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prettyboybuckley · 22 days

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teach me how to dance with you by goodboybuck (prettyboybuckley)

8.95k | 1/1 | Explicit | No Warnings Apply | Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard

9-1-1 said "here's bi buck" and I said "that's exactly what I needed to get through my writer's block!" and proceeded to write this.

Summary:

"Hey, no, we don't have to rush into anything you're not ready for, okay?" Tommy says. "There's no hurry, it might be good to take it a bit slow, actually."

Buck nods. "Yeah, yeah, okay."

"How about we have a beer, and we talk some more, and maybe we can make out a bit more on the couch?"

Tommy points over his shoulder towards Buck's living room, his expression one big, playful question mark, definitely a bit hopeful as well, and Buck can't help but smile and nod.

"Yeah," he says, grabbing the other bottle of beer left on the counter, "yeah, that sounds like a great plan."

OR: Buck explores the wonders of gay sex (slowly, with a really patient, sweet Tommy guiding the way and while having a lot of fun)

Read on ao3

#i return from war (chronic illness and writers block) with some fun smutty smut #911 fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #gary writes fic #911fic #bucktommy #what other shipnames are there?#kinkley #buck x tommy #userisha #tuserksn #tuserjw

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masked-watcher · 2 months

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Soap created a Group chat Soap changed the profile picture Soap changed the name to “1-whore-1 💅” Ghost left the chat Soap added Ghost to the chat Price: Shouldn't you all be working? Soap: Who says we aren't working? Price: You think chatting like this during work hours is considered "working"?! Soap: You're chatting too Price: It's different! Soap: Lmao yeah sure Soap: Hey, hey Ghost! Ghost ✓✓ Soap: DON'T LEAVE ME ON READ I SEE YOU'RE ONLINE Ghost has removed you from his "Friends" list and blocked you You're no longer able to see the user "Ghost" online status Ghost has left the chat Soap: WHAT THE FUCK Price: Soap, watch with the language! Soap: But but but but he blocked me Gaz: Maybe that's for a good reason? Soap: You're all so mean imma go cry Roach: Bro, seriously?! Soap: Shut up you insect 😭 Roach: Insect? Okay and you're literally the most basic dude here. Soap: Wow. Is national bully Soap day today? Gaz: Yeah, you didn't get the memo? Soap: 😭🖕 Soap is offline Price: Okay, I guess we shouldn't have gone too far... Roach: Too late now... Gaz: Soap will forgive us. Roach: You sure? Gaz: He'll be back in 3... Gaz: 2 Gaz: 1 Soap is online Soap: Okay can someone please tell Ghost to unblock me before I have to go physically meet him Price: Soap, just leave Ghost alone he clearly wants some time alone. Soap: But it's super mega important!! Price: What is so important that you need Ghost's attention?? Soap: That's a secret 👉👈 Price: Soap... Price: You're not still pining over him are you...? Soap: WHAT THE- Where the hell did you learn that word captain?? Price: ...I have my sources. Soap: I- Okay I don't even wanna know but NO I AM NOT Price: I was joking, Soap. You clearly are obsessed with him, I thought it was obvious. Soap: 🖕 Price: Don't you be giving me the finger, Soap, I can dock your pay for that. Soap: Abuse of power!!! I'm telling on you to Laswell!! Price: I'll dock your pay and your vacation days, don't challenge me. Soap: 😭

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queermentaldisaster · 14 days

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“Shoulda Been Dead A Long Time Ago”

The Venom!Ghoap fic is here! I have to thank @the-starry-raven for betaing this for me, I really do, I'd be stuck here without them.

No chapter warnings!

Summary:

Ghost isn't human. But the man under the mask, under the symbiote is. Simon Riley has gone on several missions under the command of John Price, but last year impacted him and Ghost the most.

There they met Sergeant John MacTavish, or Soap, as everyone called him. They met him on the mission to stop Hassan. Of course, they went through that whole ordeal without revealing what they were. But now a new threat has emerged, one that may force secrets to be revealed that would be better off buried.

Or MW3 fix-it but Venom!Ghoap.

Chapter One: Prologue.

Simon stood up, lumbering out of bed. He quickly went to the bathroom, before letting out a short two-tone whistle. Ghost slithered over his skin, forming his clothes and mask. Simon let out a low, appreciative hum, before exiting his room. He walked through the empty hallways, heading straight for the kitchen. He entered to find Gaz, Roach, and Soap sat around the table, and a cup of tea sat next to a bar of chocolate right in front of their chair. Simon gave a grunt of greeting, sitting in the chair and grabbing the mug of tea.

He ‘rolled up’ his mask just slightly, Ghost moving as if he was actually fabric. Simon took a sip, and was a little shocked to find it was exactly how he liked it. Just a little sweet, with a hint of honey. But he could also taste chocolate in there, which, while not unpleasant, was certainly unexpected. It undoubtedly made Ghost ripple slightly in bliss.

