#leed project

[zapatillasvansbaratas-outlet]

Cincinnati Contemporary Kitchen Mid-sized trendy l-shaped cork floor kitchen pantry photo with an island, an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, granite countertops and beige backsplash

[eternallyphan]

Cincinnati Kitchen Pantry Kitchen pantry - mid-sized contemporary l-shaped cork floor and brown floor kitchen pantry idea with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, granite countertops, beige backsplash, an island, wood backsplash and stainless steel appliances

[short-gremlin]

the amelia project you have my entire heart....

[duskydrawings]

[-SMELLS BLOOD-]

[goos3-345]

Pencil sketches for college

Last week I went to the Royal Armoury museum in Leeds for a class trip. It was pretty cool - even if it didn't really help me with my current project.

These drawings are of armour (and a gun) from around the 1600's used by the british. I think my favourite one is probably the bottom left one just because of how detailed it is (I mean it's got hearts on it, how could it not be my favourite?).

[ladyluscinia]

Ok now to spend an hour seeing if I actually know what the fuck a wattage calculation is supposed to look like

[lilyaminacreative]

T-shirts and posters made during the Covid-19 lockdown - profits went to Age UK.

Artwork Copyright © Lily Amina Creative

[userrottendotcom]

My time in Leeds and Nanashi Disco! 🎀

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiii, how about our fav 141 men with to a very clumsy reader? Like e.g. I'm someone who keeps accidentally bumping into people while walking because apparently I can't walk a straight line???

Is that something you'd write?:3

Is this something I'd write? Absolutely. This prompt is so cute and the perfect opportunity to write a few drabbles. Thank you for sending it in, and thank you for your patience as I work through all the requests.

Find the Imagines & What If Masterlist HERE

Content & Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, canon-typical cursing

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price:

“I’m doing it.”

“No. You’re not.”

You raise the hammer.

“Put it down,” says Price pointing at the ground.

“I’m fully capable.”

“Yes,” admits Price, slowly. “But you always hurt yourself.”

Your husband isn’t wrong. Everything you’ve ever hung on the walls has resulted in a throbbing thumb.

“It’ll be different this time.”

Price shrugs. “Go on then.”

With tongue between teeth, you come down on the nail, striking thumb instead of metal. You turn to him, tears in your eyes.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Come here.”

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

“Wouldn’t dare,” laughs Price, cradling your hand.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

“We need to—”

“The milk—”

“It’s—”

Simon tugs you to the right and you growl in frustration. “Stop pulling on me.”

Simon glances down and you know he’s smirking behind the black balaclava. “You don’t know how to walk in a straight fucking line.”

“What?”

He nods toward an elderly couple. “Nearly ran them down, love.”

You roll your eyes. You’re yanked backward against Simon’s chest. He places both hands on either side of you against the cart.

“Gotta protect the elderly.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter.

Simon presses his lips to the top of your head, grinning.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

“Let me see, love.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Kyle grabs your wrist and inspects the nasty slice. You were in the kitchen preparing dinner and the knife slipped.

“At least the knife wasn’t dull,” murmurs Kyle as he rinses the wound under cold water. He gently washes it with soap, drying it afterward.

“You need to be more careful,” he says softly.

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time. I’m not interested in taking you to the hospital.”

Kyle rotates your wrist, covering the wound with a bandage, and places a soft kiss against the wrappings.

“All done.”

John "Soap" MacTavish:

“Can we—”

“Nope,” says John, shaking his head. “Focus.” He places his hands on your shoulders, urging you forward.

“You don’t need to do that.”

John twists you to the side as you almost collide with an antique tea set.

“Oh, aye. I do,” he mutters, gaze darting everywhere, looking for the next victim.

You’re the hazard. Last time the two of you went antique shopping, John had to hand over most of his cash because you kept knocking things over.

“They pack these places on purpose.”

He kisses the top of your head. “No. It’s just you, love.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

[followjacobbarlow]

Leeds CCC Camp

[thollandneedy]

Masked- Peter Parker

A/N: Since y'all enjoyed so much the Ned's sister prompt... (last halloween themed fic btw)

Summary: Peter hooks up with someone on a Halloween party, but he didn't know that it was Ned's sister

Warnings: Language, teasing, mentions of alcohol, sexual content (p in v; fem!receiving, and praise kink)

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

The sound of classic Halloween songs blared from the speakers scattered around Ned's house, while the wind blew the orange leaves into his yard. The boy in the Zorro costume cursed to himself every time he saw the leaves falling, as it would be another chore to do the next morning, since his parents were out of the house. With hurried steps, he ran to the door to open it for the guests of his not-so-secret party (since his younger sister had told the whole school that there would be a party at her house on the thirty-first).

Unlike Ned, Y/n was considered popular in Midtown because of her charisma and, above all, her beauty. Like her brother, she had inherited good genes and had a mental capacity to envy. The girl was only a year younger than Ned, and yet he made a point of treating her like a child. After many fights and discussions to find a theme that met his sister's “aesthetic pinterest” requirements, Ned agreed to have a masquerade costume party where everyone had to wear personalized masks for their characters to “encourage creativity” in his words.

Although it wasn't much talked about, everyone knew that Ned and his family were well-off, and that consequently their house was big enough to easily house more than 100 people without them all bumping into each other. Ned looks back one more time before opening the door, already leaving a jar of sweets at the entrance for the guests to pick up as soon as they arrive at the house. The dark-haired man opens the door, only to find Peter standing there, while other cars are already parking so as not to have any problems, but late in the day with a lack of space on the street.

