warmed up quickly. Scout looked up at her and grinned.

Miss Pauling’s eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. - My moped’s still outside.”

“Don’t worry about it, Pauling! I’ll get it.”

Miss Pauling rolled her eyes and tossed him the keys. Scout almost lunged out the door, barely keeping from slipping off the porch.

She unbuttoned her scratchy jacket and hung it up. Small specs of ice caught in the loose fibres began to melt and disappear. She pulled off her purse and stared at it for a moment. It contained her Dillinger and extra ammo. She probably won’t need this either.

She heard laughs and inaudible chatter and walked further into the foyer. 

Scout’s family was seated at a long table which was adorned with red cloth and white table-runners, along with intricate embroidery which depicted snowflakes and wind on the ends. Empty plates accompanied half-emptied glasses of wine and beer and untouched cutlery in front of the men loudly exchanging stories.

Miss Pauling pulled out a chair from the end of the table and sat down. Everyone quieted and turned to her.

“Hi, I’m Miss Pauling.”

An old man at the back of the table took a sip from his mulled wine and cleared his throat. “Ay, you work with Jerry, right?”

Scout’s grandpa spoke in a gravelly undertone, as if he was gurgling from the alcohol clinging to his throat.  

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to finally meet ‘cha! I’m Jerry’s grandpops!” The man grinned, holding out his hand, which was as big as Scout’s... I guess it runs in the family...

Miss Pauling leaned in and shook Scout’s grandpa’s hand.

I wonder what Scout’s said about me... It’s against protocol to talk about jobs off the clock, but it’s no use trying to stop Scout’s big mouth.

“So, you need anything? Coffee? Water? .. Wine? ” The old man asked.

“Coffee, please.”

The man got up and walked into the kitchen to flick on the coffee maker and the rest of the table went back to drunkenly conversing and Miss Pauling’s mind wandered.

The kitchen had black and white checkered tile and it was where Scout’s mother and his brother were hard at work preparing dinner. A Christmas tree was lit up beside the counter, complete with ornaments and trinkets, along with a moderately sized plastic nativity scene which sat at its foot.

Scout came back into the room and straddled an empty chair to the left of Miss Pauling.

 “Thanks for the help, Scou- Err... Jeremy . ” Miss Pauling said.

“It’s no problem!”

“Hey, if we’re on a first name basis, does that mean I can call you Fa-- Mmph!”

Miss Pauling clasped her hands over Scout’s mouth bashfully. 

Scout sighed as she took her hands off him. “Alright I geddit..”

Snowflakes had gotten caught in Scout’s eyelashes and his cheeks were red from the cold. Miss Pauling shook her head, shifting her gaze back to Scout’s grandfather - who was walking toward her with a coffee pot and mug in hand.

The pitter-patter of the hot drink hitting the bottom of the ceramic cup was refreshing to hear. Miss Pauling couldn’t make time for coffee at work these past few weeks, and made do with syrupy energy drinks found in Mann Co. brand vending machines across Teufort.

“Thank you.” Miss Pauling said, holding the filled mug.

The heat rising from the coffee rolled along her face.

“D’you take it as is?” The old man asked.

“Eh, yes, thank you.”

Scout’s granddad lowered himself into his chair.

“Well, looks like dinner’s just about ready. Hope you’re not a vegetarian.” He said, chuckling heartily.

Miss Pauling hid her smile behind her coffee.

This was nice.

Scout’s ma stepped out of the kitchen, holding a roast turkey, and then set it down on the middle of the table.

It was garnished with parsley and lemon and the skin was brown, crispy and shiny.

Scout’s ma and brother laid out the rest of the meal. – Bread pudding, mashed potatoes, boiled vegetables, gravy... It smelt delicious. 

Scout’s mom sat at the side of her father, gently caressing his hand, as one of Scout's brothers sat down next to her.

.

Scout picked up the utensils laid out before him, cushioned with folded napkins underneath. He’d spent a lot of time setting everything up fancy tonight, thinking Miss Pauling might notice.

Joey had been working on the turkey with Ma for most of the afternoon, so figures he’d want to do the honors. He leaned over and began carving the turkey with a bread knife.

Ma covered her eyes and laughed.

Everyone got up to grab a plateful of turkey and mashed potatoes and sat back down.

The turkey was soft and sweet. Scout expected nothing less of his ma and Joey.

Previously everyone was talking but now everyone's heads were down and the only sound that could be heard from the table was screeching forks and knives against ceramic. Scout liked the take-out in Teufort but it could never compare to Ma’s cooking.

“Uh,” Miss Pauling blurted out.

“Mmph?” Scout replied; humming through the soft mashed potatoes he was stuffing into his mouth.

“...I actually shouldn’t stay too long if I want to get back to Teufort before midnight...”

Ma lifted her head from her food. “Oh... but don’t you want to stay for dessert?”

“I really can’t. My job is...”

Miss Pauling averted her gaze. “...demanding.”

Her hair fell into her face and she tucked it back behind her ear.

Ma stood up. “I’ll box up a slice of cake.”

Ma went to the fridge to take out the chocolate cake she’d prepared the day before.

“Uh, hey Miss Pauling, there’s actually something I wanted to give you...” Scout said.

“Um, sure. Just make it quick.”

