#she doesn’t need therapy John

[residentbluebird]

“We’ll be the cat ladies, but not the weird cat ladies. I deserve to be a cat lady. I might be an oxymoron”

[mrsparrasblog]

I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.

TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*

So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)

Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.

"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."

"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"

"This time, I promise."

To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.

Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.

Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.

Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”

Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?

All the conversations came flooding back:

"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."

"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."

"You're beautiful, Ghost."

"You're enough."

"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.

Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.

His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.

Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

CW: incel-like behavior

WIBTA if I brought up a topic from our group chat to my therapist?

Important background: this story does not take place in the US and everyone (except my therapist) is autistic. Names are fake in case anyone from the story uses tumblr for some reason. English is not my first language.

Six years ago, my therapist convinced me to join a therapy group organised by her. The idea behind the group is to help autistic people like myself get better at social interactions, managing our emotions, things like that. It’s been quite fun, and I enjoy the monthly sessions.

My therapist encourages us to talk to each other and meet up in between and/or after sessions, so we have a group chat for that. In that group chat, we essentially talk about whatever we want without the fear of being judged. Last couple of days we had, let’s say, an unfortunate conversation.

One of the members (Peter, 20sM) went on a rant about a girl who rejected him in favor of some ugly guy (we never got to see pictures of said guy) and that he felt “betrayed” and began believing he won’t “find any woman who will love him”. Some of us consoled him, saying that it sucks but he should focus on other things he enjoys to cope/move on. Another member (John, 19M), however, gave him “advice” which sounded a lot like incel talking points – how most women are selfish and superficial, how he’d need to be tougher/more selective to find “one of the good ones”, things like that.

There are 4 girls in the group chat including me, and none of us said anything regarding that (we sort of pretended that didn’t happen). Neither did the 8 other guys. Personally for me, I didn’t feel safe doing so because I’ve had a bad experience with a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I decided to just not talk about it and block both Peter and John. I don’t know how the other girls felt about that conversation because they didn’t talk about it with me.

I’m thinking about bringing this topic up the next time I have solo therapy (after this post is up, at least). I’m worried I won’t be well received for two reasons:

1) My therapist has explicitly said she doesn’t care about what we do in the group chat and we should solve problems ourselves.

2) Other members will find out about this and accuse me of leaking information and generally being hostile towards me.

WIBTA if I brought up this conversation to my therapist anyway?

[cod-dump]

Open Door (teen!Ghost au)

———

This wasn’t the conversation he was imagining when Kate called him to talk about the kids. John expected it to be just a talk between friends, not business.

“Boys been doing well?”

“Been doing very well. And Farah has settled nicely.”

“She’s been looking at universities, hasn’t she?”

It started off normal. They were sipping tea in the back garden, enjoying the breeze in the shade. The boys were off at Johnny’s, no doubt causing mayhem. Not that the MacTavishes weren’t experts in chaos, John wasn’t worried about getting a phone call about his boys’ behavior from Mrs. Muriel MacTavish.

“I’ve been talking with the Shadow’s CO.”

John bristled at the mention of the mercenary. He looked at Kate, questioning why she would even bring him up when they were talking about their families.

“As you know, he’s become Gary’s full time guardian.”

“But?”

“But… he’s not quite… ready to handle a kid. Especially not one as young as Gary, or as traumatized.”

He didn’t like where this was going.

“He accepted being the kid’s guardian without being ready to take care of him when the need arises?”

“John, he didn’t expect to lose men coming here. With our operation, and, hell, even Nik’s, not it’s not a dangerous place.”

John could hear the unspoken words on the tip of her tongue.

“It’s- This isn’t my area of expertise-“

“Kate, just say it.”

Kate swallows, “Can you take in Gary? At least help care for him until Phillip can take him?”

John lets out a deep breath, there it was. He sets down his cup of tea and leans back, covering his eyes. Kate continued talking.

“After Simon’s transformation I have no higher recommendation for Gary’s care.”

“I have a dog, a cat, a fucking pigeon, three kids, and a Nik in my house.”

“You have the room. Plus Phillip will pay you for all of Gary’s needs and then some. He wants to come over as often as possible, too, to help in any way he can with him.”

John takes a breath before his uncovers his eyes and looks at Kate.

“You really can’t take him?”

“Annie is already doing twelve hour shifts and I’m running the office and helping Alex with his physical therapy and running him to his extracurricular activities. Like I said, after Simon? I no one else more capable that I trust to do this.”

“Oh fuck me- Fine! How much is he willing to pay?”

“£5’000 a month.”

John chokes as he sits up, “You’re joking-“

“No, sir. From my understanding, Phillip Graves is a very wealthy man and he doesn’t half ass anything.”

“Fuck… lead with the money, damn.”

Kate snorted, "Didn't take you as a greedy man, John."

John rolls his eyes, was he really agreeing to this? He wasn't doing as many 'jobs' as of late, mostly running to the office every month and doing surveillance of the town. Compared to how his life was years ago before Simon, he has a lot of free time. But he wasn't sure he was prepared to possible have another Simon in the home.

The hours that went into loving him and helping him get on his feet was worth it but... John wasn't sure he had another decade of that left.

"I'll send you Phillip's contact information so you two can start coming up with an agreement."

"I'm really doing this..."

"I'm not forcing you."

John glared and Kate rolled her eyes before continuing.

"I'm not forcing, just heavily persuading you."

"Forcing."

"Fine, forcing. This could give us a good in with Shadow CO. Besides, I forced you to care for Simon. Of course I dropped Kyle off at your door a few years after that. Do you regret that?

John didn't even have to think about it, "Never."

"Then give the poor kid a chance. I know you'll love him."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

The door opened and Annie called out.

"We're home! Hide the bank blueprints!"

John couldn't help but snort as Kate grinned and stood. She left into the kitchen to greet her wife and kid, giving John an opportunity to escape before he agrees to something else he's not entirely sure about. As he walked into the hall, he caught a glimpse of Alex darting down the hall to his room. Annie was having her coat taken from her by Kate, the woman having that same smitten look she had the day she met her.

Annie spotted John and grinned, "Hey, stranger. Feel like you've been avoiding me."

"You? Never. Her? I try."

Kate gave him a playful glare, "Leaving?"

"If I stay out too long Nik starts getting anxious. And with my boys it's infectious."

Annie gives an understanding nods, "Better not keep him waiting then. Oh! And before you go-"

Annie stepped away from Kate to grab a book from the shelf nearby. She handed it over and John immediately recognized it as a science workbook, "Kyle left this here the other day. I was going to have Alex give it to him at school Monday but he won't be there."

John fought the amused grin that tried to show itself. There was something so inherently sweet about Alex and Kyle's budding relationship.

"I'll make sure he gets it."

John managed to make it outside to his car before Kate stopped him.

"John-"

"I'm going to talk to Nik about it tonight, and you know he can't turn away a stray."

"You won't be able to back out then."

"Exactly why I have to tell him."

Kate smiled, "Tell him if you take in another kid that he has to stop trying to catch one of the neighborhood raccoons."

John laughed out loudly, "Oh, you know that won't happen."

They said tonight and John pulled out of the driveway, preparing himself for what was ahead of him. He thought back to when Simon was first brought home. He wasn't supposed to stay long but three weeks in John was ready to fight the world for him. Simon coming into his life was a blessing, Nik came along and apparently they were a package deal, and them being in his life opened the door to Kyle and then Farah.

He wasn't going to turn away Gary, and he wasn't going to turn away the man who was seemingly determined to do right by the kid. It was the right thing to do, reaching out for help, and John could overlook the fact that the man was a foreign mercenary for the sake of the child. John was hoping, even praying, that this wouldn't lead to anything. But considering what taking in Simon lead him to, he was too curious, maybe even eager, to see what else was brought into his life.

[peaches-cs]

Expresso(John Soap MacTavish x Reader)

Summary: Johnny will be the first to admit that after years in the military he has a few screws loose. Or it might’ve been because of the bullet wound he took to the head. Sure he knows what he’s doing isn’t healthy. Call it obsession and delusion if you will. But, now he’ll do anything just to spend another second in your company. You belongs to him, you just don’t know it yet.

Warnings: John Soap MacTavish x reader, 18 +, Dark mature themes, unhealthy relationships, gore, violence, eventual smut(may have Non-Con), Dub-Con, kidnapping, stalking, creepy behaviors, death, F.Reader, Café AU but dark and twisted

Part 1

It wasn’t until recently Johnny has discovered just how challenging readjusting to civilian life would be. Of course such a drastic change would be difficult for anyone. Especially since he wasn’t supposed to be discharged so early. It was unexpected. The man is antsy. He hates sitting still, as he’s been forced to do since he took a bullet to the head. Between neurology appointments and physical therapy he’s been bound to his apartment for months. There’s an itch in his skin, the need to have some kind of busy routine to get through the endless bland and boring days of spring. His mum even came to visit him, helped take care of him after he acutely lost his ability to walk properly and speak in clear sentences. Even his memory was affected for a while.

Eventually his doctor gave him the okay to try finding employment. He’s gotten most of his functions back up to par, but sometimes he gets nasty migraines that make him want to vomit. As soon as he returned home from that same appointment, he grabbed his lap top and plopped down on his couch to begin job hunting.

It sounds perfect. Something to fill that empty void in his life even though he gets enough money due to military benefits and disability to let him live without a job. Being a Sergeant paid comfortably too. So, money is not truly a problem. After an hour of lazily searching with a glass of whiskey in his hand through different positions of different opportunities, he doesn’t find any that sounds appealing.

Johnny groans and sets aside his lap top, stretching his arms above his head before standing up. He scratches his stomach while walking lazily to the fridge. After tugging open the door, he narrows his eyes and huffs in annoyance at the emptiness inside of it. Time to go shopping.

After pulling on jeans and a basic black Tee, he takes the elevator down to the lobby of his apartment complex and exits the building. Swinging his set of keys around his index finger, he strolls down the sidewalk. He slows after spotting a quaint little café up ahead. He always passes it on his way to the shop. Except this time the now hiring sign catches his eye. Now that he’s retired from the military permanently, the man’s got a hell of a lot of time on his hands. So, he opens the door and enters, looking around curiously.

He strolls into the homey little building and is instantly hit with the smell of chocolate mixed with coffee. It’s cozy and warm, with windows that look out into the city and green plants in pots seated by them. The lights glow a warm yellow and the walls are painted a medium dark brown. It’s not busy, as expected due to the time of day being late morning. The early rush has clearly dissipated.

What really captures his attention is the lass behind the counter, busying herself with cleaning the counters in the coffee making area. When she hears him come in due to the bell at the top of the door, she turns around and meets his gaze with a smile that has his skin slightly flushing. She’s a pretty thing dressed in a black apron. He keeps his eyes on her face. Hell, he deserves a medal for not looking…lower.

“Can I help you, sir?” She asks in a sweet voice, using one of those higher pitched customer service tones. He gives her a lopsided grin and nods his head. Oh she could help him in a lot of ways, he thinks as he finally gives in and lets his eyes briefly flicker over her figure. The way the apron is tied around her accentuates her waist, tits, and hips. Such a bonnie thing she is.

Call it rash or dumb, Johnnys never been good at planning ahead- or thinking with his brain rather than his dick. Especially when cute little lassies like her are involved. She seals his decision in an instant when she looks at him with her pretty eyes. He points his thumb in the direction of the help wanted sign on the window.

“Aye, I’m interested in applyin for a job”

——————

Today was a usual day. Nothing special, nothing grand, morning rush was awful as always, and then you have class later after work. You hum to yourself as you clean up any spilt coffee beans or creamer by the machines. Finally, you get some peace now that the busiest time of day has passed.

Sadie, the old lady who owns this café and lives in an upstairs apartment above the restaurant, has trusted you to run pretty much everything by yourself. Well, you and Aiden whose a coworker of yours that became your friend that’s off today. You’ve been working for Sadie since…well your beginning year of college. Now you’re a senior, about to finish the spring semester.

Since her daughters and sons moved away, Sadie’s been alone. When you waltzed into her café, nearly begging for a job she took you in a heartbeat. She’s like a grandmother to both you and Aiden. However, you can never be here all the time and neither can Aiden, so you told her that it would be best to get another employee on board to handle things. Thus, this has resulted in a little help wanted sign being placed in the window of the café.

What was supposed to be a normal shift takes a turn when a nearly six foot hulking man built with bulky muscle and adorning an overgrown Mohawk saunters into the café. You’re not blind, he’s clearly attractive in a boyish yet gruff way. Some scars on his chin are visible. He’s got tan skin and beautiful blue eyes. He seems older than you. While you’re twenty two, he looks to be somewhere between late twenties, possibly thirty.

“Can I help you, sir?” You ask as he approaches the counter and you set down the cleaning supplies you were using. He gives you a playful smirk, one that gets your heart fluttering a bit. You stand in front of the register and get prepared to take his order.

