#(Send me asks and requests if you're interested? Maybe? Fuel my thoughts? Please?) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohworm-writes · 7 months

Text

Just thinking about veteran and or retired neighbor Price right now *sighs dreamily while twirling my hair*

Like, okay - imagine having a house next door to Price situated in a small, cozy village up somewhere in Northern England, surrounded by nothing but green, grassy plains and dense forests with a stream that runs through the small village. I see him living somewhere cozy... quiet. Away from the loud, noisy environments that he'd been so used to, finding somewhere calm to settle down.

I see him having a pet. Maybe a lazy dog or a farm cat, something that'll follow him around and take a nap with him after a long day, either laid across his body or beside him. But, at the same time, maybe he'd like a pet that has a bit of energy - you can take a man out of the military, but you can't take the military out of a man. He still has so many traits and habits he's picked up from the military, and if you know anything about older, retired men, it's that they always need something to do and busy themselves with.

RANDOM THOUGHT but I feel like he wouldn't retire unless Laswell grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and forced him out of the military, likely for his own good. If it were up to him, he'd stay in the fight until he died, so I'd think that him getting close to it was what pushed for the decision to be made for him to retire - maybe he was injured to an extent that it wouldn't be smart for him to keep going or something of the like - I could totally see him with an amputation of sorts (like, twinning with Alex lol).

I think he'd like to keep to himself for as much as he could. I don't see him as one of those super friendly, "oh, let me help you with that" type of neighbors unless the situation is right, or, rather, unless he's called upon for help. Like, he's grumpy and stoic, but only until somebody comes to him asking "hey, sorry to bother, but can you help me with something" and he'd soften up - begrudgingly, it seems, but, really, he's happy to offer some assistance. It makes him feel useful.

God, imagine moving in next door to him and struggling to unload your car of all the boxes and things that are haphazardly packed inside of it, and him walking out of his house, seeing the way that you're struggling, and letting out a heavy sigh - just like "welp, suppose I know how I'm spendin' my mornin' now" and coming over to offer his assistance, a little awkward at first, but that quickly melts away as he settles into comfortable conversation with you.

*slamming fist against the table repetitively* BRINGING HIM FOOD OR TREATS AS A MEANS OF THANKING HIM FOR HIS HELP! A little reusable container held between your hands, to your chest, walking over to his place and knocking on the door, outstretching it towards him and being like "thank you - for your help... I wanted to show my appreciation, you know? so, I made you this" and giving the container to him.

AND WHO IS HE TO SAY NO??? (He tries, believe me, but that sweet, eager look on your face, wordlessly begging for him to take it... he can't deny you). AND HIM RETURNING TO YOUR PLACE A FEW DAYS LATER WITH THE CONTAINER IN HAND, BEING ALL GREATFUL AND STUFF. God, someone let him be real, pleaseee.

Becoming comfortable neighbors with him, spending rainy afternoons over at his house, or, in contrast, him at yours, sat on the front porch with a cup of tea or coffee or hot chocolate in hand, gossiping about some of the neighbors that live within the houses along the street, the both of you sharing your own life stories here and there, him divulging about his time in the military without shame.

Okay, I know a lot of people like to think that he wouldn't ever share or talk about it, but I can't see that. It's not like he's ashamed of his time - he's proud of the work he did, if anything, and it's all behind him now, so why should he be shy to share about the things he did? Of course, I don't think he'd go into gruesome detail about it or share about everything he's seen, but he'd totally be like "yeah, I've been all over the world - did a few OPs in X, Y and Z countries, took down terrorists, et cetera" and answer any questions with pride.

Him totally being The Man™ who you can go to if you need help with anything. Need help with a leaky sink? Give him a few minutes and he'll be over with a toolbox. Want to do an oil change on your car but have no clue where to start? Don't worry, he's got an oil pan, jack and a few rags around somewhere, he's sure - he'll be over in a few. Want some simple, good ol' company? He's outside the door already.

