#I go to a few different grocery stores to get the best prices | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

decojellyfish · 4 months ago

Note

OH MY GOD I just fell in love with the blog and not if you are taking requests but if so I would like to suggest a guard dog!Ghost and Abandoned kitten!reader where price maybe adopt the reader and ghost take care of her??

I am so sorry this took so long! But thank you SO much for being my first request/ask! This idea is really cute, I'm sorry it's a bit short, but I hope you like it! Also, I hope this makes up for the angst fic about Dragon! Price lol

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Bonbon

Hybrid AU! TF141 (Retired) Guard dog! Ghost x Kitten! Reader x Owner! Price !!No Romance For Obvious Purposes!!

SFW ~ Fluff

Warnings: None!

───♡───────────── Beginning

10:30 AM. That was the time John Price would go grocery shopping every day. Today’s list was a few ingredients for tonight’s dinner, more rawhide for his rescue dog, Ghost, and paper towels. What he didn’t expect to be suddenly added to the list, after he had just bought and paid for his groceries, was a kitten. Today, Price had to take a different route to the grocery store. The usual trail he would take was under heavy construction, much to his dismay. But he still managed to get to the store. About 4 minutes after leaving the store, he passed by a short alleyway. Now, no one ever really pays any mind to alleys. Until a noise comes from said hypothetical alleyway. And that’s just what happened. A little grunt, followed by a small cry, and then the sound of a takeout box crashing onto the ground. It made the retired captain stop in his tracks and turn his head to look into the dark alley. He could only hear tiny little munches now, and he could only make out the tiniest little figure in the void. Price made sure to be careful with his steps, he could tell that this little thing could be easily startled. Then he finally realized what he had come across.

It was a you! A little kitten and a very hungry one at that. You were munching on someone’s thrown-out, moldy, spaghetti, your tiny little fangs doing the best they could at tearing the pasta apart. It didn’t seem like you’d been there for that long, considering how young you looked. You remained in a little cardboard box, that appeared to be your makeshift home. It was filthy and withering away, like the blanket you had too. And your clothes. And you in general. You were a very dirty kitten. It didn’t help that your being hungry all the time caused you to be a messy eater.

By the time you had realized a big thing had snuck up behind you, your face was already coated in marinara. You snapped your head to look at the big creature and quickly folded your ears back and fluffed your little tail up. You hissed with all your might, knowing that you were probably the scariest thing this large figure, well over five times your size, had ever seen. Price only looked at you, taking in your starving appearance. Eating tossed food was unhealthy for a young thing like you. Surely, he had to have something on him that would make you trust him. He set his bags of groceries down and searched his pockets. He was relieved when he found one of those strawberry bonbons in his back pocket. You know, the ones that only grandmas seem to have. He unwrapped it and set it down in front of your hissing form. He would then grab his bags and slowly back away, watching for any kind of movement that came from you. After what felt like ten minutes, you would sneak up to the bonbon. Cautiously, you would reach your little hand out to it and snatch it right into your mouth. Price was almost terrified, thinking you would choke on it with how disparate you were for this little piece of candy. But thankfully, you didn’t. You would sit there and just let the hard candy melt in your mouth. This tasted so much better than moldy pasta. You looked up at the guy who gave you this candy, reaching up and making grabby hands for more. Price was relieved at your reaction, taking it as an okay that you wanted to be picked up. So he scooped you up into his arms and began the journey home.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ghost could already smell his owner through the door, peeved that he was a little later than arriving home on his usual time. But something was off about Price’s smell. There was an additional scent, something he’d never smelled before. It was a rancid smell, especially overwhelming due to his strong nose. Whatever Price was bringing home, it needed to either be cleaned or immediately disposed of. The door opened, and Price would quickly set his bags of groceries down before going into the bathroom. Ghost would pause, processing that he’d just seen his owner with what looked like a tiny human. Had he been seeing a mistress of some sort??? Ghost would’ve known, he would’ve smelled some perfume on his owner by now. He continued to think about it while he took the groceries and began to put them away in the kitchen.

Price had drawn a bath, ensuring the water was warm but not scalding. You were sitting on the bath rug, looking around the bathroom you were in. The large dog man sitting in the doorway wasn’t that subtle, so you looked at him too. You looked at him for a long time, mostly because he’d been staring at you for a while. It was like a staring contest between the two of you. “That should be good.” Price said to himself, turning around to you. He watched the silent stares between you and Ghost, causing him to chuckle before he picked you up and gingerly set you down in the warm, bubbly water. You mewed and squealed in protest like any other cat would. Price would quietly shush you as he began to mush shampoo into your hair and tail.

After your little bath, during which you spent a good chunk of it verbally disapproving until you realized it wasn’t doing anything. Now, you were content. You’d been swaddled up in a large towel, your hair air-drying as you rested on the couch. Price could tell you were happy because you sounded like an active car engine. You were purring, and you were purring loud. You hadn’t felt this warm and cozy since… well, you’ve never been warm or cozy once in your life. You were always cold, hungry, and never comfortable. Now, you had this random guy clean all the dust, dirt, and grime off of you and now he was preparing food for you. And yeah, this big dog who’s constantly trying to figure out why you suddenly appeared in his home. But you were willing to put up with him. Eventually, Price came back with a small plate filled with soft foods. He would spoon-feed you a bit of squishy rice to which you happily ate it up, you were starving. You would loudly purr through your little munches, causing Price to chuckle. “This must be a lot better than the rubbish you were stuck with earlier, yeah?” You wouldn’t respond, but still purred and opened your mouth for another bite, to which Price readily spoon-fed you some more.

Ring ring! The sound surprised all three of you, Price was getting a phone call. “Agh, work…” He grumbled when he checked the caller ID. “Ghost, why don’t you feed the wee one for a bit, hm?” He handed the plate and small spoon to his big scary dog, to which, he begrudgingly agreed as it looked like he had no choice. Ghost looked down at you as Price stepped away to take the call. You looked up at him, both of you resuming your staring contest. Until you meowed, impatiently. Ghost rolled his eyes, hastily feeding you a spoonful of pudding. The sweetness of the dessert surprised you, you’d never had a dessert that was fresh, cold, and not coated in mold or garbage juices. You immediately meowed again, demanding more. This big monster of a dog couldn’t believe he was being bossed around by this little kitten! But alas, he fed you another spoonful of pudding, then rice, until the whole plate was empty.

About 10 minutes later, Price returned to the living room. He was pleasantly surprised by the scene that beheld him. You were curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly while Ghost was curled around you and loudly snoring. Price could only chuckle to himself, shaking his head before he grabbed a blanket. He placed it over you and Ghost and relaxed on the couch as well.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ghost woke up, immediately alert when he couldn’t smell you. He could hear Price in the kitchen, cooking up dinner for that night. The dog-hybrid got up and began his search for you, faintly being able to smell you from down the hall. Peering into Price’s bedroom, he could see that the television was on. It was set to a children’s cartoon channel, and then he saw you. You were swimming in one of Price’s shirts, making biscuits out of his fluffy blankets as you happily watched cartoons. He would walk up to the bed, sitting on the side of it. His weight caused the bed to dip on one side, making you almost roll over if it wasn’t for Ghost panicking and swiftly holding you in place before he moved to the center of the bed, balancing the weight out. It didn’t phase you, you just went back to making biscuits. It made Ghost chuckle, your nonchalant-ness. Price entered the bedroom after about an hour, ready to announce that dinner was ready. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw you and Ghost playing together. He was using one of his old toys that he had held onto since he was a puppy, playing tug of war with you. Obviously, he was going easy on you, his grasp on the toy limp while you were gripping the toy between your teeth like your life depended on winning. But it made him smile when he saw how happy you would get every time you won each round.

But he would definitely make it harder to win when you grew up.

───♡───────────── End

If you have any requests or asks, feel free to submit them! And thank you again, anonymous, for being my first request!

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neptuneiris · 2 months ago

Text

Cruel Summer (02/10)

Paradise Beach

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: after a bad day at work, you head to the beach of your dreams, where an unexpected encounter occurs with a person who is too well known in the city and very rich.

words: 7.7k

previous part • next chapter • series masterlist

omg i can't believe how much you guys liked the first part! i really thought the story wouldn't get so much support (especially since i haven't finished CYPTBIL👀) but you guys again surprised me🤗 i'm very inspired with this story so i'm very happy for all the support, so enjoy this new chapter and look forward to the others!🙌🏻

thank you for reading!

warnings: none in this chapter.

You hate to see the beach dirty.

You've always had a problem with people who leave all their trash on the beach without any remorse and in full view of everyone. Many people will be embarrassed to confront them and create a fuss, but you... you defend the beach.

The first community program you see that brings people together to clean up the beach to better help the ecosystem, you're the first to sign up.

And that's the bad thing about living in Black Waves.

The beaches are not the best kept. There is dirt everywhere, the smell is horrible and really very few people make an effort to keep the beaches on this side clean.

The complete opposite on the beaches of Crown's.

This is mainly why you want to make a difference, to have clean and beautiful beaches despite the 'status' that the rich label you in the worst way.

You've seen their beaches and they are very well kept, that's true. It was clear to you when you went to that party last night and saw the white sand.

Obviously the rich people pay people for maintenance, whether they are poor people or whatever, but your people can't afford that, so they either clean it themselves or they just don't do it.

Pretty much the same goes for restaurants and venues of any kind.

Certainly the restaurant you work for is on a beachfront terrace in a luxurious and exclusive part of Crown's, the same goes for most of the restaurants in this area.

But in Black Waves the restaurants are less sophisticated, the food is fast, some are wood-framed, and there are no more than four people working there.

The places to buy clothes or basic necessities are the same, even a grocery store is inside the same house of the owners, while the rich have a huge shopping mall with brand name clothing stores, accessories, libraries, coffee shops and more refined restaurants.

They also have on their side of town large supermarkets where every fruit, vegetable or meat is triple the price of what they sell it on your side of town.

The prices are also different, clearly.

In Black Waves the dishes sold in the restaurants are affordable, while here a seafood dish costs fifty dollars.

And today especially your boss is in a bad mood, like every day, but today more so.

"Hey."

Alysanne whispers to you from the other side of the bar as you finish cleaning one of the tables and watch her almost instantly, where she takes care that your boss doesn't see you both talking.

"Daniel has texted me, he says Cregan is taking us to another one of his parties tonight," she lets you know with the clear excitement all over her contained face, "They say it's going to be great and maybe Cregan can take us up on his parents' yacht."

You let out a sigh and like her, you check to make sure Mr. Frey doesn't catch you talking in mid-shift.

"Tonight?"

"Yes," she says without removing her excitement.

"We're working double shifts today, Anne," you tell her without encouragement.

"Oh come on. We can't miss the opportunity to spend the party on a fucking yacht," she whispers excitedly to you.

"My feet are already hurting and it's not even four in the afternoon," you point out to her.

She gives you a bad look.

"Y/N," she tells you reproachfully.

"Depends on how the day goes."

"Are you serious? We must—

"You two!"

Mr. Frey's voice immediately catches your attention and Alysanne's, where you notice him already watching you both with a scowl on his face and clearly furious.

"Did I pay you to chat or to work!?"

The two of you exchange a glance and immediately turn away from each other, each returning to their respective tasks. But of course, it not only draws the attention of the two of you, but also that of some customers, and the two of you endure the humiliation of being scolded in public.

"You'd better move and I'd better not see you two chatting again or I'll pay you exactly what you deserve or send you back to your side of town."

You almost want to laugh in his face, but like any educated woman and again out of necessity, you keep quiet, as does Alysanne, but the looks you both exchange say it all.

You would like to tell him that because of the mistreatment and this kind of humiliation in public, the two of you and the other workers should be paid more, especially because you have to deal with a boss like him, but neither you nor anyone else says anything and continue working.

And precisely because you were talking to Alysanne for only a brief moment, Mr. Frey takes advantage and overloads you both with too much work for the remainder of the shift.

And that's why you definitely decide not to go to any party.

Your feet hurt, you are urged to take a bath, eat and lie in your bed, however, you are surprised to see how Alysanne has way too much energy for the hell you both had to go through and as she talk to the guys by text, the more excited she gets about going to Cregan's party.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Alysanne asks you as she finishes getting ready, looking at you through the full-length mirror.

"Honestly I'd rather go to the beach to relax instead of being surrounded with music, the smell of beer, weed and teenagers getting drunk."

She gives you an amused look.

"And why don't you do that?"

"I don't have a ride and it's too late to walk."

"Cregan is coming to pick me up in his car along with the others, I'm sure he can give you a ride if you ask him."

You give her a curious and unsure look.

"Do you think he'll accept?"

"We're going to the same side of town, he'll be passing through," she nods with a nonchalant gesture.

At least you don't have to get too dressed up and you won't get tired, so you trust Alysanne and start getting ready too. Not too much like her but to look presentable.

As time goes by Cregan finally arrives with the boys making a huge fuss, excited about the party tonight. Alysanne tells them to shut up and they are lucky that your uncle and aunt haven't complained about them yet.

You give Cregan directions after asking him to please give you a ride and pretty soon everyone is inside of Crown's.

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Sam asks you confused.

You shake your head.

"Why not?"

"I'm too tired for a party."

Chase gives you a knowing look.

"I can't believe in all this time you haven't been caught."

"It's not like I'm doing anything wrong either," you shrug.

"But the rich hate us and I bet you they'll make a huge fuss if they catch you."

"Yeah, who knows, maybe a trespass sue," Daniel agrees.

"Even knowing you don't have the money to pay for it," Chase tells you.

"Trespassing?" you repeat between amused and incredulous, "Going to sit on the edge of the beach is trespassing? Do you even know what trespassing is?"

"In any case, the rich won't like it if you get caught," Sam says making a nonchalant gesture.

You decide not to take it any further and finally arrive at your destination point, where you get out and walk over to the side of the pilot's window to see Cregan.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he smiles at you, "But the guys are right. If the owners find out about you, you can get in big trouble."

"I've been doing this for almost a year," you let him know, "I'm very sneaky."

He shakes his head with an amused smile.

"Just be careful. We'll come get you when you tell us."

"Okay," you nod, "Thanks, Cregan."

"Take care," Alysanne says to you from the passenger seat.

"Sure."

"And if the rich see you, get in the ocean and swim to the party, we'll help you there," Daniel tells you too.

You give him a look and and a not entirely convinced smile.

"Yeah, sure, very helpful."

You finally start to walk away from them as they continue to yell at you to take care of yourself, to call them in case of anything and so on, until Cregan starts up and his car begins to disappear into the distance.

And then you take action.

You look around, quickly assessing the area, making sure there are no people nearby to see you, but surprisingly this whole luxurious area of Crown's is quiet.

The only movement you notice is several cars passing by, but other than that, there are no monkeys on the shore.

There is a wall in front of you that marks the line between this private neighborhood and the houses in the same neighborhood that are even more private, since they have a huge front yard and a huge part of the beach exclusively for them.

The wall is not high, fortunately, you think it should be, but this is compensated by security guards who patrol this area and the beach from time to time.

So stealthily and in a calculated manner, once you make sure that there are no people nearby, you hide among the bushes and trees that are planted in the corner of the sidewalk to put your foot on a specific crack that you know of the wall and push yourself upward taking the edge of the wall with both hands to be able to observe the other side.

You quickly scan the entire area, making sure there are no guards patrolling nearby nor any of the people who live in the houses before jumping.

The meters of distance are considerable between the huge houses or rather mansions. There is pavement between the divisions and those divisions are exactly the way to the beach.

You put on the cap of the sweatshirt you are wearing to cover your hair and your face, since you know that all the houses must have security cameras outside, so this way you protect yourself in case of anything.

And once you make sure that there is no one outside or nearby, you gain impulse again with more strength and as fast as your feet allow you but still being careful, you place your hands on the rough edge of the wall and start to climb.

You adjust your grip more firmly on the edge and in one agile motion, you propel yourself upwards, where you feel the effort as you pull your own weight and more as you try to be fast.

Luckily you've done this many times before and when you reach the top, wasting no time and making sure no one is watching you, you quickly slide down the other side and you fall on your feet with a dry sound.

You don't take the time to rest and looking around, with adrenaline running through your veins and your heart beating too fast, you quickly advance towards the beach.