Scout guided Miss Pauling up the stairs to his room and closed the door behind them. Emptied Bonk cans littered the area. Scout tried to reassure himself that Miss Pauling wouldn’t notice or care, but it didn't work.

Miss Pauling sat down on Scout’s bed and folded her hands in her lap, looking around at all the music posters on the walls.

Scout rummaged through his things and pulled out a box wrapped in sparkly Mylar and ribbon. He spent a lot of time trying to make the package look presentable, so he hoped she'd like it.

Scout sat next to Miss Pauling and handed her his gift. “Uh, here.”

Miss Pauling held the present and studied it.

“Can I open it now?”

“Eh, yeah, sure. Totally.”

Miss Pauling unwrapped the box and took off the ribbons. She was completely methodical. Scout kinda liked how serious she took this, like how serious she took everything else. She was always so determined and hard-working.

Miss Pauling took the gift out of the box silently and held it in front of her face.

 “It’s a sweater.” Scout said, stomach filling with butterflies.

...

“Uh, sorry, d'you not like that kinda crap? Sorry. It’s stupid. I...”

“I like it.” Miss Pauling said.

“You do? Yeah, I knitted it myself. My ma taught me how to do it a couple years back so I figured whadda-heck, right? Uh, she actually knit me the one I’m wearin’.”

Miss Pauling looked away. “Your mom seems.. nice.”

Something about her seemed different than her usual detached demeanor.

Scout sat awkwardly in the silence.

He looked around for something, anything , to talk about.“Um, so, uh...”

“Hey Jeremy?” Ma’s voice came from behind the door.

“Come in!” Scout said.

Ma came in and handed a Styrofoam box to Miss Pauling.

“Here’s that cake by the way, didn’t want to forget it before you left.”

“Thank you.” Miss Pauling said.

Ma waved and went back downstairs, closing the door behind her.

Miss Pauling sat the cake aside and put on the sweater. It was baggy and fell just below her hips. They were Scout’s measurements, but it seemed to fit her alright.

“It’s a little baggy...” Miss Pauling said.

“Hey, it’s cute!”

Miss Pauling stood there smiling for a few seconds but quickly looked away.

…

“Uh... I should probably get going now.”

“Oh, yeah sure.”

Scout opened the door and waited for Miss Pauling, who was picking up the cake Ma gave her.

“Thanks for dinner, guys. It was really good.” Scout said, walking down the stairs.

Ma waved cheerfully. “You’re welcome! And Miss Pauling, feel free to come by anytime!”

Miss Pauling nodded and went to the coat-hanger and put her things back on, leaving her coat unbuttoned. Scout picked up his bulky jacket and they both went back outside to the freezing cold.

It was snowing really hard now. Gigantic flurries clouded view of the pitch-black streets.

Scout looked over his shoulder. “You sure you wanna go all the way back to Teufort with weather like this Miss Pauling?”

“You could stay the night here if ya-”

Miss Pauling shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Honestly I shouldn’t even be here anyway… but for what it's worth, it was actually kind of fun.”

Scout smiled.

“Hey, As long as you’re happy, Pauling.”

“Oh! Right,” Scout said, rushing to get Miss Pauling’s moped from the garage.

Scout grunted, struggling to pull up the garage door by its handle until it flew up.

He rolled the moped out and handed Miss Pauling the keys.

“Thanks again, Scout.” Miss Pauling said, putting her cake away in a spare compartment.

Scout smiled. “Anything for you.”

Her eyes had a glint in them he'd never seen before, but she turned her face out of sight.

 “By the way, since you're going you might need this. It's pretty dangerous out here at night.”

Scout handed Miss Pauling a knife with 'jeremy' engraved on the handle.

Scout snorted. “Boston represent.”

“I actually got it for my birthday, so maybe you could give it back once I get back to work?”

"Of course."

It fell silent again. It was as if the snow blocked out any sound.

Miss Pauling moved forward and gave Scout a quick kiss on the cheek.

She pulled back with her eyes widened.

“Uh, well, bye then!” Miss Pauling said, waving and hopping on her scooter.

Her silhouette quickly disappeared from sight and Scout stood still breathlessly.

Her lips were soft and warm. Though it was awkward and only for half a second, it made him want to do anything he could to feel that again. He'd travel to the ends of the universe if he had to.

Scout took a deep breath.

I love that girl.

[sollucets]

I saw you asking for touch prompts and okay. Imagine. Aye having a nightmare + touch prompt 5 and 28. Maybe? If you want to write a little something!

hi nonny :')! i made a little post about it right after getting this ask, but i've written something that i'd consider to be close to the more obvious interpretation of this prompt already, in on our way up ch5, so i did take this a little to the left of that, but i think it still suits

5 (feeling their pulse) + 28 (reaching for each other in the dark) from this list for my lil event; around 700 words of soft/sad/sleepy akkaye, rated t for trauma nightmares :')

💜

Akk wakes abruptly in the middle of the night. His room is pitch-black, the soft sound of the waves the only thing he can hear, and — 

He reaches out to the other side of the bed, blindly, fingers searching for a body that should be there, and finds nothing. 