“What's up, man?” Ned smiles when he finds his best friend, Peter Parker, dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. “I liked the costume, but I thought you'd come as Zorro with me.”

Peter wasn't one to talk about liking musicals, but one of the few ones he really admired was “The Phantom of the Opera”, which became one of his secret passions after his aunt took him to see it on Broadway a few years ago. Parker didn't have his face completely hidden as it should have been, but it was what he had for that day, and he was going to use that to his advantage rather than spend more time making an artwork that would probably look terrible.

“That one was on sale.” The student says quietly, then laughs and enters the house as soon as the door closes behind him.

The house was decorated with mainly purple and blue neon lights, while the windows bore handprints smeared with fake blood. On some walls you could see some mystical beings pasted on, while some projected ghosts were flying over the kitchen ceiling. Cobwebs were used on furniture, themed food was displayed on the kitchen worktop, and the rest of the decoration was based on cushions, candles and decorative utensils.

“Let me think about who did all the decorating.” Peter looks around, admiring Ned's sister's creativity.

“Don't even tell me about it.” Ned rolls his eyes. “I told Y/n to keep it simple, but you know how she is about parties. It always has to be her way, or she'll freak out.” Ned comments, taking a seat among the decorative pumpkin cushions in the living room.

The sound of the doorbell ringing catches the boys' attention, while Leeds spares no effort to call out his sister's name so that she can welcome the guests. The girl doesn't answer, causing her older brother to curse to himself and shout once more:

“Y/N. COME DOWN HERE AND WELCOME THE GUESTS ALREADY.”

“I'M FINISHING MY HAIR, YOU SELFISH PRICK. I DON'T HURRY YOU WHEN YOU'RE TAKING TOO LONG TO GET READY TO GO OUT WITH BETTY” The girl shouts, opening the door to her room and then slamming it shut.

“Son of a bitch.” Ned puts one of his hands to his face, getting up from the sofa to greet his sister's guests, while Peter reacts with a low laugh. “Make yourself at home, Pete. My sister will be down soon, and you talk to her.”

(...)

The sound of the conversations seemed to overpower the loud music, and apparently Y/n's idea was working. The girl had the masks in mind so that there would be no differentiation between groups of friends, allowing everyone to express themselves as they saw fit, and to be able to talk to people outside their group of friends without feeling threatened. Y/n was sitting at the kitchen table, her two hands resting on the side of her body as she chatted with some friends. Her white dress hugged her hips, while her loose hair only enhanced her beauty.

From afar, it was possible to see the house full. Some were in the living room playing “Just Dance”, while others were in the kitchen drinking and some in the games room using the pool table for their drinks bets. Fortunately, it wasn't as rowdy as university parties, but Ned was certainly a lot more worried about someone using his motel room. The student was sitting in the living room, watching his colleagues from the robotics class sweating in their costumes as they danced to 'Timber', and doing extremely badly. Peter, on the other hand, was chatting to some girls in his class.

Peter Parker never stopped being a nerd, but he also never stopped being extremely attractive. Many girls liked Peter, while the boys didn't know whether to try to befriend Parker in order to benefit from the girls, or just swear at him so that he would lose their confidence.

“I didn't know you were in a couple.” One of the girls dressed as Doroty commented to the brunette.

“I'm not.” Peter commented, grimacing and looking around in search of a twin of his costume.

“That girl is wearing the Christine Daaé costume,” another girl pointed out, causing the brunette to turn quickly to face her.

She was beautiful, delicate and her eyes were mesmerizing. Her legs were exposed, while her feet wore low heels in the same pearly color as her dress. The girl also had little sparkly star-shaped clips in her curly babylined hair. Her mask was white with lace around it, making her eyes stand out even more

It was sexy, tempting, intriguing.

“Do you know who it is? Her mask doesn't let me identify who it is.” The brunette commented, still watching the girl who was laughing at other people's conversations with her apparent friends.

“Go and ask.” The other girl dressed as Glinda comments, watching as Peter says goodbye and heads in the direction of his character's romantic partner.

Peter approaches with slow steps, adjusting his mask and cape, trying not to look strange as he approaches her, but before he can say anything, the girl calls out to him with a smile on her face, waving one of her hands at him.

“Hi, Peter.” The girl calls out.

“Hi.” He replies awkwardly. “I like your costume.” He points to the white dress, along with the corset that makes her breasts look higher.

“And I like yours.” She replied, realizing that he hadn't recognized her.

Y/n was no different from her classmates, and the other girls in the other classes. Y/n would never tell her brother about the little crush she had on her brother's best friend, but she always watched from afar. Taking advantage of the fact that she was wearing a mask, she thought she could use this to her advantage. Because if he didn't recognize her, maybe she could try something more like the way she daydreamed when she had her imaginary scenarios before bed. She was his best friend's sister, and if he knew that, he would never try anything.

“Are you friends with Ned's sister?” The girl asked, getting off the workbench and approaching the brunette, who came closer to her ear so she could speak.

“I know her, but I don't talk to her that much. Whenever I come here to study with Ned or play video games, she's doing something. Or at school in the drama club, or book club, or at the mall with her friends, or even sleeping in her four-poster. Anyway, it's very difficult for us to meet other than at school.” The boy says loudly into the girl's ear, who agrees with a smile on her face as she feels him close to her.

“Have you and Ned been friends for a long time?” The girl stands on her tiptoes to comment in the costume designer's ear.

“We have been for quite a while, actually. Since they were 12, and you? Are you friends with his sister?” Peter asks, leaving Y/n against the wall at his question.

