#gender neutral scottish names

[pa-pa-plasma]

making my own because that other post kinda sucks

not enough room for "people pronounce & spell my name perfectly"

[pronoun-checks]

Do you know any androgynous names of Irish or Scottish origin. Maybe with a dark fae like vibe.

Sure thing!

Asthore

Sadhbh

Finlay

Dubhghall

Blair

Rónán

[guiasmaternos]

Logan: Meaning, Origin and Popularity of the Name

Discover the meaning, origin, and popularity of the name Logan. Learn about its gender neutrality, common nicknames, and famous people named Logan.

IndexHow Popular is the Name Logan?Name VariationsSimilar NamesCommon NicknamesSuggested Sibling NamesFamous People Named Logan Logan is a versatile name that has gained popularity in various parts of the English-speaking world. This article delves into the meaning, origin, pronunciation, and other fascinating aspects related to the name Logan. Origin: The name Logan originates from a Scottish…

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

i'm nearly 5k words into writing the story i'm writing for nanowrimo (yay i remembered how to write that lol!) and i still don't have any names for any of the characters lol...

[laughroditee]

Currently thinking about best friend/roommate Soap.

Characters: best friend/roommate!Soap, Gaz, Gender neutral Reader.  CW: sexual themes, profanity, snark, sarcasm, childish name-calling, immaturity, bickering, overly-long sentences, a general disdain for grammatical rules, butchering of the Scottish language and slang. PG-13 at best.  Word Count: 891

Johnny gets plenty of action, of course; he’s an attractive guy.  Lots of fun.

Not that you care. Pointedly. 

He's just letting his latest fuck buddy out of the apartment when he notices you sitting on the living room sofa, a mug of hot coffee in your hands. 

"Och, didn't see ye there, chum." 

Of course he didn't. "No worries, Johnny. Have a good night?"

"Had an excellent night," he says as he drops onto the couch next to you, looking quite pleased with himself.  You can tell that he wants you to ask.  He is practically vibrating with the need to brag, waiting to tell you all about his sexcapades, but you leave him hanging in anticipatory gloating mode because, quite frankly, the walls are thin, and his partner was LOUD AS FUCK.  (As per usual.)  Because of them, you were kept up most of the night and are cranky, something Johnny seems to notice with a small twinkle in his eye because he's an annoying bastard.

"Cool," you deadpan, taking a sip of your coffee.

Johnny purses his lips when he realizes that that’s the end of the exchange.  “Someone’s a wee bit crabbit today.”  Then he pauses, that infuriating spark of mischief coming back into his baby blues.  “Ah ken why.”

You level a look at him which you hope, deep down, incinerates his balls, but he just laughs, throwing an arm over your shoulder.  For whatever reason, being touchy-feely with you straight after fucking all night was always high on Johnny’s list the morning after.  He’d been like this for ages, but you could never quite figure out why.  “Yeah?  Enlighten me, since you obviously know everything.”

“Ye get all jealous when I invite people home, don't ye?” he teases. “Maybe it bothers ye when ye know that they're in my room, having a good time while ye're alone in yours…”

“I didn’t realize this was a competition, Johnny.”  You probably should have.  “But since you’re so concerned for my wellbeing, I can assure you that I'm just fine, thanks,” you say with a pleasant smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Sure ye are,” he says.  “I mean... I'm nae calling ye lonely or anythin’," he says, shifting and squeezing your shoulder a little bit.  "But maybe, ye want what they're gettin, hm?"

“I'm not lonely,” you say, ignoring the rest of his bullshittery.  Standing up and draining the rest of your coffee  — you’re not escaping, you’re just getting some space, that’s all — you head into the adjoining kitchen to wash your mug.  “Your friend says ‘hi’ by the way,” you call over your shoulder.

He rolls his eyes, leaning back against the sofa. "Yeah? Which one? I've had a lot come through lately," he says with a laugh.

“Not one of your ‘night friends’,” you retort, “One of your work friends.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard. "Really? One of my military pals came by? Who?"

“Kyle,” you say, trying to think of his nickname, but failing.  You opt for his last name instead.  “Kyle Garrick.  And he didn’t come by, we’ve been texting.”

"Gaz?? You've been talking to Gaz?" He asks in surprise, making a face you want to slap. "Really? Damn, I didn't think he'd be interested in talkin' to you."

Your eyebrows threaten to launch into orbit as you face your soon-to-be-dearly-departed best friend.  “Excuse you?  Why not?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the couch and stretching. "He's a bit of a…" Sweetheart?  Gentleman?  Absolutely gorgeous?  Sex on two legs?  After watching him struggle to come up with literally anything bad to say about Kyle, he gives up, settling instead for, “Just surprised he'd talk to you, Tattie."

You glare.  Of course he’d pull out that old nickname at a time like this.  “I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

The smirk he wields at you is rage-inducing.  “Aw, but the potato is such a noble food.”

“Yes, that’s exactly why you decided to start calling me that way back when: because I’m so noble.”

He hums, that delighted gleam in his eyes saying he loves getting a rise out of you.  "So, when did this start?” he asks with a little too much nonchalance.  “And what have youse been talkin' about anyway?”

“A couple of weeks ago and none of your business, Mr. Bubble.”

As you take a jab at his precious callsign, his smile squashes into flattened lips, and internally, you feel vindicated.

“He wants to take me out,” you say as a peace offering.

“What, with his rifle?” he chuckles.

You smile sweetly.  “If he’s lucky.”  Watching the myriad of emotions play across his features, you continue, “He’s taking me out on a date.  Going out for a nice Sunday brunch.  Said he wants to get to know me better.”  

Once again, an insulting level of surprise lights Johnny’s face at your words.  “A date?” he asks, dumbfounded.  Rude, really.  “You and Gaz… on a date.”

“Congratulations, you’ve passed your hearing test.”  You check the time, realizing that you don’t have much left before Kyle gets there.  “Shit, I have to get ready.  Can't talk now, gotta shower!”

You disappear down the hall, completely missing Johnny's look of dismay as you lock yourself in the bathroom to get ready for brunch.

author's note: is this a fanfic, or a drabble? part 2 will be from johnny's pov. thanks for reading!

[kaydenverse]

paperwork

ghost x reader x soap

18+ MINORS DNI

genre: smut with a little bit of fluff

word count: little over 3k

a/n: this is my first smut in at least a year or so but i thought of this out of nowhere and cause there’s so few polyam ghostsoap fics i’m now obligated to write it. this is also my first time posting like a longer writing on here so apologies if it looks weird? also i did get a bit lazy with the end ngl, my bad. lower case is intended.

this is a gender neutral fic, they/them pronouns are used and there’s no specification of genitalia!

the readers call sign is “halo” and they’re a very skilled sniper on the task force.

content warnings: there’s plot to this? i think?, just filth for majority of this tbh, there’s a bits of tooth rotting fluff throughout tho, lots of pet names, degradation like a lot tbh but there’s praise sprinkled in, established polyam relationship, i believe in switch ghost and switch soap supremacy, edging, overstimulation, spit, begging, mask kink if you squint, all three of you are whipped BAD, uhh i think that’s all enjoy!

-

you would like to say you don’t know how you got here but then you’d be lying.

you know damn well that it’s both yours and johnny’s brattiness that’s got you here and you’re glad as hell it did if you’re being truthful.

first, there’s johnny.

he’s laid propped up with his back against the headboard of the bed in nothing but his blue boxer briefs and his hands gripping the sheets as he tries his absolute best not to touch you.

then there’s you who’s on your knees in between johnny’s legs that are bent in front of him and spread to make room for you. your cheek is squish against the scottish man’s lower abdomen due to simon having both your wrists pinned to your lower back and your ass propped up.

now, simon, he’s behind you staring dead into johnny’s eyes as he rolls his hips ever so slowly into yours. the teasing pace draws a pathetic whine out of you and johnny’s face flushes at the sound.

as much as johnny wants to touch you, he keeps his hands to himself and stares right back at simon through that skull mask of his as if you weren’t even there drooling like a cock-drunk idiot all over his stomach.

“i’m impressed, mctavish,” simon’s voice sounds strained as if he’s fighting off a moan. “thought you’d touch them by now.”

and johnny does want to touch you. in fact, he wants to touch you so badly he could cry. but, he’s trying to prove to simon that he can listen, that he can be good.

johnny doesn’t attempt to hide his desperation though because he knows both you and simon would see right through him. you both know him too well for him to try that.

“you gave me orders, l.t., i'm just followin’ them.” the words sound breathless leaving johnny and he can’t bring himself to care much. simon’s mask is pushed up to the bridge of his nose so johnny has a clear view of the smirk that stretches across his face.

“what a good boy, hm?” simon leans down and kisses up your spine. the kiss he gives the scar on your right shoulder you’d gotten on a mission a while back is noticeably a tad longer than the other kisses. “he’s being such a good boy, isn’t he, sweetheart?” you yelp a little when he bites down on your shoulder. a part of you wishes he’d bite hard enough to draw just a little blood.

that’d really drive you wild.

you whine, wiggling your ass desperately in an attempt you try to get him to start fucking into you again. “please, please simon, i’m so close-“

“i asked you-“ simon slid out of you completely, leaving you empty and coming down from your high yet again. “a fuckin’ question, didn’t i, doll?” now you’re the one who wants to cry.

“yes, good! he’s being so good!” you whine in frustration, looking up at johnny with the most desperate look he’s ever seen you give him. he wants to feel bad, he really does, but watching you nearly burst into tears after simon has been edging you for a full half hour has him far too excited.

“he’s being better than you at following orders right now, ” he shrugs as he lightly skates his fingers up your spine. “a first.” the taunt in his voice makes you clench around nothing.

if you weren’t so scatterbrained right now you would’ve bantered right back at him but, alas, there’s nothing going on in that pretty little head of yours except desperation and the need to cum.

johnny just now realizes how hard he’s breathing as well as the fact that if simon keeps this up he’ll come without being properly touched. it’s not helping that you’re squirming, almost frantically, right over johnny’s crotch. ghost lets out a laugh at the pleading look soap tosses him.

“now maybe if you two weren’t such brats i wouldn’t have to teach you lessons like this.”

-

the three of you had gathered in ghost’s office on your lunch breaks just to be around each other for a bit since each of you were busy doing your own paperwork that needed to be done. you and soap sat in the cushioned chairs facing his desk and you all munched away on your sandwiches.

soap did most of the talking and you commented here while ghost just listened. soap can never stick to one topic for long before he’s onto something else but you don’t mind, neither does ghost. you find it cute in all honesty. you’re both his favorite listeners.

you would’ve lost track of time while intensely listening to soap ramble on if ghost hadn’t glanced at the tiny clock in the corner of his computer screen.

