#i love his stupid muppet face

[benschwartzcinematicuniverse]

📸: Seth Olenick

📸: Sela Shiloni (I need to post that whole Happy Anniversary shoot soon)

📸: Jai Odell

“To be good at this, you have to love it so much, you have to be saturated by it,” says Schwartz. “As soon as you realize the people that you idolize love this so much, and are as excited about it as my stupid Muppet face is, that makes it easier.”

Interview Magazine, 2014

Have a wonderful weekend wherever you are. Hydrate. Tell your friends you love them. Write your thoughts down on paper. Hug. Like, a lot. Count how many hugs you share this weekend and report back.

Also a beautiful gift from Sela

[spocksgotemotions]

today one of my boys at work (almost 3), dumped a full shovel full of sand into his mouth and then looked at me very stressed out that his mouth was full of sand

[bi-writes]

Could you do one of Simon forgetting to bring his lunch and so his wife brings it except she turns up in a cute sundress??

mail-order bride (18+)

"simon...simon riley?" you ask.

the officer raises a brow, looking down at your ID and then back at your face. he frowns a little, scratching the back of his neck.

"he's a lieutenant," you add, biting your lip. "uhm...and he works with...with john."

"john?"

you suck in a shaky breath, biting your lip nervously.

"captain john price?"

the officer just glares at you a little before picking up his radio.

"yes, ma'am. wait here."

he turns his back to you, walking a little ways away, and you hear him speak into the radio lowly.

"...got a civilian here asking for lieutenant riley..."

"...negative, sir..."

"...oh. affirmative, sir. right away."

the officer comes back, giving you your ID back. he looks sheepish now all of the sudden, and he smiles at you, which unnerves you almost.

"u-uh, so sorry ma'am. you can park near the main office, right that way," he points to a building far to the left, "i'll have someone come meet you there to take you inside. again, apologies...we're going to put you on a list, mrs. riley."

you frown a little, shrugging. you're not upset. it's a miltiary base, for christ's sake, and you've never been here; of course they would be apprehensive about letting you in. but the private looks terrified out of his mind, so you just smile a little and make your way towards the parking spot he pointed out.

when you get out of the car, you push the door closed with your hip, picking up the bag in the passenger seat. there's a woman standing by the door, smiling and waving at you. she looks very smart, in a nice pantsuit. you smooth your dress down, smiling back at her, and you swing your purse over your shoulder before making your way to her.

"hello, mrs. riley. the lieutenant's wife, i hear?" she asks. you nod and shake her hand.

"y-yes...he...he said he was just doing administrative stuff today, but he forgot some things so...i just wanted to do something nice--"

"right!" she nods her head towards the door. "i can escort you to his office. uhm...i believe he's debriefing with captain price this afternoon, but i'm sure he can make some time." she winks at you when she says that, and you bite back a shy smile.

she takes a seat at her desk, picking up the phone. she yaps for a few minutes, and you take a seat in an empty chair, smoothing your skirt out. your wearing one of simon's favorites, the cherry-printed mini dress he loves so much, but you realize maybe he might not be the only one. there's a myriad of privates and soldiers that walk past you, and you hear some whistles by some of the bolder ones. you suddenly feel very self conscious, tucking your legs underneath yourself. you're wearing white strapped wedges, your hair styled nicely with a bow to match the dress, but now you feel silly, stupid.

why would you go to a military base dressed like a fucking pin-up girl?

"wot are you doin' 'ere?" a rough voice demands.

mmm. that's why.

you look up from your chair, smiling wide when you see him. simon stands with his arms crossed over his tact vest, tilting his head to the side as he glares at you from under his skull mask. you've never seen him strapped before, though. he's got a gun tucked into his thigh holster.

"h-hi," you pick up the basket next to you, standing up, and when you come close, simon is rough, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you near him with a short growl.

"oi," he snaps, but you just flutter your lashes at his harsh voice, smiling bigger. "can't fuckin' come 'ere lookin' so pretty."

you giggle, and even though you're wearing heels, you still find yourself standing on your toes as you try to get close to him.

"you forgot what i packed for you, simon. how could you forget?" you pout a little. he sighs deeply, smoothing his gloved hand down your back before nodding his head.

"c'mon. can't 'ave ya out here. fuckin' muppets starin' at my wife."

he turns and immediately starts walking. he's entirely too fast, and you skip in your wedges practically to try and keep up with him. when he notices, he slows his pace, and you grip the basket better in your hand before reaching for his with the other.

your hands intertwine, and you look around as you walk, reading the plaques on the wall, the shiny medals, waving at johnny when you see him holding a bag of crisps upside over his open mouth.

when simon shuts the door behind you in a dark office, you set the basket down on the desk, pushing back the kitchen towel fabric.

"okay, so i brought those muffins you like from that little shop. they had blueberry this morning, oh my gosh, simon, they also started putting out these little scones that--oh!" you gasp as he grabs you from the fat of your hips, a big flat palm over the base of your spine as he pushes you flat onto your stomach onto the desk. "simon!"

simon sucks on his teeth as he flips up your skirt, letting out a low whistle as he palms your ass, spreading the fat of it so he peek at the seam of the white lace you're wearing. you lay your palms against the desk and whimper, not used to simon being so rough, so upfront, so bold.

"can't just come here all dressed up, baby," simon grunts, shaking his head. "and not expect me to take wot i need...been surrounded by nothing but wankers all fuckin' day..."

you relax a little, giggling.

"simon," you sigh, your eyes closing as you push your hips back into his hands. "i missed you so much..."

"tha' why y'came down 'ere, luvvie?" he asks, smirking under the mask. "ya missed me? missed y'r husband? what'd ya miss, baby? tell me."

you arch your back a little, bowing it, and you laugh when he gives your ass a firm grab before picking you up and spinning you around, caging you against the desk. you smile up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and he winks at you, eye-black dark and deadly around those killer brown eyes. he's so big, so hot, and you're suddenly very aware of how big simon looks in all his gear.

"i don't know," you say softly. "it's so cold in bed at night..."

simon snorts, "tha' right? 's cold? the lil' shits don't keep ya warm?"

"our girls like to sleep on your pillow, i think they miss you, too."

"fuckin' lil' bastards," simon chuckles, and you sigh, sliding your hands up his vest and tugging him just a little closer. your spread your knees to let him between them, and he reaches down and grips your thighs, hiking them up around his hips as he sits you onto the edge of the desk. "fuck, you're so fucking pretty..."

you tilt your head back for him.

"i miss eating with you. it's so quiet when you're not around."

"mmm. i bet, luv."

"and i miss you when i'm alone," you whisper. "i miss you when it's just me..."

simon narrow his eyes, "tell me, swee'eart."

you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you. you kiss him over the mask, tasting sand and ash, licking over his lips through the cotton. it's lewd, disgusting, but he groans under the fabric.

"when, simon? when?" you ask, and he hums lowly.

"when? 'ow about right now?"

"no way, you're so gross, simon," you giggle. "our first time is not going to be on a desk in some dingy office where you work--"

you seize when he cups you between the thighs, big gloved hand palming your cunt through your lace panties. you arch your back and gasp, gripping his biceps tight as you lean into his touch.

"don't need t'make it our first time," simon tilts his head to the side. "can still make it real fuckin' nice, baby."

"oh, now you wanna touch me?" you suck in a shaky breath. "just because some of your men wanna look up my skirt?"

"oh, for tha', i'll make ya scream my bloody name, for oll of them ta hear," he growls, and you smile wide up at him.

"guess they need to learn i'm a lieutenant's wife," you giggle, and simon whistles low, tugging your panties to the side, and you whimper when you he prods at your entrance with two big gloved fingers.

"ahhhh..." simon hisses. "ya like tha' title, tha' it, baby? yeah...yeah you like tha'..."

"i like it," you whine, and when he meets your watery eyes, he plunges those big fingers deep, thumbing at your clit. your mouth falls open, your nails digging into his sleeves, and you suddenly wish you had asked him to take you to get your nails done so you could really claw it. "i like it..."

"could make these boys lick the fuckin' ground ya walk on," he mutters, and you whine when a particular rough thrust of his hand squelches between your thighs. "they'd do anythin' to please me, baby...even johnny would chew your bloody food for ya if i asked him to--"

you reach down and grip his wrist, your thighs shaking as you jolt. it feels so good, your entire body is on fire. his fingers are petting a nice little spot inside of you, stroking it as he pumps his hand nice and steady inside of you. his thumb is working you in gooey circles, flicking at your clit and putting taut the little string in your lower belly. your whole brain feels like it's fizzling, your blood rushing, and you stick out your tongue, licking over his masked jaw as you start to feel like you're gonna pass out from the wet slick, slick, slick sounding from your wet cunt.

"simon--simon--" you pant, and he groans, nodding his head.

"so pretty, baby," simon breathes. "so fuckin' tight, gonna 'ave to work ya open before i give ya my cock, lovey..."

"it's so big," you mumble, and simon coos, nodding his head.

"i know, baby, i know, 's big, real big...but you can take it, remember?" he laughs. "you can take it woteva i give you..."

you nod.

"i can take it--i can take it--!"

your vision blurs. there's tears coming down your face, sweat lining your forehead, your back, but you can't wipe the giggly, lazy smile off your face. simon cups the back of your head with his free hand, sitting you up, and when he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, his gloves are stuck to his hand practically, completely soaked through.

"y'r so pretty when y'cum," he murmurs, and you stick out your tongue for him. he gets the message, shoving his mask up just enough, and he bends to kiss you warm and wet.

"well then," you meet his eyes, all languid, all relaxed, a devious little grin on your sweet face. "why don't you give me another then?"

simon grins, all teeth.

"woteva ya want."

[no-144444]

mishaps online- o.piastri (81)

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

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summary: oscar accidentally posts a nude online the night before your big concert and launch. oops.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! fem! reader

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

As you stared at the screen in front of you, your eyes filled with horror. Oscar Jack Piastri, your boyfriend of 3 years, had just posted a nude to his instagram story. 

What the fuck. 

You immediately sprung into action, calling him since you were in Berlin for a concert. He didn’t pick up.

You called Lando next, knowing they were in the same hotel, especially since it was 3am in the fucking morning. You were already getting bombed by tweets and messages, from friends and fans, all asking if you’d seen it. 

“What?” he groaned, groggy from being woken up.

“Lando! Go into Oscar’s room right now please,” you pleaded, happy that you had gotten ahold of someone. 

“What?- Why?” he asked, but obliged all the same, getting out of bed. “You know we're supposed to be on vacation right? He can go to sleep.”

“Is he awake?” You asked, ignoring his complaining. 

“Osc?” he called as he knocked. “Y/n’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you!” 

“Huh?” you heard a yawn from Oscar, then shuffling as he got up. Of course Oscar would send you a nude, then immediately fall asleep. For fuck’s sake. “Baby?” He took the phone out of Lando’s hand and held it to his ear. “You alright?”

“You posted a nude on instagram, please go delete it now,” you blurted out.

He stood still for a moment. “W-what?” 

Lando laughed so hard he fell over. “There’s no way!” 

“I-I didn’t,” he panicked then lowered his voice. “I sent it to you.”

“Well, you sent it to me and your instagram story,” you explained. 

Lando was on the floor, cackling as Oscar almost tripped over him to get to his phone and delete the photo. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated as he went through his phone, taking down the photo. 

“You are such a muppet!” Lando cried, breathless from laughing. 

“Shut up!” Oscar replied. “This is your fucking fault! You told me to send the picture!”

“To Y/n, not the fucking world Osc!” he chuckled.

To be fair, you understood where Lando was coming from, this was objectively funny. You’d probably be laughing if you weren;t his girlfriend, and if you wouldn’t have to explain this entire situation to your family, including your parents. God, just thinking about it made you sick.

