[starcandy-97]

Welcome! 💌

Hi, I'm sc! I'm just vibing and writing for my current hyperfixations 🙂‍↕️ I mostly write fluff but dabble in angst from time to time. Currently in uni so posts can be a bit sporadic but I hope you enjoy your stay!

Masterlist💌

Do not use my work in any AI model

Some of the things I enjoy (and you might see on my blog 😉):

COD (writing for)

Snoopy

Spider-Verse

FNAF

BTS

Heated Rivalry

Pokemon

Night in the woods

Deltarune/undertale

DC comics

Haikyuu

Chainsaw man

Flowers

Animals

divider made by kodaswrld <3

[hatsbuckets]

Ghost pauses at the door, knuckles rapping twice against the wood. There's no answer.

He waits a beat, listens for the shuffle of paper or the scrape of a chair, but ultimately hears nothing, and eases the door open.

Price is slumped over his desk, both arms folded under his head. A pen has rolled to the edge of a half-finished report. The lamp's still on, throwing warm light across scattered files and an empty mug.

Ghost is quiet as he crosses the room, light as he can manage in his boots, and presses two fingers to the side of Price's neck. A steady, slow thrum is there, warm beneath skin. A man who finally stopped fighting sleep.

Ghost straightens, steps to the closet, and finds a spare wool blanket folded on the shelf. He shakes it out and lays it over Price's shoulders, carefully, because the man might wake and pretend he wasn't tired at all.

Price just breathes, the lines in his face softer now.

Ghost lowers himself into the chair across the desk, legs stretched out, arms crossed. He tells himself he'll only stay a minute. Make sure the captain's alright.

The office is quiet. The building's quiet. For the first time in longer than he can remember, so is his head.

He'll stay to watch just a bit longer. Just in case.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

John sat listening to the dating woes of his younger colleagues, ankle on his knee, cigar balanced between two fingers as he held onto his calf, those intense blue eyes darting from Gaz to Soap to Rudy and finally the fourth and fifth operator that Nik hadn't bothered to learn the names of.

Nik knew he'd never been "on the dating scene". His first love was the service, and it was only usurped by Nik when John realised the yawning chasm in his soul couldn't be filled with violence. Nik had gladly taken up his place in that abyss and he had filled it, like he had always been destined to be there. Hopeless romantic, you say? Well, of course.

"An' then, she text me three weeks later and asked why I'd given up the chase. Girl, you told me you weren't feelin' it and spent our entire final date on your phone," Gaz said, exasperated. "I ain't bein' your next viral TikTok. I'm not a bloody mind reader."

"Aye, that's rough," Soap murmured, pausing to take a swig of his beer. "'Hae I ever telt ye aboot the man I met on Grindr for a quickie?"

Gaz snorted. "Narrow it down for us a bit, Tav..."

"Shut yer pus. Naw, this yin brak intae ma flat when I deployed and slept in ma bed for the hale week. Wore ma clothes and everythin'."

Rudy's eyes widened. "Qué va..."

John blew out a puff of grey smoke and cleared his throat before leaning across to Nik. "Fanks for savin' me. I fink I woulda been eaten alive."

Nik hummed in agreement.

John continued. "If you go before me, I'm stayin' on my own. Maybe invest in a dog. You've set the bar too fuckin' high, mate."

Nik slid a discreet hand over John's lower back, smile broad. The stories continued into the night, and Nik nursed the quiet satisfaction that John had decided no one else could ever compare to him, while hoping there would never be a point in life one would have to live without the other. A foolish dream, but a comforting one none the less.

[rhymewithrachel]

They tried to stop me from drawing ghost knight but they CANT

[laswells-ashtray]

Kyle is a grown man who can behave in public, he's a soldier who has seen the worst humanity has to offer and fights to help.

He also cannot stop fucking laughing.

In Kyle's defence, Nikolai is also laughing and Price might not be making a noise but his shoulders are shaking. Ghost is watching with thinly veiled disapproval, to Kyle it reads as an outright cackle.

They're far from the loudest table in the pub, and quite frankly, the two women at their left side seem entertained with their antics. Kyle thinks they'd have a hard time convincing anyone in the room that they're military men.

There's a greasy onion ring wrapped around the ring finger of his left hand and there's an equally greasy, pale hand stroking his own. Johnny's giving it his best petted lip, big blue eyes wide and pleading.

"C'mon doll, marry me. A'll treat ye nicely, gie ye aw the wains ye want. Just let me put a ring oan it."

