cherry valley forever
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
wallacepolsom
roma★
Kiana Khansmith
Not today Justin
No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
🪼
RMH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Claire Keane
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
blake kathryn
Monterey Bay Aquarium
if i look back, i am lost
Keni
ojovivo
hello vonnie
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from Panama
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
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@amongthe-insert-here
Let me introduce myself!
FORMALLY KNOWN AS amongthe141, now a sideblog UNDER CONSTRUCTION
Your blog owner is over 30+/She/Her and all are welcome! Will showcase screenshots, drabbles, moodboards, writings, photo edits...whatever I like as long as I love and enjoy it (and maybe you will too)!
Read below for upcoming posts for this blog and my other sideblog Fandoms (WIP)
Flower Language Based Prompt List I made instead of writing 💐
I tried to make the prompts relate to each flower’s definition per the Victorian Flower Language without getting too repetitive.
The prompts are all fairly open ended and I figured people could use them for their own inspiration or request games!!
You know the “send me a ship and flower and I’ll write something.”
Anywho, if anyone does end up using this I’d love it if you’d tag me so I can read what you’ve written!! Either way, I hope someone can get use out my procrastinating 💖
Click here to view an unedited version of the document: The List
Helpful Websites & Apps for Writers
A list of helpful websites, apps, and other resources for writers and writing.
Websites for Writers A list of different writing resources, such as online writing communities, research help, free online writing courses, and free writing worksheets.
NaNoWriMo Alternatives A list of different online writing communities and word tracking tools.
Online Writing Communities A tumblr thread with a short list of online writing communities. Includes a writing website for fantasy and science fiction writers, and a website for offering and receiving critique on writing.
Helpful Sites for Writers A short list of helpful resources for writers. Includes websites for character names, an online age calculator, an online height comparison tool, a slang dictionary, and a website to check the weather anywhere in the world.
53 Best Tools for Writers A detailed list of online tools, websites, and apps for writers. Includes both free and paid apps and programs. Note: Please do your research, as a few of the listed websites/apps appear to use generative AI.
Creative Writing Tools A lengthy, detailed list of several resources for writers, including writing apps and programs, online dictionaries, online writing courses, ambient noise websites, image websites, and online PDF tools. Note: Please do your research. There is an entire section of generative AI websites/apps.
The 23 Best Writing Tools of 2025: A Guide for Writers A lengthy, detailed list of different writing programs and apps, online organization and productivity tools, and online editing tools. Includes both free and paid apps and programs. Note: Please do your research, as a few of the listed websites/apps appear to use generative AI.
The Best Book Writing Software A list of different writing programs and apps. Includes both free and paid apps and programs. Each review includes the software’s pros and cons.
For more helpful websites for writers, check out some others I’ve shared: Dictionary & Thesaurus Names for Your Characters Detailed Character Profiles
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I’m a writer, poet, and editor. I share writing resources that I’ve collected over the years and found helpful for my own writing. If you like my blog, follow me for more resources! ♡
Part 2 of our boy Simon yearning for you.
The ache never eased. It just deepened, settled somewhere behind his ribs and made a home there, like a wound he couldn’t stop picking at. Days turned into nights, and nights into days, and every moment he wasn’t hearing your voice or reading your texts was a slow torture.
It wasn’t just the casual meetups, the flirty messages, or the teasing that made his pulse race. It was the way you’d brush his arm when you were laughing, the way you’d lean into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way you’d say his name—not “Riley” like before, but “Simon.”
It killed him. It absolutely destroyed him.
He wanted to be better than this, to be cooler, to be calm, but he wasn’t. He was coming undone at the seams, unraveling every time you were near and aching when you were gone.
He’d find himself waking in the middle of the night, breathing hard, reaching for his phone to check if you’d messaged, to see if you’d thought of him in the quiet hours when the world was asleep. And when you hadn’t, he’d drop the phone on the pillow next to him and close his eyes, trying to swallow the bitterness that rose in his throat.