Simon didn’t let that show on his face however, only taking another sip. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation the three sergeants were having, but he did notice the way Soap kept looking over at him, as if making sure he wasn’t displeased with the tea. Oh, Johnny made this for us. How sweet of our little phoenix, Ghost cooed, and Simon had to agree. Johnny had often been found around the lieutenant, no matter how much Gaz and Roach and Price tried to keep him away from Ghost.

They knew that Ghost did not tolerate bullshit and meaningless prattle, but, unbeknownst to them, Simon and Ghost both found Soap’s endless chatter and bullshit quite endearing.

Simon watched Soap laugh at something that Roach said, his smile seeming to melt just a little more of that ice around their heart. God, he wanted to make him laugh like that.

But he won't look at us like we want him to… Ghost sighed, and Simon had to agree. At most, Soap likely found them entertaining, and would run the moment he found out about Ghost being a symbiote. So, Simon pushed himself up, grabbing the chocolate bar, and walking out.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw3 #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #gary roach sanderson #kyle gaz garrick #ghoap au #ghoap fic #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #venom!ghoap #elo writes

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boxofthings · 5 months

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bshsjsksk I've never written smut before so I hope this doesnt read as awkward lmao. (I kinda struggled halfway through so I'm sorry if the quality all of a sudden goes down the drain 🥲 i wrote this very late into the night)

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

NSFW below the cut!

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The post-mission adrenaline crash hits them hard. As soon as the team had returned to base, a hushed scatter of dragging feet had set the tone of their night.

For Ghost, he's high-strung, left on edge from today's most recent failures. He thinks he can still hear gunfire in the background of the night, and if he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander, he sees the poignant look of fear as the person he reaches for is just a little bit too out of grasp, and their screams etch jagged scars into his brain.

There's a tension in his bones that vibrates through his nerves, begging for reprieve, and he needs it gone—right now.

That's what makes him seek out the sergeant, finding him lounged against the corridor walls and hurriedly yanking the other into Ghost's quarters, pressing his body up against the door with rough hands and a stormy mind.

The sergeant doesn't protest, only reciprocates with the same ferocity as his lieutenant, filling the quiet with their two desperate breaths and lewd whispers.

"I need you," Ghost had groaned, face buried in the crook of Roach's neck, sinking deep reds onto marred but soft skin. Roach's breath had hitched, and the fingers latched tightly onto the lieutenant had only dug deeper.

It was all the confirmation Ghost needed before he begins stripping the younger out of his gear. Fast and desperate, like two teenagers at risk of getting caught by their parents, and technically, that wasn't too far from the truth.

His hands move mechanically, and there's a despondency that begins to fizzle into his head as he unclasps each and every clip on Roach's armour till he's just in his standard shirt and pants. There's a heavy cloud over his head that pushes him into that ugly, uncaring side of himself—the part of him that tries to make all the good things in his life meaningless, detached.

He feels the roughness behind his actions as his hands roam free over the sergeant's body. He feels like he's in a trance, familiar and lifeless, as his mind only chases for the ultimate pleasure that only serves to temporarily halt his turmoil.

This means nothing, he tells himself.

He expects the same in return—secretly begs for it in his mind so that this can all be just another vapid memory added to the list of casual hook-ups. But when Roach goes to take off his clothing, it's slow and gentle, unlike Ghost's brazen want. Roach moves like they have all the time in the world like this means something—represents more than what their activity depicts on the surface level. And Ghost—he feels disquieted.

The sergeant is methodical when he takes off Ghost's vest, pausing every so often to look at him and smile. Ghost's heart stutters and the greys in his head recede just a little more.

When it's just his undershirt and pants left, Roach gives him a soft push backwards, seating him down on the edge of his bed.

Ghost's eyes never leave Roach, watching closely like a hawk as the other climbs atop him and firmly grasps his chin, tilting it upwards.

"You think too much," he signs lightly. And before Ghost can respond, confident lips meet his own unprepared ones, and his disordered mind goes quiet.

With his balaclava rolled up to his nose, Roach holds the sides of his face as they kiss like longtime lovers, and there's a fierce burn in his chest that ignites hotter the longer they're connected.

When Roach pulls away, Ghost chases after him, high on the feel of the other's touch. His hands come up to encircle Roach's waist, keeping him firmly close and fervid against himself.

The sergeant's hands come to hold his face again, except instead of leaning in, he stares. His piercing green strikes Ghost immobile, but he recognizes what that look on the other's face means—he's picking him apart, trying to gauge what's going on in Ghost's head.

Ghost tries to avert his gaze, doing so by surging up, trying to capture Roach's lips once again, but Roach sees the action for what it is and pulls away, keeping his hold strong on Ghost. It forces him to look directly at the other.

"Are you ok?" he whispers, and it's soft—so gentle that a hard wall inside of him cracks just a little. Roach's face conveys one of searching concern, and Ghost feels pinned, flayed open at the mercy of those eyes.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head stiffly as his hands dig deeper into Roach's hips.

