#though i don't remember who was the OP

[twpromptsillneverwrite]

Stiles: Derek, be my Valentine! #NOHOMO

Derek: Nobody uses that anymore.

Stiles: Couldn't you just let me be romantic for once?

Derek: You lost your right to romance when you said "#NOHOMO"

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

See, this is why I can't trust myself. I had an important paper that I needed to sign for a school activity, so I specifically taped it onto my table, where I could clearly see it and I wouldn't forget about it. And then I forgot about it. My eyes just glossed right over it as if I didn't put it literally RIGHT THERE for that exact reason. I genuinely thought I lost it and was considering sending an email to the teacher to send me a new copy. This is far from the first time this has happened </3

[theghostinabadbook]

Okay, so Killingham's power is to put other people to sleep and control them? And Sommers' power would be to bring children's fears to life? Or is that also part of Killingham's ability? Like, his powers bring people's greatest fears to life, and as a result they fall asleep and Killingham can control them, similar to what Sugar's devil fruit did?

[heartbeetz]

Very fun seeing lots people reblogging that one "give it up for day 15" post today. They don't know I'm op...

[otogariado]

lrb op seems familiar and i think they're someone a mutual of mine accidentally got into some beef with

[redstarfish-art]

Question answered! Thanks OP you fucking idiot!

I am actually a bit sad that the answer turned out to be "mainstream media good" and "fanwork bad" though. :(

Was hoping for a more interesting definition of problematic beyond "things I like are fine, and things I don't like are not fine!" I guess I was being too optimistic about OP having sense.

i recommend being a fan of 1 problematic piece of media at least once in your life

[harrysfolklore]

did you see that video of tom holland pushing the paparazzi off zendaya? Yeah I thinking about something similar but with Charles Leclerc x famous!reader

something short and sweet bc i'm not posting a new fic this week but i hope you enjoy it!

The flash of cameras was something you were used to, but tonight felt different. As you stepped out of the car at the prestigious event, Charles' hand firmly in yours, the crowd of paparazzi seemed more aggressive than usual. The combination of an A-list actress and a Formula 1 star had created a media frenzy.

"YN! Over here!" "Charles! This way!" "Are you two official?" "YN, how does it feel dating a racing driver?" "Charles, what's it like dating a Hollywood star?"

The shouting was overwhelming, and despite your years of experience handling red carpets, you felt yourself tense as the photographers pressed closer, their cameras mere inches from your face.

"Stay close to me," Charles murmured, his thumb stroking reassuringly over your knuckles.

"I'm used to this," you whispered back, trying to maintain your composed smile.

"I know, but this is crazy even for me."

You felt Charles' grip on your hand tighten protectively as one particularly aggressive photographer pushed forward, nearly causing you to stumble in your heels.

"Watch it!" Charles snapped, his accent thickening with anger as he steadied you. In an instant, his demeanor changed from polite to protective. He moved swiftly, positioning himself between you and the crowd.

"Back off," he said firmly. "I said back off! You're being too aggressive."

His arm wrapped securely around your waist, creating a barrier between you and the chaos. "That's enough. We'll pose for photos, but give us space."

"Charles, it's okay," you tried to soothe him, though you appreciated his protection.

"No, it's not okay," he responded, his jaw clenched. "They don't get to push you around just because you're a public figure."

The authority in his voice made several photographers take a step back. You could feel the tenseness in his body as he guided you through the crowd.

"Almost there," he assured you quietly. "Just a few more steps."

"YN! One more shot!" "Charles! Look this way!" "Are you living together?"

"Just ignore them," you whispered to Charles, sensing his growing irritation.

As you finally reached the relative safety of the venue's entrance, Charles's posture relaxed slightly, but his protective hold remained. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, completely ignoring the renewed frenzy of camera flashes the gesture triggered.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his green eyes scanning your face with concern. "I've never seen them this aggressive."

"I'm fine," you assured him, straightening his tie affectionately. "I'm used to it, remember? Though I have to admit, having my own personal bodyguard is nice."

He smiled softly, but his eyes remained serious. "Nobody gets to treat you like that," he said, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "Not even if they have cameras. I don't care if it's part of the job."

"My hero," you teased, trying to lighten his mood.

"I'm serious, mon coeur. I know this comes with both our careers, but there's a line."

In that moment, despite the chaos around you, you couldn't help but smile. You'd dealt with aggressive paparazzi before, but having someone who instinctively moved to protect you, who prioritized your comfort over the perfect photo op - that was new.

"Thank you," you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "For having my back."

"Always," he promised, taking your hand again. "Ready to go face the slightly more civilized cameras inside?"

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "Lead the way, Leclerc."

[deikshen]

Shen Yuan who lives his life being an absolute simp of some character from a random stallion novel—[character] is absolutely amazing! He has a harem of beauties! And also, a rich and wonderful story where he rises from the most vile and gains his power based on his efforts! If only the story had a little more worldbuilding and cool monsters, Shen Yuan would like it more. But. But there's [character] and definitely everything it's worth reading! He's smart, cunning, and strategic! And his adventures are GREAT! He faces incredible trials, and even though he collects wives as trophies, those wives are INTERESTING. The character development! The story! The harem drama!!!

So one day, Shen Yuan is just doing nothing, waiting for another update on his favorite read—it would be the last chapter!!! Finally a closure to the final dramatic arc!! And Shen Yuan hoped it would be a GOOD ENDING—, when a portal opens in his fucking apartment. After cursing, yelling, and scuttling away, a xianxia man clearly emerges. WHAT. THE. FUCK!?

The man is... what the hell? Shen Yuan thinks he knows him, in some weird way, like, maybe he's seen his face somewhere??? Any popular novel or thing that hasn't caught his attention but he KNOW is famous? What the fuck??

The xianxia man with an absolutely OP sword if he was able to open a FUCKING PORTAL THROUGH THE UNREALITY OF FICTION WHAT THE HELL looks at Shen Yuan with, first, doubt, and then, certainty.

"So, that's Shizun" says the xianxia man, grinning like a fucking nightmare cat, with many menacing teeth. "This Emperor is glad to see you again."

The only intelligent thing Shen Yuan can say is: "Who the hell are you?"

The xianxia man looks confused. He doesn't let that emotion dominate him. He advances in his room with firm steps, his dark robes billowing as he goes. He's clearly not fully human, from the red mark on his forehead, those pointy ears, those black claws...

Shen Yuan doesn't recognize a damn thing about the character. He knows he's famous, he knows it, but why can't he remember it...?

"This Emperor is Luo Binghe" he introduces himself simply, and Shen Yuan's jaw drops.

"No fucking way" is all Shen Yuan actually says, suddenly recognizing the name, and realizing why he'd never read anything more than skimmed about the character. And his sister had actively tried to get him to read it!! "You—... Luo Binghe like, the one from that danmei novel? What the fuck?"

