#john is professionally exasperated

[ineffablesheets]

“i don’t get attached” then gets emotionally devastated when John isn’t home for 30 minutes

[aunhinged]

Johnlock concepts: Sherlock gets tipsy/drunk 03

Sherlock keeps trying to explain deductions but they come out in the form of slurry words, grandiose hand gestures and mumbles;

Sherlock: John, obviously- obvioussssly….the man with the umbrella has- hassss.. an unspoken feud with the barista. I meann look at the foam art. a rageful flower-

John: Sherlock thats a leaf.

[hahaifolded]

Pay Back - John Price x POC!FemReader

Summary: After learning more about John's love life, you are determined in helping John make his ex jealous. Tags/Warnings: MDNI, Fake Relationship, Mutual Pining, Small Age Gap, Misunderstandings, Slight Angst, Cheating (not by Price or Reader), Suggestive Themes, Military Inaccuracies, Sexism, Microaggressions, Cursing, Attempted Assault, Mild Violence Word Count: 4740

“So Cap'n, how come you're not married yet?” asked Gaz before taking the last sip of his beer. After a grueling mission and what seemed like never endless meetings, Price decided to take the team out for drinks at the local bar. But now as the conversation steered towards his love life, Price was starting to regret his decision.

“Leave the man alone,” scolded Ghost.

“Why? It’s a fair question,” whined Soap. They all looked at Price, waiting for their captain’s reaction.

However, before John could say anything, you returned to the table with 5 beers in your hands. “This round is technically on the man in the suit but seeing that I had to talk to him, it’s on me,” you gleamed as you set the beers down in front of the boys. Smiling at them, you plopped next to Ghost, holding one beer in your hand. Gaz and Soap immediately reached for one as the lieutenant nudged you, almost in gratitude. John thanked you for the drink, eyes stuck at how close you sat next to Ghost.

You were the CIA liaison, handpicked by Laswell to work with the 141. Despite being hesitant at first, Price couldn’t be happier with your arrival as you brought a much needed balance to the taskforce. You immediately matched Soap’s and Gaz’s energy, eased yourself in Ghost’s reserved sphere, and made Price’s life so much easier.

But, at the same time you also complicated it as he found himself developing a small crush on you. Instead of acting on it, however, John maintained a level of professionalism with you. First of all, he was your direct superior. In additional, he couldn’t bring himself to rob you of your youth as you were closer to Ghost's age than the old man. And besides, he suspected that something was brewing between you and Ghost with how close you two were and he wasn’t going to get in the middle of that. No matter how he felt, he couldn’t have you.

“So, what are we talking about?” you asked. Ghost tried to change the topic but Gaz beat him to it.

“I was here asking the cap'n why he hasn’t gotten married yet. But your buddy here thought we were doing too much,” informed Gaz with mischief in his eyes. Soap let out a deep chuckle as Ghost let out a disappointed sigh.

“Oooh wait, I want to know the answer, because not to be weird, but you’re an absolute catch, Captain. I’m surprised you don’t have someone waiting for you back home,” you let out. Clearly, the alcohol was starting to affect your self control.

With all the attention on him, John took a swig from his beer for some instant courage. “It’s not like I haven’t wanted to. I just haven’t had the best of luck finding a woman after my fiancée left.”

“What!” you and the boys gasped in unison. Now Price was regretting this whole night. Letting out an exasperated breath, John shared his tragic story.

Of how he was engaged with his high school sweetheart, Anna. How Anna and him planned to get married after his first deployment. But, something went wrong and Price accidentally caused his lieutenant at the time to break his leg. Feeling guilty, he signed up Anna to take care of the man while John and the rest of the team finished the mission. And after a month out in the desert, John came back to find his lieutenant shagging his fiancée. Heartbroken, the now-SAS captain left and threw himself into his work. The last he heard of them was that they got married as they kindly sent him an invitation. Everyone stared at John, in disbelief at his story.

“That is horrible, Cap'n. I didn’t mean to pry. If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked,” apologized Gaz. Soap and Ghost seconded him. Price just sheepishly smiled, assuring them it was fine.

“IT’S NOT FINE!” you asserted as you slammed your beer on the table. Your eyes burned with anger. You immediately turned to the team and waved your arms. “We need to do something about this!” you incredulously announced.

“And I think you need to stop drinking,” said Ghost as he grabbed your beer.

“Back off,” you said as you pulled your beer away. “I say we call Laswell, borrow some nuclear codes, and blow them up!”

“Oh, she for sure needs to stop drinking,” joked Soap. Gaz and Ghost broke out in a deep laugh, amused by your suggestion. You looked at the men with wide eyes, unable to understand why they weren’t ready to start a riot. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe someone could do such a thing to their fiancée and teammate. As a victim of cheating yourself, your heart ached for John.

You turned your gaze to Price and reached for his hand. John felt his face burn as your fingers intertwined with his. You looked deeply into his eyes and shared, “John, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but just know that what Anna and your lieutenant did to you is absolutely unacceptable and if I could,” you paused to take in a deep breath. John couldn’t help but feel shy under your gaze. “I would get revenge for you… just say the word.” Ghost pulled you back, letting you know that was enough.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” admitted Price. As much as it hurt, John learned to live with the betrayal. It wasn’t the last time he would be betrayed so he tried not to dwell too much on it. Sure, it severely hurt his view on romance but he was a SAS soldier for Christ's sake, he didn’t necessarily have time for it either.

Soap immediately changed topics, opting to talk about his recent slew of dates and how each one was a dud. Price tried to pay attention to his sergeant’s antics but found himself glancing at you as you opted to scroll on your phone instead. Whatever you were looking for, you seemed determined.

After half an hour of Soap talking, you started to whisper in Ghost’s ear, shoving your phone in the lieutenant’s face. His eyes crinkled at the corners, a clear sign that he was amused by whatever you were showing him.

“What’s got you two so cozy over there?” asked Soap with a slight lilt in his voice.

“Nothing,” you sang. You looked up at Price. “Quick question, can Ghost and I get next weekend off to go to,” you paused to look at your phone, “Edinburgh?”

“Why?” His heart sank. Maybe you and Ghost were a lot closer than he thought.

Ghost laughed. “Seems like our little spy here found your old lieutenant and ex and wants to pay them a visit.”

“I just want to talk... promise.”

Soap and Gaz immediately grabbed your phone, curious to see the woman who broke their captain’s heart.

“That's her?!" shouted Gaz. He immediately stopped when Price shot him a glare.

“And who’s the man next to her? Her dad?” inquired Soap as Gaz handed him your phone. Price took a peak at it. His eyes widened.

“Nope, I think that’s my old lieutenant. Lt Murphy,” informed Price. He didn’t expect to see his old lieutenant look so sad. He remembered how the man used to exude strength and respect, something that John admired when he was younger. Now it looked like the years finally caught up to him.

“Well, whoever he is, he needs to make his Facebook likes private. It’s clear he has a type,” you added as you grabbed your phone. The man’s account made your skin crawl. You couldn’t believe that such a disgusting man was able to steal your boss’ fiancée right under his nose.

“So what do you say… can we get next weekend off?” you asked again, throwing out your best puppy dog eyes to Price. Your desire to defend your captain was making John feel so good but so wrong at the same time. Ghost was a lucky man.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, you and I have the ball next week,” informed Price. To his dismay, Price had been called to London to be this year’s distinguished guest at the annual military gala. John absolutely hated the event as instead of celebrating the real valiant efforts of soldiers like his men, it was a just a sad dick measuring contest between men who forgot what real bravery was. The only silver lining was his plus one, you.

“Oh fuck, you’re right,” you recalled. You grabbed Ghost by his arm and told him to hold off on the plan which made the masked man chuckle. Price gripped his beer a little tighter to refrain from lunging at his teammate. At least he had you to himself next weekend.

— — —

“I really can’t believe you forgot to pack deodorant,” you playfully scolded your captain. After checking in to the hotel, you and Price made a quick trip to the store.

“Well, we’re not all as sharp as you, love,” he quipped. Love. That got your heart beating. Despite the boys calling you love regularly, it only ever made your heart flutter when Price said it. You knew it wasn't right, but you yearned for the man next to you. No one knew but Ghost who quickly became your confidant. However, you knew that John wasn't interested as he always kept you at arm's length, forcing you to be content with just being his co-worker.

You and Price immediately split up once inside. Price made his way towards the men’s toiletries while you perused the surrounding area.

As you looked at some vitamins, you heard a woman shriek your captain’s name. You peered over and felt your eyes almost jump out of your head. In front of John Price was a blonde woman close to his age greeting him like he was an old friend. But she was nothing close to that as it was Anna, his cheating ex-fiancée. The audacity of that woman as she tried to catch up with John like it wasn’t her fault for why it’s been a “long time no see.”