"I just-" he croaks, "I just need you."

Roach's eyes narrow, and Ghost lets a sliver of vulnerability slip through the cracks—just a tiny push. "Please," he whispers, and he can see in real-time how Roach's expression falls, a sad smile pulling meekly onto his mouth, and he nods.

Ghost kisses him—hard. This is familiar. If he's in control, he can't let those lingering terrors plague his thoughts. The sooner he can get this going, the sooner he can distract himself. He thrusts up into Roach, feeling the heat of the other on top of him, and the younger groans into the kiss as the two grind against each other, needy and fervent.

Hands push down squarely on his chest until he's forced to lay back. When he looks forward to Roach, the other smiles warmly and begins to work at his zipper.

"Let me take care of you."

And it takes everything in Ghost not to crumble at those words.

Roach palms at his erection, still confined in his boxers, and Ghost wants to kick him.

"Stop teasing."

He's met with a cheeky grin. "Stop teasing?" the other signs demurely. "You mean like this?"

A warm hand suddenly grasps his length, and Ghost's breath hitches, making the humour in Roach's gaze grow.

"Oh, piss off you-"

The hand tightens, stroking confidently up and down, melting the words on Ghost's tongue immediately.

Bastard.

It's been a while since they've done this. Missions have become more frequent and dire as the war rages on, and Ghost hasn't gotten a chance to get laid—to expel the stress.

He wants to say that's the reason why his stomach swoops so violently as the sergeant slowly takes him into his mouth, gaze never leaving Ghost's as he swallows him deeper.

God, he can't deny it; Roach knows how to take him apart. His eyes make Ghost feel like pinned-down prey as he sensually swirls his tongue around the tip.

His hand reaches to grasp at Roach's hair, keeping the sergeant in place, but Roach only dips lower, expertly sucking him off at a rhythmic pace that punches deep groans out of Ghost.

He bucks his hips upwards as Roach meets him halfway, setting an exhilarating pace that forces Ghost to concentrate on not finishing right into the sergeant's mouth. He wants this night to last.

He pulls Roach off his cock, leaving a string of saliva that Ghost immediately swipes across the other's lips. It makes the heat inside of him grow.

"Get on the bed."

Roach wastes zero time obeying, laying across the same spot that Ghost had previously occupied.

Shedding his cargos, he grabs the lube on the bedside table, fully seating himself between Roach's now bare legs as he drenches his fingers.

As he circles Roach's entrance, he leans forward, waiting for the exact moment the other's mouth hangs open as his finger breaches into heat, capturing lips in a hungry kiss, and Roach leans into it enthusiastically.

He adds another digit, awaiting for the stuttered breathing that will follow, and he curls his fingers, watching closely as Roach's back arches off the bed like a puppet.

The other scoffs, locks of hair falling in front of his eyes. Ghost wants to brush them away.

"Now, who's teasing."

A smile pulls at his face as he adds a third, and he revels in knowing that he's the one wringing those noises, those expressions out of Roach—revels in knowing he's the only one who knows how to make the other feel this good.

When Ghost pulls out, moving to lube himself up, Roach's hands come to press on his shoulders, a leg coming up to hook around his middle, effectively flipping their positions in a swift and practiced maneuver.

With Roach on top, he can see the smugness that paints his features, a nimble hand caressing up his torso to sit at his chest.

"I said I'd take care of you," Roach leans down to whisper low in his ear before Ghost can protest, and a shiver runs down his spine, pooling arousal at the base of his cock.

The sergeant takes him in hand and, just like before, never moves his sights from the lieutenant's face as he guides the head of his cock to his entrance, sinking slowly down until Ghost is fully sheathed inside of him.

Their combined groans mingle together into heavy breaths.

Ghost's hands climb to grip hard at Roach's hips. A choked moan threatens to spill once the sergeant begins moving, his heat all-encapsulating and enticing.

He sits up so he can better hold Roach in his lap, roaming hands gripping tight on the back of the sergeant's shirt. He pushes his hips upwards, setting a brutal pace and eliciting a series of gasps that only encourage him to move faster.

He wants to lose himself in this. Be buried inside this warmth forever, anything to take him away from the battles he'll be thrown back into once he leaves this room.

He scrunches his eyes shut, trying to focus only on the building pressure below. But despite his efforts, the storm cloud slowly creeps back into the cracks of his brain, along with the distant screams that follow with it. Eyes too young to display such fear watch him from the depths of his mind, and suddenly, Ghost can't get it out.

Two taps to his shoulder.

His eyes fling open, thrusts halting immediately.

The concern is back, more intense than before.

"What's wrong?"

Ghost inhales, taking in how genuinely worried the sergeant looks—how quickly he had noticed Ghost's inner turmoil.

"I-" he swallows, words weighing like bricks in his throat.

He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to even spare a grain of space in his mind for images that will spiral him deep into disruption. It's why he'd even sought out the sergeant in the first place. This was just supposed to be another meaningless fuck.