He'd be more than happy to give you a tour of the village if you ask, pointing out which neighbors to trust and which to be wary of, telling you about his favorite pub that's posed all the way on the far side of the town, but he promises you that the food, drinks and atmosphere are like nothing else. Walking with you down the stone pathways, footsteps clacking against them, taking in the sights with you and answering every question you may have, or, simply settling into a comfortable silence with you. At peace. Comfortable.

I'm so *laying on my bed on my stomach and kicking my feet slowly in the air behind me* I need him.

#I tried to hold myself back on the world building aspect because only the gods know how crazy I was about to go #I couldn't hold myself back fully but I tried please believe me #Toying with the dog tags I bought that are for him that I bought while I write this *sigh*#I should make this into something #I really should #(Send me asks and requests if you're interested? Maybe? Fuel my thoughts? Please?)#price x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader

443 notes · View notes

bobasheebaby · 5 years

Text

The Sit Down

Pairing: Bastien x Liza; Liam x Raven

Written for @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge Choices July Challenge

Word count: 1,482

Warnings: angst

Summary: With the history between Liam Rhys and Bastien Lykel is there any hope of them moving forward and being a family for Hope?

A/N: @darley1101 requested Forgiveness for Liam and Hope as well as Family for Bas, Liza, Olivia, Hope, Liam, and Raven. Both are a tall order for this crew, I’m laying the framework trying to get them there. Neither prompt is used in the obvious manner. She also requested "Admit that you're wrong!" from Mobster Bastien ages ago and I’m finally coming through. Prompt will be bolded. Thanks @sirbeepsalot for being my sounding board and putting up with me. Again we are ahead of where we are in the story, I’m sorry. This takes place after Tattered Tears my other July Challenge fic.

Series warnings: Mobster AU, there will be violence, and death. Possible NSFW to come. Possibly dark and deals with pregnancy loss. If you ask to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I own my OC’s, the rest I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

“Can you please tell me why we are entertaining this fool?” Olivia asked, the thin heel of her stiletto clicking against the hardwood as she tapped her foot.

“Olivia!” Liza warned, voice strong and unwavering, while inside she was shaking. The last thing she wanted to do was to speak to the person who brought them so much pain, nearly broke her completely, yet she needed to hold firm, be strong.

Olivia flinched at the use of her full first name, Liza always called her Liv, she knew she’d pushed a button, yet she pressed on. “What? He tried to kill you!”

“I know that!”

“He killed your baby!”

Liza’s hand instantly flew to the now red raised scar on her round abdomen. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as her fingers traced the scar through her shirt. “I know! Believe me I know!”

“He hasn’t ever once said he was sorry, or showed an ounce of remorse!”

“I know that Olivia!” Her voice broke, coming out almost a sob.

“Then why the hell are we entertaining him?!”

“Hope!” Tears welled in her eyes. “Because even if he never apologizes to me or Bas for what he took from us, Hope deserves to have her brother in her life.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block all the pain she felt. “I know he hasn’t been exactly welcoming to her, but he asked to speak to us, maybe between what I said to him and what Hope did he’s finally coming around, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “But I do know that even if looking at him makes my heart ache knowing he will never take responsibility for what he took from me that I need to try to put my own feelings aside for her because she’s as much my daughter as you and Sage.” She gently grazed her round bump. “I’d do anything for any of you.”

“Liza…”

She looked down. “Don’t. I know you didn’t mean it. I need to go finish getting ready I’ll be right out.” She wiped the stray tears from her cheeks. I can do this. It’s for Hope.

Bastien squeezed Liza’s hand, he knew she wanted to be anywhere but at this table in that moment. Her hand shook in is, he wasn’t sure if it was from the sadness or the anger she was trying to repress, either way he found himself in awe of the way she could look the man who caused them so much pain in the eye.

