#*For a price of course :)

[rambutanwhimsy]

Wait hey @ysbwriel promise not to be a dick for ten minutes and live nearby, do you want hobgoblin blood? This corpse has been in my freezer and idk where to put it.

[vampire-matcha]

Everyone always talks about John "share my wife" Price but what about Kyle "our girlfriend" Garrick???

18+

It starts with you and him on the couch together. You've got your hand in his pants and he's got his tongue down your throat. You're pumping his cock while he pants into your mouth when his phone rings- someone is video calling him. You glance at his phone sitting beside him, discarded on the couch cushion when you first crawled over to him to kiss his neck. The icon on the screen is a familiar one: a mischievous grin with a mohawk on top.

"Answer it," you say as you slide down the couch and onto your knees in front of him.

"What?" He asks, his eyes wide as saucers as you hand him the phone.

"Answer it," you say again with a devilish grin, still stroking him slowly. With a shaky breath to school his expression, he answers it.

Gaz tries his best to stay nonchalant, not even listening to Soap's chatter through the phone, but you have other plans. Gaz let's out a surprised grunt and jerks when you take his cockhead into your mouth.

"You alright mate?" Soap asks after a momentary pause.

"Yeah-yeah," Gaz answers too quickly. "Muscle spasm. Got a- ah- knot in my shoulder." You can't help but smile around his dick as you bob your head up and down his shaft. He glances down at you with a frustrated huff. Soap makes a noise on the phone.

"That's rough, mate. You should ask your girl to help you rub it out." You nearly choke at the unintended double entendre. "Where is she anyway? Wanna say hi."

"Uh... she's-" whatever half-baked excuse Gaz was about to spout off is cut off by the sudden sucking noise your lips made on "accident". Gaz freezes, looking past the phone at you, and Soap is silent on the other line. You continue to swirl your tongue around Gaz's tip.

"...Gaz?" Soap asks slowly. Gaz doesn't answer, his chest heaving in an effort to maintain his composure. "What's going on?" Gaz's eyes darted back and forth between you and the phone, silently willing you to stop so he wont get caught. Instead, you make yourself gag on his length, causing him to grunt involuntarily.

"Holy shite, Gaz... are you...?" Soap sounds suddenly breathless at the sounds he hears on his phone. They aren't unfamiliar to him, but usually they're accompanied by a little orange logo, not by his best mate on FaceTime. "Turn the camera around."

Gaz's jaw drops with a pant. Oh, he's so caught. He stares down at you, and you nod your head before sucking hard. With a shaky hand, he taps the screen, and you hear Soap groan over the speaker. You suck off Gaz's tip with a wet pop and smile.

"Hi Soap," you say conversationally, as if Gaz's cock wasn't there right in your face, as if you didn't have drool and precum dripping down your chin. You stare up into the camera phone as you stick your tongue out and lick up and down the shaft.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap says, and there's a rustling over the speaker. "Garrick, you dog," he growls. You put on a show for him, pumping Gaz in your hand while you mouth at his balls, making him moan out loud. He's already been caught, no use hiding it anymore.

Soap gets himself off to it. You can hear his groans of pleasure over the phone mixing with Gaz's, can hear the wet sounds of him stroking himself. When you finally get Gaz to cum on your face, you smile at the pleasured moan Soap let's out. Gaz smears his cum over your lips with his thumb and with a smirk he says,

"What are you doing tonight, Tav?"

"I'll be over in an hour," Soap replies.

The three of you go at it for hours, round after round, multiple positions, every combination. And while you were the center of their attention for most of it, it was also incredible hot to watch them together, making out above you, jerking each other's cocks. By the end of the night, when everyone's needs had been met and you all were exhausted, you all agree it was the best sex of any of your lives. And you all three agree: there's no going back after this.

Soap comes over more and more often for threesomes, but a couple times it was just you and him, or him and Gaz. The three of you find a rhythm and balance together, happy and very well satisfied.

Gaz is out of the country when Ghost finds out. And. He. Is. Livid.