But a part of him knew it wasn't going to be so easy, not with Roach. Not with someone who takes one glance at him, mask and all, and immediately knows which weak points to aim for to leave him an exposed, vulnerable mess.

He supposes he should've known this would happen—wonders if, deep in his subconscious, he had hoped for something more to come out of this.

Fingers gently grasp his hand, lifting it slowly, hesitantly, as if Ghost would run at the slightest hint of comfort.

Soft lips come to kiss at his knuckles, one by one, and it's so—kind. The contrast between Roach's lips and the scars that run down Ghost's hand feels undeserving, like such good things are ought to be for people like him.

"When people grow up in ugly homes, they can only assume everything in the world is ugly, including themselves."

It was something Roach had said to him offhandedly after a particular deployment. Although back then, Ghost hadn't understood where it came from.

He'd thought it had something to do with the mission they had just returned from. One that—similarly to today's—had left the task force a shaken crowd of solemn faces.

He remembers it clear as day. He and Roach had been the first at the scene, gazing upon the aftermath of what could only be described as a brutal execution—one that left an innocent family limp at their feet, like bloody ragdolls.

The sole survivor, a boy no older than twelve, had sat at the centre of it all, looking no more alive than the ashen bodies surrounding his small frame.

It was a disturbingly familiar sight, and Ghost had left that mission quieter than usual.

Now, though, he thinks he knows why Roach had said it. It's for the same reason why Ghost was thinking of such a phrase at a time like this—for comfort, reassurance.

Roach had recognized then how that mission had messed with Ghost's head, just as he recognized how today's mission had messed with him further.

Ghost takes a deep breath, calming the violent sea in his mind.

"Sorry," he breathes out, looking Roach square in the eyes with what he hopes is a genuine, small smile. "Just all up in my head."

Roach's thumb swipes back and forth at the palm of Ghost's hand—a grounding sensation despite how miniscule it is. A small smile reflects back on his face, a wisp of a concession.

We'll talk about this after.

Ghost rolls them over so that Roach is now under him. By the look of exasperation, the other had probably been expecting this.

"This is a two-way tango, bug. Let me return the favour."

There's enthusiasm in the arms that drape around his neck, and Ghost begins to pick up where they left off.

With Roach laid under him, Ghost's fingers crawl up his stomach to lift off the other's shirt, exposing him fully to the lieutenant. In response, Roach tugs at Ghost's own shirt, a challenging glint in his eye that Ghost readily accepts, leaving the two fully bare for each other.

Ghost is gentler this time when he pushes back in, making sure not to be as rough as he was before. Roach takes him in easily, whining softly as Ghost's hips snap to hit that sweet spot. It shouldn't affect him how well they fit together, and not just in bed, but in a warzone, too.

He tries not to let his thoughts wander again, and instead, thinks of Roach—Roach and how he's splayed underneath him, how his touches feel like they burn the skin off his flesh, how even without a voice, his words stick in Ghost's mind like unwilling tattoos.

-- -- --

"You think all these terrible things that have happened to you define who you are. They don't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you."

In the haze of pleasurable bliss, a thought weighs sudden and heart-stuttering.

I love him.

He loves him.

And it's more than just the sex. It's the way those brown curls splay out on the bed like a halo—the same curls he'd run his fingers through countless times during leisure hours. It's the kiss-swollen lips that smile warmly at him every morning at breakfast. It's the strong arms currently wrapped around his neck that aid him in battle with their assured grip and expertise and the fingers that softly grasp Ghost's own when they have fleeting moments of tenderness on the battlefield. It's the way that when Ghost looks at the man before him, there's a part of him deep down that knows what this is, a part of him that thinks of green eyes and gentle smiles, and he wants.

He stares down at Roach, beautiful and wrecked and gazes at the scars that embroider his person. Ghost traces his fingers softly on the large gash decorating the left hip. An ugly knife wound, he remembers. He helped stitch that one. The mark beside that one—a bullet not fully penetrated, but Ghost had been there when the shot had hit its mark, and it had terrified him at that moment.

The arms around him release, and then hands come to rest delicately on his face. Green eyes watch him, glassy from their intimate activity but strong in their tender gaze.

This is so much different than his usual hook-ups—the rough, quick-fucks he'd indulge himself in over the years as a way of forcing out the accumulative tension from his stressful lifestyle. But when he's with Roach, it's gentle, it's slow, and, dare he say it, loving. Ghost can't help himself as his hips slow to a stop, and his eyes move towards Roach's face.

His hand grabs recklessly at his mask, pulling it off with a haste he hasn't felt in a long time.

Roach's eyes widen. His partner's desperate pants have halted as well, and he looks straight up at Ghost, gaze shocked with an underlayer of hope.

"I love you."

Ghost feels nervous in his own skin, uncharted emotion rubbing hotly inside his chest, foreign and wild. But Gary inches his face closer, and immediately, those biting fears dissipate, leaving his mind completely once Gary pulls their lips together in a tender kiss.

