#kyle's face game is EVERYTHING

[sun-ni-day]

NCIS: Origins 1x03 Bend, Don't Break 1x04 All's Not Lost

[crownconstellation]

frey and lest confirmed 20+ solely because frey got wine with her face on it. sorry i know i literally just posted about it but i Cannot stop thinking about the frey wine

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-three —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. harm to a child. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

Alexandre is not as susceptible to pain.

The guard outside his home didn’t register his death, not with Ghost as a shadow at his back. One wrench to his neck, and Kyle plucked the key off his corpse, gently opening the planked door. As the three of them swept the inside, you and Ari hoisted the body in. A sudden crash of breaking glass and the sounds of a struggle made it clear—they got Alexandre. He must have woken up.

But restrained to a dining chair by chains from the slaughterhouse, all he offers up is a bloody tooth on the floor—nothing about Blue or the weapons.

"Brûlez en enfer, pécheurs!"

Ghost snarls and tears a fistful of hair from his scalp. Alexandre only spits more blood, teeth clenched.

"He's wasting our time," you mutter, dread curling in your chest. A glance at the window—the sky could turn deep purple any second. You touch Ghost's elbow. "We should just look for—"

"He'll talk."

Ghost draws the knife. He drives his knuckles into Alexandre’s mouth, smothering the scream as the blade severs his pinky. Blood spills over raw bone. Finally, he writhes—eyes rolling back, knees violently shaking.

"Tell us where everything is, or these go next," Ghost snaps, holding up his middle and ring fingers.

He pulls his fist from his mouth. Alexandre sputters, lips twitching from the pain. Under his breath, he groans, "Sal... Mon enfant."

"What is he saying?" Kyle presses.

Ghost positions the knife at the next digit. "Speak up. English."

Alexandre's eyes threaten to close. He whispers something quieter—

"Salome?" you speak up.

His eyes snap open at the name.

You lower beside Ghost, leaning closer, your eyes darting over his swollen face. "Salome. Your 'enfant.' The child is yours, isn’t it?" A flicker of rage flares in his nostrils, and you quietly press on, "You must be worried about her. She was tending to us, you know. Don’t you want to know if she lives? It'd be a shame if she doesn’t. She was so excited for the baby, especially after losing the first one in the winter. I’m guessing that one was yours, too." You let the words hang, then wet your lips, feigning consideration. "The thing is, it’s been a long night. My memory’s hazy. Can’t recall if I slit her throat or not, but I do remember her begging me to spare her—for the child’s sake."

At this, he jolts. "Tu fais chier—"

Ghost covers his mouth.

You keep your voice smooth. "Maybe if you tell us where the girl and the weapons are, I’ll remember. Otherwise, he’ll kill you, and you’ll die not knowing."

The silence breaks as Ghost drives the knife into the base of his finger. Alexandre grits out, "The girl... I don’t know where my mother kept her. But if sunrise is near... She could be at the chapel now, to prepare."

The one you saw? "How many chapels are there here?" you ask.

"Only one for... offerings."

You glance at Ghost and whisper, "If we can find the road, I could get us back to it."

He nods, not looking away from Alexandre. "The guns," he says. "Where are they?"

"I can... show you."

"You're not showing us shit. Tell us exactly where to find them."

Alexandre holds his gaze. "I could tell you wrong, yes? Waste your time. Or I can show you, and you can kill me if they’re not there."

"Don’t let him play games, Simon," Price calls from behind.

Ghost exhales roughly.

Alexandre looks at you. "But you must tell me of Salome first."

"She's alive," you tell him. "But if you don’t show us where the guns are, it’s not just you who will die."

The chains bite into his wrists as Ghost yanks him up by his soiled lapel. A pistol pressed to his temple, Alexandre stumbles forward, his feet dragging over the corpse at the door before leading you outside. The moonlight feels sharper, casting shadows over the pitted ground as you step carefully beside him, scanning the area. No more alarms yet. But when the guards change shifts, that won’t last.

No one speaks as he leads you around the pasture and barn, toward the back, where the silhouette of a small shed takes shape in the darkness. As you near, a three-tuned call cuts through the air, beckoning Alexandre's gaze to the sky, a soft murmur escaping his lips: "La tourterelle chante pour toi."

"Shut up."

Ghost strikes the back of his head with the gun to silence him.

You stop in front of the shed. It is only just bigger than the one you used to sleep in.

"Is this it?"

"Yes," Alexandre nods. "Inside."

Kyle is the one to kick open the door. As expected, the smell of rusty metal hits your nose as you take in the clutter of rakes, shovels, and scythes. There is a wheelbarrow against the wall with nothing inside but residual soil. No weapons in sight.

Ghost cocks the pistol. "You're fucking around with your kid's life—"

"Under the floor," Alexandre flinches, then juts his chin at the planks of wood, "The extra guns, ammo. It is under there."

Ghost shoves the gun into Kyle’s hand. Without hesitation, Kyle takes over, keeping it steady as Ghost drops to his knees, running his fingers over the floorboards. A sharp knock—hollow. He drives his knife between the slats and pries them open.

The unmistakable glint of metal catches your eye. Rifles. Green and gold cartridges, too. Ghost inhales sharply, tearing up more of the floor. Price moves in, yanking out boxes, sorting through the ammo they need to load up. You linger by the door, glancing back over your shoulder. The guns are yours. Now, you'll need to find the chapel. Maybe Blue isn’t there yet. Maybe you can get there first.

Lost in thought, you almost miss it—that softly cooing dove, the kind you used to wake up to in England. Again, Alexandre mutters in French beside you where Kyle quiets him with a shove at his shoulder. Then you detect a shift in the air—no, you squint and realize it is movement in the grass by the barn.

Alexandre suddenly shouts, "La tourterelle chante pour toi!"

The echo of his words is followed by the crack of a pistol. Kyle’s shot strikes his head, and his body crumples at your feet.

You whip around, panic flaring in your chest as you look at Ghost. "Someone was there. He said something to warn them. They're going to wake up the others!"

Ghost's glare snaps towards Kyle. "The gunshot probably already did."

Kyle releases a growl. "Fuck, I didn't think—"

"Take this," Price interrupts, throwing a loaded rifle at Kyle. 

For you, Nereida, and Ari, a small handgun.

But by the time your finger seeks out the trigger, you hear a myriad of voices shout from the barn.

B

Blue sits at a small table. Across from her is that old woman, eating silently. Only the sound of metal on ceramic, and gentle chewing, fills the dining room. Blue's teeth mechanically grind a tart, red berry into pulp, then let it slide down her throat, her eyes never leaving the white plate. On the faintly reflective surface, a years-old memory blurs into focus.

She sits in the back of her dad’s truck, her small hands folded in her lap. The air is thick with the smell of cigarette smoke. Her eyes are fixed on the passing buildings and people, the streets beginning to feel unfamiliar. Then, her dad mutters something low under his breath, the tires screeching as he sharply veers into a petrol station.

He unbuckles and slams the front door, moving quickly around the truck to help her out. "Come on, kid," he says quietly, lifting her up gently before setting her on the ground. Her hand slips instinctively into his.

"Don’t look at anyone," he mutters as he tugs her toward the small food mart.

"Why, daddy?" she whispers up at him.

"Because I said so."

"Why are we here?"

"I need to get something."

"What for?"

The silence stretches between them, and a cold knot of fear tightens in her stomach. He doesn’t answer, and she can’t remember how they got here. She had been in her bedroom, where her mother had told her to stay. There was shouting through the door before it flung open, then her father grabbed her, and suddenly, her mom’s voice faded behind them.

Her father guides her through the aisles, pulling items off shelves. She tries not to look at the old man nearby, her eyes fixed on the hem of his jacket, her fingers nervously tugging at it.

"Why isn’t my mum coming with us?" she asks.

He doesn't answer. They move to the cash register, and after he pays, they head back to the truck. Her eyes sting. She rips her hand from his and shakes her head, her voice breaking.

"I want to go back, daddy."

"You're not going back."

"I want to!"

He kneels in front of her, gripping her chin as her tears spill. A woman filling her car glances over, and he lowers his voice so only she can hear. "I know you're scared, but listen to me, Amelia. Remember that game we play? The one where the bad guys are after us, and we have to get away from them?"

She nods weakly, tears streaking down her face.

"What do we call each other when we play that game, baby?"

"Blue and Ghost," she answers, her voice small.

"Right. We’re playing it again, okay? But this time, it’s not a game. Right now, you’re Blue, and I’m Ghost. You listen to everything I say so I can keep you safe. Do you understand, Blue?"

She struggles to breathe.

"Tell me, do you understand?"

"Daddy, I—"

"No. Not daddy. Ghost."

"Ghost... please, I want to go home."

His voice repeats her new name, over and over, as he shakes her chin, and she cries harder. She looks over at the woman filling her car as she fades into something strange—milky eyes and grey skin—and when Blue looks back to her father, he’s gone. All that remains is the white plate, stained with red raspberry juice.

"Blue."

Blue lifts her gaze, her eyes locking on the old woman across from her. The woman's leathery skin shifts to grey in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. She chews a berry slowly, takes a sip of milk, then speaks. "Tell me. Why do you call yourself this?"

She struggles to pull her voice to the present, looking back at the plate and quietly answering after a moment, "It is... it is the name I've used to survive."

"You are a strong girl, that much is clear," Maman compliments idly. "But sometimes, God does not want us to fight. There is strength in acceptance."

When breakfast is finished, Eloise brushes her hair until it’s buttery soft down her back. Then, they leave. Blue smells the dew on the grass, her toes curling in her shoes to endure the pain of keeping up with them. No matter how lightly she spreads her weight, the wounds split wider, blood silently squishing beneath her soles. Any blood she left behind would be invisible in the dark, but Ghost always noticed things she never could. She picks at her fingernails as they reach a road, which reminds her of when they were walking through, seeing a few abandoned cars left at the sides.

They walk for some time until she smells the Greys. The rot is pungent in the brisk air. Then, she hears the low hum of hymns coming from a small building—a church. She only knows this because of a deep memory with the old woman she called grandmother who used to take her to one. The stained glass glows faintly with dim golden light inside. They approach the large door, and Blue stands outside it, her knees trembling, but her shoulders managing to stay upright.

Maman glances down at her, hand resting on the door. "In God's presence, Amelia, there is no need to survive anymore. You will accept his punishment—and his forgiveness. Tell me, do you understand?"

Blue grits her teeth.

The voice edges softer. "Do you understand, Amelia?"

"I understand."

Behind her, Eloise takes hold of her wrists and ties them together with what feels like prickly twine.

The door creaks open under Maman’s push, revealing rows of pews and cold stone walls. Blue swallows hard, tasting her own heartbeat in her throat as she takes in everything she can before stepping inside. The narrow aisle spills out into an altar, where the same two Greys they muzzled the other day are chained to the floor, their snarls and moans adding a discordant layer to the throaty hymns echoing from the right side of the church. There, the veiled women sit, their heads bowed. On the left, the men. A bony hand presses at her back, urging her forward. Through the fog of fear, she counts them: just three men, plus Pierre—the one from before—standing beside the leashed Greys.

The lingering scent of old blood mixes with the fresh, sharp tang of melting candlewax. Her footsteps are small, barely making a sound against the stone, and the pain seems to fade into nothingness, until she misteps around a scurrying rat. A sharp pang burns through her foot, forcing her teeth to grind. Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn’t let a single one fall, her focus locked on her surroundings. The flickering candles on the altar, the glint of Maman's knife as she unsheathes it, the flicker of hunger in the endless moans—each step draws her closer to the Greys.

When she finally stops, she stands between them, the chains and muzzles the only thing keeping their mouths from finding her flesh.

As Maman begins to murmur in French, a fleeting thought crosses her mind: Can her mother see her now, dressed in a beautiful gown, having grown into her features, even though the shape of her face still carries the strength of her father's? Can she see the fear she can no longer contain, spilling into violent breaths that tear through her chest?

"Venez vous nourrir de sa chair pure, et en retour, bénissez-nous avec plus de nourriture pour l'hiver et des bébés en bonne santé pour vos nouveaux peuples."

Beneath Maman's words, Blue hears something. A distant, piercing sound that reminds her of a gunshot.

Dad?

She glances at the door, then at the faces around her, but no one else seems to have heard it.

A cold hand snatches her arm, the unwounded one, and Blue whimpers. Then she is turned around to face the pews.

"Une coupure pour les faire festoyer!"