Shen Yuan hadn't been interested at all. While Luo Binghe's character seemed minimally... intriguing... Danmei novel! He had nothing against gays, but why would he read a gay thing?? Besides, what were those relationships!! Transmigration with identity never revealed? Protagonist/Scum Villain?! Even worse, teacher/student?! Yes, Shen Yuan understood that things like age difference roleplay in fetish contexts were intriguing, he had read it in other novels, BUT STILL, it wasn't exactly a roleplay!!! One of them still believed his partner was immortal!!!

(... Shen Yuan may have read some summaries of the novel. Very superficially. Many years ago, when it was popular.)

"This Shizun recognizes me, then" Luo Binghe says, and Shen Yuan lets out an undignified horrified shriek.

"OH, NO, NO, I'M NOT YOUR SHIZUN" he moves away as quickly as he can. Luo Binghe, of course, chases after him. "I don't know what happened in your, err, world?, I don't know why you decided to appear here, but I'm not... Not..." And Shen Yuan has no idea how to explain himself. I'm not your, what? Your Shizun, your partner, your... husband?

Shen Yuan feels a chaotic chill run down his spine.

"Maybe not yet" Luo Binghe says, as if it were only natural. As if he hadn’t already opened a FUCKING PORTAL WITH HIS SWORD. Shen Yuan needs to calm down or he’ll hyperventilate. "If this Xiao Shizun meets this Emperor, perhaps this Emperor's story isn't over yet. It's when this one's story ends that Xiao Shizun will become Shizun. However, this Emperor has made sure to come first this time."

Shen Yuan... actually doesn't understand him at all.

"The story…" Shen Yuan hesitates, looking at Luo Binghe. The imposing man looks, well, obviously like a blackened ML icon, but, well. Weird. Powerful. "You... Do you know that you come from a story?"

That's disturbingly weird. Luo Binghe nods.

"This Lord has been informed" he explains simply. "Shizun, a kind Shizun, has informed this Emperor about everything. But Xiao Shizun doesn't have to worry. This Lord will be here, he will prevent Xiao Shizun's death tonight, and Xiao Shizun will come with this Emperor to his world."

Shen Yuan might be starting to get a bit of a migraine. What the... hell? What nonsense? Had interdimensional travel affected the ML's brain?

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Shen Yuan says confusedly. "Isn’t that Shizun your husband? Why do you want to take me with you? Aren't you like, happily married?"

It's Luo Binghe's turn to be confused. Fucking confused, it seemed, judging by his expression.

"From which novel does Xiao Shizun know this Lord?" Luo Binghe asks in an even dangerous tone of voice.

Shen Yuan has no idea what the name is. What he does: he searches for Luo Binghe on the internet and hands the smartphone and the results to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe holds the phone in absolute bewilderment, and as he reads, his expression twists into at least seven different forms of horror.

At least he doesn't break his screen with the black claws. Damn, that would have been horrible.

"This Lord understands," Luo Binghe says, his expression flat and absolutely blank. He gives the smartphone back to him and Shen Yuan quickly takes it back. "This Emperor has been wrong, again. Offering apologies."

Shen Yuan feels a little sorry for the interdimensional traveler who accidentally fell into his apartment. Okay, he hasn't read that danmei novel, but the protagonist's design is GREAT. The man also looks quite... dejected. As if the weight of the world had fallen off his shoulders.

"Oh, all right, it happens to the best too" he says, shrugging. The look Luo Binghe gives him is not reassuring. "Look, ah... I can't cook to save my life, but I ordered some stuffed baos for dinner in a nearby restaurant. They haven't left the kitchen yet, so I can order a couple more of them if you'd like to stay for dinner. It must be exhausting, you know, go through... worlds?"

Luo Binghe continues to look at him with a strange look. In fact, his gaze is getting more and more stranger.

"It would be a pleasure for this Lord" he says, raising both eyebrows. "Can this Lord get your name?"

"Shen Yuan," he says nonchalantly. He returns to his phone, grateful that his baos are still cooking and he can add more to the order. "I'll add more to the order. Err— Lord Luo prefer beef or pork?"

Luo Binghe doesn't reply. Shen Yuan adds one and one. And a few other things. Usually, he's content with a big stuffed bao, but perhaps his, uh, guest will eat more?

"Anything is fine," is Luo Binghe's reply, and Shen Yuan adds an extra order of soup and snacks as well. Ah. His order will take a while, but he hopes it will arrive in time for when the latest chapter of his favorite webnovel is uploaded.

... Although he doubts he'll be able to read it in peace if Luo-fucking-Binghe is still there. Well, he'll read it tonight, when he's already in bed.

"It may take a while" Shen Yuan says, bewildered, not knowing what to do. Ugh. He hates having visits. Does it count as visits if a fictional character basically invaded his property? Shen Yuan isn't going to go into much detail about that. "Eh, Lord Luo could... sit down? Make yourself comfortable? Make yourself at home meanwhile?"

Luo Binghe looks at him with a raised eyebrow. However, he does as Shen Yuan suggests and sits down. Shen Yuan turns his back on him, arranging the chair he knocked over and some of his mess made in the panic of seeing A FUCKING PORTAL OPENS OUT OF NOWHERE, wondering if he's finally gone completely crazy.

But it's there. Luo Binghe for some reason came to his house talking about Shizun and Xiao Shizun and knowing that he was in a story, and Shen Yuan is too confused to ask any questions. He has too many. He needs to sort out his thoughts.

"Shen Yuan looks nervous," Luo Binghe says, saying his name for the first time and almost making Shen Yuan react as if he had been stabbed. It's too much!! What the hell!? "Is this Lord intimidating to him?"

"So much for a, uh, love interest," he says, making an awkward face. "I haven't read the novel where are you from, sorry. I'm not completely familiar with... well, with how your personality can be. But... for arts and some things, I expected less, eh, intimidating, yeah."

He remembered many tears. And something about a lamb. NOT THIS.

Luo Binghe laughs. Incredibly, that's also intimidating.

"If Shen Yuan hasn't read this novel, what novels has he read?" Luo Binghe asks.

... Forty minutes later, as Shen Yuan rushes up to collect dinner from the door, he wonders how good an idea it is to completely infodump Luo Binghe about his current favourite stallion novel, And most of all, about [character], his absolute favorite protagonist. Nobody can't blame Shen Yuan!!! He... Never gets the chance to talk about his favorite things outside of the internet!! And he spoke: about the characters, their developments, he went into great depth about his complaints about the mediocre worldbuilding and the lack of interesting flora and fauna for such a vast cultivation world, but highlighted every good point in the plot. Given the ENORMOUS length of the novel, 40 minutes was just a summary!! Hardly anything!!

While they are having dinner, Luo Binghe insists on seeing [character]. He has a very intense expression when Shen Yuan runs straight to his room and comes back with one of his framed posters. What!? He's a fan, it's totally normal!! [Character] was an absolute power fantasy, a magnificent, admirable character!! Definitely!! It's normal that he has a lot of his posters! And fanmade figures! And commissioned art!! Totally normal!!!

