#my price fic just eyeing me in the background

[beloveds-embrace]

hi, this idea kind of comforts me but it makes you feel uncomfy just ignore this request.

but since you do poly 141, I was thinking of a fic where reader comes from a bad abusive family but she doesn't talk about it and thinks it's normal. and the 141 tries to get angry/frustrated with her because they are concerned for the fact she is fine with people treating her badly or not prioritising herself they come to realise it's just how she thinks. and they remind her that she now doesn't have to survive and fade into a background or is a burden and that she can live and be happy.

i know it sounds complicated and specific but I kinda have this really serene picture in my head that if that happens everything will fine AHAHA idk. but again if this idea doesn't correspond with your writing or feeling or comfortability please just ignore this. apologies if it made you feel uncomfortable.

hope you have/had a nice day or night!!♡♡

I hope you have a nice day/night as well!! And i hope you enjoy this! CW: past abuse, past emotional abuse and neglect

You met them first through a mutual friend, an unplanned introduction that turned into something you hadn’t quite expected: a tentative relationship, but one that had happiness blooming like the flowers and greenery you tend to. It was unconventional- a group of elite soldiers who spent most of their time between missions scattered across the world and a civilian- but when they returned, it felt like they brought your home with them.

You still didn’t understand why they liked having you around. You were just a florist who helped them with decorating their new house, or who listened when they needed a friendly ear. You didn’t ask for anything, and they were kind enough not to question it even if you'd seen their displeased little frowns and furrowed brows whenever you'd refuse.

But recently, you noticed them getting… concerned.

It was Soap who brought it up first, his frustration seeping into his usual easy smile.

It happened after you’d offered to run a series of errands, insisting they rest after a mission. As always, you tried to downplay your exhaustion, helping them settle in their home, making sure everything was clean and in order for them before you even considered sitting down.

Soap watched with a frown, noticing how you brushed off the heaviness in your movements and the bags under your eyes, doing your best to tend to them, such a sweet thing. But after you finished, he gently grabbed your arm.

“Dove, why do you do this?” he asked, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Do what?” you replied, a little too quickly, trying to pull your arm back almost instinctively. Almost like a habit.

“Act like you don’t need anything. You haven’t even eaten today, and you’re lookin’ after us like we’re helpless. What about you, aye?”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. You didn’t know how to explain that putting yourself last was just what you did. That it felt right, somehow, to stay in the background, to make sure everyone else was fine before even thinking about yourself. It was normal, no? It was how you were raised, and your parents only ever insisted that discipline was needed.

“Just… used to it, I guess?” you finally mumbled.

Soap’s brows drew together, but before he could say more, Gaz stepped in, giving you a gentle, worried look. So Johnny... wasn't the only one who thought so?

“It’s not right,” Gaz said, frustration simmering in his tone. “You’re allowed to put yourself first, you know?”

You shrugged, glancing away. Allowed. You hadn’t thought of it that way.

Price was the next to notice it, his observant eyes always catching the little things: how you’d flinch ever so slightly when they raised their voices, the way you stayed at the edges of conversations, nodding along but rarely chiming in. It had been the same when they'd met you, but he had assumed- hoped- it was merely you being naturally shy.

But this clearly went beyond that.

One night, as you were tidying up after dinner, John approached you, folding his arms across his chest. He stands close, but not too close.

“Why don’t you sit with us, love? Someone else can do the dishes. You barely let us help you cook or set the table either.” He says, his voice gentle, but with a hint of a command.

“I’m fine, John. I really don't mind.” You answered quickly, quietly. You couldn’t meet his eyes, a reflex you’d developed over years of keeping your head down.

He tilted his head, as if trying to see past the answer you’d given him. “No, my love,” he said softly, but with a firmness that made you pause. “I think you’re used to telling yourself that, but I don’t think you believe it.”

You froze, unsure how to respond, feeling something painful stir in your chest. The idea of asking for anything, for taking up space- of needing more than what little you had- seemed wrong. Like wanting was a burden in itself. But it is. It's what you've learnt and been taught.

John sighed, his eyes warm but sad. His hands raised to cup you face slowly, gently. “You’re not a burden, you know that, right?”

You gave him a small, shaky smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah.”

The next time, it was Ghost.

He was usually silent, lurking in the shadows, watching with that keen, unreadable gaze that only ever softened for you and them. But one evening, as you were dropping off supplies at their base, Ghost noticed you hurrying off after you’d finished. He easily caught up with you just outside, his hand gentle as it grasped your shoulder.

(Yet it still had you flinching.)

“You don’t have to go, birdie.” He murmured, voice soft but clear. You met his gaze, startled by the gentle concern in his eyes.

“You… don’t mind?” you asked, trying not to look too hopeful. You always worried your company might be too boring, unproductive. Unwanted.

Ghost shook his head. “If anything, we mind when you don’t stay,” he scoffed quietly. Then he sighs. “We’re worried, you know. About how you treat yourself, luvie. Like you don’t deserve anything more than the bare minimum.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than you’d care to admit. He waited, patient, a pillar of quiet understanding.

“I just… it’s what I know,” you finally whispered, unable to look at him. “Growing up, I was never… important. And I don't have to be! I'm not demanding it, I promise-”

He was silent for a moment, and then he took in a deep breath that cuts your frantic mumbles off, as if finally understanding something he’d long suspected. “Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you’re with us now, birde. You are important.”

Something warm spread in your chest, something unfamiliar yet comforting. You managed a nod, finding a small sliver of strength in his words, and a little smile forms on your face- leaning into Ghost's knuckles so lightly caressing your cheek.

After those days, things began to change more and more. For the better.

Kyle would check in with you every day, insisting you take breaks with him, sharing laughs over simple things. Soap began inviting you to meals, not taking no for an answer, piling food on your plate until you couldn’t help but indulge. Those two especially adored taking you out to sample new cuisines, delighting in getting you to be more open with your expressions and reactions.

John and Simon would go on walks with you, listening to the little stories you’d been hesitant to share, showing you that your presence mattered to them as much as theirs did to you. And slowly, day by day, they chipped away at the walls you’d built around yourself. Showed you that what your family raised to be wasn't right, was cruel to you.

One evening, as you sat on the couch in the common room, leaning against Johnny's shoulder, Kyle leaned over, a gentle smile on his face.

“You know, love, you don’t have to survive anymore,” he said softly, meeting your gaze with a warmth that made your heart ache. “We want you here because you make us happy. Just as you are.”

The words felt foreign, but you let them settle over you, warm and safe. Kyle gave your hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring, a silent reminder that you didn’t need to hide.

“We’re here to take care of each other,” Soap murmured, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, “and that means you too, aye?”

You gave them a tentative smile, feeling that familiar ache soften just a little.

Simon, sitting nearby, nodded in silent agreement, and John leaned back in his chair, giving you a small, proud smile. “You’re one of us, love,” John said quietly, his voice steady. “And as long as you’re here, you’re part of this family. We won't just let you fade into the background. That isn't fair to a dove like you.”

And looking at them now, at the love and gentleness they held for you, it wasn't hard to believe their words.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found a place where you belonged.

[sparks-and-smoke]

Hello! Could I get a fic about Bucky accidentally finding the reader’s Christmas gifts to him? Maybe he tries (and fails) to act surprised?

Thank you (ps I know it’s after Christmas, sue me)

Aww~ I don't care that it's too late for the holidays. It's cute! Merry Christmas (belated)

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader (code name honey)

Content/Warnings: none it’s just goofy holiday fluff

Author Note: merry late Christmas, this may or may not be loosely based in the Fate Stone AU I have brewing. (which since you are my beta reader ;) you already know about it.)

You are a notoriously bad gift giver, Bucky had been warned many times. He didn’t really care. As long as it came from the heart it couldn’t possibly be that bad. He could put up with socks or a cheesy mug as long as it came from you. But this was worse, so much worse. 

“Sam, I don't even know what to do with it.” Bucky rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, confiding in the only other person he knew that wouldn’t immediately tell Honey. “Can I be honest here, it’s hideous.”

Sam was keeping a pretty good poker face over his mug poker but the situation was undeniably funny. “It can’t possibly be that bad.” But Bucky’s mortified face said it all. “Why were you spying on her gift away?”

“I didn’t mean too! Necessarily. She hid it in the bottom of the closet, man. She didn’t even hide it well... I’m a spy, I notice things. Plus it was pretty hard to miss.” The blanket had been tucked away in the back of the walk-in closet under a few other things. But the obnoxious colors of the corner peeking out from under the folded jeans had caught his eyes. They didn’t own anything in orange. Anything.  

His honey had gotten him a blanket, which would normally have been so very sweet seeing how Bucky hated being cold, but it wasn’t just a blanket. It was one of those viral blankets, the ones that are loosely based on 70’s rock band merch with lighting and thunder clouds rolling in the background. It’s featured pictures of Alpine, every goofy spastic picture of the cat that his girl could find with her name in the boldest font Bucky had ever seen. Honestly it hurt his eyes, and as Bucky went about describing it to Sam the other man damn near fell out of his chair. 

“That is perfect. No really I think she might be a genius. I’m gonna need a video of you opening that one.” Sam goaded.

“You're not helping.” Bucky growls, guilt twisting in his guts like a worm, but Sam was too busy laughing to try and give a shit. “How am I gonna act surprised now? Let alone be excited?”

