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Tysm for the response! Here is request!

(Platonic) Rex X 11-12yr Padawan Reader

The reader is detrimentally injured during a join mission with the 501st, and bleeding out severely. They begin to have a panic attack, which only adds to the pain, and dampens everything. Rex stumbles upon them and is quick to act! However- with limited medicinal knowledge, and a panicking padawan, he can only pray Kix get here in time, and offer kind words and promises to the child.

tysm!!

Promise of Tomorrow: Platonic! Rex x Padawan! Reader

-this is such an angsty prompt, I love it

-was going to give this a bad ending in tragedy, but changed my mind since I wasn't sure if you'd want that route

-enjoy and don't forget to reblog!

The icy chill of night sent shivers down your spine. If not for the growing pains in your side, you would have laughed and made a joke about spooky dancing skeletons. Stars glimmered in the navy sky, an abyss of infinity that reminded you of the pulling ache of the Force.

Stars, did your body hurt. You wondered how long you had laid in the overgrown grass for. An hour? Two? The ambush took you by surprise when it shouldn't have, threw you off balance when you should have had two feet planted firmly in the ground.

Where was your Master? Anakin promised he'd be only five miles to the east, a little ways away from the breath of civilisation. He promised to RV with you in this exact spot two hours ago, right where your squad had been massacred at the hands of Count Dooku.

The world seemed to spin the longer you stared at the black of night. Spots danced in your vision, little specs that made your empty stomach churn and gush with nausea. You heaved in a short breath, throat constricting as if a snake had wrapped around your windpipe.

No, no, it had been over two hours hadn't it? The sun set around seven thirty-eight, and the sun had already risen halfway across the sky. That meant...that meant you had been laying here in a pool of your own blood for at least three to four hours.

Were you going to die? The knife embedded in your side had viciously been ripped from your flesh the moment you attempted to run with the last of your men and your life. It was a smart decision on Dooku's account--to have Anakin Skywalker's little padawan bleed out in a field of dead bodies.

Surely, that would leave a wound upon history itself. A tear that could never be mended throughout the Order. After all, your Master was dubbed as 'The Chosen One', was he not?

A dry cough slipped past your lips and you tried not to choke on the irony flavour of blood. It trickled past your lips in little droplets, tiny beads of red that stained your skin crimson.

This was it. This was so it. Your chest began to heave, up and down, up and down. No matter how hard you wanted to trust in the Force and all your teachings instilled by the Jedi of the past, your mind could not focus on the balance resting on your shoulders.

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt it constrict where you lay in the grass, staring at the bodies around you. The only surviving men had gone off to find help with barely their lives in tact, but you feared it was too late.

The scale was sure to tip because you were bleeding out, and the pain in your side only numbed to nothing. Nothing. Oh, didn't that mean you were losing too much blood? Too much strength?

How could you even slur out a cry for help to your comm when your dry lips sealed themselves shut? The cracked skin ached just a bit, but not as much as the burning fact that death was much too near for comfort.

Your breath hitched impossibly tight. Breathe. Breathe. Why couldn't you breathe? Speak? Scream? All that filled your ears was the rush of blood and the heavy sound of your strangled cries.

You were dying. You were dying and all alone.

Master Skywalker. Oh, how you prayed for him to hear your pleas, your cries, the tears that burned your blurry vision with salty fluids. Breathe, you reminded. Breathe!

Yet no breath escaped your lips, no oxygen entered your lungs. Breathe. Breathe--

"Commander!"

A faint pair of footsteps echoed through the fog of your dulled mind. You wondered why the voice sounded so familiar, and why it called out to your heart with warmth.

"You have to stay with me!"

The panicked expression on the boy's face made your senses reel in. His name--you knew it, right? It started with an f? No, no. An 'r'. His name...his name was Rex.

You blinked languidly, a dumb sort of realisation dawning on you as you heaved and heaved. Wow, was it always this hard to think? It must be the blood and the way your throat kept closing. Or maybe the blurry dots spanning your vision as you faded into the abyss of a cold, meaningless death--

"Stay with me!" cried Rex. He lifted an arm and you vaguely registered it as his comm. A voice came from the other end, but you couldn't quite register it as he  began to shout aggressively. The mixture of angry sounds, the movement of his lips, fell on deaf ears.

All you heard was the ragged sound of your strangled breathing.

It was as if the world had come to a slow stop. The rush of adrenaline, the swaying of overgrown grass, the silence of only death beside you.