“Is the photo down?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s down,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry baby I just-”

“Let’s not have this conversation with Lando in the room,” you stopped him and he chuckled. 

“Good idea.”

“Zak’s probably going to call you, and I’m going to go call Margaret now. I love you Osc, talk later?”

“I love you too,” he sighed. “Talk later.”

You hung up the phone and let yourself scream into your pillow for a few seconds, then dialled the number of your manager, Margaret. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Oscar posted a nude on instagram by accident,” you sighed. “He’s sorry.”

She took a deep breath. “You know how I love you, right?”

“Yeah?” You answered hesitantly. 

“And how I love you and Oscar and how happy he makes you?”

“Yes?”

“Well right now, I fucking hate him and want him dead. Please give me a few hours to work on this before I can properly face you again, alright?”

You smiled, happy she was taking care of it. “Thank you, and sorry- again.”

She hung up the phone with a groan of frustration. 

Next, someone else called. Oscar’s mom. 

“Hey Nicole,” you tried to keep calm as you spam-texted Oscar about the situation. No way his mother was calling you about this. 

“Hey Y/n,” she smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” you nodded. 

“Is my son really stupid enough to accidentally post a nude picture of himself to his instagram and leave it up for a whole 5 minutes?”

“Apparently so,” you shrugged, slightly laughing. 

Nicole chuckled. “Are you laughing?”

“If I don’t laugh I’ll probably cry, so, yeah.”

She laughed at that. “I’m logging off the internet for a while, tell Osc to text me, yeah?” 

“Of course,” you smiled. “Sorry about this.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault, don’t worry. How are you?”

“Shocked,” you answered truthfully. “And a bit scared of what’s coming next.”

“I just hope you two are ok,” she added. “I need you as my daughter-in-law.”

You smiled a genuine smile. Nicole was always so welcoming and lovely. “We’re all good, don ‘t worry.”

“Good,” she smiled. “I’ll leave you to it, love you, talk soon.”

“Talk soon,” you smiled and she hung up. 

Immediately, Lando called you.

“I thought you’d be back in bed,” you teased. 

“Trust me, being in the room for Zak and Oscar’s call was worth the missed sleep,” he chuckled and you heard Oscar sigh in the background. “He’s gotten his phone taken off him!” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, they’ve given me a fucking flip phone instead,” he revealed. “How’d it go with my mum?”

“She’s not ecstatic with your choices, but she’s alright. She mostly wanted to know if we were alright, which we are, in case you were wondering,” you explained. “She wants you to call her.”

“Now?"

“Nah, maybe tomorrow.”

“How are you?” He asked, worried about what you’d say.

“Not an ideal situation, but I’m not mad at you. It was an honest mistake, seriously darling,” you reassured him. “Plus now the internet knows why I constantly have a bruised cervix,” you added, wanting him to loosen up and relax. It was a mistake, an honest mistake. 

You heard Lando laughing, and you got a chuckle out of Oscar, which was enough for you. You stayed on call with them for a while, then turned off your phone to get some rest.

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

You woke up to about a million messages from hundred of different people. Family and friends teasing on the various groupchats, management and your record label freaking out, and Oscar just being upset.

Osc <3: I feel like such an idiot. I cannot believe I did that, especially the night before the start of your tour, and the night of the launch. I'm so sorry baby.

You: It's alright Oscar, I promise. Margaret is already sorting something out right now. It's ok, I swear.

Osc <3: I still feel awful. I'm so sorry.

You: It's alright. Did you at least get your phone back?

Osc <3: Yeah but no social media on it anymore. I can't even look at your instagram :(

You: I think you'll survive lol :) I love you

Osc <3: I love you too.

You got up and out of bed, tired from the stressful night. The concert tonight, the launch tonight. What were your fans going to say?

comments:

ynsbff: something as big as oscar's d-

-> user12: GIRL

user56: girl is bouncing back fast from the shocker last night was

-> user29: fr i'd still be shook my boyfriend posted THAT

landonorris: legend 💙

pierregasly: 💙💙💙

logansargeant: can't wait 💙💙💙

lewishamilton: burning it down and shining on 💙

-> user58: ????? what does this mean????

-> user80: the return of XNDA????

russellgeorge: 💙

valterribottas: 💙

mclaren: 💙🧡

user23: why is the entire grid in the comments with blue hearts?

-> user82: literally? like what do yall know?

danielriccardo: don't know what's gonna hit 'em 💙💙

mercedes: 💙

user13: why is oscar the only one with pink hearts?

-> landonorris: he's not allowed his phone, it's his publicist 😁

-> user90: DAMN. exposing ur bro like that is crazy

-> landonorris: so is posting a nude 🤷🤷🤷🤷

kmag: 💙

charlesleclerc: 💙💙💙

maxverstappen: can't wait 💙

fernandoalonso: Mi favorita💙

lancestroll: it's going to be a wild one 💙

alexalbon: legendary 💙💙💙

lilymhe: my girl 💙💙💙

-> alexalbon: *cough* i'm ur boyfriend? *cough*

-> y/ny/l/n: bless you? do I need to call u a doctor?

zhouguanyu: ���💙💙

carlossainz: 💙

nicohulkenburg: 💙

estebanocon: 💙

-> landonorris: plz don't crash into this bro 🙌

-> y/ny/l/n: HAHHAHHAHHA

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

You stepped onto the stage and the crowd went crazy. This was it, your first world tour. You were living your dream.

"Hello!" you cheered into your microphone. "I am so happy to be here, thank you all for coming!"

The crowd went wild again.

"Now, before we start, I have a pretty special announcement to make..." you paused for dramatic affect. "My next album 'Curious' drops tonight at midnight! And a very special feature from one of my very good friends, XNDA!"

As the crowd screamed over you and Lewis, who just came on stage, the opening of 'Save your tears' played. You two danced around the stage as you sang, excited with the reception from fans. For the rest of the concert, Lewis stayed on (since he was on another song, but also because he helped produce the album) and you two had so much fun. The concert ended at exactly midnight, and you came off stage on such a high. And there he was. Your Oscar, with a wide smile on his face and his arms open for you to jump into. Which you did, happily.

"Congratulations," he smiled, holding you close.

"Congratulations to you too," you smiled.

He pulled back, a confused look on his face. "What for?"

"Listen to 'Stargirl Interlude'," you shrugged, a smirk on your face. "And tell your mom not to listen to it, yeah?"

He smirked. "Whatever you say baby," and with that, he kissed you. His large hands holding your cheeks as you kissed him back, happy to be in his arms again.

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

comments

user15: OMFG 'STARLGIRL INTERLUDE' WHAT IS GOING ON

user12: wishing i was y/n rn....

landonorris: being horny on main? cringe.

-> y/ny/l/n: not winning for 6 years? cringe.

-> maxfewtrell: HA

lewishamilton: we told yall 🤷🤷🤷

pierregasly: kika has not stopped playing this 💙💙💙

-> user51: as she should.

danielriccardo: since when was my back replaced with oscar's y/n???

-> oscarpiastri: sorry mate, just better 🤷🤷🤷

-> y/ny/l/n: at least daniel's better at keeping his pants on online 😁

-> oscarpiastri: ok I deserved that.

-> landonorris: HAHAHHAHAH

alexalbon: RELAX I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT UR SEX LIFE.

-> y/ny/l/n: bitch ik all about urs too. lily tells me everything.

-> alexalbon: brb, having a breakdown.

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri first i had to see your dick and now this? mate leave us alone.

-> oscarpiastri: SHUT UP I APOLOGISED.

-> logansargeant: NOT ENOUGH.

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comments

lewishamilton: mr. stargirl interlude? mr. billie boss nova? mr. the diner? mr. chihiro? is that you?

-> oscarpiastri: hush

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri hate club leader

-> landonorris: can I join?

-> y/ny/l/n: lando you've been singing chihiro all day. stfu.

-> landonorris: ...

-> user37: were you silent or silenced?

y/ny/l/n: MY BEAUTIFUL BOYFRIEND

-> y/nsbff: thirsting on the main?

-> y/ny/l/n: what have i become?😥

user89: ok, but who is 'i didn't change my number' about?

-> y/ny/l/n: @ logansargeant actually wrote it about williams 😥😥😥

-> logansargeant: Y/N. TOO FAR.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[papaya-twinks]

hard launch - l.n

Warnings: sexual innuendos

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“Lando, what the fuck have you done?” you groaned as your boyfriend walked into room. “What have I done this time?” he huffed, sitting beside you on the bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek.  “Oh don’t give me that,” you grumbled, not pushing him away as he huffed. “Y/N,”he whined, “I didn’t do anything, not this time anyways,”. You muttered something incoherent as he raised an eyebrow.

 “Don’t mutter,” he warned, a statement Lando usually said when you mumbled under your breath. “You muppet, look,” uni grabbed his wrist, tugging his sleeve back and showing him his arm. Lando raised an eyebrow, staring at the assortment of beaded bracelet adorning his wrist. “Your point?” has asked, cocking his head. Your finger intertwined with the top bracelet, the name ‘Y/N’ etched on it. 

“Everyone saw it! When you did autographs,” you said. “Shit,” Lando gasped, hand on his mouth - your relationship was supposed to be secret. “Lan, social’s gone crazy about it,” you huffed, your boyfriend turning a shade of red at his own stupidity. “I’m so dumb,” he groaned, his head on your shoulder as he rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, a tired expression across his face. 

“We’ve kept it a secret for a while,” you shrugged, your hand coming to draw small circles on his arm, his tense muscles relaxing with your touch. “What you saying?” he mumbled into your skin, head buried into the crook of your neck. “Maybe…maybe it’s time tell the world,” you said quietly, Lando’s gaze raising to meet yours. 

“You think so?” he said, a small smile etched across his pretty features. “Yeah,” you nodded, a grin on your face as he nestled back into you. “Soft launch?” he asked, hand intertwining with yours as he shrugged his hoodie off, resting on you as you rubbed soothing circles across his back and arm. “Hard launch, of course. What kinda person do you take me for?” you scrunched your nose as he snorted. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando rolled his eyes, shaking his head at your dramatic expression. “You do it,” he said, ‘you do the hard launch,”. You nodded, taking your phone out as he leaned forwards to peek at your device, staring at the words you typed. 

y/n

liked by lily.mhe, alexalbon, landonorris and 256,441 others 

caption: so im, like, dating him and stuff like 😁

landonorris: like yeah basically im kinda into u 

-> y/n: boomer 

landonorris: PLEASE 😫 JUST 💞 ONE 1️⃣ CHANCE 🐺

-> charlesleclerc: lando’s the alpha, confirmed?

user1: how has Lando pulled such a fittie tho let’s be real 

-> y/n: Carlos wasn’t free 

-> landonorris: let’s be real, u were screaming when I was balls deep in u last night 

-> mclaren: Lando. We would like to see you for PR training. 

user2: bro, Lando’s in Woking pr jail 💀

landonorris: Y/N 😳 PLEASE 🙏 ILL 🧼 GET 😏 ON 💓 MY 🐺 HANDS 🙌 AND 💞 KNEES 🧎 FOR  😄 YOU 🤓 JUST 😤 ONE 1️⃣ CHANCE 😳

-> y/n: lando. stop. im taken 🙁

-> landonorris: by WHO 

-> lilymhe: me 

-> carmenmundt: me 

-> kika.gomes: me

-> landonorris: all of u suck and r irrelevant 

landonorris: I love uuuuuuu ❤️❤️❤️❤️

-> danielricciardo: I love u too 🥹

-> y/n: @/danielricciardo FUCK U BITCH

-> danielricciardo: can’t hear u over Lando screaming and moaning in my ear 😼

-> y/n: I hate u 💔

[babygirl-riley]

i need jealous / possessive / protective ghost plssss :)

Only Mine

Simon watches as a new recruit takes interest in you. Even though you both are married (secretly of course) He still needs to let you know who you belong to.