Sometimes he’d dream of you, and wake up with your name on his lips, the sheets tangled around his legs, his skin burning. He’d lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer he could take this. How much longer could he pretend he was fine, pretend he was just your friend, when every cell in his body screamed for more?
He started pulling away, just a little. Shorter replies. Fewer emojis. He’d leave your messages on read for a little too long, trying to convince himself that if he created a little space, the longing might ease. But it didn’t.
You noticed, of course. You weren’t oblivious. One night, after another one of those meetups where he’d smiled too tightly and laughed a little too late, you caught him outside the pub. The cold bit at his skin, but the look in your eyes made him feel like he was on fire.
“Simon,” you said. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he said, as he looked away.
“Don’t give me that. You’ve been... distant. Did I do something?”
Yep, that's the end I wanted, no...needed
“Doesn’t Fit”
— Simon “Ghost” Riley x Plus Size!Reader
Summary: Simon Riley finds his girl spiraling in front of the mirror. No matter the shape, no matter the self-doubt, he steps in like the unshakable, soft-hearted soldier he is, and proves just how perfect she is in his eyes. What follows is an emotional rollercoaster of deep reassurance, body worship, and a whole lot of deliciously filthy spice.
Rating: Fluff and Spicy. TW: Body image insecurity, negative self-talk, soft domination, smut with emotional intimacy, filthy praise, body worship, vulnerable reader, strong emotional themes
Masterlist
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Ok, I needed this in my life. I need this Simon. Amazing work @sweetstrawberryys
hi love! ty for writing these fics fo rus 🤗
i wonder if you write for alex keller? suddenly crushing on that man again lol
Steady as You
Pairing: Alex Keller x Wife!Reader
Synopsis: Adjusting to life with a prosthetic isn’t just about learning how to move again—it’s about learning how to live again. Alex Keller isn’t sure he knows how. But his wife refuses to let him believe he’s anything less than the man she loves.
Warnings: adjusting to new prosthetic, self-disappointment, lovely married couple.
Word Count: 709
a/n: Check my masterlist for my other Alex work! Thanks for the request, dear! 🤎
OMG new favorite Alex story! @oaksgrove you made my heart pitter patter
In the moment
The common room was lit by the soft glow of the TV, the volume low enough not to wake anyone, but loud enough to fill the room with background noise. Someone had tossed on a movie — one of those cheesy action comedies no one admitted to liking, but no one turned off either.
You were sandwiched between Gaz and Soap on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in your lap that had long since been picked clean. The room smelled faintly of snacks, laundry detergent, and the kind of comfort that only came with rare stretches of downtime.
Soap’s arm was stretched lazily along the back of the couch, not quite touching you — but close. Close enough that when you shifted to get comfortable, your shoulder brushed against his chest. He didn’t move away.
It was late, the movie was dragging, and your eyes were growing heavier by the second. You didn’t mean to lean against him. Didn’t mean for your head to rest lightly against his shoulder, or for your hand to end up against his side. It just… happened.
Soap froze for a second, like a soldier surprised by a truce. Then slowly, carefully, he relaxed into it — as if the weight of you against him was something he didn’t realize he needed until it was there.
He tilted his head just enough to glance down.
“Hey,” he whispered, voice low and thick with amusement, “ye pickin’ me over the couch, or’s that popcorn crash hittin’ ye hard?”
You didn’t answer — not really. Just a soft, sleepy sound as you nuzzled in slightly closer, your breath warm through the fabric of his shirt.
Soap grinned, warmth blooming in his chest. He let his hand rest gently against your arm, thumb brushing back and forth without thinking.
“Yeah,” he murmured, barely above a breath, “ye’re trouble, ye ken that?”
You didn’t hear him.
But the way your fingers curled lightly into his shirt said maybe, just maybe… you felt it.
For once, everything was quiet — no gunfire, no missions, no yelling through comms. Just the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing and the subtle weight of you against his side.
Soap let his head tip back against the couch cushion, eyes flicking from the movie to the curve of your cheek resting against his shoulder. His arm, now fully around you, held you close like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You trusted him. Enough to fall asleep on him like this — soft and warm and unguarded. And for the life of him, he didn’t know what to do with that.