Seeing your captain look so uncomfortable made you see red. You quickly grabbed a nearby product, switched your ring from one finger to another, and made your way to Price with a plan in mind

— — —

John never wanted to die more in his life. Anna, who was once the love of his life before she discarded him like trash, stood in front of him, trying to make the most awkward small talk ever.

“So John, how have you been?” she asked.

Before John could answer, he felt a smooth hand run around his waist, dropping something in his basket. His breath got stuck in his throat when he realized it was you. You pressed up against him, head on his shoulder. He turned his head to find your face a mere few inches away. You flashed him a wide smile, eyes shining with love and adoration.

“Found what we’re looking for, baby,” you said with a wink. John looked down to see that you had dropped a big box of condoms in his basket. His mouth salivated. You giggled as you grabbed on to his arm, completely attaching yourself to his side. He must be dreaming.

“Who’s this, John?” interrupted Anna. Despite having a smile on her face, her voice sounded tense, almost accusatory.

“This is (Y/N), my—“

“Fiancée,” you finished. You extended your hand out, showing off a ring on your fourth finger. You quickly pulled it back and placed a quick kiss on John’s cheek, further staking your claim on the man. John smiled back as he realized what you were doing. He found himself falling for you more.

“Oh wow, congrats! Can’t wait to get an invite,” quipped Anna. John felt your grip tighten around his arm.

You looked up at John, confusion written on your face. Turning back to Anna, you innocently asked, “I’m sorry, but who are you? I don’t think John’s told me about you.” John knew that hit a cord in his former fiancée as she always needed to be the center of attention.

Before Anna could say anything, a rough voice boomed from the back. “How many fucking times have I told you not to walk away while— John?” John’s day just had to get worse as Lt. Nick Murphy stood in front of him, next to his former fiancée, eyes wide at seeing Price.

“Wow, look at you, you’re all grown up now. Tell me what are you up to these days?” asked the man as he puffed out his chest. With you wrapped on his arm, John felt a burst of confidence surge through him. He straightened his posture and proudly shared his promotion to captain for special forces. John had to admit that it felt good to see his former lieutenant shrink a bit when he said that.

"Good for you, my boy. But I do have to ask, who's the cute thing wrapped around your arm?" he asked all smugly. John didn't like the way he looked at you. John instinctually grabbed your hand and proclaimed you as his fiancée.

"Who would have thought that John Price would have grown up to be a cradle robber?" joked the man. Price felt himself sink a little. Sure, you were slightly younger than the man, but he didn't think that the age gap was that obvious.

"Oh please, I had to practically beg the man to go on a date with me," you defended him with a giggle. Unable to read the room, Murphy continued to small talk and asked what brought you both here. You immediately jumped in and gushed about how your man was this year's distinguished guest at the gala. John liked the way you claimed him as yours. But unfortunately for the both of you, they too were here for the celebration.

"You know what, John? Why don't you and the girl come over for dinner tonight? We're renting an apartment in the city. Anna here can cook us some dinner and we can all catch up over some beers," announced Murphy.

"Fiancée," mumbled John. Pretend or not, he was proud to call you his. You tugged on his arm, similar to when an owner pulls on their dog's leash to stop them from lunging. You laid your head on his arm, waiting for John's response.

John was a good soldier and a decent captain, but when he accepted the invitation, he knew he wasn't a good man.

-- -- --

"Are you sure you're fine with this?" Price asked the millionth time as you reached the London apartment. Dressed in a cute sundress that accentuated all of the right parts, you fixed Price's collar, making sure that your fiancé looked the part.

"Yes, John." You rolled your eyes. "I don't think you realize how badly I want to see you win here," you said as you smoothed out the wrinkles on his shoulders. You had to admit, your captain looked good in a white button up. "And don't be scared to touch me, okay? We really have to sell this if we want to win." John laughed at your words which made your cheeks warm.

"Of course, love." There it was again. Walking hand in hand, you both walked to the door.

"Wait," you said. You unbuttoned the first few button's of John's shirt. "Show her what she missed out on." You couldn't help but feel pride at seeing Price's cheeks turned slightly red. Clearing his throat, John knocked. You immediately wrapped yourself around his arm and pressed a small kiss on his cheek at the door opened.

Anna opened the door and excitedly greeted John. The woman was not afraid to hide her distaste towards you as venom dripped in your greeting. Ushering you both in, you and John found Murphy sitting in the living room, beer in hand, lazily watching television.

"John, my boy! Take a seat. Dinner should be ready soon," he hollered. John took a seat on the recliner as he refused to sit on the couch next to his old lieutenant. Without shame, the old man patted the space next to him, calling you over. Your skin prickled as you recalled his type which you unfortunately fit perfectly.

Before you could deny his offer, John immediately pulled you in his lap. "No need. She already has the best seat in the house." He planted a loud kiss on your cheek. Fuck. You knew John was strong, but feeling him so close further proved the man he was. Feeling tonight's host scan your figure, you settled yourself further on your captain's lap.

"John, I made your favor-- oh. Well look at you, someone got comfortable," commented Anna as she walked in with a plate of sausage rolls. Unlike her husband, she glared at you. You just giggled to further get under her skin.

"Sure did," added John as he adjusted you on his lap. Quickly, Murphy and John engaged in some small talk over tonight's football game. John kept a gentle grasp on your waist, occasionally kissing you on the cheek whenever the conversation lulled. Despite being in the warm embrace of your captain, your blood ran cold whenever Murphy's eyes trailed over your body.

Eventually, Anna called you all over to the dining table as she finished cooking. Dinner started off quiet as the tension in the room became too obvious to ignore. Eventually, Murphy decided to speak up.

"So tell me, John, how did you meet this pretty thing?" You loathed this man.

John choked on his food, realizing that neither of you had settled on a backstory. You could sense your captain's hesitation. Grabbing the hand next to you, you decided to take the lead.

"I know it's kinda cliche but I was actually his assistant," you began. "I tried being professional, but the heart wants want it wants. You guys might understand." Feigning ignorance, you looked past the knowing looks in your hosts' eyes and turned your gaze to Price.

"He is literally everything that a woman could want... kind, strong, resilient... handsome. He turned me down at first as John is nothing but respectful, but now after 2 amazing years, we're set to get married in a few months." You kissed him on his lips to seal the deal.

Maybe it was too much, but if this was going to be the only time you could say he was yours, you were going to fully savor it. Besides it only secured the farce that you two had set up as Anna had a tight smile on her face and Murphy stared at John with clear jealousy in his eyes.

Anna cleared her throat in an attempt to ease her jealousy. "Well isn't that a cute story, right Nick?" Murphy just grunted in agreement. However, Anna was not going to let you have the last word as a smirk appeared on her face. "You know what John, I always imagined you settling down with a girl from back home... you know someone more of your caliber." Your chest tightened. You really couldn't believe the gall on this woman. Before you could respond, John stepped up.

"Funny, I also imagined settling down with someone different, but life has a funny way of working itself out," John said with food in mouth. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. Your heart melted. John really had your back both on the field and here. Anna's face turned red, maybe out of embarrassment or anger. You weren't sure.

-- -- --

Dinner continued with a few jabs here in there from tonight's host, but John could care less. Right now, he was just a man in love, engaged to a beautiful woman. Despite the circumstances and less than ideal dinner companions, John wanted to stay here as long as he could so he could still say you were his. However, his bladder had other thoughts.

Price was set on holding it in, opting to bounce his leg to ease the need. However, as observant as always, you gently laid your hand on his bouncing knee and asked Murphy where the bathroom was.

"Oh, the wife will show you. Anna!" he commanded. John threw you a sheepish smile with eyes asking if you would be fine. After you assured him with a small peck, John followed his ex-fiancée to the much needed bathroom.

Finally alone, John let himself loose. He felt his cheeks warm as he recalled every kiss and touch you two exchanged throughout the night. If the night goes on any longer, John would have no choice but completely claim you. Fuck whatever you and Ghost had. It would just be you and John Price, loving boyfriend, loyal fiancé, and eventually your devoted husband.

John washed those thoughts away as water ran through his hands. As much as he wanted you, he couldn't do that to his lieutenant. Ghost also deserved happiness and there it was incarnated as you. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he found himself suddenly being pushed back. Catching him off guard, Anna shoved him against the sink.

She cried out his name and shoved her face into his chest. "Can we please talk? I hate how things ended between us!" Price couldn't believe this woman.

"Fine, but get off of me," he ceded as he gently pushed her off. Anna wiped her nose and sniffled despite not having a single tear on her face. She took in a deep breath and pouted.

"I know what happened was wrong, but I think I was labeled the bad guy without having a chance to defend myself.”

"Well, I wouldn't call shagging my lieutenant while I'm away as heroic."

And instead of owning up to her mistake, Anna blamed it on John as 'he was gone all of the time.' As John heard the woman's excuses, he couldn't believe that he ever loved her. Now that you gave him a small taste of love, despite it being just a facade, he realized that what he and Anna had was nothing close to it.

