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cameronspecial · 2 months

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Let Me Get Them For You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never hesitates to get Y/N what she wants.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Even though Y/N has told Rafe countless times, he does the best he can to be a provider for her, buying her food, clothes, books, scientific equipment he doesn’t understand what it does and anything else he can think of. He will literally do everything in his power to get her the whole world. They are at the mall shopping for a new leather jacket for him. They’ve been there for a few hours, taking their time to peruse around the stores. Her stomach begins to cry out its need for sustenance. As they continue to the next store, a delicious buttery and salty smell enters the air. Her head turns in the direction of where this sensory stimulus is coming from. The small glance toward Auntie Anne’s Pretzels does not go unnoticed by her boyfriend. He pauses immediately, yet she continues to walk, so he loops his arm through her to pull her back to his side. “What’s wrong?” she questions with a tilt of her head. He points toward the pretzel store, “I’m hungry. Why don’t we get a snack? A cheese one, right?” “You know me so well,” she beams. He chuckles and presses his lips against her temple. He leads her toward the register and orders their salty snack.

———

It is no secret that Y/N is an avid reader. Her TBR list is in the hundreds and it continues to grow. Rafe’s mission is to make that list dwindle to zero, despite what Y/N might say. Sometimes, he’ll add books to that list by himself. The couple is hanging out in the library. She is studying and he is only there to keep her company. An hour into her studying session he pulls her away from her textbooks and notes to take a break and eat a snack. Her eyes wander while she nibbles on the cheese and crackers he hands to her, landing on a book cover that catches her eyes. The pink-themed watercolour cover features a forest with a rope bridge. It’s beautiful and the title is quite simple. Unravel Me. Rafe sees her attention isn’t on him and follows the gaze to the novel in another person's hands. She moves her eyes back to him, but he still takes note of the title. After the snack, she goes back to studying and he focuses on his phone. He decides to search for the book and finds out it is a hockey romance series. It sounds right up Y/N’s alley, so he orders Topper to go to the store and buy her the full set.

———

The most outrageous example of Rafe being Rafe when it comes to buying Y/N things is when he orders expensive objects for her right on the spot. It is date night and he decides to take her to the new upscale bar that opened up off campus. He pulls her chair out for her, allowing her to hop onto the tall chair. While she tells him about her tests, her eyes are trained on something at the bar. She must really like whatever she is looking at because she stands from the chair and approaches a woman. Rafe is right behind her, resting his hand on the small of Y/N’s back. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but I really like your bag. Where did you get it?” she asks the redhead. The other woman grins and holds her bag up, “Thank you! It’s from Coach. I can’t remember what it’s called though. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. You gave me enough to go off of. Thank you so much. Have a nice night,” Y/N bids goodbye to her. Throughout the whole interaction, Rafe’s attention is on his phone. They get back to their table and he holds up his screen to her. The Coach website is pulled up on Safari with a picture of a light tan bag that has a dragon on it. Boxed New Year Rogue 25 With Dragon is written above the picture along with the price of $1,090.

“This is the one you want, right?” he confirms. Her eyes widen at the price, “Yes, but I didn’t know it was that expensive. I like it, just not for that price.” He ignores her worries and goes back to typing on his phone. “Look at this one. I’m gonna get it for you too. I think it’s cute,” he tells her, sliding his phone across the table to her. She sees two items in his cart: the dragon purse and the heart bag in regenerative leather. The total amount before tax is $1,490, which is completely outrageous to her. She shakes her head, “You can’t buy these, Rafe. This is way too much.” “Come on, let me get them for you, Angel. You know money is no issue for me,” he pleads, giving her the best puppy eyes he can.

“It’s not an issue for me. What am I going to do with something so luxurious?”

“Look like an absolute queen while you flaunt it around. Show other men that I can provide for you. Hand it over to me while you put your lip gloss on, so you can mark your territory. You deserve this luxury and so many more, Angel.”

“This is really important to you. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, so… what do you say?”

“Fine. You can get them.”

A smirk craves itself onto his face and he puts in his credit card information to finalize the purchase. He shows her the shipping information, “It should be here by next week, Angel.” “Thank you, Rafe. I can’t wait to use them,” she shows her gratitude by giving him a kiss.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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bettsfic · 2 years

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writing cheats

i know i’ve probably written about these all individually but i’m putting them together in one post. these are writing tricks that are extremely cheap and dirty; when you use them it feels like cheating and honestly by posting them i’m probably exposing all the easy moves in my own work, but more than a writer i am a teacher, so here you go, some writing cheats that have never steered me wrong.

quick character creation

what’s really annoying is when you have two characters sitting at a restaurant or something and the server has to come by. to what degree do you describe the server so that it’s clear they’re just a background character but that they’re not just a faceless form, so that the world has texture without taking up too much space on the page? rule of three, babeyyy: two normal things and a weird one.

she had pale skin and blue eyes but her hair was dyed black like a 2010 emo kid.

he was tall and broad, and he wore a sweatshirt with an embroidered teddy bear on it.

the woman stood there comparing the prices of toilet paper. she had a short angled bob and carried a keychain the length of a trout.

why does it work? it gives the reader something to hang onto, a brief observation that shows the world exists around your narrator. it also works when introducing main characters, but there’s so much action going on that you can’t take time to write a rich long paragraph about them. all you need is a little hook.

quick setting creation

i used to TOIL over descriptive paragraphs. for years i was like, description is my weakness, i must become better at developing imagery. i believed this because a famous writer once projected a paragraph i had written onto a screen and asked my cohort, “count how many images are crafted in this paragraph.” there were none. none! my friends were sitting there like, “we are TRYING” but they couldn’t find any.

i would say that after years of studying imagery development at the sentence level, i am, perhaps, competent at it, but what was more helpful was for me to shrug and tell myself, “i’m just not a writer who does that.”

anyway. my cheat is thus:

there’s not much you can assume about your audience. the audience is not a homogenous whole. but your ideal audience is something you can guess at, and that means you can play around with their existing knowledge and expectations.

if you say your characters are in a tacky shit-on-the-walls restaurant, if your ideal reader is an american who went to restaurants during the maximalist era of franchise design, they will conjure their nearest memory of one of those places. and for those readers who aren’t familiar with it, they’ll use other context clues to conjure that space. the point is, you don’t have to list every single stupid license plate nailed to the wall. you can leave it as one detail of one sentence and let your reader extrapolate from there.

if i say the dentist’s office looked like a gutted 90s taco bell, maybe no ideal audience would have ever seen a place like that, but a lot of people can mentally conjure a dentist’s office and a 90s taco bell and overlay them together to create a weird and fun image.

you can go even simpler than that: a bathroom the size of an airplane lavatory. a tiny studio apartment with a hotplate instead of a stove. a mansion with a winding stairwell. the point is that you want to define the size of the space and its general vibes.

in some ways detailed description can be overrated, because your reader conjures images even in absence of them on the page. and for those readers who can’t mentally conjure images, it doesn’t matter anyway; they take you at your word. the trick is to figure out what details are unexpected, relevant to understanding the story and its characters, and those are the things that you add in.

one other note: after working with hundreds of writers on drafting, for *most* of us it’s difficult to develop images and establish setting in a first draft. it’s nearly always something to be saved for a second or later draft. i think it’s because while we’re writing we tend to put character and action first.

nail the landing

there’s a joke i heard once from a writer i really admire: “you know it’s literary fiction if the story ends with a character looking at a body of water.”

and god it’s so painfully sad and true how easy it is to nail the landing of a given story by ending on a totally irrelevant piece of imagery. the final beat of a story followed by your character looking up at the sky and seeing a flock of birds in the shape of a V flying past. or maybe they’re sitting in their car and they count the rings of a nearby church bell. or maybe they watch an elderly couple walk down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. i don’t know!! when in doubt shove an observation, an image, whatever, something neutral at the end and it’ll sound profound.

(this cheat is the only one that can really bite you in the ass because if the image is too irrelevant you risk tonal incongruity. for use only in the most desperate of times.)

sentence fragments

when writers ask me how to punch up their writing or start developing their own style, my go-to advice is to give up the idea of a complete sentence. fuck noun-verb-object. if you have a series of character actions, knock off the sentence subjects like in script action. if the clause at the end of your sentence is particularly meaningful, don’t separate it with a comma but a period and make it its own thing. if your character is going through something particularly stressful or heinous, that bitch is not thinking in complete thoughts so you don’t have to convey them that way. make punctuation bend to your will!!

rhetorical moves

this one opened a lot of doors for me stylistically. remember that famous writer who called me out on my lack of imagery? i always thought his prose was beautiful, that he’s one of the best living prose writers, etc. once i learned more about rhetoric though, i realized he just employed it a lot.

usually when we talk about beautiful sentences it means a sentence that uses rhetorical devices. the greeks were like, you know what, when we give speeches there are certain ways to phrase things that make the audience go nuts. let’s identify what those things are and give them names so we can use them intentionally and convince people of our opinions.

i love shakespeare, i really do, but one of the big reasons he’s still a household name today and his plays are still performed is because every sentence of every goddamn play utilizes a rhetorical device. the audience is hard-wired to vibrate at the sound and cadence of his writing, like finding the spot on a dog that makes their foot thump. for five hundred years, william shakespeare has been scritching that spot for us.

i have no idea why, cognitively, rhetorical devices are so effective. i’m no rhetorician. all i know is that well-deployed anaphora makes a reader want to throw their panties on stage. my intro to rhetorical devices was the wonderful book the elements of eloquence by mark forsyth, a surprisingly fun read! hopefully that will open some doors for you the way it did for me.

the downside to this is that once you know rhetorical devices, it’s like learning how the sausage is made. on one hand, as a writer, you’ll have a lot stronger grasp of style, but as a reader good prose loses some of its magic.

pacing it out

many writers, myself included, rely on the tried and true “he bit the inside of his cheek” or other some such random action to help pace out dialogue. one time my thesis advisor sat me down and said “you’ve got to take all of those out.”

“all of them?” i said.

“all of them,” she said.

i thought, but that will weaken the text! it didn’t. once i cut what i came to call cheek-biter sentences i never went back. and now when i edit for other people i’m like, look i know where you’re coming from but just cut all these out and see how the scene stands. if it doesn’t feel right you can put some back in. a lot of times when you’re drafting you put those in the way some people say “um.” they’re just sentences you jot while you’re thinking of what the other character says, so from a writing perspective it seems like you’re pacing, but readers don’t read it that way. they just want to get to the next line of dialogue.

but sometimes you really do need to pace out a scene and i think there are other ways to do that that don’t rely on banal physical movements, such as:

interiority: a sentence or paragraph of relevant cognition, bonus points if you weave in background context. good interiority defines the voice of your writing.

observations: i know i just said description is overrated but idk sometimes you just need a character to note the back and forth clacking of one of those desk ball toy things.

character texture: maybe your character notes something about the person they’re talking to. a wilted pocket square. a mole that looks like it needs looked at by a dermatologist. a scar on their forehead. some detail that deepens or complicates our understanding of a character.

narratorial consciousness and access

this one is less a cheat and more a problematic opinion i have that doesn’t win me any popularity in writing circles.

i believe that if you’re writing in first person or close third or any narration which is dedicated to the mind of one character, you are only ever obligated to convey the experience of that character’s consciousness. and nothing else.

by that i mean, if your point of view character is unobservant? then they’re not going to even notice the flight attendant is missing one of their canine teeth. if your pov character is focused and obsessive, they’re going to think lavish, detailed paragraphs about that which they’re obsessed with and have no acknowledgement of the rest of the world. if your pov character has no understanding of time, does your story even need to be linear?

defining the scope of a narrator’s cognition early on can give you parameters in which to work. even if you don’t consciously do this, you still do it. if you write in third person limited present tense without really thinking about it, that’s your scope. i’m just pointing out you can choose to do it differently. you get to define your narrator.

whenever we talk about narration we also talk about information access and the order of information being revealed/conveyed. writing must always be in order; even if you’re writing multiple concurring things, it still has to be rendered on the page in order one after the next, because the human mind can’t read two sentences over top of one another.

if we’re restricted to the mind of a character, that means we’re also restricted by their knowledge and experiences, and this can be used to your benefit. i don’t want to take too much space for this but i do talk more about the relationship between narration and reality here.

in short, you the writer get to choose

what the reader knows,

in what order they know it, and

its relationship to the presumed real events of the story, which develops the (un)reliability of your narrator

okay going to cut this off now before i go on more rants about narrative scope. i hope you found this helpful and go on to put some of these nasty lifehacks in your own writing!!

#writing advice

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adnauseum11 · 2 months

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Permanent Change of Station (John Price x Reader)

You goad John and make a revelation.

2.6k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

Feedback Welcome!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, master list is pinned to my blog.

‘John! Slow down, you absolute muppet.”

You are practically panting, tugging hard on his hand after having to trot alongside his long strides for most of the way home. He finally seems to hear you and his next step is shortened, scaling back to a speed that allows you to pull even with him.