And once you are far enough away from where you managed to cross and indeed you confirm that no one saw you and everything is fine, again, you can relax.

You remove the cap from your head and let your hair free again, slowly feeling how the breeze and the wind with the salty air envelop you completely as you approach the seashore.

Easily anyone who lives here if they see you could tell that you live here too, besides the night also helps you because without so much light they can't recognize you right away.

And it is as if you are also a rich person, daughter of rich parents, being inside a private section of the beach in Crown's most exclusive area.

And as you go along, this is precisely why you take the risk of coming to this place when it is forbidden to you; the place and the view.

The sand here is perfect, clean as if no one had ever walked on it, the air is salty with no smell of anything unpleasant in specific, there are no people that could be dangerous around you and the surroundings are absolutely beautiful and clean.

Also this section has a cliff a bit secluded from all the houses, where its huge rocky wall looks absolutely beautiful and ethereal when illuminated by the night light.

You have come here many, many times and you always head to the same place, that specific pier.

The pier stretches out in front of you like a polished wooden path, leading into the deep waters of the night ocean.

Discreetly placed lights along the pier illuminate it with a soft golden glow, creating a contrast to the darkness surrounding the horizon.

The reflection of the small lamps trembles on the surface of the water, giving the place a magical and mysterious air.

The structure is impeccable, made of dark, sturdy wood, maintained with a care that only the rich can afford. There is not a single splinter out of place, not even an ill-fitting clove.

Every detail is taken care of, right down to the polished wooden benches at the end of the pier, ideal for sitting and admiring the sea in silence.

As you approach, the wooden planks creak softly under your feet, but the sound mixes with the gentle murmur of the waves, making it almost imperceptible.

And when you reach the end, you can see a large yacht moored at the side of the dock, with it's deluxe cover and it's name painted in gold and silver lettering.

You have no idea which rich family it might belong to, but you know this is just one of many they must have. It wasn't here the last time you came here and fortunately it doesn't obstruct the view.

You take a seat on the wooden bench and letting out a big breath, you watch as the full moon reflects off the ocean, it's silvery sparkles dancing on the water in hypnotic movements.

This is why you love coming here, even in this way, because the fresh, salty night air fills your lungs with every inhalation.

And just for an instant, you feel freer than ever in this space that is not supposed to belong to you.

Besides you not only enjoy seeing the moon, but also the stars, shining brightly and adorning the entire night sky. And you can rest easy, because there is no danger on this side of town.

You've been enduring a lot at work lately, taking a lot of strain on your shoulders from double shifts and stressing over the slightest thing, but coming here and being here gives you that much needed quiet time.

And only this place can offer you that; peace and tranquility.

You don't know exactly how much time passes but you find yourself in the same position, not getting bored and enjoying the view, wishing time would freeze so you could continue to enjoy this without worries.

You think that Alysanne and the guys must be having fun too, but for tonight this is all the fun you need.

Suddenly your phone vibrates next to you and the screen lights up as a new notification comes in. You casually pick it up and see a new message, and it's from Alysanne.

It's a selfie of her with the guys, all happy, laughing, smiling, beer bottles in hand and with the sea and yachts in the background completing the scene.

You let out a small laugh as you see Sam's euphoric face, Daniel and Chase's funny faces, and Cregan and Alysanne's smiling faces.

"Excuse me?"

Your whole body reacts and jumps instantly from shock and you look quickly and sharply behind you with all the panic on your face, definitely not expecting what you see.

Aemond Targaryen.

Shit.

It's the first thing that comes to your mind as you quickly jump to your feet, your heart beating too fast and your hands starting to shake.

That's when you know that the moment has finally come where you're caught and you're in big trouble.

Aemond watches you with a serious and attentive face, analyzing you completely. And you feel completely small when his eyes look at you with confusion and distrust, but challenging.

He clearly has no idea what are you doing here and maintains a defensive posture.

And you definitely feel like a thief who's just been caught in the act.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh God.

You think in terror.

How come you didn't hear him coming? The boards creak with the weight when someone walks and you couldn't hear anything?

You think that you should have been more attentive, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, because it's not possible that you really were so distracted and in your own world that you didn't hear him coming.

But with him already here, watching you in a bad way, looking cold and suspicious, that you don't have time to scold yourself or think about it.

"I-I..." you stammer, in a shaky voice, not having the slightest idea what to say, very nervous and scared.

All you can feel is a lump in your throat, an irregular throbbing in your chest and the overwhelming weight of his gaze on you.

He doesn't look away and his serious face doesn't change, clearly waiting for an answer.

As you watch him examine you, you watch as he runs his gaze up and down you, trying to decipher who you are. And it doesn't take him long to come to an obvious conclusion, because he instantly knows that you are not like him.

By your clothes and your old sandals, everything about you gives away that you don't belong here. Besides, he doesn't recognize you from among the other Crown's families to be able to say that you belong to one of them.

He knows you're not from around here.

"I asked you a question," he demands you in a bad way and with a harsher tone, walking towards you, "What are you doing here?"

You feel a shiver run down your back as you swallow hard, but the words just won't come out.

You're paralyzed, terrified, stuck, because you have no idea what to say and you're still processing that this is really happening.

You know you don't have any good excuses and he's impatient, waiting for an answer that really won't be convincing to be the truth.

"I will call security for invasion of private property," he warns you firmly, clearly beginning to lose patience.

The danger in his words makes the fear hit you even harder and you finally react in panic.

"No, no, please," you finally manage to say, worried and raising one of your hands to him in supplication, "I-I… I'm not doing anything wrong, I swear," you raise both hands in surrender, trembling.

He inspects you more closely with a piercing gaze, trying to find something, anything, to tell him what you are really doing here or what you are trying to do, watching between you and his family's yacht anchored to the dock.

His posture remains tense, ready to act if he finds anything out of place.

He thinks that maybe you are doing something with the yacht, but he sees it in perfect condition, with nothing strange and nothing out of the ordinary, as the rope that ties it to the dock is without problems.

But he still continues to watch you seriously, defensively and suspiciously.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, lowering your gaze, embarrassed and terrified, "This has never happened before," you say, reproaching yourself for the mess you've gotten yourself into.

But he hears you perfectly, and his frown deepens.

"Before?" he queries you.

You close your eyes tightly, cursing yourself internally for having said that, to again look at him pleadingly and in desperation wanting to prove to him that you really aren't doing anything wrong.

"I swear I—

"Hello!?"

The unexpected voice makes you jump again from surprise and you watch with your eyes wide open behind Aemond as one of the security guards enters the dock, his flashlight illuminating the way.

Your heart beats with such force that it seems to thunder in your ears, as panic engulfs you completely.

And without thinking too much, you move quickly, hiding behind a huge wooden box, taking advantage of the pole supporting the roof at the end of the pier and some scattered chairs.

You crouch down, trying to make yourself as small as possible, but desperation gives you away with every move.

This definitely ends up completely confusing Aemond, not expecting that reaction and movement from you at all.

And you watch him from your hiding place with all the pleading and forgiveness in your eyes, silently begging him not to say anything, not to give you away.

But he turns his gaze to the guard who ends up coming closer.

"Are you all right son?"

Your heart stops momentarily and you watch him in terrified silence, simply waiting for the worst.

But even to have his whole look serious and not showing much reaction, you watch as hesitation appears for a moment and he falters in his words, as if he doesn't know exactly what to say, until he does.

"Yes," he finally says, "I'm all right."

The guard, seemingly satisfied with the answer, nods, but doesn't leave.

"The Baratheon's reported a break-in in their backyard a few days ago," he says and you listen carefully, still waiting for the moment with fear and concern, "Nothing serious, apparently just clothes and some decorations. I'm just patrolling to make sure everything is in order."

Your breathing quickens as you listen to every word and Aemond continues to watch the guard, when suddenly he shoots you a quick glance, his eyes reflecting a mixture of seriousness and indecision.

"Yes, so I hear," he says.

"Are you alone, son? I thought I saw someone else here."

Fuck.

Your stomach sinks and you close your eyes tightly, then watch in terror for the moment when Aemond will finally speak and give you away.

But you see the hesitation in his gaze again, you also watch intently as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to say anything.

When suddenly you see him let out a long breath and slyly give you a look with his serious face, then lick his lips and press them together in resignation.

"Yes, I'm alone."

As soon as Aemond utters those words, a wave of relief sweeps through your body. But almost instantly you stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe it.

He really just covered you in front of the guard. He didn't really give you away even when he had every reason to do so.

Your hands are still shaking, but you slowly feel the adrenaline and anguish start to subside.

"Well, we'll be around if you need anything. Good night, son."

Aemond nods in his direction.

"Yes, thank you. Good night."

You stand still for a few more moments, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance until finally there is no more noise. Just the sound of the water against the dock and the night wind on the waves.

You take a deep breath and slowly, you sit up, emerging from your hiding place with your hands still shaking.

Your eyes meet those of Aemond, who is still standing, watching you with that penetrating gaze that seems to be able to read all your deepest thoughts.

You don't know exactly what to say to him, you're still surprised and don't understand why he saved you, but the words come out on their own, grateful and fearful.

"Thank you," you murmur apologetically but with all the sincerity in your gaze, "Thank you for not saying anything."

He doesn't say anything to you, which confuses you even more, he just keeps standing there watching you, with his usual hard-to-read expression.

“I-I..." you stammer, biting your lips and lowering your gaze for a moment, still feeling nervous, "I really wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't stealing or harming or anything like that, truly," you tell him honestly.

Again, he says nothing. He doesn't move either. He just stands there, with both hands tucked inside his front pockets of his shorts and still watching you with utmost attention that makes you feel incredibly nervous, even more so due to the circumstances.

You are also surprised that he is not kicking you out and threatening not to come back here.

You honestly don't understand his behavior and the fact that he saved you from the guard, but for whatever reason, you thank him or you would have been in big trouble.

So cautiously, you take a step towards the entrance and exit of the pier.

"And I'm sorry. You won't see me around here again. I really don't want to cause trouble," you add, watching him warily and wanting to make clear the promise in your words, "I'll leave now," you say quietly.

And having nothing more to say, you turn around, ready to run away if necessary, but you barely take two steps when surprisingly his voice stops you.

"What were you doing here?" he asks for the fifth time all night, his tone just as accusing but now with a curious tone.

You stand still, not knowing exactly how to respond.

But you know you have two choices: lie or tell the truth. And for some reason, you feel you can't lie to him; Aemond Targaryen.

Aside from belonging to the wealthiest, most prestigious and powerful family in Sunset's and the entire country, with his father being Viserys Targaryen himself and being one of the heirs to his entire fortune, he seems to be someone who seems to have the innate ability to detect falsehood.

That's why you don't understand why he saved you, a poor girl who doesn't belong to his world and probably never will, but still, you decide to be honest.

Anyway, you're already stuck here and as crazy as it sounds, you owe Aemond Targaryen one.

"I was just... looking for some peace and quiet," you confess, turning your body to once again look at him, "I had a bad day and coming here..." you look around with a wistful look, "It helps me."

Aemond tilts his head, frowning slightly and biting the inside of his cheek, inspecting you.

"And you can't do that on the beach on your side of town?" he asks you with a tone of disbelief.

You sigh, feeling a twinge of frustration as you think about the answer. It's a reasonable question, but the answer is not so simple.

"Not really," you reply, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting your lips in nervousness, "Surely you know it's not the same at Black Waves."

He shakes his head slightly.

"I've never been there."

You almost look at him with an obvious look, almost, but you end up nodding, since of course he's never been to your side of town when he lives here.

"The smell of the beach there is not so nice. They are not as clean as these, there is dirt and being there alone in the middle of the night is dangerous," you explain.

And everything you say is true, which is why you decide to come here.

And he looks at you, clearly digesting your words, saying nothing for a few moments, as is becoming usual between the two of you.

You think that maybe for him, someone who has lived surrounded by luxury all his life, it is somewhat difficult to imagine such a different reality. But it is also no secret how the people of Black Waves live.

So you don't understand his silence or even his behavior, but what you do see in him, surprisingly... is that he doesn't judge you.

You would have expected the face of disgust instantly like any spoiled child of rich parents and also that he would tell you to leave now with that posture and superficial look.

But nothing.

Aemond Targaryen doesn't really reflect anything with his eyes. Unless he's judging you and giving you those looks of disgust in his mind.

But, strangely, he doesn't make you feel any less.

"And coming here... it's like my paradise, for the peace and quiet," you conclude in a low murmur.

Again... he doesn't say anything.

And that begins to frustrate you.

He just watches you, as if he's evaluating every word, every gesture and every detail in you.

And you silently think to yourself that he probably doesn't say anything because he really wants you to leave, to leave him alone and never come back here.

So you try to leave again, because you've caused enough trouble and you can't risk staying.

However, just as you prepare to say goodbye and apologize, again, he interrupts you.

"Since when do you come here?" he asks with a tone that reveals a mild interest you weren't expecting.

Inevitably your nerves run through you again and you swallow hard, having no idea whether this interrogation is good or bad, but you still decide to be honest to avoid as much trouble as you can.

"Last year," you confess apologetically.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"And no one had caught you until now?"

"It's just that I don't come here much, I promise," you say instantly, sincere, "Like I told you I only come when I really need to... when I want peace and quiet. And I don't do anything but sit around and watch the ocean, that's all."

He nods slowly, again processing your words.

And you don't know it but to Aemond... there seems to be something about you, something about the way you talk or maybe that you're a Black Waves girl, that keeps him interested.

His blue eyes, cold but curious, fix on yours, as if he wants to see beyond the words, as if he's looking for some kind of hidden truth.

The silence that follows feels interminable and finally, he with his relaxed but dominant posture, takes his hands out of his pockets and turns around, resting his arms on one of the railings of the pier.

He stares off into the horizon with that serious look that tells you nothing and you just stand there, wondering if you should still leave or what you should do, since you don't understand anything.

"You can stay," he says suddenly, his voice low but firm.

You frown and stare at him completely confused, having no idea if you heard right or not.

"What?"

"You can stay," he repeats, not watching you.

You blink, watching him in shock, now being the one processing his words, not really understanding anything but feeling completely surprised by his offer.

You didn't expect this. Not at all.

And at that moment comes the distrust in you, as it can't be too good to be real.

"Are you sure? I mean..." you watch him uncertainly, "Maybe you want to be alone," you shrug.

You watch as he sits up and starts pulling something out of his pockets, which ends up being a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

And without looking at you, he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he tells you carelessly, taking a cigarette and starting to light it.

You watch him curiously, not understanding why he's being this way with you... so strangely kind. And that without knowing where it comes from, you begin to like him.

"And you're really not going to give me away? This isn't... I don't know," you shrug, "Like some kind of trap?"

You watch as he takes a drag and blows out the smoke, putting the lighter and the pack back in his pocket.

"No," he says serious and almost annoyed, so you decide not to question him anymore, as strange as this is, "If you want to stay that's fine, if not you can leave too. Just do what you want, if I wanted to give you away, I would have done it already."

You remain silent, processing his words. You frown and watch him as he takes another drag and then the smoke rising to dissipate in the cool night air.

There is something about his posture, the casual way he holds his cigarette, that disconcerts you and catches your attention.

He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let someone like you just hang around, much less in a place that is clearly his, or at least his family's.

So you feel unsure how to interpret all of this.

So you continue to stand, still waiting for some sign that you should leave, but he gives you none. Instead, he just looks off into the horizon, where the water meets the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars.

And the truth is, you don't know what to do.

The prospect of staying there, with him, someone you barely really know and who could give you away at any moment, still makes you nervous.

However, you are also intrigued by this strange friendliness he is showing.

So you decide to stay, so you again take a seat on the edge of the wood with carefree movements, your feet dipping into the shimmering water beyond.

You give him a brief glance, unsure if he'll sit down too or if he'll just leave. But to your surprise, he stands beside you, silently smoking and not watching you.

It's not warm or comforting company, but somehow, the stillness you both share is more soothing than uncomfortable.

And so the minutes pass and the sound of the water, soft and rhythmic, begins to soothe you again. The cool night air makes the anxiety in your chest slowly dissipate, as does the tension in your shoulders.

And with each passing of time, you realize that nothing bad will really happen by being here with him. And you also realize that Aemond Targaryen is maybe not arrogant and shallow like the others.