Anna placed a hand on his chest, interrupting John from his thoughts. "And now seeing you here as a successful captain, I can't help but feel bad for..." Oh, maybe she was going to apologize after all. "...pushing you into the arms of that slag out there." What. "A man like you deserves a classy woman. So tell you what, I'll come back and we can pick up where we left off." What.

Any affection he possibly still harbored for this woman completely disintegrated. He got in her face. "You watch your mouth," he spat out. "(Y/N) is and will always be a better woman than you. You really think I would entertain the likes of you again when I have literal perfection by my side." Before Anna could rebuttal, a loud shriek followed by a resonant slap rung through the apartment.

John immediately rushed back to find Murphy hunched over, hand on his cheek, and you next to him with your dress slightly disheveled.

"You fucking bitch," roared Murphy, lifting his hand to strike you. John ran forward and pinned the man against the table, holding him down by his neck. His heart broke when he saw tears welling in your eyes.

John looked at you and asked, "What happened?" He tried softening his voice, but he couldn't completely mask his anger. He felt horrible. This was all his fault.

"The fucking cunt here seduced me, that’s what happened," responded Murphy through bates breath.

Further pushing him down, John spat out, "I wasn't talking you." He asked you again. With a wobble in your voice, you shared how Murphy made a move on you. Despite denying him, he grabbed you and tried kissing you. Left with no choice, you slapped him across the face.

"Don't act all innocent. You were literally begging for it all night," fought Murphy. John was in disbelief. Was this really the man he admired all those years ago? Of course it was. This was the same man that stole his fiancée. Ready to pummel his face, he looked back at you one more time and immediately calmed down. You looked so broken. Not wanting to further aggravate you, he steered away from violence... for now.

John lifted up the man and threw him towards his wife. "Honestly, you two are perfect for one another," he spat out, venom clear in his voice. “Two muppets that think way too highly of themselves when they have no reason to.”

He grabbed you by the hand and continued, “you two are nothing compared to (Y/N). I don't even come close but everyday I try to be a better man just for her unlike you two who seem to get worse with every day. Don’t you dare come tomorrow or I’ll promise I'll make both of your lives a living hell.” And with that, John made his way out with you in hand.

“Oh please, who do you think you are?,” accused Murphy, following closely behind.

You turned around. You had enough. With fire in your eyes, you decided to spit back. “He might not be able to do anything but I promise you, I can and will. I have access to enough information to destroy anyone's life, especially low-lifes like yours. So don’t you dare insinuate that either of us are beneath either of you. Because at the end of the day, John is a great man and I am the successful woman right by his side. I know my and John’s worth and trust me, neither of you come close.”

“You bitch!” snarled Murphy as he lunged for you. It seemed that he forgot that John was still an active soldier as the SAS captain immediately threw a punch in his face. Anna rushed to the man as blood gushed out his nose. With that, you and John stepped out of that disgusting apartment.

— — —

The ride home was quiet. The only sign that your captain was alive was the gentle hold that he had on your hand. Occasionally, his thumb would rub your hand but when you would squeeze back in recognition, he would stop. His face was blank. But you knew your captain. He was probably taking the blame for the entire night which was far from the truth.

The ride up the elevator was also quiet. You snapped when it seemed like the walk to the rooms was going to be quiet too.

“Okay John, what’s wrong?”

Silence.

“John, I’m not going to play this game with you. Tell me what’s wrong?”

Price stopped. He opened his mouth but immediately shut it, hesitant to speak

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you pleaded, “John, please, talk to me.” Your captain hung his head down and began to talk.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. I should have known better. They disrespected you and I—.”

You interrupted him. “John, you weren’t the one who disrespected. If anything you defended me and made sure I was okay.” You cradled his face. “So stop blaming yourself for the actions of others, okay?” John grunted in agreement, eyes looking down.

“John,” you warned. He looked you in your eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbled out. You laughed at his boyish antics.

In no time, you both reached your rooms that were side by side. Once inside, John Price would no longer be your fiancé. Before you entered your room, you called for him one last time.

“I just want you to know that I meant every word today. You really are the greatest man I know,” you said with a smile. You wanted to say more, tell him everything, but you knew you couldn’t. This would have to do. With that, you wished him a goodnight and slipped inside.

— — —

John walked in his room with a heavy heart.

Despite your praise, John didn’t consider himself a good man. A good man doesn’t pine after another man’s woman. Ghost truly was a lucky man. John just had to make do with having you so close but so far.

Thanks for reading! — Folded’s Page Guide + Masterlist

Author’s Notes: First ever COD fanfic! Woot woot! I hope y'all enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts! Imma be honest, everything I know about COD has been aquired through fanfic so if anything is wrong, oops. Also if this has been done before, please let me know as I genuinely didn't know.

Also super sorry for the lack of British/ Scottish accent in the characters. Literally have no clue on how to do it!

I'm still a pretty novice writer so advice and suggestions are always appreciated. I plan on writing more COD fics so if you're interested stick around.

[gomzwrites]

*brush dust away* hello hi, just wanted to drop this here, okay bye

Stress Relief

contains smut(18+), minors do not interact

Pairing: John Price x fem!reader

Tags: this is just smut, plot what plot, consent check, nickname used, rough oral sex, cunnilingus, deepthroating, deepthroating with a surprise, praise kink, dirty talk, xfem!reader, use of y/n, mention of female anatomy, use of cunt, established relationship, probably shit grammar and English

Reader's text is in purple

side note: writer is insane, writer also have no idea how to end a smut fic, writer haven't write in forever and decided to do it in a random Sunday morning unprovoked

Something had been bothering Price. Whether it was the ever-increasing pile of paperwork on his desk or that incessant buzz echoing precisely every 7.5 seconds next door, it had been getting on his nerves. 

He released his grip on his hair, ruffling it in an attempt to make it look more presentable. As if the bangs hanging low on his forehead were somehow professional.

“Fuck,” He mumbled under his breath, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows as he lets out a long sigh.

A cigar would have been perfect at this moment. 

Well, it would have been.

The drawers he pulled out revealed nothing but dust; he had forgotten to top up his favorite since the last mission. He grumbled, slamming the drawers shut as he leaned back in his chair. The chair creaked under his weight as he closed his eyes, trying to level this annoyance out of his system. 

Drowning himself in work could help, except that's what he had been doing for the past six hours (or more—time was a figment of imagination at this point with the overwhelming tasks at hand). Another long sigh escaped him, less frustration and more exasperation.

The door opened, and he didn't even need to lift his head up to know who entered.

Bad timing. Or perhaps, great timing?

“Someone’s grumpy today,” She mused, patting off the dust from her pants as she leaned over the chair and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Not a good time,” he mumbled back, sighing as he gestured to the desk filled with papers, as if that were the cause rather than the visible annoyance signaling his state of mind.

“You ever had a good time when you’re in the office?” she replied, spinning his chair around to face him, smiling as she tilted her head towards him.

“You forgot, didn't you?” He raised his brows, watching as she gently nudged the lower drawer with her right foot, knowing where his cigars were. He sighed and nodded in acknowledgment, the lack of the familiar scent of tobacco in the room probably gave it away. 

“How ‘bout tea? Did you even eat anything?” She asked, turning her attention to the reports on his desk, bending forward to grab a few papers and reading them. Price observes, eyes tracing her curves as he hummed.

“Not really hungry,” he croaked out, sounding more strained than it needed to be.

She picked up on it, of course she did, glancing at him over her shoulder as she remained bent on his desk, eyes staring at his blues as she whispers. 

“Perhaps you’re hungry for…something else…” she whispered, an offer. 

He debated on whether he should give in, it’s not unusual for their exchange to end in heated kisses and lingering marks. 

She helped him decide, turning around and getting herself on his table, crossing her legs as she reached her leg out, resting her heels on his thigh, just barely brushing against his length that was already half hard. 

“Should have a proper meal every day, Captain,” she smirked, trailing her eyes over his pants and up to his face, seeing the way his beard shifts.

She liked seeing the effect she had on him.

“Telling me how to eat now, darlin'?” he moves closer, rousing up from his seat, grabbing her foot in the process and conveniently prying it to the side.

“Spread yourself for me”

A blush spread across her cheeks as something coiled in her belly, nodding as she does as he told.

“Atta, girl….” he grumbles, slotting himself between as he reaches out to run his finger over the back of her head, leaning in to kiss his forehead. A small moment of softness, before his hand gripped on the strands slightly, forcing a gasp out of her. “Take it off”

His palm rest beside her thigh, eyes never leaving hers as she takes off her pants as quickly as she could, the fabric drops to the floor with a soft thump.

“Fuck, look at you,” he purrs, running his knuckles over her panties. “Already so wet for me, huh?” he chuckles low, pressing the nub as she jots, a small moan leaving her soft lips, lips he devoured before she could reply.