“apologies on interrupting your rant of your least favorite lunch meats,” no one else but you and soap could’ve caught the playfulness hidden beneath ghost’s deadpan sounding words. “but it is time for you two to return to your jobs and not bother me anymore.”

soap groans and you slouch in your chair, also making a mental note of johnny’s passionate dislike for processed ham. “paperwork is boring though, ghost.” you give a poor attempt of pouting at him. “and you love when we bother you.” a true statement.

“boring or not you still have to do it, halo.” ghost leans back in his chair and hums, tugging his mask back down over the lower half of his face. he rests his arm back on the armrest, mirroring his other arm, and his legs are slightly spread.

what a sight.

you don’t even have to look over at soap to know his thinking the exact same thing. for a split second, both of you also think how you’ve scored one of the hottest men alive.

like, seriously.

wow.

“and same applies to you too, soap.” ghost says before the scot could say anything. the small tilt of ghost’s head simply makes him all the more attractive.

soap groans again but still stands up and stretches a little. “i guess we should get going and do our work.” he laughs softly and you stand up as well. “it would be nicer to be doing you though.” he winks at the lieutenant.

the joke is so corny you can’t help but laugh a little. but still, he’s speaking both of your truths.

“get going and i’ll consider letting you do so later.” ghost is quick to reply but he keeps his expression unreadable. he watches both sets of his partners eyes light up and shakes his head. “always need to be rewarded, can’t go a day without it.” he tuts loudly so you both hear his teasing and his shake is head.

“i will have it finished and on your desk within an hour, sir.” soap grins, leaning across the desk to press a kiss over ghost’s mask where his mouth would be. you follow suit and ghost’s heart nearly bursts at the gesture. he won’t ever tell either of you that

but he doesn’t need to, you both know already. you know him.

“i’ll have mine in 45.” you challenge and grin. soap rolls his eyes as he turns towards you, cupping your face in one hand.

“oh, you’re on.” soap smirks at you before kissing you gently. you don’t let him pull back, though. when he does try to pull back you chase after his lips and kiss him again. this only happens twice before the soft whine you let out helps soap catch onto your silly little plan.

he keeps his lips on yours and cups your other cheek while your hands go to his hips, thumbs digging into them just the way he likes. you let him nudge you backwards so you’re sat on the edge of ghost’s desk with your back to the masked man.

you both just go at it, for lack of better words.

ghost just watches. he makes no sounds and keeps his reaction hidden exceptionally well. the only time he moves is to catch the pencil holder you nearly knock over when shoving a hand onto the desk to keep soap from knocking you over with the force of his kisses.

ghost straights the pencil holder, slotting a pen that fell out of the container back in before he finally speaks. “paperwork. get on it. now.”

you two fly apart like you’ve been caught, like ghost hadn’t just be sitting directly behind his very misbehaved partners kissing intensely for a full three minutes.

“yes, sir.”

“i’m on it, l.t.”

-

“what? now you wanna give me puppy eyes and beg? now you feel sorry for what you started?” the stare simon gives johnny almost makes the scot nearly moan, “or maybe i should place the blame on you?” he leans back down and rests his chin on your shoulder, “i mean,” his voice drops an octave or two as he plants a kiss behind your ear. “you are the one who started up that little stunt. johnny was just being a good boy and following along.”

now, both you and johnny know the ‘no one is allowed to cum until i say’ rule is in place at the moment but my god, was simon making it incredibly difficult just from his words alone. degradation with just the lightest sprinkle of praise gets you and soap ecstatic and simon takes full advantage of that constantly.

“ooh you’re so worked up, si. glad my plan worked.” you’ve finally pieced enough of your brain back together to smart mouth again.

johnny almost shakes his head at you, almost tells you ‘now we’re really in for it.’ but simon is quick to manhandle you onto your back and latch a hand around your throat. johnny whines from the pressure of your back against his clothed, leaking cock and you whine from the pressure simon puts on your throat. a shameless moan rips from you when simon gives a little squeeze.

simon leans in close to your face, giving you a stare that could kill. “were you just that desperate for me to fuck you that you have to go around plotting stupid little fuckin’ schemes for it to happen, hm? need me to fuck you as a reward for everything? must want me to if you had to come up with a plan to make sure it’d happen.”

and just like that, you’re gone again. every single thought being replaced by one’s of simon and johnny, nothing more.

your whole body jerks when simon’s free hand reaches back down between your legs and he uses his middle and ring finger to slowly trace over your hole, both to tease you and as a subtle way of checking that you’ve still got enough wetness to take him again. of course you’d still have enough though, he’s got you so worked up you’re shaking and johnny has tears of desperation starting to prick at his eyes.

“open.” the hand around your throat moves up and his thumb taps your lips gently. you obliged and simon leans down and spits directly into your mouth. you swallow with no hesitation.

johnny’s hips immediately buck up against your back at the sight, “fucks sake.” he breathes out and drops his head back to look at the ceiling.

“eyes on me, sargent.” simon almost growls. johnny hesitates for a second before looking back down at the two of you. it takes everything in john “soap” mctavish's body to not cum on the spot.

ghost has let you sit up a little and leave various hickies and bite marks along his chest. he’s let his guard down just a little and johnny already knows what he’s gonna ask. “i’m good.” he breathes.

“same.” you murmur as you bite down on that spot on simon’s neck that always makes him groan. with that, as quick as the soft moment came, it’s gone again and simon presses two fingers into you. “simon!” you’re caught off guard and whine.

“they’re so fuckin’ wet.” simon hums to johnny who smiles a little. you love it when they talk about you like you’re not even there.

“i bet,” johnny almost reaches out to pet the top of your head but immediately stops upon the warning look simon gives him. it takes simon all but two minutes before you’re whining and bucking your hips the way you do just before you cum.

this time, a tear or two does slide down your face when simon’s fingers leave you empty again. you want to beg, to plead with the lieutenant but all you do is pant and shake. “so pretty.” simon pats your right cheek twice, making sure to smear some of your wetness on your cheek. johnny chuckles when you toss simon a very annoyed glare.

“please.” you manage. the wrecked tone you say it in actually works and simon sits up, tugging you a tad closer to him, so your upper back is pressed right against johnny’s bulge. the movement makes johnny groan again but simon ignores him. why does johnny find simon ignoring him right now so hot?

“since you asked so nicely, darling,” simon hums, finally sliding himself back into you. johnny isn’t sure if he’d rather be in your position or simon’s as he watches simon pick up the pace, fucking into you fast and hard.

you’re falling apart and falling apart fast. you’re moaning, whining, whimpering, just the full show. you should be embarrassed at how quickly you approach your release (four minutes. still better than johnny’s record of about 25 seconds one time.) but it’s been ripped away from you so many times in the past 45 minutes you don’t care in the slightest. when simon shifts his angle just right and nudges into that perfect spot, you know you’re done for.

“can i,” you pant, clawing at simon’s bicep and squirming back against johnny who looks like he’s about to lose it. “please, sir.”

now you knew, you knew, what that title does to him in moments like this. it’s near impossible for him to not want to give you everything and more when you pathetically beg him like that.

“fuck, yes, go ahead let go for me.”

simon barely gets all the words out before you’re arching up into him and your orgasm hits you like a fucking bus. you’re swearing up a storm, simon and johnny’s names mixed in as well.

behind you, johnny is not-so-subtly rutting against your upper-back. simon glares up at johnny for breaking his order to stay but that look, that glare, that’s what has johnny smacking face first into his high only moments after yours. simon should’ve known that would happen.

johnny’s hands fly into your hair and he grabs which punches a high pitched whimper from your chest.

simon just knows he’s going to think about this exact moment frequently for the rest of his life.

simon stills his hips and sits up back on his haunches he watches you make a mess around his cock and johnny make a mess of his briefs behind you.

“where’s my thank you, darling?” simon hums as he slowly drags his hands up your sides. the touch is overwhelming but a good kind of overwhelming.

“th- oh god,” you breathe out when he pinches one of your nipples. “thank you.” you feel boneless under simon as he hums happily at your response. you can feel johnny panting behind you as well as the sticky wetness of his release on your upper back.

“johnny boy lost.” you giggle lightly after a minute or two of catching your breath and putting your brain back together. you tilted your head back to look up at said johnny boy behind you. he’s got a blush that’s spreading down to his shoulder making the freckles that dot them stick out even more.

johnny is staring up at the ceiling and his entire body is buzzing. “uh-huh,” is all he can think to say to which you and simon smile at. you swear your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of simon’s dimples.

simon leans over you and presses a kiss onto the center of johnny’s chest. “hey, i wanna kiss him.” you grumbled and nudged at simon to get off (and out) of you. simon plants a quick kiss on your lips before completing your request. you flip over and you’re on johnny in a second, the both of you smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths.

simon just contently watches for a few moments before tapping your hip. “oi, my turn.” he doesn’t mean for that to come out so playful, wanting to keep up the tough guy act right now, but he can’t help it. you roll onto your side next to johnny. johnny waves simon over and pats his thighs. simon shuffles forward and straddles the other man’s hips.

johnny looks so small with simon seated in his lap despite them being near the same height. the scottish man has to tilt his head up to get a proper look at his boyfriend’s partially masked face.

“you’re so pretty, baby.” johnny’s accent sounds thick as he presses a kiss to simon’s throat. simon only hums, a little worried that if he spoke he’d sound whiny. “take care of me and our lovely darling so well.” he wraps his arms around the lieutenant and plants more kisses around his collarbone.

you watch that switch in simon’s mind flip and he’s suddenly all mush in johnny’s hold, a soft whine slipping from his lips when johnny bites over one of the hickies you had left on him.

only you and johnny know how to flip that switch.

simon is only ever this vulnerable and relaxed around you two. his two. soap and halo, johnny and you. you’re the only two who can just make him melt on command. just piece the right words together in that gentle tone of either of yours and he’s done for, down for the count. he’s just ready to do anything either of you ask. that makes you smile as you watch them.

simon leans down and kisses johnny before any further praises are said. johnny immediately rocks his hips into simon’s and they moan into each others mouths. they start off a little slow but it doesn’t take long before they’re both desperate and rutting against each other like their lives depend on it.

you’re perfectly content just watching them fall apart against each other, soft groans and hushed praises filling the room.

you love it.

you love them.

crazy that your distressing, life-risking job has led you to the most perfect people you could’ve ever imagined.

you’re pulled back out of your thoughts when simon lets out the prettiest whine as he cums onto johnny’s stomach and his own. johnny had gotten riled up again and was shaking through his second orgasm.

you roll over to the bedside dresser and fetch a washcloth out of the drawer. johnny takes it and gently wiped off the both of them and tries to wipe you off but with a 6’4” soldier dramatically slumped against him in his lap it’s not the easiest.

