#she's just a hungry lass

[kata-the-bee]

What did you expect. She's a frog and you're a spider

[girl-lostconnection]

been thinking about the punk x nerd au w simon and ohhhhh my godddddddddd

what if he begins running and working out during highschool and he fills out and discovers himself a bit more — and is significantly more attractive — and nerd!reader is all over ittt, and they actually start to like each other and they get closer.

what if he also goes into the military in this au, after they’ve both graduated and she’s devastated — losing her bsf like that, but they see each other later in life when he’s on leave and she’s elated and confused because that can’t be him, right? not her simon? and whose scarf is that, barely peaking out of the collar of his jacket on this cold manchester day?

hmmm just what’s been stewing in my brain!

Anon, imma be honest, its like you know something that I don’t and I’m all here for it cause reader just watching as this awkward angry teen turns into bloody behemoth of a man…damn, anon. Give me 14 of these right now. Also I’ll write about second part of your ask since it’s a little further away in the future.

THANK YOU for this opportunity to talk about Unsweetened Lemonade AU Ghost coming home from military🌟

The Soldier

Warnings: plus size gn!reader, Simon is hungry for more than just food, fluff, slight suggestive themes

Simon comes back home and it’s like nothing changed at all (like he’s still 17) — same rooftops and same streets and same tight feeling in his chest — the remnant of the war he was going through even before enlisting.

It still stings sometimes, deep inside of him, barbed wire on the inside of his jawline.

Sometimes it still aches, but Simon is no longer lanky and awkward with sharp angles and no coordination and a whole lot of rage.

Simon goes into military and comes on the other side almost twice heavier than he was before. (Twice as dangerous, twice as deadly)

The bulk of muscle and a nice level of fat born from regular training and regular meals finally shows how much sense his long limbs and towering height make.

He doesn’t regret the decision one bit, for the most part. (He only regrets he couldn’t sneak you into the base as his emotional support person)

You write to him and he gobbles up your every letter with the same hunger he finished every bite you brought him back in highschool, with the same hunger he held onto you before leaving after enlistment.

Simon reads these letters again and again until the new one comes.

He gets dropped off in the neighbourhood where you live (mates laugh and smack his shoulder, joking about lad or lass that’s gonna be happy to see him, joking that he needs to bring the pretty thing around because they’ve been dying to know who are you).

The duffel bag is slinged over his shoulder, your scarf still wrapped around his neck and anticipation coiling in his belly.

It’s been a minute since you saw each other.

Since he saw you, since he could wrap himself in your warmth, nuzzle his face in the soft pudge of your tummy (god, he missed it so badly sometimes it felt like physical aching).

Simon has been hungry for more than your meals.

He shifts his weight from one leg to another, trying to warm up as he fumbles with the written address on the scrap of paper. It shouldn’t be far from where he is right now. Just a few minutes and then he’s home.

Just a few minutes and he’s gonna see you again.

Meanwhile you don’t really expect any visitors, flat is a bit of a hot mess in Simon’s old T-shirt, cookies baking in the oven — utensils all over kitchen table.

Simon wrote that he’s getting off on leave in a few days or so and you are stress cooking because god knows he always ate a lot and you don’t know how well he ate in military.

So you decide that’s better safe and sorry and start getting ready two days before he’s even supposed to be back in Manchester.

Imagine your surprise when someone knocks on your door — three short knocks, sound crisp clear when you freeze looking through the peephole because what the hell.

On your doorstep there is a mountain of a man, for the lack of better word, you frankly can’t even see his face since he stands too close to the door — black sweater and awfully familiar scarf peeking out of the collar of his jacket.

And you are so baffled you almost miss the familiar “Luv, open up, ‘ts me” from the man on your doorstep and maybe he’s got the wrong address and looking for someone else.

But you don’t manage to finish the thought before your body moves on its own and swings the door open.

Jesus Christ.

He’s even bigger when you are face to face with him, the need to crane your neck just to see dark eyes with adorably blond eyelashes certainly doesn’t help with how astounded you are.

“Can I help you?”, you aren’t sure what is going on or who is that but then the man scoffs in even more familiar way, pulling the scarf down and oh my god. It’s Simon. This is your Simon.

“Forgo’ me so quickly?”, he’d sound annoyed if he wasn’t so happy to see you, brown eyes soft with adoration. And before you can answer he’s taking a step inside your flat, closing the door behind him. It’s cold outside after all, surely you wouldn’t leave him out in the cold.

“Though’ I was special”, the rumble of his voice kicks the air out of you, eyes wide and face heating up quickly because Jesus Christ, he’s big.

Thighs thick and hips meaty, legs looking like he could crush your skull if he wanted to (lord have mercy, don’t think about it, no, you must stay focused).

He’s big and he smells good (why the hell he smells so good, it should be illegal, you will look like absolute creep sniffing him) and he’s looking at you like he can’t get enough of you. Like this reunion is even better than what he imagined.

God, you just might need to crawl into the freezer and sit there for a minute because you are too hot and he’s so fucking hot, what the hell, who is this man and what did they fucking feed him in military???

“Simon”, the first time is more of an exhale but then he nods, shaking his jacket off, duffel bag hitting the floor with dull thump and in the next moment you are all over him.

“Simon”, your hands wrapping around him (you are NOT gonna think that your two hands are not enough to close around his midriff) and face pressing to his chest — pectoral muscles cushioning against your cheek.

Oh, this is bliss. This is so good you just might forget about anything else.

You now know where you’d like to be buried.

In this man chest, please.

And Simon can’t help but hum, the sound low and pleased — his hands hoisting you up so he can get a grip on your thighs, fingers sinking into the meat of them and bloody hell, this is good.

This is fucking lovely.

He’d love to have his head between these thighs of yours.

As a matter of fact, could you maybe suffocate him with them so he can die happy (and hard as a rock)? Please?

But it can wait a little because you are finally in his hands, your arms wrapped now around his shoulders, eyes shining with absolute joy — looking at him like he’s everything. Like you are happy. Like you’ve been waiting for him.

He’s here. Simon is home.

Simon nuzzles his nose into your cheek, teeth itching to sink into the softness of it, itching to take a bite, itching to lick the blood off—

Ghost hoists you up a little higher because there’s no need for you to feel just how happy he is to see you. Not yet, at least.

“Yeah, luv, told ye, it’s me”, he murmurs, practically vibrating with satisfaction when your grip on him tightens.

Yeah, that’s right, don’t let go of him. Sink yourself into him just as he wants into you, taste the blood from his veins — it’s all yours anyway, he’s all yours.

Always been.

It takes him a few minutes to actually let you down, body immediately aching for the warmth and softness he’s been missing so badly.

But he can smell that you’ve been cooking something and if it’s okay with you he’s willing to sate his hunger with something more traditional.

Simon eats and keeps a close eye on you eating (can’t have you go hungry on him), passing the best bites back, pressing them against your lips — eyes half-lidded and heavy when your tongue accidentally flicks against the pads of his fingers.

Simon leaves the kitchen only when you both are full and sated, the button on his jeans popped open because well, maybe he was hungry for your meals too.

Can you really blame him? He’s been away so long, he just needs to catch up on everything he missed.

Simon pulls you onto the couch to tuck in to his side, mumbles something about “afternoon nap, luv”.

He is a lot like sated predator, all lazy grace and heavy bulk and heat rolling off in waves. Simon nuzzles his big head into your neck, palms holding onto the small of your back and your thigh, splayed over them possessively. Holding you close.

He’s out cold in the matter of minutes, finally relaxed and full and so warm. Finally with you. Not going anywhere, not leaving the side of his lovely sweetheart.

All yours, you just got to let him stay and protect you.

Just let him stay and love you, devour you, keep you warm and soft and round with happiness.

Just let him and he’s going to make sure you never regret it.

[devil-in-hiding]

Does farmer reader have any family? Like a mom or bestie or someone who basically visits once and a blue moon?? Because just imagine them showing up unannounced and seeing all these fine men and not having their normal guest room available anymore. I wouldn't even be mad if I had to get a hotel because I'd be so proud of her for getting all that dick 😭

I haven’t gone into detail about this but!

sadly, readers family is deceased, it’s how she has the money to afford the farm

i think after i’m done with having a little comfort chapter for each of the boys, im gonna have a little chapter of her sharing her early life (before husband)

but i might have to do a little au for my au because this is so fucking funny oh my god

imagine you’re sitting there, red faced as the women of your family fawn over your boys, who honestly eat up the compliments like hungry hounds

They all make a show of keeping their hands on you, cooing sweet words in your ear and pressing kisses along your shoulders and cheeks until you can only jump up, squeaking out something about getting dinner started and fleeing to the kitchen, where of course Johnny and Kyle follow you with words of “i’ll get started on peeling sweetheart.”

“tryin’ to run away from us lass? breakin our hearts-“

telling your mother and siblings goodnight who just grin at you, peering over your shoulders at the four men who are obediently waiting for you at the foot of the stairs

[whinesandwhimpers]

damn do i love a good "boyfriend is too drunk to recognise his gf" fic

You get up to go see your boyfriend, Soap, seeing how he's alone at the bar, meaning Simon must've stepped out for a smoke. You miss his company.

You're stunned when he pushes you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, which is odd behaviour for the clingy Scot who lives for physical touch with you.

"Jo—"

"I dinnae want ye, Lass!" He interrupts, wobbly stepping away from you.

"What? Johnny—" You take a step closer to him, confused.

"Ach! Away with ye!"

You give him a confused look but his eyes just burn into you with something unfriendly. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment and you feel the sting of rejection as you turn around and hurriedly walk back to the others, slipping into the booth opposite Gaz and Price.

"You okay, Sweetheart?" Price asks, pausing his conversation with Gaz.

You swallow, ignoring what just happened, and smile at them both. "Yeah, I'm alright... What are you two talking about?"

-

It's later in the night when Soap and Ghost return to the booth. You don't make eye contact as Soap squeezes in beside you, Ghost on his other side.

Soap nudges your shoulder and leans in closer to you, whispering over the tables conversation, "Sorry, Lass, I didnae mean to be so rude before."

"It's okay." You sigh, unsure why he pushed you away.

"I'm sure you're a right catch but I've already got my woman."

"...you do?"

"Aye, looks a lot like you actually."

A lot... like you. You have to hold back your laughter. No fucking way. He thinks you're someone else.

"Oh does she?" You inquire, lips pulling up into a smile, to which he nods. "What's she like?"

"She's like nobody else. Ye know angels?"—You nod—"that's her. An angel. Looks, personality, her laugh, oh her laugh,"—You laugh—"Aye, it's like that."

"Uh huh... I bet it is... She must be really lucky to have you."

"I'm the lucky one."

You both didn't notice but the rest of the team had stopped talking and was listening to your conversation.

"Johnny," Ghost interrupts, making Soap turn to him. "That's your fuckin' girlfriend beside you, you muppet."

"Wha—" Soap whips his head back around to you and looks you up and down. "It's you? My Angel?"

You bite your lip to hold back laughter and nod. Before you can say anything else, he grabs the sides of your head and smashes his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You stifle a moan at the feel of his tongue in your mouth.

The rest of the team groans and you briefly hear them leave the booth, your focus more on the man that just proclaimed you an angel.

He pulls away, far too soon you think, and rests his forehead against yours, dopey smile on his face.

"I've missed you, Bonnie."

[dallianceangel]

I’m Not Proud Of It

Writing this has given me another idea for a fic 💗

🫦 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🫦

You slip out of the clubhouse wearing the same clothes you wore last night, grinning as your mind plays back the wild night you had with Chibs. As you head toward the exit, Jax catches you as he works on fixing a motorcycle in Teller-Morrow. His gaze follows you, and he grows suspicious as he notices Chibs licking his lips, a subtle sign of the recent encounter he had with his girlfriend’s daughter.

Jax lowers his voice. “You and her...?”

Chibs sighs, nodding his head. “Aye, but you know, I’m not proud of it.”

Jax chuckles, not believing a single word. “Yeah, right. I bet you felt proud last night.”

Chibs smiles, but it soon fades when his girlfriend’s face flashes in his mind and the guilt resurfaces. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

Jax goes back to fixing what he is working on, but continues the conversation. “Was it just the once?”

Chibs’ silence gives Jax the answer he suspected, it’s happened more than once. “Fuck.”

Chibs sighs, the guilt eating away at him. A little while later, during lunchtime, your mom arrives outside Teller-Morrow, cheerful and unaware of the situation. She heads into the office and greets Chibs with a warm smile, holding a bag of delicious goodies.

“Hey, love,” she says, giving Chibs a kiss on the cheek. “I brought us some lunch.”

Chibs forces a smile. “Hey, doll. I’m so hungry.”

As she talks to Chibs over lunch, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Chibs discreetly checks it—it’s a text from you. He fights back a smile as he reads the message.

"Last night was hot. Round two later? 😏"

Chibs quickly types back, his heart racing: “You’re trouble, lass. We’ll need to be careful.”

[blingblong55]

Something sweet-141

Based on a request: I was reading a bunch of your stories and I LOVED them. I was wondering if you could make one where fem!reader in a wheelchair and poly 141 helps her out. It can be a smut story if you want it to be or a fluff story if you want. Can they all cuddle with fem!reader in bed though? I think that would be sweet and cute! A/N: means a lot that you like what I post, thank you! ---- F!Reader, fluff, wheelchair!user, poly!141, comfort? ----

The day had been rough, and you found yourself retreating to the bedroom, seeking solace from the weight on your shoulders. The familiar door creaks you recognised so easily catch your attention. John, the sweet man who warmed your heart with his comforting forehead kisses appears on the doorway. Behind him was Simon, Kyle and Johnny entered, their eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love," John said softly as he knelt by your side. "Rough day?" he asks as his hand trails to your back.

You nodded, feeling tears welling up. Simon was already moving to your other side, his large hand gently resting on your shoulder. "We're here, alright? Just take it easy."

Johnny nodded and bounced onto the bed, making you smile despite your storming emotions. "Got room for a few more in there?" he asked, his accent thick and comforting. His hand moves to your cheek as he caresses it.

Kyle cuddles in between all the love that is being shared. "You're all suffocating her," he comments and Johnny slightly nudges him. "You're the one on her, mate." Kyle grumbled and kissed your hands, "Yeah, but unlike the rest of you, she loves me," he looked up at you and winked. You appreciated the care they all took, making sure you felt included and not a burden.

Once you had settled comfortably in the mix of cuddles and arms, Simon and John had made sure that you were between them. The bed was crowded, but it felt perfect. "You're so strong," Kyle whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "We're so proud of you."

"Yeah, and we love you more than anything, me more, I love you more, lass," Johnny added, his hand finding yours under the covers. John wrapped an arm around you, his presence grounding.

You close your eyes and enjoy the moment. Simon, ever the silent pillar, squeezed your other hand gently. His face nuzzles on your neck as he breathes in your sweet scent. "Love you," he mumbles against your skin.

Surrounded by their warmth, you felt the weight of the day slowly lift. The room was filled with their love, each touch and whispered word a balm to your aching heart. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Anything for you, love," John replied, kissing your forehead.

Johnny shifted closer, his playful energy subdued but still present. "Remember that time we all tried cooking together and nearly burned the house down?" he asked with a chuckle. You laughed softly, the memory bringing a welcome distraction. "How could I forget? You all looked so panicked." Kyle grinned. "And then Simon swooped in and saved the day with his perfect fucking pancakes," he rolls his eyes and Simon huffed a laugh. "Someone had to keep you all from burning the place down, and she was hungry and I couldn't let her starve."

The soft teasing and shared memories helped you unwind even more. You felt their love and support enveloping you like a warm blanket, their presence making the room feel safe and comforting. "You guys always know how to make me feel better," you expressed, a small smile forming on your lips.

"That's what we're here for," Kyle replied, his voice soft and optimistic. "Now, how about we all watch a movie together?" John suggested. "Something light and funny to take your mind off things."

"Sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling grateful for their unwavering support.

As they arranged the pillows and blankets around you, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of bliss. Despite the challenges you faced, you knew you were never alone. With your lovers by your side, you could face anything, mainly spiders…especially spiders.

The movie started, and you found yourself cocooned by warmth and love, their presence a comforting reminder of the bond you all shared. As you leaned against John's chest, with Simon's hand in yours and Johnny and Kyle close by, you closed your eyes and enjoyed this sweet moment. Was it something extra to have this many hearts beating for you? Perhaps but it was enough.

Tags: @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @viomast @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @anonymuslydumb @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @luvecarson @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @tuihiatus @iruzias @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @azkza @gh0st-hunt2r

[lunamoonbby]

Cult!141 x Fem!Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT MDNI

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Dark Content, Manipulation, allusions to past abuse very brief not in depth, female reader, swearing, murder, pregnancy, birth, poly relationships, smut, Cult AU, the use of lord in terms to worship, Price being referred to as Father, Slow Burn

If you or a loved one is experiencing abuse, know that there is help, and please help anyone that you know to help them escape from that abuse.

⭐️Author's Note: The religion that the villagers follow is not defined, but it is NOT associated with Christianity, Judaism, Islam, or any other type of religion there is⭐️

AN: I know I had said that I would post this chapter for thanksgiving, but I got so busy I didn't get the time and when I did, I was in "I don't want to do anything mood" I am sorry for the delay

Chapter 9: A Breakfast at the Tavern

Y/n walked away from the church in search of either Johnny, Kyle, or Simon. "Oof." Y/n bumped into someone. "Oi watch-. Lovie, I didn't see you there are you okay?" Simon asked concern laced in his voice. "Oh, hi Simon yes I'm fine. I'm glad I found you; I'm getting really hungry, and I was wondering if you know any places that are open?" Y/n looking at Simon. "Johnny said that he's opening his tavern just for the five of us so we can eat." Simon said looking at y/n moving a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, ok well let me go freshen up and I'll meet you and the others at the Tavern Restaurant." Y/n said blushing at what Simon did. "See you soon lovie." Simon watching y/n leave.