“I would’ve rub it real nice and slow to see you squirm under me, but not today” he mumbles into her lips as he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting their lips.  “Today….I need to have my meal, like what you said, hm?”

He growls, sitting back on his chair as he holds her thighs and places it on his shoulder, his hot breath fanning against the soaked panties, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue on it, feeling her stifled whimper as her hands reach over to grab his hair.

“Hands to yourself, y/n” His voice is muffled, but still heavy with the authority that makes her head go dizzy, letting go his strands as she shifts, resting it on his desk instead. 

“Good girl…”

That earned a finger swiped over her sex, rubbing that sensitive lil clit before he slides the panty off, bunching it into his pocket as his finger glide along the folds, easing it to open for him as she smirked.

“Such a pretty lil thing, you’re practically glistening, eager much are you?”

He mumbles, felt like that was meant for her cunt instead of her, pushing in his finger lazily, before pulling it off to lick the juices off, sucking the slick from the skin.

Her legs spread wider, hips moving closer to his lips, needy. He suppose he’ll let it pass this time, pressing his tongue on her entrance finally, lapping loudly around the folds, hungry for each drop.

She bites back a moan, gasping and whimpering as his head dive deeper between her legs, his lips wrapping around her clit and sucking gently, before nibbling on it, pulling back enough to make her moan out with a choke. 

“That’s it, come on, let me hear all your pretty noises, luv” His hand raked over her thighs, squeezing, groping as he eats her out like its a fucking fine cuisine, savouring and letting her leak all over him. His chin, his lips, his beard. God he loves it because the smell lingers. It drips onto the desk, he tsk-ed slightly, pulling back as he heaves, glancing up to meet a pair of glossy eyes and that beautiful blush. 

“Lay back”

He encouraged, haphazardly pushing away the documents, with some even tumble over and scattered on the floor, not that it matters for now.

“Price–” She whispered, laying on the desk before she gasped, back arching as he gets back into it, latching onto her clit as he groans.

“Can’t get enough of you, sweetheart,” he rasped, working his tongue and protruding into her hole, feeling the twitch of her thighs closing onto his head.

He smirked, feeling slightly proud as he tongue fucks her, pulling out more mewls and moan from her.

All for him.

He would lose track of time, hell, he would spent his time between her legs forever if he wanted to. Addicted to her taste, her skin and those moans.

“F-fuck– Price– please…”

The knot felt tighter by the second as her head swims, she couldn’t tell what was more turned on for her. The vulgar, downright sinful sounds of her pussy squelching or the way Price moans around her clit, the vibration making her nerves go haywire. A lil bit of both she reconned.

Price knows she’s close with the way her thigh tensed up, her sound growing in volume and quantity, and the incoherent babbles of his name and "please".

“Come for me, want to see you come undone with my tongue alone, y/n” She lets herself go, with a long moan of his name as her thighs tremble and tighten around his head, it was electrifying, seeing whites in her vision as she heaves,

“P-Price–” She pleads weakly, attempting to move his mouth away from her pulsing pussy, begging him to let go, but the grip on her thigh proves the attempt futile as he makes no intention to stop, tipping her over to the next orgasm without pausing. 

She’s not sure how much time has passed, and how many time she came, but eventually when he did, his beard was absolutely drenched, and that smug face he has says it all.

“Think that was enough to keep me going for the week,” Clicking his tongue, he leans down to kiss her, letting her taste herself from his lips, it’s sloppy and slow, downright messy as the kiss becomes open mouthed and uncoordinated.

“Gonna break my cunt one of these days, you fokin’ monster…” she pants slowly, glaring at him slightly as she was still recovering from the shattering experience, grazing her lips on his cheek.

“You haven’t–” “Mhm” 

She sighed, resting her head on the desk as she calmed down, he loomed over her, just taking in the view of her afterglow, letting her catch her breath until eventually hearing her speak again. 

“Gonna let me help you with that?” she teased, hands reaching down to nudge his bulge, straining against his pants as he groaned.

“And how are you going to do that?” he asked back, lips twitching into a smile as she tugs him closer. “Could use my throat…” “Can’t promise I’ll be gentle, dearie” “Then don’t be…”

That earned a growl, she hear his belt clink apart as he rounds the desk, pulling her head to rest at the edge as he heaves, sliding his cock across her face, the precum dripping down and smearing her cheek as she blushes.

“You know what to do when it gets too much, do you?” He rasped, waiting for her to reach out and tap his thigh three times.

“Good girl…now open up for me” He coos, pushing himself into her wet mouth with a grunt, feeling the wet heat of her mouth tightly enveloping his throbbing cock. “Fuck…fuck– so good for me…”

He talks her right through it, easing her into him as his pours endless praises.  

The rhythm he set was slow, before eventually the pace increases, the vibration of her moans against his cock spurring him further, submerging himself fully as she gags, pulling back to let her breathe for not less than 3 seconds before he repeats the process. 

“So tight” he growls, laced with a small hint of desperation.

“Fuck, could see the bulge of my cock from this angle you know that?” his hips jerks slightly harder to make a point, feeling her squirmed, her shaky hands reaching up.

He half expected her to pull him away, it has been a while for their session to be on the rougher side, what he didn’t expect was her hand wrapping around her throat, pressing against his cock through the skin as he moaned.

“Shit– y/n–”

Her finger added another layer of sensation, the grip making his head spin as his hips thrust into her neck, it felt way too good.

“Fuck…do it that way yeah…yeah oh god–” The sound of panting and grunt mixed with gags filled the room. Her eyes closed as she tries to breathe, the combined motion of his cock deep in her with the grip on her own neck making her head spin, slightly uncomfortable with how wide she was stretched out, and yet she wanted more.

The next time he pulled out, her face heavy with drool and his slick, she whined at the loss, pulling the hem of his pants closer to her.

“Easy…easy y/n...” He chuckles breathlessly above her, running a thumb across her lips as he sighs.

“Just, give me a sec….nearly blow a load right there,”An odd sense of pride swells in her, to see him, the untamable Captain catching his breath because of her.

“Please,” she pleaded out, voice already long gone as she tugs his pants again.

“I know I know…I’ll give it to you, okay?” He coos softly, easing the tip back to her mouth, then back out again as he laughs slightly, seeing the huffs and frown on her flushed out face.

“So impatient…”He mumbles quietly, but lets out a guttural groan when he slips it in all the way, his member pressing at the back of her throat. 

The pace returns, with Price bringing his knee up to the table, diving deeper into her throat as he moans.

“Do the thing again…come on”He taps her face twice, her eyes opening as she reached up her throat and press, making both of them groan in unison.

“Shit…so close–” His voice comes out ragged and short, thrusting in short jerking motion as he groans, she arches her back once more, causing the bulge to be more obvious as she rubs the length on her neck, hearing the muttered curses from him as her eyes roll back.

“Coming–”

He rasped out, bottoming and coming ropes of white into her throat as he lets out a silent moan, keeping it there before feeling the taps on his thigh, immediately pulling back with a lewd pop as she swallows.

“You with me, sweetheart?” He whispers, brushing her hair away, hands sliding down to her cheeks, warm and burning as she offers a weak nod, smiling lazily as she licks the last bit of cum off his cock still resting on her face. 

“Minx” He chuckles, slowly pulling her up, hooking an arm around her leg and carrying her to the couch, placing her on his lap comfortably as he hummed.

“How’s your throat…” He whispers, kissing her neck softly as she shivers.

“No–” she gets into a fits of cough, Price patting her back to soothe it.

“Not great,” she chuckles, her voice was far gone that’s for sure.

“Sorry”

“Don’t be”, she smiled reassuringly, kissing his forehead. She rests against his neck, feeling his arms wrapped around her as she melts into the embrace. They lay comfortably, just breathing slowly as they let their nerves die down.

“Where the hell did you learn to do that, huh?” “Somewhere” “Real specific, y/n” “Well you liked it, didn’t you?” “Prob’ won’t stop thinking about it, fucking hell…” “Mmm, that’s all I need to know” He chuckles, nibbling his ears as she giggles.

“Thank you, appreciate it you know” “Anytime, John” “Anytime?” “Oh fuck off, can’t go another round man”

They laughed, and the conversation ends with a few more meaningless exchange, eventually ending with a small nap on the couch. 