A/N: omg we LOVE possessive jealous Simon. 🤭 Might write one that doesn’t have smut but listennnn it’s a good.

“Are you really here to cast me off? Or maybe just to turn me on.”

Warnings: jealous!simon, husband!simon, wife!reader, smut, rough sex, semi-public sex, just a little choking, basically a quickie, fluff, squint for the angst, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader smut list

God the way your body started to ache in such a numbing good way, as you gripped the bars of Simon’s bed. You didn’t really expect your day to turn out like this. Simon, your secret husband, dragged you to his room without any explanation. Demanding your pants down and pussy out.

Confused yet totally turned on you did what he said. Now it’s just growls and slapping of skin. You are trying to recall the day, what could have possessed the all might Lieutenant Riley to be so riled up.

The last thing you were doing was teaching a recruit how to clean his gun properly. Nice kid, young possibly just joined that’s how young he looked. He made stupid snide jokes to get you laughing but it didn’t peak your interest. You are used to having all the young recruits flirt with you and stare. Until one day they make sure not to even cross paths with you.

Little did you know Simon fucking Riley would be watching from afar. Narrowing in on any recruit who decided to play that game. Make sure he scratches their name down so he could give them heavy drills. Watching them get more and more tired until the end to come up and whisper to them. “Get near my Sargent again and this will be the easiest thing ya ever have to do.”

However there was one time you knew that he did it to one recruit. You were hounding the little asshole about how he almost killed his group during a mission. Simon was to be in the same room due to having a back up if things got out of hand. Simon not once stepped in as voices got raised.

The recruit scoffed as he was being told that he is off the next assignment. Due to not only his previous act but also how the respect was not there for you. The recruit turned to Simon. “Control your bitch.”

Before you could even say anything Simon stood up. “Drills now.” He said lowly as he walked up to him. The recruit didn’t move for a moment staring at Simon dead in the eye. Simon leaned to his face. “Ya do not get to call your Sargent that. Now go before I make ya.”

The recruit looked over at you, which you had your arms folded. “That was an order private.” You said as he stormed out.

Simon had you come and watch and give the orders out to him. Basically like whipping a wild horse to become domesticated. In which this case the private did, he was one of your favorites to have in the field. Made sure everyone listened close and trusted you with his life.

Simon later on that day made sure that you were never going to be talked to like that again. That the next muppet that does would be thrown against the wall, you did have to remind him that your marriage is hidden. Which meant to be careful when to start throwing people around. However you loved the fact that he was protective like that. Making sure you were respected. Cared for.

Even when it was outside of the base, when the team is off on leave. Only Price truly knew that you both are married. So whenever you went on leave Simon went on leave and vise versa. When one of your little leaves you and Simon went to a bar, have some drinks and go home. When Simon went to the bathroom another man came up to flirt with you.

No matter how hard you would give him the no time of day, he kept going. The man would causally try to touch your hand, even when showing him the small ring on your finger he would say, “I don’t see him here.”

You would just smile as Simon stood behind him. “Hello babe.” You would say. At first the man had a smirk ready to face whatever man he was going to face, to only frown realizing that Simon was much larger in size.

Simon glared down at him his mask only showing his eyes. The eyes of warning towards the man. “Betta get going mate. She is here with me. And me only.”

The man scoffed and rolled his eyes as he left. Simon taking his space, you rubbed his back and whispered to him of how you were his. And how he was yours. Possessive was always on Simon, you loved it. You made sure that he felt the same, you even both agreed that you both had that. Wrong look from anyone Simon would give the death glare. Smile at you. Dead to him. Even look at you wrong. Gone.

You seen everything when he got that way. Him saying something to giving them his death looks…This however. Was something you haven’t seen. Simon’s cocked dragged against your walls at such a high speed that you didn’t know what to do. Your mouth dripping with salvia as you gasped and whined as he hit the spot over and over, releasing your second orgasm. “Havin’ him near ya like that,” Simon growled as he reached for your neck, pulling you up to his chest. “You laughing at his jokes, fuck, you think I wouldn’t see that.”

It finally hit you once he said those words. “Si,” You whimpered as you felt his hand squeeze your neck. “Fuck, you know I only belong to you.” You knew that is what he needed to hear, to let him know that you belong only to him.

Simon chuckled. “Is that so,” He questioned snapping his hips harder into you, slowing his pace as he placed his lips next to your ear. “I want you to scream my name as I fuck my cum so deep in ya, that no fucking man in this base will get near you.”

You moaned as he bite your ear. “Show me and the rest of this fuckin’ base who you belong to.”

He pushed you back down pinning your chest to the bed as he slammed his cock into you once more. You screamed as you clenched around his cock feeling the knot start to form. Simon went back to his brutal pace, tears brimmed your eyes as it felt so good yet the overstimulating was becoming too much. You wanted more as he drove harder and harder. You moaned loudly as he started to grip your hips.

“Fuck Simon.” You mumbled looking behind your shoulder. He still had basically everything on, he tore your clothes off once you laid down on this bed.

“Louder.” He demanded combing through your hair. Not stopping his pace.

The noises that filled his room should be illegal. The tiny bed that squeaked, as the metal bar hitting the wall, skin to skin slapping against one another, the wet sound that came from his cock and your pussy, and the moaning god the moaning.

“Simon.” You said louder a whine coming out. Panting started to become faster. “It feels so fucking good!”

He gripped your hair. “Louder!” Simon growled.

Your orgasm was right there and you knew he was right there too, his hips stuttering as he panted. Your body shook as Simon’s fingers went underneath you to play with you clit. “Yesyesyesyesyesyss! Simon! Oh god!” You yelled as your orgasm hit you hard enough to see stars.

You could feel your cum lathering his cock as he growled lowly. “That’s it doll, let them hear you. You belong to me only. fucking. me.” He grunted as his cum filled your hole.

You collapsed against the mattress as Simon moaned as he leaned into you more. Shoving his cock further up into you. It was quiet for a moment, the sound of your breaths steaming. Simon sighed kissing your back, rubbing your sides. He noticed that he gripped your hips hard enough that he knew it would leave marks. It wasn’t his first time, you told him you loved when he would do it occasionally.

You sighed pushing yourself more into him. “You know that I only belong to you. That no one else can have me.” You whispered, moaning with content.

Simon nodded as he kissed the back of your neck. “I know, just gets me riled up to see men touching you. Especially when you laugh at their jokes.”

You chuckled slowly getting up having him take his cock out. You both hissed for a moment before you laid on your back. He hovered over you as you grabbed his cheeks. “Your jokes are the only ones that are truly funny.”

“Including the goldfish in the tanks?” He asked smirking, knowing damn well you hated that one.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes even that one.” You both stare at each for a moment. You inhaled deeply. “You should get jealous more often, it looks good on you Lieutenant.”

Simon scoffed getting up before pulling his pants and boxers on. “Shut it,” You giggled as he handed you your clothes. “Get dressed I have a private to run drills, you should watch.”

Oh, now how you were going to get him more jealous. You just loved the way your body ached for more than what you just got.

[justmywriting1313]

Stupid British Man (John Price x f!Reader)

This is fairly unfinished and an unedited product of my fixation on these stupid military man and every hurt/comfort scenario you can think of but nonetheless enjoy!

PS:- I would really really REALLY love some COD requests since thats where the inspiration for writing is flourishing soooooo yeah please send stuff in thank you<3

Summary: John's a great captain but like all men in love he is also a stupid british man!

Warnings: Talk and direct mentions of smexy times, no aftercare (but not intentional and will come in part 2)

Jonathan Price is a military man...

More than that, he is a captain and a military man...

A captain in the military needs to embody many qualities, one of the most important being the ability to remain strong and stable in the face of adversity, anchored and calm in uncertainty, and always aware of their surroundings, especially when confronted with unprecedented situations that demand logic and rationality.

It's a trait John was not only confident he possessed but one he prided himself on (considering he was the captain of three complete muppets at times). Yet, as he stands there in his flannel pajamas, his member still damp and somewhat aroused from the recent pounding he gave you not five minutes ago, a warm washcloth in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, John has never been more flabbergasted in his life as he watches you cutely jump to pull your leggings up over your waist.

You had already fastened your bra and were now pulling your old university shirt over your head, a shirt John had previously loved. However, given that he had finally slept with you after a two-month deployment, he would prefer to see you in his clothing or nothing at all. Therefore, the sight of the worn-out piece of cloth offended him, to say the least. Even more so, because neither of you had received a lick of aftercare and the lack of it was making him antsy. Instead of waiting for him in bed like you should have, you were rummaging through your duffel bag for something John couldn't be bothered to inquire about. He was certain that nothing was important enough for you to leave the sheets before he had a chance to clean you up properly. So, with as much calm as he could muster, he said,

"What on fuckin' earth are you doing?

The heavy, accented voice of the captain makes you jump as you straighten up, not having heard him come in. You whirl around to face the man you have been infatuated with since your first meeting, the same man who fulfilled so many of your fantasies over the last few hours and is now standing in the doorway of his room with a flabbergasted look about his rugged face. The tears you had been doing a good job of suppressing so far immediately reappear, though you were adamant about not letting them fall… God forbid you be known on base as the girl who cries after sex. Instead, you give him a smile before turning away as you begin to wrangle your hair into a ponytail and reply,

"What do you mean, what am I doing, John?"

John can only splutter at your nonchalant response, his brain having completely short-circuited… Clearly, something is lost in translation.

You only shrug at his shock before continuing to gather your spread-out things into your small bag, trying your best to curb the small, pathetic whimper that is bound to leave your lips if you spend any more time in this man's room surrounded by so much of him. Instead, in the heavy silence of the room, you mull over the events of what got you in his bed in the first place…

You and John met 8 months ago when you were brought onto his military base as a licensed psychologist specialising in psychotherapy for young adults. Your main job was to work with the younger recruits, which included the ones trained by John's own men. John can still recall the first time he saw you as you came barreling in through his door, your angry voice bouncing off the walls of his office. You were a small thing, barely reaching the bottom of the man's chest, with long hair and high cheekbones. You were dressed in leggings that flared at the bottom and drove John insane, with a striped sweater on top, your soft curves visible through the knitted material.

You were the most tender thing he had seen on base, and despite all this softness, you squared off against the military captain, demanding to speak to his lieutenant and give the man a piece of your mind for traumatizing your recruits more than any battlefield could. John had never been rash a day in his life, and yet he had promised himself he would make everything and anything to do with you a personal matter.

You, on the other hand, had not perceived the butterflies the older Brit gave you until the next day when he had come knocking on your door. Dressed in a tight shirt and his camo pants, he was every girl's dream. It didn't help the butterflies in your stomach when he looked down at you with soft eyes while properly introducing himself. He then led you to the rec room of his task force where his lieutenant was sitting and brooding.

Thus began eight long months… Months of teasing glances exchanged across busy meeting rooms that made him grin and you blush. Soft touches shared either against the back of your hand when you stood side by side or across your cheek as he tucked your hair back. Eight long months of late-night talks where he would seek you out, wherever you were, with a drink of your choice in his hand and an endearing look about him as he let you jabber about how you miss baking and he told you about his parents. Eight months spent with your heart in your mouth as you watched him leave with his team, a desperate prayer for his safety on your lips as he held you against him the night before, limbs tangled together innocently yet intimately. Eight months of yearning that would only grow stronger every time he came back, his eyes finding you in a sea of military personnel and lighting you on fire each time.

