#riley swap au

[transmascsimonriley]

Au where Simon died instead of Tommy

(this is from november last year I just forgot to post this here)

[amazeingartist]

Small Spark

been thinking about this idea for DAYS, also applied a new burnish hc to soap here—heart flutters cause by strong emotion cause set off the promare pulse affect. also a small continuation might be out sometime this week, we’ll see

(related to these thoughts)

[i-give-u--art]

Swap!GhostSoap doodle for the soul

@superstxrsworld

[emonydeborah]

SNW role swap ideas

Captain M’Benga wanted to help people all over the galaxy. Command track. Worked his way up on aid missions, got in enough scrapes and used his ingenuity that he got noticed. 

First Officer Erica started as a pilot. Excellent, scary manager in the face of incompetence. Easygoing until she isn’t. Fiercely loyal. 

CMO Dr. Pike wanted to see the galaxy and all the scientific discoveries it would bring. Very compassionate and empathetic. The crew go to him with their problems 

Head Nurse Spock was fascinated by physiology, and how simple interventions can make such a difference. Nursing school gave him an in depth look at all kinds of illness and it was one of the quicker ways to the stars. 

Engineer Una runs a tight ship. Enjoys puzzles and takes pride in the smooth running of her engine room. Knows every inch of the ship and who is most likely to break it. 

Pilot Christine watches stars flash by and feels an incredible rush. Adventurous and bold. Teases M’Benga. She’s the only one who can. 

Security Chief Hemmer is still a pacifist. He has never killed anyone, but he sees protecting the lives of his crew and other innocents as his calling. Justifies some violence, but only in defense. (wrote this before he died, so alternatively:

Pelia the security chief is absolutely unhinged. Some punk is about to try something and she is There. She was not There Before.)

Science Officer Nyota finds patterns in everything. Language, cells, energy, asteroids. Wants to study everything. 

Communications La’an learned the Gorn light patterns and knows there are a lot of ways to communicate. Watches and listens and knows when people are lying.

ik I'll never write this

intrigues me though

[snootlestheangel]

Hi!

I am begging you please I need to know how soaps family reacts to ghost!! Did Oliver keep his mouth shut? Does Mum’tavish throw the aforementioned fit? How bad is price’s disappointed dad face? And will Gaz ever recover from the bruised ribs I’m sure he got from laughing so hard?

Also the ficlet was really well written you have nothing to worry about I loved it!

Price's disappointed Dad Face was so bad it haunts Soap's nightmares to this day

Gaz almost passed out from laughing so hard, and Price had to help walk him out like he would if Gaz were really drunk. Gaz is still laughing about it

Oliver didn't say anything except to his wife that night.

The next morning, however, he sent a text to their parents saying "John's in the hospital. I brought him in last night. He's fine, but you should visit." He then proceeded to clue in their sisters on what was happening, to which they agreed to be there "for moral support. It's probably gonna be so hard on Mum to see her precious baby boy in the hospital"

Ghost should be lucky Soap ran into his family in the hallways before they made it all the way to the room

Mum'Tavish didn't throw much of a fit, just cussed Soap a new one for doing something as stupid as switching tags and then not telling them he's dating someone. After a lot of talking and explaining, Soap manages to get them all to calm down enough to be excited about meeting Simon once he's better.

Soap's parents definitely offer to let him and Simon stay with them while Simon recovers. Cue a lot of interactions where it's basically Mrs. MacTavish is Mrs. Weasley and Soap is Ron and Simon is Harry

*Mum'Tavish yelling at Soap*

*Immediately turns and is the sweetest person towards Ghost*

[lilywily143]

. . .

[snowy-bones]

A party it is tonight! Riley wouldn’t tell you it would be for anything else then what you think it was. But Bailey would make you question. Either way, it’s a great night and these two are enjoying their time. But one can’t help but wonder, is someone is missing from the party?

[alhavaradawnstar]

shit needs doing so naturally I am thinking about. The swap au

[bananaactivity]

Sooooooooo MBAV x SCREAM (1996)???? Anyone???

Scream 1996 is not only my fav Horror movie but my favorite movie in general. I love this movie it’s great. So why not combine it with a show that I love also! MBAV is definitely not my fav show but it is one I like to make art of.

Character Swaps:

Billy Loomis= Ethan Morgan

Sydney Prescott= Sarah Fox

Stu Macher= Benny Weir

Tatum Riley= Erica Jones

Randy Meeks= Rory Keaner

I actually really like this Au idea… I’m definitely making more art for it. In a weird way it makes sense ya know??

Rory’s the goofy horror buff, Erica’s the sexy bestie, Ethan is also a horror buff but in wayyy more self righteous way, Sarah is uptight and vampires are always a sex allegory so that makes sense that she would be a “prude”, and most fittingly Benny is the goofy overacting friend who goes with wtv his bestie wants just for the lols.

I think I like this AU more than my Descendants AU I dunnoooo. It’s just a lot of fun fr.

I think that it’d be the same plot as Scream 1996 ignoring the other movies because that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. I know some of the later movies are really good but I decided long ago I’d never watch them so boohoo.

I’m sure if I think about it hard enough I could fit some characters into other AU roles but I’m mostly gonna be doing screenshot redraws of the main 5…

Enjoyyyy and ask questions if you’d like!

[silaslich]

The heat of imposition

John “Soap” Mactavish x f!reader x Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary - Rugby AU. While watching a rugby match with Kyle you happen to catch the attention of not one, but two of the players. Neither of them like the fact that the other wants you too. [part 1/3]

Wc - 4.8k

An - I know fuck all about rugby so ignore any inaccuracies, we’re here for sex not rugby

It isn’t by chance that you find yourself at the pitch.