❛ ━━･❪ ✿ ❫ ･━━ ❜

a/n: Im away I've been away for a very long time, but I decided to share this smut fic heh, reblogs are appreciated

[kuninkaanmurhaaja]

Crystalline (3)

mwIII zombies au ghoap, hurt/comfort find part 2 here ---------------------------

"Alright, Lieutenant Riley, let's see..." the nurse started, looking over the clipboard in her hand. The anticipation as a short silence settled in the room was eating away at Simon, and especially John. Poor Scot was worried more than he let on around the nurse. "From what our researchers have gathered from a sample we took off of you, these crystals seem to be a result of the infection, yet... it's not turning you into a... zombie." She paused and thought her next words out carefully, "Not that you're exactly immune, of course, you just seem to have an odd reaction to it that we haven't seen in anyone yet." Simon nodded along, understanding what she meant, but that didn't give him an idea of the future. How this was going to affect him further than it already has and if it'll, well, kill him. John seemed to get to the talking before Simon could even get his mouth open, "So what does this mean fer him? Can he still even work? Is this going to kill him? It better fuckin' no, I swear on every last one of yer goddamn scientists they better figure this shite out. I'm no letting him die on my watch." The nurse seemed to take this as calmly and professionally as she could. She let out a short breath, replying slowly, "Sergeant MacTavish, trust me they're doing everything they can to understand why he's reacted this way, but it's not easy. We barely even understand the virus itself." She sighed, glancing at her clipboard, but continued, "In the meantime, we'll have to keep him here for testing. I'm sure you understand." Even Simon himself seemed opposed to the idea of being kept in the infirmary, prodded and tested on. That much was clear from his face. He immediately protested, and so did John. They argued there was some way they could do their testing and allow Simon to stay in John's company and do his work. The nurse tried to reason, but ended up with just a compromise, knowing she won't get through to the two men. "Alright! We'll take samples and while the researchers do their tests, Riley can keep doing his work. I know you don't exactly trust us, MacTavish, so when we get results you can be here with the Lieutenant as we read them out to him." She pinched the bridge of her nose with an exasperated sigh. Gathering herself, she set the clipboard down and leaned against the table, crossing her arms and finally coming to the conclusion of this visit, "Lieutenant Riley will have to stay on bed rest as his injuries recover, the gas did some damage to his lung that need time to heal. I'll be going, but you're allowed to stay with him, Sergeant." With that she took her leave and left the two in silence. ---------------------------

I don't really like this but i needed to get something out, and sorry for being gone for so long, I was having really bad mental health issues and needed to take care of myself for a while, but here's part 3. As always, tips and suggestions are welcome. <3

[deancasbigbang]

Title: The Things We Leave behind

Author: Briston

Artist: Merv (fruitmixtape)

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Cas

Length: 52000

Warnings: minor character death, discussion of historical child abuse, substance use disorder.

Tags: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Divorce Arc, Bad Parent John Winchester, Alcohol Abuse, Rehab, Discussion of Cheating, Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Recovering Alcoholic Dean Winchester

Posting Date: October 31, 2023

Summary: Cas has been getting progressively worried about Dean’s drinking for a while but mentioning it only causes tension in their marriage. The sudden death of Dean’s father brings everything to the breaking point. After a particularly bad fight, his husband seeks solace in whiskey and flirty women in the aftermath. When Cas finds out, he decides he’s had his fill, packs his bags, and leaves. Sam lives in California and has built a career as a well respected addictions counselor. When Cas calls to tell him that Dean is missing on a bender and their marriage is likely over, he drops everything to come to Kansas to find his brother. Dean clearly needs help. Sam convinces him to go with him to California and go through a rehab program. Dean only agrees because Cas refuses to have anything to do with him unless he stops drinking permanently. If he can't, their marriage is finished. Along the way, Sam and Dean discover that their father left them with more than just painful memories of a traumatic childhood. Their half-brother Adam might be exactly who they need to help pull all the fractured pieces together. Cas is giving Dean one last chance to turn things around. Nothing is easy, but maybe it’s still worth fighting for.

Excerpt: “You know the only difference that would have made was that you would be as miserable as he was.” Cas grabbed both of their toothbrushes and toothpaste from the ensuite bathroom, tossing Dean’s his way. “I could’ve tried harder to get him to quit, go to rehab or something.” The toiletries went in the bag with some deodorant, a flannel, and some denim. He shot Cas a dirty look when he heard him huff in exasperation. “How many times did you ask him to quit? Remember when Sam flew in for an intervention? He’s a professional addictions counselor and the only thing that happened was that Sam flew home with a black eye and a refusal to ever come back.” “That’s just because they’re too much alike and can’t stop themselves from fighting.” Dean was starting to raise his voice. Cas wasn’t having any of it. “No,” he knew he sounded snarky as shit but was so very tired of having the same argument about John Winchester’s parenting skills. “It’s because your father is a narcissistic asshole with undiagnosed mental health issues that he self-medicates with whiskey.” Dean walked around the bed to where Cas was and grabbed his arm. The grip wasn’t rough but it wasn’t gentle either. His green eyes were anguished and pleading.   “Don’t say that, he could be dying right now.” Somewhere deep down Cas knew he should be feeling guilty about just how little empathy he had for John right then. He’d feel more compassion for a complete stranger than he did for the man who had hurt Dean again and again, both as a child and as an adult. He felt a small flash of resentment at having to defend Dean from his own negative thinking. “It was always going to be this way with him, Dean. Every counselor you’ve ever had has told you the same thing for years. You are not responsible for fixing him. Don’t kill yourself trying to be accepted by someone who doesn’t even deserve you.”

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[noforkingclue]

The Body in the Library Chapter 3 (Sherlock Holmes x reader)

“Hmm,” you muttered as you pushed the door open, “very interesting.”

“Everything alright, dear?

You glanced up at Mrs Hudson and gave her a bright smile. She handed you a cup of tea which you took gratefully. You sat back against the wall and stretched your legs out in front of you.

“Just doing research,” you said, “and realising that I might need to change a plot point.”

“And what might that be?”

You gave Mrs Hudson an unimpressed look.

“Now then, you don’t expect me to reveal all my secrets before the book is published?” you asked

“Maybe just a small hint,” she said, “I am letting you practise-”

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

You glanced over and smiled at John. Sherlock ignored you, as usual, and you tried to trip him up as he walked past.

“Oh I do wish the two of you would get along.” sighed Mrs Hudson

“Not going to happen.” you said and held your hand out to John who pulled you to your feet

“What are you doing here?” asked John as you followed him up the stairs to his and Sherlock’s flat

“Mrs Hudson is a fan,” you said, “ended up meeting her after my first run in with Holmes. If there’s something I need practising, like in case lock picking, she lets me do that here! All she asks is a few tidbits of my next book in return. And maybe a mention or two.”

“And why exactly are you here?” asked Sherlock

“I wanted to find out if you’re making progress on my case.” you replied, collapsing into one of the armchairs and throwing your legs over the side of it.

“Boring,” said Sherlock, “dull. Wasn’t even worth my time going.”

“Then why did you?” you asked

“Because John kept pestering me.”

“I did no-”

“You’re kidding me.” you said, exasperated

“No.” Sherlock said, his back facing you as he looked out of the window.

“Ugh,” you threw your head back, “I dragged you all the way over to my flat for what? Fucking waste of time.”

“Like most of the things you do.” replied Sherlock curtly

“Lots of people would disagree with you,” you snapped back, “then again this is clearly too complicated for you.”

You gave John a bright smile and swung your legs off of the armchair.

“I’ll leave it to Scotland Yard then,” you called over your shoulder as you headed towards the door, “they’ll probably have more luck with it.  If you can’t even solve a simple murder, which I even wrote and solved, what hope is there?”

In a flash Sherlock was in front of you. You raised your eyebrows and smirked up at him.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, “and it isn’t going to work.”

“Then let me pass,” you said, putting your hands on your hips, “I have more research to complete.”

“You mean more locks to pick.”

“Practical experience is always the best.”

“Then find somewhere else to do it.”

“Why can’t I be here? It’s a free country.”

“You distract me.”

“Sorry Holmes, I don’t feel the same way.”

“Then leave.”

“No. Mrs Hudson allows me to research here and she makes a good cuppa.”

“Fucking hell,” John practically slammed down his newspaper, “do you two want me to leave?”

Both you and Sherlock looked over at John in confusion.

“No.” said Sherlock

“It’s your flat,” you said with a shrug, “well, yours and his.”

“Well I thought you two might want to be alone.” said John

“And why the fuck would I want to be alone with him?” you asked

“My feelings exactly.” said Sherlock

“Oh no,” you said horrified, “you’ve got us agreeing on something John. Lets just,” you waved a hand and walked away from Sherlock, “get back to the matter at hand.”

You collapsed back into his chair and rested your chin on your hand. Sherlock glared at you but didn’t make you move from the chair. He probably knew that you wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

“So Mr Genius,” you said, “what can you tell us about my dead body?”

“Late thirties, professional, married but is having an affair. No children although he wants them. He feels trapped in his marriage and feels like this is how he can take control,” said Sherlock, rolling his eyes, “obvious stuff.”

“Well, yes,” you said, exasperated, “I knew that already.”

“How-” said John

“My book,” you said, “fits the description of the first murder victim exactly.”

“Wait? First?” asked John, “Are there going to be more?”

“Obviously.” said Sherlock

“Three people died in this book,” you said, “so there’ll be two more victims.”