The knife draws a matching cut, the release of blood making the Greys jerk within their restraints.

A man stands and unlocks one Grey's chains, while Pierre handles the other. The screech of metal cuts through the air, and with a shout, the creatures are freed. Blue’s heart slams in her chest. Maman's low, cruel laugh reaches Blue's ears just as she drops to the ground and scrambles backward, bumping into the altar and making it rattle. She screams when rotten hands clamp around her ankles—instinct taking over. She wriggles free of her blood-soaked shoes and kicks them as far as possible toward the people in front of her.

The shoes hit the ground with a quiet squelch, and the Greys snap toward them, momentarily confused by their scent of blood. A veiled woman screams, her dress now stained with a red footprint, and the other women scramble for the door as the Greys hurl through the aisle. In that fleeting moment of distraction, Blue pushes herself up, hands shaking as she clutches the twine binding her wrists. She holds it over the candle, praying the small flame will burn through it.

"Come on, come on."

Just before the twine can snap, a hand yanks at her shoulder to spin her around.

"Stupid girl!"

Blue growls like a cornered animal and spits into Maman’s eyes. Sneering, Maman slashes the knife across Blue’s cheek, sending fresh blood down to her lips. The Greys, no longer distracted, screech as they again zero in on the scent of her bleeding wounds.

Through the pain, Blue strains with all her strength, forcing her wrists apart until the charred twine snaps, freeing her hands. Maman grabs her by the dress, but Blue blindly reaches for the only thing within reach—the candle—and jams the burning wick into the old woman's face.

"Fuck you!"

It is enough to make her writhe in pain, giving Blue the opening to snatch the knife from her hand. With a wrecked cry, she stabs the old woman’s throat, then kicks her in the stomach just as the Greys reach them. Maman’s mouth lets out a final gurgling, blood-soaked cry, and Blue watches, panting hard, as the Greys grab her and tear their teeth into her torn neck. 

"Maman!"

Pierre shouts, rushing over. 

Blue bolts away from them, her soaked feet nearly slipping. She shoves a screaming woman out of her way near the door and bursts outside into the breaking dawn. That's when she hears more gunshots, clearer in the open air, and spots a distant plume of smoke. Without hesitation, she runs in that direction.

T

The first round of gunfire kicks up dirt at your heels before you can even react. Ghost yanks you into a sprint, pulling you away from the shed. Men pour through the barn’s back door, giving chase. Somewhere in the chaos, you hear Price’s voice barking orders, his gunfire answering theirs—but there’s no time to look over your shoulder. Ghost grips your elbow and drags you behind an old tractor, shoving you into cover as bullets whizz through the air.

The others tumble beside you, Price forcing Nereida's head low behind the large tire. 

"There’s nowhere else to take cover," Kyle curses. He and Ghost peek over the tractor, firing off shots, but the sound of pounding boots grows closer. There are too many of them, and not enough time to stop their advance.

You swallow hard, heart pounding, and risk a quick glance around the tractor’s hood. The haystacks are right there, and you remember how dry they felt around your ankles when you covered the corpses. You grab Ghost by the wrist and pull your mouth to his ear so he can hear you.

"The hay is flammable—can you light it somehow?"

His jaw sets in understanding when your words register. He closes an eye and redirects his aim, instead firing rapidly at the base of one of the stacks. Stray sparks leap into the air, and for a moment, your stomach sinks when nothing happens. Then, the straw catches—one spark, then another, and the flames grow fast, swallowing vegetation along the ground. Thick, black smoke whips into the air.

"Il y a putain de feu!"

"Let's move!" Ghost shouts.

You're running again, using the distraction to your advantage, the veiled hood flying off your hair. The sudden silence in the gunfire gives you a moment to look around, and with a rush of terror, you realize that a sliver of sunlight has crept over the horizon. The sky above is no longer the pure black of night. 

"Simon, we have to get to her!"

"Where's the chapel?"

"I don't know! I-I need to see the road to find it."

The farm stretches out in every direction, the lack of light making it hard to see anything far off. You stop for a moment, trying to orient yourself. Maybe if you could just—

Another shot hits the ground, close enough to feel the heat on your toes. You barely catch a glimpse of the men still chasing you before a cloud of smoke bursts from the ground. It’s not from the fire he started—it’s a smoke bomb, just like the one they used to disorient you the first time.

The smoke stings your eyes and lungs. You clamp your mouth shut to avoid breathing it in.

"Drop to the ground!" Ghost growls in your ear, loud enough to hear over the gunfire you can only hope is coming from Kyle and Price. 

You obey, hitting the ground hard with his arm firm around your waist. He grips your dress, guiding you as you crawl through the smoke’s underbelly, where the air is clearer. Down here, you can see just enough to navigate forward, the blind gunfire whizzing harmlessly overhead. But as Ghost hauls you to your feet, a new panic grips you—you can no longer see the others.

"Where are they?" 

Through the tears in your eyes, you can't make out anything past the smoke at your backs. 

"Price can handle it. Come on."

For a brief second, you hesitate, torn between ensuring they’re alright and following him—but the encroaching sunrise makes the decision for you. There is nothing else you can do but keep running, hoping something will look familiar as you weave between nothing but stalks of wheat and the small homes. You’ve gained enough distance to escape their line of fire, and when you look back, the flames by the barn seem to have stopped swelling, but that is all you make out before something rams into your side.

"Femme pécheresse, regarde ce que tu as fait!"

The stray guard wrestles your body to the grass, a blade at your throat slicing a shallow welt into the skin, but he is ripped off you within seconds. Ghost breaks the man's neck, steals the pistol from his belt, then tosses it to you. He takes your free hand to help you up, and only as your finger smoothes over the trigger do you realize your other gun is gone.

He turns to keep moving, and part of you wants to sob in rage that you still don't know if you're even headed the right way. Then you see it—something in the grass. You grab his hand. "Look there. What is that?"

His gaze follows yours to the distinctive red stain embedded into the ground. Faint, but there. He leans down to touch it. "It's fresh."

"It could be hers, Simon," you urge.

He stalks forward, fingers hovering before pressing into a faint footprint. "It's her size. This way."

Blood smears lead you to the main road, and your chest tightens at the sight of the cars. This was the route through Fleurbaix. You recognize it. You scan both directions, spotting a white BMW in the distance—a flash of memory.

"I peed by that car. The chapel’s over there," you say, pointing to the stone roof barely visible ahead.

The sudden pierce of a scream confirms it.

B

Blue barely manages to get far before the sound of booted steps echoes behind her. She flits her head around in panic, ducking beneath the first car she sees and holding her breath. The distinct rustle of chains, accompanied by a snarl, unfurls her eyes. She glances up into the warped side mirror of another vehicle, catching sight of a cloaked figure. That man who'd helped Maman—Pierre—is looking around, one of the Greys in tow, its muzzle back on.

"Come out, petite fille. You cannot hide from a démon. Not when your smell is so strong."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she uses the sleeve of her dress to soundlessly wipe her bloody cheek as if that might help but pitifully realizes her feet and arm are even worse. The movement causes her bare foot to dig into a sharp rock, and she bites her tongue hard to keep from crying out. The footsteps halt, then switch directions.

When the Grey lunges toward the car, Blue leaps out and runs blindly, adrenaline pushing past the dizziness. Pierre shouts and follows, the Grey leading him, its draw to flesh tracking her even as she tries to weave behind the rose bushes. Spotting a tree, she glances over her shoulder one last time before hugging the narrow trunk and using all her strength to climb. What’s usually easy becomes a struggle as pain shoots up her legs when her feet try to find purchase on the bark. Her grip slips, and she falls hard onto her back.

Before she can lift to her elbows, a frothy mouth leaps in front of her face. She screams, writhing beneath the muzzled Grey, as Pierre hovers over her. "You could have earned God's grace, but instead, you killed her." Bitterness laces his voice. "Maman would want you dead, no matter what form the offering takes."

Blue tries scrambling backward, but a boot steps on her freshly cut wrist, twisting around and effectively pinning her. She chokes on a sob, fingers trembling in the dirt below her. The man reaches down to unscrew the muzzle, and in this moment she prays to whatever stupid god there might be, that Ari was right, that being eaten fully is better than the infection from a mere bite. 

She screws her eyes shut, bracing for the pain, but instead, her ears ring from a sharp sound. A weight crashes down on top of her, and when she opens her eyes, she wonders if she’s been drugged again. There, in her vision, is her father—his bare torso covered in blood and grime, his face contorted with rage as he shoves Pierre into the tree.

"Blue!"

It’s Twix. She shoves the Grey’s corpse off of Blue and scoops her into her arms. Blue freezes, unable to return the hug, her gaze fixed on her father as he rips a knife from his belt and stabs it into Pierre's hands, pinning them above his head to the bark. 

When Pierre tries to kick him, Ghost shoots both his knees. 

"Seigneur, s'il vous plaît, épargne-moi dans l'au-delà!"

The plea is choked off as Ghost rips the lower mandible free, the jagged bone tearing through flesh, leaving the tongue to flop uselessly, twitching and gasping for air. Twix's arms tighten around her, urging her to hide her eyes within her neck, but Blue keeps watching as Ghost snarls rabidly, finishing the kill by slamming the butt of his rifle into Pierre's skull, caving it in with a loud crack.

Only when he turns around, shoulders heaving, does she realize it’s truly him—and not a dream. He kneels on the ground, and Twix releases her into his chest, the solid feel of it absorbing the tremors that wrack through her limbs as she cries. Ghost cups the back of her hair, and despite the pained breath in his chest, he lifts her up, clutching her close. Her nose presses into his neck, struggling to breathe as she inhales the scent of him. 

"D-daddy," she croaks.

"It's me, it's me."

"I-I'm alive."

Something raw pushes through his teeth. "Fuck—you're okay, baby girl. I'm here. I've got you. I've got you." His fingers tighten against her scalp. "Hold tight to me. I won't let you go this time."

"Sal... My child." "You're a pain in the ass—" "The turtle dove sings for you." "The turtle dove sings for you!" "Come feed on her pure flesh, and in return, bless us with more food for the winter and healthy babies for your new people." "A cut to make them feast!" "There's a fucking fire!" "Sinful woman, look what you've done!" "Come out, little girl. You cannot hide from a demon. Not when your smell is so strong." "Lord, please spare me in the afterlife!"

[lxvvie]

Call of Duty, Father's Day edition:

Just fatherly things, or how you honor the men in your life on this special day.

Capt. John Price - Price never asks for much, just your safety and happiness, but the kids wanted to give him presents for Father's Day, so you do. A new hat that looks like all the others but more expensive, a new mug for his tea, and kisses galore on his chonky cheeks. What more could the Cap'n ask for?

Gaz - Kyle just wants to hold his family in his arms, so he does. He didn't think he'd make it back in time to be here with you guys but he did and he's so damn happy. Now he and the little ones can get caught up on the latest gossip.

Alex Keller - It's not too often that he gets to do this. You all enjoyed his favorite breakfast with him: a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's worth the sugar rush you know Keller and the kids will experience afterward.

Soap - Soap's been meaning to help his girls with their cheer practice so you honor him by... letting him be the bottom of the pyramid. With his cheer uniform on. And Whiskey keeps licking his face. You took a photo and he'll never live it down. The wee ones laugh every time.

Ghost - The Missus™ achieves his dream of sleeping in today with his girls right beside him. There's Simon, his big arm wrapped around his kids who're cuddled up against him, and Pup by his feet sleeping peacefully. He'll wake up to a wonderful gift courtesy of his girls: a pink shirt that says Princess Daddy in glittery letters across the chest, and it's adorned with a tiara, too? Missus Princess Daddy™ is life, Simon. You cannot escape it lmao.

Alejandro - Alejandro wakes up to his kids tackle-hugging him in bed. There's breakfast and a card with heartfelt messages on it. They're very proud of their papa for everything he does and continues to do for them. Oh, and he's about to be a papa again. Best Father's Day gift ever, amirite? Congrats, Alejo!

Rudy - Oh, you let the mother hen rest today. Rudy loves to pamper and cater to his family but now it's his turn to be pampered and catered to. The house? Clean. Dinner? Cooking. Kids? Loving on Rudy. All is as it should be.

König - The kiddo's Father's Day gift has been pranking König something fierce all day and all you can do is shake your head in faux exasperation and revel in the gremlin laughter (from both of them) echoing throughout the house. You'll have his favorite meal for dinner.