“Aye, I’m interested in applyin for a job, '' He replies, scottish accent strong in his voice. You yourself have an American accent since you grew up in the states before deciding to move here to the United Kingdom. His words shock you for a moment, your lips pat in surprise.

“Oh! Got it, let me go grab the application paper for you to fill out” You give him a grin, relieved that someone actually decided to show interest for the barista position. Anyone would literally do. You’ve been waiting for the day someone came to apply and finally you’d get some extra help around the cafe. “I’ll have you fill this out and then I’ll just have a small interview to conduct after I give it a read” You tell him while snatching an application form off of the wall that’s clipped to a clipboard. After getting a pen from your breast pocket, you hand it to him.

Your fingers brush his for a moment when you pass him the pen and application. Something slightly uneasy though stirs in your stomach when his hand lingers against yours a little too long. You gently pull away.

“Yev got it lass” He responds and tucks the clipboard underneath his arm, holding the pen in that same hand. With his free arm, he extends it to you. The pure muscle rippling from underneath his tight shirt that stretches across his broad chest is crazy. “The names Johnny by the way, pretty lil place yeh got here” He greets. You place your hand in his and he shakes it gently, making you feel the rough calluses and collection of scars on his skin. His gaze flickers from your face down to where your hands connect.

“Oh it’s all thanks to Sadie, she owns this place not me” You explain while letting go of his hand. Your elbows rest on the counter as you stare up at Johnny, leaning over the counter slightly.

“Where is she at?” He asks while glancing around the empty café, running a hand through his Mohawk as he does so.

“Sadie’s at a doctor's appointment, I fear she is getting older” You sigh softly and glance at the ceiling where you know her apartment is above. You’ve been up there countless times to help Sadie with little things such as errands and carrying groceries.

“Ah, makes sense. Will I need to win her approval to get hired? Does she take bribes?” He jokes with a goofy smile that makes you giggle softly and shake your head. Your shoulders relax a bit.

“The only one you need to impress is me….and yes I do take bribes” You smirk slightly before turning around to finish cleaning up some things, your back facing him as he chuckles at your comment. “Have you ever worked as a barista before?” You ask while placing a new garbage bag over one of the cans hidden under the counter. A man like him coming to work at a tiny little café? He is the least likely person you’d expect to be interested in a job at a cozy hole in the wall like this.

“Oi has the interview process already started? I haven’t even filled out the application” He has a playful whine in his tone. You place your hands on your hips as you turn to face him.

“I lied, It truly started the moment you walked in and asked to apply” You tease.

“Well…ah suppose I’ve never been a barista in meh life, nor have ah worked in a café” He says as he glances down at the application, twirling the pen in his opposite hand as he holds the clipboard in the other. He glances up at you, eyes finding yours as he grins with his perfect white teeth. “But, I’m a very quick and…efficient learner lassie” He says that last part lowly, tone dropping an octave before he turns around on his heel and sits himself down in one of the chairs near the window to get started on his application.

—————

He watches her like a hawk, vaguely aware that he’s being a bit creepy by staring at her unblinking as she reads his application. Yet she’s so distracted she doesn’t even notice. He likes her already. Fuck. He swears his pupils dilate when she runs her tongue over her bottom lip while she focuses on her task. Makes him wonder how good she’d be with her mouth wrapped around his cock. God. He needs to get laid. Sure on base he wasn’t prone to Messing around with barracks bunnies or nurses from the med ward. And yes there are dating apps and shite specifically designed for hookups, but he hates going on those sites. He hasn’t been clubbing in a long while too. Needless to say his interaction with women has been…zero within the last six months.

Johnny is snapped from his thoughts after she gently sets the clipboard down with another bright smile. The interview was short and sweet, the basic questions were asked and he answered them. Johnny knows people. He knows how to work them. How to appeal to them. It all came with learning how to efficiently go undercover for certain missions.

“Okay, your charms have wooed me. You’re hired Johnny” She says and crosses her arms over her chest. He wonders why she said yes, especially since he has no experience whatsoever being a barista. But, he has an inkling that it had something to do with when she read over a particular question that asked what he did before he wanted to work at the café. Johnny was truthful, putting that he was medically discharged from special forces.

He noticed the slight frown on her lips and the way those pretty eyes were glazed over with sympathy for him while she read it. Pretty and nice, a lovely combination. Johnnys always gone for her type. Clearly studious from the textbooks lying behind the counter, medical related ones. A university student for sure. She’s a hard worker and he admires that.

“Thanks bonnie, seriously, thank yeh” Johnny decided to play up the part. He wants more sympathy points from her. He likes seeing her worried about him, makes his heart flutter at the thought of having a pretty lil thing like her concerned about his well being. “Life’s been pretty…hard since I’ve been discharged, wanted this job to make some money and have somewhere to actually be…homes lonely” He shrugs, a ‘sad’ smile on his lips.

“It does sound rough…I’m sorry'' She says and gets up from the chair, placing a hand on his strong shoulder. From how close she is he can smell her perfume and it makes him want to bury his face in her neck to get a better whiff. “I hope things get better, if you need anything tell me” She offers with a kind grin. He wonders if she tastes as sweet as she acts. “You can start with me for tomorrow's morning shift for training, sound good?” She asks him.

“Sounds absolutely perfect bonnie” He replies and leans back in the chair, eyes focused on the way her ass moves while she walks away to the back of the counter to start closing. In one afternoon he’s somehow managed to find a nice little job…and some entertainment too.

——————

You’re surprised when Johnny stays with you until close, yapping away as you put things away and clear off tables to clean them up. The café closes at 4 PM every evening. You’ve tried your best to get rid of him. He literally refuses to go and you’ve run out of excuses to get Johnny to leave. He follows you around like a puppy. Hell, even when you’re outside locking up for the night he stays standing right beside you. With only spending four hours with Johnny, you’ve learned a lot about the man.

While overwhelming…it iis sort of nice. Besides, you remember what he said earlier about adjusting to civilian life again. You feel bad…he must be lonely. He served his country, the least you could do is provide some company for him.

“So you don’t have any family here in the city?” You ask, bag slung over your shoulder as you yank the key from the keyhole in the door. Johnny shakes his head no.

“Nah lass, they all live on the countryside-on the farm” He sighs while shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“No girlfriend? Boyfriend? Friends?” You try to pry further. If he has no one to go home to, that just makes you even more sad. Well, while you own your shitty little apartment not far from your university, at least you’ve got friends to fall back on for company.

“Nope” Johnny says with a shrug. “All my friends are deployed lassie, I’m all alone-. As for a girlfriend…I’m taking applications if yer interested bonnie” His lips curl into a smirk. Your heart does a little flip at the boyish grin he shoots your way.

“Haha very funny, now go home you’ve been here for hours!” You tell him and cross your arms over your chest. Admittedly, your social battery is a bit low at the moment, especially considering you’re going to have to study until bed tonight. That thought alone makes you irritable and exhausted already.

“And not walk yeh home? The city is a dangerous place!” Johnny exclaims, dramatically looking at the alley ways in the immediate area. Despite being socially tired, Johnny's playful demeanor does make you crack another smile.

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself” You assure while showing him the pepper spray connected on a metal ring that holds your keys for work and home. Johnny blinks at the sight of the tiny defense weapon before scoffing, raising a single brow at you.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Someone could easily snatch yeh off the street- that wee thing of pepper spray won’t do much, common I’m walkin yah” He finalizes and shoots down any argument you’ve begun preparing in your head. A frown forms on your lips and with a sigh, you begin walking in the direction of your apartment. As you brush past him, you’re acutely aware of the hand he hovers over your lower back.

The situation is weird. Johnnys nice and he hasn’t given you any reason to be wary of him…but maybe he’s being too nice. It begins to process in your head as the two of you walk down the street that you’ve only just met four hours ago and now he’s walking you to your apartment. He stayed with you an extra FOUR hours until close, just sitting there watching you and making conversation. Is that not a little strange or are you overthinking things?

Eventually you arrive at your apartment. Those little red flags are shoved to the back of your mind. He’s just being nice probably.

“Well…thanks, see you tomorrow morning Johnny” You smile and readjust your bag over your shoulder. Johnny looks elated at the moment. You wonder why, but don’t question it.

“Night lass” He gives you a wave as you start to enter the apartment complex you live in. Little do you know as you make your way up the stairs, he’s watching the windows to try to see what floor of the building you live on.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Interlude A

Read on AO3

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Chapter Index

Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John goes to mandated therapy, Manipulation, domestic daydreams, abuse of CIA connections, hey Kate's here!

~3.3k - MDNI - Less of a darkfic at this point, but just be mindful

It’s strange to be back in London.

John still comes here once a week— A staunch refusal to switch to a new therapist, even if it would save him the short flight from Aberdeen Airport every Friday, his whole day eaten away by travel and the hour appointment with Dr. Clara.

He doesn’t like her. She thinks he’s stubborn and resistant.

She’s probably right.

For the first time, he thinks it might be a good idea to switch. Or stop coming in personally, conduct therapy online. Being away from Dalisay bothers him. He doesn’t like that she’s alone in the house. If something happened, he’d be so far away. She’d seen him off, kissed him at the door, said she’d make dinner for when he got back. She wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t want to. He had to trust her, even if it was a difficult thing to do.

It would probably kill him if he came home to an empty house.

“How have you been, John?” Kate’s voice on the phone sounds worried. He must have been in bad shape when he saw her last week. He hardly remembers. He feels like his old self again, centred, steady.

“Good. Better. Soap introduced me to someone.” Introduced being a generous term for what happened. “She’s been stayin’ with me.”

“You’re seeing someone?” The surprise in her voice is palpable. “John—”

“She’s somethin’ special, Kate. You’d like her.”

Kate hums in a way that implies that she doesn’t believe him. “What’s her name?” she asks, faux-casual. She wants to look Doll up.

“Dalisay Valmorida.” In truth, he wants to know more too. Without any resources, he couldn’t find much. Doll kept her social media private, and snooping through her email hadn’t revealed much of anything either, except lead him to a totally anonymized profile on a kink website that told him that she was interested in submission and ropes (could she be any more perfect?), and had a few pictures of the prettiest tits he’d ever seen. She has a tattoo on her ribs, apparently, floral and intricate, and he wants to drag his teeth over it. Hopes he gets a chance to. “But I’m not worried. She’s a sweetheart, Kate.”

“She’s staying with you?”

“Yeah.” He wracked his brain for something that wouldn’t sound both criminal and insane. "She was living in a bad neighbourhood, and lost her nanny job. Soap—”

Kate makes an amused sound. “Thought you needed looking after, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that. We were in a position to help each other, I s’pose.”

“How long has she been there? You didn’t mention her when I saw you last week.”

“She’s only been there since Friday night. Her place got broken into, we moved up the timeline.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Kate, there’s lots of things I’m not telling you.

“John, when you say you’re seeing her…”

“It’s new. It’s nice. I have a good feeling about Doll. I’m trying not to rush things, but you know me.”

“Well. Let’s grab lunch after your session. I’ll see what I can dig up before then. Usual place?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Alright. See you then.” She hangs up, brusque as ever.

He gets off the tube at the next stop and walks to the low-rise office building his therapist works out of. Greets Brenda that works the front desk, sits in the waiting room. He’s fifteen minutes early, just like always.

He sends Doll a text while he’s waiting, just asking how her morning’s going, and gets a response almost right away, a picture of the puppy they’d gone to see last week. The picture’s blurry, the pup too excited to hold still.

Doll: Mel came by after she dropped the kids off at school. We’re having tea at hers (:

John: Have fun, sweetheart.

His chest loosens a bit. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. She’s making friends with his friends, putting down tentative roots. He didn’t have to worry. He didn’t have to worry. He thinks about talking to Melissa about adopting the little thing. Seeing Doll coo and fuss over a puppy would probably make him act like a fool, but she’s been forgiving about the more honest things he’s said so far.

"John?" Dr. Clara calls him in. "Nice to see you. How was your trip down?"

"Fine. Same as always." John sits in the usual chair, and looks around the room like usual, clocking everything in it's usual space, except the tissue box on the table and a trashcan sitting closer to the chair than it’s usual position. Every other week the appointment just before his is a watery sort of woman, but he had been looking at his phone rather than at the door, letting himself relax enough to not notice the woman leave the room. "How are you?" Its a perfunctory question, going through the motions of politeness.

"Good." Dr. Clara settles into her own chair, notebook out. She's close to his age, beautiful in a cold, precise sort of way. Thin, a perfectly straight razor sharp bob framing her face. "Who were you texting?" she asks.

This throws off their rhythm. Usually she starts by asking if he'd done any of the journaling she asked him to do (he never did), and then if he'd gone down to the local legion to connect with other veterans (he hadn't).

"I— She's a friend. Of Soap's. Stayin' with me for a bit. String of bad luck, poor thing, lost her job and her apartment got broken into in the same week." The half truth comes more easily the second time. "She was really shook up."