It's the sweetest he's ever had. Completely unlike the past frustratingly-charged snogs he'd shared with past willing fucks.

When they break apart, Gary looks high, pupils blown wide, and lips a swollen red. Ghost suspects he doesn't look much different.

"I love you, Simon," he whispers, awed.

And the sharp zing of warmth shoots straight down to his groin, where they're still connected, and he groans.

The legs wrapped around his middle squeeze tighter, and Ghost understands, picking up where he left off and speeding up his pace once more.

Roach's head falls back, eyes squeezed shut as Ghost drives them closer to the edge.

His heart stutters as he watches Roach closely. He wants this, he wants more, he wants—

A hand on his heart.

"You think too much."

Ghost exhales, watching Roach closely, watching every minute change in expression. He notices how his breathing hitches when Ghost hits that sweet spot, notices how the other likes it when Ghost strokes his hair, notices how his nose scrunches up when he's concentrating on something hard.

It's not just sex. He knows all the little details about Roach without even having to look. Like when the other taps his pencil on his right thigh but only on the right, like when Roach drinks hot tea and always blows twice before taking a sip, like how there are calluses on his index and middle finger on his dominant hand from writing in his journal, and one on his left index from handling his gun.

I'm thinking about you.

But Ghost doesn't say it out loud; only aims to show what his mind yearns to spill.

He intertwines his hand with Roach's and kisses him feverishly as his hips pull sweet gasps out of Roach's mouth.

He's getting close. Ghost can feel it as Roach clenches tighter around him, and it takes everything in him not to let go right now.

No, he wants to watch Roach spill over the edge first; wants to watch the other fall into the pleasurable bliss brought by Ghost's own doing.

"Come for me, bug," he whispers lowly, and he knows that's all it'll take.

There's a final, strangled whimper before the other spasms and arches beneath him, eyes rolling back as he rides through his orgasm, shaky breaths filling the silence of the room. Ghost drinks in every bit of the sight before him, fuelling his own chase towards the end.

A hand roams his face. The affection on Roach's face is so overwhelming it gives him butterflies.

"Beautiful," Roach mouths.

And Ghost groans as his own orgasm overtakes him, unloading into Roach. Their collective moans are cut short when Roach goes in for one more kiss as Ghost basks in the aftermath of his climax.

This could have never been a casual hook-up, not with Roach. Even with all the past times they've done this, it'd only served to make Ghost hungrier each time for something more.

It was just unfortunate a mental spiral was what pushed him to spit it out.

Now, as the two of them lay together in bed, Roach softly carding fingers through Ghost's hair, he can only think of what a fool he was for assuming he could prolong those hidden desires in his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

They'd hastily cleaned up the mess they'd made and thrown on simple clothes, with Roach borrowing one of Ghost's shirts.

It feels oddly domestic, and despite his earlier confession, Ghost can't help but feel scared.

"Sorry," he swallows, "if I hurt you earlier."

He's deflecting—just a little bit. He knows they have to talk about it, but he wants to sit inside this safe threshold just a little longer.

Beside him, Roach shakes his head.

"You didn't hurt me," he reassures, letting a minute grin slip through, "it's not like you haven't been rougher in the past."

Ghost huffs, his own lips betraying amusement, but he averts Roach's eyes and looks to the ceiling.

He can't keep holding it all in; feels like he at least owes it to Roach—attentive and caring, Roach—what was bothering him.

"It was the girl."

It's not a question, so Roach must've been sure that was it.

As usual, he was right.

"I was so close." He was. He was right there at the edge of the window. If he'd just been a little quicker–

"It's not your fault, Simon."

He can't help but sigh. He knows that. But there's a part of him, the irrational shadow of himself that looks suspiciously like a little boy, curses him for his incompetence.

And it's not just the blame; it's the principle of his role as a soldier. If he can't save one little girl, what good is he?

To serve and protect. If he can't even do that for a stranger, how does he expect to do it for the people he cares about?

In the dim light, he can just make out the grim line of Roach's mouth.

There's nothing the other can really say to make this all better. Regardless of everything, Ghost’s mind will always remain a wasteland of accusatory what-ifs. But-

"I...I meant what I said, though. Earlier."

And even with the sombre fog set over his mind, Roach's smile still manages to make it all just a little more bearable.

"Me, too."

He's scared. There's another reason why his failure today hit him so viscerally. When he stares back at Roach, he feels the phantom fear that imprints like a shadow behind his eyelids, with green eyes that fall into an abyss Ghost isn't fast enough to reach for.

It could be him one day that you don't catch, his ugly thoughts say.

But before he can further fuel those anxieties, Roach pulls him close, resting Ghost's head under his chin.

"You think too much," he mutters, running his fingers through Ghost's hair.

Ghost sighs, closing his eyes and leaning further into the embrace. He feels—safe.

Trust Roach to soften the blows of everything horrible in his life.