“Sorry, love.” He acknowledges, his tone still brusque.

“Are you alright?”

Now that you can catch your breath a bit, you’re concerned, John’s dragging you down the street out of character. You march beside him for a moment and he seems to chew your question over before giving the most unbelievable answer possible when you arrive at the front door.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You sigh, watching him fiddle with his keys. As you wait beside him you take in his body language, your slowly sobering brain working overtime on the puzzle that is John Price. The tension hasn’t left his body and his shoulders are tight. The set of his jaw is stern, his expression pinched. You wonder at his full-bodied reaction to some mindless drunk idiot, unsure if the change in his normal demeanour is your relatively new relationship status or something else. You decide to push the boundaries you used to stick to, instead of backing off.

“John, you dragged me two blocks. What’s going on?” You follow him into the front hallway, shrugging out of your coat.

“Not a fan of his hands on you, is all.”

John answers, half turned away from you, the lines of his body still stiff with unspent energy. He’s hanging up the coats while you step out of your boots, watching him for clues.

“Jealous? Of that guy?”

You can’t help the incredulity in your tone and are rewarded with a sharp look from John.

“Not jealous. Concerned for your safety.”

He answers, facing you again. You are reminded of the size difference between you, and how much restraint John usually shows when he puts his hands on you.

“My safety?”

John stays silent but his eyes are locked on you, the intensity not having left his face in the slightest. Your half-sober brain finally puts the pieces together, catching up with your mouth. John’s primed for a fight that isn’t coming, his body wound tight to react to a threat no longer there. Oh.

“Are you sure, John?”

“Your safety is my business, especially now.” He’s still terse, his hands going to his hips as he stares you down, not enjoying the implications of being considered jealous over some pissant.

You can’t tell if it’s the beer still running through your veins or some inner swell of confidence but you sashay away from John, plucking the buttons of your work shirt open as you go. You’ve already decided the best course of action, whether he realizes it or not.

“I’m safe, John. Are you going to be able to let it go, now?”

He’s watching your hands, following you down the hallway without any conscious thought.

“Sure.”

He answers with one word, not convincing you at all. His back is still straight and the tension is still visible in his body, even at a few steps from him as you are now.

You look at him with a raised brow before dropping your shirt into the hamper. John watches you wiggle out of your work pants, standing in your underwear giving him a disbelieving look. He stands arms akimbo, focus intent, sucking up all the air in the room.

“Not very believable, handsome. Want to know what I think?”

You pick your way over to him, your heart thrumming against your breastbone. You’ve poked at John before, but he’s usually in a better head space to take your prodding. You hope you aren’t biting off more than you can chew, his mood not so forgiving now.

“Hmm?”

“I think you need to burn off this energy.”

“You complained at having to walk fast, darling.”

John’s tone is sardonic and dismissive, but his eyes don’t leave you. You can feel the hairs raise on your body, anticipation spiralling through you.

“Not like that, I think you need to fuck me.”

“What?”

John’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth. His eyes darken though, a nod to the desire simmering between you all night that even he can’t will away.

“You heard me.” You step into his space, your fingers walking up his stomach to follow the curve of his ribs. You grab two fistfuls of his shirt over his pecs, tugging him down so you can speak directly into his ear. “C’mon John, fuck me.”

It’s as if you have flipped a switch in the man, his hands wrapping around your biceps tightly, stepping into you and directing your body backwards into the wall with a thump. His hands lack the tenderness they normally have, now grasping and greedy, squeezing the softness of your curves as he pins you in place.

“You make me fucking crazy; you know that?”

John’s breath is hot at the base of your neck, making your belly swoop with lust. His gravelly voice is low, sending shivers down to the base of your spine as it washes over you, your fingers spreading over his belly. You’re trying to get your fingers under his shirt when John yanks it up between his shoulder blades, throwing it. You only get a moment to press your palms against the wiry hair of his warm belly before he’s jerking you around, making you face the wall.

His palms pin your shoulders firmly, the unspoken message clear, don’t move. You make a small questioning sound before you can feel the whiskers of his face and his hot mouth on the base of your neck. His hands stroke down to your bra, undoing it to make way for his mouth, working down the vertebra of your spine. You can feel him kneeling, his knees on either side of your feet and his hands tugging your thong down, his whiskers and mouth in the small of your back. Your thighs clench together of their own volition, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps at his touch. His teeth closing on the globe of your ass makes you gasp and twist, a hand landing in his hair. A dark chuckle and he grips your wrist, removing your hand as he stands, spinning you around to face him again.

Before you can say a single thing, he’s got your face between his palms, claiming your mouth with his lips and tongue, shutting any higher brain function down. Your hands wrap around his forearms, steadying yourself against his crowding body. He’s moving you again, your legs wobbly from the rush of desire coursing through you. John follows your stumbling steps, steering you into the bathroom as he devours your mouth, drinking in the small needy sounds you can’t help making. You’re panting when he breaks away, his hands bold on your body, twisting you around again, this time to face the mirror.

You can see your own kiss swollen lips, cheeks and chest flushed, nipples tight in the reflection. John’s face is dark with intent, one hand curling over your belly to cup your slit, his fingers sliding over your slick curls, his other landing on your back, forcing your forward. The pressure of his fingers coupled with his insistent pushing has the air leaving your lungs in a moan, and your hands scrambling for purchase on the sink counter. The little bottles of face cream and serum you had lined up scatter as you awkwardly brace yourself, John snugging his still clothed erection against the curve of your ass.

“You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you. You’re going to watch.”

John is hunched over you, speaking lowly into your ear, making your thighs clamp around his hand. Your face is inches from the mirror in this position, bent over the counter, and you watch your own pupils dilate as John slides a finger into you up to his knuckle, sending you onto your toes.

“Oh god –“

Your next words die on your lips, replaced with a throaty moan. John’s finger is rocking into you as he frees his twitching cock, the blue of his eyes a faint ring around his blown pupils. He presses the hot length of himself against your ass, trapping his hand between your thighs and the counter. The muscles of his arm dance as he works you over, adding a finger as he glides through your slick walls. The moment you find some purchase to grind against him he eases off, sliding his hand from your body to your frustrated whimper. You can see the tell-tale flush of his arousal working down his throat in his reflection, his eyes tracking your body’s movements in the mirror.

“Hold still.”

He orders darkly, and you obey, watching as he focuses on tracing your soaked slit with the flushed tip, making you gasp and bite your lip, your gaze meeting with his in the reflection. His hot eyes bore into yours as he presses into you, the stretch making your eyes widen and a whine build in your throat. The intensity in his eyes as he buries himself in you steals all thought, making you mindlessly arch your back and press back against him as best you can. He only gives you a moment to process before he starts moving, the weight of his thrusts driving your thighs into the counter. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow but your focus is completely on the drive of John’s blunt cock, filling you over and over again, his hands gripping your hips.

He sets a steady pace, his heavy thrusts forcing you to slap a palm against the mirror to keep your face from crashing into it. It gives you some purchase to push back against him, making him growl lowly, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

“You like that, hmm? You take me so well, darling, you feel so good wrapped around me.”

John’s rambling, his low voice more of a rumble in his chest, his palm insistent on your back again. The drag of his cock through your wetness, paired with the sinuous movement of his body in the mirror and his velvet voice is making you feel drunk again, caught spinning between sensations. You can hardly string together a reply, your words slurred as you fight to keep yourself from colliding with the mirror.

“Yes, John, just like that, fuck –“

You break off, John’s insistent fingers on your hips tugging you back to meet his thrusts. He bottoms out making you both moan, your body clenching around him. You can feel your slick arousal leaking, coating John’s hot flesh as his thrusts pick up speed. Your hair brushes the mirror as you lose your focus to John’s insistent cock, and then he’s threading his fingers through it, tugging your head back, the pull a counterpoint to his thrusts.

The moans he’s pulling from you are only raising in pitch, bouncing in the bathroom’s acoustics as you get caught between sensations. Each jolting thrust tugs your hair by the root, sending wave after wave of tingles through your scalp and back down your spine to your pussy. You whine as your muscles involuntarily clamp down on him, an answering guttural groan torn from his chest at the pressure.

“Oh shit, that’s so good, don’t stop.”

You manage to pant out, your voice needy and your eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, inches from your own face in the mirror. Your inner muscles are starting to flutter, a tell-tale sign of your impending orgasm. John doesn’t break his rhythm or let go of your hair, slapping your ass, the sting bringing you onto your toes. Your body bears down on him in surprise, making you push back on the mirror and John hisses, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Fucking hell, look at me.”

John orders, his voice dark and his face intense. You drag your gaze from his flexing body to his eyes, suddenly feeling like you are being swallowed whole. Goosebumps break out, unable to look away as John’s thrusts turn slightly frantic, the wet sounds of your flesh meeting getting louder and more insistent. His grip on your hair brings you back onto your toes, your back arched and hips canted. Your hands on the mirror leave smudges as they slip, your body coiling taut and fighting for release.

“I want to watch you cum around me”

His voice wraps around you, pouring into your ear and going straight to your pussy. He smacks your ass again roughly, and you jerk, your head bobbing and your hair tugging in his grip. He doesn’t relent, staring you down as he bucks into your body, his eyes two dark pools of desire, sucking you in.

“Cum for me, love.”

The authoritative snap of his command does something to your insides and your eyes widen as your orgasm slams into you suddenly, making your fingers curl against the glass of the mirror. John thrusts deep, releasing your hair to grip your hips tightly as you shudder, clenching around him as you cum with a rattling cry, your body tensing below his. He rides out your pulsing orgasm for a few heartbeats, watching your eyes finally flutter closed before he pulls out, making you whine. He strokes himself tightly until he spills thick ropes of cum on your lower back, hissed curses drifting over your slumped shoulders. There’s nothing but panting moans and the weight of John sagging against you, the world narrowed to the two of you as you struggle to catch your breath.

It takes John a moment to gather himself, your own legs feeling shaky as you lean your weight on the sink counter. He lifts and you feel him stroking a cloth over your back a moment later, cleaning you up.

“You alright, love?” His palm slowly smooths up your spine, squeezing the base of your neck.

You hum an affirmative and John’s hands wrap around your arms, pulling you upright again and turning you to face him. The fiery intensity in his eyes is gone, replaced with warmth as he searches your face for a moment. Satisfied with whatever he sees he kisses you, wrapping you in his arms when you sway slightly, still unsteady.

“Will you shower with me?”

You ask, and it’s John’s turn to hum an affirmative, wrangling you close enough to turn the water on. You press your cheek into his chest, leaning into his solid body as the steam starts to accumulate in the room. You try to swallow the emotion suddenly clawing up your throat but John sees your face as he disentangles from you so you can get into the shower.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s following you in, letting you stand under the water while he frowns down at you. You try to shake your head and dismiss it but he’s not having it, cupping your face to make you look at him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Darling-“

You realize he’s not going to let it go after a moment and bite your lip, gripping his wrists tightly, wishing you were a better liar. This is not how you pictured having this conversation. There doesn’t seem to be any way to escape this without making it a bigger issue though.

“John – I’m… I think I’m in love with you.”

He’s breathing your name, a smile stretching across his lips, genuine delight taking years off his face.

“You know I’m in love with you too, darling. I’d do anything for you.”

You can feel his smile against yours when he kisses you repeatedly, and can feel the satisfaction in his touch when he derails the shower in short order, unable to keep his hands to himself.

Next Chapter

Ao3

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @itr-00 @batw3nch @writeforfandoms @chloepluto1306

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers #john price x f!reader #john price smut #captain price #this work has smut #falling in love #john price x you

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mochiwrites · 16 days

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Taking a quick glance at the time, Grian checks over their apartment once more. The banner and streamers have all been put up in the kitchen, the cake is neatly presented on the table, Jellie is in her cat tree like the princess she is. Perfect. Grian nods to himself with a satisfied smile before heading over to the couch and sitting down. He’s been going crazy all morning trying to prepare something for Scar’s birthday, sending the man out on pointless errands just to take up his time.

Honestly, Grian is quite proud of himself that he managed to get this all set up on his own and without any accidents.

His boyfriend only deserves the best, after all. And Grian is willing to do whatever he can to provide just that, come hell or high water.

The doorknob jiggles a few seconds later, before the door itself opens. “Grian! I’m home!” Right on time.

Grian tries to look as casual as he can on the couch as Scar comes in, four bags in his hands. He shoots the man a smile, “Hey! How’d it go?”

“I think I found everything on the list you gave me,” Scar hums, glancing down at the bags. He walks into the kitchen, too focused on the bags to notice the banner and streamers. “I got the cat food for Jellie, a nice jar of golden carrots — which before you say anything I bartered for a lower price.”

Grian can hear the smugness in Scar’s voice, making him chuckle, “Only you, Scar. Only you.”