He'd borrowed Soap's phone for something, he doesn't remember what he needed, because once he saw the video of you and Soap on his phone he swears he saw red.

Soap had never seen his LT so angry, especially not toward him. Ghost has him backed into the wall, face in his face, barking at him like a mad dog.

"Have you gone fucking mad? You've got a lot of fucking nerve, Sergeant! Showin' your face to Gaz while you're giving him the runaround! Fucking his girl behind his back! You should be ashamed! He's our teammate, he's our BROTHER!" And in a blind panic, Soap shouts out:

"He knows!" It's enough to make Ghost pause his tirade for a moment, giving the shorter man an incredulous look.

"Bullshit."

"He does! He knows, I can prove it!" Soap pleads, and slowly holds out his hand. Ghost pins him with a glare but hands him the phone anyway.

Soap opens up the group chat the three of you share and turns the phone to show to Ghost. There's a variety of messages, some casual, some flirtatious, but what really catches Ghost's eye are the videos.

The first is the one that sent him into a fit in the first place: you're bent over in front of a mirror while Soap rams into you from behind. The video is sent with a message reading "taking care of our girl while you're gone x" The next video is sent from your POV as you bounce on Gaz’s cock. Then a video sent from Gaz's number that seems to be in the barracks shower of all places, the phone propped up somehow capturing the two Sergeants wet and naked. Gaz steps back from the camera and embraces Soap with a heated kiss. They each wrap a hand around both their cocks together and jerk themselves off to a simultaneous finish.

As Ghost scrolls through the chat, Soap, still pinned to the wall, takes notice of the way Ghost's breathing steadily gets heavier and heavier. And he DEFINITELY notices the growing weight pressed against his stomach. He gives an experimental grind of his hips. Ghost's eyes snap back up to him. They're still full of fire, but for a completely different reason.

"You got me stuck between a rock and a hard place, here, LT." He jokes with a gravelly voice. "But you know what they say... the more the merrier." In a matter of minutes, Ghost had Soap turned around, and both their pants are down by their ankles.

Gaz gets a new message in the chat later that night. The video starts focused on your face, your mouth deepthroating Soap and your eyes rolled back in your head as your body gets jostled roughly by... someone else. The camera pans down your body, showing you on your hands and knees, and a thick, wide body fucking into you from behind. A familiar tattoo sleeve catches Gaz's eye, and finally the camera pans up to show that infamous skull mask that he knows so well. The video is captioned: "found a new playmate for us... don't tell the captain ;)"

The captain, of course, does find out sooner rather than later. The team is gathered at you and Gaz’s home to watch a football game. Most of the sports terminology goes over your head, but you're glad to have all your boys together... plus their captain.

You think you're being subtle about everything, but Price notices. His job is noticing things. Countless life-or-death situations have counted on Price noticing little things. So of course he notices your heated glances at Soap, the way you leave lingering touches on Ghost when you pass by him. You, nestled into your boyfriend's side with his arm around you while you make eyes at his teammates. It makes his blood boil.

He confronts you in the kitchen. You got up to fetch yourself a drink and he waits a moment before he follows you in. You turn around from the fridge to see him standing behind you. His face is impassive and unreadable. You linger there a moment in confusion. He's usually so friendly toward you. Finally he breaks the silence first.

"You know, Kyle really cares about you. Talks about you all the time, talks about how much he loves you. You've got that poor boy wrapped around your little finger, you know that?"

"Th-thank you...?" You stutter, completely caught off-guard. The cold tone of his voice doesn't match his kind words. There's an edge to it, a dangerous one. He shakes his head at you.

"He doesn't deserve this. He's a good man."

"Doesn't deserve what?" You ask, glancing down at the extra beer in your hand that you'd gotten for Gaz. He doesn't deserve beer?

"You think I don't know what's going on?" He accuses with a step forward. "You think I don't see it?"

"See what?" You ask, growing more and more worried with every passing second. Price scoffs.