Blearily, Akk gets up, throws a sheet over his bare shoulders, and goes out the door. His room is separate entirely from the rest of the house, and if he were going there he’d need to wear real clothes to cross part of the beach. But he isn’t, because as he’d expected, he finds Aye sitting on the steps, hands hooked around his knees, looking tiny in one of Akk’s sleep shirts. 

Carefully in deference to his own half-awake state, Akk descends the couple stairs to his boyfriend then drops heavily down next to him. Aye, who apparently had headphones in, startles and turns to look at him with wide eyes. 

Akk frowns at him, still barely awake enough for words.

“What are you doing up?” Aye asks quietly, pulling one headphone out. He has prominently visible eyebags.

“You’re gone,” mumbles Akk.  

Aye’s expression does something funny, maybe a little wistful and maybe a little achingly fond, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I— had a nightmare. I didn't want to wake you."

“Yeah,” says Akk, who’d also expected that. He frees a hand from its sheet cage to take one of Aye’s. “Okay now?” 

Aye looks down at their hands, gently running his thumb back and forth over Akk’s skin, and doesn’t answer. 

It’s fair. If it was all okay, Aye would be back inside where he’s supposed to be already. Akk leans their shoulders together and tries to think. 

They’re on break, school out after term exams for a little while. Aye has been visiting Akk’s parents, coming out on the boats with them and trying his best to help with the catch and holding Akk’s hand in public. It’s good, it’s easy, it’s — impossible, he thinks sometimes. Like there should be a catch to being so happy. Like there should be a punishment.

Only for him, though. Never for Aye, not like this. This is the second nightmare this week; the first time only Akk had woken, laying silent in bed and watching Aye toss and turn and call alternately for Akk and for someone who’d never hear him. From looking it up, Akk knew better than to wake him if he didn’t have to; all he could do was inch close enough to hold him, careful and soft, and try not to cry. 

When Aye hadn't seemed to remember in the morning, he hadn't said anything. He hadn’t wanted Aye to feel bad about it, or like he was ruining their vacation. But maybe he really should’ve, because it looks like that happened anyway. He should’ve said something so Aye could know it was fine, that Akk is fine with it, that he’ll carry this without complaint. 

None of that has any path to make it out of his mouth here in the dark, sleep fogging his brain and his throat, so Akk just holds his hand tighter and says, “Don’t leave unless you want to, next time."

“Next time,” repeats Aye, bitterly, then sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry.” 

Aye feels a little colder than he should be against him. Akk untangles their hands long enough to drape the sheet over both of them, then scoots down enough on the step to put his head on Aye’s shoulder and holds out his hand palm-up between them. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, warm and held and sleepy again. “Be my pillow.” 

Snorting, Aye leans into him, letting their heads rest together. “Spoiled,” he murmurs, tired and warm. “You missed me that much?” 

Normally, this is the kind of thing Akk has to deny as part of their forever game of chase, but he can’t remember why that’s important right now, so he just says, “Yes.” 

“Baby,” says Aye with a near-silent laugh and takes his hand back, grip warm. “It’s okay. I missed you too.” 

They go silent. Akk closes his eyes. Faintly, he feels Aye’s thumb running over his pulse point, in time with a rhythm he can hear thudding in his own ears. He wonders if it was him who died in Aye’s dreams this time, resents himself for haunting them, hopes it’s enough to sit together and love him and weather it. 

He holds on. It seems like it could be. It seems like it will be.

[thewriterg]

♡︎our sweet venice♡︎

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Fem!reader, Tom Holland x Actress!reader, Aussie!reader, costars to lovers

Summary: You and Your costar Tom Holland are on Press tour and on one of your first interviews Everyone can’t help but watch two kids fall in love —flufftober day; 14—

Word count: 1.9k

Warning(s): Fluff, mutual pinning, cute puppies, hot accents, I’m not proofreading until I wake up —it’s litteraly 1:40am–, and Language

A/n: —GIF’s aren’t mine— Fact about me I lived in Australia for like two/three years or so

“G’day my names Tom Holland and I play Nate Drake in Uncharted” You stated seriously staring at the camera looking over to Tom before you could break your ‘cover’ with a smile while Tom played along

“My name is Y/n Y/l/n and I play Nairobi Copeland in Uncharted, and Today we’re gonna play with some puppies —the first ones to be back— and attempt to answer your guy’s questions” Tom finally broke out Into a smile turning his head to face you while your mirrored his actions before slapping your hands down on your thighs

"Alright gettin' pretty inpatient lad where are these puppies!" You exclaimed while Tom nodded his head in agreement while throwing small glances in your direction that went unnoticed by you

"Alright gettin' pretty inpatient lad where are these puppies!" You exclaimed while Tom nodded his head in agreement while throwing small glances in your direction that went unnoticed by you

“Yes, please bring us puppies” Tom requested fondly and if you listened close enough you could hear the little animals scratching at the door

“Are we gonna get them all at on-” Your sentence was cut off by a small gasp as one of the assistant’s carried two puppies in her arm passing one to you and following along with Tom

“Oh hello little fellow” Tom cooed in greeting a high pitched baby voice never faltering as he talked to the young dog softly pinching its cheeks his eyebrows furrowed with a smile permanently plastered on his face

You both cradled the small puppies into your chest before a couple more of the small creatures had approached you two wagging their tails panting softly and wobbling on their four legs