And despite all this wanting, two months ago, the night before he was sent out for the longest mission yet, you overheard him with Ghost in the rec room. The box of cupcakes you smuggled into the base held tightly as the tall, rough captain unknowingly broke your heart.

"You say professional sir but everyon' sees the way you look at 'er... the little medic..." "Don't know what you're talkin' about Simon..." Price chuckles and you assume Ghost gives him a look as John continues, "Hell even if I wanted to and I am no' saying I do, I cant do anything about it can I?... she's a kid AND she's military personnel" "Then the late nights in your office are what... just meetings to go over paperwork yeah? Just a little overtime is that it?" "Come on gotta pass the time between deployments somehow" "Is that so then mind if I tell Soap–"

Thats all you had the stomach to hear, although had you stuck around you would have heard the captain confess his love. Instead you made your way to his office where you left the box of baked goods on his table and fled to your room. You spent the night muffling your tears as you came to terms with what you were to John versus what John is to you... The following morning, as you waved some of your recruits bye, your eyes met John's hurt ones, his gaze heavy with questions about where you were last night but you looked away.

Unbeknownst to John his worst worry was coming true when the two months of his deployment gave you enough time to misunderstand your importance to him. That while John was the sun to you, you were a small star in a distant galaxy that had no hope of being anything more than that... And yet you knew you would take anything he gave you, no matter how much it would hurt.

Which is why when he knocked on your room door in the middle of the night, his hair still wet from the shower he had barely managed to squeeze in, eyes tired, lost, and desperate you didn't hesitate. You didn't hesitate when his arms went around your waist drawing you into his chest, head pressed into the crook of your neck as you pressed him into you. You didn't resist or clue him on the turbulence in your head when he pulled away although barely. His hands moving from gripping the back of your shirt to your waist, grip tight as he hefted you into the air forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. Any shock on your part absorbed by his mouth as his lips found yours, your hands coming to hold his face. The kiss was desperate, it was messy. A clash of tongue and teeth as he quickly took control. You hadn't stopped to think or really breath, instead letting John fill the crevices of your mind as he carried you through the empty hallways of the barracks. Somewhere in the back of your head you wondered how no one spotted you but you were quickly distracted by his hand on your ass which kept you pressed up against him. The other on the back of your neck never letting you pulling away long enough and following your mouth as you did so. You never stopped to spill the pent up hurt that had festered unknown to the man as you whimpered into his mouth when his fingers found just the right spot, his muttered praises only getting you to your finish faster...

Your little trip down memory lane as you stuffed another shirt into your bag gave John time to get over his shock, taking a deep breath as he placed the washcloth and bottle on his nightstand. His surprise was now replaced by a desire to fix the situation.

Another aspect of being a captain was observing people, learning to read the little things about how people behaved, and now that the shock had worn off, that's what John set about doing. He watched the tension in your back gather as you stuffed your things into your bag… mementos left over from other nights that John treasured. Things that he would be pulling out of the bag as soon as he had things sorted. He watched with narrowed eyes as your face got redder, the desperation with which you were trying to hold yourself together scaring him…

Something was wrong, and he had been so consumed by his need to see you, to feel you, to know that you were alright, that he didn't stop to consider how things had been left off… To remember that you never came to his room the night before he left and that you didn't look at him at the drop zone. John realized then that whatever had upset you that night had two months to fester in your mind and that he couldn't let you leave in any capacity before everything was laid out.

He shuffled his way over to your figure as you rummaged for your ID card in your bag, needing it to get back to your room. His large hands slid into place on either side of your waist. You jolted at the sensation, registering that his hands were warm while straightening up. John didn't let your tensing stop him as he gently turned you around, his grip turning a little forceful when you tried to resist, but eventually you gave in. Your splotchy cheeks and bitten lips greeted him, and he couldn't help himself when he pressed his lips against your forehead, muttering into your skin as he did so,

"Sweetheart... whats going on?" "What do you mean John?" "I mean whats going on... whats got you packin' up your bag hmmm? Can't imagine you've got an important meetin' this time of the night have you? We also hadn't really finished had we?"

Johns doing his best to catch your eye as he talks but its futile when you keep your gaze steady on anything but his face.

"You wanted to go again?"

John balks at that response. Is that really why you think he wants you to stay? Is that really what you think of him?

"What? No no darlin' I mean you were up before I gotta chance to clean you up... I don't know about the men you've been with before sweet girl but a gentleman cleans up his lady... and of course a cuddle after..."

He pouts through the last part though you don't look up to see it. Your eyes remain trained on his muscular neck and John does his best to remain patient. He knows you, no matter how foreign your apprehension of him may feel right now. He knows you and he knows you're hurting which is why you're avoiding his eyes because the minute he gets you to see him you break,

"Oh... oh you don't have to John... I'm alright I can just go, I'm sure you're tired and want to rest and i don't want to keep you..."

John groans lowly in frustration at you not getting his point, his grip subconsciously tightening as if you would run off the minute he lets go and to his credit thats not a difficult situation to imagine,

"Fuckin' hell, okay sweetheart lets try this another way. Why do you think you have to go anywhere huh? I though' we could lay down and have a cuddle... even took the day off tomorrow to spen' it with you yeah? Want to know what you've been up to? Maybe step off the base and take you out for a proper meal?"

With each word out his mouth your confusion and hurt climb reaching a crescendo until your ears are ringing and you need to get away from this sweet talking brit before you crumble. However, Johns a stubborn man particularly when he sets his mind to something so no amount of squirming on your end makes him let you go as you begin to blabber each source of pain out in the open,

"Let me go, let me go, let me go John... You're so mean you know that? So so so mean... You come into my life all soft and sweet and gentle with me calling me pretty things that I've only imagined being called and you came in and made me care about you when I was so happy in my own bubble but still I started to care and then I find out its only for me to be something you pass time with nothing more and then you come back and I love you so much that ill take anything I can get from you even if its one night and then you have the audacity to stand there and be all sweet and caring when you and I both know that this will never be anything more and you know what maybe I am a child because this is too much–"

Your ranting is cut off by John whose own pulse has become frantic at all that you've laid out before him. You love him! Wait why do you think this is a one night thing? what do you means passing the time? One hands grips your upper arm, the other forcing your face up to look at him as your fists continue to push but to no avail,

"Whoa whoa okay look at me... look at me sweet girl... not letting you go until I ge' your eyes on me yeah? You can fight all you wan' but 'm not letting go until you get you damn eyes on me yeah? Come on... there you go good girl now what do you mean something to pass time with huh? What got that daft idea into that pretty head or that this would be a one night thing? Talk to me yeah "

John's barely finished before the words escape you in a breathless sob

“You, you stupid British man!”

Okay I was too excited to post it so here but if the reception to it is you know good ill post the second bit which is already written 👀

As always please reblog yes? yes okaieee byee

[artdcnaldson]

I have some fluffy fuzzy thoughts to share... I feel like Patrick is one of those people that babies just unexpectedly LOVE

Like imagine he's at a gathering with Art's family and someone asks him to hold their very new, very small, very breakable baby while they're in the bathroom.

Patrick freaks out expecting high pitched wails and a lifetime ban from Donaldson family BBQs.

But turns out his big strong hands are good for holding little people as well as rackets...

ohhhh <3 this is so, so important to me <3

Because Patrick is the type to loudly and frequently say he hates kids. His experience with children comes down to his older brother's hellspawn that make the pretty young au pairs he hires gray prematurely. Nasty, dirty, loud, annoying, persistent. The kind of kids that need to be told No, but never are.

Art's family is different. It takes a village, and all that. His cousin Beth is a teen mom, with a cute, fat little baby that has the same blonde curls as its mother. It has two front teeth already, a gummy little smile when Art's grandmother feeds it bites of some tater tot hotdish that would send Patrick's bubbe into cardiac arrest.

Art happily holds the baby in his arms and he seems comfortable enough. There are so many young kids running around that Patrick figures he has experience with that sort of thing. In his eighteen years of life, Patrick has managed to hold one baby, at age fourteen, when his older brother had his first kid.

The baby blinks up at him, its eyes wide and brown like Beth's are. Beth— who's off making fruit salad and dumped her kid into the first pair of open arms she could find. It's outfit is stupid— a little set of overalls with pockets that have muppets sticking out. What the fuck do babies need pockets for?

"It keeps staring at me," he complains, trying to move in front of Art to break the creepy eye contact, which doesn't work.

"Stop calling him it," Art insists, face twisting with annoyance as he bounces the baby in his arms. "His name is Noah."

Patrick sighs. "Noah won't stop staring at me. It's freaking me out, so make him stop."

Art laughs at that, grinning in that annoying way he does when he thinks he knows what Patrick's thinking. So what if most of the time he does? "What? He's a baby, I can't just make him stop. You're being weird."

No. Weird was the way that Art's family acted. He knew the detachment in his family wasn't normal, but the closeness, the joking, the passing babies and kids and hugging was weird. It was weird that they had potlucks where they would eat servings of each dish and smile even if it tasted really bad. It was weird that Art's other cousin, George, stood up with his wife and proudly announced they were trying for a baby. For all the Zweig's knew, babies arrived in cashmere swaddles carried by some endangered species of bird.

"I have to pee, dude, just hold him for a sec—" Art says suddenly, and before Patrick can do anything, the baby is shoved into his arms. It— he— is heavier than Patrick expects, so dense for something so small.

"Art—" He whisper-yells, but Art's already darting away, leaving Patrick to awkwardly cradle the baby to his chest.

Noah babbles as Patrick swears under his breath. No one seems to look his way— it's too loud for anyone to really care. Beth at least glances over to check on her kid, sees a yawning Noah being bounced in Patrick's arms. He thinks he gives a help me expression, but it's ignored.

Noah likes him. He rests his chubby little face on Patrick's Hollister polo and babbles contentedly once Patrick manages to nervously walk across the room and settle on an old, sunken in leather couch.

Tentatively, Patrick reaches out, lets the baby wrap his hand around his index finger. Noah yawns, his little face wrinkling and scrunching as he gets comfortable. The baby is asleep on Patrick's chest by the time Art returns.

The blond grins as he sinks onto the couch beside him, holding out a plate of baked goods. "Hungry?"

"I can't move," Patrick whispers. "He's knocked out, dude."

Art lifts a marshmallow lucky charms bar to Patrick's mouth and lets the other boy take a bite. "You're good with kids. Girls think that's hot."

"Shut the fuck up."

[indecisivekitty]

Lads and Pads

TF141 x fem!reader

wc: i ain’t gotta clue pal (tumblr lemme copy n paste all the words plz on mobile)

genre: fluff, does comedy count if it’s kind of funny

warnings: men

“I dinnae understand.”

Gaz shakes his head and sighed. “She’s on her period and needs pads, what is there not to understand, Soap?”

Exasperated and confused, Soap picked up two random boxes of pads. “Aye! But I don’t ken what any of this fucking shite means. What’s the difference between a regular one and one tha’ isn’t?” Soap looked back to the shelf. “And why do those ones say 1 or 3??”

Gaz opened his mouth before closing it again. “That’s actually a good question—I don’t understand the numbers either.”

Pushing the shopping cart into the isle Gaz and Soap were in, Price made his way towards them with Ghost following behind. Price frowned when he saw Gaz and Soap with as many boxes as they could hold in their arms. “Surely our lady doesn’t need that many? All from different brands too?”

“Cap, do ye ken the difference between a pad tha’ is 1 and a pad tha’s 3?” Soap asks.

Price blinked. “Fuck you just say?”

Gaz nodded. “Then we’ll be buying everything for our lass.”