"You know, I've seen this a lot. Men in the service go out and risk their lives, all the while back home their girl is running circles around them." He huffs, giving you a look you'd never seen before. It makes you feel... gross. "Thought you were different, though. Thought you could be trusted. And to do it with his teammates?" His eyes narrow and his nose wrinkles in disgust. You gasp in realization. He thinks you're cheating!

"John, you don't understand-"

"You think I'm stupid?"

"No!"

"What's going on?" Gaz asks from the doorway. He was wondering what was taking you both so long, but he didn't expect to find you close to tears cornered by his captain. Price turns his body toward him, but keeps his eyes on you.

"Do you want to tell him, or should I?" He asks. You open and close your mouth but nothing comes out. Your brain is overworking trying to figure out an answer. You can't tell him the truth, you'd get your boys in trouble! Should you just admit to it? Take the blame to protect them? Before you can come up with the words, Soap and Ghost enter the room behind Gaz. Price turns his attention to them, and you breathe out in relief to have his glare off you.

"Or maybe you two would like to tell him?" He proposes, voice slightly raised. The tension in the room is suffocating. Price stares the other two down as Gaz looks from one person to the other, putting the pieces together.

"Price it's not what you think," he says with his hands out in a placating gesture. Price tilts his head.

"Kyle, I'm sorry to have to tell you-"

"They're not going round my back, Price. I know." Price shuffles his feet a bit.

"You... know?"

"The four of us have... an arrangement." Gaz walks over to you and wraps an arm around you. "She's done nothing wrong, don't be cross with her. Neither have Ghost or Soap. She's not just my girlfriend, she's our girlfriend." Gaz holds Price's eyes.

"And the four of you are..."

"Together. Is that a problem, Captain?" Price quirks an eyebrow at his sergeant's challenge, but after a moment shakes his head.

"No. No, not a problem. Just keep it tactical on the field. Copy?"

"Yes sir." Price turns to Soap and Ghost.

"Copy?"

"Yes sir," they answer in unison. Price looks at you again and his expression softens, dropping his Captain persona for your sake.

"I owe you an apology," he starts.

"It's alright," you interrupt, giving him a shy smile. "You were just looking out for Kyle."

"You should've seen Ghost when he found out. Nearly bit my head off," Soap says, lightening the mood. But Price's eyes still linger.

"Game's still on," Ghost says, "if you all are done being dramatic." The five of you file back into the living room to finish out the game with you still nestled into Gaz's side, this time openly joined by Soap on your other side. Throughout the game, as the men banter about whose team is better, Price kept glancing over at you.

The game ends and as everybody winds down, Price watches the affection you gave the other three.

"I have to wonder, though," he starts, "what it is that's got all three of my men so wrapped up in you..." Your eyes dart from one man to the other as each of them catch onto Price's meaning.

"Well... it'd be a shame not to include that captain, right boys?" Gaz teases.

"The more the merrier-"

"Shut up MacTavish, fucks sake," Ghost huffs, still with a smirk.

"I still owe you a proper apology, sweetheart," Price says, beckoning you to sit on his lap.

And apologize, he does, in the form of his face between your thighs, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. Eventually, the five of you wind up in the bedroom, tasting and teasing and fucking one another.

"We're going to need a bigger bed..."

[tojisun]

hey what if golf dilf price met you at the club itself.

you're there as a bev cart girl and his friends were all like, "ah yes, the drinks here aren't really that good but there's that one sweet darling that makes them all so special which is why we keep buying them."

and john isn't like that. yeah he's old and divorced, and he's loaded as hell because he's got conglomerates and empires, but he's never been interested with women like that, especially those decades younger than him.

but then you came with your little cart and then john saw you in your pink and white cart uniform, and he realized he's just as bad as his friends.

so sure, whatever, give them six whiteclaws but—can you stay just a tad longer, sweetheart? can you give us a twirl? want to learn how to play?

[cryptid-cave]

Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.

Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?

Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me

[nefelibatat]

So it's kinda interesting how Jinx is basically Caitlyn's own extremely malevolent genie. Every desire she has, Jinx fulfills, but with such a cruel twist that it almost defeats the point.