He should’ve been teasing you already. Should’ve made some dumb comment, nudged you awake, passed it off like nothing.
But instead, he just sat there, holding you like something fragile and rare. Something he didn’t want to mess up by breathing too loud.
He looked down again, his voice a quiet murmur, almost like a confession.
“Christ… ye’re gonna wreck me, aren’t ye?”
“Aw, would you look at that,” Gaz’s voice cut through the quiet like a smirk made audible.
Soap startled slightly, just enough tae glare at him while trying not to jostle you. “Keep yer voice doon, she’s sleepin’.”
“No kidding,” Gaz replied, plopping down across from you with an obnoxiously smug grin. “On you, mate. That’s new.”
Price wandered in next, raising a brow at the sight before him. “Didn’t think I’d live to see Johnny ‘restless leg’ MacTavish sit still for more than five minutes.”
“She’s the exception,” Ghost said from the doorway, deadpan as ever — but the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.
Soap rolled his eyes, but his hand instinctively tightened around your shoulder protectively. “Ye lot finished?”
“Oh, not even close,” Gaz said, already pulling out his phone. “But don’t worry — I’ll only send this to everyone.”
“Ye send that and Ah swear tae God—”
“She’s got good taste, you know,” Ghost added dryly, ignoring the bickering. “Bit of a soft spot for idiots with accents.”
Soap flipped him off without looking away from you, who let out the softest sigh in your sleep and curled closer.
And suddenly, none of the teasing mattered. None of it ever did, not when you were in his arms like this.
He smirked, voice low but sure.
“Yeah, well… guess Ah’ve got good taste too.”
You woke slowly, blinking against the soft flicker of the TV light and the warmth that surrounded you.
At some point, someone had started another movie — something loud and full of explosions, the unmistakable sound of a Marvel fight scene playing out in the background. The screen lit the room in pulses of red and blue as Iron Man soared across it. The room smelled faintly of fresh popcorn again, another bowl passed around between the others. Soap must’ve snagged more during the switch.
The rest of the team was still there, scattered across the common room. Gaz and Ghost had taken the floor with a mess of blankets and pillows that hadn’t been there earlier. Price was half-dozing in one of the armchairs, his arms crossed and head tilted back. The atmosphere had shifted from casual hangout to full-blown sleepover.
And through all of it, you were still curled up against Soap — your cheek pressed to his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. His fingers were carding gently through your hair, slow and absent, like he’d been doing it for a while without even thinking.
Your heart stuttered.
He was so warm. So solid. So... there.
You didn’t move — not yet. Just let yourself breathe him in, the faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of his shirt beneath your cheek grounding you. His hand was still gently combing through your hair, over and over in a rhythm that made you want to melt.
It felt dangerous — how easy it was to let yourself relax here, to sink into him like you belonged. Like you hadn’t spent weeks pretending this wasn’t exactly what you wanted.
God, when had it started?
Maybe it was that mission in Berlin — cold as hell, adrenaline high, and your gear soaked through after sprinting five blocks to cover a civilian. You’d barely caught your breath when Soap had dragged you behind a crumbling wall, shoved his vest off, and thrown it over you like a damn human furnace.
“Can’t have ye freezin’ tae death, love,” he said wi’ that grin that always hit a wee bit too deep. “Ah need my favourite teammate alive, yeah?”
You’d laughed, even as your fingers had gone numb. But something about the way he’d said it — like you mattered more than the mission, more than just being a name on his comms — had stuck with you ever since.
That was the moment.
Right then, in the middle of that busted street with his ridiculous warmth and stupid perfect smile, you’d started falling. Slowly. Quietly.
And now… now you were lying on his chest while he played with your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You stayed still for a moment, pretending to still be asleep, because... god, this was nice. His fingers combed through your hair with such care, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it, like touching you this way had already become second nature.
“Ye’re awake,” he murmured suddenly, voice quiet and low — that lilting Scottish brogue wrapping around the words like warmth.
