hey all! i've built a new ao3 fork called fanfiction.lol 🤙🏽 key differences:
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it's a small personal project but fan communities deserve independent infrastructure.
if you enjoy fandom, i'd love for you to sign up and poke around. tell me what breaks. the source code is at source.tube/brennan/fanfiction.lol.
TF141 & International student neighbor on the verge of a crisis
Next - Masterlist
A tiny, itty bitty breakdown.
You didn’t cry when you moved into your flat. A few tears spilled when the kettle refused to boil, and the radiator wheezed like it was dying, but that hardly counted. You weren’t this close to a soul-shattering mental breakdown in four different languages and two whole personalities. Nope. That was just being a successful woman, completely in control of her life. You lived in a flat that could be described as vintage, or one good gust from collapsing, as your best friend kindly put it when you called. It had four walls, a roof, and the washing machine only flooded the kitchen every other week. It wasn’t the worst deal in the world. At least you didn't have spiders building their little lego-web houses on the ceiling. That would be disgusting.
However, you spent your first night on the couch wrapped in every hoodie you owned, scrolling through your phone with the Wi-Fi from the library nearby that cut out if you breathed wrong, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.
The move to England had been impulsive, at least that’s what your parents said. “You’re barely out of high school, sweetheart. Isn't it too soon?” But you wanted to prove you could do it; be independent, get a degree, build a career. Whatever that meant. You didn’t know yet. Those stupid tik toks about girlbossing your way through life didn’t help much, either. Classes were hard. Work was harder. You cleaned tables at a café full of old ladies who judged your every move, then crammed lectures and assignments into your evenings, falling asleep to the sound of cats screeching in the alley outside your window.
And then there were your neighbors.
The first time you saw them, your eyeballs nearly popped out. Four men who looked like they’d walked out of an action movie trailer. Broad shoulders, broader chests, paired with alertness that made you sit up straighter when they walked by. Pavlov's a bitch. One of them wore a beanie and had a beard that probably intimidated children. Or made them laugh, it depends on who you ask. You bet he worked as Santa Claus during Christmas time, that beard would do wonders. One limped slightly but moved like he’d break into a sprint at the slightest excuse, he also had a nasty scar on his head. One always had his baseball hat up and gentle eyes. And the last one… he wore sunglasses even on cloudy days and didn’t speak unless he was being sentenced to death. You nicknamed them The Lads before you even learned their names. It was honestly a really bad attempt at copying the British accent, a silly little inside joke meant only for yourself.
It was the limp that pulled you into their circle. Soap. His real name was Johnny, but everyone called him that. Something had happened to him. Not a car crash kind of injury, and surely not a oops-I-got-a-paper-cut issue. Something else. A kind of hurt that reeked of bloodshed and gunfire. He looked so cheerful despite it all... you envied his lack of self-restraint. He helped you carry a box of books up the stairs when you dropped it.
"You don’t look like a librarian." You tried to break the ice.
He grinned. “Cheers, lass. Ye don’t look like yer old enough to be living alone.”
“Rude,” you replied, winded. “But fair.” You became something like their mascot after that. Or a stray pup they all silently agreed to look after.
Price knocked on your door the night your power went out. Just handed you a flashlight and an extra blanket and left, didn’t even wait for a thank you. Gaz noticed your bike had a flat and fixed it without a word. Ghost, well, Ghost scared you a little. A lot. But you never said it to his face. It wouldn't be polite, would it?
You weren’t supposed to become attached to them. They were four grown men with lives and a bond so deep you couldn’t begin to understand. And you? You were just the girl next door. Sweet, a little clueless, a little cheeky, and hanging on by a thread.
You were tired all the time. Tired of pretending you were having the time of your life when really, you felt like you were slowly crumbling. Like the version of yourself that had boarded that plane so full of hope and plans had somehow gotten lost between Heathrow and the broken laundromat on the corner. How could you tell your mum you were regretting everything? How could you face your brother and say that the big sister he looked up to was just a loser? The weather was hell 365 days out of 365, if someone offered you another fish and chips dish you'd crash out, and you were likely forgetting all of the damned languages you spoke because of the humidity eating your brain cells.
Wasn't youth supposed to be the best time of your life? This was the part where you found yourself and laughed and made memories you’d cherish forever... Seriously, what the heck were you doing? You felt cold and alone. Ate one-pound meals at the measly convenience store run by Aunt Wang and listened to her ranting in Mandarin Chinese. What an exciting existence. How dignified.