“such a baby.” you snort at simon and take the towel from him instead so you can wipe yourself down. simon, affectionally, flashes his middle finger at you before he finally rolls off of johnny and squishes himself between the two of you.

the three of you lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, basking in each other’s presence and getting comfortable cuddled together. you’re the first to speak again, “you know, i don’t think i deserved to be edged that long.” you flip onto your stomach as you look over at them.

“oh you’ve handled longer, don’t complain.” simon teases and he’s right. just a month or so ago johnny had you in tears after a full hour of denial and simon just watched from a seat in the corner of the room. johnny laughs in agreement.

“and you love it so now you really can’t complain.” johnny grins when you flip him off. simon snorts and tugs his mask all the way back down.

“are you not hot right now, mate?” soap taps the cheek of ghosts mask.

“i am.”

“then why didn’t you take it off?”

“cause you’ve both got a thing for it, especially you, sweetheart.” ghost nods towards you. well…he’s got you both there.

“well, you’ve got a thing for my accent.” johnny defends himself.

“and my hands.” you hum, drumming your fingers on simon’s bare chest. simon doesn’t bother to defend himself because you’re both right.

you prop yourself up on your elbows. “hey, how come he got off so easy?” you huff. johnny had only been instructed to keep his hands to himself and stay still. he ended up breaking both those rules in the end

“cause he turned his papers in at the time he promised. one hour. you took, two hours to finish yours.”

“i got distracted!”

“distracted by what exactly?”

“…thinking about you and johnny…”

“typical.”

[skylarsblue]

✦C.o.D Call Sign Inspo✦

(I've been having a bad writer's block, but, I do have some mini ideas that I can't flesh out. But, I know some people struggle with names/concepts for Y/N's/Characters. So! I'm giving them out for free in hopes it'll inspire something in someone so they don't go to waste!)

✧Somno; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's main trait is being a hyper insomniac. To the point they always seem tired, constantly consuming caffine, etc. But even if they're falling asleep where they're standing, they have incredibly fast reflexes. Could lead to some funny scenarios of finding them asleep in weird places, or, a cute concept (them only being able to sleep when they feel completely safe; ie: with one of the c.o.d characters)

✧Mama; Feminine. Pretty on the nose, but it could also be translated into a different language to match a country of origin. The concept is basically just...an aggressively maternal lieutenant/captain. Because I feel we don't have enough strong MILF's in this world, let alone in this fandom. This could also be used platonically because 141 specifically could use a mom type. Ghost & Gaz specifically.

✧Saint; Gender Neutral. Can be used for a character that's incredibly self sacrificing. Which would make for good fluff & good angst, plus, I think a lot of us can relate to feeling. Partially inspired by a random line I thought of - "If I die protecting you, that's far less frightening than you being gone when I could've protected you. Dying once for you is a peaceful passing, rather than dying every day you're not with me."

✧Salvadora/Salvador; Fem or Masc. Disclaimer; when I had this idea I imagined a woman. An alternative to the cartel story line in Las Almas. Y/N runs a civilian resistance against the cartel and has commandeered a village to keep citizens safe. It's basically a paradise in the crime ridden city. They've been providing sneaky support for Alejandro's men. (Honestly, this concept is pretty specific, and more detailed, and I might break it down more/write it on my own if possible)

✧Copycat/Mimic; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's incredibly skilled at mimicking voices. Whether in different accents or actual voices.

✧Mirage; Gender Neutral. Disclaimer; I imagined this also as a woman because I like powerful ladies. Similar to the one above but instead of just voices, they're just great at disguises in general & particularly sneaky. Like they "fade out of existence" if you look away at the wrong time.

✧Lynx; Gender Neutral. For a small, deceivingly cute looking character that's actually super deadly and quick. Do not trust the toe beans.

✧Nessie; Gender Neutral-Fem Lean. Pretty self explanatory. A character that's illusive and great in water. Bonus points for Scottish rep.

✧Sparks/Fuse; Gender Neutral. Just a fuckin' pyromaniac that can make their own bombs, super impressive and intricate ones. Thought of a scene where they're all in the heat of battle, low on ammo, and Y/N brings up randomly that they were a troublesome teen who almost had a criminal record. Price asks what the charge was and they just light something that doesn't look at all like a bomb, with a giant grin. "It was arson!!" And then they throw a fuckin' devastating bomb.

✧Iris; Gender Neutral. A character known for a very intense/intimidating stare. Inspired by those clips of people losing to Angelina Joline's femme fatal stare. Also, them being able to read a shocking amount about a person purely through eye contact.

✧Sage/Blister/Morphine/Plaster; Gender Neutral. All names for a potential medic!Y/N. (Plaster, for us Americans, is a word for bandaid in the UK. I know y'all prolly know that but just in case)

✧Bee; Gender Neutral. For a Y/N that's visibly smaller than those around them but packs a real hard punch. Also good if they're particularly good at physical combat. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

✧Sugarcube/Honey/Cupcake; Gender Neutral-Masc Lean. I think the idea of a big buff, visibly masculine, intimidating dude being named something like 'sugarcube' is super funny.

✧Lasso/Big Mac/Stallion; Masculine. Isn't it obvious? Big cowboy man who's aggressively American even if he's actually been a UK citizen for years.

✧Bessie/Cowgirl/Chick; Feminine. Once again, aggressively southern Y/N. But, for fem!y/ns.

✧Tex/Stars/Anthem; Gender Neutral. See above, but this time, neutral. Cause I'm about equality in this bitch.

✧Cobra/Mamba; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that specializes in poisons to kill enemies, as well as a character with any association with snakes. Could be interesting for Ghost to hear.

✧Doll/Dolly; Feminine. A more "spy type" for the classic femme fatal who gets intel through allure. If you've seen my two fic concept posts, this is the call sign I'd give to the Y/N in Price's concept.

✧Tech; Gender Neutral. Pretty basic, a character that's particularly tech-y. Good with computers and hacking.

✧Bunny/Hare; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that's small, but super fast & alert. Bonus if they got Hinata jumping powers.

✧Clover/Shamrock; Gender Neutral. Irish rep. Use this for a Y/N that is somehow the luckiest unlucky person ever. Constantly ending up in situations that are stressful/intense but making it out with barely a scratch. Can add some dissonance if they actually hate this call sign because it's not luck that gets them out of these situations, and instead is there skill.

[mockerycrow]

Undercover I (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover series masterlist — next

Summary: You’re apart of an undercover joint task force between the CIA and MI6, meant to invade Makarov’s operations. Your entire mission goes up in flames once Task Force 141 takes you in for interrogation after finding you beaten and bloody in one of Makarov’s warehouses.

A/N: i hate the ending of this part but it issss what it isssss… This was originally a male reader so I might change it back to male!reader later on. the fake name is as gender neutral as possible. ALSO THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS WTF??

[WARNINGS: Gore, descriptions of injuries, descriptions of torture, near death experience(s), mentions of drowning, near drowning/waterboarding, medical inaccuracies.]

The POV switches a couple of times!

The operation fell apart the second my boss did not bother to inform more than my task force of our mission. My death sentence was written into existence the moment I stepped into that conference room with several other high-end individuals—we all worked undercover operations before. We’ve all have had our deaths faked, our lives torn apart and restitched for the perfect narrative for any mission necessary. We have been called for a mission at the darkest of hours to do the dirtiest of work. If no one serves in the dark, then no one can live in the light, right?

We hold up this facade, this mask—for years. You go into an undercover operation with an estimate of a couple years as the duration, how quickly your team is capable, and by the time you’ve done a couple of these missions; you know you have to take the estimate and double it, at the very least. You learn to live with the mountain of bodies you collect over the years, a giant pool of thick blood slowly getting bigger at my feet. My shoes stain with the blood—we all bleed the same, no matter your creed, your race, your gender, your sexuality. If that’s the fact, then how do we tell guilty blood from innocent? Where do the lines blur together, everything looking the same?

It gets dangerous working undercover for so long, but we have to keep going.

Some people lose themselves to the faux identity they’re playing, the fake family, the head of the household—the fake childhood, fake friends.. Sometimes, the faked life is preferred to the real one.

Not me, though.

I remember exactly who I am.

With a combat knife in my hands, circling a table with a map on it, with several marked places—I am Zhenya Antonenko, surrounded by the very people I’m working against in secret.

When I’m alone, I’m myself. I’m me. One of the very few people burdened with the duty of collecting information and intelligence and surveying it back home—back to my Captain, Tyler Hudson. The one person I can trust through this entire operation.

I know I have to trust my other teammates to an extent, but when you’ve seen so many men and women fall to the other side? It gets rough.

Shooting someone who you previously trusted with your life is.. I cannot even begin to describe the feeling.

Melancholy, perhaps?

Even then, I have to be careful.

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful who we pretend to be.”

“..status?” “alive…”

Throbbing pain. Searing. Rough hands on you—

“..one of his..” That accent—it’s not Russian. What?

Did the.. did the operation go tits up?-

No. This accent is Scottish. You didn’t work with any Scots.

…You’re in rough shape, to say the least.

Soap’s hands untie the harsh ropes digging to the skin of your wrists, ignoring how the rope is stained with your blood. You’re one of his—And you’re alive. You won’t be for long if he doesn’t act fast, though. Your skin is paler than usual, you’re soaked in freezing water and your own blood—Soap didn’t wince at your wounds, though. He had no empathy for anyone working with Makarov.

“Let’s get them on our truck, let’s move.” Price said, his tone rough and serious as always. He watches as the rope falls away from your hands and feet, and Price chooses to walk over to your unconscious from. His hand grabs your chin and lifts your head to take a look, and what he sees earns a hum from himself. You took quite a beating, which made Soap curious. “‘Wonder what th’bastard had to do to earn all o’that.” He comments, taking a good look at your face.

Your lips are slightly parted; cracked and stained with your own blood, probably from accidentally biting your tongue. Your lip is split open, definitely requiring a few stitches. Your nose absolutely has to be broken, dried blood all over your skin, your chin—mouth, lips, down the front of your shirt. No one would be surprised if your jaw wasn’t broken—or at least fractured in some way. Your eye is swollen shut and your eyebrow is split open—your hair is damp, both from blood and water.

Soap left you untied; even if you woke up, you wouldn’t be a threat. He puts the sling of his rifle over his shoulder and he hooks an arm under your knees, the other supporting the weight of your back. He grunts as he picks you up, leaning you into his chest. “Light,” Soap comments.

Ghost and Gaz come from a different part of a warehouse, documents and a laptop in hand. “He left in quite a hurry, sir.” Gaz murmurs, holding up a few pieces of paper. “These were scattered around, we nearly caught them by surprise.”