He hasn't even been mean to you and hasn't judged you, so that's why you decide to start a conversation.

"Why are you here?" you decide to ask, without looking him and simply moving the waters gently with your feet, focusing on that.

The question floats in the air between you, and for a moment, you think he won't answer you, since maybe he told you that you can stay but it doesn't mean you should talk to him.

But then you hear him move, his weight making a slight creak in the wood.

"Same as you," he finally replies, though his tone is less curt this time, "Looking for peace and quiet."

You're instantly taken aback by his honesty and also by his response, definitely not expecting that, so you frown and look at him confused.

"Really?"

He watches you and his gaze instantly paralyzes you, watching as he watches you just as confused but this time defensively at your reaction.

"Why is that so incredible to believe?"

You bite your lips and avert your gaze, thinking very hard about your next words, as you shrug and watch him again.

"Well... I'm just thinking why a person who has everything and certainly lacks nothing would come here... looking for peace and quiet," you explain with genuine curiosity.

He lets out a snort, with a bitter look on his face as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.

"Neither you nor anyone else knows everything about me and my family," he says with an unexpected harshness in his tone.

You remain silent, surprised by the frankness of his response and avert your gaze to the horizon.

You feel a slight discomfort that you didn't expect and it's not because of what he said, but how he said it, so serious and distant.

But maybe he's right.

All families at Crown's are characterized by more than just money, power and status, and that's appearance.

The rich probably think they know everything among themselves, but your people see a little more reality and you know that behind that perfect facade there are secrets, tensions and burdens.

And the Targaryen's are no exception. Even Cregan has hinted at it many times, with his wry, half-joking comments about the lives of wealthy families.

The moment between the two and the conversation seems on the verge of becoming awkward again.

And just when you think the talk is over, Aemond takes another drag and, surprising you, looks sideways at you with a cool but questioning expression.

"And what happened to you?" he asks you suddenly, changing the subject.

"Hm?" you observe him attentively and confused.

"Why did you have a bad day?" he repeats just as calmly, but this time, with a casual, carefree tone.

"Oh," you murmur, turning your eyes back to the horizon.

You didn't expect him to be interested in something so personal. But since he asked, you decide to be honest.

"Well, apparently my boss hates me and made me work double shifts today," you explain, letting out a sigh. "It's stressful enough to put up with his bad treatment and workload, but I also had to deal with a lot of rude customers."

His gaze remains fixed on you, as if processing what you just said. Then he goes back to staring at the horizon with a disinterested look and takes another drag on his cigarette.

"Sounds like shit," he finally says, his tone dry but without a hint of empathy.

"Yeah, it is," you reply, letting out a bitter little laugh, "But it is what it is."

He nods slightly and suddenly, the distance you felt between the two of you seems to diminish a bit.

Aemond isn't as unapproachable as you thought, and though you still don't quite understand why he's acting this way, you begin to see that maybe, just maybe, there's more to him than meets the eye.

You stare out at the water in silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the pier pilings filling the air.

And you are surprised by how normal this situation is.

You mean, who would have thought? You, a poor girl from Black Waves and him, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the region, sharing a night on the dock as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You don't understand anything but... you like him.

"I've never seen you before," he murmurs after a while, his eyes focused on the horizon, "Nor do I know your name."

You stare at him incredulously and let out a small chuckle under your breath.

"I think we both know why," you say knowingly, "It's not like our paths cross very often. And my name is Y/N, Y/N Blackwood," you introduce yourself in a soft tone.

He falls silent, seemingly memorizing your name and within a few seconds, however, he doesn't seem convinced of the other.

"I don't know. I know everyone in town, even if not directly."

You frown slightly.

"That sounds... exhausting."

"It's part of the family, knowing everyone. Knowing who's around you, even if you don't deal with them," he explains, "But I had never seen you."

"Well... I've lived at Sunset's for a year now with my aunt, uncle and my cousin," you explain, relaxing a little more as you see the conversation flowing smoothly, "And before the summer started, I started working at Mr. Frey's restaurant to save up for college in a few more months."

He turns his whole body toward you, still standing and leaning against the pole holding up the roof at the end of the pier, glancing at you from time to time but keeping more of his focus on the horizon.

"Your aunt and uncle?" he asks, "Why don't you live with your parents?"

That question takes you by surprise, and for a moment you don't know what to say. It's obviously a personal question and you weren't expecting it at all.

Then you look at him, where his eyes are serious and inquisitive towards you, although you don't perceive any bad intentions, just a curiosity.

"I guess I don't know if I should tell you that," you say with a small smile and amused tone, trying to downplay it and not make the moment awkward, "You know... trusting one of your kind."

He lets out a slight chuckle, making you smile a little wider.

"My kind?"

You shrug.

"Yeah, you know... a rich one."

"And what makes you think you can't trust me? I didn't give you away a while ago, did I?"

"And why did you?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity seizing on the comment, "Why didn't you give me away?"

He lets out a long breath and takes another drag before answering, his voice low but steady.

"I don't know, maybe because you were honest."

"But you're not like that, no one in your class is empathetic and forgiving."

"Do you really think you know everything about me and my family?" he questions you again.

You look at him obviously and incredulously.

"Please, everyone in this place knows everything about you and your family. Even the poor people. You're like the royalty of the city, after all."

You see the slight annoyance on his face, making it clear that he's in total disagreement with you, and you make up your mind to prove your point.

"I mean..." you sigh, "You are known as your father's son who has a perfect life just like your siblings, heirs to a wealthy and powerful family. The Targaryen's are known for that, work, money, power and status... or am I wrong?"

He doesn't respond right away, just watches you with an intensity that makes you feel a little vulnerable.

And just when you think he'll finally let his true self out and he's exactly like the other rich kids, he surprisingly lets out a sigh and looks down at the water, with an almost resigned look on his face.

"Yeah, but it's not all as simple and wonderful as it seems. It's not the whole truth either."

Those words leave you thinking. And they also leave you watching... him.

At the previous party, you couldn't see much of him from afar, let alone being on the second floor of a huge yacht. But he is... captivating.

You trace the shape of his nose and the structures of his cheeks with your gaze, watching as if it were a slow-motion movie as he lifts his cigarette to his lips and raises his gaze to the sky to expel the smoke, marking the bone in his neck.

His silver hair shimmers slightly in the moonlight and makes him look like some sort of ancient Greek God, where you silently admire the handsome features of his face.

You can't see his eyes in detail because of the light, but you know they are blue, characteristic of the Targaryen along with the platinum hair.

And then you wonder, what else is behind that facade his family has so meticulously constructed for him?

Who is Aemond Targaryen truly?

The night continues as the two of you stand there, sharing the space, the air, the silence. There is no need for more words for now, it's just enjoying the little shelter in this corner with him.

And after a while, you decide that maybe it's time to leave.

"Well... I guess I should be going," you mutter, starting to get up, then looking around the perimeter one last time, etching the image in your memory, "I'm going to miss this place."

He turns with slow, nonchalant movements toward you, dropping what little is left of the cigarette to crush it with the sole of his tennis shoe.

"What do you mean?" he asks, with that calmness that always seems to surround him.

You look at him in confusion, then shrug, letting out a small, resigned laugh.

"Obviously I can't come back here now that you've caught me," you tell him with a sad little smile, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear from the wind, turning around, "Oh and..." you look back at him, "Thanks for not give me away, truly."

You give him a look and a small grateful smile, as he keeps his expression hard to read, as usual, but totally focused on you.

Neither of you say anything else and assuming this is the final goodbye, you start walking towards the dock exit. But then you hear his voice behind you.

"Wait."

And that's what you do.

Confused, you turn to watch him again, watching as he takes a step forward.

"You can come back if you want," he says to you suddenly, in a tone of voice that is soft, but also mixes indifference and something else that you don't quite manage to identify, "Just... make sure no one else catches you."

That definitely takes you by surprise, since you weren't expecting it. And you watch him silently for a moment, trying to read his expression, but he remains as enigmatic as ever.

However, there is an unexpected sincerity in his words that makes you smile, this time with more warmth.

"Really?" you ask, unable to hide the disbelief and excitement in your voice.

He nods, folding his arms, saying nothing.

"Thank you," you reply, and this time you say it more firmly and with happiness in your eyes.

You lower your gaze and resist the urge to smile big, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach, to again watch him.

"Bye, Aemond."

You take a step back and turn around, when again he stops you as he speaks.

"You're going home alone?" he asks, this time with a little more interest in his voice.

You laugh softly, surprised that he cares, not really understanding anything but liking it.

"You know? We poor people have a good thing after all... survival style."

He doesn't say anything to you, just watches you with his piercing colored eyes as he licks his lips and then simply gives you a small nod.

You don't say anything else either and finally turn to leave, beginning to leave the tranquility of the dock and him behind, under the dim lights of the night.

And as you walk away, you feel the sea breeze on your face and wonder how a night that began with tension and fear ended with something as unexpected as a truce with Aemond Targaryen.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #modern hotd #modern au #modern aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #prince aemond

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burning-omen · 25 days ago

Text

Happy (Belated) Halloween!

Jason Todd x Demon!male!reader

(A/n: I'm tired, I've been getting argued at and pulled into fights that have nothing to do with me from the time I woke up- had a bunch of chores and shit to do and the fucking grocery store was packed and people keep bumping into me and all the fucking prices went way up since the last time I was there less than a month ago- I'm thoroughly overstimulated and getting home to edit and rewrite certain parts of this shitty little fic was a probably the best part of my day.)

Warning: crack fic kinda, blood, Demon!reader, murder, mutilation, and gore, summoning gone right technically, reader has TWO dicks, size difference, overstimulation, masochism, probably misspellings idk I'm not reading it again that's your job, dom/sub, ownership marking, sacrifice (rip that guy, ive been calling him marvin in my head), going missing for a lil while (consensually), OOC jason todd but this is literally porn who cares

word count: 1981 (short, i know, shut up/j)

Halloween parties were the worst. If the loud, drunk, half-naked crowd wasn’t enough to convince Jason, walking in on an honest to god seance was.

Being dragged to a party by Dick, only to lose him in the crowd of people within the first few minutes. He just wanted some quiet- and under the guise of looking for how brother he managed to avoid nearly every conversation that came his way- except for some incomprehensible drunk girl who insisted on holding a conversation with his even though she sounded like she was under water every time she opened her mouth.

He eventually managed to escape from her, finding the nearest room to recuperate in, only to be greeted by a room of chanting, drunk party-goers, kneeling around a shakily drawn yet intricate summoning circle. The chant was Latin- super old Latin- and Jason really wanted no part in this. He knew that demons were real, he knew a lot of shit that was supposedly fake was real- he had Batman to thank for that. So, after standing in the room for about 30 seconds, he decided to leave.

Turning on his heel, not saying a word to whatever party cult he just walked in on- deadset on leaving when he heard choking, and gasps from the mini cult as they clamored around the chanter who had suddenly collapsed.

Taking in a deep breath, cursing Bruce and the unwavering need to help he instilled in all of his children, before turning back to the group.

Laying, choking in the middle of the circle was a young man-

‘He’s drunk,’ Jason thought, pushing through the group surrounding him, their concern was nice- but unhelpful ‘probably choked on his tongue.’

Tilting his head back, the choking became louder- tears streamed down his face, his mouth agape as he clawed at his throat- his eyes desperate and afraid.

“It’s okay,” Jason tried, but he wasn’t exactly known for his bedside manner. “Just let me look.”

He peered down the man's throat- his tongue was wear it was supposed to be, but blood still filled the man’s mouth. Clearly whatever was happening here was internal, there's nothing Jason could do for him. Before he could ask anyone to call an ambulance- he saw something move at the very back of his throat. Even through the pooling blood, he could tell something wasn’t right- what the hell did he swallow?

His neck bulged as something made its way up- that was good- maybe. Slowly pushing up- whatever it was- caused the man to cry out in pain. He coughed and sputtered as it moved up and up until it pushed past the muscles of his throat and out of his mouth. A hand, clawed- drenched in blood, moving with so much force that a crack sounded through the room as more and more of the form inside him- whatever it was- came out. Breaking his jaw to finally reach out and grab his face- he cried out as pain and panic filled him- he turned to Jason for help as his friends fled but there wasn’t anything Jason could do but sit there in horror as an arm lifted from his broken and mutilated face- he cheeks tearing in as his mouth opened to unnatural length.

The bloody arm clawed at the floor, sharp talon like nails leaving deep wounds in the wood. Jason backed away- fear as well as guilt taking over. The basic instinct that anyone who had even taken the moniker “Robin” knew took over soon after, he needs to call batman- he couldn’t handle whatever this is, not on his own. He reached for his phone right as the candle lit room suddenly went dark. Jason, usually so strong and sure, didn’t know what to do. His communicator clattered to the floor as he stood.

He swore quietly- backing up until he was pressed against the wall- the sound of flesh tearing filled the room- still hot blood splattered across his face.

A soft growl came from the dark, deep and steady and growing closer by the second. Then,as if they had never been out, the candles were re-lit.

A massive beastly thing stood above him, horned and winged- a long tail trailing behind it. Soaked in the blood of the man that was scattered in chunks around the room. Despite knowing that he should definitely be afraid, a man had been ripped from the inside out right in front of him, something somewhere in his mind was saying, “would”. The thought immediately made him cringe at himself- he could not survive that- not only were you massive, you were also very naked. With not one but two just as massive, heavy cocks resting between your legs. He’d die, simply put, torn in half Terrifier style.

“Scared, human?” You asked, voice just as inhuman as your form.

Suddenly unable to find his words, Jason shook his head.

The action made you purr- something was so wrong with this man, not running or screaming, but instead sitting before you, his eyes wandering over your body, face reddened as his heart pounded in his chest.

He didn’t even attempt to move when you reached for him, his breath caught in his throat, but he remained perfectly still as you stroked his hair, then ran the backside of your claws down his cheek. All the way down to his chest, pressing just the tip of your claw in, watching as his shirt quickly became stained with blood.

“Not scared? How brave of you, human. “ You mused, “I require sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” he barely managed.

Trailing your claw lower and lower until the point of it rested over the growing bulge in his pants.

“A sacrifice of life is usually offered.” You pressed down, “But, another kind of offering will suffice.”

Jason breathed out- he can’t. Mentally, he could- he’s done all kinds of weird shit, fucking a demon wouldn’t even come close to the worse things he done- it doesn’t even reach top ten with the rest of his family’s track record for weird shit. But physically, that would kill him. One alone would shatter his pelvis and probably paralyze him- two would just straight up kill him. And you really didn’t seem like the kind of demon to go half way- you did come all the way from hell after all.

The obvious thing to do was to say no and call a fucking exorcist- but Jason didn’t do that, instead he speaks, so sure and steady as he spoke-

“Can you shrink?”

The entirety of your form became, your horns no longer scraped the ceiling, but you were still massive above Jason. You didn’t make it easy for him- pressing him into the floor with one clawed hand gripping his hair tightly, knees pressed into the hard wood and legs spread wide open, his cock- which you decided needed to remain untouched for the “sacrifice” to be valid.

Labored breathing, gasping and all encompassing sobs filled the room as both of your cock stretched him to the limit every time you thrusted into him- his nearly blunt nails leaving marks in the wooden floor below him.

With his mouth hanging wide open- he begged- muttering a broken “Please-’’ between moans-

You leaned down, pulling him up by his hair- resting inside him before speaking.

“You want more, human?”

Eyes brimmed with tears, feeling far fuller than felt natural- but so good and warm at the exact same time- deep in his stomach all the down to the very tips of his toes, every nerve so very alive.

He nods, shortly and without hesitation.

You grip on his hair loosens, and he sighs in relief as the burning pain in his scalp stops.

Only to flair up in his hips as you dig your claws into them, literally. Piercing through skin and drawing blood that slid over his skin and pooled beneath him on the floor. Jason, ever the masochist, only gets louder. With the party outside still raging on, you're sure the sound blended into the background- and any attendee lucky enough to have heard the high, whiny moans was listening far too hard.

Thrusting became painful, hard slamming- both cocks abusing his prostate with unnatural accuracy. Pulling out until the tips of your cock were just barely inside of him- then pressing back in so hard his entire body was pushed forward.

