#and his cod fish stick is long
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Oh to be held hostage by your own pet
#you might be wondering#hey#you have a hamster#he cant possible have held you hostage#on the fucking contrary#mullo will start to climb out of his cage to get the treat#so i would put my hand and he would land on it or he would fall onto the ground from the cupboard#so i gave the treat and instead of shoving it into his mouth and running off#he decided he was going to sit and eat the treat on my hand#which meant that I could not go to bed until he finished#and his cod fish stick is long#it took him a good 5 ish minutes before he was done#and im here holding my hand out waiting for him to finish
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okay bluecollar!rafe but yall. can we make it MARINE!RAFE?? or more specifically MARSOC!rafe* who works for ward at cameron construction co. on leave?? like hello i need him bad guys.
cw: MDNI smut, cursing, stuff in public, food play, cum eating, military stuff, ass play, manhandling, 1 mention of fighting, recording
*marsoc: Marine Forces Special Operations Command - basically what COD men do
like he starts off as a standard private officer after enlisting when you guys graduate high school. he works his way up from private to corporal to sergeant major, and then eventually to captain, colonel, then general. i mean hes fucking unstoppable, hes blowing thru these ranks like nobodys fuckin business, and he not stopping anytime soon baby he in his primeeee.
he moves on to MARSOC and leads a small team on SPEC-OP missions in like borneo. hes literally the best of the best. his full file is like 4 pounds, full of successful recon missions, confirmed kills, successful captures of enemy targets, accurate tracking efforts, successful counterterrorism efforts, successful hostage rescue and successful direct action raids. when theres a REAL threat? they call LT Cameron. callsign? RAIDER
NOW. when baby comes home on leave he works at the family construction company ward owns, building giant beach houses for rich kooks. he eventually inherits cameron construction when ward gets too old to work and he helps ward retire bcs of the cash from being the most elite soldier in the US military. bae is tannnn bcs of construction work ofc, but also since being in the military he likes to go on runs and be in nature to clear his head. and yall alr know hes yatteddddd, both sleeves done by his boy at home on the cut, who happens to be a very talented tattoo artist (barry...)
strictly keeps a buzz for deployment but will grow out a mullet when hes home. signature gold chain is always on, and has a tat on his ring finger for you and maybe one on his forearm. does he have both ears pierced with fake diamond studs in? yes.
is currently in the blueprint stage for a beach house he wants to build you on figure 8 (and one in florida... and will probably start planning another one if he ends up having a long ship-out next deployment) even tho he despises rich fucks and is suchhhh a country boy. i mean hes like pogue!rafe but hes more of a mudding, dirt biking, bonfire, shotgunning beer, lifted truck, bar hop, football game kind of guy. and the most elite soldier in the US military ofc.
takes you on stargazing dates and fucks you in the truck bed, a big beach towel set down and his head in your neck while he ruts into you short and fast. occasionally gets into bar fights when some dick is tryna say sum to u. is such an ass man and will smack and grope that shit wheneverrrr whereverrrr - has zoned out of convos with people while feelin HIS booty up + loves to grip your pussy with his big ass paw when no one is looking.
has a super firm grip due to years of being a marine and WILL manhandle ur ass around - into various positions, onto the bed or couch or counter or etc., up over his shoulder when you gettin on his nerves. gets actually animalistic when yall fuckin, and yk that boy a munch. growls and grunts sooo loud the whole time.
will take you to the dock and fuck you on the family fishing boat. will christen any new bar yall go to by fucking you in the gross bathroom and carving both your initials in the wall with his pocket knife that ward gave him when he was 15. is kinky af but lets u bring it up bcs he feels awkward talking about it. is sooooo nasty - will eat his cum out of you with his whole mouth, eyes locked on yours, sucking your lips into his mouth. then, when it’s not enough, he drags you up to sit on his face and rubs your clit, watching you clench and letting his cum drip from you right onto his tongue.
will stick a thumb in your ass during doggy, while reaching for his phone bcs the way u throwin that ass back on him? yall bout to make another movie. loves watching you clean him up after round 5, when his dick is covered in his and your cum - will not let you miss a spot, even where it dripped down over his hefty balls to his ass. and he rarely shaves - uncut.