Kyle has never been one to run away from a bit, he thrives on improvisation. And Johnny's the best man for it.

"I can't, not after what you did. I know about him, I know everything. You dirty bastard."

Nikolai, a funnier man than most, offers the most dramatic gasp he's capable of and shoots the Scot a trult scathing look across the table. It takes all of Johnny's effort not to laugh.

"Darlin, he didnae mean oanyhin. He could suck a golfball through a hosepipe, bit he didnae mean oanyhin. It's you that's gettin the ring."

Kyle knows he's giggling like a toddler, but in his defence, they're a few drinks in and he hasn't had this much fun in weeks. With as much seriousness as he can muster, he pulls his hand free from Johnny's grip and takes a bite out of the onion ring.

"It's over, we're done."

Even Ghost laughs out right at the thud of Johnny's head hitting the table as the man howls.

[woodstocksnoopy]

[fuzzygifs]

x

[valiants]

I’m curious to know how Johnny would behave if Ghost were the one to take the bullet from Makarov then come back Wrong(tm)

You got me, I love an AAU..... alas, I think Soap would be a LOT less subtle about it than Ghost was - because that's his man ALIVE

[synoicus]

I was made to love you, and yet,

Inspired by this observation by a friend:

[hatsbuckets]

back on my Simon Riley is scared of hospitals bull shit instead of the nikprice week blurb.

anyway, this idea. Simon scared of being in hospital. Hates the whole shebang. Really only stays unless it's Price seated next to him, making sure the Lieutenant has nowhere else to go. Practically ordered to "lie still and let them take care of you, Riley."

Still, the moment he gets an opportunity he'll flee. Quiet and cold. Like a ghost on the wind. Price knows where to find him, his usual hiding spots, most frequented being Price's flat itself. Price never makes him go back. Just makes sure he rests.

Another brutal mission. Another brutal hospital visit for Simon. This time Garrick's on the bed next to him—nasty concussion and broken arm that have left him unconscious for about a day.

Price expects an empty bed when he's finally out of the meeting with command. Instead he finds all six-foot-four of his lieutenant hunched over Kyle's side, Kyle's good arm slung around him, face tucked into Simon's shoulder, whole body shaking.

He doesn't move. Not for a long moment.

He watches Simon ease Kyle back down, murmur something low, tuck the sheet in with more care than Price has ever seen him give anything, himself included. Watches him sit back on the edge of his own bed, back to the door, one hand fisted in the sheet.

Price steps forward, slow. Waits until Simon's head tilts, just barely, a sign he's been noticed, before he lets his hand settle on the nape of his neck. Thumb brushing through the short hair there.

"Everything alright, son?"

He keeps his voice down. Simon's shoulders lift in a shrug. Then his head nods. Then it shakes, contradicting itself entirely, and Price sees the exhaustion in every motion.

"He woke up confused. I didn't know where you were, so I just—" Simon's head drops into his hands.

Price squeezes the back of his neck, gentle. "You stayed."

A sob breaks out of Simon's chest, quiet and strangled, like he fights the way it tears itself free. Price lowers himself onto the bed, Simon folds into him, near boneless, in a way he never does, not even half-asleep, not even concussed himself.

"Shhh." He keeps a hand moving slowly between Simon's shoulder blades. "He's alright. You did good. Easy, now."

He doesn't say anything else. There's nothing else to say, now at least, and Simon's never been one who needs the words.

It takes a while for the shaking to run its course. When it does, Simon peels off him and lies back down facing Kyle, watching the rise and fall of his chest like he's convinced without him watching it may stop, until sleep finally wins the fight. Price stays where he is, seated on the edge of the bed between the two of them, until his own eyes start to lose the fight.

Even then, he only gets up for a lukewarm cup of coffee.

[hatsbuckets]

Quiet

NikPriceWeek2026 - SFW Day 5 - date night + spring

cw: none. just more of Nik's self doubt and price's patience

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The pâtisserie was small, tucked down a side street Price wouldn't have found on his own in a hundred years. There was no sign, just a painted shop window and lights coming on round the outside as the afternoon began to settle. Nikolai walked in like he'd been here a thousand times, nodded at the woman behind the counter, and rattled off an order in French good enough that Price raised an eyebrow at him.

"Didn't know you spoke French."

"I know many things. You are only now discovering this because you never ask." Nikolai said it lightly, teasing, steering Price toward a table by the window with a hand at the small of his back.