“I don’t dude, I guess you need to start taking an acting class.” Sam wiped the tears from his eyes.

~~~~

Bucky watched with crinkled eyes as you opened your gifts from him. A nice wool winter coat because all you owned was a puffer, and while it was adorable on you and always kept you warm you always said you wanted something dressier for date night. And in your stocking an assortment of your favorite treats, skin care you were low on, and that perfume that you had been drooling over since October but always talked yourself out of because of the price tag. Bucky had been making a list since your birthday, keeping tabs on what you lingered on in stores and what you sighed at as you scrolled. He knew his girl and he knew her well. And the way you lit up with every item told him he hit it out of the park. 

“Do you like it Honey?” he asked, his chin propped on his hand. His face couldn’t have been softer or voice more full of love as he watched you glow with joy. 

“I love it. How did you even know what eye cream I use?” 

“It wasn't that hard doll.” Bucky laughed, it sits in a clear box on your vanity of course he knows. 

“Here! Open yours.” You hand him his stocking and the present wrapped in pretty silver paper, looking so excited you may vibrate across the floor. He plastered on his best game face as his stomach did a little flip. Do not ruin this for her Barnes. 

He starts with the stocking. Pulling out body wash and a cologne scented with that smoky bourbon and apple scent you were fond of, along with a small batch roasted coffee and some new gloves. So far so good, and he made sure to kiss you. “I love it honey.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t opened your big one.” you say with a twinkle in your eyes that makes him wanna melt into the floor. Should he tell her, confess he saw it? Risk it and pretend he loves it? 

“You’re right I haven’t.” he corrects himself with a smile picking up the package. It was instantly heavier than he remembered and as he tears open the package he has a brief (very guilty) moment of hoping that maybe he was wrong…

But no there it is. That hideous blanket that he knows instantly from the look on your face he is gonna end up snuggling under for the rest of time just to see you smile the way you are right in this moment. He opened his mouth to tell you thanks as genuinely as he could muster but honey was already biting her bottom lip. A fit of giggles falling out of her. “You already saw it didn’t you!” she managed to get out between chitters. 

“What?! No- I…” 

A pillow from the couch flew at his head. “I knew you would. You little sneak, you do this every year!” Honey chastised as Bucky dodged another swing with the pillow. 

“Hey! Whoa!” Bucky's arms go up in a weak attempt at blocking her little onslaught. “I didn’t mean too!”

“Bullshit James Buchanan!” thump, a hit to his ribs. “You did it on your birthday.” Whack, a bump to the top of his head. “You somehow sniffed out the tickets I bought to Coney Island.” one more swing but this time Bucky caught the pillow, pulling you into his lap with it. 

“I did not do it on purpose!” he defended, but he was beaming. Eyes crinkling in the corner as she glared playfully. “I didn’t!” 

“Yeah, you just somehow stumbled upon the blanket I hid under the laundry in the back of our closet.”

“I was looking for my coat!” 

“On the ground?”

Bucky was caught, because yes he had been looking. He always did. The man couldn’t help it, he always was just too curious. “Yea, I thought so you little rat! Do you like it?” she asks earnestly. And Bucky feels that gnawing feeling again, trying not to let it show on his face. 

“It’s… super fluffy.” he tries to deflect, hating to lie to honey, but her face is already breaking into a grin. What the hell?

“You hate it.” she beams. “It’s hideous huh?”

Bucky frowns, slouching back in his chair. Did she want him to hate it. “Uh, yeah it is..” 

“Good thing it’s not your actual present huh.” 

Bucky's eyes narrow. “You little-” She did this on purpose, hid the most outrageous thing she could find just to punish him for spoiling presents. Clever girl. Weeks of fretting over how he was gonna pull this off and SHE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. With a giggle honey climbs off his lap and back behind the couch, pulling out a slim package from the cavern behind, and Bucky’s face nearly splits in half. 

“Here. Merry Christmas.” She offers him the parcel with a kiss, sitting in his lap as he unwraps it, and he feels his heart flutter a little. It’s a scrapbook. Full of pictures of him, her, Alpine and their friends. Taken by everyone who has known them the last few years. There isn’t a lot, he doesn’t like taking pictures, preferring to take them. So she must have scoured their friends' phones to find all of these and Bucky can feel tear picking the backs of his eyes. Good tears. 

“Thank you Honey. I love it. I love you…”

[ladytie]

i keep seeing peter in gotham fics (i love them send me more pls) but i cannot stop thinking about if he & nat both got sent to gotham… just stick with me okay!!!

so it would start off with something like:

“a soul for a soul, the price to pay was steep and unrelenting. it was unfair and unforgiving, and yet without hesitation, natasha romanoff flung herself from the side of a cliff. this universe no longer needed the black widow to keep earths mightiest heroes humbled and steady. it squandered it’s soul away the same moment as she did, but perhaps— well maybe there was another place, another world and realm who could use a little soul. maybe, in a city of bats. a couple of spiders would be just what they needed.

because, well… plucking a soul from an infinity stone can’t be too hard. no. not for me. not for the watcher. and while the bats may need natasha romanoff, natasha romanoff needs peter parker. she needs something, someone to fight for and with. for she may have grounded the avengers, but they also grounded her. kept her on the straight and narrow, and peter parker could be just that for her once more. yes,”

the deep timber of a strikingly calm voice echoed in the recess of her mind, she could almost picture who was speaking to her. could almost see the god-like figure in a blue cloak with whitened eyes. and yet? no memory of the man when she had awoken, gasping for air, sucking it in and holding her breath as if it could be stolen from her at any moment, she had no idea how she was wherever the hell she was.

it had taken her approximately ten seconds to come to, catch her bearings and stand up. she was in a darkened alley way. it was dingy and she could hear sirens in the background, and a slight groan from behind her. quick to action she turned, her eyes widening in the slightest of perception when she caught sight of the little spider before her.

his hand was on his head running through his hair and rubbing a sore spot, his eyes still closed but he was clearly awake. she was besides him in a moment, squatting down to help him up. when he felt her hands on his arm, he looked at her, startled and unsure— but certain senses were calm.

“misses black widow ma’am… where are we?” he asked her, his voice was robbed of a certain innocence and the sound almost broke her heart. it was so unsure and confused she had to fight the urge to run her hand through his hair in a comforting way.

“i don’t know, kid” she huffed, helping him to his feet.

“but i’m sure as hell gonna find out,”

—|

the following ensues: nat & peter figuring out their in another dimension. nat seeing child soldier robin and immediately boxing batman assuming he’s a bad guy. peter making the joker cry by making fun of him the way spiderman does. nat stealing cass from batman. tim drake and peter parker friendship. dick grayson looking a lil too much like richard parker. natasha immediately being reverse-adopted by the batkids, as in they claim her as mom. “mom and dad are fighting again” one of them says when nat is yelling at bruce for something “ten buck says mom kicks his ass” “you’re on” “???she’s not ur mom. i’ve actually legally adopted you. betrayers” “you didn’t adopt me. so she can be my mother” “YOURE MY BIOLOGICAL SON” natasha immediately clocking batman is bruce wayne bc of brucie wayne

should i write this??? i feel like i should???? is there someone who would read this????

[vi-steponmeplease]

BODY DYSMORPHIA

REQUEST: billie being rrly worried about r eating problems?

a/n: before we get into the fic, i just want to remind everyone that your struggles are valid. i understand where you're coming from and i promise you, you're perfect just as you are, inside and out. you don't need to be slim to be beautiful. that's just society's and men's messed up standards. this is just one of many serious & important topics and i want you to know that my messages are always open if you need to vent, talk, or simply have someone listen.

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

pairings - concernedgf!billie x insecure!reader

genre - angst, fluff, suggestive

synopsis: struggling with body image and online criticism, you find comfort as billie lovingly supports you and helps you confront your insecurities with understanding and care.

tw: heavy mentions of body dysmorphia & an eating disorder.

word count: 1.1K

you don't have to change you're perfect the way you are

⟡

she's a pretty girl without the filter she looks beautiful with no makeup on

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"How about In-N-Out?"

Wide grins spread across everyone's faces as they nod in agreement, then turn to you, waiting for your response. Your gaze shifts to Finneas in the driver’s seat, then to Claudia in the passenger seat, before skimming over Alex and Zoe on your right, and finally landing on Billie—your girlfriend—seated to your left.

"Oh, uh, I'll actually just skip. I already ate, so I'm full," you say with a casual shrug.

"You sure you don't want something for later?" Billie asks, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she lightly squeezes your knee. "I know you. You always say you're not hungry, then an hour later, you're begging me to get you something to eat."

You force a smile, shaking your head. "I'm sure."

During the drive to the fast-food joint, you pull out your phone, your lips pressing into a tight frown as you scroll through the comments left by Billie’s fans on her most recent post—some cruel and cutting, others trying to defend you.

quenxbillie4life: what an ugly fatass bitch prob js a gold digger ↳ ronniel0vesbils: do u even KNOW billie? she's struggled sm with body image. have u heard not my responsibility? u have no right to say that abt her gf.

billieeilishnoticeme69: BIG BACK BIG BACK BIG BACK

billybiggestfan: elephants don't deserve to date global stars like billy ↳ ronniel0vesbils: lmao didn't even spell her name right u fake fan😭

billiespitonme: @ronniel0vesbils is legit fighting for her life out here LMFAO

The harsh words sting, and though the supportive replies are there, they feel drowned out by the negativity. You glance out the car window, trying to shake the ache in your chest, but the comments linger like a shadow.

You try to conceal your exhaustion, but it’s hard to ignore the countless nights spent sobbing, curled up with your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as you desperately pray to wake up with a model’s body the next day.

But it never happens. And each passing day only deepens the growing hatred you feel toward yourself.

Why would Billie ever choose someone like you?

She’s one of the most ethereal-looking women on the planet, effortlessly breathtaking in a way that leaves you in awe. She never seems to have a bad moment, always stunning. Yet somehow, out of everyone, she chose you.

You sit silently, watching everyone enjoy their burgers and sip on their drinks, all the while wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Deep down, you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not even worthy of a good meal—that starving yourself is just the price you have to pay to lose weight.

Your eyes drop to your hands resting in your lap, fingers fidgeting with your nails as a quiet sigh escapes. Slumping further into the seat, you tune out the lively conversations and laughter of your friends, letting the background noise blur into nothingness.

"You okay, baby?"

The gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You hear the jingle of keys being tossed onto the coffee table, followed by soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor. Billie appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with concern etched across her face. "You were acting a little weird today."

You glance away, offering only a small nod in response, but Billie isn’t convinced. She crosses the room and sits beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight as she exhales softly. Her ring-clad hand comes to rest lightly on your knee.

"You sure?" she presses, her voice tender. "You usually never say no to burgers."

A bitter chuckle slips out before you can stop it, the comment twisting into an unintentional jab at yourself. Are you really such a glutton that even Billie notices the sudden change? The thought stings.

"Yeah," you mutter, your tone tinged with self-deprecation. "That just might be the issue." You roll your eyes at your typical eating habits, the words dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

Billie’s brows knit together, a faint crease forming on her forehead as she shifts closer, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Ah,” she murmurs, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I get it, love. I know how you feel—I’ve been through it.”

Her hand moves up to your arm, fingers tracing gentle, soothing patterns across your skin. “I want you to know I’m here for you. Always. You’re not alone in this, and you never will be.” Her voice is soft but firm, her words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“Anything you ever want to tell me, I’m listening. And,” she adds, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “you can’t be stressing your pretty little head about all this without me being involved, got it?”

Your lips curl into a soft smile, but the harsh, critical thoughts about your appearance still linger, refusing to be silenced.

Billie notices the unease in your expression. Her hand gives your arm a gentle squeeze before she guides you down onto the bed, your back pressing against the sheets and your head cradled by a pillow.

For a moment, your mind races. Really? Sex? Does she think a distraction like this will actually help right now?

Still, you push the thought aside, watching as Billie moves with quiet determination. Her fingers deftly unbutton your jeans, sliding them down your legs and tossing them onto the floor. She shifts her focus to your torso, carefully slipping your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

Instinctively, your hands fly to your stomach, trying to cover yourself. Even though Billie has seen you naked countless times, the habit of hiding feels ingrained—an automatic response to the insecurities clawing at you.

Billie is quick to pin your hands gently to your sides, her soft yet firm grip keeping them in place. Her lips brush against your jaw, leaving a trail of warmth as she moves down to your neck, collarbone, and then licks a slow, deliberate stripe down the valley of your breasts.

"Pretty fucking girl," she murmurs, her voice low and filled with adoration. A quiet groan escapes her lips as she shifts lower, her hands gliding across your skin, mapping every inch and curve with reverent care.

"I love you," she says, her words muffled as she presses her lips tenderly against your belly button. "So fucking much, angel. You’re perfect."

Her hands drift to your thighs, squeezing them gently before she peppers a trail of featherlight kisses along their length. “I love every curve, every inch of this gorgeous body,” she whispers, her tone steady and unwavering, as if daring your insecurities to challenge her conviction.

"And that's never, ever going to change."

[precure1ove]

Raison d’être

summary : meaning ; “ A reason for existing “  bickering like a married couple with ace

character : ace trappola

byi : established relationship, aged up, bickering, insults, typical married couple, slight angst, y'all love each other trust, dialogue heavy?

a/n : i saw a tiktok about old married couples arguing and i just imagined ace having that type of relationship so thats how this fic was written

“ move, you're on my side of the couch “

Ace doesn’t even blink at your words, his eyes finding the show he’s watching much more entertaining than coming face to face with that awful frown he’s sure you have on right now. He shifts on the couch, as if looking for something.

An exasperated sigh escapes your mouth, you already know what he's planning, since you both have said the same sentence about a gazillion times already.

Ace turns back, feigned shock present on his face, “ oh no babe.. it seems I can't find your name on this specific spot on the couch! “, he lifts a hand up to ruffle his hair, acting bashful that opposes the mischievous gleam you know too well.

“Perhaps next time “-oh boy here it comes- “you should've sat down here first.” Perhaps now it's best to call up your old friends and complain as to why they allowed you to even set eyes on this man and believe him to be a good partner for the future. 

Again. For the 100th time.

So you follow their wonderful and thoughtful advice and go to whack Ace harshly his head, a harsh ‘OW’ following behind it, Ace scowls up at you, caressing the bruised spot while shuffling away from your spot, mumbling ill mouthed words and something along the lines of ‘could've asked nicely…’

‘ Score to me ‘ you think to yourself, settling comfortably in the victor's spot, your eyes drawn to the tv still playing on in the background, “ what are we watching?”

“Don't you mean what am I watching?” Despite the bitterness he felt after losing and you're cheating, he rests an arm on his cheek and goes into a lengthy ramble about the show, something about a Victorian boy making a contract with a demon. 

arguing in a shop aisle

As people scutter, they all watch curiously and awkwardly at the sight of you and Ace having a heated argument in the middle of the treats aisle, thoughts of ‘ it may be the end for them ‘ and’ I hope they can make it work ‘ pass by .

“ Ace, I am not getting the limited edition basketball treats just because you have that slim chance of getting your favourite player. Just get the regular ones which we agreed on !”

 You point an accusing finger at him, holding onto the original box of the treats you usually get, Ace looks back at you horrified and (rightfully he may add) offended at your words.

 Clutching the limited box in his arms.

 “ How can you even say such a thing?! It's not all about my favourite- which I know is in here- but have you read the flavour, it's cherry duh? The best thing in the world! “

He exclaims like it was a known fact -taunting you to retort back- a typical push and pull situation you both engage in. Your hands clench against the box, it was so Ace to always be whisked away by over the top advertising, honestly you expected more from him especially by how blunt he can be.

 His one working brain cell must have been taken over by all the stupid ones.

“We have a specific budget since we're saving to finally visit friends abroad and you want to throw all that away so i can listen to you groan about not getting the card you want and cherries?” You huff, shoving the regular box into the shopping cart, storming off to the checkout, not before adding on a “pay for it yourself”.

Ace watched your figure grow distant, frustration meddling with his head alongside guilt. You two have both been looking forward to that trip, he looks back at the shelf where the limited boxes were, face cringing up at the price as he places the box back. 

Trudging along aisles, a constant 'ignore that, ignore that' repeats in his mind at the many limited items, passing by the checkout area after (disappointingly) not finding you there, Ace has a grim thought of what if you did finally leave him, his legs seem to move quicker at that.

Memorising the way to where you parked the car, Ace sighs in relief to see you sitting in there on your phone. You leaving.. What a ridiculous thought, you and his mind must be teaming up against him to let him think that. 

Noticing Ace opening the car door, a slight acknowledgement that he isn't carrying the limited edition treats, a small smile welcomes itself on your face at that. The silence was also welcomed for a few seconds until Ace goes into a tangent of you leaving him and how it wasn't very romantic of you to do that.

The smile now replaced by a frown as you start the car, replying back with your own retorts.

"take an extra jacket, it's cold out." "Okay, mom."

You stare at Ace sternly, he calls this look ‘are you fucking serious’, one of his many favourite expressions you have. You both stood in the hallway, shoes and coats surrounding you while outside snow floated cautiously outside, the heated but stupid argument you might have soon would melt any ice.

“On second thought maybe you shouldn't take an extra jacket, you finally shut up when you're sick.”

You held back the extra jacket close to your chest, the prospect of Ace being quiet is a reward itself for all the years you’ve put up(read; been in a relationship) with him. “ Now you're sounding like my brother, going through the family tree quickly aren't you” Ace looks at you mischievously, wrapping a scarf around your neck while you straighten out his collar.

It’s the little moments that happen in between every insult, moments like these which remind you both that each still cares about each other.

“You’re brother huh? Maybe I should've gone with him, sounds like a smart guy.” You retort, an impish grin on your face as you pass the jacket to him, Ace rolls his eyes, zipping up the jacket, snorting at your word.

“Yeah right, we both know you hate him and I can't argue with you for that- remember at our wedding when he insulted me, you had a full on go at him for that!”

A look of adoration was shown on his face, quickly replaced by a gloved finger jabbing against your cheeks, “you were so cute back then now you're just mean,” he pouts.

Wafting his finger away, you sneer up at him “Pot calling the kettle black, i can't believe i actually thought you were pleasant to be around.” Shuffling on your boots, the two of you retreat out into the cold, hands meeting halfway as if it was natural.

“Excuse you, I am still pleasant to be around, otherwise you wouldn't have stuck around for 7 years.” He waves your conjoined hands in the air, winking at you coyly.

You sigh, immune to his antics by now (though others would disagree), Ace has always used the marriage card as an advantage in arguments or casual conversations, however, it was nice he still kept count.

“You trapped me with stupidly charming vows, how was i supposed to say no."

"So you still think I'm charming?"

"I hate you." (I love you)

"I hate you too." (I love you too)

likes and reblogs appreciated !

masterlist⠀ — ⠀ request here

[auspicioustidings]

https://www.tumblr.com/auspicioustidings/734619885087375360/i-cannot-write-for-shit-right-now-so-any-little

Hmmmm I’m seeing so many x single mom readers and not sure if this is something you’re even interested in BUT