You hesitated before answering, your voice still husky from sleep. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you…”
“Didnae mind. ,” he said quickly, and then softer, “Still don’t.”
You lifted your head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. They were soft and so uncharacteristically open it made your breath catch. One of his hands was still tangled lightly in your hair, the other resting along your back, grounding you.
“…You’re comfortable,” you offered, like that was a reasonable explanation for literally draping yourself over him in front of your entire team.
Soap’s grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Comfortable, huh? High praise, that.”
“Shut up,” you mumbled, but didn’t move away. If anything, you let your head drop back to his chest, cheeks warm.
“Ah mean it,” he said after a beat, quiet again. “Could get used tae this.”
Your breath caught, heart fluttering in a way you really hoped he couldn’t feel.
“…You already have,” you whispered before you could think better of it.
Soap froze for half a second — and then his chest rumbled beneath you with a low, surprised chuckle. His fingers brushed back a loose strand of hair from your cheek, slower this time, more deliberate.
“Yeah,” he said, almost like it was a realization. “Reckon Ah have.”
Neither of you said anything for a long moment. The movie played on in the background — another crash, more shouting — but it all faded beneath the steady beat of his heart under your ear.
His fingers kept moving through your hair like it was something sacred.
You weren’t sure you’d ever felt so safe and so exposed at the same time.
He exhaled softly, like he was working up to something.
You didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to — not when his fingers lingered at your jaw, not when his thumb swept across your cheek like he was trying to memorize you by touch alone.
The others were still half-awake around the room, but none of it mattered. Not the movie, not the popcorn, not Gaz’s smug little grin or Ghost’s subtle glances. For once, it was quiet in your head. No adrenaline, no noise. Just you and him.
Soap let out a slow breath, like he was trying to steady himself. Then he shifted just a little, enough to tilt your chin up gently. Just enough that you had no choice but to look at him.
His eyes flicked down to your lips.
“Kin ah—?”
“Yeah,” you whispered before he even finished the question.
And then he kissed you.
Soft. Careful. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to want this as badly as he did — like he’d been holding back for a long, long time. His lips brushed yours once, twice, then deepened slowly, hand cradling the back of your neck like something precious.
Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself. There was a low sound in his throat, barely audible — something between a groan and a sigh, like relief and hunger tangled into one.
The kiss didn’t last long. Just enough to make your heart stutter and your thoughts spin. Just enough for him to pull back and rest his forehead against yours, breathing a little harder.
“Fuck,” he murmured, “been wantin’ tae do that for ages.”
You swallowed, your voice barely a breath. “You’re not the only one.”
“Thought I was imaginin’ it,” he said low, his thumb brushing lightly over the curve of your shoulder. “The way ye looked at me sometimes.”
Your stomach flipped.
“You weren’t,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I just… didn’t want to ruin anything.”
His chest rose and fell beneath you, slower now. More controlled.
“Ye wouldnae have ruined a thing,” he said after a pause, the words sounding rough — like he hated that you’d ever thought otherwise. “I’ve been tryin’ not tae scare ye off.”
“You couldn’t,” you murmured, and meant it.
You shifted just slightly, enough to look up at him again — your chin resting on his chest, eyes meeting his. His face was so close. Closer than it had ever been.
It wasn’t just warmth in his eyes now. It was something deeper. Something careful. Something real.
“Maybe we’re both just really bad at this,” you said with a small, nervous laugh.
Soap’s grin curved slow, a little crooked. “Aye. But at least we’re shite at it together.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, the knot in your chest finally starting to unwind. “Mm. Chaos with company doesn’t sound too bad.”
His hand slid to the back of your head again, fingers threading through your hair like it was second nature. “Then let’s no’ wait for another bloody mission tae screw it all up.”
You tilted your head, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Is that your way of asking me out, MacTavish?”
He smirked, thumb tracing an idle line along your spine. “It’s my way o’ sayin’ I like this. You. Us. And I’m no’ daft enough tae let it slip through my fingers.”