"And you don't find the introduction of a new person into your routine disruptive?"

John frowns. "I think her comin’ along was disruptive in a good way. I needed to change some things around."

Dr. Clara raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Eatin' better. Couldn't be arsed to cook just for me, but I'm gettin' three squares a day now. Haven't had a drink since Saturday. She likes a cuppa around the same time I'd usually have a night cap. Sleepin' a bit better." He bites back a smile. "The other day, I was workin' outside while she painted-- She's an artist, and a bloody good one— and she reminded me to rest my ankle. Still gets sore when I push too hard."

"Tell me more about her."

"We're still getting to know each other, but she's sweet. Patient. Not afraid to tell me what she thinks."

"Why would she be afraid?"

"I can be… well, you know how I can be. And she's just a soft little thing. Wouldn't blame her if she was nervous." John shrugged. "She's beautiful too.. Brightens up the whole room when she smiles. And funny. Makes clever comments. And has this way of celebrating moments for no reason at all. Had me spinnin' around in the rain the other day. Thinkin' about gettin' her a puppy."

Dr. Clara taps the end of her pencil on her notepad, clearly conflicted. This is the most John's spoken in a session without her having to pull it out of him word by word, but… "A puppy? John don't you think that might not be an appropriate gift for a woman you've known for, um…" she looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the gap.

"Well. A week," John admits. "But we've got a real connection. Something special."

"Is she planning on staying with you long term?"

"She might. I'd like her to."

"So you have intense feelings for a woman you don't know, and all your short-lived progress is based on her presence, is that what you're saying?"

John's eyes narrow. Of course it sounds crazy to her. She doesn't know Dalisay. "I know her."

"Do you? You met her just a week ago, John." Dr. Clara sighs. "Do you think maybe you see winning her over as a mission? That you're returning to that rigid military mindset that brought you to me in the first place?"

John shakes his head. "It wasn't the military mindset that brought me here. It was those damn pills."

"John—"

"No, I know what you're going to say. Don't bother."

“John. If you know what I’m about to say, I’d like to hear you say it.”

He huffs, and looks away, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair. It’s hard to meet her steely gaze for long. He doesn’t like being scrutinized, and that’s all these sessions are. "You'd usually say something like, almost losing Soap led me to take risks I shouldn't've, that I blame myself for his injury, that the stress of trying to make sure my team never got hurt in a field where getting hurt is inevitable put me under tremendous stress, and that my own injury left me with nothing but time to contemplate my guilt. The pain killers were a way to turn the feelings off."

Dr. Clara nods, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "So you do listen."

"I don't see what this has to do with Dalisay."

She gives him a pitying look over her reading glasses. "You don't give yourself room to make mistakes, John. That inflexibility is the problem. If you build good habits on someone else's foundations, what happens if they leave? You'll be right back where you started."

“You’re so sure she’ll leave?”

Dr. Clara sets her notebook down in her lap and leans forward, hands clasped together. “It’s not about her, John. It’s about you. You are worth doing this work for. You have to be able to stand on your own two feet. People are fallible. Things happen, we lose people we care about. It’s part of living. The only person you can’t live without is John Price.”

He crosses his arms. “You told me I needed to make connections with other people.”

“I did. And you still should. But this is not what I meant and you damn well know it. Jumping into a relationship when you’re still struggling like this is not going to be healthy. You’re headed for codependency at best. If you really care about this woman, you need to consider what she needs too. If she told you she was seeing a veteran that struggles with substance abuse, that turns any negative feelings into anger, that can’t compromise or be flexible, that needs to be in control—”

“I get it. I’d tell her she deserves better.”

“So be better, John. Start with the journal. Actually buy one before you go home. There’s a stationary shop down around the corner.”

He snorts. “You get a commission for sending your patients there?”

“Yes, John, you’ve unearthed my diabolical plot. I’m in cahoots with the stationary store,” she says dryly. “It doesn’t matter where you buy the damn journal from. Write your feelings on the back of a receipt for all I care. Just try. If all you write down every day is that you hate that I’m making you do it, that’s still progress.”

“Alright, alright.” He supposes he can cede a little ground. Dr. Clara has been going on about that since their first session, so maybe there’s something to it.

He finds himself walking into the stationary store and breathing in the scent of paper and ink and glue. It reminds him of Doll’s art store. He wonders if she’d like a place like this. Probably. She’d probably tell him to listen to Dr. Clara too.

Running his fingers over the spines of the shelf of journals, he stops at one with a soft leather cover. He pulls it down and thumbs through the pages. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for exactly, but it has lines and a spot for the date at the top of each page, so that’s probably good enough. The man at the counter asks if he needs a pen too, and he glances at the one the man’s holding, a fountain pen with a shiny wood-grain finish, and swallows the no that nearly leaves his tongue.

“Sure. Yeah.”

He meets Kate at a pub not far from the London base. She’s still working, of course, just like he should be, but unlike him, she didn’t have a breakdown that cost him everything. When things happen that Kate can’t handle, she can beak down privately, and her wife puts her back together, better than new. He’s been envious of that for a long time, of that stability that Kate gets to come home to.

She’s working on something, tapping away at her phone when he settles across from her, but she glances up and gives him an apologetic smile. “Hey, John. Just give me a second, I have to finish replying to this email.”

He just nods, used to this. Kate’s always in the middle of something. He waits patiently while she works, and quietly orders a tea when the server comes around to ask.

He doesn't miss the questioning look from Kate. She sets her phone down and really studies him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" He asked.

"We've gotten together for lunch almost every week for the past year, and this is the first time you haven't ordered a beer."

"Don't feel like having one."

"You're sleeping better too. You look good, John."

He couldn't deny that he felt better. More like himself. Settled in his skin, engines rumbling, ready for anything. "I guess Doll's been a good influence. You looked her up?"

"I did. Not much of a presence online. Found an old art blog that she hasn't updated for years, has a couple of very sparse social media accounts. Was two years into a fine arts degree from Manchester university when she switched to english lit. Worked part time as an educational assistant in an elementary school, and then started working for Kevin and Isla Kinsey five years ago."

"That's it?" He's not sure if that's a relief or a disappointment. He knows most of that already.

"No. She's had some involvement in anti-war groups, nothing major, but I pulled that thread all the way to the terrorist attack on Piccadilly Circus back in 2019. Her parents were both killed."

"Huh." That explained a lot.

"Michelle actually knows her. She curated a show that Angela— her mother— was featured in. That's why they were in London in the first place."

"Christ. No wonder she dropped painting for so long."

"Has she picked it back up? She should call Michelle once she's put a few things together. She has what Michelle calls a compelling story."

"I'll let her know." He sighs. "Anything else?"

"She's an only child, but there’s lots of family in the Philippines, a grandmother in Aberdeen. A few cousins in Canada and the states. Pretty much all clean, keep out of trouble types. There's not much more I can tell you from my end, unless you want me digging through the filing cabinet at her old therapist's office. Old school, offline records." Kate shrugs. "I could. But I think you'd be better off just talking to her."

"Probably. Thanks, Kate. Kinda had it in my head that she was too good to be true." John flashes a smile at the server when she brings him his tea, and orders a salad, which really has Kate looking at him like he's mad.

"You keep this up, you could come back to work," she says. "You just need Clara to sign off on you. Which means consistency."

"Yeah. I'm tryin' her journal idea. Not sure that I'd go back anyway. Maybe it was just time." A few weeks ago, he would be chomping at the bit to go back. But now that there’s something else to give him some purpose, he’s not sure he wants to.

"Up to you. You're not there yet anyway. Now, I want to hear about this girl from your side." Kate picks up her soda (always diet, always something caffeinated) and gives him a pointed look.

He talks about Doll for a bit, gets a bit more work talk out of Kate, and when they part ways, they tentatively talk about Kate and Michelle coming up to meet her before long. It’s a nice thought. He'd like to get the lads back up too, but Kate’s a safer bet to start. Doll might forgive the boys if they grovel enough, and if things are looking promising between her and John. It's always easier to justify an overstep if the results are ultimately positive, so he has to make sure that Dalisay is happy and settled before he considers it.

It'll be a tough road if she doesn't want to reconcile with them. Not impossible, but he wants all of his people to get along. He wants his kids to know the men that have stood by him for all these years.

He sends a few texts to Dalisay, but there’s no response. He spends the short flight rationalizing why she might not have noticed her phone. Maybe she’d left it in her purse when she got back from Mel’s, or let the battery run out. She wouldn’t leave without telling him. She wouldn’t.

By the time he gets to his truck, he’s convinced that something’s happened.

He makes the hour drive back in forty minutes, parks erratically, and runs for the house, gravel sliding under his feet, his ankle twinging.

He tumbles through the door, half expecting a disaster, a crime scene, and instead sees something out of his most revisited domestic daydreams, set to some bouncy sort of pop music.

Dalisay is leaning over the stove, hips moving to the music, wearing a pretty floral skirt, socks pulled up over her thick calves to the knee, her feet sliding on the tiles as she moves. Her soft dark hair is up in a messy bun, a pencil and a paintbrush stuck through it. The whole house smells amazing, whatever she has cooking sure to be well worth the light lunch. There's a painting started on a canvas set up in the living room, just a soft gradient of blue and gold. And best of all, when she does a little spin and notices him at last, she beams at him. "John! You're home!"

"I am," he agrees, grinning back when she throws herself into his arms, squeezing him tight around the middle. He wraps his own arms around her shoulders, relishing the press of her soft little body against his. "How was your day, Doll?"

"It was really nice! I had a good time chatting with Mel, and I made dinner. And dessert even." She doesn't make any move to pull away, just looks up at him, pretty dark eyes fixed on his face. There’s an echo of relief in her eyes too, like she had been as worried about him, as he had been about her. "I'm glad you're home safe. You really go all the way down to London every week?"

He nodded. "I could change doctors, but I get lunch with a friend while I'm there— Kate. You'd like her. Maybe, once you're settled in a bit more, we could invite her and her wife up for dinner."

"Oh, that would be nice. So long as she's more sane than the friends I've met so far."

"Considerably. Can I kiss you hello?"

She hummed, as though she were considering it, although the laughing look in her eye said yes long before she gave a verbal affirmation.

He's the luckiest man in the world, he thinks as he leans down to kiss her soft lips.

Things are looking up. Things are good. And it's all thanks to to her.

He's going to make her the happiest woman in the entire world. She deserves nothing less. She deserves his best too, and he’s determined to be a better man than he has been in a long while.

She breaks the kiss by dropping her heels back to the floor. “Are you hungry? Dinner’s almost ready. We have time for a cup of tea first, if you’d like.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Image Credits: Banner - Banner Background - Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[raina-at]

Jealousy

He’s not jealous. It would be ridiculous to be jealous. Not after all this time.

Sherlock is gay. Sherlock is also married. To him. They’re raising a daughter together. He trusts Sherlock absolutely. It was hard-worn trust, and it needed a lot of time, therapy and painful honesty to re-establish, but it’s rock solid now. He knows Sherlock would never betray him.

And yet. 

And yet, the very sound of that obscene text message chime is enough to set his teeth on edge and make his blood boil.

Sherlock never replies. He does read the texts, though, and he doesn’t delete them. He went halfway around the world to save her, and he still has the fucking camera phone. 

John hates her. He never found her attractive at all, even though she’s practically Sherlock in female form, with her dark hair, her pale skin and her sharp intellect. But she lacks something completely essential to John. Something Sherlock has, even though he hides it well. Integrity. Morals. Sincerity. He always found her painfully artificial. In control. Cool, calculating, always out for her own advantage. Never a genuine emotion. Even though Sherlock believed she loved him, John never bought into it. 

He hated how she toyed with Sherlock’s emotions, hated how she manipulated him, made him dance. He hated, hated, how fascinated Sherlock was with her, how he admired her, how she turned his head and scrambled his sensors. How desperate he was to impress her. How she taunted him. Look at us both, indeed.

He was insulted when she compared herself to John. John would die for Sherlock. Irene wouldn’t have crossed the street to spit at his corpse. And yet she mockingly called him on his biggest vulnerability, his unrequited—or so he thought—love for Sherlock, his traitorous heart that even then belonged entirely to Sherlock, who—or so he thought—didn’t want it.

Even now, almost a decade later, every time Sherlock gets one of her moany texts, John wants to take Sherlock’s phone and shatter it against the wall. 

It’s not that he thinks Sherlock will ever have sex with her.

It’s that she still fascinates him. Intellectually. She’s so clever, isn’t she. She’s so smart, so cunning, such an elegant criminal. She never gets caught, and only Sherlock can trace her crimes through newspapers and social media posts. A blackmail here, a clever con there. A clandestine theft, an act of corporate espionage. Victimless, bloodless, traceless. And Sherlock loves it. He enjoys regaling John with her exploits, full of admiration and praise for her cleverness.