"R-Rex," --you wildly met his eyes-- "h..help." A part of you almost wanted to laugh at the stupidity of such a plea.

Help?

How could he help if your throat wasn't working to deliver the oxygen to your lungs?

Help...?

How could he help when he wasn't a medic?

Much less Kix?

You continued to heave, tears blurring your vision. You didn’t want to die. Not yet and not now. Your squad had given their lives beside you, how cruel would it be for their sacrifices to be in vain?

You thought back to your days in the Temple as a mere Youngling, the evenings when sun leaked through the window panes in golden arcs above your head. It had always been warm in the Temple. Comforting. You wondered if it would have been better to live your life as a specialist in medicine for the Order, or as a harvester of plants.

Anything...anything but this, right? Anything but that aching pain in your chest and that lingering chill of death over your shoulder.

Rex’s lips kept moving. Sound slowly fell into the atmosphere, little droplets that hit your ears like a waterfall. You sensed his urgency, his own pain that flooded his honest heart. You couldn’t die in his arms, not him. Not when he was your best friend, your companion.

“Stay with me!” he pleaded. “You’re gonna make it, I promise.” You would have shaken your head if you could. What kind of lie was he telling you?

Tears ran down your cheeks as you chocked out a jumble of words. A familiar mantra filled your head (I am one with the Force and the Force is with me), one you focused on in order to be with Rex. Your friend. It was all you could offer when fear clouded your mind and death rang true.

“I...I’m going to die.” you stammered between breaths. “I-I’m sorry. I-I’m s-so sorr...sorry.” Rex firmly took your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. In your mind, you heard the memories rushing into his head, the anguish of all the death he faced. “You are not going to die.” he affirmed. “You are not going to die!”

“R-Rex...” You shook your head with a chocked sob. “I-I failed my...my Master and my s-squad...I failed...I failed as a Jedi...”

He only squeezed your hand harder. Held you a little tighter. “No, you did not. If that were true, then you would have already died. I know how close you were to your squad, and I know they would want to see you live. I saw them on the way here, they're going to get Kix and he'll patch you right up, understood?”

All you sensed from his heart was the burn of determination and the fierce beating of loyalty. He would not leave your side, nor would he accept your words even if it were with your dying breath. To him, and to him alone, you were always admirable.

Special, he had once said.

And whatever that meant shouldn’t really matter, right? Even if determination were not enough to keep you alive, you began to wonder, trust. Maybe...Rex was right. He wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t.

With those firm hands, Rex dabbed away your tears. “You’re going to be okay, understood, Commander? You will not die. Not on my watch.”

To Rex, you were special. Not because you were a Jedi or because you were practically a child soldier, but because you were you. In the last moments of the  battle with your squad, you were willing to give your life to fight alongside them.

Still, you couldn’t believe that last bit--the part of him thinking you as ‘special’. For Rex, your friend, your confidant, your companion, held tight to the promise of tomorrow. That piece of determined belief left you gripping tight to life.

Tight to words that rang true in your heart. You shut your eyes, focusing on the pull of the Force. Its calm was just out of your reach, barely a hair's away as you grasped and seized it.

I am one with the Force, you thought. And the Force is with me.

Your breaths began to steady into a calm, where not even the heaviest rains could stir your ocean. The breath slowly returned to your body as you focused on the Force, the warmth of Rex's hand as he kept a firm grasp.

"You're not dying," he affirmed once again. "Not on my watch, Commander." And there was a sureness to his voice that made his words nothing but truth.

The buzz of a speeder cut through the night air, where blades of grass bowed down as a group of men raced over with a med kit. You didn't need to look over to know Kix was amongst them, ordering the remnants of your squad to check for any survivors.

And as Kix knelt before you and got to work, you had a feeling everything would be okay. "Rex," you croaked. "You're not leaving yet, right?"

Rex gave your hand a firm squeeze with a shake of his head. "No, Commander. I'll be right by your side."

There was nothing truer than hearing Rex's voice. Your eyes fluttered shut and you muttered out a small 'okay'. The oceans of calm in your heart continued to remain still, where even the smallest of boats could cross the seas unharmed.

You were in good hands, and for that, there would always be a promise of tomorrow.