if it’s a hot day, he’ll turn the ac off and find you so he can lick the sweat off every crevice of your beautiful body while he’s fucking you over the counter. both of you completely butt naked bcs it’s hot. has a sweet tooth - will interrupt you while you’re baking and strip you, laying you on the counter like the dessert you are and eating the frosting off his favorite parts. get especially excited when it comes to sweets on your nipples.
honestly if that aint a FEASTTTT i dont know what issss
#lana.writes 🖍#outer banks#outer banks x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe x y/n#rafe x black reader#rafe cameron x black!reader#obx#obx x reader#obx x y/n#obx kooks#rafe obx#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe x you#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron obx#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#obx smut
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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4
Part 3
"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.
"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."
"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"
Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."
"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."
"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.
"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."
"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.
"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.
"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."
"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"
Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.
He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.
"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."
"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."
"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.
-------------------
The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.
"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.
Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.
"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."
"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.
Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."
"Pretty sure it's cod."
"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.
Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.
"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."
"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.
"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.
"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."
"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."
"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.
Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"
"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.
"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"
"I didn't realize this was an interview."
Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.
So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."
"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.
"And flavorful."
"Uh-huh."
"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.
Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.
"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."
It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.
"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.
Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.
Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.
"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."
"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.
"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."
"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."
"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."
"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.
"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.
Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?
Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.
"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."
"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.
"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.
"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.
Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.
Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.
"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.
"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.
"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."
Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."
This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.
"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.
"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.
Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."
"Oh?"
"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"
Eddie nodded.
"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."
They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.
Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.
"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"
Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.
Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-
Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.
"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.
"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.
"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.
The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.
Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."
"Right now?", Steve asked.
"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."
"You want me to stay?"
Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.
"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.
"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."
Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.
"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.
"Hurry back."
And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.
Part 5
I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.
Tag Team
@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi
#apo writes#stranger things#fanfiction#steddie#platonic stobin#omegaverse#a/b/o#next part is gonna be oohoohoo!
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It's a little shorter than I planned, but it was in my draft for too long and I wanted to post it, so I cut it the end. You'll read more in the next chapter. 👀
Baby dove pt.3 (Daddy!Howl)
It took you a while to calm down. Calcifer retreated to the back of the fireplace and you were grateful for the silence. You didn't know if there was anything else you should know, but surely you didn't want to now. Apparently, the only option available was what the demon said: waiting for Howl to get tired and hoping that it happens soon. The ringing of the doorbell startled you and you jumped up in fear, only to breathe a sigh of relief when you saw Markl, alone. You cursed yourself for getting so anxious just from the ringing of a bell, but you still didn't feel like facing that guy. You composed yourself and welcomed Markl, helping him carry in the groceries. You only got a fleeting glimpse of the city starting to light up for the evening before the youngest closed the door behind him, unaware of your problems.
Howl originally told you that he was the only one allowed to cook since the demon didn't like being used by anyone other than him. At first, like everything that happened to you these days, you didn't think about it too much. Now you wonder if it wasn't actually some form of infantilization towards you: you're too young to know how to cook, you could burn or cut yourself… In fact, now that you thought about it longer, he had never let you cook, if not sometimes "helping him pass the ingredients". Not wanting to get angry for the umpteenth time that day, you looked at what you placed on the table: delicious-looking fruit and vegetables, an already gutted cod and a new bottle of oil. "Howl asked me to buy some fish." Markl said with a rather disgusted expression, taking a stool and approaching the table. "It was the last thing I took. I didn't want to keep that smelly thing around all the time." Moving it away from him, he grabbed the cutting board and a knife. He held a turnip in his hand for a few seconds before starting to cut it, still pouting. "I hope at least these cover the disgusting taste." You wondered if Howl saw you the same way you saw Markl. A sulking child complaining about food he doesn't like while standing on a stool because the table is too high for him. You thought that at least the wizard didn't have to see you so short. Then you remembered that this kid at least could go out freely and be more useful than you in the kitchen. You started looking for a knife to help him as you listened to him complain about how he didn't want to eat fish for dinner. The implications of this hit you. "Wait. We don't…have leftovers right?" "No, the soup for lunch is all gone. Unfortunately." Yeah. Unfortunately. Having no leftovers meant he would be back earlier than usual to cook. You had hoped that you would be able to go to bed and pretend to be asleep when he returned. Now you were hoping that he would have some accident and wouldn't be able to make it home for a few more hours. You started to open the cabinet after you only found spoons and forks in the cutlery tray. The castle was cleaner since you arrived, but still very messy. You spotted a cutlery handle sticking out from behind the pile of plates, only to realize it was another fork. "Hey Markl, where are all the knives?" It was your only chance to do something useful in the kitchen, you weren't going to waste it. "Aren't they in the cutlery tray? I got this from there." "No, not even in the drawers." "In the sink? Howl was cutting some herbs for potions when I left. Maybe he left onethere." You checked but, apart from a cup and a bowl, there was nothing else. You looked through the shelves above but couldn't spot a single one. It didn't help that they were higher than your head. You wouldn't ask Markl to lend you the stool. The library? Nothing. You huffed in annoyance. "They are not here." Oh, if this was one of his tricks… "Well, you know how he is, he always leaves things lying around. When he comes back we'll ask him. Is there anything else missing to set the table?" You took 3 glasses scattered around, placing them on one side of the still clear table.