The thing is, John recognises that this is a him problem. Sherlock doesn’t do anything to make him jealous. Ever. People flirt with him all the time, and he’s oblivious at best and scornfully dismissive at worst. He’s a great father, a wonderfully attentive lover and much easier to live with than he used to be. He’s a good partner, period. And he clearly, openly, transparently, visibly loves John. 

It just.

John isn’t brilliant. He’s not clever, cunning, or elegant. He’s not seductively amoral, he’s not out there temptingly flaunting all the roles of social dos and don’ts in an elegant, victimless, clever fashion. 

He’s the person admonishing Sherlock to put his socks in the bloody hamper. He’s the one asking him about the electric bill. He’s the one topping up Sherlock’s oyster card and the one telling him to call his parents. 

And yes, he binds Sherlock’s wounds and soothes his nightmares and tethers him to the ground when he would otherwise fly apart. 

And he knows Sherlock loves him intensely, passionately, almost obsessively. He knows Sherlock values him, respects him, needs him.

He’s just never sure exactly why.

Most of the time, he doesn’t think about it. They work, as a couple, as parents, as partners. They’ve always mysteriously clicked, like two broken pieces fitting together perfectly at the cracks. Most of the time, he’s too busy living his life, raising his child, loving his husband.

But sometimes, there’s a text. And a sound. And John looks at the person he loves so much his heart literally quivers with it sometimes, and he wonders. 

Why me, if it could be her? Why me, if it could be anyone?

He never asks, because he’s honestly afraid of the answer. And he knows it doesn’t matter why Sherlock loves him, because it’s so obvious that he does. There’s so much binding them together these days. Parenthood, trust, affection, family, habit, and more than a fair share of lust.

But sometimes he doubts. Will it last? Will he one day wake up, look at me, realise I’m just a broken ex-soldier who has nothing to offer?

It only lasts a second. It only lasts until Sherlock notices his frown, pulls him down for a searing kiss that relegates the doubts in John’s mind back into the closet. 

One of these days, John knows, the doubts will disappear completely. One of these days, he’ll hear that fucking moan and won’t care.

He’s not quite there yet. 

But he will be.

----

Tags under the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[ghcstao3]

hi again, hope school isn't being too hard on you :( I figured I'd send a few ideas in & you can answer whenever!

IT'S COLD! so how about the 141 during the summer, doing some of your favorite activities! Or maybe a teeny ramble about what each likes doing the most...?

if it's not triggering...SoapGhost in uni. The class they share is for 1 of their majors & the other's minor (or maybe just for extra credits). The extra credit assignment involves taking a day trip somewhere & they're the only 2 who go.

Soap's 2nd job happens to be helping out his local unicorn community, who have all but gone extinct. He comes across the fabled Simon Riley, the Ghost of Soap's hometown, as the poor guy wanders around after being held captive by fey for decades.

school’s just been busy more than anything thankfully!! it’s a lot of work but certainly not too difficult:)

and ahh it was hard to choose from one of these i might have to return to the others. but honestly writing about them in uni is like therapy

-

Simon and John meet in an upper level English literature course.

Well—Simon never really had much say in the matter, not when John had plopped himself down in the seat beside him on the first day even in spite of all the other empty desks in the small classroom. Apparently it’s what John’s heart had desired, and never having been one for unnecessary confrontation, Simon never says anything of it.

He could never really pinpoint when their friendship began, maybe forged through general interest in the topic and whispered comments and jokes about some of the contents during lectures, or maybe through necessity when they’re not familiar with many others in the class, but either way—John ends up becoming one of the better friends Simon’s made in all his years of university.

The thing is, though, with majors that don’t overlap in the slightest—be it Simon’s English major and John’s own in chemistry—they don’t really see much of each other outside of class, unless it means working on a group project. Simon thinks—believes—they’d both like to be friends outside of the course, but… for whatever reason, they each have difficulty initiating anything.

Simon, personally, would like something more. But he doesn’t need it. Just wants John’s company regardless.

But they have their difficulties throughout the semester, that is, until their professor—a sweet old woman, who endures far too much from the few immature students in her class—announces that she had received funding from the department to take interested students to a professional production of Macbeth in a town an hour over. It’s without hesitation that Simon and John both agree to go.

But since it’s so close to finals season, they end up being the only two to go through with attending.

Not that Simon’s complaining—it just means more time spent with John alone. Sort of.

And not to mention he gets to see how nicely John cleans up for the event.

“I’m so glad you boys still came,” their professor says in greeting. “I was afraid no one wanted to go anymore.”

John smiles that stupidly charming smile at her, and Simon’s really beginning to feel the extent of his growing crush on his friend.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” he says.

“Oh, thank you, John.” She glances between them both, some knowing expression appearing briefly on her face before she ushers them inside the theatre. She hands them their tickets, tells them to go ahead, she has some friends from the local university she wants to meet with before the performance starts.

As they settle into their seats, John leans into Simon’s space—closer than he could ever manage at a desk. Simon hopes the theatre’s dark enough that John can’t see the way his ears burn red.

“Warning you now,” John whispers. “I know fuck all about Shakespeare language, so you’re gonna have a lot of explainin’ to do.”

Simon huffs, trying to dispel some of the heat of his blush. “Maybe you should’ve paid more attention in class, then, Johnny.”

John laughs, knocking his shoulder against Simon’s. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been telling me so many jokes during lectures, Mr. English major.”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother retaliating. Instead they fall into meaningless conversation until the play begins, quieting only slightly when their professor arrives and sits on the other side of Simon.

The lights dim in the audience, and the performance starts. Simon watches with rapt attention, but true to his word, John asks him far too many questions.

He doesn’t particularly mind, though, when he can feel John’s knee press against his all the while.

John rambles when it’s over, and despite the interrogation, he seemed to understand and enjoy it as much as Simon and their professor had. Simon’s more than content to listen as their professor bids them goodnight, and they both head to the train station while she heads to her car.

Simon isn’t sure what it is that causes it—but the entire ride back, John seems to encroach in his space more than usual, stuck to Simon like glue. Simon does notice his eyes drooping and his head nodding off every once in a while, so he has the excuse of writing it off as exhaustion.

Particularly when John is resting his head on Simon’s shoulder.

“Don’t wanna walk back to my flat,” John laments once they’re climbing off at their stop. “Too far.”

It’s a fit of impulse that has Simon offering, “You could stay at mine? It’s only five minutes.”

And there’s no hesitation when John accepts with a weary grin.

“You’re a lifesaver, Si,” John sighs. “Could kiss you right now.”

Simon freezes. John doesn’t notice as he ambles further away from the train platform.

“What’d you say?”

John pauses, and his brow furrows. He looks to Simon, simultaneously confused and entirely too casual. “Said I could kiss you,” he repeats. “Why? S’that a problem?”

Simon’s gaze falls to the ground as he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not—that’s not—“

“Would you like me to kiss you?” John pushes, peeking up at Simon through thick lashes. Simon knows he’d give in immediately, if he were looking into those sapphire-blue eyes.

“I mean—“ Simon shrugs a shoulder. His blush has returned in full force, from the nape of his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. “—I wouldn’t say no.”

“Okay,” John hums, like it’s nothing, before grabbing Simon’s face and doing exactly as promised.

It isn’t anything life changing, but it’s still—it’s still everything Simon could hope for, even here as a chill runs through him from the night’s cool temperature, even if their only sources of light are the moon and a flickering streetlamp.

John eventually pulls away first, delivering a hearty pat to Simon’s chest. “Now get me back to your flat and we can do that again, aye? It’s fuckin’ freezing out here.”

Simon can’t help the smile that appears on his face. His face tingles a little less now, though he’s sure it’s still stained a deep pink. “Sure, Johnny.”

And if they hold hands the entire way back—Simon will just claim it was for warmth.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Wednesday my lovely readers :) Ahhh already 4 eps into this season. Almost half way there. Doesn’t take long when we only got 10. Ha Still grateful for what little we got was better than nothing tbh. Also reached the limit on my master post for links. Apparently there is a limit. Boo. Gotta add a link to a new posts in there for rest of the reviews. Was kinda shocked at the lower amount of gifs for this ones. So a lot are the made ones from me. Anyways this is really really good one. Let us begin.

6x04 Training Day

We start out with Lucy being a lying liar who lies. Not even well.... Tim not believing her even a little bit that she’s "fine." One of Lucy’s tells is her fidgeting. Whether it’s her hands, her sleeves, and the ever infamous tattoo touch she does. All indicators she is anything but fine. Tim is well versed in all of these things. Because he has the book of Lucy memorized. Her telling him it’s ’Not a big deal.’ Is a big ol red flag for him.

Tim voicing as such to her. Letting her know anytime he’s heard that from a woman in his life they were anything but that. Lucy keeps pretending she’s made peace with it. That’s she’s a professional. She will keep on keeping on. But as we know with this episode that is a load of absolute BS. It's one thing after another for her in this one only adding to very 'not fine' she is. Poor girl.

They do turn a cute corner with her asking if he wants her to be upset? Tim replying of course he doesn't. But the man is worried. Rightfully so. The smile on her face when she asks this is adorable though. They have a nice little moment of reprieve till numbskull Nolan appears. Bringing up the very thing that is eating at her. Her short ‘I’m fine.' Before taking off. Ugh. Undoing any progress Tim made. Thanks John forever the worst with that stuff. Smh. The way Tim’s eyes follow her after that. *sigh*

So begins the hell episode for Lucy. She shows up to the scene asking about their killer. Then asks Harper/Angela if they want her to start canvassing? They tell her yeah the northwest corner. Lucy making a crack no one has covered it yet because it’s by the ‘Hell dumpsters’. Their sassy looks say everything. Lucy spitting back a company line about being a patrol officer. Oh my girl. It’s hitting her so hard she’s still a patrol officer. Feeling like at this point in her career her talents are being wasted. I mean they are…That much is clear in this moment.

Her expression at the end of the scene says everything tbh. About all that frustration and feeling like a failure. This is the starting point of Lucy isolating herself. I know everyone thought she had zero support. To me and I know others said it during the season too. That she isolated herself. Because just like Tim when she is going through something she does it alone. She is internalizing EVERYTHING right now. I have been known to do this as well. The need to shutdown and do it alone. I can relate to her.

She has a solid support system but that doesn’t mean she’s taking advantage of said system. I can relate to that very well too. It took awhile but I now have a solid system. I don’t always rely on them in times of emotional distress. It’s a learned skill. One I'm still learning to use. We talk about Tim and his need for therapy. Lucy needs it too. They’re scarily alike in their unhealthy coping mechanisms. It’s frightening really. Also the song running through this is so good (Dandelion-ill peach)

This next portion is the beginning of her spiral as well. It’s wrapped inside her isolation. It’s a recipe for disaster as we see later on... The isolation continues while she is guarding the dumpsters solo. If there was ever a time Lucy didn’t need to be alone with her thoughts it would be today. She spots some puke and thinks it might be from the killer. Calls Harper and tells her as such.

Harper tells her it’s unlikely to be related but they’ll need to process it anyways. Unfortunately it is only going to extend her time in hell. Nyla telling her could take a couple hours. 4 tops…Ugh. Not exactly what her day needs. Doesn’t help Harper cuts her off on the phone before she can finish her sentence. *sigh* Now Lucy is left to sit in her thoughts and stew in her emotions. I believe this episode was setup to reflect how Lucy is feeling.

Which honestly is like shit. How she feels alone (self inflicted or not), how she’s falling behind and feelings of failure. It’s reflected in all her scenes in this one. It’s a tough one to watch for her. She’s feeling very segregated and this dumpster canvass isn’t helping. As we know our girl isn’t very good at spotting when she’s being emotionally blind to her own feelings. Nor realizing when she’s not reaching out for the help she needs. The thing about support systems is they can’t be mind readers. You gotta relay when you need that support.

Lucy watching that press conference is killing me softly. You can see so much emotion written all over her face. The jealously and the annoyance of not being the one up there. Because well she almost was. It was just dumb luck (title of Nolan’s career) that they got that call and she didn’t. Ain't nothing going our girl's way today and it shows. She is a seething cauldron of emotions that she is tamping down under the guise of being ‘fine’

I do LOVE her waiting on Tim so they can go home together. (Also the hands in his jeans, the shirt, the jacket. Mmm gimme) It’s the little married things that get me all amped up. Waiting on her man to go home. It makes me so happy and squee. She needs it more than ever too. I swear at this moment in time the only keeping her sanity intact is that man.

He reads her like a book from moment he sees her though. Knows what her sour mood is all about. That if only Primm had seen her linked to this case. Seen this press conference it would’ve proved him wrong about her. Made him regret tanking her exam. Damn he knows his girl. Because that's exactly what her face is conveying in the very beginning of this scene.

Lucy notes instead of that she was stuck in dumpster hell. Not only that but she guarded puke for 3 hours. Based on the off chance it belonged to the killer. Tim asking if it did? Hoping to God it did LOL It’s the way Melissa delivers the sick dog line that cracks me up. How she could easily lose her shit right now. Like that was the straw that broke the camel's back for her today.