She didn't want to lie to Peter, because if he found out about this little lie, he might look at her with different eyes. The girl just nodded, turning quickly to the side, where some drinks were positioned on the counter decorated with cobwebs and toy spiders. The girl faced the table, picked up a red cup, and looked at Peter as if to ask if he wanted a drink. Peter doesn't usually drink, but he would, just to be able to keep up with the mysterious girl.

“What do you recommend?” He moves closer, standing with his shoulders side by side with hers.

“What do you like?” The girl asks, opening the clear bottle of vodka.

“Girls dressed as Christine Daaé.” He tucks a piece of Y/n's loose hair behind her ear, causing the girl to let out a low laugh and nod. “And you?”

Y/n stares at him, making a point of penetrating him with her eyes, as if he could be restrained alive by intention alone. The younger girl approaches, raising her head to answer him as he narrows his gaze:

“Boys with attitude… and tequila sunrise” Y/n comments, drawing a silly laugh from Peter.

At that moment, not even the people passing by could make the tension disappear from the air, and only those who could feel the heat of desire take over their bodies were attracted. Peter wasn't the type to do things quickly, as he liked to pay attention to detail, but it was a party and not a play for him to declare himself. The girl looked at the table with several bottles on it, stared at them for a few seconds, and then turned her gaze to Peter once more, waiting for him to do something other than talk. Fortunately, the brunette slid one of his fingers down the younger girl's exposed arm, reaching her free hand and saying:

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

(...)

The music and side conversations were no longer loud, and there was a certain peace wherever they were going. Y/n had her hands intertwined with Peter's, guiding him into a room that was being used as an office. It was large, with dark wooden shelves and a glass table in the center behind a large window that mirrored the moonlight. Y/n and Ned's parents were realtors in New York, but the bad part was that they also owned an agency, which meant that every month they had to travel out of state to resolve or improve an issue in the company.

Y/n closed the white door behind her, allowing Peter to step away from her and look at the books on the shelves, and some paintings too. Y/n was easily charmed by Peter's knowledge, as he was good at everything he did and knew a bit about everything. The brunette gently touched the base of the books, pulling them out to read their titles. The girl didn't hurry, she just followed him, putting her hands on his shoulders and kissing his neck without pulling him away, but Peter wasn't there to look at books.

The boy turned to the clean, innocent image that Y/n was passing by, putting his hands on her waist and finally pressing his lips to hers. The kiss began slowly, increasing in intensity as their tongues caught fire and their hands roamed their bodies. Parker moaned softly against the younger girl's lips, holding onto her waist tighter and tighter, waiting for the slightest sign that he could lose himself completely in the mysterious girl's body. Y/n, for his part, ran his nails down the buttons of his white shirt, slowly unbuttoning them.

And that was the last straw

“Can I touch you?” Peter asked breathlessly.

“Please.” Y/n asked in a low grunt, causing the boy to hold her in his lap, placing her on the glass table.

Peter put his weight on Y/n, lifting the rest of the dress that fell down her legs, to finally reach her smooth thighs. The girl tilted her head back, as if asking him to go deeper. Peter could feel his pants getting tighter and tighter, while his fingers seemed to search for a treasure in the middle of Y/n's legs, leaving him completely kneeling for her. He quickly removed his mask, throwing it on the floor and enjoying the wet core that was already waiting for him. Peter held Y/n's thighs tightly, pulling her closer to his mouth, which couldn't seem to take the pleasure. His tongue slid between her clitoris and her entrance, painting her orgasm in an explosion of guarded feelings. The girl held tightly to Parker's hair, which was now messy.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” Peter said against her wet pussy.

“Keep going, please.” The girl pleaded desperately, having her request granted as soon as she felt the student's tongue enter her pussy. “That's fucking it!”

Peter stood up, noticing that Y/n's legs already seemed to be shaking. In a moment of anguish and desire, he held her from behind, allowing her to taste him. They both moaned in satisfaction, allowing the younger girl to touch Peter's penis, which marked his pants. Y/n bent down, trying to unbutton Peter's pants, quickly unzipping them and placing the black fabric on the floor. When the girl tried to put her feet on the carpet and kneel down, Peter stopped her with a kiss and denied her with his head, saying:

“I want you.” He said with swollen lips. “Do you want me?”

Y/n doesn't respond, but his body does. His hair stood on end, and his legs spread wider so that he could fit in. Quickly taking off his underpants and throwing them to a forgotten side of the room, Peter pumped his penis a few times, and you could see the glow that his tip exuded from his over-excitement. The brunette kept his hands strong, biting his lip to control the loud moans that begged to come out. Y/n just watched, putting her hands behind her corset to untie her belly, which was compressed by the garment. They both stared at each other for a moment, appreciating their bodies from top to bottom, exuding their desire through their sin-subdued gazes.

“Shit. The condom is in my wallet pocket that was left in the car.” Peter remembers, cursing under his breath for having forgotten the fact.

“I take birth control. It's fine.” She says, knowing that Peter would be trustworthy enough to use the privilege of using a contraceptive.

“Really?” Parker questions her to make sure of what she was saying.

“Yes.” She shakes her head energetically.

Peter moves closer to Y/n, already feeling that his legs would collapse just from her touch. Y/n bites her lower lip at the image of the boy entering her sensitive spot, absorbing all of her thickness to the point where the girl in the white dress puts her own hand over her mouth to cover the loud moan that escapes her pink lips. Peter holds her by the waist, while the girl's body is practically leaning over the table, giving the brunette room to reach the bottom of the woman's pussy. They can both feel their sweaty skins coming into contact, and the sound of them slapping together as the movement increases.

“Peter.” The girl moans.