Olivia shifted on Liza’s other side, her emerald eyes burning a hole straight through Liam. “Well?”

“Well what?” Liam questioned, his tone flat, clearly unaffected by Olivia’s biting tongue.

“Well, you asked us here, what the hell do you want?” Olivia spat the words like venom.

“I did.” Liam straightened in his seat, clasping his hands in front of him. “I don’t see why all that is necessary.” He nodded behind Bastien where a few of his men stood at attention.

Olivia laughed. “After what you tried to do to Liza the last time she was pregnant did you really expect anything less?”

Liam’s jaw tensed. “I don’t understand what you’re doing here Olivia, this matter doesn’t involve you.”

Liza placed her hand on Olivia’s shoulder, keeping her from jumping across the table and strangling him. Olivia glanced at Liza, nodding at her, assuring her with the gesture that she would remain seated. “Hope.” She leaned so she could see her around Liza as Bastien. “She’s my sister.”

“I don’t understand how you came to that conclusion.” Liam said with a laugh, Raven elbowing him in the ribs.

Liza squeezed Olivia’s tense shoulder. “You do realize Bastien raised her, correct?”

“I still don’t see how that makes them siblings.” Liam replied flatly.

“Bastien adopted her when she was twelve. They are sisters by adoption and in this sense it’s a hell of a lot more related than you are to her.” Liza seethed, only calming when Bastien tightened his grip on her hand. “Now can you please tell us why the hell you wanted to speak to us?!”

“Fine.” Liam replied, his tone devoid of warmth. “I see exchanging pleasantries is too much to ask.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you Liam! When was the last time anything other than hate or an insult escaped your mouth?” Olivia rebutted, her voice tinged with laughter.

Liam cleared his throat, his narrowed gaze falling on Bastien. “Do you always let them do all the talking?”

Bastien shifted slightly in his seat. “I’m simply listening. Listening to what it is you do and don’t say. You could learn to listen more.”

“And what exactly has been said of importance?”

“You’re nervous, though you think you hide it. You want something but are afraid to ask, so you deflect and insult us instead. So Liam, please tell us why we are here.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the first outward appearance of his discomfort. Raven glanced at Liam, seeing his jaw twitch, and his hesitation to speak. She placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “We had been given some interesting information…”

“Oh this is rich.” Olivia laughed. “He tries to kill Liza, treats Hope with disdain, and blames Bas for his mother, and yet he’s here asking for help.”

Bastien arched his brow. “So what exactly did you hear, and how am I supposed to help?”

“Madeline told us Liam had an older brother.” Raven replied.

“Wait, I thought Madeline was handled.” Hope stated, her face was etched with confusion.

“She was. Basically he’s done all he can on his own and now he expects Bastien to help.” Olivia said with a shake of her head.

“I guess that’s one way to put it.” Liam replied. “The truth is Bastien is the only person that might know anything without anything to gain in sharing the information.”

“Why the hell should we help you?!” Liza spat, her anger coursing through her veins.

“Liza...” Bastien squeezed her hand.”

“No! Olivia is right! He’s never even shown an ounce of remorse for any of his wrongdoings yet he has the audacity to ask you for your help.” Tears welled in her eyes, her body vibrating with anger.

Bastien glanced at each of the women seated with him. “I’ll help, on two conditions.”

“Bas…” Liza exclaimed in shock, unable to understand how he would be willing to help the man who caused them so much pain with zero remorse.

“Admit you were wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Liam replied.

“Admit you were wrong. Apologize to myself and Liza for trying to take her life and what you took from us. Apologize to Hope for shutting her out simply based on who her father was, and admit that you were wrong in blaming me for your mother’s death.”

“Is that all?” Liam grimaced, the urge to leave with his pride intact fighting to win. “Fine. I’m sorry I put the hit on Liza. I apologize Hope for pushing you away.” He but down, teeth grinding together as his jaw clenched. “I was wrong to blame you Bastien for my mother’s death. Will you help now?”