Your arm had been twisted- hands tied. You’d lie and say you had no choice, but the truth is that you simply have nothing better to do on a random rainy Saturday in October.

Kyle hadn’t given you much of an alternative when it came to making plans; his idea of fun might be sitting in the cold as he nurses a cheap beer and ogles a cluster of beefed-up middle aged men while they run around tackling each other- but you? It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when he’d texted you and asked if you were free to hang out.

You know him well enough to know that he’s called you in to be his wingman; someone to keep the beers coming to feed his already brimful confidence, someone that will push him if the chance for him to chat someone up arises. It’s what usually happens when the two of you meet for a drink or for dinner, his eyes wander and his intuition carries him toward the closest thing to a decent lay.

You’ll wave him off with a smile and mouth at him to call you when it’s convenient- usually to update you on how incredible or lacklustre the sex he’d abandoned you for was. You’re not bitter about it, not really, you have to give it to him. At least one of you is getting something. You suppose it’s for lack of trying, what with work and a sheltered nightlife- you can’t exactly say you’re putting yourself out there.

Kyle has tried time after time, sliding folded pieces of paper with your number scrawled on it to punters as they sit at the bar waiting for their drinks or pulling you with him as he ventures to the dance floor- accidentally bumping you into strangers, drawing their eyes and their attention. You appreciate his efforts, but you’re not exactly looking, it’s all the same to you. You’d slept around abit at uni and enjoyed it to a point, chasing that high and filling the endless void of assignments and work placements- you need something more now.

Settling is a scary thought. You’re not sure that’s what you’re after, but you don’t want a meaningless one-night stand either. You haven’t found that happy-healthy medium yet, you can’t be sure it exists. At least not to the men in this town, everyone knows everyone- it’s hard to get away from that.

You grit your teeth hard, feeling the way the cold ebbs its way into your bones. Even the beer isn’t keeping you warm, and that usually does the trick.

“Is it nearly over yet?” Your teeth chatter around the words, Kyle tuts at you.

“You can’t be serious” he turns to look at you, noting that you are in fact very serious. He frowns slightly. “It’s not even halftime yet”.

The sound that’s choked out of your throat makes him quirk a brow. Yet, Kyle’s attention is drawn back to the pitch by the sound of a whistle, some kind of swap between players has stilted the gameplay.

You’re not that well versed in rugby. Have kept up with it here and there, mainly because of Kyle and your boss because it’s all they talk about at work. They put it on every telly in the pub when their favourite team is on and they start to become idle when it comes down to the last few minutes of gameplay- stood there like toddlers that are transfixed by dancing fruits on a screen.

It’s quite funny really, watching Kyle as he barely tries to make it look as though he’s still working- rubbing a dry cloth over an already cleaned down table.

“Oh shit” Kyle’s breath carries on the breeze, drifting across your face as he speaks. It’s just that cold.

“What’s happening?” You mimic Kyle in the way he leans forward in his seat, watching carefully at what’s unfolding on the pitch.

Kyle doesn’t answer, instead watching as the away team’s players crowd together, meanwhile the home team congregates closer to their benches- they’re swapping someone on.

You see a wide smile crack across his face from out the corner of your eye, it pulls you to look at him fully. Seeing his wide-expectant eyes and gaped mouth, you grimace, slightly put off by just how much he’s enjoying watching on- you think you’d rather watch paint dry.

“When do they start brawling, ay? This is boring” you smack your lips together and take a heavy swig of your beer. It warms your throat, barely. Kyle turns to look at you, smiling like an idiot.

“Funny you should say that” he raises his brows and jerks his head in the direction of the players they’re swapping- you follow his gaze, it doesn’t enlighten you in the slightest.

You open your mouth to question him but Kyle beats you to it, already preempting your confusion and overall lack of culture for his favourite sport and his favourite team.

“They’re putting their main prop on, Riley” Kyle’s eyes watch the player in question and so do you, observing his team mates as they pump their fists and clap him on the back- following on as he moves further onto the pitch.

“He fight often?” You ask, eyeing the dark ink that stretches across both of his arms and retreats under the sleeves of his jersey.

There’s skulls and bones and snakes and gnashing teeth that make up a portrait of something that might be a dog. It’s hard to tell from all the way up in the stands; you’re sat within hearing distance of their shouts as the players go over strategy- but your eyes can’t quite focus enough to read the letters that brand his knuckles and the blocks of black ink that cover the backs of his hands. Shame.

Kyle laughs, something deliberate and knowing. “Yeah, you could say that”. His smile is hiding something, you just know it. You raise a wry brow.

“That why he was benched?” The look on Kyle’s face alone tells you all that you need to know, he nods as you shake your head with an unamused sigh.

“He’s been benched the last few games, close to being banned altogether from what I hear” Kyle observes Riley as he speaks, they’re about to restart play with a scrum.

You continue watching the game, noting another player that’s almost as big as Riley is. The back of his jersey reads Mactavish. He has a sharp smile on him, even with his mouth guard, you can’t closely see the rest of his features all that well, apart from his grown out mohawk- you didn’t realise this was the 70s.

Mactavish is quick to be on Riley, jumping high and wrapping his arms around the bigger man’s neck, hanging off him like a scarf. Their mouth-guard-smiles are wide and Riley swats at Mactavish, manhandling him until he’s got him hoisted off the ground entirely- that’s when he pushes him away and kicks his legs out from underneath him. Sending him skidding across the grass.