SWEET DREAM

< miya osamu x reader >

Summary: Being a manager for the Inazarki volleyball club wasn't easy, especially dealing with their chaos. They had made great friends because of it and had caught some attention as well, especially from Miya Osamu. For him, having a crush on the manager isn't ideal but it wasn't anything that he can control. The worst thing about it, watching your crush already be in a relationship with your teammate.

Genre: friends to lovers, angst, drama, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, teasing, suggestive themes.

Taglist: open

[orange text - y/n's pov ] [blue text -osamu pov]

CHAPTER SIX

<chapter five || materlist || chapter seven>

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< taglist > @sproutytoad @grimespial

"bad" girl | carlos sainz

synopsis: in which you can't catch a break from the criticism

a/n: based on this request! i based this when Charles and Carlos were still teammates in Ferrari

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader

my masterlist

The Monaco sun bore down on the paddock, its golden glow making everything seem brighter—everything except the storm brewing inside you.

It wasn’t the first time you had been caught between your brother and your boyfriend, and knowing the way the media twisted narratives, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

"She's in Carlos' garage again?"

"Guess we know where her loyalty lies"

"Poor Charles. His own sister doesn’t even support him"

The whispers never stopped. No matter what you did, someone had an opinion about it. If you were seen with Carlos, you were a bad sister. If you were supporting Charles, you were a neglectful girlfriend.

There was no winning with them.

But today, after months of keeping quiet, you had had enough.

♡♡♡♡♡

The weekend had started out promising. Monaco was home for both you and Charles, and it was always a special kind of race. One where your family was present, where old childhood memories resurfaced as you walked the familiar streets.

You had been excited, looking forward to seeing both Charles and Carlos fight for the top spots in qualifying.

That excitement, however, had quickly soured when you saw the headlines flooding social media.

BREAKING: Charles Leclerc’s sister chooses sides: Spotted in Sainz’s garage instead of her brother’s.

Your grip tightened around your phone as you stared at the article. They made it sound like you were betraying Charles just by standing next to Carlos before his qualifying session.

Never mind the fact that you had been in Charles’ garage just thirty minutes earlier.

Never mind the fact that you loved both of them in completely different ways.

Carlos had seen the article, too. He could always read your mood, even when you tried to mask it. When you arrived at his motorhome later that evening, his first words weren’t hello but instead a soft, “You’re upset”

You sighed, flopping down on the couch.

“I don’t get it. How is it that no matter where I stand, I’m always wrong?”

Carlos sat down beside you, his hand immediately finding yours.

“They don’t know you,” he said simply. “They only know the stories they want to write.”

His words made sense, but they didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.

You were tired of walking a tightrope, tired of constantly having to prove your love for both your brother and your boyfriend.

“I don’t even want to check Twitter,” you muttered, resting your head against Carlos’ shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Then don’t” he whispered.

You wished it were that easy.

♡♡♡♡♡

Race day was no better.

You had split your time between both garages as you always did. Before the race started, you had been by Charles’ side, giving him your usual pre-race pep talk, something you had done for years.

The cameras had captured the moment perfectly — the way Charles smiled at you, the way you squeezed his hand just before he climbed into the car.

But then, once the race started, you had shifted to Carlos' garage. It was an unspoken agreement between you and Charles that you would support Carlos during the race.

Charles had Joris, his mom, and the entire Ferrari team backing him up. Carlos, while also surrounded by his own support system, had you. And you knew how much it meant to him.

The moment you stepped into Carlos’ side of the garage, you could already hear the murmurs.

“She was just with Charles.”

“She really can’t decide, can she?”

“Maybe she should’ve dated someone from another team.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to block out the noise.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

You watched the race unfold, fingers gripping the edge of your seat as both Charles and Carlos fought hard on track. Every overtake, every pit stop, every strategy decision had you on edge.

You just wanted them both to succeed. Was that really so wrong?

When the checkered flag waved, Charles had finished P3, Carlos P5. A bittersweet result.

As soon as you made your way to parc fermé, you congratulated Charles first, wrapping your arms around him. He hugged you back tightly, murmuring a soft "Merci" against your ear.

And then you moved to Carlos, giving him the same love and support.

The cameras caught it all.

By the time you reached your phone again, social media was already on fire.

Does she not realize how bad this looks?

She barely even celebrated with Charles before running to Carlos.

I feel so bad for Charles. Imagine your own sister prioritizing your teammate over you.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to reply. To defend yourself. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. They had already made up their minds about you.

Carlos must have noticed the way your face fell, because he gently plucked your phone from your hands and locked it.

