#who runs a TIGHT fuckin ship

[psycherprince]

ways my emotional support cat has emotionally supported me thus far:

-got the zoomies while I was crying and distracted me by being fucking goofy

-found a bottle of Lexapro that had rolled under my bed (after he knocked it off my nightstand, but he did find it)

-crawled up on my shoulders like a parrot, preventing me from getting any work done (benefit unclear), pic related

-whined like a little baby when I wouldn't let him bite my face (???)

-REFUSES to let me piss without supervision (the bathroom door doesn't close all the way sometimes and he just bonks into it until it opens)

-forces me to get out of bed and bothers me relentlessly when I don't (this one actually is really helpful)

-does this:

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

hello !! if it’s not too much of a bother can you write another piece featuring Lion 🫶 maybe another angsty piece, maybe a lil lion + farah combo or something else like lion and gaz getting separated from the 141 during a mission and having to fight their way back to the extraction point (?). totally up to you !!! also thank u for keeping us well fed 🙇‍♀️

Lions and Ibexes

PAIRING: John Price x Wife!Reader 'Codename Lion'

SYNOPSIS: Impulsive was what John always called you - affectionately, of course. But he sure does worry when you disappear without him.

WORDCOUNT: 4.0k

WARNINGS: Blood, death, canon typical violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, banter, no connection to 'I'll Take the Night Shift' except codenames, protective!Price, suggestive jokes, etc.

A/N: I wanna give Farah a big smooch on her forehead.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“So this is the woman that the Captain won’t keep quiet about,” you smirk and place your hand into Farah Karim’s, eyes shimmering as you both share a tight grip. 

“Commander,” greeting the black-haired woman, your light gear hangs off of you easily and efficiently; clean and well-taken care of. 

“Lion,” she nods, smirking back. “A pleasure.”

“Please,” you huff a laugh, “I wish it could be.” Expressions dim as you instantly get to work, the hot sun and dry air sticking to your flesh like a second skin of humidity. Releasing Farah’s hand you sigh and look around the old town, skimming over the forms of other Urzikstan Liberation Force soldiers. 

Farah does the same, breathing lowly. 

“On that, I believe you’d be right.” Brown eyes flick to yours, looking you over before the woman nods. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” your feet push you onward, following behind the Commander as your wedding band clinks against your chest. Held on that long chain, a hand comes up to brush it carefully, letting the man who wears the mirrored piece bring you comfort even from so far away. 

John was set to ship out in two days—there were some other important operations that had taken precedence. While you could have stayed behind with him, as you had wanted to do, a plea from one of the far-distant operators of One-Four-One had caught your ear. The name Farah Karim was known. 

If you didn’t offer assistance, you’d never feel right with yourself. One call to Laswell and it was all set up. 

“I’ll be there in two days,” John had muttered into your scalp as you both lay in bed, tight to one another; lashes fluttering. “Wait for me, yeah? No running off.” 

Your smirk had made him sigh a chuckle. “No stunts of heroics, my Love? Please, do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know?”

“Well,” the words are uttered into his neck and John pulls you tighter into him. “I think that’s just about the most romantic thing to happen to someone.” 

Smiling to yourself, you bring the ring to your lips and kiss it lightly before letting it drop. In your head, John is still in your shared flat in London, and you’ll be back by the hour. If only. 

“You contacted Laswell and said you had encountered more of Barkov's remaining cells?” Your voice carries easy authority; ingrained confidence. 

Farah looks back and nods firmly. 

“They’ve taken over a town in the mountains, my forces can’t break the line.” She sighs aggressively and you stare with a sliding frown. “Even dead, Barkov cannot leave my people alone.”

In the back of your throat, you hum, “Well, parasites tend to be resilient.” Farah leads you into a home with maps on the tables and low talking of strategies from others. They pause when you enter and you nod politely. Many here knew your husband as the Commander did—all those years back when he was still only a Lieutenant and had broken Farah and her brother Hadir out from the Russian’s jail; labeled as prisoners of war. 

John had told you about it during one of the many late nights in your joint offices. Eyes tired and his hands playing with your hair.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask genially, standing near the table and placing your hands down on it—standard M4A1 resting over your chest and your secondary weapon strapped to your thigh. Unlike most, you’d opted for lighter gear to allow you to move faster. 

Fewer packs sit on your vest, and the gleam of the knife on your shoulder was a testament to your preference to close, silent, encounters. Though you liked to use your silver tongue to get out of situations, unfortunately, that wouldn’t work in this instance. 

“Captain Price told me you’re one of the best undercover agents he’s seen.” You perk at this, looking over with raised brows.

“Hell,” your chuckle echoes, “when you said he couldn’t keep quiet I thought you were exaggerating.” 

Farah smiles cheekily at you before pointing to the map of a mountain town surrounded by red Xs.

“My soldiers have marked off choke points all around the area. They’re the only pathways to the town, but heavily guarded.” She glances around the room and you hear her sigh heavily. “I wouldn’t have asked for assistance unless I knew I needed it. I’d prefer to leave foreign fighters out of this conflict, unlike my enemy.” 

“I understand,” your head shakes. “It’s your home—I’ll go where you need me to. John should be here in two days to assist.”

Farah’s face flashes with surprise, her full brows rising on her head. “Price is coming?”

You shrug and laugh, “he’s stubborn.” 

The woman chuffs before moving to fold her arms over her chest. “I think perhaps he’s more of a smitten husband, hm?” At the sheepish expression on your face and dipping eyes, Farah barks a laugh.

The band around your neck clinks into the stock of your gun as you stand to your full height. 

“Is it that obvious,” you tease, tilting your head to her. You knew it was.

“I believe the simple action of asking is proof enough, Lion.” The commander looks at her work on the table, smiling easily but focusing still on her plan of attack. “But, regardless, I give my thanks for flying out on such short notice.”

“We help our own.” Resting your hands on the body of your weapon, you smile fondly. “Now, who do I need to kill?” 

—

As it turns out, killing was the very baseline of what you needed to do. 

Shuffling into the dark armor of the dead Russian soldier at your feet, you grunt at the slick spread of blood on the ground as you strap arm braces to your limbs. 

“Heavy as all hell,” you grumble under your breath, picking up the large helmet and shoving it over your head with a puff of air. 

Farah was going to lead a distraction on the far side of the western choke point while you slipped into the ranks, placing packs of C4 in some of the large-stocked weapons buildings. Easy enough for you, you admitted. You’d done things like this a million times over. 

When all was said and done, slipping your knife into the new belt at your waist, you gaze down at the dead man with a huff of air; seeing the blood still pooling from the very obvious signs of a slit up the left armpit. You blink and stuff your wedding band down your shirt. 

“Bad day, buddy,” grabbing his legs, you bare your heels and drag the body behind a large outcropping of rocks—long streaks of crimson left behind. “I’d hate to be you right now.” 

Grunting, you drop the limp flesh with a thump like a paper-towel roll meeting the counter. 

Shuffling back into the open, your feet make tracks to get you closer toward your targets. You hike the small pouch Farah gave you farther up your back without a word more. 

John had always said you were quick-witted, but when he got here he’d lose that hat of his in disbelief. The truth was that you had forgotten what little of the Russian language you’d initially known, and the situation you found yourself in now was frankly not ideal.

C’mon Lion, you think to yourself, just pick up social cues and you’ll be good. 

Oh, your husband was going to lose his shit.

—

“Come again?” The Captain barks. “What do you fuckin’ mean she’s in the base?!”

“I just explained it,” Farah levels, raising a brow. Blue eyes narrow with a growl until the Commander's lips flicker in a smirk. “We just had word three minutes ago. She’s fine, Captain.” Fingers find John’s nose bridge, digging deep into the flesh in large exasperation and worry.

He had caught a C17 and came here a day early after he’d gotten a bad feeling—internal wife radar going off as it usually did when you placed yourself in danger without him. Which was more often than not.  

I told her not to be impulsive. 

John sighs long and low, shaking his head. “Farah…you sent her in alone?” 

“She is quite capable, Price.”

“I fucking…” He stops himself and puts his hands on the table in the center of the building. Men and women were snickering from the corners, sending amused glances. “I know.”

Farah sends a glance to her soldiers and they turn away to cover their smiling mouths. Enjoyment was in her tone as she grabs the walkie-talkie from the table top and clips it to her vest. 

“There were more men than we anticipated—she had to be more careful when placing the charges. Captain,” John glares up at her when his eyes leave the maps. The Commander teases, “She is fine.”

As if on cue, the radio fizzles with your voice. Farah looks down with surprise and the Brit's eyes snap to it immediately; body tense. 

There’s a moment of garbled static where the Captain feels his heart beating out of his chest. The panic that had snapped through him when you hadn’t come out to greet him when he’d landed was primal; genuine fear stuck in his bones like spiky grass. The bond the two of you had was closer than anything on this plane of existence. It was rare to not see one without the other.

Your voice cuts through and John’s shoulders sag under a non-existent weight.

“You should tell your men to move unless they want to be scorched, Farah!” The woman in the room smiles ferally and raises a smug brow as she looks at John. 

“Copy, Lion. You have my thanks.” 

“I didn’t know you could improvise Russian—it’s like the Slavic blood just entered my body!” The Brit covers his eyes with his hand and groans at the base of his throat. 

“Tell her to get her arse back here before she gets bloody shot.” John takes off his bucket hat and tosses it to the table with a gloved hand, punching his hair back from his forehead. “Giving me gray hairs,” he grunts. 

Farah laughs and says eagerly into the walkie, “Someone’s here to say hello.”

“...Oh, fuck.” Your panting breath clears and after a long glare at the device, John hears you say in a slow and awkward tone, “Hello, my Love!”

Farah tilts the radio closer to him and looks highly pleased. 

“Get back here. Now.” John grunts out, fingers digging into his arms as he crosses them. “I told you to wait for me.”

You laugh nervously, deflecting, “...did you, Dear? I guess I misheard you.” The Brit’s jaw clenches but Farah can speak before he can.

“Lion, are all the charges set, then?” You seem thankful for the distraction, sighing over the line.

“All good over here! I just need the O.K from your men and then it’s about to get a whole lot brighter.” 

“I’ll relay the news—get away, as far as you can.”

“Already on it,” your breathy chuckle exits and you pause before saying. “See you soon, Love!” 

Tiny blue eyes bug, “Wait–!” The line clicks off and Farah is already tapping into the frequency for her soldiers, turning slightly away to converse in quick Arabic. 

—

Evening rolls around and you jog back into the Liberation Force’s base, greeting the guards stationed with a breathless sigh; utterly sweaty but happy you’d gotten half a ride back from some locals. You’re back in your original gear, sear marks on your cheeks and hair slightly burned, but nonetheless unharmed. 

Everyone welcomes you back with handshakes and pats on your shoulders—brushes to your arm as people pass. You guide yourself back to the main building with chuckles and deep smiles of achievement. 

“Someone’s happy.” John’s voice freezes you halfway into the home and you cringe like a leaf. After a moment your eyebrows slide up with a cheeky smile.

“John,” you draw out his name and turn, seeing him leaning against the house with his arms crossed and legs stiff. He looks unimpressed in all of his handsome glory. “Well, don’t you look nice—did you trim your beard before coming out?” 

Walking slowly towards him, you loop your hands around his waist and press kisses into his neck sweetly. The man sighs long and you feel his large palms rest on your hips heavily. You blink innocently into his orbs. 

“Your silver tongue won’t work on me, Love.” The glint in his expression eggs you on as his nose tints down to touch yours. You smile brightly, seeing the wrinkles on his forehead dim as he melts into you easily. 

Whispering, you utter to the air, “I’d say you like my tongue, you brute. Tell me often enough.” Not a beat is missed, but you feel his cheeks go slightly red.

“Keep it on a leash and maybe I’d like it more, yeah?” You snort loudly, head dipping only to feel his lips press into your scalp; his smile is teasing as his beard drags against you. 

John breathes you in along with the scent of sand. One of his hands travels up to lock into the back of your neck, playing with the chain of your necklace. The one that mirrors his own down to the very dents and scratches. 

“You alright?” The words are a murmur into your flesh. You let him play with your wedding band as your smile softens to the same sensation of warm pelts on a wooden floor. 

There was no use telling you to stop your crusades, the Brit knew that. You did what you wanted and damn the consequences; John was stuck with damage control but knew you had the skills and know-how to break all odds. You still held that same fire that the woman he married wore like a crown of fangs without fail.  

“Always,” you reassure him, hugging his waist tighter and staring into his eyes.

The both of you lapse into a delicate hold. John’s arms cage you in and you’d have it no other way as fingers drag over warm flesh, never mind the brutal dig of gear or the stain of blood. Neither could keep you away from the other. 

“When will you stop making my heart rip out of my chest, Sweetheart?” John asks, smirking down at you. “Trying to give me a heart attack before forty, eh?”

“Oh, please,” you whisper against his lips, eyes alight with mischief as he watches you closely—pulse pounding against yours. He could never be angry at you. “We both know that if you have one, I’ll be having one too. We’ll end up being brain-dead at the same damn time, no doubt.” 

He laughs against you lowly, having to pull back to shake his head at your bland confession. “You’re fuckin’ mental, Love.” He breathes in soft puffs of breath. You gaze up at him, laced with affection and care, as he rests his forehead on yours. “Ah, but that’s alright, isn’t it? We’re all a bit crazy.” 

“You might be a little bit higher on the metaphorical scale,” you tease, face serious but eyes betraying you. They always would when it came to John; the only person to break through that ‘cunning nuisance’ that everyone always mentioned in your file. 

“Really, now?” He blinks, smirking and rubbing at your hip absentmindedly and leaning closer—pushing your neck to the side. 

“Just a bit,” you huff, not even realizing. 

Before you can utter another word, firm lips capture you like a beast in iron bars, bulky forearms stuck at the curve of your spine. You chirp into John’s mouth in surprise but melt into him as his large purr resonates into your bloodstream. Singing, you bring your hands to his cheeks, digging through those bristles to feel the burn on your hands. 

Humming, your husband nuzzles his nose into your cheek like a dog would, letting him take in your scent as you feel your legs go weak. You enjoy the worship he gives you; always would. Your body is tightly held against his own and you gladly would have shown him how much you enjoyed him being here if only for the small fact you needed to talk to Farah. 

With one last pass of his reddened lips, you slip back and kiss his bristly cheek with a chuckle. 