Simon entered the Tavern Restaurant. "Simon good to see you I assume that you also took care of business." Price taking a sip of his drink. "Yes, William will get what’s coming to him on Tuesday, also y/n said she'll be here just has to freshen up first." Simon looking at the door waiting for y/n. "I was feeling red when Liam threw at rock at my lovie." Simon admitted to John. "We could tell, you crushed a rock with your bare hands, hence why you’re the God of Death in this town. You come up with the most gruesome ways to kill a man, Simon. I myself wanted to start a war for my lovie right after the mass." John stated. "Hence why you're the God of War." Johnny looked at John, "I'm going to be closed for this week they'll starve, I don't care." "I wanted to jab them all with a dirty rusty needle and serve them a nonlethal dose of poison, but just enough to make them sick." Kyle and Johnny looking at John. "Johnny that's why you're the God of Famine, and Kyle is the God of Pestilence." John said looking at both Johnny and Kyle. "Something interesting I learned about Little Birdy, she wants to be a mother, she placed another set of flowers in the bowl, and I told her that the offerings she put today is for fertility, I explained that the first flower offering was for love and that this offering is for Fertility she didn't seem to mind. So, she's definitely our Goddess of Fertility, Nature, and Purity." John said in a calm tone. "I should have guessed that, when she picked the flowers, she asked if she could pick them, and a gentle breeze happened right after she asked, and she somehow knew that the gentle breeze was a yes." Simon looking at the 3 men said.

The bell to the Tavern Restaurant jingled. "Hello everyone." Y/n came in smiling. "Hello sweetheart, just in time I made you a new tea it's made with hibiscus and passion fruit. I hope you like it." Kyle gives y/n the teacup. "Thank you, Kyle, is smells amazing." Y/n taking a sip of her tea, "oh this really good. I love it." Y/n in pure bliss. "Lovie I'm glad you're here." Simon looking at y/n. "Simon I'm glad you told me that Johnny opened his tavern just for us." Y/n hugged Simon. "Ah I can't let my bonnie lass go hungry." Johnny said. "Ah little birdy, I mean y/n good for you to join us." John looked over at y/n. "Father Price and you can call me little birdy I think it's cute." Y/n giving John a closed eyed smile. "Food is ready." Johnny coming out with a hot dish of food, pancakes, hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, and turkey sausage. John served your plate first before anyone else gets their serving first. "Thank you, Father Price, also Johnny these smells delicious I can't wait to dig in." Y/n looking down at her food. After everyone got their food, they all started eating and complement Johnny on his cooking. "I have a question; Simon how did you know which room I was staying at?" Y/n looking at Simon. "Father Price told me. He wanted me to tell you about today's mass, so you won’t get thrown off when you enter the church and see that it's full." Simon looking back at y/n. "Oh okay thank you for telling me. I'm pretty sure Johnny and Kyle knows where my room is at, they own the Tavern Inn." Y/ n looking at Johnny and Kyle. "Right you are bonnie lass." Johnny smiling at y/n.

"Um Johnny, Kyle, would you allow me to use your kitchen tomorrow morning to make breakfast for all of us? Father Price said that all the shops are closed and will reopen Tuesday. So can I use your Kitchen tomorrow morning?" Y/n fidgeting her hands looking at Johnny and Kyle. "Of course you can sweetheart. Same time as today, we can even make that a tradition too." Kyle exclaimed gleefully. "Oh yes every Friday is Brisket Pot Pie, and every Sunday can be the Breakfast Day." Y/n looking at everyone. Since everyone is closed y/n was having trouble thinking about what she should do when she had an idea, "Father Price is it okay if I forage some berries for tomorrow's breakfast? I promise to stay within the village." Y/n looking at John with a pouty face. John who can’t resist, "Yes little birdy you can go forage for berries, but Simon has to go with you." John said looking at y/n and Simon. "Oh, yay thank you thank you thank you Father Price." y/n hugged John. "Here is a basket for your berries." "And a book on what berries you can pick." Johnny handing her a basket and Kyle giving her the book. "Oh, thank you for the book but I don't think I'll need it, my mother and grandmother taught me everything I know about nature and plants, but I'll still keep the book." Y/n said hugging Johnny and Kyle. "Come on Si-Si we have to go before it gets dark. Bye everyone I'll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast." Y/n dragging Simon with her.

Taglist is open comment if you would like to be added

@yourloverslost @tabbslouuformer @angelrissa @freefallingup13 @readingcatinacorner @sylvanasthebansheequeen @casualunknownrunaway @thatpersonnamedrook @rip-cod-brainrot @hoodiepandaninja16 @spacecrawllerr @kopi-nes @darkangel4121

[stinkysam]

Buggy the Clown - So no head ?

Warning : nsfw, mouth fucking

Genre : smut

Synopsis : "One thought that won't get out of my head about Buggy, in the scene where he keeps annoying everyone/scaring Usopp while he's making explosives, what if the reader decides to "give the guys a break from the annoying clown" by going on a walk with him, but really it's just an excuse to get some time alone with Buggy and uhh get some head, pun intended ;) Bonus points if reader promises to return the favor once Buggy gets his body back." -anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : Part TWO

-cis women dni-

Today had been a tough day for the clown. Spending most of it in a sandy bag or with unfriendly captors.

"Hey ! Morning champ !" Buggy laughed as Zoro arrived.

"I know Luffy made a deal with you to find Arlong, clown, but if this is another one of your tricks-" Zoro warned.

"What are you gonna do ? Bleed on me ?" The clown said, laughing again before Zoro grabbed him by his bandana to hold him above the sea, ready to throw him out.

"Whoa, whoa, wait, whoa, whoa, whoa ! What ! Because I said bleed on me ? You can bleed on me if you want ! I mean, a deal's a deal, all right ? You want your map back, I want my bodyyy." He quickly spat, laughing once more.

"How do we know you're not leading us to a trap ?"

"Zoro, buddy, honors amongst pirates, right ? C'mon I can sing a nice sea shanty to pass the time ! Ooh there once was a girl with tangerine hair," unbothered Zoro moved back toward the barrel. "Stole my map and left me stranded somewhere, truly a crafty and crooked young lass," Usopp opened it for Zoro to put him inside. "But you can't deny she had a spectacular- Aw ! Right on my nose !" He yelled as he fell inside the barrel before Zoro closed it.

If only it had stopped there. But soon he was put back in the dark and humid sandy bag. Ew. Really ? Couldn't you or someone on the crew dry it a bit ? He's not asking for cushions and blankets, you could at least put him somewhere not sandy. No ? Ugh. Boor.

Then, later, his abuse, as he would call it, continued.

He watched as Usopp worked on his explosives, hands shaking as focused to not spill anything.

"Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, BOOM !!" The clown yelled, laughing as Usopp jumped, along with everyone in the room.

"Yeah I'm gonna get some air." Nojiko announced as you watched her leave.

"Can you just… be quiet ?" Asked Usopp, hoping to get some peace. He was clearly stressing out of his mind.

"Aw, come on. Where's the fun in that ?" The clown teased, enjoying himself as Usopp's hands shook more. "Do you really think your little toys can get through the skin of a fishman ?" He asked quietly, his eyes never leaving him.

"These are smoke bombs."

"Smoke ? That's rich… Makes me think of how long it's been since I've had any smoked fish." He gulped, imagining the taste in his mouth. God, he was so hungry.

"Maybe if you guys had some extra ?" He looked at Sanji. "Please ?"

You watched them, waiting for any of them to get him something but none moved.

"Ah, screw you guys ! Arlong's gonna bite the shit out of you anyway ! You know you don't stand a chance against him and his army. And you dumb pieces of garbage, you ain't gonna do anything against that stupid- mmhf mh" before he could continue Sanji had pushed a full tangerine in the clown's mouth, shutting him up efficiently.

"New guy shuts up the clown head."

Buggy tried to cough it out, to say something but couldn't, struggling with the fruit in his mouth.

"Okay, enough." You said, getting up from the table and pulling the tangerine out of Buggy's mouth, ignoring Sanji's and Usopp surprised stare.

"Puh ! Thanks handsome." He said with a wink, clicking his tongue after stretching his jaw.

"Let me take care of him. You're coming with me."

"I'm gonna eat ?" Buggy said with wide excited eyes before squinting them at you.

"Kinda."

"What are you planning ? What's your deal." He asked, suspicious. All of the strawhats avoided him, already annoyed by him before even having said something, even the new guy couldn't stand him anymore and suddenly one of them was down to keep him ?

Smells like bullshit to Buggy.

"Yeah, [Name]. What's up ?" Usopp asked, no longer focused on his explosives.

"You guys are clearly on your toes around him for whatever reasons so I'll keep him, I don't care."

"Whatever reason ?" Repeated Sanji.

"Why ? [Name]." Usopp asked, confused.

You shrugged.

"I like him. He's fun."

"You hear that boys ? I'm fun ! Clearly a taste you lack."

"He's fun ?" Repeated Usopp, frowning. Really, he wasn't getting it.

Buggy smiled and laughed loudly as Zoro walked back inside with Luffy.

"What's going on ? Why is it laughing like that ?" Zoro asked.

"It ?" Buggy said, immediately stopping laughing.

"[Name] wants to keep the head." Usopp immediately answered, speaking over the clown.

"[Name] said he likes him." Sanji added, making you scoff. These two…

"Look at him, he's all cute." You said, grabbing his head to rub your cheek against his. You and Buggy smiled together awkwardly with your teeth showing, wide eyed, as if you were trying to smile for the first time ever. Was that your way of trying to be convincing ?

Zoro and Sanji raised an eyebrow while Luffy and Usopp tilted their heads to the side.

"C'mon, guys, he has nobody, no body and stayed in a sandy bag, I would've been bored out of my mind as well. And pissy as fuck."

"He gets me !" Buggy said. A little bit more and there'd be fake tears as well. "And I'm not pissy ! I'm angry and hungry, I haven't eaten in-"

"Can't believe you're taking his side." Zoro simply said, ignoring him, crossing his arms.

"Well, call me too empathetic because I'm gonna care for the sad clown."

"Don't ignore me ! And I'm not a sad clown ! But I'm about to be ! Do you know the last time I ate something ?!"

Zoro hummed while looking at you, still ignoring him, he clearly wanted to say something more but deciding against it. He rolled his eyes and walked away. If you wanted hell then, who was he to stop you from getting it.

"Hey ! Stop ignoring me !"

You turned to face Buggy's head, he had a toothy smile, clearly forced and awkward.

"Don't overdo it or you go back in the sand bag."

"Ugh." Buggy grumbled, his smile falling, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Where are we going ?" He asked as you carefully held him up.

"Outside."

"Ah ?"

"I'm going to teach you how to be quiet." You said with a grin, ignoring your friends' confused stare. What did you mean by that ?

Buggy raised an eyebrow before a smirk invited itself on his face.

"Oh yeah ? And how are you gonna do that ?" He said as you exited the house.

You walked a bit, not too far from the house in case they still needed you but enough to be out of earshot and stopped. You sat down and placed Buggy next to you as you grabbed a tangerine.

He watched you, staring intently as you peeled it. Getting rid of the small white strings on it and opening it in small pieces.

"Here." You said pushing one piece against his lips, waiting for him to open his mouth. "This isn't smoked fish but that'll feed y-" you didn't have the time to finish your sentence that he was already eating it up.

"Don't care !" He said in between bites.

Buggy sighed as you made him eat the fruit, finally putting something in his belly after a couple days of not eating. It wasn't much but at least it was something.

"Hey, that's mine !" He yelled as you took a bite, the fresh juice flooding your mouth.

"My hands feed who they want. And right now, they wants to feed me."

"Oh come on ! I've been good ! Sweetheart !?"

"Okay, okay. You've been good." You said, patting his head as he tried to move it away.

You pushed the piece of tangerine back against his lips and he wasted no time eating it. Fearing you would take it away.

"I just wanted a taste, I'm not gonna steal it from you." You said with a small laugh.

"Coming from the person who stole my map, that's rich."

"Your map ?" You looked at him, amused at how he still called it his when it never was to begin with. But before he could retort, you pushed another piece of tangerine in his mouth. He glared at you, debating whether he should try to bite you or not.

"Why are you feeding me anyway ? Not that I'm complaining." He watched you eat another bit of the fruit, sucking the juice in before chewing it.

"Told you. I like you." You said nonchalantly as you poked his forehead. One of his eyes twitched.

"Like me, huh ?" He couldn't believe you.

"Yeah you're cute." You continued, without hesitation as you smiled at him. He stared at you and for a second he was glad his body wasn't there or he would've fallen into pieces at your comment. He tried to regain his composure, clearing his throat and looking away while you still stared at him.

"I don't know if I would call myself cute bu-"

"Why wouldn't you ?"

Your question caught him off guard as he looked up at you. The answer seemed obvious though. His nose. Big round red nose right in the middle of his face. Hello ?

But he wouldn't tell you that. He's not gonna open up to you -or anyone- in the middle of no-fucking-where.

You grabbed his head so you would be face to face and tilted your head.

"Why wouldn't you be cute ?" You repeated. You had to be fucking with him. He chewed the inside of his cheeks, unsure of what to say or do. If he was more than a head he'd push you away but right now he couldn't do that. Only able to stare at you and be glad his heart is too far away for you to hear it beat loudly.

"You seemed upset when Luffy tried to touch your nose, is it about that ?" You finally asked and he looked at you with wide eyes. You better be careful with your words becau-

"I think it's a really cute nose." You said with a grin. "I like red."

That's… not what he had expected. Usually people laugh or grimace at his nose, they don't look at it as if it's… a good thing ? He blinks several time. He wants to retort something mean but nothing comes to mind.

"Can you put me down ?" He asks instead. You hum and do as asked, placing him back next to you.

You continued to give him the tangerine, taking a bite every now and then.

"Aahh" He opened his mouth, waiting for you to give him the last bit. You gave it to him and he thanked you while chewing it, glancing your way awkwardly. Shit, now he didn't know what to say.

"I'm not gonna give you head."

"What ?" You laughed, unable to believe you heard him right.

"Just because you fed me and complimented me doesn't mean you'll get to fuck me."

"Aw, bummer, I was looking to it." You said, still smiling.

"Well. You won't. Plus I'm just a head, so…"

"Buggy. Head." You said staring at him, hoping he'd get it.

"Yeah ? And ?"

"You're exactly what's required to give head. A head. Literally." You said and he stared at you.

"I'm still not gonna give it to you !"

"I wasn't asking ! I was just saying !"

"Aah !" He yelled, frustrated with the conversation and you laughed. "Let's stop talking about it !"

You nodded and stayed silent, your lips still curved into a smile. A minute or two passes before he talks again.

If he had a body, he'd be tapping his feet and pacing.

"Fuck now I can't stop thinking about it." He grumbled.

"Yeah me neither." You stared at each other unsure of what to do.

"Well, you have the dick, I don't, so… get on with it !"

You quickly got up and grabbed the head, pressing it between your legs.

He rubbed his face against your groin, using his nose to nudge against your growing hard on. He generally would've hated to use his nose like this, but he had no other choice, his hands being so far away and unable to touch you any other way. Your humming encouraged him to continue, wanting to hear more of your noises. Feeling your dick twitch inside your clothes against his skin.

You quickly pushed your shorts and your underwear to your feet and Buggy gulped as he breathed loudly at the sight of your dick standing up right in front of him. He looked at you for a second, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features. He was only just a head, after all. Wouldn't he need his hands to please you as well ?

"You're gonna do great, Bugs." You reassured him. "All I need is your mouth right now. And you clearly know how to run it."

He nodded and you smiled, caressing his face before pushing your thumb in his mouth. When you pulled it out, you let your thumb rub against his lipstick, smearing his make up more than it already was.

"C'mon, just get to it already !" He barked, making you snort.

You grabbed his head, pushing the tip of your cock inside his mouth, past his teeth. Feeling the wet and warm walls of his cheek against your sensitive skin.

His eyes never left yours as you slowly moved him up and down your length.

Your whole dick was inside him, tickling the back of his throat for a few seconds, resting there. You could tell he was trying not to choke with how his eyes shone with tears. His round nose was pushed against your pelvis.

"Good boy…" You cooed, voice slightly shaky. "Takin' all of me."

You pulled out and he let out a big huff, exhaling loudly with his tongue out. You wasted no time and pushed it back in with your cock. Making him hum in surprise.

"Ahh…" You let out, closing your eyes as your head hung back. You began to move Buggy's head faster, your hips rocking against his face with his chin pressing against your balls.

You could hear him choke on your dick, trying to breathe or to cough, or both at the same time. But you didn't stop, only to let him breathe from time to time.

Heavy strings of saliva connected the inside of his mouth to your dick as you pulled out, letting him inhale before pushing yourself back in. Making him choke loudly.

"Not- not too loud, or you'll get us caught. Is that what you want, Bugs ?" You breathed out and his eyes widened. The idea of possibly being caught lit something in him. Both wanting and dreading for this to happen.

You could hear the rest of the crew talk loudly and laugh inside the house, blissfully unaware you were fucking the head.

One noise too loud and they would know. Curiously looking outside for the source of it as he gags and chokes on you.

God, he didn't want you to stop, he wanted you to continue and use him as you please. Which you did, fucking his face roughly, smearing some of his make up onto your own skin.

You kept using his mouth as you moaned quietly, you could feel the flat of his tongue move against your cock, rubbing along the veins.

You slowed down despite wanting to go even faster, not wanting to cum just yet. Wanting the pleasure to last a little bit longer.

You allowed Buggy to regain some of his composure, breathing loudly as if he had been drowning. He coughed and cleared his throat loudly while you sighed.

"Fuck, love, you really don't play a-" You didn't give him the time to finish his sentence, pushing back his face against your dick for him to lick. Which he did.

You moved his head slightly to help him lick all of it, from your balls to your leaking tip before pushing yourself back inside his mouth, all the way in. This time he didn't gag.

While one hand remained behind his head to keep him in place, the other gently caressed him under his red and white bandana. You started to move when he tried to swallow around your dick, squeezing it deliciously in his warm embrace.

You found back your old pace rather quickly, fucking his mouth and his throat carelessly while he tried to suck more of it.

You came in his mouth, hot semen shooting down his throat as he choked trying to swallow it without biting your cock off. You remained still for a few seconds, his face pressed against you as you caught back your breath before pulling him out.

He coughed, spitting on himself a little bit as he regained his breath. He looked at you with tears in his eyes from choking so much, trying to blink them away. You helped him, gently and carefully wiping his eyes, grimacing as you smudged some of his make up.

"Oops."

"What ? What is it ?"

"Nothin'"

He huffed and you brought his head to your face, pecking his cheek delicately.

"I'll repay you, I promise." You said, pulling your shorts back on.

"You better ! I'm left all hot and fucking bothered here !"

In Arlong Park, some of the fishmen laughed at the sight of Buggy's body. Not because they found it particularly funny. Although it was. But because they noticed the tent in the clown's pants with wet stain as his hands struggled in their restraints, clearly wanting to do something about it but unable to.