“They’re so tiny aye?” You pouted your bottom lip poking out as one of the puppies yawned against your chest while Tom began sniffing their fur beside you

“Oh they smell so good” You’d chuckled before picking up one of the pups that had ran passed you into your embrace lifting it in the air placing a few kisses on its cheeks before sniffing behind it’s ears before you began to nod along with Tom’s statement

“What was it like filming uncharted”

“It was amazing, it was incredible, it’s a film about expirations so it made sense to us that we needed to be on practical locations you know In Barcelona etc.” Tom had answered by himself while you were distracted by the two puppies who slept in between you leg while you held one in the air under its arms rubbing your noses together

“Y’know i wonder what they think is goin’ on look at that one, you wanna go play go ahead baby. What was your question?” Your attention finally shifted to the interview who had just smiled at you along with Tom who shook his head at your antics

“What was your favorite stunt to film for Uncharted and did you have a stunt devil?”

“My favorite stunt for Uncharted- Oh hello honey go on, was probably when Tom and I had swung from the lights at the Augustine auction house and neither of us had stunt devils in this movie” You’d answered softly playing tug of war with the puppy with the lightest fur out of the bunch with a baby blue and white collar it didn’t take a genius to observe that you and Tom favored it

“What were we talking about!? Favorite stunts there’s a stunt where in the movie- Oh hello, this is a big one he’s gonna be a big dog. I like the stunt where I fall out the back of the plane from getting hit by a car that was a lot of fun” The brunette stated as a matter of factly tickling a pups side in his arms gently

“They are loving your shoes mate” You chuckled pointing while You and Tom stared at the two puppies attempting to teethe at each unnecessarily expensive shoe that rested on Toms feet

“These aren’t my shoes I’m borrowing them so you can do whatever you want to them, come on get in there” You’d giggled at Toms encouraging the little four legged animals to do something the were indeed not supposed to be doing while the brunette looked over at you with a soft smile of his own

“Tom what was your favorite scene to film with Y/n Y/l/n and Y/n what was your favorite scene to film with Tom Holland”

“I have two favorite scenes filmed with Y/n One is when I set out the fake coordinates, and everything expecting her to take it and when Nate wakes up she’s still there, she didn’t betray him and that leads to a very hot make-out session” Tom finished his rant Wiggling his eyebrows while you chuckled nudging his his shoulder with a smile this time no puppies catching his attention as he spoke oh so fondly about you

“My next scene is when Probably when She gives me a run for my damn money In the one fight scene we had. Nate was trying to convince Nairobi to come back into the Plan after Sully had revealed everything about Sam and Sierra, our dead siblings and we had a small ‘little’ fight chairs were thrown, blood was spilled, wine glasses were smashed no biggy” Tom sarcastically finished finally going back to rubbing the puppies who nudged into his side

“My favorite scene with Tom Holland I think is personally underrated, it’s when Nairobi and Nate are stuck under the fountain and the water is filling up and everything and finally when Sully turns the key Nate swims to the top and he realizes like ‘oh shit Nairobi’ he swims back down brings her up to the surface he does cpr in a panic it was just a very fond moment I personally think” You finished a small of smile never leaving your face while you spoke with your hands despite three puppies being tucked into your arms

“These dogs are rippin’ those shoes Mate” You shook your head in moc disbelief watching the little dogs attempt to nibble and gnaw on the shoes that were to strong for their teeth

“I can’t wait to send these shoes back to Christian and be like ‘I’m so sorry’ ”

“It’s quite cute their little teeth can’t get in there, your stylist is gonna be hacked off though”

“Y/n what is something Tom says a lot and Tom what is something Y/n says a lot?”

“I’ve been waiting for a question like this man!” Tom sat up from laying on his stomach while you laughed wholeheartedly

“So sometimes Y/n randomly layers Her accent to the point where you can barely understand what she’s saying” The brunette pointed a finger at you accusingly while you threw your hands up in surrender careful not to wake the two puppies who rested in your lap

“So number one is Mate I think that’s a given i say that a good amount of times myself, Two is snag and I found that so hard to understand the way she through like four different phrases together please show them I’m staring to sound like a crazy person” Tom pouted his arm stretched to the camera to back up his point

“So we were filming and we had about and hour and a half Lunch and Tom was talking to one of our directors and I wanted to mess with him a bit so I walked towards him and I started spazzin’ like ‘Ay Tommy would you like a snag on the Barbie mate?’ And ‘I got absolutely pissed at the outback dude’ And the look on his face was so hilarious” The interviewers behind the camera were beyond amused at the story while Tom nodded his head along

“So continuing Lad and Lass is pretty embedded into her vocabulary, along with init, and for some strange reason people will always ask her to do ‘the thing’ and like she immediately knows and just burst like Cleo naur” Tom stretched while you laughed clutching you stomach at the confusion imbedded on his face

“Just let me catch a breather mate” You held up and finger attempting to calm yourself from bursting fits of laughter

“No matter what the situation is bloody hell will always make its way Into one of Tom’s sentences, Darling every second of the day of course but it’s adorable you could never be mad at it, Tea is pretty stuck into his word vomit, and his odd word is definitely knackered. So it was something going on with our hotel rooms the first like three days of the tour so we just settled with one room double beds, had a sleepover all is well aye? It’s like two in the mornin’ random all I hear is ‘I’m fucking knackered mate!’”