"I ask plenty."

"You ask about weapons. Escape routes. Which one of us is buying next round." Nikolai sat, entirely at ease in a way Price rarely saw him beyond after a mission or loosened by good vodka. "Different questions than ‘do you speak French, Nikolai.’"

"Fair." Price settled back across from him, glancing around at the place. Charmingly mismatched chairs, the smell of butter and sugar thick in the air, a low hum of conversation in three languages at once. "How'd you find this place?"

"Years ago. On a… personal matter. I hid in here for two hours, ate my weight in croissants, decided to keep coming back." Nikolai shrugged, easy. "Habit now.”

"Not the strangest way a place becomes special."

"No. But I like the story better than admitting I simply like pastries."

Price laughed properly at that, and Nikolai's whole face changed watching him do it. Softness in his eyes slipping in under the usual easy charm, unguarded for just a second.

The pastries came, absurdly good, and they ate slowly, Nikolai stealing bites off Price's plate under the flimsiest pretenses. At one point Nikolai reached over and thumbed a bit of powdered sugar off the corner of Price's mouth, lingering just slightly longer than the correction required. “Messy.”

"You're one to talk," Price said, nodding at the crumbs on Nikolai's own collar.

"I am a mess. This has never been in question."

"My mess, though."

For the flash of a moment, there was a sadness to Nikolai's smile, there and gone. He covered it with a grin, reaching for his coffee. "Yours. God help you."

They stayed long after the pastries were gone, coffee cups empty, the little shop starting to thin out around them as the sun found it's way to the horizon, soft and warm. Nikolai's foot found Price's under the table at some point. Price didn't move his away.

"This was good," Price said eventually, watching him. "Thank you for bringing me somewhere that's yours."

Nikolai looked at him for a long moment, jaw working in thought. His eyes were soft, almost pained, like he was physically holding up floodgates.

"John, I—" He stopped himself.

"You alright?"

"Da." Nikolai reached across the table, took Price's hand instead of finishing whatever he'd started to say, and pressed it, warm, between both of his. "I'm alright."

Price watched him for a moment, clearly aware something had been swallowed, but he didn't chase it. Like knowing chasing a scared animal would only make it worse. He turned his hand over and laced their fingers.

Later, walking back through streets gone gold with the last of the evening light, Nikolai's hand loose in his, that Price stopped him near a bridge, turned him by the shoulder, the back of his knuckles coming up to his jaw.

"Nikolai."

"Hm?"

"I lo—"

"Don't." It came out too fast, too sharp, and Nikolai winced at his own tone immediately, softened it just as fast. "Don't… Please. Not yet."

Price went still, searching his face. "Alright."

"It's not—" Nikolai exhaled, frustrated with himself. "It's not that I don't. You must know that I— I just—" He shook his head, like the words wouldn't come no matter how he arranged them in his head. "I'm afraid if it is said, it becomes a thing that can be taken away. Right now it just… is” He raised his hands in a vague little gesture. “Quiet. Ours. I don't want to ruin that."

Price studied him a moment, worried brows softening into understanding and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Price brushed his thumb along Nikolai's jaw. "Whenever you're ready. I… Well, I'm not going anywhere."

“You will.”

Price huffed a laugh. “Then I want you with me.”

Nikolai felt it in his chest, breath caught just short. There it was again. This thing Price offered, patience, endless and unbothered, that he bestowed upon Nikolai.

Nikolai leaned in and pressed his forehead to Price's, everything said the only way he currently knew how.

"Come," Nikolai murmured eventually. "Walk with me a little longer. I'm not ready to go home yet."

Price smiled and let himself be pulled along. "Lead the way.”

a/n: I feel like I wanna add this bc it keeps poking me and I did say I wanted to do this week as like a Nik character analysis so. I don't think Nikprice and their relationship is "quiet", But I think the point is that like it's understated it's theirs... There are no big explosive moments that it's like wow! Love! just... unspoken??? IDK this all makes sense in my brain. n e way. This was cute kinda fun :)

[laswells-ashtray]

John knows he isn't exactly old. If he were to die, people would claim it was too soon, and he had so much more to see, to experience. That doesn't stop him from feeling old as fuck.

Surrounded by young people who still have hope, not the resigned acceptance he's grown to know with age. Wearing make-up and glitter over their eyelids, carrying expensive drinks and eyeing someone across the room.

