#price is just unphased
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10millionotters ¡ 2 years ago
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Marigold - Describe your OC in three words or less
For Maria K. Rosales ❤️
OKAY so this will be so much fun because when I personally describe her, it feels like - this is how she sees herself. So in her own words:
Driven, restless, rightous.
Restless in she literally has a hard time sleeping. My girl is scared of shadows (yes foreshadowing).
However I was also thinking - if her boys would describe her it would look something like this
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luminni ¡ 7 days ago
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I have a feeling Johnny would try and set up Simon with one of his friends
like
“M’ tellin ya mate yer going tae like ‘er,” Johnny teased, bounding a couple steps in front of Simon, turning back to him and rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets to protect them from the cold. As Price often quipped, the 'scott can't stand still for the life of him.'
“Mhm,” Simon just grumbled in response.
“See mate, That’s the attitude that scares all the girls away.” Johnny commented, hands outstretched and exaggerated.
“Whatever.” Simon huffed, shaking his head. Johnny wasn’t wrong, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with a girl that wasn’t a quick lay, and even then it had been months, not to mention going out on a proper date. Well, a date was a stretch, you were Johnny’s close friend for a couple years. He had heard of you, but never met you and now Johnny was insisting that he go on a date with you because he was convinced it was going to work well, Simon wasn’t convinced in the slightest.
“She’s real nice though- so put away the tough guy act big man- girls don’t like that.” Simon couldn’t believe he was getting dating advice from his sergeant, so he just doubled down and kept scowling but Johnny kept pressing. “I'm telling you she's a real sweet girl, kinda lass who would try tae make a crying baby laugh on the tube or go and feed some mangy stray dog, perfect for a prickly bastard like yerself.”
“Okay okay, Jesus. ’s not like ’m going to scare ‘er off on purpose.” Simon relented 
“You better not, gettin' laid might do ya' some good man, calm yer ass down a wee bit” Johnny chuckled
Simon would have yelled at him for that comment but his friend cut him off, “‘Kay we’re ‘ere,” Johnny chirped, “Gaz and his girl should be inside already and she’ll be ‘ere soon,” Johnny said, pushing his Lt. through the pub door.
Johnny had invited Kyle and his girlfriend for a kind of double date situation because he thought having another girl there would help you feel more comfortable, something Simon couldn’t argue with. Why Johnny’s single ass would be attending was a mystery.
and he's been playing both sides
“Ya like serious guys right?” Johnny had asked you out of the blue, a week or so prior while hanging out at your flat.
“Uh yeah sure? I mean I guess so, more than immature assholes like you.” You had joked back across the small kitchen.
“Well,” He had began, unphased by your teasing, “There’s this guy I work with-”
“Don’t even.” you cut him off
“Wha'?!” he whined
“Don’t try and set me up with one of your military bros,” you warned, “I’m not interested.”
“Jus' 'cause yer last dates 'ave been busts doesnae mean you shouldn't keep tryin’,” He pleaded, catching the sponge you threw at him, “He’s a real good guy, kinda intimidating but you’d like him, promise!”
You glared at him before going back and forth, Johnny was really trying to sell this guy, and he wasn’t wrong, your last three dates had been nothing short of disasters. So, after lots of pleading -and a couple tasteful photos from them at the gym- you agreed. So as you walked closer and closer to the pub, your nerves were buzzing. Just gotta get past his tough exterior is all, Johnny’s words of advice rang through your head. Thankfully he had invited another one of his friends there along with his girlfriend, you would have been hyperventilating if it was just going to be you and some guys. As you reached for the door, you could only hope Johnny was right about this guy.
So, who would be surprised when it actually works out, when Simon actually falls in love with you and your sweet smile at first site. When you find his corny and sometimes morbid jokes genuinely funny, having to cough around your drink to prevent spitting it out.
Johnny's just happy Simon might finally chill out, and he won't have to listen to you complain about failed dates every other week.
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cursedcola ¡ 1 month ago
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Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia (Here) | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: I'm part of the 'everyone underestimates Kalim Al Asim , the layers of his character and upbringing' club. Sweet does not equal being a dum dum my dudes.
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Habits You Steal:
Theatrics (Inherited): Kalim talks with more than his mouth. There's body language. Watch out when this guy gets excited because he might knock over a lamp amidst a rant. Hands are flying with each embellishment. He's pacing. Jumping. Energy is seemingly endless with this one. When Kalim laughs, he does so with his entire body without reservation. Head flying back, grin wide, shoulder shaking, etc. Not that he can't replace what gets broken but - y'know. Be careful else you might get bitch slapped on accident. Which normally wouldn't hurt too much but Kalim's decked out in gold. The last thing you want is a ring imprint on your left cheek because Kalim got too excited after a card game. On that note - someone get Jamil some aspirin because that excitement is infectious. You can be the most stone-hearted edge-lord on the face of Twisted Wonderland, but eventually his infectious sunshine attitude takes hold.
"A-Ah! It's okay! We can replace the lamp, so don't worry. Are you hurt? No, no. It's really aright. I'm fine, see? You missed me - can I see your hands for a second? OIII! Can someone please bring a med-kit! Thank you!" <- Jamil's already grabbing the broom before you can say sorry. This is the last time he lets you sit anywhere near fragile objects during a game of charades - or any game. Kalim was bad enough...but at least with him fretting over the tiny cut on your palm, Jamil could clean the mess in peace. At least until you offer to pay for the lamp. Kalim's got enough tact to lie about the price, and everyone's thankful. No one wants to see the Ramshackle Prefect have a heart attack for shattering a real crystal lamp. 'cause then Kalim will cry too and it'll just be dominos from there.
Personal Space (Inherited): Kalim tears away any sense of dignity, self-preservation, and privacy that might exist. In a good way, of course. It's not that Kalim is an open person. Quite the contrary. He needs to keep a calculated distance between himself and others due to his position as an Asim. Regardless of his happy exterior, never forget that Kalim is far from an airhead. Kindness doesn't equate connection - as much as Kalim would love for everyone to be his friend. Yet for those who are in that trusted circle? He treats them like an extension of the self. His lack of shame bleeds into your own perception.
Training and Resistance (Inherited and Developed): Kalim hates that you need to do this. He rarely 'hates' anything, but he despises that you need to worry about being poisoned. What’s worse is that you refuse to have a tester, or a guard, or anything of the sort. It all started with discussing the future with Jamil, who logically brought up the complications that come with Kalim taking a partner. You couldn’t be shadowed, were in a difficult position with the headmaster, and it would only become difficult once the duo moves back to the scalding sands. Even more once you join them (as NRC is merely teaming with prideful youths, while the Scalding Sands is a free for all).
Point summary? You need to build resistance to drugs and learn what to do in a hostage situation. The former is handled by Professor Crewel, and the process was explained in excruciating detail. Jamil, who’s undergone training, was unphased but Kalim desperately wanted you to back out. Yet it would mean needing a guard - which would be hard to arrange - and so…yeah. Many weekends in the nurse’s office. You also have to complete the hostage drills all Asims and their spouses are put through. How to escape bondage, how to last an interrogation, how to navigate without magic (which you could, duh, so basically without a map when stranded), negotiate, etc.
"Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? I can still hire a body guard - there are many options available back home! You can spend our next vacation at the main villa and meet with them. We can - oh. y-you're sure?... alright. If this is what you want then I'll be there through every step. Just remember to ask if you need anything. I'll come running, no matter what."
Charisma (Inherited): Everyone underestimates just how dangerous Kalim is. Seriously. Nothing is more risky in a school like Night Raven College than dropping your guard. It can cost you your life - or at the very least leave you indebted to someone you do not want having dirt over your head (*cough*ACertianCephalopod*cough*)The gossip grapevine is a menace. Everyone has their pride. Everyone has their secrets. Everyone holds each other at arm’s length, even if you’re cordial or friendly. Everyone except Kalim, who has this innate ability to pry the most dirty secrets out of you simply through his nonchalant attitude. Nothing drops another’s guard quicker than a sense of security and superiority. People often mistake his genuine heart for nativity. They fail to recognize that it’s a choice, and deep down he is aware that the Al Asim name places him high above the people he sees as friends.
"Hm? Isn't that the alchemic lab on potionomics meant for second years? You're so smart! I didn't get to do that lab until just a few months ago! - it's not yours? Then why are you working on it?" <- game. set. match. You think he doesn't know what your handwriting looks like? He saw you lingering outside Crewel's classroom earlier and wanted to know why. Saw an opening. Took it. Is happy you’re helping out one of your other friends, but just had to make sure no one was bullying you into doing their work.
Since he truly believes that despite this gap, friendships can transcend - his ability to get information is uncanny. A power he can wield intentionally if need be, in getting you to name drop any person or problem posed. It’s a great quality to have! This way he can help and support you :) Why is this an inherited trait, you might be asking? Because as the next head of Al Asim, Kalim’s been studying how to do business since he was young. He’s going to teach you. Pray tell what is born once the Ramshackle Beast Tamer learns the ways of Scarabia’s master of charisma and resident sunshine child?…Night Raven’s downfall. Power couple. Dead serious right now.
Jewelry (Developed): Worth your weight in gold takes a new meaning. This isn’t in reference to being spoiled, mind you. This is about status and the meaning behind the jewels Kalim is imparting. The cultural significance. Considering that you’re not from twisted wonderland, you technically are a blank slate to all countries. Who better to learn from than someone who’s spent his childhood studying to become an expert in international trade? Kalim has enough tact to bite his tongue about the deep meaning behind the gifts. You may not understand just yet, but his excitement can’t be contained. Each bangle and piece from the family treasury has a small story. While he has no problem using his wealth to help people who need it, there’s a joy that comes from decorating his treasure’ in treasure. Y’know?
"Do you like it? This necklace was my mother's at our age. My father gifted it to her during a business trip to the Queendom of Roses. Ah - you can have it! Really! She has many others, and when I told her about you this was what she chose to have sent over. It's already yours! You can wear it to the next banquet, please?" <- Being the next head of House Asim, Kalim can't be with just anyone. Yet he seemed so happy in his letters, and Jamil vouched on your behalf - so this is your time to shine. Also, sending the necklace back would be like slighting his family's good will. You quite literally need to accept it.
Music (Inherited): Can you play an instrument? Sing? It starts out as wanting to be near him more - so you join the pop music club. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are very convincing. So they push you to pick up something. Anything. It doesn't matter what, so long as you have fun with them. Even in the earliest stages where the notes come grated and your friends (Grim) make fun - Kalim is supportive without fault. His encouragement leads to proficiency and an appreciation for music. He'd love if you sing with him. Even if it's just a lullaby - no, especially so.
Habits He Steals:
Naming inanimate objects (Inherited): Your effort at making Kalim more money-conscious. The decite of sentimental attachment, if you will. It’s honestly a risky move to make considering the sheer amount of things that he owns, so naming everything is off the table. Yet it’s the silly things. Like seeing a face in the paintwork on one of his tapestries, and then deciding to dub it Artie. Oh no, Kalim we don’t need to get new artwork for the bathroom! What about Artie? It’s already pretty enough so lets just leave him there. No - no, that ring’s super pretty but the matching set from our anniversary is enough. We wouldn’t want Garnet and Pearl to think we were replacing them, right?
"I think Vinnie would work best on display, don't you? Purple and yellow are sure to catch people's attention from far away! Or maybe should we hang up Paolo? There are so many tapestries in Scarabia’s vault, I feel guilty only putting one up on display at our festival stall. Do you think they’d let us hang more?”<- It works. Kalim defiantly thinks twice. He's a bit like a kid refusing to give up their action figures after watching Toy Story, ya feel me?
Cooking (Inherited): Kalim is learning how to cook for himself as one step to being more self-sufficient. He only eats food that Jamil prepares, but with Viper’s seal of approval you’ve earned a pass. Essentially anything you both make with pre-approved ingredients is fair game. You pick a recipe every week, give Jamil the grocery list, and he makes sure to have the stuff in the dorm. Jamil is only okay with this so long as you supervise. Teaching Kalim is on your shoulders - and in all honesty? It’s an amazing bonding experience. Jamil can rest easy for a few hours and Kalim isn’t being thrown straight into the deep end. Obviously it’s only a small reprieve, and temporary since back at the Scalding Sands there are regulations in place. Kalim loves wearing matching aprons, humming little tunes while reading recipe books, watching cooking videos, learning about all the nutritional benefits in food, and really gets an appreciation after seeing how much work goes into his favorite dishes. There’s also that spark of joy when you sit down to eat, and it’s somehow one-hundred times better than eating with his family back home. Not that Kailm doesn’t love his siblings, but family really takes a new meaning when you see it coming together right before your eyes.
"Mph th-ish is sho gud! - how do you like it? Should we invite our friends to try some? It tastes almost like Jamil's! I bet if we keep at it, then we can cook up a banquet all on our own. That'll surely put everyone in a good mood!"