“Enough of that,” he said, voice firm but gentle. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You hesitated, your eyes darting to your brother's side of the garage.

“But Charles—”

“—is fine,” Carlos assured you. “I’m sure he’ll be the first one to tell you to ignore all this bullshit.”

And he was right.

Later that night, as you sat on Charles’ balcony overlooking the city, your brother nudged your shoulder.

“I saw the things people were saying,” he said. “It’s stupid.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping.

“I just hate that they make it seem like I have to choose between you and Carlos.”

Charles frowned, shaking his head at you.

“You don’t. And you never have to. We both know where your heart is.”

You blinked, looking at him. “You do?”

He nodded. “Yes. And if they can’t see that, then they’re not worth your time.”

A lump formed in your throat, as you tried to keep yourself from crying.

“I just don’t want you to ever feel like I don’t support you.”

Charles gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“I’ve never doubted you, chérie. Not once.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but before they could fall, Charles pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly.

Carlos found you both a few moments later, pausing in the doorway.

“Can I join?”

Charles rolled his eyes but opened an arm, letting Carlos pull you into his chest.

And for the first time that weekend, the noise of the outside world faded away.

You weren’t just Carlos’ girlfriend.

You weren’t just Charles’ sister.

You were you—someone who loved them both with all her heart.

And that was enough.

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SWEET DREAM

< osamu miya x reader >

Summary: Being a manager for the Inazarki volleyball club wasn't easy, especially dealing with their chaos. They had made great friends because of it and had caught some attention as well, especially from Miya Osamu. For him, having a crush on the manager isn't ideal but it wasn't anything that he can control. The worst thing about it, watching your crush already be in a relationship with your teammate.

Genre: friends to lovers, angst, drama, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, teasing, suggestive themes.

Tags: open

CHAPTER TEN

<chapter nine || materlist || chapter eleven>

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< taglist > @sproutytoad @grimespial @saturns-satellites @meekydeeks

Imagine Luca meeting you at the beach after watching you surf waves. Like, he showed up surf and just enjoy himself, and he does, but he didn't expect to see you absolutely killing it on the water. When you come back to dry land, he knows he has to introduce himself to you because that was awesome.

So, he approaches with that pretty smile and compliments your skill, sticking his board in the sand and holding it happily as you two start a conversation about how the waves are great today and how you got into surfing. Before you know it, you're walking over to a food truck parked nearby and exchanging numbers.

When he talks about you and how you met, he definitely gets some good hearted teasing from his team about his "beach babe" but he could care less about that. He smiles just thinking about you and can't wait to see you again.

[The Bad Batch x gn!reader (headcanons)]: Wearing their t-shirt

----

----

Summary:

Each of the Bad Batch members react to your wearing their t-shirt.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None, pure fluff. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

----

HUNTER:

He is completely smitten at the sight of you wearing his black t-shirt, one that he usually matched with his civilian clothes.

He came into your shared bunk to check some stuff about medical supplies and he found you trying out his black t-shirt. It wasn't oversized, but it wasn't super tight on your body, either.

He leaned on the side of the bedframe, smiling to himself.

"It fits you. You should keep it."

You're startled by how stealthy and quiet he was.

"You think so?"

He nods, hugging you from behind, pressing his chest against your back.

"Of course. Keep it."

He feels very protective over you, especially when you're wearing his clothes.

He acts like he doesn't mind, but in reality, he wouldn't mind you trying out his clothes more often.

ECHO:

He came back from a mission to your shared apartment just to see you with his pyjama shirt on and he instantly turned red.

You were watching a holomovie, hugging a cushion against your chest with his shirt on and he felt his heart speed up to a hundred miles per hour.

He slowly approached you, trying to look like he was cool with it, and ruffled your hair.

"Evening. I see you're wearing something of mine." He chimed.

You smiled, and stared at him. Truth be told, you missed him dearly when he went on long missions, so you looked for a piece of clothing that was his to remind you of him.

When you explained that to him he directly melted.

He thought he was so lucky to have a partner like you, a thoughtful mind and a loving person.

He joined you shortly afterwards, staring at you with a silly smile any time

WRECKER:

Excited. Like a kid on Christmas.

"Awe! Look at you! You're so adorable!"

He had bought some Mantell Mix for him and Omega when he decided to go back to the ship to rest and that's when he saw you.

To be fair, the t-shirt he used to dress up as a civilian looked like a huge, oversized dress on you. But that's what made it endearing.