“Do you like it? Tell me how you like it.” The brunette asked, furrowing his brows as he moaned lowly, waiting for an answer.

“I've wanted you for so long. You have no idea.” Y/n moans louder, feeling the tip of Peter's penis hit her G-spot.

“We should have done this before then, princess. You fit me so well.” He grunts, increasing his speed and feeling his legs tremble with each thrust.

“You wouldn't notice me.” She comments impatiently and slyly.

“It's impossible for me not to notice someone like you, angel.” He stretches his hand out to one of the woman's breasts, making her place one of her hands on top of his, indirectly asking him to squeeze them. “I'm going to come like this, princess.”

“Me too. Please don't stop.”

Y/n moved her hips, searching for more pleasure, following the movements of the older man who, in a few seconds, hugged her tightly, putting his member in much deeper than before, ejaculating his hot liquid at the same time as his partner dug her pink nails into his shirt, screaming into his shoulder with her legs wrapped around his hips. Their legs tremble and their mouths return to a calm, wet kiss, catching their breath and slowly pulling their faces apart until their eyes penetrate each other once more, even interpreted in such a dirty way that it could be considered a crime.

“Are you all right?” Peter asks, running one of his hands through Y/n's messy hair.

“Yeah, and you?“ Y/n asks.”Shit, my friends must be looking for me.”

“Sure, mine too.” Peter agrees, slowly withdrawing his member from Y/n's vagina, and looking for the rest of her clothes while the girl re-ties her corset. “I still don't know your name.” Peter comments.

“And would it be important to know?” Y/n smiles softly, watching him only in the moonlight.

“Not really.” Peter comments, finishing putting on his pants, which were lying on the floor. “I wasn't surprised you chose Phantom of the Opera, by the way.” Peter commented, pointing with his chin at the girl's outfit that had come down from the table.

“And why not?” Y/n fixes her hair, tilting her head to one side as soon as Peter asks.

“Because I was the one who left the flowers in your dressing room after you finished your performance, Y/n. By the way, great idea to reuse the costume. You look hot in it.” Peter buttons up his white blouse.

Y/n stops for a second, realizing that she wasn't as cunning as she thought she was. The girl opens her mouth to try to say something, but realizes it was all a game. Peter walks over to her, finishing buttoning his last button. The brunette bends down to pick up his mask and then puts it on, still watching Y/n's perplexed face.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew who I was?”

“Isn't that what masks were for?” Peter gives a sideways smile, kissing the top of Y/n's head gently.

The boy turns around, opening the door and leaving the room.

“ Motherfucker” Y/n curses him, smiling at his incredulity.

[pricegouge]

Get Her a Dog (She'll be Happier For It)

Part Two | master list | MDNI

Soap x reader, Price x reader, eventual PriceSoap x reader

series cw: cheating. dubcon. angst. cuckholding. pet play.

chapter cw: angst, pining for another man's wife

reader is fem and fat

Mostly, he blames himself. For the late hours and the cold, empty bed; the broken promises Soap had been too preoccupied to keep. The general, dejected state of her. John knows he's a fixer, knows himself well enough to spot the pattern: pick a project, tend to it, leave it better than you found it. He's not sure where he went wrong with Soap's bird, or if it was indeed the failure itself that kept him circling like a dog with a bone under its bed, all he knew was how very, very fucked he was.

John sleeps on base most nights. An old habit he picked up when his marriage was falling apart, though it served him well enough still - kept him busy late into the night when his thoughts had a tendency to turn treacherously domestic. Home was a place to unwind for most soldiers, a reward to work towards, but John feared his wires had been crossed long ago. The day he was born, possibly. For him, home was the sense memory of damp, musty laundry he'd forgotten to change over before crawling into a cold bed despite promising he would at best, or the empty, aimless space he'd toil away at between missions at worst. On paper, he lived in a nice, secure apartment out in Leeds, though in effect he may as well have taken his captaincy for the ensuite it came with.

It's a good tactic, mostly, one that had worked for hundreds of higher ranked officers before him and would continue to work long after he's gone, MIA or otherwise. The problem unique to John in this situation, however, was his inability to look his own sergeant in the eye without being reminded of the very thoughts he was trying to run away from.

It was an absurd thing, really - the complex spectrum of reactive emotions John often fell victim to while just trying to do his damn job. After the career he'd led, John had considered himself quite prepared for the position of an officer. Had trained himself to respond to any and all obstacles with a level head and an uncompromising efficiency; an unrelenting ruthlessness honed so sharp that lesser officers often cut themselves on it. It had been useful, economic, a gnomon by which he had navigated a career even the former Mrs. Price could not fault.

His storied career, however, had failed to prepare him for Sergeant John MacTavish. Or his bloody little wife.

He’s a force of a man is the problem, equal parts hard to love and hard to hate though there are times when John desperately wishes he could do the latter. Nights he lay awake - even in the curated sterility of his rooms on base - thinking of the pretty bird that warms Soap’s empty bed, her dour countenance and the big, hopeful eyes she'd turn on him with every visit. It would be a convenience to hate Soap, but adept as John is at bending his morals to fit his own goals, blaming Soap for the shortcomings of his relationship is simply not a circle he can square.

Mostly, he blames himself. For the late hours and the cold, empty bed; the broken promises Soap had been too preoccupied to keep. The general, dejected state of her. John knows he's a fixer, knows himself well enough to spot the pattern: pick a project, tend to it, leave it better than you found it. He's not sure where he went wrong with Soap's bird, or if it was indeed the failure itself that kept him circling like a dog with a bone under its bed, all he knew was how very, very fucked he was.