Jason’s mind was loud and incoherent - incomplete thoughts running through his head, cut short by either pain or pleasure every single time.

His body spammed unwillingly, muscles tightening and releasing, his hole tightened around you in an attempt to suck you in more- even if more would cause so so many problems for the man.

“So greedy,” you hummed in his ear, and you take cock so well.”

He didn’t respond, he couldn’t, overwhelmed and obsessed with the feeling. His orgasm- the first of many snuck up on him, his body overstimulated and oversensitive as hot, white cum shot straight onto the floor.

He gasped for air as though he’d been held under water- his body burned as he clenched around you- pleasure gone- replaced by what could only be described as fire destroying him from the inside out. He cried out in pain, his body writhes and contorts- and yet he never asks you to stop.

You grinned, “so cute, I might just have to keep you, human.”

You weren’t far behind him, cum seeping from both of your tips as you buried yourself deep inside him- it only added to the burning. Filling him so much until his hole, still plugged with your cock, leaks it back out. Down his legs and onto the floor, mixing with his own puddle of cum. You watched him for a long moment, letting him grit his teeth and cry at the pain, before showing your newest pet a bit of mercy and pulling out.

His body slouched onto the floor the moment you leg go. Jason was on the verge of passing out, eyes barely open, covered in blood, sweat, and cum. He has a high pain tolerance and his stamina was through the roof- but fucking hell he was so tired, and everything hurt, from his over used knees, to his damn near broken hole, and the small wounds your claws had made- coupled with an over bearing overstimulation making everything ten times worse- Jason, without question, was never doing this again.

—--- A couple weeks later—---

Dick realized that Jason wasn’t a party person, but for him to just disappear (and possibly kill someone at the party??? What the hell Jay???) for weeks seemed to be a bit of an overreaction.

But when he walked into the manor, happy as can be, after just being gone for three weeks, Dick knew something was very wrong- or very unusual- was happening.

“I had a date.” Was Jason’s only response, as he leaned heavily against the back of a chair, but never actually sat down in it.

“A date?!” Dick is so glad he questioned him in private. “With who?”

Jason shrugged, “met a guy at the party.”

“Jason you just dropped off of the face of the Earth with some guy for nearly a month?!”

Dick didn’t realize how literal that was- Hell has some pretty nice residential areas, it turns out.

“I was having fun.”

Jason, of course, was never going to tell Dick what he has really been doing- or what he will continue to be doing for the foreseeable future- but it was fun watching him freak out at every vague answer he gave.

The mark (brand?? Tattoo??) on his back still felt weird, sensitive from its spot hidden under his clothes, but how else would other demon, humans, and every other sentient being know that he was yours.

(a/n 2: AND I KNOW ITS LATE BUT I STILL FINISHED IT WITHIN A REASONABLE TIME SO EVERYBODY SHUT UP/j)

#good night party people #x male reader #male reader #male!reader #x male!reader #top male reader #top!male!reader #reader insert #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x male!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #cinnamon #THIS IS MY FANFIC AND I WILL VENT IN THE A/N IF I WANT TO

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fuckingrecipes · 2 months ago

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How does one actually build a useful repository of recipes for different cuisines? Like, I have the Silver Spoon which is a pretty good cross section of Italian cooking. I know more than enough variations of the typical french mother sauces to get the principles without a need for a recipe. I know from various Euro cuisines particular flavors that pair well I could build a dish around (like, I could make a goat cheese and caramelized onion soup without the need of someone telling me a recipe). I don't have any such data sets for other cuisines, and you know the recipe website world is a hell scape.

Tried and true method is: Cook often, try new things, and save it if you like it.

Get a blank notebook (or a 3-ring binder) and collect recipes yourself as you try them. You can write recipes in by hand, or print them off & punch for the 3-ring binder.

Go to restaurants which serve food you want to explore, and take a picture of the food, record the name of it on the menu, and note some of the ingredients that you can identify in it.

If you live in a small town with not many places that serve 'foreign' food nearby, get off google. Use DuckDuckGo or Brave as a search engine. They have very few ads and the search algorithm prefers when you get to the point in your recipe blog, rather than dicking around with your life story.

Do a little tour on your world map. Focus on countries, search for food from that country, then search for specific kinds of food from that country. Search for things like "Authentic Turkish Stewed Chicken" "Traditional Brazillian Goat Recipe" "Hong Kong Street Food Recipe" "Collection of Taiwan Recipes" "25 amazing Korean dishes" "10 best Cajun Soul Food Recipes" "Dominican Republic Cuisine Recipes"

Go watch cooking tiktoks that aren't european-centric; go out of your way to find them.

Go down a list of spices and pick one you've never tried before. Look up where it's traditionally used, and try to find some dishes that use that spice!

Go to your Local Library and dig into their cookbook section. Every library has one! Look for cookbooks focused on cuisines you don't know yet, and try those recipes!

If you're cool spending money on this, go to Half Price Books or other book-reselling stores where you can find cook books at really low prices. Again, explore the cuisines you're not familiar with.

If you have grocery stores for other cultures near you, go into their grocery! Check out what spices have a shitload of different brands on display, and pick one at random. Seek out a recipe that uses that new spice you just bought.

And remember: Write that shit down!

You can always have a little guide at the front or back of your recipe collection that explains different spice blends, or explains key sauces, or anything else!

You can keep a little guide on how roasting spices changes them, and your experiments with that.

You can keep a list of bread recipes, or cooking hacks like how to make really good naan without a woodfire grill.

---

Personally, I'm forgetful. I forget sites exist, forget logins, and lose passwords all the time. I have about a hundred recipe collections across about as many websites, and I know where like, 3 of them are right now. Many of those websites have gone down, and my lists are lost forever.

The book of recipe & food-tips collection I've kept & used the longest - my Food Grimoire - is a physical item that I can misplace in my house but never truly lose. It can't have its server crash or website maintenance suddenly be abandoned and blip out of existence.

#Spices #new foods #kitchen tips #fuckingrecipes

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months ago

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Meatspace twiddling

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me next weekend (Mar 30/31) in ANAHEIM at WONDERCON, then in Boston with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then Providence (Apr 12), and beyond!

"Enshittification" isn't just a way of describing the symptoms of platform decay: it's also a theory of the mechanism of decay – the means by which platforms get shittier and shittier until they are a giant pile of shit.

I call that mechanism "twiddling": this is the ability of digital services to alter their business-logic – the prices they charge, the payouts they offer, the particulars of the deal – from instant to instant, for each user, continuously:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Contrary to Big Tech's own boasting about its operations, the tricks that tech firms play to siphon value away from business customers and end-users aren't very sophisticated. They're crude gimmicks, like offering a higher per-hour wage to Uber drivers whom the algorithm judges to be picky about which rides they'll clock in for, and then lowering the wage by small increments as a way of lulling the driver into gradually accepting a permanent lower rate:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

This is a simple trick. The difference is that tech platforms like Uber can play it over and over, and very quickly. There's plenty of wage-stealing scumbag bosses who'd have loved to have shaved pennies off their workers' paychecks, then added a few cents back in if a worker cried foul, then started shaving the pennies again. The thing that stopped those bosses was the bottleneck of payroll clerks, who couldn't make the changes fast enough.

Uber plays crude tricks – like claiming that a driver isn't an employee because the control is mediated through an app – and then piles more crude tricks on top – this algorithmic wage discrimination gambit.

Have you ever watched a shell-game performed very slowly?

https://www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-do-penn-tellers-famous-cups-and-balls-trick-in-12-steps

It's a series of very simple gimmicks, performed very quickly and smoothly. Computers are very quick and very smooth. The quickness of the hand deceives the eye: do crude tricks with superhuman speed and they'll seem sophisticated.

The one bright spot in the Great Enshittening that we're living through is that many firms are not sufficiently digitized to to these crude tricks very quickly. Take grocery stores: they can get up to a lot of the same tricks as Amazon – for example, they can charge suppliers for placement on the most prominent, easiest-to-reach shelves, reorganizing your shopping based on which companies pay the biggest bribes, rather than offering the best products and prices.

But Amazon takes this to a whole different level – beyond simply organizing their product pages based on payola, they do this for search. You ask Amazon, "What's your cheapest batteries?" and it lies to you. If you click the first link in a search-results page, you'll pay 29% more than you would if you got the best product – a product that is, on average, 17 places down on the results page. Amazon makes $38b/year taking bribes to lie to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

Amazon can do more than that. Thanks to its digital nature, it can continuously reprice its offerings – indeed, it can simply make up each price displayed on every product at the instant you look at it – based on its surveillance data about you, estimating your willingness to pay. For sellers, Amazon can continuously re-weight the likelihood that a given product will be shown to a customer based on the seller's willingness to discount their products, even to the point where they go out of business:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

Twiddling, in other words, lets digital services honeycomb their servers with sneaky wormholes that let them siphon value away from one kind of platform user and give it to another (as when Apple silently began spying on Iphone owners to create profiles for advertisers), or to themselves.

But hard-goods businesses struggle to do this kind of twiddling. Not for lack of desire – but for lack of capacity. Jeff Bezos, owner of Amazon Fresh – an online grocery store – can change prices and layout millions of times per day, at effectively zero cost. Jeff Bezos, owner of Whole Foods – a brick-and-mortar grocer – needs a army of teenagers on rollerskates with pricing guns to achieve a fraction of this agility.

So hard-goods businesses are somewhat enshittification-resistant. It's not that their owners are more interested in the welfare of their customers, workers and suppliers – they merely lack the capacity to continuously rejigger the way their business runs.

Well, about that.

Grocers have been experimenting with "electronic shelf labels" in order to do "dynamic pricing" – that means that prices change quickly, in response to circumstances:

https://www.npr.org/2024/03/06/1197958433/dynamic-pricing-grocery-supermarkets

This doesn't have to be bad! As @planetmoney points out, it's a little weird that grocers don't discount milk whose sell-by date is drawing near. That milk is worth less to shoppers, because they have to use it more quickly lest it expire. Instead of marking down the price of perishable goods – day-old lettuce, yesterday's bread, etc – grocers put them on the shelves next to fresher, more valuable products, leading to billions of dollars' worth of food-waste and and unimaginable quantities of methane-producing, planet-cooking landfill.

In Norway, ESLs are pretty well established and – at least according to Planet Money's reporting – they are used exclusively to offer discounts in order to reduce waste. They make everyone better off.

But towards the end of the story, they note that Norway's grocery sector – which alters prices up to 2,000 times per day – has been accused of using ESLs to rig prices, hiking them and blaming them on pandemic supply-chain problems and loose monetary policy. Greedflation, in other words.

Greedflation is rampant in the grocery sector, all around the world. Remember when the price of eggs doubled and they blamed in on bird-flu, even as the CEO of the one company that owns every egg brand you've ever heard of boasted about how he could hike prices and suckers would just pay it?

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/23/cant-make-an-omelet/#keep-calm-and-crack-on

In Canada, grocers rigged the price of bread, the most Les-Mis-ass form of corporate crime you can imagine (do you want guillotines, Galen Weston? Because this is how you get guillotines):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bread_price-fixing_in_Canada

EU grocers – another highly concentrated industry – also collude to rig prices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

Which is all to say that while these companies don't have to use the twiddling capabilities that come with ESLs to enshittify their stores, we'd be pretty fucking naive to assume that they won't.

And here's the bad news: US grocers like Whole Foods (owned by Amazon, the company that wrote the enshittification playbook) are already experimenting with ESLs. So is Alberstons/Safeway, the massive, inbred conglomerate that has already demonstrated its passion for using twiddling to fuck over their workers:

https://knock-la.com/vons-fires-delivery-drivers-prop-22-e899ee24ffd0/

Economists love "price discrimination" – where prices change based on circumstance, trying to match the perfect price with the perfect customer. On paper, that sounds plausible: if I need a quart of milk for a recipe I'm making tonight and I get a 50% discount on some about-to-expire 2%, then everyone's better off. I get a discount and the grocer gets some money for milk they'd have to throw away at the end of the day.

But these elegant, self-licking ice-cream cones only emerge if the corporation offering the deal is constrained. Perhaps they're constrained by competition – the fear that you'll go elsewhere. Or perhaps they're constrained by regulation – the fear that they'll be punished if they use twiddling-tech to cheat you.

The grocery sector, dominated by a cartel of massive companies that routinely collude to rip us off, is not constrained by competition. And for years, regulators let them get away with ripping us off (though finally that might be changing):

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/21/us/politics/grocery-prices-pandemic-ftc.html?unlocked_article_code=1.ek0.t2Pr.g4n2usbxEcoa

For neoclassical economists, the answer to all this is "caveat emptor" – let the buyer beware. If you want to make sure that ESLs are only used to offer you discounts and not to gouge prices, all you need to do is note the price of everything you buy, every time you buy it, and triple-check it every time you go back to the grocery store. Just be eternally vigilant!

Thing is, the one thing computers are much better at than humans is vigilance. With ESLs and other twiddling mechanisms, you're a fish on a hook, and the seller is tireless in giving you a little more slack, then a little less, until you finally drop your guard.

Economists desperately want these elegant models to work, but "efficient market hypothesis" is a brain-worm that always turns into apologetics for fraud. Dynamic markets sound like a good idea, but they are catnip for cheaters. "Just be eternally vigilant" is miserable advice, and no way to live your life:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

In his brilliant novel Spook Country, @GreatDismal describes augmented reality as "cyberspace everting" – that is, turning inside-out:

https://memex.craphound.com/2007/07/31/william-gibsons-spook-country/

The extrusion of twiddling technology from digital platforms into the physical world isn't cyberspace everting so much as it is cyberspace prolapsing.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags

#pluralistic #fraud apologetics #caveat emptor #twiddling #competition #groceries #price discrimination #norway #electronic shelf tags #planet money #enshittification #constraints #greedflation #efficient market hypothesis brain-worms

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callofdudes · 1 year ago

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Been a while since I requested something, I shall grace this page with a request of being best friends with gaz headcanon please bestie 😊😊😊

Welcome back bestie 😊😊 I promise I'm working on all your other requests but mental health be doing backflips and I kinda feel like shit. I got some Gaz for you though.

Being best friends with Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

Gaz is incredibly smart. If you look at his records his fighting reflex and knowledge is top chart stuff. But Gaz keeps it all very quiet. He doesn't boast about it like Soap would so when he does end up flipping heads on the enemy it's like "woah where did that guy come from-!"

Gaz uses this same skill to protect you. When you came to 141 Gaz was already settling. He had Ghost as a mentor and almost an older brother, and Soap as... Well he wasn't sure who he was supposed to be. But he had his team, and you seemed to easily click with Soap and Ghost.

Gaz wouldn't force you to be friends with him. Of course he introduced himself and you both talked occasionally but he didn't know if it was a friendship per say. And that was ok. He'd still protect you with his life any day of the week.

However you really did have intense feelings of friendship for Gaz. But you thought because of his quiet nature that he was closed off like Simon. Which in fact wasn't the case when you got him talking. He was just shyer than the others.

The first time you and Gaz really, properly hung out was on a quiet night at base, Gaz had finished his tasks and had nothing really to do. He enjoyed his time playing Dungeons and Dragons, (headcannon from @itsscromp) unfortunately he couldn't ever get the others to play. Ghost was too busy, Price wasn't fully interested, and Johnny just cared to cause chaos.

And then he noticed you were also done your work. "Well Kyle, there's no harm." And he went to ask you. And it went well. Turns out you wanted to play DND, and after playing for almost four hours together it solidified that.

And Gaz was really glad to have you as one of his few friends.

And now that you were friends you really did learn a lot more about him. Gaz would go down in a fire for you, no questions asked. Seems stupid but he specializes in VIP protection. You think he wouldn't protect you?? Think again. You're VIP to him. You all are.

Loves you a lot but is too shy to say it and think you'll get the wrong idea.

And look, you don't have skin that clear on the battlefield without having some kind of routine. This man looks after his skin like the temple his body is. (when he's not eating junk food.)

Yeah, your skin isn't cutting it for him. Sorry babes, get in the bathtub we are rinsing your hair and slapping some hydration on that forehead because Gaz knows you are gone need it to be crawling around the musty dusty desert with him.