Simon meeting his pretty new neighbor while she’s moving I and realizes she is either a.) heavily pregnant or b.) has a very young baby so Simon goes “hmmmm mine now :)” and helps her out a little? (Alternatively, if you don’t wanna do Simon for this, then maybe Price?)

(Also if you haven’t read @peachesofteal’s Light On fic, Simon x single mom reader, I implore if you to do so!!! It’s so good)

Peaches Light On fics, and I am being so deadass serious, give me such a flood of serotonin any time I see a new one. Everyone get your butt over there because they are the standard for single mother content as far as I am concerned!

That being said, I've put a bit of a twist on this so it's not really what you requested at all, sorry :') I could not do a similar idea to Peaches because there is nothing I can do to improve perfection!

Tactical Action

Words: 1.1k

CWs: mentions of death

“It's not a shame Price, it's fucking ridiculous.”

Simon Riley was furious looking at the paperwork. It wasn't often that TF141 kept tabs on a promising rookie so when they did he expected nothing but excellence. What he did not expect was a large ‘Early Service Leaver’ stamp over an otherwise exemplary record.

“Their brother died in that warship collision, can't blame them for wanting out.”

“My brother was murdered, I kept fucking going.”

He had met you once when Johnny had dragged him. His Sergeant was both excited and annoyed that someone had gotten the new record for the 3rd selection phase. It made sense to get some feel for you then, if you were as good at escape, evasion and tactical questioning as the test scores suggested then the 141 needed to have you on their radar because the PMCs certainly would. 

You were a determined thing, shoulders back and addressing them with just the right amount of respect. Not arrogant, but not a pushover. Soap had been talking about how much he wanted to get his hands on you the whole drive back to base because he was a horny idiot and you were a challenge he found intriguing. Simon had just rolled his eyes and added your record to the small pile in Price's office. 

He knew a little of your background. Both parents gone, one sibling in the navy. Well one sibling now KIA. He could have understood taking leave, but to quit entirely? It made him angry, he thought it was a waste of potential. Price could see how it affected him and he sighed. 

“Go talk to them then. But do not get yourself reported for harassment and intimidation Simon, if they don't want back in then we make our peace with that.”

That was all the permission he needed. He probably should have taken Soap really, someone who could be comforting and coax you back. But fuck it, you were supposed to be good under pressure so he was going to give you some hard damn advice on not bloody giving up.

–

Exhausted didn't even begin to describe how you felt. This was the hardest thing you had ever done, but you were not going to just give up. You couldn't, not with this tiny thing relying on you. 

She had never even got to meet her parents. Your brother died just before the due date in that accident and then his girlfriend had died from complications in childbirth. You had promised her you would look after their baby if anything happened, made an oath that you'd not let her parents anywhere near such an innocent little thing. 

So you were on your own with nothing but grief and exhaustion and an ever dwindling death in service payment. They would pay part of your brother's pension out each month at least for the baby, but you were terrified that it wouldn't be enough to give her a life she deserved. She certainly deserved her parents and not her fathers ill equipped sibling, but you could only do your best even with the knowledge it would never be enough. 

You flinched when there was a hard knock at the door of your flat, freezing but taking a breath when the baby remained sleeping in your arms. You needed to move at one point you knew, a flat in a bit of a rough area was fine for a soldier (ex-soldier you reminded yourself) but not so much for a baby. 

The security you had upgraded as best you could at the moment and you checked the door camera to see Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. You had met him briefly once, but what was a legend like him doing here? Shit. You knew you looked a wreck but it wasn't like you could ignore him so you opened the door, bouncing baby girl gently to keep her sleeping. 

Simon's planned tirade died the moment he saw the situation. You had a baby. Oh that changed his tirade significantly. Your marital status had listed single, so he could only assume you had gotten yourself knocked up by some casual hookup. That was unacceptable in a soldier, so bloody stupid. 

“Shit” you cursed when she woke up, heading back inside and giving him a nod of invite.

You bounced her and tried to coo at her to go back to sleep. To please God go back to sleep. You never knew what she wanted, it felt like whatever you did was always wrong. And of course then she started wailing and the Lieutenant was in your flat closing the door behind him witnessing your absolute failure to take care of a baby. 

“Oh for Christ sake, give her here.”

Simon took the baby and hoisted the little thing up onto his shoulder, rubbing hard at her back. 

“When was the last time you fed her?”

“I- well, just before you got here. 10 minutes ago maybe? Just got her to sleep.”

“Did you burp her?”

“Oh. I…” you replied, straining yourself in an attempt not to cry. “No. I forgot.”

While his eyes were sharp on you his hands and voice were gentle and soothing for the baby. He was good at this. Did he have kids? Fuck was everyone just innately good at caring for babies but you? 

“Didn't stop to think if you could take care of her before having her?” 

“She's not mine. Well I suppose she is. I'm her only living relative, or only decent one at least. I, um… that warship accident from a few months back. My brother died during it and her mum passed during the birth. I'm her legal guardian now. I'm what she has sir, it was the best tactical action given the circumstance” you said, straightening up despite your exhaustion and prolonged terror at being responsible for such an innocent little thing. 

Simon cocked his head to the side as the baby on his shoulder burped and gurgled, now trying to get back to sleep. You were still a soldier he saw then, you were fighting back your emotions to give him a report on the situation. He reevaluated after the sitrep and took a moment to find the best course of action.

“Marry me then.”

“Sir?”

“We can get it done tomorrow. Might take a bit of time to get a decent house but we'll stay in my flat until then, better area. Still going to be out on assignment a lot but any death benefit would go to you and the widows pension would set you up for life. I'm what you have rookie, it's the best tactical action.”

“Yes sir.”

[icarus-sun-writes]

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Captain John Price x dying! wife! Reader

~2.3k words

TW: death, cancer, detailed descriptions of the cancer toll on reader, mentions of wheelchair, oxygen tanks and feeding tubes. (Cancer descriptions based on the loss of my grandmother.)

IN WHICH: John comes home from work to spend time with his sickly wife.

(I’d like to mention that I originally posted this fic on my last tumblr blog “shy-girl-moments” but it got terminated, so I wanted to re-upload on my new blog because I loved this so much.)

“Love, I'm home…!” John called out softly. It was unnerving with how quiet the house was considering his wife was usually happy and loud, only a week ago her cancer had worsened and left her reliant on a wheelchair. She was so tired and weak all the time. She had a feeding tube and was on oxygen at the same time.

John closed the door behind him and left his work bag by the door, purposely trying to be quiet in case she was sleeping. He looked around the house for any sign of his wife, eventually finding her sleeping on the couch with her feeding tube still connected and her wheelchair parked next to the couch. There was a cheesy romantic comedy movie playing in the background on a low volume. Since she hardly got the opportunity to leave the house, she often resorted to watching movies. Gently and slowly, John picked her head up and off the pillow and sat down, laying her head on his lap.

She groaned softly when John picked her head up, mumbling incoherently and stirring slightly, but soon settled back into her sleep. John smiled at how adorable she was. It saddened him to see her sleeping in the middle of the day but what choice did she have? She was terminally ill, her body was so exhausted that she slept most of the day even though she tried to fight it so she could spend time with him. John began softly stroking his poor wife's hair, hoping the comforting feeling would make it for her to stay asleep. Even the act of sleeping looked uncomfortable. She looked sick. The bags under her eyes were deep and dark, she was frail, and her voice was often sore, but she always tried to have a smile on her face.

John could see that she had her wedding ring clutched in her fist as she slept. Since she was losing a lot of weight due to the cancer, she had to wear her ring around her neck on a chain because it would just fall off her finger. She had a habit of holding it often as a sort of comfort. Price's eyes were soft as he watched the rise and fall of her chest. He had watched his wife’s health decline rapidly over the past few months. Seeing his wife so skinny and in pain had been hard on John but even harder on her. He had to stay strong for her. One of his hands continued to run through his wife’s thinning hair as the other slowly lifted her shirt. Her hip bones stuck out painfully from the thin skin and John traced them with his fingers gently, a sense of deep sorrow sinking into his heart.

A few minutes later she turned her head and nuzzled John's thighs. All was silent for a few seconds —besides the sound of her drip bag for her feeding tube and oxygen tank— then she spoke faintly, “John?” She opened her eyes slightly, looking up at her husband.

John felt his heart soften when he saw his wife’s tired and pained face. He loved his wife so much. Without hesitating for a moment he replied back to her, his voice was soft and had a tinge of guilt at seeing his wife in such a state but it was also filled with so much love, “Yes? I’m right here darling.”

She smiled weakly at John, taking another few seconds to speak again, “I… love you…” Another few seconds passed, “stay with me…”

John’s heart broke at hearing how quiet and tired her voice was. He felt the guilt rise in his body at the idea of him not being there for his wife, but he quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind when he noticed how she still had her wedding ring clutched in her hand. John gently moved his hands to run through her hair again, hoping the feeling of comfort would ease his wife.

“Of course I will… I’ll- I’ll always be with you. I love you too darling.” John said, the sadness evident in his voice.

“Kiss…?” She asked faintly, a look of love in her tired eyes.

John’s heart began to beat faster when he heard his wife’s request. It was so simple of a request yet it filled his heart with so much love. He didn’t hesitate to lean down and press a loving kiss on his wife’s forehead then another on her lips. He pulled away just enough to whisper, “There you go darling. You’re so cute…”

“Kiss.” She asked again, a bit more firmness in her voice and a faint, sly smirk on her lips. There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, too. It hurt John, knowing that she was using so much of her energy just to try to be silly.

“Oh, so feisty today?” John’s heart rate skyrocketed when he saw the smirk of his wife’s face and he held back a laugh.

It hurt John, knowing that she was using so much of her energy just to try to be silly, but it did make his heart flutter to see her smile again. He gave in easily and leaned back down to kiss her on the lips again. This time a little longer and more passionate, but still just as loving in nature as the first one. But he had a teasing smirk on his own face too, wanting to match her silly mood. She opened her mouth ever so slightly in an effort to deepen the kiss, smiling weakly.

John couldn’t help but smile when he felt her trying to deepen the kiss. Gently, he pulled away from the kiss leaning down to murmur against her ear, “Needy, aren’t we?” He teased jokingly before gently kissing his wife’s cheek and continuing softly, “You’ve gotta take it easy, darling. You’re still sick, love. And you know how easy it is for you to tire yourself out now…”

There was a faint blush on her cheeks, her eyes showed that she understood her husband’s words, but was still disappointed. “I love you…” she murmured again, not having the strength to argue even though she wanted to.

John smiled warmly at the blush on her cheeks. Seeing the beautiful rosy tint to his wife’s pale cheeks filled his heart with so much love. He loved every detail of her beautiful face and he loved to see that blush, even with how sick she looked.

“And I love you too darling. So stop trying to get yourself all worked up. I don’t want you doing more than just resting at the moment.” John insisted softly, gently stroking her thinning hair.

A few seconds later her closed her eyes and fell asleep quickly once again. It was obvious how exhausted her body was from the cancer, her entire body weak to the point of needing a wheelchair and a feeding tube. John felt a pang in his heart when he saw her fall asleep again so easily. The poor woman must’ve been so exhausted from just being up for a few minutes. John’s eyes ran down his wife’s body again and he could only feel guilt and sadness when he saw just how much weight she had lost. He kept one hand gently massaging his wife’s hair but his other hand gently moved to lift up her shirt again. He stared at the jut of his wife’s hip bones and tried to push down the feeling of impending doom.

John had to pry his eyes away from his sickly wife, turning to the TV for some type of distraction. The romcom she chose was her favorite, the one she watched over and over again, the same one she forced John to watch on their first date. She liked it because the love interest looked like John when he was in his teenage years. After about an hour of anxiety filled disassociating, John was suddenly aware that his wifes oxygen levels dropped drastically; slow, shallow, faint breaths. He immediately sat up right, very alarmed and scared.

“Darling?” He gently shook her shoulder, trying to wake her up but not startle her, “wake up for me. You’re not breathing right, love.”

She woke up after a second and furrowed her brows, taking a deeper breath. She glared slightly at John and pouted, clearly very annoyed, “w-what?”

John felt a rush of relief when she woke up and started breathing again. But his eyes narrowed at the pout on his wife’s face, “Don’t ‘what’ me. You weren’t breathing well again.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I can’t have my beautiful wife suffocating on me. You can’t scare me like that.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, but nodded slightly. It took her a long moment to speak, “sit me up… like the nurse said… so I can sleep…”

John let out a sigh when he saw the look in her eyes, noting the fact she was obviously restraining herself from rolling her eyes. He couldn’t blame her though since he knew his wife was in pain and extremely tired from just the act of being awake. He gently lifted her up and sat her upright on the couch again.

“There’s my good girl... now you can get proper sleep from now on. But if I hear you’re not breathing properly again, I swear I’ll go turn up the oxygen flow.” He said firmly, yet his touch was soft and comforting, there was no mirth behind his tone.

She just stared at him for a long moment, starting to tear up slightly, her pout deepening, “I’m sorry… for being cranky.” She mumbled, starting to take deeper breaths now that she was sat up, “I’m just… so tired.”

John’s heart shattered at seeing tears well up in his wife’s eyes. She was clearly in so much pain but was trying so hard to keep it together. He quickly wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close, gently pulling her into his lap.

“Darling, don't apologize. It’s alright. You’re alright.” He gently stroked her hair again while he spoke, “I know you’re tired… I know you’re hurting. I’m here though, I’m not leaving you, my love”

“I’m so tired… of being sick… and in pain… I want this to be over.” She hiccuped slightly through her tears, leaning into John’s comforting embrace, her head on his chest.

It felt like a knife had hit his heart hearing his wife’s words. The pain and exhaustion she carried was so obvious in the way she spoke, “I know, love… I know.”

He pulled her even closer to his chest and continued to rub his wife’s hair in a comforting motion. He knew there wasn’t much else he could do to help, but he wanted to try and offer something, “Just get some sleep for now. darling.”

She nodded, her tears slowly trickling to a stop as she nuzzled her face into her husband’s neck. John wrapped one arm around her waist to help hold her upright while his other arm continued to gently run through her hair. He leaned his head down to press a kiss against her forehead.

“There we go love. That’s it, just go to sleep now. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He murmured, his low raspy voice gently pulling her back to sleep.

Her breathing was even and smooth and the look on her sleeping face was peaceful, knowing she felt safe in her husband’s big arms. John watched as her breathing evened out into a peaceful and calm rhythm and it made his heart feel lighter again. Seeing his wife so peaceful and safe in his arms made his heart feel so full of love and warm. He sat there for a few minutes more just absorbing the feeling of his wife in his lap, then he too dozed off.

When John woke up, it was late in the evening, nearly dinner time. His wife was still cuddled up against him, completely still and a bit cold. His eyes were met with the sight of his sleeping wife still snuggled up against him. He couldn’t help a small smile at the sweet sight, but the smile quickly dropped after realizing how cold she felt against him. He gently shook her shoulder in a panicked attempt to wake her up.

“Darling, wake up for me real quick, love.” She didn’t wake up. John didn’t feel her breathing either and she was very pale. “Love..?”

John felt his heart start to pick up speed when he didn’t get a response. He again shook his wife’s shoulder but there was still no response. Panic started to set in as he carefully put one hand on her neck to feel if there was a pulse. There was no pulse and her body was starting to stiffen. John felt his heart stop beating, but he refused to accept it. He pushed the thought from his mind and kept going through the steps in his head. He pressed his fingers a little under her chin to tilt her head back and his chest tightened.

“Come on love, breathe for me…” he desperately begged, his voice shaky.

Her head lulled slightly in his hand, her head tilted up towards him, and John saw that she looked at peace… she was safe and calm for the first time in weeks. She almost looked as peaceful as she did on their wedding night. But now his wife is dead… no longer in pain. Reality really began to sink in for Price when he saw how still her chest was, unmoving, not breathing. He felt like any breath he tried to take was being caught in his throat. His heart felt so heavy and he realized he was crying. Slowly, John pulled his sweet wife back against his chest, holding her tightly and securely and gently began stroking her hair again, just like he had been a couple hours ago.

It was then that he finally spoke again, his voice nearly silent and thick with emotion, “I’ll be here when you wake up…”

But she never would.

[concreteangel92]

Pick A Star

Noah Sebastian x female reader

No warnings for this one, all fluff!!

So I got this idea in my head and I needed to get it out and it’s the perfect Valentine’s Day fic haha (even though I’m not a fan of today 🤣 also it’s not set on Valentine’s Day)

Hope you all enjoy and I’m hoping to get my writing head back on after this as I only have a few requests left to do and then a couple of my own works but my job/life has been so hectic recently that I just haven’t had the energy to write, been jotting down ideas lol but not actually working on much. Hopefully that will change and I’ll get some more updates out soon! 🖤

Permanent Taglist: @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @lacy1986 @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @w0manof-flesh44 @dream-machine-love @thisbicc @amelia-acero @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @tosoundlessdarkistare @ichoosetenderomens @hurricanesfollowyou @concretejunglefm @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @xmads-omensx @chey-h @xxkittenkissesxx @lyschko666 @rumoured-whispers

Let me know if you wish to be added!

Masterlist

You were sitting relaxed in the passenger seat of Noah’s car as you drove, you’d been on one of your regular date nights but tonight Noah had gone all out.

He’d taken you to one of the nicest restaurants in the city, the kind you certainly had to dress up for and the kind of place where the prices made your bank account cry but Noah didn’t care, he wanted to spoil you rotten with no expenses spared.

You’d spent your evening enjoying your delicious dinner over candlelight and soft music playing in the background while chatting about anything and everything.

Once the meal was over, Noah said he had one more surprise for you and here you both were, driving out of the city and into the mountains.

Noah pulled up at a beautiful look out point, the sky was clear and the city lights were sparkling in the distance.

“Oh my god Noah, we haven’t been here in so long!”

Noah smiled and got out of the car before coming round to your side to open the door and offer you his hand.

You took it with a smile and step out into the cool summer night air.

You looked out over the city, Noah came behind you and wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on yours as you watched as the world went by below but for you two, it was like this moment was frozen in time.

“You took me here on our very first date”

You felt his chest vibrate against your back as he chuckled.

“Yeah…I thought it would be nice to come back here tonight”

“It’s beautiful, and it’s such a clear night”

You leaned back against him as you took it all in.

“This is the perfect way to end our evening”

“Not quite yet, I said I had one more surprise…”

You turned your head slightly.

“This isn’t it?”

Noah gently turned you around in his arms and shook his head gently.

“No. Look up at the sky angel”

You give him a slightly confused smile but you looked up and saw thousands upon thousands of stars, all shining and flickering against the dark night sky.

Noah kept his arms around your waist as he looked up with you.

“Pick a star”

You looked back at him, even more confused with a giggle.

“What?”

“Pick a star” he gave you a beautiful smile as he spoke.

“You going to buy me a star babe?” You giggled.

Noah looked at you lovingly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear that had caught in the breeze.