Horangi - Today, Horangi is being honored by his kid beating him in card games. Repeatedly. And Horangi trying to figure out how and why this is happening lmao.

Graves - Graves is also pretty content with his lot in life. You and Boss Baby Graves give him a gift card to a spa he's been wanting to try. And then you get his ass by having some of the men from Shadow Company call and wish him a Happy Father's Day and call him Dad. Real cute, darlin'.

[whateveriwant]

Annoying Things the 141 Do

Price

Never cleans the sink well after he shaves. Every time you go in the bathroom after he’s trimmed his beard, it’s like walking into a crime scene of a hamster massacre

Always manages to load the dishwasher wrong (because, yes, there is a right way and a wrong way to do it, John)

Asks you to wait for him to get home so you can watch your shows together, but then as soon as you start the first episode, he falls asleep beside you

Smokes his cigars inside sometimes. I don’t care that you sprayed air freshener afterwards, sir. Now the whole house smells like spring meadow and shit!

Is incapable of closing the door behind himself?? At least, that appears to be the case since he’s always leaving your door wide open even though you ask him to shut it when he goes

Doesn’t like throwing things out because he’ll “find a use for it one day”. Even if that day ever does come, I think he has a better chance of finding Atlantis than finding that scrap piece of wood he saved four years ago

Ghost

Turns the TV on and then just… walks away??? And if you try to change it to something else, he grumbles “I was watchin’ tha’” when he comes back

Drinks milk/juice/etc. straight out of the carton. Mr Simon “Patient Zero” Riley might not see the problem with this, but I think the rest of us would agree that is diabolical behavior

Leaves his wet towel on the floor after he showers even though the towel rack is right? there?

Hates asking for help even when he has no clue what he’s doing. Like, sure, I get wanting to fix things yourself. However, I’d rather spend $100 on a simple repair than $1000 on a full replacement after he breaks the thing even more

Puts his phone calls on speaker whenever possible. While this can have its merits sometimes (you get firsthand news of Gaz’s engagement!), most of the time it feels like a nuisance (do you really need to hear Soap talk about his hemorrhoids?)

MANSPREADERRRR! This man cannot sit like a civilized being to save his life. He claims he sits like that because his balls need to breathe, and to that I say good luck trying to breathe after I karate chop you in the throat :))))

Soap

Cuts his toenails in bed, which wouldn’t necessarily be an issue if he didn’t accidentally leave one or two rogue clippings that stab you in the side later when you’re trying to get comfortable

Forgets to put the toilet seat down when he gets up in the middle of the night to pee – that or he pisses all over the seat in the dark. Either way, prepare to have wet cheeks the next time you sit on the toilet

Whenever he doesn’t feel like doing the laundry, he just buys a new set of whatever’s dirty (that’s how he ended up with 100 pairs of socks and 200 pairs of underwear)

Talks nonstop through every show/movie you try to watch. Good luck getting more than five minutes of uninterrupted runtime next to this yapper

Apparently, doesn’t understand what “one bite” means? Whenever he asks you for a bite of your food, he always ends up taking five or six

Also, apparently doesn’t know how to chew with his mouth closed? Like, I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal, Johnny, but can you enjoy it without speckling it all over the table and my face?

Gaz

Two words: bathroom hog. I hope you don’t like taking hot showers or having more than a 6x6 inch square of counter space for your stuff, because after Kyle’s done with his 30-step beauty routine, there’s little of either left

Never knows what he wants to eat for dinner, and no matter what you suggest, he never thinks it sounds good

Has the gall to chastise you for your screen time even though he’s just as bad as you, if not worse (because you being on your phone before bed is so much worse than him playing video games for nine hours straight, right?)

Rests his feet on the couch/bed/coffee table while wearing shoes. It doesn’t matter if they’re brand new or beaten up; take your damn shoes off the furniture, sir!

Never writes down the shopping list because he’ll “remember everything”. (Newsflash: he does not remember everything, which means cue taking a second trip to the store)

Watches one documentary and thinks he’s an expert on the subject. You can have studied a thing for years, can present him with a bunch of rock solid facts and reputable sources, and he’ll hit you with a “Well, actually ☝️🤓” and then proceed to give the most nonsensical take ever

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

⚔️ Task Force 141 - NFL AU 🏈

by me (sleepyconfusedpotato) and @alypink ! This AU will include some Original Characters made by us both!

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New Hampshire 141s, a new rising american football team whose players dominantly came from the United Kingdom, is ready to face the NFL season!

As the previous Head Coach, Herschel von Shepherd got fired by the General Manager MacMillan, John Price (who has roots in rugby) got chosen by MacMillan to bring the team to victory. Let us see which players caught Coach Price's eyes!

John Price (HC)

John Price was born in Liverpool, England, but moved to America when he was still very young due to his father being deployed from the military to an American base. Although his father retired a couple of years later, they decided to stay in America. He grew up loving sports as a child but American football always piqued his interest more than any other sports. He played safety in middle and high school, but in his junior year, he had Meniscal tears that prevented him from ever playing again. John was heavily depressed after his injury, one day one of his close friends, Nikolai, who was also one of his fellow teammates on his high school team, told him to cheer him up to go watch the team play or to attend the training camps, John agreed and started assisting to the games and eventually started to think about becoming a head coach. He was recommended by his former high school head coach to take the job as a defensive coordinator for the New Hampshire Wildcats, a college football team. His performance and playbook were impressive, leading the Wildcats to reach a bowl and winning it twice. He proved to be fit and ready for a professional football team in the NFL and was hired as a defensive coordinator by the New Hampshire 141’s, by the HC at that time, Herschel von Shepherd. His first two seasons were disastrous as there was friction between the players and their head coach, most of the players disagreed with Shepherd's decisions and playmaking. To add to that, he seemed to never care about the player's input or needs. Although in those seasons they held a record of 4 wins and 12 losses, the General Manager of the team noticed his defense was the best in the league for both points and yards, and also noticed that a good portion of his defense players were selected on the all-pro team of those two seasons. After the owner and GM fired Shepherd as a Head Coach, John took his place.  In his first seasons with the 141s, he restructured the team and went to playoffs and one NFC championship. As he wanted to improve his team, he started attending college football games, he attended once a college game in which he met the offensive coordinator at the time, Aly, and after the game he met her to ask about some players he was interested in on her actual team, for QB and WR positions, they became acquaintance since that day and kept communication for some time, as she sent some prospects his way. She also requested his help every now and then, making him attend her games and inviting her over to watch the 141s too. After spending time together and sharing the same interests and love for football, they started to date but kept it low as two months later, John hired her as his new offensive coordinator.

#26 Kyle Garrick (WR)

the most responsible and reliable player of the team. Kyle’s dad was an ex-WR and a former head coach out of a college football team. His father is a very hardworking man and disciplines his son like a football player, and with that, comes a great expectation for Kyle since his high school years. Kyle is extremely reliable, responsible, and respected on and off the field. He is HC John Price's favorite due to his work ethic. Kyle believes in having discipline in everything he does to be one of the best. He keeps a picture of his girlfriend, Eleanor Graham (Ladybug) everywhere, especially in his locker room as he says she brings him good luck for catching the hail mary’s from Alex.  Kyle and Alex met in Baylor University, where they played together and won many games, including several bowl games. They became best friends in and out of the football field, supporting each other infinitely. “You've got friends nearby.” On Alex’s quote, “I can throw the ball like ‘fuck it, he’s over there somewhere’ and Kyle would magically appear and catch the ball. He’s always at the right place.”

One day during practice Alex was throwing the ball too far to the left, which headed straight towards her head. On instinct and in an attempt to catch the ball, Kyle collided with Eleanor, which bruised her arms. Instead of being upset like how Kyle would expect her to react, she laughed loudly at him, saying that she chose to sit there. She knew the hazard of studying near a football field. Even though Eleanor said she can take care of her bruises, Kyle insisted on nursing her. (Alex SMILED ear to ear). They both met from time to time. Every practice, Kyle always looks for Eleanor on the side of the field. Eleanor’s laid-back personality often bothers Kyle as she's a damn med school student, but through her, Kyle learns how to slow down and live in the moment. Love bloomed between them and they became a couple midway through freshman year. 

When Kyle was drafted to the NFL to be with Alex for New Hampshire 141s, Eleanor was there with him when he received the call from HC Price. Though Eleanor has to stay in Texas to continue her studies, Eleanor travels to New Hampshire often to visit Kyle.

#31 Alex Keller (QB)

Alex is the quarterback of the 141s, second draft pick and first QB of his university. He is very skilled and hard-working, he is in love with water girl Farah Karim and aspires to be like Tom Brady. He and Kyle Garrick (WR) met in their first year of freshman in University and they played since their first year as the duo of QB and WR (Burrow and Chase vibes) and were drafted together in the NFL draft by the same team. Young duo but very effective especially during the regular season. Alex Keller met Farah Karim in his rookie season during training camp in his first year and has been infatuated with her. Since then, he has tried to score ASAP or reach 4th down so he can sit on the bench and talk with her. Whenever he can, he visits and picks her up from University and helps her out whenever he can in anything she would need.

#70 Simon Riley (TE)

Simon Riley used to be a rugby player in England. He joined the rugby team during his college days and met Price as one of his coaches, who trained and guided him to become one of the most dominant flankers in college rugby. Unfortunately, though he’s always dependable whenever he’s on the field, Simon was often riddled with injuries. His quiet personality didn’t help his case either, bearing the pain in his left leg in silence, until one day, he tore his ACL during an important game which cost the team their winning chances. Simon rested for a whole year to heal his knee. Together with his familial struggle, he contemplated quitting being an athlete. That was until Coach Price offered him a fresh start in the USA. As a flanker is equivalent to the Tight End position in American football, Price told him that he would be perfect for the role. Simon was adamant at first as he was still injured and how he’d be able to completely heal from this devastating injury. But when he said that in America they could find him a good physiotherapist to help him heal his knee, he reluctantly accepted the offer.  Simon got into the draft and was a first-round pick due to how much of a good player he was in rugby. On his first day on the team, he met the other players who got drafted, but the most important and the most fateful meeting was when he got introduced to Charlotte Le Jardin (nickname Jade to simplify her last name), a physiotherapist that Laswell had promised help him to heal his ACL and help him regain his top form. It was a rough road, but with every step he took, Jade was there to help him.  Now, every injury he has he doesn’t stay on the sidelines but goes inside the tent or the stadium so he can be checked by her. Whenever Jade’s out watching the game, he scores more than usual or gets distracted. He often carries the team, especially during the conference championship games. 

#71 Johnny MacTavish (RB)

Johnny MacTavish was born and raised in Scotland. After high school, he was offered an academic and sports scholarship to a prominent university in the USA. He began his football career when he was a freshman at University as a very talented runner, which elevated him as the starter RB on his fifth game. In his senior year he was  awarded the Heisman Trophy winner at college, but due to a shoulder injury, he missed being the top pick at the draft. He was later selected by the New Hampshire 141s and got put in as a starter as soon as he got drafted. He has good chemistry with his team but gets injured by overdoing himself or trying to tackle defensive players on the other team. He is also constantly with Jade for treatment and often misses important playoff games. Johnny is a very talented running back and that is why HC Price can’t get rid of him no matter how he misses practices and meetings and how his personal life affects his performance on the field. He always tries to take his friend Simon Riley to social gatherings and social media, but he completely shuts him down every time. That's different on the field though, as whenever Johnny's going to play a run, Simon will always be there in front of him to push the tacklers away, making way for Johnny to score a first down or a touch down. They're an unstoppable duo together. Johnny is very popular among female fans, making his jersey the one with the most sales every year. His dating story is pretty large and his games are always attended by the women he dates (which constantly changes).

some memes I made 😭

Here's the Hereford 141S' Logo and jersey design! The logo is heavily inspired by the Task Force 141's logo, so it's pretty much just a sporty twist of the logo!

More characters underneath the cut!

#11 Alejandro Vargas (MLB) and #22 Rodolfo Parra (OLB)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Alejandro and Rudy both moved to El Paso, Texas when they started high school at the age of 14 years old. They were avid football (soccer) players during their time in Mexico, but when they started High School they began to play football. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo played as Linebackers, Ale being MLB and Rodolfo being OLB. They did amazing in High School then they both received a scholarship to attend the university in Dallas, Texas. Both of them were later selected to do the NFL Pathway program, for both of them. Being together since their childhood years, high school and university they were a packaged deal and were both selected on the same team, same position on the NFL draft.  Alejandro is especially hyped when playing against Philip Graves, QB of the Dallas Shadows. They have had beef with each other on and off the field since they played against each other for the first time. Ale’s average sack during a game against Dallas is approximately 5 per game, he sometimes is way too harsh while tackling making him get a couple of flags whenever he blitzes and sacks. He’s often scolded by his friend Rudy, but he does not care as long as he can sack Graves.