Want something new and exciting in your sheltered life? Well, one might say nearly getting blown up is pretty exciting. Looking for a real job to undertake? Here's a convenient pile of evidence leading you straight to the heart of a criminal empire. Good luck getting out of this mess though. Coworkers making you feel excluded? They can't do that now; they're dead. Longing to see Vi again? Don't worry. You will be taken straight to her, like it or not. Mum being too restrictive? Never again!

It's no wonder Jinx is associated with monkeys when her role in the show is ensuring a monkey's paw curls any time Caitlyn has a vague inclination towards something.

[syoddeye]

consequence / shopping

price x f!reader | 1.5k words series directory tags: stalking mention, white lies, jp fears no 'friend zone', entitled cats a/n: john price vs. his feelings. john price vs. old man allegations. john price vs. his barista . ☕

john’s grip tightens on the wheel as he turns onto her street. he’s imagined this moment since he set her in his sight. possessing the patience of a sniper comes in handy with endeavors such as this, and it’s good to pull a trigger that isn’t lethal for once.

she’s waiting outside. good girl.

nose-deep in her phone, she doesn’t notice him until he’s a building away. his heart jumps into his throat when her eyes lift, and her face follows. she squints, then shades her eyes with a hand. a smile breaks the mild confusion, and she rises to her feet from the steps outside her door.

he forces himself to relax, painfully aware of the intensity of his gaze. he can’t risk running her off, but he has to see it—the moment of realization.

~~

it cannot be the same car. calm down, you order yourself, plastering a small smile on your face as john rolls to a stop, grinning back through the window. it’s statistically impossible. there are thousands of cars in town, plenty of the same make and model. this is just the universe’s idea of a cruel joke: giving your favorite customer the same car you smashed your face and arm into. your good hand shakes as you open the door and sink into the passenger seat.

coincidences happen.

~~

“hey.”

“afternoon. you look nice.”

“yeah? i was worried you wouldn’t recognize me without the apron.” she says wryly, draping her bags over her lap.

i’ve memorized your face and more. which one would think would help decipher the minutiae of her expressions. does she recognize the car? remember it? she was drunk and crashed hard enough to break bone—fuck, he hadn’t thought of the effects of the impact. too caught up.

he watches her buckle, eyes falling to her cast. it’s filling with signatures fast. the space that held his number is covered in a drawing of a cat. all that remains is ‘john’. 

“did you draw over my number?”

“i didn’t think you’d want the free advertising.”

smart girl. the number isn’t traceable further than falsified records, but it's best to avoid nuisance. he lets the doodle eclipse his grand scheme and pretends to adjust the mirror. he’ll wait until the time is right. “that i don’t.”

the drive to her preferred market is ten minutes by car. she might’ve managed alone, but he’s done some of his best work in ten minutes. performed miracles and misdeeds. he spends this bit on recon.

he susses out a little more information about her life: she’s worked, on and off, as a barista for nearly a decade. she recently took in a kitten, the very one depicted on her arm, and named her chicken cutlet a tortoiseshell.

“it's all i had for food. now cece’s a snob.”

“points for uniqueness.” he grins and gestures at the doodle on her arm. though he doesn’t have much of an eye for art, it’s obviously stylized. “and creativity. bet you did her justice, like a regular artist.”

the comment, meant as a compliment, makes her wince. she ducks her head in poorly concealed shame, pretending to check something in her wallet. it comes out casually, like a weather report—she dropped out of an mfa program to move here, for the ex, a year ago.

the details resurrect his anger. 

the tremble in her hand tells him to leave it. he will. for now.

the car park is packed, and it’s all he can do to not celebrate when he finds a space on the first go. he cannot be much older than her, but he’d rather avoid feeding the ‘old man’ reputation his sergeants encourage.

she separates her reusable bags as they climb out of the car. “do you have any pets?”

he circles to her side and takes them without asking, “no. afraid my schedule doesn’t allow for it.”