Luo Binghe looks serious as Shen Yuan continues to talk about [character], deepening his tragic backstory, his difficult beginnings, how he had to rise through hatred and prejudice. How he discovered his heritage and power and how he achieved the glory he always deserved!!

And Luo Binghe asks many, many questions. He asks so many questions that, haha, Shen Yuan would think he was considering challenging [character] to a fight. But he- he definitely couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't, right? Well, with an OP sword like that capable of leaving its own reality, who knows!!

Dinner drags on because Shen Yuan talks too much. When it's finally over, he's actually not sure he wants to leave the poor love interest from that danmei novel adrift. Yes, he can go... But Shen Yuan isn't sure he's safe! He still looks very tired! He probably needs a good night's sleep! Besides, he ate too much! Crossing worlds on a full stomach might be bad for him!

Shen Yuan then prepares the guest bed and offers it to him. Usually, his Da-ge or Er-ge usually stays, or his Meimei, so the room is clean and suitable, and only when Shen Yuan is left alone after the long night does he notice that there is an notification that he had been waiting for on his smartphone.

YES! THE UPDATE!! Shen Yuan doesn't even make it to bed. He throws himself onto the sofa and quickly opens the door to read.

... Thirty minutes later, he's choking on rage. WHAT THE HELL? WHAT HAPPY ENDING WAS THAT? THE STALLION PROTAGONIST SIMPLY DECIDING, AFTER A LONG CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ARC OF ANOTHER UNNECESSARY NPC, THAT NOTHING MADE HIM HAPPY? LOCKING HIMSELF IN HIS PALACE AND SINKING WITH IT? WHAT WAS THAT? AND WHY?

Dumbfu—

Shen Yuan catches a glimpse of blue light at the edge of his eye before something catches him, repositioning him so he can breathe deeply without choking on his breath. The thing holding him up is, of course, the only other living thing in his apartment—a danmei character who helps him take a deep breath even with tears in the corners of his eyes, swallowing a little water, making him realize how choked he really had been.

"Is Shen Yuan alright?" Luo Binghe asks.

And all Shen Yuan can say, barely able to breathe on his own, is: "WHAT KIND OF CRAPPY ENDING IS THAT?"

Luo Binghe's gaze does not look surprised.

"Shen Yuan must be very upset" he says, as if this is nothing new. "So angry. Enough to choke on rage."

Shen Yuan pouts a little embarrassed. Oh, well. What does it matter?

"It really is a bad ending" he complains, and tells him.

In the end, Luo Binghe agrees that it's a shitty ending. Luo Binghe proves genuinely interested in hearing Shen Yuan's opinions, but also in providing solutions and arguments. He's a fun person to talk to. They talk about better endings, how the protagonist's emptiness could have been fixed, and how sometimes a single bond could be enough instead of a harem, until Shen Yuan starts yawning.

When Shen Yuan falls asleep that night, for the first time, even surrounded by posters and pictures of his favorite character, he is not thinking of him, but of Luo Binghe.

(In the morning, Shen Yuan will be given a breakfast that Luo Binghe made—the most exquisite thing in the absolute fucking world—and will try to talking about all that other world stuff, about how he had made a mistake again, or Shizun and Xiao Shizun thing. Luo Binghe evades his questions very well and always makes an excuse to stay longer and longer as the days go by, his novel guest basically takes over his kitchen, takes the guest room hostage, and takes the control about the cleanliness and order of the apartment. Shen Yuan worries a little, after all, isn't Luo Binghe very peaceful here away from that husband of his? Didn't the internet say their relationship was very codependent? What is he missing out on there?

... And why does he notice more and more of his favorite character's merch missing every day? Binghe has been cleaning, yes, but why would he take his stuff away!?)

[lay-z]

Simon Riley appreciates a healthy routine.

Neither Gaz nor Soap can quite tell what is stranger their Lieutenant declining to go for a pint after touching ground back on base or the sight of him furiously typing away on the cracked screen of his phone since they got some proper cell service.

They keep sitting in their respective seats on the plane, quietly observing Ghost and Captain Price for the past hours like they're some nearly extinct animals they shouldn't dare to startle; trying to gauge the latter's reaction, though that hint of a knowing smile barely hidden behind a coarse beard is only confusing them more.

It's as if Price has found the answer to a riddle that his Sergeants aren't even fully aware of.

Almost immediately, they lose sight of the sneaky Lieutenant as soon as the plane lands on the tarmac and once the tired soldiers receive permission to sign out for a long weekend after spending the last eight weeks deployed, travelling places no one else wants to go.

And of course, the lads think that Ghost has simply had enough of their bullshite, that the naturally aloof man is feeling too agitated and overwhelmed to linger, even though the mission was finished successfully. Perhaps he made arrangements with some working lady to get it out of his system (Soap's words, "Who else would the bloody geezer be textin' to, eh?"), or perhaps he's already being called in for a single op by Laswell.

They don't see the signs their Captain has picked up on a while ago when it comes to the closed-off Lieutenant.

The hushed phone conversations behind a closed office door, the more frequent rummaging for a phone that he usually didn't spare a glance at for hours on end, a spring in his step after suddenly spending more weekends off base, eating homemade biscuits from a Tupperware box that surely isn't his while doing his paperwork, pushing himself harder at the gym with a kind of natural energy that comes with higher testosterone levels, humming on his way back from a terrible training session with a squadron of rookies.

Yes, the signs are all quite obvious to a happily married man like John Price, because he remembers the honeymoon phase with his wife in the beginning of their relationship all too well.

Meanwhile, Simon manages the one hour long drive from base to your flat downtown in 37 minutes, and he takes the fact that he got caught speeding in stride. And what if he loses his driver's license? He's broken much worse laws in his lifetime than driving without legal documents.

The spare key to your home that you've gifted him with, feels heavier than all his tac gear combined as it rests in his jeans pocket heavy with meaning and responsibility, a reminder that he's found a new purpose in his life.

He sheds and leaves his gear and dirty fatigues in his truck, and he takes three steps at once as he rushes upstairs to your flat with single-minded focus, excitement and adrenaline equally coursing through his veins as if he's about to seize a hostile target by himself.

The familiar front door closes behind him with a soft click, and then he's greeted by peace and quiet.

Instead of finding fear or annoyance, Simon is met by raw happiness and adoration as he watches your eyes light up once you notice his presence all curled up and cozy on your couch.

"Hi!"

His socked feet make no noise as he approaches you over the carpeted floor.

"I didn't expect you for another hour," you tell him, even though he very well remembers what time he'd told you he'd arrive, though he had added two hours to that time frame just so he wouldn't disappoint you if he didn't make it.

"Your dinner is ah!"

Simon picks you up with practiced ease, and your little shriek of surprise dissolves in a fit of melodic giggles. Bulky arms wrap around your body and cradle you to his chest bridal style as he carries you towards the bedroom with simmering urgency.

The words he mumbles as explanation come out gruff and harsh, oafish even, but you can't help and feel utterly smitten by them: "Bed. Now."