“That’s a compliment, thank you!” Scar sets the bags down on the table, and Grian waits with excited anticipation for him to notice the cake. “The only thing I wasn’t able to find was the imagineer cat plush? Honestly G I didn’t even know where to—”

His voice suddenly stops, and Grian takes that as his cue to join Scar in the kitchen. He finds the other staring at the cake on the table, along with the very plush he had just been talking about. Grian wears a large grin on his face as he comes over, patting the plush’s head, “Don’t worry about that one. I managed to find it.”

Scar’s head snaps to him, green eyes carrying shock and disbelief, “G?”

Grian walks over to him, moving to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “I know it’s not much but… I wanted to do something for your birthday. Even if it’s a few days late because someone didn’t think to tell me.” He playfully pinches the back of Scar’s neck.

“Oh,” Scar answers, still looking shocked. He sets his hands on Grian’s waist as his eyes trail over to the cake and cat plush on the table. “Oh Grian,” he mumbles, in awe. “This is amayzin’!”

His words pull a laugh from Grian, all light and fond. “It better be, I spent all morning getting everything set up,” he teases.

Scar turns his bright, excited eyes to Grian before leaning in to press their lips together. “I love it. Thank you.”

Grian smiles in return, chest warm with pride at the happiness in Scar’s expression. “You’re welcome. Now c’mon, this cake isn’t gonna eat itself!” He reaches for Scar’s hand, tugging on it as he leads him over to the plate he’s set out.

Happy to be tugged along, Scar follows his boyfriend the few steps it takes them to the cake. It’s decorated with orange icing, the words Happy Birthday Scar! written in cyan icing. The little cat plush Grian had mentioned sits next to it, wearing a vest and a hard hat, a rolled up paper attached to its paw. Scar picks it up, looking at it with adoration. He takes in the decorations around, the orange streamers and green banner with a birthday message on it.

If Scar had known this is what was going to be awaiting him when he told Grian his birthday, he would’ve caved much sooner.

He watches as Grian grabs two plates, forks, and a knife to cut the cake from the drawer and cabinet, mouth moving as he speaks. Scar doesn’t quite catch what he’s saying, too stuck in his own thoughts.

Void, he loves this man more than anything in the world. Grian went through all this effort for him, even if his birthday has passed. But he did it because he thought Scar was worth celebrating.

It’s a passing thought, but Scar wishes his parents could have met Grian. He wishes they could be here right now, celebrating his birthday again. It would only be right, considering the last time Scar did any sort of celebration was before his server went to hell.

Seeing all of the effort Grian put into this solidifies something for Scar. He survived. It’s not just some dream. He’s not sure why it’s hitting him now, as he stares at a cake with the word ‘birthday’ written on it in icing that was clearly done by Grian. But he’s forced to realize that he really made it through his corrupted world, he’s survived.

It feels like a hard pill to swallow.

“Alright, birthday boy, why don’t you do th— Scar?” Grian had been holding the knife out to the other, but when he sees the wet sheen to Scar’s eyes, he sets it down on the table. With a soft noise, he reaches out, grabbing Scar’s arms gently, “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s not the cake, is it? Or the streamers? I tried not to get anything that was super flashy.”

Scar laughs wetly, furiously shaking his head as he looks at Grian through his tears. “N-No, it’s perfect love. Everything is perfect.”

“But?” Grian gently probes, reaching up to wipe one of the tears that fall down Scar’s cheek. Scar leans into the touch easily.

“I wish they were here too,” Scar quietly admits, and Grian doesn’t need to ask to know who ‘they’ are. More tears roll down Scar’s face, causing Grian to tug him down into his arms. Scar buries his head into Grian’s neck, feeling the other wrap an arm around him, fingers carding through his hair. Scar clutches him tightly, “The last… last time I ever celebrated was with them.”

Grian quietly shushes him, holding him tight. His neck feels wet, but he doesn’t dare pull away.

“Sorry G,” Scar mumbles. “You did all this hard work and here I am crying over it,” he weakly laughs, “I just… never thought I’d do anything like this a-again.”

“Don’t apologize you silly man,” Grian huffs at him, continuing to run his fingers through Scar’s fluffy hair. “It’s only natural, given what you went through. As long as you don’t get your cake wet, cry away.”

Scar laughs again, tugging Grian tighter against him. “I’d hate to eat soggy cake.”

“No one wants a soggy cake.” Grian nods his agreement, laying his head against Scar’s. “Now go on, cry it all out. I’ll… be right here. To hold you and stuff.” He sounds a little awkward as he says it, but words have never been his thing. The fact that he even says something for Scar means the world and more. “If you need extra incentive I’ve got your favorite movies lined up for us to watch too.”

Void, Scar loves this man.

And somewhere, he hopes his parents love him too.

#mochi speaks #mochi writes #secret husbands au #scarian #hermitshipping #I have so many drabbles to write for these guys #they’re in my BRAIN #INFECTED!!!!!!

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ghouljams · 10 months

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Ghost and Goose are autism4adhd and I think that’s beautiful. I don’t need to explain myself on this. I’m just gonna write out some small moments of them caring for each other's needs, plus Ghost being Murphy’s least favorite customer.

You hold out a pair of earplugs for Simon as he walks past you, feeling his fingers close over them quickly. He twists them into his ears as he goes to help Soap set up the arsenal of fireworks he bought. When he comes back to you he settles a hand on your lower back, appreciative. He doesn’t have to say anything.

You snap at Gaz when he tries to ask you about horse tack and Simon looks at you like his ears are burning. He makes a soft motion with his hands, waving them back and forth. You shake out your whole body to try and get yourself back to equilibrium. When that doesn’t work he comes over and roughs up your hair until you’re laughing and pushing at his hands.

You and Soap have been chattering in overlapping voices about almost nothing for the last hour. Simon’s leg bounces rapidly as he sits next to you trying to focus on the game. He stands and leaves without a word, you smack a hand over Soap’s mouth when he tries to call him out on it.

Simon grabs Soap by the back of the neck and hauls him out of the kitchen before you even notice he’s there. Your brain laser focused on the budget sheets laid out across the table.

“You’re a cruel man starvin’ me like this,” Soap complains.

“You just had lunch,” Simon tells him shortly, “Let Goose work.”

You hand Simon your monthly list and make sure he knows your prices are non-negotiable. Murphy swears as soon as he cozies up to the counter. Simon sets the list down, slides it towards the old man with his fingers.

“What do you want first?” Murphy eyes him, eyes the list.

“Corn feed.”

“50 a bag.”

“15.” Simon tells him smoothly, Murphy sputters.

“15? 15!? You’re out of your spectral mind if you think I’m going as low as-”

“15.” Simon repeats.

“Now 40! I could maybe do 40,” Murphy tries, “40 would be reasonable!” Simon stares at him.

“15.” He says firmly.

“If you were asking for 25 I would consider us friends! 15! You’re trying to put me out of business!” Murphy presses his hand to his heart, “Have you no sympathy? I’m an old man, just trying to make an honest living before I pass on.”

“I’d put you in your late 60s, hardly old,” Simon tells him, “15.”

“If you think-”

“15.”

“If Goose thinks!”

“It’s 15.”

“Alright it’s 15,” Murphy sighs, jotting down the fair price on his notepad. “You know you really take the fun out of this.”

“I get that a lot.”

#cowboy!Ghost #oc: Goose #oc: Murphy #Cowboy!Soap #I love them your honor #I've been back and forth on posting this #I know people have their own head canons on the COD boys #but I think Ghost is autistic #I'm not gonna fight anyone on it but I'm right #he gets overstimulated and he just leaves the room #goes and smokes or just sits in the barn with the horses #until Goose comes to find him

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a-couple-of-bees · 1 year

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(MAJOR NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE SPOILERS)

Hello!! To those who have watched the show already, I hope you understand when I say The Lords in Black's song has been stuck in my head since… but I’m desperately trying to work out the lyrics.

(Edit; me and another fan have figured out what I was missing! These may not be 100% but here are the completed lyrics)

So far I have:

Out of the depths of hell and back, us spawn of the black and white

Cover our souls with robes of black and take up the arms of night.

Nibbly wants his sacrifice, and Wiggly wants his wrath

We dance around the pentagram and take all our kingdoms back.

Babble the spell that gets it done, babble it on command

Won’t stop until all the blood is drawn, the lords in Black demand…

You summon us once, you summon us twice, you gamble it on the roll of the dice.

The devil has won, It can’t be undone, the book has all but closed on your life.

(BLINKY: We’ve been watching you Gracie…Someone’s been a little naughty

TINKY: (laughter) Oh boy! A Spankoffski! I can have the whole set in my toybox.

NIBBLY: Stephanie yum yum.

STEPHANIE: Are you the Lords in Black?)

Out of the depths of hell and back, we travel very far

Cover our souls with robes of black , the lords in black we are.

(WIGGLY: Don’t be so formal Stephanie, we’re all pally wals here. I mean look at us, we even hold court in your own tongue and form. Go Nighthawks!

All Laugh

POKEY: Our true forms would melt your minds

WIGGLY: Don’t frighten them Pokey, you nasty boy.

STEPHANIE: We need to stop Max Jagerman. We heard you can help us)

The lords in black will help you yes, you stupid silly girl.

By helping rid the Jagerman, we can help the world.

(WIGGLE: Hm We could, we could take home little Maxy and pull him right down to Drowsytown.

NIBBLY: Swallow his soul, I wanna lick it.

WIGGLY: But why? Maxy poo’s about to get you, tear you all to bloody bits!

BLINKY: I wanna see that.

STEPHANIE: How about a bargain? We’ll give you whatever you want. Just get rid of Jagerman.)

WIGGLY: Whatever we want?!)

Whatever we want, we want, we want,

Whatever we want we get.

Whatever you want, you want, you want, forever in our debt

(WIGGLY: Hm, what could you give to me? Let me check my Christmas list. (gasps) there is something.

STEPHANIE: What? What do you want from us?

TINKY: Something fun!

NIBBLY: Something tasty.

WIGGLY: Oh, you’ll hardly miss it. We just want what you cherish most. That’s all

STEPHANIE: What we cherish most? What do you mean?

POKEY: What do you want, Steph…?

WIGGLY: One of you must give up the thing you treasure above all else.

POKEY: Do it or die!

STEPHANIE: What I treasure above all else? I know what it is! My phone! My whole life’s on this thing! It has my contacts, my pictures-)

WE DO NOT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR PHONE

(WIGGLY: We want what you really want…you can��t lie to us Steph. You can lie to yourself but not to me. Think about it…

(Steph looks to Peter)

WIGGLY: Ah, there he is

PETER: Steph?

STEPHANIE: No! No!

WIGGLY: What’s in your pocket Steph-O-nie?)

Stephanie has got a gun, tra la la la, how fun

Stephanie has got a gun, she knows what must be done.

(WIGGLY: Put a bullet in his brain and we’ll take Maxwell off your plate.

STEPHANIE: I can’t!

WIGGLY: Pay the price or fuck off

Out of the depths of hell and back, us spawn of the black and white

Cover our souls with robes of black and take up the arms of night.

You summon us once, you summon us twice, you gamble it on the roll of the dice.

The devil has won, It can’t be undone, the book has all but closed on your life.

#nerdy prudes must die #nerdy prudes must livestream #starkid #hatchetfeild #the lords in black #npmd spoilers

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 7 months

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Kinktober day 3: Naga: Leviathan (slight pred/prey, handjob) ((continuation of this!)

You hadn’t returned back to the town after your ‘successful’ hunt. You didn’t even bother trying to claim the reward, you didn’t have a body so it would be hard to anyway. It had only been maybe a few months to a year since then and you moved on to ‘hunt’ in a different region.

You didn’t want to run the risk of running into Leviathan, even if he seemed timid you didn’t want to slip up and let your guard down only to be gutted by him. Naga are strong and realistically, he’d probably bite you and then suffocate you or just…let you succor to the venom.

The amount of naga you’ve hunted since then have gone down and you have gotten to the point of debating if you wished to quit. You enjoyed the conversation and ‘company’ Levi had given you so it did sort of spur your thoughts…

Your ‘helper’ had said there was a pretty naga, not best in size but its scales would catch a high enough price that you wouldn’t have to do this again. You had him help you dig up a trap and place it, though once you had it set up you dismissed him and secured the vines.

You could feel something watching you, so you quickly hop up and climb up the nearest tree. Flashes of purple scales slip through the grounds below you before a familiar looking face comes into your view. “(M/c?)” He asked quietly, looking up and spotting you quickly. “Ah-there you are!”

He’s careful to avoid the trap, he curls around the base of the tree. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, I’m surprised to see you here. What are you-“ You almost fall back as he suddenly springs up and levels with you, his tail curled around a few branches to support him as he makes his way to seat himself beside you. “I…didn’t know naga could climb trees.”

He laughed in response, to your relief he didn’t seem interested in hurting you…he definitely remembers you though, you feel his tail secure itself around you, holding you against the base of the tree. His grip was gentle and just enough to prevent you from falling.