“Later.” 

He groans into you. “Tease.” 

“I didn’t even do anything!” You laugh loudly, moving out of his hold to walk into the house as he follows at your heels. John’s hands go to the top of his vest collar to rest. 

He leans down and whispers, “Don’t need to, Love.” 

Your face burns for him and only him as he grumbles out chuckles at your blown pupils. Huffing, you turn and roll your eyes, trying to dispel your flaming blood. Farah waits for you and with a happy glance up she comes from around the table and claps you on both shoulders. You grunt in surprise but grip her elbows with a laugh. 

“Barkov’s remaining cell was wiped out—my soldiers are hunting down the remnants as we speak.” She squeezes your gear and you sigh in relief. “Thank you, Lion, for coming out when you did. The Captain was not wrong in his assessment.” 

You turn your head to the side and glance back at John. “Hear that my Love, I’ve heard you talk about me. That’s so precious.” 

His face goes red under his beard, and his feet shuffle as you and Farah share a joking glance. John releases under-the-breath grumbles before the Commander addresses him. The woman releases you but speaks past your person.

“Some of my younger soldiers wanted you to mentor them with the use of their weapons, do you plan on staying the night?” You and John share a look, a seeming telepathic communication going on. 

He nods at you and you smile. “Only tonight, we ship out at first light. I’ll do what I’m able.”

“Then you also have my thanks. They’ll learn much, I’m sure. Lion,” John comes and gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving. You watch him go for a moment before rubbing at your dirty neck while you listen to Farah. “Come with me, there’s fresh water on the roof.” 

“Oh,” you perk, suddenly realizing the fatigue in your bones and the dryness of your throat. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

As you both ascend the stairs to the roof, there’s a still silence that falls, a calm nothingness. When you finally stand on the flat roof, you look over the vast land as Farah hands you a chilled water bottle from a mini-fridge. You take it with a small nod in thanks. 

“Nice view,” you motion with the bottle before taking a long sip—downing half of it in one go. 

Farah smiles and hums. “Urzikatan is a beautiful place,” you listen and wipe at your mouth; seeing people walk the streets below as the red sun grows even lower. In the wind, your nose twitches to sand and dust, with some hint of floral notes and arid cleanliness. Farah’s face seeps with a low sadness when she looks out to the land and you pause your drinking. Brows pulling in, you watch her. 

“Farah?” You ask, carefully. It’s a moment before she responds.

“I…” She crosses her arms and sets her feet. “I wonder if this place will ever see its freedom. We’ve been fighting for so long already. My family has known war more than anything else.” Brown eyes drift to you from the side of her eye. 

There’s a tightness in your chest. You can’t imagine what Farah feels right now, what she has felt. Years of this…and still her home is under foreign subjugation. A frown grows on your face and you put the half-full bottle to the small wooden table near the roof’s corner. 

“You’ll get your sovereignty, Farah.” You try your best to speak your mind to the woman but remain truthful to your belief. Farah stares out as you sigh lowly. “Maybe not now—maybe not in this generation—but someday the sun is going to set on a free Urzikatan. You’re plenty strong enough to assure that and you’ve done a proper job so far. The frames are already set.” 

The Commander hums and gazes at her soldiers below as they mull about, laughing with each other and enjoying the company of their fellow countrymen.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?” Farah asks you, and you study her genuine interest in her own thoughts. “Who we would be if nothing ever happened to us.” 

You stare for a moment, skull tilting down to gaze at the top of the roof. It’s not an easy question to answer. 

“Sometimes,” your lips admit. Farch eagerly pivots to your form like you hold the greatest answer imaginable. She’s been through so much—losing her family, and her home. Humming, your eyes shift to the setting sun; blinking at it. Against all of this, your lips flinch up into a smile. “But not often.” 

Farah’s eager gaze turns confused, her brows furrowing deeply with a scrunched face. 

“Because right here, right now,” John walks down the street below, and your eyes fall to him as easily as a leaf dances to the ground. The expression on your face eases. “It couldn’t have happened if there were never bad days.” Your husband looks up, and you see him pause among the ranks of other fighters. You chuckle softly, head tilting to the side. 

John stares at you as if you’re the only person to exist, moving one hand from his vest to jerk two fingers in a subtle greeting. Farsh watches the interaction closely, tension loosening from her body. Your head nods slowly to your husband and you say to the woman, absent-minded, “I’m right where I need to be…And the sun has never looked brighter.”

Farah huffs a laugh, eyes running back and forth between the two of you. 

“He loves you,” she says, “deeply.” 

“God,” your laugh echoes, “I sure hope so.” The both of you laugh. 

It felt easy to speak to the Commander, truthfully. Being surrounded by four men all of the time can get catty even with such a strong bond as you had with One-Four-One. 

You dare to share more.

"In my mind, John and I are still in Hertfordshire for our wedding,” The words come out of you slowly, unwrapping emotions one layer at a time as if swaddled in a dark veil of internal nostalgia. You watch John as he walks along, oddly sad but filled with something that makes you want to take him up into your arms with a wet laugh. “Sitting back on the grassy hills outside of town in my gown and him in his tux. The wind is cold…but neither of us can find it in ourselves to shiver. The sun's setting on our heads and making everything glow gold. His fingers are running through my hair…” You pause and hear Farah’s soft breath in the air, but you don’t look at her. Your eyes stay stuck on one person only. “When I die,” your words continue, “I can't ask for anything more than just a glimpse of that again. Just a flicker of that hill. Of those blue eyes looking into mine. I don't think it would be all that bad if I could live in that moment for senseless eternity. If I could live in it for only one second." 

John looks back at you from over his shoulder, your form shrouded in the setting sun as he slowly walks away from you. You gaze with melted eyes, the ring around your neck shining all the brighter. 

“I’m right where I need to be,” finishing, you turn your glossy eyes to Farah, who stares with a wide pull to her lids. “And you need to believe that even if you never get to see that freedom—that hill—you’ll make sure someone else can climb it just an inch farther.” 

It’s a long moment before Farah answers.

“The both of you will do this until one of you dies, hm?” You blink before you shrug. 

“Not one.” Your tone is easy, and John’s shadow turns a corner; out of sight. “I’d never let him go without me.”

TAGS:

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[lushrue]

frozen hearts pt. 9

had to inject a little bit of angst in here, it was a little too happy :) we also get to meet our villains! i'm hoping that my workload will be a bit lighter next semester so that i can update this story more consistently! thanks for hanging in there, comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

cw: shoulder injury, hospital/emergency room,

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

price caught his breath as he skated to the center of the face-off circle. it was the middle of the second period, his team down by 2. they were all skating their asses off, pushing themselves to the limit of what they could do. simon had never hit harder, kyle and johnny were practically blurs on the ice. nearly every pass was successful, they were staying on their feet, and they’d managed to control the puck well all period. the Shadows were tough, though.

john knew they would be. he’d been preparing for this game all season, watching and rewatching tapes to study their playbook. they had some talented men, but the real weapon was their team captain, graves. he played dirty, unafraid to take a few penalties to rattle his opponents. he was aggressive as a defenseman, willing to lay it all on the line to keep his centers and wingers moving down the ice. his stats were impressive, more game-winning goals than anyone else in the league. still, Specgru had prepared. at least, john thought they had.

he found himself face to face with graves, a wolfish grin on his face as he lowered his stick onto the ice. “wish i could say i was impressed,” graves taunted, staring price down. “don’t run a very tight ship, do you, cap’n?” john growled low in his chest. he wasn’t usually hot-headed on the ice, preferring to stay cool and let the others fight it out when it got too much. something about graves just got under his skin. the snark, the attitude, the cockiness of the young captain grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “easy to win games when your coach pays off the refs,” price grumbled in reply. the referee shot them both a warning look, hesitating with the puck held in the air.

they stared each other down, gazes hard and set. with so much on the line for both teams, it was impossible to avoid the tension building. a win for Specgru would send them shooting up the leaderboard, guaranteeing them a spot in the playoffs. for the Shadows, it would earn them the top seed in the division, a nearly impossible feat for a team only established a few years ago. finally, the puck hit the ice, and they scrambled for control.

the rubber slid into a Shadow’s waiting stick, everyone skating into Specgru territory. price cursed under his breath, barking orders across the ice to johnny and kyle. “cut ‘im off! johnny’s open!” he called to kyle, who tried and failed to make a steal. as the puck slid closer to Simon, he swung his stick out to try and catch it, but came up short. price found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with graves as they both took up position in the center of Specgru’s zone. “fuckin’ pitiful performance tonight,” graves said, giving price a shove. “pitiful. that’s a big word for you Americans, isn’t it?” price quipped back, skating forward to try and take control again.

graves followed close behind, toeing the line between permissible plays and penalties. he let his stick swing towards price’s skates, but not enough to trip. he shoved and elbowed, but not hard enough to be roughing. it was frustrating price, his temper reaching a boiling point. his heart thundered in his ears, his muscles ached from how hard he was pushing himself. he’d been on the ice for nearly three minutes of play time straight. he could hear laswell shifting lines around on the bench, trying to accommodate. she’d tried calling out to him, cursing at him to “get his ass off the ice,” but he didn’t care. not when he’d put the weight of his team’s victory on his shoulders and his alone.

he tried for another steal and failed, cursing loudly as he let the momentum carry him around the curve of the rink. he glanced up into the stands as he skated by, his eyes finding you. your brows were furrowed, a slight frown on your lips. he hated to see you like that, all nervous looking and upset. he had to win, if only to wipe that frown off your face. as much as he hated to admit it, he’d become quite attached to you. he didn’t like catching feelings. it made him vulnerable, gave him something to lose and someone to disappoint. he wouldn’t disappoint you this time, though.

in the time it took him to shift his focus from you back to the game, he’d gotten himself up against the boards. that was all the opportunity that graves needed to throw his whole weight against price, slamming him up against the plexiglass. the first thing he felt was a blinding pain in his shoulder. it shot across the top of his chest and down his arm, setting his fingers tingling. something felt wrong, but he couldn’t quite place it. not while the pain was so sharp. he yelped, hitting the ice hard as graves skated away. his heartbeat pounded in his ears, the shrill chirp of the whistle muffled by the adrenaline. curling in on himself as he slid along the wall, he fought to get to his knees. he was sure that frown on your lips would be deeper if he didn’t get up. he had to get up.

a glove wrapped around his bicep, helping to pull him to his feet. with his good hand, he reached across himself, holding his arm in place. moving it hurt. moving anything hurt. slowly, a voice permeated the ringing in his ears, breaking through the haze. “john! are you solid?” kyle called, his grip on john’s arm tightening. all he got was a groan in response, price’s chest heaving as his face scrunched up. he finally raised his head, finding you in the stands again. you were on your feet, hands over your mouth in shock. he wanted to tell you he was alright, run his fingers through your soft hair and hold your head to his chest. anything to make that frightened look in your eyes disappear.

kyle helped him over to the bench, leaving him in the hands of the athletic trainer. the countless questions faded to the background as john saw you start moving his way.

sitting in the emergency department with john had to be one of the worst things you had ever done.

you’d always hated hospitals. they smelled sterile, the sting of disinfectant harsh in your nose. it made you think of illness, death, injury. nothing good ever smelled like a hospital. the room you sat in was bright white, fluorescent lights making your eyes ache and head pound. a dislocated shoulder, that’s what the doctor had said. it certainly didn’t look right, john’s arm hanging at an awkward angle at his side. the athletic trainer hadn’t had the equipment to safely push it back into place, so off to the hospital you two had gone.

you sat in the extra chair by john’s bedside, pulling up your group chat with all of the boys. kyle had chased the both of you back to the locker room, making you promise to keep them all updated. honestly, you weren’t sure how any of them were still playing. it seemed like your messages were getting read instantly. john huffed, the sheets on the hospital bed rustling as he shifted. you were on your feet in an instant, phone discarded on the chair behind you. he held up his good hand, shaking his head. “‘m alright,” he said, tongue heavy in his mouth. they’d given him some pretty strong painkillers while he waited for a doctor to free up.

you still hovered by his side, helping him adjust the pillow under his head. pity made your eyes water as he winced. you couldn’t imagine the kind of pain he was in. “i’m sure the doctor’s coming soon,” you said, trying your best to be comforting. you weren’t always the best in a crisis, but you had held your own so far. john nodded, relaxing as much as he could on the stiff mattress. the two of you were silent for a long moment, just listening to each other breathe and relishing in the knowledge that, for now, everything was okay.

“had worse,” john said, breaking the quiet. you looked down at him, taking a seat at the edge of the hospital bed. “yeah?” you prompt, and he nods. “my first rookie game. got a bit overzealous, wanted to prove myself to the recruits in the stands. ended up in a fight with a guy twice my size and got a broken cheekbone for my troubles. not to mention the black eye and crooked nose.” you hiss, shaking your head to rid yourself of the image. your cheek pulsed with imaginary pain and your hand raised to rub it. “worst I’ve ever done is break an ankle,” you replied. john hums, shrugging his good shoulder. “still painful.” you nod, folding your hands in your lap.

your phone buzzed again on the hospital seat, reminding you of what you’d been doing before you got up. the chat was lighting up, asking for updates. you grabbed your phone and smiled down at it before raising it to show john. “the boys are worried about you.” he smiled softly in response, laying his hand on your thigh. an idea sparked in your mind, opening your camera and flipping it to selfie mode. “proof of life,” you said simply, which earned a chuckle from john. he raised his good arm with a thumbs up and you smile, snapping the photo. you lower your phone, thumbs tapping away at the keyboard.

“[image]”

“Still waiting on the doctor, but pain meds are keeping him in good spirits :)”

your phone vibrated again almost instantly, kyle sending a simple thumbs up. he’d been the most nervous of all of them, hands shaking as he passed john off to you. you weren't sure if it was anger or anxiety. maybe a bit of both. none of them seemed particularly at ease. simon was the next to reply. you read his text, an unattractive snort coming from your nose.