There are more things to say, more things they need to establish with this newfound step in their relationship, more fears that Ghost needs to acknowledge head-on.

But for now, he's happy to stay like this, in the arms of someone he knows he can trust.

Tomorrow, they’ll leave the safety of this room and be thrown back into the uncertainty of their fragile lives; however, the other side of his door no longer feels so daunting, not when he has this.

As his mind drifts slowly away into the lulling arms of sleep, he feels Roach hold him tighter.

"One day," Roach begins to whisper, and it's soft—wishful-sounding, "I hope you'll be able to accept that you're more than just your shortcomings, like how I see you."

For the first of many nights, his mind is at peace.

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player1064 · 24 days

Note

Love your drabbles! I cannot stop reading and sharing them. I have another prompt if you are still taking them! It would be interesting to see Gaz defend his Jamie when he is invited as a special guest to that CBS show Jamie is on. Would love to see protective Gary against Kate Abdo with Big Meeks laughing in the background and Titi being torn between helping Kate or (rightfully) knowing when a battle is lost. Maybe a dib at Kate how being a host is easy money compared to being actual pundits & analysts

kinda obsessed w this prompt being sent like a day before Jamie ran his big mouth on live tv and got in trouble for it (though tbh he's ALWAYS running his big mouth and what he said abt kate not being loyal wasn't even up there with worst mistakes imo it's just the one that happened to go viral). but also YES I am obseeeeessed with the UCL Today gang's dynamic the banter.... the thinly veiled dislike between Jamie and Kate.... chefs kiss

Also, this ficlet can be considered part of the wife-gary saga and having said that I'm wondering if I should have that as a tag so the other prompt fills in that universe are easier to find......

---

“Joining us in the studio today is one of the most decorated British footballers of all time, with over a hundred appearances in the Champions’ league and two titles to show for it, it’s Gary Neville. Gary, welcome to the show.”

Gary, who’d been grimacing awkwardly through Kate’s introduction, shakes his head around a bit and then gives her a smile. “Glad to be here, I –”

“—hold on, hold on,” Jamie interrupts, “can we go back to the ‘two titles’ thing for a second?”

“Yes, James, I have two Champions’ league medals,” Gary says, turning to look at Jamie with one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “As many as everyone else in this studio combined, I believe. What’s not clickin’, can you not count that high?”

To Jamie’s left, Micah doubles over with laughter, but Jamie just shakes his head, reaching a hand out to Gary’s chest, pushing him back in his seat. “No, no, Gary, why don’t you tell our audience how many games you played to earn that second medal, eh?”

Before Gary has a chance to defend himself, Kate primly says “about thirty more across his career than you did, Jamie,” which sets the whole table off laughing again while Jamie sits glaring in the middle of it all.

Jamie, as the lone Scouser in the cast and the only one not to have won a Premier league (besides Kate, obviously, but she doesn’t count), often feels ganged up on at CBS. And to have Gary on as a guest, even though he’d agreed to the idea (and quite enthusiastically, though don’t tell Gary that), feels like an extra kick in the shin.

Because not only is Gary, Mister Manchester United, getting obvious favouritism from lifelong United supporter Kate, he has the more crucial advantage that nobody in America knows who he is.

This means that Gary on CBS is not ‘below-average defender who only achieved what he did through obsessive hard work and sucking up to Fergie’, no, Gary on CBS is ‘best full-back of his generation, Manchester United and England legend, one of the top 10 most decorated British footballers of all time, and David fucking Beckham’s best mate.’

When you look at it like that, it’s a lot harder to find something to tease him about.

Jamie still manages, of course, he’s spent the past decade making a career out of insulting Gary Neville and he’s damn good at it. Over the course of the show he’s able to get in a few digs about his nose, his hair, his weight, his dress sense. But that’s all appearance stuff, which is easy – one look at Gary and the jokes basically write themselves.

What that says about Jamie, the idiot who went and married him, he’s not sure.

Everyone around the table is joking about Istanbul, which is easy enough to do if you weren’t there, which none of them were, and it’s enough to get Jamie’s blood boiling. He’s getting ready to launch into a rant about how it was one of the greatest games in footballing history when Kate cracks a line about how Jamie’s successes were all dumb luck, and Gary’s face scrunches up in displeasure.

“Oh, I’m – I’m not sure that’s fair, really,” he says quietly, glancing back at Jamie as he does. “Don’t get me wrong, that Liverpool team were nowhere near Champions’ league winner quality, I’m sure James would agree w’me on that –” Jamie, very reluctantly, nods. “—I mean, they finished fifth in the league that season, got knocked out of the FA cup their first game. There’s always a bit of luck to be fair, gettin’ to a Champions’ league final, but credit where it’s due – they were a scrappy little team, and that win was well deserved.”

On Gary’s right, Thierry nods in agreement, which is quite possibly the highest praise Jamie’s ever received from the man, and even Kate gives Jamie an awkward little smile once Gary’s done talking.