[miniwheat77]

Fever Dream. (Soap x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected p in v sex, flu season is rough but not as rough as Johnny, MINORS DNI, (sorry if I missed any.)

You huddled up in your room, shivering. You were asleep. Your phone sat next to you, it was dead since you’ve been in and out of it.

Soap sighs, you haven’t been responding to his messages.

As soon as his shift is over, he’s making his way out to his truck. He knows you’ve been sick and he’s worried that you haven’t been responding to his messages. Gaz is following him out to his truck, he still sounds nasally because he’s getting over it. “You know she’s gonna kill ya when she comes back right?” Soap laughs. “Oh yeah, I know.” Gaz laughs.

You and Soap are really good friends and you’ve been out for a couple days because you’ve been sick, and he knows how you are. You probably haven’t been taking care of yourself. He climbs into his truck after saying goodbye to Gaz, ready to go check on you.

You didn’t live too far from the base so it was a short drive to your house. You lived in a somewhat decent neighborhood so it was peaceful. He pulls into your driveway and sees your car. Getting out of his truck and locking it behind him. He makes his way up to your door, knocking.

He waits a minute, but after hearing nothing, he tries the knob. To his surprise, it opens. He steps inside your house, feeling just how freezing it is on the inside. “Steamin’ Jesus.” He mumbles. He kicks his shoes off like he usually would when he’s at your house. Taking a second to mess with the thermostat. Making his way down the hallway to your bedroom. The door is closed.

He sighs. “So help me god if you’re dead or something..” he breathes. Opening the door right up. You’re buried under blankets. “Y/N?” He asks. You don’t respond. He steps in further, grasping your blanket and tugging it away from your face. You’re sweaty. You’re still asleep, so he pulls the blanket down the rest of the way. Resting his hand against your forehead. “Christ..” he mumbles. He stands up, making his way into your bathroom. He knows it’s probably an overstep but he doesn’t care, you need his help. He finds medicine, going back out to your kitchen to find a glass. Once he fills it with water, he makes his way back to you.

He sits down on the edge of your bed. “Hey.” He sighs, shaking you slightly. You moan out in your sleep, trying to turn away from him. “Lass, you’re breaking my heart here.” You hear him laugh. “Soap?” You mumble. “Yeah.” He chuckles, grasping your hip and rolling you over. “You’re burning up sweetheart, here.” He reaches his hand out. You open yours up. Taking the pills from his hand. “Thank you Soap.” You mumble, sitting up slightly. “You’re so sweet to me, it’s almost like you don’t hate me.” You giggle, your voice is scratchy and rough.

He rolls his eyes, a playful smile on his lips. “I like you alive.” He laughs.

“I swear. I’m going to kill Garrick when I get back for giving me this.” You groan. Hearing him laugh. “Nice shirt by the way.” He smiles. You’re wearing his baggy shirt.

“Hey. Ended up in my laundry, that means it’s mine.” You smile. Resting your head on your pillow. Hearing him laugh. “Yeah. Looks better on you anyways.” He mumbles. “Those are fighting words.” You look him in the eyes. “Yeah? You really think I’m gonna listen to you?” He laughs. “Your fever is so high you probably don’t even know what world you’re in.” He laughs. “Um.. Soap. I’ve been blown up, shot at, I’ve had my eardrums blown out by bombs. If you think a fever is the worst thing I’ve been through, you’re so wrong.” You laugh. Sitting up slightly.

You’re wearing black shorts, legs exposed.

“M’not used to seeing you in normal clothes.” He smiles. You give him a lazy smile.

“Cmon. I’m gonna make you something to eat.”

“Soap, you don’t have to do that. I’m not hungry.” You groan. “Too bad.” He mumbles. Sliding his hands under the bend of your knees and around your back. Lifting you up with ease. You feel your stomach twirling, he makes you feel small.

You rest your head on his shoulder as he carry’s you into the kitchen. Setting you down by your table. You sit down, eyeing him as he looks through your cupboards, finding soup. You swallow hard, the muscles in his back flexing slightly as he reaches for a bowl. You need to drag your eyes away from him, but you can’t.

“You okay?” He asks. Turning to you. You shake yourself out of your thoughts. “Uh.. yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You laugh. “Why are you here? You’re gonna get sick being around me.” You ask. “Because, you weren’t responding to my messages.” He laughs. “Oh.. my phone must be dead. I didn’t hear it.” You mumble. “Besides. When I’m sick, you’ll come take care of me.” He smirks. “Yeah, I’ll come take care of you. On one condition.” You smirk. “What’s that?” He laughs. Setting the bowl down in front of you. “You have to call me mommy.” He laughs, a little too hard at you. “I mean.. if that’s what you’re into.” He shrugs. He holds out a spoon for you, but swipes it back as you reach for it. “Does that mean you should be calling me Daddy?” He smirks. You roll your eyes. “Don’t fuck with me. I’ll do it.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m waiting.” He smirks. You let your smile fade. “Can I please have the spoon, Daddy?” You purposely make your voice low, hearing him laugh. He gives it to you. “You’re too much sometimes.” He laughs. “Can’t play me at my own game.” You mumble.

“Yeah? Don’t think I’ll try anything with someone who steals my shirts.” He laughs. “I regret nothing. It was in my laundry, it was fair game.” You shrug. “Keep it up and I’ll take it back.” He laughs. “Do it. You won’t.” You smirk. Seeing him roll his eyes. “You’re feisty today.” He laughs.

“I don’t need to take it off. Gives me something to hold onto.” He winks, standing up. Your eyes widen, coughing slightly. He goes back into your kitchen, you stand up. “Where are you going?” You ask. He turns and looks at you, seeing that you’ve stood up. “Lass, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re sick.”

You shake your head, looking down. You’re resting you hands behind you on your table. “I’m sick. Not drunk. Put up or shut up.” You look at him. He shakes his head, making his way closer to you once again. “Soup’s going to get cold.” He crosses his arms. “Can think of something else to warm me up anyways.” He laughs, moving closer. He’s standing right in front of you, you’re looking up at him through your eyelashes. He reaches his hand out, playing with the hem of his shirt that you’ve got on. You look down to where his fingertips brush over your thigh and he toys with it. “Get extra horny when you’re sick or something?” He laughs. You shrug. “No. You just look extra good today.” You smirk. He grasps a handful of his shirt, tugging you into him, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His lips are right up against yours, only centimeters apart.

He lifts his hands up your shirt, grasping the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down your legs. You step out of them, gasping when he wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you up and setting you down onto the table. He chuckles, running his hands up your hips. “No panties?” You blush, looking down. “Bad girl.” He breathes. Finally, he presses his lips to yours. He moves closer, hips resting right up against yours. The seam of his jeans rub right up against your opening, drawing a gasp from you. You moan into his mouth, feeling him smile into the kiss as he rocks his hips into yours. He unbuttons his jeans, keeping his lips on yours as he exposes himself. Pushing his boxers down far enough to free his cock.

He’s rock hard, ready to give you everything you’ve been waiting for.

He leans into you, feeling you lean back onto your hand slightly. He grips a handful of the shirt, just like he said he would. His cock nudges at your entrance, a whine leaving your lips. He attacks your neck, sucking and biting at your skin. A gasp leaves your lips when he slides into you, bottoming out.

He groans into you, watching you tilt your head back. “Fuck- oh my god Johnny.” You whine, pushing your hips to the edge of your table. He lifts your thighs up higher, drawing his hips back. He gets a good look at his cock, your arousal building at the base of him. “Fuck you’re wet.” He laughs, thrusting into you again. Feeling you flinch. “Ah god! You’re so deep-“ you gasp, clutching the table like your life depends on it. He watches his cock slide into you, drawing his hips back. You swallow him up nice. He shakes his head, teeth gritted. “So tight on me.” He groans, speeding up his thrusts. “Not gonna last long.” He bites his lip harder than he means. Keeping himself together is hard.

You’re watching him slide into you. Still in disbelief that your body could handle so much. Johnny was a big man, a lot of man to just throw at someone. He holds onto your ankles. You turn your head to the side, coughing into your elbow.

His eyes widen and he screws them shut. “Bloody fucking hell-“ he gasps. “You get tight on me when you do that.” He breathes. You can’t help but laugh at him. “Sorry.” You blush. “Don’t be.” He breathes, leaning in to kiss you again. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, hips moving steady into you. You can feel an orgasm building in your lower stomach, just as he said. You’re not going to last long either. He rests his hand on your throat, pulling you closer with his other. “You feel so fucking good.” He shakes his head slightly, holding onto you. Kissing you for a second before pulling away again. “Getting me so close, lass. So fucking good.” He grits his teeth, the muscles in his neck flexing hard from his actions. Your thighs shake slightly and he laughs. “Awe.. legs shaking baby?” He taunts. “How cute.”

He grasps hold of you, thrusting into you harder than before. He’s right on the edge and he needs you to cum first.

“Ah! I’m gonna cum Johnny-“ you gasp. Your bottom lip wobbles as you grasp onto the table.

You’re surprised it hasn’t given way from his brutal thrusts. You can hear it creaking beneath you, the legs scraping against the ground with each of his thrusts. A cry leaves your lips, Johnny’s eyes screwing shut when you tighten around him. Your body working perfectly with his to milk his cock. “Fuck- oh fuck.” He cries. Hips stuttering as he reaches his high. You can feel him twitching inside of you. Forgetting completely to pull out of you. Your eyes widen as you feel his warmth filling you up, spilling back out around his thick cock. He hangs his head, panting hard. “Fuck- I’m sorry.” He breathes. “It’s okay.” You giggle, blushing slightly. You turn your head, coughing into your elbow once more. “Ah!” He shivers. “Fuck.” He laughs. “Too sensitive for that.” You can’t help but laugh at him. He slides out of you, groaning at the sight of his spunk spilling back out of you. He shakes his head. “You’re a fucking minx.” He chuckles.

He helps you down from the table, laughing when your knees nearly give away. Your legs are still shivering. “Sit down, I’ll heat up your soup.” He smiles.

—

“You’re sick now too?” Ghost asks Soap.

Your cheeks are on fire as Soap glances at you. Smirk playing at his lips. “Ah yeah. I was taking care of her.” He laughs. You roll your eyes, turning away from him.

His voice is scratchy and nasally. If you could jump him right here, you would.

“Taking care of her? Sure.” Ghost chuckles. Your eyes widening.

[cscorvid]

Soap | Taste of Heaven

NSFW One shot. Afab!reader.

Pretty vanilla, pierced cock, lots of praise.

All art credits go to their respective creators

The sheets seemed like the perfect choice, now that the soft material were tangled in your fingers that clenched them in white as your chest rose and fell which each breath.

Johnny’s lips found your kiss swollen ones once more before he pulled away, once more. His muscular form dipping down, his tongue running up the small sliver of skin between the waistband of your pants and your belly button. His nose pushing up your shirt, as he keeps moving upward, planting open mouth kisses right up your torso.

A groan came from him, “Fuck, yer perfect.”

His calloused hands ran up from your thighs to push whatever clothing you had covering your torso off. His tongue flicking over one of your pebbled nipples, a rough yet feathering finger circled the other.

Every small sound and move you made, spurred him on further. Johnny didn’t even try to hide the fact he was rutting against the bed as his kept worshipping your body, his mouth leaving your nipples to trail up once more. Hungry, sloppy kisses planted over your collarbone.

As he moved up, his hands dropped to your hips, his own coming flush against yours. Grinding through both of yours clothes, pulling soft groans from him as his lips moved up the side of your neck. He kept planting the kisses up his lips grazed your ear.

"Ach, I need tae fook ye, Mo sheòid. I need tae feel the way ye wrap 'round me, the way ye squeeze me tight, screamin' ma name. Christ-" he groaned low, his breath hot and ragged in your ear, his hips grinding desperately against yours. "Fuckin' hell, lass, I'm gonna cum in ma pants if ye dinnae let me have ye. Please, Y/N, I'll dae anythin' ye want."

A gasp came from her at the rugged groan in her ear, her body instinctually arching up into his body. “Oh…Johnny.”

The way his name fell from your lips, made his hips buck against yours as a hand tangled into your hair and pulled your head back. “Please, Y/N,…pl-“

“John MacTavish if you don’t shut up and fuck me already.” She interrupted him, her tone made it rather firm that it was a command. Not a question. Not a suggestion. And Johnny? Was more than happy to obey this command.

His fingers tore into the fabric of her jeans, ripping them off her body. He placed a kiss to her clit, over her panties, before tearing the cotton material off with his teeth.

As soon as she was exposed to him, his face buried straight into her core. His edged cock pushed to the back of his mind, for just a mere taste of your nectar. Nipping at her clit before soothing it with his tongue.

His arms hooked around her hips and pulled her closer, and held her spread open for him. Her moans, her gasps, the twitching, the squirming. Only made him feast like a man dying of starvation. The wet sounds coming from the way his skilled tongue worked over her.

“Oh God…Johnny..” She trailed off as a moan was pulled from her. A hand traveling over her breast and down her abdomen before tangling into his hair, the brown locks sticking through in patches in her clenched hand as she pulls his hair.

A moaned against her clit as she pulled his hair, letting go off one leg, his middle finger pushing into her tight hole. Another moan coming from him as he felt the way she immediately clamped around his finger.

“Fuck, look at how you respond to me. You’re going to milk me dry like a good girl with the way you’re clenching my fingers, Bonnie.” He murmured, before he went back to feasting on her clit, slowly adding in a second finger into her. His fingers and tongue working in tangent with each other. Her noises of pleasure rolling past those swollen lips as her walls flutter against his fingers.

Her own hand tightened in his hair as she felt that familiar heat in her lower stomach. The way he held her so close to him, the feeling of his finger rolling over her G-spot, how his tongue felt on her clit, the way his pupils were blown feral with lust.

As much as she tried to prolong it, her orgasm rolled over her like a wave on the beach. Her legs snapped tight around his head, her hand pulled at his hair, while the other yanked at the sheets.

“Fuck!” the word rolling off in a choked scream.

Johnny’s hands had snaked under your legs to hold you’d hips, as he eagerly lapped up the juices coming from your pulsating pussy. Groaning as he pushed his tongue deeper into her, his hips softly jerking against the bed.

He continued to feast on her as they rode out her orgasm. Her legs trembled as they relaxed against his head slowly, freeing him from his locked position. Half lidded eyes on him as he pulled away.

Her eyes focusing on the way his chest physically moved with each rugged breath of his. The way his dog tags gleamed in the light, until her eyes landed on a wet spot on the front of his pants. Eyes widened in surprise before her eyes flicked up to his.

“Did you-?” She started but trailed off unsure of how to even word a question like that.

“Did I cum my pants because I got to taste your cum on my tongue?” He asked in a husky voice, her essences still glistening on his lips, as he pulled off his shirt. Walking to her, watching her softly nod to his question. “Yes I did. Because you taste like heaven.”

As he undid his belt with one hand, he leaned in and caught her lips in a kiss, shoving his tongue roughly into her mouth. She moaned into the kiss as she tasted herself on his tongue. Johnny groaned into the kiss as he finally free’d his cock, even though he had already finished once, he was still hard as a rock.

He softly rocked his hips against hers, and that’s when Y/N realized, he was pierced. And, maybe it was just the lust clouding your brain, but it made you clench around nothing.

One of his hands moved to line himself up, the other rested around your throat. Leaning in to capture your lips into kiss as he slowly pushes into you. Your moans were swallowed greedily by him, as you felt every inch of his cock stretch you open, could feel the way each piercing pushed into you.

“Oh, Fuck,” he groaned once he had full seated himself inside of you. Gently grinding his hips against yours to keep from moving, allowing you time to adjust to his size. “This is fucking heaven.”

His lips trailed kisses down your neck as he slowly began to thrust. His hand tangling into your hair, pulling your head back, as he softly bit the column of your throat, his tongue flicking over the bite mark to sooth the sting.

His pace picks up into something faster, your moans were a siren song to his ears, and he was more than willing to let you pull him under your spell.

“You’re fucking perfect. You feel so good, Mo sheòid, you’re clenching me like a forbidden vice.” His lips travelled over your collarbone. “So beautiful, so responsive, so fucking perfect.”

His thrust were rough and harsh yet controlled. You can feel each pleasurable thrust as his tip rams into that sweet spot that makes you see stars, the piercings adding texture along your clenching walls.

“John-Johnny…I’m…fuck…” you barely got out between moans. That heat building in your lower regions.

“Cum on my cock, Y/N. Please, oh fuck, please let me feel you cum on my cock.” He groaned, as his hands tightened on your hips. His words slowly turning into a desperate beg,“Please, gods, please.”

Hearing him start to beg, it pushed you over the edge, hearing him groan as yours walls clench around his cock. His thrust becoming sloppy before he hilted himself balls deep as he finished. His hips jerking against yours as you both breath heavy.

Taking a moment to come down from the high of their conjoined climax. Johnny slowly pulled out of her, careful of the piercings, his cock finally coming free with an audible pop. His blue eyes glued to the trail of cum that was leaking out of you. It made his soft cock twitch, quickly he shook his head away from those thoughts and looked back up at your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, as he crawled over top of you, not in a sexual way this time, but in an affectionate way. As his eyes traveled over your disheveled form. His eyes locking onto yours with eyes that moment before had been filled with dark desire now filled with a soft love.

“Yeah I’m okay,” you say with a hoarse voice. “That was great, Johnny.”

He hums a response before pressing a soft loving kiss to your lips. Moving to settle against your side and pulling you close to him, tangling your legs together, as one hand trails up and down your spine in a loving way. His other hand came to cup the side of your face, his finger tips tangling into the hairs on the nape of your neck.

“I love you,” he murmured as he buried his face into your hair. “You are my heaven.”

This is my first time writing here. I’d love to hear any comments, thoughts, feedback.

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #13)

FEB13: Night Out

“Did she book out the whole place, then?” John asked, pulling his pearl buttons through their starched holes as he dressed into his shirt.

“Yep, very fancy,” you told him, fixing his tie and feeling the silk slip through your manicured fingers.

Your best friend, Cana, had just graduated from her master’s program, and she had invited you to her graduation party. When you mentioned that you were housing three additional British soldiers, she had extended the invitation to include them most enthusiastically.  

The boys had dressed up nice. Cana had indeed booked out an entire rooftop bar, and as a woman who liked to party, she was really pulling out all the stops tonight. 

She was dressed all in black, surrounded by her classmates and a few of your mutual friends, but when she saw you coming through the doors with your literal army squad, she made a bee-line straight for you. Her bejeweled arms were spread wide, her perfectly set curls bounced as she ran, flinging herself into your arms and squealing her hellos. 