Skinship (Developed): Kalim is the type to initiate touch. Not receive it. If you look at his interactions with the others, he’s always the one throwing himself at them or being a vibrant glow-stick. Very few people give that back - and in truth? Like, honest to Seven truth? Kalim’s got no problem with it. Many people have bad intentions. Not everyone wants to be his friend, and that’s fine. They come to him looking to get in his good graces. It’s unnecessary…he’ll happily help without them twisting his feelings. All they need to do is ask. Do you know how easy it is for someone to prick him with a drugged needle? He’s not comfortable with physical contact that he does not initiate, unless it’s from someone he trusts. Like Jamil, Silver, Cater, his siblings, etc. Even they have a limit (which he’s confident will never be crossed, since again, Kalim is almost always the initiator). This list is subject to change…what, you think a family of 30+ kids can exist without animosity? He dreads the day he has to think of one of his little siblings becoming untrustworthy.
Anyways. Trust is a choice for Kalim. His happiness and extroverted optimism is all a choice. Sometimes on an unconscious level (*cough* his awareness of the divide between himself and Jamil, yet pushing the knowledge down until it inevitably hurt them both *cough*). So imagine reaching the point where he trusts you. It could be something small, like the first time you hug him from behind or lace your fingers together. Intimate. Not like Cater’s half sling over the shoulder, not like his little siblings hanging on his legs, or Jamil pushing him ahead while they walk. When he’s not initiating, and Kalim might hesitate for a moment. Hard to picture, I know, but by letting it be he’s choosing to trust you wholeheartedly. All in the span of like 5 seconds, and he might not even realize it until later on. Those of us who shine the brightest, usually have walls that are hard to see. Just some food for thought.
"Really? Really, really?? Really, really really??? Really - Ah! Sorry, I just can't believe it! There's so much I still don't know about them...but they're paying attention to me, huh? That's it! I need to work harder to be a worthy boyfriend! Starting right now, I'll become a better man!" <- Kalim. Sweetie. No. You're already the brightest boy. Your dormmates only brought the prefect's changes up to make you happy! I mean - mission successful? The goal was to motivate him and they technically succeeded. Just not for studying. He's 100% fired up with enough energy to run laps around the dorm now. He doesn't know what to do first, should he get Cater to help make you a playlist? Or have some flowers sent over? Would you prefer red roses or a mix of violets with chrysanthemums. Wait. Grim's 'technically' a cat, right? He should make sure not to send anything harmful to kitties. Maybe some tuna for him with chocolates for you? But this gift should be something you can keep. Ohhhh he is vibrating from excitement. He needs to show how much he loves you. Your attention and care truly means the world to him.
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Habits You Steal:
Bug Spray (Developed): Jamil can and will throw you under the bus when faced with insects. Big hit to his pride, not his best moments, but he is NOT dealing with the absolute infestation at Ramshackle. You are spraying that place with heavy duty RAID if you want him over longer than ten seconds. If he so much as catches a GLIMPSE of a roach - nah. Just nah. He will shove that dustpan in your hands and send you to war. Don’t call him until it’s dead, the carcass has been disposed of, and you’ve wiped down. Grim’s a cat. Teach his ass to hunt. He needs to pay rent. You think he’s letting the flame-ball follow to the Scalding Sands after NRC? Jamil wants him on hinting duty for scarabs or else it’s time to prep hobo box.
“Burn it….Did you not hear me? I said. Burn. It. Better yet? Burn this whole damn building!” <-First night he decides to let Kalim handle Scarabia and humor you with a sleepover - and a giant spider decided to invade the shower. We’re talking big spider, maybe pregnant. Please keep in mind that during the VDC prep, Vil had Ramshackle deep cleaned. So the worst Jamil saw was a few ants. Now, the science club does meet in the Ramshackle garden often since you’ve cleaned it up, and Trey may grow plants that make the place insect central. Jamil was unaware of this. The gut wrenching scream that echoed through every room in the house. You’d think one of the ghosts pulled a cruel prank - but no. You didn’t even get a moment to investigate. The bathroom door flew open, Jamil running out still wet and drenching his pajamas. The death glare and spew of curses was the most genuine you’d ever seen him. Well, it could have been appreciated if not directed at you. Fix it or he will never set foot in this place ever again.
Spice Tolerance (Inherited): Not much to say here. He likes his food spicy. Sure, Jamil isn’t great with his words so his main love-language is bringing over tubbaware filled with food, and he does cater to your preferences more often than not. Except you undoubtedly will be eating what himself and Kalim eat most days. Which is packed with flavor. Grim isn’t complaining, food’s food. You? It’s funny to take a chomp out of ghost pepper like it’s a roma tomato, only for Ace to try and then start wheezing. Work them tastebuds, ya scrawny magic man. Heh.
"Can't handle the heat? Curry's a versatile dish. I could make something mild next time...you still want it? Why? Just because it's my favorite, doesn't mean you have to like it. Still not going to give it back? Alright. Lets see you clean that plate then." <- Flattered that you want to experience his favorite foods prepared to his tastes. For the record - Jamil likes it spicy spicy. Hotter than fiery vindaloo. Its an acquired taste and he really can alter the recipe if its too much. Won't unless you ask, because it's funny and oddly romantic seeing you sweat just trying to make him happy (Will hit the breaks in if you are getting sick from it. Does not play around).
Braids (Inherited): Paired with Jamil’s developed trait. Braids or hair beads - take your pick. Maybe both? Or a headscarf. His little sister - Najima, do you remember her? She’s the first Viper you get to spend time with during a trip to the Scalding Sands and gifts you either some hair beads or a headscarf as her unspoken blessing. Nothing fancy, and Jamil forced the coin in her hand for it, but she did take you through the markets while he was busy tending to other needs. It’s honestly really sweet, and Jamil will braid the beads or scarf in one of your side pieces of hair every morning (or wrap the scarf around your head. Not fancy like Kalim’s but still a knot he ‘insists’ will look better if he does it since you’re inexperienced. He could teach you. He won’t.)
Silence (Inherited): Shit just does not phase you anymore. Ever heard of the inability to keep calm until there's someone more panicked nearby? Jamil embodies this, being surrounded by emotive people all the time, and his perpetual state of indifference physically does not allow you to feel unsettled. If Jamil isn't bothered, then neither are you. It's that simple. Resting bitch face is contagious. Jamil's ability to handle Kalim comes in handy for raising Grim. You can now ignore his baby face and daily begging for premium tuna. Little kitty needs to expand his arsenal of tricks, because your will is stone.
"Bad day? Grab a cup. The dorm's usually quiet for the next hour. I'll be there in a moment." <- Queen never cry. If anything actually does phase either one of you, it normally ends the same way. Plopped on the floor of his bedroom, sipping hot tea and staring at the wall in comfortable silence while stewing in mutual suffering. Eventually you give him one of those starry sky projectors, and y'all ill stare at that instead. If it's a problem that has a tangible solution then it gets solved. Easy. This is for the 'yeah, life sucks' moments where all you can do is let it be before getting back up again. At least you have each other.
Habits He Steals:
Braids (Developed): Jamil can easily do his own hair. A flick of the wrist and it magically braids itself. Ebony locks carry memories of pain, growth - and change. Small change. Yet change nonetheless, which seemed impossible years ago. There’s something very intimate that comes with fixing another person’s hair. You’re not proficient enough to handle his cornrows (or are you? To his standard? As fast as magic?) but Jamil’s fine with changing his hair style to a simple triple braid, or a braid-band using the framing pieces that can crown around his head. So long as you do it for him every morning.
Fix-It-Felix (Developed): You know that one type of dad? The one who visits your home and looks for imperfections. He comes over, puts fresh produce in the fridge, mends the nail holes in the wall and fixes that one loose board on the steps that you made a habit to avoid. Barely says two words during his visit but seemingly solves half the problems you were procrastinating? This is Jamil. 100% Jamil when he comes to Ramshackle. He needs to make himself useful. And to scold someone. Grim more often than not, but you’re not safe. He really goes ‘bitch you live like this?’ at least once a week. Then proceeds to take preventative measures like a textbook tsundere.
“I put tangerines in the fridge since winter is coming. You need to be getting enough vitamin c and - where’s Grim? Don’t let him eat them all and make sure he knows not to light the fireplace tonight. There’s some cleaner on the bricks that needs to sit for a few hours…you know what? I’ll go with you to get him. Grab your heavy coat, it looks ready to rain.”
Dancing (Developed): Jamil participates in solo-dance during his downtime. It’s not like he had a partner to do duos with. Jamil also was not interesting in cozying up to a stranger just to learn a dance he would rarely have a moment to indulge in. Kalim’s the one who mentioned this in passing to you. His intentions were pure, of course. Just as they always are. He signed you both up for a ballroom dance class as a present for officially becoming a couple! Jamil finally had a partner and time to try, so why wait?! The vice in question wanted to deny since (1) who has time for that, (2) it was off campus, would take three hours out of every weekend for a month and (3) The chance of embarrassing himself was higher than he would like. Yet Kalim is smarter than most think, and purposefully handed the gift to you. Not Jamil. Along with the excited embellishment that Jamil could now do this ‘long desired’ class that really wasn’t high on his radar.
"If it makes you happy...then I don't mind. Just try to avoid stepping on my toes. Otherwise I'll demand compensation. What do I want? Wouldn't you like to know, prefect." <- Five seconds in and he yields. You weren't going to let him out of it - no matter what excuse Jamil came up with. He'll put up with it and get back at Kalim later. The chance to spend time with you for that long is rare, and Jamil isn't the type to squander opportunities. No matter his personal feelings on the 'gift' in question.
Except Jamil finds the entire experience pleasant and hates that it’s all thanks to Kalim. Dancing with you is entirely different than dancing alone. It’s clumsy, new, and honestly tiring since he needs to lead. Especially in anything fast pace like a quickstep or to swing. It’s also three hours out of the week that Jamil isn’t maintaining his composure. Just you, him, and the instructor since Kalim splurged on private lessons. It’s liberating and Jamil wants to keep with it far beyond after the class ends. Even if it’s just slow-dancing in the common room to one of those vintage records stowed at Ramshackle. Seven, let him have this.
‘We’ instead of ‘Me’ (Inherited AND Developed): Automatically assumes that any invites are for you too. Jamil is used to thinking this way. Except the ‘we’ applied to Kalim, with Jamil as a plus one. Jamil did not want to be part of that ‘we’. Hence why he would only refer to Kalim when laying plans out. ‘Kalim has dance lessons at six, then dinner at seven, then study until 10 and then bed. Tomorrow, Kalim’s going to a banquet head by the treasure’s family and then returning to campus.’ The unspoken truth being that Jamil’s schedule matched. He followed, but was never on board with being Kalim’s ‘we’. He has always been a ‘me’ and made an active effort to preserve all his ‘me’ moments. For someone so self-aware…Jamil isn’t sure when he began to view you as his ‘we’. Only that when you auto-included him in everything…it was less strenuous than with Kalim. Far less. Easy to adapt. In the past, Jamil believed a partnership to be another chain. Perhaps being a ‘we’ was never supposed to hurt.
“Thanks for the invitation, but we’re staying in tonight…. No, not Kalim. The Prefect. What? I’m not speaking for them. If my word’s not good enough, just go ask the prefect yourself.” <- Other people might look at him and think he’s treating you like Kalim. Oh, how wrong they are.
Texting (Inherited): Jamil’s not used to someone keeping tabs on him. You’re going to see him within the hour, why does he need to call before going to wake up Kalim? Why do you need a text that he’s back in his dorm before you’re able to sleep? Why do you show up in Scarabia at one in the morning, throwing rocks at his window, if he forgets? (Jamil never forgets. He just had to reign in some rowdy first years and couldn’t catch a break. It was on his mind. Really.) It’s not the worst demand. A five minute call while he’s prepping breakfast and a few messages to know he’s going to rest are a small price to pay. Turns out a little rundown of his day before bed makes sleeping a ‘little’ bit easier. Huh.
“I don’t see it.” <- A lie spoken with the most monotone tone possible. Jamil rolls his eyes over the rim of his mug, taking a sip before turning the page in his book. Najima scoffs before returning to her magazine. She can say he’s softened up all she wants. He won’t admit to it. Doesn’t mean she’s wrong in the slightest. Jamil’s well aware that hopes and wants denied to him from birth have begun to stir within him. No matter how small the changes may be, Jamil isn’t foolish enough to give those emotions his attention. Not if he wants to keep them. Good things always escape his grasp…his wounds are too fresh to get comfortable just yet.
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piratesfromspace ¡ 1 year ago
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Just Like Old Times (Price x Reader + poly141)
Pairing: Reader x Price (& Reader x 141) Rated: Mature Word count: 2.9k Summary: A cottage in the snow. A Captain you knew in another life. His rugged and attractive men. Will you let them into your life? Note: This is a fic I wrote for @literatecowboy for the Secret Santa event organized by @bunnyreaper! I tried to make something soft and sweet and it's taking place during the winter, it's not smutty but if you like it, I can make a part 2 with some action 👀
EDIT: we have a PART 2!!
Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, a little bit of angst but it’s mainly fluff, smoking, flirting, praise kink, sharing body heat
MASTERLIST // PART 2
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It had been Laswell’s idea. 
The team needs to be ready for snow conditions, do whatever you think is best. You have 3 weeks. And I’m talking extreme weather, Price, not a little trip to your local ski resort.
Those had been the instructions Kate had delivered to an unphased Price.
He knew it was only a matter of time before this kind of mission would be required from them. Of course, the men of the 141 have already trained in the cold of England, have seen and tested the winter gear. But Laswell is about to send them somewhere at the very East of Europe, and there is a small difference between surviving winter in London and surviving winter in places where the cold could kill you in minutes if you didn't have the proper equipment or knowledge. Over there, more than usual, tiny mistakes could have big consequences. And Price would rather not have his team freeze to death because of a lack of training. 
It’s December and the month is cold already. But it’s nothing compared to the cold Soap feels when he steps out of the helicopter. It’s like Price has picked the coldest place he knows in America. He’s pretty sure they are somewhere in Wyoming or Montana, the only thing he can see are mountains all around them. Spruce and fir trees sprawl in dark patches contrasting with the stark white of the snow covering everything. He crosses the large glade to reach the tree line, as the helicopter takes off, sending the fresh snow flying in every direction. The sky is a light gray, and while the whole scene is stunning - makes his head spin with equal awe and wonder thinking about nature’s force and brutal beauty - it means there is no sun to warm his face. 
“Come on soldiers, let’s move, we still have a two-hour hike to reach our B&B!”
“You mean someone will be there to make us breakfast Captain?” Soap chimes, unbridled joy coming through his voice at the prospect of warm home-made meals instead of MREs.
Price has a hard time hiding a smile as he starts walking on the thin winding path, only recognisable for those who know it’s there. ”There will be someone, but I’m not sure they will cook for you, Sergeant.”
Ghost lets out a dry chuckle and follows the steps of their Captain, leaving Soap and Gaz a bit puzzled.
❄️
The sun is already setting when you hear loud voices outside, and soon after a series of knocks on your door. You’re a little stressed when you rise from the floor in front of your fireplace to go open the door. You have agreed to shelter those 4 soldiers for 3 entire weeks only as a favor to Price. An old acquaintance who saved your life, a decade earlier, before you left the field to heal your wounds - body and mind. The large wood cabin had been your home for a few years already. You keep it open for women like you, in need of time away from the world, although it’s pretty rare they come during winter time when the road is blocked by snow. It’s an old building, but well-kept and you made it as cozy as possible, all warm natural tones, plush carpets on dark wood floors, dark gray stones in the bathrooms. 
You welcome them with a soft smile, delighting in their surprise - seems like John had not told them he planned on using your cottage as a back-up base for this training expedition. John’s team members are not really what you expected: there is one Scott with a mohawk that seems simultaneously annoyed and happy to be there (he has terrific blue eyes), a young and calm brown-haired Brit (he’s really cute, like movie-star cute), and a behemoth with a literal skull mask (his size alone has your head spinning). You can’t complain about them though, as they are polite and friendly, praising your home - and for sure taking in the comfort and warmth one last time before heading off for days of rudimental camping in the icy woods. You don’t envy them, remembering that one mission you did in Siberia when you were still in active duty, that wasn’t really fun. They settle in their rooms easily and you all share a quick dinner you had cooked - except for the masked giant. The banter goes fast between them, especially after you offer them beers. You like being alone, but you have to admit they are fun to be around.
❄️
The living room is silent and dark, the only light coming from the fireplace across your couch. After dinner, you had trouble finding sleep in your room, so you went to read a bit in front of the fire. But you must have dozed off, because you wake up suddenly, gasping, arms flailing, sitting up immediately. Your frantic eyes, wide open, scan the room for the reason of your awakening, survival instinct going overdrive. Someone is standing in your living room, frozen in place on their way to the front door. It’s the behemoth with the skull mask - the scariest of them all, of course.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” he apologizes. In the darkness of the room, it looks like his jaw is not even moving beneath the dark fabric covering the lower half of his face, like the sound just pours out of him or like he’s speaking directly inside your head. He might actually, you’re not entirely convinced the giant is not some sort of supernatural being John brought back from a cursed battlefield. It’s unnerving to say the least. 
“I’m sorry, it- it happens sometimes, I can’t help it, my instinct thought you were a threat…” you blurt out before realizing you may have offended him in some way by implying he’s not worthy of your trust. But instead of scoffing, he lets out a thoughtful hum, lowering his head to look at his boots, almost sheepish. 
“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” His voice is low, calm, and at the same time you can feel something else, sadness, maybe disappointment, in what or who, you’re not sure.
“Care for a smoke?” he offers after a beat of silence, nodding to the front door. You don’t smoke anymore, cut the nasty habit years ago. That’s why you don’t know what compels you to accept, but you’re not gonna be able to sleep now, so you follow him outside, grabbing your coat on the way. 
You half expect him to smoke through the mask, but he pushes the fabric up enough to reveal a strong jaw covered in light stubble, and plush lips. So he’s human after all. The slick and heavy storm lighter looks ridiculously small in his giant hand when he lights his cigarette. He takes a deep puff before handing it to you.
“Sorry, last one.”
Your fingers graze his, and you bring it to your lips to drag a small puff that immediately makes you cough.
“You ok?” he rasps, humor tilting the corner of his mouth upwards.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, that’s all” you provide. He hums in approval at your explanation. 
When you hand him the cigarette, you take a moment to look at his mouth, the way his throat works when he inhales, the way the silver smoke dances between his open lips and fades into the night sky. Something warms your gut when you realize his lips are set just where yours had been a few seconds ago. 
You don’t know what’s more attractive, this or the fact he doesn’t try to make conversation for the sake of it. He doesn’t bother to explain why he couldn’t sleep and felt the need to smoke at 3 in the morning. He knows you understand. You are just glad to bask in the soft noises of nature at night - wind in the threes, the hooting of an owl. Fuck, you’ve been alone up there for too long to thirst on John’s colleagues just like this, just a few hours after their arrival. You shake your head, driving out the thought, and take the cigarette again from his fingers.
❄️
The next morning, you wake up pretty early after a short night, only to find one of them - the pretty one, Gaz - is already fixing coffee in your kitchen like he belongs there. You honestly could get used to this. The thin long sleeves of his shirt are doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath, rolling as he’s going about this mundane task of preparing breakfast. His kind eyes and soft voice when he asks for your choice of eggs makes your heart flutter with a yearning for this kind of intimate domesticity you had never really allowed yourself up until then. It’s kinda concerning, at this rate you’re gonna ask one - all? - of them to stay with you in your cottage instead of going back to whatever missions at the other end of the world. 
The rest of the day is not making you change your mind. Price had asked if anything needed their help around the house, and you gave them the tedious task of moving the gigantic pile of wood logs stocked at the other end of your garden closer to the house. It would have taken you days to do it by yourself. But by lunch time, the pile had dwindled to a fifth of what it was thanks to the hard work of the four men. The two younger ones were down to their long-sleeve compression shirts despite the cold, sleeves rolled up their elbows, showing off strong forearms, various scars slashing across the discreet swirls of black ink from old tattoos. Some disappear under the black gloves they are all sporting. Sweat plasters the fabric of their shirts to their shoulders and chests. You can’t deny they look fucking good. 
You had accepted Price’s demand without much after-thought, but now you couldn’t be more happy about it, ogling those four rugged men laboring away for you. Despite being older than his men, Price is far from looking bad. He’s built like a brick house, a healthy layer of fat covering muscles he’s been honing for two decades. Dark hair peaks from the open collar of his jacket, your eyes follow the line of the thin garment which is hugging his tapered waist, down to his thick thighs. Fuck. You remember what it was like to be close to him - literally and figuratively. He was your colleague, an equal, a couple years older than you but you shared the same rank. He was a mentor, a friend, a lover - only briefly, after that fateful mission where he saved your life on the field. You parted ways in good spirit after you announced that you wanted to retire, needed to get your head straight before committing to anything. Today, you ask yourself if maybe you could take this back from where you left it.
❄️
You want to train with us today, love? Just like old times.
Price had asked you the question the next morning and you had not been hard to convince. It was more about being able to look at them than to train your body, but they didn’t need to know that. Even if you keep a pretty healthy lifestyle, you can’t compete with elite soldiers, and by the fourth set of push-ups, your arms are giving out. You’re about to stop and reach for your water bottle, when Price notices. 
“Come on, you can do five more, I’m sure!”
You groan in response, but you go back in position.
“Breathe, love. Back a little more straight. Elbows in. That’s it… Good.” 
Price’s deep voice is calm as he’s encouraging you, gently correcting your posture.
“Don’t look down, chin up. Perfect, you’re doing good.” he goes on, and you cheeks warm under his praise, enough to make you forget the stinging cold. Your whole body is clenched with the effort, you’re letting out little cries with each push-up, your muscles are hurting, but you want nothing more than to make the captain proud.
“Just one more. Done! You did great darling, I’m impressed.” 
He helps you get up on shaking legs and when you almost stumble, he secures you upright against his chest, keeps you there for two seconds more than he should for it to not look intentional. When you raise your head, you’re suddenly so close to his face, blue eyes staring down at you with a glint in them you can’t ignore. You reluctantly part before reaching for your water bottle again, playing coy.
The three others are not oblivious to the little game between you and Price. You notice how they exchange knowing looks and little smiles whenever you both interact. Worst, they also seem to pick up on your love for being praised and soon enough they take every excuse to whisper how good your aim still is during target training, or how smart you are for knowing everything about the local fauna during your afternoon hike. It never sounds like they’re mocking you though, never feels like it’s not genuine. It’s not fair, really. At this rate, you don’t know how you’re gonna survive living under the same roof with four attractive men for three entire weeks. 
The answer to this torture of yours is revealed quickly. After a few days of acclimatization at your cottage, Price and his men are ready for a long expedition higher in the mountains, with just tents and even a short surviving-in-extreme-cold workshop. They will be gone for at least ten days. You watch them pack their gear and leave your place with a pinch in your heart you couldn’t expect when you first opened your door to them.
❄️
Days go by, pretty uneventful, until your heating system breaks down. It’s not the first time since you’re leaving up there, it’s not that scary but you’ll have to wait a few days for the repair team to come by. In the meantime, you resort to live and sleep in your living room, where the fireplace provides enough heat to keep you warm in the heart of the winter.
They come back the day after that, and when you see their silhouettes emerging from the treeline, just before the sun sets down, you can’t prevent your lips to form a smile so big it hurts your cheeks after a couple minutes standing in the biting cold. 
The fondness in Price’s eyes is not dulled by the news your heater is out of order, nor is the relief on Soap’s and Gaz’s faces at the promise of a solid roof and comfy beds after days of rudimentary accommodations.
You all work to prepare some food, and to bring a couple mattresses with all the duvets you can find in front of the fireplace - the only sane solution for you all to sleep without suffering too much from the freezing temperatures. It reminds you of your years of service, when you sometimes had to share a single room with your whole squad - you’re not missing the stress and the harsh living conditions, but you’re definitely missing the camaraderie, the jokes and fits of laughter, the bodies of trusted people around you. 
They leave you the couch - gentlemen that they are - the objectively most comfortable option, but once again you can’t find sleep. The piece of furniture is the farthest away from the fire, and you’re on your own, no one next to you to share body heat with you. 
It’s only because I’m cold. That’s the poor excuse you give yourself - and the one you whisper to Price - when you step down from your couch to seek a place under the cover next to John. He’s sleeping next to Gaz; Soap and Ghost are sharing the other mattress. You slide yourself against him, immediately melting into his chest, the man radiating heat like it’s his only purpose in life. He doesn’t even have to ask you if it’s okay to hold you against him because you plaster yourself to him and nuzzle against his chest, old habits taking over your sleepy brain. A sense of safety and comfort envelopes you at the same time his warmth does. You forgot how good it felt to be in his embrace, to be tucked against his broad chest, surrounded by his smell - manly, ambery wood, and the rich spice of his cigars. 
He chuckles silently as you settle at his side and let out a little content sigh. He missed that too, he won’t say it out loud, but having you like this, soft and pliant in his arms, it makes him wonder how he could be such a fool for not seeking you sooner. He suddenly wants to kiss you, to make you feel good, here and now, no matter the fact his men are sleeping just a few inches from you. Should he care? He’s not blind to the fact you spend a good amount of time leering at them since they’re here, and to the fact they are watching you back. He can not ignore the shameless flirting going on between all of you five actually. John has never really been in a situation like this, doesn’t know where this will lead him - where this could lead them. But he’s ready to follow you. He takes a deep breath before he talks. 