Under the desk, Jamie drops a hand to Gary’s knee and gives it an appreciative little squeeze.

As soon as the cameras are all off Jamie wastes no time in grabbing Gary by the wrist to pull him onto his lap, where he sort of half-perches half-hovers because he’s nervous about putting all his weight on Jamie’s knees (even though Jamie keeps telling him it’s fine).

Gary makes no complaints at being manhandled, just smiles fondly down at Jamie and pinches his cheek. “Look at you, you vain fuck. What I said were barely complimentary and it’s still got you all over me.”

Jamie ignores this (because they both know it’s true) and surges forward to kiss Gary instead, paying no mind to the others still in the vicinity of the desk while they get their earpieces and microphones unhooked. He hears a groan from Micah, and an exasperated sigh from Titi, but they can both go fuck themselves because Jamie’s horrible bastard of a husband willingly said something nice about Liverpool on live television, and if that’s not cause for celebration then he doesn’t know what is.

When Gary breaks the kiss with a pleased little hmph and gets up to wander over to the snack table, Jamie is left to face his colleagues, all three of them looking at him with faces twisted in an attempt to suppress their laughter.

“Man like Jamie,” Micah says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “I knew you was bringin’ the missus on for a reason, this is like foreplay for the two a’yous, innit?” As soon as he finishes the sentence, he shudders at his own words, then adds “oh, ew, that’s like thinking about your parents, don’t want to know any more.”

“I think you’re onto something there, Meeks,” Kate laughs, “and here I was thinking he’d brought him on to show off his trophy wife.”

Jamie wants to protest that he did not bring Gary onto the show, he’s not the one who made the suggestion and it’s definitely not showing off or foreplay or whatever else his colleagues can come up with, but then Kate’s nudging him in the side with a smirk and saying “Trophy wife, Jamie, get it? Because he has a lot more trophies than –”

Jamie stomps off to go find his stupid annoying and very very successful trophy wife before Kate is able to finish the thought and prompt him to say something he might regret.

#the trophy wife line came to me halfway through writing this and then tbh the rest of the fic became centred around #being able to get that in. bc its SO funny to me. even though it's dumb #also idk if an american audience would know who gary is or not. so i was assuming they wouldn't #carraville #drabbles #wife gary saga #<- making this a tag now. will go back and add it to the others at some point #OH also jamie getting handsy over gary being nice to him is 100% from the bit in sara's fic where they're talking about love languages #just btw

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elise-51-blog · 1 month

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youtube

Gary Neville is a REF

So inspired by this. Working on a WIP, another which may it see the light of day someday. An AU where Gary gets kicked out the the United youth academy and becomes a referee instead. Carra has his Liverpool career.

[[Absolutely inspired by this marvelous fic here as well, where both of them became refs instead of footballers, please give it love: PLAY THE WHISTLE by saltstreets ]] credit: @zevons

Snippet of my WIP here.....

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

“It’s a fuckin’ shambles, Gaz.”

Gary should’ve known better than to answer his phone. It’s a beautiful day for football. Which has fuck all to do with Gary. Gary’s on holiday. At home maybe, but it still counts. He’d even had a lie-in ‘til nearly half seven.

He doesn’t, won’t, can’t hold back a weary sigh, soul-deep. He’s got a headache already. Worse, he already knows he won’t say no in the end.

Still.

“I can’t fuckin’ do it, Stuart. I’m on holiday.”

“What, in fuckin’ Bury?”

“How d’you know I’m still in Bury? Maybe I’m in Ibiza!”

“Fuck you are, you boring cunt. You’ve probably been in the back garden, tellin’ the daisies which way to grow.”

“Fuck off.” They both laugh, it’s fucking true innit.

“Fuck me.” He can’t do it. He will do it.

“Already got me lad on the way, son. He’ll scoop you up, you’ll be on the pitch in thirty. Lovely day for it.”

“They’ll not go for it, Stu.” For fucking obvious reasons. “Raffa won’t, anyways.”

“Already had it out with ‘em, you mong, ‘course I have. Sir Alex and Raffa are well up for it. Talked you up, didn’t I? No one I’d trust to do the job right. Sterling lad, absolutely professional he is, our Gary Neville, no one else for it.”

“No one else stupid enough to take it on, you mean.”

“Right you are, son!”

Stuart laughs some more at Gary’s pain. It’s a thing they do. “It don’t hurt you’re a short taxi ride away, either.”

“This is mad, this is.” Gary shakes his head. “If the scousers even let me off the pitch in one piece, I’m gonna get absolutely killed by the fans, no matter the result. Both sides, probably.”

“Yeah. But you’ll be golden in my books, Nev, don’t you worry about that.”

Gary feels a bit sick. “This is me fucked, you understand that, right?”