"You look so cute!"

He hugs you tightly and kisses you to demonstrate how much he loves you.

If you wear his t-shirt, he will steal a wristband and put it on his wrist to show that he's also willing to wear your stuff.

May turn into a competition at some point, but that's not what we're here for-

Bonus: he feels extremely protective over you when you're wearing his clothes.

TECH:

Unfazed. Not bothered.

Or, at least, that what he likes to act like.

In reality, he got very flustered and awkward the first time he saw you wearing his t-shirt.

He stumbled with words and stuttered uncontrollably. He was probably the most flustered out of the entire batch.

He was done fixing the Marauder's hyperdrive and decided to check on you when he saw you with a t-shirt he used to sleep. And his heart rate skyrocketed.

Like I said, he acts unfaced and excuses his stuttering by saying he had been talking for too long. Not a very good excuse coming from his smart brain.

Then again, it's not like his brain worked after seeing you on his t-shirt.

He thought of places he could place the t-shirt so you'd be able to wear it more often.

This man is really head over heels for you.

CROSSHAIR:

"The heck you're doing with my t-shirt on?"

"Don't act mad, Cross."

"I'm not. I'm just asking."

He did acted mad. He was actually about to melt then and there.

Him and Hunter had gone on a mission to gather some intel and he had come back to the small cottage you and him shared on Pabu just to see you with his white t-shirt on.

Deep down, he loved it. He loved that you were wearing something that was his, he loved that you were his significant other.

He was just too proud to admit it.

The first time he saw you wearing his clothes, he snuck his hands under it to gently grip your waist. He adored the feeling of being able to hold you.

And yet again, he was too proud to admit it.

----

There's not much I have to say except I finally got my helix piercing done and I really do love it :p

And I might edit Crosshair's part because it doesn't really match his personality anymore.

Reblogs and shares are highly appreciated!

My requests are still open!

Something that has been on my mind.

Taskforce 141 with a smol reader who can sleep anywhere because she just fits into all the small spaces around the base and everyday it's a game between the taskforce on where they find the reader dozing off on the base! 🙈

Hope you have a good day! 😽

The Great Task Force 141 Hide-and-Seek Champion

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Tiny!Reader

Warnings: Mild language, ridiculous amounts of fluff, protective 141, jealousy, cuddling

Author's Note: i tried making this poly. You might be able to see it if you squint so… yeah :)

Summary: You have an uncanny ability to sleep anywhere. Thanks to your small size, you manage to squeeze into places no one expects, turning the base into your personal nap zone. At first, it was a game—finding you before Price lost his patience. But slowly, things change. Now, the boys aren’t just looking for you—they’re making sure you’re safe, warm, and taken care of. And maybe… just maybe… they’re realizing they don’t just want to find you. They want to keep you.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Day 1: The Supply Closet

"Where the hell is Mouse?"

Price’s voice echoed through the barracks, already laced with exasperation. It had only been an hour since they'd last seen you. An hour. And you’d already vanished.

Gaz, standing casually by the doorway, sipped his tea. “Check the supply closet.”

Soap narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell would she be in the—”

Ghost, moving like a man far too used to this, didn’t wait for the debate. He walked straight to the supply closet, gripped the handle, and pulled it open.

There you were.

Curled up on one of the metal shelves, wedged between a stack of MREs and a pile of folded tarps. Your cheek was pressed against a plastic-wrapped ration pack, arms tucked under your head like a damn cat.

Soap stared. “Yer kiddin’.”

Price sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "How the hell do you find this comfortable?"

You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before sleepily muttering, “Warm.”

Gaz snorted. “Comfortable, Mouse?”

A small nod. “Mm.”

Ghost studied you in silence, then turned and walked away.

Soap gawked. "We’re just leaving her here?"

Ghost shrugged. “She’ll wake up eventually.”

Price sighed. He wasn’t paid enough for this.

——

Day 5: The First Shift in the Game

It started small.

The first time Soap found you tucked into an abandoned supply box, he huffed out a laugh, shook his head—and left his jacket over you.

The next time, Gaz found you curled up under a desk and quietly slid his extra hoodie beneath your head.

Price, despite all his grumbling, was the one leaving snacks.

And Ghost? He never woke you. Never disturbed you. But he stood guard.

The others didn’t notice at first. But after a few days, Soap started eyeing him.