He and Nikolai are wearing similar outfits: jeans, a T-shirt, and boots. Nikolai brought a jacket; John accepted that, with the heat, he'd spend the night carrying his, and left it at their flat. He has his wallet in his pocket; Nik has the keys, and he's almost certain they both have a knife tucked into the ankle of their boots.

It's a small gig, some local metal band that's gaining an audience in the area. John's heard better, but back in the day, he heard a lot worse and enjoyed it just as much. A cheap-ish pint does him fine; he'd already had a few before leaving. He refuses to consider it pregaming, which he is certainly too old for.

There are people of all ages in the building, but it's predominantly twenty-somethings, on the younger side of twenty specifically. He's aware of every wrinkle on his face, the grey that's starting to peek in just over his ears, the ache in his knee that has him leaning against a pillar for support.

"Are we too old for this? Is this embarrassing?"

Years together are why John knows the furrow of Nikolai's brows and the twitch of his bottom lip are the man's way of declaring "I think you're an idiot" without voicing it.

"It's embarrassing to think your age can dictate what you enjoy."

Nikolai's hand is warm against John's face when the man turns his head to look at a group lingering by the bar. A group of men and women with black clothes, smudged eye make-up and grey in their hair. Most of them are smiling; two women are bickering with each other, but the shorter of the two has her arm wrapped around the taller woman's waist. It's clearly playful.

They don't look a bit out of place.

"These are dangerous times, when you're getting smarter than I am."

Nikolai slips a hand between John's back and the pillar, dropping it to grab a handful of his arse for his cheek.

[spiltspit]

Mending

[hatsbuckets]

Patience

NikPriceWeek2026 - NSFW(ish) Day 4 - Aftercare + fall

cw: none. just comfies and cuddles... and dialogue that feels ooc to me but idkkkkk wtvvvv

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There was a chill creeping through the window Nikolai always forgot to completely shut. The Russian cabin, now frequented by himself and Price more than he'd ever thought, was warm and full of smells of the things Nik had cooked. The sheets were well used now and regularly washed—more than the bi-annual wash they'd get when Nik came on his own.

Fall had drifted in gently on the wind. It asked nothing from them, just the leaves turning golden and the days softening early.

The fire had burned down to embers. Neither of them moved to feed it.

For a while, neither of them moved at all.

Just breathing, the room quiet around them.

Price stirred first. Pressed a soft, slow kiss to Nikolai's shoulder, then eased himself up to grab the cloth they'd left warming near the fire. He came back and wiped Nikolai down slowly, so much care in every touch along his stomach, down his side, pausing here and there to press his mouth somewhere soft and warm before moving on.

Nikolai watched quietly with half lidded eyes, something in his chest going loose and warm at the attention. "You don't have to do that."

"I know." Price ran the cloth over his hip, set it aside once he was done, and settled back down against him, skin to skin. "I like doing it."

Nikolai pulled him in properly, arm slung around him, and Price came easily, folding into the space. He rested his head against Nikolai's chest, and Nikolai's fingers found his hair, combing slowly through it, both of them settling into the quiet.

Price traced idle shapes against Nikolai's arm. Nikolai held him a little tighter than he needed to.

"You're quiet," Price said, after a while.

"I am a quiet person." Nik said dryly.

"Of course,” Price smiled. “Still, this is a different quiet."

Nikolai didn't answer right away. His fingers kept moving through Price's hair, slow, steady. The easy, soothing motion of self-comfort. When he finally spoke, it came out in Russian first, a low lull and a handful of words gone before Price could catch them. Nikolai did this sometimes. Thought out loud in the language that let him say whatever he needed to process, whatever had to cross the checkpoints in his mind.

Nikolai tried again, in English. "There is a version of me you have not met. Older. Uglier." A pause. "I've done things. The permanent kind." He takes a breath, then sighs. "I want to tell you more. I just do not know how to open that door without you seeing everything behind it all at once."

Price hummed, just letting the words sit there. He knew as much was true, but hearing Nik say it aloud just felt right for them both.

"I'm not asking you to open every door, or open them completely," Price said. "Just the one you're ready for."

"You're not curious?"

"'Course I am." Price's thumb moved over his knuckles. "Doesn't mean I need it tonight."

Nikolai held on tighter.

After a while, Price pulled the sheets up and settled properly on Nikolai's chest, ear over his heartbeat. Pressed a slow kiss below his collarbone, then another, higher, slow and lazy.