It was Toms turn to laugh while you shook your head reliving the moment one of the moments he missed most actually before scooting closer towards you masking the closure of space with his attention focussed on the puppies that rested in your lap

“What is something you have tried from each other and what we’re your thoughts on it?”

“So I’ve actually have tried a good amount of things coming from Tom like crumpets, chicken tikka masala, and a Fry up I was honestly thought Tommy had gone mad man beans and toast had probably been the oddest thing of my life but I believe I ate everything except maybe the mushrooms”

“Y/n has made me try more snacks than food a bad habit of her but I have to admit darling Vegemite —it’s like this dark spread you eat with toast— was a absolutely awful I do however like everything else she’s given me to try like meat pies, fairy bread, I really enjoyed TimTams, Milo it’s like This chocolate milk and it’s very delightful”

“Alright guys Uncharted is out, please go to the cinema and enjoy it I hope you have a wonderful ride and enjoy the escapism” Tom exclaimed while the puppies ran around and continued to play with one another continuously running in and out of the camera frame

“All of these beautiful puppies that you’ve seen here are adoptable, they are from north shore animal league so find these guys a wonderful home they deserve it” You smiled towards the camera your head leaned up against Toms shoulder while a puppy with a baby blue collar never left your arms using your cardigan as a blanket

“Y/n we can’t lie to the people” Tom over dramatically gasped while you smiled fondly at your slip up you’d made and the man on the side of you antics

“Would you like to tell them?”

“Not thank you darling be my guest”

“So guys, not all of these pups you see here are adoptable. If you watched the video closely you would’ve been able to see that all the pups have collars but none of them tags. Except one” The camera zoomed into the sleeping puppy in your arms the light reflecting of the gold tag

“This.. is our daughter. She is the youngest out of the bunch standing at three and a half weeks old, and her name is Venice ” You finished looking up to Tom to go more in depth about how you both chose her which he did so gladly

You’d finally finished the interview giving your last goodbye to the small puppies left for another home while You and Tom walked out of the building with him cooing over your shoulder at the sleeping baby in your arms You both couldn’t seem to wait to raise your four legged child together climbing up another wall of each other’s perspective

“Our sweet Venice” You sighed loving while Tom smiled at You raising the umbrella in his hand while all three of you walked down the street

[vulgar-display-of-escapism]

TGFR Chibs Telford x Reader Smut

Title: Thanks Gods for Rum

Pairing: Chibs Telford x Reader

Summary: After an SOA party, Reader wakes up in an unfamiliar place.

Warning: Pure, shameless smut. Minors stay the fudge out.

Author's note:

Much like the reader, I have no clue what happened. This thing just willed itself into existence all on its own during my study breaks today. It’s messy and unedited, but I’ve got a feeling that if I start messing with it, it’s gonna end up in the pile with the rest of kinky ABCs.

Word count: 1'938

You woke up in a strange bed, with a hungover you didn’t remember earning. But at least the man lying next to you was familiar. “Morning, lass.” He sounded infuriatingly sexy with his voice raspy from sleep as he stretched his naked body shamelessly.

Trying to remember what the hell happened last night, you let your eyes wander. Chibs clearly didn’t mind, with everything from his naked chest to his half-hard cock on full display. Ok, so not that familiar. Even though you’ve had a crush on the sexy, albeit a wee bit grumpy, VP for close to a year now, you’ve never acted on it. Until last night apparently. Now if only you could remember what exactly happened… He stroked your hand with his fingers and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle. He was looking at you with a strange sense of serenity, you’ve never seen in his eyes before. His hair was adorably disheveled, his salt and pepper goatee messy and sticky; and when you looked down his body, you noticed tiny scratch marks on his shoulders and chest. “Are ye with me or is yer hungover worse than it looks?” he finally murmured. “Morning,” you managed, your throat dry and not just because of whatever alcohol you had consumed. “Ow, dinnae tell me ye don’t remember me now.” Despite the words he was still fully relaxed, with his hands folded behind his head and apparently not a single thought of covering himself up. Not that you minded, his confidence was clearly well earned. “Water?” “Aye, wher’s my manners?” He turned to his side and pulled a bottle from the nightstand. Twisting the cap off, he handed the bottle to you. As you drank, you narrowed your eyes at him slightly. As if studying his naked body would offer you the missing pieces of the drunken mosaic that was your last night. And then it did. Well, kind of. The image that played in your mind had you choking on water and spitting some on Chibs’ chest. As you were coughing and trying to get you breath back, he simply took the bottle from you and placed it on the nigtstand. Then he flicked droplets off his chest with a lazy flick of his long fingers. Finally able to speak, you asked without looking up at him, “Did I really make out with Tig?” No way, no sir, you were not going to look at Chibs right now.

“Aye, ye sure did. And for a moment it was the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” More images flooded your brain. You sitting at the edge of the pool table, your body pressed against Tig’s, your tongues dancing together… Oh Gods, dancing. Another image, this one of you and Tig doing some kind of drunk and deeply misguided attempt at dancing tango as the guys laughed and whooped around you and Pantera boomed from the speakers. “ Walk?” “ Aye, the two of you got pretty ambitious about that. And it could’ve been worse. Jax got dared to sing Genie in the bottle.” “By whom?” “You and Juice.” “ Oh God, I’m almost afraid to ask. What did I do later?”