“oh.” 

he beats her to the baskets, tossing her bags into the bottom, and she strolls past him. he traipses behind, head on a subtle swivel, inwardly tickled at how normal it feels. it’s not often he shops, let alone in the company of a bird. it makes him puff up. go a bit softer in the face, especially when a woman roughly his mother’s age gives them a long, wistful look in produce.

it’s nice playing house, even in the middle of a bustling supermarket, dodging the less spatially aware and rogue children. it strokes his ego to flex an arm over her head to reach the shelves she can’t and carry a bag of cat litter in the other. he cracks a joke about tinned fish, and though she doesn’t laugh, he can tell she wants to. how she ignores his suggestions and color commentary on other shoppers. it’s fascinating to watch her, all business, as if she were behind the coffee bar. tapping items off the list on her phone, triple-checking a recipe.

while she’s distracted, slowly loading the conveyor belt one item at a time, john pushes his luck. he slips his card and pays.

her focus breaks when she sidles up, reaching for her wallet, only for the cashier to offer the receipt. she takes it, confusion turning to understanding, and her jaw clenches. her thanks are muttered, and she promptly joins him in bagging what’s left.

he knows she’s upset before she speaks, practically punching items into the bag.

“please don’t do that again.” she whispers. “my wrist is broken. i am not broke.”

angry as she is, she sails out the doors without waiting. clearly expecting him to tote her bags like a porter and follow.

which he does, of course. it’s what he signed on for.

good view, at least.

the ride back to her place is quiet, but he feels the tension burning away with the light. it’s damn distracting how the sun plays off her skin and hair. ten minutes fly by. she turns to him as the car idles, a storm of thoughts in her eyes. severe, tempestuous, and pretty.

“park. you’re not off the clock.”

“yes, ma’am.”

the bag handles loop into one fist, and the litter rests on his shoulder. he beams, and with the complete confidence he usually carries himself, he starts up the steps of her building.

“uh…john?” 

he glances over his shoulder and sees her fidgeting at the bottom of the stairs.

“that’s…not actually my address.”

his brows raise, fall, and pinch in rapid succession. the minx. a fake address. smart.

she sheepishly apologizes on the walk to one street over and explains. 

“i mean, this part’s weird.” 

“what part?”

“befriending regulars,” she shrugs. “the counter’s there for a reason—to sling espresso, yeah, but it’s also a social barrier.”

“do you often befriend regulars?” he hopes not.

“god, no.”

thank christ. he’ll start memorizing faces on his next trip, just in case.

“but being polite to people is part of my job.”

he cracks a careful grin. “do you get reprimanded for that?”

her eyes roll. “ha. ha. no. my manager’s a coward and afraid of me. what i mean is, it’s a tightrope. be nice, but don’t be too nice to the wrong people, else they’ll stalk you or something.”

john’s gut tightens. what was his plan again? expose her? he manages a chuckle. “and am i one of those…wrong people?” effortless.

“well, you’re a minute from my kitchen with an invitation. so.” she smirks after a second. “are you fishing for a compliment? for me to say you’re special?”

heat shoots up his neck and colors his cheeks. “i am not–”

“relax. i’m joking. but you are the first customer i’ve brought back to my place.”

the phrasing instantly sets him on high alert. it could mean nothing. it could mean anything.

her place is markedly worse than her fake one. he does not like the look of the neighbors, but the exterior light reaches the walk. he bites his tongue when she veers to the side, cutting down a set of steep stairs to the basement. it won’t do, not long-term.

but the interior of her flat—it’s everything he did and did not expect. 

it’s sensibly furnished and lit to compensate for its floor plan and limited windows. it’s cozy and colorful, with artwork fixed to the walls and littering various surfaces. some pieces are more notable than others: tiny statuettes of women, a diptych of a cow, and a collage of what looks like found notes. in the living area, there is a console and a headset, a small collection of games and dvds, and ten too many knickknacks. a stuffed backpack occupies a seat at the table.

he moves mechanically behind her, toeing off his shoes and treading straight into the surprisingly decently sized kitchen. he sets the bags and litter down, rolling his shoulder as he soaks it all in.

might be his only chance, after all.

something bumps his shin. two big amber-colored eyes stare up at him, unblinking.