The thing is, despite every moment of his past pointing to the opposite conclusion, John can take no for an answer. Really, he can. But 'I'm married' is not 'Get away from me.' And 'I don't want to hurt Johnny,' is not, 'I don't want you,' and damn him but he can't get that distinction out of his head.

He'd told Kate about it once, drunk on thirty year old Lagavulin after a particularly memorable win. She'd listened raptly for an hour, probably - hard to tell time for the way the clock hands swam -, and then summarily told him to get his goddamn act together because MacTavish was a great sergeant, one John himself had specifically requested, and she wasn't going to be sending him away anytime soon. 

She's right, he knows. Soap is far too indispensable as sniper and demolitions both, and is marked for a captaincy of his own, besides. MacTavish didn't deserve the blight of an officer-requested transfer on his rap sheet, and John had no real want to give him one anyway. Because he didn't hate Soap. Couldn't, despite every waking thought telling him it would be easier to do so. MacTavish's affability ran too deep; primal, John suspected. Something about the rakish grin and the boisterous laugh. Brought people back to a time when the war crimes of the village brute could be summed up in a single court hearing. He'd even managed to reel Ghost in, so John couldn't really be blamed for his soft spot.

But if he had to suffer through one more illuminating conversation about how inconsiderate the man was on the home front, John was going to have to take matters into his own hands and there was nothing else for it.

Someone had to make that pretty bird happy, after all.

***

Orders come through late in the evening but John knows his men well enough he barely hesitates. Simon, nearly preternatural in his ability to know when he's needed, picks up so quickly John has to check to be sure the call registers as outgoing on his phone. Gaz, eager to prove himself, is similar, sleep clearing from his voice the second he hears his captain's rough growl on the other end.

It's John who gives the last call pause, finger hovering over Soap's contact almost regretfully. One in the morning, day before the bird's birthday. She'll be upset, even if Soap isn't. If John could do this without the man he would, but it's not up to him and he can't fight it this close to wheels up so he hits call and waits for the Scot to answer with something close to contrition settling in his stomach.

Soap picks up on the third ring, voice alert but distracted. Huffy. Strained and short of breath. Dark and burly. 

It's instinctual; hard pressed. John's been trained all his life to be observational, to seek out answers where none are freely given. It doesn't turn off just because the person on the other end of the line is his own sergeant, but that doesn't explain the way his breath catches as he listens to the background of Soap's call, how his stomach turns to lead as he leaps to assumptions; waits for confirmation, hoping he's wrong; hoping he's right just so he can hear -

A whistle sounds, the tinny noise of stadium cheer compressed through a cheap sound system. Soap groans in defeat and mutes the TV. "Evenin', cap, to what do ah owe?"

"You're… up?" John double checks the time on his phone just to be sure but there's no getting past it. Soap is watching a match of some sort at 01:00 hours. Not outside the realm of normalcy, but odd enough. 

"Time difference," Johnny grunts, already distracted again. 

"Who's even playing?"

"Looks like Germany." Not even invested in it. He should be keeping his pretty bird warm in her little nest, but what did John know? He was a divorcee himself after all, and awake himself no less.

"Well wish 'em luck. Wheels up by oh-four-hundred."

"Where to?" Eager as always. No trace of regret for the day he'd miss. 

"Madrid. Got a hit on a large scale weapons dealer. Pack light."

"Aye, sir. See ye soon."

***

John used to think the hardest part about traveling so much for his job was all the jet lag, or all the late nights spent scrambling to make a charter he'd only been given an hour's heads up on. 

Now, he knows the hardest part is the company that takes up space in the seat next to you.

Garrick's squirrely. Usually is when he's heading into a mission he doesn't know the ins and outs of too well. It's an easy job, low stakes. More intel collection than anything, though the risk of a muck up in such a heavily populated area warranted the use of a team as highly specialized as them. Still, debrief had been almost suspiciously minimal, and Gaz was subtly unsettled by it, if his chattiness was anything to go by.

It's always Soap who indulges him, the two sergeants evenly matched in their geniality. Normally, it's a blessing to have them paired up, entertaining each other. But tonight, Gaz wants only to talk about Soap's bird and her upcoming celebration. So when Gaz asks what Soap got his wife for her birthday, and the man just shrugs and says he’d been planning on taking her out to dinner that night, John’s hard pressed not to swallow his cigar in shock and shame and anger.

“You didn’t get her anything?” Gaz doubles down, good lad, and John lets the ensuing squabble wash over him while he runs mental damage control, primary target swapped from arms dealers to fixing the bird’s ruined day from afar quicker than he can even process the change. He’s distracted the rest of the ride, even more so when they go through the monotony of establishing themselves on site. John slips away the second he’s able, orders same day flowers from a hotel lobby after smiling sleazily at the receptionist to garner a quick favor, knowing better than to use his burner to give out Soap's address.

"And the message, sir?" The clerk on the other end of the line prompts once he's settled on a pretty little arrangement meant to convey regrets and observances both, apparently. She's hopeful, he thinks, like she's rooting for a love story.

"'Sorry I missed it. John.'"

He can almost hear her deflate. "Sure thing, luv. Anything else?"

"No, that's -." John stops, voice guttering out. From his vantage point by the desk, John watches as outside on the sidewalk where he'd left the lad, Soap helps an overeager child to her feet after she'd gone tumbling to the ground, helping her to brush gravel off her palms. His voice is hardly recognizable when he speaks again. "Johnny."

"Sir?"

"Sorry, that's -. The name. Johnny. Love Johnny."

"Oh. Easy enough fix. Have a good day, sir."

He doesn't bother returning the pleasantry.