You bit your lip, heart skipping just a little. “So what you’re saying is… you’re hopelessly into me.”
“Completely buggered,” he said, deadpan — but his eyes were warm, gleaming with affection.
You grinned and nuzzled closer, your voice a little smug. “Good. You’re stuck with me.”
His arm tightened around you, hand spreading steady across your back. He dropped a kiss to the top of your head — slow and a little too soft to be casual.
“I’ll take stuck o’er lonely any day, love.”
From the floor, Gaz groaned just loud enough to be heard. “Bloody hell, finally.”
Soap didn’t even look over. “Jealousy doesnae suit ye, Kyle.”
“I’m just saying,” Gaz said with a smirk, “we’ve all had a betting pool going for weeks.”
“…Who won?”
“Ghost,” Gaz replied, shaking his head. “Guy bet on tonight. The exact day, Johnny.”
Soap looked toward the man in question, who merely gave a slow shrug from his spot near the door. “She looked at you different this morning,” Ghost said simply. “Figured you’d finally grow a pair.”
Soap gave a dramatic sigh, holding you tighter. “Yer all absolute nightmares, swear tae God.”
“You’re welcome,” Price added without opening his eyes.
You just smiled against Soap’s chest, letting the warmth of his arms and the ridiculousness of your team settle over you.
Home wasn’t always a place.
Sometimes… it was a person.
And right now? It was all of this.
It started subtly.
A slow shift here. A quiet adjustment there. One of his legs stretched out on the couch, and you instinctively curled closer, fitting against his side like you’d done it a hundred times. His arm stayed draped around you, but at some point, his hand had slipped under the hem of your hoodie — not in a bold way, just resting against the bare skin at your waist, thumb brushing tiny, lazy circles that made your stomach flip every time.
You’d long since given up pretending you weren’t melting into him.
“You alright there, love?” Soap murmured near your ear, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down a little, breath brushing your skin.
You tilted your head up just enough to meet his eyes. “Perfect.”
He grinned, eyes gleaming. “Aye, ye are.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks warming, and nudged him lightly with your elbow. “You’re such a menace.”
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already ken.”
A handful of popcorn flew across the room, smacking Soap right in the chest.
“Oi!” Gaz called from the floor without looking away from the screen. “Some of us are tryin’ to hear the plot, not listen to you two flirt like you’re in a bloody rom-com.”
“We’re watching a Marvel movie,” you said with a grin. “A little flirting is practically mandatory.”
“Yeah, well, save it for the post-credits scene,” Gaz grumbled, though his smirk betrayed him.
“Let ’em be,” Price said from his chair, voice thick with amusement. “We’ve all seen this one before.”
Ghost made a vague noise of agreement, more focused on the screen than anything else — but even he didn’t sound annoyed.
Soap chuckled low in his throat and shifted just slightly, guiding you so your head was back on his chest and his hand returned to its spot in your hair like it belonged there. You settled against him again with a quiet sigh, your fingers curling into the hem of his sleeve.
Eventually, the movie settled into a quieter scene — something with dialogue and swelling music — and for a while, everything just felt… still. Safe.
You could feel the way his heartbeat slowed under your cheek, the way his body relaxed completely around you. Like he wasn’t just letting you in — he was choosing to stay. And when his lips brushed the top of your head again, soft and unhurried, you didn’t need words to know what it meant.
You weren’t just teammates anymore.
Not really.
By the time the third movie started playing, the rest of the team had mostly gone quiet. The popcorn bowl sat half-finished on the coffee table, and someone had turned the lights down even lower, the room bathed in soft blue from the screen.
You didn’t remember shifting again, but now you were fully tucked against Soap’s side, one leg loosely draped over his, your fingers idly curled in the fabric of his shirt near his ribs. His arm was snug around your back, and his other hand had stilled in your hair, resting comfortably against your crown. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was hypnotic.
Neither of you spoke.
There was nothing to say.