Now, Knight is openly queer, so you know Gaz is a little spice of life as well. He keeps it under wraps and isn't as open about it in his career because he doesn't think you guys need to know and or he's met people in past expanses that didn't take so kindly to him being open about it.

He's the gay best friend, it's not overbearing. You know how most gay men are just different in a fun way. That's Gaz but he has it toned down so at first you couldn't tell and then it just clicked and you were like "woah". But you can kinda tell there just, there a something there you thinks.

You gotta keep him out of trouble to. You have to be his discernment. He's got relationship smarts but if he's even remotely cute and no good, time for bestie to step in. Sorry Gaz, not today. Your bestie is not letting you get yourself into that mess.

His gun does most of the talking and he carries a side arm so if anyone gives you smoke their gonna get got.

He's smart but also the silent, immediately jumps to using his gun conclusion guy. So if someone bullies you in the grocery store he pulls out his gun and you've gotta be like "Woah woah, not necessary mate, nooot necessary 😅😅"

Hates trash reality TV but watches it anyway. Drags you into the torture as well.

He spills the tea. He spills it always. He sometimes just walks around quietly not taking up too much air and hearing conversations and by the end of it he's got so much to tell you.

Not quite sure what I think Gaz's childhood looked like but I assume he didn't have too many friends. I could see him as the shy kid who focused more on academics and played in the trees of his backyard alone over having a boat load of friends.

So when you do things like buy him stuff or give him cuddles and affection he has this epiphany. Like this is what I've been missing!

Your comfort and affection is something he truly loves so much, but the house and traditions he grew up with weren't the most overly affectionate, and in his career there wasn't much cuddling with the homies in his unit either.

Yeah you give him cuddles he's like a leach, he'll leave when he wants to leave and only when. And he likes to sometimes cling on by surprise. When he becomes so comfortable around you he'll often waltz into your office and wrap his arms around your neck from behind, watching what you're doing.

"You done yet??"

"I'll tell you when I'm done ok?"

"Ok...... Y/n??"

"Not all of us are as fast as you at paperwork y'know"

"Sorry."

You take Gaz and Soap on adventures together and you still can't wrap your head around hos they're friends. Completely chaotic, loud and chipper faced with slightly annoyed at the loudness, just as chaotic on the inside and together you get one big Gaz Soap salad. Sticking them in a car for five hours together was a mistake for your sake.

Gaz doesn't open up about his feelings a lot, but look at you 😄 look at you helping him to open up and ask for help. To ask for the care that he needs when things get tough for him.

He was alone before that terrorist attack where he met Price and that was s very scary time for him. Looking back on it from his place in 141 Gaz was much more scared on the field then than he is now. Probably because he's got a team he knows he'll always be able to trust and confide in.

That's the best part of having you as a friend. He can confide in you with anything. And knowing him, you can also confide in him. Whatever secrets you tell him are lock and key baby. He won't tell a single soul.

Gaz tried to do all the things you've done for him, for you. When you need someone to give you a hug or some cuddles Gaz will do his best to comfort you and show you that same infectious love and care.

Whenever you have a nightmare he's right there for you. Wrapping his arms around you to keep you steady, holding you up when you can't.

He'll always try.

Celebrates your accomplishments as well. When you get promoted or a medal, hell when you do everything he's on your sideline cheering. And it's like his shyness is gone when he sees his friends receiving praise for something. He'll cheer louder than everyone in the room for you all.

But the one thing your friendship isn't above is England. If you diss on England, or their football, prepare to get got. Tickle attacks or hitting you with a pillow as punishment.

At the end of the day three of your friends are British and one of them is Scottish which starts petty squabbles between Gaz and Soap sometimes. It's all playful but sometimes Soap wants to start some shit and you end up having to try and separate them before they wrestle each other to death.

And there is probably so much more I'm missing, but remember. Whenever you need someone to watch your six, Gaz is already there. Whenever you need someone you can spend some quiet time with when things get overwhelming, you know where to find Gaz. And when life gives you bullshit. Gaz has a Glock.

#call of duty #call of duty headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #platonic x reader #kyle gaz garrick headcanons #kyle garrick #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #x reader

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baddiewiththebook · 11 months ago

Text

ONE OF THEM [PART 4]

-> Dating your best friend Eddie Munson might have been pictured differently in your head. Despite a blissful weekend, you’re met with a few bumps in the road; and, your friends slowly figure out that what you're doing in private crosses the boundaries between friend and lover.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, secret relationship, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive scenes [no smut]

[Part 4] [Part 5 - Coming Soon]

This is a sequel to One of the Boys

-> <-

“Do you think he has plans for that asparagus, or does he just need a friend?” Eddie’s head is tilted just to the right, while he studies the man across the aisles.

You plop five plump potato’s into a plastic sack provided by the grocery store, and hum a soft tune to yourself. Ignoring Eddie, you take the sack and drop it down onto the metal scale to imagine the price point.

When you move, however, Eddie is frozen in time. His eyes move past the displays of fresh lemons and limes, and over the apples and pears. A man is scratching his finger over the Saran Wrap tucking a set of asparagus in a tight film. Peering through Coke bottle glasses, he pouts his bottom lip and then puts the produce back.

“You’ve been watching him for a while?” You try to sound less irritated than you are. Shopping with Eddie got easier once you asked him to push the cart. In a way, this tethered him to you because he kept his hands busy and off of the shelves where he insisted on touching everything.

Eddie doesn’t mean any harm, after all he is just looking. Suppose he looks for a bit too long and he’s a bit distracted, then you’ll correct him with a sour sort of ‘come on, Eddie,’ like his uncle Wayne does sometimes. But, his uncle never buys fresh potatoes. Eddie has got no idea what you’ll do with those. When you told him you wanted to make dinner for him tonight, he thought the box of mashed potatoes was fine enough and the steaks in the back of the freezer had only been there a few months - or a year. Who can tell the difference?

You surely can.

When you suggested that he come with you to go to the grocery store, he saw the glee on your face. He can’t say no to you.

There’s something soft about the way you’re touching everything on purpose. You studied those potatoes like the man did with his asparagus, but when you got a little pouty, Eddie’s heart fluttered in his chest.

You’ve got one hand on the cart, so to him you feel connected even if you’re not holding onto each other. Guiding him in the right direction down the isle, he'll never get lost as long as you're there with him.

Eddie is damn near snoozing by the end of the laundry list of grocery items. There is only six, but that's six too many. You offer to buy him something sweet in exchange for his patience with you.

“Did you want to go to the little bakery? They’ve probably got chocolate cake or cookies,” you wiggle at the end of the cart.

Eddie straightens his back at this.

“Sure, but no chocolate,” he shakes his head. “I don’t like that stuff.”

“You don’t like chocolate,” you’re more taken aback than he imagined you might be. “But, what about the chocolate cake I made you for your birthday two years ago, and the cupcakes I made for your birthday this year! You said they were the best. I even kept the recipe!”

“Sweetheart,” he catches up to you, so he can wrap an arm around your shoulders. “How could I possibly tell you that I didn’t like chocolate when you’d spend all day baking for me? Hm? I really did appreciate the gesture. You know- among the thick layers of goo- oof!”

You’ve elbowed him in the side. Rightfully so! Smiling into the case of donuts, you make a beeline for the grinning worker behind the counter.

“Can I get a loaf of- erm, that one,” you’re not sure how to pronounce the name.

Eddie’s gone when you spin around with your bread loaf. Eyeing the treats, he aims for a small cherry pie. He pulls his hand back and shakes his head. Your boyfriend flicks his hair behind his ears because as much as he likes his hair, he does get hot sometimes. Boyfriend.

Eddie Munson is your boyfriend.

Have you said that out loud yet?

“The bread,” you announce like he’s memorized dinner plans.

Eddie shocks you, “steak next, right?”

Aisles of produce pass you by like time ticking on a clock. You’ve gotten everything on your list by now that Eddie clutches in your hand. Time wastes on because you don’t want to go home quite yet. You’re in control of the cart, and Eddie’s bounding between aisles to show you something ‘cool’ he’s found.

The cart slowly is taken over by snacks you haven’t planned to spend money on, but you do anyway because Eddie’s joy means more to you than a dollar.

Eddie pops a rope candy in his mouth, while you organize the cashier belt in line.

“Don’t forget the bags,” Eddie pulls some plastic bags from the bottom of the cart that you keep in your house. You reuse them as long as possible, and Eddie finds this endearing.

“Thanks,” you put them in the front of the groceries already stacked on the belt.

Eddie tosses a wrapped piece of chocolate onto the belt you hadn’t seen him grab from the shelves.

“I thought of you,” he taps the wrapper, before the belt sweeps the sweet away. “It’s got caramel. Your favorite, right?”

"It is," you sigh completely defeated that he knows more about you than you about him.

"My favorite is cherry," he swings the licorice in the air.

“Sir,” the cashier’s lips thin. “You’re paying for that, right?”

Eddie’s chewed through the whole package of candy by now, and humorously he’d like to imply that he’s not. But with you in mind, he hands the woman the wrapper without fuss. You wrap onto his arm like a child, and he places another kiss to the top of your head.

You’re paying for the grocery run today, but Eddie promises that the next time you’re shopping together that he will pay. The conversation floats past your ears because you’re just thrilled there will come a next time.

The van is waiting for you in the parking lot, where Eddie tosses you the keys to unlock the doors. He’s busy rummaging through the back trying not to rattle his band equipment, but he does use the inside of the drums to steady the dozen eggs.

“Are you buckled?” Eddie climbs into the drivers side.

You’re set in the passenger seat with the chocolate that Eddie bought for you. Using his thumb, he swipes at your chin where you’ve smeared melted chocolate on by accident.

“I’m buckled,” you tighten the seatbelt. “Do you want a bite?”

“No, but could you hand me the hamburger back there?”

You scrunch your nose. “How long has that been there?”

“Eh.. like a couple days?”

“Eddie!”

Laughter fills the corners of the van like a harmonious song. Well tuned - perfectly pitched.

-> <-

Eddie is an awful cook.

Finding your attention drawn onto the sharp knife in your hand, slicing potatoes into chunks, you’re not watching Eddie scrambling behind you. He’s got two spoons in his hands, but he scratches his head at what for. It isn’t until you’re gasping at the blackened smoke coming from the stove.

Flipping the carrots around in the pan, Eddie’s apologizing over and over. You reassure that the carrots still could be edible, but judging by the blackened bottoms, you both know well-enough to toss them.

You’re putting the potatoes into the hot water, only burning the tips of your fingers.

Eddie’s in control - er, sort of - cutting up new carrots. Following along what you did earlier, you bite your tongue at the massive pinches of black pepper and salt he’s added. Tablespoon or teaspoon? He’s got no clue!

“I’ll keep an eye out this time,” he holds a staring contest with the searing hot pan that’s still a bit too hot for the carrots.

You turn the burner down, and flick the carrots around until the smoke clears. Eddie groans, and takes over because he doesn’t like being micromanaged. It’s all in good fun, though. He does find being in the kitchen with you quite homey.

Homey.

Eddie’s never had that feeling before. Last time he’s felt at home, no offense to Wayne, was when his mom found him hidden in the cupboards of their little house. Sure, life wasn’t perfect for the Munsons, but his mom always kept the court dates and the legal shit out of his eye the best she could.

When she died, a part of Eddie had too. He misses the warm hugs and kisses, the way she lets him lick the spoon when she makes cookies from the tube.

But, alas, if his life was perfect then he wouldn’t be here with you. Eddie finds himself feeling pretty perfect anyway because you’re there. You’re humming a tune to yourself, as you twist the timer to twenty minutes. Old and barely alive, the timer clicks on like a mighty oak.

“Twenty minutes until the potatoes are done,” you swirl around to Eddie. He knows the sigh coming from your mouth is less about the exhaustion from cooking, as it is dealing with him in the kitchen. “What should we do while we wait?”

Eddie places his hands on your cheeks, and brings you into his chest. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Beating rhythms of your hearts pump between you two. You’ve got your ear to his breast imagining what’s dancing around in there.

Unintentionally, Eddie flicks the backing of your bra. A flame ignites inside you. Did he notice? Did he mean too?

Are you even prepared if the night falls that way?

You’re a bundle of nerves knowing that when that moment drops, and the both of you find yourself even closer than you are now that nothing could be the same. Going back isn’t an option. Swirling stars cloud your vision, as your breathing slows.

Eddie hums when your grip on his back loosens. He sways with you, while you’re drifting farther into your head.

Skies of warm orange and cotton candy coated pinks cloud your eye. Touching a garden of soft spring flowers. Ridges of the stone bridge. A kiss is pressed onto your forehead like a dew drop, raising you from your state of hypnosis.

“You still with me?” Eddie’s voice vibrates through your ears.

“Hm,” you hum. “Should we sit down?”

Eddie guides you to the couch where you’ll stay drifting into your own world with a blanket draped over your lap. You attempt to join him in the kitchen when the timer goes off, but Eddie raises his index finger and says,

“Don’t you dare.”

Then, your boyfriend wrestles with the oven to get the roast from it’s hot cage and plops too much butter into the mash. He winces when he puts the spoon to his lip, and tries to fend off your worry by telling you that the food is just hot.

Eddie sits next to you with two plates of food - one in each hand. He waits a moment for you to sit back up after sinking into the aged sofa, then lands the warm plate in your lap.

You’ve got no idea what you’re watching on the television, but right beside you is all the entertainment you need. Laughing heartily at Eddie’s cross expression, he sticks out his tongue at the well-done carrots.

“Don’t eat them,” he reaches for a glass of water. “They’re really awful.”

You nibble at the end of a carrot, and suck down your outward terror at how salty the vegetable is.

“It’s not that bad.”

They are indeed that bad.

Worse - even.

“You’re cute, but a terrible liar,” he pinches your shoulder.

-> <-

tags: @stardustingold @loves0phelia @ogoc-19 @hellfirenacht @blackholegladiator @alligator-person @eggo-segual @rustboxstarr @harmfulb1tch

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson preference #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic

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gremlin-girly · 17 days ago

Text

Kinktober Day 17

Kinks: Blowjobs/Milf

Pairing: Jake Jensen x f!reader (MILF reader)

Tags/warnings: SMUT, mentions of spousal death (brief), blow jobs, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, drooling, deep throating

Not beta read + on mobile

Summary: Feeling confident for the first time in a long time, you manage to render the so-called "plumber" speechless in more than one way.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome!

A/N: were ignoring the fact there's so many Jake’s 😭 also yes, he's supposed to be on a mission and the team dressed him up - and yes, he uses mint bodywash 💀

Word Count: 2.4k

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It was just another weekday, you had sighed to yourself after you’d dropped your kid at school. You had taken your time at the grocery store, slowly wandering up and down the aisles feeling utterly zombified. You loved your kid – you did – but you were tired. You weren’t supposed to be doing this all on your own. You pushed thoughts of your husband away. No point dwelling on what could have been.

Perhaps you should start dating again – as your friends suggested. Or, as your best friend told you; “you should at least get a good fucking.”

There was a reason she was your best friend.

You sigh again. The thought of making an effort seemed mentally taxing. Dating apps? God. You’d rather die. The only photos you had were from years ago and with your husband. But then again....

Your cart rolls to a stop next to the make up. You didn’t purposefully come down this aisle. You’d been going down every aisle. It couldn’t hurt to look could it?

You couldn’t remember the last time you wore make up. You remembered liking how it made you feel and look; extenuating all of the best features of your beautiful face, making you smile so brightly you could the light in your eyes. You remembered how many memories of parties, weddings – your wedding – and days where you just needed to make yourself feel like the best goddamn thing since sliced bread started with your ritual of make up. From light and natural everyday makeup to party-hard Rocky Horror glam; you felt like a damn star. And you were.

You are.

You look up at the small mirror above the make up section. Your hair was messy, and the bags under your eyes were so vintage, Gucci himself would balk at the price tag. Your eyes flicker to the make up, the little voice in your head asking; when did you last do something nice for yourself?

“Fuck it,” you murmur, adding a few products to your cart. Your eyes scan a Ruby red lipstick, last of its kind, sat in those annoying little plastic trays. It must be fate. You pick it out and read the colour at the bottom.

Mother.

What a coincidence. You smile to yourself and place it in your cart feeling better already, heading towards the checkout.

You are wholly convinced it’s not the make up. It has to be the lipstick.