When Chibs remained silent for longer than it was polite under the circumstances, you risked a glance. “ You straddled my lap and asked for my cock. Very politely”

The groan that escaped your lips was something straight out of Jurassic Park territory. Who was this drunk you?

“I couldn’t believe my ears either,” Chibs continued, “If I had known you wanted me, I would’ve been attendin’ to yer every whim and desire for months now.”

“Oh, you would, huh?” “Last night, I did. More than once. After ye..”

That part was coming back to you now, in bits and pieces but in very vivid ones. The two of you coming back here, you styepping out of your tiny, black dress, Chibs kissing you with the kind of passionate, possessive energy that made your knees weak. The attention have gave your nipples, sucking, rolling and pulling, the way his hands caressed your ass before delivering a handful of playful smacks. How his hand curled around your throat when he pulled you in for another wet kiss, sucking on your tongue. In the next memory you were already on your knees, looking up at him as he was shrugging his shirt off and giving you that devilish trademark smirk of his. You remembered how your hands shook unbuckling his belt, his warm hand cradling the back of your head, the way his scent made your mouth water when you pulled his grey boxer briefs down exposing his hard cock. How big and thick he looked and how you had just enough presence of mind left to start worrying about the logistics. You must’ve started too long because with a heavy sigh he tugged your hair gently and said, “Darlin, if ye ain’t sure about this, then get up.” But you were flying high on liquid courage and curiosity, so you stayed right were you were.

Back in the present, Chibs rolled onto his stomach and popped himself up on his elbow. His free hand began tracing lazy circles over your abdomen and you felt his breath on your nipples. “Tha’ thing I said, about you tonguin’ Tiggy being hot? When we got here, you did somethin’ hotter tha’ had me change my mind.” Oh you were remembering it all now. Chibs chuckled, his lips a scant inch away from your nipple, “Mhmm, judging from the way yer blushin, ye remember tha.” He licked one of your nipples while rolling the other with his skillful fingers. You managed a strangled little gasp before finding your voice and whispering, “I might.” And you did. Teasing the tip of his cock with light flicks of your tongue, before taking the head into your mouth and moaning in a really obscene fashion when the first taste of pre-come hit your tongue. The way Chibs kept himself from flexing his hips and patiently talked you through taking more of him instead. The sensation of his thick cock deep in your throat with every thrust, how he praised you and crooned “good girl” every time you tried to swallow around his thick length. The salty taste of his hot cum shooting down your throat. And most of all, you remembered how this impatient and often aloof man looked at you after he came down, like you were the best thing since Jameson juice-boxes. You kind of remembered your hazy mind making a different leap, but the sober you was not willing to go there just yet.

Both your body and mind were jerked back to the present when Chibs bit down on your nipple. Hard. “Enjoyin’ the memories?” He murmured, clearly amused. He reached to trace his fingers on your lips. “ Your gorgeous mouth wrapped around my cock was my favorite thing to watch until..”

‘Until what?” You asked right before Chibs pushed his index finger past your lips. At the same time, the fingers of his other hand slid over your folds and began teasing lightly. “Until I got between yer legs and made you come with my tongue.”

Ah, he did do that. No man has ever been able to do that, all their valiant efforts missing the mark by a nautical mile. No man until Filip. Oh boy. That man knew exactly how to play a woman’s body. He was beginning to show you that same expertise just now. ‘Ye looked so beautiful, beggin’ me for more. Yer pussy grippin’my fingers hard as a fuckin’ vice when ye came.” As he was talking, his fingers gently stroked your folds before he slid a single digit inside and then another. He mimiced the motion with his other hand. “Keep suckin’, baby. And spread yer legs wider.” You obeyed instantly. How could you not, when his voice was so low and laden with lusty promise of the highest magnitude and his fingers were curling inside your your pussy, finding your g-spot with ease. Your breath became shaky and your legs began to quiver as Chibs was brining your closere and closer to that delicious edge. “Tha’ it, my precious girl. Just like tha’,” he growled against the skin of your breast, sending more shivers down your body. “Dinnae run from it, let it wash over ye.” Like you had any other choice. The way the man owned all of your body with just his hands and his mouth, there was no other option but to surrender to the pleasure. Not that the sadistic bastard Was going to just let you have it. He kept you right on the edge for a long time, withdrawing his thumb from your clit at the precise wrong moment every damn time. By the time he finally relented and let you have it, you were a panting, sweat-covered and soaking mess and you didn’t even want to contemplate the size of the wet spot you’ve created. You came with an obscene scream, that probably sounded far from human. You covered your eyes with your still trembling hand. Gods, all of you felt like jello only after a brief moment with Chibs’ fingers.

And then another memory hit you. You screamed like that last night. Well, not like that. Louder. Louder enough to get a whooping “Congrats! You go girl!” from the other side of the wall. Shit, how were you gonna look Tig in the face now… Then you remembered you also shoved your tongue down his throat, so any eye contact was already a lost cause.

When your eyes snapped open, you saw Filip lick his fingers, a satisfied grin firmly in place. Then you heard him hum. Ladies and gentlemen, Filip Freaky Telford was humming. While licking your juices off of his hand like it was melted ice-cream and he didn’t want to miss a single drop. “Ye taste fuckin’ amazing.”