Then you pulled 3 plates out of the cabinet… and saw it. Behind the pile was a knife sticking out of a cup. A butter knife, sure, but still a knife. You grabbed it and triumphantly returned to the table, next to him. There were still some vegetables and you got ready to cut a carrot. Too bad the knife didn't cut. It simply rubbed on its surface. You tried using more force but the blade wasn't sharp enough. "Um, isn't that a butter knife?" Markl must have noticed your struggle with that damn carrot. "Yeah, I'm trying to cut it anyway." You snorted. You were almost tempted to break it in half. With bare hands. The boy took on a confused expression "Do you know that the butter knife…is used to spread butter? Have you never used it?" Oh god. Not him too. Not him too who treats you like a fool. “I know what a butter knife is for, thanks.” You gritted your teeth as you brought your attention back to that orange thing. You started cutting - no, rubbing - that fucking knife on that fucking carrot again. "But-" "I can do it." You cut him off. He shook his head, sighing "Come on, pass it to me, I'll take care of it." "No." "C'mon-" "No. I'll do it." "Now I understand why Howl never lets you help us in the kitchen." "What?!" You dropped the knife on the table and the moment you turned to look at him, he stole your vegetable. "Yeah, you'd probably just screw up." He stuck his tongue out at you before quickly cutting it off. That little…Now you were really getting offended. "That's not true! I'm capable of helping, you know?" “Yes, cutting vegetables with a butter knife.” "It's not my fault, there weren't any others." "But you can't use that!" "I wanted to try!" "Sure, next time you'll try it with a fork?" "Stop teasing me!" "You're the one doing stupid things." "It is not true!" "Yes." "No!" “Shall we talk about when you went out the other day and got lost? "What?!" You honestly didn't expect him to bring that topic up. But you couldn't accept that a brat younger than you was still putting you down. "There were just a lot of people, that's all. And then I bet you'd get lost too. In fact, you'd end up crushed because of how short you are." Now it was your turn to stick your tongue out at him and tease him. "Actually I left before you and returned safely. Oh, and I didn't need anyone to take me home." Or maybe not. Dammit. Losing an argument to a child about you not being a stupid child. "Well, I…I…I didn't need Howl!" You slammed your palms on the table and Markl flinched at your outburst. He looked at you with wide eyes as you continued to squeal. "I don't need him or you! Nobody!" He continued to stare at you in fear, shaking his head, but you didn't care anymore. "I want to get out of here! I've had enough!" "And where would you go?" You froze, two large hands resting on your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest. Markl wasn't looking at you. Slowly raising your head, you met Howl's smiling face.
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STALKING GREENFISH – The Swimbait v Soft Plastic Impoundment Challenge!
By Simon Cardone
My personal cod quest began in in the year 2000 and has since taken me all over Australia fishing fast flowing gin clear waters right through to giant murky slow-moving rivers and everything in between.
Like most cod fishos that I know, the search for new locations and different methods to catch greenfish is constant, so with some of the reservoirs managed by SA Water finally being opened to the public of South Australia for recreational activities I immediately purchased a fishing permit and got out exploring.