“Just like old times?” He asks, voice low, chest vibrating with it under your palm. 
Just like old times… The words echo in your head, echo in your heart. He gives you the opportunity to lead him - to lead them - wherever you wish.
“Just like old times.” You repeat back to him, before you capture his lips in a gentle kiss.
PART 2
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storm-angel989 ¡ 9 months ago
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Omg do you know the Valentino x reader period pains thing can you do that but with vox's teenage daughter like how would he react straight panic. Most men in the 50's didn't know anything really about period cramps or periods in general. So he probably not know much besides what Vel talks about. I can imagine him doing the wtf which one do I get her in the store thing so he buys everything lol.
Another super fun request! Enjoy!
Vox stared at the shelves in a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. His gaze fell from the shelves to the list, and back again. So many colors, and why was one woman playing volleyball? He cursed himself for not simply putting Velvette’s requests on the list and pushing it off. How was he supposed to know this could happen in the middle of the night?
“Dad? Dad, I need help. I think I’m dying.” 
Vox had heard his daughter's voice from across his bedroom. He instantly sat up and turned on the bedside light, swung his legs over the side of the bed and hurried to her. 
“What’s the matter baby?” He asked frantically. 
“My belly hurts, and I’m bleeding,” she sobbed. “Daddy, what’s wrong with me?”
He felt a cold chill and sheer panic settle through him as he noticed the bright red stains on her pajama pants. No, she couldn’t be. She couldn’t have her period already, right? She was only thirteen. God, he was so not ready for this. 
“You’re not dying babydoll, come on. We need to go see your Aunt Velvette,” he said as calmly as he could. “Come on now, follow me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her down the hallway. He pounded on Velvette’s door. “Vel? Vel get up! We need you!”
He heard frantic footsteps and the door swung open.
“Vox you better have a damn good reason to-”  Velvette cut herself off mid sentence at the sight of reader. “Oh. Yep, that’s a good reason. Come in honey, go to my bathroom. I need to talk to your dad for a moment. You’re okay, I promise.” 
Vox watched as his daughter walked across the room and vanished behind closed doors. He turned to Velvette, who was scribbling something down on a pad of paper. 
“Vel, you still good to handle this?” He asked cautiously. “I just-”
“Vox, it's the middle of the night. I told you ages ago to have housekeeping order the supplies she needs and you put it off. Now you need to go to the store yourself while I convince sweet reader she isn’t about to kick the bucket,” Velvette grumbled as she ripped the paper off the pad and handed it to Vox. “Everything you need is on that list. You’re going to have to go out and buy it right now.”
Vox felt himself flush with embarrassment. This was a female issue- it shouldn’t involve him. 
Velvette gave him a look. “If you had listened to me in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation would we? Now shoo.” 
Now here he stood, with a list of what he firmly believed were made up words. What exactly was a “tampon” anyway? Or a “thin panty liner”?
“Excuse me sir, do you need any help?” A cheerful voice came from behind him.
Vox whirled around. He could feel his face turn even more red as he thrust the list towards the unsuspecting sales girl.
“I..I need these. I mean, I don’t need them. My daughter needs them. I just…”
The sales girl seemed unphased. “How old is your daughter?”
“Thirteen.”
“Okay! She needs this, and this, and this…” she loaded the items into his cart. “Easy enough! Extra chocolate too, might be a nice thing to do.”
Vox could only nod and add an extra bar of chocolate to the cart. To his relief, she packaged everything up in discrete brown paper bags. As he swiped his card, he wondered why such a necessary product was priced so ridiculously high. 
When he got back to the apartment, he knocked on Velvette’s door. She stuck her head out and took the bags. 
“I woke up Val and he’s making hot cocoa. We’ll join you two in a few minutes. Now shoo.” She slammed the door in his face. 
Vox resigned himself to the kitchen. He took a seat at the table and buried his attention in his phone as Valentino stood at the stove in his pajamas, stirring the hot chocolate pot. 
“How are you, amicito?” He asked. “Big day for our little princessa.”
Vox groaned. “Can we not talk about it?”
“I think you need to get with the times. Your little girl needs you,” Valentino replied easily. “So get over yourself.”
Vox raised an eyebrow and looked over to him. “You’re not freaked out about this?”
Valentino shrugged. “Why should I be? Our little girl is simply growing up. If you treat her like the plague she will feel shame- and that’s the last thing we want, right?”
Vox considered. He hadn’t thought about it that way, how his reaction to what was admittedly a natural event, might affect her. 
“Do you think she knows I’m…”
Valentino cut him off. “I think you did just the right thing, bringing her to Vel.”
“Here she is!” Velvette’s voice called through the kitchen. “Officially a young lady!”
Reader flushed and looked down. “Not…it’s not that big a deal I guess.”
“Oh, baby princessa, it is.” Valentino said as he ladeled the hot chocolate into a mug and added whipped cream. “The heating pad is all set on the couch. Remote is yours.” 
“Thanks Uncle Val,” she mumbled as she made her way out to the living room. 
“What’s wrong with her?” Vox asked with concern. 
Both Valentino and Velvette looked at him with a mix of annoyance and shock. From the living room, the television blared top volume. All three recognized the theme to her favorite show. 
“She hurts, she’s bleeding for the first time and she’s embarrassed about it,” Velvette answered. “Even though I told her there was nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal.”
“So, what do I do?” Vox asked. “How do I help her?”
“You love her, and give her chocolate and give her a bit of grace if she’s crabby. Her hormones are all over the place,” Velvette replied. “And for god sake, get over yourself.”
Vox winced. He didn’t want to think about his daughter having hormones, or growing up. He knew it was a fact of life, but what he wouldn’t give to be unaware of it. Valentino handed him a cup of cocoa and he took a sip. He watched as Velvette flopped down on the couch next to his daughter. 
“She’s going to grow up, Vox. You can’t stop it,” Valentino warned. 
“I know I can’t,” Vox replied tiredly. “But I’m not ready to lose my little girl.”
Valentino gave him an irritated look. “What are you talking about? She’s still your little girl- she always will be. And right now she needs her family to support her,” he replied as he turned and left the kitchen. 
Vox sighed as he watched Val collapse on the other side of the couch. He could barely make out their chatter. After a moment, he stood up and joined them and took the seat next to reader. Concern flooded his face as he looked at his daughter. She looked pale, paler than usual. 
“How are you feeling, babygirl?” He asked. He reached over and brushed the hair out of her eyes, the palm of his hand lingering on her forehead for a moment. Was it him, or did she feel warm?
“I’m okay, Daddy, just tired,” she replied quietly. “My tummy hurts. Can I go to bed?”
“Of course you can, princess,” he replied as he pulled his hand away. “I’ll be in to check on you in a bit.” 
She climbed off the couch and wrapped him in a hug. “Night night, Daddy.”
“Goodnight baby.” He replied. 
She did the same with Valentino and Velvette before trudging back to her room. He heard the door close and looked to Velvette. 
“She felt warm, is that normal?”
Velvette rolled her eyes. “You know what? Figure it out on your own. I’m going to bed.”
“Not a bad idea to do some research, amicito,” Valentino added as he stood up. “If nothing more than to help our little princessa.” 
Vox watched them both retreat back to their rooms before shutting off the lights and returning to his own bed. He pulled out his phone and hesitated for just a moment. Breaking free of the ideas that he had been so held to in life was uncomfortable to say the least. But at the same time, he felt he owed it to his little girl to at least try to understand what she was going through. And he was willing to do whatever was necessary to make sure he was the best dad he could be.
Even if it meant figuring out exactly how to handle a period. 
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dutiful-wildcraft ¡ 11 months ago
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Metal Band AU
Because its been rotting my brain :^)
Soap, drums/vocals shares lead vocals equally, how this man can drum and sing at the same time is beyond anyone else. Never wears a shirt.  He and Gaz banter back and forth on stage a bit. Managed to break his sticks every other show. Dumps bottles of water on himself mid-show to cool off (you can literally see the steam coming off of him). Surprisingly does most of the lyrical writing for the group.  He always does the little thank you speech and introduces everyone at the end. Jumps onto Ghost's back every time they leave stage. The larger man carries him dutifully. 
Gaz, rhythm guitar/ lead vocals. Can't stop moving around stage. Bouncing between the others. Is grinning the entire time. Fucks with Price and Ghost during their solos, flirtatiously leans on them, rubs their chest, hugs a leg dreamily.  Chatty, loves to start a pit. Mostly just throws in genuine “Thank yous’” between every song. Playfully shoos away Ghost away from his center stage like a little brat after Ghost’s solo. Plays the piano for the trademark ballad. Flirts with the crowd while on stage. 
Price, Bass/backing vocals. Sickening in how well he plays, not super energetic on stage, most of its pacing and occasionally propping a leg up on a speaker. Rarely talks, but does play a bit with the crowd. Pointing, giving cheeky winks or blowing kisses. Wanders over to Gaz mostly, giving him a playful kick or nudge. Smiling warmly. Will climb down himself to pass off his pick to a lovely fan. He is dressed wildly different than that overall vibe of the band. Usually a flannel and beanie. 
Ghost, lead guitar. Absolutely shreds. Where’s the same exact outfit every time. Keeps the balaclava and hood up the entire show. All the fans have the hots for him bc of it.  No one knows how the hood stays with all the headbanging. (it’s velcro)  Semi-frightening on stage. Never speaks. Unphased by Gaz wallowing on him. He and Price move around each other with grace. Fans have noticed that he's the most playful with Soap. They do a bit where they trade places during certain songs. Ghost pretends to be exasperated with the shorter scott trying to steal his guitar. (They actually do pretty well on the others instrument). Occasionally he’ll chunk his extra picks at Price from across stage to fuck with him.
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freeusemuses ¡ 1 year ago
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"I bought you fair and square. 500,000 is a lot of money, so I hope you're worth it. You best behave lest I find a reason why you would be less than your 100,000 starting price." Deluge warns, guiding his newest catch to the testing room of the auction house. (Go wild on who he's just acquired.)
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Kali seemed wildly unphased by her situation. If anything, the feline MILF was excited. "You know, you could have claimed me then and there on stage~"
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daggerspare-standingby ¡ 9 months ago
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THE CHASE - PART 5 | Hangman x Reader
Hey, Hi, Hello! I'm not back full time, but I did have some down time when my little one napped and finally finished this part. Am I super happy with how it turned out, not really, BUT It's still cute and fluffy and we get to see more of Jake with heart eyes. Thank you again for all your patience and support!
2336 words! No Warnings
Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Bartender!Reader
Without further adieu
--
Jake took his seat across from you in the warmly lit restaurant as you took in your surroundings. When the waiter handed you the menu you opened it and surveyed the offerings, and of course the price. Once the waiter had disappeared you quickly shut the menu and looked at Jake, eyes wide. “Jake, this is ridiculously expensive, we don’t have to eat here” your voice was near a whisper. He simply chuckled “you said you wanted to be wined and dined, for a first date, this is the best you can get” He seemed completely unphased and you balked at him. Jake looks up from his menu and gives you a smile, a real fond, cheek dimpling smile full of pearly white teeth. You're so distracted by the smile and the feeling it gives you that you nearly miss him reaching his hand across the table to grasp yours, his calloused thumb rubbing the top lightly “first off, Uncle Sam pays me just fine to be able to afford this - granted, not every night, I prefer home cooking anyways, but on a special occasion, or a first date, especially with you, this is pennies, Darlin’.” 
The flutter you felt at his words and at the gentle look he was giving you was unnerving, but not unwelcome. The all familiar nickname he had for you sounded different tonight, in the way he said it. In that time, he had returned his attention to the menu - but the smile had not faltered from his face. You realized you weren’t going to win and so you regarded the menu again, before selecting a lower priced main course option in your head. That is, until Jake looked at you and suggested ordering an appetizer platter that included a few options of everything. When you didn’t oppose, He smiled at you “what are you thinking about for dinner?” you shrugged nonchalantly, and told him your option, the salmon sounded good and was not as highly priced as the rest of the menu items. “I was thinking about the Ribeye to be honest, now nothing really beats Texas BBQ but I’ll give it a shot.” He flipped the menu page and looked at the drinks, while you peeked at the price of his entree selection, that’s when you decided to revise the selection of your main course to something a little higher to match. You did say wine and dine after all.
When the waiter came back, Jake offered for you to order first, when the waiter asked about drinks to get started, he straightened up slightly “Did you see any bottle of wine you wanted?” immediately you shook your head “you pick, they all look so nice.” Jake wore a small smirk “fine” He showed the waiter his selection on the menu, to which he nodded, took the menus and disappeared. You shook your head at Jake, a small smile playing on your face “you ordered one of the more expensive ones didn’t you?” his grin widened and shook his head “not telling, you’ll just have to enjoy it.” a small laugh bubbled out of your lips “you continue to surprise me.” 