Ugh I hate it so much for her. She was already all up in her thoughts and failures. Probably thinking why her? What can’t she have even the simplest win? That she’s been resigned to guarding puke and it not even being helpful. That it should be her up there not Nolan. I mean I agree it should be. This is all just percolating toward the rash decision she makes later.

So damn desperate to prove she’s worth her salt. That this is the career for her. She’s meant to do so much more than patrol, canvassing, and general grunt work. Our girl is in dire straits and Tim can see it clear as day. Which is what makes this next portion so sweet and important tbh. Also doesn’t hurt there are more married vibes attached to it.

I love the gentle advice given here from Tim. She’s had a really bad day and he’s being sensitive to it. Doling out solid guidance but being soft about it. Applying logic with empathy so she gets his point but also doesn’t get more upset. Tim can see how this rough shift has rocked her. Especially when she is already on shaky ground. This man like I’ve been saying has been 10/10 for her. Idk what she would’ve done without him eps 1-4 I really don’t.

The beauty of this scene is him empathizing and building her back her up in the process. Reassuring her in the kindest way. That yeah you had a bad day, you’ll have 'em again, but tomorrow could be a whole new ball game for her. That being on patrol is an 'anything can happen game.' Knowing she is down about patrol right now. The man knows. Then is positive about it. Saying today wasn’t her day but tomorrow could be. I love this man so very much. As does Lucy.

I just love the ‘share our day’ marriage vibes this scene holds. Tim sees she had the tougher day and is there for her. Lucy getting lighter as they continue to talk. Something Tim is very good at. The best part of this scene is he gets her to laugh.

After he’s said his piece and comforted her he takes it a step further. Makes his lady laugh and we’re all here for it. Telling her not to be so greedy LOL It’s the way Lucy is looking at him that gets me in the first one. Her Tim smile in full force. Then their precious combined smiles in the second one. God damnit they’re so cute you guys.

I’m dying. They make each other so happy I wanna cry. The lack of space and how they bump arms as they laugh. Just being in love with all to see I cannot. Lucy being grateful for this goof of a man making her smile. For relieving her even if it's just for a short while of that weight on her soul. Letting him carry it with her for a bit. *heart clutch* I love them sfm.

First off before we delve into this part, I wanna say Lucy is an absolute BAMF is in the moments leading up to Harper/Angela arriving. How calm and collected she is. Making sure to cover Bailey as she gets her downed partner. If she could see herself in this moment she wouldn’t have so many doubts. But sadly that is not how crippling self esteem/confidence issues work. I just love watching her in the field and how well she handles herself.

Second my heart was racing from moment that man is shot in the chest. The entire moment is one giant adrenaline rush. Holy hell. Lucy covers for the duo until they reach her cover. Their airship is three minutes out and Lucy doesn’t think they can afford to wait. Wants to run down the alleyway solo. Cut him off so he doesn’t get away. That desperate need to prove herself rearing it’s ugly head.

Not only that but it is running the show for her right now. Harper immediately says no. That’s it's a 40 yard run in an open field. Lucy isn’t listening to her advice though. Level headed Lucy would've heeded her warning. Once again this season she is not with us in this moment. Saying to blow his head off if he pops up. That she’ll be alright. Angela doesn’t look pleased with this idea either. I mean look at her above. Concern written all over her. Her gut feeling screaming this isn't a good idea....But Lucy is hell bent on it.

This run had me holding my friggin breath. Tim would’ve lost his damn mind had he seen this. Not only that he would’ve ripped them a new one to letting her attempt it. When she got hit first time watched it I screamed. Held my breath until she got back up. Angela and Harper’s horrified faces mirrored my own. Couldn’t breathe till she popped back up. It was the most reckless risk she could've taken.

She is very very lucky her radio took the hit. It saved her damn life after that crazy run of hers. Lucy taking Tim's suggestion of being a big hero a little too literally. Honestly would’ve loved to have seen Tim tear them up for letting her do this... Reckless doesn’t seem strong enough of a word with this action. This decision of hers is a culmination of an episode long isolation. Of letting her emotions run the show and she took a risk that could've killed her. All to proof she could do it.

She had definitely given into those voices in her head telling her she’s not enough. Telling her she needs to prove herself or no one will ever think she’s worthy of moving up. To show she doesn't belong on patrol anymore. If she had just told her support system and really Tim how she was feeling. She wouldn’t have been this damn hasty. Lucy wasn’t thinking about what would happen if her radio didn’t catch that bullet. How utterly wrecked Tim would be if she had been hurt or even worse killed.

The problem being she kept all these emotions and struggles to herself. Which clouded her judgement. Her brain wasn't thinking in this capacity. This moment showing the continued communication problems in their relationship. How her decision could've really affected Tim. She wasn't thinking that in the moment though. Their communication issues go both ways with them. When they’re feeling emotionally distraught or vulnerable they isolate and take their problem on themselves.

Which results in foolish and hasty decisions. I.e. this moment above. And in next 2 eps with Tim...Something they gotta work on either before they’re back together or in the early repairing of their relationship. We get to see her KIA radio once she is clear. It very much saved her life and is now useless to her. I do love how she communicates with them before she pursues Jeff. Harper commending her on being smart in this moment. I mean they're in it now. So every move she makes from here on out has to be smart.

Lucy catches Jeff in the alleyway just like she wanted. Unfortunately he doesn’t look like he is interested in surrendering. Melissa crushes this scene oh my lord. The shaky way her voice breaks when she tells him to stop. To put his weapon down. Trying so hard to prevent a deadly outcome. I’m getting 5x19 flashbacks for her in this moment. Lucy dealing with the same issue Tim had. A person willing to die instead of give up. Despite them wanting to concede.

Lucy is basically pleading with this man to give up. She doesn’t want to shoot him. Doesn’t want it to end this way. Lucy is an empath as we all know. So her shooting him right or not she is going to carry it on her soul regardless. It’ll be a stain on it because she would’ve done anything to avoid this.

Lucy is on the verge of tears when she calls out Code 4. That the shooter is down. Ugh my heart. Adrenaline from end to end with this moment. Having it finish with a bang made my stomach sink for her. We watch how it affected Harper in 6x01 and she’s seasoned. How it affected Tim in 5x19. It’s never anything I wanna see our characters go through. Felt like I couldn’t catch my breath even after he was done. Such a good scene though.

Then comes the best part of the episode. Tim storming in like the worried husband he is. He has her work bag and I wanna cry. He has a death grip on it as he searches for the desk. I just love that he made sure to grab her bag before rushing off to the hospital. Man is on a mission to find her. Nothing matters to him but her in this moment. It’s the way he goes to the desk and they direct him to her immediately. He thanks the nurse with his tap to the counter.

I can’t imagine how he was when he first got the news. The look of sheer worry painted across his face when he steps foot into that hospital. Worried Tim is everything and Eric conveyed so much in these first two gifs. The first one is all concern and anxiety. He can’t breathe until he has laid eyes on his girl. The second one is relief in finding her. Tim completely by passes the gaggle of people outside of her room.

Doesn’t check in with them or see what happened at the scene. All that matters to him is getting to her. It’s the way he stops before he enters in. Taking a beat for the first time since he arrived. Then steeling some resolve knowing he needs it be her rock in this moment. Once he does this he steps into her room. Checking in and asking her if she’s hurt? He’s so gentle and soft like we all expect at this point with him. Doesn't take his eyes off her for one second as he sets her bag down.

Per usual the music department be killing it out here with the song selection. The soothing guitar and the singers soft voice are the perfect backdrop to this scene. His voice is as tender and comforting as Tim's tone through out the scene. Once again Melissa and Eric are the epitome of chemistry. Their amazing acting chops shining through in this moment. Melissa got me crying and all in my feels. Once Tim knows she’s physically ok it’s time to take care of her emotionally. The hand to her hair has me reeling. The way he strokes her head it’s so intimate and gentle.

Telling her she didn’t have to take his suggestion so literally. My heart. It’s all ‘hands hands hands’ from here on out. Like I said in 6x02 their physical chemistry forever floors me. It’s also just so damn sweet. Like he has to be touching her in order to know she’s ok. To reassure himself that she’s actually sitting in front of him right now. Saw a great tag said whenever we get hands like this makes them feral. How I felt about this entire scene.

So many wonderful facets to fangirl about and be feral over tbh. The man can’t stop touching her and I’m here for it. From the moment he was allowed to he was off to the races. Makes my heart so happy. He’s so tactile with her. It makes me wanna scream into a pillow. Touch is one of his languages with her but also their love language as well. It shows constantly. Honestly getting this soft scene after that adrenaline fest was much needed. That whole shooting scene had my blood pressure up.

I’m just bawling for Lucy after this. We get to see all she's been holding in. How incredibly upset she is about this whole situation. It's here with Tim comforting her she finally lets her walls down. Because her protector is there. He is there to pick up her broken pieces and put her back together. I know that feeling. Where you've been keeping it together. Then your person comes and asks if you're ok? And you realize how much you're not and the floodgates open.

That's Lucy in this scene. With tears in her eyes she tells him she doesn’t feel like a hero. Tim’s hand hasn’t left her at all btw. They both need this touch to ground them right now. I love how he rubs his thumb up and down her shoulder. Comforting her while she tells him her worst fear. The one thing that's been weighing on her soul since she released that shot in the alley. That she killed Jeff Budney. Asking Tim what if she killed him?

Tim crushing it with the comforting and being calm in his reply. So certain that no matter the outcome it’ll be ok. Why you ask? Because they’re going to deal with it together. The ‘Then we’ll deal with it.’ is EVERYTHING she needs to hear right now. Because yeah it’s bleak right now. But Tim wants to make sure she knows she isn’t alone. That he is there and no matter if he makes it or not he’s by her side. These are the exact reassurances she needs in this moment.

Lucy’s reaction has me crying some more. It’s the stifled cry when he tells her this. The sad shake of her head. Killing me softly. She couldn’t face the possibility of Budney dying. Not until her person showed up. Her fierce protector and love of her life standing by her side. Letting her know it’s ok. Even if it’s not it will be because they’ll face it together. Gah getting emotionally writing this up. This scene was primo on so many levels. *chef kiss.*

It’s here Grey and Wes enter the room. They let our lovely couple know he made it through surgery. Thank you Lord. The relief that floods Lucy is immense. I love how she looks at Tim and shakes her head. Needing his grounding stare as she takes in this news. Making sure it's real. Wes is quite the downer when he tells her for now. That if he dies later the investigation has to resume. The look on Grey’s face like WTF man…Let her have the win.

We see protective Tim step in after this. Asking if she can do her statement tomorrow? All he wants to do at this point is get her away from this hospital. From Jeff Budney and prying eyes. Wade is super sweet and turns on his dad mode and says that’s fine. Tries to get her to look and meet his fatherly gaze. She is too out of it to notice his kind look. All the more reason Tim needs to get her the hell out of this place.

Tim breaks her out of her revere with his touch as she watches them depart. I’m squeeing at the way he squeezes her collarbone, then soothes it with his thumb, before he moves his hand to the back of her neck. All the affectionate touches and very tender comforting has me ship drunk. His hand didn’t leave her for ninety percent of this scene. *happy sigh* He’s trying so hard to keep her there with him. To let her know he’s there and hasn’t left.

It’s the soft way he tells her ‘Let’s go home.’ also has me squeeing. Her home is now his home and I’m bawling. Like I said earlier all he wants to do is take her home and continue the comfort. Knowing the last place she needs to be is here. It’s the sweet smile on his face as he beckons her off the bed. Gah what a good man. Took care of her heart and soul in this moment.

Lucy doesn’t make it far before she is collapsing into his arms. Truly letting her walls down in full. Relaxing for the first time and melting completely against him. It’s the way she folds into his arms so easily. How he has her wrapped up in them immediately. Shielding her from the rest of the hospital. From this situation. One hand in her hair cradling her gently to his chest. How he is softly cupping the back of her head. The other wrapped around her nice and tight. Cocooning her in his embrace. His eyes shutting the minute he can feel her safely in his arms.

Tim breathing for the first time since he entered this room. All the while giving her the comfort zone of being in his arms. Gah it’s the slight sway that goes along with it that has me swooning. Rocking her in his arms sweetly. Trying to give her the solace she had been craving since that alleyway. Lucy hiding her face happily in his chest as he does this. Her hand placed on his chest as well has me happily sighing. No one does hugs quite like our couple does. The emotions they evoke out of me is unreal. They are top tier goodness.

To make the hug even sweeter we get a kiss to the head. The way Lucy wraps her arms around his back fully as he does this. Grounding her further as he takes care of her. They continue their lovely swaying as Tim places his cheek on her head. Resting it there lovingly. There’s a reason I kept this hug as my banner. Not that I don’t love the elevator hug in 6x09. I love it so much and will gush when we get there. But this hug ranks up there as top ones for me. Why you ask?