“Y-yeah, it’s pretty common to learn it while young. H-how have you been? D…do you remember me?” You nod and a see a look of relief spread across his face. “I was w-worried you’d forgotten me. D-do you mind…if I stay with you for a bit?”

You sit up, with a nod you feel his tail loosing around you. “You seem…clingy. Oh, do you perhaps want to continue where we ‘left off’?” You see him excitedly nod. You lean forwards and feel him double over to meet you. You were surprised to have him press his face against you in an attempted kiss.

You reach down, feeling just below his stomach. Once you feel the slit you gently press against it, rubbing gently until his cocks spilled out. You take one in each hand, earning a hiss from Levi. “H-hold on maybe we wait till-till we are out of the tree?”

You feel him trying to loosen his tail around you, only for you to release his cocks and earn a weak whine. “Well, we are safe here, right? You won’t drop me, will you?” Levi paused and quickly nodded. His tail held you carefully once again.

“Y-yes! I will p-protect you!” You laughed at his response but don’t press. You lean down enough to blow on his bigger cock. To your amusement it jumps in response and he mewls. “A-ahh, wait how do I-what do humans like? W-what do I do to make it up to y-you?”

With a click of your tongue you shrug and tell him not to worry about it. “It’s fine, I never helped you finish the first time, let’s make this my ‘sorry’, ok?” He purrs in response, excitedly bowing his head to try to give you another kiss.

Tagging list: @anxious-chick

#obey me #leviathan #levi x reader #leviathan x reader #kinktober #kinktober 23 #naga! leviathan #naga

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seraphimcollections · 9 months

Text

gentle giant | Konig x medic!reader |

chapter 5

warnings: abduction, non-consenual drugging, language.

summary: little bird is trapped in the cat's jaws with only one way out - into the belly of the beast.

w/c: 2.1

a/n: hello again! I'm really looking forward to this chapter and the next! I wanted to be a little extra care in this chapter. I'll be putting together a master list to pin to my page if that'll be easier. Oh! Do me a solid and reblog if you like this series! Final part coming soon! Thank you!

chapters: | ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 |

The air had changed. With the news of your clear abduction quickly spreading across the base, the reality of both the 141 and KorTac’s failure weighed heavy on each of their shoulders. Soap’s playful demeanor was reduced to silence. Gaz didn’t know what else to do with himself besides try to keep himself busy cleaning his weapons multiple times consecutively. Price holed himself in his office, chain smoking countless of his precious cigars. No one knew where Simon was, but some say they could hear firing out in the yard at odd hours of the night. As for Kӧnig, he hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t stepped foot out of your office. In the beginning, he couldn’t help his rage, taking it out on his surroundings -- the bookshelves, the files, anything. Quickly, the guilt settled in and he just as quickly began to try to put your office back to how he remembered it was.

Konig sat in his same chair, staring at the emptiness in yours’. He sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together and clenched. He stared into that empty space, the rage still bubbling in his chest. Slowly, the rage began to bleed into anxiety and fear. You’ve been missing for two days. You could be anywhere, a different country, a completely other continent. Anywhere. Konig’s hands became fists in his lap. Millions of questions swirled in his head. Were you hurt? Were you even alive? Who took you, and what did they want with you? And as if the universe heard him, the bearer of answers stopped in the doorframe, not quite daring to enter, just as Konig had done many times.

Konig’s cyan eyes caught on his stature, the 141’s loyal captain. From sight alone, Konig could see John was having as difficult a time as him, maybe even more so. In his hands held a bottle of whiskey along with two glasses in the other.

“Mind some company?” John said gruffly.

Konig sat up a little straighter and shook his head. John sighed, placing the glasses on the desk. He sat on the creaking wood, as if confirming they both knew that the other chair belonged only to you. Handing Konig a glass before taking his own, John took a slow sip. Konig carefully moved the glass under his hood, his lips coming to press against the lukewarm glass.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you,” John finally broke the silence, “but neither have you, Colonel.”

Konig nearly choked from hearing his formal title. John chuckled, setting his glass down.

“I-I don’t like to mention my title, it makes people act on false intentions,” Konig explained.

John waved dismissively, “now need to explain it to me, soldier. We all learn to play our cards close to our chests. Just in this case, I lost more than I looked to gain in the first place.”

Konig looked at the older man in confusion, “what do you mean, Captain?”

John’s eyes glazed over, “I never told you why we were here, did I?”

“No, but I figured you were all on the run,” Konig said. “And that it had something to do with Maus.”

John’s eyes lit up hearing Konig’s name for you as he took another sip.

“Wren, she saw something she was never supposed to see,” John frowned. “Something that goes all the way up to the top. Something that lacks all honor that those sods tried their damn best to bury it. But Wren found it, and it dug it all back for them. And so they planned to do what they always do-”

“They’re going to kill her,” Konig said, dread sinking into every ounce of his being.

John frowned before finally nodding., “but your comrades seem to think they’ve fulfilled their end of the bargain. They left, off to the next highest payer. You’re the only one who stayed. Which is why I came to you.”

The two men could ignite wildfires with the heat of their gazes toward each other.

“Are you with us on this? Will you help us get our bird back?” John said with all seriousness.

Konig’s eyes narrowed, “you have me, Captain.”

John nodded, standing on his two feet, “good, we move out at dawn. Get ready.”

“I’m always ready, Captain.”

“I will see you soon, kleine maus.”

↭

The ringing in your ears refused to cease. Your eyelids feel heavy, most likely swollen. Your entire body ached, your wrists and ankles bound tightly together, the zipties digging into your open skin. You laid on your side, your head limply laying on what felt like leather. You tried your best to tune your ears to what was around you. You wiggled trying to find something that could tell you where you were. Your throat felt so dry that even if you tried to speak you worried it would crack and bleed. You groaned, forcing your eyes to open to blinding sunlight. You were in a car, that much made sense. You laid on the back seat, the leather seats sticking to your clammy skin.

You squint your eyes to see the dusty blonde head of hair over the driver’s seat. You blinked in confusion, trying to piece together how you got here in the back seat of this mystery car driven by a complete stranger. Your memory came back to you like an unwelcome friend. You remember the struggle, the bruise you were sure going to get from being thrown back onto the desk. The sickly sweet smell of whatever chemical your abductor used to put you under. The back of Konig’s head as he left to see what Price wanted.

Rage burst into you heart as you tried your best to pull against your restraints, only to find yourself weak.

“It’s useless,” the man you thought you knew as Richards said in an annoying sing-song voice. “The drug won’t wear off for another few hours. Don’t waste what little energy you have, sweetheart.”

You glared up at the rear view mirror, finding the man’s eyes peering back at you with amusement.

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” You growl.

“We’re going back to my place,” he smiled as if saying this to his date, “then you’re going to tell me everything you know, and then, I’ll kill you.”

You felt your blood run cold at his words. Your eyes narrowed.

“Shepherd sent you.”

“Ah! There’s that sharp cunningness Shepherd told me all about!”

You glared at the man with a stare of thousand daggers. This gaze did little to faze your abductor as his smile never left his smug face.

“Why not just kill me? Save yourself the trouble,” you said.

“Ah, where would the fun be in that!” The man said, sounding like he was going on a day out at a theme park and not like a man who was your executioner.

“No, I intend on taking my time with you,” he said, his gaze connecting with your own, letting you see the true darkness in his eyes.

You fell silent, instead trying to look outside to try to get a clue on where you were, or how far you could be from base. From Konig. You could feel your stomach drop as the tall Austrian popped into your mind. Did he know you were gone? Was he even looking for you? In the end, he was part of KorTac, a company not renowned for loyalty to one agency. But…Konig was different. He was caring, empathetic and kind. If the two of you had enough time, you could find out why such a quiet soul could be in such a messy business. But then again, so were you.

“You won’t get far,” you said with a huff. “You have no idea who’s coming for you.”

“Correction: I know exactly who's coming for me, little bird,” Richards said. “And I’m counting on it.”

You brow furrowed at his words, making him snicker, “you really think Shephard would just let their insubordination go? Come on, you can’t be that naive!”

“Shut up-”

“You know, I should really thank you, not only do I get to take out the 141, but now KorTac’s finest? Ugh, it’s like Christmas morning,” Richards sighed.

You lurch forward in a rage, “you leave Konig out of this!”

“Oh, like you did?” Richards cocked a brow. “If my memory serves me right, it was because of you that KorTac even got dragged into this mess. And it will be because of you that your beloved Konig will die.”

You felt your chest begin to tighten in panic as the thought of everyone you ever loved, ever cared about being reduced to nothing but cold flesh all in your name. You begin to struggle against your restraints, pulling at them wildly.

“Ah, doctor?” Richards said.

You look up at the man and in a split second you catch the small almost travel size bottle in his large hand before Richard squeezed the little trigger. You recoiled back but to no avail, the mysterious potion infiltrated and coating your throat. You cough violently, your vision beginning to swim.

“Trust me, it would be best if you sit this part out. Easier for both of us,” Richard smirked. “Sweet dreams, little bird.”

You fell onto you back with a groan, eyes rolling back up to the roof of the car. You fought to keep your eyes open but only to be swallowed back into the darkness.

↭

73.

73 hours since you’ve been abducted. As each hour passed, your trail got colder and Konig became more restless. This was clear with his foul attitude that no one could dare miss. What was left of the men on the base sat around a makeshift table with schematics scattered across it. Konig stood hunched over, his palms supporting his weight on the table. Price stood at the head of the table, Ghost to his right, Gaz to his left. Soap had tried his best to try to keep Konig cool so he stayed a safe but supportive distance close to Konig.

“What you know is that Shephard all but lost most of his clean contacts to DC, so there’s a good chance he won’t be able to smuggle her into the States,” Gaz said with arms crossed.

“That doesn’t completely squash the possibility,” said Ghost.

“But would he even go through the trouble? I mean if he’s already got what he wants. Why drag it out?” Gaz said.

“You’re right, if he was smart, she’s long dead,” Ghost said matter of factly.

The wood of the table creaked under Konig’s fist at the mention of the idea. Soap leaned over.

“That’s not going to happen, because we’re gonna get to the fucker first,” Soap said.

Price agreed, “Soap is right. If there’s one thing I know about that snake is that he likes to play with his food. He won’t just kill her quickly.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Konig said, finally standing to his full height, effectively dwarfing the rest of the men. “There must be some sort of lead of where she could have been taken.”

“He’ll want to take care of this quietly and under the radar,” Gaz said.

“Slimy bastard won’t even come to do it himself most likely,” Ghost scoffed. “Won’t want to get his hands dirty, ‘why he sent that fucker.”

“And we know he’s petty-”

“That much is clear,” Soap rolled his eyes. “The bellhead chased across half of fucking Europe.”

“So he’ll take her to a place that holds some kind of memory, maybe?” Gaz shrugged.

Price’s eyes shot wide with realization, “Las Almas.”

These words caught 141's attention.

“Would he really be that obvious?” Soap said.

“Or stupid,” Ghost chimed in.

“But that’s exactly wants,” Price said, “he’ll want to take this back to ground zero: Las Almas.”

“What’s in Las Almas?” Konig asked.

“It’s where we first found out how dirty Shepherd liked to play,” Soap grunted. “Evidently he slipped out of our hands, until Wren found data suggesting his whereabouts and what’s been keeping the sorry fucker busy. Guess he didn’t want anyone poking around in his business again.”

“And you think he’s taken Maus there?” Konig said.

“It’s our only lead,” Price sighed, hands gripping his vest.

Konig sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly before nodding his head, “then we shall go.”

“And luckily for us, we have friends on the other side,” Ghost smirked underneath his mask.

“Los Fuerzas Especiales,” Soap smirked looking up at Konig, “Mexican Special Forces. They owe us a bit of a favor.”

Konig looked back to Price who almost looked at him as if to give him the word. Konig stoney gaze didn’t waver.

“No more waiting. We leave tonight.”

TAG LIST:

@Winters-doll @unforgettabie @muomuah @midwesternwitchery

@frostygiant24-blog @peachymonsters @frazie99 @cocrorapop

@nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105 @hk-4ever @glizzification-of-liz

@cumikering @sl00tty-v @mheerdraws @herefornanami-s-cake

@that-napa-know-how @animechick555

want to be on the tag list? Leave a comment!

Thanks for reading!

#konig x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost #soap #konig #price #angst #slow burn #dark #seraphim collections: gentle giant

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dreamerwitches · 9 months

Text

Could you have a three course meal with only Madoka merch?

I've seen things like this before with Pokemon or Evangelion but I wanted to try it with Madoka, it would probably be a little more difficult since it’s a lot less popular than both but here we goooo!

So we’re looking for food and crockery for this! We want a starter, a main course, a dessert and a drink for our food. And for crockery we want a plate, perhaps a bowl (for starter or pudding), a knife, fork, spoon (perhaps for dessert) and a cup or glass.

I’m more confident with the crockery so let’s start there.