Ghost tilted his head at the load of pads that Gaz and Soap dropped into the cart beside all the food and snacks they were buying for you. “Maybe it’s a size thing? How big the pad is? ‘Cause this one has pictures of different sizes shown on its box.”

Soap had his hands on his hips while he glanced at the cart then to Simon. “Sizes for wha’ though? The size of someone’s cun-”

Gaz smacked Soap on the back of his head before he could finish. Simon narrowed his eyes at Soap, questioning the Scot’s thought process while Price shook his head and sighed.

“Kay, lads, let’s pay and get back to our woman.” Price said, pushing the cart out the aisle with the rest of the men following in suit—though Gaz and Ghost annoyed Soap endlessly about his stupid question.

Ghost eyed Soap judgmentally. “Why the fuck would there be sizes for someone’s cunt labeled on the box? A pussy is not a clothing item.”

Soap glared at Gaz who was laughing. “How am I s’pose to ken what the numbers are fer? Everyone’s different, aye? Maybe there’s sizes?? I dinnae fucking know!”

Price stopped walking abruptly and pinched his nose. “Fucking muppets.”

Lying comfortably on your bed with a heating pad resting on your abdomen, your head turns towards the door of your room opening.

“Alright, love?” Price asked with an affectionate smile on his face, carrying grocery bags with the rest of your boys behind him.

Eyes softening, you beckoned them closer. “Yes, though I didn’t hear you guys come in.”

“We bought you some pads. Thought maybe you might need some more.” Gaz said.

Simon sat on the edge closest to you to stroke your face but raised a brow at Gaz’s words. “Not even just ‘some’—Soap and Gaz damn near bought the whole fucking isle of pads. There’s a shit more bags still in the boot.”

“Aye but ain’t it better to be prepared?” Soap crossed his arms.

“Yeah, but prepared for what? Menstruation ain’t a war.” Simon drawled.

Soap shook his head grimly. “But the bloodshed.”

Looking back and forth at Soap and Simon bickering, you laughed quietly at their antics before yawning. Gaz, who lied beside you, reached for your hand to kiss it lovingly as Price on the other hand interrogated Soap about his knowledge.

Closing your eyes, you start to fall asleep to the sounds of bickering and the occasional touches from Simon and Gaz.

“Ye think our bonnie needs backup?”

“Shut it.”

a/n: VWRY NOT EDIFED! heuheuehehueh

[luvissues]

mm thinking about simon riley and the conflict of wanting to keep reminders of you with him but also wanting to make sure nobody knows about you!!

Simon is a man who- admittedly- can’t help the small trickle of pride that fills him whenever he looks down at the band around his finger.

He loves the damn thing. Not as much as he loves seeing the matching one on your own hand, but that’s different.

He loves it, really. He does. But he just can’t bring himself to wear it when he’s out on the field.

He won’t deny that part of the problem is paranoia. That paranoia has long since crept through the cracks of his skull, lingered in his brain. He knows nobody will see it, but there’s never a guarantee.

He’s seen what soldiers will do to break someone down. Hell, he’s seen what his own team has done- how easily someone he loves could be dragged into his work. That’s the very last thing he wants.

Out of his team, it’s blatantly clear that Simon has the most anonymity. But he’s not stupid. He knows how far technology can go, how deep people will dig. He knows exactly how someone could chip and chip away at the barriers he’s put up, only to send his whole operation crumbling down.

He’s torn. At night, when he peels his gloves off for just that moment. Just long enough to feel the metal that sits there, warmed by the heat of his skin. That’s the moment when he wants more than anything to keep it on.

But he won’t allow himself to be so careless. How many times has he seen the same brassy silver and gold on a hostage’s finger? How many lovers were dragged into the dirty work of the muppets they married, all because of a simple ring?

It’s the same thing with dog tags. I’d doubt Simon would have them in the first place- it’s too much information, too easily accessible- but if he did, he’d never let you wear them. Why don’t they just put a flashing target sign over your head if he’s going to be so obvious?

He’s made too many enemies for himself. Too many men who would be eager to see his name around your neck, to use you as leverage. He would never forgive himself.

And photos? Oh, how he wishes. He wants to be like Johnny, who pulls on the ragged corners tucked into his pocket whenever he gets homesick. Like Gaz, who only has to tug off his hat to be reminded of who he’s going back to when everything’s said and done. But he’s not stupid, he’s not careless. Those are the two things he’ll never allow himself to be.

The poor man has wiped every photo of himself off of every document that he could. Why would you be any different? Don’t you know how easy it would be for someone to track you down, if only they got a glimpse of your face?

How many times has he watched Laswell pull the same information? How often does Price look over her shoulder, thinking about how he could use it to their benefit?

No ring, no tags. No photos. The Sergeants call him delusional- they’ve seen how fiercely he will fight for his own team, and they know he would do the same for you, only in tenfold.

His Captain might understand. They both have years of experience, have both born witness to the horrors people are willing to commit; the horrors that they themselves have watched unfold at their own hands.

And God forbid Simon ever gets a tattoo that gives you away. I imagine he has some already, and while he might get one in reminder of you, it would be something only he would understand. It almost makes him angry at the men who do have such tattoos, the senselessness of it all. He damn near gives Johnny a concussion from now hard he smacks him across the back of the head when the Sergeant brings it up as a drunk suggestion.

It’s not to say Simon isn’t proud of you. There’s nothing in the world he adores more, is there? He’d chose the title of your husband over the title of Lieutenant any day… as long as it’s off the field.

Think of it as him protecting you. That’s what it boils down to, at the end of it all. His need to keep you safe, to keep you far away from his work, even if he is a little paranoid. Everything he does, it’s done for you. <3

“Yer’ Sergeant is a dumb bastard, Price.”

“You didn’t have to hit him so hard, ya’ muppet, the man can hardly walk straight.”

“Just tryna’ set him right. If he gets that tattoo, I’m gonna cut it off of ‘im myself.”

“Fine, but I’m sure as hell not writing the report on it.”

“The missus will thank me for it. You know she will.”

[mrsparrasblog]

All too well

The first chapter to this post

TW: Angst

Despite the popular disbelief of your friends, military school was never easy for you. Of course, you had the greatest test scores most of the time, but what use were they when no one believed you achieved them? Being the only girl in class sucked; most of your classmates believed you were basically a prostitute, giving the teacher head so you would pass, which couldn't be further from the truth. You were still a virgin. Okay, it’s normal at 18, or isn’t it? You didn’t know. The people who didn’t believe you were pleasing the teacher under the table thought the teacher favored you since you were a girl.

They thought the military was too hard for you to pass and the teachers knew soldiers needed eye candy on the field. All idiots. The only man in your class who wasn’t full of patriarchal disbelief was Jonathan William Price, but though he may have seen you as someone who didn’t fuck around for good grades, he hated you. You didn’t know why at first, but after some time, the hate went both ways. He fought against you harder than against the others. He teased you and made you feel like you weren’t good enough even though you were better than him most of the time. He still won against you a few times, which sat sour in your eyes.

This was your last year, and after that, you’d be in the real field where prejudice didn’t have a place. There, they would only see your strength - only one year left. You sat in the front row of the yellow classroom, waiting for the new term to start and to get your tasks and assignments for the following months. Jonathan walked past you with his dumb, shit-eating grin.

“Still didn’t quit, love?”

“Still an idiot, I see.”

“You love it, don’t you?”

“In your dreams,” you rolled your eyes at him and tried to ignore his annoying, insufferable personality. Sometimes ignoring him didn’t help, even complaining to your friends: “Boys will be boys.” God, how you hated that sentence. There was only one thing you hated more than that, and it was him.

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

“You missed something, love,” he pointed at the mannequin with a bullet hole in the stomach instead of the heart.

“Shut up or I’ll use you as a mannequin next.”

“With your aim, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Go away, Price.”

“Let me show you how,” he walked behind you, his hips pressed against you as he corrected your stance. And indeed, after the correction, you hit the target perfectly.

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“I think a thank you is in order.” Stupid idiot with his cocky smile and replies, and his stupid beautiful eyes.

“I’d rather die than say thank you to you.”

“Ouch, kitten has claws.”

“If you call me kitten again, I’ll kill you.”

“As if you were able to, little missy.”

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

“Guess we’re working together on this.”

“I won’t work with you, Jonathan Price.”

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

Stuck in a safe house for a week, you got close to each other. He wasn’t that prick you believed him to be; he was actually nice and kind of funny.

“Can you call me John?”

“Why?”

“I hate being called Jonathan, even worse, William.”

“Everyone calls you that.”

“And I hate it,” he admitted.

“Can I ask why?”

“My dad chose this name. Mum always called me John, but Dad insisted on calling me Jonathan. William is actually my dad’s name.”

“Not a good relationship with your dad?”

“Hate that bastard. Never cared about me or Mum, only about the military.”

“I get that.”

“Your old man is shit too?”

“Never wanted a girl, didn’t even talk to me when I was a kid.”

He poured a glass of whiskey for both of us. “We won’t turn out like them.”

“We won’t.”

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

When you heard he needed to face disciplinary actions, you couldn’t believe it. John never did anything against the rules, well, not since high school.

“What did you do?”

“Stupid muppet deserved it.”

“Why?”

“Told everyone you slept with Sergeant Filch.”

“John, I’m a big girl. I can protect myself.”

“And what if I don’t want you to have to protect yourself?”

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

“What do you mean you’re still a virgin?”

“I said you’re not allowed to make fun of this, John.”

“I’m not laughing, just surprised. You know, you look beautiful. Just thought a lucky bloke already swept you off your feet.”

“No lucky bloke even tried.”

“Do you want to lose your virginity?”

“John.”

“I said, do you want to lose it?”

“Yes.”

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

“Do you believe in soulmates, John?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you think we are soulmates in every universe?”

“Can’t think of a version of me who doesn’t fall in love with you.”

“You love me?”

“Of course, love.”

“I love you too.”

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

“What do you want, Dad?”

“There is only one place in the SAS for this class. Don’t disappoint me, Jonathan.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

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

“John, can you imagine we will both be in the SAS after the test tomorrow? We are basically a power couple, like Bonnie and Clyde, just as good people.”

“You think we will still be together in the SAS?”

“Of course, I love you.”

“I don’t love you.”

“What?” You laughed awkwardly. He must be joking, one of his stupid jokes again.

“I said I don’t love you.”

“But you said yesterday that you love me.”

“Are you really that stupid?”

“John.”

“Your own dad couldn’t love you, what made you believe that I did?”

Your heart shattered into a million pieces. You tried hard to hold your tears together. “John, you’re being mean.”

“And you’re being stupid for thinking you were more to me than a quick fuck.”

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

SAS Enlisting Test

Jonathan William Price: 150 points, accepted  

Y/N L/N: 149 points, accepted

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

“Love, you got in,” John screamed out of reflex, hugging you tight.

“What is wrong with you, John? Why do you hate me so much? Why do you act like this now and yesterday?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry you think that cuts it.”

“It’s not like you think it is. I love you, I just needed to get in. You don’t get it.”

“No, Jonathan, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to tell me you love me. You’re not even capable of love.”

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

Nineteen years, two divorces, six bullet wounds, and a promotion to captain later, he still thought about you when the whiskey cleared his mind of any denial. Leaving you was one of his biggest mistakes in life. He wondered what happened to you. He never saw you after you joined the SAS. Maybe you’re a lieutenant, or maybe you quit the military and became a housewife, even though he didn’t believe that. You were too happy in the military; no man who really loved you would take that away from you.

He had half a mind to call Laswell, tell her about you, and ask what you were up to. But deep down, he knew you were probably dead. War had its price, and it took the good ones way too often. So he was happy living like this, in his delusion that you’re alive and just the one who got away. If he was honest, even if you were still alive, he didn’t want to see you. He knew it would destroy him to see you again with his hate-filled eyes.