“Cana!” You laughed, holding her as she spun around you with glee, “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

“Goddamn, babe. Me too,” she huffed, exasperated and sarcastically funny. 

You watched her roll her eyes and smile, 

“Thank fuck grad school is done. Now, introduce me! You brought dinner, I see.”

“Oh, God, Cana. You can’t say that!” You protested. 

But, Kyle heard her comment and brushed you aside, reaching for her hand and taking it in his,

“Let the woman speak, babes. She looks hungry.”

Cana giggled, high pitched and joyful, letting Kyle lead her back to her table. You looked at John and mouthed an apology. 

“Dinnae fash, bonnie. Gaz is in his own version of heaven,” Johnny chuckled, “He never could turn down a curvy lass.”

“She’s a wild one, but I love her,” you explained, trying to dismiss your friend’s audacious behavior.

“She’s grand, love. Let me buy you a drink,” John wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you in to his body. His soft clothes crumpled against your side, and you noticed John’s palm sliding lower and lower down your back. 

“Speaking of blokes in heaven,” Simon quipped, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He cast a long gaze at his captain, and you thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Aye,” John puffed up a little, defensively, “And what of it?”

“Heaven looks good on you, Cap’n,” Johnny clapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, “You were sayin’ somethin’ about a wee drink?”

You talked and drank and laughed all night with John and his friends. Cana couldn’t keep her hands off of Kyle, and he seemed to be loving every moment of it. By the end of the evening, your feet were aching, but you had heard story after story of John being the hero and even more stories of him being the victim of his men’s pranks. They seemed to have an incredible bond together that made you admire John even more. 

“Are you havin’ fun tonight, love?” John asked, whispering in your ear, letting the whiskers of his beard tickle your neck and sensitive lobe as he did. 

You turned your head to him, smiling, whispering just as low,

“Yes, I am. But, I can’t stop staring at you in that suit.”

“And you in that dress. Mmm…” John ran a long finger up your thigh, pushing the dress’s hem higher and higher until it was truly scandalous. 

“Maybe you should take me home,” you suggested, your eyes full of lust, “So, you can take it off.”

“Grab your purse. Now.”

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

[ros64]

OK, here's the excerpt I mentioned yesterday. (For those who may not have read GO TELL THE BEES or don't remember, "Wounded Lady" is the name of a blue spring, high in the mountain above the Frasers' New House. We left everyone at the wedding festivities for Bobby Higgins and Silvia Hardman at the end of BEES, and this is the morning after.

[EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - well, frankly, any excerpts you read from this book will contain spoilers, but there are always a few people who don't realize that and become disgruntled (isn't that a neat word? <g>) - anyway, at the end of GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arrives suddenly at Fraser's Ridge, and tells Jamie, "Sir, I need your help." Indeed he does...]

Jamie made it as far as Wounded Lady, where he called to the dog and sat down on the big stone, more abruptly than he’d intended.

“_A Màthair Dhè_.” He sat still and breathed for a bit, his knee throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He’d escaped the house before Claire discovered that he was walking about unencumbered by splints or bandages—and without a stick, forbye. He should have brought a stick, and wished he had, but he’d been feeling feisty, impatient with infirmity.

“Aye, well, I admit it’s no as bad as bein’ crucified,” he said apologetically, addressing the Mother of God whom he’d just invoked. “Besides, it’ll be horseback for the most part, it’ll be fine,” he muttered unconvincingly to himself, and grasping the paper-white trunk of the big aspen, hauled himself to his feet, whistled to the dog, clenched his teeth, and set off up the mountain, wondering why the devil he hadn’t given Young Ian land closer to the Big House.

Occupied with the pain in his knee, he hadn’t been looking out for the lad, and was surprised to come in hail of the cabin and find Rachel alone. She _had_ been looking out for Young Ian, and for some time; that much was clear from the anxious look of her, which increased when she saw Jamie and Skennen.

“Down, beast,” she said to the puppy, who paid no attention. “Has thee met Ian on the trail?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head, slightly disquieted.

“I didna see hide nor hair of him, anywhere between New House and here, lass. Nor yet the lads,” he added, forestalling her next question. “_Sàmhchair, a cù_,” he added to Skennen, who considered whether to heed this command for half a second, and then subsided meekly, lying down at Rachel’s feet.

“Why does he not do that when I tell him to?” she demanded of Jamie. “I speak to him in what I am sure is the Gaelic, and he merely laughs at me.” Skennen widened his doggy grin, tongue lolling out as though in appreciation of the joke.

“He doesna think ye mean it,” Jamie said, giving the dog a firm look. “And he kens I do. Don’t ye, _a cù_? ” He toed the dog gently in the ribs, whereupon Skennen rolled onto his back, barked and pawed the air, tail madly wagging.

Rachel cleared her throat.

“Will thee have some buttermilk, Jamie? Or perhaps some garlic pickles?”

He was beginning to be hungry from the climb, but declined the kind offer in favor of a cup of cold water, and likewise declined Rachel’s offer of her rocking chair, lowering himself carefully onto the edge of the porch.

“Sit, lass,” he said, noticing the rush basket. “I’ll finish the peas for ye.”

She laughed, sat down, and pushed the yellow bowl toward him with her bare foot.

“How does one say, ‘like father, like son’ in the Gaelic?”

“Ye don’t, usually, but ye might say, “_coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod_”. ‘Like as twa peas in a pod.’ Have ye seen William, then?” He didn’t look up at her, but pressed the seam of the pod with his thumbnail, and scooped the peas out with a practiced flick.

“I have. He told me something of his situation—and that of...John Grey...” He caught the momentary hesitation in her voice and looked at her sharply. She raised one dark brow. “I suppose thee has come to tell me more?”

Jamie told her. Everything, after a moment’s hesitation. Rachel was well aware of William’s paternity already, and as the rest of the Ridge would shortly be similarly informed, there was nothing to hide. As to the shape of Lord John Grey’s personal circumstances…

“D’ye ken that his lordship is—” he began hesitantly.

“What is commonly known as a sodomite?” she interrupted. She’d brought out a stool and sat down upon it, by him. “Yes, or at least I supposed so. Denny told me he thought it was the case.”

“And how would your brother ken a thing like that?” Jamie asked, surprised. Granted, Denzell Hunter was a physician, but…

Rachel lifted a shoulder.

“For a time when we lived in Philadelphia, Denny had a…it sounds quite wrong to call it a friendship, because it was…well, it wasn’t.” She smiled at him. “He had an acquaintance, though, who was in the habit of visiting a nearby molly house; I imagine thee knows what that is? Of course thee does. Well, on one such occasion, the man was involved in a fight and was seriously injured—he was drunk, and lost his balance while attempting to strike another man, and fell face-first into a marble mantelpiece, breaking his nose, three toes—he’d attempted to kick his opponent, but missed and kicked a rather solid oak table, which accident is what propelled him toward the mantelpiece—and his left arm, which was broken and also rather singed and blistered, as there happened to be a fire going when he knocked himself insensible on the mantelpiece and fell into the hearth.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, indeed,” she assured him. “His…I suppose you would call them friends?”

“Aye, well, common interests…” Jamie muttered. His face felt warm.

“Indeed. His friends, then, sent for Denny, who came and re-assembled his acquaintance’s nose, set his arm and taped his toes. This so impressed all the onlookers—which included the house’s proprietor—that Denny became the _de facto_ physician for them all.”

Jamie was—against his will—fascinated.

“Did…you…?” He began, then broke off.

“I never accompanied Denny to the house,” she assured him. “But a number of the…patrons?...would call upon us, in time of need. I have met several slightly damaged sodomites. They are, on the whole, much like other men.”

“Aside from—”

“Well, yes. Hence, I gather, the danger to his lordship. I take it thee means that the man holding him is not merely physically restraining him, but also threatens his…”

“His life,” Jamie finished. His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat. “In all respects.”

She nodded, her face troubled.

“What will thee do?”

Jamie sat up and stretched his back, cautiously straightening his legs as he did so.

“Aye, that’s the question we’ve been wrestling wi’, as soon as we heard what William had to say. The first thing, o’course, is to find John Grey and get him free.”

“I fear that getting him free may be the easier part.”

“So do I, lass.”

His knee had stopped feeling as though it was being repeatedly stabbed with a pen-knife, but it was still throbbing, in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t touch it, but gave it a surreptitious glance, along with its fellow. The bad one had turned a sort of purplish-red, like a ripe plum None so bad.

“We’ve the two things, to start with,” he said. “Shipping ports and a man named Denys Randall.”

Rachel’s dark brows lifted.

“I—we, that is—know a man named Denys Randall,” she said. “Does thee think there could be two of them?”

“I don’t, ” Jamie said, startled. “but just to be sure—is the one you and Denny ken a soldier? And is he known sometimes as Denys Randall-Isaacs?"

She stared at him for a moment, her hand resting gently on her belly.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “and yes. He is and he is.”

She might have said more, but a shout from the path brought her at once to her feet.

“_Mama! Mama!_”

Jamie stood up at once, gesturing her back.

“Sit, lass, I’ll see to it.”

She gave him a quick glance and a raised brow that suggested he surely knew better.

“That’s Totis,” she said, her foot already on the top step. “Something’s wrong.

[BRANO tratto da LIBRO DIECI (Senza Titolo), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - beh, francamente, ogni estratto di questo libro conterrà spoiler, ma ci sono sempre alcune persone che non se ne rendono conto e si lamentano (non è una parola interessante? ) - comunque, alla fine di GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arriva improvvisamente a Fraser’s Ridge e dice a Jamie: “Signore, ho bisogno del suo aiuto.” E in effetti ne ha bisogno…]

Jamie arrivò fino a Wounded Lady, dove chiamò il cane e si sedette sulla grande pietra, più bruscamente di quanto avesse inteso.

“A Màthair Dhè.” Rimase seduto immobile e respirò un po’, il ginocchio che pulsava al ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Era uscito di casa prima che Claire si accorgesse che stava camminando senza stecche, fasciature o anche solo un bastone. Avrebbe dovuto portare un bastone, e avrebbe voluto averlo, ma si sentiva combattivo, impaziente di guarire.

“Beh, ammetto che non è grave come essere crocifisso,” disse con tono di scusa, rivolgendosi alla Madre di Dio che aveva appena invocato. “E poi, starò a cavallo per la maggior parte del tempo, andrà bene,” borbottò poco convinto tra sé, e afferrando il tronco bianco dell’aspen, si tirò in piedi, fischiò al cane, serrò i denti e si avviò su per la montagna, chiedendosi perché mai non avesse dato a Young Ian un appezzamento di terra più vicino alla Casa Grande.

Concentrato sul dolore al ginocchio, non aveva notato il ragazzo, e rimase sorpreso di arrivare in vista della capanna e trovare Rachel da sola. Lei stava aspettando da un po’ l’arrivo di Ian; era chiaro dall’espressione preoccupata che si fece più intensa quando vide Jamie e Skennen.

“Giù, bestia,” disse al cucciolo, che non le diede ascolto. “Hai incontrato Ian lungo il sentiero?” gli chiese.

Jamie scosse la testa, leggermente inquieto.

“Non l’ho visto, né lui né i ragazzi, tra la casa nuova e qui, ragazza.” Fece una pausa per anticipare la sua prossima domanda. “Sàmhchair, a cù,” aggiunse rivolto a Skennen, che valutò per un istante se obbedire, poi si sdraiò docilmente ai piedi di Rachel.

“Perché non fa lo stesso con me quando glielo dico?” chiese a Jamie. “Gli parlo in quella che sono sicura sia la lingua gaelica, e lui ride di me.”

Skennen allargò il suo sorriso da cane, la lingua che sporgeva come per apprezzare la battuta.

“Non pensa che tu faccia sul serio,” rispose Jamie, dando al cane uno sguardo fermo. “E sa che io lo faccio. Vero, a cù?” Lo toccò delicatamente con il piede nei fianchi, e Skennen si rotolò sulla schiena, abbaiando e scalciando l’aria con entusiasmo, la coda che batteva furiosamente.

Rachel schiarì la voce.

“Vuoi un po’ di latticello, Jamie? O forse dei cetrioli sottaceto?”

Jamie rifiutò gentilmente, preferendo un bicchiere d’acqua fresca, e declinò anche l’offerta della sedia a dondolo, sedendosi invece con cautela sul bordo del portico.

“Sediti, ragazza,” disse, notando il cesto di vimini. “Finirò io i piselli per te.”

Rachel rise, si sedette e spinse la ciotola gialla verso di lui con il piede nudo.

“Come si dice ‘tale padre, tale figlio’ in gaelico?”

“Non lo si dice spesso, ma potresti dire coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod, ‘simili a due piselli in un baccello.’ Hai visto William, allora?” Non la guardò, ma premette la cucitura del baccello con l’unghia del pollice, facendo uscire i piselli con un movimento abile.

“L’ho visto. Mi ha raccontato qualcosa della sua situazione—e di quella di…John Grey…” Colse l’esitazione momentanea nella sua voce e la guardò con attenzione. Lei sollevò un sopracciglio scuro. “Suppongo che tu sia venuto a dirmi di più?”

Jamie le raccontò tutto. Dopo un momento di esitazione. Rachel era già consapevole della paternità di William, e dato che presto tutto il resto di Fraser’s Ridge lo avrebbe saputo, non c’era nulla da nascondere. Quanto alla situazione personale di Lord John Grey…

“Sai che sua signoria è—” iniziò esitante.

“Quello che comunemente si definisce un sodomita?” lo interruppe. Aveva tirato fuori uno sgabello e vi si era seduta accanto a lui. “Sì, o almeno lo supponevo. Denny mi aveva detto che lo pensava.”

“E come farebbe tuo fratello a sapere una cosa del genere?” chiese Jamie, sorpreso. Certo, Denzell Hunter era un medico, ma…

Rachel sollevò una spalla.

“Per un periodo, quando vivevamo a Filadelfia, Denny aveva una…sembra sbagliato chiamarla un’amicizia, perché era…beh, non lo era.” Gli sorrise. “Aveva una conoscenza, però, che era solita frequentare una casa di molly; immagino che tu sappia cos’è? Certo che lo sai. Beh, in una di queste occasioni, l’uomo fu coinvolto in una rissa e rimase gravemente ferito—era ubriaco e perse l’equilibrio mentre tentava di colpire un altro uomo, cadendo con la faccia contro un camino di marmo, rompendosi il naso, tre dita dei piedi—aveva cercato di scalciare il suo avversario, ma aveva mancato il bersaglio e colpito un robusto tavolo di quercia, e quell’incidente lo aveva spinto verso il camino—e il braccio sinistro, che si era rotto ed era anche piuttosto bruciato e pieno di vesciche, dato che c’era un fuoco acceso quando perse i sensi e cadde nel focolare.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, davvero,” gli assicurò. “I suoi…suppongo li chiameresti amici?”

“Beh, interessi comuni…” Jamie mormorò. Sentiva il viso caldo.

“Esattamente. I suoi amici, dunque, mandarono a chiamare Denny, che venne e gli rimise a posto il naso, gli sistemò il braccio e gli fasciò le dita dei piedi. Questo impressionò così tanto tutti i presenti—incluso il proprietario della casa—che Denny divenne il medico de facto per tutti loro.”

Jamie era—suo malgrado—affascinato.

“E…tu…?” Cominciò, poi si fermò.

“Non ho mai accompagnato Denny nella casa,” lo rassicurò. “Ma diversi…clienti?…venivano da noi, in caso di bisogno. Ho conosciuto diversi sodomiti leggermente danneggiati. Sono, nel complesso, molto simili agli altri uomini.”

“A parte—”

“Beh, sì. Da qui, immagino, il pericolo per sua signoria. Suppongo che tu intenda dire che l’uomo che lo tiene prigioniero non si limita a trattenerlo fisicamente, ma minaccia anche…”

“La sua vita,” completò Jamie. La sua voce era roca e si schiarì la gola. “In ogni senso.”

Lei annuì, con il viso turbato.

“Che cosa pensi di fare?”

Jamie si raddrizzò e si stirò la schiena, raddrizzando cautamente le gambe.

“Già, è questa la domanda con cui ci stiamo battendo da quando abbiamo sentito quello che William aveva da dire. La prima cosa, ovviamente, è trovare John Grey e liberarlo.”

“Temo che liberarlo possa essere la parte più semplice.”

“Anche io, ragazza.”

Il ginocchio aveva smesso di sembrargli pugnalato ripetutamente con un coltellino, ma pulsava ancora, seguendo il ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Non lo toccò, ma gli diede uno sguardo furtivo, insieme all’altro ginocchio. Quello malandato era diventato una sorta di rosso violaceo, come una prugna matura. Niente di grave.

“Abbiamo due cose, per cominciare,” disse. “I porti di mare e un uomo chiamato Denys Randall.”

Le sopracciglia scure di Rachel si alzarono.

“Io—noi, cioè—conosciamo un uomo chiamato Denys Randall,” disse. “Pensi che possano essercene due?”

“Non lo penso,” rispose Jamie, sorpreso. “Ma, giusto per essere sicuri—quello che conosci tu e Denny è un soldato? Ed è noto a volte come Denys Randall-Isaacs?”

Lo fissò per un momento, con una mano posata delicatamente sul ventre.

“Sì,” disse lentamente, “e sì. È lui.”

Avrebbe forse detto di più, ma un grido proveniente dal sentiero la fece alzare in piedi di scatto.

“Mama! Mama!”

Jamie si alzò immediatamente, facendole cenno di fermarsi.

“Resta seduta, ragazza, ci penso io.”

Lei gli lanciò uno sguardo rapido e un sopracciglio alzato che suggerivano che lui sicuramente sapeva meglio.

“È Totis,” disse, già con un piede sul gradino più alto. “Qualcosa non va.”

[greenandsorrow]

I don't want to set the world on fire....

It was a surprisingly beautiful day in Hell.

The day people on Earth celebrate that Jesus has risen. He died for humanity's sins and when the calendar shows that it's that day, Hell is... in a calm state. Sinners are less violent, the citizens of Cannibal town don't feel hungry and your love, Alastor, uses his phonogram. He never believed, if anything he hated Christianity because of the colonisers of his homeland. He has shared the stories his mother used to tell him. The way she had introduced him to the Voodoo practices of their people.... How Alastor had used them for harm.

A soft golden light fell against the windows of your adobe. Temperature in Hell was surprisingly normal. Not too hot and not too cold either. It could be spring. There could be flowers.