This hug just exemplifies how they provide comfort for each other. How physical touch is one of their primary love languages. They are each other's sanctuary. A happy and safe place amid the darkness their job brings. Coupled with the song playing in the background, the moment becomes even more glorious. It’s a beautiful scene made even more poignant by the this loving embrace.

I'm still not over how beautiful this scene is. You can see the stress and anxiety just drain out of Lucy. From the moment she is in his arms she is at peace. The same for Tim with pulling her into his arms. They both needed this hug so much. The continuity of the head kisses I’m here for as well. Gimme that all day long. In every future hug. I remember thinking as the shot panned out what would she have done without Tim in this moment? Without his wonderfully soothing comfort? Ugh what makes the next set of episode a gut punch that I still haven’t recovered from…

Thanks as always to my amazing readers who like, comment or reblog these reviews. Means the world to me. I shall see you all in 6x05 :)

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

I love Aaron going out with Tim for his first day. Going over the T.RA.I.N yummy T.O Tim in a Metro outfit. I will take that at every chance I can get it. If I had only know this was my last ep with him in that outfit would've appreciated it more 😭 Also this gif was for eye candy. Nothing more nothing less. How I wish to be the chair for which he leans upon in this scene. Metro outfit, badge showing, the way he is deliciously leaning against that chair. *fans self* Doesn't hurt Aaron is hilarious in his quest to please Tim LOL

We watch Nolan continue to be a terrible T.O. He lets Celina say a huge no no over the radio smh

Something else wanted to touch on for the Lucy having no support system. What happened with Jeff Budney is the direct result of not relying on said support system. I'm not blaming her. I have been her. Just want to make that very clear. But the gaggle of people outside her room worried about her is that system. Waiting to see what happens to her etc Everyone was worried about her and for her.

Other than Tim she does have it but as we know this season is super rough on her. So that is hard to see. Especially with losing her main pillar of that system in Tim. Which causes her to retreat even farther inside, but that’s for future eps to delve into. I remember D had this great post about how Lucy has been isolating for years. We were just finally seeing the result of that. Very true.

I mean only person she's really let in other than Jackson is Tim. That's it folks. Because she too has walls. She has Tamara but it's not the same as what she has with Tim. Once again hoping s7 resolves this isolation and her career path in the process. I'll be ok with her being put through it if we can have a good conclusion to go along with it.

Lastly the song running through the final scene is ‘Let it all go’ the lighthouse and the whaler. Such a good song.

[bosinclairsgff]

Mark and Amanda saving kidnapped reader

Warnings: Mention of traps, hurt reader and kidnap (duh)

A/n: I know this is very short but I could not think of what else to write lol idk what’s going on in my head but I just had no ideas.

~ As soon as he finds out you’ve been kidnapped he would immediately do whatever it took to get you back. He would definitely have a mental breakdown while trying to find you. Mark would keep your disappearance quiet and tell no one. Just to make sure you really stay safe while they have you.

~ Would pay any amount of money to get you back or do anything they asked. But would royally fuck them over once he got you. I think he’d set up a trap just for them and oh boy would it be brutal.

~ He would need to see proof that your still okay and alive, if he saw one scratch on you…it wouldn’t be good.

~ If they did hurt you, once he gets you back he would do whatever they did to you but to them, just make it 10x worse.

~ Once he gets you back he makes sure your alright, mentally and physically. Mark would take care of any cuts or anything like that, bandaging you up all nicely.

~ He realizes that all this would take a toll on your mental health, so he wouldn’t leave you by yourself for a while and would make sure your getting sleep. Mark well, doesn’t believe in therapy so he wouldn’t get you a therapist. In his mind he’s just as good as a therapist.

Amanda

~ She would go ape shit crazy when she finds out you’ve been kidnapped. Breaking anything she sees around her while screaming and crying. After calming down she’d come up with some elaborate plan to get you back.

~ Amanda would die for you so she’s willing to do anything to get you back. Anything at all, kill, torture, pay or some other horrible thing you can think of she’d do. She loves you so much so of course she’s gonna get you back. You have nothing to worry about, the people who took you though…do.

~ Once she knows your okay she would start working on her plan to get you back. Stopping at nothing to have you back in her arms. If John was still alive she’d ask him for advice about traps and things like that.

~ She would give you the biggest hug ever once she saw you again alive and well. You would have a few scrapes and bruises but nothing to terrible. It would still make her furious that they even touched you.

~ Amanda would do what she had to do then take you home, not letting you out of her sight for hours. She only leaves because she has traps to work on and people to kidnap.

[blingblong55]

Epiphany- John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Hello do you do limbless? If you do would you write for reader who has no arms or legs and Soap and Simon finds her somewhere after she got lost while out (she doesn’t have fake body parts) it’s fine if this makes you uncomfortable but I’ll like to know if you do these types of writings ---- F!Reader, comfort?, fluff?, angst, platonic!relationship ----

A/N: I believe I did some limbless fic some time ago but yes, the answer is yes I do. 

Hello do you do limbless? If you do would you write for reader who has no arms or legs and Soap and Simon finds her somewhere after she got lost while out (she doesn’t have fake body parts) it’s fine if this makes you uncomfortable but I’ll like to know if you do these types of writings

A/N: I believe I did some limbless fic some time ago but yes, the answer is yes I do. 

It was the same old tale for a soldier like you. Losing part of your body for the greater good, but what does that even mean when no one remembers you?

It took months of therapy to get used to not having an arm and half of your right leg, but with so much support, you prevailed and now roam the streets of your town when the home gets too boring. It's also the reason why today, you're out and about. 

However, as good as the day seemed, all went wrong. A loud noise from the busy road workers triggered a deep memory of yours. The noise is all too similar to gunshots, the men yelling reminding you of the hours you spent thinking they'd be the last time you saw the moon. And before you knew it, there you are, sitting on some bench, creeping others away as you hold yourself. 

This wasn't meant to happen. 

Where's home? I need my home. 

Home...home...please...

Where am I?

What is this place?

Shit...I'm far from home. 

"Y/N!" the man says over the bombs. They are closer now. The guns are all out of ammo except yours. The blood and body parts of fallen comrades were scattered all over the grounds. "Y/N!" they keep yelling, knowing you were the last of them to do something. Do something. 

Your helmet falls to the ground as you try and cover the small child that crosses the fire. "Ma'am, I think he's bleeding out!" one of the young soldiers yells over the noise. Your gaze falls on the child. Oh...oh dear god. 

The things bombs and guns can do to a small child. The worry a war brings to those innocent. The memories a soldier takes to their grave. 

As the bombs get closer, the empty cases fall to your side. 

There are things you can never speak about and the child in your arms will be one of them. This isn't something they ever taught you in school. Grief was never part of the training. Death of a soldier was but never of a child. 

You serve the nation, the innocent and those soldiers with you. You would serve and die with them. Never leave a soldier behind, you remember. 

I want to go home. 

"I need to go home. Please.." you whisper as you silently cry. Your limbless self brings all the memories of those days. "Y/N?" Soap's voice stops all the memories. Ghost knew that look in your eyes. "Let's get her out of 'ere," he tells Soap and in some quick motion, you're carried out of the bench. 

You shut your eyes like a child that's in fear. 

"Where am I?" Your voice is soft, but the fear and worry leak through your mouth with these words. 

"You're home, Y/N," Soap whispers. 

Home, what a tragic word it must be to those in war. It'll always be a word you think about right before you reach the tunnel. 

Once in the comfort of the cosy and small place you call home, you hear the whispers of your friends. "Should we call Price?" Soap asks and for a second, you can hear the hesitation I Ghost's voice. "...No, she will be fine. We'll make up some excuse to stay the night here." And that they did. Never leave a soldier behind, they remind themselves. 

When Soap hands you your medication, they see as you drink it down. Within minutes, they can see a glimpse of relief. To many, this small glimpse is nothing but to you, it helps make sense of all the horror you saw. 

It's a sad kind of relief. 

For days, Soap and Ghost always rotated in taking care of you. They made sure to keep the home quiet if needed and never brought up the sad tales you whispered in the night. 

Your restless body looks a the missing parts, wishing that for just one more time, you could use them. That those scars from childhood would be there again, but now they are gone. All you have left is an appointment to be given prosthetic body parts and the two men who swear to care for you until their bodies give up. 

And today, as you woke up from some midday nap, they were sitting there. Arguiig over some game show, the same one they told you was absolute shit. You smile. Maybe after all, all will be fine. 

"Did yer see that! He fuckin' missed it! How do you miss it?!" Soap says as he stands up and with so much anger he walks away. Ghost laughs. " what's s'funny?" you ask with a small smile. "I recorded an old episode of the show and made sure it was one of the episodes where all goes bad," a sly smile on him. You laugh and shake your head. 

Yeah...all will be fine. 

Tags:

@liyanahelena @sampaisleyriot @uniquecroissant

[spookyscaryskidnpump]

my thoughts on spooky month 6

copy pasted from a page and a half of google doc. crying. spoilers inbound.putting it under the cut cuz its super long. also swear warning.

Ok to start off LILA. LILA MY GAL NO UR DOING UR BEST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Im crying im actually fucginf crying. She's trying. So hard. Skid is trying so hard. THEY'RE DOING THEIR BEST PLEASEEEEE. Father Gregor can go EAT SHIT. THEY'RE TRYING AND THAT'S WHAT COUNTS GODDAMNIT.

Susie… Susie no… please… she deserves better istgggggg. What happened to their parents? Are they actually just busy? Are they DEAD? Holy shit what if they're dead. Poor Pump, poor Susie, god please just let these kiddos be ok. PLEASE. ABUELO WONDER IS TYING SO HARD BUT SUSIE KNOWS IT ISN'T REALLY FROM HER PARENTS IM CRYING. SUSIE NOOOOOO

FATHER GREGOR I HATE YOU. ok well he obvs did some good but STILL. GREGOR. STFU GREGOR. I get that hes trying but U CANT JUST SAY ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT JUDGEMENT AND THEN JUDGE HER HER FUCKING HOUSE GOT BROKEN INTO!! YOU DONT HAVE THE FUCKING CONTEXT!!!! ARGHFDGHJSGHJKAGHSD. Also DAMN IS HE A CULTIST NOW?? IS HE DEAD?? WHAT?!?!?!

ROYYYYYY ROY MY BOI NOOOOOO poor guy :( i understand why he hates the kids they DID kinda ruin him so. At least he knows theyre trying now :( and ross n rob just ASSUME he did something bad isnt helping here!!!! I get that theyre also trying to help him and its nice to see him opening up to them about stuff (even if we dont get to know what specifically PELO WHY) but PLEASE get this kid an anger management class or smthn PLEASE. He needs SO MUCH THERAPY. I dont think hes gonna get therapy because im pretty sure his parents are Part Of The Problem but STILL.  Also FUCKER LITERALLY GOT POSSESED BY A DEMON?????? THATS GOTTA BE TRAUMATIC TF

Side note i love ross and robert dearly and i appreciate them doing their best to help on both sides i love them smmmmmm AUGH

KEVIN AND RADFORD FRIENDSHIP REALLLLLLLLLL i am SO fucking happy about that!!!! Also Kevin having conflicted feelings on the kids FAIR. Similar thing to Roy except hes an adult with a semi-functional support network and is able to understand that theyre just dumb kids and they dont actually mean any harm. He’s harsher on the hatzgang cuz theyre teens and old enough to know stealing is wrong but Skid n Pump are little kiddos they dont know better. Also him disapproving of father gregor REAL THO. also HE GOT POSSESSED TOO?? TRAUMA CENTRAL HOLY SHIT

PATTY DESERVES TO HAVE A GUN ACTUALLY. Also JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST! IS HIS KID DEAD? IS HIS DAUGHTER OK HOLY SHIT. ALSO THEM HELPING THE KIDS PROPERLY IM CRYIG AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

WHAT WAS EVERMORE DOING WITH THE HOBOMEN???? HELLO??????

I SAW THAT CULT NECKLACE UNDER IGNACIOS SHIRT. I FUCKING SAW IT. CALLED IT BITCH!!!!!!

Rick just has the WORST luck lmao

STREBER IS ALIVE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

DEXTER NO PLEASE AUGH…… HIS MOM TOO……

JAUNE AND ROSS’S DAD… HE'S REAL HE EXISTS!! I get ur trying jaune but that is NOT the best way to comfort poor lila… AT LEAST SHES TRYING THO I APPRECIATE HER

THE ENTIRE NEWGROUNDS ENDING?? THE THIEVES AND THE CANDY DEALER IN CAHOOTS WITH THE CULT???? HELLO??????