You came home, put groceries away and showered as usual. But then, the products of your shopping spree looked at you from the bed and with a shrug of oh-I-may-as-well-since-I’m-here you did your make up. You felt a little silly at first. You didn’t feel any different after putting the make up on and you felt foolish sitting in your mirror in your towel expecting something to change. Then you did your hair. Marginally better but nothing awe-inspiring. Then you rolled the red lipstick on with a defeated sigh.

But when your eyes dejectedly flickered back to your reflection, you saw her again. Hair done up, make up perfect , and hell- you were in a towel but it may as well have been designer. The star was back. You wouldn’t admit to anyone that you teared up. Ever. But you did. It took you so long to find your way back to her in the mirror that you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

It was short-lived, however, because with your new lipstick, your new confidence, it was like a switch had flipped. You pulled out on of your old favourite dresses that hugged your curves – one you’d avoided like the plague for too long – and some small heels. God you looked stunning. Sex on legs. You snapped a few photos, sure, but you felt the sudden urge to do something else you loved; making you and your kiddo’s favourite cookies.

Before exiting your room you glanced back once more to the mirror.

“Milf.” You giggled to yourself and descended to the kitchen.

The first batch of cookies are already cooling when you hear a knock on the door. You place your second tray down and teeter down the hallway – feeling a little too much like Bambi in your heels.

“Coming!”

You open the door to a guy in a plumbers uniform that looks like it was taken from a cheap Halloween store. But you aren’t really paying attention to it. He’s big, broad, bespeccled and blond. He looks good enough to eat and you chide yourself for the sudden wash of attraction and wanting to pull him inside. This lipstick has both cursed and blessed you.

Clearly the man – or as his uniform stated Jak – hadn’t paid attention when the door opened because he wasn’t looking at you. You only know he wasn’t because when he did look at you, his jaw dropped so low you thought he’d dislocated it.

“H-Hi um-“ He kept looking at you, unsure where to look besides your face but his brain had turned to mush. You revelled in it.

“Hi,” you smiled, trying not to look too smug. “Can I help you?”

“Uhhh....” he looked away for a second, up the street, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe. The, uh, water company sent me to um... look at some pipes.” He coughs awkwardly but gives you a charming smile.

“Some...pipes?” you quiz raising an eyebrow. You hadn’t heard of any pipe work that needed doing... and the little voice in your head made enough innuendos for you to mull over.

He nods. “Yeah... uh... in the kitchen. Do you mind of I-?”

You step aside immediately allowing him entry. “Of course.”

He follows you through to the kitchen and his eyes grow wide at the sight of the cookies and it makes you crack a smile.

“Help yourself.” You say kindly, moving your second tray into the oven and out of his way.

“Oh I couldn’t-“ He says with a charming smile before popping one into his mouth. He moans dramatically with delight, making you chuckle gently. “These are so good.”

As he gushes over your cookies, crumbs spill over his shirt. You can’t help it, you start to giggle. He's cute, really cute, and you feel a warmth trickle in your lower belly. Once he's gone you can have a twenty-minute "nap" and a cold shower.

"Thanks," You say, blushing slightly. "Feel free to eat more, I don't think I'll be able to eat all of them. Jak, right?"

Jake looks grateful and then surprised, brushing crumbs away from his name badge. He clicks his tongue when he looks at it. "Jake. The e has come off." He grins up at you sheepishly.

"Jake," You repeat, biting back another smile. "Do you want to a drink while you work? Coffee? Soda?"

You got to the fridge, pausing at the handle and see he's looking at you sheepishly.

"Could I have milk please - for the cookies?"

You chuckle softly but nod your head. "Sure, hon."

You set his mug of milk on the counter and chat to him whilst he gets to work. It takes him a while to figure out what he's doing because he keeps talking to you and it doesn't go amiss that he keeps casting glances up to you.

He tells you about his niece and her football team (the Petunias, apparently) and in return you tell him about your kiddo and their hobbies. The conversation between you both is lighthearted and sweet, with Jake managing to get a laugh out of you more than once.

When whatever work he's doing is completed, he gets to his feet and brushes down his overalls and giving you a goofy grin as he does so. But when he moves to get his mug, he knocks it accidentally, sending it careening over the edge of the counter top and onto the floor. You both wince at the sound of the smash.

"I'm so sorry. Let me-" Jake says, going to move but dealing with your kiddo you immediately yell out for him to stay still.

"Sorry -" You bluster apologetically. "Force of habit."

You grab the dust pan and brush from under the sink and get onto your knees in front of Jake, sweeping away the ceramic remnants of mug whilst he continues to apologise. Once it's all cleared away, you sit back onto your haunches with your hands on your hips.

"Don't worry sweetheart, accidents happen." You look up at Jake with a sweet smile. It takes you a moment to realise Jake's face is bright red as he stares back at you and there's an obvious tent in his overalls. Heat pools in between your legs at the sight, a wave of confidence pouring over you. Your tits must look amazing from this angle.

Jake stammers. There's no hiding that he's rock hard and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. Each time he tries to tear his eyes away from you they come right back; your pretty face staring up at him with flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. And that lipstick. He wanted it everywhere.

"'M sorry." Jake says. "It's just - fuck - you're so hot."

Your day was getting better and better.

You can feel the heat between your legs increase tenfold. Opportunities like this don't happen often. And what had your bestie said about getting a good fucking? In your figurative lap was a hot guy who was hard for you. You'd be stupid to waste this chance.

Your hand dances up his leg, making him jump but he remains stuck to his spot, his breath hitching when you palm at the tent growing between his legs.

"It's alright, I think you're hot too." You murmur up at him. "And if I'm being honest, I would love to fuck you."

He groans out, low and deep, and you continue to massage his hard length in your palm. If it looked anything like it felt, you thought of maybe taking some painkillers in preparation for the ache that would plague your jaw.

"But first," you purr. "I want to taste you."

Jake can't get out of his overalls fast enough. His arm even gets stuck in the elbow of the overalls as you try not to giggle at his enthusiasm, focusing on undoing the buttons at his hips.

Once the overalls are undone and shucked down to his ankles, Jake stands tall in his boxers and a loud graphic tee. His cheeks are still flushed, looking down at you with an excitable smile which morphs into a gasping moan as you cup his balls through his boxers.

"Oh, you like that?" You tease softly, tugging at the elastic waistband of his boxers with your other hand. You give him a cheeky wink. "I'll keep that in mind."

Pulling his boxers down, his cock springs free and Jake is waiting with baited breath to see what you'd do next. His length is impressive, as you'd gathered, velvet soft and heated to the touch. You have a moment of nerves as you lean closer, catching a waft of mint body wash mixed with the scent of him. It had been a while since you'd last done something like this; what if you were bad? Jake didn't seem like the type to complain but still. Maybe it would be like riding a bike. You'd just have to start slow.

You give his tip a tentative kitten lick, lapping at the bead of precum that had gathered and Jake shudders, his cock twitching excitedly in response. You look up at him through your eyelids as you gently fit his tip into your mouth and swirl your tongue around him.

"Oh shit," Jake gasps, his hands gripping the counter top so tight his knuckles went white. You were pleasantly surprised at his reaction - there was no pressure if his hands were in your hair and you could take your sweet, sweet time to build your confidence.

You inch down his length, breathing through your nose, slowly accommodating to his size and the weight of him in your mouth. Jake watched mesmerised as you swallowed him, how your tongue glided against the underside of his cock and along the sensitive vein there and tried hard not to think about cumming there and then.

You made a choked sound when the tip of Jake’s cock nudged the back of your throat and you forced yourself to relax, bracing your hands against his strong thighs and pushing forward so that your nose brushed the thin patch of hair at the base of his cock. Jake groaned another curse seeing himself bottomed out in your mouth and throat.

Your core ached needily at the sounds Jake made, desperate to be filled. However, you were intent on taking your time, and his groans only served to spurr you on. You reared back, keeping the tip in your mouth, before moving back to the base. You repeat the motion slowly a few more times before speeding up, making gargled sounds as drool gathered under your tongue and dripped down onto his heavy balls. Jake was panting, moaning mess above you unable to think past so good it felt to have his cock in your mouth, and how good it would feel buried inside your pussy as well.

"Shit, I think I- oh God -" Jake's cock twitches angrily in your mouth, signalling imminent release. You hollow your cheeks and suck harder, bobbing your head up and down his length hurriedly, ignoring the ache in your jaw. You reach a hand up cupping his balls and give a gentle squeeze, which sends Jake over the edge with a shout of your name. Thankfully, his cock is so far down your throat that swallowing his hot cum is easy and you still take your time removing your lips from his lipstick stained cock, cleaning the spit and pre-cum smothered on your chin.

You smile up at him but he can't see you; he's leaning against the counter top for support, headed tilted back in ecstasy as he catches his breath.

You press a kiss below his belly button, directly onto the line of darker hair. Jake shudders and you can feel his softening cock twitch to the attention, and he glances down.

"If I give you my number," You murmur, gaze locked onto his half-lidded stare. "Will you consider coming back for round two?"

"Yes." Jake says quickly before clearing his throat. "Yeah. I would."

Whilst Jake dreamily gathers his thoughts and re-dresses himself, you pack him a small tupperware box of cookies with a note that has your number scribbled in felt tip (thanks kiddo).

As he leaves with tupperware in hand, he gives you another smile and a quick peck on the lips, making you jolt in surprise.

"Next time, you're going to be the one seeing stars." He promises quietly, heading out the door. You stand in your doorway and give him a small wave, watching him disappear down the driveway and grinning when you see that he keeps looking back to you. You didn't need to be a clairvoyant to know you'd be seeing him a lot.

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #kinktober #jake jensen x you #jake jensen smut #kinktober 2024 #jake jensen x y/n #day 17 #the losers (2010)#gremlin-girly #gremlin-girly writes

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morganofthewildfire · 2 years ago

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By Your Side

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Happy Yulemas Swap @writtenonreceipts !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This piece was originally supposed to be a whooooole long oneshot but i've been really out of the groove so i was forced to shorten it down to just a snippet, but there's more out there if i ever get the chance to write it!!!

This is very much inspired by your love for my oneshot 2 AM Walks from two years ago 🥰 you were always so nice about that one, so I wanted to deliver you another single parent holiday au! Hopefully you enjoy, this is just an introduction, there's a lot more to this world 😉

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Aelin’s arms were going to fall off. It was official. The dozen plastic grocery bags were digging into her arms, making indents on her skin through her sweater as she struggled to carry them up the stairs. Eloise had asked if she needed help, but all she’d ended up giving to the little girl was one plastic bag, filled with just the little reindeer stuffed animal they’d picked up at the store.

It’d been on sale. That was the only way she’d be able to afford it with all of the money already spent on Yulemas presents.

Even the price of just groceries and essentials had made her cringe. Sam’s child support hadn’t kicked in yet for the month, but she still needed the food. So she’d done what she had to do.

“Mama!” Eloise called out, skipping ahead up the stairs. “Hurry up!”

Aelin huffed a laugh, doing her best to walk up the stairs as quickly as possible. Their apartment building had an elevator, but it wasn’t working right now, leaving her and her daughter to trek up five floors worth of stairs every time they went to and from the apartment.

It was usually a decently slow process; Eloise was still young, still small. She had energy, but didn’t have the size to bound up a set of stairs quickly. But today was different. Her favorite cartoon was having a Yulemas special, and she absolutely could not miss it.

Nevermind the fact that it was set to record, and that there were still a few dates until Yulemas to watch it. Eloise didn’t think like that.

She wanted to watch it now, And who was Aelin to deny her?

“One second, baby,” she called ahead, “I need to unlock the door for you.” Her daughter had already bounded ahead up the stairs, undoubtedly pushing out onto their floor and hurrying to their apartment door.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to keep the bags stable as she pushed up the last few steps, turning to use her body to open the door to her floor. Eloise was at their door, jiggling in excitement, her light brown curls bouncing up and down as she waited (im)patiently.

At four years old, Eloise was already beginning to look like Sam. She had the same hair, the same skin, some of the same mannerisms too, but she had Aelin’s eyes.

Aelin hadn’t expected being married, divorced, and a mother by the age of 25, but here she was. Getting pregnant by her college boyfriend, marrying him, and then subsequently getting cheated on less than a year later had not been in her plans. But even then, she’d given Sam the chance to be a father.

Yeah, he was a crappy husband, but she was of the belief that that didn’t always indicate if someone would be a good father or not. And she certainly didn’t believe in taking someone’s ability to be a father away just because of a personal grudge.

But, he hadn’t stepped up. They’d gotten divorced quickly, and she’d asked him about custody, trying to solve it civilly, but he’d just let her take charge. And hadn’t fought her for any visiting rights, just showing up when he wanted to see Eloise, which wasn’t often and never announced despite how much Aelin had complained to him about it.

So when a great job opportunity had opened up for her over in Doranelle, she hadn’t regretted moving away. Sam hadn’t proven that he wanted to be a father, so she was just going to do her damned best to be a great mother.

But sometimes…it was hard.

He’d managed to take most of their friends in the divorce, and with the move to a completely new city, there wasn’t anybody for her to rely on except for herself. And -

“Hey, munchkin,” a familiar voice sounded from down the hallway, and her cheeks immediately flushed red. Even though he wasn’t even talking to her. “Where’s your mom?”

“I’m here,” Aelin called down, smiling lightly at the man exiting the apartment next to theirs, clearly concerned about why a four year old girl was standing by herself in the hallway.

When that green gaze shifted and locked eyes with hers, she felt her heart squeeze almost painfully. But she ignored it, walking down the hallway and still trying not to drop all of the bags she’d so painfully carried up the stairs.

Rowan Whitethorn was an interesting case. He was their next door neighbor, and had been one of the only ones to introduce himself, but not of his own volition. They’d run into each other in the hallway, literally, and after being on the receiving end of his frown for a solid minute or so, he’d finally straightened up and introduced himself.

That’d been a few months ago, and since then they’d settled into friends? Kind of? It was difficult to tell.

Yes, he was hot. Yes, he was charming in a shy way that was incredibly endearing. Yes, he was amazing with Eloise. In fact, the little girl adored him. It was nice to see her willing to open up to someone after the disappointment that was Sam. But, because of Sam, was she really willing to entertain the possibility of more heartbreak?

Aelin wasn’t sure.

“Need any help?” Rowan asked, breaking her out of her thoughts, and she was about to shake her head no, but he was already walking over, relieving her of the burden of probably 75% of the bags. She nearly sighed in relief, her arms sagging, and she resented a little how easy he made it look. But she also had to hide the blush that spread on her face at the strength it showed.

“Sure, I guess,” Aelin said faintly, smiling at him as he gestured for her to head toward the door.

“I think someone’s in a rush,” Rowan said, nodding at Eloise, who was standing at the front door, bouncing back and forth on her feet.

“Her favorite show is starting soon,” Aelin said, rolling her eyes, but obeyed her daughter’s plea, taking out her keys and opening the door. Eloise bounded in, skipping toward the carpet in front of the TV, laying down almost immediately and kicking her feet.

Rowan gestured for her to go, and Aelin stepped inside her warm apartment, setting the few bags she had left on the counter and sighing as she took off her heavy coat. It was starting to get really cold outside.

But still no snow.

“Thanks for the help,” Aelin said as Rowan set the rest of the bags down on the counter. But he just dismissed her thanks with a shake of his head and a smile. And even started unpacking the bags, taking all of the groceries she’d bought at the store and beginning to sort them on the counter.

“Where were you off to in such a rush?” Aelin asked with a small smile, hoping he understood it was teasing and not accusing. But he caught on, rolling with her punches as easily as he had in the few months they’d known each other.

“Lawyers,” Rowan said, smiling weakly. It was an answer, and he didn’t seem annoyed at her question, but he didn’t seem as lighthearted as before.

“Oh?” Aelin asked, helping him get everything out of the bags. Most important was the gingerbread house kit she’d bought. It was a bit of a splurge, and she’d cringed at the price, but making a gingerbread house had been on Eloise’s list for what she wanted to do this Yulemas, so she couldn’t say no.

It was their first one without Sam at least around, so Aelin wanted to do everything she could to make it a great one.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” She questioned, but he just shrugged. Aelin didn’t want to pry, but she couldn’t deny she was curious.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rowan dismissed, with a loose shrug as he opened the fridge to put away a carton of milk. “She’s going to be late too, anyway.”