Until the night you cried in the stairwell. You’d just finished a shift where someone called you incompetent because you didn’t know what a “flat white” was supposed to taste like. Your exam results had come back worse than expected. And your period had started early, like the universe had decided to kick you where the sun doesn't shine while you were already down. Bollocks, Simon's voice rang in your mind. You were curled up by the railing, the hoodie laid over your knees, when the door opened. Boots. Heavy ones. Speaking of the devil, Ghost’s voice scared the shit out of you. “Bad day?”
You sniffled, eyeing him up and down. “No, just peachy. Rainbows and all that.”
“Bollocks." He countered timely. You giggled. It was ridiculous and extremely easy to make your day better. Any of them could with just a snap of fingers. "I'm telling Price y'were here cryin' like a baby."
"Oh, shut it. I'll have you know some of us have beating hearts in our ribcage, Mr. Creep-a-lot."
"Oi, yer fifteen years too young t'make fun o'me."
Perhaps you did have one good thing in your hands, wasting it would be a shame.
Feel free to to request more scenarios with this au LOL
Notes: poly, reader is described as on the shorter side, age gap, daddy issues (reader has a bad father), inappropriate jokes/themes mentioned
YSL, red bottom shoes, sugary cocktails, leopard print, faux fur, y2k, mcbling, lana del rey, cigarettes, mob boss wife…
- When people join the mafia, they expect tough muscled men, maybe a few scarred women carelessly waving around guns. What they don’t expect is you
- You’re an interesting sight, perched on Price’s lap like a little trophy, freshly manicured nails tapping away at your phone screen as you play a game
- You don’t care about whatever meeting you’re in, you aren’t even listening to Price’s rather gory plans. You’re too busy deciding what to have for lunch
- Nobody can look away from your pretty pout as you discover your favourite drink is temporarily out of stock
- Price was the one who found you first. Your father was indebted to the mafia and what better way to force him to pay than taking his precious daughter? Price found it strange how you were so willing to leave your father but it made sense when you told him the truth
- Your father wasn’t a good man. He had blood on his hands and he never cared much about you or your mother. You were thankful to find a way out, even if it meant going with a strange (but equally handsome) man
- You belonged to Price first but his property was Simon, Kyle, and Jonny’s as well
- “Jonny, is this skirt too short?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.
Jonny glanced up from his phone, shrugging. “Nah. It’s all good, bonnie. I can fight. ‘Sides, shorter skirts makes it easier to bend ya over.”
- Simon loves sharing his cigarettes with you, especially when you kiss him and transfer the smoke into his mouth. The best part is seeing your lipstick stain the end of his cigarette
- Price buys you lots of clothes and accessories. You’re never not draped in the most expensive jewellery he can find. Gaz is the one buying you heels. For some reason, he has a knack for choosing the best shoes
- Seeing you waltz around in your short skirts, lace tops, and clicking high heels is enough of a reward for the four men
- The rookies love the sight of you but you’re forbidden fruit. You belonged to their bosses who did not like to share
- When there’s talk of a rat among the mafia, your four lovers do not take it kindly. They need someone to infiltrate whatever plot is brewing up. Luckily, they have you. Nobody in their right mind would pass a chance on being able to get a taste of your strawberry-flavored lipgloss
- “Oh my gosh, it’s giving office siren.” You say, excitedly tugging on the tight, short-sleeved blouse that Ghost is shaking his head at.
“It’s too short.” He mutters, “Ain’t there a ‘nother size?”
“It was the only one. Sorry, baby.” You sheepishly smiled at your lover’s displeasure. “Anyway, how do I look?”
Clad in that damn white blouse, a short pencil skirt, and thinly rimmed glasses, you were a vision.
“You look like you’re ’bout to get some action when ya get back.” Kyle says, nodding over at Soap who’s staring at you shamelessly.
“How ‘bout this, lovie?” Price steps forward, “If you do a good job, we’ll give you a little reward. Sound good, yeah?”
( please note that for the cod tag list, you will be tagged in all the cod fics i post, not just this one lol )
COD TAG LIST (COMMENT TO BE ADDED/REMOVED): @galactict3a
Original post 1. part two
2. part three
3. house decorations
4. intruder break-in
5. holiday season
6. bringing a date home
7. appendix
8. appliance
9. baby fever
10. how they spend time with you
Reader as a cat that's claimed 141 and brings them mice, rats or birds, sadly Jonny is the first victim of a dead mouse that ends up becoming all of them like this picture down here
hehehehe cat!reader adopting 141...