MOLOCH IS GONE. he deserved it but also THE KIDS ARE SO SAD ABOUT IT? Like they don't really get it but they just watched someone they thought was their friend DIE. HOLY SHIT.

finally. SKID AND PUMP. KIDDOS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ok for real tho theyre so much more self aware than the fandom and bulk of the show give them credit for?? Like Skid is VERY aware of his dad being dead/possibly missing and legit just doesn’t wanna talk about it. He knows what death is and he finds fun in it to cope. My poor sweet boyo… and PUMP. PUMP ANSWERING THE CALL AUGHHHHHH HE WANTS HIS PARENTS BACK IM CRYING. SUSIE AND ABUELO ARE DOING THEIR BEST AND HE'S TRYING SO HARD AND AAAAAAAAAAUGH. Also him getting possessed by Moloch while having Star-Eyes basically debunks the theory of the Star-Eyes being a form of possession which is FASCINATING. Anyway that scene with Susie and Pump got me misty eyed and then during the ending with Skid and Lila i actually genuinely started crying. I just want them to be happy. Please let them be happy. Please. PLEASE.

[melancholyshadow]

Hello! I couldn’t help but see your post about writing for COD men! If so, could you please do one that’s Price x reader where she takes a bullet for him? Angst and Fluff. Typical scenario I know, but there’s never enough Price. If that doesn’t work that’s okay too! Thank you!!

Desk Duty

pairing: john price x female!reader

word count: around 2.1k

content warnings: canon-level violence, injured!reader, mentions of someone getting shot, mentions of gun-shot wound, medical talk, kissing an authority figure.

an: hello! first off, thank you anon for this lovely request, hopefully you enjoy it, i am a bit rusty bc i have not written in forever. second off, to address the elephant in the room, i know this isn't marvel related, but i'm really into call of duty right now, and wanted to write for them instead. third of all, if you liked this piece, and want to request your own, my request are open! i am really only writing for cod men right now and maybe some select marvel people. thanks guys!!!!

You never understood the saying “It happened in slow motion.” 

This was real life, nothing happened in slow motion, that was physically impossible. 

Or so you thought. 

All five of you were pinned down, trapped in a warehouse, taking massive amounts of fire. The enemy was closing in fast, and you were vastly outnumbered. It was the five of you, and a couple Marines, that’s it. This was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill mission, no one expected it to go sideways. Especially not this bad. 

“Low on ammo, Captain!” Gaz yelled, tossing an empty magazine behind him. “Conserve. Wait till they get closer!” Price barked back. “Where is air support, sir?” You asked, as the both of you crouched down to reload. “Five minutes out, we just need to make it till then.” He explained, popping back up and firing towards the building across the way. Five minutes was a long time in combat, almost too long. 

When you had this much adrenaline pumping through your body, it was natural to get tunnel vision. Only able to focus on the thing standing right in front of you, and at the moment that was about twenty enemy soldiers. Except, they weren’t all in front of you. They were obviously more well-versed in the area than you guys were, so they knew about a door to the warehouse you didn’t.

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw the sudden flood of light come from the door being ripped open. That’s when everything slowed way down. Three of them rushed inside, you were able to drop the first two, but the third one was too quick. And when his eyes landed on Price who was still facing towards the opposing building, you panicked. So, you did the first thing you could think of. 

Grabbing your Captain’s ‘oh shit’ strap on the back of his plate carrier, you pulled him to the ground and out of the line of fire. As you kneeled beside Price, the enemy’s gun repositioned on you and before you had time to raise your own weapon again, he fired. The bullet connected, causing you to fall back against the cold concrete. Just as quickly as you fell, you watched the enemy’s body fall to the same concrete. Price let two bullets rip, one into his leg and the other into his skull. You stared up at the ceiling, clutching your wound, trying to apply pressure. 

“Monarch is down!”

You woke up in the hospital two days later. 

Apparently you passed out from blood loss. 

It had been a tricky wound to treat in the field, so you had to wait for the air support to show up. 

It was difficult for you to remember everything leading up to you being injured. You don’t remember the actual impact or being carried to the helo. It was all hazy. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost had gone over the incident with you many times, but it just never really came back to you. Not that you were complaining. No one wants to remember getting shot.

After a week and a half in the hospital, a month of physical therapy, and another month of training and sparring with your teammates to get you back in shape, you were finally cleared for the field. It was a miracle that you were able to bounce back this fast, it usually took many months to recover fully from an injury like that, but you liked to think it was solely because of how stubborn you were. 

Everyone was super happy to have you back. Well, almost. There was only one more step you had to do: submit your medical release form to Price and have him approve it. You had only seen the Captain a few times, in passing, since the incident. It felt like he was avoiding you entirely, but you chalked it up to all the paperwork he was probably buried under right now, especially when a mission went that far south. 

You walked down the familiar hallway, Price's office was at the very end. Nervousness flooded your body with every step you took. What could you possibly be nervous about? Was it because you were afraid to face him for the first time in over two months? Of course not, he was the same Price he was during that mission. Were you nervous he wasn’t going to approve you for medical release? No, he had to approve it, hell, you saved his damn life. 

As you approached the door, you took a deep breath. You noticed a shake in your hand as you brought it up to knock on the door. Three loud racks echoed down the hallway. “Come in.” He called from the otherside of the door. You gripped the doorknob, turning it and pushed the door open with your shoulder. Price, as you suspected, was looking over a mountain of paperwork. His signature cap was discarded, and he was dressed in civilian clothes. He was in on his day off. 

“Hello.” You greeted him, closing the door behind you. “Sergeant.” A man of few words, as always, but his tone seemed different. “I hate to do this, but I have some more paperwork for you.” You said with an awkward chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s my medical release form.” You added.

“Set it there.” He pointed to the only clear space on his desk. His words sounded cold. After placing down the documents, you stood there for a few more seconds, seeing if he would say anything else. You know, ask how you were doing, or something, literally anything. But to no avail. 

So, you turned on your heels to walk out without another word. As you touched the doorknob, Price cleared his throat to speak, spiking some hope into your heart. “I’m putting you on desk duty.” Almost instantly, your stomach dropped past your toes. He said it so monotoned, no ounce of emotion in his voice.

For a few moments you were stunned, left speechless. But once that initial shock wore off, anger began to bubble up in your chest. You could feel the warmth overtaking every inch of your body and your chest began rising and falling irregularly.

“W-What? But I’ve been cleared for the field.” You tried to keep your tone even, unwavering as you slowly turned around to face him. He had finally looked up, head propped up on his palm. Like his tone, there was no legible emotion on his face. No anger, sadness, or guilt. “Desk duty until further notice.” This time it sounded dismissive, like the conversation was over. What is said is done. Clicking his pen twice, his eyes landed back on the report in front of him. 

“This is bullshit!” The words climbed up your throat before you could stop them. You could feel your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. Your words caught the Captain off guard, but he only showed it for a moment. Not once had you ever questioned Price, or his intentions. But this time was different, if he thought you were gonna take this lying down,  he was dead wrong. 

“I’d watch your tone, Sergeant.” He spoke at you more sternly than before, clearly agitated by your outburst. And what he said next only added insult to injury, literally, “After that stunt you pulled, you’re lucky I don’t reassign you.” He used his pen to point at you, reaffirming his statement. That’s when all the logic and camaraderie flew out the window.

“You mean the one where I saved your life?” You spoke with malice, like venom was dripping off your tongue. “God forbid, I interfere with you taking a bullet to the skull.” You scoffed. “Is that the stunt you’re referring to?” You mocked him, echoing the term ‘stunt,.' You were trying to get under his skin, whether you knew that at the moment or not.

The Captain was boiling, you could practically see the steam coming from his ears. As you open your mouth to further instigate the situation, he slams his fists down on his desk. He stands up quickly, his chair tumbled to the ground behind him. “Exactly that stunt!” He barks. You’re the one caught off guard this time. It was rare for the Captain to raise his voice outside the field. Especially to you. 

“You could have got yourself killed, soldier!” It only takes him a few steps to be in your face. You hold your ground even though you're terrified, you had never seen Price like this. “It’s in the job description, sir.” You rebutted between your teeth, adding the ‘sir’ to irk him more. It worked. “You were careless and clearly have no regard for your own life. You are a risk.” He spat. 

“I’d die for you, Captain. No if, ands, or buts, about it.” You said with a straight face. “ So, if that categorizes me as a ‘risk,’ so be it.” He opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly closed it, and you noticed. “Say it, Captain. You never have been one to hold his words back.” You pushed him, feeding on his anger. 

But all that anger seemed to be disintegrating. One moment it was there, and the next it was gone. Like your words flipped a switch inside him. He had this look on his face, like he was truly debating on his next words. “Say. It.” You demanded, necking craning upwards to look him in the eyes. His eyes fell closed, and a defeated huff passed his lips. 

“Having your blood on my hands is something I can’t handle…” His voice was hushed, and now his eyes refused to meet yours. That was the last thing you expected him to say. He has always kind of coddled you, he was very protective. You always thought maybe it was because you were the newest member of the Task Force, but now you’re thinking it’s for another reason. 

“W-What do you mean?” You asked, your mind went blank. All that anger was now mixed with a good dose of confusion. He didn’t speak, just ran his fingers through his hair, still avoiding eye contact. “Captain, look at me.” You uttered softly, and he didn’t listen. You’re not sure what overtook you in the moment, but your shaky hand reached towards his face.

“Please.” You begged, gripping his chin and forcing him to face you. When he didn’t pull away, you brought his face closer, your noses only inches apart. His eyes did finally flutter open, and you were greeted with a stoic, immersive shade of blue, you couldn’t look away. 

“Captain, I–” He didn’t let you finish your thought, cutting you off by leaning in closer, pressing his lips against yours. They were soft, softer than you ever imagined. Especially compared to the coarse hair of his mustache and beard against your face. You even picked up on the taste of smoke, he had smoked one of his cigars recently. 

All you could focus on at that moment was him. The way he placed your hands against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat through the soft fabric of his t-shirt. It was racing, ramming against the inside of his chest.

How his rough, calloused hands cupped the sides of your face, further melding your lips together. The way he handled you said a lot. He kissed you like he was in distress, barely giving you time to breathe between the last and next kiss, not that you were doing much breathing anyways. He made your body feel like jelly, your knees barely able to carry your body weight, so you gripped his t-shirt, tight, trying to steady yourself. 

When he finally pulled away, he kept his forehead against yours. There was no talking, just heavy pants coming from the both of you. Did that really just happen? Was this a joke? You wanted to pinch yourself, wake yourself up from this dream. That’s when he spoke, breaking the silence, “‘m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He apologized, trying to create more distance between the two of you. 

Luckily, you still had a hold of his shirt, stopping him. “Respectfully, Captain, shut up.” You chuckled, which earned a small smile from him as well. “Is this why you avoided me for two and a half months?” You asked, snaking your arms around his neck. “If you think I’ve only had these feelings for you for two and a half months, you're more delusional than I thought, Sergeant.” He chuckled this time, placing his hands on your hips.

“So, the real question is, am I still on desk duty?”

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 28: Unnoticed

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Enough with socializing. Enough with fighting. Thomas can have his kill but I’m through with watching grown men fight like children. Can we ever go to a single event without someone being shot? As I pass by the groups of men the trait that relates them all is their unbelievable arrogance- Wait. 

I stop walking and stare straight ahead. Those men in that truck- Those are Irish men. A volunteer force. What could they possibly-?

I gasp and push through the rest of the crowd. “Thomas-!”

A large man in a flat cap blocks my way. “Sorry, lass. Private business.”

An Irish accent if I ever heard one. “I know who you are. You should know who my uncle is! Ever heard of Edmond Colon?”

His eyes slightly widen at the mention of the name. “Aye.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Then you would know that if he hears that you’ve killed his niece’s boss you could run into some trouble in the future.”

The man begins to stutter an answer but another giant man turns me away. “Walk along, Ms. Steenstra.” He leans in and his voice changes to an English one. “No harm will come to Mr. Shelby, orders of Churchill. He will not die today.”

I protest further but it’s too late. I’m pushed back into the stadium and lose sight of the truck. What does he mean? Where’s Thomas now?!

“Fucking kings of the world!” I hear John’s voice over the noise and see him beckoning me over. “C’mon, Verena! There’s a celebration in order!”

“Lizzie’s alright?” I ask immediately.

John puts an arm around me and walks me to a table. “I talked with her. She’s better.”

So goes another wild game. It’s what I get for tagging along with the Peaky Blinders.

Back at the office Arthur shouts for everyone to quiet down. Thomas is still missing. It’s rather odd that his absence is labeled off as normal now. I can’t stop the worry pooling in my stomach no matter how many drinks John offers. One drink is all I take.

“Right! Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to make a toast!” Arthur announces. “To the Small Heath Rifles! To the Lee boys! And to the Peaky fucking Blinders!” Glasses are raised and cheers are shouted. “Who’s gonna stop us, eh?”

This is all fine and dandy but I have no part here. My ambition is for a partnership contract, not expansion. If only Thomas were here then a contract could be accomplished as he promised. 

“You’re turning in?” Finn asks before I reach the door.