Aelin’s brows shot up, but she knew better than to ask, deciding to just help put the rest of the groceries away instead, in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but there was a bit of tension there that wasn’t there before. She was tempted to ask if he was okay.

But she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to risk losing the tentative friendship they had by making things uncomfortable. Not that they really had too much of a friendship. He had her number, and they’d texted maybe once or twice. But mostly it consisted of him helping her out with chores and things like that.

Rowan always insisted she call him if she needed help with anything. Aelin had only taken him up on that a few times, one notable time being when the sink faucet was broken and she needed someone besides their incompetent landlord to look at it.

He’d obliged, and fixed it in twenty minutes, before staying over for dinner and watching a princess movie, at Eloise’s insistence.

“Do you think it’s going to snow soon?” Aelin asked, after a few moments of silence. The only sound in the apartment was the cartoon on the TV and the rustling of grocery bags being balled up and put away.

Rowan hummed a bit in consideration, glancing out the small window in the kitchen. “It’s hard to predict, but I would say so.”

“I promised Eloise a white Yulemas, so it better.” Aelin huffed a laugh, setting the gingerbread kit on the now clear counter. He leaned against the counter, looking over at her with a smile.

“Then you better tell the sky it needs to listen to you,” he teased, and she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, looking up at him.

“I’ll use my mom voice,” she said, lifting her brows. “It’ll have to listen to me then.”

They grinned at each other for a moment, before his phone rang. He sighed and broke their stare, checking who was calling. But he didn’t answer it, just rejecting the call and sliding the device back into his jeans pocket.

“I better go,” he said, pushing off of the counter.

“Okay,” Aelin said, nodding. But her heart felt like it was shrinking at the idea of him leaving, even if it was only for a little bit. Even if he lived next door. It was just…nice. Being able to pretend in a way. Pretend that she wasn’t alone, that she had someone by her side to make sure the weight of everything she was carrying didn’t pull her down completely.

It wasn’t fair of her to do that; he didn’t owe her anything. But she couldn’t deny the way she felt no matter how much she wanted to.

She walked him toward the front door, about to see him out when -

“Wait, are you leaving?” Eloise asked, darting up from her spot on the carpet and prancing over to the door. Her eyes were wide and sad. Aelin was just surprised she’d been able to unglue them from the TV.

“Rowan’s gotta go, sweetie,” she said, brushing a hand through her daughter’s curls. “He was just stopping by to help keep my arms from falling off.”

Her daughter’s blue eyes started watering and she clung onto Rowan’s leg, as if she could keep him there by sheer force of will.

“Eloise,” Aelin chastised, but he just laughed.

“I’d stay if I could, Firefly,” he said fondly, ruffling her hair. “But your mom’s right, I have to go.”

Her daughter’s face could win a record for how pouty it was, and a laugh bubbled out of her too.

“Let him go, baby,” Aelin urged, laughing while she did. “You’ll see him soon.”

Rowan’s brow shot up, and Aelin winced, especially as her daughter piped up.

“Yeah! You’re coming over for Yulemas Eve right?” Eloise asked, finally letting him go and bouncing a little bit as she spoke. “My mama said she was going to ask.”

Rowan turned his green eyes on her then, and Aelin’s heart thundered in her chest. But she forced herself to do what she’d been putting off for a few days now.

“I didn’t know if you had any plans,” she spoke, a little stilted. “But if you didn’t, me and Eloise are just hanging out here if you need something to do.” Rowan didn’t seem to have a lot of people coming over, nor did he seem like he went out much, which was the only reason she’d actually considered asking.

And once she’d voiced the idea to Eloise, she’d had quite the enthusiastic support.

“I’d love to,” Rowan answered, before she could stuff her foot in her mouth anymore.

“Yeah?” She asked, and a blush spread across her cheeks when he smiled at her.

“If I wouldn't be intruding, yeah.” He shrugged, his smile settling into a half quirk of his lips. It was incredibly endearing. Aelin normally prided herself on never getting flustered, at always being the one holding the power in a conversation, especially with men. But it hadn’t been the same since moving out on her own with Eloise, or maybe it was just Rowan.

Either way, she’d be embarrassed if it didn’t seem like he found her endearing too.

“So you are coming!” Eloise piped in, a wild smile on her little face, and Aelin was once again reminded of another exception surrounding Rowan. Her daughter could be the shyest person you’d ever meet around most strangers, but pretty much from the moment she’d met Rowan, she’d been a bundle of energy.

It hadn’t been instantaneous, but it’d been pretty damn close.

“Looks like it,” Rowan chuckled, before crouching down by Eloise and tapping her on the nose. “Now, the quicker you guys put away the food, I bet the quicker you’ll get to work on that gingerbread house I saw on the counter.” Her eyes went wide. “So you better be good and help your mom out, alright?”

Eloise nodded rapidly, bouncing on her feet once again. He straightened up, about to head out the door before pausing and turning back to Aelin.

“See you in a few days,” he said, with a wink, and she could barely squeeze out a bye with the little breath she had.

The lingering fear of commitment was still there, and wouldn’t go away for a while, but she was also pretty sure this was going to be one of her favorite Yulemases yet.

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sidewalkchemistry · 8 months ago

Note

advice for letting go of addiction to junk food? /:

I find that attachment to junk food is often due in part to not really ever falling in love with nourishing whole food ingredients. You're only gonna ever find joy in turning away from junk food when you're just as, or more, attracted to the whole food alternatives you're giving yourself. It shouldn't be about punishment or self-denial. It's about satisfaction, excitement, and self-love. Don't beat yourself up about your current situation. Simply, step forward into this new journey with patience & self-compassion.

💚So, first things first is really developing a longgg list of whole foods that you enjoy. Different fruits, vegetables, grains, beans, seaweeds, foraged plants, seeds, nuts, herbs & spices, and so on. I recommend mostly purchasing what's in season (the taste, texture, and price points tend to be way better!), and visiting farmer's markets when possible (in my state, they take food stamps and have tons of discounts, to make the produce more accessible to all. I hope it's similar where you are). You may have to do some learning about how to identify fresh & ripe produce, determine how to identify good quality, comparing the tastes depending on food preparation methods (boiled vs roasted vs fresh vs pickled), and little things like that. Don't be afraid to try new things. You will likely find that you grow to like things you would've formerly disliked.

💚Next is to get into finding alternatives for your previous favorites. Especially snacks or quick meals. So, let's say that you are super into potato chips and instant noodles...swap that for homemade chips or wedges (you can make them in the microwave, air fryer, or oven - with little to no oil) & a simple noodle soup (packed with herbs, some miso and/or seaweed, a few veggies of your choice, and anything else you might like).

💚It's critical as well to really develop a rolling menu of recipes to make yourself. Your meals don't have to be complex or take ages (something like a taco bowl is great). Focus on simple but flavor-filled meals by highlighting the fresh flavors and spices, and by creating a well-rounded flavor profile in your dishes (for savory dishes: umami/salty + sour + sweet + optionally herby, spicy, and/or bitter). An accent flavor (or something to make the dish pop) is also great, such as citrus zest, liquid aminos, coconut, paprika, sesame seeds, green onion. Have ideas for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, desserts, sauces & dressings, drinks, and snacks & dips.

💚Notice keenly how much better you feel when you reduce the junk food. Choose that good feeling over some really short-lived gratification. Notice, too, how poorly junk food can leave you feeling.

💚Learn to journal or tap into a hobby when your emotions get high and you want something unhealthy to "drown out your feelings." It's not about the fact that those foods aren't great for you. It's about paying attention to your feelings instead of stuffing them away.

💚Eliminate the misconception that it's cheaper eating junk food. You're less likely to feel the natural satiation point when you're eating low nourishment foods, so overeating is quite normal when you eat lots of processed foods. Also, the processing of such foods often is less kind on the earth compared to whole plant foods. So, it's expensive in that larger scale too. And you just aren't your best self - less energy, motivation, and stuff are likely when junk food is your primary fuel. The most affordable foods worldwide are typically satiating whole plant foods (grains, legumes, potatoes, etc).

💚Don't keep junk food around all the time. It turns into an 'out of sight, out of mind' thing.

💚Change the way you grocery shop. Spend time in the produce section especially. Always leave with things like greens, seasonal fruit, frozen fruit/veg, root veggies, etc. Discover which stores have the best options and actually stock quality produce. Wholesalers/big box stores & ethnic markets tend to do pretty good.

💚Create new habits. When you get home from work, you might be used to eating a certain snack. Interrupt that habit with a new one.

💚Stay hydrated. Water-rich produce (like cucumbers, oranges, leafy greens, berries) and drinking water can both help. Sometimes, we seek food when we're actually thirsty.

💚Start your days on a good note with fresh flavors. I recommend fruit for the sweetness and energy. And make sure your meals are satisfying and nutrient-dense, so you aren't starving and looking for energy drinks or anything an hour later.

💚Don't be all-or-nothing in your approach. This helps you to avoid that punishment mindset. It's just about choosing the food that really makes you feel good and happy and content.

💚Try out flavors from around the world. Get into ingredients and flavor profiles you've been missing out on. For example, rosewater, tomatillos, various mushrooms, berbere spice, different curries, dragonfruit, pandan. I just love traveling via my plates. It's an easy way to romanticize your life.

💚Learn to make a good, hearty, interesting salad. Smoothie bowls are a good thing to learn too. These are low-effort meals that are great when the weather is hot, you're busy, and/or your energy is low.

💚Get into making your own condiments. These can add an extra kick of flavor and interest for your dishes. For example, herb infused vinegars and oils, hot sauce, pickled veggies, rich sauces, etc.

💚Avoid food waste. Often when people are trying to eat better, the produce they purchase often goes bad before they can incorporate it into meals. Store items properly to extend their shelf life. Buy some fruit somewhat underripe (if they're a kind that ripens off the tree). Freeze things before they can go bad. Make soup broths, pickles, kimchi, jams, sauces, etc. Make meals around what is ready to be used. Also, don't be overly adventurous and buy too many unfamiliar ingredients at once.

💚And I'll end on an unexpected one. Spend more time outside in nature. You are typically become appreciative all those colors and scents and intrigue in simple/slow food meals when you do.

I wish you the best & I apologize for taking a while to respond.

Lili

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soaps-hoe-141 · 2 years ago

Text

Back Together

You might want to grab a snack before you read this one

Part 16

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 5k

Synopsis: Grocery shopping, furniture stores, and some good home cookin

Warnings: Soap bein a cheapo

Bargain Mart, the holy grail of deals and also the only place Soap ever went shopping anymore, the only place he needed to go shopping since the place sold just about everything you could think of. He had brought Ghost with him, even though the man seemed more than confused as to why they were about to even step inside the building. Soap led them inside stopping as they walked in the doors, he moved to grab a cart but paused glancing back at the man on his crutches and nodding towards one of the electric wheelchairs, “You should get one of those Lt. You’d look good riding in style,” Soap put his hands out revving an imaginary motor with a smirk.

The glare from the hazel eyes only turned his smirk into a joy filled smile as Ghost answered with a deadening tone, “No.”

Soap shook his head suppressing his smile, “Fine. Fine have it your way,” the Scotsman pulled a cart out of one of the rows and pushed it in front of Ghost letting him lean onto the cart as he took the man’s crutches and laid them in the cart instead. “Come on now, we have groceries to buy, my coupons expire tomorrow.” Ghost let out a huff and followed him as Soap headed for the produce first.

The Scot inspected everything he put into the cart much to Ghost’s annoyance. “Why couldn’t we just order some groceries to the house like I usually do?”

Soap gave him a look that showed the offense he felt at that and scoffed, “Because you get the best product when you get it yourself Ghost. If you let someone shop for you they don’t really care.” The tall man just watched him shaking his head a bit and grumbling as Soap kept walking. “I don’t have a coupon for bananas like you wanted but I do have one for a bag of oranges. Did you want those instead?”

Ghost shrugged as he answered, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean how much do a thing of bananas even cost? 10? 12 maybe?”

Soap gaped at him stopping in the middle of the aisle too shocked to move or even answer at first before blurting out, “Where have you been getting bananas Ghost!? Who has been scamming you?”

The tall man was confused, watching him and answering with a shrug, “I’ve never actually been to a grocery store before Johnny. I just have amazon deliver groceries to the house whenever I need something. Why? Is that…a lot?”

“Ghost, a bundle of bananas should cost like 2.50 a bundle at most, you poor, poor man. You must be joking, please tell me you are joking.” He waited to see the smirk in his eyes telling him what he wished to hear, but it never came. Just a blank stare down at him that made his head shake and fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose. “You are never to order groceries again, understand me? I’ll do your grocery shopping from now on, just text me whenever you need something.” Soap walked on through the aisles, ignoring the child-like pleas to leave from the tall man as he shopped, filling the cart up as they went. At one point he pulled ahead of Ghost, losing the man accidentally in the maze of the store. He found himself in the middle of the aisle that housed the art and school supplies.

Blue eyes roamed the sketchbooks, the different pencils and pens for lineart, and the different kinds of oil pastels that seemed to call to him, they had been his favorite media before he had stopped drawing a few years back. However, the price tag shot his desire down nearly immediately. Besides it had been a while anyway, he’d probably fuck it up if he tried to draw again. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a deep voice spoke behind him, “What are you looking at this stuff for, Johnny?”

Soap turned to look at the masked man, taking a deep breath to calm his heart before he shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and continued down the aisle shooting back over his shoulder, “No reason, come on let’s go Lt. We still have to stop by that furniture store, I saw an ad online that they have a sale on right now.” He didn’t stop to look back, continuing on to the registers. As they stood in line he cast a worried look over at Ghost who was leaning over on the cart heavily, probably too much walking around for one day already. “Hey Ghost, I’m gonna go pull the car around. Here’s my Bargain Mart card, make sure they scan it before you pay, my coupons are loaded onto it.” He handed the rewards card over to him and then pulled out his credit card, “And here you go.”

Ghost took the rewards card without issue and then shook his head, “I’ll pay for it, just hurry up and get the car.” Soap’s brows furrowed and the big man waved him off, “Go on.” He sighed and shoved his wallet back in his pocket as he left Ghost to handle the checkout line. He met the man back near the front as he pushed the cart out the door. Soap jumped out, helping Ghost into the passenger seat before he loaded the groceries and got them back on the road.

Soap hummed along to music only he could hear as they drove, before he parked the car again, this time at the Furniture Depot. “Do you still want to go inside? We don’t have to if you’re tired or your leg is hurting.”

Ghost nodded almost immediately, “I’m fine, let’s go Soap.” The man seemed almost excited to be going inside here. The tall man opened his door first and the Scotsman hurried to meet him around the car, pulling his crutches out of the backseat and helping him out of the low seat.

Once more Soap led them inside the store, met immediately with a salesman who was shooting a wide smile at the both of them that faltered just slightly when he looked at Ghost’s skull mask before he regained his composure and asked, “How are you two doing today, gentleman?”

Soap glanced around the store, “We’re doing ok, thanks.”

The man waited for him to say anything more before he continued, “So, is there anything I can help you with today? Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

The Scotsman glanced back at Ghost, giving him a curious look, “What do you think? Which room do you want to finish next?”

Ghost glanced around the store as well before shrugging, “The bedroom maybe?”

Soap gave a quick nod and looked back at the man who was still giving them both that customer service smile, “That’s perfect, we actually have a sale going on for all bedroom furniture right now, if you can believe it. Right this way,” he led them through the store back to where a few fake bedrooms had been set up to showcase the furniture. “This is one of our more popular sets, the queen size metal frame bed. It has a matching vanity, dresser, and nightstand, but in my opinion it is lacking in storage space especially for the price.” Soap looked up at Ghost, hazel eyes staring hard at him before Sopa shook his head to the salesman.

“No problem, we have plenty more. Now my personal favorite is this one over here,” he directed them to a different bedroom set that was a gray wood with a wide grain that matched the granite countertops in the kitchen. Soap shot a look at Ghost who was still watching him instead of the salesman, his hazel eyes a bit softer this time and flicking away the moment he had been caught again. The salesman caught their attention then and gave them his pitch, “Now this is the one that my wife and I have in our master bedroom and she loves it. It’s a storage bed, queen size as well, and has a full matching set for the entire room. And in addition to the regular sale, it is also on a closeout sale so it’s more than half off. We have the last ones in transit now from the warehouse, you can take it home by tomorrow if you buy today.”