“I’d buy you every star in the galaxy if I could angel, but right now, pick a star, any one and I’ll find a way to give it to you”

You smiled and looked back up and then pointed to a particularly bright star.

“That one”

Noah followed your finger and hugged you closer as he saw the one you wanted.

“That one, you sure?”

You giggled and hugged him around his waist looking up at him.

“Yes I’m sure, that’s the one”

“Ok, close your eyes”

You smile, giving him a disbelieving look but you closed your eyes and waited.

You felt him pull away from you slightly and heard him moving.

“Ok angel, open your eyes”

When you opened them, your heart practically stopped.

Noah was down on one knee in front of you and he held a small black box in his hand.

“What…”

Noah cut you off gently.

“Babe, I can’t give you every star in the galaxy I’m afraid but what I can give you is my heart, you’ve had it from the moment we met. I’ve never known anyone like you, you’ve changed my life for the better and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life waking up next to you…”

Noah opened the box containing the most beautiful ring you had ever seen, with a big diamond the same colour as the stars in the centre.

“I want to go on more adventures with you, travel with you, have a family with you and just grow old every day with you. There’s no one else I’d want to be with so…will you marry me?”

You felt tears falling down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop the smile that formed on your face.

“Yes…yes I’ll marry you!”

Noah smiled, stood upright and pulled you into a deep and passionate kiss before he pulled the ring out of the box and carefully slipped it into your ring finger.

You held your hand up and watched it sparkle against the background of the city lights.

“It’s perfect, this is perfect…is this real?”

Noah laughed and wiped away the tears on your face as he pulled you into his embrace.

“It’s real angel and I can’t wait for the day when I can call you my beautiful wife”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Part 1

For every beginning, there has to be an end first.

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, strangers to lovers, Stereotypes, description of Unrequited love, romance, accidental flirting, some angst, major fluff

Length: ~3k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook’s apartment is surprisingly clean, and most of all.. Bright.

His shelves are filled with trinkets, pictures and little things that seem to value for him. LED lights roam around the white walls, while soft music playing in the background- all while he cooks in his open kitchen, singing to the song currently filling the apartment. It feels oddly comforting to just watch him like this, hair a bit wild on his head, casually dressed, everything domestic and without any force at all.

“Do you like yours spicy?” He asks, and you shrug.

“Not really.” You answer, resting your head on your arms on the kitchen counter. “I enjoy.. Bland foods. Like chicken ramen, with just an egg.” You giggle softly. “I know what to expect from it every time I make it.”

He looks at you for a second, before he smiles knowingly. “But where’s the fun in that?” He chuckles. “Gotta have some.. Variety every now and then, no?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“I’m not the kind of girl for.. Variety. And fun.” You answer.

“Well you were certainly up for something fun last week.” He mentions, making you roll your eyes as you sit up, leaning back a bit as you look at the countertop your hands rest on.

“That was.. Kind of just because I was tired of it.” You mumble, while Jungkook turns off the stove to fetch some bowls and cutlery to plate up the food.

“Tired of what?” He asks as he puts the food into appropriate portions.

“Being a virgin.”

Jungkook’s entire body freezes at that, even the chopsticks he holds stiffening as he stares into nothingness for a moment, eyes wide. He slowly puts everything down, before he looks at you.

“That was.. Your first time?” He asks, and you nod, not seeing the issue with it at all.

“My first kiss, too. In the car.” You mention, and at that, he dramatically turns around, hands on his face.

“Oh my god, what?!” He whines towards no one, and you can’t help but laugh at his misery. Why he’s so invested in that you’re not sure of- but it’s oddly cute almost, how it seems to affect him. “No, no no no I’m not letting that stand!” He denies, shaking his head as he braces himself on the countertop opposite from you, looking at you with a serious expression that holds no harsh feelings however. “We’ll rewind the whole thing, I don’t care.”

“What, are you going to sew up my hymen back together and try again?” You ask, making him laugh at your blunt words, unable to keep a straight face at the way you so dryly ask that.

“I-no, but I can, I don’t know, give you such a good experience you’ll forget the club-incident altogether.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh. “So no sex and no kisses until I took you out on a proper date, got it?” He playfully threatens.

“You’re weird.” You tell him, but he just shrugs with a grin, leaning over to kiss you- just to slap the counter and yell to no one-

“Ah fuck!” making you laugh once more.

Amused that he can’t seem to follow even his own rules when it comes to you.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“Alright, so I kind of have a little rule for you.” He tells you as you both finally sat down in the restaurant a few days later, surprisingly fancy and way out of your usual price range. “There’s.. Probably gonna be a guy coming to our table as soon as I order food. Do not, under any circumstances, take anything that comes out of his mouth seriously.” He tells you with a dramatic expression, making you furrow your brows a little- though you nod.

“Okay?” You answer, getting a bit nervous at the prices on the menu.

“By the way, just order whatever.” He chuckles, watching you- before he leans forwards. “Trust me, don’t look at the price.” He urges, and you nod, though still a bit uneasy.

After ordering something for the two of you- deciding to share a large steak and some side dishes just in case you can’t finish it on your own, something happens that Jungkook spoke about earlier- a man walking from the kitchen into the restaurant, seemingly searching for something or rather someone- making a beeline for Jungkook as soon as he spots him.

“Jeon Jungkook, I can’t believe this!” He barks out, but instead of greeting him, he straight up walks towards you- smiling as he bows politely, and reaches out to shake your hand. “This isn’t true is it? A date?” He asks, now looking at him- though Jungkook is busy hiding his face, looking down and shielding his eyes with his hand before he glares at him.

“Can you maybe talk a bit less like you’re at a fish market?!” He hisses at the man, before he looks at you with a sigh. “You’re free to kick or bite him, I’m sorry he’s being weird.” He apologizes, but you just laugh it off, amused by the whole interaction.

Well, Jungkook is a little odd. So it’s not surprising his friends are just as unusual.

“I’m not weird, you’re weird for not introducing me to her!” The man whines. “Kim Seokjin. I’m so glad he finally got over his weird crush-”

“Jin please-” Jungkook complains, and you feel a little sorry for him.

“What? That harpy lived off of your paycheck for months if not years! Was about time you pulled your head out of that situation.” He mumbles, crossing his arms. “Anyways, I’ll make sure your food comes out right away. You two just relax and enjoy your night yeah?” He smiles. “And don’t worry about the check. I’ll cover it for you.” Jin winks at Jungkook, who runs a hand over his face as his friend leaves.

“I’m so sorry for that.” He chuckles a bit embarrassed, but you wave him off.

“He seemed nice.” You say, and he nods.

“He is. My best friend, really- but he can be a lot.” He explains. “He was worried about me for quite some time.” He admits a little shameful, but you just shrug it off.

“Understandable.” You simply answer. “I hope he knows I’m not here to use you.” You say, as the food finds its way to the table.

“I know that you’re not.” He tells you softly, smile warm as he looks at you. “And that’s more than enough.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

A few days later, you’re staying over for the first time.

He’s busy washing the dishes with you when someone knocks on the door however, making him excuse himself to go check who it might be- just for someone to enter right away, the person quickly stopping however at the sight of you at the sink in his kitchen. “didn’t know you had a friend over, kookie.” She says, waving at you in a friendly manner-

Though there’s a strange sharpness in her gaze, like an animal snarling more than someone smiling.

“Why are you here?” Jungkook asks, and he looks oddly.. strange to you in this moment. Like he’s internally fighting with himself, unsure what to really do. Like he’s cornered, pressured to pick a side, like a child asked which parent they love more or less.

“Its kind of private?” she meekly says, wringing her hands a little. “I’ll just text you later, maybe we can hang out tomorrow after work?” she wonders, and Jungkook looks at her.. very oddly. Even she seems to notice, sensing something off as his gaze changes, becomes softer, but not in a way she was most likely hoping for.

“Lucy, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He denies gently, taking a deep breath. “I.. I can imagine what you’re going to ask me, and I can’t keep doing this.”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna ask you-“ she defends herself with an uneasy chuckle, and you feel like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t be. But you’re trapped- you can’t move, can’t escape, because they’re having this conversation right where you’d need to pass to get out the open kitchen. “Kookie come on, is it because of that night with-“

“If you think that’s what bothers me, how come you never mentioned it?” He asks, but it’s without any bite. It’s more.. disappointed, if anything. Like he’s exhausted. “You knew all this time that I liked you. You knew it.” He tells her, and she sighs, looking away.

“It was just awkward, okay?!” she defends herself. “after I turned you down that one day at the Cafe, I regretted it. And then I felt like.. I missed the chance. I didn’t know that you like me still.” She offers softly. “I.. Jungkook, I’m sorry for how it went. Let’s talk about it properly tomorrow okay?”

You feel out of place. You really want to leave.

You don’t want to witness any of this, or what’s to come.

“No. “ He however answers, catching her off guard, clearly. “You’re.. too late. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, before he walks to open the door.

“ju..” she looks at you with both devastation, and something akin to both jealousy and envy, strangely enough. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be there.” She says while looking at you, before she walks past Jungkook- her attempt to hug him denied as he gently pushes her away by her shoulder. “right.” She simply sighs, before she leaves- his phone vibrating multiple times after the door closed, probably with texts she’s sending him.

The device is promptly thrown onto the couch- though it misses the furniture, and clatters to the floor harshly, vibrating somewhere under the coffee table before it becomes quiet.

You carefully move to walk out the kitchen, give him space- but instead, you feel him hug you from behind, arms around you holding onto your body as if you’re a lifeline. You turn around to hold him too, unsure for a moment what’s wrong-

When he takes in the first shuddering breath, sniffling from trying to not make it obvious that this just hurt him. It must have- after all, he’s been after her for such a long time, just to have her basically confess days after he’s started to get involved with you instead.

Does he feel regret?

“You can meet up with her tomorrow.” You tell him. It doesn’t hurt you as much right now- after all, you haven’t had enough time yet to get emotionally attached to the point of no return yet. “Maybe this was all just.. one big misunderstanding.” You shrug, but he holds you tighter now, shaking his head that’s still hiding in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t want her.” He denies, voice awfully fragile. “I hate her.” He even tells you, while you run your hands over his back. “Please stay..” he mumbles into your skin, and you nod.

“If you want me to.” You offer. “but don’t feel like you have to choose me right now. I’ll be fine.” You make sure he knows, but again, he shakes his head.

Instead, he removes his face from you to show himself vulnerable, tears still falling from his eyes, emotions boiling over as he moves to kiss you, the gesture desperate. Maybe he needs to convince himself he made the right choice. Maybe he’s imagining her instead? Has he ever kissed her at all?

“no-“ he whines, complains like he can read your mind, hands on your cheeks as he looks at you with frustration. “What’s wrong?” He asks, but you just look at him confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask, because you’re genuinely not sure what his problem is.

“You’re not kissing me.” He explains, but you just frown.

“What? I am.” You respond. “not right now, obviously, but I was.. you know. Kissing back.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “not like you did before.” He denies. How can he even tell? “is it because of her?” he asks, carefully so, as if he’s afraid of the answer. “I promise I’ll delete her number-“

“Jungkook you’re really emotional right now.” You tell him. “You’re not thinking clearly-“ you try and make sure he doesn’t rush things, but he shakes his head.

“I am.” He denies. “for the first time, I feel like I actually am.” He tells you, hands moving to rest on your shoulders now instead. “but, if you want to go home . now, you can. M-maybe that’s a good idea? I don’t know..” he tells you, confused.

And it just underlines you statement that he’s not very clear in his head right now to make any kind of decision.

So you do it for him instead, packing your little bag to go home on your own tonight-

Though he pays for the cab, no amount of words from you able to change his mind.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You slept way too long- phone telling you its pretty much the middle of the day as you accept the call, mumbling something incoherent.

“Good morning.” Jungkook chuckles on the other end of the call. “Could you like, let me in maybe? Your neighbor keeps asking me if she should call the cops on me.” He tells you, and you frown to yourself, slowly walking out your bedroom and to open the front door- where he actually sits, right in front of it, back having been resting against the door. “thanks.” He tells you, getting up to stand in front of you now. “can I come in?” He wonders, and you sleepily nod, letting him in before you close the door behind him. “damn it’s cold in here!” He laughs, and you rub your eyes.

“I sleep better when it’s cold..” you mumble. “What’re you doing here?” You ask, yawning.

“have been thinking.” He tells you, hands in his pockets after he takes off his boots. “like you told me to.”

“Oh.”

You’re not really sure what to expect now- but then again, you did tell him to really think about it once he’s had a good night’s rest and all, so you can’t really complain now if his answer is not one you’d like to hear. “I’m sorry that.. you had to witness what happened yesterday. Both her visiting so unannounced and.. well, my slight mental breakdown after.” He tells you, rubbing the back of his neck a bit before he straightens his posture again. “and I’ve made my decision. Properly, this time.” He promises.

“Oh, okay.” You nod. “you.. gonna meet up with her later?” You ask. He shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “though I did call her to tell her I don’t want to stay in contact any longer.” Jungkook says, and you look at him for a moment. “I really meant it. I don’t want her any longer. I.. you kind of made me break free.” He shrugs.

“Oh uh.. I’m glad then.” You nod. “You’re.. you deserve that. The freedom, and stuff.” You say.

“I still want you, just to be clear.” He chuckles. “if anything, I really kind of.. fell for you yesterday.” He bashfully confesses.

“What? How?” You wonder, sitting on your small sofa with him next to you.

“You.. technically had me. Right in the palm of your hand.” He says, looking at your bare legs. “And yet you chose to step back, and let me catch myself. You made sure I didn’t just.. rush into things without thinking, and I’m very thankful for that.” He admits. “You were looking out for me.”

“I.. did what was right.” You shrug. “or what felt right to me at least.”

“You’re very kind, you know?” He says, smiling softly. “I’m.. it’s kind of scary just how quickly I’m becoming attached. It’s ridiculous.” He complains with a laugh, shaking his head. “But at the same time I can’t really bring myself to care.”

“Do you still feel bad for taking my virginity in a club?” You giggle, but he just rolls his eyes.

“I’m still gonna erase that memory from your mind one day, just so you wait.” He points a finger at you playfully. “but also no. You said you’re okay with the way things happened, so I accept it too.”

“so..” you mumble, moving your legs up to have your feet rest on the couch. “what now?” you ask.

“whatever you’d like.” He shrugs, resting his head on the backrest just like you do, looking at you with a warm gaze.

“What do you wanna do?” You wonder, and he grins.

“How about we fall in love?” He asks-

And you can’t help but smile too, as you look at his eyes sparkle, much more than the silver piercings decorating his lip and ears.

“Okay.”

[soulaires]

Hii I was wondering if I could request Aaron Warner?

So like the prompt is reader and Aaron were on a date and Aaron left to go the bathroom when he came back he saw a waiter flirting with the reader, like he gets jealous and wants to prove to the waiter the reader is his. Could you also make it light smut?

Anyway thanks for reading this if you don't want to write it it's okay or if you don't like the prompt you could just do something with jealousy. Thanks again for letting me rant🤍🤍

Hope you have a great day and I love your writing so much!!💕💕

pairings: Aaron Warner x f!reader

summary: you are his as he is yours.

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, OOC, threats, light smut

« words: 1,601 ┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🪩::voicemail ; read my other aaron warner fics here.

authors note: this pretty much sucks bc I’m on my writers block and I can’t write shits lol but anyway sorry for the delay it’s bc I am lazy asf. Enjoy anyways 🫶

It was a lovely evening, and you and Aaron had decided to go on a date to one of your favorite restaurants. The atmosphere was intimate, the candlelight casting a warm glow, and soft jazz playing in the background. Everything seemed perfect.

You and Aaron shared stories and laughter, savoring your favorite dishes. The night had been wonderful so far, filled with love and companionship. But then, Aaron excused himself to use the restroom.

As you sit waiting for Aaron to return from the restroom, the waiter from earlier approaches you and begins flirting with you.

"Hey there, beautiful," he says with a flirtatious smile. "Where's your handsome boyfriend?" he asks, leaning in closer once more.

You look over at Aaron's chair, which is empty since he went to the restroom. You don't want to be rude, but you're also not interested in the waiter.

"Uh, he'll be back in a sec," you say, trying to brush off the waiter.

The waiter continues to lean in, seeming determined to continue flirting with you.

"Why wait for him when you've got me right here?" he asks, flashing another charming smile.

You let out a soft sigh at the waiter's persistent flirting, wanting to find a way to end it without hurting his feelings.

"Look, I appreciate the attention, but I'm not interested," you say firmly, hoping to get through to the waiter. You turn and look away from him, hoping he'll take the hint and walk away.

The waiter, however, isn't quite ready to give up and continues to try his luck.

"Don't be so hasty, cutie," he says with a wink. "Everyone has their price, what's yours?" he asks, leaning even closer.

You feel yourself getting increasingly irritated with the waiter's annoying flirting and are getting tempted to tell him off when suddenly Aaron walks back into the diner. When he sees the waiter leaning in and flirting with you, his annoyance becomes visible on his face.

Aaron hurries over to your table, standing between you and the waiter, standing protectively. "Keep your distance." He said coldly, eyes burning with fire.

"Hey, cool it, dude," the waiter replies with a dismissive wave. "Just making some friendly conversation, that's all.”

Aaron leans in closer to the waiter, clearly not buying his excuse.

The waiter steps back, his smile faltering slightly as your boyfriend's aggressive demeanor makes him feel uncomfortable.

"Alright, alright, I was just messing around," he says, holding up his hands in surrender.

Aaron, however, doesn't seem impressed and continues to glare at the waiter, his arms still crossed.

"Yeah, best you keep your distance from her," Aaron says sternly. "Or else you'll be dealing with me. Got it?"

He continues to stand protectively next to you and stares the waiter down.

"You heard me. Keep your distance, understand?" he says, his tone leaving no room for any sort of argument or discussion.

The waiter gulps and nods again, quickly turning around and taking a few steps back.

"Yes, sir," he mumbles, quickly hurrying back to the other tables in the restaurant to find other patrons to wait on.

"Does that guy think he can just waltz in here and snatch you away from me? Because I am not having it," he grumbles.

You laughed at him, tilting your head, "I didn't encourage it." you assured him. Aaron, however, wasn't so easily convinced. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you a bit closer to him. "I know," he said, "but I can't help it if I get a little possessive when someone flirts with my love."

Aaron approaches your neck slowly and leans down to give you a passionate kiss, leaving a clear mark on your skin.

The waiter watches this display of intimacy from afar, feeling a bit conflicted about witnessing this intimate moment between the two of you.

After Aaron finishes kissing your neck, he looks up at you and smiles sweetly, holding you close to his body.

"Let's continue this at home" he seductively whispers in your ear, yet irritation is visible to his face.

—

As soon as you both arrived at the bedroom, Warner eagerly kissed you as he started guiding you to the bed, placing you gently.

"Mhmm, aaron…" you moaned.

"You are mine as I am yours, understand that, love?" He whispers as he trailed kisses from your jaw.

"uhuh" you answered, high from the feeling.

"Use your words, My love." He said as his emerald eyes admired you. Gods, you are so damn pretty.

"I am yours, always. No need to get jealous, pretty boy."

“You think I’m pretty?” He softly whispers the question into your ear, punctuating it with a tender kiss to your earlobe as he lingers there.

“mhm, I think everyone does.”

“Oh but, angel, I don’t care about what everyone else thinks, you’re the only one that matters to me."