Next>>

[duskydrawings]

Hii this is my babygirl, Kane. I love making non-human ocs... even if he was human to begin with. Stay tuned for his human design :)

[unreesonable]

Shall we have a little clip of Reece lipsyncing to Morrissey, projected at a Morrissey gig?

Go on then. As a treat. (From Morrissey's Leeds show, 6th Mar 2020, originally shared by Adrian Jennings on Twitter)

[magics-neptunes-things]

Dr. Bronze

Hi guys!

This is a small one with Ona and Lucy :) It comes from several request, so I hope you will like it!

Please enjoy ♥

TW : None

She’s a doctor. It’s still funny for Lucy to say that, but she likes the idea, to be honest. She’s pretty honored and this distinction made her think back about the woman she was at that time. She was so far away to imagine where she would be more than ten years later.

Not here in the English Camp, looking at Tooney and Alessia giggling about something she doesn’t want to know. But here like having be able to live so many things with football. She has won the Women’s Euro in 2022 and almost won World Cup in 2023 with England. And she won almost everything with Barcelona those last past years too.

And she can say that she never has been so happy as she is right now. And not only because of football, even if she met the woman she loves deeply thanks to football and their mutual friends.

She sighs softly when she reads one more time Ona’s last message, saying how sorry she is for not being able to come to the ceremony in Leeds University. Lucy wasn’t expecting her to be able to come to be honest, Ona is with her national team somewhere in Spain, training for the Olympics.

She would have love to see her again though. She misses her girlfriend, like crazy. They had a long discussion in Cuba about Lucy’s future and their relationship when they learn that Barça hasn’t accepted Lucy’s wishes. They knew it would be difficult to be separate again, but it was only for several months until Lucy will finish her career and come back in Barcelona to Ona.

That’s their project. Lucy joked about opening a bar, but she really thinks she would love it now. She hasn’t talk about it to Ona, scared that the younger one will make fun of her.

“Lucy, get your ass here right now or you will be late for fuck’s sake!”

Lucy groans when she hears her brother screaming in their parents’ house. It’s the day where she was supposed to received her distinction and she really needs to leave right now. But she really wanted to hear Ona’s voice before leaving and her girlfriend doesn’t seem to want to answer for now.

Lucy’s frowning when she comes down the stairs and when she goes in her brother’s car. Their parents’ left before them with Sophie, Lucy’s little sister, but the footballer can’t help and try to call Ona again.

“What the hell is she doing?” Lucy groans in a low voice.

“Maybe she’s tired of you. Maybe she realizes how easier it’s to live without you” Jorge teases her sister.

The slap he received after that echoes inside the car.

“Oy!”

“Shut up your face, will you?”

He rolls his eyes playfully, but Lucy’s reaction makes him realizes that maybe it isn’t the right place to joke. They never really talk about their respective feelings and love life to each other. But Jorge likes Ona, and he likes his sister with the Spaniard.

“Sorry if it was a bad choice for jokes” he says after a moment of silence.

Lucy groans for any answer, busy to write to Ona. She frowns again seeing that her messages are being delivered but not read.

“She’s not answering at anything” Lucy mumbles.

“I’m sur she’s fine, Luce. Maybe she has some tactical class or something?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

She’s not scared anymore like she was last year when Ona wasn’t answering her phone quickly. It happened from time to time for Vilda being the reason of Ona’s silence. Vilda isn’t here anymore, and things got a little better since, even if it’s not the best conditions. But it’s the evening and they usually are free.

Jorge looks at his sister, briefly leaving the road with his eyes.

“You are going to be alright; you know? Ona and you.”

“How can you know?” Lucy asks after a moment of hesitation.

“I just know. That girl is really in love with you, and I can say you are too. It’s different from your other relationship, I can say it. And everyone who knows you can say it, you are like two parts of the same orange. It’s like all the things who could separate you aren’t and make you both even stronger.”

Lucy stays silence several seconds, really touched by her brother’s words. She’s sure that Ona is the love of her life, but she’s not sure that she’s Ona’s one. She will probably never be, never taking the girl for granted.

“It’s going to be so hard to be away from her” Lucy points softly.

“I never said it will be easy. But you will survive this.”

Lucy smiles for real this time. She never thought that Jorge’s words would one day make her feel better about her love life and her choices.

Ona still hasn’t answer to her when she faces the outfit she’s supposed to wear for the ceremony.

She would have love to see Ona sitting next to her mother in the crowd, but she’s not mad or even disappointed. Just a little bit sad to have a reminder of what their life will be for now. She will miss having Ona dead asleep next to her every morning when they were supposed to gets up for training. Or a koala-Ona begging her not to leave the bed.

After her speech, she got lost a little bit in her thoughts, but managed to smile at the right time and give right answers to what is addressed to her. They talk to some people around them for several times before Lucy’s father grab her arm.

“Come on, let’s go to the restaurant now” mumble Lucy’s father, probably tired of all this protocol.

Lucy smiles when Jorge snorts and follow her family, taking a look at her phone again. She got several notifications, but still nothing from Ona and she’s writing to Mariona when they pass the doors of the building.

“Hola, Doctor Bronze.”

Lucy almost misses a stair step. She knows that voice by heart and would be able to recognize it between thousands of other voices. But that voice isn’t supposed to be here, she’s supposed to be training in Spain.

But when she raises her eyes, Ona is really in front of her. With her freckles, her chocolate doe eyes and a slight cocky smile.

Lucy doesn’t speak, she breaks the distance to Ona in three great steps, before taking the youngest girl in her arms, in an embrace probably able to break her two or three ribs. But Ona doesn’t complain, in fact she puts her arms around Lucy’s shoulders and hide her face in her neck.