It’s rough housing. Simple play fighting. Kyle tells you it’s common practice for these two in particular, spending half their time butting heads and charging at each other like rhinos. Much to the dismay of their coach by the sounds of it. A whistle blows and it’s shrill in your ears.

“Pack it in bellends! Head in the game!” There’s a gruff looking man shouting from the side lines, he’s tall and broad with a beanie that’s pulled tight over his head- there’s specks of salt and pepper hairs in his mutton chops.

The two men snap their necks toward the coach and do as their told, trying to kick each others legs out from one another as they run toward where the rest of their team is forming up to restart play.

It’s starting to get interesting, because they’re not half bad to look at, these two, not half bad at all. Mactavish especially, bar the haircut. Riley on the other hand, he’s got that unconventional attractiveness about him; with his wonky nose and ashen blonde hair, hooded eyes that contrast heavily- they’re as dark as his tattoos. Perhaps it’s the way he carries himself too- his wide shoulders and thick chest, strong and solid and unbothered by the way the other men move out of his way when he passes the opposite team.

You don’t realise you’re gawping until Kyle waves his hand in front of your face, making you blink. He laughs to himself.

“Like what you see?” He asks, amused, watching as your cheeks flare. You bristle.

“Fuck off” you hate being caught out, especially after giving Kyle gripe this whole time about how boring all of this is. You stand abruptly, “I’m off to get something to eat, you want something?” Kyle eyes you, a smirk creeping up his face.

“Something salty if you don’t mind” he wags his brows and you smother your palm into his face as you squeeze past his legs to retreat down the steps toward the food kiosks. You hear his laugh follow you as you reach the bottom of the steps.

You keep an eye on the game as you walk, flitting your eyes from the pitch to the ground so you don’t slip on the steps. As you steal another glance over toward the home team, you find a pair of bright blue eyes looking right back at you. So blue they practically glow, burning right through you. As blue as celestite, something shines in them when he looks at you- but you’re quick to look away and scurry down the steps. Cheeks heating once again, for reasons even you’re not sure of.

It’s without your knowledge that Mactavish’s eyes follow you the entire time as you retreat. His stare trained on you. Distracted completely. Riley is quick to bring him back to earth, watching Mactavish watch you, he grunts as he steps toward the Scotsman, yanking out his mouth guard with a wet shlack sound.

“You ‘aven’t got a chance, now move your arse” Riley smacks the back of Mactavish’s head when he doesn’t move, watching you right up until the point you disappear out of his view. The Scot smiles wildly around his mouth guard, then spits it into his hand.

“Wanna bet?” he turns to Riley and Riley has seen that look before, many times, and it’s never ended well. Yet, he raises a brow as he looks down at the Scot, matching that same look himself.

After paying extortionate prices for a portion of chips and a burger to split you forego another beer each and go for water instead. It’s blatant daylight robbery.

You make a point not to look out onto the pitch as you make your way back to Kyle, save yourself from embarrassment and ending up falling on your arse. Kyle moves his knees to allow you past and you slump down into the seat, offering up the food to him so you can take a swig of water.

“You okay? You look flush, was it a long walk?” He picks up a few chips at a time as he shoves them into his mouth, chewing quickly and blowing air through his mouth from how piping hot they still are. You throw him a look, an unimpressed look.

“I’m freezing my tits off Kyle and I’m hungry, allow it” it’s a whine that leaves your mouth and Kyle soothes you mockingly, offering you some chips- you take them gladly.

Halftime comes and goes. The food has sated you, if only a little bit, but it saves Kyle from any more of your complaining. You find it easier to follow now, a belly full of food and the rest of Kyle’s beer that he didn’t want to finish- it makes you more palpable, makes you sit a little less stiff in your horribly uncomfortable plastic seat. Kyle appreciates it.

Mactavish and Riley don’t escape your eyes, not for the remainder of the game. It’s easier to gawp at them from up here, if they glanced over they wouldn’t exactly know that your eyes are fixed on them specifically, all they’d see is a pair of eyes looking in their general direction- obviously just following the ball as it passes hands. Little do you know, that they are indeed glancing over, as fixed on you as you are them, they’re just better at being sly with it. Only moving their eyes and not their heads and necks, not making it obvious. Not until Mactavish ups the ante.

It’s as you’re distracted for a second, turning your attention to your phone- your boss, Nik, asking if you can come in tonight. You text back quickly, letting him know you’ll see him at six. Looks like Kyle isn’t getting away from me at all today. That’s when you feel Kyle’s elbow in your ribs.

“Ow” you make a point to overemphasise, nudging his arm away from you like his touch burns.

“Look” his hand pats down repeatedly on your thigh as his opposite hand points towards the pitch, your eyes follow the point of his finger and your face pales.

It’s Mactavish. Waving both arms to get your attention, and when he has it his face beams- it makes you sink down into your seat, beyond blushed and embarrassed. He continues to wave as he rejoins the play, you watch the teams come back his way and then he winks at you, moving to turn fully to flank a teammate.

“Lucky bitch” Kyle’s mouth hangs open in shock, looking from you to Mactavish as he darts across the pitch. You groan.

“You have him then” Kyle laughs but you don’t, as nice as the player is to look at, you’re not in the mood for games.

“He wasn’t waving at me, love” he wags his brows and grabs your arm, flailing it around as he giggles like an idiot, far more excited for this than you are. You sit stock still and ignore Kyle, hoping he’ll pack it in. He does- eventually.