The waiter returned once more with the wine bottle, presented it to you and offered you a taste before serving, to which you accepted. He poured a small amount in your glass and you swirled it, before sipping it. The red wine Jake had chosen was full bodied, warm and had notes of spices dancing across your tastebuds, it would go lovely with the menu options you had both selected. When you nodded your approval, the waiter topped up your glass before serving Jake and leaving the bottle on the table, and returning to the kitchen, presumably to retrieve your appetizers.
You lifted your glass, holding it up “cheers” Jake smiled at you and tipped his glass to clink with yours “cheers to the first date”. You could barely hide the smile that graced your face as you brought the glass to your lips and took a sip, reveling in the fact you were truly on a date with Jake Seresin, the man of your desires and of your nighttime fantasies for the past 3 months, and even though there was still that little voice in your head screaming at you that you were just going to get hurt, you couldn’t help but let yourself feel excited. “So” Jake recalled your attention to him, green eyes sparkling with a little mischief. “I’m really curious to know, why do you usually only call me by my call sign and everyone else by their names?”
Jake had been dying to know the answer to this question since he met you. It was only in the last 7 days that you had called him by his first name and he folded his hands in front of him on the table, watching you digest his question and take another sip of wine before setting the glass down “it’s a little embarrassing…” he shrugged slightly “would you tell me anyways? Or is it a second date kind of question?” you laughed and took another sip of wine, hoping it would increase your courage to tell him the truth “I was hoping it could wait until dessert at least.” Jake just waited patiently while you seemed to prepare yourself to tell him your answer.
“I’ve only ever heard what all the other girls and bartenders have said about you at the Hard Deck” you watched a scowl breach his lips but he stayed silent and you continued “and I thought, that if I kept the persona of Hangman in my head, I wouldn’t let myself get attached and fall for you…” you sighed and avoided his gaze, which you could feel boring into you “that  didn’t work. I’ve played hard to get because I liked you a lot and I was - I am, worried about getting hurt.” 
Jake considered your words, it’s true that he had a very flyboy persona, where he used to leave with whatever badge bunny would strike his fancy that night. He always made it clear that there were no strings attached, hookup only, until he met you anyways. Before you, some of the girls had gotten their hopes up, feeling as if they were entitled to more than just sex with him, which is presumably what you had heard from previous bartenders. He had a type apparently, which caused Penny to lose more than one decent extra hand and though she had a soft spot for the Dagger Squad, him included, the Hard Deck came first to her. 
Jake met your eyes, sincerity echoed in them, “I know I’ve got a bit of a reputation, but I’m here to prove to you that I’ve changed.” You had been open and candid with him, and it was his turn to return the sentiment. “Did I hope to get you to come home with me the first night I met you, yes absolutely I did, but when you didn’t even give me the time of day, I was awestruck. You have time and time again proved that you don’t need any man to make things happen and I’ve grown to respect that, and frankly, the way you put me in my place most of the time is a huge turn on.” You blushed as his praise washed over you, surprised that he would be this honest with you. When you didn’t reply, he continued “Darlin’ I’ve been spending the last three months trying to get your attention in any way you’ll give it to me, because I can’t get you out of my head. When you finally agreed to this date, I knew I had one chance to not fuck this up royally because you’re that kind of girl.” Jake cut his speech a little short, afraid to admit that you were the girl. The one he would be proud to bring home to his mama and friends in Texas, the one he could see with his Nan’s ring on her finger and a matching gold band on his own. The one he wanted to come home to every day, and pick him up at the end of deployments. He felt like he was in one of those hallmark Christmas love story movies that he used to watch with his Nan, at the part where the guy realizes that the girl he loved the entire time is right in front of him but he’s been denying it because he was scared. Hell, the only thing Jake was scared of right now is you telling him you wanted to be just friends. 
You sat across from him, listening to him pour some of his heart out before the main course even arrived and once he was finished you just smiled “youre right, You do have one chance to not fuck this up royally…” You paused, mostly for dramatic effect but also to sip your wine and then continued “but you’re doing a pretty good job so far.” You watched as Jake let out a breath he had apparently been holding and gave him a small smile, which he returned tenfold, and the waiter brought over your main courses.
–
“I was mortified!” You laughed with Jake, sharing a piece of chocolate cake as dessert as he recounted the story of how he threw Maverick out of the bar and found out that it was his CO the following day. Dinner had been fantastic and full of great conversation between the two of you, you’d learned more about his family and he learned more about you. Now, as you shared a decadent dessert, you knew that trying not to fall for him would be impossible, because you’d already fallen so hard, and so fast. “Thank you, this was really nice.” You took one more lick of the sweet chocolate cake off your spoon as he waved the waiter over for the check and filled out his information while tucking the credit card into the pocket and handing it back. “You don’t have to thank me, just… let me take you out again, and be the only guy that can take you out, I don’t feel like fighting with Rooster for your attention.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips as he tucked his card back into his wallet “I have to give Rooster attention when he’s ordering drinks from me.” Jake wrinkled his nose “nah, just tell him to order them from Jimmy.” you smiled again and took his arm as he stood and offered it to you “Let me take you home, and hope to god that I can get a kiss goodnight on your front porch” You rested your head on his shoulder, keeping the soft smile on your lips. You were definitely giving him a goodnight kiss on your front porch.
He opened the door and helped you into the truck, just like he had when he picked you up, and when he climbed in on his side you reached across the console to hold his hand. He looked at your joined hands surprised but then smiled at you as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it softly, before turning the engine and starting the drive back to your place.
On the drive back, the cab of the truck was filled with your combined laughter as you both sang along to the radio - albeit badly. Jake held your hand the entire way home and you let him, as you were thinking about where you really wanted this to go. You thought about the nights coming home alone from the bar, and how many times you saw him leave with other women, how much it gutted you, and how you wished he didn’t give you the butterflies that he did. However now that his attention was all on you, things were different. As the truck slowed in front of your house, the air in the cab prickled with electricity. You looked over at Jake as he turned off the truck’s engine and his eyes met yours. Then he opened his door and made his way around to your side, opening the door and holding out his hand for you. Taking his hand he helped you out of the truck, and walked you up to the door.
“Well, I hope tonight exceeded your expectations of me” He shot you a cheeky smirk, but you could tell it was in earnest, and that he was nervous. You nodded and leaned back against your door, your hands folded behind you to hide the fact that your fingers were twitching to run through his hair and down his button up, a smile playing on your lips. “We should do it again sometime…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he nodded “yeah, I’d love to take you out again.” You looked up at him, admiring the straightness of his jaw, the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips, his eyebrows furrowed in thought or concentration, you weren’t sure, and the subsequent lines that were drawn across his forehead. You reached out with your fingers to lightly smooth those worry lines away as you took a small step closer to him and whispered “Are you going to kiss me goodnight?” He seemed to visibly relax under your touch as he slipped one hand to your waist, the other cupping your jaw and making you draw in a slight sharp breath. You felt so dainty in his hands, his fingertips brushing against the small hairs at the back of your neck as he held your jaw. Jake’s eyes searched your face for any sign of protest before leaning down and slanting his lips across yours and kissing you for the very first time.
--
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blood-grove ¡ 10 months ago
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unnatural bleeding
merfolk au!
previous <- part 4 -> next
parings: gaz x reader
chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost
tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn, rude reader.
a/n: THERE MEETING THERE MEETING :3
tags; @chickennn-soupp @cassiecasluciluce @sans-chara @lethargicluv 
Waking up again you were once again heavily confused shivering as you took a breath inhaling that familiar chemical scent.
Chemicals.
Chemicals?
It wasn't as strong as you remembered it the more you woke and regained feeling in your body you saw a fucking pool.
You were just nearby laying on a plastic hangover on the edge of it your tail hanging off the edge into the water.
Oh god.
Oh no.
Fuck
You pushed yourself up and pushed yourself into the pool before resurfacing your breathing picking up as you looked around the all to familar blank walls the one way glass mirror that didn't hide the feeling of eyes on you.
What?
No
No
No
-
Gaz winced as he watched the Mer panic, It was common for mer's who came from the ocean were usually not at all receptive to human intervention and or help.
The natural built in generational fear of humans made sense due the unsavory practices of the past due to myths stirred up way back then that there flesh brought youth back into you, that there fins were important ingredients for medicinal cures or just for high life luxury, and that they were just used as luxury pets.
He tried to not let his mind wonder any father as he glanced down to his notes biting his lip as he sighed just jotting down the usual panicked behavior internally hoping they'd still be tired from the sedative which they very much were as there panicked had died down to swimming around the barren pool.
Gaz huffed as he left the observation room and onto the observation deck a decent height above the pool his presence didn't go unnoticed as the mer's eye flicked over to him a deathly glare being sent at him.
Avoiding a splash sent up at him Gaz was unphased mostly jotting down notes now as the Mer calmed eventually now just watching him which he didn't at all mind gave him a better view of all of there body and tail jotting down specific markers and scars along the skin.
Looking back at his other Orca mer notes they had no features genetically similar to any of the other Orca's they've rehabbed at least in this area of the country and since they found them all alone he was to assume they either left there close familial group or was very much lost which was likely due to there injuries.
There's just no way there pod would have left them in such a state but at the same time after reviewing there injuries Gaz was unsure to say the least.
There injuries were way to aggressive to be a simple fight or struggle between prey and predator, Not specific enough for them to be from blades of a boat motor, And were also not specific enough for them to be a survivor of a failed poaching attempt.
Gaz sighed as he shifted on his feet glancing up from his notes and to the Mer which still stared at him.
"God's what happen to you.." He mumbled as he leaned against the railing the Mer had retreated back underwater seemingly bored with him now.
-
This was weird—
No this was wrong.
This human had been just watching you?
And doing whatever it was doing.
Should you stare back?
Maybe you'll freak it out.
You did not in fact freak it out and it was still doing something with that board.
This place didn't seem all too bad.
You couldn't smell the remnants of blood from past creatures like you could back there they never cleaned your holding pool enough to make that scent fade away sometimes it was strong enough that you could have sworn the corpses were just floating right next to you.
There has been cases when they tried to even partner you up with a another Mer for a chance at calming you.
You only had one incident for them to know you should be left isolated.
You didn't want to be alone.
But a noise brought you out of your mind.
"Hey? I uh..brought you food."
It was that human again from the dock now that you got a better look at him.
Weirdo.
You surfaced as you looked over at him.
He was in grabbing range.
But you rather not get punished.
Does this place do punishments?
It's not the old place.
Hm.
You eventually decided not to drown him and instead waiting as he got closer cautious with a bucket of Fish that didn't smell like it was decaying for one still fresh possibly been frozen as he pushed over the bucket allowing you to get closer to the edge of the pool as he backed up out of reach.
To say you were hungry was a understatement as you ate till you were full enough pushing the bucket back towards him squinting at him as he chuckled.
"You must of been starving huh?..I know this must be confusing but were all here to help."
Lies.
"I'll be back to feed you later in a couple of hours.."
Don't come back.
"..Alright see you later Scarface."
What?
That name confused you greatly but you chose to ignore it you've been called worse.
Oh god what if they start calling you that?
"[Name]"
The human stopped dead in his tracks as he looked back at you.
"[Name]?"
You nodded as he hummed.
"Mines Gaz or..Well Kyle."
"Stupid names."
He was bewildered for a moment before chuckling once more.
"Alright Scarface"
"Kyle"
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bunnyreaper ¡ 1 year ago
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thoughts on period sex with the 141 boys? i feel like they’re all ready willing and able since blood doesn’t bother them
i feel like price would be most likely to use his mouth. he's got experience, he's completely unphased and he knows his mouth can give you so much relief. he is so soft and gentle with you, setting you on a towel and telling you to relax as he sets his mouth to your clit and gets rid of those cramps through orgasm after orgasm. if his beard gets messy, he doesn't care too much, cleaning you up first and setting you down for a nap first before he tends to himself.
kyle would spoil you with everything you wanted, giving you snacks and watching your favourite movie with you even if he didn't like it. with your permission he'd then take you to the bed and massage you--making sure every part of you is relaxed and worshipped, before he works your clit with his fingers and makes you cum until you're happy and pain free.
johnny would use his silver tongue to soothe your fears and self-conciousness, promising you'll feel better if you just let him take care of you. he sits up against the bed frame and sets you in his lap, fucking you deep and kissing your pretty face the entire time. you can grind down on him however you like, and cum as much as you need to until you're on cloud nine.
and simon would take you in the shower, i don't think he'd be bothered by the blood but would appreciate the convenience. not only does he get on his knees to kiss every inch of you, he fucks you slowly from behind as he braces you against the shower wall, making sure you're worn out by the time he's done with you. he'd also wash your hair and scrub your body, taking perfect care of you
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xo-cod ¡ 1 year ago
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watching scary movies w price !
reader is scared of the movie lolz, ooc/rushed i already know ��� enjoy :) <3
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"you're missing the best part, sweetness" the deep baritone of his voice caressed your senses as he laughs, gently nudging you back in your seat from where you leaned into him a little from the jumpscares. you usually would've melted at his voice had the cocky undertone not been present in it, challenging you.