There are plenty of plates to choose from! So let’s go with the Broccoli line which includes every girl, Kyubey and Charlotte. Originally sold for ￥1200. I’ll choose Mami :)

I could only find one bowl in contrast but that’s good enough. From Movic, we have to choose a Kyubey for this one... sigh... at least we can pretend we’re drowning them XD This one’s a slightly pricier￥1260.

Now cutlery is a lot harder... I couldn’t find any knives or forks but we can compensate! It may be harder for certain dishes but we can use the Penguin Parade chopsticks! Originally selling for ￥840, we’ll choose Mami again, of course.

However another option is the cake forks from the "I'm not afraid of anything anymore" cake set selling for ￥5880 altogether. Perhaps we could use the forks for our main but it could also be for dessert depending on what we choose (though if we’re buying it all we might as well choose the cake that comes with it too XD )

Even though we have a cake forks, let’s still prepare well with a spoon! This is actually the reason I wanted to do this in the first place XD I saw a set of spoons on a regular ebay trawl! I believe, these are limited from the Madoka Magica cafe. Unfortunately the listings for these settle to around $150 since they’re limited items from a no longer running cafe...

But fear not! Perhaps instead we can choose the spoon from the Kyubey cake set! Now we get two cakes for dessert! This one is certainly cheaper than the first option at ￥3780.

Next let’s choose a glass and a cup! There’s certainly plenty to choose from in this category. Let’s go for the ACG glass set and choose the lovely Charlotte! This set also includes a Kyubey design, a generic fancy design and runes. You can buy three glasses for ￥2800, we can bring guests!

Let’s go a bit more modern for our cup! The glass was from 2014 now let’s jump to 2021! A lovely cup designed by our favourite Inu Curry for ￥1500!

Now we’ve got our crockery, let’s move onto food! I have a feeling this will be far more tricky...

We can’t really have a traditional starter but what about some bread hm? No, what if I put it in a can for you? Canned bread! We’ve got the same lineup as our original plates but sadly missing Kyoko as many early merch pieces do... sorry Kyoko... I know you would’ve appreciated the bread... This is only a low price of ￥700 hooray!

Now onto our starter! What luck, we have a choice! Would you like the curry for ￥683?

Or the ramen for ￥893? I’m surprised they sold full meals, I don’t know about you

We already bought our dessert with our cutlery so we have another choice of two! Would you like the peach and pineapple Mami cake?

Or the vanilla and raspberry Kyubey cake?

Wasn’t that tasty? Now why don’t we top off our meal with some tea in our 10th anniversary cup! Let’s have the black tea from Mami for ￥525!

So let’s run the maths, how much did our lovely meal cost? A-Ah... ￥40982..? just shy of $300..? P-Perhaps it’s not such a good idea then... shouldn’t’ve bought those spoons...

#madoka magica #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica

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neonghostlights · 1 year

Text

A/N: I'm taking a break I swear.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings: Nosebleed, brief mention of church, Angst, Readers kind of mean to Eddie but she is starting to go really downhill and it's just gonna get worse from here. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

Series Masterlist

I am no longer doing a tag list for this series.

Part Seven

Saturday, September 27th, 1986

The afternoon sun beat down on the top of your head. The sweet tea you were sipping on kept you from getting too overheated. The weather would start to change soon. It was nice to enjoy some warmth before the fall.

Eddie had the upper half of his body under the hood of your car. The hem of his black t-shirt rising slightly to show the pale expanse of his lower back. You could catch a sliver of the band of his boxers peeking out.

Had you shut yourself away from the outside world so much that a pair of blue checkered boxes were scandalizing? If he kept this up you were going to have to start fanning yourself like the women in those old films to keep yourself from swooning.

The past hour of Eddie working had been silent, making you wonder if he even remembered you were out there with him.

When he showed up to your house he didn’t mention anything about your episode the other day. His eyes traced your body up and down, like he was making sure nothing was out of place. Like he was afraid asking if you were okay would set you off. When he saw everything still in place, he asked you to sit with him while he worked.

Eddie peeked over his shoulder at you, catching your shameful staring. The sides of his mouth twitched at the sight.

You diverted your eyes quickly, pretending to be entranced by the hunk of oiled metal in his hand.

“So,” you started off timidly, hoping he wouldn’t bring up your gawking. “What’s left for the car?”

Eddie turned around to face you fully at this, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?” He asked smugly.

“No,” you said firmly. “Just wondering. I feel bad for not asking questions about what you’re doing. I also need to know how much I’m going to owe you for all this.” You waved your hand at your car.

“Well, not sure on the price yet. I’ll let you know when I know. There’s a few things I’m waiting for to arrive at the shop that I ordered. Plus, I’m trying to get my hands on this really important part that might take a while to get here. They’re really hard to find,” he announced with a shrug.

“Really? What part is that?” You sat up with your spine straight in your chair, suddenly more interested than you had been. Whatever this was, it sounded expensive. If it came down to it, asking your mom for money wouldn’t be the worst decision you could make. Putting up with her lectures would just be something you’d have to deal with.

“It’s this….thing. It holds the whole car together. Yours is super rusted so it’s a wonder the whole car hasn’t fallen apart while you’ve been driving.”

“Oh, god. That sounds bad.” You pressed a hand to your forehead, anxiety causing a headache to start. You dropped your hand, focusing on the weeds that grew through the crack in the pavement below your feet.

Eddie must have noticed the grimace on your face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll get you back on the road before you know it. Do you trust me?”

You bit your chapped lips. Did you trust him? Despite his reputation, you had no reason not to trust him. He had shown you nothing but kindness since he started coming around.

You slowly nodded your head.

A wide, beautiful smile spread across his face. That traitorous organ in your chest stuttered at the sight. You worried that you might have to start pounding at your own chest to get it back into a normal rhythm.

“Good,” he sighed like it was a relief, still standing and staring at you.

You shifted your hips in your chair, feeling your skin buzz under his stare. You decided to stand and walk over to the radio propped up on the roof of your car. The feeling of his eyes on you as you sauntered over made you feel alive.

Probably more alive than you had felt in a while.

You loved it.

You fiddled with the station, flipping from a static filled metal station to a country one. Daring a glance at Eddie, you noticed the dramatic nose scrunch he made at the music change.

His face made you laugh. “Got any good tapes with you?” You asked.

“Hm…I think I definitely have a few that you would like in there.” He gestured towards the parked van.

You moved towards his van, a hand placed on the handle, but his body suddenly blocked you from opening the door. You looked up at him confused, wondering if maybe you had overstepped by trying to go into his car.

“Sorry. I just remembered it’s really messy in there. I’ll look around for something, okay?” His voice was urgent. You fought the urge to peek through the window.

“Okay,” you agreed, stepping back and walking back to the radio to allow him some privacy. You could hear him shuffling and cursing under his breath as he dug around in search of whatever tape he had in mind.

It was funny to think maybe it was you causing him to be so flustered.

He held the tape up in his hand triumphantly as he walked back towards you. His body crowding yours as he reached onto the roof of the car to put the tape in. He didn’t move away, he just watched your face as you heard The Smith’s start to play.

You raised a curious eyebrow at him as you let out a little laugh. “Didn’t take you as a Smith’s fan,” you stated.

“They’ve got some alright stuff. Are you a fan?”

“I love them.” You couldn’t help the smile, so wide it was aching your cheeks.

The feeling in the air shifted as ’How Soon Is Now?’ played. His eyes flicked from yours down to your mouth then up to your eyes again.

When had he gotten so close to you?

And how could you get him even closer?

For some reason, the decreasing space between the two of you felt so right, like it was clearing the fog from your head. You wanted to hold onto this brief moment of clarity. A moment in time where your head didn’t ache, your nose didn’t bleed, and the nightmares couldn’t get you. Being here with him felt safe, like Eddie was a protective cocoon that wrapped you up and shielded you from all of the bad things.

“Good,” he muttered, reaching to run his thumb gently across your cheek. So softly like he was afraid you might shatter if he put an ounce of pressure behind his touch.

You wanted to shatter in his hands though. Only because it felt like when you were nothing but pieces, only he would be able to put you back together again.

His eyes searched through yours, a silent question that you didn’t know the answer to. But you wished you did.

His face was closer now, his thumb still on your cheek. You tilted your chin up to reach him as he tilted his head and brought it down towards yours. Your eyes flutter shut, scared that if you keep them open your mind will find a way to ruin this one ounce of happiness.

And just before you could feel his lips on yours, he pulled away.

You snap your eyes open to find him standing a foot away now, hands tucked tightly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I should probably go now,” he blabbered.

You couldn’t help but feel hurt. He was turning you down. It was a harsh slap to the ego to see him so regretful over almost kissing you.

“Right,” you agreed, keeping your voice light like your feelings weren’t hurt.

His face fell as he took you in. His pity was definitely not what you wanted right now.

He didn’t look at you as he packed up his things, shoving them into the back of the van.

You made it up the porch steps when you heard your name called behind you.

Eddie stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at you.

“Do you want to go out sometime? With me?” He asked, sheepishly. You could see the way he fidgeted with the rings he had put back on his fingers.

“Like on a date?” You prayed you didn’t sound as giddy as you felt on the inside.

“Yes. A date,” he nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay. I think I’d like that,” you agreed, trying to keep your cool. You could already imagine the happy dance you would do once you shut the door.

“Cool! Okay. Let me get my schedule from work for this week and I’ll let you know when.” That smile was back now. His dimples in full force.

You said your goodbyes, both of you hardly containing your happiness. Once inside, you did your little happy shimmy behind the door.

You peaked out the curtain and laughed when you saw Eddie doing his own happy dance on the way to his van.

Sunday, September 28th, 1986

“I’m going to be late for church,” your mother fretted as she maneuvered down the roads of Hawkins.

You kept your head turned away from her, focusing on the window. It was weird driving by sites where the earthquake still left its proof in the earth. It seemed like some people in town lived their everyday life pretending it didn’t happen, like half of the town didn’t fall into the deep chasms in the ground.

Like there weren't men in suits and people in hazmat gear still hanging around.

Your mom was one of the people who pretended it didn’t happen. She found ways to distract herself, mostly by throwing a fit over something new everyday.

She didn’t go to church every Sunday, but on the Sundays that she did, she made sure everyone knew about it.

And if she happened to be late, she would make sure everyone knew it was because of you.

Her attitude has gotten worse lately. Everything you said was met with a snarky remark. You missed the days where you felt like she worried because she loved you. Now it just felt like you were a burden.

You couldn’t wait for Eddie to be finished with your car so you could feel an ounce of freedom. You loved your mom, but if you had to go grocery shopping with her one more time you were going to lose it even more than you already had.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of your favorite mechanic.

You didn’t tell your mom that Eddie was working on your car. As far as she knew, you were saving money and trying to get worked into the schedule of the very busy mechanic shops in town.

You chanced a glance at your mother, scared that somehow she can read your mind now and will start berating you for thinking about Eddie Munson.

‘The maniac devil-worshiping serial killer’ she once called him when she saw a picture of him in the newspaper.

You nodded along, agreeing with everything she said because you didn’t know him then. You hadn’t even looked at the picture in the newspaper, His name sparked didn’t spark interest in you like it did now.

You can remember another time, you were having a bad day, the headaches and nosebleeds were constant. It wasn’t long after you left the hospital and you were struggling with the fact that you couldn’t even remember your high school graduation.

You sat on the couch in your mothers living room hugging a throw pillow to your chest. This was before you moved out, watching the evening news with her and trying to act like you weren’t on a downward spiral. His face and name were on the news, discussing his charges being dropped.

Your mom gave you a long lecture that night on who he was, and why you should stay far away from him. Even going as far as saying that if you saw him in the same store as you, then leave.

Back then, you agreed. Willing to do anything to keep yourself safe and your mom happy.

Now you knew she didn’t know him like you did. She would take the gossip and things she heard around town as fact.

“Why would a video store be open on a Sunday anyways?” She asked, bringing you back to the present.

“I don’t know, mom,” you sighed, eyes never straying from the landscape. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Sometimes you felt like you reverted back to your moody teenage years.

The car pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center. “Shoot,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m supposed to be volunteering with some ladies for a food drive after church. I really can’t miss it…” She chewed on her lip as she stared at the front door of Family Video.

“Do you need me to get a ride? I can ask Robin,” you offered quickly. You would walk all the way home if it meant you could get the hell out of the car and let her go on about her day.

Your mom thought for a second, like she was pondering if that was allowed or not. You wanted to scream, tell her that you were an adult. Despite your issues, you could still make adult decisions.

“I suppose that’s okay,” she finally said.

You sighed and climbed out of the car.

Steve wasn’t at work today, leaving just you and Robin to man the store on your own.

It was probably the best day you had since you worked there.

“I forgot to ask,” you said as you picked up a stack of tapes that had just been returned. “Do you think you can give me a ride home? It’s not too far from town. I can give you some gas money too.”