When your breathing returned to normal you asked, “Something tells me the night didn’t end there, did it?” “What kinda man do ye take me for, luv?” He was looking at you now, with fresh lust in his eyes. “How about we grab some breakfast and the come back here so I can show you?” “I’m not really hungry but I’m gonna need some coffee after this, but I’m not going out there.” “Why not?” “There’s no way I can face Tig.” Chibs loud chuckle rumbled through his chest .

In that moment, a resounding knock came from he other side of the door. “You two sill alive in there? Do you need water? Or maybe mouth-to-mouth?” And Juice’s quieter voice, “Tig, don’t make fun.” “I’m not. I’m concerned. What if they died in that orgasm freight train, man?” Another voice, this one belonging to Chucky, uttered in passing, “They were long overdue for one and gods know that Ole’ Grumpy is too much of a wimp to make a move. Thank the gods for rum” That got a reaction from Chibs, “What did ye say, Chucky-boy?” “Coffee’s ready, monsieur.” And then a much quieter, “Chucky is a free elf, can say whatever he wishes,” was added. Booming laughter erupted on both sides of the door.

[saintship]

🍄 ‘s Request

Synopsis: Reader seems perfectly fine with the rest of the 141 being touchy-feely, but not with Ghost. He wants to know why.

I loved this request it was so detailed!! I hope you like it! -S.S.

Simon Riley x f!Reader - I don’t bite

“Soap, if you keep chewing your gum like that for one more second, I’m going to lose it.”

You sat over a few sheets of paperwork in the common room, Soap at the windowsill tracing patterns in the fogged glass while he waited for the kettle. Unfortunately, a concentrated Soap is also a very loud chewer.

“Haud yer wheesht, yer across the room!” He retorted.

“You’re going to be flying across the room in a minute!” You stood, huffing and walking over to observe his work. He’d drawn a little cartoon ghost with angry-looking eyes.

“Guess who?” He grinned as you rolled your eyes.

“Who’s drinking my tea?” Ghost’s steady voice carried through the tiny kitchen area as he picked up the box of teabags Soap had set down.

“Aye, it’s this one.”

Soap placed his hands on your shoulders. “Wearin’ a mask and all, she’s trying to be like y-"

Soap was cut off by your smacking him with a nearby dish towel, at which he yanked on the end of the cloth and stole an over dramatic kiss to the forehead. You groaned in annoyance, but dissolved into laughter when he attacked you back.

“Get away!” You laughed brightly as Soap snapped the towel at you, turning to spot Gaz walking in, still in his tactical gear from a stakeout.

“He’s insane!” You dodged another one of Soap’s attacks before making a run for it, only to be caught and lifted by Gaz, rendering you immobile.

“You guys suck!” You laughed through your words before breaking free, going back to the kitchen and snatching back the dish towel on the way.

You looked up to see if Simon had snagged Soap’s hot water, but he was gone, the box of tea left discarded on the counter. The lightness in your chest dimmed a bit as you realized the room had carried on with its action and disregarded him.

It wasn’t the end of the world. He was a grown man; he didn’t need to be entertained or catered to at all times, but for some reason it stuck. Like a stone that sank to the bottom of your stomach and remained for days. What that heaviness was, you couldn’t say.

Not two days later, the team was at a dive bar, traditionally following a short and successful mission. You joked with Soap and Gaz that they’d ward off any leering figure. Even though you could defend yourself effortlessly, they were men, and they loved you, so they couldn’t help but edge a bit closer or stand a bit straighter in that sort of environment. At the pool table, Soap was nearly always behind you, warding off any bold patron from “giving you a few pointers”. You barely noticed it now, just continuing in your brazen promises to destroy Gaz at his favorite bar game.

You didn’t see the calm eyes watching you, Simon’s glass being lifted to his lips as the bourbon slipped past his throat and, it seemed, straight into his heart. Your smile, the way you moved, the way you just existed, made him slip into a daydream of kissing you right there at the billiards table, the Task Force both irritated and touched by the display. His balaclava rested just above his nose, his stubbled jaw revealing the faint shadow of a week’s neglect.

It occurred to him that he had never actually attempted to initiate what you had with them.

Sometimes, he would talk to John in his office over a fancy bottle, and sometimes his tongue would slip. On one of those occasions, his Captain couldn’t stand to stay silent.

“Do something about it, Simon.”

Seeing Simon’s state, it was clear the problem wasn’t the conflict of interest, it was him. He wasn’t afraid of Narcos, or sprinting toward gunfire, or any of the things that made his job horrifying, he was afraid of showing you who he was and being laughed at.

“Maybe I will.”

He was drunk and snarky in that moment, but now he’d barely had half a glass, and he still felt that pull toward you. He felt the same ignition in his ribs that he felt in boot camp when another recruit challenged him. His competitiveness, his ambition, it never left. It only simmered, slowly and consistently, until you came along and sent it boiling over.

You were coming over now. He lowered his balaclava, the contact of fabric easing his battering heart.

“Had enough of them?” He murmured. His voice scratched from underuse, and he cleared his throat irritably.