Kate Laswell (Defensive Coordinator)

(Drawing to be posted!)

was raised in Virginia, USA. Both her parents and brothers loved football and so did she. Since elementary, she watched and never missed a game during weekends, she always had a fascination for the Chicago Bears and their ‘85 team. Her father told her about how that defense, without an extraordinary QB or offense made them win the superbowl and also made them the best defense of all time. After witnessing that season and that Superbowl, she fell in love with how the defense scheme in football works. Unfortunately professional football for women wasn’t an option, so she studied a lot to become a defensive coordinator. She studied day and night, memorizing the plays, analyzing games and creating new playbooks since she was young. She struggled a lot to have an opportunity since it was a male-dominated team. One of her childhood friends made it to the roster to become a defensive coordinator for the Colorado Buffaloes College Football Team, he was a good coach but not “impressive”. She supported him by attending his games but couldn't help but try to talk to him whenever she thought he could do better, often interrupting his play callings during his games to make him change the play, and it always worked. She and his friend attended a College Bowl, and met John Price at that game, the three of them watched the game and she started to tell both of them what adjustment she would do for both teams, and that piqued John’s interests as she was awfully right, he was impressed by how well she read offense’s routes and how she was able to change from a 3-4 or 4-3 to a hybrid defense. He decided to give her a chance and hired her as his new defensive coordinator for the 141’s and established a very good partnership and friendship with her ever since.

Farah Karim (Intern Physical Therapy Student - Watergirl)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Farah Karim is a university medical student who got an internship in his junior year of college to be the water girl and help around the New Hampshire  141s team. She comes from an immigrant family and is the pride and joy of her parents. She struggled so much in her younger years to pursue an education and get into a good college in the USA, she managed to get a scholarship due to her great school performance and was given the chance to work with a professional football team. She met Alex Keller after his rookie season and developed a close friendship with them that later turned into a romantic interest. She is grateful for his help and also supports him during games. Her classmates usually bug her by asking Farah to let them meet Alex or to set them up with him, which she dislikes very much.

(OC) Alyssa Martinez (Offensive Coordinator)

Aly was born in Mexico and moved to the USA thanks to a scholarship she received when she graduated from High School and moved to Texas to attend college. As soon as she graduated from Texas A&M holding a Bachelor of Science in Sport Management, she started working as an offensive coordinator at a local highschool. She then escalated to being an offensive coordinator for the College she attended. Aly managed to take the team to a College Bowl where she met 141s Head Coach John Price and became acquaintances after that game, they kept communication after that game, as Aly asked for suggestions for her playbook and she helped Price on suggesting him prospects for the upcoming draft selection and also players on free agency.  She was later hired by Price as his offensive coordinator and they began to have a low key romantic  relationship. She specializes in West Coast offense, having her team play the Air Coryell scheme. She suggested Price to draft Alex Keller as he was the perfect pocket passer that would fit their offense perfectly. She’s an avid Tom Brady fan.

(OC) Charlotte Le Jardin (Physical Therapist)

Originally from England, Jade was adopted by an American couple and moved with them to the United States at an early age. Her parents, Eli and Gracie, worked at Bravo Stadium, home of the 141s, and Jade became a constant presence on the sidelines. As time went by, the Bravo Stadium became her home. Jade started helping around the sidelines bringing water, towels, medical kits, and even helping out in the blue tent, all the while completing her college in biological science and doctor of physical therapy (DPT), and of course, licensing in Physical Therapy. When she got her license, her experience was already on par with the other physiotherapists since she had been jumping from senior to seniors, learning and practicing all she could. Kate Laswell who has been seeing Jade there since she was a teenager, hired Jade as one of the many physiotherapists for 141s, and with that came a fateful challenge: a newcomer Tight End with a torn ACL from his rugby days, who’s trying to get back to his top form in order to play in the NFL.

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PHEW so there you have it! If you've read it this far, oh my LORD me and Aly love you so much! This is a pretty severe brainrot that we had, so hope you like it!

And let's enjoy the 2024 NFL Season 🏈🏈🏈

Hope you like it! 🥰🥰

[frudoo]

I’m so soft for Simon today y’all.

Warnings: Slight angst—lots of crying. Hurt/comfort. Brief mentions of abuse but nothing specific. Overuse of italics lmaooo. Fem!Reader. Simon is sad :(

“Love?”

Simon’s been quiet ever since the two of you left the Garricks’ house. Kyle’s wife had cooked a lovely dinner, and afterwards everybody moved to chat in the living room. Your friends’ kiddos had been climbing over you and loving on you all night, jumping in your lap or begging you to play games with them. That’s when you noticed your husband’s frown—you had just assumed his social battery had run out, but looking back now, none of the signs were there. No short temper, no irritability, no desperate glances over to you trying to convey that he was ready to leave. Now, as you both lay in bed, he speaks for the first time in what feels like hours.

“Yeah, Si? Everything okay?”

He sucks in a deep breath, and you frown. Your husband has never been one to hold his tongue. It makes your heart pound with worry as you reach over to turn your bedside lamp on. Before you get the chance to turn and face him, he wraps his burly arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You gently raise your hand to scratch the back of his head, fingernails grazing his scalp.

“D’you ever regret marryin’ me?” His voice is so small, carrying the weight of uncertainty and the fear that you’ll tell him exactly what he’s expecting to hear, to break him further.

Your fingers stall their movements and you forget how to breathe all of a sudden. Simon’s breath is labored against your neck, too hot to be normal, too wet to be anything other than the telltale sign of him about to break down. It’s a rarity that he cries, but when he does, it’s the most excruciating thing you can imagine. You can feel his pain like it’s your own. The second his first teardrop falls onto your skin, you finally turn to look at him.

His deep brown eyes are far too glossy for your liking, long blond lashes clumped together by morsels of liquid lies his brain forces him to believe.

“Never,” you frown, rubbing the tip of your thumb over the cleft separating his top lip. “Oh, sugar, what’s brought this on?”

“Y’deserve better than me,” his voice breaks mid-sentence, raspy and raw. “Someone who can- who can make y’happy. Give y’things tha’ I can’t.”

You lean forward to nuzzle your nose against his, gently locking lips with him in a short, tender kiss. You sigh into his mouth, uncaring of the snot and spittle that runs down his face. You’re just about there with him.

“You do make me happy, Simon Riley,” the whispered promise gently whisks across his face like an autumn breeze, refreshing yet not enough to calm his racing brain. “You’ve given me everything I could ask for and more.”

“No. You’ve… you’ve had t’make too many sacrifices f’me, and I don’t deserve tha’. I fucked y’over, and- and stomped on your dreams.”

“Simon, you haven’t-”

“You’d make such a good mum.”

Your mouth snaps shut, teeth grinding together from the sudden motion. Motherhood is a soft spot for you, and he knows it. When Simon first brought up the idea of marriage, he had made it clear that he didn’t want kids—too much risk of him ending up like his father, he explained. It broke your heart, but the thought of living a life where he wasn’t yours hurt far worse. In favor of being his wife, you pushed away the desire to have children, counting on being an auntie or something equivalent to your friends’ little ones.

You bite your lip, trying to blink back tears. He’s just saying this out of hurt.

“Seein’ y’with Gaz’s kids jus’...” Simon trails off, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “You’re so sweet with ‘em. Fuckin’- you- you’re perfection, lovie, and you’re settlin’ for a monster like me.”

The tears don’t cease this time. A weak sob rips from your throat, and you dig your nails into his bicep to make him listen.

“You are not a monster. Y-you’re the love of my life,” your lip quivers, hurt evident in your tone. “I married you because I love you, Simon. Because I see what’s beneath the surface. You’re gentle, you’re caring—Si, you’re beautiful. You’re a good person, even if you can’t see it. I see it.”

“I wanna see it,” he murmurs, swallowing hard. “Wanna be better f’you.”

You shake your head softly, a sad smile stretching your lips as you wipe your tears. Pressing your forehead against his, you intertwine fingers with him.

“You’d make an amazing dad.”

It’s Simon’s turn to tense up, squeezing your hand a little tighter but not near enough to hurt—it just proves to you further what a sweet person he can be, that he is underneath his Ghost persona. You’ve never met Ghost, Simon absolutely refuses to let you see the side of him that the rest of the world does, but you know in your bones that even he wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head.

“Love, no, I-I can’t- no. I couldn’t live w’myself if… if I-”

“The fact that you’re so afraid of doing anything wrong is what makes me certain you’d be incredible,” you interrupt, pulling back to look at him sternly, although the fondness that hides in your eyes softens the blow.

“Wha’ if I end up hurtin’ ‘em? Get mad at ‘em and- and I hurt m’own child,” he gasps softly, nervously rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Bullshit. You would never. Si, you couldn’t even bring yourself to kill the moles in our yard, and you expect me to believe that you could lay a hand on a—your child?” You scoff, cupping his scarred face in your hands and moving to straddle him.

“Lovie, m’not a good man,” he frowns, leaning into the soft warmth of your palms. “Got m’father’s DNA-”

“Stop that. You are nothing like that man. I don’t give a fuck what it is you do out on the field, but you have never once brought it into our home,” you huff, hands shaking slightly. “You know the difference between your enemies and your family even on your worst days. That’s more than you could say for your father.”

Your skin is tacky with his tears that continue to fall even when he’s rendered silent. Gently, you redirect his arms so that they wrap around your waist, warm and sturdy.

“I know you’re scared,” you whisper, tenderly rubbing his temples with your thumbs. “But have I ever lied to you?”

“Never,” Simon admits quietly, sniffling.

“Then believe me when I tell you I’m not lying now. You’re a good man, Simon Riley—to me, to your friends, and you will be to our kids. I swear it.”

He’s stubbornly avoiding your gaze, and you can tell he’s genuinely thinking about it. Gently, you press a kiss to the tip of his crooked nose.

“Let’s go to bed, hm? Sleep on it, baby,” you suggest, nuzzling your face into his neck.

You feel him nod and pull you down so that you’re laying on top of him—a comforting blanket of love that he needs you to remind him he deserves. He reaches over to turn your bedside lamp back off again, reveling in the cool darkness that engulfs the two of you.

“I love you,” he mutters, tracing random patterns along your back with his calloused fingertips.

“I love you more, big guy.”

[charliemwrites]

Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.

I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.

Content:Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy

You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.

That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.

But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.

You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.

On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.

When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.

“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.

Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”

And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)

At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.

The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.

You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”

Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.

“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.

“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”

Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.

Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.

On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.

At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.

“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.

Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.

He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.

The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.

You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.

“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.

“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”

You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.

There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.

He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.

“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”

Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.

You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.

He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.

He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.

He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.

“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”

You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.

“Talk to me?” he asks.

“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”

He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”

You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.

You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.

He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.

“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.

“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.

You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”

“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”

Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.

He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”

It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.

One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.

Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.

“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.

Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.

Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.

He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.

“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”

Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.

“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”

You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?

“Wait, but I already…”

“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”

You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”

“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”

You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”

“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.

You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.

“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”

You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

The Brother's Best Friend - Ghost x Soap x Gaz x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: F/M/M/M, brother’s best friend(s) au, alcohol, swearing, truth or dare, unprotected piv, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: For Kinkmas 2024 (Group Sex)

While on vacation in the mountains with your brother and his three best friends, you find yourself snowed in with the three of them during a heavy snowfall. The catch? Your brother went into town and likely won’t be back until morning. Why let an opportunity like this pass you by?

ao3 // main masterlist // kinkmas 2024 masterlist

"What game are we playing?"

"A game, Johnny? You want to play cards?" asks Simon, placing five rocks glasses and a bottle of whiskey in the center of the table.

Johnny shrugs. "Cards are a bit boring."

"Unless you're drinking," says Kyle, reaching for the glasses and whiskey.

Johnny sighs loudly, stretching his arms over his head. "I was thinking something more...interactive."

"We're not having an orgy," replies Simon, deadpan, taking the glass Kyle offers him.

Johnny nearly tumbles out of his chair. "That's not—"

"I’m only kidding. Fucking hell." Simon clinks glasses with Kyle and knocks back his whiskey.