You're dropped onto the mattress without warning, and the way you laugh again makes Simon's chest hurt with how hard his bloody heart flutters.

And then you're already reaching out for him right when he joins you, mattress dipping beneath his added weight as he drapes himself over the full length of your body; slotting his meaty thigh between your legs until he can lay down more comfortably on top of you like a weighted blanket.

"Can you rub my shoulders? Please?"

His voice is muffled as he nuzzles his flushed face in the crook of your neck. Sometimes, it still feels forbidden to ask for something so mundane from the person he would die for.

"Yeah, sure. Can I take off your mask?"

You can carve out his heart with a butter knife if you'd like, but he chooses to keep that to himself for now while the fact that you're asking for his consent again makes his head feel fuzzy and his arms tighten around your warm, welcoming frame reflexively.

Simon nods. "Aye, take it off f'me."

The cloth is gently removed when he manages to lift his head up before letting it drop back into the crook of your neck, and then your fingers card through his short, disheveled strands of dirty blonde hair; blunt nails scratching lightly at his skull until a full-body shudder runs along his spine.

It's heavenly.

It's more than he ever wanted and everything he never even dared to wish for.

It's a routine he's managed to build up with you from scratch.

Strangers to lovers, and he will never let you go now that he's sunken his sharpened claws into your willing flesh.

Yet he is but a tamed kitten in your tender embrace. Just a man enjoying and craving the simplest and purest form of affection right in this moment, stripped bare from his demons as you keep them off his back with your sheer, golden presence.

"You're safe now, Si. I missed you so much, baby," you coo into his ear, and his brain fills with cotton while he noses along your pulse point, breathing in your calming scent.

Then he feels the gentle press of your lips against his temple while your warm palms stroke and rub along his back, and he melts into a vulnerable puddle, exhausted eyes finally fluttering shut.

"Missed ya, too, pet," he murmurs gruffly, chapped lips brushing over your sensitive skin. "M'not gonna move f'a while, yeah?"

And Simon barely registers your answer when he's already drifting off into a dreamless slumber, allowing himself to cling to your body like a needy child while soaking up the warmth and comfort you're giving him oh so willingly.

He's home.

[lilacthebooklover]

It's giving

woah-ho-ho-dude don't mean to alarm you or anything but has anyone ever told you that you've got some pretty beautiful majestic gorgeous eyes right there just a pair of completely absolutely striking ocular organs you've got in there man like jesus those are some pretty stunning irises dude like wow man

[nerdygirlramblings]

cw: poorly executed accents, technological inaccuracies

previous

Over the week between Laswell requesting you go off your scent blockers and the charity event, the barracks slowly carries lingering traces of sun-ripened berries and arid soil, your natural scent. The team is entranced. It hasn't escaped any of them how well your scent compliments theirs. You and Gaz smell like all the best parts of springtime. Simon's sharp acidic scent is tempered by your sweetness. When you and Soap are together, it's hard not to picture seaside picnics. And when Price is in the room with you, the others are remembering crisp, cozy autumn days.

Your natural scent grows as the blockers work their way out of your system, as does your control over it. "How'd ya learn that, Ren?" Price asks one night, back to you as he stirs his tea. As soon as you picked up on his steps, the strawberry sweetness in the air decreased.

The couch creaks as you shift to face him, turning away from the dossiers on the low table in front of you. "After I presented, Dad used ta pull me inta the kitchen for lessons. He told me ta picture my scent like the dials on an equalizer. Taught me how I could ground myself ta turn the volume down on any particular smell. Especially how I could dampen things like fear. And, of course, how to project certain scents."

Your eyes leave his face, looking at the wall instead. "Being an omega in the service is hard, so I used the blockers because conscious scent manipulation takes a bunch of energy, and I wanted ta focus my energy on the job." You drop your voice and whisper, "And I didn't want ta spend all my energy on something that essentially soothed an alpha's ego."

He comes over and sits with you. "Well, if ya choose, after this op, ya don't need ta go back on 'em. Ya don't gotta protect me and Ghost." He grins and bumps your shoulder, and if he's hoping that you off your blockers means the pack can have a proper scenting, he gives nothing away.

The night of the op finds you in a fancy hotel room somewhere in St. James, several floors above the charity event. You're set up into adjoining rooms: one for you and one for the rest of the team. The other room will serve as the communication hub while you and Gaz - because Price saw how your scent was affecting Soap, the doe eyes he turned on you when you weren't paying attention, and didn't trust him to be able to focus on the op if he were at your side - go to the auction to find Arella.

You'd gone shopping with Adam several days before, under Kate's orders to get appropriate attire. The dress he put you in is more extravagant than anything you would ever have selected, but after a few quick photos to Kate who deemed it perfect, it was off the rack and in your hands. Strapless with a fitted bodice with enough structure to hold you and a skirt that flowed like water, except because it's steel grey, it moves more like liquid metal. There's a sizable slit, up to your thigh but is mostly hidden in the folds of silky fabric, which allows you quick access to the tiny holster you strapped there.

Fashion was never something you were interested in, so Adam took it upon himself to find some simple YouTube makeup tutorials, then made sure you had all the necessary products. You were annoyed about the hassle with the makeup, so Adam made sure the hair tutorial was simple yet elegant and didn't require a mountain of products to pull off.

Though you were going in without scent blockers, Kate didn't plan to risk you, even with the support of a beta, to an alpha's teeth. She had Adam buy the most intricate collar necklace you'd ever seen. Geometrically structured with metal rods, it seemed more like a piece of art than a piece of jewelry. When you draped it across your neck and collarbone, it prevented an alpha from getting his teeth on your scent gland but still allowed you to project your scent unencumbered.

Being undercover didn't allow for the traditional communication hardware, so the boys had come up with an ingenious pair of earrings whose large geometric wrap both matched the necklace and served as an earpiece. They also fitted a mic into the structure of your necklace. The whole task force would be with you all night.

When you finish getting dressed and fixing both hair and makeup to the best of your ability to follow Adam's selected videos, you knock on the door between the room you'd been assigned and where the rest of your pack task force is preparing. You need both your escort and your comms before you head for the lift.

An hour later and you're on your second circuit of the room, Gaz at your elbow, holding your drink. There will be some expectation to drink while you're here, but Price had taught you ways to make it look like you were drinking or as though you did not need a refill during those trainings at the pubs around base. Static crackles in your ear and you hear Price's baritone come through as if he were standing beside you. You've practiced not reacting when the comms go off, but you're still a little startled. "No sign of Arella yet, but Spinner's on the far side a' the room, left a' the bar but looking out on the dance floor."

Neither you nor Gaz is in a position to see him, so Gaz lightly takes your hand and guides you toward the balcony door with a hand low on your back. It allows you both to get quick glimpses of the man, older, polished, and with a petite blonde dressed in ice white standing very close. Though you're too far to see any potential mating mark, she's wearing a collar necklace not dissimilar to yours.