“tell him to bring some of those meds home for all of us to enjoy”

you shared the replies with john, reading each one out to him. his cheeks flushed with each one, the reminder of how much his boys cared for him making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he knew he was loved, but sometimes it took something like this to remind him just how much.

the final score was 5-3, Specgru taking the win. john’s injury had lit a fire under the whole team. they’d played like they never had before, skating harder and faster and making riskier plays. it all paid off, the team moving up multiple spots in the division ranking from this match alone. kyle hadn’t left the ice without spitting at graves’ skates, icy glares shot his way from each of the men. they all hated playing the Shadows, but now it was personal.

none of them even bothered to shower; it was a miracle they even took off their pads and gear before rushing out of the rink. simon was given the keys, simply for the fact that they wanted to get there faster. simon wasn’t known for being the safest driver, but he was more willing to run some red lights and blow some stop signs to get to his destination a minute sooner. 

the drive to the hospital was silent, all three of them buzzing with tension. kyle was bouncing his leg in the passenger seat, a hand occasionally coming up to rake through his curls. he’d been there when john went down, had seen the pain in his eyes, knew how bad it was. johnny sat in the backseat, picking at the seam of his jeans. even the pop tune playing on the radio wasn’t enough to raise his spirits. simon’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel, mind fixed on getting to john as soon as possible. he’d seen john injured before, but it always felt worse when he couldn’t be there.

you nearly jumped out of your skin when johnny busted in the room, glancing up from the feed you’d been scrolling on your phone. you hadn’t expected them to be there so soon. john was laying in the hospital bed, his injured arm in a sling and eyes peacefully shut. everyone’s expressions tightened at the sight, simon moving on instinct to john’s side. kyle and johnny bore holes into you with their gaze, silently demanding an update. “he’s fine,” you said, raising your hands like you were placating an aggressive animal. “just sleeping. they gave him some pretty strong pain meds after they set his shoulder.”

everyone seemed to relax, a collective sigh easing the tension in the room. simon pulled a chair up to john’s bedside, taking his hand and stroking his thumb over his knuckles. they’d told you before that simon and john had been the original two, but you’d never really gotten to see their devotion to each other. it was heartwarming to see the usually stoic simon so warm and caring. johnny came over and gave you a hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. you didn’t hesitate to hug him back, giving him the comfort he no doubt craved. you thought you might have even felt his breath hitch in an aborted sob. “thanks for takin’ care of our cap’n,” he said softly, pulling back to press a kiss to your cheek. you feel your face heat up, a soft smile curving your lips. “anything for him,” you reply. “anything for all of you.”

the boys quickly settled in the hospital room, pulling in chairs and situating themselves with an unobstructed view of john. you smiled softly, wondering to yourself if john knew just how much he was loved. it certainly wasn’t a common thing to have your hospital room full for just a dislocated shoulder. before them, you weren’t sure that anyone besides your mother would’ve come to stand watch at your bedside. 

“how was the game?” you asked, trying to break the worried silence that had fallen over the room. kyle spoke up, seemingly as desperate for a distraction as you were. “we won it,” he said simply, his eyes still trained on john. “made sure Graves spent more time in the penalty box than he did on the ice.” johnny scoffed, tapping a bruise on his cheek. “one of the Shadows got a couple hits off on me, but he got worse than he gave.” you smiled, shaking your head at johnny. with him, you didn’t doubt it. johnny was particularly ruthless in a tussle, both with his tongue and his fists.

“what is the deal with those Shadow guys?” you leaned forward on your knees, your back starting to ache from the uncomfortable chair. simon scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “bastards, tha’s wha’ they are,” he said bitterly, his jaw tight under the surgical mask he wore. johnny reached over, laying a hand on simon’s bicep to steady him. the Shadows were a sore spot for them, especially after the events of today’s game. “they’re our rivals,” Kyle explained. “but they’re a bit more than that. there’s some…bad blood there, been there a while.”

you cocked your head to the side, curiosity brimming. you’d noticed the tension before the game had even started. everyone seemed antsy on the bench; john was the most tense of all of them, but it clearly wasn’t a normal match. “got an asshole of a coach over there. shepherd,” johnny said, fire brimming in his bright blue eyes. “nasty bastard. doesn’t play fair.” “he chose graves as team cap’n ‘cause he plays dirty,” simon chimed in. “doesn’t care about hurtin’ anyone, just wants to win.”

you shook your head in disbelief, your own anger starting to build at the explanation. you’d seen what being overly competitive could do to a sport, especially to the teammates. an athlete who only wanted to win could be an asset, but it could be dangerous if it got out of hand. graves seemed to be one of those athletes where it had gone too far. “how has he not gotten penalized for it? surely this isn’t the first time he’s hurt someone else like this.” johnny shook his head, his grip on simon’s bicep tightening. “got all the refs in ‘is pocket. shepherd pays ‘em out to make sure ‘is men dinnae get a penalty.”

you knew how that felt. when you were younger, a fresh face on the competition scene, there were allegations that someone in your division was paying off judges. it was a horribly-kept secret; the skater bragged about it in the locker room and always managed to get top marks, no matter how bad their program was. still, when their family had all the money, nobody seemed to bother raising a stink. “at least you kicked their ass,” you said, trying your best to sound motivating. kyle smiled a bit, his gaze admiring. “yeah, pretty. we kicked their ass.”

after what felt like hours, the charge nurse gave john his discharge paperwork and care instructions, releasing him into the capable hands of all his partners. it took all four of them to get John to the car as high as he was. compliments were given freely and he made an attempt to get into more than one pair of pants before they’d even gotten to the parking lot. you begrudgingly split ways with them, offering assistance if they needed it before returning to your own car.

daily updates came through the group chat, selfies of the boys helping john with his daily routines and pictures of him trying to cook or write with his left hand. what was almost better were the texts from john himself. they’d been bad before, but now that he was typing with his non-dominant hand, it was downright comical. john would text an indecipherable string of letters, followed by a translation from one of the others once they’d figured out what john was trying to say. besides this, life went on as normal, except for one thing. you hadn’t had your last date.

john had planned an evening for the two of you at the apartment they all shared, complete with a homemade dinner and a rom-com. with the injury, though, you assumed it was all on hold. you’d seen through photos that he couldn’t exactly cook at the moment and you doubted that he wanted company while he was in pain. when the night of the date arrived, you settled yourself on the sofa with a glass of wine and your latest romance novel, content to ride the night out with your vibrator. you’d barely gotten cozy before your phone began to ring, buzzing insistently at your hip. glancing at the screen, you saw John’s name pop up on the caller ID.

“john? is everything alright?” you answered quickly, fearing the worst. maybe he was alone and needed help. maybe he’d reinjured his arm. “everything is most certainly not alright, dove,” he answered. you bolted up from the sofa, dashing for your nearest pair of slip-on shoes. “what’s wrong? what happened?” you ask quickly, fumbling for your car keys on the entry table. worst-case scenarios flooded through your mind, anxiety curling bitterly in your stomach. he chuckled on the other side of the phone, which stopped you in your tracks. “what’s wrong is that you’re late for our date.”

your brow furrows in confusion, pausing in your frantic rush to get out the door. the date? “but your arm-” “i couldn’t care less about my arm right now. i asked a pretty thing on a date and they’re standing me up.” your cheeks warm with embarrassment, sheepishly grabbing your purse from the hook. he didn’t sound angry, but you supposed he had every right to be. “sorry, i, uh…i thought we’d reschedule or something. but i should’ve asked. i’ll be right over.” john hummed, almost amused. “take your time, pet. we’ve got the whole night.”

without a second thought, you hung up the phone, heading out your front door. no need to keep him waiting any longer than he already had.

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew @kaoyamamegami @lolly145 @linaangel @bestbookfriends @callsignang3l @livingoutsidethetardis @msecho19 @aylitgirl @vvs-dlxodyd @bollzinurmouth @rafaelacallinybbay @namgification @cameron1-1-1 @kee-0-kee @klerns-birdie

[nameless-jamie]

If you ever think about how the interview process/selection went when Jamie first met PAreader. I'd love to see how/why she decided to work for the then prick lol

Or.........

(Sorry, I just got another thought)

The one where Keeley's, amongst many other models, videos and pictures, are leaked it heavily suggests they all came from Jamie's personal email and is "password" so how might she chastise him or clean up the mess that is a problem nightmare. (Perhaps try and make sure no ones links him to the leaks)

Anyways, I love your work! Just some thoughts, lol ❤️

The Interview

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: I love these ideas! I started with the first one and will maybe work on the second one later, might have to re-watch the episode again. Thank you for your requests!

TW: cursing, innuendos

Leslie Higgins had been nothing but kind since Y/N walked into his office. The interview had gone smoothly so far—Higgins had asked her about her experience, her ability to handle high-pressure situations, and her general thoughts on working with athletes. She had answered confidently, feeling like she was making a solid impression.

Y/N sat across from Higgins, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. She had prepared for this. She knew the job of a personal assistant to a football player required organization, patience, and an ability to manage egos. And Jamie Tartt? He was just another potential client to her. A high-profile one, sure, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

Higgins smiled warmly. “You have an impressive résumé. Scheduling, media relations, crisis management—”

“I like to run a tight ship,” Y/N said with a polite nod. “I know athletes have demanding schedules, and my job is to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Lovely, lovely,” Higgins said, clearly pleased. “You know, I think you’d be a wonderful fit, but Jamie can be a bit of a, uh… handful, but I have no doubt you’d be able to—”

The door burst open.

“Oi, Higgins, did you find me an assistant yet—”

A man strolled in like he owned the place, sunglasses pushed up into messy blond hair, hands in his pockets. Y/N knew his face well. Everyone did. Jamie Tartt. Star player, tabloid favorite, self-proclaimed legend. And on first impression...a total prick.

Jamie barely glanced at Higgins before his gaze landed on Y/N. He stopped in his tracks, giving her a once-over—not in a sleazy way, more like he was genuinely curious.

“Oh, sick. This my new PA?" He asked curiously. "Ok, listen love, I need you to book me one of those bouncy castle things, should be about as big as the football pitch and—” Jamie gestured around widely, way too overexcited for Y/N's liking.

Y/N exhaled slowly. “Please.”

"What?" Jamie looked at her confused,

"I need you to book me a bouncy castle, please. Also my name is not love, my name's Y/N Y/L/N and I'm not your PA...yet." Y/N reciprocated in a stern voice.

Oh, fuckin' 'ell she is dominant alright. Jamie thought

His expression looked unbothered, though. “Right, alright, ok. She passin’ the vibes test then, Higgins?”

Higgins cleared his throat. “Jamie, this is was supposed to be a professional interview—”

"Well, then I should be part of it, shouldn't I? Should have a say in who I spent everyday of me life with from now on..." Jamie ignored Higgins, plopping down in the chair beside Y/N. “I can be very professional too. What’s your deal, then?”

“My deal,” Y/N repeated, arching a brow. “You mean my qualifications?”

“Yeah, like… why d’you wanna work for me?”

Higgins cleared his throat and answered the question before Y/N could. “Well, Jamie, Y/N has an impressive background in player management. She’s handled schedules for some of the biggest names in the league.”

Jamie barely looked impressed. “Ok but I asked her, didn't I?”

Y/N's jaw tightened. “First of all I’d be working with you, not for you.”

"What, you ain’t already buzzing to work for me?” He said provocatively.

Oh. He was one of those guys.

Y/N kept her expression neutral, but internally, she was already reconsidering her life choices.

“Not until I know it’s worth my time,” she shot back.

“She’s cheeky. I like her.” At that, Jamie’s smirk widened. "Ok but is it true that you've worked with big names in the league? Tell me more, anyone as big as me?"

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard she practically saw the back of her skull. “That depends. Do you mean big as in talent, or big as in ego?”

Jamie smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, she’s one of them, eh?” He leaned back, arms crossed. “So, what, you proper organized and all that?”

“I pride myself on professionalism.”

“Boring,” Jamie muttered.

Y/N’s nostrils flared slightly, but she kept her expression neutral. “I also make sure my clients don’t embarrass themselves.”

Jamie raised a brow. “Yeah? You reckon you can handle me?”

“I’ve handled worse.”

Jamie laughed, looking genuinely impressed. “Oi, she’s got a bit of bite.” He turned to Higgins. “Yup. I like her. She’s hired.”

Higgins pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jamie, I am the one conducting the interviews.”

"And I'm the one paying for a PA. I want her." Jamie pointed towards her, now turning his full body back to Y/N, ignoring Higgins completely. “Come on, then. You wanna work with me or what?”

Y/N hesitated. He was insufferable. He was full of himself. He was exactly the kind of athlete she typically had no patience for.

And yet.

Something about Jamie Tartt had gotten under her skin—his cheeky arrogance, his ease, the way he didn’t rattle her as much as he should. She was intrigued.

“…Ok,” she said, sitting up straighter. “But if I take this job, you follow my schedule, you listen to my instructions, you stop barging into rooms unannounced and most importantly you behave.”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah, alright. But no promises on the last one.”

Y/N sighed. “Fantastic.”

Jamie leaned forward, elbow on the desk. “One more thing—”

“Yes?”

His grin widened. “Try not to fall in love with me, yeah? That's proper unprofessional.”

Y/N stood, her face beet-red. “I’ll send over my contract terms and I'll start tomorrow. Goodbye, Sir. See you soon, Jamie.”

Jamie laughed as she walked out. Totally not staring at her ass in that prissy little pencil skirt she wore.

Higgins sighed deeply. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.”

Jamie smirked towards the now-closed door and said. "Well I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy this..."

[feroluce]

Given that Belobog is so full of snow, I'm kinda sad we never get to see any snowmen anywhere. Like that would have made for such a cute bg decoration!

And I think it would be especially funny for Sampo to make them, not out of pure, innocent whimsy and joy, but like specifically to be a menace smzhnsjd

Like Gepard keeps finding little snowmen out around the frontlines. And normally he would just turn a blind eye to this like he does with other things (like the shitty amateur distillery no one thinks he knows about); war sucks, their own damn leader is trying to kill them and Gepard is treading water just trying to keep Cocolia from using his guards as cannon fodder. If his soldiers want to make some snowmen in their downtime, then they should be allowed that. God knows they've earned it.

BUT SOMEONE IS MAKING SNOWMEN THAT LOOK LIKE HIM, DAMMIT!!!

Gepard keeps finding them down the back alleys and more hidden parts of the frontlines! And they all have the same grumpy little face, with blue-painted rocks for eyes and sometimes even gold-colored bullet casings for hair! And he knows who it is the second he finds another little blue haired, green eyed snowman next to it! Fuckin' Koski is sneaking in here, and easily enough that he has the time to taunt him!