“No.”

Both you and John looked over at Sherlock. He was facing the fireplace and ran a finger along the mantlepiece.

“So you do know my books.” you said

“Mrs Hudson took my skull,” Sherlock commented, “and John’s going off to work soon-”

“Fuck, I’m going to be late.”

You winced as the door slammed shut.

“So you want to bounce ideas off of me?”

“No but I’m stuck with you.”

Sherlock looked down at you and you crossed your legs and smirked at him. He just rolled his eyes and sat down in John’s now empty seat.

“So,” you said, “where do we begin?”

“Your editor.”

“Matthew? Why.”

“Because he knows your books.”

“As do I.”

“Yes but there’s a difference.”

“Which is?”

“He’s not you.”

“Ah. Different perspective?”

“No. He just might have some semi intelligent opinions.”

[theliterarywolf]

Sorry I’ve gotta pop in one last time on this Viv/Lackadaisy controversy (because yesterday was the first I’d heard of it). I feel like an exasperated mother because I’m looking at these two indie animation projects (Yes I’ll still consider Viv indie even with HB being picked up), and going “You little shits, you are literally all you have! You only have each other to watch out for you!” Support each other so you can share your audience and not rely on studios! APES STRONG TOGETHER!!! (1)

Like regardless of how much popularity Lackadaisy has gotten, it will NEVER be on normie levels of popularity like Walking Dead or GoT. These indie projects need to reinforce each other and not create needless drama. They don’t have the financial means/reputation to start slap fights just because you don’t like each other. And for what it’s worth, I think Viv’s donation was from a place of genuine love for other creators (I’ve seen old comments from her on other people’s animatics).

Bwuh, bwuh, but..! Viv is a meanie-poopie face who, because she didn't know proper time-management early on in HB's first season, is literally worse than John K.'s left testicle, tho..!

I fucking hate how so many people behind indie productions just can not break away from middle school-level drama and realize, like you mentioned, that they are all going up against major studios and companies that have more fiscal and legal backing than they ever will.

And this isn't to say that everybody in the Indie space has to be Kumbaya Fingerblasting each other; no! There are going to be people that you just don't like/don't enjoy working with. That's an inevitability in this world. But a professional who has the success of their project/organization in mind and has some God damn socioeconomic maturity knows how to be civil.

Here's an example: at my new job site, they employ the RCA House System. This whole time leading up into new staff members being sorted into houses, I had it in my mind 'Please, God, don't put me in the house with the two annoying motherfuckers on-staff' But I still did my work, was cordial to said two annoying motherfuckers, and was civil.

...Lo' and behold, I ended up getting sorted into the same house as those two annoying motherfuckers but do you think I'm going to be bitchy about it or go on social media to complain and bring a negative light to my team? NO! Because the image and success of the school year is more important than whatever banal issues I may have with the two in question.

And that's the sign of being a fucking professional.

And with the Donation Kerfluffle, I will always remind people: it wasn't just Viv donating: it was several people at Spindlehorse, including Viv, who pooled money together to give to boost another Indie Production because it should be a case of everyone supporting each other in the face of an indifferent/dying industry. So it was from a place of well-meaning and the claims of 'oh, Viv just wants her name on everything' is... so dumb.

[kiseiakhun]

"Kyle," John says when Kyle flies into his office, which are just his living quarters on oa converted into a cubicle, but bigger. "You have-"

"Tits," Kyle says, framing his - her - his chest, fingers digging into the soft mounds of flesh protruding obtrusively through his paper thin uniform. Jesus, it really doesn't hide anything. "They're tits." He lifts them and lets them drop. They're not big enough to jiggle but they still - bounce. In the air.

"I see that," John says faintly, and somehow his voice remains level. It takes far more concentration than it should warrant for his gaze to remain professional when his eyes slide down, from Kyle's... chest, to his belly, to the newly protruding curve of his hips. "... why."

"Magic," Kyle says, sounding aggrieved. He pushes past John's door and looks around the room, hands on his new hips. "You still don't have a bed?"

"This is my office," John points out.

"This is your room. For you to crash in. You don't need an office. None of us need an office. Why don't you just build a new office, if you want one so bad? Mogo would let you." Kyle glances at the only other chair in John's office (room), unvarnished, uncushioned wood, and constructs an elaborate claw-footed loveseat to flop dramatically in. His tits jiggle with the movement. Maybe John should start wearing a mask, too, to make his staring less obvious. "I need a drink."

"You co-own a bar," John says, and then asks, carefully, "is the change permanent?"

"God, no." Kyle pushes his bangs out of his face and sighs, sagging further in his unnecessarily elaborate seat. "Can you imagine? I think Hal would go berserk."

"What does Hal have to do with-" John starts, and then stops. "You let him fuck you."

Kyle stares at him. He lifts his mask to make his staring more apparent, his big eyes looking softer, more rounded, narrowing in bewilderment. "Seriously?" he asks. "How the hell did you-" he makes a sharp, exasperated gesture with his hand. "It was freaky enough when Guy did it."

"Guy, too?" John lets a little judgement slip into his voice. Just a little.

"Don't you start with me." Kyle straightens up, dropping his mask back on his face like a suit of armor. "First, I need a drink."

"You co-own a bar," John points out, again, patiently.

Kyle makes a disgruntled noise. "Buy me a drink, John. Can't you take a hint?"

"You're not actually a girl, you know," John says, even as he's getting up from his seat and following Kyle out of his office (living quarters), valiantly keeping his eyes above Kyle's expanded backside, which was already plenty big to begin with.

"So what?" Kyle peeks over his shoulder. "Do you only show chivalry to girls now?"

John flies closer to him, putting a hand on his lower back. Kyle's skin is so warm, it's like he's not wearing anything at all. "What you need isn't chivalry," John says, leaning close like he's whispering a secret.

Kyle actually stutters in his flight, nearly making John smack into him. He rights himself in time, looking down at Kyle's pink-tinged ears as Kyle clears his throat. John's hand looks bigger now on Kyle than it did before. The... transformation... really did wonders on his ass. "Tell you what," Kyle says, interrupting John before he can do something inadvisable, "if you're better to me than Guy or Hal, I'll let you be as chivalrous as you want before this," he gestures at himself, "wears off."

John hums consideringly. "That's hardly a challenge."

"Right," Kyle says. "Then you should have no problem." He pulls back and looks at John through the blank white eyes of his mask. "Too bad you don't have a bed."

And he winks. John doesn't know how he knows Kyle is winking behind his mask, but he knows. He winks and then reaches down to take John's hand, thoughtlessly linking their fingers together, and continues towards Warriors with a cheeky swagger in his flight path.

Fine. John will play along, for now. Kyle is obviously enjoying the attention his temporary transformation is begetting him, and John might handle himself with more decorum compared to some others but at the end of the day he's still a man. With the ass like the one Kyle is sporting now, he can probably talk John into anything. He can ask John to paint his skin red and pretend to be Sinestro and John will go along with it and he will only feel a little ashamed of himself until he-

(Focus)

Forget about Hal. John feels like he might go insane.

"How long did you say this would last, again?" he asks Kyle.

"Dunno," Kyle replies. "Could be a week. Could be two."

A week. A fucking week. Or maybe two.

Maybe he should get a bed.

[ineffablesheets]

John: Casually goes out to the shop for milk, returns to find sherlock has built a small lab in the living room

[aunhinged]

Johnlock concepts: Sherlock gets tipsy/drunk 01

John’s trying to help Sherlock walk straight, of course, Sherlock keeps insisting he’s perfectly fine to do so on his own.

Spoiler: He is infact not fine

Sherlock: I am not stumbling, John. My body is merely... readjusting to the curvature of the earth. Do keep up.

John: Sherlock, you just tripped over your own scarf.

[gumnut-logic]

Virgil huddled on the couch wrapped in a blanket.

The house was quiet and dark, which was appropriate since it was somewhere around three am. He wasn’t entirely sure the exact time since it was depressing to look at a clock.

He’d been staring at one for far too long already.

The only light in the room was a combination of moon through the overhead rafters and the light from his tablet.

The only warmth was the mug of hot chocolate that was keeping his hands warm.

It was ridiculous really. Because it really wasn’t cold. He had no doubt that if he looked at the temperature gauge, which sat beside the clock, he would discover a number like twenty-one degrees Celsius.

But he was still cold.

As if to emphasise the thought he shivered, almost spilling his hot beverage.

It was one of those nights.

A night where doubts crept in. Where thoughts that had no rational foundation crawled up his spine and ate his brain.

And then the dreams claimed him.

You would think a good fifteen years would help heal an incident from that long ago. But no, the ice was still there, still trapping him in his nightmares.

An exasperated scoff at himself and he put down the drink before he spilt it. He pulled the blanket tighter and revelled in the darkness that hid him from everyone.