He got an incoming call from Kate. Did she really need to distract him from his swimming in self-pity?

“Kate, what do you need?”

“Are you ready for the games?” Huh, Kate always complained that this was childish and never showed big interest, even when they always winked. He didn’t mind the games; he knew how they motivated Soap and Gaz, or how much Ghost loved showing off his skills. He hated attention, but showing a bunch of task forces how much better they were was a thing not even Ghost couldn’t resist.

“Yes, why?”

“You know the new colleague I complained about?”

“The idiot who calls himself Hades?” What a dumb call sign.

“His team attends too, and if he wins, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“What do I get if I sweep the floor with his team?”

“Davidoff Robusta, year 2016.”

“Deal.”

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

You sat in the comfiness of your chair, finishing the last bits of paperwork from the last mission to finally end the day and go to the pub with your girls. When suddenly your phone rang, the name Hades popped up and you knew the comfortable day with your girls would be over. He would send you to a hostage rescue or gather intel. As long as it wasn’t a mission in the fucking Arctic again, it’s fine.

“Hello, Hades,” you said sweetly on the telephone. Despite the annoying missions he sends you on, Hades is your best friend. You could never trust anyone more than him. He saved your ass way too often to keep count on it.

“Sorry to bother you, do you know about the military games?” Of course, you knew, how couldn’t you? But you never bothered; that’s a childish thing. You better use your resources for the real thing and not a fight between self-proclaimed alpha males who will tell your team you are just girls.

“Yes, why?”

“I told you about Kate.”

“The one who called you incompetent in front of everyone, how could I forget that?”

“She always brags about how her team wins, please.”

“Hades, these games are stupid.”

“John Price takes part.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier? Count us in.”

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

Soap and Gaz bickered the whole day, while they put the tent up, while Ghost analyzed all the different teams, eagerly writing down every one of their strengths and weaknesses. While Price listened the whole day to Kate's complaints about Hades.

“None of them seem like a real threat, boss,” Ghost chimed proudly.

“Which of them is Hades' team?”

“He wanted to meet up here, act friendly, get to know their weaknesses, make them believe they’re superior.”

“What if they are really superior?” Gaz asked, earning a laugh from the whole team.

“We win every year, Garrick,” Soap replied.

“There he is.”

“Steamin’ Jesus, ye  dinnae tell us they’re fuckin’ hot, Laswell.”

“An all-girls squad?”

“I didn’t know,” Kate replied to Ghost.

John turned around wanting to know what the whole fuss was over, noticing the four girls walking over to them. In front of the group was their confident captain, and when he looked at the way-too-familiar face, he wanted to fucking drown himself in the Atlantic Ocean. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Taglist: @riddikulus-obsessions @cod-z @undercover-smutlover @werschitz

A/N : The first chapter is a lot of explaining the next one will be more fun hehe

[thegnomelord]

For the prompt game, maybe 7 with price and m!reader. Price gets pissed off that reader almost got themselves killed on a mission to protect him. Just some lovely old man angst

Tumblr's acting up again and it's deleted my draft like 3 times so fingers crossed this works else I will cry😓 . I saw the old man angst and immediately thought of Rodolfoparras work and this so yeah. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: “Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” “You… What?”

CW: SFW-ish, Omega John Price, Alpha Male reader, mentions of gore, kissing, angst, omegaverse.

When your file had landed on his desk he had contemplated refusing; you were a stereotypical alpha — a loudmouthed meathead with little regard for your own health, headstrong and stupidly stubborn over the dumbest shit, and with a long list of incident reports dating back to the first day you joined the army. TF141 was your last chance before a dishonorable discharge and Price, stupidly, had taken you in like the stray you were.

Safe to say you turned out to be the leading cause of his grey hairs with all the shit you pulled. . . but. . . not to the extent he expected.

Unlike most alphas, you were surprisingly receptive to taking orders from an omega like Price, and carried yourself around the others without attempting to establish the dated hierarchy. After giving you guidance, and learning how you thought, Price had been seeing serious improvement.

'Course, all of that went down the drain when you decided to charge head first into a group of enemies when Price had gotten stabbed.

"What the fuck were you thinking lad?" Price hisses harshly under his breath, eyes boring a hole between your brows. He's standing at the foot of the medical bed, watching your chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. "What the fuck were you thinking?" You better not die so he can kill you himself.

He doesn't expect you to answer, knocked out as you are with your chest wrapped in fresh bandages after the docs fished out who knows how many bullets from your torso— 16, his inner omega reminds him, 16 bullets he took for You.

He sighs, "You're a lucky muppet." Walking around the bed he places a hand on your thigh, slowly inching up to rest on your lower abdomen, dark red spots denoting where bullet wounds lie. "But a stupid alpha." He growls. It's a good thing military alphas are like walking tanks of fat and muscle, you can take a few hits, though the thought does little to soothe his omega when you lay unconscious.

He doesn't even notice he's making a small distressed sound in his chest until your eyes flutter open, squinting from the harshness of artificial lights before you notice him looming over you; something between a guardian angel and death itself.

"Price?" Your nose twitches, lungs expanding despite the ache in your chest to catch his scent, your alpha noticing the sharp acrid taste hiding his usual pine smell. "What happened?" You ask, achy as you are you manage to tilt your head enough to let out a low chest vibrating purr, seeking to calm your omega.

"What happened, it that you dumb muppet almost died!" He hisses, anger making his scent even harsher, hating himself how his omega swoons at the purr, at how you put him before yourself even when you're knocking on death's door. "Were you trying to get killed?"

You hand your head and look away. You can scarcely recall what happened, the drugs and adrenaline muddling your mind so any memory comes out like an abstract painting, but one detail remains — Rage.

A Deep.

—bleeding flesh neath your fingernails, painfilled screams silenced by your snarls—

Dark.

—the 'crack' of bone against stone as the strength behind your hands forced the skull to shatter, blood and brains splashing against your face—

Animalistic.

—desperate hands scrambling against your head, the frantic pulse beneath your tongue rapidly dwindling once your teeth dug deep enough to tear through the jugular—

Rage.

You don't remember ever being as angry as you'd been when you'd seen Price clutching his side, the bloodied blade of a knife clenched between his fingers, unknown hostiles encroaching towards him. Your omega had been injured. Your omega had been injured. And you didn't think twice, vision turned as red as his blood with a singular thought of Kill Kill Kill banging on your skull you didn't even notice you were bleeding.

Like a proper animal. Like something you've been trying to prove you're not.

"I'm-" You swallow, though cleaned, you can still taste the blood of the enemy whose throat you'd torn out, your teeth still stained red. "-sorry. I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry' he says, is'at the best you've got?" Price presses on, coming closer and bracing a hand on your chest, his limb vibrating from your purr. It's hard to stay mad at you when you're doing this, his omega wanting nothing more but curl next to you, to share warmth and protect you while you recover. "What was going through your thick skull? Wait, let me guess: Nothing." Still he persists, not showing what he's feeling.

You hang your shoulders low and head lower still, chewing on your lip as you listen him chew you out. Something sits heavy in your chest, growing bigger with every word he says like a snowball, his anger leaving your alpha —dumb creature that it is— confused and hurt; why is your omega angry, when you protected him? When you nearly died for him? When you love him—

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay?" You snap, rough and angry, your gaze fixed on his. You stop purring, leaving the room too cold and silent without it. "But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.”

“You… What?”

You flinch and suck in a breath as pain flares across your body. You expected a lot of different responses, from anger to indifference to being told you're out of the taskforce. . . not that.

"Lad." Price's voice is unnervingly calm, one hand on your scruff, the other holding your chin, the sudden contact of his skin on yours fooling your alpha into letting him tilt your head to meet his eyes. "Repeat that. Slowly."

You gaze into his eyes, so many things swirling in the blue yet you're unable to tell any of it. Slowly you breathe in, "I. . . I love you." You say, open and honest and too vulnerable for an old omega like him.

". . .oh, you stupid alpha." Price almost laughs, dimples around his mouth as he smiles. Like puzzle pieces something clicks in his head.

Before his words can feel like a slap to your face he leans in, your foreheads bonking together before you find the right angle for his lips to meet yours. He tastes like his cigars and black coffee and everything you thought he would, your body melting into his, your nose full of his scent, your brain full of him.

"Could have told me without nearly dying." You separate to catch your breaths, foreheads resting against each other, breathing the same air and only now do you notice Price is purring. It's not the same bone rattling purr alphas can produce, but just as soothing, and you can't help but giggle when your own purr causes his to become louder.

You think, maybe, everything will be alright—

"After you get better." He whispers against your lips, soft and sweet, saccharine pine scent sticking to your nose like amber. "You and I will have a long talk about safety."

Maybe not.

[marsdreamworld]

How Sweet It is to be Loved by You - LN4 x reader:

Mars’ Notes: I’ve never ever written anything like this before, but after rambling at @love-belle for a stupid amount of time, i thought why not? surprised it ended up being for lando and not charles but if this goes well i might j start writing a bit more!! anyways, i’m excited, please lmk what you think <333

Warnings: None!! super super fluffy :)

Description: Lando comes home to you, and everything is ok again.

————————————————————

Lando was exhausted. He loved his job, the roaring of engines, the loud shouts that always seemed to accompany the mechanics as they made any pre-race adjustments to his Mclaren, the screams of fans in the grandstands and during fan stages, but god, sometimes all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around your waist, bury his face in your neck and never leave. You were his peace, his moment of quiet in an otherwise hectic day. He missed you, and you were his rock during race weekends. He had spent the last week wishing you were with him and cheering him on from your spot in the garage.

“Lando? You ok, mate?”

Danny’s voice broke him out of his stupor, bringing his mind back to the private jet he was currently sat in, accompanied by the older driver. Just three more hours, and you can hug her all you want, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, fine, mate. Just wondering what’s for dinner.” he said, a smile on his face.

“If you say so” comes the reply, accompanied by a bright, dimpled smile.

————————————

After a hectic run through security and the throng of fans that were waiting diligently for him at the gate, Lando had finally made it home, his hands trembling at the prospect of finally kissing you again as he pushed his key into the lock of your shared flat.

“Lando? Is that you, my love?”

Your voice floated through the hallway, and he visibly relaxed - he was finally home, he was finally with you, and there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me. Were you hoping for someone else?” he teased, seeing you emerge from your bedroom, clad only in one of his favourite Quadrant hoodies, and fluffy socks, your hair falling around your face in messy waves, silver wire-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of your nose. You padded over, soft footfalls echoing, until you were stood in front of him.

“Oh shush and hug me, you muppet.”

He closed the gap between you, and wrapped his arms around your waist, melting into you.

“God, I missed you”, he said, his voice muffled by your neck. You giggled and reached up to hug him back, carding your hands through his hair and leaving sweet kisses wherever you could reach.

“I missed you more, love. Would you mind helping me with something quickly?”, you mumbled into his hair, “I know you’re tired, and it’s been a long day, I just think my brain’s gone to mush and I can barely read what I’m writing.”

He lifted his head, and simply smiled at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “That’s what I’m here for, remember? Moral support and grammar police” he said, winking at you in an effort to make you laugh. You looked stressed, and he could tell you had been working away at your essay for far too long already, the pressure weighing heavily on your shoulders. “I’m assuming it’s another essay for class?”

“Mhmm, the professor decided it would be a good time to assign a stupid essay two weeks before midterms.” Your eye roll and answering nod was all it took for Lando to toe his shoes off, leaving his bags and coat by the door before he dragged you back into the bedroom, dramatically flipping into the double bed that occupied the corner, landing amongst the multitude of stuffed toys that had migrated to his side of the bed in the short time he was away.