Before long, the game finishes and it’s the home team who are victorious. They jump and shout and knock into one another, again pulling each other into embraces and slapping each other’s backs with closed fists. It’s all well and good, you stand and pull Kyle with you- you’ve had enough of Rugby for one day.

Kyle lets himself be pulled along, filtering out amongst the thinning crowd. You’ve both got a few hours before you’re due to go into work, a quick nap wouldn’t go amiss, you guess it depends how fast Kyle can drive.

You’re walking in step with Kyle, careful of the slippy stairs, you clutch the sleeve of his jacket for stability and then there’s a voice that rings out. Thick with a Scottish accent and with an abundance of audacity to go with it.

“Oi! She yer lass or wha’?” It’s Mactavish, and he’s looking directly at Kyle, jogging over toward the stands.

Kyle stiffens and you glance at his face, he looks startled. Or would it be star struck? These players are celebrities to Kyle, you imagine this isn’t how he would want his first interaction with them to go. You watch Mactavish as he vaults over the first set of barriers, coming closer to where Kyle is now frozen to the spot- you’re stuck alongside him.

The stands are completely separate to the pitch and are raised up off of the ground instead of starting right at the pitch side, so Mactavish can’t actually get that close to talk. He instead has to settle for standing about ten foot beneath where you and Kyle are stood, craning his neck to grin up at the two of you. From this improved distance you can see him a lot clearer. There’s a prominent scar that cuts through his right eyebrow and reaches down his cheek and there’s the slight growth of stubble coming through on his cheeks and chin. He’s more handsome close up, you’ll give him that, it goes with the brashness he exudes. He knows he’s pretty.

He’s out of breath as he stands there, hands on his hips and so sweat slicked that you can see the way it drips down from his chin to his chest. It’s his eyes, still, they’re hardly natural. So bright and pale and beautiful to look at, you could fall right into them.

“Well?” The Scot wants an answer, you’re sure he won’t move until he’s got one.

Kyle wets his lips to speak but you cut him off.

“I’m no one’s lass, mate” there’s certain ways to hit on women, and coming right up to them and asking whoever they happen to be with if they’re single or not isn’t the best way- not in your humble opinion at least.

“Good news f’me then” his smirk cracks across his face, impossibly wide, your face doesn’t change at all. Still not impressed.

“What makes you think that?” It’s a honest question for him, does he think that because he plays a sport (sometimes)professionally that you’ll let him get in your pants? Does he seriously think that?

The man dips his chin as he stands there, shaking his head, it messes up the sweat-soaked length of his mohawk, when he looks back up at you again it’s messier then it had been. His smile is just as wide as before, his eyes crinkle from the autumnal sun as it beams from behind you. He flattens a palm to his chest and taps against it.

“Names Johnny” you raise a brow at him but it doesn’t deter him, not even in the slightest.

You’re not giving him clear indicators that you’re completely uninterested, more so that you don’t appreciate how he’s gone about the whole thing. Again, you must admit, he’s very lovely to look at.

It’s quick when you walk away, a game of chase, he can suffer for his pig-headedness. Kyle stands there, a little more than dumbfounded, while he wants to follow you- he also wants to speak with Mactavish, he’s been a fan for a long time. When he turns to look at the Scot down below, he finds him still smiling up at him, there’s a look of mischief in his eyes.

Only a few feet behind him stands another, it’s Riley, and he’d heard every word of your conversation with Johnny. He guesses the game is set now they know for sure that you’re single, but let’s be honest, they would have both been game even if you weren’t.

______________________________________

“Hold on a second, say that again?” Your jaw is locked tight, molars grinding, he can’t be serious.

Kyle scratches at the back of his head, sheepishly, there’s worry lines that are creasing his forehead as he looks between you and Nik. Good, he should be worried where you’re concerned. He fucked up.

“Look I said I’m sorry, alright? What was I supposed to say to him?” Kyle sits on a stool at the bar, opposite to where you and Nik stand side by side on the other side of it.

Nik throws you a glance and you shake your head at him, he’s just as unimpressed as you are, you both know that Kyle is smarter then this- at least, he is most of the time.

“How about not telling him where I work? Thats a start. May as well tell him where I live, Kyle” your tone drifts, while Kyle is your friend, he clearly hadn’t thought before he’d spoken. Thinking more about impressing his rugby idols than the safety of his best mate, these guys could be any breed of weirdo for all you know.

“I agree with her Kyle, you need to think before you say things like that” Nik folds his arms over his chest, thick brows furrowed as he stares at Kyle, who is scratching a single finger against the polished wood of the bar top.

You aren’t trying to gang up on him, he knows he shouldn’t have told Mactavish anything, but he still did- that wouldn’t change just because he suddenly felt bad. He’s got some grovelling to do, to say the least.

“Do you want to head home? I’m sure we can find a way to manage, doll” Nik’s eyes find yours, he’s always been a softie, always looking out for you like you’re the kid he never had. Your brows furrow.

“Absolutely not, I’m not about to be bullied out of work by a bunch of thick skulled ball chasers. Let ‘em try something Nik, they’ll soon find out” you leave the conversation at that, following the repeated wails of the glasswasher in the back as it lets you know it’s ready to be emptied.

—————————————————————————

For the most part, the night is typical. It’s a busy Saturday night in a louder part of town and there’s everyone from regulars to students to tourists. It’s an easier night for you thanks to Kyle, his want to get back in your good books means he’s doing all of the shit jobs. Cleaning the bogs and serving tables. Clearing the glasses away and scrubbing the sticky tables. All while you’re tucked behind the bar pulling pints and making drinks, it’s something you could get used to, Kyle should piss you off more often if this is the treatment you get.