“Yes.”

He doesn’t argue. Only nods his head. “I understand. I’m not a fan of our big parties either. I’ll meet you back in the kitchen.”

“Alright. I’m going to Thomas’ office to file a few papers.”

Glad to know I’m not the only skeptic of wild parties. Even back home they never appealed to me. All those drunken souls flailing about-

“Oh!”

When I open the door the sight of red is too alarming to go unnoticed. In the shadows I make out Thomas’ blood-splattered face. 

“You’re back,” I gasp.

“You look relieved,” he replies from his desk chair.

I walk to him slowly, almost like approaching a ghost. “I recognized those men. Before they drove off. I tried to…” I trail off, still staring at his unreadable face. “The red right hand never kids around, Thomas. It’s a miracle the Crown stepped in. I’m guessing that’s not your blood?”

“No.” Thomas shifts in the chair and looks up again, this time with devoted eyes. “Are you still up for another therapy session?”

Faith. Sympathy. Loyalty. Shards of emotions running through me all at once. Am I still staring? I need to answer. Thomas needs this. And he’s asking me. Not May, not Lizzie. Me. I need to help.

I take a seat on his desk and open my arms, surrendering to his words. “You know I’m always here to listen.” 

Those eyes. Eyes that seem to melt when he hears me. Thomas takes a quick breath and looks to be thinking over what to say.

“There’s change coming, love. I’ve got ideas I’m gonna pitch to Michael, since he’s staying. For you too. I’ve drawn up a contract for your family. Shelby Company Limited would love to partner with you.” He reaches over to take my hand. “Your loyalty to my family deserves proper benefits, Verena.”

My breath hitches. “Thomas, this isn’t all about money. The contract is to help us, yes. But it’s also proof.”

Thomas frowns. “Proof?”

“Yes. To show that I’m making a proper living for myself. Why do you think I’ve gone this long without my family disapproving? I’m here to help with the bigger picture instead of having my mother train me to be a meaningless housekeeper.” I squeeze his hand. “And I am here to help you face whatever demons haunt you.”

Thomas just stares at me. Then leans in closer. His smell of cologne and cigarettes makes my heart race even faster. 

“You are one of the most peculiar people I know. Even when you have your own ambitions they hold a deeper meaning for someone else.”

“I know I play a small part-”

“No,” he cuts me off. “Not small. Not to us. You help us remember to stay a family, Verena. And I promise these changes will make good profits for your own family. And…” He pauses and licks his lips, looking down to the floor. “We’ll need help with business overseas while I’m taking time off. I’m getting married.”

Crack.

Another piece of my heart is ripped away. You knew this was coming, Steenstra. He knocked her up, I’m sure of it. Now he will have his blushing bride and forget all about us. About me. Instead of looking to me to listen he will rely on her. Did I not just say I’m dedicated to helping him?

“That’s wonderful,” I whisper with a forced smile. “Matrimony in the eyes of God is always something to marvel at. Congratulations, Thomas.”

I pull my shaking hand away before he can ask what’s wrong and excuse myself for the evening. I shouldn’t be upset. He’ll be happy to have her as his wife. She should be happy as his bride. And little old me will keep to the side, unsatisfied. Is this what they call irony? I reach out and give my heart to him, only for him to discard it unnoticed. 

Let it go. Grace is… nice. Even after she lied. And hinted at threatening to expose my family ties. Could she still have hidden means for Thomas?

You’re concerned for him? Well, yes. He’s my boss. But you think of him as more than that? More than platonic? No! I wouldn’t… Oh God. Am I in love with Thomas Shelby? Ding ding! We have a winner!

@meadows5

[cynicalrosebud]

Lacuna (2) - Homecoming

Navigation

Series Masterlist

Summary: Laswell has an unusual gift for Price, one he is reluctant to accept. If only that unwanted gift would stop making such sad eyes at him...

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD and therapy, you are responsible for your own media consumption

Notes: None, enjoy!

John Price sat in the briefing room, arms crossed and brow furrowed, the usual chaos of the base buzzing around him. He was used to facing enemy fire, but this? This was something else entirely.

“John, I’m telling you, you need this,” Laswell insisted, her tone firm as she gestured toward the door. “You’ve been through a lot. You can’t keep carrying this weight alone.”

Before he could respond, the door opened, and in walked Angel—a small, energetic K9 Hybrid with a soft coat and big, expressive eyes. She trotted up to him, tail wagging eagerly.

“Meet Angel,” Laswell said with a smile. “She’s a trained PTSD service Hybrid, specifically for servicemen in your position. I think you two will be good for each other.”

Price felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “I don’t need a dog, Kate. I’ve been managing just fine.”

Angel paused, her ears drooping slightly, sensing his resistance. The change in her demeanor tugged at his heart. She looked up at him, those big eyes full of hope, and he felt a pang of guilt.

“John, this isn’t just about having a companion,” Laswell pressed, her voice softening. “She can help you process everything—give you the support you need.”

Price sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t have time for a pet, and I certainly don’t need someone to coddle me.”

Angel stepped closer, nudging his hand with her nose, a silent plea that made it even harder to stand his ground.

“Just… think about it,” Laswell urged, watching the interaction intently. “How about a trial period? If it doesn’t work out, you can return her.”

He glanced down at Angel, who was now sitting patiently, her head tilted slightly as if she understood every word. Her expression was a mix of hope and uncertainty, and he could feel his resolve crumbling.

“Fine,” he relented, irritation creeping into his voice. “A trial period. But don’t expect me to get attached.”

Angel’s tail wagged furiously at his words, and he couldn’t help but crack a reluctant smile. “Just remember, I’m not a softie,” he added, trying to maintain his tough exterior.

Laswell chuckled, clearly pleased. “That’s the spirit. Just give her a chance, John. Be a good girl now, Angel.”

As Angel leaned against his leg, he felt a warmth spread through him, despite himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The hum of the barracks was a familiar comfort to John Price as he walked through the door, Angel trotting alongside him. She was still adjusting to her new surroundings, her ears perked with curiosity.

“Alright, lass, let’s see how this goes,” he muttered to himself, glancing down at her. Angel looked up, her tail wagging slightly, ready for whatever came next.

As they entered the common area, the rest of Task Force 141 looked up from their various activities. Soap was leaning back in a chair, a half-eaten sandwich in hand, while Gaz and Ghost were engaged in a heated discussion about the latest op.

“Oi, Price! You finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Soap called out, a teasing grin on his face. “What’s with the pup?”

“This is Angel,” Price introduced, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling the weight of their curious gazes. “She’s a… uh, a service Hybrid.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the others exchanging glances. Soap leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “A service Hybrid? Is that your new battle buddy?”

“Not exactly,” Price replied, crossing his arms. “She’s here to help with… you know. PTSD and all that.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, his usual stoic expression softening slightly. “She looks well-trained. Wot’s her name again?”

“Angel,” Price said, kneeling down to her level. “Say hi, Angel.”

Angel stepped forward, her head held high as she approached the group, tail wagging more enthusiastically now. She sat in front of Soap, her big eyes full of curiosity and charm.

“Look at her!” Soap exclaimed, reaching out to gently scratch her behind the ears. “She’s adorable!”

Gaz chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll have everyone in the base falling for her before you know it, Cap.”

“Just don’t get any funny ideas,” Price replied gruffly, though he felt a smile creeping onto his face.

Angel leaned into Soap’s touch, her posture relaxing as she soaked in the attention. Ghost moved closer, observing her with a hint of intrigue. “What else can she do?” he asked, genuine interest in his voice.

“She’s trained to help with anxiety and can alert me if something’s off,” Price explained, feeling a sense of pride. “But she’s also a bit of a therapy dog.”

“Let’s see what she can do, then,” Soap suggested, his excitement palpable.

Price hesitated but nodded. He had read her file, briefly skimming over the basic commands she was trained to perform. “Alright, Angel, how about we show them your favorite trick?”

Angel perked up, clearly ready to impress. Price stood back, and she performed a perfect “sit” followed by a “paw” as he commanded. The group watched, impressed.

“Bloody hell, she’s a natural!” Soap laughed, ruffling her fur. “We’ve got ourselves a proper recruit here!”

As Angel basked in the attention, Price felt something shift within him. Maybe this wasn’t just a trial period after all. Watching her connect with the team, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope for the journey ahead.

“Alright team,” he said, voice steady. “Let’s make sure our lass feels at home here.”

With that, the barracks erupted into laughter and camaraderie, and for the first time in a long while, Price felt a flicker of joy in the warmth of his unit’s presence.

[oddlittlestories]

So one of the things about TUA that I find so interesting is how each of the characters reacts to the abuse of Hargreeves in a different way. It’s very close to an exploration of the full spectrum of reactions. (Season 1 in particular is a kind of study of this but I’m not going to go into Leonard here. I’m also not going to go into Lila or the abusive relationship employment of the Commission, but I have thought about those things as well.)

Edit: Kind of long so more under the cut. Slipped and marked it mature by accident >.<

Luther

Luther isn’t the leader, like he thinks. He’s the enforcer. And he’s the enforcer because he is so convinced that the failure is with him, with them, and not their father. When he can no longer follow his father’s will in s2, he finds a new powerful man to enforce for—in a very literal way.

Luther, especially in s1-2, is a difficult character to like. He’s an ass, he’s always convinced he’s right, and he’s always wheedling to be heard, to be obeyed, to be listened to. And he is the cause of much of his siblings’ suffering.

It’s quite sad from another angle, though. He seeks out another powerful man in s2 because he very much does not have any internalized framework of his own—of right and wrong, or even really of likes and dislikes.

Once he sets that need for control down, he’s mostly just this goofy, slouchy guy. He doesn’t know what’s happening, going to happen, or what’s right. He just takes things as they come.

As a comparison to a character many of us find much more appealing, Dean Winchester is also an enforcer. The difference is, one of John’s directives is to protect Sammy, and his own reaction is in that same direction, like many abused kids. Protect your sibling. Which creates this deeply codependent dynamic that we see throughout the show. (They also have a bit of golden child / scapegoat going on, which we’ll come back around to.)

Ben

The one who dies. I’m not going to say too much about this beyond sometimes that, too, is a consequence of abuse.

Allison

The one who perpetuates the cycle. I really like this because I don’t fully like the adage ‘hurt people hurt people.’ Hargreeves is an abuser because he feels justified in his abuse.

Allison does it because she didn’t grow up with any other skills, and because it feels safe. Her first acts of abuse are with her daughter, because she is a frustrated and overwhelmed parent with no other skills to manage her own emotions. But she does well in therapy, and we see her leveraging those skills to push back against ingrained family dynamics.

But whenever she is lost and afraid in the world, she resorts to abuse to get what she wants. And more and more through the story, we see her abandoning compassion and emotional regulation in favor of taking her feelings out on others. Because she decides it’s justified.

Five

The runaway. Five rebels to escape the abuse, and gets re-traumatized out in the world. But he also steals his autonomy back and crafts his own completely-formed identity. Look. That’s not to say that the dude doesn’t have issues in spades. But he can talk to Hargreeves, interact with him at any stage in the game, and not have it shake his identity to the core. Both the trauma that he chooses and his own choice for responsibility and autonomy determines who Five becomes.

Diego

There’s a sequence from House, MD that I feel like sums up Diego’s reaction to the abuse quite nicely. House is late to his dad’s funeral and he explains to Wilson how punishing his (abusive) father was about punctuality. He explains that he is deliberately careless around time because he didn’t want to make his father’s issues HIS issues. And Wilson, incredulous, shoots back with, “Thereby MAKING it your issue!”

Yeah. That’s Diego. He defines himself in opposition to Hargreeves. And he even says so explicitly. He’s all about fighting crime, “the right way.” But he defines himself so in opposition to authority (and to people in general) that he gets kicked out of the police force and burns his first romantic relationship to ashes. He just can’t stop fighting.

Klaus

The addict. Addiction is a common response to abuse. And Klaus is a full-blown addict. A thief, willing to do anything and everything for his next score. He’ll injure himself, terrorize others, go dumpster diving, steal, defraud. Really there are no limits to what he’ll do. And yet we always feel he’s a sunshiney sweetheart right from the start. Even so, the “anything to score to escape my demons” is a keen literalization of the addiction response to abuse.

Viktor

The scapegoat

“Everything is always your fault.” This is the one who gets blamed for the family’s problems, who gets punished and punished and ignored. This is the one who is always in the wrong. And Viktor is such a great character in season 1 & 2 for this because he’s both reactions to that. He is the explosive anger, the rage and indignity. And he’s the one broken by any means necessary, heaped with family blame, with no sense of what he wants or who he is. And also, in s1, exceptionally vulnerable to an abuser masquerading as everything he ever wanted.

I just. It’s so multifaceted. It’s such a good exploration of abuse and this is only one sliver of that. TUA has its flaws, and I thought s3 was such a mixed bag, but this is one piece they just NAILED.