The room was warm, the movie a low hum in the background, and Soap — Johnny — was still, quiet, content beneath you like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
Already half-asleep, you felt Soap’s chin dip slightly as he rested it on top of your head, his breath slow and steady. You shifted just enough to press your face into his chest, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t pull away.
Just held you like you were the softest thing he’d ever touched.
As sleep pulled at the edges of your thoughts, you felt it — his lips pressing once, featherlight, against your hairline.
Then his voice, barely a whisper, rough and almost lost in the sounds of the movie.
“Night, bonnie.”
And then there was nothing but warmth, quiet breathing, and the steady thrum of two hearts beating in time.
The rest of the team took notice, but no one said anything. No need.
Price was the first to stand, quietly gathering empty bottles and snack wrappers with a tired sigh. Ghost nodded toward the pair on the couch, expression unreadable but gentler than usual.
Gaz grinned as he looked back at you, curled up against Soap like you belonged there. “Didn’t think he’d ever let someone that close.”
“Looks like she’s the exception,” Price murmured, flipping off the floor lamp as they quietly filed out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind them.
On the couch, the movie played softly, long past the point where either of you could follow the plot. Soap’s grip stayed firm around your waist, even in sleep, as if his body refused to let go of what it had finally found. Your hand was curled into his shirt, your breath feathering softly against his neck.
Neither of you stirred.
Wrapped in quiet warmth and each other, you slept on — tangled together in the soft hush of something just beginning.
This was amazing
Can you do some Soap 🧼 x reader please. Absolutely loves the others. Just some cute or fun shenanegans with him. 😘😊
Feel free to ignore this
"Too Hot to Handle"
Summary: Soap wants to shower with his wife—until he realizes she bathes like she’s boiling demons. One shriek and a slippery disaster later, he’s banned. Now he has to earn his way back in, one ridiculous apology at a time.
Rating: suggestive chaos, implied nudity, steamy in both ways, Soap being dramatic
Masterlist
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OMG this is possibly one of my favorites of Soap
50 MORE prompts to request!
hi! i’m alive! i’m sorry for never posting after like february... imagines will be back up soon! in the meantime, i’m reopening requests and feel free to use these prompts (please include operator & additional information in your request)!
•••••
MASTERLIST
50 prompts to request #1
•••••
“why are you upside down?”
“have you got cotton in your ears? i said DO IT!”
“i’ve been doing this for years, yet nothing prepared me for this.”
“do not test me. i will bark at you.”
“no no no, i can’t die. i won’t die.”
“we did this... all for nothing...?”
“i thought i meant something to you.”
“it’s all fun and games until...”
“hold my beer.”
“get this damn pop-up off my computer!”
“wanna see a magic trick?”
“am i a himbo?”
“can’t you just pretend you like me for five minutes?”
“you’re a grown adult doing that?”
“let’s make purple.”
“you’re just copying my whole thing!”
“halloween is for children.”
“are you hot, or am i drunk?”
“you’re covered in marks.”
“...is it my fault?”
“i shouldn’t have said that.”
“i should have said that sooner.”
“this entire time...?”
“say that again, i dare you.”
“you belong here.”
“i see it now. how couldn’t i have seen it before?”
“of course the gun isn’t loaded!”
“watch your words around me.”
“good girl.”
“your presence offends me.”
“i don’t want my parents to meet you.”
“you have far too much free time.”
“i’m your partner, not your babysitter.”
“i suppose danger loves me.”
“you’re cooler than i thought.”
“this is a borderline addiction.”
“it has a NAME!”
“fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”
“it can’t be THAT hard.”
“if you didn’t love me, why’d you waste my time?”
“how can you look yourself in the mirror?”
“don’t play dumb with me.”
“i didn’t tell you to stop.”
“there really isn’t that much blood, right?”
“oh god, that’s a lot of blood.”
“just dance with me, you idiot.”
“you’re freezing.”
“you’re on fire.”
“i’m not gonna make it out alive.”
“tell my story.”
Simon’s girl name would be Simone.
Why? Because my phone keeps autocorrecting his name as such.