“Listen,” Stuart actually sounds worryingly sincere. “I wouldn’t ask it if we didn’t need you, Gaz. Really. I know it’s unorthodox, but I’ve made everything absolutely crystal with the managers. The press is being made aware. It’s the wrong time of year for a re-play, innit. Everyone wants to play today. I’ll protect you, lad, I swear it. It’ll be alright.”

He can see it now: Ex-Academy Player Officiates Derby Match, Ripped to Pieces By Former Teammates and Blood-Thirsty Scousers Alike!!

Gary tries to grasp at anything to make the situation better in his mind. “It’ll be Keane and Gerrard to captain, I assume?”

There’s a suspicious pause. Stuart sounds mildly apologetic.

“Err, well. Gerrard’s out today, actually, knee’s acting up again. It’ll be Carragher in his place.”

Oh, well, fuck Gary Neville then. Just fuck him all day long.

“Oh, well, that’s more good news then, Stuart. The only moderately sane man in Liverpool is out on injury, in his stead an Actual Fucking Lunatic.” He is absolutely insane is Carragher. “Between him and Keane, it’s gonna be sunshine and fucking daisies. I can’t wait to be spoken to with nothing but dignity and respect for ninety minutes.”

Suddenly, Gary hears the desperate honks of a car horn idling impatiently just outside the kitchen window. Stuart must hear it over the phone, he sounds absolutely elated to ring off.

“That’ll be our Dave, then. Off you go, Gaz, that’s a good lad! Don’t forget your whistle, you’re gonna need it today, sure!”

Christ.

It’s gonna be a fuckin’ shambles.

#fic wip #carraville #Gary Neville is a Ref #i am writing this just so i can have that title #if anyone knows a good reference to the history of pgmol please send it my way #i made up stuart but i do like him #Youtube

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fixfoxnox · 1 year

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With every "Roach is ghosts dead fiance 🥺" or "Roach sent soap for ghost 🥺" I grow stronger. And one day, I will have enough strength to write a purely vindictive fic where SOAP is ghosts dead ex fiance and ghost falls in love with ROACH.

I'm gonna pull a switcheroo on them

Anyways GhostRoachSoap for the win

#listen i'm totally chill with SoapGhost #I myself do enjoy SoapGhost #however i will never enjoy it at the expense of Roach #like genuinely it breaks my fuckin' heart #which coincidentally is why I had to write SiTO #so I could fix things and let Roach get his happy ending #gary roach sanderson #ghost x roach #ghost x soap #also this is definitely a joke I would just appreciate it if people who write those fics would tag them with Past ghost/roach #or #not even tag ghost/roach at all

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prettyboybuckley · 15 days

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you say my name as if it tastes like sugar by goodboybuck (prettyboybuckley)

3.9k | 1/1 | Not Rated | Chose not to Warn | Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Summary:

The point is, that Tommy says his name like it tastes sweet. It's what makes Buck want him more, makes Buck want to hear Tommy call him 'Evan' again and again. However, it's also what makes Buck terrified. Terrified to tell the truth and hear his name turn bitter on Tommy's tongue. OR: What if the reason Buck is tense on his date with Tommy isn't (only) because it's his first date with a guy?

Read on ao3

#911 fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #gary writes fic #911fic #bucktommy #kinkley #tevan #kinley #buck x tommy #userisha #tuserksn #tuserjw

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drabbles-mc · 1 month

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Third Floor

Eggsy Unwin & GN!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March.

Prompt: rabbit

Word Count: 300

A/N: I've been writing Kingsman Fics for essentially 10 years at this point and this is the first time I've ever written readerfic for it. I don't know what else to say! I'd kill a man for Eggsy Unwin.

The only thing that Eggsy could hear over the blood rushing in his ears was the sound of his feet every time they struck the concrete. His arms and legs felt like they were moving of their own accord, doing whatever it took to keep him safe, to let him live to fight another day.

The footsteps behind him began to slow, but it didn’t stop Rottweiler from calling out after him, “Can’t run away from us forever, you know! Fuckin’ rabbit hops will only get you so far!”

Eggsy knew he was right, but it was working for now. Racing along the string of upper balconies, he got to the very end of the building before finally making himself skid to a stop. He crouched down and allowed himself a couple beats, hoping to get his breathing somewhat back to normal before he asked you to let him in again. Always the stray landing on your doorstep, or rather, windowsill.

When he heard the ruckus starting to pick back up down below again he knew he didn’t have any time to waste. Rapping his knuckles against your window, he only had to wait a few seconds before he heard you twisting the lock from inside.

Pushing the glass upward, you stuck your head out. “Biggest fuckin’ pigeon I’ve ever seen!” you joked.

He laughed, and you watched him shake his head, little beads of sweat starting to drop down the sides of his face. “Very funny.”

You popped the window open a little bit more to make it easier for him, stepping back and to the side so he could slip in as smoothly as possible. “Come on, then. Got your nest ready for you and everything.”

He hopped in and shut the window behind him. “Thanks for that.”

#eggsy unwin #gary unwin #kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #eggsy unwin fanfiction #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy unwin x you #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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