Bastien smirked. “That was one condition, I had two. My second is to back it up with your actions. Prove the words you say have meaning by actually talking to Hope and letting her in.” He glanced at Hope. “That is if she wants to give you a chance.”

Hope nodded. “He’s the only one who has any knowledge of my mom as a mom. You and Olivia have helped me learn about her, but still that’s only part of the picture.” She paused glancing down at her hands. “If he’s sincere, I would be willing to give him a chance to earn my forgiveness.”

Liam scoffed.

“You wanted my help, this is what I require to do so. I have some connections as does Liza, that could prove useful.”

“I doubt she has any connections that could help.”

Liza grinned. “Liam, perhaps if you’d been more diligent before you placed your hit you would have realized how bad it would have been for you had you been successful. I’m sure you’ve heard of my ex, Perceval Hunter, current head of the Hunter family out of Seattle.”

Liam swallowed as his face blanched.

“I grew up in that family, Perceval and I are still friends, and Bastien wouldn’t have been your only worry had you killed me.”

Liam sat in stunned silence. Vilegence then vengeance. His father’s words ringing in his head.

Bastien rose to his feet. “His name was Leo. If you want more than that, then you will earn Hope’s forgiveness as well as mine and Liza’s.” He pulled Liza to her feet. “For now we are done. I wouldn’t take your time. My kindness has an expiration date.”

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.

26 notes · View notes

boycottphil · 5 years

Note

Omg if you're writing usuk can you please do something involving the Beatles/Beatlemania or the British Invasion in general? Theres so much good material there but no one really writes about it. I will love you forever

For context, I am taking fanfic requests!

This was a lot of fun to write! I wasn’t too sure if this is what you meant, anon, but if it’s not, feel free to send another ask! I’d be happy to write more. Anyway, enjoy!

Pairing: UsUk Rating: T Warnings: Strong language, mentions of blood, smoking (cigarettes) Word count: 2026

Imagine hundreds of thousands of people screaming your name. Imagine hundreds of thousands of people obsessing over your every step, word, move… Imagine loving every second of the intrusive behaviour displayed by fans.

Arthur, the lead singer of the “best band in history,” lived off of such things. Fame… It brought him joy, joy which he previously thought was impossible for him to feel. He was surrounded by security, yet his favourite moments were those when a fan managed to get to him, and looked at him with amazement in their eyes…

Looked at him as if he were a god.

[[MORE]]

Now, one could say that such thoughts and such behaviour was perhaps a bit… unhealthy. And one would be right. Arthur was sick; getting off on his own fame, and as he gathered more and more fans all over the world with each tour, he felt better. And better.

His band was good, not the best band in the world, per say, but definitely good. Their music was largely enjoyed by a female audience. Girls loved to imagine the songs being sung to them personally. They were written to be perceived that way. No names of girls were mentioned… no hints at any particular gender were given either.

Now, there were rumours, as there always are surrounding any band as huge as Arthur’s. Rumours like selling their souls to the devil, rumours like being robots invested by the government. Rumours like… being gay.

Arthur could only benefit from rumours that claimed he was an alien. It added more mystery to his character, more reasons for people to check out his music, come to his concerts. However…

Rumours that claimed he was gay could destroy his career. The thing is… he is gay. He does not fancy women at all. He couldn’t care less when girls form whole crowds and take off their shirts and bras. He didn’t care about his bandmate’s groupies offering threesomes or foursomes or ogies. He’d rather bang his bandmates if he didn’t despise them all.

He came quite close to having his career ruined, though.

One day, while touring the United States, they stopped in middle-of-nowhere-town of some State that Arthur thought was made up by the Americans to make it to 50 states in the first place. He was still convinced there aren’t 50 of them, but 10 divided into five parts each. But he would not express that opinion. Lest someone shot him for even mentioning the USA in any context that doesn’t presents it as the best country on the planet.