“Right then, Ms. L/N, get your pretty arse over here and read me this essay.” he said, posing and putting on his best posh British accent, earning a laugh out of you. This was what Lando lived for, these quiet moments of domesticity where all he could hear was your laugh and he could revel in the fact that it was him, him who made you laugh and him who had the pleasure of hearing it.

You grabbed your notebook from the desk you had set up opposite the bed, claiming that you worked better when you knew Lando was close to you, and walked over to the bed, climbing in and placing his head in your lap.

A reporter had once asked him a question along the lines of “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?” He had, of course, answered with the typical “on a race track”, the answer that wouldn’t have the Mclaren PR team screaming at him post press conference, but if he really had to pick, he would say with you. Anywhere with you was where he wanted to be, but he felt so at peace here, in your bedroom, with his head on your lap and your hand in his hair, your voice soft and sweet as you read him the opening paragraphs of your midterm essay.

Lando nuzzled further into your thighs, your nails now scratching across his scalp in a way that made him feel boneless. He could feel his eyes slowly slipping closed, the warmth and comfort lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

———————-

You were three paragraphs in when you stumbled on your words, struggling to understand a sentence you’d written.

“See, that’s the sentence I really don’t get. It just sounds so chunky and I really have no idea how to make it flow more, you know? I know it needs to be technical, it is an engineering essay after all, but it just sounds so hard to read and I don’t know how to make it sound better.”

You waited for Lando to tell you that you’d made a silly grammar mistake, or that you just had to split the sentence in two to make it more digestible, but you were met with silence. Looking down at your lap, you saw Lando asleep, smile painted on his face, a hand placed on your thigh, grip tight as though he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t move.

Lando had come into your life in the most unexpected way you could have imagined - cliché, but unexpected. You’d been waiting in line at a coffee shop, needing your daily dose of caffeine before your 9AM university lecture, and he had walked straight into you, a steaming hot Americano cradled in his hands, which had eventually made quick work of staining the cream bodysuit you had chosen for the day. He’d apologised countless times, turning back to grab a stack of tissues, even going so far as to attempt to rub the stain off, but had only succeeded in making it worse. You’d simply laughed, and told him that he really should go order another coffee, before the morning rush took over. He’d stared at you, open mouthed and speechless, before stammering through an affirmative and walking away. The next 5 minutes were spent throwing glances at each other through the crowd of people occupying the store, before he broke and asked for your number, stating that he at least owed you a new shirt, and perhaps even a date? It had been natural, and felt right from the moment he picked you up at 8 the following Friday, dressed in a suit and armed with roses.

You took one last look at the essay in your hands, and made the incredibly easy decision to call it a day. You placed the stack of papers on the bedside table, shifting in order to reach, only to have Lando grip onto you tighter, a mumble of “stay” escaping his pouted lips. Your heart clenched, and you couldn’t help but coo back that you weren’t going anywhere, my love, go back to sleep. You cleared as much of the bed as you could without disturbing your boy, and leaned back into the pillows you’d stacked behind you earlier in the day, Lando nuzzling further into your stomach, whining until you bring your hand back to his curls. As you shift, Lando reaches out to wind his hands around your waist, pulling you closer even in his sleep. You smile to yourself, and turn the small lamp on the side table off - your boy was home, and everything was alright.

[sidekickjoey]

In the summer of '86, fresh off of saving the world, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler get blonde highlights.

Be it a coping mechanism after handling the hell that was spring or simply a mutual need for change, the decision is made without nervousness from either party. They enter the salon together, swear up and down to their assigned hairstylists that, yes, this is what they want and no, they do not care that their hair already looks perfect as is, thanks, and leave donning notably different looks.

Steve's signature chestnut ends up woven between streaks of gold, giving him a sort of distracting glimmering effect when he walks out into the sun. Nancy's waves, though still shoulder length and crimped to perfection, sway almost completely and utterly blonde in any light.

Needless to say, their new looks quickly make them, the former it-couple of Hawkins, the talk of the town once more - including that of their two closest friends, Eddie and Robin.

They, unlike the general public of Hawkins, have spent the past few months slowly building massive crushes on Steve and Nancy, entranced by their might after surviving the horrors of the Upside Down. While to most a change in hair color for Steve and Nancy is merely an oddity, to them? It's like someone hit the panic button and left them to scatter in a secluded room.

Robin has only been over her gaga-for-Vickie phase for a few weeks now. The wound is still fresh, and she knows she should not be looking once again into a possible unrequited love situation until she is better healed emotionally. She also knows he has a weakness for blondes that goes beyond all reason, i.e. Tammy Thompson and her muppet singing voice. She shouldn't act and possibly jeopardize one of her most sincere female friendships over a silly little weakness like that.

However, Nancy looks like a vision in blonde.

Robin thinks it's her big doe eyes that do it. They pop when the blonde meshes with Nancy's fair skin, and it makes her heart swoon in the most debilitating of ways. Not to mention, the softer cut she got along with the lighter coloring frames her face so well. Robin swoons over it. If not for her fear of rejection, she probably would have already taken the leap and done something stupid, like confess how Nancy's scrambled her brain.

Eddie's not doing much better himself with Steve.

He had been there in the early days, when Scoops Ahoy's newest worker showed up in his first edition of golden highlights. Like any good Hawkins resident, he had handled it with poise, class, and lots of extra trips to Scoops Ahoy whenever he happened to be at the Starcourt Mall, along with frequent whisperings of 'what the hell' expressed in the confines of his room where no one could hear him freak out. T'was standard™.

This look, though...it blows Scoops Ahoy Steve away by miles.

It's bright. It's golden. It's like he slipped and fell into some kind of radiant daydream, only to emerge like a ray of sunlight to distract Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson alone, and Eddie can't shut up about it.

Seriously, Wayne has heard enough.

The issue is, he has next to no idea what to do about these feelings. His mind is screaming to make a move on the guy, because you only live once and, well, he's already on his second try. However, his little worried heart loves Steve's newfound companionship and whatever odd-couple friendship they have going on right now. He doesn't want to lose that because of some dye job and a trim. It's too important, too good.

So, like Robin, he finds himself refraining.

They both refrain, and over the next week or so, the decision to do so eats at them like mad. They stumble over their words when speaking to Steve and Nancy. They actually stumble physically, in Robin's case, when Nancy walks by one morning. They tell anyone and everyone they can about it aside from Steve and Nancy, and by the end of that week, it all hits a breaking point. Word slips for the sake of everyone's sanity to Steve and Nancy.

It should mark the beginning of havoc and betrayal.

Instead, it breeds two plans.

Because, here's the thing: Steve and Nancy are not dumb, contrary to what some might think. They are wildly observant people. They know what their friends are up to, and Robin and Eddie are high on that friend list after spring. They've seen their behavior and, though Nancy had to spell a little bit of it out for Steve, both have come to the conclusion that something is definitely up in the crush department. If they want to capitalize on it, they know there is no better time than now while their haircuts are still new and their own crushes are seeking an opportunity to spill their feelings.

Nancy's plan to handle Robin, to the untrained eye, is simple. She's known for carefully thought out strikes when people least expect them, and the last thing she's going to do is stop using that tactic to her advantage now.

So, she invites the other girl on a trip to the mall for new bracelets. She claims it's on account of Holly taking hers hostage (not a total lie) and needing time out with someone her age (also not a total lie), and Robin buys it in seconds. A day later, they meet up at a boutique mall just outside of Hawkins and roam for a few hours together. It's simple. Casual. Subtle enough to be innocent from afar yet just intimate enough for Nancy to make her move when the time is right.

The time becomes right when they're sitting at a booth in the food court, chatting about Holly's other jewelry-related crimes. Nancy accidentally knocks the fork for her salad off the table, catching the attention of them both. Robin is quick to say she's got it, but Nancy is faster. Ready. She reaches down, picks up the fork, and in a fit of bravery, makes damn sure she holds eye contact with Robin the entire way back up. Robin swallows and looks away, clearly flustered and trying to behave over such a small thing as eye contact. But, Nancy doesn't want her to ignore it this time. So, she pulls a cheesy line from Steve's old book (that she totally did not rehearse with Steve, not at all) and misbehaves, just to get the ball rolling.

Batting her eyes, she asks in her most casual drawl, "Sheesh Robin, do blondes always make you this nervous?"

Robin chokes on her milkshake. 'Accidentally' knocks over her own fork. Goes down beneath the table to - not subtly - whisper-scream about what the hell that just was, because what the hell was that? Hello?

Nancy finds it incredibly endearing. She kind of wants to tell her about it.

She joins Robin on the floor to do so and giggles, freakin giggles, at Robin's shock and awe over her being there. Robin, panicked, reaches for the fork she dropped and holds it up to Nancy for her to see like it's some kind of explanation for her huddling under the table a full minute after it fell. She then stutters out a small 'got it,' despite Nancy being a goddamn journalist who notices things for her job and is fully capable of using her own two eyes to see, what the heck Robin??

Nancy still finds it all so endearing, though she doesn't think saying it out loud would be the best course of action anymore. Her last words sort of sent the poor girl into a spiral, and as fun as it is sharing this cramped space with her, she kind of wants to get off the gross tile if at all possible. So, instead, she does the next best thing and expresses her fondness physically.

With a kiss.

On the mouth.

Hidden by the table but all-too-real and seen to Robin, who forgets how to breathe because oh my gosh. Oh my GOSH.