You watch the clock out of habit and notice it’s almost half nine, only an hour and half before you close, not long before you can go home and wash the day away and sleep all of this off. You just have to get through another hour and a half unscathed, that’s it.

Mactavish dashes those plans.

Before you see them, you hear them. It looks like the whole team might be here, they pile in through the door and already look as if they’re half Irish. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, knowing you’re in full view of not just them but other customers too.

Mactavish squeezes through the bodies as they linger around the booths and seats, not all able to fit comfortably, Mactavish sings your name.

“Fancy seein’ you here, bonnie” he grins wide, no longer obstructed by the mouth guard.

Compared to earlier when he was covered in grass stains and sweat, you hate to admit that he scrubs up well. Dressed casually with a shirt that’s close to matching his eyes, he doesn’t seem like the type if you’re honest.

“Oh yes, what a coincidence” the sarcasm reaches, you watch it in his eyes, the way his jaw flexes. He smiles and shakes his head.

“Tough nut to crack, ain’t ya?” He’s unapologetic with the way his eyes wander, the music thumps loudly in your ears but you can still hear the heaviness the alcohol adds to his tongue.

“What makes you think I wanna be cracked?” You make a point to busy your hands, to do anything to distract you from his eyes, there’s lemons in front of you that need slicing- they’ll suffice.

He raises a brow at that. Sliding his elbows onto the bar, bringing his height down to yours, eye to eye, if you’d just look at him.

“Saw the way you were lookin’ at me bonnie” he drops his tone, practically husks the words, he’s teasing. You laugh.

“Bein’ pretty bold to say I’ve got a knife in my hand” you hammer the point in, bringing the knife down heavier then before against the chopping board only to raise it up to slide your finger across it to catch the juice. He watches you carefully.

“You know how to use it?” He asks, again teasing, seeing how much he can get away with. He wants to soften you up. It’ll take more than that.

“D’you wanna find out?” It’s an open question, depending on how he behaves he could very well lose a finger, you’d deal with any charges he might want to press tomorrow. He just grins at you stupidly.

“I wanna take you out” he leans forward, reaching an arm over the bar to swipe a lemon slice, you watch as he sucks it into his mouth. Never breaking his eyes from yours, he’s got you.

“I want a lot of things, doesn’t mean I can have ‘em” you haven’t clocked him yet, not completely, he seems pretty harmless. But don’t they all?

He hums, sliding the lemon out of his mouth between his fingers, considering you. “Could give ‘em to you” his eyes meet yours but you’re quick to look away, returning to the lemons.

You scoff. “If I agree to a date will you go away? I’m working” just because you agree to something doesn’t mean you’re obliged, you’ll think on it more clearly when you’re not at work- being stared at by those burning blue eyes.

“Pretty rubbish conditions if ye ask me” he slurps at the lemon obnoxiously, you see the flash of a tongue piercing.

“Well forget it then-“ he interjects.

“Chill yerself bonnie, I’m goin’” he holds his hands up in surrender as he stands back to his full height, the lemon slice is replaced back between his teeth- for a brief moment.

He moves to step away but he’s quick to turn on his heel, chewing the lemon down till it slots inside his cheek. “Be back for yer number to arrange that date” he wags a finger in your general direction as he speaks, quickly turning back toward the booth where his teammates are all squashed in together.

—————————————————————————

Half an hour. Just half an hour and you can start to close up. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel.

Mactavish had behaved since leaving you at the bar, hardly looking in your direction, which you appreciated. You didn’t need him and his stupid blue eyes knocking you off of your concentration, not when you’re handling this much glass. You steal a glance over at his table from time to time, hearing his roaring laugh and watching the way he interacts with his mates. They all look close. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, making them soft, sitting on each other’s thighs with arms slung around each others necks. You imagine it’s normal that they’re all so close, they must spend hours and hours and hours together just training let alone at matches.

It’s quietening down now as a whole, some tables still linger to chatter, like the rugby lot. Most have gone now, moving onto the better clubs, this is just a pit stop usually- somewhere to line their stomachs before they get so paralytic that they’re soon laid in the streets laughing their heads off or spewing their guts up.

It’s an opportune time to start clearing glasses, now that the bar is quiet if not ready to close. Gaz is in the cellar doing whatever it is that he does down there, you hate it down there. So you’ll take the better job of clearing glasses and shoving them in the washer, fully prepared to forget about them until you’re back tomorrow.

This is usually the case, balancing a dozen glasses on one tray because you’re too lazy to make two trips. You’re so close to the bar, almost within reaching distance, and then someone from the rugby table throws his hands up and throws you off balance.

You close your eyes as you feel yourself tumbling, you’ve had too many shards of glass blasted out of your eyes by Nik and his saline bottle of doom, so you squeeze them shut tightly. There’s suddenly a warm pressure that coils around your waist but you’re too distracted by the sound of the glasses smashing to think about it. You dare to crack your eyes open, gaze immediately falling to the ground and seeing the mess that you’ve made. For fucks sake. Your eyes skate from the broken glass on the floor to the hand at your waist, gripping you tight, flush with something solid.

From up close you can see now that the tattoos on his left knuckles read soul.

Riley’s breathing is heavy against your spine and you don’t move, you daren’t move, and it seems Riley is much the same. Not until you hear a whistle from across the rugby table.