"I think Spinner's got an omega with him," you say. "I might be able ta get information from her if I get her alone. "

"Appreciate the initiative, Ren," price rumbles, "but she's not our priority. Technically, neither's Spinner, but it's good ta keep eyes on 'im just in case." He pauses momentarily before coming over the comms again with, "Not going ta tell ya not to talk ta her if the situation arises, but stay on mission."

"Copy that, Captain," you respond.

Waiting for Arella gets frustrating especially as you watch people continually approach Spinner, who's taken up residence at a high top table on the outskirts of the party. You snatch the champagne flute from Gaz's hand and quickly tip the contents back. Squaring your shoulders, you look at him and say, "Dance wi' me." For a moment all he does is look at you, and you can't read the emotion in his eyes. You power through and tell him, "If we're dancing, we can get closer ta Spinner's table and pick up snatches of conversation. "

Pulling back, you search his face. "I know ya've got the hardware on yer phone ta clone Arella's device with some prolonged exposure, but is it possible fer it ta pick up short bursts a' data off other phones it's near?"

Gaz looks at you in awe. "Ren, that's brilliant! Cap, ya hear that suggestion?"

"Affirmative," Price replies, "but I'll be damned if I understand it."

"Just get the systems on yer end ready fer a massive data dump. It's gunna be fragmentary. Laswell's analysts are gunna have a hell of a time going through it. We may need ta send them some whiskey and good cigars, but honestly, if this pans out even a little bit, we'll be able to get a ton a' information on the kinds of people Spinner's meeting with. Maybe Arella's is not the only one who's dirty."

Once they get to go ahead from Price, Gaz pulls you close and takes to the dance floor. You'd learned how to dance once, long ago, but it's clear this man is trained. He waltzes you through the crowd near to the edge where Spinner's settled, and you hope to hell this idea works.

next

an: this is sort of what I envisioned for Ren's necklace, but more modernist straight lines

series masterlist | main masterlist

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden @mordacioust @bina-passion-fruit @kittygonap @wanderingoperator @ghost-is-my-bbg @wolfbc97

[princeoftheeternalbog]

OP characters reacting to you kissing them and running away (here's part 2) established relationship ish. Feel free to ask for other characters.

ALSO I've definitely seen another creator who did this idea with op characters but I can't remember who so if someone could tell me I would really love to credit them :(. I tried to make mine different but still it's the principal of it.

Slightly suggestive in some parts so mdni.

Luffy

Thinks its a new game like tag but with kisses and it ends up actually becoming one. You'll both wait for the other to become distracted and then you'll strike, planting a kiss and sprinting off around the ship or the island you're docked at. It's not hard to chase after each other because the trails of laughter are so easy to follow and it always ends up with one of you on the floor from a tackle or something similar.

Zoro

Gobsmacked. Genuinely his jaw drops especially if there's other people there and you get away so easily only because of how long it takes his brain to boot back online. Oh but he doesn't let it go. He waits until you're in a similar situation, either talking to someone or doing work and he sneaks up to pull you into a deep, intense kiss that leaves your knees weak. Like he fully puts the moves on you, hand on your lower back, other hand cradling your jaw, hes literally licking into your mouth and then he just disappears for the rest of the day. Asshole.

Sanji

You are not running away from this man. Not in a scary way but he can't do just one short kiss, as soon as you're leaning in his hands settle firm on your hips and that grip is not something you can wiggle out of. You can try to run away but he just laughs at you and pulls you closer to him, ofc he would let go if you actually wanted him to but he knows what you're trying to pull. Says something like "Oh? Trying to run darlin? How sweet." swoon- Just don't even bother, he will always try to win if your affection is involved.

Nami

Honestly thinks nothing of it. A lot of your affection is sweet but quick because yk pirate life. But if you look disappointed from her lack of reaction then she catches on quickly and starts playing along. So sweet even though she can be scary. Oh but don't try to run if she's initiating, like Sanji you aren't going to get out of her grip. If she wants to shower you with affection, she is going to thank you very much. If you do manage to slip away she's surprisingly quick and surprisingly stealthy. Like you'll think you got away and you walk into a room and she drops down from the ceiling like fucking batman.

(maybe not that dramatic but shes good)

Robin

She lets you run away but only because she knows she could summon a mouth to kiss you at any time and in any place so she's content knowing she always wins. Also thinks it's really cute when you try to rile her up like this, she just finds it so endearing and usually ends up playing into it anyways- "My, my, aren't you getting so bold my love". Sometimes will purposefully trip you up while you're doing these antics so you can't get away or so your plan is ruined, absolutely pretends she has no idea what you're talking about.

Usopp

Highly likely he was doing something when it happened. Highly likely he dropped something onto his foot as a result. Yowls like an injured cat and then when his brain catches up it's like steam comes out of his ears. Stands there with his mouth open and pointing at you like you betrayed his entire family. Very funny and very cute. Also a possibility of him smacking you out of fearful instinct in which case he'd probably cry his eyes out and beg for forgiveness. Nami makes it worse by punching him in the face for hitting you. A mess all around if you get him at the wrong time so just be careful.

Ace

Immediately sprinting after you, it's actually a bit scary. But like hey he's not letting you get away with just one measly little peck on the cheek. Absolutely nobody on the crew helps you unless it would be funny, i.e. someone tripping Ace up so he faceplants. If it's near the beginning of your relationship then you likely go back out of concern which he takes as a chance to catch you, but if it's later then you already know this man's antics and you know he wouldn't be injured just from tripping so you use it as an opportunity to get away💪. You still have to kiss it better later though when hes whining to you about how cruel you are for leaving him in the dust(he would do the same).

Izou

Don't bother. As soon as you turn he snatches you by the back of your collar and pulls you onto his lap, proceeds to resume his conversation like nothing is wrong but his arms are firm around your waist and his cheeks and ears are a particularly pretty shade of red. Once his conversation is over and the other person has left, he turns his attention to you with a very pointed look. He's not actually irritated but if he enjoys watching you squirm that's his business. "If you wanted a kiss you should've just asked my love" and then he's practically devouring your mouth. Doesn't care about the other people in the vicinity. Doesn't care that he's smudging his lipstick. Just wants to fluster you more than you flustered him.

Marco

Do you even want to run away from this man lets be real- anyways.

If he's doing work then he just laughs and lets you get away with it, tallys it in his head for later, but if he's free and hes in a good mood then he absolutely plays into it. Will chase after you. Will cheat by using his powers. Its a bit scary but also very attractive, somehow ends with him pinning you in some way (☺️), looks very smug when he wins. Like you'll end up flat on your back, legs trapped under his and his hands restraining yours and he's just grinning- "Oh what a surprise. You were so easy to catch-yoi" Yeah yeah shut up. Absolutely asks what his reward is just to see your shocked face (absolutely asks again later when you two are alone).