You linger near the large window overlooking the frozen mountain lake. Snow comes down from the sky in a thick blanket, smothering everything in sight. Town is nearby, but getting there will be difficult in this weather. It’s not like any of you plan on going anywhere.

Johnny snags the whiskey bottle. "I was thinking more along the lines of team building."

"We're not having an orgy," repeats Simon, this time clearly teasing him.

Johnny extends his arms outward, shock on his face. Kyle barks a laugh, clutching his stomach as he doubles over in laughter.

“You fucking numptie,” mutters Johnny.

Simon shrugs nonchalantly. "If you want to suck my cock, Johnny, all you have to do is ask."

Kyle snorts, and then wheezes so hard he beats his fist over his chest three times before he can breathe again.

These are your brother's friends. Men he's worked alongside during his years of military service. Your brother is out now, living the civilian life, but they all keep in contact. Your brother isn't here though. Not here in the cabin at least. He went to town and is likely stuck there until morning.

Simon smiles behind his whiskey glass. Johnny scowls. “There’s a lady present.”

"I've heard worse," you retort, walking over to grab your own glass from the table.

While you’d never admit it to your brother, you do find his friends attractive—always have. There have been nights where you’ve thought about each of them before thinking about all of them at once. Part of you says you should feel shame over lusting after them—but it’s hard to deny what you want.

All three of them are here. Together. And your brother won't be back until morning due to the snow.

This is your chance to test the waters.

"What game are you thinking?" you ask innocently.

Johnny grins. "Truth or Dare."

Kyle rolls his eyes and Simon groans.

"We're not in fucking primary school anymore,” chides Kyle, pouring himself a bit more whiskey.

“Just say you’re boring,” responds Johnny.

" That's what you want to play, Johnny? Really?"

"It'll be fun!"

"All right. I'll bite." Simon turns to Kyle. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What do you think of this game?"

"Fucking lame."

Simon cocks an eyebrow at Johnny. "See."

Johnny responds by blowing raspberries at them.

"I think it sounds fun."

Their heads turn in unison. The laughter fades, their features softening yet curious. While they deeply respect your brother, they’ve always had a sweet spot for you.

Johnny sets his glass down on the table. “You think so?”

You shrug. "What's the harm? And what else are we going to do?" You gesture toward the large window where the snow falls.

While Johnny and Kyle exchange a glance, you notice Simon’s subtle shift. His gaze lingers on you, observing like he’s just discovered something new. It’s an assessing stare, and you instantly tingle, beginning to melt under that intensity.

Kyle drapes his arm over the back of his chair, addressing you. "Truth or dare?"

You give it a moment before answering. "Dare."

His eyebrows rise in surprise. He glances around the room, clearly looking for something to give you. Simon’s gaze is still fixed on you, eyes slightly narrowed like he can't exactly decide on something.

Appearing to land on an idea, Kyle opens his mouth, but Simon lightly taps his shoulder. Leaning down, Simon whispers into Kyle’s ear. You cannot hear them.

Kyle’s eyes widen and he pulls back. “He’ll fucking kill us.”

“He isn’t here.” Still, Simon’s gaze remains locked on you. “And I think she wants to.”

Kyle glances between you and Simon, an uncertainty in his gaze. “Fine,” he sighs. “But if he finds out about this. And kills us. It’s on you.”

Simon shrugs like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Kyle takes a sip of his whiskey. “I dare you,” he says slowly. “To go sit in Johnny’s lap.”

"Done," you reply automatically.

Johnny splutters, nearly spitting his whiskey all over the table. “Fucking what, mate?”

You saunter over and place your hand on the back of Johnny’s chair. His cheeks turn bright red as he turns his attention to you. It's goddamn adorable.

But there is no protest from him. Surrender is all he has. Johnny’s arms open up, inviting you in, and you perch there with your legs draped over his on one side.

“So, Johnny,” you say with a sultry purr, draping your arm over the back of his neck. “Truth? Or dare?”

He swallows, those gorgeously blue eyes on you. "Truth."

Like Simon did with Kyle, you lean in until your lips are pressed to his ear. "Are you happy that I'm in your lap?"

Johnny shifts slightly in the chair, and a growing stiffness pokes you in the thigh. He hooks one arm around your back, supporting your weight, his large hand splaying wide to grasp your outer thigh.

"Yes," he replies, audibly.

You draw away, giving him your best smile. “Your turn.”

Johnny licks his lips He glances at Simon. "Truth or dare."

Simon cracks his neck. "Dare."

With a straight face, Johnny says, "Add hot sauce to your whiskey and drink the whole thing."

Kyle starts laughing.

Simon shakes his head. “Be fucking for real, Johnny. Try again.”

Johnny’s eyebrows crease in the middle. “We promised him we’d take care of her.”

“And we are,” replies Simon. His gaze shifts from Johnny’s face to yours. “Aren’t we, dove?”

This is your in—your opportunity.

“You’re taking very good care of me.”

Simon places his hands on the table and leans in, addressing you. “Truth or dare, love.”

“Dare.”

Simon’s gaze immediately drops. It is a slow ascent back to your face. “I dare you to take off your clothes.” He pauses a moment, gaze shifting to the table. “And lie back on the table.”

You hear Kyle and Johnny’s sharp inhales, like they can’t quite believe Simon would be so bold. But it excites you. Makes you slick between the thighs.

Taking your glass, you knock back your whiskey. It burns on the way down—but it’s good. You ease out of Johnny’s lap, his hand almost seeming reluctant to let you go. Placing the empty glass on the nearby counter, you begin to undress.

Slowly—ever so slowly—you remove piece after piece, never glancing over your shoulder to look at the three of them. But you feel their stares—how focused they are on you. When you’re down to just your underwear, you ease them down, bending forward slightly so they have a clear view of your backside.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Kyle, and you hear the appreciation in it.

Kicking away the fabric, you take a step back, placing both hands onto the tabletop. As you push yourself up to sit on the edge, Simon is right there, hands on your waist to help. With a small scoot to the left, you find yourself facing Johnny. He’s still seated, mouth open slightly as he watches on.

It’s easy to fall back onto your shoulder. To spread your legs wide.

Johnny's eyes go glassy and wide as you reveal yourself to him.

"Johnny,” prompts Simon. “Truth or dare."

"Dare,” he replies automatically, his gaze still fixed on the space between your legs.

Simon grasps the back of Johnny’s neck. “I dare you to fuck that gorgeous pussy.” He gives his neck a light squeeze before pulling away.

One of Johnny’s hands comes up to linger on your calf muscle. It slowly slides upward as he stands up. His gaze devours you, leaving no inch unappreciated.

Simon’s large hand settles on your stomach. It caresses, then slides to the valley between your breasts. Lightly pressing, Simon urges you fully onto your back. As you straighten out, there is no support for your head. It hangs over the edge.

"Kyle," says Ghost. "Truth or—"

"Dare,” interrupts Kyle, already knowing what he wants.

Simon smirks, his large hand circling your neck. “I dare you to fuck her throat.”

On cue, you open your mouth, presenting it to Kyle. Simon’s hand slides away only to be replaced with Kyle’s. His fingers lightly brush over your chest and down your neck to the line of your jaw. He works his way to your mouth, tracing your lips before descending back to your throat.

The gentle brush of his fingers becomes a firm grip as his other hand falls to the front of his jeans. Anticipation coils in your belly as a pulsing need thumps deep in your core. All your daydreaming and nighttime thoughts are becoming reality.

Johnny’s hands slowly stroke your inner thighs but all you can see is Kyle, and the reveal of his erection. Ever so gently, Kyle’s hold on your neck shifts to the back of your head. He cradles it, giving you support as the head of his cock enters your mouth. Simon’s hand is still rests between your breasts, unmoving.

Johnny’s hands go to your hips, and lightly tug, bringing you to the very edge. You cannot see him but you feel him—sense him. With one hand on your inner thigh, he drags the head of his cock up and down your pussy, coating it in your slickness.

Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he feeds you more of his cock. Still grasping the back of your head, Kyle flattens his other hand against the top of the table. He doesn’t fuck your throat but lightly rocks his hips.

Against your skin, Simon’s hand descends, caressing. With a groan, Johnny lines himself up, easing inside. Your pussy flutters slightly—resists—and then gladly takes him. You’re perfectly stretched, full in two holes.

You make little pleased sound in your throat that vibrates against Kyle’s cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips jerking slightly.

You can hear Johnny murmuring but it’s difficult to make out. He might be cursing—might be praising.

They aren’t rough with your body. Even if they were you wouldn’t mind. Together they move. Every thrust of Johnny’s hips sends you a little further down Kyle’s dick. You lose yourself in the motion, enjoying the way they take turns thrusting into you.

A part of your drifts, until you’re yanked back to reality.

Simon’s fingers have found your clit. They rub little circle until you feel an orgasm quickly rising to the surface. You whimper, pussy flexing—squeezing around Johnny’s cock.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” repeats Johnny, each vowel slightly elongated as he shudders against you.

“Doing so good for us, dove,” says Simon, voice husky.

His praise is sweet, and made even sweeter when his mouth comes down on your clit, the tip of his tongue circling it.

This makes you snap—unfurl like a striking snake.

You cry out, nearly choking around Kyle’s dick as your orgasm hits you over the head. Johnny’s thrusts quicken, his grip on your thighs hard as his fingers dig in, likely to leave bruises behind after it’s said and done.

Simon gives your clit a final lick. “Want them to come inside you? Would you like that, dove?”

All you can do is moan around Kyle’s dick.

Simon chuckles. “Dare you to finish inside her, Johnny. Let’s see how pretty that pussy looks dripping with your cum.”

With one hand gripping your thigh and the other pressing to your stomach, Johnny fucks you properly, each thrust rough and purposefully. Kyle doesn’t even move. Johnny’s thrusting is forcing you to throat Kyle nearly to the base. They quicken—become sharp.

His breath leaves him in grunts. Becomes a groan. Becomes him sealing your bodies together. You feel the burst of warmth as he cum coats your insides. Just to sweeten the deal, you engage those muscles, squeezing down on him.

Kyle quickly withdraws, his hand on the base of his cock. He jerks it and then marks your skin with his cum. Simon doesn’t hesitate. He dips his head, licking the cum off your skin as Kyle gentle lifts your head enough to watch.

But he doesn’t swallow. No.

Simon locks lips with you, transferring the cum to your mouth. You take it greedily, swallowing it done for him.

When he breaks away, it’s almost painful. You don’t want him to.

“Truth or dare, love.”

“Truth,” you whisper, voice raspy.

“Do you want us to keep fucking you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Simon smiles.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[soapsbaby]

Silly Spicy Call of Duty headcanons

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x reader Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: All NSFW but very lighthearted, nothing particularly triggering but ask to tag! Word count: 750ish

These are just silly little headcanons about them, PLEASE if you have any like these send them to me i had such a blast writing them lol!!

Ghost

Sometimes his mask slips a little and he looks goofy as hell, you have to do your best to not laugh into his face because you know he won’t let that slide.

Uses British lingo sometimes. Has called your pussy a “fanny” before. Got mad when that made you giggle.

Once got so frustrated with trying to figure out how to operate one of your vibrators that he broke it. Was very apologetic and immediately ordered you another one afterwards.

Soap

He is clumsy as hell. Every time you have tried to fuck in a position that is anywhere near athletic, something goes wrong. It’s a miracle neither of you have broken your necks trying to get it on in the shower. He will always take the fall though, protecting you with everything he has and curling himself around you even if it means he will end up bruised or bleeding.

Makes a lot of typos when sexting, never notices. Called you “baby gorilla” once (you will never let him live that down).

Gets offended when you call him “Soap” in the bedroom. You know my name, what are you calling me that for? Dummy.

König

He doesn’t usually wear his balaclava under his mask when you have sex since it gets too sweaty but since his mask is pretty loose he will sometimes have to pft-ppf-tpftt when it gets stuck in his mouth. Has almost choked on his mask before.

Gets so flustered that he will just start sputtering nonsense. Has on several occasions been so out of it that he has messed up the nicknames you use for each other. “yes show me that I am your little babygirl, wait- no, you are… I am your boy… you’re… Wait, I’m sorry”. Not a gender or kink thing, which would of course be alright with you, just him being a dummy.

Is a bit of a crier and drooler sometimes which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he will sometimes accidentally waterboard himself in his mask and not tell you.

Gaz

Has called you mommy once and was mortified. Neither of you have really spoken about it but sometimes you will drop little hints around him to get him flustered.