Before Price can ask his question, Ghost answers it, like he can read his Captain’s mind. “Makarov was here.”

The silence is deafening as the four men make their way out of the warehouse, documents, technology and an asset in their hands—you.

Soap ignores the way your blood is soaking into his clothing as they get back their truck and hauling into in the backseats.

For a moment, I thought I died. I really did; I thought Makarov and his goons truly beat me to death, sending me straight to the fiery pits of Hell with every wound they inflicted on me.. And I kind of wish they did, honestly.

But that scares me—I’ve never craved death before. Have I lost it already?

Or is it the burning pain that’s bubbling under my skin?

Nothing in particular wakes me up, but when I do, my tongue is heavy and dry; cotton like. I can’t taste anything besides maybe some blood acts dried around my lips. It takes all of my strength to lick my lips and—nevermind, blood and a weird sour taste. Like the kind you get after sleeping for longer than you should.

My head feels.. fuzzy, like there’s electricity bouncing inside of my skull. Or is that the distant ringing I hear? Or is it the insistent pressure behind my eyeballs?

My body feels so heavy. I feel like an anchor from a ship, being dragged through the bottom of the ocean. Both the weight, and the relatable feeling of like it’s crashed into everything in my path because hOlyfuckpainpainpain-

“They’re awake.” A low and rough voice drawls out; British. Can’t place the region when my fucking body is screaming for relief—

My eyes.. scratch that, eye opens because the other is swollen shut and I nearly regret waking up at all because of the fucking luminescent bulb in front of me, burning my corneas. A gloved hand grabs my jaw which make some cry out because something is wrong, terribly fucking wrong with my jaw—oh, shit, this guy is scary.

I’m forced to peer at the tall man with stocky shoulders and a wide chest, wearing a black balaclava with a skull painted on it. His eyes—they’re brown, but, but they’re so fucking empty, like they’re peering into my damn soul and ripping apart every action I’ve ever committed.

These guys aren’t Makarov’s. What?

I take a sharp inhale as I try to look over any more part of this guy’s uniform, but his grip isn’t letting me. Skull-face holds up a black leather booklet—my fucking I.D. “Zhenya Antonenko,” He spits out, almost mockingly, looking between the small photo of me and me, myself. I can’t bring myself to do anything like I usually would to stay in character; spit, slur out a curse or anything. My body aches.

“Zhenya Antonenko,” Skull-face repeats once more, letting go of my jaw, allowing the burning pain deep in the bone to sizzle down to a dull throb. My head nearly falls forward but I keep it up with the little strength that remains in my neck muscles. “You’ve worked for Makarov for a number of years, hm? Makes me wonder what’a little birdie on his shoulder has ta’do to make the big man leave ‘em for dead.”

I keep my mouth shut. That’s something I had to learn early on when I joined my team—no matter what, do not. let. them. break. you.

Makarov didn’t break me, and I certainly won’t let these guys break me when the entire population of countries are riding on my shoulders. I furrow my eyebrows and maintain eye contact with the big man, mustering the worst glare I can at the moment which probably isn’t very noticeable.

Fuck, I want to puke. My head is swimming, my entire body is just—I only feel pain, and by this point I can only guess where the sources are. It’s all blending together into the worst concoction.

I gasp as a stinging sensation blooms over my cheek—he smacked me.

“Pay attention.” Skull-face hissed, walking over to a tray nearby. I let out a shaky breath as I follow him and then when I see the other men present in the room. Skull-face’s friends.

The first man I see has dark skin, fairly young to be in squad like this. Capturing folk, I mean. He has a noticeable scar under one of his eyes—or I think..? It’s a scar? I can’t see that far, especially with that blinding light in my eye. He’s kind of bulky, but his shoulders are nowhere near as large as Skull-face’s. One of the other men are across the room, leaning against the wall, watching me closely with a hateful glare—like he wants to gut me, watch my intestines spill out and watch me die. He has a bucket hat on, military fatigue colored. He has mutton chops and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but whoever he is, is the only person I’ve seen whose been able to pull them off.

The fourth guy, aside from Skull-face and his friends Mutton Chops and Basic Boy, is staring me down. He’s fairly average height, stockier than Basic Boy, you can tell he’s strong by the way his forearms look. His hair is shaved into a mohawk—the sides need to be a bit more shaved as it looks more grown out. He has a little more than a stubble type beard, but I can vaguely make out a scar on his chin.

I grunt as Skull-faces hand connects with my cheek again and fuuuck, my jaw—

“I won’t fuckin’ say it again. Pay attention or I’ll do what Makarov did to you but tenfold.” Skull-face’s eyes are dark as I look back at his face, the throbbing pain in my face subsiding again after a few seconds. My shoulders slightly tense under his gaze; he’s not kidding. I can’t afford another beating, especially not after.. what he did.

Fuck.

Being stuck between a rock and a hard place, I force myself to nod, not once do my eyes leave his form. No matter what, I can’t break. “What was Makarov doin’ in that warehouse?” He gruffs out, grabbing a few documents off of a nearby metal table that I didn’t notice before. He sifts through the documents as I purse my lips together, muttering a weak, “я дал присягу.” I took an oath. Look, these guys clearly don’t work for Makarov, but I can’t fucking afford to give up any information.

“Stick to your story, no matter what. Unless I intervene, you have to keep going. Even if you’re on the verge of death.”

Hudson’s words flood my brain as Skull-face doesn’t respond to me. I feel a bead of sweat drip down my temple and face—sweating from the pain.

My body just.. fucking aches.

“An oath, huh?” Skull-face mutters, turning back to me with a document. “You took an oath for a terrorist?”

Oookay, this guy does not like Zhenya.

Me. He doesn’t like me.

My eyebrow twitches in response, but I keep my lips sealed shut. Skull-face holds up a document in front of me, and of course it’s all in Russian. “You know what this is?” He barks, his deep, Manchester accented voice bouncing off of the walls, echoing. “This is Makarov making arrangements to get his hands on biological weapon warfare.”

I keep silent—I know that it is, and my heart drops to my stomach from the thought of what could happen if Makarov manages to go through with it. Skull-face stares at me like he expects me to answer, and of course, I never give him one.

I gasp sharply as within seconds, my shirt is lifted and his knife rips through some stitches they’ve must’ve given meeeEE—holy fuck, shit shit oh fuck—

Blood gushes from my stomach, earning a choked noise from me. Pain blooms in my abdomen, and I can feel the warm liquid of my own blood dribbling down onto the spandex of my pants that hold them onto my hips. I immediately feel like my world is spinning again, Skull-face borderlines multiplies in front of me. He grabs my jaw which makes me cry out again—fucking let go—and he leans in real close to my face. “There’s obvious context missin’, yeah? Fill in the gaps and we’ll let the medics work on’ya.”

I force myself to breathe through my nose, with every heavy breath I force out, comes another wave of nausea.

“Мне нечего сказать.” I have nothing to say.

“I don’t think ya understand the’situation.” Mohawk seethes, approaching me from where he was standing. Scottish. He was there—he took me.

I blink sluggishly in an attempt to focus my eyes on the man who replaced Skull-face. I get a clearer view of his face. Tan skin for a Scot, probably spends a lot of his time in the sun—his eyes are so fucking bright blue—I can see every detail of his face from how close he is. Mohawk is angry and he’s one beautiful man. Maybe if I was tied up in this chair for a different reason, I’d be willing give up some of that information—

I keep quiet and stare him in the eyes. The burning flames of anger behind his eyes towards me; thank God I’m not Makarov. I hear a door open and I glance towards it for just a second—Mutton Chops is leaving. I quickly look back at Mohawk and shake my head, although speaking my refusal was probably a smarter idea because now my head is swimming again.

“Do’ye not understand that ya fell fer a trap?” He barks, grabbing the front of my shirt. I wince as I feel the fabric pulling away from my open wounds. “Makarov does not care aboot you!”

My breath hitches as the door slams open, my eyes tracking to who it is—Mutton Chops is back, wheeling in a… big bowl of water. Big enough to hold a head under.

Fuck.

Fuck, oh fuck!

They must’ve caught onto my reaction, which I didn’t really notice them doing as all I could focus on was my pounding heartbeat, but I heard a vague laugh. Mohawk grabs one of the legs of the cart, carelessly pulls it closer and his other hand grabs a chunk of hair on my head, pulling my head back. My lips part and a faint noise of pain leaving them. He says something, which I don’t register—and then he pushes my head under the water.

I immediately struggle as I instinctively took a gasp for air under the water, the water filtering into my lungs, my body screaming that it isn’t supposed to be there, that it’s wrong, that you’re drowning, you’re drowningdrowningdrowningdrowningdROWNING-

The water rushing in my ears doesn’t make this any better, the pure fucking panic in my gut worsens by the second as I can’t fucking breathe, lET ME GO, I ALREADY WENT THROUGH THIS ONCE—

I kick my feet, trying to find the cart, Mohawk, someone, anyone, shit, hElp-

Suddenly my head is ripped out of the water and my eye is closed and I’m sputtering water, my body desperate to cough the remaining in my lungs up, the water from my hair soaking the top of my shirt again, dripping into my mouth—

I still can’t breathe. I think I’m fucking dying.

My lungs are begging for air as I weakly gasp for it, my hands that are tied behind the chair grasp at the air, for anything to ground myself. I weakly kick at the air like that’ll help me, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore—fuck, I’m dying, my chest aches, my abdomen fucking hurts, I can’t hear anything, are they going to just stand there and watch me die?

Like Makarov did?

Are they going to fucking resuscitate me like he did?

Makarov held me under the water until all of the air in my lungs was replaced with ice cold water. I only remember waking up and spitting water out all over myself, laying on my back on the concrete floor of the warehouse, with a dark chuckle from him, murmuring, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

He did it twice. Maybe a third time? If he did, I don’t remember.

My head is ripped out of the water and I gasp for air so harshly I choke, and then I’m suddenly out like a light.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Congrats on your milestone! I'll put in a request. I chose Twisted Wonderland, a courtly drama and a tome falling apart to reveal its yellowing pages.

Good luck on your writing and I'll see you at your next milestone!

Thank you so much for the congratulations! I was so excited to see your name pop up in my inbox! It’s always so lovely to see anything about you in my notifications and to read your comments. I ended up writing this fic while listening to “For the Love of a Princess” from the Braveheart OST and, fair warning, I played a bit with accents which might be one of the reasons this fic ended up quite so long. I hope you enjoy your tale!