“Looks real cosy, Simon” that accent, it’s Johnny.

[transmascsimonriley]

part 2 to this

(from december last year)

[shadow4-1]

Shadow4-1's Masterlist for Headcanons/Imagines/Ficlets (Part 1)

I finally got around to making my masterlists! Under the cut is most of my headcannons, ficlets, you name if. They're in order by character - or group! I will be making a part 2 soon as Tumblr refuses to let me edit this anymore!

All links will be tagged with either an [NSFW] or appropriate genre tag like [Fluff] next to the title. Okay, I hope you enjoy. And please remember - MDNI! No age listed blogs will be blocked! (Banner Source)

Feel free to use any and all of my headcanons, imagines, etc. to make your own content! Credit/a tag would be nice! If not, I'd just appreciate a DM so I can read your content!

(Also, this isn't ALL of the content available on my blog! It's only the stuff I'm proud of. For everything I've ever written you'll just have to go swimming through my blog!)

Group Headcanons - {141} / {Los Vaqueros} / {Kortac}

(First) Kiss Imagines w/ the 141 Boys + Alejandro, Rudy, & Konig [NSFW]

No Boundaries - Task Force 141 Headcanons/Imagines [SFW]

Smelly - Reader & 141 Drabble [SFW]

Getting Drunk Imagines w/ the 141 Boys + Alejandro, Rudy, & König [SFW]

Getting drugged at a bar with the 141 [NSFW]

Captain Price:

Heart Eyes (Love At First Sight AU/Imagine - Reader x Price) [SFW/AU]

Getting bent over Price's knee and spanked with his belt in front of the boys [NSFW]

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Sweet n' Silly Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Headcanons [NSFW]

Man Thoughts - Ghost Edition [NSFW]

"King of the Forest" Ghost [SFW]

"There's only one bed" Trope [SFW]

You and Soap Trigger Ghost's PTSD [SFW/Fluff]

Doing yoga in secret some but Ghost's been watching the whole time [NSFW]

Ghost makes Soap get you on webcam [NSFW]

Pulling a knife on Ghost during sex [NSFW]

Soulmate!AU where you and Ghost are tied together through shared dreams [SFW]

A make-out session with Ghost [NSFW]

Ghost is a vampire AU [SFW]

Kissing both Soap and Ghost goodnight at the door [NSFW]

John "Soap" MacTavish:

Silly Little Soap Headcanons (w/ A Few Wee Nasty Ones) [NSFW]

You're Not My Boyfriend! - Crazy!Soap x Reader Imagine [SFW]

Ex-boyfriend Soap having a dirty polaroid of you [NSFW]

Doing a clothing swap with Soap for a training day [SFW]

Soap and Gaz getting unreasonably jealous over who you spend more time with [SFW]

Kissing both Soap and Ghost goodnight at the door [SFW]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Making out in a motel bed with both Gaz and Soap [NSFW]

Soap and Gaz getting unreasonably jealous over who you spend more time with [SFW]

Konig:

Man Thoughts - Konig Edition [NSFW]

Makarov:

A chance encounter with Makarov [SFW]

Reader-Centered Headcanons:

Reader who's just trying to do her damn job. [SFW]

The first time the 141 sees you in something other than your fatigues [NSFW]

The 141 purposely picking you out of a pool of potential candidates [SFW]

Scuba diving training with the 141 [SFW]

The 141's jealousy at you harboring a crush on another task force's star member [SFW]

The 141 stages an intervention for you (they don't like you seeing people that aren't them) [NSFW]

Moments between the members of the 141 that attaches them to you forever [SFW]

Having to break up small fights between the 141 [SFW]

Your first spat with a member of the 141 and how you might be dealt with (by either Price or Ghost)[SFW]

A "lazy day" with the 141, except, it's really just you getting them to finally wind down [SFW]

The 141 wants you to leave your normie boyfriend, and you do eventually [SFW]

Being annoying as fuck and the boys decide to fuck with you back [SFW]

Waking up in a 141 dog pile [SFW]

You start to become an Omega (A/B/O Dynamic AU) [NSFW]

Texting your usual fuck buddy (Soap) to come to your room, except he doesn't - but Ghost does [SFW]

The 141 rents out a "haunted" mansion only for the place to be exactly as advertised [SFW]

Promising a kiss to whichever 141 guy wins a mock FIFA tournament [SFW]

Becoming the 141's medic by accident and tragedy [NSFW]

Doing some vent maintenance on base and getting stuck [NSFW]

Being nervous around the 141 and yet STILL garnering their attention [SFW]

A "lazy day" with the 141 (or getting them to calm down after a mission) [SFW]

Catching glimpses of the 141's search history [NSFW]

Unknowingly giving the 141 boners [NSFW]

Trapped for a week in a shithole safehouse [SFW]

[i-give-u--art]

Swap Ghost Simon anyone?