But then if he wanted to hide, why was he in the comms room? He could be tucked away in his bedroom and no one would know. If he stayed here, sooner or later, a brother or other family member would trot past and start asking questions.

Perhaps he both did and didn’t want to be found.

Guilt hit him. His brothers didn’t need his crap. They really didn’t.

All the Tracy brothers had their late night demons and they really didn’t need him adding to their worries.

He made to get up, pulling the blanket even tighter.

But he didn’t.

And hated himself for it.

He was supposed to be the strong one. Supposed to be the steadfast rock in a storm. Why was he sitting here shivering when he could do something about it like bury himself in work or a hot shower.

The hot shower had worked so many times before.

But the truth of the matter was that he wanted his brothers.

So why wasn’t he knocking on Scott’s door? Or talking to John?

Because they had their own problems. Both needed their sleep more than Virgil needed them.

He shivered again.

The moon felt like cold fingers on his skin.

He should return to his rooms.

His eyes caught the shadows of the portraits on the walls, cast almost monochrome in the moonlight. He had painted every one of them, ever so proud of his family. Alan stared out at him impishly and Virgil wondered if his littlest brother had ever noticed that Virgil had given him two different coloured eyes. Not intentionally, and it was very subtle, but Virgil knew it was there.

Just enough to reflect the John and Scott adoration in his smile.

Gordon’s portrait was ever the professional. Virgil had been so proud to paint him after that long and agonising time they had thought their fish brother may never join them in International Rescue. There was so much determination in those brown eyes, so much strength. Virgil felt so much for his little brother.

Ever so much.

And this was why he wasn’t asking.

They didn’t need his crap.

Scott’s painted eyes accused him in the dark.

As for John, Virgil could feel his eyes from orbit. Eos would have tracked him stumbling from his rooms down to the kitchen. Would have noted the lack of light. The sensors in his clothes would have reported his agitated heartbeat.

She would wake John the moment anything went awry. A single beat out of sequence and he would have his entire family narrowing in on him.

It was both reassuring and a little terrifying.

But it gave him an out if he needed it.

If he really wanted his brothers, if he wanted to talk, any of them would be there. He knew this.

But he couldn’t ask.

It wasn’t fair to them.

Annoyed with himself, he grabbed the hot chocolate off the table and guzzled enough to pool heat in his belly.

A figure leapt over the back of the couch and landed beside him.

“Hey, Virg.”

Hot chocolate was inhaled and Virgil found himself coughing. A hand patted his back as he desperately tried to clear his airways. “Gordon, what the hell?”

“You know you’re s’posed to drink that, not snort it.”

Virgil glared at him in the darkness at that non-answer. “What are you doing here?”

“My squidsense was tingling.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, I needed to pee.”

“There’s a bathroom in your suite.”

“Aaand I think John left some of the cake from dinner in the fridge. I was on a mission to acquire it. But then I saw my favourite heavy lifter shivering on the couch and I detoured.”

Virgil swallowed, the need to deny everything on the tip of his tongue, but he was suddenly engulfed in a very enthusiastic hug. Arms and shoulders ever so built up from years of swimming and his brother’s slight weight pinned him where he sat, the blanket tangling enough he couldn’t really do anything.

It was both annoying and a relief.

“Gordon? What?”

His brother’s answer was muffled in Virgil’s blanket.

“Can you breathe?” Could Virgil breathe? Those arms were stronger than they looked.

A muffled ‘I’m good’ was the only response from Gordon as Virgil sat with a fish clinging to him like a limpet but unable to return the expression.

And Gordon was much more patient than Virgil would normally have given him credit for because they sat like that for what seemed like ages.

Eventually, Virgil had to relax into his brother’s hold because if he tensed any further, he might have broken something.

As if that was what Gordon had been waiting for…and it probably was…his brother’s arms loosened and his head came up. Eyes barely catching the moon’s reflection gazed at Virgil worriedly as if looking for something.

“Gords, what?” Virgil cleared his throat as that had come out far too hoarse for comfort. His brother still hadn’t entirely let go.

“I’m not going to ask if you are okay, because you’re obviously not.” Those eyes continued to search. “What do you need?”

Virgil blinked. “What?” He still really didn’t have an answer. Or maybe he did and just didn’t want to face it.

Gordon seemed to know exactly what Virgil was thinking and it was incredibly confronting. Virgil wriggled where he sat and Gordon let him go.

Virgil missed the contact immediately.

Gordon was still staring at him.

Another moment.

“Okay, this needs the big guns.” Gordon reached for his collar and Virgil’s eyes widened.

“N-“

“Eos, we have a V alert. Total darkness, shivering and very little response. Launch protocol.”

The AI’s crisp ‘FAB’ only widened Virgil’s eyes further. “Gordon, what are you doing?!”

“What obviously needs to be done.” With that, he grabbed Virgil again and literally snuggled up beside him. “Reinforcements are on the way.”

“Reinforcements?”

As if summoned, two other pyjama-clad brothers barrelled into the room at a run. One stopped and stared at Virgil, while the smaller one just kept going and took a flying leap over the lounge and landed with a woomph beside him. Alan, because it was Alan, then burrowed into Virgil’s side like some kind of cephalopod with just as many arms.

He was very warm.

“What? What are you guys doing up?” Scott’s hair was skew-whiff and sticking up like the wind was blowing from the left.

Alan was wriggling. “Gimme some blanket, I’m cold.”

Well, that was a load of bullshit, because Virgil could feel the heat radiating off his little brother through said blanket. But Virgil was his big brother and his response was automatic. A shift off the lounge and somehow or other he suddenly found two younger brothers wrapped in the blanket with him.

It was very, very warm.

A steaming hot fresh mug of hot chocolate appeared in front of him, a marshmallow floating idly. Where did that come from?

The hand holding it belonged to Scott, of course, and he was crouching down with a concerned smile on his face.

One of the lamps flickered on, a Gordon shaped hand reaching out from under the blanket to do so. The soft light lit everything up ever so gently and added to the warmth welling up inside him.

Virgil took the mug, its steam dancing above it in silvery swirls.

Four other mugs appeared and Scott was sitting on the floor beside Virgil’s legs.

His hair was still sticking up.

“John’s on his way down.”

Virgil blinked. “Why?”

Scott snorted. “You think he would miss out on a V protocol?”

“What the hell is V protocol?”

His big brother glanced up at him, but didn’t say anything. He did smile, though. A hand reached up and squeezed Virgil’s knee.

As promised, a dopey looking John appeared a few moments later. He was dressed in the necessary casual wear that helped him with gravity assist, but his hair was worse than Scott’s. One half of his usually swept fringe was sticking out at a sixty degree angle in the complete opposite direction. It looked like he was sporting an antenna.

By that time, the holoprojector had been flicked on to some random sea monster movie. Consequently, Science!Gordon was completely deployed. The blanket he was now sharing with Virgil was wrenched back and forth as he complained about marine animal inaccuracies and no, sharks did not do that? “Can you believe that, Virg? It’s an outrage!”

Virgil just stared at his little brother. John pulled up his share of the floor beside Scott and Virgil’s other leg and held up a bowl of popcorn.

Where the hell had popcorn come from?!

It was caramel flavoured.

Of course, the moment an alien appeared in the movie to tackle the giant sea creatures, a debate between Alan and Gordon fired up either side of Virgil.

It got quite loud.

Someone squeezed his knee again.

And Virgil found himself blinking. A lot.

But he was warm.

Ever so warm.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighed and let all his muscles relax as the noise flowed over him.

Ever, ever so warm.

-o-o-o-

[quite-right-too]

AskBox Ficlet

Prompt: Their first proper serious fight as a couple. Thank you @rainingfishandfrogs for the prompts!

The change from having all of time and space at his disposal to being thrown into domesticity was like whiplash to the Doctor.

Sure, he had joked with Rose on the Sanctuary Base about having a house with carpets and a mortgage — however this wasn't exactly what he meant. It was so long ago, but he still remembered the end of that conversation like it had happened yesterday.

"Not to end up stuck here."

"Yeah, but stuck with you, 's not so bad."

But now he's human — well, part human — and he's living in a flat with windows and carpets and neighbors. He had to get a name, a job, and official paperwork indicating that he was, in fact, a normal living person who had documentation from the entire life on this planet. Legally, he was John Noble who worked at Torchwood, thirty-one years old from London, and just a normal bloke.

It was awkward the first night, Rose needing to get reacquainted with her Doctor. They talked and laughed and cried as everything from the past four years spilling out. He told her about the Master and the Year that Never Was. The trip on Midnight. Meeting Agatha Christie and William Shakespeare. The Titanic crashing through the TARDIS itself. She told him about her ascent through Torchwood. About the main working on the Dimension Cannon. About the alternate universe where he died.

They went to bed together, the Doctor holding her in his arms while they drifted off. Not once did he let her go. The bliss of being together again was better than he had ever felt before.