"i hate this movie" your grumble fills his ears as you looked back to the tv reluctantly, a frown creasing your forehead. he just softly smiles as he takes you in, noticing all the small details across your face with pure love
"oh god he's gone in the basement" you wince at the movie a little, silently cursing yourself for ever agreeing to watch a horror movie with price who looked utterly amused at your state. he had to resist a laugh when you tried to cover your ears subtly, the sudden sounds making you jump
"you're not scared of the movie are you, gorgeous?" he teases, poking your side a little while you rolled your eyes frowning at him. clearly this movie hadn't impacted at him at all, he looked almost bored as he sat there watching it. but you on the other hand, oh he could look at you and find a million things fascinating
"john" your whine elicits another laugh from him and once he's deemed you've had enough, he bundles you up in the blanket, pressed against his chest. his lap is huge and warm, your arms immediately go around his front to steady yourself while you feel him press gently kisses to your forehead. he seemed completely unphased by the screams and shouts coming from movie, instead his focus is solely upon you. his natural musk mixed with tinges of his cigar fill your nose, he smells comforting. warm. home
"i know i should take this off..." price begins, looking back the movie and then back to you with a teasing glint sparkling in his eyes "but you look so bloody cute hanging onto me, i can't help it"
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the-s1lly-corner ¡ 1 year ago
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alright, so i completely understand if you don't wanna do this since you have been getting a lot of tadc requests, so feel free to leave this in your inbox for a while but its worth a shot i guess.
tadc x angel reader? but im not talking about the cute and adoring ones, moresore the bibical angel type. kind of like principalities angels if you know what that is. scary stuff.
thanks for all that you do btw, i love your writing and as a fanfiction writer myself im amazed at how quickly your able to pump out requests
thanks for reading
TADC cast x angel!reader !
took me a hot minute to find it but someone asked for the same/very similar request for zooble so!! that post is going to be linked in place of their segment! yahoo! uhuhuhuh!! admin must admit, he does not know much about actual angel lore so hes gonna be real loose with this </3 aaaand to the last part!! its the silliness... i cant contain it... sobs...
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CAINE:
now i dont know what kind of personality the reader has, but imagine your wings stick out and fluff up when he decides hes bold enough to compliment, or even flirt with you... has probably led to him getting smacked by your wings and being sent flying... the price of being small, sadly... though he did kind of have it coming for standing where he was/j
sometimes, you guys fly together, since caine very rarely walks around on the ground and kind of just glides around... its nice having someone who can accompany him around... doesnt think your intimidating, if anything he thinks you look interesting... hes probably unphased by most of the forms circus members may take, though its rare you get someone who does look unsettling... shrugs
POMNI:
honestly probably a little intimidated, and perhaps even unnerved in the beginning. like not in the "im deeply uncomfortable" way but more like "oh. so thats a thing" if that makes sense? does try to be nice and kind to you, though, since she does understand that this isnt what you really look like and you cant really... control it... probably has sneezed from the feathers of your wings, if you have any.. in fact you might have accidentally smacked her with them, since shes so small.. you didnt mean to..! honest! caine and pomni just got cursed with the shortness... no thoughts, only angel reader protectively shielding someone with their wings, this can apply to any of the characters... probably one of my favorite tropes for characters with large wings tbh
RAGATHA:
if you can swap out your clothes or have clothes that are detachable (since clothes are canonically stuck to the bodies) shes definitely going to make you some clothing that you can easily slip over your wings, and still have them out! plus spending time with you making the measurements and trying out patterns and fabric is nice! thinks your wings are soft... probably a little put off by your appearance and vibe at first, but ragatha being ragatha shes not going to let it bother her for long, and she makes sure youre welcomed to the circus with open arms... i mean its not like you have a choice to leave... may as well be as inviting as possible..!
JAX:
drum roll please! its the admins favorite jax headcannon that always rears its head in whenever the admin writes a reader who has some extra body part or fluff or accessories or a combination! the fidget/fiddle headcannon! this man is likely going to stroke and mess with your wings, a lot. congrats, youre his new fidget toy/j. has probably accidentally, or perhaps no so accidentally, pulled a feather out. granted im not sure how much it would hurt, i think it would be akin to plucking hair with a tweezer, but the point still stands..! has probably asked you to fly him up somewhere... totally not so he can do some mischief... probably doesnt know much about angels (like the admin LMAO) and probably labels you as like. sterotypical cartoon angel personality (forgiving, kind, good, ect. basically everything that isnt jax/j) but whether or not thats true its up to you... though it would be a little funny for the person who looks like an angel being a trickster... shrugs
KINGER:
FEAR!!! okay... well i think thats a given when theres a new circus member around, since kinger is a little... eh... you know? probably takes some time to warm up to you, but given how he speaks to pomni in the pilot within the first few minutes of her being there, i dont think it would take long for him to approach you. definitely polite, probably even more so thanks to your angelic appearance. mmngh.. soft feathers... shares the jax fidget headcannon with the silly chess piece... bonus if you actually are really kind and protective, this man would be hovering around you since you kind of represent comfort to him... thinks...
ZOOBLE:
right here!
GANGLE:
while most of the others are a little intimidated i think gangle actually likes the aesthetics of angels. maybe thats just the artist in her; like every artist ive met either has a soft spot for angel or demon characters... sometimes both.. admins no exception, its like. mandatory artist trait/j
i had a winged reader request somewhere, where gangle puts the readers fallen feathers into art work and gifts it to them. kind of like how people used to put the hair of their loved ones in jewelry... i think that would also apply to an angel reader! similar to kinger, if youre protective shes going to gravitate towards you... given that shes made of ribbon and fragile... and because of SOOOOOMEONE (glares at jax)... very nice dynamic/relationship material here, me thinks
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forestshadow-wolf ¡ 2 years ago
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Ghost walks into the kitchen with soap koala bear clinging to his back. He acts like it's totally normal, like there isn't a 5'8(?) 200(?)lbs man on his back.
everyone just stops and stares and ghost just turns around like, "wot? never seen a man make tea before?"
soap on his back just grinning, and snuggling further into ghost's back
gaz is completely unphased
and price is just exhausted dad
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pekoehoneyncream ¡ 3 months ago
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Ghoaptober # 18
Prompt: Secret
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Words: 1000~
TW: None (sfw)
This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels
I realized that I'd been neglecting Gaz throughout this series and decided to remedy that. I think he'd have preferred if I'd left him alone.
Enjoy!
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Ghost slid onto the bench across the table from Gaz. From the moment he’d come into the officer’s mess hall and had clocked Gaz’s presence, he’d kept an unbroken unblinking stare on the Sergeant. Soap was keeping a secret and Ghost knew that Gaz knew what it was. The only reason that Ghost hadn’t had a breakdown over Soap keeping something from him was the fact that Johnny was being very upfront about it, outright saying that he didn’t want to share whatever it was yet.
That was all well and good, but then, almost one month into forcing himself to respect Soap’s right to have privacy, Gaz started acting squirrely. Avoiding Ghost, cutting himself off mid-sentence and dancing around an -oddly diverse- array of topics. All but screaming that he was in on it. 
Whatever it was. 
An awkward flush climbed higher and higher up Gaz’s neck the longer he was caught under Ghost’s ungenerous scrutiny. He started pushing his food around on his plate, taking more and more time between each bite as his appetite fled before Ghost’s predatory gaze. 
“Hey, Ghost,” Gaz eventually greeted with poorly feigned calm.
“Garrick.” Ghost acknowledged flatly. He knew that Gaz talked more with active listeners, he liked it when people vocalized along with what he was saying, and Ghost needed Gaz feeling chatty. 
“What’s up,” Gaz kept his eyes locked on Ghost, his training demanding that he not take his eyes off a potential threat, “You gettin’ something to eat?” 
“Nah,” Ghost dismissed, “Not after food.” 
“Yeah?” Gaz questioned, his hopes that this would be a normal conversation visibly dying behind his eyes, “Did you need me for something?”
“You know what I want.” Ghost threw down the metaphorical gauntlet, leaning forward to brace his forearms on the table, “And you’re gonna tell me.” 
Gaz forced himself to not lean back, or scan the room for cover and escape routes. Showing any weakness right now would be a death sentence. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He bluffed, subconsciously straightening up in his seat.
“Yes you do.” Ghost threw back in his face, unphased by Gaz’s posturing, “I’m gonna find out either way, so why don’t make this less painful for everyone and just tell me.” 
Gaz’s eyes started flickering between Ghost’s, and the Lieutenant knew he was on the edge of fessing up. He leaned back to scan the room for witnesses -there were none, Ghost had carefully timed it so they were alone- and Ghost knew he’d won. 
“How did you know?” Gaz hissed, leaning close to Ghost over the table.
“It was obvious.” Ghost lied, not bothering to lower his voice. 
“Obvious!” Gaz shrilled, “But we were so careful.”
Ghost responded with only a derisive head tilt. Silently implying that he thoroughly disagreed. 
“Okay, okay,” Gaz capitulated, “But you can’t tell anyone.” 
With only his eyes showing, you’d think the amount of scorn Ghost could wordlessly express would be limited. Not so. 
“Yeah, okay,” Gaz could admit that wasn’t his brightest moment, “I’ve been asking him out since, like, February, right? And in August he finally said that we could ‘give it a try’, so I’ve been working super hard to-” 
“Wait. Wait.” Ghost exclaimed, his voice sharp with betrayal, “You asked out Johnny and he said yes?!” 
“What? No!” Gaz denied, leaning away from Ghost, who looked ready to climb over the table and murder him, “Price! I asked out Price!” 
“Price?” Ghost repeated, sitting back into his seat, entirely confused. What did Price have to do with anything?
“Yeah, we’ve been fucking for years-,”
“Right.” Ghost acknowledged.
“and that was never all that I wanted from him, but I couldn’t- What do you mean ‘Right’,” Gaz cut himself off, “You knew!?”
“Of course I knew,” Ghost answered, a defensive edge creeping into his voice, “That really was obvious. I was talking about whatever Johnny’s hiding.”
“What, his new tattoo?” Gaz blurted.
“Ky!” Came Soap’s dismayed cry, “Ah told ye no’ tae tell him!” 
Ghost and Gaz whipped around, baffled to find Soap at the end of their table, a tray of food in hand. How long had he been stood there?
“Did you know about Price and me?” “You got another tattoo?”
They spoke over each other, both demanding an answer. 
“Whit? Tha’ ye’ve been ridin’ the Cap for years?” Soap addressed Gaz as he set his food on the table and sat down next to Ghost, “Didnae ken ye were tryin’ tae hide it.”
Gaz let his head drop onto the dubiously clean surface of the mess table, clamping his arms over his ears and tenting his hands over his head. Letting out a muffled, but no less heartfelt, groan of despair. 
“A tattoo, Johnny?” Ghost repeated, staring at Soap with pitifully sad eyes. 
“Aye, quit y'ur mopin’. Was gonnae show ye when it was healed.” Soap grumbled, stabbing mutinously as his food, “Was meant tae be a surprise, but Garrick ruined tha’.”
“Can you show me now?” Ghost inveigled, batting those pretty brown eyes that he knew Soap loved. Not that he wouldn’t adamantly deny ever doing any such thing.
“No’ here,” Soap caved with a sigh, “It’s no’ in a guid spot fer tha’, but I’ve a pic' ye can see.”
Ghost watched Soap with rapt attention as he dug his personal phone out of his pockets and navigated to his gallery, handing the phone to Ghost once he’d found the photo he wanted. Cradling the phone, Ghost stared down at what he recognized to be the -previously unmarked- skin of Johnny’s left inner thigh. Inked there now was an exact replica of a knife. Ghost’s knife. The cherry on top being the addition of their anniversary date printed in clear numbers along the spine of the blade. 
“Si?” Soap asked hesitantly after Ghost had sat unmoving for a worryingly long moment, “Do ye no’ like it?”
Ghost’s head snapped up. He stared blankly into Soap’s stressed blue eyes for a beat, then burst into motion. Shoving the phone into one of his pockets, he stood from the table and hauled Johnny up with him. He headed out the doors and towards his room at a quick clip, dragging his unresisting boyfriend along behind him.
The both of them leaving a mortified Gaz alone in the mess to wallow and mourn his burning worldview without a second thought.
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Thank You For Reading!
Poor Gaz, getting called out like that.
PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist
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socially-awkward-skeleton ¡ 3 days ago
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Chapter 8 - Blow the House Down
[Also Available on AO3]
Shadow Dance Masterlist
Summary: The remaining members of the 141 stage a prison break to free Soap, Ghost, and Los Vaqueros from being "detained" by Graves and Shadow Co.
Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, character with trauma, established relationship, military inaccuracies, canon-typical violence, includes some in-game dialogue
Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)
Word count: 4.1 K
A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV
November 3, 2022 04:57 - Las Almas, Mexico
The hazy gray of dawn slowly began to lighten the sky, yet the golden gleam of the sun remained absent. Cloud cover built overnight acting as the fuel to be burned away in the tinder box of morning radiance. 
From the depths of the receding darkness of the night, the purring engines of two white vans raced down a dirt road, flood lights shining a path towards the exfil point, scorching a hole through the bleak black around them. Skidding to a halt just outside the prison walls, the desert’s powdery sand scattered up behind them and drifted down past the headlights, caught in the rays of the high beams as they parked beside an abandoned vehicle. A chorus of gunfire in the distance greeted them as bullets sliced indiscriminately through the air. Thunder claps of ammunition exiting the chamber rolled over the vast landscape of rocks, cacti, and wild grass, echoing out and silencing the cries of coyotes and the calls of owls. 
Three figures in shadow exited the vehicles, heading towards the prison walls. Their heads on a swivel, eyes peeled for possible enemy activity as they scurried towards their point of access. It seemed as though Shadow Co. was being kept busy, and considering the other vehicle left to the side, someone else must have taken it upon themselves to stage a coup against Graves, an attempt at cutting the head off the snake, one that acted as the perfect distraction for the other members of the 141.
Price’s strides were long and purposeful as he led the way into danger, relaying the rules of engagement to the two soldiers in his wake before they started for the top of the wall. “Expect heavy enemy fire. Take only the shots you need,” he said with a quick glance over his shoulder at Rory, his eyes sharp. “We’re here to get our people out, not clear the zone – this is an extraction, not an offensive.” 
With ropes and ascenders in tow, they made their way up to the top of the wall of the fortress of a prison. Watchtowers stood guard to their left and right, overlooking the prison yard of weathered cement and weeds prying their way through the cracks, sprouting into overgrown shrubs. Below, the distant flashes of muzzle flares glimmered across the ground like fireflies dancing at dusk, burning motes of light traveling in the gloom of the coming morning. 
Bonfire Night had come early, and they had arrived just in time to enter the fray. 
Taking position behind the barrier of concrete, Rory lowered to a kneeling position, placing her rifle on the cover wall. Searching through her scope, she caught sight of the white bone of Ghost’s mask as he, Soap, and the members of Los Vaqueros fought their way through the Shadow Company resistance against them. “We’ve got friendlies coming from our one o’clock,” she called out.
“I see ‘em,” Gaz confirmed while scanning the battle zone below. “They’ve got company.”
Enemy combatants waited for them, scattered throughout the field that the escapees would be forced to cut through. Enough bodies to make it a problem.
Taking a steadying breath, Rory tapped her practiced finger against the trigger and the bullet collided with the back of a Shadow’s thigh while hiding behind cover. A pained groan carried across the expanse of open asphalt, his reaction leaving him open to another rear assault. Without wasting a moment as he dropped, unphased by the quiet tinkling of her bullet casing dancing across the ground, she lined up the angle and with a precision hit, cleared the x-ray from the route.
“Keep that up, Ror,” Price barked approvingly. “I want that route kept clear.”
With a nod, she returned to the comfort of her scope. But that old, reliable feeling of the weight of a weapon in her hands didn’t last long as the low hum of rotors coming to life alerted the group to the appearance of a helicopter heralded by their arrival. 
Soaring overhead – all black, predatory – hunting them down, it swooped in low. The searchlight washed them in bright, white light, stinging their eyes while hair and clothing whipped violently against them under the current blasted from rapidly spinning blades.  
“Focus on that field, Lieutenant,” Price commanded in a hoarse bark, raising his voice above the sound of the aircraft to be heard. The brim of his boonie hat fluttered and flapped as he readied his weapon, tucking it tight against him and taking aim. “Gaz and I’ve got the bird.”
There were times when she could tune out the whole world while staring down her rifle, a reprieve from the continuous noise of her head that she had learned to get along with. Finding the calming point of peace as everything else blurred into white noise. This, however, was not one of those times. The controlled chaos that ensued only increased their chances of success, Shadow Co. were caught with their pants down and they were all too happy to take advantage of that. 
Streaks of fire shot out towards the enemy helicopter from the field opposite them, burning comets in the sky of hot lead ricocheting off the fuselage, sparking against the metal and pinpointing the exact location of their allied forces. Joining forces with the concentrated bullet spray of Gaz and Price’s weapons – the combined weight of heavy fire still wasn’t enough to bring it down.
The loud pinging in Rory’s ears of bullets not quite making their mark caused her to squint, gritting her teeth while reacting to something akin to nails on a chalkboard. A high pitched screech that pinched at the very nerves in her gums, sending shivers to course up her spine and lock her ligaments. Clearing her head with a sharp intake of breath, her lungs holding just to the edge of aching, she once more fired out into the black abyss below and was met with another cry of agony.
“All stations, this is Bravo-6,” Price shouted his orders over the radio, his low growl carrying over the prison barracks walls. “Get down!”
A grenade lobbed into the hovering chopper and the resulting explosion finally caused it to lose control, the fire spreading through the cockpit and flooding the interior like a sinking ship. Crashing into a nearby wall, swallowed up in a giant cloud of smoke and flame, the stench of fuel rose up into the air along with the thick, black fumes that darkened the sky once more. 
“All Bravo and Vaqueros… Top o’ the wall. Get here and I’ll get you out. How copy?”
“Loud and clear, Price. Comin’ to ya…!” 
Ghost’s gravelly voice responding over the comms had her breathing a small sigh of relief. They weren’t anywhere near to being in the free and clear, but it was a small concession she would keep a tight grasp of.
The glint of a green flare sparking to life caught out of the corner of Rory’s eye as Price tossed it down to the ground below, grabbing the attention of their team. The caustic, potent stench of burnt rubber spewing forth as the gas burned off to light the way, mingling with that of the wreckage in the corner – the fiery mass of metal like a solar flare in her scope. 
“Be advised, ropes deployed. Find ‘em and climb.”
“Roger, that.”
The friction squeal of Soap and Ghost’s ascenders on the ropes grew louder as the braided nylon became taut, the two men rising to the top of the wall, vulnerable while Shadow continued firing off potshots towards them. 
Her rifle continued in a rapid succession of percussive bangs as bodies dropped like crumpling ragdolls around the field, sacks of meat and marrow made obsolete with a bullet. Lives taken all in service of keeping her team alive and well. It was a common thing for her not to feel much remorse while taking on the enemy, having learned to ignore that voice in her head repulsed by the thought of killing, teaching herself to see it as inconsequential. Calcification of her conscience. Her or them. But in this case, knowing these were traitors – even if simply following orders like she did – made it all the more simple to shred them with each perfectly positioned shot. As the enemy popped out of cover, it became a game of whack-a-mole, a carnival shooting gallery of targets. Easy picking. Her heart rate maintained at a steady beat as rescue efforts went on around her, letting it all fade into the background, a muted distraction. Take aim, take a deep breath, hold, and then fire. 
The first heavy tactical boot made contact with the edge of the wall with the rough scuff of sole on weathered cement, and the breeze ruffled through the dark fluff of Soap’s mohawk as he reached the heights at the peak of the wall, the rough leather of his gloved hand reaching out to meet Price’s as he was pulled up. Flood lamps above cut sharp streaks of fluorescent light over the sergeant’s face, showing off the weary lines etched around his eyes. His gear stained with blood, it was clear Shadow hadn’t made things easy. 
“Sergeant MacTavish,” John greeted, voice hoarse and rasping like steel wool. His hand rested on Soap’s shoulder, giving one of his trademark pats – ever the handler to his pack of unruly mutts. 
“Good to see you, Captain.”
Soap’s Scottish brogue was an oddly comforting sound after everything that had come to light with Shepherd and Graves, and hearing it, even over her shoulder as Rory continued to fire, made any worries about him and Ghost being in danger instantly fade, settling whatever nerves were hidden under the mask of calm control. 
She rose, rifle in hand, and rested her foot on the wall, the small chunks of chipped away cement crumbling under her foot. Glancing away from her scope for a moment, she tipped her head to the side and made visual contact with the big, blue puppy eyes of MacTavish. “Good to see you in one piece, sergeant.”
A wry grin curled the Scot’s lips, tipping his head eastward. “Ah, ‘the missus’. Thought y’ were supposed t’ be in North Africa, Lamb?”
She hummed, adjusting the rifle in her arms. “Heard your arse needed saving.” Returning to her duty, she changed the angle of her fire, focusing on shorter range, and picked off the Shadows who had closed in around the escaping soldiers. Her bullets buzzed past members of the Los Vaqueros, skillfully missing them, even in tight confines as they lined up to get to the ropes dangling over the edge of the prison wall. 
Shadow forces under fire retreated to the safety of walls, towers, and roofs – Cockroaches, she thought with a sneer, the lot of them. Men and women that were hand selected by Graves himself. Knowing the sort of man he was made her question just what these soldiers were willing to do, what lines they might straddle, others they might cross, and it all made something inside her tense. It took a certain type of person to become a PMC, to pull away from the rigidity of governed rules, the type of person who wanted to make their own. Breaking free of the structure, the form…
Given pause for a moment, her stomach clenched, that quiet voice in the back of her head a timid whisper about whether she was any different at all. She had gone in with good intentions, but that had paved the way to hell. All too aware of what she was capable of, handpicked by Price, willing to forgo the usual channels to complete a mission–
The brief moment of reflection under a starry sky and with bloodshed down below was quickly swallowed back down. Sometimes it was best not to think on those sorts of things.
The next boot met their position with a heavy thud, the weight of a walking fridge behind it, as a long leg swung over the barrier. Rifle hugged tight to his chest, the same way Rory held hers, Ghost scanned their surroundings from on high, dark eyes behind the mask penetrating the gloom below, quietly observing, meeting Gaz’s greeting with a curt nod.
“Garrick. Price.” Ghost’s attention lowered on Rory’s back as she maintained cover fire. “Nice shootin’, Sinclair.” 
“I do my best,” she muttered while taking out another Shadow with a clean shot to the chest. Soap looked between Price, Gaz, and Rory still laying down fire, a hint of confusion in the lines of his brow and around his eyes as he caught his breath. “How’d you know?” “Laswell,” Gaz replied. “Soon as Shepherd went dark, she called us.”
“Laswell, still solid as a rock,” Ghost said, the usual stoicism giving way to a hint of pride hidden behind the handsewn skeletal visage.
As the squad caught up, the Vaqueros began their ascension, beginning with – who Rory assumed was the leader – a grim looking man, his stubbly jaw clenched tight, eyes burning with fire. The sting of betrayal and the need for revenge after being imprisoned by a former ally cut into every sharp edge of his features. 
Soap, seemingly friendly with the man, gave the introductions. “Colonel Vargas, meet Captain Price, Lieutenant Sinclair, and Sergeant Garrick.”
“Thanks for the assist –” Vargas glanced over his shoulder at the sound of yet another shot going off and the cry of pain that followed it reaching his ears, studying Rory for a moment, brow cocking as he watched her catch stray Shadows and keep his men alive. “Suppose you’ve been the one keeping my men under cover fire, huh?”
She pulled back from her scope, releasing the extractor as another casing fell to the ground and chimed softly at her feet. “Suppose so.”
A half grin curled his lips, showing off sparkling teeth. “I’m impressed,” Vargas said, nodding his head. “You’re one hell of a marksman, Señora.”
“Guess that’s why the Captain keeps me around,” she said with a smirk, flipping the wave of hair that fell in front of her eyes back, and glancing past Alejandro’s shoulder at Price, holding his stare until he dragged his tempest gaze away from her, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk curling the corner of his mouth.
“Well, perhaps I could assist,” Alejandro said, immediately getting into position beside her and helping to lay cover fire down for his men against Shadow Company. “Cheers,” she said with a grin that had yet to fade from her face. “Happy for it.”
There were still at least a dozen men below that needed to climb, moving targets for the Shadow forces to take aim at, while the others remained corralled together. Fish in a barrel. Her hand tightened its grip on her weapon, holding it steady against her as she observed the muzzle flares flashing like fireworks before the sound of the gunshots met them. No longer facing singular guards and scouts, there were now roving packs to contend with.  Armored vehicles. Snipers. 
“Gaz, Soap, Ghost – Overwatch – Now!” Price commanded.
A storm of lightning and thunder held contained within prison barracks rained down. Pot shots taken at the wall sent dust and debris falling like hail into the faces of the men trying to climb to safety. Chaos swirled and explosions rang out as soon as Soap got his hands on a grenade launcher, nearly vibrating with excitement over the newfound artillery power. 