600 Followers Event!

Underneath the Highland Moon - Silver

Type: Gender Neutral reader/ Fluff/ romance implied/ 600 follower event/ courtly drama & A tome whose binding is slowly unraveling as the cover attempts to fall away and reveal the yellowed pages beyond/ isekai

Word Count: 3419

I was barely able to react as the light flashed up brilliantly from all around. Blinding me as I dropped the weighty book from my hands in favor of shielding my eyes.

Distantly, I remembered Trein saying something about how books could be enchanted, and I almost cursed myself for being quite so foolish. To be fair, though, thus far all of the books I’d encountered in Twisted Wonderland had just been normal books.

But if the flash of light hadn’t been enough evidence of the less than average nature of this book, then the sinking feeling followed by utter darkness was.

And when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in NRC’s library.

Instead, I was lying in a plush, four-poster bed that had curtains hanging all around it. And was utterly covered in thick quilts with spiraling celtic patterns.

I blinked, immediately frowning as I sat up, sending rich fabrics everywhere with my motions as I heard a woman’s voice speak from beyond the curtains in a thick, undoubtedly Scottish accent, “Ma liege?”

I reached over, pulling back a curtain, only to find myself peering out at a young woman who was quite obviously dressed as a maid, with her plain dark dress and white apron decorated lightly with pale green embroidery in the corners. 

I stared at her, my eyes widening as she smiled sweetly back at me, “Ah, good. Yer up. Today is th‘day th’knight sent by th’royal family is coming.”

“The knight?” I faintly echoed her words as my eyes darted around the lavishly decorated but wholly unfamiliar room.

But, somehow, in some way, I knew exactly where I was.

This was my room. But it was also the room of the oldest child of a noble family connected to an ancient clan. And that person’s memories were wholly unfamiliar, but also bouncing around in the back of my head like a poorly buffered last-episode recap.

“Aye, ye know, th’wan th’royal family ha’ sent to keep ye safe? Come noo, ye must finish waking up so we can get ye ready! Ye’ll want to look yer best with yer history wi’ him after all!”

I was tugged out of the massive bed, stumbling to my feet as the maid pulled me along and sat me down, chattering away all the while as if all was as it should be, “ ‘At Duke is also coming today. I bet e’ll be right surprised to see a knight here to keep ye safe! It’ll probably ruin whatever schemes he’s cooking up in ‘at nasty old head of his.”

Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place as I dimly recalled more of Trein’s words from class: “For a period, there was an entire genre of enchanted books that were particularly popular simply because they allowed readers to live out and experience stories in real time. The book would pull you and perhaps a companion, if they were close enough, into the story itself and assign roles.”

I all but grimaced as memories came flooding back of the ancient-looking, painfully large tome of a book whose binding had been slowly unraveling when  I’d picked it up simply to snicker at its title while also wondering how such a book had ended up in a school library of all places.

‘Underneath the Highland Moon.’ It had doubtlessly been a romance of the particularly tropey variety.

It made sense for it to be at the school if it were a magical book, though. It was probably something that had been purchased for some form of test or experiment.

But now, through pure chance, or perhaps bad luck, I’d found myself transported into yet another world. But this time it was one within a book where I was apparently filling the role of a landed noble whom the royal family wanted to keep safe for inexplicable reasons that probably had some form of plot relevance.

And, if I had to make a guess, this knight was probably supposed to be my character’s love interest. A thought that had me grimacing.

But I had greater concerns to deal with beyond the appearance of a love interest. Namely, how I was going to get out of this book.

I hadn’t questioned Professor Trein about the specifics of the enchanted books, but if I recalled correctly, there was something to do with the plot of the story. Like it had to be completed, interrupted, or something along those lines.

“Ye just aren’t yerself this morning. Are ye feeling weel?” I blinked, snapping myself back into the moment as I glanced at the maid, who was eyeing me worriedly.

Now that I really looked at her, she might actually be the main character of this story. She certainly could fit the part with her sweet face, but with the amount of backstory that was flitting around in my mind and clogging my thoughts, the character I was subbing for had to be important.

Either way, though, I could tell the maid was genuinely worried, and if these character’s memories were anything to go by, we were close.

I shook my head, pasting on a reassuring smile, “I’m just distracted…. Why do you suppose the royal family has sent us a knight anyway? I would think they would want to keep all of their people closer than that…”

I trailed off, hoping to glean more information about the plot of the story I was in.

The maid smiled, almost sympathetically as she nodded, “Thought ‘at might be on yer mind.”

She sat down next to me, her hands taking one of mine into hers as she twisted to face me, “What with ye being the last member of yer clan and wan of the few nobles to hev come from a clan, Yer important to this country. I’ll bet that the royal family recognizes ‘at.”

I blinked at her words, that so perfectly matched my backstory information but also sounded disappointingly like the backstory of a main character.

Her gaze swiftly turned frigid though, and I felt myself tensing before she continued in a far colder tone than before, “But ‘at’s also why so many are after ye. For the power ye hold.”

She shook her head before straightening in a huff, “Lek ‘at Duke. But he won’t be able to do anything. No’ with ye having a knight of yer very own.”

Her tone was so final that I barely had any words. Especially not after the lengthy exposition she’d just given me about my entire situation in this book.

And I stayed silent for most of the rest of the time she bustled around, adjusting my clothes and cooing reassurances that all would be well now that the knight was coming and that I had absolutely nothing to worry about.

By the time I finally escaped what had felt like dressing room hell I was both up to date on my situation and exasperated with the plot of this book.

Evidently enough, I was supposed to be a shrinking violet who’d already been kidnapped once and held for ransom.

For reasons unknown, the royal family had, inexplicably, taken action and had been rescued before declaring that the situation was far-too risky to be left as it was and that they were going to send a knight to guard me.

Even as I went down the massive flight of stairs with my maid by my side she continued to coo over my apparent rescuer from that time, “I do hope this knight will be th’same wan who rescued ye. He was so... so…”

I smiled, cutting in before she could utter the word dreamy once more, “Yes, I also think it will be reassuring if it’s the same man.”

She giggled at my words, shaking her head and adjusting her plaid shawl in a manner that almost had me arching an eyebrow at her.

“Ye were quite taken wi’ him, weren’t ye? I dae no’ blame ye, o’ course. He did rescue ye after all,” She was all but beaming at me as I kept the same polite smile on my face.

Oh yes. This knight was definitely going to be the romantic lead of this plot. 

If I were lucky this wouldn’t end up with a love triangle situation. I wasn’t sure if I could handle that along with trying to figure out a way out of this book.

Especially considering my current run of getting out of worlds that I'd randomly been sent too.

Not that I could say that I regretted my time in Twisted Wonderland. I’d grown quite close to the people there. Like Silver, who’d been in the library with me when I’d been sent here.

Everything seemed to come screeching to a halt as I recalled the young man who’d fallen asleep after helping me carry books into the library. 

I’d been about to wake him to show him the book I’d found to see if he’d had any idea as to why such a book would be in the school library when I’d opened the tome and ended up here.

“Ma liege!” I blinked at my maid’s voice, briefly searching the room only to find that she’d moved on ahead of me to peer out the window.

Her eyes were bright as she pointed out the window, bouncing up and down on her toes in a way that had me frowning as I walked towards her.

“It’s him! It’s him! Th’knight who saved ye!” Her voice was pitched higher than it had been in excitement and I hummed. Leaning over to peer out the window and see who this love interest of mine was going to be only to go still. My eyes widening as I look at the knight who came riding up the rocky path on a magnificent, glossy black stead. A perfect opposite to his pale beauty.

I dashed to the side, my hands flying to the door handle as I yanked it open and I rushed out onto the porch right as he reigned the horse to stop.

I could hear my maid behind me shouting my name in surprise, but my eyes stayed on him as his gaze slowly lifted to meet mine.

“Silver,” I barely even whispered his name as I stared at him, neither of us moving as the wind blew. Causing leaves to dance through the air as it toyed with his hair.

And it really was a perfect scene from a historical romance and he dismounted and took only two steps towards me in utter silence before kneeling. One knee hitting the earth as he looked up at me, “I have come to guard and protect you, Y/n.”

I faltered before blinking myself to reality and nodding, “Please, get up. There’s no need for you to kneel like that.”

As I spoke I came off the porch, bending and taking his hands in mine before I straightened. Pulling him up with me and twisting to look back at my maid, “Could you prepare us something to drink?”

It was the first thing I could think of to ask her to do that would send her away and give me some time to confer with Silver.

If I was lucky he would know a way for us to get out of this book since the best I’d come up with so far was to finish the story, which would be difficult considering I had no idea what the plot might be.

Stories like this could get tangled up in their own drama so quickly that it was difficult to predict where this tale might lead us if we were going to have to follow it all the way to its end.

My maid curtseyed before zipping off into the house, and I could hear her giggling all the way. The sound of it making me sigh slightly as I turned to look back at Silver.

His horse was already being led off by a man whom I could only assume was a stablehand.

“Any idea what’s going on?” I questioned him, hopefully only to feel my hopes flag as he shook his head. Utterly calm despite the situation we were in.

“Only that we’re in an enchanted book,” He paused, tilting his head slightly, before he continued, “Do you know anything about the plot we’re in?”

I sighed, turning and heading back into my house, which I now noticed was quite large. In fact, it was probably better to say that I was living on an estate more than anything.

“My character is some sort of noble lady that your character apparently rescued by order of the royal family,” I started in a surprisingly weary tone, but it already felt like it had been a long day even though I’d only just woke up.

“Yes, you’d been kidnapped and were being held for ransom. My character saved yours and brought you back home,” Silver clarified, and I nodded. His story matched the backstory I had received upon waking almost perfectly.

I could only assume he’d also received a backstory for his character.

“And now the royal family has sent you to guard me because of something to do with my character being the ‘last member of my clan and one of the few nobles to have come from a clan.’” I quoted my maid directly as I slipped into what was the sitting room.

“You’re also distantly related to the royal family, which means a lot of people are after you for your position, power that comes from your family line, and relation to the royals,” Silver again clarified, but this time his words had me turning to look at him with a slight frown.

So my character was related to the royals? That was something I hadn’t realized, but it was also something that rang true with my character’s backstory that seemed to be continually updating itself in my head.

I sat down quietly and watched as he did the same across from me before I continued, “Just based on our current backstories and the title of this book, I suspect this is a dramatic romance. Probably of the variety that deals with court drama since I’m related to the royal family.”

Silver nodded, his gaze turning thoughtful as he blinked, his eyes growing steadily more hazy in a way that told me he was about to drift off.

“Do you know anything else about your character?” I questioned him again, my words snapping him back awake and causing him to nod as he focused.

“Yes, I volunteered to come and protect you on the basis of having already rescued you once,” I felt my eyebrows lift at his words and met his gaze directly.