Likes when you suck him off while he is playing video games but then gets too into the game and genuinely can’t help but get annoyed when he loses because you distract him.

Cpt Price

Is oblivious to any signs that you want him. Will go into Dad story telling mode and completely ignore the effect he is having on you until you grab him by the shirt and just tell him to fuck you.

Has a sex playlist called "sensual" with just the most cliché sex songs on it possible. Can unironically have sex to "Careless Whisper" and “Let’s get it on”.

Has given you rug burn with his beard before. 0/10 very unpleasant experience (you’d do it again, though).

Alejandro

Will say things that could be interpreted as sexist in the moment and then immediately get apologetic. Who’s my good slut? I mean… If you want to be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… Are you okay with that? Okay. Cool.

Will fuck you in uniform because he knows you’re into that and then get distracted by things he finds in his pockets like shopping receipts. 

Doesn’t care whether or not you understand him, he will speak Spanish to you.

Rudy

Gets tormented by you with new pet names every day. mí amor, I don't know what a Zaddy is. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.

In the beginning of your relationship he was completely oblivious to most kinks. If you ever expressed anything out of the ordinary to you, he’d raise his eyebrows in confusion and say something like “what? why would anyone want that?” but was always open to trying anything. Now he is probably even more of a deviant than you are.

Valeria

Has this roleplay thing going on where you are a traitor to her cause and she discovers it and gets to “punish” you. You find it a little silly but it gets her super riled up so you play along.

Secretly loves to bottom and to be taken care of by you but would never tell you (you know anyway). Thinks she is being very good at hiding it (she is not).

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hello! How do you think König (or any of the guys really) would react to you calling them "my sweet lil guy"?

Thanks for this request!!🩷🩵🩷🩵 I just did this for multiple characters, as I thought this would be funny to see them! They’re short and sweet!

141 + Königs Reactions to Reader Calling Them "My Sweet Lil Guy."

Warnings: slight swearing, fluff, slight sexual references

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

“Bloody hell.” Simon groaned, his hands moving to grasp at his back. “Damn thing hurts.”

"Awe, my sweet lil guy got a backache?" You teased, moving to rub Simon's back gently.

Simon turned, slowly, toward you a look of mock horror on his face. "The hell you just call me?"

You bit your lip to prevent a giggle, watching the confusion on your boyfriend's face with amusement. "My... sweet lil guy?"

Simon stared at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but little isn’t one of them.”

“First for everything I suppose.” You shrugged your shoulders, struggling not to crack a smile under Simon’s intense stare.

“You’re a little brat, you know that?” Simon chuckled, kissing your temple.

“I’m the little brat, you’re the sweet lil guy.” You teased, scrunching your nose at him.”

“You’re pushing it, kid.”

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

“Everyone, I’d like for you to meet Johnny.” You smiled, introducing your boyfriend to your group of friends.

"Is this the "sweet lil guy" you've been telling us all about?" Your friend asked as she regarded Johnny with a smile.

Johnny blinked a few times before looking at you. "Your sweet lil guy?"

Your friend gave a hearty chuckle. "Yep, they call you thay all the time."

“Tha’ so?” Johnny quirked a brow at you, a devious smile making its way to his lips.

“Johnny no, pl-.” You started, but Johnny was quick to cut you off.

“That’s not what they were screaming in bed last night.”

Oh yeah, he won your friends over that night.

John Price-

“Cmon, sweetheart. It’s past midnight, surely you can put the book down and go to bed.” John groaned, it was well past his bedtime.

“Is my sweet lil guy tired?” You cooed, turning to face John in bed. “Promise I’m almost done.”

"Your sweet lil guy?" He looked at you, bemused by your nickname. “That really what comes to mind when you think of me?”

“Sure is.” You faked a yawn, flipping over to finish the chapter of the book you were reading.

John wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. “Yeah, you’re sure about that?”

Your cheeks burned crimson, the prominent bulge in your lovers boxers now pressing hard against your back. “Y-yes.”

“Give me about two minutes. Once my cocks inside that pretty little mouth of yours- you’ll be choking on those words.”

König-

“Maus, can you help me with these straps?” König asked, gesturing to the buckled straps of his vest. “I can’t reach them.”

“I’ve got you sweet lil guy.” You chuckled, making your way over to him. You began to fiddle with the straps before he stopped you, abruptly turning to face you.

Königs cheeks became beat red as he stuttered out his words. "W-what?"

“Sweet lil guy? I meant it as a term of endearment Kö.” You blinked a few times, watching as your boyfriend’s face became as red as a tomato.

König couldn’t explain why.. exactly the name had him feeling so flustered. He was ANYTHING but small, in any regard, but he…liked the thought. It made him feel you didn’t find his large stature menacing, and the thought was comforting to him.

“Can you.. call me that again?”

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

“Damnit!” Kyle exclaimed, running his hands over his head in frustration. “I was so fucking close! I had him!”

"Did my sweet lil guy lose?" You chided, watching your boyfriend throw his controller on the couch in frustration.

“Yeah. I fucking did. I’ve been trying to beat that game all.. wait what did you call me?” Kyle whipped his head around to you, and it took everything in you not to laugh.

“My sweet lil guy is throwing a tantrum.” You giggled, watching as the corners of his lips turned upward. “Does baby need a kiss to make it better.”

Kyle nodded, his bottom lip pouting slightly. “I do.”

You bit your lip in amusement, before wrapping your arms around your boyfriend pulling him close to you. “I’ve got you baby boy.”

Kyle wouldn’t ever admit it, to anyone, but he certainly wouldn’t complain if you wanted to call him that again.

[fear-is-truth]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons﹒frat boy! kyle spencer﹒smut﹒

boyfriend!kyle who has a thing for soft, quick nose kisses. he’ll lean in and nuzzle his nose against yours when you’re talking, grinning every time you scrunch up your face in response. then kiss the tip of your nose.

boyfriend!kyle who always rests his head in your lap when he’s tired, completely melting when you stroke his blonde curls.

boyfriend!kyle who shoves your hands into his coat pockets when it’s freezing outside, mumbling, “just keep them there, okay?”

boyfriend!kyle who helps you bake christmas cookies. he’ll sneak a spoonful of frosting, smear some on your cheek, and kiss it off you.

boyfriend!kyle who has been quietly saving up for something he knows you’d love—a vintage record player, a necklace you pointed out once, or concert tickets to your favourite artist.

boyfriend!kyle who loves lazy weekend mornings where you’re both too comfy to get out of bed. he’ll pull you closer, nuzzling into your neck and mumbling, “five more minutes babyyy,” even though it’s already been an hour.

boyfriend!kyle who doesn’t even question it when you start stealing his varsity jacket. he loves seeing you wear it, especially when it’s way too big on you.

boyfriend!kyle who loves sitting with you by the window during storms, wrapping a blanket around the both of you as the rain pours. he’ll trace random patterns on your hand while you pick raindrops on the glass and race them.

boyfriend!kyle who’s the guy who stays sober enough to keep an eye on you and your drink.

boyfriend!kyle who insists on walking you back to your dorm or driving you home after a late night out, no matter how tired he is. “text me when you’re safe” isn’t enough for him—he wants to be the one ensuring it.

boyfriend!kyle who always notices when you’re upset, even if you don’t say anything. he’ll quietly sit with you, hold your hand or rub circles on your back until you’re ready to talk.

boyfriend!kyle who always makes time to help you with random things like carrying groceries, fixing your bike, or figuring out your printer.

boyfriend!kyle who makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you (definitely includes toto)

boyfriend!kyle who takes his studies seriously. he’d spread out his notes and flashcards to help you prep for exams, coming up with goofy mnemonics to make things easier.

boyfriend!kyle who lets you sit on his lap while he plays video games.

boyfriend!kyle who gives the best hugs, warm and firm, like he’s trying to absorb all your stress. he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder and mumble “i love you”.

boyfriend!kyle who takes you to the mall on random weekends just so you can pet the puppies in the pet store. he watches you with the softest smile while a little golden retriever climbs into your lap.

boyfriend!kyle who tries to learn your favorite songs on the guitar just to surprise you.

boyfriend!kyle who holds your face in both hands when he kisses you, lips always lingering and reluctant to part from yours. because you’re the most precious thing in his world.

boyfriend!kyle who adores your little quirks and habit’s, like the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love or the way you always tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re focused.

boyfriend!kyle who insists on holding your shopping bags, even if it’s just one tiny bag.

boyfriend!kyle who sneaks kisses on your temple during movie nights, and holds your hand under the blanket.

boyfriend!kyle who is extra careful about your comfort and boundaries. if you ever seem unsure or uncomfortable, he’ll stop everything immediately. (consent king)

boyfriend!kyle who likes eye contact and lacing your fingers together during soft sex.

boyfriend!kyle who loves it when you tug on his hair during sex, the moans that escape him give him away every time.

boyfriend!kyle who fucks you into the mattress during rough sex.

boyfriend!kyle who loves going down on you.

boyfriend!kyle who is so mindful of your well-being, constantly asking if you feel okay physically, mentally and emotionally.

boyfriend!kyle who always has heartfelt praises for you afterward to make sure you know how much he appreciates you.

boyfriend!kyle who massages your shoulders or back if you’re sore, knowing exactly how to relieve the tension.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[granddaughterogg]

men of Modern Warfare and how they are in relationships

Captain John Price

Self esteem: high, and damn rightly so. Heart on his sleeve. Doesn't really get the idea of being emotionally closed off. Seems like such a hassle, innit? He's got a lot to give and is not afraid to admit that he's a giver through and through. His love language is words, but also touch, and this man is insatiable. Will drown you in tenderness if you let him. You want to feel like a queen for the rest of your days together? Marry his ass.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Self esteem: Pretty high. He's impulsive as all out and a motormouth, so even if he wanted to hide his feelings from you - it's a battle already lost. He's way more sensitive that his Bro Persona might suggest and will be equal parts touched and embarrassed if you find out on your own. Showoff. Possessive to a fault. Can get quite cunty with his jokes sometimes, but will apologize for it profusely. He's so afraid to lose you. His love language is fucking your brains out. It's not like you're complaining.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He has this healthy belief in himself. Probably the most level-headed when it comes to falling in love out of the whole Task Force. Notices your affection right away and responds bringing his best game to the table - and this man can be Charming! Can get quite harsh when agitated though. Get prepared to be brought to tears if you two fight over something important. He'll notice that you're hurting, but firmly believes that it's not a reason to avoid discussion. His love language is shared hobbies.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Whoo boy. Self esteem: Unwavering when it comes to his job activities, and fairly bad considering everything else. He's one big walking emotional scar. Doesn't believe to be worthy of love and therefore remains oblivious to it for the longest. Probably has alexythymia on top of it. You have to grab him by the collar and shout I LOVE YOU, YOU BIG LUG into his face or he'll never get it.

Once you two are officially together he will give you plenty of everything that you need- except words. Won't tell you that he loves you unless you're on a hospital bed or something. His love language are everyday acts of service. That joke about a man who got told by his shrink that he should show his wife more affection, so he went and washed her car? It's been written about SImon Riley.

König

Self esteem: terrible. Frankly speaking, he should attend therapy before he even gets in a relationship. But shit happens, right?

He's touch starved, sex starved, obsessive and zealous. When he falls in love, it's as if he regressed into being a teenager again. He will idealize the SHIT out of you, you will become his sun, his sky, his everything. You say "jump!" and he happily throws himself over a precipice. Don't say "jump." If someone hurts you, the police will have a grotesquely mutilated corpse on their hands.

Love language: sex. He is very much a sub, even when he's the one holding a knife to your throat because you've asked him for it.

[rosiehrs]

roster | mikha lim.

part one of three.

summary ; excitement was something she was missing and you provided it for her. she thinks you're clueless, but she doesn't know that every move she's made has already been played by you.

pairing ; mikha lim x fem!reader

content ; mikha goes to admu, reader goes to up, mikha volleyball player, BABAERO CONYO MIKHA!!!, hookup culture, half smau...., suggestive, read to see ^-^ !!! taglish w eng translations!

genre ; fluff, angst

wc ; 3.8k

playlist here !!

a/n ; thank u @heybeautifulstranger for helping me translate hehe labyu

mikha loved volleyball. without it, she was nothing. at least, that's what she believes.

she put all her time and effort into the sport, disregarding everything else to improve herself. she was already the star player; every young person in the country was familiar with the name ‘mikha lim’. although the girl was incredible at her sport – that wasn’t the reason why she was so well known.

mikha was attractive. she knew that and apparently everyone in the country did, too. people came to her games to watch her play, but not watch her play. mikha wished people focused more on her performance as an athlete, but she wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t like the attention. support was still support.