It was a town they were merely passing through, but they had to stop for fuel and food and for the drivers to rest a bit as well. Arthur wore his sunglasses and had clothes on that he wasn’t known for wearing, and decided to walk around town a bit. They had a few hours, and he wasn’t about to pass the opportunity to stretch his legs and turn off his brain a bit. Touring meant little walking and too much work, so moments such as those were few and far between.

He had purchased a box of cigarettes, which he planned to get through before he had to be locked in a fast moving vehicle again; in which he wasn’t allowed to smoke. With a fag already lit and dangling off his lips, he walked out onto the pavement, ready to resume his walk just when…

He was bumped into by some 5 foot 6 tall boy. He groaned as his cigarette fell into a puddle, together with his sunglasses. He grumbled and hurried to retrieve his glasses but, well… the kid already saw.

“Arthur Kirkland?! No way!!” He yelled too loudly, his voice far too deep for what Arthur assumed was a 13 year old boy.

“Shh!” Arthur shushed and then wrapped an arm around the other’s head and covered his mouth so he couldn’t make more noise. He felt screaming behind his hand and the boy seemed to be losing his mind just from being touched. Arthur did love attention… but not in some hick town when he was looking for a quiet place to smoke and meditate until he had to leave again.

He dragged the other into an alley- not a suspicious thing to do at all- and shushed him until the other stopped freaking out. He rambled about being touched and carried by Arthur, all of which was technically true, but it sounded so much more dramatic coming out of the kid’s mouth.

“Okay, listen here, kid-” he started, but was promptly interrupted.

“Kid? I’m 19!” He argued.

Arthur looked annoyed, but slightly less on-edge about dragging him into a dark alley. “Whatever, mate. Just stop screaming like a bloody schoolgirl. I don’t want this whole town to know we’re here. The paparazzi would hound us for hundreds of miles, like they did in the last town this happened in.” He explained as he lit his second cigarette- he was mourning the first.

“So you really are Arthur Kirkland?” The other asked, already taking off the backpack he had on and reaching for the first paper and pen he had. “Would you please sign this?” He asked, his bright blue eyes shining in anticipation.

Arthur frowned, but he took the pen and, without really looking or even thinking about it, produced a perfect loopy signature.

“Whoaa… That’s so cool! My name’s Alfred so could you…”

Arthur added, ‘for Alfred, stay cute’ at the bottom, as he does for all signatures, merely replacing the name.

“You think I’m cute?! Wow, Arthur Kirkland thinks I’m cute!!” Alfred said, his voice so high pitched in excitement that Arthur almost really did think he was cute.

“No, mate- I write that for everyone. Most of my fans are girls, you see and-” once again, he was interrupted.

“But you do think I’m cute! I can tell. You keep looking at me,” Alfred insisted, perhaps a bit cheekily. Arthur blinked, trying not to seem too taken aback.

“I, uh… I don’t… What?” He was usually never speechless. He always had a way to make a fan swoon over him with smooth comebacks and flirty lines that made girls go absolutely mad. But this was a boy. A boy who had called him out on his obvious interest in him, and a boy who, while excited to see him, clearly didn’t think he was a god.

Weird. He was supposed to always be seen as a god. What else could he be seen as?

“So… if you could keep this meeting to yourself for the next 24 hours, that would be bloody fantastic. Now, if you excuse me…” he mumbled and started walking away. He thought Alfred would be satisfied enough with that; he got an autograph and a hug- sort of. But no…

“So where are you headed now?” Came the American voice of the 19 year old who just decided to tag along.

Arthur felt his blood beginning to boil just a bit. “That is literally none of your business. Literally.” He sighed, exasperated.

Alfred fell into step beside him, keeping up easily even as the Brit tried to speed up. “Aw, come on! I won’t tell. I know how to keep secrets! I’m great at it. This one time, my cousin Austin, he told me that he and his aunt on his mum’s side-”

Arthur stopped abruptly. “How the fuck are you good at keeping secrets?”