“If this is a romance, then do you think you’re….” 

I trailed off, not quite able to finish only for him to finish for me with a nod of his head, “The love interest? If Father’s stories are anything to go by, then yes.”

I wrinkled my nose slightly and looked at him in confusion, “Your father reads romance novels?”

Silver shrugged slightly but remained silent, and mere moments later, my maid entered the space with tea.

Her gaze flickered between me and Silver, and she barely hid her smile as she bustled about, already beginning to question Silver as she looked towards him, “Do ye think ye’ll be able to-”

She was cut off by Silver darting across the room and tackling me to the side right as the window broke, causing my maid to shriek as I grabbed a hold of Silver in alarm and a startled sound squeaked out of me.

I stared in alarm over his shoulder as he slowly leaned back to glare out the window, but my eyes were on the arrow sticking out of the couch cushion where I’d just been sitting.

“Ma liege, are ye alright?!” I continued to stare wide-eyed at the arrow as my maid rushed to my side, grasping my arm before she leaned over before hugging me tightly. 

Instinctively, my arms curled around her, almost as if to reassure myself as I dragged my stare away from the arrow.

But in no way had I been prepared for such an attack. At the very least, I hadn’t been expecting for this book to be that sort of drama.

After another brief moment, Silver turned and yanked the arrow harshly out of the seat and frowned at it before his gaze lifted to meet mine.

Evidently, this story was going to be a little bit more action-packed than I’d initially expected.

Despite her genuine sweetness, it was honestly a relief when my maid finally left us once more after we all relocated to another room. This time one with no windows.

I glanced over at where Silver stood by the doorway with his arms crossed. Almost like he was ready to leap into action at a moment's notice.

And I couldn’t blame him; after all, I was still startled by what had just happened, though a numbness had now set in that kept me from panicking.

I started in a quiet voice, “The only two things I can figure out to get us out of this book are to either finish the story or to run its plot so off the rails that the book kicks us out.”

Silver nodded, his gaze shifting as he obviously considered my words and met my gaze, “Which option do you think is better?”

I shifted, leaning against the table in front of me as I frowned thoughtfully, “Finishing the plot could be risky if there are more action scenes like what just happened, plus we don’t know where the story is going….”

I trailed off, glancing his way and setting back in my chair as I started to nervously toy with my fingers, “Throwing the story of its rails might be a bit easier…. Especially if this is a romantic courtly drama.”

He nodded, “What do you want to do?”

I faltered slightly when he put the decision in my hands, but then I straightened. Steeling myself even as I made my decision, “If we shove our two characters into a relationship earlier than expected, then that will probably do.”

I stood, glancing at him and waiting for a sign of refusal, but he didn’t move. His expression was as stoic as ever, and I inhaled and called for my maid.

She came rushing in hurriedly, her face slightly flushed as she looked at me half-expectantly and half-worriedly. I couldn’t blame her, though; there had just been an attempt on my life.

My gaze flitted over to Silver as I balked, wondering exactly how he’d react but suspecting this would be the best and easiest way to derail the plot.

I squared my shoulders and looked back at my maid, “Please send out letters announcing my wedding to everyone of any importance.”

She stared at me like I’d lost my mind, looking around in an obviously lost fashion, as I did my very best not to look at Silver even as I felt myself warming from embarrassment.

“Yer wedding, ma liege?” She even sounded lost when she spoke, but I nodded firmly. Praying this would work and not land me in an even more awkward situation than filling the role of an utterly foreign character.

I couldn’t help but let my gaze flicker over to Silver in an apologetic fashion, and I could see in his eyes that he already knew where I was taking this as he straightened right as I spoke, “Yes. My wedding to Sir Silver.”

I’d barely even finished speaking before light flashed forth, utterly blinding me and blotting out the entire room before everything went black.

I opened my eyes hazily to find myself sprawled on the floor of the NRC library with a book on my lap.

Silver was sitting up from where he’d been at a table, his gaze resting weightily on me in a way that had me looking down at the book and away from him to avoid any further embarrassment.

And there it was, resting as innocently as could be on my lap, “Underneath the Highland Moon.”

And me and Silver hadn’t even made it to the moonlight hours before I was declaring our wedding.

I could only hope that I would make it through the rest of the day without dying from sheer embarrassment.

[intoxicated-chan]

Letters Keep Me Warm

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Johnny catches sight of Ghost writing to a special someone.

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “Gunslinger” by Avenged Sevenfold. Again Tumblr is being a huge pain. Is anyone else having problems with Tumblr?

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 413

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Gender neutral reader, established relationship, very fluffy…

“For someone who seems cold…” Johnny peers over Ghost’s shoulder, “You do love writing letters to this (Y/n).” He dodges Ghost’s fist, “Sorry mate!” He nervously laughs, keeping a good distance between him and Ghost.

“What do you want, Johnny?”

“Jus’ wanted to see what was keepin’ you busy.”

Ghost continues to ignore Johnny’s questions, whacking him whenever he gets too close. He sealed the letter, writing the address and sending it off. It wasn’t long before Johnny began telling Gaz about his findings, but it was only him who had the nerve to pester Ghost about it. That’s until…

“Letter for Ghost!” A soldier shouted, the letter in hand. Ghost didn’t bother to silence the soldier, all he cared about was the letter.

He found a private spot, ripping open the envelope.

Sorry for writing so late. I would’ve written sooner if it wasn’t severe weather. Don’t worry, everything is perfectly fine. Now I hope this letter arrives on time. I got your book that you ordered, should’ve known you were into the sickening love story of friends to lovers. Classic Simon. The puppy you brought before is doing well, she’s quite an eater.

But I’m sure you didn’t wait months for my letter just to hear about the puppy, even though you do have a soft spot for her. I miss you, Simon, and even though it’s your job, I can’t help but worry. I trust you, and I know you always come home. I’ll be waiting for you.

With love, (N/n)

P.S, a ‘friend’ of yours stopped by, it was hard to understand what he was saying because of his scottish accent.

“You’re not a lap dog!” You wince and laugh, watching the large dog get comfortable on your lap. You didn’t have the heart to tell her to get down, she was too cute!

Simon’s letter, you held tightly onto that, afraid to let it go.

Hey love, I know I was supposed to arrive weeks ago but we got held back. This will probably be the last letter before I have to go dark again. I know it’s difficult for you, and I’m sorry. I’m just happy that you are willing to wait for me. You know writing small isn’t my best ability and with this small paper, there’s only so much I can tell you but, I will forever love you.

From, Ghost

It was clear from the start how little information Ghost tries to leave behind, he’s worried about enemies intercepting the letters. Which is why you sighed with a nickname and not your full name.

P.S, the ‘friend’ won’t bother you anymore.

“What?” You stared at the letter, confused, flipping around trying to find out what he meant.

“I don’t know what yer talking about.” Johnny silently snickers, “I haven’t left the base in the past week.”

“I ain’t talking about the past week, I’m talking about the past few months.” Ghost crosses arms as he glares at Johnny, “How’d you find her?”

Johnny jumps to his feet with a cocky smile on his face, “Let’s just say it’s a brother’s intuition.”

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

…

[mamawasatesttube]

So I've had this hc bouncing around my head since I read one of your fics (which are all amazing btw, seriously, so so good) about Kryptonian naming conventions. I really like your Kryptonians and their funky fish genders, because you are right. They are aliens, let's get creative with it. 

So the traditional naming conventions, at least in the comics, are First name Last name for men and First name Fathers Name Last name for women. With womens names usually ending in -a. Such as Kal El and Kara Zor-El. 

However, Cir El exists.

And she doesn't follow this trend. Now, she doesn't appear very much or for very long. (Which is a shame because there is so much potential. Also full disclosure I have not yet read the issues she is in yet. They are on the list because the whole idea of her intrigues me. However the list is long. Very long. So if this is absolute garbage please disregard this entire thing and I am very sorry.) Now her name could just be a mistake on DCs part. She wasn't born on Krypton or raised by Kryptonians, so the naming could mean nothing. But it got me thinking.

So this is kinda a mix between traditional Scottish naming (your dad's name with Mac in front to mean child) and Icelandic naming, with your dad's name and either son or dottir added on. However in Iceland you could have your mum's name instead. 

So since Kryptonian views of gender and sex wouldn't line up 100% with human ideas (not that human ideas of this are uniform across the globe but I digress) and are implied to be far more gender neutral there could be a whole naming system. So you could have:

Kal El

Kal Jor-El

Kal Lara-El

Kala Jor-El

Kala Lara-El

Each one of those options is basically a different gender identity. Basically once you're an adult you would pick your name. And there are more choices and it would be pretty fluid. And your name would tell people how to address you. 

Does this mean Cir El has a traditional 'masculine' name? Yup. Am I reading way too much into a decision DC probably didn't think through this much? Also yup. 

I don't know, this is probably absolute garbage but it's been banging around my head for literal months. Want some weird alien naming conventions???

OH YES i love it!!!! ive thought about ways to fiddle with the canon gendered kryptonian naming scheme too but never settled on anything concrete - this is a great take on it!!! very fun. kryptonian naming has always reminded me of tamil naming traditions (the husband's first name becomes the wife's and their children's surname, so almost like kara having her father's name as her surname), and i like keeping that with the parents names as an option but not the only option for women.

(spoilers for her arc, but cir-el is not actually a real kryptonian and is instead a girl who was experimented on and made to think she was, so in-universe it's incredibly possible that the futuresmiths fucked up, but i mean they're linked to brainiac who probably wouldn't fuck something like that up, so... i think we deserve to take this and run with it!!! out-of-universe im sure its just "dc didn't think about it that hard" but. the world is our oyster.)

but now it has me thinking about a moment of kon, pondering gender, wondering if he'd like to go by another form of the name at any point but then getting stuck on like. um... would it be kon kal-el?? kon jor-el??? kon lara-el???? am i even allowed to use kal's parents names??? but i don't have a mom and it's not like kal's my dad so??? what do i do??? and kara goes fuck it. radical family acceptance time. you can just be a zor-el like me <3

[matzouls]

INTRODUCTION !

ᯓ my name is soul ^ ^. he/they. eighteen. graysexual ( ironic , i know ) + panromantic. i have adhd. scottish. i only speak english, though i am learning both korean and french!

ᯓ this is my main blog, which i will write on, yap on, reblog on etc; im down for mutuals, and i don't really have a dni list. just don't hate on my favs. :3 ᯓ i mainly write bxb fics as i am more comfortable writing male characters and about males...usually from a male perspective. i may also write from a gender neutral perspective, but i rarely write in a female perspective or about female characters!!