“you must be the famous cece.” 

“the one and only.”

the young cat weaves through his legs, then jumps, immediately sticking her pointy head into the bag containing the chicken. she meows, indignant, when her human automatically hooks her around the middle without looking and returns her to the floor.

“bad.” she murmurs, unpacking. “would you mind setting the litter next to the door down the hall?”  

john obeys, though he lingers outside of said door, staring through a crack into the dark of her room. she has a big, comfortable-looking bed. a shudder passes over him. an unhelpful throb. christ. feels like a fucking teenager. he pulls himself together, retreating toward the door to leave. probably overstayed his welcome.

just as he turns to say his goodbyes, she glares from the kitchen. around her neck, untied, hangs an apron—don’t be afraid to take whisks.

“where are you going? i’m making dinner.”

it’s not an invitation. it’s an order.

he slips his shoe off.

“yes, ma’am.”

[duskier]

Soap and Gaz sharing a tight little double sided fleshlight, the poor toy stretched thin between them and they can't stop moaning each time their cocks slide against each others!! Slick wet noises joining their chorus of whines as their hips flex over and over < 3 Them groping each other, pinching nipples and sucking each other's tongues until one of them starts clenching their teeth, hissing out, "I'm close," and the other has to start fucking toy harder and faster so they can cum at the same time, leaving the toy and their cocks from root to tip filthy with cum !!

[fellshish]

I think they should just pick a good omens fic to turn into season 3 feel free to (self) rec fics i’ll start i volunteer as tribute i’d love to see david tennant and michael sheen act out trial & error

[satans-knitwear]

Pwetty new glasses!!! I shall use them for evil purposes (seeing things.)

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[the-raindeer-king]

Rings I think the 141 would marry you with 💍 (I got the reference pictures off Pinterest. Don't come at me please.)

John Price is giving you a family heirloom. It's been in his family for forever, and it's passed down to the eldest child. And he's so glad to finally be able to use it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is giving you one of these pretty ring sets. The kind that all stack together. He gives you part of it as your engagement ring, and you get the final pieces during your wedding ceremony.

John "Soap" MacTavish is getting you a matching set. He's so proud to be your husband, and he wants the world to know it. So of course his wedding band matches your wedding ring. And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is giving you something small and dainty. As much as he'd love to put a rock on your finger, he can't afford the risk. He wants you to be able to have plausible deniability, in case work follows him home.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

VINCENT PRICE, JOHN KERR, AND ANTONY CARBONE ---

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM (1961) DIR. Roger Corman

[spoonsloot]

Oh to be Captain Price's little housewife

[cod-dump]

Nikpricegraves thoughts, special delivery!

Nik getting more grey in his hair, and neither Price or Graves wants to bring it up, because they don't know how Nik feels about it. They dom't want to make him feel self-conscious.

So they wait. And Nik finally brings it up, very casually (fronting like hell) musing aloud that he might color the grey so people don't think their evac pilot is too old.

And maaaaybe Price and Graves wanted their responses to be a liiiittle more restrained, a little more level-headed. But they weren't.

Price: You are not TOUCHING that silver--

Graves: Like HELL you're--absolutely not!

Price: Anyone lucky enough to have you picking him up has no right to complain about that!

Graves: And it's sexy as hell anyway!

Price: Exactly, you're fuckin gorgeous.

Nik: ... Thank you?

Nik was a very confident man. He was sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin and almost never doubted himself. But seeing the thin stripes of silver in his hair… he wasn’t too confident on it. The reality of him being old was setting in and he wasn’t very happy about it.

Nik never gave the thought of him getting old much thought considering he didn’t think he would get this far, especially not with his constant flirting with death. He never thought about how he would feel about growing grey, and now that it was here, highlighting his temples? Nik felt his heart squeeze, uncertainty making his chest tight.