As a single parent of four oversized humans, you definitely had your work cut out for you in terms of feeding.
Nevermind the fact they could clearly feed themselves -- no. You wouldn't have that. If you weren't the one that fed them, you wouldn't be happy.
You started with the one they called Johnny. You weren't stupid -- you could understand basic human words and phrases. You knew all of your kits' names. It was your job as their parent.
You went out and hunted a nice, plump mouse. Big and brown, definitely healthy. It smelled amazing to the point your mouth watered carrying it back to the large box your kits resided in. Are they even kits at this point? Whatever. They are what you say they are.
Weaving through some corridors and into the nest where Johnny was sleeping, you gracefully pounced up onto the smaller nest with the mouse still in your mouth. You walked up to him, and dropped the mouse right in his open mouth.
Ignoring the fact he yelped and sounded angry or fearful or whatever that emotion was. Disgusted? Who cares. You thought he was happy. You knew he was happy, actually. You know what's best for your kits.
The others were just as easy to feed, actually. To be fair, you did feed them all within the same night. With Johnny out of the way, your workload became much less.
You decided you'd go for your oldest next. Atleast you think Price is your oldest.. you're not entirely sure. He's as old as you say he is. And judging by the way his limbs creak, you had determined he was the oldest. Maybe he should get a bird. Or a cricket. Crickets were easier to catch due to the fact it's night, so maybe Price should get that.
You had set out to hunt again, and almost immediately caught a cricket. The hopper was still alive while you were bringing him back. Slipping through the small crack into Price's nest, you repeated the same process you did with Johnny. Why do all of your kits sleep with their mouths open? Whatever. It makes your job easier.
Dropping the cricket into his mouth, you watched as Price enthusiastically sucked it in his throat in a bout of coughing. He sure had an interesting way of eating things, that was true. Before you could listen more, Price had snatched you up and set you outside his nest and closed the entrance.
How ungrateful.
Maybe he's in a sour mood. You shouldn't pay him any mind, and instead work to catch a rat for Simon. Your kits' dinners varied every night, depending on what you were in the mood to catch. But that was pretty much self explanatory judging by previous events.
You repeated the process again, and soon enough you were in Simon's nest with a large rat. He actually gave you a designated spot to set his meals. So instead of waking him up, you decided to set the rat down on the platform and began the search for Kyle's dinner.
You could catch a frog for him. Maybe he'd appreciate that, right? Too bad. You were his parent. You chose his dinners. Finding a nice green frog, you did the same exact thing you did to Price and Johnny.
You dropped it into his mouth.
Only then were you satisfied, purring on your way out the door (ignoring Kyle's protests and sputtering) and into the woods where you would hunt your own dinner. Of course you'd feed them before yourself! That's what a good parent would do.
You didn't have to know that you were considered their pet, and that you weren't actually their parent. You were as happy as you ever were, and they'd like to keep it that way. Because maybe, just maybe, they actually enjoyed your company.
[ID: a gif of Niles from The Nanny opening the bedroom door slightly to throw rose petals in, and then Niles standing smiling by the bed where Fran and Mr. Sheffield are cuddled together.]
What if Simon "Ghost" Riley was the one to find you during a terrorist attack, you were all alone, bloody and covered in scars and bruises like someone was torturing for days
You didn't speak or move, you looked emotionless as Ghost went to come get you while the others covered him
"Let's get you out of here" Ghost deep voice with a British accent filled your ears as he gently carried you out of the building that you suffered in
He was warm, leaning into his touch as he carry you to safety
It took you a while to recover from your wounds and small injuries and Ghost was there by your side the whole time
Now you wouldn't stop following him around, clinging onto his shirt or jacket, sitting with him in the canteen while he tries to get you to eat or even drink water
Sooner or later, you started to talk little by little, making progress
"Here luv' a blanket to keep ya warm"
A soft blanket was placed over you while you laid on his bed, hugging a pillow like it was a teddy
"I'll be back in a sec, stay here will ya? It won't take too long" He then patted your head as he took his leave, opening the door
Behind him, he could hear a slight and faint "Thank you.." as he closed the door
Behind his mask, a smile formed, hoping that he would be quick as possible during this meeting with his captain
snowghoul
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germansingergirl
discoholicmusic
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
kaledo-art