ᯓ i will block anybody who makes me uncomfortable, decides to fight with me for NO reason etc; so if you feel the need to attack me in any way, you will most likely be blocked ^ ^

ᯓ i LOVE tag games, so if you have nobody to tag...now you do.

ᯓ i write on ao3 also, under the same name as my tumblr blog.

ᯓ i enjoy reading and writing omegaverse fics, so if that makes you uncomfy in any way, feel free to avoid interacting with me!!

ᯓ i take requests, but please note – if i am uncomfortable in any way with your request, i will delete it. do not send the same requests more than once.

[scotianostra]

Mary Somerville, the world's first scientist.

On December 26th 1780 Mathematician and scientist,Mary Somerville was born in Jedburgh.

Before Mary Sommerville came around, the word "scientist" didn't even exist.

When we think of history’s great scientists, names such as Isaac Newton, Galileo Galilei, or Nicolaus Copernicus likely come to mind. The funny thing is that the term “scientist” wasn’t coined until 1834 — well after these men had died — and it was a Scottish woman named Mary Somerville who brought it into being in the first place.

Mary Somerville was an almost entirely self-taught polymath whose areas of study included math, astronomy, and geology – just to name a few. That Somerville had such a constellation of interests, and possessed two X chromosomes, would signal a need to create a new term for someone like her — and scientific historian William Whewell would do precisely that upon reading her treatise, On the Connexion of the Physical Sciences, in 1834.

After reading the 53-year-old Somerville’s work, he wanted to pen a glowing review of it. He encountered a problem, however: The term du jour for such an author would have been “man of science,” and that just didn’t fit Somerville.

In a pinch, the well-known wordsmith coined the term “scientist” for Somerville. Whewell did not intend for this to be a gender-neutral term for “man of science;” rather, he made it in order to reflect the interdisciplinary nature of Somerville’s expertise. She was not just a mathematician, astronomer, or physicist; she possessed the intellectual acumen to weave these concepts together seamlessly.

Somerville was an intellectual giant of her age. In her mathematical and scientific pursuits, she was able to converse confidently with some of the foremost minds in the natural philosophic community (natural philosophy previously having been the name of scientific endeavour). More so, she was able to do this without attending university, instead acquiring knowledge through her own self-teaching abilities.

Growing up in a lower middle-class household in Scotland, she received a basic education — though this was not any more than was expected of a girl at the time. It was only due to her boundless curiosity in the world around her which she cultivated through various countryside excursions, and through reading the books in her father’s private library, that she was given the spark that became a lifelong love of knowledge and explanation.

As her early academic interests, perceived as boyish, were shunned in the household, she was sent to learn needlework and domestic duties (both of which she met with annoyance). She still attempted to keep up with the more extensive education that boys in her town were provided with (and indeed often surpassed them).

As a maturing young woman of 18, she was introduced into society: attending balls and spectacles in Edinburgh and dancing with nobility. She was outwardly renown as a beauty and was married in 1804 to a wealthy physician.

With her free time as a provincial housewife, she now began to study seriously and continued this after she became a widow three years later. She read the works of Newton, Laplace, Lagrange, and others scientific notables.

By her early thirties, she was solving complex problems and publishing her results in philosophical journals of the time. For this she received awards and public notoriety.

An incredible polymath, she was adept in almost all areas of scientific pursuit. Her interests were so multi-varied and her abilities so keen that she was able to become knowledgeable in mathematics, physics, chemistry, geology, geography, and astronomy, as shown in the vast scope of her publications.

Her works On the connexion of the physical sciences’ and ‘Physical Geography remained staples years after her death. She was also able to speak Latin and Ancient Greek fluently. Biographer Renee Bergland claimed that ‘she was no mere astronomer, physicist, or chemist, but a visionary thinker’, and one who surmounted daunting mental obstacles

Beyond purely academic interests, she somehow also found time to push her political beliefs and aided in the fight to improve the rights of women. John Stuart Mill presented Somerville with his 1868 parliamentary petition for women’s suffrage — of which she provided the first signature.

She eventually became an image in her own right, espousing the ability of women to improve their situation through intellectual pursuit — to gain an equal footing with men in that regard would later be intrinsic to suffragist efforts. Even more so in her long list of achievements, she was tutor to another giant of mathematical science: Ada Lovelace, a pioneering force in computer mechanics.

As shown, Somerville’s life encapsulated so diverse a litany of achievement and she should act as testament to the power of knowledge to break down barriers. Her legacy was so great that her name was given to an Oxford College, one that was among the first to allow women to attend the ancient university. Among the names of those who helped push women’s liberation, she must be ranked as one of the foremost, though this is not understate her incredible scientific achievement. Certainly, the true testament to her legacy came in her obituary which read: ‘whatever difficulty we might experience in the middle of the nineteenth century in choosing a king of science, there could be no question whatever as to The Queen of Science.

[nik-barinova]

*gently hands you my farmer!Zoey info and Shane headcanons and then offers to drop my lore on them, but really for Zoey*

Zoey Kilduff

Full Name: Zoey Elaine Kilduff

Age: 32 (as of Yr 1)

Height: 5’10”

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Sexuality: Pansexual

Nationality: Scottish

Ethnicity: Romani, Indonesian, Indian, Afghani

Farm Name: Solasta Farm

Main Produce: Cheese, Jams, Flowers, Wine, Fruit Tree Fruits, Peppers

Primary Choice of Clothing: Gothic and casual

Loves: Tropical curry, Pepper poppers, Green tea, Iridium bar, Topaz, Prehistoric Skull

Likes: All Eggs, All Minerals, All Flowers (except Daffodil and Dandelion)

Neutral: Hazelnut, Ginger, Maki Roll, Holly Leek, Truffle, Clay, Seaweed

Dislikes: All Mushrooms, All Geodes, Cave Carrot, Pine Tar, Spring Onion, Qi Fruit

Hates: Mayo

Bio:

Daughter to a boxing legend and a late dancing queen, Zoey Kilduff virtually had to raise her younger siblings herself despite being the eldest triplet. Their father was not one to exactly get physical with his triplet children, but he does get in their head too much to the point of them developing serious anxiety and self esteem issues. Her father owned an MMA/Boxing club in Zuzu City, and every day after school, Zoey and her younger siblings would go to workout and train, sometimes going into the late hours.

Zoey never could remember much of her mother, except that she would protect her and her siblings from their father until one night she disappeared.

The only time Zoey ever recalled good moments was when her uncle would sneak the triplets out to a gridball game or a rock concert. Zoey and her uncle were close enough that she would end up calling him her “dad” later on, and so did her siblings.

Things only got worse, though, when her father decided to enter her in a series of boxing matches as a teen illegally by lying about her age. Zoey still had an impressive record, but she would come to school with multiple bruises and cuts, prompting school officials to question her about her home life. Zoey felt anxious to tell the truth, but she did what she believed was right. However, she was (supposedly) proven wrong by her father later that week.

Her father would not speak to her except for when he trained her, but he was much harsher on her than he would be towards her two other siblings. One evening, he would take her on a drive, just him and her, and have a “talk”; which was code for “not good, not good”. The drive was anxiety inducing for Zoey, and before she knew it, the “talk” turned into a shouting match between them.

The last thing the both of them could remember was a sudden flash of bright beams and a the sound of a truck horn.

Zoey woke up surrounded by her siblings, uncle, and grandparents as well as police. She could barely remember what had happened up until the wreck, but with what she could remember, her and her siblings’ father was finally arrested for various charges and would lose custody of the triplets and be left with their uncle. At the cost of being free from their father, Zoey was left a total arm amputee due to how bad the wreck was.

After much rehab, therapy, and support from her loved ones, Zoey and her siblings were able to finish high school, and eventually go on to graduate college. Though while the younger siblings went on to pursue their respective careers, Zoey had difficulty finding proper work and eventually settled for something calmer, thus landing her at a corporate office job with Joja Corp. At first, this was a great opportunity for her to find some sort of peace and calm for her going forward in life, it was definitely the most boring and tiring job for her until she realized this was not what she had in mind for her life.

Sure she was able to find more therapeutic alternatives like skull paintings, but living out the rest of her days sitting in a cubical?

That was until early in her thirties did she receive a letter from her dying grandfather that he had left her a huge inheritance: the old family farm Solasta Farm.

Once she realized this was a new chance at a second life, Zoey quit her job at Joja Corp, and quickly moved to Stardew Valley, truly giving herself a second chance at a new life.

Now if only she could get a chance to befriend a certain town drunk…

[froody]

On the off chance you were serious:

Favorite color is green, love folk music, sci fi and medieval fantasy, I have a woodshop in my basement, 7 unfinished crafts at any given time, glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, and 2 swords on my wall.

Gender neutral, go!

Oh boy! Okay, I went mostly with shades of green and medieval-esque names.

Beryl

Theon/Theone (means godly but I think it has good sci-fi knight type potential)

Excalibur (most “fuck it” badass name choice on this list)

Citron

Caird/Cairde/Kaird/Kairde (mostly a masculine name with Scottish origin, meaning a traveling metalsmith)

Moss

Tristan (mostly seen as a masc name, can be fem)

[sombrashe]

Please

this is a repost because my original blog was deleted

relationship(s) alejandro x reader, gaz x reader x rodolfo, ghost x reader x soap

content afab gender neutral reader, humiliation, voyeurism, rough sex, no plot but with feelings, established relationship, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, crying during sex

notes I don't speak Spanish or Scottish Gaelic so I used google translate, sorry if it's not correct

You grunted, Alejandro pulling your right arm against your back while your left hand wrapped itself around his which now gripped your neck.

"Me tomas tan bien, mi pequeña zorra."

He groaned, his cock hitting places you swear had you seeing stars.

"Sí, gracias señor."

"Ah, look at you learning." He chuckled and your stomach did a backflip.

You don't remember how you got into this position, task force 141 and the leaders of Los Vaqueros lined up to take a turn in front of you. There were words of a train and compliments, but you were too blissed out to remember.

You gasped and fell forward when Alejandro suddenly released your neck. Your arm stayed pinned behind your back, but now his hand viciously rubbed harsh circles into your clit. You were so close.

"Necesito que te corras para mí ahora."

You did, a burst of white flashes behind your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Your teeth ground as you rode out your orgasm against his cock. Only when you were standing there on shaky legs panting did he finally pull away.

"You did so well."

He mumbled against the shell of your ear, placing the faintest kiss there. You smiled softly. You stood fully and stretched, your oversized shirt being the only thing keeping you warm in the middle of Alejandro's safe house. You looked around and started to feel a little sheepish, not exactly sure how to proceed you just state the obvious.

"Who's next?"

You were not expecting the argument that ensued.

"No, I should be next. I'm the one dating them."

"Fuck you are, we should be next. Were the youngest and can fuck them out better."