“Well… I… You don’t know my cousin Austin, do you?”

Arthur groaned and kept walking, now deciding to ignore Alfred entirely. The teen though; he decided that he would ignore Arthur ignoring him. The Brit continued walking and smoking his cigarette as if Alfred wasn’t right there, and talking his ears off about dinosaurs and spaceships and how much he loved boys and how he knew Arthur could relate and-

Wait.

They had at that point reached a park, which was perhaps the size of two average backyards. There was no one around, and Arthur really appreciated it.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, his blood really getting to a simmer.

“Well, you know… You’ve never been seen with a girl, you never touch girls, you don’t talk about girls, you don’t even seem interested to all the girls we just passed while getting here. At all. You’re gay, and I can tell,” Alfred claimed.

“I have absolutely no idea where you get those ideas from. How would you know what I do in my free time?” He crossed his arms, perhaps a bit defensively.

“You look at my lips and arms so much, and you’ve looked at my ass too. I’m not dumb, you know! There’s no shame in being gay, Arthur. It’s all just-”

Arthur was angry at that point. He threw his half finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, then turned to face Alfred. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you’re gay and you think making up lies is going to turn me gay, then forget about it. All right? I don’t even mess with groupies in the first place. Would you kindly leave me the fuck alone now?” He said loudly, keeping his composure enough not to yell at this kid.

“You’re just mean and in denial because you think if you come out that girls will stop obsessing over you. That’s okay. If you don’t want a groupie because all of them are girls, that’s understandable. But I mean… I’m free. I ran away from home a week ago. I have nowhere to be so… I could come with you. Warm your bed at night. Maybe do a few more other things too. Like ride you while you-”

Arthur punched him. He got too heated, too angry, amd he just… threw the punch. His knuckles ached after, and Alfred was holding onto his bleeding nose. It didn’t seem broken, but knowing the consequences of literally punching someone, Arthur began briskly walking away.

He should have expected to see the American again, before he even managed to walk down half a block. How he could cradle a bloody nose and run after him was a miracle.

“That was so rude!! I did not deserve to be fucking punched, man! I was just teasing you, dude! It’s literally not my fault that you are hiding your repressed homosexuality-”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Gay.” He growled, taking one step closer to the teen with each word uttered.

Alfred was practically pinned to a wall just then, looking up at the Brit with wide blue eyes. He was tall and handsome and…

And he kissed Alfred before he could get socked again. Instead of being pushed away and hit, as Alfred expected he would, he was pulled closer and kissed intensely enough to have all the air sucked out of his lungs.

Arthur pulled away seconds later, practically pushing himself off Alfred. Even behind his sunglasses, his eyes looked wide and shocked at what he had done. He looked around, then took Alfred’s hand and ran toward the bus.

He fucked up. He fucked up big time. But that’s okay… No one saw. And if he just kept Alfred with him on tour at all times… No one would find out that he was gay. At all.

“Is everything you need in that backpack?” He asked Alfred, out of breath from running, once they arrived at the bus.

“Yeah, why?” He asked and took off his backpack so he could take some tissues out and clean the blood off his face.

“Good. You’ll be coming with us on tour,” Arthur stated bluntly, not even bothering to listen for a yes or a no. Alfred grinned like a kid and hopped into the bus behind Arthur, already reaching out to cop a feel of his favourite singer’s ass.

Needless to say, Arthur did get himself a groupie. Involuntarily. And now every day became a series of “I almost outed myself to my millions of crazy fans.” It could be worse. At least he sleeps with a cute and annoying twink every night.

#hetalia #Anonymous #usuk #ukus #aph england #aph america #arthur kirkland #alfred f jones #beatlemania #i think #i mean i tried rlly hard n i think i did well #aph

8 notes · View notes