Alastor had been surprisingly emotional since the morning. It's like there was a hidden significance for him in the way the bells of Heaven could subtly be heard, as the angels announced the triumph of their Lord over Death.

He had made you coffee in the morning. He had combed your hair and gifted you a beautiful brooch. His big, doe eyes were on you as you had dinner together. Alastor enjoys cooking. Apron on, humming an old tune and tail picking through his untucked shirt... You would have never thought you'd find love in Hell.

Jambalaya was delicious as always. You were about to ask him why all this? Were you celebrating something?

But the phonogram started playing your favourite.

"I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim

I just want to be the one you love..."

Alastor took your hand and gracefully walked you to the balcony.

The soft light illuminated his features and you swear you could imagine him as a human. No razor sharp teeth, no antlers or unnatural height. Just an ambitious young man. Still you couldn't help but get lost in his red robs. Long and curled lasses framed his limpid eyes. They're large but soft... The eyes of a child even though they have witnessed such horrors... The eyes of naivety even though Alastor is far from naive.

He started to gently shift from hoove to hoove, his arms wrapping around your waist. You took the hint and wrapped your own around his neck. You spent a moment swaying in the rhythm of the song. You then looked up. He was staring at you intensely. Alastor's eyes were scanning over your features with subtle melancholy, with hidden longing. Eyes, nose, lips and back up.

"Mo linm twa."

The kiss that followed was slow and lasted for many seconds.

And then he was gone. For seven years.

...I just want to start a flame in your heart.

masterlist || hazbin masterlist || to support me (paypal)

The idea isn't mine, I just put it into words. The mind behind this drabble is @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog 🤝

I know the song is from the 1940's but stfu, it fit perfectly.

[ponyosmom35]

show him

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter three!

synopsis: reader is struggling with the aftermath of disrespecting Ghost. Everyone seems to avoid her now. Gaz and Soap come to the rescue and enlighten her about Ghost.

Link to full Liability series!

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She walks into the lunchroom, her back aching. She’d been with a soldier all day dealing with an impalement. She was able to save him and keep his vitals stable. She made herself a plate of the food being served, it was taco Tuesday her favorite day of the week. Walking over to an empty table and sits down, she looks over her shoulder at the others staring back at her. She’d made quite a reputation for herself as rumors spread around that she’d spoken to Ghost. She rolls her eyes, feeling like she was back in high school all over again. 

“Hey ankle biter what are you doing over here?” Soap asks as he plops down across from her with a plate packed to the brim with food.

“Hungry?” she asks 

“Starved” he says inhaling his first taco

“I don’t think anybody wants to associate with me right now” she admits “feels like high school all over again”

“Eh fuck em’, they don’t know what to make of you lass. Nobody speaks to Ghost the way that you did, plus there ain’t many young American beauties around here” he adds, she rolls her eyes and sets down her food. 

“He’s hated me from the moment I got here, I shouldn’t have done it but I’ve had enough, someone needs to take him down a peg” she explains causing soap to cackle. “That you certainly did, you’ve got quite a reputation round here. You’re the bravest person here, I’m surprised you survived, LT ain’t one to take back talk” Gaz says as he sits beside her.

“Hey Gaz” she says 

“I don’t know how you did it, I work with the man everyday and you’d never catch me mouthing off to him, look I’ve got chills just thinkin bout it” Gaz says showing them his forearm

“Whats his deal?” she asks “I mean the mask, the attitude? Why is he like this?”

“Not my story to tell love” Gaz says with his hands raised in defense

“LT doesn’t hate you, he wasn’t trying to be rude, he just comes off that way” Soap explains

“What do you mean?” 

“Ghost ain’t afraid to speak his mind, doesn’t matter if it hurts. He’s blunt and straight to the point. He takes his job seriously, this is his life. He’s got high expectations of everyone he works with. He doesn’t accept failure, he doesn’t entertain anything less than perfection” Gaz says

“How am I supposed to be perfect with him breathing down my neck? I’m not one of his soldiers, I mean who does he think he is?” she exclaims angrily 

“He’s the greatest fucking solider I’ve ever seen” Soap says defending his leader

“Ghost isn’t some random LT bossing people around, the guy is fucking lethal. He’s the greatest asset the SAS has, there ain’t nobody in the world like him” Gaz explains 

“He’s a fucking legend, half the world is terrified of him” Soap adds 

“Great, now I’ve got a target on my back then?” she asks 

“He’s not like that love, you’ve just got to earn his respect. It’s tough but once you do, there is nothing that man wouldn’t do for you. He’s a loyal motherfucker, does anything for his team, there is nobody else I would want leading me into war. You just have to give it time, you’re here because you’re good at your job. We’ve all seen it, now show him” Soap says placing a hand on her forearm “you got this ankle biter”

“Stop fucking calling me that” she laughs 

“How about ginger snap?” Gaz asks 

“Even worse! You guys are so unoriginal” she responds, finishing off her taco. In the time they’d spoke, Soap had demolished at least seven tacos and a side of dip. 

“Jesus take a breath” she jokes 

“No time” he responds before standing up

“Where are you going mate?” Gaz asks 

“Seconds” he deadpans, staring at them like they were crazy

“He doesn’t joke about taco tuesday” Gaz says nudging her shoulder to cheer her up. She sends him a smile.

chapter 4:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733948907969740800/my-sisters-keeper?source=share

[florencetypemaniacs]

NSFW

It's the cast's birthday! So the Mc just wraps themself up in ribbons, top it off with a cute bow and wait for their lover to come home!

How would the Ro's react to it?

NSFW ⚠️ Mild

💛 Marcel

Marcel hadn't thought you had anything planned, and while he still liked to remember his birthday, he never got to celebrate it. Now he had you, and that made Marcel feel like he was walking on air. 

So for his birthday, he planned the most relaxing evening with you, a nice homemade meal with the help of Tai, a pint of ice cream for each of you, and a romantic comedy that Marcel had his eye on for a while. 

So when he opened the door to find you lounging on the sofa with a smirk on your face, he almost dropped the bag he was holding. 

"Well, hello, birthday boy." 

Everything clicked into place, and Marcel melted into a puddle of sweet affection, awaiting arousal as he sat beside you, a smile so bright on his face.

"I didn't think you had anything planned." He said, his lips ghosting over your own, and you felt yourself shiver. 

"It's your special day, Marcel." 

Marcel shook his head and kissed you deeply, slowly leaving you breathless before whispering in your ear. 

"Every day is special with you." 

🧡 Margaret 

Margaret loved birthdays. Each one when she was alive made her feel like she was the most special person in the room, and her parents made sure of that. 

The presents were big. 

The decorations hung perfectly.

The sweets that lined the table every year. 

If only she knew that such a glamorous life would be the cause of her death. 

Margaret still acknowledged her birthday, it was a time to share with the people you loved and cared for, but she couldn't find it in herself to have a big party. 

No. All she wanted was you. 

She craved your comfort and affection like a starving man for a hot meal. 

Margaret practically ran up the stairs to your room, to see you. To feel your warmth on an emotionally confusing day only to be met with yourself tied In a pretty pink ribbon that did nothing to hide your naked form. 

Margaret felt her back hit the closed door, and a smug smile crossed your face. 

"Well, hello, birthday girl."

And Margaret was gone, anything that she was going to say left her mind as soon as she saw you.

"What are you doing?" Margaret squeaked out, and you laughed. 

"I thought I would give you your present early. Do you like it?" You twirled around, and Margaret felt like she was going to faint. 

Your girlfriend took a few more deep, long breaths before looking at you with such genuine love that it took you aback. 

"I don't just like it." Margaret kissed you softly and tenderly. "I love it." 

❤️ Owen 

Owen didn't celebrate his birthday. Parties were for the rich, for the lucky when he was alive, and there wasn't much to celebrate anyway. Hell, if his father didn't complain about selling his favorite mule every year to feed the baby he was left with, then Owen would probably never know his birthday. 

Although Owen could feel you had something planned, he didn't know what, but the looks he sent you made the wheels turn in his head. First, he wondered if it was a surprise party, but Margaret didn't give away anything, which wouldn't have been possible if she was given a secret. 

Then there was Marcel, who had to go report back to his Lord, and Owen knew that the sappy bastard wouldn't miss a party for his friend for anything. 

So when Owen opened the door to the bedroom to find you wearing nothing but a flimsy ribbon and a bow awkwardly on your hair, he wasn't that surprised, just giving you a look up and down. 

"Like what you see, birthday boy?" 

"Aye, Lass/Duck/Lad. I like this present very much." Owen said, closing the door behind him with his foot. 

Your boyfriend played with the ribbons, his eyes hungry, and your body began to shake with anticipation. 

"Ye didn't have to go all through this trouble just for me," Owen said with a quiet, gruff tone. 

"Of course I did, Owen. You deserve to have a happy birthday. 

Owen took the bow off your head. "Bloody hell, lass/Duck/lad I never felt happier than with you." 

💙 Rosemary 

Rosemary knew you were up to something. She could read that you had some sort of trick, and knowing that it was her birthday, she had a few ideas of what that could be. 

Her family was poor, so birthdays were about spending time with family, talking, and sharing, Her parents always tried to make them special. 

And while she didn't celebrate her birthday other than with an acknowledgment and a few gifts, she didn't find it that big of a deal. 

That was until she walked into your bedroom to find you in such a seductive state. 

Rosemary smirked as she played with the ribbon. "All tied up for me, handsome/angel face/dollface?" 

You nodded. "I thought it would make your birthday special." 

Rosemary kissed your forehead. "Oh, love, you already make my life special by just being with me, but if you need me to prove it to you." Rosemary gracefully threw the bow to the floor. "I will just have to unwrap you." 

🩵 Tai

Tai sighed as he walked through the door, his eyes drooping when he saw you. 

With just a ribbon and a ridiculous bow on your head, he became wide awake. 

You snickered as your boyfriend's mouth was wide open, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. 

"What are you doing?" His voice came out more like a croaked-out whisper than he meant for it to. 

"Oh, I thought the birthday boy would like to unwrap his present." 

Tai tried to keep his face blank, but he was failing miserably as his face was a bright red. Tai honestly completely forgot that it was his birthday, much less thought you even remembered. Between work and his hellish duties, it completely slipped his mind, and now you were sitting in his office with basically nothing except that shit-eating grin. 

"No need to be so smug," Tai whispered as he closed the door behind him, locking it, then stepped closer to you. 

"Me? Smug? How could I not be when I won." You said, purring in his ear, and Tai breathed in your sweet smell of baked goods. 

Tai's eyes narrowed at your tone. "Won what?" 

You wrapped his arms around Tai's neck and gave him a light kiss. "I got the workaholic doctor to take a night off." 

Tai easily picked you up, which left you gasping in surprise. "Who says what I am going to do isn't work?" 

You played with his tie as he placed you on the examination table, legs apart. "You think of this as a job?" Your tone was teasing. 

Tai got on his knees, kissing your most sensitive skin and letting a moan escape you. 

"You're worth all the time," Tai whispered against your skin. 

💚 Zane 

Zane hated his birthday. First off, he never knew what it was when he was growing up. His teacher thought the idea of birthdays was a childish thing. something that was a distraction. 

Zane wished he hadn't dug deeper, but he had to. To find just a small piece of himself and of his old life, only to find out that the same day he was given life was on the date that his mother's ended. 

Zane hated birthdays. 

So the moment he woke up that morning, he was in an angry mood, as everyone could tell. Zane's crude jokes were lacking, so he couldn't blame you when you disappeared. 

The blonde opened the bedroom door, hoping that you were back from wherever you went to find you naked and lying on the bed, creasing yourself. 

The green ribbon tied around you, covering nothing and still hiding anything in a way that left Zane gripping the door knob. 

"I know you don't like your birthday, so I thought I would make it a little better." Your voice came out shy and sheepish, almost like you didn't know if this was somehow crossing a boundary, even though it involved you naked in his bed, a boundary that didn't exist in Zane's book. You were always welcomed in his bed.  

Zane breathed in and out. He had to remember to breathe, or he would hobble over. 

You were trying to make him feel better. 

You were trying to make him happy. 

That was enough for Zane to tear the ribbon off with his teeth. 

[msilwrites]

Size Doesn't Matter-Just Ask Johnny and Roach (Simon 'Ghost' Fic)

Gamekeeper! Reader, Groundskeeper! Reader, Ex-MI5! Reader, Stalker! Reader, Naughty! Ghost, Naughty! Simon, Stalker! Reader, Menace! Reader, Devil Woman! Reader! Possessive! Reader, Protective! Reader, Sunshine! Reader, Shy! Reader, Introvert! Reader,

Click here for Part 1 | This is Part 2

A/N: This story features the same Y/N (that’s YOU!!) from How I met your Mother, Midnight Snack Mystery, The Mystery of Who Dressed the LT Like That?, and The Mystery of Ghost's Better Half. And is the sequel to 'The Petite Mystery'. Genre: Comedy / Fluff

Summary: Johnny and Roach’s nosy curiosity lands them in hot water when they discover that their LT’s "Sweet little bird” is neither as sweet nor as little as they assumed. What starts as a simple interrogation spirals into chaos when Captain Price tries to step in, only to become another “guest” in her workshop. With everyone questioning how their LT ended up with someone so terrifyingly competent, the day quickly devolves into a mix of panic, laughs, and begrudging admiration. Chaos indeed ensues.

Warning: This is a long, funny, hostage, situation. Also, do not read when hungry

----------

Johnny and Roach woke hours later, groggy and blinking against the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. Their heads throbbed as they took in their surroundings: a workshop-like room filled with tools, jars of strange substances, and shelves that looked more suited to a mad scientist than a cozy home.

Both men were tied to metal chairs, hands bound behind their backs and legs secured to the base. Roach gave an experimental tug at his bindings, while Johnny just groaned, squinting at the faint outline of someone standing across the room.

"Well, well, well," came a voice, smooth but sharp, with an authority that made both men freeze. "Look who’s awake."

Johnny blinked hard, trying to focus on the figure. It was her—the woman they’d been tailing. She leaned casually against the workbench, arms crossed, her face partially hidden behind a mask. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unnervingly deliberate about her presence.

"Don’t bother trying to wriggle free," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "Even if you did, you’d still be stuck in my house, and trust me—you’re not getting out until we’ve had a nice little chat."

Johnny groaned again, his accent thick as his temper flared. “Wha’s this? Who the hell are ye? An’ what—what in the bloody hell’s goin’ on?” His words were slurred, and he blinked owlishly, as though his brain was still buffering.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Who I am isn’t really the issue here. You, on the other hand, have a lot of explaining to do."

Johnny’s mind was still catching up, but his temper—his Scottish temper—was coming through loud and clear. He clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling up as he took stock of the situation. “Aye, well, ye’ve got a real bloody charming way of treatin’ guests, lass,” he snapped, his accent cutting sharper with each word. “Ye don’t think yer messin’ with the wrong two folk, do ye? This some kind of joke? What the hell’s yer game here? 'Cause I don’t ken what ye think you’re—”

She cut him off with a low, humorless laugh, stepping closer, her movements smooth and calculated. "Game?" she echoed, her words now rolling in a thick Scottish brogue that stopped him mid-rant. She leaned in just enough to make him feel the weight of her presence, even through the mask. “Ye think this is a game, laddie? Ach, ye dinnae ken a bloody thing. Yer tied tae a chair in my house, so maybe keep yer yap shut till I’m done askin’ questions, aye?”

Johnny blinked, her shift in accent throwing him completely off guard. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His brain was trying to piece things together, but her sudden shift was like a punch to the gut.

Her piercing gaze flicked between the two of them, unimpressed. “Now then,” she said, stepping back and crossing her arms as she studied them both. “Let’s hear it. What are ye two doin’, pokin’ yer noses where they don’t belong? Or d’ye need me tae loosen yer tongues fer ye?”

Johnny’s jaw dropped, and for a moment, he could only stare at her. Then, the words tumbled out before he could stop them: “Wait... ye’re Scottish?”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Aye,” she said flatly, her tone daring him to say more. “An’?”

Johnny blinked again, scrambling to find the right words. “Yer... Scottish?” he repeated, still trying to process.

“Aye,” she said again, her patience clearly wearing thin. “What of it, lad?”

Johnny gawked, his mind spinning. Finally, he managed, “Yer accent—it’s... ach, I dunno—ye’re just—”

“Just what?” she cut in sharply, the edge in her voice making him shrink back in his seat. “Go on, laddie. Say it. Finish yer thought.”

He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing hard as her glare bore into him. “Nothin’,” he muttered, his eyes darting nervously to Roach, who was still too dazed to bail him out.

“Good,” she said, her tone curt as she crouched to his eye level, her voice dropping lower. “Now, since ye seem tae have plenty tae say, here’s what’s gonna happen. Ye’re gonna tell me why ye’ve been sneakin’ aboot, or I’ll make ye talk. And trust me, Johnny boy,” she added, her brogue thick and sharp as a blade, “ye really dinnae want me tae make ye talk.”

Johnny swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Roach, still bleary, muttered under his breath, “We’re so dead.”

Her lips curled into a wry smile. "Dead?" she echoed, her voice light but carrying an unmistakable weight. “Ach, if I wanted ye dead, ye’d already be six feet under. Now then,” she straightened, her hands resting on her hips. “Are ye gonna talk, or do I need tae get creative?”

Johnny looked helplessly at Roach, then back at her. For the first time in his life, Johnny was well and truly at a loss for words.

--------- Interogation Begins

---------- Not THE MOHAWK!!

The air in the room felt tense as Johnny and Roach sat back-to-back, bound to their chairs. Y/N circled them slowly, the hum of a buzzing clipper in her hand making Johnny’s neck prickle with dread.

“Right, lads,” she began, her voice silky but sharp, her Scottish lilt thickening with every word. “Ye dinnae want tae cooperate? Fine. Let’s see how brave ye are when yer precious mohawk gets a wee trim.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. “Naw, naw, ye wouldn’t dare! The hawk’s sacred!” He tried to twist his head around but couldn’t see her. Roach craned his neck, trying to get a look too, but all he could see was Johnny’s panicked face.

The clipper buzzed louder as Y/N leaned in, her breath just behind Johnny’s ear. “Sacred, ye say? Let’s make a wee offering tae the gods, then.” She let the clipper glide gently over his head, careful not to touch, and tilted her phone discreetly to emit the buzzing sound.

Johnny froze as he heard the distinct zzzzrrrt of hair being shaved off. He squeezed his eyes shut, his voice cracking. “Please, lass! No! Anything but the hawk! It’s me identity!”