he remarks, moving his leg to part yours, bringing them to rest on either side of his thigh. His hand gently takes hold of yours, securing them above your head against the pillow. Though his grasp is lenient, you have no inclination to break free, preferring to be at Warner's mercy for whatever he may desire.

“You certainly have a way with words, don’t you, Aaron?”

“Only for you, my beloved.” he responded.

His lips journey across your cheek until they meet yours. Your mouths engage in a slow yet passionate dance, relishing the sensation of one another's lips. His teeths graze your lower lip slightly before he withdraws, peppering your neck with kisses.

A minor sensation pricks your neck as your boyfriend lavishes extra attention on the bottom of your neck.

“Everyone will see that tomorrow.” you note.

“Good, I want people to know you’re mine,” his words send a surge of heat through your body, all the way to your most sensitive regions. You shift against him slightly, and he chuckles against your neck, "Oh you like that, don't you, huh, my love?"

You nod as your lips part. The tenderness on your neck, where his lips had been, is already evident.

His lips continue their descent, bunching up your dress around your chest as he settles between your legs. He holds onto your thighs as he gazes up at you, his eyes glimmering with desire.

“Now, let me make you feel good, my sweet girl.”

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan

If you wanna be added to the A.W tag list plz lmk !!!

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hey I have been looking for Dark Dean and Castiel fics where Dean is OBSESSED with Castiel do you have any recommendations?

Hey hey! Sorry for the delay, but I hope these recs are welcomed now just in time for Halloween.

A bit of a warning though -- some of these fics get really dark and involve very intense subjects so pls mind the tags before reading these.

all that’s sacred comes from youth by fullvoid (Mature, 8k words)

Teenage Dean has a dark, possessive streak he hides well. But when he and Cas agree to get married at age 35 if neither of them has by then, he finds he can't quite just leave it at that and spends years stalking Cas from the shadows and sabotaging every relationship he starts. Or Dean, in love with his best friend Cas and obsessed with a pact they made when they were 17 years old, gets rid of his boyfriends one by one through escalating means.

Between Love and Agony by Duckyboos (Explicit, 53k words)

Dean Winchester is in love. Like, bonafide heart eyes and deep sighs, hung-the-moon love. There's just one problem: the lucky guy is his husband's identical twin, Castiel. The two of them have been having a kinky affair for years, burrowing under each other’s skin and setting up camp. Which is why, after Castiel goes missing, Dean’s about ready to tear the world apart looking for him. When Castiel eventually returns to him, he’s been through literal hell, managing to drag himself out, bloody and raw, for Dean. Together, they discover a way to make Castiel whole again — though the price will be gruesome… and there will certainly be hell to pay.

CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse by Mayalaen (Explicit, 441k words)

Castiel Novak is a Cleaner. One of the agency's best. He and his Handler, Dean Winchester, have a high success rate in a world where the worst criminals aren't imprisoned for their crimes, but instead are captured by licensed serial killers who dispose of them, doing what they do best while getting paid for it. Cas doesn't form attachments, doesn't leave himself open for a risk like that, but Dean wormed his way into Cas' life and into his house. Does Dean realize what falling in love with a serial killer really means?

Do Anything For You by ImYourHoneyBee (Explicit, 7k words)

“How’re you feeling?” his earlier worry and fear have faded into the background because of how freaking good Jimmy looks right now, but that’s the thing to ask. Besides, even if he was planning on killing him soon, propriety has to be observed. Dean has a reputation to uphold as a fine, upstanding citizen in this city. Patrick Bateman wishes he was as smooth as Dean is. “Better than the guy who hit me,” Jimmy tells him with uncharacteristic bluntness, nodding toward the curtained-off bed, “I overheard the doctors saying he flatlined around the same time I did.” “Oh shit,” Dean says, glancing over to try and mask the sick roil that sets up shop in his stomach. “He make it?” The ghost of a smile plays over Jimmy’s chapped lips, “He’s in a better place now.” x The one where Cas's soul takes over Jimmy's body.

Free to Be You and Me by jhoom (Explicit, 49k words) --- This says incomplete but it's a satisfying ending so we think the author just didn't close it out.

Dean lost his parents in a fire when he was younger, and he’s never been the same since. Based on the prompt: "I was ten years old when I witnessed the murder of my entire family. The police told me that the person I saw commit the crime was a figment of my imagination - a result of the trauma - but I couldn’t let it rest. In a strange way, they saved me - with everyone else gone I might have gone to pieces, but I HAD to find the killer, so I held it together, I got through school, I rose through the ranks of detective, and now finally, finally, I’m on their trail. I have to find them. I have to meet them. I have to tell them that I love them."

Hello Night by almaasi (Explicit, 11k words)

Demon!Dean/Priest!Cas AU. Castiel summons Dean to the crossroads, and he only wants one thing: him.

Make Me by saltnhalo (Explicit, 4k words)

A beautiful man on a motorbike shows up at Castiel's business with a t-shirt that says Make me and a smirk that could put the devil to shame. How is Castiel possibly meant to resist?

Monsters by Miss_Lv (Explicit, 11k words)

Castiel prayed to God, to help them, to save them. God never answered. But Dean did. It was the monster who saved Castiel, not God.

Seven Heavenly Virtues by Strixes (Explicit, 108k words)

The Mark of Cain turns Dean into a demon once more. Dean is adamant that this time he's found a way to keep the mark under control but it's clear to Castiel that Dean needs help if he's going to fight the mark's influence until they can find a way to get rid of it. More than anything Castiel wants to save him, but if anyone needs to be saved it's Castiel as he tries to navigate where Dean ends and the Mark of Cain begins.

The Prodigal Bond by vipjuly (Explicit, 68k words)

In exchange for conjugal visits, Dean Winchester gives FBI Supervisory Special Agent Castiel Novak all the dirt he needs to bring down national crime rings. It's a tit-for-tat situation; primal, animalistic, and probably ten kinds of illegal. When a case is revealed to be closer to Castiel than what he considers safe, he and Dean must work together to make sure that Crowley goes down for good. Will Castiel be able to keep Dean at arm's length, or will the charming convict finally get what he's been asking for all along? What lengths will Castiel go to... at Dean's behest?

These Violent Delights by SomethingBlue42, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 43k words)

Dean Winchester, war vet and functioning alcoholic with a life that’s going nowhere, takes a job at Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Dean had never heard of Dr. Castiel Novak notorious serial killer and cannibal given he’d been dodging bullets and performing field triage during Novak’s sensational trial. Seasoned orderly Rufus lays out the rules: Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper - no pencils, no pens. Use the sliding food carrier only, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. And most importantly: don't tell him anything personal. But Dean was never much for following the rules and Castiel has a way of making Dean feel like he isn’t the grade-a loser his hot-shot FBI agent brother thinks he is. Then, a senator’s daughter goes missing, setting forth a chain of events that put Dean on a path that forces him to choose where his loyalties lie and just how far he’s willing to walk into the dark.

This Tainted Love You've Given by LazarusRose, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 17k words)

Everyone has their hobbies—Dean’s just happens to involve a lot more blood and screaming than most people’s. And sure, maybe murder isn’t the nicest way to blow off steam, but Dean’s always thought that being nice is overrated anyway. His latest victim, a pretty guy with startling blue eyes, should be nothing special, just another nameless body on Dean’s list. But then, after Dean kills and buries him, he turns back up at Dean’s house again the next day. What’s a guy to do when they’ve accidentally gotten an immortal witch convinced that they’ve got some kind of profound bond?

Happy Halloween!!👻🎃

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material - (Captain Price Fic) - Matchmaking Chapter 1 (Shorter Version)  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 (Last Chapter)

A/N: I hope you guys can be patient with me as I set up the scene and context for the story! I know you might be eager for Papa Bear John, so if you can't wait, feel free to scroll all the way down or check out the short version. But if you’d like to enjoy the full background and get all the details leading up to the moment, stick around here for the original version. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! Warning: Mention of child abuse in the story. Summary: Y/N is a reserved former constable and master sniper in the London police force, now working full-time as an artisan. She reconnects with old colleagues at a grill house for a catch-up, where her former junior, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, tries to play matchmaker. Gaz’s attempt to set her up with the retired SAS and Papa Bear material, Captain John Price, is met with resistance as Y/N is caught off guard by the unexpected attention.

Y/N stepped into the familiar warmth of the grill house, the smoky aroma of sizzling meat mingling with the distinct hum of rugby commentary from the TV above the bar. The place had that well-worn, comfortable charm—like an old friend. She spotted her old colleagues almost immediately, seated around a table, beers in hand, laughter spilling into the air.

“Oi! Look who’s gracing us with her posh, artsy presence!” came the teasing voice of one of the officers. “You still wearing them fancy shoes, Y/N?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, a half-smile playing on her lips as she made her way over. "Oh, please. I’d have to sell a few more prototypes just to afford these," she said, giving her Gucci Princeton Leather slip-ons a quick glance. "You know, designing and crafting, prototypes for others, specially demanding architects and students—it's harder than catching a criminal on a Sunday shift."

The group laughed, and one of them raised their glass. “Come on, that’s not true. Bet you’re all over the art scene now, living the dream!”

“Sure,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she slid into her seat, “if by ‘living the dream’ you mean sometimes starving in a studio, getting rejected by every gallery in town, and designing things no one’s ever heard of, yeah, it’s just like the movies.”

They all burst out laughing again. One of the lads signaled to the waiter, who was making his rounds. "Oi, get her a proper drink," he said with a grin, "she looks like she needs it."

A tap of beer was quickly placed in front of her, and she gave her colleagues a mock glare, but couldn't help but smile. "You lot are too kind. Just wait ‘til you see my next masterpiece—a painting of you lot after too many pints."

As the laughter faded, they began catching up, each group diving into stories and teasing. "Any funny incidents lately?" one of the officers asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, plenty. You lot wouldn't believe half of them, but I'm still waiting for the call-up for my big art show... not holding my breath, though."

The conversation shifted, and soon enough, someone asked, “When’s your next reservist shift, then? You’re still doing that, right?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, taking a moment before answering. "Ah, next month. Got my refresher course first, so I'll see you lot after that." She picked up her glass, the cool beer sliding down her throat as she sighed contentedly.

It had been a long day—too long. But, she was glad to be here, catching up with these old faces, the familiar rhythm of their banter and laughter settling into her. The worries of her day faded, replaced with the warmth of good company and the taste of a well-earned pint.

The table buzzed with laughter and the clink of silverware as everyone dug into their meal. Y/N, content with a bite of lamb chop, was about to take another when Kyle’s voice broke through.

“So, Y/N,” he said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward, “how long’s it been since you’ve been single?”

Y/N paused, looking at him like he’d just asked if she wanted to run a marathon. She narrowed her eyes, the chop still in her hand. “You’re not about to start playing matchmaker, are you, Gaz?”

Kyle shrugged nonchalantly, completely unbothered. “Well, you know... I might have a perfect guy in mind. Could introduce you next time.”

The table erupted into teasing shouts, and a few of the women at the table nudged her playfully. “Ooh, a ‘perfect guy,’ eh?” one of them said with a sly smile. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get you out there, Y/N!”

“Yeah, yeah,” another girl chimed in, grinning. “You can’t stay single forever, love. You need to live a little!”

Y/N laughed, raising her glass of beer to her lips. “I’ve been living plenty, thank you very much,” she said, taking a sip. “I’ve been single since I was 22. Too much going on in my life. Can barely keep up with myself, let alone anyone else.”

One of the guys leaned in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Come on, Y/N. You can’t just keep dodging the love life thing forever. You’ve gotta try at least once. Who knows? Maybe this ‘perfect guy’ will be just what you need.”

“Or,” another woman piped up, waggling her eyebrows, “he’ll just be an excuse for a nice date night and some free food. Win-win.”

Y/N put a hand on her chest, feigning shock. “Oh, I see how it is. You lot just want me to get free dinner at someone else’s expense!”

Kyle laughed, raising his beer. “Well, if you don’t like him, I’ll pay for the meal myself. But I’m tellin’ ya, he’s worth a shot.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. “Tell you what—if I get to choose the place, I’ll consider it. But no more ‘perfect guy’ nonsense, alright?”

Her colleagues cheered, raising their own glasses. “To Y/N’s perfect guy!” someone shouted, and the table erupted into more laughter.

Y/N just rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her lamb chop. “Alright, alright. You lot are relentless.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Alright then, who’s this ‘perfect guy’ Gaz has in mind? One of your mates?”

Kyle leaned back, clearly proud of his matchmaking skills. “Yeah, mate. His name’s Price. Former SAS, top bloke—don’t let the gruff exterior fool you. He’s solid. Got a good head on his shoulders.”

The table went silent for a moment. Some of the guys and girls exchanged glances, clearly impressed by the mention of SAS.

“Ooh, SAS, huh?” one of the women said, grinning. “That’s like, the real deal, right? Tough, mysterious, probably has a six-pack or maybe even eight! Hidden under all that tactical gear.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” another guy added, practically waggling his eyebrows. “Rugged, muscular, probably a bit brooding. Can already see the whole ‘I’ve been through the worst’ vibe.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a lot of mystery about him,” one of the other women teased, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Could be just the thing you need, Y/N. A real adventure.”

Kyle, clearly delighted by the reactions, went on, “Yeah, you’ll like him. He’s been through the ringer, mate. The kind of bloke you don’t wanna mess with. Tough as nails.”

The group went on, each person adding their own humorous speculation about Price’s rugged, mysterious persona—tough military training, intense eyes, dangerous aura. The teasing was infectious, and everyone was in on it now, laughing and playfully suggesting how wild or sexy Price must be.

But Y/N’s expression had already shifted. Her hand, still holding the lamb chop, froze mid-air, and she stared into the distance, her eyes darkening as she took in what Kyle had said. The laughter around her faded into the background, her own thoughts taking over.

One of the guys, noticing the shift, raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Y/N?” he asked, clearly sensing the change in her mood.

Y/N blinked, breaking out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Yeah, fine,” she said quietly, but her tone was noticeably subdued.

Kyle, still excited, didn’t notice. “I’m telling you, mate, he’s a proper top guy. You’ll get along fine with him, I’m sure of it.”

But Y/N’s eyes had taken on a more somber look. “Yeah, maybe,” she muttered, her voice much softer than before. “Look, I’m not saying all military guys are the same, but…” She paused, her hand tightening around her beer glass. “My father was ex-military. Bit of a bastard, to be honest. Mentally and verbally abusive. So, I’ve... never really been into that kind of thing, if I’m honest.”

The teasing stopped abruptly. The table grew quieter as her words sank in. Kyle, finally sensing the shift, looked at her with a soft expression. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything heavy, Y/N. Just thought I was being helpful…”

Y/N gave a small, weary smile, waving it off. “It’s alright, Gaz. You didn’t know.”

One of the women, noticing her mood, reached out and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you don’t have to meet him, Y/N. No pressure.”

Y/N nodded, the smile returning just a little, though it was faint. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’s a great guy. Just not sure I’m ready for... anything like that right now.”

The table grew quieter as the conversation shifted away from matchmaking and towards other, lighter topics. Laughter bubbled up again, but Y/N’s mind wandered back, the memories creeping in despite the cheerful chatter around her.

Her father… It didn’t take much to bring his image to the forefront of her mind. The memories of him were sharp and unpleasant, lingering like an unshakable shadow. He’d been in the military for years before moving into MI5 when she was a child. After he retired, though, he never really left the mindset behind.

She could still hear his voice in her head, cutting through the air, as if he was right there. The constant little digs—his sharp tone when he'd see her, trying to maintain that military discipline, as if he could control every aspect of her life. Every time he looked at her, it felt like he was seeing an enemy, like she was still just a soldier under his command.

He’d belittle her. Criticize everything, from her clothes to how she held herself, as though she were an extension of his authority. It wasn’t just the verbal abuse, though. There were moments where the anger would spill over. He’d hit her, sometimes, not out of frustration but out of a need to keep her “in line.” If she argued or disagreed with him, there were times he’d drag her out of the house, leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere just to teach her a “lesson,” and then come back hours later, violently pulling her into the car as though nothing had happened.

Y/N shook her head, pushing the dark thoughts back. She’d spent so long trying to bury them, trying to focus on anything else that didn’t make her feel like a child again, helpless under his control.

It wasn’t until that one night when she was 19—kicked out of the house, no place to go, just a bag and nothing but cold streets—that she decided enough was enough. She didn’t have the luxury of time or an easy choice. She’d had nowhere to go but a friend’s couch for a few nights, and that’s when she made the decision: she would join the police force. She needed the money, the stability, and more than anything, the chance to break free from the past.

The police program offered her a way out, an escape, a way to stand on her own two feet and start building something for herself. At the time, it also came with education, which was a huge draw. She could pay for her tuition while working, get the training she needed to eventually leave all that behind. She’d never intended to stay long in the force, but it turned out to be the best decision she could have made, even though it came with its own set of challenges.

Her eyes flickered back to the table, the laughter still ringing around her, but now muffled, distant. She had come a long way since those dark days, but sometimes—like now—the weight of it all crept back in.

It was easy for her to laugh along with the others, easy to let the jokes flow. But sometimes, when the noise died down, she could still feel the sting of her past, just beneath the surface.

Her thoughts snapped back to the present as someone nudged her elbow. “Oi, you alright, Y/N? You went all quiet there,” one of her friends said, concern lacing their voice.

Y/N blinked, shaking herself free of the memories. She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she replied, taking another swig of her beer. “Just a long day, that’s all. Don’t mind me.”

They didn’t press further, thankfully, but she could feel their eyes on her for a moment before the conversation shifted again.

The laughter from the table faded as everyone began to gather their things, slipping out one by one into the cool night air. Y/N lingered for a moment, the clink of glasses and murmurs of her friends still echoing in her ears, but it felt distant now—like a tune she was no longer part of. As she stepped outside, the damp pavement underfoot caught the glow of the streetlights, each step sharp and purposeful. She let out a long breath, the chill of the evening sinking into her skin. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed this—quiet, space to herself, far away from the constant chatter and noise that seemed to follow her every move.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen. An unknown number. Normally, she wouldn’t even bother answering, but something told her to check it.

She unlocked the screen and swiped open the message.

"Hi, Y/N. John Price here. Gaz gave me your number. We should grab a drink sometime. Maybe chat about a few things. Cheers."

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing. Her thumb hovered over the screen as her mind scrambled for a reaction. John Price. The John Price? The former SAS legend, now retired, and apparently still involved in some highly classified business? What the hell was Gaz thinking?

"What the fuck, Gaz!!!" Y/N hissed under her breath, staring at the message with disbelief. Her gaze snapped up and scanned the street. She could see her friends walking ahead, far down the street now, their backs turned. Gaz, that bloody menace, had passed her number along without a second thought.