“huy, friday night na at nagpapractice ka pa? late na, mikhs. umuwi ka na. (it’s friday night and you’re still practicing? it’s late, mikhs. you should go home.)” her coach advised, putting equipment away. mikha laughed, gripping the ball she held. “not yet, coach. may energy pa ako. (i still have energy.)”

“baka namimiss ka na ng jowa mo. (your girlfriend might miss you already.)” she teased, earning another laugh from the star player. “i don’t have time for a relationship po.”

“oo nga, baka magalit ang mga fangirls and boys mo. (that's right, your fangirls and fanboys might get mad)” she joked, mikha rolling her eyes playfully. she threw the ball over to her coach, deciding to pack up for the night. “i can’t have a jowa when i’m supposed to be the nation’s girlfriend!” she grabbed her bag and water bottle, turning to her coach who was clearly amused by her answer. “i’ll go home na po, night, coach! see you next week.”

“bye, mikhs.”

she gets into her car, checking her phone for the first time in hours. dozens of notifications flooded her phone as soon as she changed her focus from do not disturb. ranging from message requests sent by ambitious and confident (delusional) fans to thirsty comments on her posts to getting tagged on edits, and so much more.

she ignored all of them and immediately checked her messages.

when she said she had no time for relationships, she meant it. but that didn’t mean no time for some fun. she drove home to freshen up and get ready to meet up with her friends.

the loud and busy atmosphere always amuses mikha. while some people enjoy quiet and intimate places, mikha enjoyed the club. 

“lim! over here!” kyle, one of her friends, calls out. she made her way past the sea of dancing drunks and sat with her group. “get me a drink, kyle.” she said, making the group laugh. “wow, hello to you, too.” he sassed before getting up to get mikha’s go-to. “sinong target mo today, mikhs? (who's your target of the day, mikhs?)” evan asked with a smirk on his face. “kakarating ko lang, van. (i just got here, van.) let me drink first, then that question will be easy to answer.” 

kyle shortly came back to the table with mikha’s drink, sliding it over to her excitedly. “thanks, kyle.” she dragged, taking a sip from the glass. “okay, you drank na. who’re you going after?” evan pushed, causing the group to laugh. “what if you just sit and relax, mikhs? it won’t hurt to go a night without sleeping with a random girl.” aiah suggested, foolishly, mikha thought. she scoffed, shaking her head. “ate aiah, where’s the fun in that? besides, i’m not in the mood to sleep with someone tonight.”

“then?”

“baka make out lang... (probably just make out...)”

and that’s exactly what she did.

as soon as she got a little tipsy, she moved to the dance floor and picked a girl up without even trying. she pushed the girl against the wall, her lips on hers and hands on her waist. mikha had no idea what her name was or where she came from. they made small talk before, but mikha didn’t bother listening. she knew where this was gonna lead and she didn’t want to waste time remembering details about someone she was never going to see again. 

she pulled away from the girl, who’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “this was fun, thanks…?”

“jen! my name is jen! but it’s okay if you don’t remember! you wanna get out of here? we can get out of here!” she asked, eager to spend more time with mikha. she slowly let go of jen’s waist, squinting her eyes before shaking her head. “nah, i’m good. you have a good night, though.” and with that, she left the girl alone in the bathroom stunned and embarrassed. 

she made her way back to her group’s table, all eyeing her with amusement in their eyes. “what?” she asked, grabbing a fry from the basket they were all sharing. “who was it?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” she shrugs, grabbing another fry to try and end the conversation.

“maybe you should check your hair and makeup before you leave the bathroom, lim.” kyle teased, catching mikha off guard. “shit, is it bad?”

gwen laughed before passing her a wet wipe. “nakakatawa ka, mikhs. (you’re funny, mikhs)”

“i don’t even remember her name. it was like jane something..?”

“jen?! jen santos?! you made out with jen santos?!” evan yelped, letting out the biggest laugh. “what’s wrong..? she was pretty.”

“yeah, she’s pretty. but she’s like.. obsessed with you. i heard she’s been trying to catch you at one of these things so she’s gone to every club in the area.”

“are you being for real..? what if we’re talking about different jens?” mikha suggested. but evan was quick to whip his phone out and show her jen’s account. “is this her?”

“oh..”

evan let out another laugh, causing kyle to laugh with him. “she’s just gonna keep coming here now! we need to find another place!” they joked, earning an eye roll from her. “she’s probably not that bad, you’re just–”

“mikha!” a voice calls out, catching everyone’s attention. it was jen. she walked over to their table a little too excitedly, standing over mikha and placing her hand on her shoulder. “i think you should rethink your decision, malapit lang ang place ko! (my place is near!) we could dip right now.” she offered, trying to be seductive. “ah.. i’m good, jane.” mikha replied, removing her hand off of her shoulder. “it’s jen, pero okay lang! (but it’s okay!) you wanna sit with me? nakaupo lang ako doon. (i’m just sitting there)”

“i’m good.. i’m here with my friends. you have a good night, though.” she smiled politely, trying her best to send her away. “oh, okay! i’ll catch you mamaya (later)! i’ll get your number or something.” 

mikha simply nodded as the girl walked away, extremely giddy from the interaction. “shit.. no wonder why it was so much easier.” they all laughed at her, echoes of various comments following. “this is why you should’ve listened to me and stayed still.” aiah joked, but meant it.

“next time, i won’t even look at a girl.” her friends snickered knowing that would never be possible.

you were a casual sports enjoyer, being in a sports enthusiastic school – you couldn’t escape it. everyone would go to all the games, basketball, volleyball. it was one of the few things that brought everyone together, but it never came above your academics. 

it wasn’t like all you did was study, you liked to think you had a healthy school life balance, going out with your friends whenever they wanted to hang out, seeing some people here and there. you were able to maintain a good social life with good grades and that was more than some people could wish for. 

and your unexpected ‘attention’ really did help you get through a lot. it all started when you helped your best friend, jay, out with his band, x:o’s set at a local event. they were starting to become popular, their songs being played across the country. they were heavily praised for their good music and well.. good looks. 

x:o consisted of five members, jay, jake, stephen, ricky and evan. they were indeed a group of attractive young men and managed to put out really good music. after the gig, the group’s account dedicated a post thanking those who helped out and you managed to catch the eyes of a lot of fans. 

after the post, your social media accounts started to gain traction, earning a few thousand followers in the time span of a week. you appreciated the attention, but with your focus on school, you were never really active on social media, only posting a few pictures and a few tweets here and there. the attention only grew from there as more and more people started to approach you, later sharing on social media how kind and down to earth you were or how pictures didn’t do you justice. jay teased you for it all the time, joking about how he should be your manager since he’s the reason why all of this started. 

your entire friend group has never missed a gig of theirs, but people only ever pointed you out. you and jay started to gain attention as a pair, people getting suspicious by how close you were, eventually leading to them thinking that you were dating. both of you never made an effort to shut the rumours down as you simply didn’t care. (and it helped jay a little with the people who would flirt with him)

your group would laugh at the posts knowing that you looooved women. you were jealous of jay because of the girls that would approach him; some very attractive girls. ‘i should’ve joined a band’ you would joke whenever a girl would speak to him.

x:o landed a gig at the vault, a very popular club in the area. every weekend this place was crowded, which is why this gig is a big deal. jay was setting up with his band while the rest of you (except angelo) had started drinking. “thanks sa food, ate jho! (thanks for the food, jho!)” sheena shrieked, stuffing her face with the food jhoanna bought for her. “wala yun… dapat magpasalamat ka kay y/n kasi treat niya ‘to. (it’s nothing, you should actually be thanking y/n since this is her treat.)” she glared, causing you to laugh. “okay lang yun, jho! libre kita next time, bribe lang kasi ‘to. (that’s okay, jho! i’ll take care of it next time, this was only just a bribe.)”

“ang daming tao rito, mga walay batasan. (there are so many people here, people with no manners.)” colet commented, kissing her teeth and subtly glaring at everyone she saw. “yun oh, yung naka green, suntukin ko siya, beh– (that one, the one wearing green, i’m gonna punch her–)”

“nakarating pa lang natin, may suntukin ka agad? (we just arrived and you’ve already found someone to punch?)” 

whilst your group started bickering about colet’s impulsive (and violent) thoughts, the nation’s girlfriend had arrived with her group of friends. “guys, we were just here last week.” mikha complained, getting dragged by kyle. “since when have you ever been against clubbing?” kyle asked, “besides, we’re here for evan. supportive friends tayo diba? (we’re supportive friends, right?) our little rockstar, performing at our favourite club. full circle moment na ‘to, guys. umiiyak na ako. (this is a full circle moment, guys. i'm crying now.) ” the girls rolled their eyes at his drama, hitting him with teasing comments about how lame he was.

your two groups were together more often than anyone realised. despite having friends in the same band; your friend groups never came in contact with each other. jay was familiar with evan’s friends and evan was familiar with jay’s friends, but their friends knowing each other wasn’t the case.

mikha slid over to the bar, smiling at the bartender as a non-verbal order. she was here all the time and was very familiar with all the staff. while waiting, she looked around to observe the crowd and her eyes landed on an unfamiliar face. she stared at you for a few seconds, growing more and more curious as she watched you from a distance. feeling someone’s gaze, you turned to the side and locked eyes with the particular redhead. the both of you held eye contact until a glass was placed in front of her. she turned away from you to thank him and immediately turned her head back to your direction, but to her disappointment; you were gone. 

she brought her drink over to their booth, everyone curious about her expressions. “nangyare? (what happened?) you good?” gwen asked, concerned. “yeah, i just think i found my girl for the night.”

“ayan ka na naman. (here you go again.)” aiah sneered, shaking her head. “sino ba? (who is it?)” 

“i don’t know yet eh, but i’ll find out.”

you got back to your group with snacks in hand, sitting down next to sheena. “nakita ko yung atenean na volleyball player (i saw that atenean volleyball player). the redhead.” 

“ah, mikha lim? nandito siya? (she’s here?)” jhoanna asked. “is that her name?”

“yeah, kaibigan ata siya ni evan. bakit? (i think she’s friends with evan. why?)” gelo replied, throwing a peanut into his mouth.

you shrugged and took a sip of your drink, “wala lang (nothing), she’s pretty.”

“her fans call her the nation’s girlfriend,” gelo added, making sheena giggle. “seryoso! (i’m serious!) babaero yan. (she’s a player)”

“ang corny, (how corny)” she added. you rolled your eyes at her, although you did agree. but you did see why they called her that. you only needed one glance to see that she was attractive. 

as time went by, more drinks were bought. kyle was already failing to stand up straight and the band had yet to start. both groups made their way to the front of the stage, cheering as the much anticipated band started preparing for their entrance. “the vault, let’s make some noise!” cheers erupted as the five members walked onto the stage, all their faces laced with excitement and determination. “are we ready to have some fun tonight?” jake beckoned with his bass guitar in his hand. the cheers grew louder, all of you grinning at jay as you saw the excitement on his face, “this is ‘looking for somebody (to love)’, hope you enjoy!”

the familiar guitar melody started playing, jay and stephen immediately getting into it. everyone in the crowd started dancing along as jay started singing the first verse. mikha coolly bopped her head to the music, trying her best to avoid contact with random strangers. you were on the other side of the stage as she caught your eye, her red hair made it easy for her to stick out in a crowd. you admired how elegant her small movements managed to be, smiling briefly as you watched her dance with her friends. coincidentally, she looked up and locked eyes with you once again. a small smirk crawled across her face, pleased with the fact that she had your attention in this crowd. you sent a small smile her way before turning away to dance with jhoanna. she couldn't tear her eyes off of you. she needed to have you.

a few songs after, the crowd seemed to quiet down. “should we slow it down a little? gusto niyo ba? (would you guys like that?)” jay asked, playing with his earpiece.

“this is fallingforyou.”

What time you coming out? 

We started losing light

mikha turned to find you, seeing you leaning on colet. you felt her gaze on you, tilting your head as your eyes met once again. she was amused, but she didn’t know why. there was something about you that was so alluring. she moved to face the band before turning back to look at you, but you were gone. again.