This is relatable but also funny as hell
Minecraft, DDLC, Yandere Sim, FNAF, and Animal Jam 🫡
Final Fantasy VI, Legend of the Mystical Ninja, Final Fantasy VIII, Star Ocean: Til the End of Time, and Fatal Frame 2: Crimson Butterfly
Minecraft, Dracula Origin, James Cameron's Avatar: The Game, Tomb Raider 2, Drakensang
(Point and click adventure) Titanic; Curse of Monkey Island; Age of Empires & Age of Mythology; Super Mario Brothers on the NES.
MW, Bioshock, The Sims, Rainbow 6, Syberia
I know for a fact that John Price doesn’t talk in the morning, he grumbles. He’ll push out the word “morning” and the rest of his speech is just unintelligible mumbling.
He pulls you close to him one morning, kissing your cheek and greeting you with a “good morning, sweet.” You giggle quietly in the early morning sun, until he whips out the most confusing sentence ever.
You stare at him confused, thinking that he’d fallen asleep again. “John?” You question, leaning towards him.
“Hm?”
“Oh.” A pause. “I thought you’d fallen asleep.”
“Hm.”
This is totally Canon in my head
Damocles - Sleep Token
What if I can't get up and stand tall? What if the diamond days are all gone And who will I be when thе empire falls? Wake up alonе and I'll be forgotten
This is, so good
Y/N has caused trouble for Ghost again
I love this so much
Simon Riley with a wife that loves to cook him lunches. I like to think this is in the same universe as this blurb. CW : None. Pure fluff
Simon loves waking up, having a shower, and then coming downstairs to see a plate of breakfast on the kitchen island, and you, in the kitchen, wearing one of his shirts as your pyjamas.
Simon loves wrapping his arms around your waist as you cook whatever you're making for him.
And it's not as though he demands it, or expects it. Ever since the two of you got married and you got to work from home instead of in the office, you would make Simon lunch.
It wasn't always in the morning, either. Sometimes you would just show up to the 141 base, greeting everyone with a sweet smile. Before handing Simon a still warm container of food.
Simon loved your cooking, but something he loved even more was the ego boost he received from his mates. Johnny especially.
Johnny always commented on what Simon had for lunch. Expressing how good it was and how he wishes he had a 'bonnie lass' at home that would make lunch for him.
Then, Simon made the mistake of telling you about Johnny's words.
Simon had said it in passing while the two of you were cuddling in bed. Chuckling to himself, not even noticing the pout on your lips.
He shouldn't have been surprised when in the morning, he saw two containers, instead of one. One labeled "Simon ❤︎", the other labeled "Johnny ❤︎".
Simon slid the container across the table as he sat across from Johnny. The scotsman looking confused before his eyes lit up.
"She cook this for me, did she?" Johnny smiled brightly.
"Aye. But don't get a big head about it" Simon glared.
"How can I no' get a big head aboot it? sweet lass she is. Migh' have tae steal her from ye"
"don't even think about it"
"She e'en put a heart nex' tae ma name, Simon. She must fancy me"
"I'm telling her you hated the food"
"No! dinnae dae that ye big brute! she'll think A'm a bastard!"
"You are one"
Simon brought home two empty containers that night. Telling you about how Johnny groaned with every mouthful and nearly licked the container clean.
You also started receiving sloppy kisses on the cheek from Johnny whenever you brought lunch in during the day for your husband and his best friend.
⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧
This is pure fluff and I love it
I need you all to know...that Kyle "Pretty Boy" Garrick would make love to his girl with Love by Kendrick Lamar playing the background after he spontaneously proposed to her after getting home from a particularly rough mission where he almost died.
You and @unclearblur see the vision.
Kyle was shaken to his core for once. A bullet too close to his head, a grenade going off too close to him. He locked eyes with death one too many times this mission, and really he shouldn't be here.
This is such a great Gaz dribble, probably now one of my favorites
Sooo I made some Task Force 141 boys Aesthetic collage, hope you guys like it. Los vaqueros coming up next...I kinda slipped Phillip Graves in too.
These are beautiful