Worse part was that neither his husband or boyfriend had mentioned anything about the grey, which just added to his uncertainty about it. He’s caught them whispering about it, both immediately cutting themselves off upon noticing him. He’s caught them staring, again no comments about it. Nik knows they had noticed it, of course they did. They notice everything new or different about him, most of the time even before he’s noticed it.

He didn’t like their silence and was choosing to assume the worst. But he kept quiet, just like how they were choosing to stay quiet. The topic of greying hair wouldn’t come up until one night while they ate dinner. He couldn’t help but stare at their own hair, how he would’ve noticed if John had started to grey (surprising he hadn’t by this point). The silver would’ve been noticeable amongst his dark brown hair, within his beard. It would be undeniably attractive.

Phil greying would been less noticeable considering his golden hair. There would’ve needed to be quite a few grey hairs before it was obvious and even then it would blend nicely with the gold strands. It would add to the American’s charm. Both would carry silver has crowns yet… Nik couldn’t determine that about himself. Couldn’t see himself with it, even as it took residence within his hair.

“I think I need to start investing in hair dye.”

The speed in which Phil turned his head to look at him made Nik fear he would break his neck. John just froze mid bite, eyes looking up to stare at him. Nik kept his usual level of smug confidence about him even though he wasn’t feeling anything remotely similar. Phil swallows his food, taking a deep swig of his water before he glares at him.

“Over my dead body.”

Nik blinked in surprise, his facade cracking.

“Nik, my love, if you do that you’d break my heart,” John added, staring intensely at him.

Nik looked between his partners before he cleared his throat, “Right-“

“Nikky, I’m serious,” Phil said firmly, “That silver is so fucking hot and if you dye it I’ll probably cry.”

“I second that,” John said very seriously.

Nik couldn’t help but laugh at their seriousness. Phil stood and walked behind him fingers going into his hair which of course caused Nik to lean back and practically melt. John stood as well and walked over.

“Should’ve known something was up when you hadn’t said anything. Big, bad Nikolai, insecure over some grey hairs.”

Nik huffs, closing his eyes as Phil continued to play with his hair, “I am not insecure.”

“You just said you wanted to dye it.”

Nik huffs, he could hear Phil’s smirk. He mustered up an unamused frown, which was immediately chased away by a well placed kiss from John. Nik was choosing to be annoyed in order to hide how relieved he felt about their approval. The two would probably pry that confession out of him later when it wouldn’t add onto their smugness over his unusual lack of confidence.

“You might want to prepare for when we return from leave, the boys are definitely going to say something when they notice.”

Nik snorts, “If they have a problem with their transport getting grey then they can cry about it.”

“Cry and complain, with bad jokes on the side.”

By the time they returned from leave, Nik would regain his rock solid confidence. And some jokes of his own because what is an old man without his jokes?

[pillarofna]

please help me by reblogging ‼️

hello im dylan. i make what money i can through doordashing but that barely covers even half of my bills and nowhere else will hire me rn (slow season in a tourist town). my car payment and car insurance are both scheduled to come out of my bank acct today and i barely have enough to cover the $135 in my checking account leaving me to have to use my credit card for my $150 car insurance. i also really need to buy groceries and get gas which i desperately need to keep working.

i currently am over $1000 in debt on my credit card and i really can’t afford to keep piling up the bills on it. the monthly fee ($99) for my HRT service just came out as well so i really need at least $400.

$155 (insurance) + $99 (hrt) + $60 (gas) + $100 (groceries) to at least get my credit card back down to only owing $1000. ideally i want to pay that all off but i know there’s no way i’m crowdfunding 1400. thank you guys this isnt terribly urgent but the sooner i can pay it off the better. ❤️

$60 / $400

[imrowanartist]

Kate’s wife knows what’s up AKA how Price and Laswell find out about GhostSoap

Featuring a design for Kate’s wife (who we named Jo) @anstarwar , @r2wedoomed and I came up with together!

[vikkrest]

COD men and Y/N