Happy Valley
The closest reservoir just minutes from my home is Happy Valley, located about 25 minutes’ drive South from the Adelaide CBD. Prior to Happy Valley being opened for fishing in December 2021, it was decided to stock the reservoir with 1000 mature murray cod ranging from 2 to 9kgs in weight so that visiting anglers could have something to target apart from the noxious redfin perch and carp that already inhabited the impoundment.
This proved to be a great move, as the cod immediately started feeding and spread out quickly to all parts of the reservoir. The fish were attacking all manner of artificial lures and almost everybody who had a crack in the early days ticked a murray cod off their bucket list. This feeding frenzy didn’t last however as the cod started to see more lures, they become more selective when it came to what to eat.
Changing Tactics
Due to the Happy Valley cod being smaller sized fish in the 50-80cm range, I initially opted to target them with golden perch tackle, casting 50 – 70cm crankbaits. This worked a treat for the first few weeks, but then the crankbait bite shut down, partly because the bait fishos had moved in and the cod were now feasting on an almost daily diet of chicken and cheese!
This required a rethink on my part, so I decided to walk the banks and fish in places where other people weren’t. Sticking with a seven foot 3-6kg rod matched to a 2500 sized reel spooled with 15lb braid, I tied on a 20lb fluorocarbon leader and grabbed a couple of packets of four and five inch Bite Science paddle tailed plastics. Selecting the appropriate jig heads required a little bit of trial and error, but I have now opted for a ten gram standard 4/0 jig head for the five inch plastic when fishing deeper water, and a 3.5 gram 1/0 weedless jig head for the four inch plastic when fishing shallow water.
After a few fishless sessions with the crankbaits under the belt, I was quietly optimistic that the switch to a more life-like presentation might get me back on the winners list. My hunch proved to be correct, with a brace of hungry cod in my first two sessions exploring new water. A simple slow roll is the preferred retrieve method after allowing the plastic to hit the bottom initially.
Enter the Swimbait
Observation of the immediate environment will always be a key to fishing success, whether on the day or in the future. While the soft plastics were still nailing cod after a few months of fishing, I had noticed a pattern where most of the hits and hook-ups were occurring in a metre or less of water over either rocky bottom or on flats with reeds and weed beds.
For my next outing I decided to leave the plastics at home and cast swimbaits exclusively. I tied on a 190mm Shimano Arma Joint to my 40lb fluorocarbon leader on my swimbait setup and it has stayed there ever since! Again, success was immediate, if not stunning! The short hour-long session yielded five fish from six hook-ups, including three in as many casts. My son also got his first cod off the top on a surface paddler during our brief mission. Again, a simple slow roll is the best retrieve for this lure type – the action is so lifelike.
Of course, I had to try and replicate the results the following week, and yes, the swimbait delivered – it was no fluke. I encouraged a mate who had been struggling to get a fish for a while to give the swimbait a crack and his first session out managed to land seven cod from ten hook-ups – champagne fishing in anyone’s book!
The Verdict
So which lure is best? There was only one way to find out. I spent the last six months of the year fishing with both lure types during all my sessions at the ressie. I have fished at various times of the day in various locations and in all types of weather. And the fish tally is about 50/50 after all this time. Some days both lures have success, on others it’s one or the other, but the numbers don’t lie!
Overall, the soft plastic is the more versatile of the two lures, given you can rig it differently to suit the water depth and surrounding structure. So, on days when the fish are sitting out a little deeper it is a clear winner. As mentioned earlier, the lighter spin outfit used to throw the soft plastic gives the cod a chance to give an honest account of itself as a hard-hitting sportfish – the drag peeling shallow water runs are fantastic!
The most exciting lure in terms of the strike and crunch factor, is the swimbait. Nine out of ten strikes are off the surface – these fish are hell bent on killing the larger prey item and are not messing around. After the initial chaos, generally the fish I have encountered are relatively easy to subdue on the swimbait setup I run. On some days I have had cod follow the lure all the way to my feet, including two cod that hit each other as they both tried to slam the lure!