“Oh, aye,” Y/N said with mock sympathy, holding up a small clump of fur she’d smuggled in from the nature reserve earlier. With a theatrical flourish, she let it flutter past Johnny’s eyes.

Johnny let out a wail. “My hair! Roach, do somethin’!”

Roach, already sweating, stammered, his voice sharp with panic. “Mate, I… I think we’re buggered! She’s mad, proper mad!”

“Aye, I am mad,” Y/N said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “An’ if ye think I’ll stop at the hawk, ye’ve got another thing comin’. Next, I’ll be carving little hearts into yer mate’s eyebrows.”

“No! Not the brows!” Roach yelped.

Johnny whimpered, gripping the edges of his chair. “Fine! Fine, I’ll talk! Just stop, for the love of—stop!”

Y/N tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Talk, then. What’s yer name?”

Johnny gulped, his pride warring with his terror. “It’s Johnny. Johnny Mac—” He hesitated.

The clipper buzzed closer to his temple, and another tuft of fur fell into view. “Mac what?” Y/N pressed, her tone as sharp as the blade she wasn’t actually using.

“Mactavish!” Johnny finally blurted out, his voice cracking. “John ‘Soap’ Mactavish! There! Ye happy now, ye devil woman?”

Y/N straightened up, letting out a low, satisfied hum as she clicked off her phone. “Soap, eh? Funny. Ye’re more like a wee bairn covered in bubbles the way ye’re greetin’.”

Roach let out a shaky laugh, but it quickly died as Y/N turned her gaze to him, her tone suddenly cool and clipped. “An’ you, laddie,” she said, her smile sly. “Feelin’ brave, or shall I see how much hair ye’ve got tae spare?”

Roach immediately tensed, eyes wide. “N-nope! I’m good! Absolutely good!”

Johnny groaned, his head sagging forward. “She’s a bloody menace,” he muttered, glaring at the clumps of what he thought was his hair on the ground.

Y/N smirked, leaning in to pat Johnny’s shoulder. “A menace? Aye. But at least I’m a thorough one.”

----------

Not THE EYEBROWS!!

Y/N shifted her attention to Roach, who sat frozen, his face pale and slick with sweat. She leaned in close, waving the buzzing clippers ominously near his face. “Yer turn, laddie ,” she said. “Tell me what I want tae know, or these pretty brows of yours are getting a wee makeover.”

Roach flinched, instinctively trying to lean back, but the bindings held him firm. “Eyebrows? You—you wouldn’t dare!” he stammered, his voice quaking. “That’s bloody barbaric!”

“Barbaric?” Y/N repeated, tilting her head with a mock pout. “Barbaric’s dragging me intae this mess in the first place, innit? So, aye, I think barbarism’s fair game.” She casually clicked the clippers on again, the hum sending a jolt straight to Roach’s nerves.

“Wait, wait!” Roach panicked, words spilling from his mouth. “Gary! Gary Sanderson! Call sign’s Roach! There, I said it! No need for funny business with my eyebrows!”

Y/N grinned, her tone light and satisfied. “Gary ‘Roach’ Sanderson, eh? Lovely name.” She stepped back, setting the clippers aside with a theatrical flourish. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Johnny groaned, his head still hung low. “Roach, ye coward! I held out longer!”

“Held out longer?” Roach shot back indignantly. “Mate, you folded like a lawn chair at the first buzz!”

Before their bickering could escalate, Y/N pulled a compact mirror out of her pocket, flicked it open with a little flair, and held it up in front of Johnny. His reflection stared back at him, his mohawk completely intact and untouched. She tilted the mirror just enough to angle it toward Roach as well.

Johnny blinked, his hand instinctively jerking toward his head before realizing he couldn’t move. “Wait… it’s still there? My hawk’s safe?” His voice cracked with emotion, his lip wobbling slightly.

Roach let out a long sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing. “Bloody hell, thank God.”

“Safe, aye,” Y/N said, her voice syrupy sweet. “For now.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “Then whose hair is that on the floor, eh?”

Y/N’s smile turned cold, her tone dropping to something darker, more menacing. She held up her phone and flicked to a picture—a tuft of fur strewn over leaves, unmistakably from something once alive. “Oh, that? Just a wee bit of fur from a creature I culled meself. Needed to make space in its den.”

The room fell silent.

Johnny’s jaw dropped, his face draining of color. “A… creature?”

Roach visibly shuddered, his eyes darting toward the tufts of fur scattered on the floor. “What kind of creature?”

Y/N’s grin widened, and she leaned in just enough for her shadow to loom over them both. “The kind that doesn’t like uninvited guests sniffin’ around its territory. Ye’d best keep that in mind.”

The two men exchanged a look, both visibly rattled. Johnny swallowed hard. “Roach, mate, we’re proper buggered, aren’t we?”

“Completely,” Roach muttered, his voice barely a whisper. ---------

The Bagpipe Barrage

Y/N leaned against the wall, her phone in hand, scrolling with a thoughtful expression. “Right then, lads,” she said, her voice deceptively calm, “where ye from? Who sent ye?”

Johnny and Roach exchanged wary glances, the air thick with tension. Neither man spoke, both visibly uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze.

Without missing a beat, Y/N connected her phone to the small Bluetooth speaker on the nearby table. “Well, if yer no’ going to talk, I suppose I’ll have to make things a little more... persuasive.” She tapped a few keys on her phone, and within moments, the first few notes of an off-tune bagpipe rendition of Scotland the Brave hit the air—discordant, grating, and completely out of time. It sounded like the bagpipes were being played by someone wildly panicked, possibly being chased by a herd of cows.

Johnny recoiled, his face twisted in horror. “What the bloody hell is that?! That’s nae music—that’s pure torture!”

Y/N raised the volume slightly, her smile widening as the screeching pipes blared louder. “Oh, ye’ll come to love it, Johnny. Trust me, it’s very… authentic.”

Roach’s face drained of color as he frantically pulled at the ropes binding his wrists. “Make it stop! I’ve heard cats fighting in the alley sound better than this!”

Y/N glanced over at him with an almost fond expression. “Aye, well, if you think that’s bad, ye’re in for a real treat, lad.” She leaned in, her tone dripping with amusement. “Now, let’s try this again. Where are ye from? Who sent ye?”

Johnny clenched his jaw, refusing to budge, though his eyes betrayed the panic beginning to set in.

Roach was visibly breaking. “Y/N, please, please turn it off! I cannae take it!” His voice cracked, the sound mixing with the relentless drone of the bagpipes.

Y/N clicked the volume up again, letting the off-key melody blast through the room. “No can do, lads. Not until ye answer me. Who sent ye, and who do ye work for?”

Johnny bit his lip, eyes welling up with frustration. “I—I’m nae tellin’ ye anything! No matter what this is, I’m not breakin’!”

Roach, now teary-eyed, started to mumble under his breath. “I can’t… it’s too much… please make it stop…!"

Johnny’s face twisted with anger and defeat, but the sheer force of the bagpipes was getting to him. Finally, with a ragged breath, he snapped, “Fine! I’ll tell ye! Just turn off the bloody music!”

Y/N grinned, lowering the volume slightly, giving them a sliver of hope. “There we go, Johnny. Was that so hard?”

Johnny gritted his teeth, his resolve crumbling. “I—no, I won’t say! I won’t betray my team!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the volume cranking up again. “Fair enough. Let’s see how long yer will lasts, then.”

Johnny’s eyes were wild with panic now, and Roach was visibly sweating, his breathing shallow. “Bloody hell, make it stop! Please, I can’t take it anymore!”

The music looped again, each rendition of the bagpipes scraping more against their nerves than before. Johnny and Roach were shaking, eyes pleading for mercy.

Y/N waited. Silent. Watching.

When their cries became unbearable, she cut the volume down just enough to let them catch their breath. “So, who sent ye?” she asked again, her voice casual, almost bored.

Johnny looked at Roach, both of them defeated. “I… I can’t…”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the volume edging slightly higher.

Roach let out a strangled sob. “Johnny, just bloody talk already! I can’t take it anymore! Please, lady, have mercy!”

She smirked, lowering the volume just enough for them to catch their breaths. “Mercy’s earned, Roach. Now, spill it.”

But they both clamped up again, realizing their mistake, and the bagpipes blared back to full strength.

The room descended into chaos—Johnny trying to hum over the noise, Roach muttering a string of British curses under his breath, and Y/N standing serenely, watching them squirm with the patience of a saint.

Her voice cut through the cacophony once more, calm but firm. “We’ve got all day, lads. It’s yer eardrums, not mine.”

Johnny whimpered, his voice barely audible over the screeching bagpipes. “Roach… mate… we’re not gettin’ out o’ this, are we?”

“No,” Roach croaked. “We’re bloody doomed.”

----------

The Call

The silence in the room stretched out, the bagpipes still blaring, filling the space with a relentless screech. Johnny and Roach were both trembling now, caught between fear and exhaustion. Y/N, having momentarily paused her torment, watched them with a mixture of amusement and patience. She was prepared to wait them out.

Then, a sudden sound broke through the chaos—a phone vibrating against the floor. Y/N raised an eyebrow and walked over to Johnny, who froze as she reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. She glanced at the caller ID. “‘Coin,’ and a bag of money emoji?” Y/N chuckled darkly. “That’s how yer boss is listed? Cunning, I’ll give him that.” She tapped the screen, setting the phone to speaker mode.

Johnny’s eyes widened in horror, and Roach’s breath caught in his throat.

“Where the hell are you two?” the gruff voice on the other end demanded. “And can you pick up something for me before you head back to base?”

Johnny and Roach both screamed, their voices desperate and panicked. “Captain! HELP! They’ve got us! They’ve—”

“Hold up.” The voice on the phone cut through the room, and Y/N held up a finger, silencing the two men before they could speak more.

Y/N's smirk never wavered as she turned to face Johnny and Roach. The phone still on speaker, she made her voice as cold and threatening as possible.

"Listen here, Captain," she began, her tone casual yet lethal. "I’ve got your men in my custody. And if you're not willing to cooperate, they'll stay here, and we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other... in ways I'm sure you won't enjoy."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, but then Price's voice cracked through, sharp and unwavering. "Who the hell are you? What have you done to my men?"

Y/N's grin widened, as she leaned back, enjoying every second of this power play. "I'm the one asking questions here, Captain," she said, her tone taking on a mocking edge. "So how about you start answering, or I'll just keep your lads here a little longer. Let’s see how long their loyalty lasts, shall we?"

There was a growl of frustration from the other end, and then a deep, threatening voice responded, each word laced with menace. “You have no idea who you're dealing with. Release my men now, or I’ll come for you. And when I do, you’ll regret every second of this.”

Y/N chuckled darkly, her voice dripping with taunting amusement. “Oh, I’ll be waiting for you, Captain. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

She ended the call with a swipe of her finger and turned slowly to face Johnny and Roach. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with fear, as they sat frozen in their chairs, the tension in the room thick and suffocating.

Johnny's eyes darted from the phone to her, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “Who the bloody hell are you to threaten our Captain?”

Roach swallowed hard, his hands still bound, his breath shallow. "You're... you're playing with fire, lass." His voice trembled, and it was clear his fear was genuine.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a cruel smile curling at the corner of her lips. "That was just a warning, lads," she said, stepping closer, her voice lowering to a cold whisper. "But trust me, it’s not over yet."

The room fell silent, both men exchanging a look that spoke volumes—resignation, fear, and the dawning realization that they were in way over their heads.

----------

Their Roommate

Y/N stood, her hands resting casually on her hips as she surveyed Johnny and Roach, still tied to their chairs, their faces pale and anxious. "While we wait for yer Captain to come find ye," she said, her voice light, "I thought I’d introduce ye to yer new roommate."

Johnny looked at her, his brow furrowed. “What the hell are ye talking about now?”

With a smirk, Y/N walked over to a nearby table, lifting a large, glass terrarium and placing it gently on the surface in front of them. Inside, a massive stag beetle crawled lazily across the rocks, its dark wings shimmering under the light.

“Meet yer new roommate,” Y/N announced, her eyes glinting with amusement. "This here is... well, I haven’t named her yet, but we’ll get to that. She’s lovely, and she’s going to be living with ye for a while. Unless ye talk, of course. Then ye might be free."

Roach’s eyes immediately widened, and he recoiled in his chair as though the beetle could leap straight out at him. “What the hell is that for?” he demanded, his voice high-pitched with panic.

Y/N tilted her head innocently, reaching into the terrarium with care and picking up the beetle by hand. She held it in front of them, her expression almost maternal. “Ye’re Roach, aye? Thought ye’d feel at home wi' yer wee cousin here.”

Roach shook his head vigorously, his eyes never leaving the beetle. “That thing’s not my cousin!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile growing wicked. “Maybe nae, but imagine this sittin' on yer knee if ye dinnae start talkin’.” She held the beetle just inches from Roach’s knee, her gaze unwavering.

With that, she turned to Johnny. “Now, Johnny, meet yer new roommate.”

Johnny's eyes followed the beetle, his face draining of color. He stared at the dark, glossy creature in Y/N’s hand, his throat tightening. “Bloody hell!” he shouted, his face twisted in pure horror.

Roach pulled his chair back, wide-eyed and pale. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Y/N chuckled, thoroughly enjoying their reactions. "Now, now, lads. Be polite to yer new roommate." She raised the beetle and hovered it near Johnny’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to be rude now, would we?”

Johnny let out a high-pitched whine, squirming in his chair. "Get that bloody thing away from me!"

Y/N smirked, lowering it just enough to brush the beetle’s legs against his arm. Johnny recoiled, eyes wide, and she saw a tear escape down his cheek.

“Oh, look at ye, Johnny. Big tough soldier, crying over a little bug,” she teased, before turning her attention to Roach. “Roach, ye sure yer nae related to this fine specimen here? Ye’re acting like ye’ve never met family before.”

Roach clenched his jaw, his face white as a sheet. “That’s not my cousin, lass. And if ye don’t take that bloody thing away from me, I’ll—”

Before he could finish, Y/N, with a calm and almost affectionate expression, placed the beetle gently on his leg. His entire body froze, and his voice caught in his throat.

"Get it off! GET IT OFF!" Roach yelled, his entire body trembling as he tried to shake it off without success.

Johnny’s cries grew more frantic as he watched. "Oh, gosh, I can’t handle this! I cannae deal with this bloody thing!"

Y/N scolded them both, but it was playful, almost like she was talking to children. "Honestly, ye two, the way ye’re carrying on, it’s like ye’ve never had a wee beetle on yer leg before. She’s just sayin’ hello. Show a bit of respect."

She lifted the beetle off Roach’s leg and placed it carefully back into the terrarium, watching as both men finally relaxed—though their faces were still riddled with fear and disgust.

“You two really need to be nicer to her,” she said, putting a hand on the terrarium lid as if it was her own child. “She’s got feelings, ye know. Can’t just treat her like that.”

As the beetle was carefully placed back into the terrarium, Johnny and Roach were both trembling, their faces a mixture of fear and embarrassment. Roach’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his body stiff with the lingering dread of having the beetle on his leg. Johnny, on the other hand, was trying to save face but failing miserably as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Y/N couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle at the sight of the two grown men, both reduced to blubbering wrecks over a harmless beetle.

“Well, well,” Y/N said, her voice firm, though she tried to hide her amusement. “I’ve seen tough soldiers face down enemies, endure harsh conditions, and survive bloody battles, but a tiny beetle on your leg? That’s what breaks you?” She shook her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. “And here I thought you two were men of honor.”

She crossed her arms and gave them a mock disapproving look. “Now, I’m not one to condone bullying, but that was downright cruel. Do you have any idea how it feels to be ridiculed by a couple of grown men, just because I’ve got a harmless little tenant?” She motioned to the beetle with a dramatic flourish. “You should be ashamed, both of you. Apologize to her.”

Johnny and Roach exchanged confused glances, unsure if she was serious or not.

"Bloody hell," Johnny mumbled, still shaken but now confused.

Roach hesitated, then awkwardly muttered, “Sorry… to the beetle?”

Johnny sniffed, still visibly shaken. "You’re bloody insane, lass. That thing’s not natural.”

Roach nodded, still pale. “I’m going to have nightmares about that thing crawlin’ on me forever.”

Y/N sighed dramatically, pretending to consider their plight for a moment. “Aye, well, that’s a shame. But if ye’ll behave, I’ll let ye off the hook... for now.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, her eyes widening in realization. "Speaking of hooks... it’s lunch time. I’ve got a few things to prepare for my little friend here," she gestured to the beetle with a nod.

Johnny and Roach blinked in confusion, their hunger starting to make itself known. “Lunch?” Johnny asked, his stomach growling loudly in protest.

"Aye," Y/N said, "For the beetle, obviously. She’ll need her greens." She gave the beetle a wink. “And for you two as well," she added, her voice softening just enough to let them know she wasn’t entirely without mercy. "Even captives need to eat."

Roach shot Johnny a look, his face a picture of disbelief. “She’s actually cookin’ for the beetle?”

Johnny shrugged, his stomach growling again. “I’m just really hoping there’s somethin’ in it for us too, yeah?”

Y/N smiled sweetly, a touch of mock sincerity in her voice. "Of course, lads. I’ll whip up somethin' nice for ye too. Can’t have my lovely guests starvin', can I?"

With that, she turned and headed for the door. “I’ll be back soon,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, the beetle’s a sociable creature, she’ll keep ye company.”

Johnny and Roach looked at each other, their stomachs growling in unison as they both realized just how hungry they were. “Do you think she’s actually going to feed us?” Roach asked, his voice laced with desperation.

“I dunno,” Johnny muttered, rubbing his stomach. “But I bloody hope so.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the two men slumped in their chairs, the silence of the room only interrupted by the occasional sound of the beetle skittering around in its terrarium. The tension had eased, but their rumbling stomachs reminded them that their fate still rested in Y/N’s hands—along with their new roommate’s.

----------

Lunchbreak

When Y/N finally returned with their lunch, Johnny and Roach eyed their plates warily. The smell was pleasant enough—hearty stew with fresh bread—but their eyes flicked back to the beetle's terrarium, as if expecting some hidden, sinister ingredient.

Y/N set the plates down in front of them with a casual smile. “Eat up, lads. No beetles in the stew, I promise.”

Johnny frowned, eyeing the food like it might jump out and bite him. “Right. No beetles, but... what else is in here?”