Your eyes widened and you cleared your throat gaining their attention.

"How 'bout I choose, yeah? Make it easier on you?"

Once you heard murmurs of agreement you felt hot as you pointed out Rodolfo and Gaz.

"I want you both."

They grinned and fist-bumped walking over. You barely even heard Soap grumble when Gaz leaned forward catching your lips. You gasped allowing his tongue to explore your mouth when Rudy pulled up your shirt. Your bra was immediately pulled down and your tits were on full display. His fingers pinched and pulled against them and you swear you could cum right now.

"They like it when you're rough with 'em." You heard Ghost say, his voice calm but strained.

You lurched forward when Rudy pulled hard on your right nipple making you moan loudly into Gaz's mouth. You wanted so badly to say names or give directions but that would go against the rules that were set. You were nothing more than a toy for them to use the blow by Graves giving everyone steam they needed to blow off. Gaz kept your lips on his, gripping you by the back of the neck while Rudy rutted against your back.

"It must be real chilly huh?"

You whimpered, the stimulation to your nipples getting to be too much but you were so close to a release. You gripped Gaz's shirt and tried to find release by rubbing your thighs together. Gaz finally pulled away noticing your actions. You were panting, so hot and bothered. Alejandro at least left you both complete, you felt like you were going to explode with all this foreplay.

"Please," you whispered, whimpering when Rudy grabbed you by the chin. The shock of the sudden grip went straight to your core and you came. Your eyes fluttered as a moan left your lips.

"They came!"

Gaz laughed, your shirt had caught on one of your breasts the other side sticking to your hip.

"Told you they liked it rough, nipple play and all."

You looked over at Ghost for a moment before settling your eyes on Rudy's. You opened your mouth slightly trying to give the illusion you wanted to help him out the way he helped you. He grinned and rubbed a finger against your bottom lip.

"Quieres la boca o el chocha?"

"You can have the mouth."

You bit your lip, their refusal to speak about you like you were a person soaking your thighs. Normally you would stop Soap and Ghost whenever they got too mean but at this moment it was sending shockwaves through your body.

Grabbing your hands the two men led you over to a pile of hay lofting a few feet from the table. Flipping you around to face the table Gaz got down bringing you with him. Unzipping his pants he pulled his cock out. You wanted so badly to see it but your brain short-circuited when he slipped into you with ease. You groaned and started moving. His hands rested on your hips as you bounced slowly and fully up and down. Rudy had stepped to the side, allowing the other three men access to the show. You turned to look up at him through your eyelashes, your fucked out eyes making him groan as he struggled to unzip his pants.

"Let me," you tried softly trying to keep your composure. Sitting up more and opting to grind instead of bounce for the moment you unzipped Rudy's pants, pulling his cock out for him.

You were drooling at the sight, looking up at him you tapped the tip of your tongue to his head. Gently placing small licks from the tip to the bottom. Getting into position, one hand on Gaz's knee while the other took hold of Rudy's balls. You started to get into a rhythm hollowing out your checks and bouncing on Gaz's hips.

It didn't take long for the two men to start moaning, their teasing having worked them up just as much as you. You tried to keep your compose but you started to twitch when Gaz reached around and started to press against your clit. Your hand moved from his knee over the top of his wrist keeping him in place while your other hand fished itself into Rudy's jeans.

They came first, both filling you up. You gasped and swallowed Rudy's while Gaz's joined Alejandro's inside your vagina. Rudy leaned downed and caught your lips in a kiss while Gaz pulled out pulling you to sit across his stomach. Squeezing your legs together as Gaz continued his assault on your throbbing clit. Rudy kept his lips on your body, opting to place them against your cheek and forehead as you finally came. You felt embarrassed as you felt a gush, fluid getting caught and mixed with your and Gaz's body hairs.

"I'm sorry," you panted "I'll clean it up." You leaned forwards to stand and grab a towel but Gaz just laughed, soft this time.

"It's fine. I'll clean it up. You have two more soldiers to get through."

Your cheeks burned as Rudy helped you up, you felt as though there were strings attached to your body with how hard your lovers were staring at you. You walked up to them feeling wildly underdressed suddenly, even fixing your top did nothing to loosen their gazes. You tried to act casual, saying goodnight to Gaz, Rudy, and Alejandro getting thanks from each of them.

You walked around searching for your discarded underwear. Your legs felt like jelly and you wanted nothing more than to go to the bathroom and take a shower. You were bent over picking through some hay when you felt two hands and someone's waist pressed against you.

"You did good back there."

You stood up and shifted to look Soap in the eyes.

"Thank you, Johnny, I hope y'all got off at least once?"

You frowned when you noticed both of them staring and shaking their heads.

"Not even once? Didn't even help each other?"

You were shocked, normally when they watch they always get off.

"It's a little different around your fellow soldiers than it is around a civilian."

You raised your eyebrow, "am I not a fellow soldier?"

"You're a combat medic sweetheart, checking a soldier's human anatomy is in the job description."

You scoffed at Ghost's reply.

"Yeah, right. I'll make sure to keep that in mind. Maybe I'll help out Gaz when you two aren't in the room. For his health and safety of course."

Soap breathes out through his nose, his teeth clenched. "Awa' an bile yer heid." Soap scoffed and you frowned.

"Oh fuck off MacTavish, you know I wouldn't fuck someone besides you and Simon without you being there. I don't cheat."

You went to push away from him but his grip on your arms is tight.

"Simon, tell John to fuck off me."

Ghost was silent as he walked towards you two. Waving at Soap who finally let you go. You grumbled profanities under your breath towards Soap who, right now, was the least favorite partner of the two. You turned only to ram yourself into Ghost's chest, holding your forehead where it smacked off him.

"You okay love?"

Soap asked worriedly, you just flipped him off and looked up at Ghost.

"Mmm, why'd you cut me off like that?"

"I'm not sure what you think your doing, we haven't even started."

You went to ask what he meant until it clicked. God you were so sore, you had never taken so many people before and you knew they'd both want a turn. Almost as if he read your mind Soap spoke up.

"Even though you're being a fuckin' brat, we won't both fuck you tonight. You'll get to choose how you want us."

You look over your shoulder, still holding a grudge that won't end until you're blissed out and half asleep.

"I want Ghost to fuck me... and Soap I still want you too... I want you both."

Despite the ache that sentence caused between your legs you knew it was the truth. You could never just take one of them, you'd feel uneven like a bicycle with a flat tire

"Where do you want me then?" Soap asked, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your forearm.

"Inside me, both of you. At the same time. I think I'm relaxed and wet enough for it this time."

You had all tried this once before but you had to tap out with them only halfway inside. Ghost made a sound of disapproval while Soap whooped behind you.

"Bloody hell Simon. Stad a bhith nad fucking chikd"

Soap was on you in an instant, your earlier anger towards him bleeding away as his hands roamed your figure. Squeezing and pulling at your skin before yanking your top up and tucking it back into the front. You shivered against the night chill that swept the barn. Your already tired nipples were hard against Soap's touch. Ghost waited a moment, gauging your reaction before making a move

You reached for him as he unzipped his skull mask, pulling his headgear off fully leaving him in nothing but his black face paint. You tried not to stare too long knowing he would start to feel uncomfortable and you needed this too badly to run that risk.

"Hold on, look at me, Angel."

You felt your knees quiver at the nickname. You did as you were told your eyes searching his face while Soap rubbed your nipples with feather-soft touches.

You bit your lip and tilt your head, "God you're gorgeous, both of you."

You had to take a deep breath to keep from falling, your legs exhausted.

"You feeling okay? We don't have to do anything if you need to rest."

Soap said his fingers stopping their movements. You shook your head, your hair brushing against Soap's chin and cheek

"No I need you, I really really need you."

You could sob at the ache in your core. Your nerves were frayed with all the different emotions running through your body; bliss, tiredness, desire.

You wrapped your arms around Ghost and pulled him in for a kiss, you felt wrists moving at your back and knew Ghost was signing to Soap. Feeling your legs being moved gently by Soaps hands you tried to figure out which direction they were going. You learned soon enough when you heard zippers from your front and back. You break the kiss and looked behind you to Soap

"Wait, I want a kiss when you go in Johnny."

He groaned and leaned in. Your lips were soft against his. You gripped at them both when you felt the tips of their cocks push against your entrance. Neither man was particularly big or had much girth, instead, they made up for it in stamina and how well they moved against you. Breaking the kiss you hugged Ghost's neck. Having to reach up high to get a good grip as they ever so slowly entered you

"Let us know if it's too much." Ghost said, his voice finally showing emotion as it cracked with a sign.

Soap on the other hand was a ball of emotion, praising you the entire time he pushed in.

"Rodger."

You stated softly as you took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. Once they were as far as they could go they started moving. If your body was made for it you knew you'd see a bulge where they moved in you the thought caused you to clench around them.

You buried your head in Ghost's chest as your shoulder moved with your tears. You didn't mean to cry, you weren't in any pain or even upset but here you were sobbing as your two partners thrust inside of you.

"Angel.. hey, Johnny wait."

You raised your hand and waved it, giving them a thumbs up that you were okay.

"No, we need words on this."

Soap started rubbing your temples. You lifted your head and sobbed out a please, "please don't stop, I'm so close."

"But-"

"No, please, please, please. I wanna cum so badly, please don't stop. Simon... John, please."

You were still sobbing as you buried your head back into Ghost's chest. You reach out with both hands, placing them on each of their asses to try and force them to start moving again. It took a minute but they eventually did, thrusting into you faster as they tried to help you reach your high. The slapping of their hips against yours along with the muffled sounds of your sobs were the only sounds in the quiet of the night. Soon enough your sobs quieted as your third orgasm of the night took over, your arms wrapped around Ghost's torso squeezing him tightly.

A few more slaps against your skin and they were both filling you up as well, their cum mixed and slid down your thighs and the lengths of their cocks. After they pulled out you leaned into Ghost, your eyes fluttering as you fought sleep. Soap pulled away from your body and you could just barely make out the sounds of hay being shuffled around.

"Are you okay?"

You nod and yawn, looking up at Ghost with a blissed-out smile on your face.

"Yeah.. y'all were amazing. I love you, Simon, I love you too Johnny."

You sounded exhausted and the two men took notice.

"Let's get you into that bathroom so you can relieve yourself and then first thing in the morning you can take a shower, I'm sure no one will argue with you getting first dibs." Soap kissed your forehead softly

"I don't know if I'll be able to wake up for a first-thing shower."

"That's fine too," Ghost said softly, "No one will blame you for sleeping in, we did a real number in you tonight. And tomorrow we'll talk about the waterworks, but tonight you clean yourself up a bit and come to bed."

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