“You are here” Lucy whispers in Ona’s hair, making the Spaniard smiles.

“Of course I am” she whispers back.

“Don’t break your opponent’s back, Luce” Jorge shout from afar.

They both can hear Diane shoving Jorge and the others away, making the couple smile again.

“How are you here?” Lucy asks, looking at her girlfriend.

“Your parents came to take me from the airport. I explained to Tome what was happening, and she said I can come” Ona explains softly, stroking Lucy’s face with her fingers. “It’s just today and tomorrow though.”

“I take it” Lucy smiles.

And now that her family is gone, she puts her lips on Ona’s. She can feel her smile under her lips and she kind of regrets not to be alone with Ona to deepen the kiss.

“So, this is where you studied?” Ona asks, looking around.

Lucy hums, unable to stop looking at Ona. She got a tan from her training in Spain, and she definitively has more freckles. Lucy resists to the envy to kiss every single one of them, choosing to kiss her jaw instead.

“You want me to show you around?”

“Mh deepens. Will there be secret places where you took other girls to kiss?”

“No” Lucy laughs. “Come on.”

Without any hesitation, Ona takes the hand Lucy is reaching out, interlacing their fingers. Like she proposed, Lucy shows the places where she studied, even if she took a lot of classes online too, to be honest. But she likes to have her girlfriend for herself before actually going to the restaurant with her family.

They managed not to cross the path of a lot of people. They know that there is people around and probably photographers. Everyone has a smartphone to take a picture now anyway.

“Oh. There is one more place I want to show you” Lucy says while they were going back to the car. “Come.”

Ona happily follows her girlfriend, not letting her hand go a single second. Lucy turns behind an old building before stopping suddenly. Ona doesn’t really understand what happened, but soon she’s trapped between a wall and her girlfriend, who is smirking at her.

“Now, I have a place here where I kissed a girl on this campus.”

The rest of the night went well. They finally went to the restaurant where Lucy’s family was waiting for them and had a wonderful time. The food was delicious and even if they were with the others Bronze, Lucy never let Ona’s hand go. She played with her fingers during all the time they were sitting. Ona always got along pretty great with the others Bronze, much to her relief. Lucy didn’t have the least concern about it.

Then they finally went to the hotel where Ona took a room, happy to finally be alone. They couldn’t keep their hands away from each other as soon as Ona closes the door behind them.

After several hours and a long shower taking together, they are in bed, facing each other. Their legs are interlinked, and Lucy is stroking Ona’s hip while looking at her.

“I love you so much” Lucy says softly. “I can explain how happy I am to have you here.”

“I love you too. And my girlfriend is a Doctor, I couldn’t miss that, right? Doctor Bronze” Ona teases.

“Why is it so hot when you say it?”

Ona laughs this time and Lucy can only smiles, loving to hear that sound. Ona rolls on her back to stretch, but it’s not Lucy’s taste to see her walk away from her, even if it’s only a few centimeters. She passes her arms around Ona’s body to drag her against her.

“What if I sequester you and I take you to a secret place known only to me?”

“Would you stay with me?”

“Of course”

Ona smiles hearing Lucy’s evidence in her tone.

“Then it wouldn’t be a kidnapping, because I’d be entirely consenting.”

Lucy hums, passing one leg on both of Ona and hide her face in Ona’s neck. She misses her smell too. Lucy’s breath makes the younger shiver, but Ona doesn’t move, only playing with Lucy’s hair.

“What are you thinking about?” Ona asks, realizing that Lucy’s eyes are wide open.

“Barcelona” Lucy mumbles. “The places I love, the places we went together and the one I want to go the next time I’m back.”

“What’s your favorite place?” Ona asks curiously.

“Our home.”

It’s sappy, but Ona loves it. She passes her arms around Lucy to feel her better against her.

“You know how we talk about me coming back to Barcelona at the end of my career?” Lucy asks.

“Yeah?”

Ona’s voice is as calm as possible, but she can’t help but be scared that Lucy already change her mind. England is where she grew up, where her family is. It would be almost normal to want to come back here. Just like she herself wanted to go back to Barcelona.

“We never really talked about what I would do at this time.”

“What would you like to do?”

Ona watch as Lucy rolls on her stomach, so almost completely lying on Ona. But the English Woman just wants to be able to see Ona’s face.

“I know it was just a joke with Mapi in the beginning, but I think I would love to have my own bar. Just somewhere where people can come to drink something and watch sport on TV.”

Lucy is looking at Ona with a lot of attention, almost waiting for the Spaniard to laugh at her face. But Ona never does it, instead she looks thoughtfully at her girlfriend.

“If that’s what makes you happy Luce, just do it” Ona smiles softly.

“You make me happy.”

Ona rolls her eyes with a smile but happily let Lucy kiss her lovingly. The Spaniard missed her girlfriend as much as Lucy missed her. It wasn’t easy for her to let Lucy go in London, but her girlfriend’s happiness is what she cherishes the most.

“But during Barca Femeni’s and Spain women’s games, I’ll have to close the place to come watch you play” Lucy adds soon after.

“Will you wear my jersey?” Ona ask with a smile.

“Mh… Maybe”

“Hot” smirks Ona.

Lucy laughs softly, letting her finger run on Ona’s face. She seems to have more in mind, but Ona knows better than push her to know what’s going on in her mind. Just when she turns her face to kiss Lucy’s wrist, the latter talk again.

“Maybe our children will wear it too?”

“What, a Spanish jersey or a Batlle one?” Ona smirks.