“Oh, sorry. I don’t drive. Steve’s picking me up. I can ask him…” She trailed off awkwardly. The unspoken words hanging in the air. Steve probably wouldn’t give you a ride home. If he did, it would not be a fun car ride.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” You waved your hand in the air like it wasn’t a big deal. You wracked your brain for a moment before an idea dawned on you. “Actually, do you have Eddie’s number?”

Eddie agreed immediately when you asked him for a ride home.

He showed up 15 minutes before closing to pick you up. He waved enthusiastically through the store window when he noticed you staring.

All thoughts about being a burden for needing a ride disappeared when you caught sight of his joyous face.

Robin nudged you playfully when she noticed your bashful smile.

“Come on. Let’s finish up so you can go see him,” she said with a smile.

You rushed through closing, excited to get going. By the time you and Robin locked up for the night, Steve was standing next to Eddie’s van. Eddie leaned up against the passenger side door, a forgotten cigarette burning in his hand.

The conversation looked tense. Steve’s hands moved through the air while Eddie kept his mouth pressed in a thin line, his jaw tense.

Eddie lit up when he saw you approach. He tossed the cigarette to the side, stomping it out with his boot. He waved his hand in the air to try to clear the smoke before you got closer.

And they say chivalry is dead.

“You ready to go?” He asked, cutting Steve off mid sentence.

“Yep,” you chirped. “Hi, Steve,” you say politely.

He nodded his head at you as a greeting, not saying anything to you. You could see the way Eddie’s hands turned into fists for a moment as he glared at Steve before seeming to remember that you were standing right there.

He turned and opened the door for you to climb into the van. You could tell based on the crumbs and small pieces of trash on the floor that he had done his best to clean it up. A strong smelling air freshener hung from the rearview mirror.

When he jumped in the front seat he turned and smiled at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Thank you for picking me up. I’m really sorry for having to call you…”

“I told you I can give you rides!” He exclaimed. “It’s really no problem. I’m happy I get to see you again.”

There were those damn butterflies again. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your traitorous smile.

Eddie pulled out of the parking lot. You noticed he was going slightly under the speed limit, surprising because he usually pulls into your driveway like a bat out of hell.

“Do you mind if I stop by the gas station real quick? I just wanted to run in and get a few snacks,” he explained.

“Yep! That’s fine,” you said. Even with him going under the speed limit the car ride was going by way too quickly. Before you knew it, you were pulling into the gas station.

Eddie hopped out of the van. “Do you want anything?” He asked.

You shook your head no.

“Okay, well, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink.

You watched as he crossed the parking lot. People loitering around the building eyed him suspiciously. Luckily, no one bothered him.

You looked around the van a bit, hoping to get an insight into Eddie. It wouldn’t hurt to snoop a little bit. You were positive if the roles were reversed he would definitely go through your things.

The cloth seats were surprisingly comfortable. You ran your finger over what looked like a cigarette burn that left a hole in the seat. You wondered who sat here before you to leave that permanent mark in his van.

You glanced back over at the gas station, seeing Eddie still roaming the aisles through the large windows.

Deciding the best place to snoop was the glovebox, you popped open the latch and started digging around inside.

Scraps of paper and some trash fell out first. You pushed some tapes aside, thinking that there would be nothing of interest until your eye caught onto pink cloth.

You reached your hand tentatively to grab it.

You held up the cloth to realize it was a pink scrunchy. You checked back to make sure Eddie wasn’t coming out of the store.

You were confused. Eddie wore black all of the time. He didn’t seem like the type to wear a pink scrunchie in his hair. But what did you know?

Setting the scrunchie in your lap, you reached your hand back into the glovebox to see what else you could find. Your hand made contact with smooth glass. You pulled it out to inspect it.

Your stomach dropped when you saw what it was.

Perfume.

Girl's perfume.

You shoved the perfume and scrunchie back where it belonged and slammed the latch shut.

Eddie has a girlfriend.

And if it’s not a girlfriend, then he has a girl in his car enough for her to keep her things in here.

Your stomach dropped and your chest felt like it was cracking in half.

If he has a girlfriend, why would he flirt with you and ask you on a date?

No wonder he didn’t want you to go into his van yesterday to find a tape. He didn’t want you to find out and ruin the little game he was playing.

The driver side door swung open. “Hey, sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t decide on which soda I wanted. But I got you this,” he said as he handed you a bag of M&M’s and a Dr. Pepper.

“Thanks. These are my favorites,” you said quietly.

“You okay?” He questioned. A concerned look crossed over his face as he looked at you, making you wonder how awful you looked right now.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just really tired.” You did your best to muster a smile.

He looked like he didn’t believe you but decided not to press any further. The rest of the car ride to your house was awkward and quiet, filled with Eddie’s attempts to joke and make you laugh. You could tell your one worded answers were hurting his feelings but you didn’t really care.

He pulled into your driveway and opened the passenger side door to help you out of the van. He walked beside you silently up your porch steps and to your front door.

“Look, are you okay? Because you’re being really quiet, and I don’t know if I did something or if you’re not feeling well…”

You looked up at him, his hair and face illuminated by the porch light you always left on. He twisted and turned the rings on his hand as he searched your face for a clue on why you were suddenly acting so distant to him.

The fact that he was acting so innocent made you even more mad.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You asked, the words coming out as a harsh accusation.

Eddie looked taken aback for a moment. “Yes- I mean no-” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Then why did you just say yes so quickly?” You pressed.

“It’s complicated,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to say yes.”

“He’s lying,” a deep voice whispered in your head, surprising you with its intensity.

The voice was right. Eddie was lying.

Your temples pounded. The edges of your vision start to turn black from the incoming pain.

You needed to go inside.

“I don’t believe you,” you gritted out.

“Why? Did Steve say something to you?” His voice came out strained and angry.

“He’s hiding something from you,” the voice informed you.

“No, no one told me anything. If you don’t have a girlfriend, then what is there for Steve to tell me? And if you don’t have a girlfriend then why is her perfume and scrunchy in your van? Am I some kind of joke to you?” Your voice was growing louder with each word you said. You could feel the anger pouring through your bloodstream.

An unnatural anger that you had never felt before in your life.

You didn’t care if you were overreacting or not. You just wanted to get him away from you.

You turned and unlocked your door quickly, ignoring the pleading look from Eddie beside you.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, can I come in and we can talk about this?”

“He’s trying to use you. Don’t let him in,” the voice that only you could hear stated.

You listened to the voice, trusting it fully. You couldn’t trust Eddie.

“Shit, are you okay? Your nose is bleeding, and you look really pale.” Eddie’s hand reached towards you, but you pushed it away.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. Don’t come back here or I’ll call the cops and tell them how much of a creep you are,” you spat.

Eddie reared back like he had been hit. His mouth opened as he stared at you in shock.

He didn’t move to reach out to you again as you swung the door open and stomped inside, turning to lock it immediately after it shut.

You even shut off the porch light for good measure, leaving him in darkness.

You crawled to your bed, not caring if he made it back to the van or not. Not even bothering to clean the now drying blood on your face or change out of your work clothes.

How had you not seen he was messing with you? Was he just trying to get in your pants the whole time? Or was he going to butter you up in hopes of getting more money out of you when it came time to pay him for his work? Were he and Steve acting like highschoolers and teaming up to make you miserable? Was Robin in on it too?

One thing you knew for certain, was that you would never trust Eddie Munson again.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #mechanic!eddie munson x reader #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #mechanic eddie munson #eddie munson angst

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bigassmoonchild · 7 months

Note

Gaz x insomniacFem!reader and she’s always is energetic (love me some Kyle)

(another character i haven’t really read for, but i’m always happy to increase my character list! it’s also not entirely all energetic reader and a lil angsty at the end, but it’s okay! feel free to send more requests!!)

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x reader

the first time gaz had noticed anything, it was on a 4 day mission. you were more than happy to take on watches when no one else wanted to. you would help patch people up, and didn’t wake him when it was his turn.

he watched the bags under your eyes grow deeper, even though your energy stayed just as bright.

‘hey gaz!’ you wiggled your fingers at him in greeting, smiling bright even with dark bags under your eyes. you greeted everyone you walked by and no one thought anything of it.

he would go to sleep well before you finished your workouts and would find you having breakfast well before he was awake. it confused him, truly.

you laughed and moved just as quickly, with not a single yawn given out. you messed with the recruits, joked with Soap and found Price to drag out of his office for but a few minutes.

at the bars after missions you were the life of the party. dancing, drinking and finding more things to nearly get in trouble with.

‘c’mon, guys! just one more?’ you nudged soap to try and get him to dance just once more but he slumped over in his seat, waving you off.

you looked at gaz expectantly. he could never say no, at least to you when you gave him those eyes. so he’d danced, and danced, and seemingly kept dancing.

by the end of that night, he had to help you to your room. he stood there as you fought him to not sleep before giving in, alcohol and enough dancing to kill a normal person paving the way for your sleep.

some nights gaz would find you sitting in the rec-room. some nights, he would join you, feeling just as mentally exhausted but incapable of sleeping as you’d claimed.

you’d slumped against him, blinking slowly. ‘you need something to sleep? melatonin, something a lil stronger?’ he nudged and winked, raising his brows suggestively.

you shoved him, surprisingly strong considering how tired you were claiming to be. ‘come spar with me?’ you stood, trying to pull gaz up. he slumped his full weight against you, not allowing you to move him much.

shaking his head, he smiled. ‘i’m gonna go off to sleep, and you should try,’ you gave him a disgruntled face before telling him where you’d be at and walking out.

some nights, though, he could hear you talking to someone, he assumed it was price most nights. he was never able to really decipher the voice.

‘y’ever feel like you didn’t do enough?’ your asked and he could barely make out the hum responding to you. ‘some nights it gets especially bad,’ he couldn’t make out the rest of what you said.

gaz would sometimes watch you, sitting outside and watching the sun set or waking up just early enough to watch the sun rise with you. speaking happily with him, talking about anything and everything.

‘a lot of the big thinkers in science took things from women,’ you told him one night, drinking gross hot chocolate you had pulled together. your breaths visible in the cold. ‘einstein took inspiration from his wife,’ you looked away.

gaz hummed in thought. this was the calmest you’d been, no longer exceptionally energetic and talking a thousand miles a minute. he looked at you, watching the reflections of the sun off the snow slowly change as it set.

‘you don’t sleep much, do you?’ it was sudden and he could see the emotions flicker through your fast just as fast as your words often were. you gave a little smile, looking down at your hands.

you glanced at him briefly. ‘before i was assigned with you guys, the 141, i was on my own squad. i’m not allowed to discuss a lot about the mission i was on, but a lot of the things i can still see clearly,’ you whispered.

‘it’s terrifying. seeing everything you try to forget you know,’ you laughed at the end, shaking your head. he could see tears dotting your eyes, watching as you kept blinking.

even with the words you’d just spoken, you suddenly shoved at his shoulder and choked a laugh out. smiling, you looked back out at the forest.

‘can’t stop being me, though. always promised them that i’d never stop being me,’ and you gave him a goofy grin.

he pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head in his shoulder and soak in some of his warmth. if the smallest he could do was give you comfort now, he could be happy.

#no use of y/n #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty x reader #gaz x reader #task force 141 #cod mw2 #modern warfare ii #slight angst #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #call of duty #insomniac reader

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hacash · 1 year

Text

"Alright, bruv?"

Sam doesn't even notice Isaac's presence until he thumps the locker next to Sam's head with his fist: the team captain's preferred form of greeting. He jumps, and then with a sigh goes back to staring at his phone. The beaming faces of the newly called-up Nigerian football team, resplendent in green and white. "Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

"Bullshit," Isaac scoffs. "C'mon, what's wrong?"