Sabo

VILLAIN!!!!!! Sorry only way i can describe how devious and obsessed this man would be. Like Izou he tries to snatch you immediately but you planned for this so you manage to spring out of his grip in time. You falter a bit at his reaction then because he just blinks at you for a while. You start to feel a bit nervous and when he finally grins at you, you definitely feel nervous. "Playing like that are we honey? How about I give you a headstart then?" Evil. You know he's going to catch you. He knows he's going to catch you. He's just giving you false hope but yk hope is hope so you take the chance.

You don't get far. It's not even fair how quickly he catches up to you and gets you underneath him, it takes him barely any effort, not even a strand of hair is out of place. Spends the next 10 minutes kissing you on the floor of the hallway until Koala comes back and promptly drags him back into his office.

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[confluence-and-drift]

Preserving these tag for posterity:

Because you're absolutely correct.

I think almost all of the environmental case against AI is factually incorrect fear mongering, or "misinformation"

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Don't Do That To Me - 1

PAIRINGS: Captain John Price x Techie!Reader

SUMMARY: What happens when your recklessness almost costs you your life? Will John regret putting an end to your "hush-hush" relationship? Will he even care?

WARNINGS: A pinch of angst, inaccuracies of military operations, inaccuracies of hacking, and John being a silent simp.

WORD COUNT: 2,252 (Yeah, it's a lot for me 😅)

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

You take off your vest and put it on the 7-year-old boy who trembles in fear. Your hand itching to take a hold of the gun that’s pocketed in your thigh holster, you turn to look at Soap and Gaz as they do the rest of the sweep of the warehouse.

You look back at the boy and place a hand on his shoulder, “You are ok, we will get you out.” He nods shakily at your statement, and his mother wraps her arms around him tighter as they huddle near the window.

You get up from your crouch position and walk over to Gaz, who has just entered the room. “Found it?” you ask hopefully to which Gaz nods. “You’re lucky it’s a portable one,” he replies and hands you the Toughbook. Your eyes widen as you take it immediately and place it on the nearby desk and you flip it open and start typing away.

Your fingers work mindlessly as you concentrate hard.

You hear Soap talk to Gaz regarding something about communications being jammed, you don’t remember when Soap walked in.

“Guys, wait, this Toughbook controls some satellite connections within, like, a three-mile radius,” you stop and turn and look at the two sergeants.

Soap walks forward and leans over your shoulder to get a better look at your screen, “Looks like gibberish to me, bonnie.” You huff slightly and turn back to the toughbook, “I can try to reconnect the comms back to Captain, I just need-,”

“Go ahead,” Gaz says while looking at the hostages. You hear him walking to stand on the other side of you, “why did you give up your vest.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

A statement to you stupidity.

You, yourself, wouldn’t call it ‘stupidity’ per se.

You would call it your everlasting kindness.

Even though that boy’s father may have info on some plans that maybe the solid scheme to breaking out Makarov, the boy is still a child. A child shouldn’t be harmed for what his father has committed.

You tell your whole pity story to Gaz, and he just rolls his eyes and mutters something like “reason why you’re a techie and not a soldier”.

You roll your own eyes and elbow his thigh.

You type for a while longer until you’re so sure that your work was right and click “Enter”.

***

John hears the static come through and he sits straighter in his chair, so does Ghost. “Team?” he says into the mic in front of him.

“Hear you loud and clear, Captain.” Your voice pulls through and he almost sighs in relief.

Almost

“Copy, Sergeant.” He sinks back into his chair and listens as Soap gives in the summary of what has happened and the hostages, they have in their keeps.

John and Simon are stationed at base, by Laswell’s orders, to stay put and help the team through comms. So, they both, along with Laswell and other military grade personnel, sit in the meeting room looking at the various screens hooked on the wall.

John’s focus was primarily on his own Toughbook as he sees the intel you’re sending over from your side.

For him it feels like yesterday.

Yesterday, when he held you in his arms.

Yesterday, when he kissed you senseless.

Yesterday, when you said you loved him.

Yesterday, when he fucked you good and held you while your slept in each other’s arms.

Yesterday, when you both argued about the fact your relationship was a secret.

Yesterday, when you stopped talking to him.

He hated himself for trying to put an end to what you both had. He tried to wish you luck before the OP but Soap told him that you didn’t want to talk to Price, something about “getting her head straight and in focus.”

Now, you’re on the field, your fingers smacking on some keyboard of some Toughbook and send him the intel on whatever you can get your hands on.

His eyes caught something on one of the screens.

One of the techie’s has somehow managed to get a street camera that’s angled to the window of the warehouse you, Soap and Gaz are currently in.

“Sergeant’s, we got eyes on the hostage, through a window. Over,” Laswell’s says into the table mic.

A second later Soap’s face pops on the screen, and John’s brow’s twitch.

You’re in there, somewhere.

He straightens his face again; he can’t let the board know that he was (ex-)fucking the most talented Technical Sergeant he’s ever had to work with.

Soap and Laswell converse over the comms, but John’s eyes are focused on the screen as he see’s Soap step away from the window.

Then he sees it…The red dot

***

You finalise you’re typing and see the loading bar as it slowly increases per second.

“Laswell, the data is slowly being transferred over to your database, over.” You press on to the comms as you convey your message to your Chief Officer.

You turn around to see the child and his mother again.

And that when you spot it…The red dot.

“Shit, kill the lights,” you whisper-yell to Gaz. Gaz furrows his eyebrows at your words and the way you crouch. You nod at the mother, at the one, then two, then three red dots appear on her body.

Snipers

You hear Gaz and Soap swear and get their guns ready, and one of them shuts the lights off.

“Laswell, we got a situation here.” You hear Soap’s static words through the earpiece.

Gaz tells you and Soap to stay put as he exits the room. You hear Laswell and John swear. Firstly, your heart stutters at John’s voice (but you quickly push that feeling aside). Secondly, you turn to see the son witness what’s on his mother’s body and soon screams.

“Hey, buddy. Eyes on me,” you cringe first at his shrill tone, then you whisper and calmly wave him over. He shook his head, but you’re assuming his mother knew what was happening and slowly convinced him to come towards you.

When he reaches you, you tighten your vest on him and give him a reassuring look.

Soon there’s some static and a new voice is heard, a distorted voice with a bit of an Arabic accent.

“Hand us the boy.”

You look at Soap, and he looks at you.

“Hand us the boy, and no one gets hurt.”

You go to click on your comms, and Soap stops you as he shakes his head.

“Let me,” you whisper back, Soap sighs and let’s go of your wrist shaking his head because he knows that he can’t stop you.

You nod and click and hold onto your comms button, “You’d willingly hurt your wife?” You look back at the woman, she clutches onto her hijab as she silently mutters her prayers.

“No questions, just hand us the boy. We won’t kill you if you do,” the voice replies.

***

John clenches his jaw as he hears the voice threaten you.

He hates that you are in this situation, he hates the fact he can’t be there to actually see what or how you are doing.

***

“Look, to whoever this is, there’s no way we are returning the boy. And there is no way you are killing his mother,” you say sternly into the comms.

Soap paces with his grip on his rifle tight as ever, he listens as you talk into the comms and make sure the voice on the other side is aware that you are not giving up.