They talked already about having children together, but not really about what team they could play. if they want to play, of course. Lucy is surprised by Ona question, she never thought about it to be honest. But if they stick to their plans, they will be living in Barcelona, so it will be logical for them to play for Spain.

“We will let them chose” Lucy answers wisely.

“Sure, Dr. Bronze” Ona chuckles.

[lgwifey]

PERKS OF THE JOB

Elijah hewson x fem!reader

Summary : an interview leads to a phone call… and maybe more ? (I’m really bad at writing summary’s)

warnings : none ?

MASTERLIST

“I don’t think-”

“That’s correct y/n, you don’t think. I think and you interview.”

She blinked for a second as the middle aged man carried on walking ahead, looking down at her clipboard and letting her features drop as she looked back over the questions she’d been given to ask.

“Y/n ?”

The snap off her boss caused her to hurry up, trying to navigate the loose floor of the muddy festival in the heeled black knee high boots she’d been ordered to wear by the company’s stylist.

When she finally reached the cameras, without falling over somehow, she was created by the four musicians and her boss’s agitated expression.

“Guys, this is y/n. She’ll be the one interviewing you today. So the interview is for YouTube but it’s going to be published on a range of our socials.”

Y/n patted down her skirt before shaking everyone’s hands, leaving her clipboard on her chair for later on.

“Well I’ll leave you lot to get to know each other, if anyone needs me I’ll be at stage two with Alisha.”

Y/n gave a nod, allowing the older man to walk away whilst clocking the mocking face two of the camera operators where giving. She struggled to not laugh, a small smile on her face as she turned to the band.

“Hiya, so as Harry said I’m y/n, before we even turn the cameras on I’d just like to apologise for some of these questions, I literally begged him to change them but he’s refusing and I’d like to keep my job so if there’s anything you’d like for me to bring up in the interview please let me know so I can say I just swapped a few over for ones you all preferred. ”

Ryan gave a laugh, the other three following behind soon.

“What kind of questions are they if you’re apologising for them ?”

“Well let’s just say, from this sheet it looks like I’m interviewing U2. No offence Elijah but I usually like to make sure that the questions are targeted to each band member rather than just focusing on one.”

The brunette gave a laugh, sitting down on one of the seats like he’d been directed to do by another equipment operator.

“No offence taken.”

Y/n forced the blush off her face before sitting down as well, adjusting the pathetic excuse of s skirt that the wardrobes had gave her. Whoever designed this outfit had clearly never been to a festival.

The office buildings where dull, just like the basic black suits that all the male staff wore.

Y/n poured out the boiled water into the two mugs whilst Alisha carried on with her latest story on her latest obsession.

“Wait do you think I can get Harry to pay for my Rolling Stones tickets. I mean it is for work.”

She handed the light blue mug over to the excitable girl before nodding her head,

“I mean I did with my Leeds tickets, but I was interviewing people after . I’d still ask, worst he can say is no.”

“True, we’re too good at our jobs for him to even threaten to sack us girly.”

She blew a kiss before leaving to her office, the glamorous ‘periwinkle blue’ suit she’d recently bought. The other interviewer remained in the office kitchen, holding the hot cup in her hands to try and warm them up before she went back to typing up a manuscript to go alongside her last interview with an upcoming band.

When she finally worked up the willpower to go back to the typing, one of the new interns ran up to her with a mix of worry and confusion on his face.

“Urm, y/n ?”

She looked over from her laptop with a smile.

“Hiya Louis, what’s up ?”

“There’s someone asking for you on the phone, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

“Oh yeah, did you take their name?”

Worry spread on his face before he shook his head.

“Ok, just put them through to my line.”

He gave a blink.

“Line 4?”

Another blink.

“Im avoiding this manuscript anyways, I’ll just come to the front desk Louis.”

It was almost as if he let out a held breath before she swizzled around all her half-projects and let him lead her to the phone that was being held. He left her to answer, moving the phone to the end of the desk so he could carry on with any clients waiting for the desk.

“Y/n Y/l/n, how can I help?”

“Hiya y/n, we just wanted to call and let you know we think you did an amazing job with that interview-”

Her eyes widened as towards the end of the sentence the strong Irish accent was pulled away and a crash echoed through the phone.

“Sorry about him, we don’t let him speak to the outside world for a reason. This is Eli by the way, in case you didn’t know.”

A faint “that hurt” could be heard from the other side and her lips curled up into a small smile.

“No it’s fine, I’m glad you liked the interview.”

“Yeah it was probably one of the best we’ve been in. I just wanted to check that you hadn’t been killed by your boss for changing those questions for us, but I couldn’t find a contact for you anywhere.”

“Oh yeah don’t worry about it, he was slightly annoyed but like Alisha says, we’re too good at our jobs for him to even threaten.”

He laughed slightly, Louis giving Y/n a confused look when he noticed her twirling the end of her hair with her finger.

“Good to know,”

He paused for a second, y/n unsure if she was supposed to speak again only for him to appear a moment later,

“Look I was wondering if there was any way I could contact you in the future, you know because we loved you interviewing us.”

“Are you asking for my number Mr Hewson ?”

The other side went quiet and y/n had to force herself to not laugh when all she could hear on the line was “mate you’re so bad at this.”

“Urm yeah? But in a professional context ?”

“Of course, of course. Don’t worry I’ll dm it to you on insta, it’ll be easier than trying to say it and messing up a million times.”

“Oh yeah, makes sense.”

“Okay, goodbye Eli.”

“Urm yeah, bye.”

“Let Robert know I said hi.”

The line cut just after she heard something being thrown.

Sometimes the job had its perks.