Sam doesn't want to admit that anything's wrong. Treat your wins with humility and your losses with grace, that's what his father always says. But he supposes to do that you have to admit that there was a loss in the first place. Besides, if anyone would understand it's Isaac, Isaac who's never once been called up to the England team, who hadn't even looked up when Beard was reading out the roster. England team's bursting with great players anyway, he'd grunted when Colin had asked if he was alright. Even if I was good enough, don't think they're too keen to call up a guy who tried to throttle someone in the stands a month ago. Their loss then, Colin had said. That's, like, top of my list for qualities of a best mate. Not to mention team captain. Harry Kane's quaking in his boots whenever he sees you on the telly, boyo. And Isaac's face had split into this massive grin, and that had been that. "I just found out Edwin Afuko is the reason I didn't make the Nigerian team," he says. "What - that guy who tried to sign you up to his African super-team?" "Yeah," Sam sighs. "When I turned him down he told me I'd never play for the Nigerian national team. Now I found out he bribed the government - my home, Isaac, the place where I grew up - not to invite me onto the team." "Jesus Christ." "Yeah." "You think it was to do with the Dubai Air protest as well?" Isaac asks. "Like, this guy made us all look like a bunch of corrupt dickheads, we ain't gonna have him represent our country sort of thing?" Sam's eyes widen, and then slam shut as his head falls back against his locker. "Well I do now." "That's bullshit," Isaac announces. For once, Sam is tempted to agree. Isaac is staring intently at the ground. Finally he looks up and clears his throat with uncharacteristic caution. "Would you have done the same thing? The protest, staying at Richmond - if you knew it was gonna go down like this, I mean?" It's something he's not wanted to ask himself: but there it's been, niggling away like some horrible little imp in the back of his mind. Sam thinks about that photograph hanging on his childhood wall, the feeling he had strolling through the British Museum alongside Edwin. He thinks about running over the beaches of Lagos as a child, how it felt to see those pictures of the destruction and the dying animals on those same beaches. The thrill of returning to the Premier League. The teenagers who'd come up to him in the street, newly arrived and still stumbling over their English, thanking him for speaking out even as the glass was still being swept up at Ola's. Men like Gary Lineker and Ian Wright quoting his tweets on Match of the Day, and the UK government not being able to do anything to stop them. The way his heart had skipped, seeing young men just like him playing on Richmond Green wearing his jersey. "Of course I would," he says finally. "I couldn’t have taken a place on the team if it meant not speaking out." "Right. You wouldn't have been happy just sitting down and shutting up. Or playing for some rich prick who bribes people all the time. And it's totally shit, but - I guess it's, like, the price you've gotta pay right now for doing so much awesome stuff." "I suppose it's worth that." They sit together in companionable silence for a little while. Finally Sam sighs. "I still really want to play for the Nigerian national team though, Isaac." Isaac nods and sets an arm around his shoulders. "You will, bruv. I know you will."

For @boasamishipper. There’s something really interesting about seeing reality ensue when Sam faces the backlash of following his heart - but I’d have loved to get a little scene like this.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #my fanfiction #isaac mcadoo #sam obisanya

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

Note

You recently did an ask about an angsty mpreg fic...I love the concept. Could ylu possibly recommend some more like that?🥺

AND

Anon asked: any fics where stiles is pregnant and unfortunately gave birth by himself? i love mpreg angst

Hi anon. @kevaaronday made this list!

baby of mine by suddenlyatiger (35/35 | 78,402 | Mature | Sterek) "It's not a joke," Stiles says. He looks at Derek, brown eyes wide and worried. "I need your help."

"By marrying you?" Derek asks.

"Yes," Stiles says.

My Liberation Has A Name by SilkO (12/12 | 66,380 | Mature | Sterek) Stiles is a prince under the Argent clan, the king, Gerard Argent had killed Stiles's clan years before taking Stiles as his own due to the omega being born a spark. The Argents had used Stiles's spark against the people. Killing many while using Stiles's name for the murders.

Years after Stiles was taken and imprisoned in the Argents castle Derek's clan gets massacred. Peter, filled with anger and vengeance trained Derek to go and kill Stiles, the witch of the Argent clan and avenge their family.

Derek goes and as he meets Stiles his reasoning falls, only leaving behind Derek's emotions, something he thought had died years ago.

if it’s meant to be, it’ll be by DeancebraArt & EvanesDust (4/4 | 27,560 | Explicit | Sterek)

Following a chance encounter with an irresistible and alluring omega, Derek wakes up in bed alone, with no way to contact the man he met the night before. Over the course of the next year, Derek finds himself wondering: how can he miss someone he doesn’t even know? And, more importantly, how can he find him again?

After a one-night stand with a mysterious alpha werewolf leaves Stiles pregnant, he resigns himself to raising his child as a single parent. It’s not until the man he’s been pining over for the last year shows up at his doorstep, does he realize there might actually be something more complicated than raising a child on his own: love.

Mama Please by Parkkrys (1/1 | 20,699 | Mature | Sterek) Claudia gave up hunting to marry Noah and so far no regrets. Yes, it irks her that Noah is friends with the Hales, but she had been able to put it to the side.

Now after having twins, she struggles with watching lil Stiles and Derek grow closer, and now at the age of eighteen Derek reveals that Stiles is his mate. Something in her snaps and she leaves to the Argents for help. She wasn't expecting her lil boy to be a spark though.

Now years later, she knows her baby boy is married to Derek and she is determined to set him free no matter the cause.

Make Your Own (Buns in the Oven) by nezstorm (1/1 | 11,250 | Teen | Steter) Stiles opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out as he feels tears welling up again. He takes a deep, shaky breath, exhales slowly to calm himself enough to do this.

Peter waits, brows furrowed in worry as he watches Stiles.

“I think I’m pregnant,” he finally says, “And I don’t know what to do.”

Or the one where Stiles is a human incubator and Peter is not the baby daddy (until he is).

Virgin by KiraH69 (4/4 | 10,073 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles is a virgin, unmated and pregnant omega. That doesn’t make sense. Nobody believes it and things just get harder and harder.

Newborn by Anonymous (1/1 | 4,514 | Mature | Steter) Pregnant Stiles nearly pays the ultimate price for a disastrous rideshare experience.

Aka: Stiles, pregnant with Peter's baby, gets attacked by a bad driver with a gun. Do Not Read if you don't wanna see a pregnant twink get whumped in the backseat, oh ho ho.

Spoiler note: Stiles and baby are stable and recovering. The baby registry is on the Toys 'R Us website if you want to send them love.

infinitely undefined by nezstorm (9/9 | 3,999 | Teen | Steter) Stiles misses him sometimes. In the odd moments between reality and sleep.

Or the one where Stiles and Peter make a baby, but Peter is a chicken shit.

This Wasn't Supposed to Happen by Parkkrys (1/1 | 3,996 | Gen | Sterek) Stiles didn’t hide this on purpose, there just wasn’t a good time to tell him. Doing this friends with benefits thing with an alpha werewolf maybe wasn’t the best idea but how could he ever say no to Derek?

Sure, he had feelings for the man, and this could only end in heartbreak because hey, who would be interested in a long time thing with him of all people? He knew how annoying he could be. He wasn’t even sure how his dad had put up with him all these years.

But this has gone on for far too long, the scent blocker and the bracelet that he has been wearing for the past month could only do so much from hiding his not so little secret.

A Way Out by OnTheGround2012 (1/1 | 1,587 | Teen | Stackson) After finding out that he's pregnant, Stiles goes to see Jackson to fix it but things don't go as smoothly as he hoped. This is how their encounter ends.

Mpreg!derek

Expiration Dates by KaliopeShipsIt (22/22 | 226,825 | Mature | Sterek) When 13-year old orphaned Derek Hale tests positive as a male carrier, his newly appointed guardian and uncle Peter uses his influence to make the test result go away, aware that in their deeply carrier-phobic society his nephew’s status could prove to be the downfall of the family company.

16 years later Derek is pressured into firing eight months-pregnant Danny Mahealani, creating a publicity scandal that, as the Equal Rights for Carriers movement gains more and more ground, results in an unprecedented media outrage targeted towards Hale & Argent Publishers.

A very reluctant Derek finds himself forced into defending his company’s prejudiced views on national television, facing off in heated debates against Stiles Stilinski, a guy he happened to have a one-night stand with months ago and has been pining over ever since. Stiles is a disgruntled former Hale & Argent employee, a staunch supporter of the ERC movement, he hates everything Derek stands for … and, courtesy of an expired condom, he’s also, unknowingly, the father of the child Derek wasn’t even aware he could carry in the first place.

Turning the Page by KaliopeShipsIt (26/26 | 128,387 | Mature | Sterek) After being widowed and left to raise three children on his own at the age of 21, Derek Hale-Krasikeva did not expect to ever find happiness again.

He also definitely did not expect to meet the love of the second half of his life in a grad student attending the same university as his undergrad kids.

When You’re Not Expecting by KattsEyeDemon & seekeronthepath (9/9 | 49,863 | Explicit | Sterek) Derek and Stiles weren't planning on kids yet. Stiles hadn't even known biological kids were an option. But when the unexpected happens, Derek grabs onto the chance for a larger family with both hands, and everyone else is along for the ride

Derek Hale’s Baby by KaliopeShipsIt (4/4 | 38,741 | Mature | Sterek) On the last night of his vacation in Paris, Derek has a one-night stand with a handsome stranger. When he boards his plane back home twelve hours later, Derek's cute seat neighbor Stiles almost lets a backpack fall on Derek's head and Derek has no choice but fall for him.

Ten weeks later, Derek has never been this happy, he's never been this in love - and he's never been this pregnant and with no clue who the baby daddy is.

Also, he's secretly a werewolf. No Vacancy by KaliopeShipsIt (4/4 | 34,964 | Mature | Sterek) "29-Year Old Omega (muscular/scruffy/perpetual sourface) Seeking for Alpha-Baby-Daddy. Might or might not be named Stiles"

Derek is an unusually muscular Omega with irregular heats and dumb luck.

Stiles is an unusually polite Alpha who forgets to leave his number.

Laura is a furious Alpha who wants to wear Stiles' balls on a golden chain.

Cora is a pragmatic Alpha who composes Craigslist ads.

... aka, my first A/B/O-Fic

Edit: This work is now a trilogy

The Beginning of Our Wolfy Family by modestfuckup (6/6 | 20,699 | Teen | Sterek) “Stiles, I’m pregnant.” Derek blurted out.

Stiles jaw was open, an eyebrow arched, “No, not possible. I know I may have slept through freshman health, but I know for a fact that men cannot carry babies. Nice one Der. What did Deaton say?”

or the one where Stiles and Derek find out they are having a baby.

A Day in June by KaliopeShipsIt (1/1 | 13,061 | Not Rated | Sterek) Derek is happily married, a proud papa of three children, and financially comfortable.

He's also pregnant for the fourth time and doesn't want to be.

Bump in the Night by KaliopeShipsIt (1/1 | 3,600 | Mature | Sterek) The one where Derek's pregnant belly is a lot bigger in the evenings than in the mornings and Stiles mopes because he volunteered to work the nightshift for a month and thinks their unborn daughter is trying to be the next Houdini.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #mpreg #pregnant!stiles #anon

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mybeautifuldelirium · 2 years

Text

Centuries Apart || Aemond Targaryen x got!Reader part 1

Requested by: @caspianobsessed

CHAPTER LIST

A/N: so I’m obsessed with this idea and would really love to turn this into a series so let me know if you’d be interested xx

Summary: Y/N is from the game of thrones era, the younger sister of Daenerys, but after the fall of her house and the throne being taken away once again, she has no choice but to go back in time to where it all went wrong, trying to change the fate of House Targaryen. But will anyone from that era even believe her? What price will she have to pay?

Warnings: angst, idk if this would be considered incest tbh lol, game of thrones spoilers

This was not how the story was supposed to end. No, the iron throne was meant to be hers, it belonged to her, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the house which had built this very kingdom, now burned to ashes and the rightful heir, slain by her own kin.

But it was not all of House Targaryen that had perished. There was one last dragon left, Y/N Targaryen, The Silver princess , the youngest daughter of the Mad King. The realm thought the princess had died, perhaps not long after her own sister yet she was destined to live, her limp body pulled from under the crumbled walls of the keep and brought to Volantis. Kinvara was her name, the name of Y/N’s savior, the very same red priestess who had once advised Daenerys.

“How did you get there? Why did you save me?” Y/N groaned from pain as she tried to get up.

“The Lord of Light saved you, you were meant to live” she simply replied without even turning to look at the girl.

“They betrayed her. He betrayed her. He is not a true Targaryen, Jon Snow will always be a cowardice bastard” the princess hissed, thoughts of the traitorous actions of her nephew, filling her with burning rage. “We won their battle, my sister sacrificed her dragons, her only children and now the legacy that our ancestors built once again has fallen in the hands of usurpers” tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Pulling at weeds won’t cure what was caused by a seed planted centuries ago” Kinvara recited, staring at the burning flames, as if caught in a trance.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N’s face twisted in confusion.

“You can’t change the future when it was set in stone in the past” the red priestess continued, finally turning around as she slowly walked towards the wounded princess. “There is only one way to ward off the doom of House Targaryen and that is to go back to the era, responsible for the present.

“You mean Robert’s Rebellion?” the girl inquired, still not making sense of Kinvara’s words.

“No, my dear. The damage was done many decades before” the red woman gently took her hand “I can help you go back in time, though you must know every minor action in the past is bound to change the future”

“I don’t think I understand. What am I supposed to do?” Y/N looked up, her violet gaze widened with bewilderment.

“The Lord Of Light saved you for a reason child, he will guide you there” she said, handing her a small mirror, its glass black as night “But will you ever return, I can’t answer that”

“If I’m not to return, how will I know if I’ve changed the fate?”

“You will” the red priestess reverted her gaze back to the burning flames. “But do make your own decision, there is no going back”

A great sacrifice this was for the young princess, throwing her life away, leaving behind all she’d known. But what really did she have left? Everything she ever loved, now gone, the lands of her ancestors, usurped by traitors, the magnificent dragons, sigil of her house, long perished. There was nothing keeping her here.