"Y’know, mate," he smirked, "fer someone who acts like he don’t care, you sure stand ‘round a lot whenever Tiny’s sleepin’."

Ghost didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.

But the next morning, when you woke up in your favorite nap spot, there was a blanket over you.

——

Day 12: The Wrong Soldier Found You First

This was not part of the game.

Normally, it was them who found you. Normally, you’d wake up to soft teasing, grumbling, or just being carried away in Soap’s arms.

But today?

Today, some random soldier found you first.

It was innocent at first.

The guy had walked into the break room, noticed your small form curled up in the corner, and let out a snicker.

"Christ, does she ever actually work?"

The temperature dropped.

The conversation across the room stopped.

The soldier barely had time to react before four very dangerous men turned to look at him.

Ghost’s voice was low. Cold. "What did you just say?"

Soap moved first, stepping closer—a little too close. "Say it again, mate."

Gaz threw an arm around your shoulders, very pointedly shifting you away from the guy.

And Price? Price just gave the final nail in the coffin.

“She’s with us.”

The soldier left.

Quickly.

——

Day 20: The Final Nap

At this point, Price was done.

"Alright," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Where the hell is she now?"

Soap groaned. "We've checked the barracks, the mess hall, the damn armory—"

Gaz cut in. "—and all the lockers."

Ghost, silent as ever, merely looked up.

The team followed his gaze.

And there, sticking out of an open vent, were a pair of very familiar boots.

Soap wheezed. “Oh, no bloody way!”

Gaz just stared. “I don’t even wanna know how she got up there.”

Price turned on his heel and walked away.

“I don’t care anymore,” he announced. “If she falls, she falls.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “She’ll come down eventually.”

Soap grinned. “God, I love this game.”

——

Day 27: The End of the Game

They weren’t expecting to find you here.

Ghost stopped in the doorway first.

Soap nearly bumped into him before looking past and freezing.

Gaz, coming up behind them, just blinked. “Well… shit.”

There you were.

Curled up in Ghost’s bed.

And not just curled up—wrapped in his blanket, half-buried under the heavy black comforter, nuzzled into his damn pillow.

Ghost just stared.

Soap broke first. He grinned. “Oh, this is rich.”

Price, arriving last, sighed. "At this point, she’s not hiding anymore. She’s just making a statement."

Ghost finally moved forward, stepping to the edge of the bed. He tugged at the blanket.

Nothing.

You made a soft, grumpy noise, burrowing deeper.

Soap snorted. “Mate, she just claimed yer bed.”

Gaz smirked. "Might as well get in."

Ghost glared.

Price, done with all of them, turned to leave. “You deal with it.”

Ghost exhaled through his nose before sitting on the bed.

The shift in weight made you stir, eyes cracking open.

"...Ghost?"

He hummed.

You blinked sleepily at him before mumbling, "...Warm."

Soap grinned. "Y’know, mate, if ye just let her sleep with ye, we wouldn’t ‘ave to find her all the time."

Ghost stared.

And, to everyone’s surprise…

He laid down.

Didn’t move you. Didn’t wake you. Just shifted so you weren’t alone.

Soap gawked. “No bloody way.”

Gaz smirked. “I think she wins.”

Ghost just closed his eyes.

Fine.

She wins.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

sorry, wrong number! — tanaka ryuunosuke. chapter two; GOATED

content ; smau. profanity. ooc! characters. kuroo being called a predator AS A JOKE. reader & tanaka bonding over getting bad grades and being grounded often.

< previous ; masterlist ; next >

taglist ; @sahrii @kameyyy @cherrysurf @standcom @44twentytwo @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @mayyhaps @mimi3lover @evilari111 @s6rine @taefanclub @3stela @wakeupmaddie @suvakrpa @autlantic

jealousy, jealousy

synopsis: the cod guys get jealous // requested by anon <3

ੈ✩‧₊˚ price, gaz, ghost, soap, alejandro, rudy, graves, makarov

cw: suicide joke (ghost), graves being toxic

an: graves turns into the most toxic mf when he's jealous, i just know it. i need him so bad

dividers from @/saradika-graphics :)

venus ; chapter three ; friday

masterlist

taglist

taglist: @scoupsworld @snoowply @meoqs @sugacor3 @pelicanpizza @localgaytrainwreck @nobodybutnnoorr @vi0let-writes @matt444nixi @ncitygreen @laceythespacey @deadfish714 @bub-ss (if ur name is bolded i cannot tag you)