She stormed a few paces ahead, but her steps were more frustrated now. Her mind raced as she considered her options. She didn’t want any part of whatever ‘chat’ Price had in mind. She wasn’t a fool—she knew how these things worked. She could already picture the smug look on Gaz’s face when he thought he was doing her a favour, setting her up with some ‘good guy’ from his circle of military buddies. But military men… well, she had enough of that in her life already.

Y/N scrolled through her contacts, her fingers moving like clockwork. She was about to fire off a quick response to tell Price to kindly go to hell when she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. Her face looked tired, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to her. She could feel the cold seeping through her coat, and for a moment, it was like the weight of everything—the years of trying to make it on her own, the trauma, the nightmares—settled right back on her shoulders.

She quickly closed her phone and shoved it back into her pocket. A drink with John Price? Yeah, that was definitely not going to happen. But Gaz? He was going to hear about this. She didn’t care if he was busy with some top-secret ops or whatnot—this was a step too far.

"Next round’s on you, Gaz," she muttered to herself as she walked toward the corner, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance and amusement begin to churn in her stomach. ----------

Y/N's eyes fluttered open to the soft light of the morning, spilling through the gap in her curtains. The events of last night—Gaz's matchmaking attempt and the unexpected message from John Price—already felt like distant memories, lost in the haze of sleep. She groaned and stretched, her arms reaching out before she swung them over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the cool wooden floor.

She was hungry. More than that, she was starving.

With a deep sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling the weight of yesterday’s long hours still in her bones. Her body moved on autopilot as she made her way to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee hit her senses before she even flicked on the kettle. The day ahead was full—pottery to finish, pieces to deliver, and the usual grind of meeting deadlines for design projects. But the pottery was the steady foundation. It brought in consistent income each month, even if it required hours of backbreaking work.

The market was always a good outlet for her—hands-on, personal, where customers could appreciate the craftsmanship and effort she poured into each item. She enjoyed the physicality of it, the quiet satisfaction of shaping clay into something functional and beautiful. She had a reputation for it, too—well-known in the area for her distinctive, handmade pottery, with a smooth, glossy finish that always caught the light just right.

After a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, she shuffled into her workshop. There was something grounding about the familiar rhythm of her craft. The kiln had cooled overnight, and her latest batch of pottery—plates, mugs, vases, and a few statement pieces—was ready for inspection. Y/N carefully removed the items, one by one, from the kiln. The glaze had set perfectly, giving each piece a rich, lustrous shine. She ran her fingers over the smooth surfaces, admiring the precision of her work. Her hands were still stained with the evidence of yesterday’s labor, but it didn’t bother her. It was part of the process.

As she carefully packed the finished pieces into protective wrapping for transport, she nodded in approval. She may have put the hours in, but the result was always worth it. The market would love these.

Later, Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, examining her reflection with a critical eye. She’d always believed that people treated you better when you looked your best—when you seemed approachable and friendly. And since she was about to step into the public eye again, it was important to put a little effort in. She applied her makeup with precision, the soft strokes highlighting her features, then slipped on a small pair of gold-plated silver earrings that added a touch of chic to her look.

She was wearing a loose white linen shirt with long sleeves, its cuffs casually rolled up. The shirt was light and breathable, perfect for a day of carrying boxes and setting up her stall. Over it, she tied her craftsman apron—dark, worn from years of use, but still functional, with enough pockets to hold all the tools she needed.

Her wide-legged chinos reached just to her ankles, the fit comfortable and practical, paired with her slip-on loafers—a soft, leather pair she’d had for years. It was casual yet still put-together, an outfit that made her feel at ease while still ready for whatever the day might throw at her.

She practiced her smile in the mirror—a grin that wasn’t too forced or strained, but warm and inviting. Some days, it felt like a performance. But she’d learned long ago that a good smile could sell a piece of pottery. And that was what she needed today: to sell, to engage, to make her art speak for her.

With a deep breath, she adjusted her apron, straightened her shoulders, and gave the mirror one final smile before grabbing the first box of finished work.

She had a day of selling ahead. And though sometimes the world felt heavy, she was ready to face it head-on. Her pottery, her designs—they were the bright spots in her life, the reasons she’d fought so hard to keep going, to stay grounded.

With another steadying breath, she stepped out into the cool morning air, the day ahead waiting for her.

-----------

Once Y/N had finished unpacking and arranging her wares at her stall, she took a moment to step back and admire the display. The pieces were neatly arranged—vases catching the light, mugs stacked just right, and her signature pottery glistening with its smooth, glossy finish. She felt a small sense of pride bubble up, but it was quickly tempered by the hustle of the market around her. There was no time to linger; there were customers to engage, products to sell, and a whole day ahead.

Grabbing her phone, she tapped into the group chat with her friends, which, of course, included Gaz. A small smile tugged at her lips as she typed out a quick message:

“Hey guys, I’m set up at the market today—stall 30 if you’re in the area and fancy dropping by. Would be good to catch up if you have the time! 😎”

She added a few relevant emojis, then hit send, tucking her phone back into her apron pocket with a sigh. If they could make it, great. If not, no big deal. It would be nice to see a familiar face, but she’d already grown accustomed to the solitude of her work.

As she glanced up from her phone, she was met with the hustle and bustle of market-goers milling around her stall. Some stopped to admire the pottery, others just passed by, lost in their own little world. Either way, it was all part of the game. She adjusted a few pieces that had shifted during the unpacking and waited for her first customer of the day. -------------

Y/N was arranging the last of her pieces when a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped up to her stall. She glanced up, quickly taking in his dark blue shirt, trim hair, and the kind of build that made him look like he could carry a truck on his back if he wanted to. The guy looked like Papa Bear material—muscular, solid, and with a presence that seemed to fill the space around him.

He stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning over the pottery on display, then back at her. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly attractive he was. He had the kind of look that made heads turn, even if he didn’t seem to be trying. She could feel a little flutter of nerves creeping in, but she pushed it away, focusing on the pieces in front of her.

"Hi there," she said, forcing a smile as she adjusted a mug on the table.

"Hey," the man replied, his voice deep and steady. "You’ve got some brilliant work here."

Y/N nodded, her hands still busy with arranging. "Thanks. I’ve been at it for years, trying to get the perfect finish."

There was a pause as he looked at her again, this time with a more direct gaze. “You’ve definitely nailed it. Everything looks... well, perfect.”

Y/N felt a little warmth in her cheeks. What’s with this guy? she thought, still unsure of why she was feeling so off-kilter. He didn’t strike her as the type who would be interested in pottery, let alone strike up a conversation about it.

Then, with a small smile, he stepped forward and said, “I’m John, by the way. Gaz sent me.”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the mention of Gaz’s name. Gaz? The first thought that shot through her head was, No, no, not this again. Her stomach turned as she realized that Gaz hadn't given up on matchmaking her with this Papa Bear of a man. Gaz!! You matchmaking bastard, why'd you do this to me!!

She tried to shake off the feeling. "Gaz, huh? Of course. I should’ve known."

John’s smile softened. “Yeah, he said I should come over and introduce myself. Said you’re someone I should meet.”

Y/N gave him a wry grin, glancing at the ground for a moment. "That sounds like something Gaz would say." She forced a casual tone, but inside, she was already second-guessing everything.

There was a brief, knowing pause between them before John continued, his voice a bit quieter but warm. "I’ve seen the pictures Gaz sent me... you’ve definitely exceeded that. And you look even better in person."

Her heart pounded, and she could feel her pulse picking up, but she didn’t want to let him see how much his words affected her. Gaz... you absolute idiot.

John continued, stepping a bit closer. "I don’t usually do this, but I’d love to take you out sometime. Dinner, drinks... whatever you fancy."

Y/N felt a flush creeping up her neck. This was it, wasn't it? Gaz and his matchmaking nonsense had really gone this far... She looked up at him, her expression softer now, but still holding a hint of surprise. This guy wasn’t just tall and fit; he was exactly the kind of person Gaz would go on about.

“Look, I am a little busy right now... uhhmmm,” she said, but there was a small, teasing smile playing at her lips.

John smiled, his eyes twinkling with something playful. “Take your time. I’m patient.”

Y/N sighed inwardly. Gaz hadn't given up on this... She couldn’t help but feel the pressure of it all, even as she admired John's presence. Big guy, military background, and that soft, paternal charm. She’d met her fair share of tough guys, but there was something different about John Price. The way he carried himself—genuine, steady, and disarmingly kind—was impossible to ignore. A/N: I do hope you enjoyed that one! I’ll be writing another chapter when inspiration strikes, or feel free to drop any suggestions you might have! On to the NEXT CHAPTER ----->

[minihotdog]

Locked Out On Valentine's (Choose Your Ending)

(Photo Cred: @chatskaja on twitter) <3

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get locked out on Valentine's Day and have to sleep over at a certain Lt.'s flat.

C/W: Reader is dressed a little inappropriately

A/N: Never tried something like this before so I hope it buffs out. Also, super late Valentine's fic whoops

Word Count: 1k

“What do you mean he’s not available?!” You stand with your forehead against your door.

“Barrack’s manager is out on leave, he’ll be back tomorrow. Recommend you stay with a friend for now.”

“Wait! Where’s the emergency ma-” *click*

What the fuck!

You huff, banging your head against the outside of your door. Today was one of the worst days of your life. You planned a date with your boyfriend of one year only to be dumped right before you were supposed to meet up. And after bawling your eyes out decide to run out to the fountain to get back the hydration you lost.

The redness around your eyes finally went away but they were so puffy you couldn’t even see your keychain still hanging on the wall.

You’re now stuck in the middle of the hall on Valentine’s Day in a short tank top and your bedtime booty shorts hoping a soul doesn’t appear and see you with all your goods hanging out.

The barracks manager - or whoever that was - told you to find a friend. You didn’t have any here. You’d been in the unit for all of five months and they weren’t all that accepting of new people. They oozed the “prove yourself worthy of our clan” mentality. You roll your eyes just at the thought.

Ughhh. I really don’t want to.

You whine internally as you pull up Cpt. Price’s contact on your phone hoping you’re not interrupting anything.

“Sergeant y/n, what’s the purpose of your call?” He sounds annoyed. You hear a feminine voice in the background and him softly shooshing it.

“Sir! I’ve been locked out of my room and the primary barracks manager won’t be in till tomorrow. I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” His voice strains lightly. He’s quiet for a moment and you’re unsure if you’re supposed to say something or…

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll message you soon.”

You sigh in relief. Maybe he’d contact the emergency manager and they’ll come unlock your door.

You stand with your arms crossed, back against the cold wall for what feels like forever until your phone finally buzzes.

Cpt. Price: Bld 920 Room 1208. Stay there tonight.

You’re about to flood him with questions, like: Where’s the key? Is there someone already there? Who’s room is this? But before you’re done typing he sends one last message.

Cpt. Price: I’m busy tonight with work so no need to thank me. Or call me again.

Work…? Yeah right!

The room was at least in the same building as you. Beats trekking in the snow in slippers and the ungodly attire you have on at the moment.

You make your way up the stairs cursing the base for not putting an elevator in your building. You peer at each door while wandering further down the hall.

1206… 1207… 1208!

You take a deep breath before knocking quietly.

God, I hope it’s at least a woman.

A few seconds go by before the door swings open. You stand wide-eyed. If you had less control your jaw would be on the floor too.

You stare back at your Lt. in all his glory. He stares back at you in nothing but low-hanging sweatpants. His blond hair is disheveled, the color matching the patch of hair on his bare sculpted chest. You’d seen him maskless before but from afar. He’s someone many avoided, his demeanor wasn’t exactly inviting and his wrath, from the rumors, was even worse.

The light flooding through the door frame illuminates his face enough to show the fine features up close. The scars running through his lips and cheeks only add to the stirring inside you that’s leaving you speechless. 

As you try to stop yourself from ogling him right here and now he notices your eyes popping out of your skull and softly blows air out of his nose.

Is he laughing at me?

He decides to finally break the staring contest.

“What d’you want, pet?”

You stutter a bit before getting the words out,

“I got locked out, the captain told me to come here. He didn’t tell me it was your place.”

It was his turn to let his eyes wander. His eyes rake over your tank top, your arm over your chest to conceal the fact you’re braless, your exposed stomach and shorts that barely did their job as clothes. You stand there waving your water bottle around as you speak, completely unaware of the look on his face.

A smirk pulls at one of his lips as he listens to you ramble about the barracks managers not doing their jobs. Your voice gradually gets higher the angrier you get.

“What the hell are you wearin’?” He interrupts.

“Why are you answering the door half-naked?” You shoot back.

He sneers, “You show up at my door wantin’ a place to stay and you have an attitude?” He pulls his phone from his pocket seeing a barely coherent message from Price.

“Fine. No point in arguin’, Price is probably with the missus, doesn’t want to be bothered.” He steps to the side allowing you to come in. You cautiously accept and step into the space.

His place was neat, and well-kept, more like an apartment rather than the prison they kept you in. You turn back to look at him and notice the tattoos covering the skin of his arm. He pretends not to notice you checking him out as he walks to the hallway closet and pulls out a pillow and blanket.

He hands them to you, “Is that enough or d’you need a bedtime story too?”

“Little Red Riding Hood’s my favorite, please.” You snark, as you drop the pillow and lean over to throw the blanket over the cushions. You swear you hear his breath catch in his throat but get quickly covered up by him clearing his throat.

“So… What are you up to on Valentine’s Day?” You prod hoping to learn something about the most feared individual of the unit.

“Just another day, means nothin’.” He leans against the wall behind him. You sit with your legs crossed on the almost comically large couch, probably custom-made for his giant ass. You lean on your hand and look up at him.

“Is that so?”

“What happened to that muppet you’re always moanin’ bout? Should be with him.” He tilts his head to the side.

“Nah, he’s no good. Decided he liked by friend better.” You laugh sadly. “Can’t seem to keep them this time of year. I’m too cool for it.” You try to joke but end up cringing on the inside. His chest rises with a soft chuckle.

“That right?”

“You know it.” You wink at him.

The two of you go quiet for a moment. 

He decides to break the silence.

”You want some tea, love?

*** Decision Time ***

Why not? I'm already here and he's being nice. Sure, I'll have some tea.

Or...

I don't wanna be a bother. He's already having to let me stay over. I'm gonna pass on tea.

[skade32]

Inspired by ABBA’s “Slipping through my fingers” lyrics:

I read a fic on AO3 with these lyrics and I WISH I REMEMBERED THE NAME SO I COULD RECOMEND IT

I was inspired to like encapsulate some ‘childhood memories’ of the Fushiguro siblings that I like to imagine Gojo has reminders of in the form of drawings and objects and letters and photos in his office.

In my found family fantasies, Gojo would relate to these lyrics regarding Tsumiki (don’t come after me I know this is mostly copium idc) and her sudden disappearance from his life. Also a little bit for Megumi who is not so suddenly, but nonetheless moving farther away from him as he both becomes an adult and no longer needs Gojo as much as he once did.

This was not really planned to be a whole thing. I initially just drew the bottom panel for fun bc I’m extremely not normal about teenage-single-parent-gojo (again I’m aware of the copium please don’t burn me at the stake) and idk I just couldn’t tear myself away from working on it and the next thing I knew it built itself up to the whole page and I hope other people can enjoy it as much as I have.

Description:

A graph paper notebook page covered entirely with a graphite sketch of a quickly thrown together comic scene. Two panels are featured atop the background which appears to be a cluttered desk in the foreground with numerous kinds of papers strewn about from mission reports to a letter addressed to Tsumiki. Amongst the papers in the top right corner, just adjacent to the first featured panel, a traditional jar of ink supports a dark pen, gently resting at an angle against the ink well. The pen seems to have been carelessly put aside as ink still drips down into the well below. The small portion of the scene not taken up by the desk has the walls, covered entirely by nondescript talismans, loosely sketched so not to drive too much attention from the subjects of the piece.

Wax drips from long-neglected candles, leaving almost no remnants of the once smooth and unblemished form it must have held just hours earlier that day. The residues of the wax leave bulbous trails, stopping just before the edge of the candle-holder sitting just to the left of the first feature panel.

Within the first panel is a scene of a little girl, squatting down so her shorts sit just above the heels of her little rubber rain boots. She seems distracted, lost in thought, as the rain pelts her and the sidewalk beside her becomes more reminiscent of a canal rather than a pedestrian pathway. The overgrown garden of the small cottage she loiters by fades into the misty sky, dark leafy bushels obscured by the soft glow of a lamplight to her left shoulder which complains achingly to the deafened thoughts of Tsumiki’s mind, still lost pondering the butterfly that rests gently upon her outstretched fingers, lovingly sheltered from the oppression of each raindrop which could rip its fragile scales in an instant. Such danger seems to not affect Tsumiki as she endures the assault from the heavens to endure the butterfly gets not a drop on his fragile wings. Her left hand holds the umbrella at such an angle that tree butterfly’s safety is assured, her own soggy hair a small price to pay for preserving such a beautiful creature.

Connecting the edge of this panel’s bottom edge to the background, a small square with a slanted cursive script writes “Slipping through my fingers all the time…”

The second panel, shifted slightly to the right of the former, occupying the focus of the bottom half of the page, displays a simpler image. The bright smile of a certain white haired idiot grows brighter as black spikes hair brushes against his chin. His dimple’s grow deeper when he notices the camera flashing at him and his disgruntled child relenting finally to sleep against his collarbone— leaving no doubt to any onlooker that the smile reached his eyes, true glee racking the young man’s expression as he jokingly flaps a limp hand about in a greeting gesture towards the camera. Whether or not Megumi’s participation in this memory was unwitting or not, that was up for debate. Regardless, the boy was clearly exhausted. Likely from some kind of jujutsu training after a mission that day if his athletic shorts and Gojo’s uniform were any indication.

A text box yet again connects to the bottom left corner of this panel reading: “…I try to capture every minute…”

[elryuse]

Can u do a yandere fic vampire Red Velvet x Male Reader?

Details: YN is a hematologist and a certified nutritionist, he has rather a normal if not boring life, well, successful to be exact, but almost 24/7, his life is just work and work.

One day he thinks about life and tries to get out of his usual life, he doesn't like dating apps, but his friend insists him on trying one of those.

He then meets Park Sooyoung (Joy), he doesn't know why but he is captivated by her eyes and they match, they talk and go out, soon YN asks her out for a dinner date. After the dinner, Joy tells YN to take her home and, guess what, she then says sorry and traps him there.

There he'll meet her sisters, Joy apologizes 'cause her she and her sisters can't just go around and feast on people's blood or steal it from a hospital so they need a perfect (unlucky) candidate to fill their thirst.

The girls are not those who just know take but not give, having lived for a few centuries they have built up a big fortune so Irene gives him a deal, a hefty price a month, and YN is only allowed to go home under their supervision.

Why YN but not the others? During YN and Joy's time before that fateful night, Joy learns of YN's blood type and he has a mutation in his gene which makes his blood more rare and it can help them stay full for a long time, longer than usual compared to other people's or animal's blood.