Go Your Own Way
With both land based and fishing from canoe or kayak being permitted at the reservoirs here in South Australia, fishing with soft plastics and swimbaits are methods that every angler should have up their sleeve for those times when trolling a deep diver or casting a crankbait or spinnerbait isn’t creating any interest from the resident cod – this has been accepted practice by most switched-on cod fishos in the eastern impoundments for some time now.
I highly encourage you to go out and explore your local impoundment either for the first time or with some of the methods I have described – especially with many of the rivers and creeks across the Murray-Darling basin in flood at the time of writing - you might be pleasantly surprised with the results.
Finally good times ahead for South Australian freshwater fishos.
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I love your drabbles. How about this this time it is Phil's turn to walk in on them during some heavy petting (on a sofa, under a duvet?) but unlike the others he is totally oblivious for the longest time, until he's basically going "haha lads why are you acting so strange, are you not wearing any pants haha :).... :) .... :) ... :l lads?"
YESSSS I love this honestly. Phil Neville voted most annoying younger brother in the world for the 47th year running.........
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The beauty of living alone, Gary’s always liked to think, is that – well, that you’re left alone. And that if, hypothetically, you wanted some adult company then, hypothetically, you could invite your colleague/maybe best friend/maybe boyfriend over and would be free to enjoy his adult company on any surface you liked, because there’s nobody who could stop you because, crucially, you live alone.
The trouble with hypotheticals is that they don’t often factor in annoying little brothers.
So, Gary’s lying back on his giant sofa, enjoying some adult company with the Scouse bastard/definite bane of his existence/maybe love of his life, when they hear the front door click open and both freeze.
“Fucking Phillip,” Gary mutters, extracting himself out from under Jamie with a sigh.
“Thought you said his flight only got in later?”
Gary glances at his watch, swipes away the ‘high heart rate’ warning to check the time, and groans. “Seems we lost track of time.” He straightens his jumper and turns his head towards the open living room door. “Din’t anyone ever teach you to knock,” he calls out to where he hears his brother still shuffling around in the entryway.
“What’ve I got a key for, then, if I ‘ave to knock,” Phil calls back. There’s a couple of seconds silence while he pads in his socks down the hall, which Jamie and Gary use to frantically check they’re both presentable, and then he’s sticking his head round the doorway with a smile. “’sides, I thought you were probably workin’, since you didn’t answer my text when I landed. Oh! Hiya, Carra, I weren’t expectin’ to see you today.”
He wanders over, uninvited, to flop down on the couch next to them. “What a flight, I tell ya I’m knackered. And I couldn’t even get direct, neither. Absolute nightmare, but it’s good to be home. Julie and the kids send their love, they’re already asking when you’re comin’ over to visit. New house is pretty nice, an’ all.”
When he finally stops for breath, Jamie slaps his thighs and goes to stand up, saying “how’s about I leave you two to catch up, ‘s a long drive home for me, maybe I can beat the traffic.”
Gary shoots him a glare that he hopes says ‘if you leave this room I will kill you.’
Jamie sits back down.
“We were gonna order somethin’ for dinner, Carra, weren’t we?” he asks, inching his hand across to pinch Jamie in the side to make sure he behaves. “What’d’you fancy, Phil, you’re my guest of honour.”
“Ooh, I could go for a fish and chips, to be fair. And mushy peas, y’don’t get those in Portland…”
“Sounds great! D’you want to go collect, then, and me ‘n James can tidy up a bit round here.”
Phil tilts his head back against the back of the couch. “I only just got in!” he whines, “give us a break, just order it on one of the apps.”
There doesn’t seem much use in trying to argue, so Gary gets out his phone and hands it to Phil once he’s got the local chippie’s deliveroo page open. Phil takes his sweet time to pick out what to get, which seems an uneccessary kind of torture when his whole life he’s literally never ordered anything but a medium cod and chips with gravy and mushy peas.
When he hands the phone back to Gary, he pauses, tilts his head with a frown.
“Oh, Gaz, y’ve got somethin’ on your neck there, lemme just –”
Jamie displays the kind of quick reaction time that he barely even managed in his playing days and grabs Gary by the chin, tilting his head with force so that his neck is angled towards him and away from Phillip.