Gepard once found a little Snow Geppie with angry eyebrows and red roses stuck in its blushing cheeks that was handcuffed to a weapons rack, which was when he realized someone had pickpocketed his handcuffs. He punches the head clean off the little Snow Sampo nearby, only to discover that it is also holding his wallet, minus all the shield he'd had in it that morning. Gepard kicks it for good measure.

One time he found a little Snow Sampo offering roses to a little Snow Geppie, and he quickly knocked those over too before anyone else could see them or his red face. He swears he can feel Sampo snickering and mocking him nearby.

Sometimes, Gepard finds little Snow Sampos with tiny sacks thrown over their shoulders, all filled with items that are SUPPOSED to be in the depths of the guarded Silvermane storehouses. Sampo technically isn't even stealing anything, he's just showing Gepard that he could if he wanted to, and poor Gepard is going to pop an aneurysm.

Pela: Good morning, Captain. Have you been outside of your tent yet?

Gepard: No. ....Why.

Pela: No reason. Say, have you heard of any break ins recently?

Gepard: No, why.

And Pela holds open the tent flap and there's a ton of tiny little Silvermane Guards snowmen in tight neat rows, all with their little stick arms up in salute, and each one with an actual, stolen official helmet-mask.

Pela: You run a real tight ship out here, huh.

Gepard: (looooong weary muffled sigh as he drags a hand down his face)

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Game Night

Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Thor, Loki, Stephen Strange, Wong

Summary: The Avengers have a game night.

Warnings: one swear word, lots of yelling, Loki being Loki, fluff, I think that's all

Word Count: 2,020

Notes: I was planning to write a short drabble but it got away from me.....and I let it. I was halfway through an episode of Buffy so that may or may not have influenced me. Thank you so much @soulvtude I LOVED writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Every Friday night was game night. Peter Parker had suggested it and all of the Avengers jumped at the idea, thinking it would be a fun time had by all but they were sorely mistaken. The evening started off fine, Bruce made the popcorn as he was one of the only people trusted around the microwave after the incident. Everyone sat down at the large, steel table in the common room, awaiting the games Tony and Peter had promised to bring. The two thought they had picked out a nice selection but oh how wrong they were. Their first mistake, Battleship. They thought it would be fun, they thought everyone would enjoy playing, they thought wrong. When Sam had revealed three out of the four spots his ship was on Bucky thought he had him.

"C-3" Bucky proclaimed, his voice thick with a certain smugness.

"Miss" Sam responded.

"What?!"

"Miss"

"How?! C-1, C-2 and C-4 were all hits!"

"And C-3 is a miss, Buckaroo"

"It has to be a hit! And don't call me that!"

"Call you what, Buckaroo?"

"Wilson, I swear to God, one more word out that smart mouth of your's and I'll-"

"You'll what?"

"That's it!"

Bucky snapped, he leaped across the table and landed on Sam, pinning him to the floor. His hands wrapped around Sam's neck, almost ready to squeeze just that little bit too tight.

"Buck! Get off him, please" Steve pleaded, to no use.

"Not happenin' Stevie"

Sam was gasping for air, pulling at the super soldier's hair, trying to get him off in any way. Steve ran up and ripped Bucky off of him just in time. The rest of the team looked on in mixed expressions of shock and annoyance.

"Buck, I think you should go to your room and cool down" Steve gently prodded, trying to calm the situation.

"I'm not going anywhere unless he goes" Bucky growled, glaring at Sam, who stuck his tongue out at him.

"Fine, Sam will go too"

"Hey, no fair! He attacked me"

"You provoked him, now both of you, go to your rooms"

"Bu-"

"Uh! Rooms, now"

"Fine, Mom" Sam muttered under his breath.

The two men walked to their rooms, not without some grumbling.

"Now, where were we?" Steve asked, sitting back down.

"M-maybe it'd be good to play a different game?" Peter voiced, still a little nervous.

"Good idea, kid" Steve replied.

Peter rustled through the box of games next to him when he pulled out a deck of cards with the word 'Uno' written on the box.

"Nu uh" Nat stated simply.

"Nu uh?" Tony questioned.

"No Uno"

"Why not?"

"Ask Bird Brain"

"Hey!" Clint yelped.

"What did you do, Clint?" Steve asked in his annoyed mother voice.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Fuckin' liar"

"Language! There is a child present!"

"Oh that's okay Mister Captain America Rogers, sir"

"Y-you can just call me Steve, kid"

"Thank you"

"Back to Uno" Tony interjected.

"No, never again" Nat deadpanned.

"Come on! That was years ago!" Clint whined.

"So you do remember!" Nat accused.

"Okay, yes, fine, I remember. Now can we please move on?"

"Not until you apologise"

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Like you mean it" Tony teased.

"Natasha Romanoff I am deeply sorry for what I have done to you, will you please forgive me?"

"No"

"No?!"

"No"

"Oh this just keeps getting better" Tony mumbled through a mouth full of popcorn.

"What you did was unforgivable, Barton!"

Clint sighed, running his hand across his face.

"Why don't we just play something else, guys?" Steve tried to cut through the tension.

"Fine" Nat grumbled.

"I have Monopoly" Peter muttered, absolutely terrified of the Black Widow, as anyone should be.

"That could be fun" Bruce mentioned, reminding everyone that he was in fact, still in the room.

Peter set up the Monopoly board and made Tony the banker, yet another grave mistake. The game played out fine for a while, everyone was nice to each other, being fair, until Bruce ended up in jail for the third time in a row. A few veins on his forehead and neck started to pulse green.

"Jail bad!" He yelled in a Hulk voice.

"It is amusing how easily angry the Hulk gets!" Thor boomed through bouts of laughter, not helping the situation at all.

"Not Hulk!"

"Thor, you're not helping!" Clint almost screeched out of terror, being sat next to Bruce was not an ideal position to be in.

"Hey, hey, big guy, calm down okay?" Nat reasoned with Bruce, narrowly avoiding a code green.

"I-I'm sorry, I think I should just go to my room"

Bruce left up the hallway, feeling incredibly guilty and embarrassed. That is for now, before he hears stories of the rest of the night in the morning.

"Why don't we play a video game?" Peter almost begged at this point, trying to salvage the night.

"Sounds great, whatcha thinking?" Tony asked, looking over to him.

"Uh, what about Mario Kart?"

"Good choice"

"What is Mario Kart?" Steve and Thor ask at the same time.

"It's a game where you race cars and pick up little boosts along the way"

"That sounds very amusing" Thor proclaimed.

Peter, Thor, Steve, Tony, Loki, Clint and Nat all move to the TV's, of which there are two, both equipped with the latest gaming tech, Tony's gift to Peter. Peter explains how to play and it seems as though everyone understands.

"Look brother! They have a rainbow bridge that looks just like the Bi-Frost!"

"Very amusing" Loki drawled with an eye roll.

The race started, Nat, Tony and Peter were all very good at it with Clint not too far behind. Thor kept flying off the bridge, Steve could barely work the controls and Loki used magic to get ahead.

"Uh uh, Sabrina, no magic!" Tony called Loki out, still not looking away from the screen.

"Who is this Sabrina?"

"The Teenage Witch"

"I've never heard of her, is she very powerful?"

"Mr Stark, I don't think he gets it" Peter whispered.

"Yeah, I gathered that"

"Do not speak of me as if I am not here!"

"Cool your jets, Samantha"

"WHO ARE THESE WOMEN YOU KEEP REFERRING TOO?!"

"They're for TV Mr Loki"

"They are fictional?"

"Yes"

"Then why do you compare them to me?"

"Because their powers are just a lot of talk too" Tony quipped.

"How dare you doubt the God of Mischief?!"

"Brother, the man of iron is just trying to upset you"

"Well, it will not work"

"Seems like it already has, Willow"

"WHO IS WILLOW?!?!?!"

"I actually don't know that one" Peter said, still watching the screen, and kicking everyone's asses.

"Willow Rosenberg, Buffy The Vampire Slayer" Nat interjected, also focused on the screen.

"You watch Buffy?" Tony questioned.

"Only because someone said that some vampire looked like Clint, then I got sucked in"

"Yeah it does that, did you say a vampire looked like Clint?"

"Yep, but it was in the spin off"

"We need to watch that episode"

"Please don't" Clint almost pleaded.

"After this we are so watching that" Tony smirked.

After that Clint decided to leave, he didn't want to be teased any further later into the night.

A few hours went by without any incidents and Peter thought everything was back to normal, he thought everything was fine and going well but yet again, he was wrong.

"YOU STUPID HUNK OF JUNK!" Steve screamed, throwing his controller on the ground after not being able to make a right turn for twenty minutes.

His outburst set everyone off.

"I am done with this ridiculous machine!" Thor beckoned as he stomped off just after Steve.

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER! I know you are cheating somehow!"

"I'm not Mr Stark, I promise!"

"I'm with Tony, there's no way you can win every single round without cheating at least a bit" Nat added as she took walked away.

Peter was left sitting on the couch next to Loki, who had stopped playing hours ago.

"Mr Loki?"

"Yes, Spiderling?"

"Is-is there any chance you might have cast a spell to make everyone go crazy?"

"No, but I wish I had thought of it"

"So then, they're just, like this?"

"It appears so"

"Wow, I'm just glad Doctor Strange turned down my invitation"

"Ah, about that"

"Mr Loki, what did you do?"

Loki waved his hand to reveal Stephen, sitting the corner rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently.

"What did you do?!"

"It was just a simple spell for a bit of fun. He has been sitting there the whole time, watching us but no one has been able to see or hear him"

"Why? And why is he such a mess?"

"One, because it was fun and two, because he has no perception of time so in his perspective it could have been days, weeks, months even"

"And you think that's fun?!"

"Yes! And payback"

"Payback for what?"

"The time he had me trapped in a loop, falling"

"Thor said that was only for thirty minutes, not months!"

"That time it was but he did it again a few weeks ago, it felt like I was stuck for 2 months"

"Well that's a bit mean of him, what did you do?"

"Why does everyone always say that? I might not have done anything"

"Mr Loki?"

"I said might"

Peter just looked at him, with those big puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, I took his necklace"

"You what?!"

"I thought it was a harmless joke!"

"You know how weird he is about that thing"

"Yes, it's almost as disturbing as his attachment to the cloak"

Cloak flew over to Loki and slapped him in the face.

"Hey!"

Peter tried to hide his giggles but couldn't for very long.

"Do you think this is funny mortal?!"

"Yes! Very!"

Loki growled before stomping off in a huff. Suddenly a bright orange ring of light appeared in front of Peter and Wong stepped through.

"Where is he?" Wong asked tiredly.

"Just over there Mr Supreme Wong sir"

"Just call me Wong"

"Okay sir"

Wong motioned for the cloak and it picked Stephen up and carried him through the portal.

"Loki?"

"Yes"

"Hmm, I will deal with him in the morning, for now I have to turn this" He motioned at Stephen, still babbling while holding his knees to his chest "Back into a fearsome sorcerer"

"Good luck!"

"I'm sure I'll need it"

With that the portal closed and Peter joined Nat and Tony in the main common room.

"Do you forgive me yet?"

"Sure, sit down, we're watching vampire Barton" Tony said, gesturing for Peter to sit next to him.

"God, no. Please Nat, don't do it" Clint begged.

"Nope, now sit down or get out, either way, shut up"

Clint left, done with Nat's teasing. Peter, Nat and Tony watched the episode and Tony turned to Peter.

"So are you saying, you've never seen Buffy The Vampire Slayer?"

"Nope, but I've heard of it, sounds kinda silly"

"Bite your tongue!" Nat exclaimed, surprising the two.

"Well we're watching it, prepare for your mind to be blown"

"That seems a little over the top" Peter doubted.

"For once, he's not being dramatic"

Tony played the first two episodes and looked to Peter.

"Whatdya think?"

"Oh my God, is there more?"

"Oh yeah"

The three of them watched more episodes for hours until Peter fell asleep. His legs were on Tony's lap and his head was on Nat's shoulder as he snored, fast asleep.

"Do we move him?" Tony whispered.

"Nah, he looks too comfy"

They sat there for a while before they all fell asleep, quite the sight for the others when they woke up. Sam took a photo and ran away just as Natasha woke up. Of course she threatened him but she didn't want to disturb the still sleeping Peter in her lap.

And what did Peter learn from all of this? Game nights with the Avengers were chaotic, loud and sometimes a little murdery but they always ended happily, for the most part and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342. @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird

[heretyc]

Regret [Barbi x Jessica Rabbit! Reader]

Based off of the ask where Reader is Jessica Rabbit-esque, and on an idea I had about you being kidnapped by the CIA. I was like, "Jessica Rabbit AU would fit this perfectly". Maneater would eat everybody and Wife would be far too hard to take lol.

I know the title sounds sad, but the fic is not. Promise. You'll see.

Enjoy.

"You know, gentlemen...this isn't the proper way to treat a woman."

The heavily uniformed men merely shot you dirty looks as you fixed your lipstick; the pocket mirror, coated in sequins and with you and Barbi's initials, stuck out like a sore thumb as your other hand swiped the red wax onto your lips without flaw.

"You're no woman," one sneered, pushing the end of his nightstick against your bare chest. "You're an evil bitch."

"I'm not bad," you purred, your glittery lids catching the light of the shitty excuse of a ceiling light, "I'm simply perceived that way."

The ship fought against the rough waves, almost as if Mother Nature herself was making it a challenge for the CIA to steal you away.

"Your idiotic husband fucked up, you know," another spoke up, his hands occupied with a gun. "He killed too many innocent people."

"Nobody is ever truly innocent in Havana, don't you know?" you smacked your lips, the red lipstick matte upon your pouty mouth, "Men sleep with the women of the island, the women gamble their husband's money...you know how it is." You blinked lazily, putting your mirror and lipstick onto the small table within your cell. You heard thunder in the distance, the choppy ocean promising a hurricane within its domain.

"Your definition of innocent differs from mine," you clicked your tongue, "Murder is justified in some cases."

"Name those fuckin' cases," the first man rolled his eyes, his nose twitching in clear irritation, "Murder is sinful, that's what it is."

"Well," you began to count on your gloved fingers, "there was that one man who tried to assault me, Barbi shot him..."

"Okay, that's...that's fair, but-"

"And then there was that man who tried to drug my drink to kidnap me..."