The ground shook, rumbling up below their feet as the tectonics of the battlefield shifted, becoming aggravated, an open wound. For everything Shadow threw at them, they met it in kind, holding them off. 
“Got snipers on the roof.” Price growled. “Take ‘em out, Ror.”
“My pleasure.”
Her rifle swung to the left, taking into account the new wind speed and direction as it breezed over the peaks of her cheeks and tousled the loose waves of her hair. Lining up her shot, crosshairs set, eyes narrowed, seconds felt like hours as she listened to the steady rhythm of the beat of blood in her ears – like holding a shell and hearing the ocean. Her gloved finger whispered over the metal of the trigger, and with a sharp breath sucked between gritted teeth, the air was punched from the enemy sniper’s lungs, their life taken in the blink of an eye. 
The wall they had claimed steadily filled with escapees, and once the last man had reached the top, Price pulled back from his firing position. It was time to pull out. This wasn’t the war, it was just a staging area, one that let them see the enemy in action, spot their weaknesses and plan how to use it against them. 
Pointing out the ropes they had entered with, Price barked out his orders, “Down the wall. We are leaving!” 
Repelling down with ease, soldiers streamed over the wall to freedom on the other side. One after another, boots hit the sand, weapons kept at the ready. Until the prison was out of sight, they weren’t clear of danger. 
In the distance, the sky had become a deep indigo blue with the coming morning as a sliver of orange cut across the horizon line. Fire in the sky stretching out, slowly climbing above the mountain ridge. Each fine, tensile ray like the sharp edge of a blade slicing through the darkness that blanketed the land.
Soldiers lined up, waiting at the bottom of the wall for the Captain to arrive – always the first into a foxhole and the last to leave – it was just one of the many things that he did that commanded the respect of his team. The reminder that there were still those that held some sort of honor in a world full of liars, cheaters, and traitors. People desperate for strength, power… control. Things that seemed to seep from Price’s very pores, exuding from him – a born leader. They trusted him to have their backs, to not leave them behind and he had never failed in that duty.
Uncoupling himself from the rope upon making landfall, Price’s heavy brow furrowed as he looked out towards the horizon. With a command, the group split into two, retreating into the safe confines of the vehicles there to extract them with the same rush as a holiday crowd through an airport. 
Climbing into the passenger seat up front, Rory took her spot beside Gaz behind the wheel. The vehicle rumbled forward, his hands steady at ten and two, following Alejandro in the other van as they were led to safe harbor where they could amass for the next front. The mission had become more than just a search for missiles – another end of the western world threat – the lives of their own had been made into fodder so others didn’t have to face the consequences.
Glancing over at Garrick, the rising streak of sunbeam blazed like a molten core amongst umber as he watched the road ahead, the fierceness having grown behind his eyes since the first time she had met him. His stare was now as focused and piercing as the Captain’s. Coming into his own, it was a remarkable thing to witness. He was as much a soldier as the rest of them were, the war they were about to face just as personal to him. 
Tight jaws, scowls, and narrowed eyes abounded in the vehicle. The electric buzz of anger rolling like a charged current around them. Would have been easier if they just came clean to start with, if they hadn’t been sent on a wild goose chase, she thought, eyes fixed on the rear lights of the vehicle in front of them. Tidying messes was something she had gotten used to in her career – the dustpan and broom of colonial powers – but it was the sheer hubris behind Shepherd’s actions that annoyed her most. A man who had grown far too used to thinking himself above it all, the untouchable, as if the law and truth held no sway over him. That he was incapable of being punished for the things he felt he had a right to do because he was under some false impression he knew what was best. 
A reflexive twitch shot through her, fingers curling into a fist on the armrest of her seat. She had come face to face with men like that before, seen the monstrous things they were capable of. Men who deemed themselves worthy of the power they had amassed. Violent means were an easy tool for them to cling to, the lives of others meant little in the path of their own personal crusade. For greed, for dominance… for trying to do a little good in a world of bad. Her eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and landed on the back of John’s head before meeting her own reflection glancing back at her. 
Fuck, need a cigarette. Anything to ignore the hypocrisy that swirled in her thoughts, jaws of razor sharp teeth that lay in wait, ones she still tried to pretend weren’t there despite claiming the opposite. 
“Shepherd burned us.” 
Ghost’s rasping voice filled the back of the van, contempt rife in every word, drawing her back into the here and now, tearing her from the inside of her head before she was dragged down into the bog of things she buried deep. 
“He sent Graves and his Shadows to kill us and round up Los Vaqueros.”
“We know why.”
“The missiles,” Rory started, filling in the void Price had left behind, looking back over her shoulder at the two hulking squad mates they had just saved. “The ones you found. They weren’t supposed to be out in the wild. It was a mistake. One Shepherd and Graves are both at fault for. You lads and Los Vaqueros just happened to be the unlucky recipients of their efforts at trying to bury it.”
“Bury it?” Soap snarled, dark brows knitting with the deep set furrow between them. 
She nodded, her eyes flitting to Price, noting the rigid lines of his shoulders. He was stewing in silent rage. She could only imagine the thoughts brewing behind the eyes that gave nothing away, a placid surface hiding jagged points of ice and cruel riptides. “And you weren’t the only ones,” she added, glancing over at Soap. “You were right about how I should still have been in Africa. The mission I’d been on, the one to collect Botha, ties right back into this. Hassan had come to him first to transport the missiles to America. Had information that could have saved us a lot of trouble.” Rory turned back to face the road they drove on, her voice a low murmur of regret, “He ended up dead because of it.”
“Steamin’ Jesus. What the hell is Shepherd doin’?”
“He’s like most at the top, Johnny.” Ghost sat stiff against his seat, his mass locked down and only his head on a swivel. “Ready to drop ya at a moment’s notice t’ keep ‘imself in power.”
If Shepherd thought this was the best course of action to clean up his mistake, he had been dead wrong. He’d only gone and made things impossible for himself, gaining the ire of a whole squad of soldiers who had done all manner of questionable things in their careers in order to meet the successful end of a mission. A foolish thing, indeed. It wasn’t like they hadn’t all come with their own reputations when he had backed the creation of the taskforce. A captain who had been sent into brutal conflicts all over the planet, making the tough decisions no one else wanted to, ruthless in his endeavors, a man only an absolute numpty would want to make an enemy of. Two lieutenants who had both been through their own versions of hell, facing torture and pain, who knew what was necessary to survive at all costs. And two sergeants, while young, full of piss and vinegar, and not yet quite as cynical as their veteran leaders, were treading the same path into the bowels of the dark parts of the world few others ever saw. 
Shepherd was in for one hell of a reckoning.
“That’s why we’re going to take him and Graves out of the picture,” Price husked, his head angling sharply to the side. “Get rid of a problem before it gets worse.” His glare darkened, the cold machine of a soldier ever present in those bottomless steely blue eyes. “Then we focus on Hassan.”
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captain-bubble-wrap ¡ 5 days ago
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ik it's not your usual, but could you do a sway imagine? literally any scenario <3 ty!!!
OMG, I LOVE SWAY! Also, apologies ahead of time for this Hallmark moment. I was listening to sappy, Korean love songs and it got pretty cheesy.
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You were lost. 
Even with Google Maps you were still lost, and in Boston of all cities. Panic had set in a while ago and that clawing feeling of an anxiety attack was causing your heart to thump almost painfully. Why you thought exploring by yourself had been a good idea, you weren’t so sure of now. The only saving grace was that you were close enough to downtown that there was surely someone around that could help you, if only you had the strength to actually ask for it. This year was supposed to be the year you stepped out of your comfort zone, however it was proving more of a struggle than you had initially anticipated. 
Again, you tried your phone, but the bookstore you had found on Instagram wasn’t where Maps had sent you. You really didn’t know where you were now and that was what scared you the most. You were in Boston for the holidays and supposed to go to a Bruins game tomorrow, but the way you felt right now, you just wanted to rot in your hotel until it was time for you to fly home. Your anxiety was starting to make you feel like everyone was looking at you. In reality, nearly nobody had noticed you except to walk around. 
Though it was a bad idea, you decided to keep walking, in the hopes of maybe just being a street off of where the shop really was, or finding something new to preoccupy your time and calm your nerves. However, as luck would have it, walking further from where you thought you should be just made your dread spike, made you want to start running. Run where? Honestly, it didn’t really matter. That was the trouble with your anxiety: it made you completely irrational, and being irrational in an unfamiliar city was a lose-lose situation. Something you’d find out soon enough. 
Standing on a corner, bundled in your thickest winter coat, you stared at the cross-walk icon to change. It felt like it had been stuck on STOP for an eternity. Your heart was counting the seconds with heavy thuds in both of your ears, but they were going at double the rate that time ticked by. You were going to need a drink if this kept up. Maybe if you had brought your headphones, things would have been better, but you had left them behind, wanting to make sure you could hear everything without obstruction and avoid being in an accident, or worse...
You took out your phone again when the icon changed to WALK. The battery was draining because of the navigation app yet you didn’t close it. As you were looking down, still walking blindly, you caught the shoulder of a man passing in the opposite direction. It wasn’t enough force to knock you down, but it did turn you slightly in the direction of whoever it was you had hit. 
“I am so, so sorry!” You gushed, gloved fingers covering your mouth as you looked towards the man. 
In the collision, the coffee he had been carrying was knocked from his hand, steaming now against the cold pavement. You felt awful. 
“Are you okay?” He asked, completely unphased by the rude awakening. “I’m sorry, I should have been paying more attention. I didn’t spill that on you, did I?”
He took a moment to check your shoulder and arm, but didn’t see anything on you. You half expected him to yell at you, be all in your face because you had been the one so oblivious while staring at your phone. Instead, he was apologetic and honestly more worried about you than his over-priced coffee. 
“No, it’s all my fault. May I give you some money for that? Again, I’m so sorry.”
“Money for what? That coffee?” He shook his head. “I didn’t need it anyway, if I’m being honest.” 
He would smile at you, but you didn’t know why. Inside you were screaming; trying to keep it together so you didn’t start crying in front of this stranger. 
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Repeated the man, his head slightly cocked to the side as he looked at you from behind dark lenses. By now, people were having to walk around the two of you, to avoid getting into the street or the full cup of coffee that had spread everywhere. He reached out, sensing something was wrong and gently guided you up against the storefront you were standing in front of. 
You kept your eyes down; your emotions were getting the better of you and you were struggling to remain normal. 
“Really, I’m not upset,” he reassured, raising the glasses a top his head. “No big deal at all.”
For whatever reason, him saying that everything was okay made you look up. That’s when you realized just who he was. 
“Oh my god, I know who you are!” You said in shock more than excitement. 
Jeremy smiled, surprised it had taken him removing his sunglasses to be discovered. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Kind of, yeah! I’m so sorry, Jeremy!”
The Boston Bruins were your Dad’s favourite hockey team growing up, and naturally had been adopted as your team later in life. You knew who the players were, and you had practically just walked head-first into the Bruins’ star goalie! How long would it take for this shame to leave you? Probably never; this was the kind of stuff that would haunt you each time you tried to go to sleep. 
He chuckled, smile wider now, “I take it you’re not from Boston.”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. You apologize too much, and I mean that politely.” 
"Sor--,” you moved to say again but stopped yourself. What were you supposed to do now? Did you apologize one more time and then take off at a sprint down the street, or see if there was a sewer drain you could fall into? “I’m really sorry I wasn’t paying attention. Are you sure I can’t replace your coffee?”
He stepped forward to retrieve the empty cup and lid, now that the foot traffic had thinned out. “Nah, it’s fine. Like I said, I could go without one every now and again.” 
You bit your lip. Even if he said he didn’t need it, you couldn’t help but feel like he might still have wanted it. “Okay.”
“You didn’t answer me, though, when I asked if you were alright.”
“Oh, um...sure. I, uh, well, no.” Your word salad had caused Jeremy to raise an eyebrow. “I’m lost. I was looking at my phone to see what was in the area and that’s why I didn’t see you.” 
"I was on mine, too. Guilty,” he laughed. “What were you looking for? Maybe I can help?”
Was Jeremy Swayman actually asking to help you find your way around the city? You were beginning to wonder if you hadn’t hit your head and just didn’t remember. 
“I’m sure you have better things to do. I’ll figure it out.” You smiled, trying to kindly decline his offer to avoid wasting anymore of his time. 
“I have time,” he pressed. “Just killing some time before practice. C’mon, you can buy me that coffee and I’ll see if I can help. Fair?” 
His wink made you so weak at the knees. You already had found him attractive before this chance meeting, but now, mere inches away from each other, it was unfair how handsome he really was. You also had the feeling that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not easily anyway, in terms of the offer to help you. 
“Are you sure?” You pressed, one more time to be certain. 
"Yeah,” Jeremy smiled. “I’ll be sure not to drop this one.”
“And I’ll be sure not to run into you.” 
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