You rub at your forehead as you sit on the floor and share a look of sympathy with the woman whose life is on the line.

***

Thirty-Five minutes.

That’s how long it has been since the start of their incident.

“What’s the plan, Cap,” Ghost’s rough voice breaks John out of reverie.

He turns slightly to face the man in the skull mask, “can’t really say without being there. If only-.”

Laswell cuts him off.

“No John, I was never gonna let you go on the operation. I knew the beef you have with the kid’s father. You would let you anger blind you,” she says in her boss voice.

He opens his mouth to say something, but she raises her hand to silence him. “Maybe not by lot, but at least by a little bit John.”

He keeps quiet at that.

Because he knows that its true.

He also knowns that if something to you, he will never forgive himself, and hunt down the person behind the distorted voice.

He grumbles as he crosses his arms as he eyes the screen of the live camera footage.

***

“What are we going to do,” Soap says as he stays vigilant. You are not physically vigilant you’re stuck in the middle as you rub your temples, your mind being the extremely vigilant one.

“We have to make a distraction, also where the hell is Gaz-?” Your voice gets cut off but the distorted voice again.

“Time’s up, shot’s being taken,” the static breaks through your earpiece and your heart drops.

Soap looks at you and you look at Soap with your eyes widening.

“No!” you yell and run to the window and push the woman aside and take her place instead, the red dots now covering your form.

***

The voice cuts through the speakers and the words make John become alert.

The meaning behind them, makes everyone in the board room sit straighter and murmurs go around the room.

Then his heart drops.

He sees you push the woman away and stand in front of the window yourself.

The first time he sees you after a long time, is when your life is at risk.

He stands up abruptly, and while he moves to the screen, his throat closing as he sees the red dots being aimed at your head.

“Laswell, act now,” he turns and dips his head as his voice drops an octave.

Laswell sees the seriousness in his face and begins to throw out orders, and people start running around.

John, however, stays put.

He watches your face, the face he’d caresses every night when you spend the nights in one another’s bed.

“Don’t do that, princess,” he mutters to himself as he feels his headache at the pressure in him.

***

You hand slightly trembles as you make eye contact with the street camera Laswell was talking about.

You breathe out shakily.

“The hell you’re doin’, Lass,” Soap whisper yells at you.

You ignore him and press on the comms, “you have me now.”

The distorted voice fills the caves of your mind as it chuckles, “even better.”

The sound of the gunshot rents the air

***

“No,” John mutters as his breath gets caught in his chest and walks closer to the screen as he hears the gunshot too.

He’s breathing becomes laboured.

A few seconds later, there’s static through the comms.

“Hostile eliminated, I repeat, Hostile eliminated,” Gaz voice pours in through the speakers.

Never in his life, has John let out the biggest sigh of relief.

***

You hear Gaz’s word through the plastic in your ear and start laughing, you laugh at the thought of losing your life a second ago.

“Gaz, you fucker, I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you,” you let your voice take over the comms.

***

It’s been half a day since Gaz took down the person behind the distorted voice.

Turns out the voice belongs to the best friend of the main man you wanted info on, but thanks to Gaz, you don’t have to worry about much in the moment.

The helicopter touches down so cleanly it takes you out of your train of thought.

Soap pats you knee and gives a friendly smile before hopping out, and you do the same.

The duffle bag digs into your shoulder as you tap away at your phone, recollecting every single aspect of the mission. It’s your thing, to nitpick a mission after you’re done with it.

You finally look up and make eye contact with a specific pair of cold blue eyes.

You stutter in your step as you watch him take off the familiar boonie at the sight of you. You nod at him in politeness (as much politeness could be covered in a sergeant and captain relationship) before turning and walking away.

***

You body just sinks into the sofa, and you sigh.

“Yup, definitely needed this,” you adjust the strap of your tank top and tug at the hem of your shorts to prevent the incoming wedgie.

You grab your bucket of ice cream and spoon off from your coffee table and resume the show you mindless put on.

But before you could press play, there’s a knock on your apartment door.

You groan at feeling off your relaxation being taken away at the last moment.

You set your things on the table again and get up to walk to your front door.

At this point you want to tell the person to ‘piss off’, and that is the plan when you open the door.

But when you open door, there are no words coming from you.

The 6 foot something man stands with his head dipped and his eyes solemn on you, the bouquet of your favourite tulips in his hands don’t even hold your attention.

It was his eyes.

The eyes that belonged to John Price.

🎀🎀🎀

Hey Lovelies!

Here we are babygirls, the first fic for my delicious and yummy man, John Price.

Legit was inspired by that one scene in Scandal, legit Tom Goldwyn is so hot like a DILF 😌.

Also, don't mind the diabolical amount of mistakes, this is a result of my doom-scrolling and a bit of late-night urge for productivity.

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!

Also....

Lemme know what y'all think!

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[tactical-jellyfish]

Wisdom Teeth (drabble)

I've been mean to y'all. Too much angst. Take some fluff for the winter (me having a test this week)

Warnings!: Wisdom tooth removal. Bloody spit, at one point reader is in enough pain to verbally request an opioid pill. Pain and pain medication. Fluffy <3 prob leads up to poly, they're fruitcakes about it.

The SAS teams have had to pause ops for a wide, wide range of reasons. The odd health complication is very much among them.

That being said, Price never thought he would have to pause a mission because one of his star players got a wisdom tooth infected.

You had been off on Tuesday, chewing on only one side of your mouth and not drinking anything that was even a little hotter than room temp.

Kyle gave you funny looks for it, but that was all.

Wednesday, you didn't leave your room for much at all, but that was fine. Resting up before an op wasn't uncommon. Simon did it all the time.

However, at some point between you disappearing and Johnny saying he heard crying from your room all bets were off.

The door was kicked in, to reveal a grown sergeant, teary-eyed and crying a little as they clutched their cheek with a hand.

Kyle was already at your side, trying to coax you to open your mouth for some painkillers. It wasn't working well.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You cried a little before the surgery. Maybe out of nervousness, maybe out of pain, but the nice nurse was kind enough to ignore it as she explained that you would be waking up in a few hours down four whole teeth.

She explained it to you as you sat in the stupid fucking chair, she repeated it as she gently tucked a I.V. with a small blister containing medicine into the veins of your arm.

"Alright, first the anti-anxiety drug will be administered, okay?"

She doesn't wait for your confirmation, but gently pats your shoulder and continues.

"You should start to feel a bit fuzzy, then, you'll sleep."

It takes a few sickening seconds for you to actually feel the drugs kicking in. You want to get out of this chair, to scream at something.

You never liked the dentist.

But then... the world starts to fade out. It's like you're being locked out of your body as your mind turns itself off.

You hear her counting with the surgeon–a much more awkward woman, though no less polite.

Three.

Two.

On-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The waking up is slow, and messy.

Cotton pads lie in either of your cheeks, and you can't do much but oblige as the nurse gently coaxes you into a wheelchair, giving instructions to the bearded man who's standing in the corner.