Day by day, they (except Irene) fall in love with him more and start to hate and compete against each other more. Irene tells her sisters that he is just food, no more no less. Irene hates YN for turning her sisters into love craving maniacs, her words, her physical tortures, they hurt him a lot. Gradually, the girls start to resent Irene more. Irene then knows that she is losing her sisters, YN knows their history, what they've gone through together so while doesn't want to, he still helps her, at least for the sake of his love for the other girls.

After that, Irene spends nights thinking about her actions, she wants to redeem herself but not knowing that she will join the circle and compete against them to get YN.

The Cost Of Immortality

Red Velvet X Male Hermatologist Reader

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the endless rows of blood bags. My world, for the most part, resided within these pale confines. Dr. Y/N, hematologist extraordinaire, by day. Sleep-deprived researcher, by night. The monotony was a steady thrum in the background of my life, a rhythm I barely noticed anymore.

Until her. Park Sooyoung, or Joy as she insisted, was a splash of vibrant crimson against the beige canvas of my existence. Her laughter was like wind chimes in a gentle breeze, a stark contrast to the sterile silence of my lab. We swiped right on a whim, two lonely souls seeking a spark in the digital abyss. Our dates were stolen moments of whispered secrets and stolen glances, a world existing outside the confines of my workaholic routine.

One evening, after an intimate dinner bathed in flickering candlelight, her smile faltered for a fleeting moment. "Take me home," she pleaded, a tremor in her voice that sent a shiver down my spine. But 'home' wasn't the cozy apartment I envisioned. It was a sprawling mansion that loomed out of the darkness, an unsettling air clinging to its ancient bricks.

Inside, bathed in an eerie moonlight, stood two other women, the same captivating crimson eyes staring back at me, framed by raven hair in shades of red. Introductions were swift, clinical even. Wendy, the eldest, with an aura of quiet authority. Seulgi, the playful one, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. And lastly, Irene, the epitome of stoicism, her gaze as sharp as the glint of silver moonlight on a blade.

The facade they'd meticulously crafted crumbled in that instant. They weren't human. A cocktail of fear and morbid fascination bubbled in my gut as Irene, her voice devoid of warmth, revealed their true nature. Vampires.

Relief, a fleeting emotion, washed over me only to be replaced by a cold dread that coiled around my heart. Irene then explained the reason for the charade - my blood. A rare type, a euphoric feast for their kind. The offer they presented was a gilded cage - a hefty sum deposited into my account every month in exchange for my…companionship. Leaving was an option, but only with armed guards as my constant companions.

Trapped, I became their prisoner, their provider. Nights were spent in opulent rooms, my blood sustaining them. Days were a monotonous blur of tests conducted by Wendy, their resident physician, and guarded outings with Seulgi, whose playful demeanor couldn't quite mask the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface.

But it was Joy, with her intoxicating gaze that seemed to see straight into my soul, who held the key to my heart. As weeks bled into months, a twisted dynamic began to take hold. Wendy craved my intellectual sparring sessions, dissecting medical journals with a fervor that both scared and intrigued me. Seulgi sought out my laughter, our days filled with playful banter that often teetered on the edge of something more. Joy… Joy craved something deeper, a yearning that mirrored the burgeoning affection I felt for her.

Irene, ever the pragmatist, remained aloof. I was a source, a necessity, but never an equal. Their affections, fueled by my unique blood, twisted into a possessive love that bordered on obsession. One night, sleep evading me, I found myself wandering the cavernous halls, drawn by a sliver of light filtering from beneath a closed door. Straining my ears, I caught the tail end of Irene's scathing words, calling my presence a curse.

A flicker of hurt ignited in my chest, a silent plea that resonated with the others. A shift, subtle yet undeniable, began to take place. Wendy's once objective demeanor morphed into veiled defiance. Seulgi's playful banter took on a tinge of possessiveness, her playful swats laced with a silent threat. They began to resent Irene's cold control, their love for me blossoming into a silent rebellion.

I, aware of their history, a dark secret Irene guarded with an iron fist, found myself playing a dangerous game. I helped Irene, not out of fear, but for the sake of the fragile connection I had with the others. This unexpected kindness sparked a flicker of something in Irene's eyes - a flicker I dared to hope was redemption.

But redemption rarely comes easy, especially for creatures of the night. One evening, while Seulgi and I were returning from a guarded outing, a tense silence hung heavy in the air. Suddenly, the car swerved, tires screeching in protest as we veered off the deserted road. The world lurched, and then… darkness.

As weeks bled into months, the opulent mansion I was confined to became a gilded cage. The initial thrill of being around captivating vampires dulled, replaced by a gnawing sense of longing for freedom. Yet, a strange sense of camaraderie started to blossom between me and my captors.

Joy, with her fiery spirit and infectious laughter, was the first to chip away at the walls I'd built around my heart. Our late-night conversations, fueled by stolen glances and whispered secrets, transformed into a silent understanding that transcended the boundaries of our situation.

Wendy, the stoic doctor, surprised me with her curiosity about the human world. Our discussions, initially clinical and scientific, evolved into philosophical debates that stretched into the wee hours. There was a spark of intellectual intimacy that ignited a warmth within me.

Seulgi, the playful prankster, brought a lightness to my captivity. Her days were filled with teasing jabs and playful challenges, a subtle shift from her initial possessiveness. There was a sense of innocent affection in her touch, a camaraderie that soothed the ache for human connection.

Even Irene, the enigmatic leader, began to show a flicker of something akin to…gratitude? Her cold demeanor softened a fraction during our bloodletting sessions. The way her eyes lingered on me for a beat too long, the hesitant brush of her fingers against mine while administering the numbing agent – these subtle signs hinted at a transformation within her.

However, Irene's possessiveness manifested differently. Unlike the open affection of her sisters, hers was a veiled control. She dictated the terms of my captivity, monitored my interactions with the others, and treated me more like a valuable possession than a person. This dissonance between her actions and the subtle shift in her eyes created a confusing dynamic.

One evening, after a particularly draining bloodletting session, I found myself alone with Irene in the dimly lit library. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, I gathered my courage. "Why, Irene?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Why do you keep me here like this, a prisoner in your own home?"

Irene's gaze snapped to mine, crimson eyes blazing with a flicker of something I couldn't decipher. "You are…different," she finally said, her voice laced with an emotion I couldn't place. "Your blood…"

"It sustains you," I finished for her, a bitter taste in my mouth. "Makes you stronger, keeps you from succumbing to the sire bond completely."

She looked away, a muscle clenching in her jaw. "That's not all," she muttered, her voice barely audible. But before she could elaborate, the library door creaked open, revealing Joy, her face flushed with anger.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, her eyes flashing between me and Irene. "We need to talk." The air crackled with unspoken tension, and I realized with a jolt that the night was far from over. The delicate balance between affection, possessiveness, and a shared captivity was about to be tested.

Joy's anger crackled in the air, a stark contrast to the usual warmth in her eyes. "What did you do to him?" she demanded, her gaze fixed on Irene. Seulgi, her playful demeanor replaced by a cold fury, stepped forward, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

"Don't play dumb, Irene," Seulgi spat. "We know. The bruises, the flinches… you've been hurting him!" Wendy, her stoic facade crumbling, placed a calming hand on Seulgi's shoulder, but her eyes held a newfound suspicion directed at Irene.

The accusations hung heavy in the air, shattering the fragile peace that had settled within the mansion. Irene, cornered and defensive, finally spoke. "It's not what it seems," she said, her voice strained. "I…" She faltered, the carefully constructed mask of control slipping.

"You what?" Joy pressed, her voice laced with hurt and betrayal. For the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in Irene's crimson eyes, a vulnerability that sent a jolt through me.

Taking a deep breath, Irene confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "I was afraid," she admitted. A collective gasp filled the room. Fear? From the ever-stoic, ever-in-control Irene?

"Afraid of what?" Wendy asked, her voice gentle but firm. Shame tinged Irene's cheeks as she met their gazes. "Afraid of losing you," she said, her voice cracking. "All of you."

Confusion clouded their faces. How could their fear of losing them translate to the way she treated me? Sensing their bewilderment, Irene continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You've never needed me before," she explained. "The hunt, the sire bond… I was always the one who protected you from it all."

Her words hung heavy, revealing a truth I hadn't considered. Irene, the eldest, had always shouldered the burden of leadership, of protecting her sisters. "But now," Irene continued, her voice trembling, "he does it all. He gives you what you need. Makes you stronger. And suddenly… I'm not needed anymore."

A heavy silence descended upon the room. The revelation painted Irene's actions in a new light. Her possessiveness, her cruelty, stemmed not from malice, but from a deep-seated fear of abandonment. For the first time, I saw Irene not as a captor, but as a woman grappling with her own insecurities.

Seulgi, the first to break the silence, stepped forward, her anger replaced by a newfound understanding. "We need you, Irene," she said, her voice soft. "Just… differently." The other sisters murmured their agreement, their gazes softening towards their eldest sister.

Tears welled up in Irene's eyes, a storm of emotions battling within her. "But what about him?" Joy asked, gesturing towards me. "He doesn't deserve the way you've treated him."

Shame flushed across Irene's face. She looked at me, her gaze filled with a mixture of regret and something… hopeful? "I can change," she whispered. The night that followed was a turning point. We talked, all five of us, sharing our fears, our desires, and our newfound understanding.

Irene apologized for the pain she'd inflicted, her voice raw with remorse. I, in turn, confessed the strange mix of fear and affection I felt for them all. As the night wore on, a fragile truce formed, a new chapter beginning within the walls of the mansion. The future remained uncertain, but a flicker of hope, a tentative promise of a future built on trust and something more, flickered between us.

The aftermath of the confrontation was a whirlwind of activity. Wendy cleaned my wounds with practiced efficiency, her gaze carrying a silent apology. Joy hovered nearby, her touch hesitant but comforting. Seulgi, ever the pragmatic one, made plans to reinforce the mansion's security.

And then there was Irene. Shame seemed to cling to her like a shroud. Her apologies, though heartfelt, felt hollow in the face of my visible injuries. They were a stark reminder of her cruelty, the bite marks and scars a map of her failings.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the hallway. Guards bustled about, their voices raised in urgency. Apparently, there was a malfunction in the security system. They needed someone to manually reboot it – a job usually reserved for Irene.

With a resigned sigh, Irene turned to me. "I need someone to watch you," she explained, her voice strained. "It shouldn't take long." The others exchanged hesitant glances, but in the end, I volunteered. The tension in the room was thick, but the prospect of some alone time with Irene, however awkward, was strangely appealing.

We were escorted to a small, book-lined room that served as Irene's private study. As the heavy door shut behind us with a resounding thud, the air crackled with unspoken emotions. Irene approached the control panel, her back turned to me, her fingers flying across the keypad.

The silence stretched, broken only by the rhythmic beeps of the security system. Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, I spoke. "It's okay, Irene," I said softly. She froze, her body taut. Slowly, she turned around, her crimson eyes filled with a mixture of shame and disbelief.

"You… you forgive me?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. I reached out, my hand hovering over the intricate web of scars marring her arm. Scars older, darker than mine. "We all make mistakes, Irene," I said, my voice gentle. "The important thing is we learn from them."

A single tear escaped her eye, tracing a glistening path down her pale cheek. The sight of it, of her vulnerability, broke something within me. In that moment, I saw not the stoic leader, but a woman burdened by fear and insecurity. A woman who, despite her actions, had always been fiercely protective of her sisters.

Taking a step closer, I cupped her face in my hand, wiping away the stray tear with my thumb. Her eyes, wide with surprise, met mine. Slowly, hesitantly, I leaned in, bridging the gap between us.

The kiss was a revelation. It was raw, desperate, fueled by a desperate need for connection, for forgiveness. Irene clung to me like a lifeline, her initial hesitation melting away into a torrent of passion. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken apologies, of a newfound understanding, and of a hope for something more, something real.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, a fragile peace settled between us. Irene, her gaze searching mine, whispered, "I don't deserve you, Y/n." "Maybe not," I replied, cupping her cheek once again. "But maybe, together, we can learn to deserve each other."

The future remained uncertain. But as we held each other close in the dimly lit study, a flicker of warmth ignited within me. It was the glimmer of a new beginning, one built on trust, forgiveness, and a love that bloomed in the most unexpected of places.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered promises. My relationship with each sister blossomed in its own unique way. Joy's fiery spirit ignited passionate encounters, fueled by stolen kisses under the moonlight. Wendy, with her intellectual curiosity, discovered a new kind of intimacy in late-night discussions that morphed into explorations of touch. Seulgi's playful demeanor evolved into a playful possessiveness, her playful nips replaced by gentle love bites.

Surprisingly, it was Irene who turned out to be the most possessive. The initial shame of her actions morphed into a fierce determination to prove herself worthy of my affection. She'd watch, a flicker of jealousy in her crimson eyes, whenever I spent time with the others. But when it was her turn, her touch was the most hesitant, the most tender. It was as if she was constantly afraid of breaking something precious.

One evening, as the six of us sat nestled together by the fireplace, a comfortable silence settling between us, Irene surprised us all. "He's ours," she declared, her voice laced with a possessiveness that sent a thrill down my spine. The others, instead of protesting, simply chuckled, a knowing look in their eyes.

"Ours?" I echoed, feigning confusion. Wendy, a playful glint in her eyes, clarified. "Yes, ours, Y/n. Our lover, our provider, our… family." A warmth bloomed in my chest at the word 'family.' It was a concept I hadn't dared to dream of, not with these extraordinary creatures of the night.

The following months were a blur of shared experiences and deepening affection. We explored the hidden corners of the city under the cloak of darkness, their laughter echoing through deserted streets. We spent lazy afternoons curled up with dusty tomes in Irene's study, their thirst for knowledge rivaled only by their thirst for me.

The nights were a symphony of touch and whispered desires. We explored each other's bodies with a newfound reverence, the boundaries between human and vampire blurring with each passing night. The sire bond, once a source of fear, became a bridge, a way to experience each other's emotions with an intensity that defied explanation.

Our unorthodox relationship wasn't without its challenges. There were moments of jealousy, of possessiveness, but we learned to navigate them together. We were, after all, a coven, bound not just by blood, but by an unconventional love that defied definition.

One starlit night, as we lay tangled together in the sprawling master bedroom, Irene spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you," she said, her crimson eyes reflecting the moonlight. I smiled, pulling her closer. "For what?"

"For showing us that love can exist even in the darkest corners," she replied. And in that moment, under the watchful gaze of the moon, I knew that our love story, born from captivity and fear, had blossomed into something beautiful, something extraordinary. We were a family, bound by blood, by love, and by a shared eternity.

The End

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Stitching Us Together

Chapter 1: Caught

Summary: Brianna Riley, Charlotte Garrick, Isla MacTavish and John Price Jr, a close group of childhood friends, investigate a strange shadowy figure that had been poking around Isla’s front yard with a flashlight.

Word Count: ~ 5k

Warnings: Being watched, mentions of military, family arguing, internal conflicts, police, etc, nothing terrible, also just a note: simon is not abusive dad, just sort of distant/ strained relationship w daughter.

A/N: this is my longest fic yet…can y’all tell it’s what I’m hyperfixating over?? sorry I haven’t been posting much, schools been killing me, but I hope you enjoy this super specific au <3

OG Post | Character Layouts

It had all started with Price, the captain leading the way to something that eventually happened to all of them.

His missus had gotten pregnant, and he’d left service not even a month after, deciding that he was getting too old for it, anyway.

Johnny had been next, honorably discharged after taking a shot to the head, barely surviving, but deemed too fucked up to go back into service.

Then Gaz had quit, claiming he was going back to London, to help run his parent’s quaint little restaurant since they were getting older. All of them really knew it was because of the pretty lady now in his life, though. They'd seen the picture he kept of her in his wallet.

Simon, the stubborn bastard that he was, had only thrown in the towel once he learned that a fling he’d had a few years ago had resulted in a kid he’d never learned about. He’d left after scrolling through the random alcoholic he’d fucked a few years ago’s Instagram, finding a blond haired-blue eyes kid in the background of one of her posts.

He’d gotten custody of the girl, named Brianna, which wasn’t surprising considering the kid’s mom had been a substance and drug abuser.

The old captain had a second kid, a little girl named Josie, with his older boy, John. Everyone just called him Jr, though.

Gaz had a sassy little girl named Charlotte and affectionately called her Charlie.

Soap had found himself a Scottish wife and settled down in London as well, where her family happened to live. They’d had a girl too, naming her Isla, though friends called her Is, or Isa.

They’d grown up together in London close by, their parents just calling each other members of 141 their “uncles.” No one questioned it, and considering the tiny bits of questionable information each of you had on your father’s, no one wanted to ask questions.

Poor Jr had been the oldest by a year, but still the “baby” of the group, since he was constantly bullied by Isa and her quick wit. It didn’t help that Brianna’s little snorts and Charlie’s laughs only encouraged the menace.

“Seriously, I don’t see what’s so funny.” Jr muttered, a hint of pink on his cheeks as his voice cracked. Isla was relentless, mocking his cracking voice while she cackled.

“Righ’, nothin’ wrong with me. All normal over here.”

She said, making her voice much deeper, and forcing little kinks and cracks that Jr scowled out. Charlotte smirked and snickered quietly, and Isla saw Bri’s shoulder shake in silent laughter.

“It’s not funny.” Jr replied, a little frown on his face unlike his usual scowl, a hint of insecurity in those big, brown eyes. A small sign that he was slightly upset, or getting close to it anyway. Bri’s silent laugh immediately disappeared, and Charlie frowned.

Isa clapped him over the shoulder from beside him, where they were sitting in Kyle’s parent’s restaurant that he mainly ran now.

“Ay, didn’t mean it y’know? Jus’ playing with ya, Jr.” She said, a grin still on her face, but a bit more apologetic this time. He shrugged her off, relaxing back into the booth.

“‘S fine, wha’ever.” He said, a sure sign of his forgiveness. He forgave easily, a bad habit of his. Charlie reached a slender hand out, snatching a cheese and bacon bit-covered fry out from the bright red and white paper basket they were in at the center of the table. The cheese stretched, long and warm.

She took a bite, humming at how good it was.

“Tha’ good?” Bri asked, raising a brow. Charlie gave a little nod, chewing before speaking.

“Good as hell, if I do say so myself-“

Kyle’s head poked out from the kitchen, where his parents were both back cooking up whatever orders were up. Plenty of kids came by after school, because of how close it was, and how quick the food came out. Charlie would know since she was here every day after school. Sometimes she got to help out in the kitchen.

He raised a brow at Charlotte.

“Language.” He said, before going back into the kitchen.

Jr smirked, happy to have something to get back at his friend for now.

“Yeah, Garrick, watch your language~” He drawled, dragging the sentence out while Isla snorted in amusement, some water accidentally coming out of her nose.

“Ewww-“

“Not on the fries!”

Brianna only watched in what looked like mild amusement as she pulled the fry basket away just in time, using the stereotypical brown restaurant napkins to wipe the water up. Loud, booming laughter came out of Isa after she’d swallowed or sprayed whatever water had been in her mouth. Her leg bounced under the table while she rubbed her nose.

“Hurts me bloody nose,” She said with a crooked grin they had all come to love.

“Hurts my eyes,” Jr said in a wry tone, giving a tiny little disgusted look to the soaked pile of napkins now near Isa on the table. Charlie made a gagging sound.

“Now the fries are ruined!”

“Now, don’ be dramatic, they’re just fi-“

“You sprayed snot water on them-!”