Soap nodded as he inspected it closely and turned his attention to Ghost as he asked, “Do you like it?”

Ghost glanced at each piece individually before nodding, “Affirmative.”

The Scotsman suppressed a smile at his lack of enthusiasm behind it and looked at the salesman, “How much is the whole set?”

“3,300 with the dresser, vanity, and the two nightstands,” the salesman answered with a proud smile.

Soap however blanched at him and shook his head, “Yeah that’s not gonna work. Our budget is 2,800 right now with the hospital bills and everything. I'm sorry.” The Scotsman pursed his lips feigning disappointment as he backed up, “Come on m’eudail.” He wrapped an arm around Ghost’s back looking up at him and thanking God that the salesman couldn’t read his expression through the balaclava cause he could plainly see Ghost’s intense confusion about what exactly Soap was doing.

They turned and headed for the door before the man stopped them with a loud, “Wait! Just a second,” he caught up to them and Soap turned to look back to him. “Let me go talk to my manager, I’m sure I can knock a little more off the price for you two.”

A thankful smile lit up the Scotsman’s features, “Thank you. If you could, that would be amazing.” He watched the man retreat towards the back of the store and turned to look up at Ghost who was still watching him and Soap realized he still had his arm wrapped around the Lieutenant’s back. “Oh sorry about that Lt. I was just trying to sell the bit.” Ghost narrowed his eyes and Soap elaborated, “He thinks we’re together, Ghost. That’s why he brought up that he and his wife have the same set even though he isn’t married.” At the quizzical look in his eye he held up his hand and pointed to his finger, “No ring Ghost. Besides, you can get a great deal if you start playing the sympathy card.”

Ghost rumbled out, “I don’t have any hospital bills to pay Soap. And, I could have afforded that, I don’t need any more of a discount.”

Soap sighed and shook his head, “It’s not about what you can afford Ghost. It’s about making sure that big furniture loses.”

He tapped a finger to his temple a couple times before the salesman reappeared from the back with that customer service smile still plastered on his face. “Good news gentleman, my manager agreed to the 2,800. It’s all yours tomorrow so long as you pay today.”

The Scotsman looked up at the tall man with an ‘I told you so,’ look and Soap could see the smirk underneath the mask as he nodded, “Ok, we’ll take it.” Ghost paid for the furniture set and they left the store.

Soap drove them back home, singing along to the playlist as he always did. He noticed Ghost staring a couple times but ignored the look he was giving him, continuing to sing as loud as he could. He helped Ghost out of the car when they got home, taking the groceries in himself. He loaded his arms down with the bags refusing to make a second trip back out to the car out of principle. Soap went immediately to the kitchen, only glancing momentarily at Ghost as he sat on the couch in his black hoodie and shorts with his cast up on the couch to rest what had to be an aching leg. He put the groceries away, letting it occupy his mind as he did. He kept out a small pork loin and set aside a couple potatoes and some veggies to go along with it.

The Scot washed the potatoes and peeled them then cut them into quarters. He threw the quartered potatoes into a mixture of vegetable oil, salt, pepper, minced garlic, flour, beef broth, white wine, thyme leaves, rosemary leaves, and bay leaves. He stirred it for a few seconds dipping in a finger to taste the mixture before nodding slowly to himself. “That’ll do,” he then went back to the veggies he had sat out, dicing a large onion, two small tomatoes, some celery, and two medium sized parsnips. He let it stew as he trimmed the small pork loin and cut it into small cubes, trimming off the thickest parts of the fat and leaving some to help season the stew. Soap threw the pork in then, stirring again and making sure it was thickening properly before he nodded to himself muttering quietly.

He turned, fixing to go see what Ghost was doing when he was met with the image of the man sitting at the kitchen island already watching him. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

Soap felt heat traveling up his chest and trying to settle on his face as he answered, “Pork stew, me mum’s recipe. I’ve never cooked it by myself so I hope you like it.”

Ghost peeked around him at the pot sitting on the burner and nodded slowly, “I’m sure I will. You were putting a lot of work into it just now. You don’t put that much work into something you don’t think will be worth it. I know you.” Soap couldn’t help the small smile as he nodded. The tall man watched him as he sat on the stool beside him, leaning forward against the bar with a yawn, his head resting in his hand. “I uh,” Ghost started as he pulled a bag off his lap and sat it on the counter before pushing it towards the Sergeant. “I got you this. When we were at the store,” the hazel eyes looked down at his hands as Soap opened the bag.

He pulled out a sketchbook and a pack of lineart pens and pencils, staring down at the box of oil pastels as well and letting out a light chuckle, unable to look up at the eyes he knew were staring holes into him now. “Ghost, you didn’t have to get me these. I haven’t even drawn in years. I’m probably shite now.” The man ran his thumb across the cover of the sketchbook and finally managed to turn his eyes to look up at Ghost, “How’d you even know what to get?”

“I’m quiet, not stupid Johnny. You were staring at it like it was the love you had left standing on the shore before deployment. With all the savings you got me at the market and then the Furniture Depot too I had some money left in the budget to get you something to show my appreciation.” Ghost’s eyes were so soft beneath the mask it was hard to look away, but Soap didn’t have a choice as he felt his heart start to pick up, his cheeks heating up.

The Scot cleared his throat and returned his gaze down to the art supplies, “Thanks Ghost. I appreciate the gift.” Ghost nodded then and tilted towards him to nudge his shoulder as he opened everything to inspect it a bit closer. The smell of the food permeated the room as it cooked making both of their stomachs rumble in anticipation.

Ghost pushed up from the stool heading back towards the living room, “If you need me I’ll be in the living room.”

Soap nodded and watched him leave before he made his way back to the stove slowly, pulling the lid off the pot to stir and inspect the food. It bubbled slowly, the sauce had thickened and everything was cooked through already. He stirred it for a few more seconds before he grabbed a couple bowls and spoons, poured a couple glasses of wine, spooned out food for the both of them, and opened a pack of rolls on the counter and after grabbing one for each of them he headed back to the living room to join Ghost on the couch. Soap handed off one of the bowls and then one of the glasses and glanced up at the TV as he pushed back into the corner of the sectional, legs drawn up as he tasted the food. It wasn’t exactly like his mom made it but it was fairly close. He glanced sideways as Ghost pulled his mask off and took a bite. He heard a low noise and his face fell, worried that he hated it before the man turned to look at him with surprise on his features not saying anything as he shoveled more into his mouth.

He let out a relieved sigh and went back to eating while watching the Lieutenant, enjoying the quiet noises and the expressions on Ghost’s face more than any TV show could ever give him. Soap watched as he dipped the roll into the leftover sauce, soaking up every drop before he sat the bowl on the table. Ghost sat back holding the glass of wine he hadn’t touched yet, sipping at it slowly and nodding to himself, “It was good Johnny. I’ll give it to you. I really thought I was gonna be washing my mouth out for a week.”

Blue eyes narrowed at the tall man before he shook his head, “I feel like you just insulted me but tried to cover it with a little sprinkle of praise. That doesn’t make what you said nice, you know that right Ghost?”

Ghost hid a smile behind another sip from the wine and Soap finished his own bowl of the stew. He took the bowls leaving the big man to watch his show as he cleaned up and packed away the leftovers before storing them in the fridge. The Scotsman didn’t go back immediately though, taking a few seconds to more closely inspect what Ghost had gifted to him before heading back to take a seat on the couch. His hand moved without much thought, the light pencil dancing over the paper as he transferred the pent up thoughts out through the pencil. Soap didn’t even realize when his eyes drifted shut looking down at the paper, not even noticing when Ghost took the sketchbook and the pencils, closing them without looking and putting them on the table before throwing a blanket over the Scot and laying back down on the couch to go to sleep himself.

Soap woke early the next morning, neck stiff from laying on his side without something to hold his head up. Ghost was on his stomach, his arm hanging off the couch and breathing heavily in his sleep. He stood slowly checking the time on his phone with a sigh. Ghost had been sleeping fairly late into the morning so he had some time before the man woke up, he could probably get to the base, get Ghost’s truck, and get the furniture they had bought…in a dream. Sadly this was not one, not this time anyway. Soap sighed and went to change, finding his duffel bag empty of fresh clothes. “Damn it,” he mumbled to himself before heading down the hall. Ghost wouldn’t notice one pair of shorts and a shirt missing, hopefully. He stripped quickly down to his underwear before going through the boxes and pulling out a pair of shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt.

He was about to pull the clothes on when he heard that voice that always seemed to sneak up on him when he least expected it. “Why are you stealing my clothes?”

“Fuckin hell Ghost!” Soap turned on the tall man, holding the clothes in front of him with a tired glare glued to the other’s unmasked face. “Keep that shite up and I’m gonna put bells around your neck. Quit sneaking up on me you big blaigeard.” Ghost snickered as he moved out of Soap’s way, following the shorter man on his crutches, and shutting the bathroom door in his face. “I’m going to go get your truck from the base and then pick up the furniture when they open.” He paused as he pulled the shirt over his head and the shorts on around his hips. They were too big, obviously, so he tightened the drawstrings and tied them off before pulling the sleeves up past his elbows so they didn’t dangle down past his hands. His face felt hot as he looked at himself in the mirror, wishing to himself that something else had accompanied him acquiring Ghost’s clothes. Maybe a sweaty night or a lazy morning. A languid roll of his hips against Ghost’s, or devouring his mouth to discover a taste he hadn’t yet been able to.

Soap hung his head for a second, shaking it slowly as he pushed the thoughts back with a sigh. He couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do that. Not when he knew how the other man felt about it. But, was it so wrong to wonder? To dream about it? Yes, it was, it was wrong for him to feel that, to want and think that. He was Ghost’s friend and the Lieutenant had made it clear that he didn’t want anything more than that so secretly pining for that, desiring more than what Ghost was willing to give, just didn’t sit well in his own stomach and he couldn’t imagine how it would feel to the other man. The Scotsman opened the bathroom door again to Ghost standing there looking down at him with a look that made his skin burn even hotter though he pushed by once more unwilling to let the tall man see it. Those hazel eyes would haunt his dreams for years to come, “I need you to promise me you won’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. Please I’m begging ye, because if you do anything stupid Price is gonnae have both our heads on a spike when he gets back. Copy?”

He heard Ghost take a seat once more on the couch behind him as he grabbed his things, listening as the Lieutenant answered back, “Copy that Sergeant MacTavish.” He eyed the back of the blonde’s head, surprised he hadn’t yet put the mask back on. They were in his home though so maybe he was just tired of wearing the suffocating fabric in the place he was usually able to just relax in, Soap knew without a doubt he would probably feel the same way.

“I’ll be back in maybe…” he tilted his head one way and then the other as he tried to judge the time, he had always been poor at doing that on the spot, before he gave up. “I’ll be back whenever I’m back. I’m gonna take a run to the base then go swing by the Furniture Depot and pick everything up. Be back soon, Lt.” He heard a grunt of acknowledgement and hesitated in the door before he shook his head and headed out to get what they needed done for the day.

--------(Ghost POV)

The tall man laid back on the couch, an arm behind his head and a nagging boredom in the back of his mind. When Johnny was here it was a bit easier to ignore it, to focus on the Scotsman and his burning blue eyes. The scar that cut through his dark brow brought a heat to his own skin as he wore those scars and marks so shamelessly. The black tattoo on his forearm and the one on his back that he had only seen whenever he snuck up on the half-naked man like today.

Without him around though he was left to his own thoughts and desires. Soap had been gone for only fifteen minutes when his boredom won over and he was up and moving around, headed through the kitchen into the back room he had told Soap was of no interest. A washer and dryer sat on one side, and sewing, crochet, and knitting supplies sat on the other side of the room. He eyed the supplies before moving towards them, pulling out an unopened box and opening it with one hand. He dug through the power tools with narrowed eyes before smiling as he pulled out a compact circular saw. The big man gave a quiet nod before he headed back to the living room with an extra battery.

Ghost tested each of them, lips pursing in annoyance when he found that they were both dead. He unplugged the phone chargers in the wall and plugged in the charger for the power tools battery packs letting them sit as he went back to watching the show on the TV. Hazel eyes flicked anxiously to the light on the charger every so often, unable to really focus on the show. The thirtieth time he looked at the charger and still saw the red blinking light his eyes began to wander the room, knowing he would be climbing the walls soon if he didn’t do something.

That was when the sketchbook sitting on the table caught his eye. He hadn’t looked last night but he had been tired, plus Johnny had been sleeping right there, it would have felt wrong to look at it. Hell it felt wrong to look at it now as he reached a hand out to the cover, fingers pausing on the matte black. Soap had sketched half of the night away last night, the pencil dancing over the pages for hours, so long even that he had fallen asleep with the pencil and the book both in his hands.

Ghost tapped a finger against the black cover, reaching up to scratch at his neck as he tried to stop the urge to open it. He shook his head slowly, it was wrong, that was a private expression of himself that Soap had expected it to be respected. It was wrong and he knew he shouldn’t do it. He sat back on the couch, trapping his hands in his armpits to stop himself from opening the cover. That lasted all of thirty seconds though before he sat forward again and thought to himself, ‘Just one and then I’ll close it.’ He opened the cover, turning the book to the side to look down at the picture Soap had outlined on the page.

Cheeks heated up as he looked down at his own image, the outline of his face taking up most of the page along with his neck. Soap had outlined a few scars along his jaw and the one that cut through his lip. He was looking out of the page, a smile suppressed on his face with a glass raised to his mouth. It wasn’t tediously detailed but it got the message across that he had been Soap’s subject last night. He flipped to the next page, he was further away this time. The balaclava covered his face, his chest was bare though and a hand was holding a towel wrapped around his waist, the day Soap’s mom had showed up at his apartment while the Lieutenant was there. He saw a few outlines of his tattoos, namely the sleeve on his arm though it was almost like Soap couldn’t quite remember what it had looked like because there were annoyed scribbles and eraser marks on it, the rest of the picture unfinished.

Again, Ghost flipped to the next page and his eyes widened in surprise before he shut the book quickly, staring down hard at the cover in front of him. One hand held the sketchbook closed and the other was on his mouth, unable to look away from the book but also unable to open it back up. He must have lost track of the time because when he heard the door knob twist and the front door open he hurriedly put the sketchbook back on the table leaning back into the cushions and feigning being relaxed as he pretended to be watching whatever the fuck was on the TV.

-----(Soap POV)

He pushed open the door, pulling a heavy box in behind him, his chest heaving with the effort as he leaned it against the wall of the hallway. Soap glanced at Ghost sitting on the couch and took a deep breath before saying, “I got everything Lt. You wanna put the bed together first and do the rest whenever we get around to it?” He got a stiff nod from the man who was scratching at the beard growth on his face and avoiding his gaze. The Scotsman watched him for a few more moments before shrugging and shaking his head to himself before he headed back out to go get the other boxes. After lugging in the five different boxes Soap shut the door and leaned over to catch his breath. It took a few seconds before he could stand back up straight and leaned over the back of the couch beside Ghost. “Alright you coming to help me or am I putting this shite together myself?”

Ghost cleared his throat and glanced at the boxes leaning on the wall before standing up from the couch, “I’m coming.” He watched the big man grab his crutches up before he headed down the hall to the bedroom.

Soap followed pushing the box until he saw the charger and compact circular saw sitting on the ground by the wall outlet and yelled down the hall at him, “Were you going to use that while I was gone!?” Ghost turned the corner glancing back down the hall but not bothering to answer. “Hey! You don’t get to hobble away, get back here!” Soap continued pushing the box down the hallway after him, “I told you not to do anything stupid!”

Ghost merely shrugged as Soap turned the corner and answered in a gruff voice, “I didn’t. Thought about it, but I didn’t.” Soap glared hard at his back but held his tongue, the man wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t done it at least. Still didn’t make it ok but they could discuss it later, after they got this stupid furniture put together.

#slow burn #soapxghost #soapghost #soap cod #soap #ghostxsoap #ghost cod #ghoap #ghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warfare ii

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