Roach followed his gaze, clearly trying to find some hidden clue in the stew. “Aye, somethin’ smells off, don’t it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Are you both really that paranoid? I’m not playin’ with your food.” She scolded them with a raised finger. “I don’t mess around with meals. If I wanted to torture you, I’d make you eat your words instead.”

Johnny and Roach exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unconvinced but too hungry to argue. Y/N stood over them, hands on her hips, watching as they hesitantly began to pick at their food.

She wasn’t about to let them off the hook so easily. With a sharp, “Aye, enough of this,” she knelt down and began untying their feet from the chair before moving to loosen the knot on their hands.

“Oi,” Roach said cautiously, shifting in his seat. “What’re ye doing now?”

Y/N shot him a stern look, her patience wearing thin. “Behave,” she warned, her tone sharp. “I’ve been kind enough to loosen the knot on your hands, but let me make one thing clear—if either of you tries anything, I’ll tie you up so tight you’ll never get out. And trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

Johnny swallowed nervously, his mouth still tingling from the spices in the food. “We’re just... just eatin’. No funny business, promise.”

With practiced efficiency, Y/N retied the rope around their feet in a more complicated knot, one that allowed just enough movement for them to sit comfortably but would take forever to undo. Then she tied their hands behind their backs in an intricate knot, loosening it just enough so they could maneuver their forks but not enough to free themselves.

She stood back, smirking at her handiwork. “There. Now you can eat properly, but don’t even think about trying to escape. If you do, I’ll make sure it’s the last time you think you can get one over on me.”

Johnny and Roach exchanged uneasy glances before turning their attention to their plates, shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. Though reluctant at first, hunger eventually won out. They dug into the food cautiously, glancing at her every so often, as if expecting some hidden trick.

Y/N, arms crossed, watched them with mild amusement. “That’s better,” she muttered.

Y/N dusted off her hands and headed for the door, muttering as she left, “Need to get that broth right... been boiling for an hour already. Can’t let it overdo itself now, can we?” She paused at the doorway, turning back to Johnny and Roach with a pointed look. “Behave. I’ll be right back. If I hear even a peep out of either of you, you’ll regret it.”

With that, she disappeared down the hallway, her faint muttering about the seafood boil trailing after her. “Onions, garlic, bay leaves... aye, needs a bit more kick. Maybe some lemon...”

Johnny and Roach stayed quiet for a moment, their gazes flicking toward the doorway to make sure she was truly gone. Finally, after a few more cautious bites of the meal in front of him, Roach glanced at Johnny and broke the silence.

“I mean... it’s actually not bad. This is... pretty good, actually,” he admitted, though his voice was low as if he feared she might still overhear.

Johnny, mid-chew, gave a reluctant nod. “Aye... not bad at all,” he mumbled, though his pride made him hesitate to sound too impressed. He swallowed and leaned back slightly, his gaze thoughtful. “I can see why the Lt. eats like a bloody king. Lucky bastard.”

Roach snorted softly, shaking his head. “No wonder he’s so smug all the time. Homemade food like this on deployment? Meanwhile, we’re stuck choking down MREs that taste like cardboard.”

Johnny smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this? Jealous, are ye? Wantin’ a lady to whip up gourmet meals for ye?”

Roach shrugged with a lopsided grin. “Can you blame me? Food like this... I wouldn’t say no.”

Johnny chuckled and leaned in slightly, his grin turning mischievous. “Aye, careful what you wish for, mate. You sure you’d want a woman like her? She’s got our Lt. whipped, guaranteed.”

Roach blinked, his grin faltering as he considered that. “Whipped? You serious?”

Before Johnny could respond, a shadow fell over the doorway. They both froze mid-bite as Y/N reappeared, her expression unreadable and her hands occupied with a bright red crawfish, dangling by its tail.

“Whose whipped?” she asked, her tone deceptively sweet as her sharp eyes flicked between the two of them.

Johnny and Roach immediately stiffened, their forks hovering mid-air. They exchanged a panicked glance, but neither dared to speak.

Y/N cocked an eyebrow and let the crawfish dangle ominously close to Johnny’s face. “Well? Cat got your tongue?”

Johnny gulped audibly. “Er... no one’s whipped. N-not a soul. Isn’t that right, Roach?”

“Uh, aye!” Roach blurted, nodding far too enthusiastically. “Not a word about anyone being whipped. Just... uh... appreciating your... culinary expertise.”

Y/N hummed in mock agreement, lowering the crawfish. “Good. Because if the idea of being ‘whipped’ scares you so much, maybe it’s time you learned how to cook for yourselves.” She shot them a pointed look before walking over to a nearby drawer, opening it with a sharp clink.

The sound of her pulling out a large Serbian chef knife drew their eyes immediately. The blade was thick, gleaming under the light with a menacing edge that seemed sharp enough to cleave through anything in its path.

She inspected the blade casually, her back turned to them, as if she hadn’t just sent a shiver down their spines. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, her voice light but her movements deliberate, “I’ve got some prep work to finish.”

Johnny and Roach sat frozen, exchanging wide-eyed glances as she walked out, the knife in one hand and the crawfish in the other. The door swung shut behind her, leaving them in tense silence.

After a long pause, Johnny let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair. “We’re still alive, aye?” he muttered, as if needing confirmation.

Roach nodded hesitantly, swallowing hard. “Aye... but I think I’d rather face the Lt. in a mood than her in the kitchen.”

Johnny chuckled weakly, glancing toward the doorway. “Same here, mate. Same here.”

----------

Next on the menu?

Y/N returned, this time wearing gloves smeared with faint traces of whatever she’d been chopping. Her steps were calm and unhurried, but there was something unnerving about the way her gloved fingers curled around the edge of the plates. Without a word, she collected their dishes, her movements efficient and eerily precise. A stray crawfish claw dangled from the edge of one plate, the hard shell glinting like some sort of ominous trophy.

Johnny and Roach stared at it, swallowing hard.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” she said casually, her tone at odds with the unsettling imagery. She turned on her heel, heading for the door. “The stock needs attention. It won’t cook itself.”

The door creaked shut behind her, leaving the two men in an uneasy silence once more.

Roach broke the quiet first, his voice hushed but edged with genuine concern. “Why does it feel like she’s cooking us next?”

Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mate, don’t even joke about that.” He gestured toward the doorway with a flick of his head. “You saw how she handled that crawfish. Do you really want to find out what she could do to us? Just... don’t mention anything that’ll get her attention. Please. I like bein’ out of the pot, aye?”

Roach nodded quickly, his eyes darting to the doorway, half-expecting her to reappear. “Right. Good point.”

They both sat stiffly in their chairs, trying not to make a sound, hearts pounding with the irrational but persistent thought that they were dangerously close to becoming part of the menu. The lingering smell of the food reminded them just how grateful they were that it hadn’t been them in the pot—or at least, not yet. Hopefully, never!

----------

Captain Price to the Rescue?

After lunch, Y/N strode back into the ‘interrogation’ room, her movements calm but purposeful, and sat down across from Johnny and Roach, resuming where she’d left off.

Her voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Why the hell were you even following me?”

Johnny and Roach exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale. They couldn’t admit the truth—not that they were their Lt.’s men, her partner’s men, and had just been nosy and curious. It was too embarrassing. So, they said nothing.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed by their silence. Before she could press them again, there was a sudden, deafening crash.

The front door of the cottage exploded inward, splinters flying in every direction.

Y/N’s eyes snapped to the sound, just in time to hear an enraged bellow.

“JOHNNY! ROACH! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

Johnny and Roach jerked in their seats like startled rabbits.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Johnny screeched, his eyes wide with panic. “IT’S HIM!”

Roach was no better, his voice climbing an octave. “HELP! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN PRICE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP!”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Oh, look at that. Your boss actually came looking for you. I’m touched.”

From the front of the house, Price’s voice boomed again, shaking the walls. “Where are you two? I’ll bloody find you!”

The sound of heavy boots hitting the floorboards echoed ominously as Price stormed through the house.

Johnny and Roach, already panicked, began shouting in unison.

“CAPTAIN, HELP! IT’S A TRAP! BE CAREFUL! SHE’S LOST IT!”

Price’s voice rumbled closer. “What the bloody hell are you two on about?!”

Roach whimpered. “She’s gonna cook us next!”

Johnny, still screaming, added, “WE’RE TIED UP LIKE BLOODY PUDDINGS!”

Price’s footsteps grew louder, and his grumbling was now accompanied by muttered curses. “Bloody pudding? What’s wrong with you two? Can hear you from the front door!”

Finally, Price kicked open the door to the room, his sharp blue eyes taking in the bizarre sight before him: Johnny and Roach tied to chairs, squirming like worms, and Y/N sitting in the corner, arms crossed, an infuriating smirk plastered on her face.

Price blinked, his voice flat with disbelief. “What in the actual hell is this?” He gestured vaguely at the scene. “You two... let her do this to you?”

Before they could explain, Johnny and Roach screamed again.

“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER! SHE’S GOT SPRAY!”

Price frowned, confused. “Spray?”

“THE SAME BLOODY SPRAY SHE USED TO KNOCK US OUT!” Roach added, his voice cracking.

Price paused, staring at Y/N, who raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, clearly enjoying herself.

Price crossed his arms. “You two seriously think I’m gonna fall for that?”

Y/N’s smirk widened. “Oh, I figured you wouldn’t. That’s why I’ve got something better.”

She reached behind her chair, her movements swift and deliberate, and grabbed a rifle dart gun. Before Price could react, she fired.

The dart hit his knee with a thunk.

“Bloody—” Price growled, yanking the dart out and glaring at her.

She fired again, this time hitting his neck.

“OH, BLOODY HELL!” Johnny and Roach screamed in unison, wriggling in their chairs as if they could escape whatever fate awaited their captain.

Price ripped the second dart out, snarling. “Woman, what the hell are you—”

He stopped mid-sentence, swaying unsteadily. The room tilted, his balance suddenly off. Gritting his teeth, Price dropped to one knee, staring up at her with fire in his eyes.

“What did you do to me, woman?!” he growled, his voice thick with anger and something else—drowsiness.

Y/N walked toward him slowly, the dart gun still in her hand, her expression eerily calm. “Oh, don’t worry, Captain,” she said, her voice light and almost cheerful. “It’s just a tranquilizer. I use it on wild boars.”

Her smile turned sinister as Price’s vision blurred. That was the last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him whole.

----------

A New Hostage!

Y/N grunted as she dragged Captain Price’s unconscious form across the room, muttering to herself. “Bloody hell, you’re heavy! What do they feed you soldiers? Bricks?!” She propped him up on a chair with a huff, shaking her head. “This is ridiculous. I should be done prepping food by now!”

Johnny and Roach sat stiffly in their chairs, wide-eyed and helpless as they watched her wrestle the Captain’s limp form like a sack of potatoes.

Roach leaned toward Johnny and whispered, his voice trembling, “Who the hell is this woman?”

Johnny didn’t take his eyes off her. “I don’t know, mate, but she’s mental. Proper mental.”

Roach gulped. “How did we end up here? She’s got Price, for goodness’s sake. Price!”

Johnny shook his head slowly. “Simon’s birdie, huh? I thought she’d be a sweet lass. You know, one of those quiet types. Maybe she bakes.”

Roach’s eyes darted nervously to the dart gun still slung over her shoulder. “Bakes?! Johnny, she tranquilized the Captain. With wild boar darts! Bakes?! Are you daft?”

Johnny shrugged, his voice quiet. “I don’t know what I thought. But it sure as hell wasn’t this.”

They both fell silent as Y/N crouched in front of Price, adjusting the ropes with practiced ease. She tied a firm knot, tugged on it to test its strength, and then stood back to admire her work.

“Alright,” she said cheerfully, dusting off her hands. “That’ll hold him until he wakes up.” She turned to Johnny and Roach, her tone casual, as if she hadn’t just restrained their Captain like a Christmas ham. “I need to get back to my food prep. I’ll check on you lot later.”

Johnny’s panic finally broke through. “What the hell did you do to our Captain?!”

Y/N waved a dismissive hand, already halfway to the door. “Oh, nothing. He’s fine! He’ll be awake in an hour. Or so. Probably.”

“Probably?!” Roach squeaked, his voice rising in pitch.

Y/N turned to them with an exasperated sigh. “I said he’s fine. It’s just a tranquilizer, not poison. Relax, will you?”

With that, she exited the room, leaving the two soldiers to stew in their rising panic.

Johnny leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Mate,” he said, his voice hollow. “We’ve messed with the wrong woman.”

Roach nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the door she’d just walked through. “Yeah. And now we’re in her house. Tied to chairs. Watching her hold the Captain hostage. What the hell do we do now?”

Johnny let out a shaky breath. “Pray, mate. Just pray.”

---------- The Morrigan

Captain Price groaned, blinking groggily as he came to his senses. His head throbbed, and his arms were firmly tied to the chair, rendering him utterly immobile. The familiar smell of seafood chowder and garlic bread wafted through the room, and his stomach gave a loud, rumbling protest.

Johnny and Roach were sitting across from him, completely unfazed, digging into their bowls with gusto as though they weren’t in the middle of being held hostage.

Price scowled at them. “How the hell are you two still eating like that? All three of us are bloody hostages, and you’re sitting there like it’s a bloody picnic!”

Johnny, not missing a beat, took another bite of his chowder. “She gets offended if we don’t eat, Cap.”

Roach nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah, mate. She insists on it. Said it’s bad manners not to finish what’s on your plate.”

Price stared at them in disbelief, then rolled his eyes. “You two are unbelievable. Getting bribed with food. Bloody greedy gluttons.”

Johnny shot him a look, eyebrows raised. “Oh, come on, Cap. You’re the same! Remember when you demanded a fruit from the fruit baskets that Ghost and Gaz brought home after that last deployment? Oh, and the chocolate. Don’t forget the chocolate.”

Price’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get a word out, the door swung open. Y/N walked in, holding a steaming bowl of seafood chowder and a freshly baked garlic bread loaf in one hand, her smile as unsettling as ever.

“Dinner time, Captain,” she chirped, her smile practically stretching ear to ear. “Hope you’re hungry!”

She put the bowl down next to Johnny and Roach and then stopped in front of Price. She stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment, her eyes gleaming with something not quite right.

Price, feeling the heat of her gaze, grunted. “What?”

“Well,” she began slowly, “I don’t trust you, Captain. I’m not sure I should let you eat.”

Price’s jaw dropped. “Oi! Woman! Why do Johnny and Roach get to eat then?”

Y/N shrugged, her creepy smile not faltering. “Well, I’m afraid the moment I loosen your binds, you’ll try to fight me. And, I’m just a small, poor, ‘harmless’ woman. I can’t risk that.”

At the word “harmless,” Price, Johnny, and Roach all rolled their eyes in unison. Price opened his mouth to protest.

“Harmless? After what you did? You call yourself that?!” Price barked, incredulous.

Y/N chuckled darkly. She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a syringe with a sinister smile plastered on her face. “Well, Captain, since I don’t trust you, I thought about cutting the veins in your ankles to stop you from walking. But I don’t like making a mess, so I figured I’d just inject you with this. Numbs your legs for a couple of hours. Maybe.”

At the sight of the syringe, Johnny and Roach went pale, their eyes darting nervously between Y/N and each other.

Before anyone could say another word, the front door swung open, and Simon's deep, raspy voice called out from the living room. “Birdie!! I got the salmon you wanted! And the veggies!!”

Simon entered the kitchen, slipping off his boots and replacing them with his indoor slippers. He carried a wrapped salmon and vegetables, exactly as Y/N had instructed.

“Oh!! And I ran into Kyle!! Since you're making seafood boil, I figured the whole pot is a lot, so I invited him to join!” Simon added casually, with Kyle nervously trailing behind, holding a case of beer.

“Birdie? Where are you, love?” Simon called out, clearly not expecting the scene unfolding before him.

“GHOST!!! HELP!!!! SHE'S MENTAL!!! MENTAL, I TELL YOU!!!” Roach screamed, his voice pitched higher than usual.

Johnny joined in, his voice almost breaking. “LT!!! HEEELLLPPP!!!”

Simon’s brows furrowed at the chaos, and he looked at Kyle, who was now standing awkwardly by the door, trying to understand what was happening. Simon sighed deeply.

Kyle, for his part, was unsure whether to be concerned or amused. He took a step into the kitchen, then another, eyeing the situation with mounting confusion. “Uh... I brought beer?” he offered weakly, looking between the trio of tied-up soldiers and Simon, who seemed less concerned than he should be.

Simon looked at the scene for a few beats, then glanced at Y/N. “Birdie? What the hell is going on here?”

Y/N just smiled, her hands on her hips. “Oh, you know, just a little dinner prep. They were helping me out. Tied up, of course.”

“Helping?!” Johnny gasped, his face turning pale. “You’ve lost it, woman!”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Y/N said sweetly, “You’re just getting a bit of ‘quiet time.’”

Simon’s eyes darted between his tied-up squad and his ‘birdie,’ clearly confused by the bizarre situation. After a few moments of stunned silence, he rubbed his temples. “Right. What exactly is going on here?”

Johnny, Roach, and Price all looked at each other, then in unison, shouted, “She’s mental!”

Simon grinned widely, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. “Well, that’s one of her attractive traits, mate!” he said, pointing a thumb at Y/N.

The three tied-up soldiers groaned in unison, rolling their eyes. Price, trying to avoid a full-blown headache, muttered under his breath, “Simon, you’re in too deep, mate.”

Simon chuckled heartily, unaffected by the collective groans of his squad. “Nah, mate. You just wait until you get to know her better. She’s bloody great fun!” He turned back to Y/N, clearly ready for an explanation. “But seriously, birdie, what happened here?”

Y/N flashed a sweet smile, completely unfazed by the chaos. “Well,” she began, clearly enjoying herself, “it all started when Johnny and Roach followed me around the market, sneaking around like suspicious men. I thought they were enemies trying to spy on me, they followed me into my vehicle!! I was going to interrogate them about who sent them and what they were after.”

She pointed at Price, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “And then, I caught their boss. The big guy. This Captain Price!”

Simon blinked, his face turning a little confused. “Wait, what? You think my squad was spying on you?”

Y/N nodded, her expression serious. “I had to make sure they weren’t after me. You can never be too careful, right?”

Johnny, Roach, and Price all exchanged weary looks. Johnny shrugged. “She’s got a point. We did follow her into the car...”