“uh, guys, i’ll be back.” she said, eyes searching through the crowd to find you. “yeah, yeah. have fun, mikhs.” they replied, knowing what she was leaving to do.

she pushed past dozens of people on the dance floor, relentlessly trying to find you. after getting past what felt like hundreds of people, she finally found you standing against a wall near the side exit with your arms crossed. 

“eager, are we?” you asked as she walked towards you. “no.. not really. i mean, you must be though, right? leaving the crowd to wait for me here?” she grinned, standing over you. “who says i’m waiting for you?”

“your eyes are telling me everything i need to know.” she mumbled, hand travelling to your waist. “everything? really?” 

And on this night and in this light

“am i wrong? do you have something else to say to me?” 

you hummed, pretending to think, letting her pull you closer towards her. “bilisan mo na. (hurry up.) i’ve been thinking about you for almost an hour now. my patience is running out.” she complained, ducking her head into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo. your breath hitched as her face moved closer to yours, “can i?”

you replied by grabbing her neck and placing your lips eagerly onto hers. mikha let out a breath of content, pleased with the contact you two were finally making. she gripped onto your waist, soothing you with caresses every now and then. 

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you

your lips moved against each other with vigour, pouring out all of the lust and need you managed to have for each other in a short period of time. for the first time in forever, mikha was excited. she loved the feeling of your lips against hers, the faint scent of your shampoo, how you felt in her hands. she didn’t want to stop kissing you.

you pulled away briefly, placing your head on her shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “you.. i...” she began, unable to form words. you laughed and patted her cheek, not bothering to speak as you knew you’d go through the same struggle. “you wanna get out of here?” she managed, looking down at you with lidded eyes. “i’d love to, but i’m here with my friends.” you answered, the taller girl clearly not pleased with your answer. “please,” she whined, wrapping her arms around your waist to bring you into a hug. “i don’t even know your name, i can’t leave with you.” you laughed, hugging her back regardless. “my name’s mikha, can we go now?”

you laughed once again against her shoulder, shaking your head. “well, mikha. i still can’t leave with you.” 

“thank you all so much! we’re x:o, we hope to perform for you guys again soon! mag ingat kayong lahat! (take care everyone)” you heard from the speakers, causing you to fix your posture. you slowly let go of mikha, getting an annoyed groan out of her. “i have to go, it was nice meeting you, though! mag ingat ka, ha? (take care of yourself, okay?)”

“wait, what?”

“i’ll see you, mikha.” you smiled, locking lips with her once more before you ran into the crowd to find your friends. 

“wait! i don’t even know your name!” 

mikha groaned, throwing her head into her hands. who cares if you were with your friends? she could take care of you (in more ways than one). she stayed there for a few minutes, trying to fight off the warm feeling you left her with. she made her way back to her friends shortly after, evan finally joining them. “mikhs! i was wondering if you were gonna come back. you okay?” aiah asked as she sat down next to her. mikha defeatedly dropped her head onto aiah’s shoulder and sighed, “yeah..” was all she let out.

she felt frustrated, you brought her so much excitement and even if she wanted to do it again (which she did); she wouldn’t be able to. this was the first time she wished she made some sort of small talk before, because other than the taste of your lips and the scent of your shampoo – she knew nothing about you. 

you rushed back to your friends, blindly trying to fix your appearance before reaching them. you saw colet waiting besides the door that led backstage. “well, well, well.” colet began, “nakakatawa ka talaga, beh. (you’re really funny.)” she laughed before dragging you inside. “look who i found. bumalik siya, guys. (she came back, guys.)” you rolled your eyes at her before hugging jay, “good job, jayboy! you did great tonight.”

“eh, pano mo malalaman? nawala ka bigla. (how would you know? you just disappeared.)” sheena joked, sticking her tongue out at you. “i heard the entire set! ano ka ba? (what are you saying) i was just doing something.” "right.. right.. you should fix your makeup, y/n. that something didn't really hold back."

“what?!” you asked, grabbing the mirror jhoanna was holding out for you and immediately turned around in embarrassment. you quickly tried rubbing the lipstick marks off your face as your friends laughed at you.  

“whatever, guys. basta (anyway), good job, jay.” 

he laughed but was thankful for the support. "it's okay, y/n. it's a club! i encourage this behaviour, in fact - i endorse it." you rolled your eyes at him as he slung his arm around your shoulders. "let's go na? back to mine? we can get food and drinks on the way." he suggested, wanting a more intimate celebration. "paano ang mga bandmates mo? celebration niyo? (how about your bandmates? your celebration?)" angelo asked. "we had our little moment na after the show. bukas yung celebration namin. okay lang. ready na ba tayo? (we'll have our celebration tomorrow. it's okay. are we ready?)" you all agreed and hurriedly made your way out of the venue. 

mikha spent the rest of the night trying to find you, not knowing you left from the back exit.

“god, mikhs. who the hell did you hook up with? you’ve been so out of it since you came back.” kyle commented, evidently noticing her friend’s odd behaviour. “i wish i knew, i literally don’t know what her name is. i feel like an idiot, i begged her, for fuck’s sake. i don’t beg.” she complained, taking another sip of her drinking, causing aiah to take it away. “okay, that’s enough for tonight. lasing ka na, uminom ka na ng tubig. (you’re already drunk, you should drink water now.)” mikha groaned at her but listened anyway.

“can you describe her?”

“ganda. pretty. cute. ganda. hot. pretty. gwapa. i don’t know,” she slurred, slamming her head down on the table dramatically. “whatever, i don’t even care.” she continued.

mikha got over you the next day, but slowly, a week went by and you still occasionally managed to cross her mind. she still wondered about who you were and unfortunately still wanted to see you again, but there were plenty of fish in the sea and you know, it wasn’t that serious.

– hope u enjoy..... @yumtooki :3

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (no, I won't tell you who yet >:), but I will cover the symptoms as well as possible) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

Laswell's office is a familiar place to you. Be it for reprimand (lighthearted), or the ongoing search for an actual field team, you've never been a stranger to these walls.

She looks flat-faced, as per usual, but you sense a crackle in the air that wasn't there before, so when you step in, you set your bag down quicker. Just by a tad.

"Good, you finally figured out how to tie your shoes."

Her tease doesn't go over your head, but it isn't met with a snarl or a dare to say that one more time, I fucking dare you, it's met with a familiar warmth that encompasses your mind, comforts you after another round of brutal training.

"You're excited. Don't drop the pantyhose just yet, okay? Save that for your wife."

Had you been anyone else, you would have been met with a shouting so loud it shakes the very foundations of the building. But you're not anyone else, so it's instead a smack to the shoulder, and the soft swiping sound of manila folders on her pretty, dark-wood desk.

Despite your own rebellious streak, you don't touch any of the information until she opens the first, revealing maybe the single most Scottish name you've seen in a while.

John MacTavish.

She must read through your confusion, because she smiles in that way she thinks you can't see, a slight twitch upward of her lips, only the corners.

"I found a team."

Everything stops right then. The air flowing in the room slows, your heart skips a beat (maybe more than one), and you feel yourself single in on that information, feel your brain grind to an achingly empty halt.

"What?"

It's stupid, you know you heard her right, but you have to ask. You just have to.

"You've got a team, kid. I found a team, they need new intelligence, intelligence that works on the field, too."

You might have just came in your pants. Laswell pats your shoulder, trying to bring you back to the land of the living, smiling wholeheartedly.

"Kid. Kid."

You finally brought yourself back into your brain to realize your fists are clenched and shaking a little, too excited to physically contain yourself.

"I'm listening, Laswell. I'm up." "Good, because you've gotta learn, too."

The conversation that results is one of the longest you've had, but infinitely worth it. It's your in, a short synopsis of these men you're going to be entrusting with your life, something that even the most dedicated reader couldn't gleam from the clinical, militaristic profiles that Laswell has her paws on (though you know getting those must be an already-impressive feat).

Mentally, you start to assemble a list by age, giving yourself advice to learn and test. For science, maybe, or just to game-ify this new experience. To find how to "win" this, because there just has to be a way, if you play your cards right.

Price is firm, yes, and steady in applying pressure, but he's also very clear when he gives approval.

Ghost is his second in command. Quiet, sarcastic. Not open but expecting no vulnerability. Respectable.

Kyle Garrick. Sergeant. Formerly non-military, recruited just a short while back. Playful, but willing, obedient. If you should shoot to emulate anyone, it's him. At least, until you see this dynamic in play.

John MacTavish. Often referred to as "Soap", sometimes "Johnny". Bomb tech. Passionate and fiery. Useful, but he comes on strong. Only play your cards like that if you already have their favor. Being stubborn either makes you a genius or an idiot, and having people think you're stupid isn't a good first impression.

"You think you can hack it, hun?"

You smile at the endearment (doubtlessly acquired through Laswell's habit of picking up her wife's manner of speech), bite back your nerves, and nod.

"Yeah."

"Good. Meeting's next week, so you should start resting up now. Write your lines, make a script, do whatever you need. Just come off as well as you work, and you'll be fine."

Her voice is the finally thing that makes you stand from the chair, beaming at her like a little kid. You know you look silly, but you feel... excited. Much more than usual, and you can't help how you express it.

Laswell knows that, and it is a mercy she offers, but you shake your head, dig your nails into your palm.

She understands. Your new team might not. It'd be best to keep a handle on things, for now. "Thank you, Kate."

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[sigh-tofm]

if you’re a gym rat… (some 18+)

… price

- gets back into it. has always had a certain level of physique he’s had to keep up being in the army, but he isn’t the young sergeant he once was anymore. still, he usually jogs twice a week and lifts some weights when time allows.

- that is, until you start pulling him along. early morning leg sessions with the sunrise and lighthearted planking contests during the footie halftime. equally enjoys getting back into the workout game, spending time with you and getting to look at your body in the tight gym wear. especially loves the the soft pudge at the bottom of your stomach and the way all of you jiggle when you do burpees.

- showers with you after the fact. long, steamy showers in each other’s arms. no sex in there (you’re both sore and the floor is slippery), but it’s not necessary. you’re content with the hot water massaging your spent muscles and the feeling of your solid lover around you.

… kyle

- hypes you up. already spends more time in the gym than you do, so he knows every exercise and machine in and out. eagerly teaches you everything and anything you ask him about. never lets anyone else spot you, always does it himself. especially likes spotting your squats.

- follows your pace, whether that means exhausting himself for you or slowing down for you. will join you on hill sprints and long distance runs, but is thankful he gets to hold the stop watch and blow the whistle when you do beep tests.

- thinks the act of exercising together can be as intimate as sex itself. getting to observe and explore each other bodies, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. half of it is a mental game and not too unlike kink, he thinks, as you groan and contort your face while pushing your feet into to ground, tensing your muscles into the belt to help with the deadlift. he nods approvingly when you straighten your back and breath out at the top of the lift. ‘one more for me, baby.’

… johnny

- eggs you on. like kyle, always helps you go harder, faster, longer, but does it by way of teasing. ‘that all, then? come oan, ye had more in ye last night.’ always toes the line between encouraging and infuriating, but to his credit he also tricks you into lifting the bar one more time instead of putting it down.

- jogs become races and walks become dogwalks. johnny is restless even if you’re both coming straight from an intense hiit-session. if you’ve decided on a leisurely pace, johnny will run ahead and circle back, take detours to look at interesting buildings and natural features, and constantly weave left and right on the path ahead or behind you, like a border collie.

- does not mind the sweat after a session. will eat you out in the parking lot until the car windows fog up. eventually pulls your panties back up and pat your belly over them, only to drive back home and do it all over again in the shower.

… ghost

- never leaves you. you’d think he keeps up a pretty strict routine with that pure strength he possesses, but he will drop anything if you suggest going hiking or practice a specific form. nothing is too boring, basic or easy if he’s doing it with you. that includes yoga, where you are actually leagues ahead of him in balance and flexibility. the only thing he has going for him is his sniper’s patience.

- effortlessly lifts the bar up when spotting your bench presses and you hit failure. leans down over the bar to kiss your nose while you catch your breath. ‘look at tha’. i’ll take ten kilos off, let’s end this on a high note.’ won’t hear your protests about how that’s not how it’s done, and make you do another rep with less weight, to keep the muscle memory of perfect form.

- ends each session with you practicing grip, which is something you both need to work on, you’ll hang face to face on the power rack and simultaneously try not to laugh while also gripping the bar for as long as you can. having an excuse to look you dead in the eyes is simon’s favourite part of each session.