"That's...okay, sure-"

"And thennnnn the man who stole my purse...oh, how I remember that," your giggle was airy, "Barbi chased him down in the Corvette and ran him over...my purse was bloody, sure, but he bought me a new one...Dior."

"...I..." The man scoffed, "Okay, those are...decent reasons, but...seriously? Running the guy over?"

"You would too, if your wife's 3000 dollar custom glittery purse was stolen."

The man grew silent, and the others began to silently leave your cell, "I...guess so. But still, he's made a name for himself. One we can't abide by or associate with. "

"So stealing his wife was a good idea?"

"He stole our good reputation, we're stealing his wife. Seemed fair to us."

"...Mmm," you pursed your lips, looking out of the window; lightning flashed nonstop, the wind picking up. "Regret is a beautiful thing, don't you think?"

He scoffed, "He doesn't regret murdering innocent people."

"Oh, it's not him I'm talking about."

And it was left at that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* ───

Bloodshed. Delicious shades of red, like that which sat upon your lips and Barbi's pale cheeks.

"And this, gentlemen, is why you don't FUCK with me or my fuckin' WIFE." Barbi announced to the CIA members on board, all tied up and at the mercy of Barbi's men.

Barbi's hand guided you down the stairs from the cabin, the large ship bobbing within the docks. It took a long ass time, but he managed to track you down with his yacht, and redirect the CIA's ship to the Havana docks.

He looked up to you with love, his smile wobbly with affection, "You're safe now, sweetness...they didn't hurt ya, did they?" His grip grew tight, "Just say the fuckin' word and we'll put more holes in them than swiss cheese."

"I'm fine, baby," you cooed, bending down to peck his lips, "We can be nice to them, can't we? I mean...they didn't hurt me." You feigned a pout. "And murder is sinful."

"Anything my sweetness wants, she gets," he booped your nose, "Drowning in shark infested waters it is."

Oh, how delicious were the sounds of the muffled guards and their shrieks behind dirty rags.

"Alright boys," Barbi took you to the ramp leading onto his smaller, yet luxurious yacht, "You heard me. Take this shithole of a ship, drop the bastards in with the great whites and sink it."

"NO. No," you rushed to say, resulting in a look of curiosity from him. "Baby...this ship is armoured and full of weaponry. As well as seized drugs. Wouldn't you want to keep it for yourself? Just rip the GPS system out...simple."

It took a moment for the idea to click, but he smirked, a hand clapping itself onto your ass and squeezing through the material of your dress, "You're a fuckin' GODDESS, you know that?" He sighed lovingly, "Get onto the yacht...I'll be there shortly."

You nodded, watching Barbi's retreating form as a few of his men guided him to the control room.

Adjusting your dress, you looked around before spotting the guard from earlier.

"I told you...regret is a beautiful thing. You feel it now, don't you?"

You didn't care for the frantic nods. You did, however, want to drink a mimosa.

"And make it strong, baby!" Barbi called from the stairwell, "We're gonna fuckin' party tonight!"

He knew you well.

[helaelaemond]

Tom Bennett + 42! I literally used an online number generator for maximum game-ification

Plain Jane REMIX ft Nicki Minaj - 'suck a ***** dick or something'

Tom Bennett x unnamed sailor - dirty talk, allusions to oral, man on man action

The sailor gives Tom a tight-lipped smile, before walking past him. “Let me know next time you need a hand. Or a mouth.”

Infuriatingly, the words slide over Tom’s skin like silk, making it difficult to retort. He clears his throat. “You should be so lucky.”

“Yeah. That’s the hope.”

That tryst was three days ago now. Tom rolls over in his bunk with a clenched jaw, and decides enough is enough. His cock is hard, and his stomach sick with want.

Back to the dining hall he goes in the depths of the calm night. He glances over the edge of the ship as he slinks silently along. Below, the inky water laps gently against the hull. How good it would be to be back home. He wonders if the woman from the dock would welcome her back into her company. How warm her thighs were, how wet she got. Trying to remember her face is pointless. Can't even remember the colour of her eyes. Brown? Blue? Black? Green? Doesn't matter. He lost himself in them that night. The ocean offers no oblivion. Not the same kind, at least.

"Hello, Tommy."

Tom's lip twitches. "Been waiting for me?"

The sailor, sitting at a table in the shadows, laughs quietly. "Would you like that?"

"Don't bother me none either way."

"Well, you've got your choice tonight." The sailor shifts slightly and his face is caught in a sliver of light from outside. He's grinning, and then he nods his head towards the far side of the hall. Tom peers through the darkness, and after a moment he sees the figures of three men. He holds his breath, and through the quiet, the sighs and noises of wet mouths fills his ears.

His lip twitches again. Perhaps once, it would have turned his stomach, but he supposes that now, as he's already fucked a man, it shouldn't bother him as much. That being said, he did think about a girl the whole time.

"Sure they wouldn't mind you joining."

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks. Just looking for one mouth. All them look a bit preoccupied, don't you think?" Tom retorts.

"Yeah, a bit."

"So." He pauses for a moment. "You free?"

"I ain't gonna charge you."

Tom actually sniggers at that. "Ain't got nowt to pay you with, anyway."

"Saving up for a whore in Argentina?" he teases. Tom glances down, and sees the strain against the man's boilersuit.

"I don't gotta pay for it, here or on land."

"That much I believe." The sailor stands up and walks slowly to him. He reaches for the buttons on Tom's suit and watches his face. "Tell me what you want, Tommy."

The girl on the dock. His sister's smile. A proper pint. Even his dad, who doesn't laugh at his jokes. Nah, don't think about that, not now. Don't get soft. "What y'good at?"

"Everything."

Behind them, soft moans are choked back by the three men. Unseen movements become quicker, more desperate. There are butterflies in Tom's stomach.

"How's your mouth?"

"Not as loud as yours."

Tom grins again, and when the other man leans in to kiss his neck, he allows it. The man's stubble tickles his skin, and his lips are hard, but he closes his eyes and thinks of her - any her he's even been with, really - it makes him throb. "Use it properly, then."

"You can do better than that," comes a whisper in his ear.

"What?"

"Say it properly."

"You want me to talk dirty to you?"

The sailor bites just below his collar. "Just once. You owe me."

Teeth make him shiver but he smiles. "Alright." He drops his voice slightly, and runs a brave hand through the man's hair. It feels strange, hair this short, but it's the least he can do. "I want you to get on your fuckin' knees. I want you to put my cock in your mouth like it's the last time you'll ever get a taste of it. And I want you to suck me off until the only thing I know is the name of the Heavenly Father. Can you do that for me?"

His mouth hangs open slightly, and he nods. "Uh- yeah. I can do that."

"Good g-" good girl. "Lad. Good lad. Go on then. Get on with it."

He does as he's told, and quickly. Tom's head drops back, and he fights back moans.

God, he misses girls - but no one has sucked him like this jolly sailor bold.

[ikissjesse]

could you do some aaron t/aaron z headcanons pls!

omg yes ofc !! ty for the request <333 since 3 ppl requested aaron² hc's (nothing specific) im gonna put all ur requests into this once post !!

tags: @i-need-a-slurpee @hrts4ariana ( note as of writing: this was a draft from 1719817282 years ago so if u forgot abt this n no longer wanted to be tagged im sorry🥲 )

as i mentioned in this post, they both adore musicals, especially hamilton

aaron² hc's !!

reblogs appreciated + reqs open <3

they like listening to the soundtracks together when they hangout

sometimes when there's a musical near where they are on tour they go together in their free time

u didn't hear it from me but they held hands during one of these musicals bc the room was dark n they thought noone would notice

as bros, ofc.. homies hold hands during musicals !!

they totally sing non-stop from hamilton together its cannon bc i say so

anyway enough abt hamilton for now

there was def mutual pining

they were both like "fuckidishcoaoxjaoa he just thinks of me as a friend"

"friend" NO HE WANTS U SO BAD -God probably idk

the way they attempted to "drop hints":

t tried to make z laugh a lot, even more than he usually did

pranks became less extreme than they normally were, he wanted to surprise him, not scare him to death like he used to

z would, although he denies this, try to do basketball tricks to impress t whenever he is at the basketball court w him

both of them went to jesse for advice, not knowing the other was doing the same

"hey jesse uhm- what should i do if, theoretically, ihavearlybigcrushonsomeonewhoiveknownforawhilebutithinktheyseemeasafriendandireallyreallyREALLYwannabemorebutidontwannaruinourfriendship????" -t

"...what?" -jesse

needless to say jesse was confused as hell

he sent him off w some advice after t slowed down enough for him to understand, then about 15 minutes later z came rambling about the same thing

"JESSE YOU'RE A HIT WITH THE LADIES, AND THE GAYS, AND..BASICALLY ANYONE. HOW DO I FLIRT WITH SOMEONE IVE KNOWN FOR AGES WHO IM PRETTY SURE SEES ME AS JUST A FRIEND?????" -z

thats what made it click for jesse, n he just laughed at the realization

giving him the same advice he gave t, he snickered at the idea of the aarons having a crush on eachother but being too stupid blind to see the feelings were mutual

"thanks jess!!" -z to jesse, running off

"yeah no problem man hehehshshehsh goodluck! HEHEHHEHE"

building up as much courage as he could, z eventually made the first move a few days later

he asked t if he'd like to join him for a musical that would take place at a nearby theater, n he gladly accepted

little did t know where this would lead <33 achoo anyways

as the lights dimmed during a 'romantic' scene, aaron z took t's hand in his own n (quietly) confessed his feelings towards his long-time bestfriend

saying t was happy would be an understatement

the energetic boy yanked him into a hug, leaving his stoic counterpart(ner) highly confused and extremely flustered

choking from t's tight embrace, his face became beet red

"Im, uhm- assuming you feel the same?"

well NO FUCKIN WAY SHERLOCK WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT -God again probably

"yeah dumbass, ofcourse i do!" t whisper-yelled, trying to keep his excitement down as they were still in a theater after all !!!

after that, z just smiled n wrapped his arms around t's waist, returning the hug

but wait !! theres more !!

what kind of ikissjesse ship post would this be without cute couple hc's ???

the quiet stoic boy x loud energetic boy dynamic UUGF MY HEART I THINK IM DYIBG from how much i love this duo😔😔

z buys t a baseball cap in EVERY city/country they go to. every fucking one

even if its not a band tour, if z is out somewhere n sees a cool cap he thinks t would like, yall better believe this boy would cut off an arm n sell a kidney just for t to get that hat

t has a whole side in his closet dedicated to these hats z buys him, he finds it absolutely adorable

z actually thinks he isnt good at gift giving, so he was afraid t wouldnt like it at first, but t's reaction is enough conformation that he adores it

now what kinda aaron² hamilton lover truther would i be if i didnt mention the musical again 💪💪

they have FREQUENT hamilton marathons together, sometimes the other members of 4*town will join in too !!

they still sortve act like they did before, like friends n what not

however theyre also 300% more flirty

by that i mean T is 300% more flirty

z might be a LITTLE bit but def not as much as my boy aaron t (the r in aaron stands for rizzler -aaron t)

z isn't a big fan of PDA himself, however when t does little displays of affection when theyre in public he loves it ( he doesn't say it out loud bc he's shy but he does smile at t or to himself, holding t's hand or draping an arm over his shoulders )

when theyre in private z will hug t from behind, hold his waist, kiss his forehead, etc .... yk... bro stuff......

t surprises him by going BOO!!! and jumping up to put his arms around his shoulders from behind, which at first scared z shitless n earned t a lecture about why he shouldn't scare him like that bc z WILL swing but z is okay with it now n actually smiles ALBEIT A VERY SMALL SMILE when he does it

dates include but r not limited to playing basketball late at night together, movies, watching musicals, roadtrips to literally anywhere long or short they just wanna be in eachothers presence OUGHG I LOVE THEM

i forgot to mention !!! t is definitely the one who asked to be boyfriends, but z accidentally said "I love you" first

t was doing something dumb again, and z shook his head as he laughed, accidentally mumbling the words "I love you" out loud

t stopped dead in his tracks n snapped his head in z's direction, n yall this boy was STRESSED he did NOT mean to let the world know this information

z covered his face with his hands n his face was PINK pink bro but t just laughed n walked over to him, cupping his face in his hands and staring at him with a very VERY smug but genuine n happy grin

z scoffed, but soon glanced back at the other boy and smiled shyly

theyre so cute im throwing up in class

there's more but i think this is long enough for now, sorry for the wait pls snack on this while u wait for the rest of my jesro + aaron² content i have planned WINK WINK

thank u for reading <3

[cerebricarchives]

Condolences.

Condolences.

Condolences.

They all mean abandonment.

Betrayal.

Ambivalence.

Lie lie lie after lie, they drop like flies.

Oh, the procedure hypothesis was always a ninety-nine point one percentage of it failing.

Come my children.

I carve my skin-fUCK! Nah... That's too much. Shit. Now I hope this works.

The maggots will soon blossom into a being that God's eye dares to make awkward eye contact with when you're shifting your view!

Yeah just...get this over with. Injecting the Bio-Grade Serum!

Oi¡ Mio. Hjjjoooooooo *chuck mcgills on a lab desk and knocks unconscious*

*four hours pass*

Well this is... Kinda what I didn't expect.

*right arm is twisted like a fly leg with a human hand sticking out the end discolored in insect darkness, his uni uniform ripped around with his back sticking out fly wings, his eyes are all covered of an orange dome and his square glasses are fused into his now grotesque hodgepodge of Hispanic-american and common house fly*

Well shit fells like it affected just the wound area. Still got my skin though, more bigger. *Checks junk* damn...

Uh so what this arm is *insect arm violently shakes though light as a feather even though his hand hits Prof. Ramos's face* ah shot okay! Take it real slow.

*few moments outside his wrecked high top house*

What a mess! "ToJ is all about collateral control". Mi culo! And the the TV? Augh! *Searches through his phone as his insect arm taps in bursts* who the hell kind of hero they sent for this?

Thy Neon Viking? "If you have a complaint with the agent please contact them on their-" yeah i can trace that back.

Ohh.... whatever I may do, it won't matter? That's what he said.

I've made my choice!

*flies up to the night sky*

You Hear Me Riverstone!?

All your influence has brought me to this moment of the my own metamorphosis!

But it was not through isolation of the pressure through hard work ships or whatever septic pile that Kafka wrote! Oh no! But this was to test the limit!