He is swapped with Soap (lmao)

New call-sign is “angel” (I spelt it wrong on the drawing 🥲)

He’s a little taller than original ghost because he doesn’t have the weight of his sins on his shoulders :D

@superstxrsworld :3

SWAP!AU MASTERPOST

[housewarningparty]

Au where Faith comes back to sunnydale in season 5

okay okay i've thought about this

it's a prophetic slayer dream that kicks it off - faith dreams buffy is going to die and she decides then and there she has to go to sunnydale to stop it. she informs angel who reluctantly gives his blessing and then she busts herself out of prison and heads back to sunnydale

obviously faith's motivation is this is a confusing mix of wanting to make things good with buffy, a sort of lingering subconscious suicidal death drive, and a genuine desire to be a Good Slayer for once. buffy can't quite understand what her angle is, but season 5 is a volatile time and buffy's struggling to handle everything on her plate so she can't actually refuse any help from another slayer

in a way, buffy's resentment towards and anger at faith allows her to accept help from faith more readily than she can from riley, her actual boyfriend. she doesn't feel guilty throwing faith out in the middle of the glory stuff. faith, also, kind of relishes being a meat shield a little - it's penance, right? she still resents buffy a little for using her like this so easily (unlike how she treats her ugly fucking boyfriend), however, she's also grateful to be used by buffy at all (unlike her ugly fucking boyfriend) TOXIC YURI

faith is very interesting to have around for joyce stuff because of the intersection of her guilt over the hostage-taking and threatening + her own dead mom issues + her desire to help buffy, genuinely. i think faith privately, secretly approaching joyce to offer to help while she's sick (clean the gutters, do the laundry, wash the car, basic things) to try and make amends because she doesn't know what else to really do is a compelling idea. also i think faith's potential interactions with dawn and tara over mom stuff here are SO interesting

MESSY relationship-wise. spike hates riley. faith also hates riley but wants to avoid him over the uhh body swap magical sexual assault. riley is a terrible fucking boyfriend this season. spike and faith are being absolute freaks about buffy and want nothing more than to kill each other with hammers. buffy wants everyone to shut the fuck up. faith and buffy's entire relationship would be built up gradually over the fact that faith is there and she's consistent and she's not actually asking for anything from buffy or even trying overmuch to prove something to her, she's literally just trying to help her and with everything else around her crumbling, i think buffy would end up really responding to that. idk what really happens with spike besides getting sidelined super hard. faith kicks the shit out of him over buffybot. he fucks off to reno. who gives a shit.

i actually have an outline for an s5 fic but currently that au is at war with my s4 au and i can't do them both, so they're both in stasis rn.

[snootlestheangel]

*not the most well-written addition to this cause the brain rot is spreading like the plague*

It's been nearly two hours since Ghost's comms cut out in the middle of his sentence. Those two hours have been the worst two hours of Soap's life, he believes. The absolute mystery as to what could have happened to Simon has been driving him mad. And despite the fact he swore to Ghost he'd keep it a secret, Soap finally decided to let Price know a rather important detail.

"I can call local hospitals, ask if they've had anyone fitting his description come in within the last two hours." Laswell says over the comms as Price finally reaches a point where he can't stand sitting around and waiting for something to happen.

"Simon doesn't keep tags on him anymore, Kate. How the bloody hell are they supposed to be able to identify him properly? I want to make sure I get my lieutenant back and not some fucking nitwit criminal pretending to be him!" Price bites back, and Gaz frowns at him.

"That's a ridiculous fear, John." Laswell snaps back.

"No, it's not! We know these people have a history of impersonating people, especially those in power positions, so it wouldn't be too far fetched to lead us down a wild goose chase!" Price argues once again.

"Okay, so let's assume they do. You said Ghost doesn't wear tags anymore? What would make you think they wouldn't just take his tags if he had any to begin with?"

"They wouldn't want to, wouldn't they? It's harder to trace someone without any ID." Gaz adds, and Price breathes a sigh of relief at seeing some support for his concerns.

"Okay, that's a good point. How do you suggest we find him, then?" Laswell asks and a silence falls over the group. Price turns to his sergeants, trying to hide the fact he seems lost.

"So, what if I told yeh that Ghost does have tags?" Soap asked, rather hesitantly. Price's gaze snaps to him as the captain's brow furrows with confusion. Soap nervously licks his lips as he thinks of how to explain.

"Well, he still has his old tags, ya ken? And well, shite- He made me swear nae to say anythin'-" Soap finds the words harder to form than he anticipated. Price rolls his eyes, impatient for Soap to get to the point.

"Spit it out, Soap." The captain orders and Soap nods, taking a deep breath.

"He and I swapped tags." The words quickly tumble out and are followed with an awkward silence. Gaz bites his bottom lip in an effort to prevent from laughing, especially cognizant of the way Price's face reddened with anger.

"You stupid fucking cocksuckers." Price snaps out before removing his hat and running a hand over his face and through his hair. Gaz squeezes his eyes shut as he forces back a laugh, but is unable to hold back long when Laswell's quiet wheeze of laughter breaks through the comms.

"I'll call around and see if any hospitals in the area have a John MacTavish." Laswell manages to say rather well, despite the obvious smile behind the words. Price lets out a heavy sigh before glaring at Soap. He looks like he intends to say something, but decides against it as he simply shakes his head and turns to get in the truck.

"Can't take you two anywhere." He mutters to himself before slamming the truck door shut.