It took a week before they had their first row.

"How many times have I told you to have someone with you when you if you're going into active gunfire!?" The blinds were drawn and the door was locked as Rose screamed at the Doctor in her office. "Do you know how much trouble you could've gotten yourself into!?"

The Doctor scoffed. "I knew what I was doing, Rose," he remarked as he sat in her chair, propping his feet up on her desk. "I'm sort of a professional at this."

"That's not what this is about," Rose said, exasperation evident in her tone. "You didn't even ask for backup. You just went in without a single care in the world!"

"Because I can handle myself, Rose! I've faced armies of the likes that nobody here has ever seen. I was a soldier," the Doctor spat. Standing up, he pushed the chair away and leaning over the desk, his nails digging into the wood.

"And I am your commanding officer!" Rose yelled, going nose to nose with the man in front of her. "You may be the Doctor, but I run this sector of Torchwood and you still need to respect my authority when we are on the field! I can't believe you had to be so bloody reckless!"

The Doctor's breath hitched, teeth gritting as he lost control of his very-human temper.

"I was the lone survivor of the Last Great Time War — a war that lasted four hundred years before I ended it! Not just the Time Lords, not just the Daleks, but so many more. The Skaro Degredations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-have-been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres!"

"I know about that, Doctor!" Rose's fists were clenched at her sides, her voice beginning to shake. "I knew what I was getting into when I chose you. I know your past, your pain, and I love you regardless!" Tears began to trickle down her face as she fought to keep her resolve.

"I can't lose you again."

Send me a sentence prompt and I’ll write you a TenRose ficlet!

[authortobenamedlater]

OK, S2E1 deep dive.

Going under a cut for anyone who hasn’t blocked the “halo spoilers” tag.

At first I was huffy that we aren’t going to get anything about John and Cortana, but my drama gut says the show will revisit this in the second half of the season after Reach. Bigger problems right now. Still going to write my version of their untangling. Cause this is really the Chief & Cortana show for me.

Is it me or does John look oddly pale and skinny in that scene?

Vannak the animal lover has me 😍 He is exactly who I wanted his post-pellet self to be. I want all the Spartans to be big goofy nerds. John has the grapple shot I loved from Infinite.

I am probably the only person who noticed this. But the phraseology in the opening scene is much crisper than last season. It feels a little more professional to have Chief and friends calling each other “Silver [number]” in the field instead of using first names like they’re playing tag in the schoolyard.

The planet named Sanctuary. “Find your faith, Spartan. I have seen your death. It comes soon.” ????? HOW SOON IS SOON, SHAMAN-LADY? That’s not really the point, though. The point is, I reserve the right to use this to fuel my “What would happen if four Spartans walked into a church?” curiosity.

I did not miss the St. Christopher medal and Corporal “I’m a Baptist” either.

John’s visible-through-the-helmet exasperation with the communications team is so endearing 😂 I love him asking Talia’s name before they start fighting. It feels very true to his game self, somehow. The cloaked elite fight is downright chilling.

Admiral Keyes, still sporting only four stripes, seems remarkably hamstrung and dissatisfied with the state of things, validating my headcanon that he avoided promotion because he didn’t want to deal with political BS. The Spartans’ BDUs or whatever they’re supposed to be are way better than last year’s, which looked like they were made of slinkies and styrofoam.

Ackerson is creepy and slimy as heck. His interactions with John? CREEPY. SLIMY. What even IS Ackerson anyway? Everyone calls him “Mr.” except Cortana (more on her in a bit) who addresses him as Colonel Ackerson. Is he still military? Reserve, maybe? Why is he calling ONI “the O-N-I”? Does anyone do that? Is the show ever going to tell us what ONI is? And why a colonel is in charge of it now? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE.

Oh yeah and Ackerson is “taking over for Dr. Halsey”? Um, where is Miranda?

Because Halo is The Chief & Cortana Show, I will take this opportunity to point out John’s “they took her out—it” line. He is NOT over Cortana by a long shot. Ackerson knows that, and he’s going to wield it like a broadsword.

Ackerson does seem to be the only person around here who has the guts to call John on his insubordination, though.

Madrigal is glassed. So…that portal is a non-thing, I guess? Mr assures me the portal could survive if Madrigal was a shield world, but it feels a little like a cop-out. “People didn’t like Madrigal? Oh, it’s glassed. Nothing to see here, move along.”

All is not well on The Rubble. Some shifty-looking guy claims to have seen Halsey. Soren is not listening to his wife, which rarely ends well. Laera’s attitude is a pretty big shift from last season. Soren my friend, this should clue you in that something is up and your wife is your early warning system. Kessler is going through a moody teenage phase about five years early. And Kwan is there, hunkered in a cave. How? Why? Does Soren know about this? I’m confused. I still love Soren and Laera, though.

All your “are there other Spartan teams” questions answered! There is at least one other: Cobalt Team. COBALT TEAM. COME ON, PEOPLE. Riz and Karim were a thing once upon a time, maybe? John and Val obviously have some rapport. Kai and the other blond look like they’re trying not to laugh at each other. I can’t help noticing, for all their talk about pellets, Cobalt doesn’t seem as robotic as Silver did early on. I can’t ever imagine the Silver Team we met in the very first episode bantering like this. Anyway, I want Cobalt to take out their pellets so we can have emotion-fueled chaos. After Reach gets slagged, of course.

John goes to what looks like the Coruscant lower levels and visits…an AI/VR brothel???? “Welcome back, customer” He’s been here before?! ANYWAY he thinks he wants to talk to Makee, but his “visual parameters” look very much like Cortana. John’s “there’s a part of me that’s missing, and maybe it’s part of you that embedded itself in me” line. Yes, that’s Makee, BUT IT IS ALSO CORTANA. She took part of him when their connection got severed. John is just in denial about how much he misses his holographic waifu. I will die on this hill.

Kwan talks about “the monster” in her ending epilogue. What monster is “older than your god” and can take away anything you love? The Flood? IS KWAN TALKING ABOUT THE FLOOD I NEED ANSWERS EVERYONE.

E2 tomorrow, hopefully!

[quordleona03]

Your favourite rarepair in MAS*H - elimination round four

I am sorry, but we say goodbye to Bigelow and Kelly here - they got only four votes out of the 20 voted. But this means we are down to the last two rounds, so each poll will not last a week.

Will it be Father Mulcahy and his lovely Jewish paratrooper rabbi?

"Well, there's Captain Epstein. He's a very fine Jewish chaplain. We went through indoctrination together. Lovely fellow, Eppy. Water-skier, paratrooper. A bit meshuga, actually."

Will it be the two Boston boys, meeting either at or after the 4077th - two big tall men from different sides of the tracks, united by a love for Hawkeye Pierce and for surgery?

Will it be the exasperated professional and regular military officer Margaret Houlihan and the single-mother-for-two-years and in dire need of The Feminine Mystique, Margaret-known-to-her-husband-as-Peg Hunnicutt? How will you decide? Reblog with your theories in tags.

[riszellira]

Reflection: Wisdom for All Seasons

All the “sitting and yelling” in the “marketplace” reminds me of the social media scene in the Philippines, particularly before election season, in particular the last one. Seated before their keyboards and gadgets, cyber warriors of the two major camps were literally and figuratively hurling insults and invectives at each other. Both camps were not beyond the trick of “impression management” replete with all possible tricks, including the use of image manipulation.

The reactions and comments of trolls and bots were exasperating, exactly in the same way the children in the marketplace were lamenting and complaining to each other that they were not behaving according to the rules of the follow-the leader game. One side was supposed to pipe tunes; the other to dance. One group was meant to wail and the other to weep. No such thing apparently happened.

An old movie based on a play about St. Thomas More portrayed the saint as a man for all seasons. He was a loyal subject of the king, a patriot, and a model citizen of the kingdom. He behaved professionally as Lord Chancellor. But he, too, was a loyal Catholic, who knew where his loyalty to the realm ended and where his allegiance to the Church began. He played by the rules. But he did so knowing full well that there were rules that no human authority could ignore, bypass, or change for the convenience, need, or whim of any human person, including his boss, the king.

And that was when all the sitting and the yelling began. The equivalent of the hostile humor directed at both John the Baptist and the Lord started churning. John’s image was reduced to one controlled by a demon and the Lord was dismissed as a glutton and a drunkard. We need to be men and women for all seasons—for God, for truth, come hell or high water. That is wisdom that even children can teach us.

~Fr. Chito Dimaranan, SDB

Will you stand up for the truth, even if you are persecuted in modern times, like being bashed online?

Grant me Your grace, Lord, to be courageous at all times to fight for truth, for You. Amen.

Prayer

… for a deep and profound respect for life, especially for the unborn.

… for the strength and healing of the sick.

… for the healing and peace of all families.

Finally, we pray for one another, for those who have asked our prayers and for those who need our prayers the most.

GOD BLESS!