Roach groaned. “Yeah, we were just out looking for a pint and lunch, and then we saw Simon’s birdie. Next thing we know, we’re being accused of being bloody spies!" He sighed dramatically. "Alright, fine, we were being nosy!!” he admits begrudgingly

Simon raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the tied-up trio. “Right, so these are my teammates. Johnny and Roach, they’re just nosy as hell, always sticking their noses where they shouldn’t be. And Captain Price here? Well, he just got caught up in all this mess. He’s innocent.”

Y/N wasn’t having it. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you sure about that? They could be spies or double agents! You never know.”

Simon snorted. “Spies? Double agents? Goodness, birdie, they’re just bloody nosy!”

Y/N pouted, pointing her finger at Price. “But he’s the boss! He could be involved in something shady! You never know, Simon. Just look at what happened with your previous team before.” She lowered her voice dramatically, adding, “You can’t be too careful.”

Kyle, who had been standing in the doorway this whole time, chimed in with a grin. “Captain Price is a good man. As for Johnny and Roach, they’re... well, they’re okay. Just a bit nosy, that’s all.”

Y/N blinked, her face going from suspicion to shock as she processed what Kyle had said. She slowly turned to Johnny and Roach, her eyes widening with realization. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I had no idea!”

Johnny and Roach stared back, their faces as deadpan as ever. “You’re sorry now?” Roach muttered dryly.

Johnny crossed his arms. “Well, thanks for the hospitality.”

Y/N, now flustered and horrified by her own actions, started to apologize profusely. “I didn’t mean to—oh gosh, I’m so sorry! I’m not usually like this! I swear! I thought you were bad guys!”

Price, still tied up, finally cracked a grin. “Well, now you know, love. We’re just a bunch of idiots who can’t even follow a simple market trip.”

Y/N started babbling, her face turning a deep shade of red. “I promise, I’m not like this! I just... I wanted to protect myself! I didn’t want to end up like—” She froze, catching herself awkwardly.

“Like what?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like... like... them...” she trailed off, her eyes shifting nervously. The awkwardness hung in the air like a fog, and the tension was palpable. Y/N let out a small, frustrated sigh before continuing, her voice a little quieter. “And... I wanted to protect you, Simon. I thought... after interrogating them, I’d eliminate them, and then... their boss.” She gave an awkward, forced laugh, trying to shake off the gravity of her words.

Captain Price, still tied up and listening intently, interrupted with a deadpan expression. “Oi, I’m just right here, woman!”

Everyone paused, staring at him. Y/N blinked, her face turning an even deeper shade of red as she fumbled for words.

“I—uh, I didn’t mean you, Captain! You’re... you're fine!” she stammered, trying to backtrack.

Simon sighed, his expression softening slightly. Captain Price and Kyle exchanged looks, both of them quickly catching on to what Y/N was implying.

The squad, in unison, all said, “Ohhhh...” in realization.

Y/N’s face flushed with embarrassment as she quickly tried to change the subject. “Anyway, I’m sure we’ve had enough of my crazy ideas for one day!” she said, her hands flailing around in panic.

Captain Price, still tied to the chair, growled from his seat. “Oi, what about me, then? Johnny and Roach get food, but I’m stuck here like some bloody hostage? Where’s my dinner?” Price just sighs and muttered, “Bloody hell, I’m was about to get murdered by a mental woman and I haven’t even had dinner yet...”

Y/N facepalmed, her apology now morphing into full-blown panic. “I swear, this never happens to me! I’m usually really good at this... well, not this, but you know—being careful and suspicious!” She started to untie Price, clearly flustered.

Captain Price was not having it, though. “And I want that syringe you were planning on stabbing me with, and your bloody hunting rifle!” he demanded, his voice loud with mock indignation.

Y/N, clearly rattled, nervously dug around in her apron pocket and handed over the syringe, though she nearly jabbed him with it in the process. “It’s just... a little something to numb your legs, I swear it’s safe!” she said quickly, voice wavering.

Price's eyes widened, and he flinched as the syringe came dangerously close to his face. “Bloody hell, that thing almost stabbed me! And give me the rifle!”

Y/N froze, looking incredibly guilty. “I... I can’t give you the rifle,” she said, voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s, uh... property of my workplace.”

Captain Price narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You, a small, "harmless woman", did all this? With that rifle and... and this?” He gestured to the entire situation, still trying to process how he ended up tied up in a chair with a syringe so close to his throat.

Y/N blinked, tears welling up in her eyes as her guilty face contorted into an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry!” She sniffled, throwing herself into Simon’s arms, clearly distressed. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far, I swear!”

Simon, unbothered as always, playfully scolded Price. “Oi, Captain! You’re being harsh on my birdie,” he said, ruffling Y/N’s hair affectionately, who clung to him like a lifeline.

Kyle, who’d been quietly observing the whole mess, smiled and sighed. “Captain Price, be nice.”

“What?! I have the right to know what kind of mental person I’m dealing with here!” Price fired back, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Well, the only thing I can tell you, Captain, is that she was my previous Case Officer,” Kyle said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “And I think you’ve heard of the The Morrigan of MI5, right?”

Price’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’ve heard of them. All I know is that they retired. No longer in active duty.”

Kyle gave a short nod in Y/N's direction. “Well, Captain, meet 'The Morrigan'.”

Captain Price’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped in complete realization. “No bloody way.”

Y/N gave him an awkward, apologetic look, her face turning crimson. “Uhhmmm… hello…” she offered with a nervous little wave.

Price just sat there, utterly dumbfounded, blinking as he processed the bombshell revelation. The room went silent for a beat—until Simon burst into laughter.

“See? Told you my birdie’s got a bit of bite!” Simon teased, squeezing Y/N’s shoulder with a proud grin, while she covered her face with her hands, groaning in embarrassment.

Kyle looked at Price, his grin barely hidden. “Guess you didn’t expect that, did you, Cap?”

Price leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair, horrified. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, staring at Y/N like she was a wild animal that had somehow escaped its cage. “I’ve had a run-in with The Morrigan of MI5... and I was about to get murdered by her if you two hadn’t shown up on time.” He paused, shaking his head. “Fuuuucckkk.”

Johnny and Roach, standing to the side and clearly confused, looked at each other before turning to Price.

“What happened now, Captain?” Johnny asked.

Price glanced at them, his face pale. “You ate the meal she made, didn’t you?” His voice was dripping with dread. “I think I need to send you both to the hospital.”

Johnny frowned, confused. “Hospital? Why?”

“Oh no, Captain,” Roach chimed in. “She doesn’t mess with food.”

“Aye, she’s been feeding us since lunch!” Johnny added. “We’re still alive, nothing’s happened to us!"

Y/N threw her hands up, clearly exasperated. “Exactly! I don’t mess with food! If I wanted to harm you, I’d have done it directly—like I said, I’d inject you with syringes or something.”

Price groaned, rubbing his temples. “Lads, you don’t get it. This is The Morrigan of MI5. Right in front of you. She’s a bloody poisoner!” His voice rose slightly with every word, his face showing equal parts horror and disbelief.

Johnny and Roach froze, their eyes darting toward Y/N.

“Ohhh...” they said in unison, realization dawning on their faces as everything clicked into place—the spray, the syringe, the fact they’d both been knocked out cold earlier.

“Yeah,” Roach muttered, his face pale. “Makes sense now. She did knock us out with that spray.”

Johnny nodded slowly. “Aye, and the syringe...” He shuddered slightly, giving Y/N a wary glance.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “For the last time, I don’t mess with food!”

Simon, thoroughly amused, chuckled as he leaned back against the counter. “Don’t worry, lads. If my birdie wanted to kill you, you’d already be six feet under. Trust me, she doesn’t miss.”

“Not helping, Simon!” Y/N snapped, glaring at him as Johnny and Roach edged slightly farther away from her, their paranoia clearly growing.

Price slumped in his chair, muttering under his breath. “I just wanted dinner, not a bloody heart attack...”

----------

A Hearty Meal

To Kyle’s absolute amusement, dinner was in full swing. Simon and Y/N worked in tandem, pouring the contents of the enormous seafood boil pot directly onto the middle of the table. The colorful mountain of food spilled out like a culinary treasure chest: large, bright red crawfish, plump prawns, glistening salmon chunks, tender clams, juicy slices of chopped sausage, perfectly cooked potatoes, and sweet, caramelized carrots—all steaming and coated in a fragrant garlic butter sauce that filled the air.

“Bloody hell,” Johnny muttered, his eyes wide as he ogled the spread like it was some rare artifact. “That’s a feast fit for a King... or a hungry Scotsman.”

Price, seated at the head of the table like some weary monarch after battle, raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “More like a last meal, knowing what I just found out,” he grumbled, casting a wary glance at Y/N.

“Oi!” Y/N snapped, brandishing the garlic butter brush like a weapon. “For the last time, I don’t mess with food! You lot are exhausting!”

“Sure, lass,” Johnny chimed in with a mischievous grin. “But just in case, I’ll have Roach take the first bite.” He shoved a spoon into Roach’s hand, earning an indignant glare from his teammate.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Kyle muttered, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward, grabbed a crawfish, and expertly cracked it open, popping the meat into his mouth. “See? Perfectly fine. Bloody delicious, actually.”

Johnny and Roach exchanged a look, then immediately started piling their plates with prawns, crawfish, and sausage, following Kyle’s lead.

Meanwhile, Captain Price sat frozen, still staring at Y/N in disbelief.

“You all right there, Cap?” Kyle asked, grinning as he grabbed a prawn. “You’re looking a bit peaky.”

Price blinked, snapping out of his daze. “Just... processing, that’s all,” he muttered.

Kyle laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve got nothing to process, sir. You’re overthinking it. You know, this reminds me of my station in the Middle East. Remember that big leak at MI5 and MI6? The one that almost cost us a dozen agents and operatives?”

Price frowned, his fork hovering midair. “Yeah, I remember. That was chaos. Took weeks to get everything back under control.”

Kyle nodded, cracking another crawfish shell with practiced ease. “Well, she’s the reason it didn’t get worse. The Morrigan of MI5? She personally coordinated the operation that saved everyone—and even prevented it from leaking to the media. Could’ve been an international disaster if she hadn’t stepped in.” He popped a piece of sausage into his mouth and gestured toward Y/N.

Price’s eyes widened, his fork frozen mid-air. “I still can’t believe it,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “This unassuming woman—you—is The Morrigan. And MacMillan trusted you enough to follow your lead? My mentor, the man who doesn’t trust anyone?”

Y/N arched an eyebrow at him, narrowing her eyes as she spread butter on the next batch of garlic bread. “Sorry I don’t look like James Bond material, Captain,” she said dryly, sliding the tray into the oven. “But we all know operations aren’t glamorous like those bloody James Bond films. No fancy tuxedos, no martinis shaken or stirred—just sweat, dirt, and a lot of paperwork afterward.”

Simon let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “She’s got a point, Cap. Can’t exactly look dashing in a firefight, can you?”

Price sighed, rubbing his temple as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Still doesn’t change the fact that MacMillan trusted her. I just... can’t wrap my head around it. I mean, look at her—she’s so unassuming. Petite, even. And then there’s us lot—giants by comparison.” He gestured vaguely at himself, Simon, and the rest of the team.

Y/N snorted, setting a pitcher of iced tea on the counter with a cheeky grin. “Aye, I might be small, Captain, but let’s not forget—you, Johnny, and Roach still ended up as my hostages.”

Simon and Kyle burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the room. Kyle nearly choked on his drink, and Simon grinned, ruffling Y/N’s hair fondly. “That’s my birdie,” he said with a chuckle.

Y/N shot a playful look at Captain Price. “Captain, instead of still trying to figure out who I am, why don’t you just eat? You were complaining to me earlier about why I didn’t feed you, but only fed Johnny and Roach.”

Price huffed, clearly still trying to process everything. “Just having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that the woman who nearly gave me a heart attack earlier is the same one MacMillan trusted with his operations.” He sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’ll eat! I’ll just eat,” he muttered, digging into the seafood boil with surprising enthusiasm, the flavors catching him off guard. Before long, he was enjoying it more than he thought he would.

“Cap,” Johnny said through a mouthful of crawfish, “if she wanted us dead, she wouldn’t bother with poison. She’d just snap her fingers and make it happen. Or, y’know, spray us again.”

Roach laughed, reaching for another piece of bread. “Aye, and this garlic bread’s worth trusting her, if you ask me.”

Kyle grinned as he cracked another crawfish shell. “And Cap, if she really wanted to get rid of us, Simon’d be out cold already—he’s been sneaking bites of her cooking since we sat down.”

Simon smiled, clearly unbothered as he continued eating with satisfaction.

Price groaned, leaning his head back against the chair. “Bloody hell. I need a drink.”

----------

The Takeaways

Y/N felt a pang of guilt as she packed takeaway boxes, filling them with the leftovers: seafood chowder, shortbread she’d baked earlier, slices of pie, and more of the seafood boil. She tucked in an extra serving for Kyle as well, her own small way of making up for the earlier mess. Once everything was packed and the food was neatly stacked into bags, she carried them outside, walking with the group to the vehicle.

Captain Price, Johnny, and Roach were ready to leave, their heads still spinning from the earlier revelations. Price had driven himself here, and now, as he climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck, Y/N felt a sudden rush of guilt again. She paused, a strange look crossing her face, before she moved towards him.

With a gentle but firm hand, she pulled Captain Price out of the driver’s seat, despite her small frame. He shot her a puzzled glance, but before he could say anything, she reached up to the dashboard and yanked the liquid air freshener attached to the aircon.

“Sorry, Captain,” she said sheepishly, “it’s actually poison. I placed this earlier when I thought you were still my enemy. After I planned to let you go, this would’ve done its job.”

Johnny and Roach froze, their eyes wide, sweat trickling down their foreheads as they suddenly realized what had almost happened. Captain Price’s mouth hung agape, his face frozen in a mixture of shock and fear.

Kyle let out a hearty laugh. “Do you still doubt that she’s The Morrigan, Captain?!”

Simon burst into uncontrollable laughter, unable to stop himself, clutching his stomach in amusement.

Price sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. “Unbelievable…” His voice was a mix of disbelief and exhaustion, still processing the fact that this small, unassuming woman—who had just made them all dinner—was none other than The Morrigan. A woman feared and respected across MI5, MI6, and Special Ops—the entire intelligence and special operations community. He could hardly wrap his head around it, his mind still struggling to connect the dots. There was little known about her beyond her callsign, and most of what was, had been redacted. All he knew was that she was a ghost, a shadow in the field, and now, she was standing right in front of him.

Y/N, a little embarrassed by the whole situation, scratched the back of her neck. “Don’t worry, Captain! The food I packed for you isn’t poisoned! I hope you enjoy it!!”

Simon continued laughing in the background, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

As Price shook his head in disbelief, his 4x4 rumbled to life, and Gaz, Johnny and Roach climbed inside, still processing everything. The vehicle pulled out of Simon’s cottage compound, disappearing down the road.

----------

His Goddess

As Captain Price drove them back to the base, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, Kyle couldn't help but notice the still-shocked expression on the Captain's face. The earlier revelation had clearly rattled him.

"Alright, Cap?" Kyle said, glancing over with a smirk.

Captain Price navigated the winding road back to the base, Kyle couldn’t help but notice that the Captain was still in a state of shock. Price’s mind clearly hadn’t settled on everything that had just happened. After a few moments of silence, the Captain spoke, his voice still tinged with disbelief.

“Alright, Kyle… how did you know who 'The Morrigan' was? Her face, for Christ’s sake. That was blacked out—redacted from every file.”

Kyle leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath as he glanced out the window, the dimming light casting shadows across his face. “It was when she came to rescue us. We were in a tight spot, surrounded. The cover story she came up with? One of the most ridiculous plans I’d ever heard, but effective as hell. It worked, especially given the circumstances. She radioed in to confirm the extraction, and that’s when she said her name—'This is The Morrigan.' That’s when it all clicked.” He paused, reflecting. “She’s known for planning ops like nobody else—strategic, methodical. A real grandmaster at it.” Kyle gave a small smirk. “Not many know her face.”

Price nodded, absorbing the information. He gripped the wheel a little tighter, still processing. “I see,” he muttered, his eyes on the road. “I just didn’t expect her to look like that. Petite... like she couldn’t harm a fly.” His voice was almost incredulous.

Johnny, from the backseat, couldn’t resist. “Well, Captain, guess we’ve learned today that size and looks don’t mean a damn thing when it comes to being dangerous.”

Roach snickered, adding, “Aye, she might be small, but she’s got a bite that’ll make you wish you were never born.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Don’t you think they’re a good match?”

Price chuckled, his eyes glinting with a knowing look. “Aye, I can see it now. Quite fitting, actually. I get why Simon loves her. It makes sense.”

Kyle’s grin deepened, his voice taking on a more thoughtful, almost poetic quality.

“Yeah, if Ghost is the Grim Reaper, then she’s The Morrigan—his Goddess.”

Price glanced at him, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Hell, you’re not wrong. They make one hell of a pair.”

Johnny leaned forward from the backseat, nodding in agreement. “Aye, Death and His Goddess, now that’s a match made in... well, whatever’s beyond.”

Roach chuckled, adding his own twist. “Couldn’t put it better. The Goddess of Death and Death her Reaper. Perfect balance of chaos and control.”

Price let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Bloody hell... they really do.”

----------- An Investigation

By the time Captain Price reached the base, the drive had given him plenty of time to process everything. He was still reeling from what he'd learned, but that wasn’t going to stop him from getting answers. His mind still on the tiny, dangerous woman he’d just encountered.

After everyone got out of the 4x4 and decided to retreat to their own quarters, there was a collective yawn from Johnny, Roach, and Gaz, as they all called it a night. It had been a long, exhausting, and somewhat terrifying day. Captain Price waved them off, his own mind still turning over the events.

Once inside his quarters, he glanced at the clock, realizing it was still a little early in Washington, D.C. A quick thought crossed his mind—if anyone knew anything about "The Morrigan," it would be Laswell.

He grabbed his comms and dialed in. It rang once, twice, before the line clicked on.

“Hi, good evening, Laswell,” Price said, his voice a little more cautious than usual. “Do you know anything about ‘The Morrigan’?”

A/N: About YOU!! (Y/N) being Ghost’s Goddess, sounds nice, doesn’t it? You’re the Goddess “The Morrigan,” and Simon—Death, the Reaper. Such a perfect match!!! I hope you all enjoyed the chaos and comedy in this one! Apologies for the late update—I had to do a bit of research and juggle some work,Thanks for your patience and for reading! 💀✨

P.S. I might write another one, who knows? A little short continuity here and there once I get the right idea, but for now, nothing planned. I’ll post if I do though!