"Mate-" Gaz manages to say before falling into another fit of laughter. Soap shoves him as his ears turn a deep shade of red.

~~~

Oliver MacTavish had really just wanted to go home. It had been a long day at work, the ER was constantly packed with people, and he performed more emergency surgeries that day than he ever wanted to.

But he was raised to be kind to others and help those in need. It's why he became a doctor in the first place.

What he hadn't expected was to nearly hit a person on the winding backroad that led to his house. The particular curve in the road he encountered this man was an equal distance between the hospital and his home, a rather strange fact that made the interaction all the more unusual.

At first, Oliver believes he's nearly hit a drunkard. Not uncommon, necessarily, but an unusual sight on this particular road.

But then he noticed the blood, the massive bulletproof vest, the pistol clutched in one of the man's hands. Most unnerving was the skull mask, of course, yet by the time Oliver processed everything else about the man's appearance, the mask didn't seem that strange.

Yes, definitely an unusual sight.

Against his better judgement and his ma's words of warning about strangers on dark roads, Oliver helped the man into his car and turned back for the hospital. The man was barely conscious during the car ride, and remained eerily quiet the entire way there. He managed to stay awake long enough to stumble into the ER's doors with Oliver's help. Which, Oliver greatly appreciated given the fact the stranger towered over him, even when hunched over due to the wound on his abdomen.

The night grew stranger for Oliver as he helped the medical staff strip the mystery man so they can assess and attend to his wounds. The first, and most notable, item of concern being the vest. It was a tactical vest, one of nice quality which had a few of them glancing nervously at the unconscious man. Next, obviously, the gun, but seeing as it only contained a single bullet and there appeared to be no other ammunition on his person, it was deemed less concerning than it should be. Then came the concerning number of knives hidden in concerning places on the man's person. The sheer number of them became so disturbing it was absurd, and let to fits of nervous laughter from the staff.

Finally, came the dog tags. A clear indication the man was indeed military. It was a concerning confirmation, actually. A soldier wandering around nearly dead with a gunshot wound in the Scottish countryside? Yes, very concerning indeed.

But then Oliver actually looked at the tags. And he realized something more was wrong with this mystery man. As if it could get worse.

But it did. The man's dog tags were far too familiar to Oliver, but he couldn't question how this man ended up with them around his neck. At least, he couldn't for the moment. These were tags he had seen lying on the table at his parents' house during the holidays. They were the tags he had seen get tucked back into a shirt as they came loose during a family game of rugby.

Instead, he had to get over the shock of seeing his little brother's dog tags.

~~~

At some point, Laswell found a hospital not far from their location that had brought in someone recently fitting the description. Most notably, wearing dog tags that claimed his name to be "John MacTavish".

It isn't until they reach the hospital that Soap remembers it's the one his older brother works at.

He's so dead if Oliver is working.

~~~

The relief Soap feels upon finally making it into the room where Ghost rests peacefully after surgery is unmatched. He doesn't hesitate to slide into the seat next to the bed, taking Ghost's hand into his own. He doesn't even notice when someone enters the room and stands just outside of his field of vision.

"John, yeh daft fookin' bastard! The fuck are yeh swappin' tags fer?! Are yeh out yer heid?!" A familiar voice scolds him as someone tugs at his ear, not quite enough to do damage, but painful enough to prove a point.

"Ah, Oliver, quit! Ah can explain!" Soap immediately tries to pry his older brother away from him as he stands.

"Yeh better be able to! I mean, what even is the point of swappin' tags? What's it mean?" Oliver snaps as he roughly nudges Soap in the ribs.

"Means I'm gonna marry 'im." Simon's sleep-laden voice interrupts the brothers as he begins to stir. Soap ignores his brother as he stares down at Simon in shock.

"Well, you really need teh tell everyone yer datin' someone. Otherwise, Ma might have a fit if yeh just suddenly come home engaged." Oliver calmly states as he pats Soap on the shoulder. Gaz lets out an inhuman wheeze as he stumbles out of the room.

"His family doesn't even know!" Gaz manages to say just as the door closes behind him and Price. Simon makes a confused noise as he rubs at his eyes, frowning up at Soap.

"Doesn't know what?"

"Good job, John."

"Piss off, Ollie."

shajfhakjhgkjahgkj

THE AU IDEAS NEED TO STOP

AU where something goes wrong during an operation to expose one of the biggest criminal rings in the UK and Ghost ends up separated from the team

He's been shot, he's bleeding, he can't walk properly, and he's being hunted. He's pretty sure he's got a pretty bad head injury, too, and he's struggling to make it to the nearby road.

A kind doctor on his way home from a long day of work sees him staggering, and despite his ma's voice in his head telling him to not trust this man, the doctor takes Ghost to the hospital. It's a startling sight for the rest of the staff, seeing one of the ER doctors come back after having just left and he's being used as a human crutch for this beast of a man who's barely conscious now.

They examine Ghost's wounds and are working on prepping him for surgery when they begin to realize this isn't just a normal person: he's got some high grade gear on, and they soon start to believe he's most likely military. Which obviously stirs another can of worms for the poor medical staff, cause why is there a soldier stumbling around, clearly having been shot in the Scottish countryside??

The doctor that brought him in tells the staff he found dog tags around the man's neck. Everyone is happy, and he takes the tags off and leaves the room so he can mark the information down and hopefully contact someone that can help get their soldier back where he belongs.

Except the doctor notices something very wrong about the man's tags. So he tells the staff he can't mark the information down, but that he does know who to call.

When confronted about this, the doctor asks the staff, people he's worked with for years now, if they know who his younger brother is. And they'll all say, "Yes, we know his name but we wouldn't know his face. Why do you ask?"

"Because," the doctor says while staring at the strange man before him, "he has my brother's dog tags."

"But that's definitely not my brother."

What an awkward conversation the MacTavish brothers are about to have...

[lilywily143]

The Swaps of N

The Uzi character and design is from the swap au by @lumineary-arts!

I say give her a follow, she has excellent art

Riley: h-hello?

Uzi: sigh Hiiii....

Riley: hmm?

U: What kinda haircut it that? Couldn't even see me...

R: hehee sorry

(Talking about their killcounts)

And a bonus of the N's