“Would ya quit cutting me off?!”

As the others bickered, Bri casually grabbed a fry and took a bite, unbothered. The others watched and sighed, deciding that if Brianna wasn’t falling over dead from it, then maybe they were all right. Jr watched carefully as Charlie took a fry and a hesitant bite, then followed and did the same.

“See, told’ya.”

“Shut it, MacTavish.”

Isla rolled her eyes, devouring the fries at an unprecedented rate. Her shoulder-length brown hair was held back behind her ears, glinting just right in the setting sun that it looked almost red in some strands. The diner was going to close soon. Then Bri was going to walk them home, per usual. Probably because of the knife she kept on her, paranoid as she was. Isla kept a Swiss Army knife on her with a tiny knife, scissors, and even a nail file on it.

Charlie sometimes used it in class to file down her nails into shape when the teachers weren’t looking.

John would always give them disappointed looks from the side of the room where he always sat. Closest to an exit, always.

Being children of ex-military did lead to a bit of paranoia always, even if you didn’t know what it was that your father’s had done to be so secretive or have such bad PTSD. Maybe it was that paranoia that had Isla up so late at night, pushing the button on the hilariously pink Disney Princess walkie-talkies they’d all gotten one year.

“Anyone up?”

She asked, peeking out of her window and gazing out at a light in the street. Looked like a flashlight to her. A voice responded a minute or two later, interrupting Isa’s leg bouncing. Her hands fidgeted with the walkie.

“Why.” Bri’s gravelly, I-just-woke-up voice was the one to reply. She’d always been a light sleeper, so it didn’t exactly surprise Isla that a walkie message would keep her up.

“Someone poking around outside m’ house. Any o’ your family out visiting, or sumethin?” Isa asked, frowning as she saw the dim flashlight turn away, the shadowy figure not fully visible against the yellow streetlight’s beams. The light turned her way, and she dropped to the floor below the window, breathing now a lot faster.

“No.” Bri said bluntly.

Jr suddenly decided to join the conversation then, it seemed, as he spoke up, his staticky, cracking voice echoing over the radio.

“Why the bloody hell would anyone be out this late?” He groggily asked, and there was some silence on both ends as Isla watched the shadowy figure walk down the street, in the direction of Charlie’s house, but also the school. They were down the same street, after all.

“Wan’ to go find out?” Briana’s voice, now a bit more awake and alert, asked over the radio. Bri wasn’t one for late-night adventuring, or anything really for fun, Isa thought, so she must either be concerned or mildly curious. Her dad would kill her if he knew she was sneaking out to spy on suspicious people.

“We really shouldn’t-“ Jr began before Isa cut him off.

“Sure, meet me at the house. All black clothes, you get the deal. Bring the walkies, too.”

“What about Charlie?” Jr asked.

“Yeah, what about Charlie?” Charlotte’s voice then spoke up, and Isa could already picture the little snort Bri would give at that, and the way Jr’s cheeks would go slightly pink.

“Meet you in five.” Bri replied, no hint of shame or apology in her tone for almost leaving Charlotte out. That started the race against the clock to get ready before the mystery person got too far to track.

Practically ripping her pajamas off as quietly as she could, Isa changed into a pair of black sweats and a black hoodie. Better to blend into the streets. Her Swiss Army knife remained in her pocket, clasped onto some of the fabric.

Her fingers wrapped around the cold bottom of her bedroom’s window, slowly sliding it up and cringing at the creaking it made. She needed to oil the thing or something, before it woke her dad up one of these days. He was a light sleeper, after all. Always waking up to the tiniest sound, like when she got random 3 am motivation to rearrange all the furniture in her room or organize her bookshelf by color in the middle of the night.

Hoisting herself up onto the window’s ledge, the cool night air kissed her tan skin as she slowly crept out, closing the window but leaving it just a bit open. Just enough for her to get back in. She’d done this before, it was more like muscle memory at this point. Sure, sometimes she’d switch it up so nobody got suspicious of why there were fresh marks of fingerprints disturbing the dust on her window’s ledge.

Her dad would surely notice.

The grass cracked lightly under her feet as she walked carefully out, the cold biting against her ankles where her socks and sweatpants didn’t overlap. It was dark tonight, the moonlight not shining nearly enough, and the streetlights dimmed from their constant use. Lord knows no one would replace them with newer ones. Not in this area.

Creeping down the street, keeping eyes out for anyone nearby, not seeing anyone other than a few homeless, or some skeletal-looking drug addicts with glazed-over looks in their eyes. Cutting down an alleyway, and hopping a few chain link fences, she eventually found their little meeting spot.

It was a boarded-up building, something that had previously been a home but had been foreclosed when the old woman owning it had a stroke and died in it. The stench of death wasn’t very noticeable now, but it was bad enough that no one bought it, and it had been foreclosed on, windows and entrances boarded up.

Of course, no one had noticed where the back window was missing a little plywood.

Isla crouched down, walking over to the house. A loose branch from one of the overgrown bushes snagged her hair, at which she grumbled and tugged it free, hissing when she felt a few pieces of hair rip free from her scalp.

She put her hands on the cold brick ledge of the house, hopping in as the brick scraped against her fingertips. Her hands patted at her pants for a moment, cursing when she didn’t feel a flashlight she could’ve sworn she brought. The house was pitch black at this hour, and smelled like moldy carpet and old people, a faint hint of rotting, too.

She slipped her phone out of her pocket, turning the light on, only to yelp and jump back when Bri’s face greeted her, an amused smile on her lips.

“Hell’s balls, you really gotta stop w’ that, Bri-“

“I think it’s hilarious.”

“‘Course you do.”

With a sigh, Isa turned her flashlight on, finding the little wooden table with some dents in it in the center of the demolished kitchen that they always sat at, she took her walkie-talkie with Tiana’s face on it and set it down there. Brianna’s Mulan walkie-talkie followed.

Pausing a moment as she thought, Isa then turned to face Bri.

“How did ya even get here ‘fore me?”

Brianna paused, a hint of something like deliberation in her eyes before she spoke. The blond began popping her fingers, a nervous habit.

“Had an argument wit’ m’ dad. Needed some air.” She said with a shrug, blue eyes now watching to see what Isa would think. Always watching, always thinking. Sometimes Isla thought she was more paranoid than Jr, and that was saying something.

She simply gave a little bob of her head, not asking anything further. If she’d wanted to share more, she would’ve. It was like watching a flower slowly bloom and open up, if you forced it, then it wouldn’t look right, and it would die quickly.

A heavy silence ensued, which was quickly interrupted by muffled cursing and feet lightly hitting the floor. Charlotte was here.

“We ought to trim that tree, keeps snagging my hair.”

She muttered under her breath, and Jr arrived almost right after, sliding into the window’s brick ledge where he sat, eyes strained, not yet adjusted to the darkness, as he looked down. The poor lad was afraid of heights, they all knew.

“It’s 4 feet, Jr.”

Bri spoke, the tone being more sardonic than anything. Jr sighed, and Isa saw his eyes close as he winced, sliding off the ledge, and releasing a tiny squeak when his feet hit the ground. To think that this was a 17-year-old. He did not act it.

He sighed, walking over to the table, where everyone had now gathered. His Cinderella walkie was placed on the table next to Charlie’s Elsa one.

“What’re we here for, again?” The boy asked with a slight yawn in his voice, rubbing his eyes. Isa rolled her eyes at his apparent exhaustion.

“I saw someone dressed in all black, poking around my front yard with a flashlight in the dead of night, that’s why.”

She said, giving him a look, as if to say that was obvious, while Charlie frowned, lips pressing into a line.

“That’s not terrible, I mean, we’ve done worse and our neighborhood didn’t freak out.” She pointed out with a shrug, and Bri nodded.

“Much worse.” She agreed with a grin in her tone.

This was much better than the time you’d all tried to fry some dead roadkill you’d found by throwing it at an electrical box, only to accidentally make the local's electricity go out for almost an entire week. The electricians must’ve been confused when they found a dead goose beside a smashed control panel. You’d all dipped after accidentally breaking it, anyway.

Or the time you’d all gone to a haunted house, and Charlie had faked having a panic attack so convincingly that one of the girls dressed up as a vampire began crying and called her parents to come pick her up. Poor Charlotte had tried to redeem herself from there, but the damage had already been done.

Brianna had also intimidated a teacher into changing her schedule, once. All of the group had relatively the same schedule in your little high school of around 500 people, but for whatever reason Bri had gotten none of the same classes, so she’d gone on down to the principal's office and forced the principal's hand somehow. How she did it, none of them knew, all she’d said afterward was that she “Knew things.” as if that explained anything.

And Junior…poor Junior, he was always the slowest of the group, for whatever reason, always being found or caught when you all pulled some ridiculous shenanigans. Or there was the one time Josie had put hair dye from her mum’s closet in Price’s shampoo, which had been disastrous. Josie blamed Junior for the entire thing, and Price had been so mad, he’d believed it. Grounded for almost three weeks.

“Let’s just check it ou’, and shave her head if it ain’t worth our time.” Brianna suggested, and they all glanced at each other, nodding their heads in mild agreement. Isla blinked at that, before her face contorted in disbelief.

“Really? I thought you were better than thi-“

“Any ideas on where they went?” Jr interrupted, and Charlie spoke up.

“Mentioned somethin’ on the radio about down the road, right?”

Isa sighed, seeing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with trying to protest the head-shaving in her possibly near future.

“Aye, they went down the road.”

She replied in a slightly annoyed tone, and Bri nudged her shoulder a bit, grabbing her walkie and shoving it into her pocket.

“Perk up, maybe we’ll find somethin’. Got a plan, Jr?”

At the mention of a plan, Jr perked up, picking up pieces of broken ceiling and rocks to represent each of them, and a large stick to represent the school.

“Well, if they went down the road then that’s towards the school. I was thinking we could split up, me and Charlie, Isa, and Bri. We take the alleyways down, I take the right, you all take the left, and we meet at the school, where we can recombine in the back.”

He spoke quickly, fingers drumming against his thigh, working himself into a frenzy while talking. Everyone gave nods, before they split into their separate groups, all taking the same window out, before splitting into their groups. They each gave one last goodbye, a little mock salute before heading out into the darkness.

Junior and Charlotte

“I'm starting to think Isa’s just paranoid.” Charlie said, glancing at the surroundings of the alleyway around them. Scurrying rats, bugs, little grimy posters, and pictures posted on the walls or the dumpsters. She didn’t see anything.

Junior sighed, continuing to walk. He wasn’t the most quiet, which made sense, considering his size. Even if Brianna was taller than him and deathly silent.

“Look, we’re all a bit jumpy. Pretty normal for us, considering our dads.”

He said quietly, crouching down as he walked, eyes darting around to look for anyone. It had been almost fifteen minutes and they hadn’t spotted anyone yet. Charlie stepped on an empty can, crunching it beneath her foot, and Jr jumped at it, immediately looking for something to change the subject before Charlotte made fun of him.

“What did they even do? I mean, obviously, they were mili’ary, but my dad never talks about it.”

He said randomly, and Charlie continued walking through the alley, him clumsily following along. She did pause the slightest moment though, head cocking slightly to the side as he watched her take in his words. It must’ve caught her interest, and he’d gotten lucky.

“They were special forces. Dealing with terrorists, and covert shit.” She said quietly, in an almost hushed tone, temporarily pausing.

He raised his brows.

“How do you know?” Junior asked in the most innocent tone he could muster. Sure, he could see his dad, and definitely Bri’s dad as special forces in the military, but sweet little Kyle? Or Isla’s rowdy but affectionate dad? No wonder they never talked about their pasts.

“Went through some files on my dad’s computer when I was bored. Whole lotta locked stuff, so I found a back door into it, and read it.” She said in that same quiet tone but with a bit more shame in it this time.

“I shouldn’t have, he would’ve told me when he thought I was ready, but-“

“Hey, it’s fine.” Junior interrupted in a soft tone. He wouldn’t let her stand there and talk bad about herself. Not when…

“I would’ve done the same thing if I’d known how to.”

She glanced back at him when he said that, a bit of shock on her face. John Price Jr was the good kid, the one who listened to what he was told and was nice, strong, and compassionate, always helping out. She never took him for someone who could be nosy or disobedient. She guessed she still had a lot to learn about him. A muffled voice came from the walkie by her side, but she ignored it. They were almost to the school anyway.

Not knowing what to say, she stayed silent, looking to change the subject, when the school appeared in view from the left side wall. She peeked her head out, looking at the school a second before Junior. Blue and red lights. Cars. People. She shut the walkie off. Jr’s must’ve died by now.

“Hey, there’s the-“

A hand slammed over his mouth as he was pulled down into the alleyway. His mumbled protests against Charlie’s hand quickly stopped when he heard the footsteps, and then the voice that came.

“And you were alone in the school?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Brianna.

Brianna and Isla

They were crouched in the old, crumbling alleyway, moving as quickly and quietly as they could whilst keeping their eyes out for anyone nearby.

Isla had been rattling off for almost fifteen minutes about something, Brianna couldn’t even figure out what she was talking about half the time, but she was trying to listen. A good friend would listen patiently, even when they had a pounding headache and wanted to scream at someone. Her patience was waning.

She already had anger problems in the first place, and that thought only led to another, one that infuriated her more than anything.

The argument.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Isla was prone to her anger as well, but hers wasn’t as destructive. Isa could express herself openly, something Brianna was more than jealous of. She made it seem so easy, but anytime Bri tried to open up, the words got stuck in her chest, and her heart stopped beating. It was like a giant wall stood between her tongue and her mind. It refused to be saddled and obey properly.

It was so frustrating, so annoying-

“I said, are you even-?”

“Just shut up.”

She ground out without even realizing. A hint of annoyance and hurt flashed on Isa’s face, before going back to normal. Bri paused. Stopped. Isa looked back, stopping too, as if hopeful.

And the words got stuck.

They were stuck and refused to come out. Like a clogged pipe that no matter how you pumped at it, refused to unclog. It made her want to rip everything to shreds. But maybe, just this once, she might be able to say something.

“I’m..”

She began, words unsteady. Isa’s brows rose, confusion and hope in her gaze. She was that confused, just because Brianna might be apologizing? It made her angry all over again, angry at everything, angry at her father, angry at anyone she could be angry with.

It was one word, it shouldn’t be hard, really.

Sorry.

Five letters.

Just get five letters out, she told herself. It shouldn't be this hard. She should be able to do this. Opening her mouth to speak, her throat suddenly dried up, and she began to whisper something.

“I’m..s-“

There. A flash of movement in the corner of her eye. A shadow. A tiny, dimmed light. The same kind of light that would come from her flashlight when she took one battery out, just so it wasn’t as bright, so it wouldn’t hurt her dog’s eyes when she went to get a midnight snack. Turning the lights on always woke up dad.

She needed to stop thinking about dad.

Isla caught it too, a look in her eye saying they would continue that conversation later, but now, they were on the hunt. A little wave of her hand, and they were both moving, crouched down, interweaving between the alleyway’s dumpsters and trash piles.

The shadowy figure with the dimmed light moved exactly where they thought it would go, into the school. Their entrance? Hopping the chain link fence and using an unlocked door in the side to get in. The school locked all of its doors at night.

Brianna would know.

She and Charlie had once attempted to break in when Charlie had left her notebook in her locker by accident when she needed it for the test the following day. All the doors and windows were secure and locked. Especially the one on the side of the building that the shadowy person was now using.

“They must have keys to the buildin’.” Bri muttered, and Isa nodded.

“So either staff or student.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Wha’ever. Let’s follow ‘em.”

They crept up to the door, still partly ajar but closing rapidly on its own. Isla reached there first, using her foot and wedging it to stop the door from closing further. Bri nodded and walked further in.

The school looked as normal as it could at night. Lights off. Everything undisturbed. No sign of anyone, other than the tiniest distant footsteps she could make out. Towards the front of the building. Maybe the stairwell?

Jerking her head to Isa, they both began carefully walking, rolling on the balls of their feet to make their footsteps as silent as could be. They’d need it.

The footsteps abruptly stopped, and they did too. Peeking around a corner into the main entrance area, Isa saw the front office’s door open.

“In the front office, we should tell the others.” She murmured as quietly as possible. Bri shook her head, and Isa silently asked why with her expression.

“Walkies are too loud. Don’ want to scare ‘em off before we see anything useful.”

It was reasonable, Isa would admit. The others could catch up later. They’d arrive here soon, anyways, and probably quietly take a back exit. Considering Jr’s chronic planning out things, he’d get it all figured out.

Seeing that the stranger wasn’t getting out of the office, the two of them dared move closer and closer, until both of them were right by the door. Peeking in, Brianna found…nothing.

There was no one there. No shadowy stranger, or any odd people.

But the filing cabinets were open. Files and papers were strewn everywhere across the room, and a few things were knocked over and broken. There was no possible way the stranger could’ve done this within that amount of time, let alone do it without alerting them. Broken mugs, picture frames, dented cabinets…

“Somethin’ ain’t right. Someone purposefully shined a flashlight in the direction of your house, walked here slowly enough that we could catch up, and then we found the office trashed?”

Brianna said, standing fully up, before kicking around the pile a bit. Bright, flashing lights blinded her vision next, and Isla’s hands yanked her down.

“Police. Someone called ‘em. We’ve got to tell the Charlie and Jr-“

“Give me a minu’e, yeah?”

Something had caught her eye in that stack of files. Names. Numbers. Familiar ones, too.

She heard Isla radioing the others in the background, only for no reply to be heard. Her hand reached out to comb through the files, and Isla sighed, putting the walkie down, and beginning to help her.

“What are you lookin’ for?”

“There was somethin’ in here. Somethin’ familiar.”

“Are you really gonna get us arrested for something ‘familiar’?”

“I’ll do wha’ever I want, and you can right well piss off if you don’t agree.”

“Whatever, just hurry up, they’re coming.”

Footsteps, and keys jingling from outside. She heard the knob for the front door turn. One more second, they just needed one more second to get this file-

And then she saw it.

The words blurred together for some of the first sentences, some were blacked out with marker, and others were simply marked through with a line saying [REDACTED]. But there was one line she recognized all too well.

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

She took the paper, shoved it in a Manila folder, and pushed it into Isa’s hands as she pushed her friend backward, into a storage closet. The door of the closet clicked behind her. Isla didn’t move, not when the police officer caught sight of Bri, the flashlight and gun pointing in her direction.

“Hands! Let me see hands!”

Brianna did what she was told, sticking her hands in the air, and not approaching the cop. It was a woman. Maybe in her mid-20s, looked like the no-nonsense type. Red lipstick. Darker skin. Hair that had been recently silk-pressed.

“Walk out slowly, and keep your hands in the air.”

She obeyed that, too. Walking slowly out, each step measured and purposeful. The hands and arms remained in the air. She was so fucking done for when her dad found out-

Brianna refused to let herself think about that.

“What’s your name?”

“Brianna Riley, ma’am.”

“Why are you breaking into a school after hours?”

“Forgot m’ work, ma’am, figured I might as well come get it.”

The officer glanced over at the trashed office and raised a brow.

“And that?”

“Already there when I arrived, ma’am.”

She didn’t believe her. It was clear. Honestly, if Brianna were in that cop’s shoes, she wouldn’t believe her either. Two intruders in one night, and a teenager found in a trashed office? It was painfully clear what probably happened. Except she was telling the truth.

“Alright, well you’re coming with me, and we’re going to work this out. Keep your hands in the air, and walk slowly.”

Her gun stayed on you the entire time, even as you passed an alleyway, not daring to glance at who you knew must’ve been Jr and Charlie hiding there.

“And you were alone in the school?”

“Yes ma’am.”

When she got into the car, the officer gave her a rundown of her charges, only minor ones since she wasn’t an adult, basically only receiving a fine of $500, something she could pay because of her shitty fast-food job in town, Brianna Riley knew one thing.

Her dad was going to kill her.

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