And this so called life-insurance provided to those who dare silence the truth has only provided with not only this! But my whole damn salary is down the drain! These super heroes think they can waltz into a minor pest problem and walk out with that four-thousand dollar monitor?!

I still have to pay the rest!!!

And not to mention the lizard scum that run these corner restaurants and hotels across the north east. Sure. Maybe supplying me with the pro-bio serums for cheap seemed like a ploy to fully exploit me! A cold-blooded creature never goes soft, Cobalt!

All of this the sacrifices and the career down the drain, there is nothing left!

Forgive me Manuel. I won't make it back tomorrow. If i make it out of this, then he will have to wish...

Hear my name Riverstone! Trinity of Justice! NEON VIKING!!!

-Dr. House-Fly- is making a house call....

*meanwhile, 13 miles across the scene in a housebroken living room*

🪓: the fuck hear something?

⚡: had chili fries on my lunch break...sorry

🪓: no no like I'm not high or anything I'm I actually just like heard something. Like outside?

⚡: ... gotta out on my suit I have to.*stumbles over the empty beer cans*

🪓: you fucking cosplaying for Mario Wii?

⚡: dude no for real get your power up or whatever, I think I know who that is.

🪓: what you were followed?? From who?

⚡: *in another room shuffling around putting on his body suit and armor pieces* fuckin t.o.j. mall cop is who it is. they keep popping up whenever i do my-ohhh ahh! just a tight fit-i dunno whatever solo work is?!

🪓: what do you mean they're cracking down on that? I tell you the toj was built upon solo work, now they're shaming it? *One loud knock on the door, the faint smell of warm wood seeps through the door*

⚡: this one's called Arsonic. Origin short; tech accident involving oven repair. Brightly on fire from the thigh up, like an upsidedown wax candy bottle. Said they also got track-and-field to a T earning medals through the school years. Short way; extreme Hot Head. Literally.

🪓: *another loud knock on the door, this time the warm wood is very strong like it is about to burn* Alright! I'm g-Im naked! Give me a minute to change and I'll get the door!

⚡: *walking into the room putting on the helmet* okay I'm ready to face the fucking consequences this time. I hate to drag you into this man, I got to face it. *Puts out his hand like he's about to shake* sir Viking. This dou was short-lived but was a grand time altogether..

🪓: *stares at his hand* no but like... You got in my way really.*finally gives into shake his hand* I just wanted to have someone to hang out with. Sorry.

🔥: your honesty is going to be valuable if you please give me your time neon Viking.

⚡🪓: whuh

[olliewritesometimes]

|| Home. || riptide :D || Oliver teach angst<3 ||

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

- title obviously taken from cavetown lol

⁃ (kinda of) POV from Ollie’s notebook!

⁃ Ollie “fanfic”

⁃ JRWI riptide spoilers!!! (All episodes involving ollie)

⁃ Sigh I miss them… grebo please bring them home </3

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

TW!!:

⁃ Blood / gorey

⁃ Stabbing / “self harm”

⁃ Skin(?)

⁃ Mention of dead bodies

⁃ Curses

⁃ Abandonment issues

⁃ “Running away” from home

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“You’re not supposed to be here…” A tall muscular man covered in tattoos, grabbing the small elvin boy he found by the collar his shirt. “I’m hiding from my mom… She’ll probably hate me now.” Closing more in on himself. Like a scared kitten. The tall man places him on his feet and brushing off the miscellaneous dust and grime from his shoulders. “Well kid, looks like she’ll be upset for a while… We’ve been out at sea for 2 weeks now!” Smacking the kids back with a loud chuckle. The elvin boys face melts, immediately cracks and breaks waterfalls free from his eyes. “Come on, I could use the help around the ship!” Grabbing his shoulders and taking him out from the belly of the ship. Onto the top deck , viewing the light. His eyes closed, adjusting to the new light reopening reveals a new world for him to explore. New opportunities in Mana. Off Zero. No bullies. No rules. Just freedom. Guiding the kid over to the railing. “We’re far from home, kid. If I’d realize soon-…” a tight squeeze at his hips. His shirt continues to grow more and more damp. Using his left arm to hug him back, or watching the sun fall behind the distant islands they’ve yet to explore.

“We’ll get you home, kid.”

First blood. The blood drawn was from a child. A bloody and agonizing pain. Our elvin boy lets out of scream at Chip for help as he falls on his stomach flat on the deck. His eyes slowly closing, barely able to see his Chip sprints forward. A new passion, burning in his eyes. Faint fire glows sparks from said passion. The elvin boy’s consciousness fading quick distance screams from Chip as he gets held up and cradled. This is it. Stabbed and killed by a goblin. At 15 years old. Stranded at sea. Stabbed by a fuckin’ goblin. His brain begins to show slow memories of the crew. Desire island. The compass in his pocket. His wish is finally coming true. He gets to go home. A breath of fresh air fails his lungs. New life given to this boy. Still being cradled. Piles of goblins scattered the ship. Blood trickles down the helm of the ship from the one who’s neck had been cut open from Chip’s double swords. “OLLIE! OLIVER, PLEASE! SAY SOMETHING KID.” Chip screamed down at him. Still shaken up and unable to respond.His tears falling down his cheeks, face covered in dark red wine. Freshly dripping on the elvin boys cheek. A warm feeling, fills his wound. Green energy, fills it in and peels the skin back together. Leaving a permanent, thick, scar on the small boy. His shoulder had been patched very poorly with a wrap under his armpit. His eyes still faulter from the light, just as before. His lights did go out. He was carried to bed just as his mother would’ve done. Chip took Ollie to the crew’s sleeping quarters where he attempted to sleep. He tried. The compass vibrated and glowed like a nightlight his eyes fixated on the silly compass. It brought him comfort. His wish to go home after everything that had happened grew. The room glowed once more. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to go home…

“I’ll get you home, kid.”

He felt taller now… more important than he was when he was small. His chin has stubble like chip. He’s wearing Chip’s old clothes for now. The next island is a while away. His skin is stretched more than it supposed too for a kid his age. Running away from the robot police and getting a new crewmember in the process was certainly new. Is this what growing up feels like? Would he finally be able to make Marshall John proud? He gets to help the crew more. He can go on the big missions now he’s a grown-up. Instead of staying on the ship with Earl. Well now… Without Earl.

“They’ll getcha home kid…”

We’re going home. We’re going home…? But he doesn’t want to go home yet. This is his crew his new home. He doesn’t need to go back. Mom would want him back… Right? Would she still be upset about him running away? It’s been months…years? Maybe… The days blend at Sea. Like Drey always says! Do you think mom will be upset? Or Mr. Rico? Do you think he misses me baking with him? … I think I want to go home. I do miss Mr. Rico with the captains be disappointed if he left?

Back at zero seems weird to say… Leaving the ship feels freeing somehow but also wrong like he’s not supposed to be here yet. Placing his shoes on the wooden dock, the place felt bigger since he left even his short and height looking up toward the new buildings, a new grander water fountain in the middle of the town, all of ollie’s memories from this place grow stronger quicker and higher upward. He was home. The rest of the cruise slowly hikes behind him as he ran around his new home so much has happened since he left a revolution rebuilding even more deaths than on the sea. Barely 4 days on this island and so much has happened. A festival, seeing his mom again, stopping ruffians from hurting the innocent, helping Enza with her haunted house, building a pool in said haunted house, … Gillion stabbing himself …, chip is such an inspiring leader. I want to be just like him when I grow up.

Why’re they leaving? Why can’t they stay? I don’t understand what this ‘black sea’ is about. Who is Arlin?

I don’t want them to leave. His eyes, water and bubble as the whole town of zero walks down the hills to the docks. The more in view the albatross becomes the more and more tears fall from the small boy. Why did Marshall John leave? Why do I always get lefted behind? His shoes returned to the one dock. Just him and Mr. Rico walked down to the edge near their boat all their memories flood back to little Oliver. Then blowing up the captains boat, having a “book club” with Chip, saving islands, meeting new people, the compass, gaining a crewmembers, helping Chip defeat, his nightmares, playing tag on the deck being comforted while missing home… but now he was “home”. But he doesn’t want to go anymore. He found his new home with the captains. I can’t just leave them. They’re my family. Well, thinking the albatross becomes alive again, Alphonse returns. He smiles, and the tears buffer a second before the captains file off the ship to say their goodbyes. Jay kneels down to ollie’s height, rubbing his hair like she always did “we’ll see you soon Oliver…“ her eyes clearly watering. Trying to put on a brave face, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a necklace, orange red and aqua blue gems tied on a fine string matching swirls decorate the outside of the gems. Ollie holds up his hair as she ties it around his neck, placing his cheek and standing up and smiles before turning and walking away onto the ship. Straight into Drey’s chest. Wrapping her arms around his unused. Resting his head on her shoulders for a slight comfort. Gillion walks up next. Grabbing ollie and picking him up for a hug they hug for a while. Gillion talks about their destiny to meet once more. He tries to listen, but all he can see is shit behind him. He holding something tight during Ollie dead in the eyes. Tears trying to hold themselves back to seem confident and secure. Gill holds up Pretzel to say goodbye as she jumps out of her bowl onto his shoulders, then transferring to ollie’s hand for a hug, putting her tentacles around his neck. Letting out a incoherent blurble of sadness. Ollie’s tears do begin to fall now. Pretzel has become Ollie‘s friend throught their journey. Whenever they were on the ship, they would be playing chess, or playing hide and seek. Like normal kids, like nothing else in the world was happening. They let go placing their foreheads on each others before, placing her into the bowl at gillion’s hip. Placing a hand in Chip’s shoulder then walking back onto the ship. Leaving him and chip just staring at each other, left alone on the dock.

Chip’s eyes fall under themselves. Walking over and kneeling. Placing a hand on ollie‘s shoulder, looking up at him as he plays with his hair in his hands. “You’re home now, Oliver.. sorry it took so long.” he chuckles to himself. Taking a breath and placing a hand on his cheek. Home? … home. He felt another hand be placed on his head. Mr. Rico! “– Well, you better be on your way you have a long journey.”

No… not yet please not yet! “…someone gave me this, a long time ago. You’ve probably seen me messing with it–“ another chuckle, but it seems forced to this time . Along breath of silence exits the captain. “Here!“ Taking his hand off his cheek and towards his ear to pull out a golden coin. he laughs suffocating his tears, pulling out the young boys hand and curling his knuckles around said coin. “I want you to keep it. We will be back, ollie. We got you home, kid. That’s all that matters.” With the coin firmly in the boys hand he stands up and to walk off. A tight squeeze around his leg. Like he did for Arlin. “Please! Please, let me be a pirate!” his young voice echoes throughout his own head. Turning again, the small boy hugging his pant leg, holds him in place. Both pirates tears begin to crash on the deck. Their knees buckling beneath them.. “Chip! I’m sorry to break the moment but we’re kinda on a time crunch here!!” Jay screams down at the boys. Chip laughs. “Alright, alright! I have to go now kid.” Ruffing up his hair again. Sniffing and wiping his tears. Standing back up as Chip raised his hand and put a hand over his heart. “I do solemnly swear.” Mr. Rico sighs and crosses his arms. Ollie copying his motion. “I do solemnly swear.” The small boy replied. “To fuck shit up!” “To fuck shit up!!” Oliver screamed back at his captain. Like the first time they had done this initiation. “To help those in need.” Mr. Rico softens a bit. “To help those in need!” Ollie smiles up at Chip, tears still falling down their cheeks. “And to be the best goddamn pirates anyone has ever seen.” Both say in unison. They look at each other for a while. Before embracing once more. Playing with his hard one last time. One last time? No, no, no, no, NO! They can’t leave yet! Stuck in place as he watches them sail off without him. Tears continue to fall as Mr. Rico grabs his shoulder as a distant home is replaced by an old one. Fiddling with his new trinket, he walks back up to zero. Praying for his captains safety.

[thetragicallynerdy]

work in progress wednesday - three months post-rescue

“Hijo de puta –“

Jim’s snarled curse has Oluwande running the last few steps onto the deck, his heart suddenly racing. How did he miss an attack, did a ship sneak up to raid them, how –

He sees Jim and stops short. They are fighting. But it’s just Ivan, who’s caught them in a big bear hug as Jim tries to wiggle free. Pete and Lucius are watching, while Roach lounges nearby with Jim’s hat over his face, snoozing in the bright sun. Everything is calm. No one is freaking out.

With a victorious cry Jim elbows Ivan in the gut and wiggles free. They dance back out of reach, laughing at the way Ivan grabs for them.

“Wily little shit,” Ivan pants back, and if it weren’t for the massive grin on his face Oluwande might be worried.  “Your elbows are too fuckin’ pointy.”

“Verified weapons in their own right,” Lucius calls, scribbling something in his book. Or maybe sketching, from the way he keeps eyeing Roach. “Their knees are, too.”

Oluwande’s heart rate starts to slow. He rubs a hand against his chest, willing the tightness away, and stays just out of view.

“I’m coming for you next,” Jim threatens, never taking their eyes off Ivan. They’re settled in that loose, easy stance, and when Ivan lunges forward to swipe at them again they duck out of his way, batting his hand aside. And then it’s a flurry of quick blows between them – none hard enough to do damage. That had been Roach’s rule. ‘Hurt Jim after we just fixed them and I’ll hurt you’. Or something like that.

“Sure you are,” Lucius snorts. “I’ll just cry and you’ll stop. You’re a pushover now, Jimenez.”

Jim turns and starts towards him, voice rising in a curse. Ivan takes the opening, lunging in to wrap Jim in another hold before they can make it more than three steps. Lucius laughs, Jim curses, and the spar turns into a wrestling match.

Oluwande slips onto the deck when Jim’s back is to him, finding a seat beside Lucius and Pete. Somehow Jim is wrapped around Ivan’s neck now, clinging to his shoulders and threatening to cut his head off. There’s no knife in their hand. Ivan is threatening right back, something about a disembowelment.

“Oh, hey.” Lucius smiles at Oluwande as he settles, then goes back to his drawing. Sure enough, it’s Roach, long limbs stretched out and sun dappling on Jim’s hat that covers his face. There’s one of Pete too, mouth open as if arguing, and a few tiny, blurry ones of Jim and Ivan fighting. “Come to watch?”

Oluwande shrugs. “Sure.” When Lucius and Pete both give him a look he sighs, and lowers his voice so Jim won’t hear. “Heard Jim yell. Got worried.” He smiles as Ivan and Jim tumble to the ground. “They seem fine, though.”