“No need,” he says breezily, lifting his thumb to his mouth to wet it like he’s an anxious mother trying to get a speck of dirt, “here, lemme see…”
He rubs his thumb against what he knows damn well is not a speck of dirt, which he knows is a fresh bruise by virtue of the fact that he’s the one who just put it there, and when Gary’s breath hitches at the pressure against it he shoots him a wicked grin because he is evil, he is sick and twisted and Gary is going to kill him.
“Aw, no,” says Phil, leaning in closer to peer at the mark, “it’s not budging, must be a skin thing. Are you getting stress hives again, Gaz, I thought you said you were takin’ it easy for a bit?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Gary says tightly. Jamie releases his neck and Gary shakes his head around a bit to get it feeling normal again.
When Jamie lowers his hand back down, however, it lands to rest lightly on Gary’s thigh, fingers curled just above his knee, because he is a fucking bastard.
Phil shrugs and flops back to where he was on the sofa, idly picking up the TV remote. “Anythin’ good on TV lately?” he asks, pulling up the channel guide, “I tell ya what, me ‘n Julie’ve been watchin’ this –”
“—Why don’t you go unpack, Phillip?” Gary interrupts quickly, because he feels Jamie’s hand slowly tracing up his thigh and he doesn’t need for there to be any witnesses when he murders him in a few seconds. “Freshen up before food comes, maybe, you were just sayin’ what a long flight you’ve had.”
“Ooh, you’re right, maybe I’ll even run a bath if there’s time.”
Gary nods encouragingly, maybe a bit frantically, and sits tense until Phil wanders back out, humming the tune of some silly little pop song.
When he’s safely out of earshot, Gary hisses “you fucking bastard”, and slams his mouth against Jamie’s, pushes him backwards and swings a leg over him to straddle his hips.
Jamie just grins against his lips, slips a hand under his jumper. “How long d’you think that’s bought us?” he mutters, “ten minutes? Can get a lot done, w’that.”
“Y’better make it at least fifteen or I’m not invitin’ you back.”
“Bossy, bossy,” Jamie says, still grinning, then he scrapes his teeth over Gary’s bottom lip and Gary forgets that he's meant to be annoyed with him.
“Was gonna call Julie but I left me phone in ‘ere, silly me,” comes Phil’s voice from just outside. Gary freezes. Jamie does too, but it’s much too late for either of them to do anything besides that, because by then Phil is already stood in the doorway flushed a bright red.
“Oh!” he says. He blinks a few times. “Oh! Oh, alright then, I’ll just – food’s in half an hour, yeah? I’ll just – I were gonna call Julie, and the kids…” he says, before practically sprinting out the room and back down the corridor.
Jamie just laughs, pulls Gary back down to kiss him again. “Look at that, lad,” he murmurs, “half an hour, eh? Could get a lot done twice, w’that.”
Gary’s torn, momentarily, about what he should do with this idiot he’s got underneath him. Killing him does seem tempting. He rolls his eyes. “Not on yer life,” he says, and kisses him back.
#WHO WILL WIN: gary's need to get dicked down or phillip's need to annoy gary#thanks for the prompt!!!#carraville#drabbles
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The Pentland Firth Sea Serpent was seen off the coast of the Scottish island of Hoy by a lawyer named John Mackintosh Bell. This sketch of the beast's head was drawn by Bell's wife with his supervision to make sure of the details. Bell witnessed the creature on August 5th, 1919, while he was on a fishing vacation. He sent an incredible detailed witness account of what he had seen to the Natural History Museum's Keeper of Zoology, William Thomas Calman, in 1929. Calman's response was that "no animal at all agreeing with your sketches is at present known to science". Calman later opened a file on sea monsters at the Natural History Museum.