"Make sure they don't sleep for at least a couple hours, okay? I know it'll be hard, but try to have them keep pressure on the site."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remember the usual course, and we're also giving you five opioid pills. Only in case it gets really bad."

"Affirmative."

You know this voice, but when you see the boonie hat and the slightly furrowed brows, a spark of muffled recognition fires off beneath the haze of anesthetic and misery.

"...Old man."

Your voice is slurred, foreign to even you at this point, but he seems to know it, because he sighs frustratedly before taking the chair by the handles and steering your down the hallway out.

"I swear to- mgh, olright. Better than Soap at least."

You're loaded into the back seat of the car with the most basic consideration.

Dumped in like a sack of flour, actually. Your butt hurts now, but there's Kyle.

He snorts when he sees you, reaches forward to wipe whatever is dripping from the corner of your mouth.

It's bloody spit, but he doesn't seem surprised.

The car ride back to base is quiet, but Kyle keeps you awake.

Beyond that, there's nothing you can remember. Not till the next morning.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny is perched at your bedside, scrolling through his phone until he sees your eyes blearily opening, hears your groaning as you recognize a new pain in your cheeks, and he gently coaxes your mouth open to take out the bloody gauze.

"Och, there ye are, bonnie wee thing. You look like an eejit, just thought ye needed to know."

Your tired glare is met with a laugh, but followed shortly by a pat to the shoulder.

"A'hm kiddin', leannan. Just jokin' with ye. Brought ye breakfast."

He holds up a small container of yogurt, shakes it like one would cat treats to entice a stray. You grimace as much as your painfully swollen cheeks allow, but when you open your mouth to tell him off, there's a sharp twinge that makes you close it.

This seems to earn Johnny's sympathies, because he gently guides you so you're sitting up on the bed, holding one of your shaky hands as he peels back the foil on the cup.

"Easy. Still fresh, aye?"

Your wet-eyed nod is met with a sympathetic huff.

"Aye. Dinnae fash. I'll help ye."

You should smack him for implying that you need help eating yogurt, of all things, but... you kind of do need the help.

Your body is still lethargic, sluggishly stumbling through its tasks with hazy edges and poor motor control.

He raises a glass of water to your lips, and has you take a few sips.

Breakfast takes a long time, but before you fall asleep again, he gently sets a painkiller in your mouth, and tells you to swallow.

When you do, he smiles, and bends down to kiss your forehead while you drift back off.

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So, here's something you didn't know before getting your wisdom teeth out.

You can't swallow for a couple days.

It's gross, yeah, but you're supposed to drool out the bloody spit in your mouth, so you don't get dry socket.

Thankfully, Kyle is there for this.

He sweeps your hair back as much as possible (to the point of getting bobby pins from the corner store for the baby hairs), and rubs your back as you drool out your toothpaste.

"I feel disgusting."

"I know, luv. You're not gonna feel good for a while."

Still, his mother's cure is the only thing he trusts himself enough to use on you. Warm, salty water. A childhood staple.

He's sympathetic to your plights, rubbing your back again as you clumsily swish it by turning your head to the sides, cheeks too swollen to move properly.

"Good job. One more."

A firm, warm hand pats your back again as you "spit" (if you can even call it that) for the final time, offering a sweet smile just for you.

"Perfect. Now you can lay back again, yeah? Nice n' easy."

You're not suffering like you were yesterday. It's new.

Your motor function is back, just sluggish.

No, no, your biggest issue right now is the swelling. Your cheeks were so puffy it hurt, and you had them on ice as often as you could.

This is where you have to thank the lord for John Price. Your captain, distant as he can be, must have at least three sets of cheek-size ice pads, because every time you come into your room, there's a new, fresh set waiting for you.

Kyle gently guides you to sit in your bed, offering a sympathetic smile as he eases you backward until you hit the pillow-ramp Johnny had built so your head would be upright.

"You wanna sleep, luv?"

"No."

Your voice is still quiet, limited by your stupid cheeks, but he smiles anyway, and sits next to you.

"You wanna hang out, then?"

"Yes."

The afternoon is good, for you.

Kyle is there. The whole time.

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Of course, every surgery comes with the odd fuck-up.

No one should be up, but you're going insane with pain.

It's a sharp, stabbing thing, focused in the gum of your lower right jaw. Almost as sharp as the tooth's initial infection, but more than enough to bring significant distress.

Simon is an odd man, and you two have never been the closest, but when he opens your door in a t-shirt and boxers, you don't even care a little bit.

"Wha's happenin'?"

The Mancunian gruffs concernedly at you, watching as you hold your cheek and shakily take in vain breath in the hopes of calming yourself.

"Get an opioid, Lt. Please."

"Fawk."

Right after that, he's off like a horse to the races, and you're in the silence again, holding your cheek as you try to ignore the way your eyes swim with tears that you refuse to shed.

It's a mercifully short two minutes, even if it feels like half an hour.

Simon's hands are gentle, opening your jaw and setting the horse-pill on your tongue, looking into your wet eyes as he raises the glass to your lips.

"I know, I know. Jus' swallow."

He stays with you as you pant for the breath you've lost, wide, scarred hands on your shoulders.

He exaggerates his own breathing so you see the clear rise and fall of his chest. His lips lose their frown as you slowly start to mimic it.

The dispersal of the pain med is fast, thank goodness, but then Simon has a tired you to deal with, still trembling in the fingers from the sudden spike of debilitating pain, though you can't feel it.

"Are those skeleton boxers?"

He's starting to think your favorite pastime is asking stupid fucking questions, but still, some part of him feels relief.

You could have asked about the lack of mask, but you didn't. You just wanted to know about the halloween boxers.

"Sergeant."

His voice isn't as firm as it should be, but when he sees your exhausted look, he still sits down on the mattress with you.

"Stay. Jus' till I fall asleep."

You don't have the balls to ask for it. Not when you're this vulnerable. So you treat it like an order.

Simon won't be chewing you out for it.

Not now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kyle and Johnny stand in the doorway to your room, snickering to themselves.

Never thought they would see big boy Lt with the firecracker that drove him up the wall, surely.

Still, after taking a couple pictures (blackmail for Johnny, photo album for Kyle), they just... stand and stare a little.

"Ye ken... we could jus'... join in?"

Johnny poses the question. Kyle nods.

"Yeah. To make sure they're sleeping well."

They both know damn well that's not why. But fuck it, a cuddle pile never hurt anyone.

Especially not you, considering how gentle the pair are when maneuvering your sleeping form.

If Simon opened his eyes and just so happened to see this buffoonery in action, he closed them right back up after.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Price sighs in exasperation when he sees it, but smiles as he tips down his cap just a little.

"Fuckin' rookie. Gonna be the death of me."

But he knows you won't. Because he sees the way Simon's lips curve up in sleep, or the way Johnny and Kyle cling to you.

He should call Laswell, finalize your placement.

The boys wouldn't complain.