"Thank you," Nikolai said. "For not asking."

"'Course.' Price found his hand and laced their fingers together. "I've got you either way."

Nikolai closed his eyes. The fire kept burning, slowly fading out into the night, but here against each other's skin beneath the sheets, it was warm.

[hatsbuckets]

Comfort

NikPriceWeek2026 - SFW Day 3 - snowed in + winter

cw: none. All comfort.

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Price had opinions about the cold, and he shared every single one of them.

"Too bloody cold," he said, stomping snow off his boots in the doorway. "This is personal now."

"You say this every winter." Nikolai didn't look up from the fireplace, crouched in front of it, coaxing the kindling until it caught. "Same complaint. Every year."

"Because it's true every year."

"You are from Britain. It gets cold there as well, yes? And you complain worse than a child."

"No, see, you lot are immune to it. Antifreeze in your veins."

Nikolai huffed, feeding another log in, and the fire caught properly, throwing light across a room Price hadn't expected this when Nik asked him to join. The low ceiling, thick rugs, a kitchen in the corner that looked well used. Dented pots on hooks. Herbs strung along a beam overhead.

"You've been here before," Price finally said.

"Many times." Nikolai stood and moved to the kitchen. He reached up for a pan without looking. He chopped an onion in quickly, hardly shedding a tear.

Price watched him, faintly baffled. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Onions?"

Price paused. Took in the room around him again. “All of it."

Nikolai shrugged. "Necessity."

Price waited for more. Unsurprising, he didn't get it. He thought about pushing, more questions, testing if the light under this door was his to walk towards yet, then didn't… just watched Nikolai stir things into the pot, mumbling a song low in Russian, completely at ease in a house Price hadn't known existed just hours ago.

He realized at that moment that he didn't actually know who'd taught him any of this. Didn't know who'd stood behind him at a stove years ago, showing him how to hold a knife. His mother, maybe. Someone else. He'd never asked.

"You're staring," Nikolai said, without turning around.

"Didn't realize I wasn't allowed."

"I did not say that." A small smile, just at the corner of his mouth. "It's only that I notice."

Price huffed a laugh. He sat back near the fire, boots off finally, warmth starting to win out over the cold clinging to him. He didn't ask the rest of his questions. Nikolai hadn't offered, and some quiet part of Price figured that wasn't his to take, not tonight at least and maybe not for a while yet.

But he wanted to. That much he could admit, at least to himself.

He got up after a while, crossed the room, and wrapped his arms around Nikolai from behind, face pressed to his back between his shoulder blades. "We're trapped, you know."

"Mm. Are we?" Nikolai didn't stop stirring, entirely unbothered by the extra weight against him.

Price gave him a squeeze. "You did this on purpose."

Nikolai let out a hearty laugh, the one that was just short of being the full belly one Price loved, shoulders shaking under Price's arms. "You would accuse me of such?"

"I know you."

"You know nothing. Storm came on its own. I do not control weather, John, much as I would enjoy that power."

"Convenient storm, though."

"Very convenient." Nikolai turned his head just enough to catch Price's eye, warmth in the amber. "Perhaps I got lucky."

Price pressed his face back into the warmth between his shoulder blades and let the fire and the smell of onions and the low rumble of Nikolai's laugh be enough. Whatever else he didn't know—whoever had taught this man to cook, to laugh like that, to build a life beyond war and blood—he'd take this. Being here. Being held.

"Lucky," Price echoed against his back. "Sure."

There were worse ways to be stranded, Price thought. Worse places, worse company. He had a fire, a full pot of something that smelled warm and savory, and a man in his arms who fit there like he'd been carved for the space. The days ahead appeared as nothing more complicated than staying warm, eating well, and losing themselves in each other when the sun set, no reason to leave the bed, or couch, except to feed the fire.

"Guess we'll survive, then," Price said.

"Mm. Tragic, having to stay in with you."

"Terrible fate."

Nikolai turned properly in his arms then, spoon set aside, and kissed Price slow and unhurried, Nik's lips tasting faintly of the broth he'd been testing.

"Terrible," he agreed against Price's mouth, entirely and utterly pleased. Whatever they'd have to dig themselves out of in the morning, if they even thought to leave, could wait.

[valiants]

Some ghoap AUs for flatwasher and pineapplemona! Thank you 🥊🎬

[grandlemurmonkey]

Beach vibes with Ghost! 🏖 I wonder what he's reading? (Probably Soap's journal)