It's perfect. It's effortless. It's everything. It's hands-down worth the hours of waiting Nancy had to do under a hairdryer in foils to get her here, and even more worth Robin's adorably rushed confession after the fact that she's always liked blondes, just a little bit.

~~~~~~

Steve's plan is a lot different than Nancy's.

He is a tried-and-true passionate romantic after all, and Eddie is about as dramatic as Shakespeare. A casual outing or demure kiss under a table is just not going to cut it in terms of a confession for either of them. Steve knows this. He tells it to Nancy. Repeatedly.

After hours of back and forth over the phone, he eventually finds himself at a music store, equipped with a wad of cash and his eyes set on an, admittedly, badass looking guitar. It has blue flames along its black exterior that rise to its very top and are lined with a reflective silver, making it glimmer even in the dim light of the shop. Eddie's been moaning about losing his sweetheart to the Upside Down for weeks -- no, months at this point. Steve thinks this blue beauty would be a perfect replacement for her. He also thinks it might just be what they need to stop dancing around each other's feelings too, if he's lucky.

He purchases it and stows it away in his bedroom before calling Eddie over the following day. The boy is all nerves when he finally arrives. Steve doesn't help ease them by running his hand through his hair more than once, but what can he say? It's a tough habit to break, and he's been doing it ever since he's hand anything more than a buzz cut. Sue him.

After pleasantries about their day are discussed and Eddie appears to be more calmed down, Steve invites him upstairs for a 'surprise' that just about undoes all the poor boy's progress at once.

Because Steve didn't just place the new guitar in its case and put a bow on it to surprise Eddie. No, he propped that sucker on its stand, bought a small light to illuminate the silver and blue, and placed a little card on the case that said, 'To Eddie, from your sweetheart.'

Steve watches as Eddie physically has to reboot upon seeing it all. He then rushes to cover his ears as Eddie returns to consciousness with a full-blown yell, running over to his gift with repeated 'no way's that get higher and higher in volume with each utterance. All noise ceases when he finally reads the card, though. That's when Steve feels safe enough to drop his hands to his side and make his approach, a shy grin on his lips.

"Like it?"

"Y-You're my sweetheart?"

With a shrug, Steve once again cards a hand through his hair. "If you want me to be. I-I mean, I assumed you would want me to be with all the looks you've been giving me, a-and everything with the Upside Down. But if I've got that wrong, if...shit, maybe I should just-"

Their first kiss is messy, wet, and way too enthusiastic.

Eddie's all teeth from how wide he's smiling into the kiss, and Steve nearly falls over from the sheer force of the guy barreling into him. He grows a bit dizzy, too, from how firm Eddie's grip on his hair has him, and that does little for his already frazzled balance. But, it's perfect. It's so stupidly them and perfect and wild like Steve had hoped it to be, like Eddie hoped it to be.

Later, when Steve leaves Eddie to enjoy his guitar in peace and breathe because, yeah, he finds himself making a mental note to call Nancy when he's home. If this is what one round of highlights gets him, he'll be damned if they don't plan another round for touch ups soon.

Stepping inside, Steve catches sight of a blinking light on his answering machine that tells him Nancy'd be damned, too.

He smiles.

[logan-lieutenant]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 1

(if anyone knows how to make gifs 🥺 please help me out until then it's shitty screenshot summer)

Alex: "I'm gonna say... 400,000."

Logan: "I'm gonna say 430,000”

ok cool let's introduce the WHOLE DYNAMIC of this episode in one still, shall we? alex is looking directly into the camera pondering the shit out of this question, and *this is logan's face*. look at that. look at that fucking smirk. alex is like "you know what? i'm going to get this question right" and logan is like "you know what? i'm gonna use the oldest trick in the pick-a-number-1-through-10 book and i'm gonna WATCH you get annoyed with me and i'm gonna love every second of it." he knows what he's doing

Alex: "Oh, you're playing that game, are you? Just gonna go a bit above?"

Logan: *smoothest fucking wink i've ever seen* *the fucking TONGUE CLICK*

ok WHAT. how am i supposed to handle this i– let's start with the fact that even before logan gave his answer he's leaning back, head cocked, gazing at alex ✨like that✨ practically about to do the arm-around-the-shoulder-thing **before** because he knows exactly how alex is going to react. that fucking wink he had that planned from the beginning. even before alex phrased it like "oh, you're playing that game, are you?" which WOAH BRAT TAMER ALEX DID NOT SEE THAT COMING and jesus christ i feel like i'm intruding on something. this doesn't even feel like ao3 this feels like the beginning of a shit 2k word wattpad draft but no this actually happened

Alex (after guessing exactly 1 less than Logan's and getting it right): "Yes!"

Logan (sunshine smile): "You're a donut..."

okay so apparently alex’s reaction to being called a donut 🍩 is that smile and leaning into logan for the first time in the video and giggling and idk fucking blushing like what kind of degradation kink is this... like i'm sorry i love you landoscar but "you freaking muppet! you got all the hangers!" will need to step aside for whatever is going on here

need i remind you this is ALEX'S reaction to kph. logan brought the k in there first guys leave your what the fuck is a kilometer bit behind ok!!! (i'll find this eventually but logan answering that question on "wrong answers only" with "i'm gonna answer this correctly. it's 1.6 to a mile" is the hottest thing i've ever seen)

aaaaaand here we go end of the video. DO I NEED TO DO A SIDE BY SIDE COMPARISON OR WHAT actually–

alright that's the best you're gonna get with preview. but LET'S BREAK IT DOWN. so we go from logan doing literally all of the talking, all of the video introduction and explaining the activity, and alex even with his whole "oooh ray of sunshine" image clearly thinks this is stupid, he even makes little sarcastic hand gestures when logan describes it. and even right in the beginning he's not looking at the camera he looks like an adhd kid sat next to the window (come on alex look alive). but THREE MINUTES of an admittedly stupid game he's done a total 180, smiling and laughing and literally that wasn't that funny but now i'm gonna laugh because you're the one who said it and leaning in to read the cards for the first time and- well logan is mostly unchanged. from the first question he decided his main task for this video was literally just to check out his teammate at point blank range with his emotions very very clear on his face (alex is OBLIVIOUS af but then again he did pull out the "oh you're playing that game are you?" and i was NOT ready for that so who knows)

ok so episode 1 is very much a warmup for the rest of the series i know that. obviously this isn't the "reaching stratospheric levels of homoeroticism that actually leave a wake of collateral damage to all compulsory heterosexuality in a 50 m radius" as charlos but holy shit it's a lot more obvious than i thought!!!

[ad-astrah]

Finally Watched Cinderella's Castle Digital Ticket (Twice) and I Gotta Get My Feelings Out Somewhere, Somehow (Part I)

Feel free to light up my DMs to chat about it!

And now, for my personal highlights/live reactions:

immediately I'm drawn in by Nick Lang's silly narrator voice and the way he warns us of what's coming. Especially the "muRrrDder!"

Jeff Blim cut his hair. JEFF BLIM CUT HIS HAIR. Not that I didn't like the long locks, but something about his Aladdin Era short hair gets me, man.

Jeff Blim literally getting to own the stage like the man was born to

Jeff Blim's slutty bard getup with the artfully messy hair and the heavy guyliner. That sinful bastard.

"Let's go." I'll follow you anyway, slutty bard.

Okay 80s rock jam! Hell yes.

idk why but I just love the line "There are tales in those walls, are they true or are they tall?"

THIS SET, THO. 80s vibes. Muppets vibes. Princess Bride vibes. Spooky, ethereal fairytale vibes. I love it! Props to the team who designed and built it.

prance, slutty bard boy, prance around that stage.

Jesus Fuck, I've only seen Joey's puppet but I'm already SOLD. Nick and Matt Lang and whoever else had a hand in making these puppets fucking OUTDID themselves! Did they use the Black Book and resurrect Jim Henson?

Throughout the show, the muppet vibes just absolutely amaze and delight me. Makes me feel like a little kid, spellbound by this fairytale. Except it's much darker, more gruesome, way more explicit, and extremely horny.

Oh look, it's Joey's Jingle/Jangle (whichever elf he was) voice from Black Friday.

Love me some o' dat non-binary representation from Ragweed. Starkid once again screaming GAY RIGHTS bitches.

I'm getting some of Jeff's Aragog from AVPS in this Narrator. Anyone else?

Stupid STUPID butcher!

Jon Matteson's accent. *giggles madly*

Angela IMMEDIATELY having to pause for applause before she finishes her first freaking line. The queen deserves it all, though.

The foreshadowing of the Stepmother cutting off Ella's feet. O_O

"It's furryyyyy and fouuuuul and full o' maGOTTTSSaaaaaggghhhh!"

Angela doing the little spinny finger thing in a guy's face to fluster them just like Max did to her character in Nerdy Prudes. I love these physical running gags. My fave being the Smoke Club, though.

OIIIINK oinkoinkoinkoinkoinkoink

Sir Preston asking for help from the audience. His "ELLAaaaaa....nooooo....."

The lighting in this entire show is SO COOL.

Again, Jeff just louging like a whore about the set like its his bitch. I live for it.

James' COSTUME. He looks SO FUCKING GOOD. Props to the costume folks...and to James' rockin' genes.

"But nothing compares to the juice and the hairs..." Oh no. Ohhhhh no I see where this is going. Don't say it, James, don't-- omg he said it.

er ee er ee er ee *window rolling down*

I thought the Prince drawing bewbies on the frosty window was funny already, and then he goes WAH WAH WAH and pretends to pinch them and I fucking lost it.

The Prince checkin' out DAT AZZZZZZ XD

"I'd wager she's wetter now than when I first found her bobbing in the river." OH MY GOD. PRINCE. THAT'S HER NOT-MOM.

If his highness has had every STD and beaten it, that's so fucked up but also damn, that boy's immune system is killin' it. Literally.

"Poor mad EllaAH"

"This is one thirsty FUCKING house." For real, omg.

"The offer stands firm. Come calling if you are!" *screams*

Jeff miming being crew and pulling the ropes for the curtains.

*audience member sneezes* "Bless you."

Angela's diction is next fucking level. PUNY. PINK. KIND.

The epic troll reveal! The puppets are SO GOOD.

THE FROG FUCKING TURNING AWAY AS SHE ASKED FOR IT TO DO SO SHE COULD KILL IT. CHRIST.

This bayou boogie song of Ella's is an absolute KILLER BOP. Holy shit. And it's SO perfect for Bryce's funky, sassy voice.

Speaking of which, BRYCE'S VOCALS. I'm gonna scream about them for forever and ever and ever. I love her voice SO FUCKING MUCH. I could listen to nothing else for the rest of my days and die a happy little gay.

"ohhhh woah woah waohhh" *flips the bird* She's such a queen for that.

"It needs oregano" WORK BITCH

Bryce's stage presence is fucking INSANE. I dunno how she's not on Broadway, but thank goodness we got her!

SIRE MANY TADPOLES!

GOD I love this absolutely depraved, horny little bastard of a prince.

It's amazing Tadeus hasn't murdered the prince yet. The man deserves a medal for the literal shit he's put up with.

Bugette?! I thought you choked on shit died and were consumed by the Hive Queen?

Rancilda being a typical troll and loving lurking under bridges and telling riddles.

Schuyler Sister vibes from the song with Justine and Lucy. So cute.

Justine and Lucy are SUCH real ones for IMMEDIATELY believing Ella about her family being trolls and for saying "fuck the ball, we're leaving NOW."

Shake dat ass, Mariah!

Lauren's physical comedy as Rancilda is NEXT LEVEL. I'm wheezing over here!

iSNn'tT it A BiiIItTcH?!

I LOOK GOOD IN THIS. What an absolute fucking BANGER. This song is gonna play in my head on repeat for the next decade. What a next level villain song.

Also this gives me some strongass Joan Jett vibes. "I love wearin' the skin of dead girls rock 'n' roll!"

and I hEEeaARr yoU'Re RiiiCCHhH

Seriously, is this the next Top Chart breakup revenge song? It should be.

"I really LIKE that song!" XD Putrice. I love how much of an absolute BIMBO she is.

Rancilda singing the song again. "SHUT UP STUPID BITCH, THE SONG'S OVER." "Okaaaaiiii"

Matt Dahan's ability to riff off the main songs and create motifs is otherworldly.

General MacNamara? Is that you?! Oh wait, nope. Still my slutty, slutty bard.

I LOOOOOOOVE this badass electric guitar intro, holy shit.

Kim Whalen, the queen, getting the bitchin' entrance she deserves.

Starkid is so, so good at their sound design to help immerse you in a scene without blowing a big budget or doing anything elaborate.

...Kim. My girl. Your arms must be tired.

She's just standing there, but Kim's stage presence is still so strong.

I can't get over how Jon's Sir Hops-A-Lot's voice is just a small...ahem. Hop, skip, and a jump away from Wiggly's.

JOEY. THAT ACCENT. You ABSOLUTE genius idiot. I love you for this stupidass voice.

Joey's bowl cut makes me giggle like mad.

I love these two puppets SO much.

GIT IT, KIM.

The call and response bit with Ella and the Goddess reminds me of Hamilton when Washington is dictating his Farewell Address. I know it's gotta be in other musicals, too, but that's the clearest comparison for this nerd at the moment.

Jeff sneaking in the "castle on a hill" song reference in this song.

Kim and Bryce dueting together is just Power incarnate. Holy cow. It's so good.

"You shall be as radiant and terrible as I." Ooooooh. Yes. Gimme.

The Narrator sneaking out from amidst the ensemble to finish off the song was really neat.

That fading spotlight before curtain for intermission with just Ella's face in view is so beautiful and haunting. What an epic close to Act I.

Also, it seems like this was also a strategic way to imply Ella's outfit being transformed there on stage during the song without actually having to do the tricky costume designing quick-change theater miracles of an ACTUAL outfit transformation. Which is really brilliant. Leave the audience to wonder until post-intermission about what Ella's starlight dress will look like.