Lucius eyes him. “They do. And you?”

He knows what Lucius is asking. It must be so bloody obvious how much he’s worried about them. He feels like a mother hen, sometimes, always hovering. But he’s trying. Neither of them are ready to retire. So they have to figure out a way to live with the risk that this life will always carry.

“Getting there.”

In the middle of the deck Jim and Ivan finally separate. They bump fists, then Ivan sprawls in a patch of shade and accepts the cup Fang hands him. Jim finally notices Oluwande. The way their face brightens sends warmth spreading through every part of him.

Jim wanders over and plops down beside him. Limbs loose, sweat shining on their cheeks and collarbone. They’re starting to gain back the weight that they lost.

“Hey,” they say, grinning and shaking sweaty hair out of their face. “Thought you were going over maps.”

Oluwande stretches out his feet and rests one against their calf, smiling back. “Finished a few minutes ago. Came to see the show.”

“Oh yeah?” Jim curls their hand around his ankle, two fingers and thumb warm against his skin. “Just in time to see Ivan lose?”

“It was a bloody tie!” Ivan protests from across the deck. “We both agreed!”

“Hey, that’s what you said hombre, I never agreed!”

Ivan makes a grumbling noise and gives Jim a rude gesture. “Rematch tomorrow?”

“Sí, sí. I’ll kick your ass, man.”

“Sure you will.”

Jim laughs and turns back to Oluwande. Their face turns sly. The grip on his ankle turns into a caress. “So if you’re done with the maps now… ¿Quieres ir a tener sexo?”

His heart beats a little faster in a good way, this time. Oluwande nods, a foolish grin spreading across his face. “Absolutamente.”

Jim clambers to their feet and holds out a hand for him. “Vamos entonces, guapo.”

“You know we understand enough Spanish now to know when you’re going off to fuck,” Lucius says drily. “You don’t have to hide it.”

Heat rises to Oluwande’s cheeks as he lets Jim pull him to his feet. They’re getting strong again. “Yeah, well, maybe we like to pretend that not everyone knows all of our business, okay?”

“Mhm, sure you do. Have nice sex,” he sing songs. Pete starts laughing beside him.

Jim rolls their eyes and pulls Oluwande towards their cabin. "Idiotas."

The door shuts behind them, and they turn and pull him into a kiss - and he forgets all about the worries of before.

(AN: this is part of a longer WIP that's a follow up to a ficlet in which Jim gets captured by the british and tortured a little. It's a lot of healing and h/c. And will hopefully be done soon!)

[tzimiscequeen-blog]

In the Heart of the Flames Chapter (NSFW) Synopsis: Jinjer gets to show off a new talent and runs into someone from her past.

Additional Tags: AFABReader, She/Her Pronouns, oral (giving and recieving) MDNI

WC: 3500+

Available on AO3 (can't get it to link)

     Wire squeezed your hand as you took a deep breath before he opened his door. The hallway was clear but you heard the distinct voices of your bar group on the deck. They were all teasing Papas about something when you and Wire finally breached the doorway to the deck.

     “Oh, Jingie! Look at you!” Quincy was the first to spot you two. You smiled and blushed.

     Papas just whistled. Kid stepped towards you but Killer pushed him out of the way and made it to you first.

     “Your eyes are brighter and your smile is sweeter. Your new found confidence looks good on you,” he said as he cupped your face, stroked his thumb along your cheek and returned to his spot.

     Kid slapped him in the chest for blocking him and then lightly gripped your chin between his large fingers.

     “Kil’s better with the nice words than I am, but he’s right. Confidence and the clothes look good on you,” he smirked as he leaned down and kissed your cheek, winked at you, then went back to the railing.

     You noticed Heat wasn’t there.

     “Thanks guys. Where’s Heat?” you asked.

     “He’s fuckin with his hair. He’ll be out in a few minutes. You wanna meet us there?” Kid said.

     “Yeah, I can wait here. No one is gonna board your ship while I wait,” you said.

     “They’d be pretty dumb if they did,” Killer added.

     “Alright, we’ll meet you two at the bar,” Kid said as they headed down the gang plank.

     You leaned on the side rail of the ship and looked out over the port. It was actually kinda pretty viewing it from here. You were far enough from the people to just be able to watch them move about and not feel anxious to be within them. The breeze was cool enough to give you a slight chill. You listened to the hum of the town. The music, the voices, the waves lapping against the ships and the shore. You found yourself lost in it when you were suddenly startled out of your unintentional meditation.

     “Oi! Who the fuck are you?” Heat’s voice was deep and threatening. Nothing like you’d ever heard from him.

     You turned to face him and you almost laughed at the utter shock on his face.

     “Oh, shit. Sorry love. I didn’t realize it was you…wow,” he approached and looked you over.

     “It’s alright baby. I can understand your concern. Though to be honest, your authoritative voice is quite sexy,” you smirked as you pulled him in for a kiss.

     He welcomed your lips and held you tight to him.

     “I’ll have to remember that for another time,” he smiled as he continued to kiss you.

     “You look amazing,” he added.

     “Thanks. I’m saving the other one I tried on for a different night. This one felt like a good mix between that and what I was in before,” you said.

     You got a look at what he was wearing as you pulled away. He had the messy loose bun you liked. His normal knee-high combat boots with a black and ice blue kilt and one of his ripped no sleeve t-shirts. You had seen him in similar, but somehow tonight he just looked extra delicious.

     “You’re looking really good yourself,” you smiled.

     “The best for you love,” he kissed your cheek and escorted you off the ship.

     “So…you wearing anything under that kilt?” you asked with a grin.

     He looked at you and slid your hand up his outer thigh up to the waist. Clearly nothing underneath. Then winked at you.

     You felt the warmth building in your lower abdomen already. It would be a long night.

     The two of you made it to the bar and joined the group. It happened to be open mic night. There was a live band, just instruments, that had a catalog of songs that you could choose from and sing. The crew thought it was awesome and of course Kid was the first of your group to go up and sing. You had a feeling this was going to go poorly for everyones ears.

     He looked through the catalog and you could hear him mumble a “fuck yeah” and turned to the band. Told them the song but asked them to do it faster using some technical music terms. The band nodded, impressed with his knowledge and he took the mic.

     You could see he gave your group a wink, but a few of the other women in the bar near you giggled and waved at him. He ate it up.

     You were shocked at how good a singer Kid was. The gravel in his voice was actually tamer when he sang and it gave his voice a delightful whine. There was a soulfulness to the tone and as a singer yourself, you could tell he was actually putting his emotions into his performance. It was beautiful. You all gave him a boisterous standing ovation when he was done, and again, he ate it up. The girls started to flirt with him so he sat at their table for a while.

     After you had a few more drinks to loosen your nerves you got up and headed to the band. Heat tried to ask you what you were doing but you couldn’t stop or you would chicken out. Kid still sat at the table with the girls and turned his full attention to you. One girl sat on his lap and he idly stroked her leg, but his attention was on you. Heat watched you curiously. He gave you an encouraging smile and blew you a kiss.

     You picked a slow and sultry sounding number that had a lot of emotion. You closed your eyes for more courage and began to sing. You would consider your singing voice a feminine version of what Kid’s sounded like, with less gravel and more clean vocals. You belted the song like it was trying to claw it’s way out of you. You let the frustrations of the decision you had to make flow out of you and into the words of the song.

     Another standing ovation from the Kid Pirates. Kid intercepted you before you made it back to your seat.

     “That was beautiful songbird. I hope you grace us with that voice some more before we leave,” he smiled at you, a genuine, sincere smile. Not one of his cocky confident ones. His last words reminded you that your time with them, with Heat was limited.

     “Thanks Kid. You’re not so bad yourself. Maybe we could do a duet,” you suggested.

     “That would be fucking awesome,” he replied with a smirk. 

     He gave you a kiss on the cheek and scooted you back towards the table with the rest of the crew. He rejoined the girls that were now giving you dirty looks.

     “Love, that was amazing,” Heat pulled you in for a deep kiss.

     “Thanks baby. I’m a little rusty, but Kid going up there reminded me how much I love singing. Maybe I’ll give you your own private concert one day,” you smiled at him. Being wrapped in his arms made your sadness go away. He just felt so comfortable. You felt grounded when you were with him.

     A while later you went up to the bar to order the next round of drinks when a bone chilling voice came from behind you and the speaker’s two hands rested on your hips.

     “Here you are my darling. I’ve been looking for you for a very long time,” his head was right next to yours and he pressed himself against your back.

     “I’m…not your darling,” you took a deep breath to calm your nerves, “You must have the wrong person,” you tried to move out of his grasp. But he was always so strong and held you in place.

     You distinctly heard multiple chairs scoot back and loud thudding footsteps approach.

     “Get your fucking hands off her,” Heat growled and grabbed the man and forcefully pulled him off you and slammed him into the side of the bar.

     “Don’t touch me you filth,” the man said as he shoved Heat’s hands from him.

     Oswald looked exactly as you remembered him. Tall (6 ft), broad build, smug face, and all arrogance. His clothes made him obviously out of place at The Twisted Tale, but you knew he didn’t care.

     “Apologize to her and get the fuck outta here,” Kid growled from behind you. Wire and Killer approached from the table.

     “She’s my fiancée, why would I need to apologize?” Oswald retorted.

     “The fuck she is,” Kid spit back.

     Oswald grabbed your wrist and Heat punched him across the face. He then forced his way in between you and Oswald. The other three blocked his ability to get to you.

     “I see how it is,” Oswald spit the blood that pooled in his mouth at Heat’s feet and left the bar.

     Papas walked up and took Heat’s hand and looked it over. Told him to ice it, but should be fine.

     “Papas, can you and Quincy go get Reck and Gig and have them go to my house and have them give Bea this? Tell them to leave the ship five minutes after you tell them just in case you are followed,” you grabbed a napkin and a pen and wrote.

     B, O is here. Don’t leave the house until I tell you to. J

     ‘You got it,” Papas said, took the napkin and headed out with Quincy.

     “You wanna explain what the fuck just happened?” Kid asked, his voice tense.

     You walked back to the table and pulled the four of them in close and took a deep breath.

     “About four years ago my father arranged a marriage for me to Oswald. Two years ago after my father died I took Bea and the kids and ran,” you briefly explained.

     Kid sat back and Heat held your hand.

     “You think he’s gonna go after Bea and the kids?” the captain asked.

     “I wouldn’t put it past him. He was very obsessive and would go to extreme measures sometimes,” you explained.

     “Did he hurt you? Did he do this?” Heat whispered as he ran his fingers down your right side.

     “He didn’t have anything to do with the burns,” you avoided answering the first question. He did many things to you.

     Heats hand gripped yours harder. Wire had a scowl on his face and Killer was cracking his knuckles. They all knew you deliberately didn’t answer the first question.

     “We should have Bea and the kids watched,” Killer suggested.

     “He doesn’t know where we live,” you said.

     “We shouldn’t take that chance,” Wire chimed in.

     “You should stay on the Punk tonight,” Kid suggested.

     “Alright, that would be for the best,” you agreed.

     The five of you left and headed back to the Punk. You met Papas and Quincy and continued to party in the lounge. Papas brought Heat an ice pack for his hand.

     You were surprised that none of them pried into your history. They just took your word and left it at that. This group was something special. The mood had lightened significantly and everyone was back to laughter and smiles.

     You spent another two hours in the lounge then headed to bed.

     Heat joined you and gave you an un-ripped t-shirt for you to sleep in. He pulled his hair back into a loose bun and stripped like the night before. You again, couldn’t help but take him in. Fuck was he gorgeous. Even soft, his cock was impressive.

     “Berri for your thoughts?” he smiled.

     “Just thinking if I can fit you in my mouth,” you looked up at him.

     He pulled you to him and firmly pressed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. His cock began to twitch between you.

     You moved your lips to his scars, then his jaw, neck, and chest. You ran your tongue over each of his nipples. He gave a soft moan at the touch. You traveled down to his hips where you laid licks and kisses along them down to his hardening cock. You adjusted and sat on the edge of the bed, sometimes the height difference proved problematic.

     He let out a pleasured hiss as you touched him. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, your fingers didn’t quite touch, then licked and kissed his large balls. Your free hand massaged while you licked them, then started at the base of his cock and licked and stroked your way up. The saliva dripped from your mouth to help coat him. You licked over the frenum piercings and lingered on the ring on his tip. Your tongue wiggled the ring and his body twitched.

     “That’s it love,” he moaned.

     “I’ve never dealt with piercings before,” you commented as you continued to lick his tip. You spread his pre-cum with your tongue and flicked the ring again.

     “You’re…ah…doing so good…love,” he said through breaths.

     You smiled at the praise and slipped your lips over his tip and he sucked in a breath. You used your tongue again to play with the ring while you moved your mouth lower. He rested one hand in your hair while he gripped one of the hooks you now noticed in the ceiling.

     You rubbed your thighs together as you wanted some friction. You gave a small moan as you removed your hand from his balls and began to rub your clit. You fit him as far as you could and began to bob your head and stroked him as you went. You could tell he was trying not to thrust his hips.

     “Love, do you…ahh…trust me?” he asked between moans.

     “Uh, huh,” you hummed while still sucking his cock, which caused him to moan louder.

     He pulled out of your mouth and laid on the bed then pulled you over on top of him.

     “Turn around and lay on me. I want to taste you while you suck me off,” he said and you did as he said after you pulled your underwear off.

     He sat himself up a bit to adjust for the height difference, again. He waited for you to wrap your lips and hands around him before he began pleasuring you. You gave him a few bobs and he took both of his hands and spread you wide. His tongue gently licked from clit to ass and you squeaked. He teased your clit with the tip of his tongue with little flicks. He inserted a wide, long finger into you as his tongue worked your clit.

     You let out a long moan at the feeling, which caused him to let one out as well. Yours vibrated the rings on his cock. Your saliva coated his cock as he inserted a second finger. You began to speed up your strokes and bobs, occasionally giving your jaw a break and lick up and down his shaft. He was able to get a third finger in before you pulled off his cock and began to grind your cunt into his face. He replaced his fingers with his tongue and wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you in place. You tried to continue stroke him while you rode his face. His rumbled moans tickled you clit and his tongue his spots you didn’t think a tongue could reach.