“I’ll do it, for my house, for House Targaryen”

The following moments were a foggy blur for Y/N, she had no recollection of the events after she had spoken her consent. Was it all a fever dream, caused by the milk of the poppy? She cautiously got up, all the pain from her wounds now gone, then she knew. It wasn’t a dream. She was no longer in Volantis.

Everything looked so familiar yet so different, the girl wandered through the busy streets, trying to figure out where she was. Clutching at the hood of her black cloak, Y/N then saw it, the red keep. The very same magnificent castle that just days ago had been burned down to ashes, now standing tall as the banners, blowing in the wind, displaying the dragon sigil, the sigil of House Targaryen, her house. The princess’s eyes welled up as she indulged in the scenery before her, a scenery she had started to believe her eyes would never see.

Distracted by her thoughts Y/N hadn’t noticed the civilians trying to pass by her, until an angry merchant pushed her so hard that she fell right into someone’s arms.

“Forgive me, I wasn’t-“ the girl started apologizing to the person she was thrown into but as soon as her eyes met his, all words suddenly left her.

The man had only one eye, the other covered by an eyepatch, yet as soon as that familiar violet gaze of his met her own, she knew, a Targaryen, just like her.

The man before her was left just as speechless, gently picking up a silver lock of Y/N’s hair as her hood had fallen from the push. But before the girl could comprehend the situation, her back was met with the cold stonewall of a nearby building as the man’s hands were now firmly holding at her neck.

“Who are you?” he hissed, squeezing harder as his eye widened, directly staring at hers.

“My prince, don’t forget why we came here” a dark haired man pulled at her captor’s shoulder “Let's not bring unnecessary attention to ourselves”

“Take her to the castle and make sure no one sees you” the one eyed man commanded with no emotion harshly releasing the breathless girl, leaving her gasping for air. “I’ll seek to my brother’s whereabouts”

His companion tried to object but to no avail, so he sighed, pulling Y/N’s hood over her head of silver locks and grabbed at her arm.

“Who are you, where are you taking me? Let go!” The princess finally spoke but her screams were muffled by his gloved hand so she had no choice but to oblige and follow the older man.

He led her through the crowds of people without a single word of explanation leaving his lips. As they reached the castle, he dragged the helpless girl to a tucked away passage by the cliffs surrounding the Red Keep, leading her through a seemingly endless spiral staircase then pushing her into a small chamber at the very top of the tower.

“You’re to stay here until prince Aemond returns” the man finally spoke “Don’t think of trying to escape”

“Prince Aemond” Y/N’s eyes widened, of course, that explained the eyepatch. Her brother Viserys used to tell her and Dany stories about the tragedy of The Dance of Dragons, she vividly remembered the tale of the one eyed prince, the rider of Vhagar, the kinslayer. This same man who just moments ago had almost strangled her to death, she slid her fingers over the red markings on her neck. What had she gotten herself into

The sun was beginning to set as Y/N’s exhaustion prevailed and she drifted into a light slumber on the dusty daybed only for a fumble of keys to wake her up. And there he was again, Aemond One Eye Targaryen, standing before her, a living proof that none of the prior events were a mere dream.

“Now speak woman, who are you?” The prince said with the same emotionless voice from earlier.

Y/N stood up in front of him, getting a better view of his face. Now that he wasn’t wearing his hood she could finally see the so distinctive silver Targaryen locks falling over his shoulders and across his chest. The princess had never seen any other Targaryen beside her late siblings and it was almost as if she was looking at them through his so familiar violet gaze.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N of House Targaryen” the girl replied, new found confidence in her words.

The man let out a hoarse laugh as he pushed her against the wall.

“This does not true Targaryen make” he taunted, picking up a lock of her silver hair “Now tell me, who are you really? Perhaps one of my uncle’s bastards, a daughter of a whore of his?”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his crude words, unable to contain her rage at the insult of her heritage, she slapped the prince with full force across his smug face. Aemond let out an angry growl but as he turned back his head, the girl had managed to escape his grip and was already running down the stairwell.

The poor girl was in a complete state of frenzy as she was rushing through the long corridors of the keep, not taking a moment to catch her breath. How could she fail her task so quickly, how could she let her guard down, maybe she should’ve never accepted the red priestess’ offer.

Suddenly she bumped into a cold piece of metal, the bewildered face of a guard staring down at her, the girl tried to fight back and get away but to no avail as she was being escorted to the throne room.

“Your grace, this woman was running through the hallways. I don’t know how she got here” the guard said, pushing the princess to her knees in front of the iron throne.

Y/N cursed under her breath as she lifted her head. The iron throne, the very throne her beloved sister had so deeply longed for, the very throne that was to be taken from them, the very throne that was to be burned into ashes.

A boy, not too much older than her was sitting before her, the same silver hair, the same violet eyes, she knew this had to be king Aegon II, the king who had usurped the rightful heir, princess Rhaenyra. There were two other people standing beside him who Y/N assumed to be no other than his mother, queen Alicent Hightower and his grandfather, Otto Hightower. They were all staring speechless at the princess as if she were a rare dangerous creature.

“Do not fret mother, undoubtedly one of Daemon’s bastards” Aemond spat in disgust as he had just entered the throne room.

“I’m not a bastard!” the girl yelled, finally standing up. She tried to hit the prince once again but this time he caught her hand so she spat in his good eye.

“You little-” Aemond cursed in disgust but was cut off by Otto.

“Silence” the older man stood up “You, who are you, who sent you?”

“I’m no bastard” the girl spoke throwing a glance of disgust at Aemond “I am Y/N of House Targaryen, the Silver Princess, daughter of The Mad King, Aerys Targaryen”

“What blasphemous nonsense are you speaking?” Alicent’s voice trembled with hints of dread “Is this one of Rhaenyra’s tricks?”

“I know this sounds insane, but you have to believe me” Y/N pleaded in desperation “I was sent back here from centuries ahead to change the fate of House Targaryen”

“She’s completely mad” Aegon laughed “Take her to the dungeons”

“No! Wait, please! You have to help me” Y/N screamed as she was being dragged out by the guard. She was pulling and kicking at him but he was much stronger than her and kept walking until something fell to the ground, making a rattling sound. Her little mirror from Kinvara.

A bright beam of light stemmed out of the black glass, morphing into vivid images of the past and of the future right until the very moments of Y/N’s life.

The hall had gone completely silent, everyone staring in disbelief, it felt like time had stopped.

“So you were telling the truth?” Otto finally broke the silence, his face pale as a ghost.

“Yes, I told you” the princess replied with a new stroke of confidence, finally releasing herself from the guard’s grasp “I can help you win the war. I know the future”

“Why should we trust her?” Alicent intervened before her father was able to respond “She’s a witch, what if this is all a ploy?”

“Enough Alicent” Otto cut off his daughter, a devious smirk playing on his lips as he approached the girl “She can prove us a valuable weapon”

“And how can we ensure her loyalty?” Aemond shook his head.

“Perhaps becoming your wife and bearing your heirs will keep her faithful” Otto grinned, caressing Y/N’s silver locks.

Tag list:

@ellathefriendlyalpacaaa

@believeinthefireflies95

@caspianobsessed

@hayoooos-blog

@kitkat-writes-stuff

@rhaenyracole

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Note

FOR YOUR EVENT!!!! I'M SO EXCITED YAYAYAYYYYY

okokok so from the lists, could I haveeee

29. giggling while kissing (from the kisses prompt list)

and from the dialogue list let's do...

136. did you enjoy yourself last night?

111. delete it. now.

(and i'm not sure if you wanted me to include a character or not, but either way i trust your judgement!! congrats again <33333)

*screams and kicks and cries about how much I love this* also went with Tsumu bc. Like. He’s my husband 🧡

tw!! suggestive content for comedic purposes. Nothing is done, but the verbiage is definitely suggestive!! Also tw hangover, drinking is mentioned.

—

You woke up with a pounding headache.

It wasn’t like you had more than a few glasses of wine, but you knew when Inarizaki had reunions, no one was safe from the party; even Shinsuke, who goes to bed at 9:30 because he’s a man of absolutely uncontrollable patterns.

Unfortunately, for you, Inarizaki reunions meant Suna Rintaro was there, and you were determined to drink him under the table any chance you got. He’s a great friend, been yours for years, but screw him and his stupid cocky self that you’ve got to set into place every few months.

Pounding headaches and blurry nights were definitely a price, but at the end of it all, it’s definitely an event you wouldn’t pass up for the world.

Even as your entire being feels like it’s covered in bricks.

“Morning, my baby,” the sweet, yet somehow still cocky voice of your boyfriend croons into your ear. His warm breath spans over your cheek, and you whine and cover your head with the pillow.

“Your breath reeks,” you grumble, desperate to ignore his snickers. “Can you give me fourteen seconds before you’re the bane of my existence?”

“I’m sure I can,” he teases, and god he’s lucky he’s so cute because the smirk in his voice makes you want to whack him with a pillow. “I’m not gonna, but I can.”

“You’re such a disappointment,” you snip, and that’s prompted with a soft kiss against your aching temple. That, finally, does have you melting, and you whimper softly before turning your head to bury into his chest. He holds you lovingly, letting you settle against him. “No wonder ‘Samu’s the favorite child.”

“‘Samu’s the favorite because of pity,” he says simply, and you giggle in his chest dopily. From his chest, you hear his outer arm paw for his phone on the bedside table, and you mewl once the comforting weight settles back against your shoulders.

“So,” he says, nosing at your hairline. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

“So much,” you say, voice warbled from the way your lips are smooshed against his chest. “Too much.”

“I know,” he teases, and once again, you want to smack the smirk off his face with the pillow. “You were definitely the life of the party last night. Off your rocker completely.”

“Hm?”

He pauses, and you feel a certain queasiness settle in your heart.

“Definitely had me in surprise. Thought Osamu was gonna have a stroke. Definitely glad Sunarin caught it on video, otherwise you may not believe me.”

Fuck. What did you do?

“Please, whatever it is, be nice about it,” you beg, now hiding your face from him not to be comfortable, but to hide your embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad about it,” he assures.

Why would he be mad about whatever it was?

Then, from his phone, you hear your voice in a drunken stupor, wailing on and on about how much you love Atsumu, and you’re blessed to have him and how definitely some unsavory things that absolutely should not have been said aloud, in public.

But nothing that would cause such a strange reaction; Sunarin was always known to catch you at your worst, even if it is flirting with-

“Yer damned boyfriend is gonna come out here and kick my ass if you don’t stop.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna film the whole thing,” Suna snorts from behind the camera.

“I wanna lick your abs.”

“ATSUMU!”

Osamu.

You were flirting with Osamu, thinking he was Atsumu.

Instantly, immediately, your eyes fly open and you scramble as far as you can away from your blonde boyfriend, eyes wide as saucers while he cackles at your expense. Your chest heaves and you feel bile rushing up your throat, horrified for the trauma you probably caused the other twin.

“You are sooo into me,” he wheezes, pointing and laughing at you.

“Fuck you, this isn’t funny!” You wail, burying your face in your hands. “Oh, my god, your teammates must think I’m fucking feral! I’ll never be able to show my face again! Fuck!” Your voice, snow hiked in a snarl, growls out a sharp “delete it. Now.” from behind your palms.

He snickers and you feel the bed weight shift, and there’s a comforting warmth that settles against you as he plops next to you.

“You’re makin’ a mountain out of a molehill,” he says sweetly, as if that’s supposed to help. “You got a little plastered and mistook me for the lesser twin is all.”

“‘Is all,’” You whimper. He tosses an arm around your shoulder and you hide your face in his bicep. “I practically cheat on you and you say ‘is all.’”

“Hard to be mad at you when you moan my name at my twin.”

“Shut up!”

“Talkin’ about how you wanna lick my abs,” he starts to plant kisses on your head, the quick action making you squeal softly. “You want me to toss you on the counter, ride my thigh, suck my toes-“

“Fuck you, I did not say that!” You groan, but this time it’s shrouded in laughter.

“I have 4 friends and 1 scarred Kita-San who will confirm that.” He beams at your laughter, now moving his kisses to peck along your cheek, and you shove at him gently at the tickly feeling. “How you love me soooo much, how sexy I am and how bad you are for me-“

“I get it!” You giggle. You turn your head up to nudge his teasy lips away, but instead he captures your own in a kiss, the rapid, repeated pecks now on your laughing lips. His long arm wraps around your shoulders and gently angles your jawline to keep you as subjected to his affections as possible.

“How you’d do anything for me, with me, how everyone else is so jealous that they’re not me- which is true, but I was surprised to hear you say it.”

“You’re so embarrassing!”

“You looove me.”

“Unfortunately I do- no!”

Slender fingers curl at your jawline and neck, tickling you back into submission, all the while kissing the laughter from your mouth once again.

“Shut up. You’re in no position to be a brat right now.”

“Stop being mean!” You whine around your laughter.

He cocks a brow before leaning down to your writhing head, once again holding it steady as he stops tickling with the same hand.

“I’ll show you mean, babydoll.”

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