“Always..” You thanked the bartender for your drink, not sitting at the bar but not turning back to the game quite yet.

Simon cursed his own body for the swarm of nerves intersecting in his stomach. Just the sight of you taking off your jacket was forcing him to stay in place instead of bolting to the men’s room and squeezing his eyes shut, raking his hand through his hair and forcing his nervous system down from its overdrive.

He tried to sound casual.

“You winning, then?”

“I plead the fifth..”

“Can’t do that in the Queen’s land, can you?”

The joke slipped like a sleight of hand, and your huff of laughter made his chest warm.

Maybe he could just..

“Least’ you get to show off your artillery.” He tapped a gloved fist on your exposed bicep, the muscle lean from your endless unpacking and carrying of equipment. The touch was hardly even an exchange, a tap to the side of your arm by the side of his hand. It was safe, he figured. But you straightened up and inched away.

His mind blurred your words as you excused yourself back to the pool table. He fucked up. He fucked up.

But you were thinking the same. It had taken nearly ten turns before you gathered enough courage to return to the bar counter, and when he spoke to you first, every faux bit of confidence crumbled to the floor. You saw the shine in his eyes when he made his little quip, and wondered if they looked like that when he cracked those stupid jokes over comms. You wondered what his smile looked like, and then his hand touched your arm, and you inhaled sharply, removing yourself in fear of what you would do, what you would say, how your face looked, how your voice wavered. You fucked up.

Over the next week, somehow you combated your feelings of guilt by doubling down. It pained you to no end, but you didn’t know what to do besides continue what you’d started. You weren’t ready to tell the truth, even to yourself.

You figured the universe decided to punish you for your cowardice by giving you this mission. You and Simon camped on the side of a shallow valley, the foot of the snowy hills harboring a warehouse that a sensitive target was tracked to. The mission was over quickly, but by the time the target was dead, the snow had gotten so severe that the warehouse door was under too much pressure to open. It was safe enough inside, but there was nowhere to go.

“We’ve got to wait it out.” Simon conceded after several attempts of escape.

“It’s definitely below freezing in here..” You grunted as you moved the body to a sealed container.

“He’s not complaining.” Simon nodded to the corpse, making you roll your eyes as you latched the container shut.

After some searching, you started a fire underneath a vent, the wind disturbing the flames but also preventing the smoke from choking the room. The two of you had the brain to pack up your camp before descending the hill, so you laid out what you had and rested on your back. Simon sat on his own bedroll, looking at the flames.

“You’d be warmer if you were closer.”

“I’m right next to the fire.”

“Closer to me.”

Your breath hitched as you avoided his eyes, forcing a sigh. “I’m fine.”

“You know something?”

Your jaw twitched; he saw.

“Cupid could stick an arrow in your back while you stare at me, and you’d still fall for a rock on the floor instead a’ me.”

You adjusted your weight, covering your legs with your thermal blanket. Your heart began to hammer again when you noticed his nose and mouth were exposed. He’d shaved since the night at the bar.

You didn’t reveal a thing.

“What’s the difference?”

But then he laughed, and you saw one of his canines was pointed a bit. You saw he had dimples. You saw the smooth contours of his smile, and it was like your head was fastened irreversibly to look his way. His tongue appeared to wet his dry lips briefly and your cheeks burned. He spoke evenly. You studied how his mouth moved when he talked, following the inflections of his accent with your eyes.

“We’re stuck here, Sergeant. So I’ll be straight. What’s the fuckin’ deal?”

If anyone else swore that way, you’d take it as unnecessary aggression, but his eyes told you he just wanted an answer.

“Not everyone you meet is going to be infatuated with you..” Your words intended to bite, but they fell from your lips like dead leaves.

“Not everyone I meet knows how I think like you do.” His tone dipped with sincerity. “Not everyone cracks filthy jokes and doesn’t care what looks she gets. You’re not everyone, love.”

Your eyes met his at the nickname. “Simon..”

“I don’t bite.” He murmured. “So come get me.”

“Come get..” you breathed, and he nodded.

You sat up, facing him and shifting closer.

“S’a bit cruel, you know..” The quieter he got, the more gravel lined his words. “The other boys gettin’ your lovin’. Leavin’ me out, babe?”

His hand trailed to your jaw, his fingertips traveling from the skin behind your ear until the side of his knuckle held your chin.

“It’s not the same, they’re not.. they’re..”

He was so close now, the breath of his words almost right against your lips. He lifted your mask until he could watch the way your lips parted.

“They’re not me..”

He nailed his words in when he kissed you, slowly and with a confidence you did not expect. He pulled back for a moment, likely to ask if it was alright that he’d practically confessed for you, but you were pulling him back into your arms before he could get a word out. His arm held you upright and close to him, not wandering, but instead soothing up your back with gentle movements, his other hand carefully holding your face and occasionally brushing his thumb over your cheek. The howling of the wind outside seemed to quiet; it was just the sound of his breathing, the faint, intoxicating noise that murmured from his chest. He took a fragment of your lip between his teeth before soothing over the intrusion with his tongue. He was impossibly warm.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate..”

You drew back roughly, Simon grunting in surprise before noticing what had startled you. Gaz stood with the warehouse door pried open, panting from exertion.

“Didn’t know you got down like that, Lieu-"

“That’ll do!”