     “Oh fuck…Heat…yes…more!” you screamed, no doubt anyone in this part of this ship clearly heard you.

     “Let it out, love,” he moaned between breaths.

     “Nmmm…y…yes…yes…I’m…” you got out before your walls tightened around his tongue and your vision went white for a second as your orgasm peaked. Heat’s tongue lapped up every drop he could of your release. A few seconds later you regained your wits and Heat was gently licking your folds and clit.

     You then leaned back down and put him back into your mouth and his hips twitched at the sudden touch. You luckily only had the tip in your mouth. You started off slow but quickly bobbed and stroked faster. He removed his face but held your thighs. His panting was getting faster and more ragged.

     “Love…just like that…fuck…you’re so…good,” he moaned.

     His encouragement caused you to get bold. You took a deep breath and tried to relax your jaw as best you could. It allowed you to slip one more inch.

     “Fuuuck…I’m gonna…” was all the warning you had before you felt the hot streams of come in your mouth. You continued to milk him until there was nothing left, which took longer than you were used to.

     When you were done, you moved around and continued to lay on his chest, but faced him. You licked your lips as he licked the remain slick from his chin. He pulled you up into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips and you knew he tasted himself on yours.

     “I hope I can do that again baby,” you said between kisses.

     “Whenever you want. You taste so good. I’ll need to do that many more times to make sure I can remember your taste…” he couldn’t bring himself to say “for when we leave.”

     “We still have a month baby,” you tried to be positive about your dilemma.

     “I know,” he said as he just wrapped his arms around you.

     You laid like that for a few minutes before you got up and used the bathroom. When you came out he was wearing his kilt again, nothing else.

     “Where you going?” you asked confused.

     “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he took a deep breath then turned to you and gave you a sweet kiss. You could see the sadness in his eyes, “lay down. I’ll join you soon.”

     “Heat, what’s wrong?” you asked, concerned.

     “I’ll be fine. I just need to get some air,” he gave you a reserved smile.

     You wanted to say you’d go with him, but he obviously wanted to be alone, so you let him.

     “Ok baby,” you said as you leaned up and kissed his cheek.

     He turned and walked down the hall to the deck, leaving the door to his room open. Your heart sank at how sad he looked.

     You sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes when Killer stopped in the doorway.

     “Hey hon, you worried about Bea and the kids?” he asked as he walked in and

 sat next to you.

     “Yes, but that’s not what I’m thinking about right now,” you said as you fidgeted with your fingers.

     “What is it?” He asked as he brought a knee up on the bed to turn towards you.

     “I think I said something to Heat that made him upset and sad and I don’t know what to do,” you replied as you tried to fight tears.

     “What did you say to him?” Killer gently took your hand.

     “I told him we still had a month to enjoy each other’s company,” you said as you squeezed Killer’s hand.

     “I see. Have you thought about coming with us?” he asked bluntly.

     “I…I have, but now that Oswald has shown his face I need to protect them. I can’t let him find them,” you said as a tear ran down your cheek.

     “We’ve dealt with scumbags like him before. We’ll help you keep Bea and the kids safe,” he said as he wiped the tear.

     “In a month?” you asked as your throat cracked.

     “We’ve done more in less time. How about tomorrow you tell us what you know about him and we’ll get to the bottom of this. OK?” his voice was kind. You wished you could see his expression.

     “You’d do that for me?” you asked.

     “Of course. We all care about you,” he said and brought your hand to where his mouth would be on the mask.

     “Thanks Killer,” you sniffed.

     “Anytime hon,” he stood and leaned over and “kissed” your forehead and headed back the way he came.

     You sat in the bed and looked around Heat’s room while you waited for his return. You noticed the same reinforced beams in this ceiling with eyelets, hooks, and pulleys. He had a small seating area with two chairs and a small side table in between. In the corner next to the chairs there was an easel with a stool. Small crates of art supplies were scattered around the area. You were tempted to peak at the canvas, but thought it was too private for you to see. He has a nightstand on either side of the bed and a medium chest along the wall by the door.

     You laid down and waited until Heat returned which was a little while later. Longer than you had hoped, but glad he returned. He gave you a chaste smile as he closed the door and removed his kilt.

     “Hi, love. Sorry about that. Ready for bed?” he said as he turned the light out and crawled in next to you.

     “I’m glad your back,” you said as you gave him a soft kiss which he returned and snuggled into his chest. You swore you saw his eyes red, but he closed them before you could really check.

                “Me too,” he said as he wrapped his arms and legs around you much like the night before.

[threadsun]

So glad you're liking all these au's my brain spits out :D As for adoption order

You pick up Ian first, he's very cute and turns the charm up by twelve when he realizes how hot you are (One of the reasons Ian's a bunny is because of how fuckin horny he is) After a few days with you Ian starts talking about the friends he made in the store and how, you know, since your place is so big, maybe you could buy them too?

After Ian talks them up you decide to get Bo and Jean at the same time. Bo is on his best behavior for you he can't go back, he can fucking go back to that store. Jean is also on his best behavior in front of you but makes sure to let the others know he's in charge behind your back

After a while you hear about a hybrid being put in a pound for running a restaurant and your curiosity is peaked enough to check it out. You're a bit surprised to see it was a duck hybrid but after telling him you had a pool he was yours

While trying to leave the pound an escape attempt is made by a panther hybrid, but he's caught and put back in his cell shortly after. A few days go by and you still can't get the poor guy out of your head so you go back for him. You quickly realize he's not a panther at all, he's just a house cat, pretty harmless too, so long as you treat him like a person

After Shaun sees the zoo your mansion is becoming he suggests that maybe you could get a few of his friends out too? Pleeeeeeeease? You cave to his kitty eyes and you take him back to the pound to point out all his friends. The first being Nick who you adopt on the spot and decide to leave the others for another day to not seem suspicious (Some people get hybrids from pounds to release them so staff is always on the look out for that)

Jack and Rory are next, they give you the whole speech about how they won't be taken from each other and are stunned into silence after you tell them you're getting both of them

And, finally, Joseph kinda doesn't want to come with you. He thinks he deserves the pound and doesn't want to ruin your home. The only way you'll get him to come with you is to tell him you run a tight ship and will punish him if he steps out of line

I love this!!!!! Ian being a horny bunny is sooooo good :3c also Shaun's kitty eyes!!!! And poor Joseph, gotta trick him into thinking he's being punished because he doesn't think he deserves good things 😭

[fakeshibe]

i got one of the dishonored comics today, The Peeress and the Price (still waiting for the art book to ship), and it was a really cool short comic run!! i’ve got a couple of mixed feelings on certain parts of it though :/

So, spoilers mini-essay with absolutely no spell checking or proofreading to explain my thoughts and critiques :D

— Spoilers for Dishonored: the Peeress and the Price —

the art was incredible, loved it, such a sick style the really harsh lighting had such a sick effect. really cool use of colours too. For some reason on the version i got Emily’s headshot on the cover was like, super low resolution and visibly png compressed? there were a couple of page spreads of D2 location art on the inside too which were slightly compressed looking with a weird sharpness, no idea what’s going on there lol. it was an official print so, i guess maybe it didn’t get proofed properly before it went to print or there was a tight deadline? the actual comic art looks incredible, it’s just the cover and the art spreads, which makes sense cause they’re pieces i’ve seen other places being re-used for this. bit odd though.

It started out super great, diving straight into Emily being confronted with the demand for democracy from a group of Dunwall citizens, and I love that!! it’s a genuinely good question for Emily to be asked, if she’s always looking to do the best thing for Dunwall, would that include abolishing the monarchy? but then the rest of the comic just feels too short to properly explore that and it concludes in such an unsatisfying way. It feels like it was maybe meant to be a 3 issue thing treat had to be shortened to 2? or maybe it was always 2 issues, and really should’ve been 2. idk.

The action is really great, I really love it!! it’s so cool to see how Corvo and Emily fight side by side, and to get it clarified that Corvo’s mark doesn’t get returned post-Delilah in D2. And the antagonist, Price? the way she’s drawn and framed is so cool and I love it, she’s allowed to be so brutal and i love that. but does she really have a motivation? Unless i missed a panel i couldn’t really tell one other than she just wants to watch the world burn. She kinda fits the description of characters from Morely, so in my mind i’m assuming she’s for the fall of Dunwall and the empire because of how Morely has been constantly revolting against the empire in the background of the games, because that actually is a really cool motivation that brings the wider empire into the story and furthered the question of how much good Emily’s position as empress does when balanced against the damage inherent of it being an empire.

But yeah, the ‘im into chaos because, fuckin idk it’s fun to watch the world burn’ methodology of Price kinda doesn’t work for me. I know Price explains her motivation in more detail while she’s attempting to convince Wainwright to use his position to turn peaceful protest into a violent rebellion, but it still just doesn’t convince me without the mention of Morely or a wider motivation.

Also, the part about the ending being unsatisfying? Emily kills like 10 of the rat gang henchmen without a second though, not in self defence either, she usually starts it. So her sparing the leader of the gang and telling the public ‘it’s not my position to decide who lives or dies’… actual what the fuck are you on about 😭😭 since when?? unless that’s meant to be her separating Empress Emily and assassin Emily, and declaring that publicly she’ll limit her powers, but behind the scenes she’ll still control Dunwall??

Also the people were like having a revolution 10 mins ago, but now that Emily has spared one person from capital punishment they’re all royalists again? idk, i loved the art in the comic and the characters but i think some of the writing just wasn’t for me lol

I’ve still to read the actual books and ik they’re a lot longer than a 36 page comic, so i’m hoping they delve into things a bit deeper.

All in all, I think by nature a short run comic is gonna struggle to go very in depth on any topic, i think it did it pretty well for the format and i’d have loved to see the authors and artists given a longer run to explore the ideas they had further :) I think it’s a nice little follow up to show how things work in Dunwall post-D2, and how Emily and Corvo work together and everything. It’s nice to see that there’s been a thought for the continuation of the series and more spin-off media, even if i have critiques of it i’ll always be glad for more Dishonored related media lmao

[charmed-asylum]

Let me try not to do this…… okay moment over let’s get it done w a lovely deep dive 💦 🐬 🕵️‍♀️

Part 1: Awkward Moment: now fact that ally comes out to just surprise Colin same moment reader leaves leave me full of doubt about this bitch. Like mmm u n Colin r nasty af like at this point I’m really thinking they want to do a 3 some bc sus. Then the oh I didn’t see u but never and I say NEVER reach out to her bc getting some before work n “happening to run into each other don’t count “ roo . But she recognizes she wasn’t there like obviously 🙄 she left afterwards when u was fuckin like 🐰 in next room. And reader little hard on her self poor thing. Part 2: Office Space If this is anything like the show hot damn we just enter a two for and a bitch could not be more happy. Lord so many times I seen this and it’s like mm. I know this is a Colin fic but honey u left to many stiff open w endless questions I have and probably go on a rant about but won’t just please 🙏 ring ring a sis when u got a chance. Shari shariiiii I love her yup only five secs n I’m like clap slap yuuuup. I wonder do they hang out is reader just socially awkward bc if so hot dog I found my double lol 😂 He's tall, blond, and neatly groomed. He wears a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. Even without a tie, he carries an air of formality. The shade of the fabric brings out the lighter hue of his eyes as they scan the spacious but crowded office floor. Idk why but I was like DAMN YES 👍 like mmm found a suitable mate for reader wooo. Lord huh sounds fine. Now I really was like oh shut did he see her the contact at this moment I’m just shipping the shit of the two ( especially once he drop it like it hot w the name girrrrrl) again knowing my luck it’s a trap 🪤 n bitch need to run to CVS n stock up on my clown makeup . THE FACT OKAY REPEAT IT FOR THE BACK THIS HAPPENED HAD ME ☠️ 🪦 His lilted accent is like music. You can't help but be enthralled by it. Your mind as ever sprints ahead of you as you wonder where he's from and how he got here. BC IM SAY WAY IDK WHYYYYYYYYY BUT VOICE ALWAYS GET ME zoooooon out now after this line she says last thing she needs is this choas ( my pink glasses tilt down as I give a confused look) why she say that part 3: First impression; nooooow 👏🏼 🫰 idk about yall but tension is tight n I’m grabbing my coins bc I feel it. To meet people and to see what their worth is okay but mmmm idk 🤷‍♀️ he kinda going at it differently idk and how he said That is not my question," he closes the folder and drops it, "forgive me. You have my full attention," he steps around and leans against the desk, only a foot away from you, "describe this office in one word." Like idk much but BUTTT I’m feeling something about the way this convo turn now I’m not gonna lie I just huhhh point at him something up BUT IF ALL ELSE FAILS THE GAZE ROO THE GAZE SOMETHING UP ONCE HE HEAR THAT WORD

Part 4: Colin : I want to start by saying he diff was waiting for her like nope he jobless basically n bored so why not be a sexy creep and stalk a bitch u ain’t fucking but make sure she can hear it mmm u nasty 😷 So quickly the knife sinks back in as you find Colin standing along the other side of the hall, leaning on the railing that overlooks the lower level. He watches you as you appear. Like whooooooo does this 🫤 waits like this makes me wonder like idk maybe we discovered a im a creepy ass man kink w him bc like why or it’s enjoyment like ally all Colin she heard n now im mad pout n he all so what lalala they get n a fight n he fucks w reader bc he a dick . 👏🏼 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 why is he clocking a bitch like u a Rolex , Ally said you got pretty loaded. Andddddd you again talking about her w ally u guys really talking about her this much like who does this. And he creeeeping rooo oh my god can we find a level above steve n bucky on the god damn u is quite sneaky this never end nicknames n flirting yoooooo men just don’t HOLD UP TAKE MY POODLE HE SNAP HIS FINGER AT HER OHHHH NAH HE GONNa ( in a whisper) DIEEEEEEEEEEEE n come on this Buttercup,” he snaps his fingers, “you’re the best friend ever, you know that? So fucking chill. God, just… beautiful!” Whaaaaaat he doing n a 😘 boy what is u doin n then it hit me he got a im a horny dick kink who does that n say stuff then act like it ahhhh

Crushed 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Character: Colin Shea

Note: Things are already gettin messy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

Ps. Do you like my divider? I’ll make you one for your stories

Sunday is spent recovering. Emotionally. Physically, you feel fine. The nausea and headache fade before noon but you still feel sick. You don’t dare emerge from your apartment.

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