The very first day I was there, I think it was about 5 August, I went afloat with a crew of four at about 9.30 a.m. for the purpose of firstly lifting lobster creels and then for cod fishing. On making our way to the creels, which had been set in a line between Brims Ness and Tor Ness, my friends said "We wonder if we will see that sea monster which we often see, and perhaps you will be able to tell us what it is." We got to the creels, hauled some, and were moving slowly with the motor to another, when my friends said very quietly "There he is." I looked, and sure enough about 25—30 yards from the boat a long neck as thick as an elephant's fore leg, all rough-looking like an elephant's hide, was sticking up. On top of this was the head which was much smaller in proportion, but of same colour. The head was like that of a dog, coming sharp to the nose. The eye was black and small, and the whiskers were black. The neck, I should say, stuck about 5-6 ft., possibly more, out of the water. The animal was very shy, and kept pushing its head up then pulling it down, but never going quite out of sight. The body I could not then see. Then it disappeared, and I said "If it comes again I'll take a snapshot of it." Sure enough it did come and I took as I thought a snap of it, but on looking at the camera shutter, I found it had not closed owing to its being swollen, so I did not get a photo. I then said "I'll shoot it" (with my .303 rifle) but the skipper would not hear of it in case I wounded it, and it might attack us. It disappeared, and as was its custom swam close alongside the boat about 10 feet down. We all saw it plainly, my friends remarking that they had seen it many times swimming just the same way after it had shown itself on the surface. My friends told me that they had seen it the year before just about the same place. It was a common occurrence, so they said. That year (1919) was the last of several years in which they saw it annually. It did not show itself again for two or three years, and then it was only seen once. As to its body, it was, seen below the water, dark brown, getting slightly lighter as it got to the outer edge, then at the edge appeared to be almost grey. It had two paddles or fins on its sides and two at its stern. My friends thought it would weigh 2 or 3 tons, some thinking 4 to 6. Not only my friends, but others, lobster fishing, got many chances of seeing it... I may say that since 1919 all cod and other deep-sea coarse fish have left the Pentland Firth. I think the reason is that such monsters frequent the rocky caves, which are always covered by deep water. My friends think the animal may have been killed by a passing steamer, but I think it is possibly a native of warmer seas, and that if we get a really hot summer it will be seen again.
... Dimensions. Neck, so far as seen, say 6—7 feet. Body never seen when neck straight up, but just covered by the water. You could detect the paddles causing the water to ripple. When under water, swimming, the body, I think, to the end of the tail flappers would be about 12 ft. long - and, if the neck were stretched to say 8ft., the neck and body 18—20 ft. long. The skipper of the boat remarked that sometimes the top of the head, when seen from a boat vertically, was a bright red. Neck thickness say 1 foot diameter : Head very like a black retriever — say 6" long by 4" broad. Whiskers black and short. Circumference of body say 10-11 feet, but this I am not sure of, as I never saw all round it, but it would be 4-5 ft. across the back...
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"Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?" (Billy Russo x ofc)
Chapter five
Words: 3780 Warnings: owen being a creepy dude, bad writing, foul language, me not understanding how radio frequency works, ice cream??? art ignorance but not in a cute way, ACTUAL VIOLENCE AND SH00TINGS (pls read at your own risk), death and blood, explosion, me not knowing how explosions work A/N: i have never been to nyc so I'm fully relying on the met's webpage and google maps for the central park descriptions. also, sorry for the long wait, and please, AGAIN, this chapter may contain sensitive topics so please, if you don't feel comfortable enough, skip to the end. also mind you, i have never written/experienced any of this before, so let's pretend this is the best writing you've every seen. Taglist: @badasseddy, @noortsshift, @britishbassett
Series Masterlist Previous chapter <> Next chapter
Chapter five
‘Remind me how this is a good idea again?’
‘We gotta monitor everybody you come in contact with. So it’s either this or I just show up on your date and start talking to you both.’
‘Alright, alright, I get it,’ I groaned, pulling together my coat to muffle the noise. ‘Safest bet.’
‘Safest bet,’ Billy confirmed.
‘And you’re sure the mic’s hidden? And the com?’ I asked, unconsciously bringing my hand to my ear, pushing the ear com even deeper, afraid anybody could see the tiny device poking out.
I could feel Billy rolling his eyes. ‘We’ve checked a million times, Dana, everything will be fine. Do you remember our cues?’
‘Right ear, three times. One cough, and a rub on the nose,’ I recited, my eyes fixed on the white building.
‘Good girl.’
Billy was sitting down on a bench on the other side of the street, with my back to him. Thankfully, he couldn’t see my face, or else he would’ve noticed the way my skin flared up at his words.
‘What’s up with the names, anyway,’ I asked, looking around, looking for Owen. But Owen wasn’t there yet.
‘They’re cool,’ Billy replied after taking a sip of his coffee.
‘They’re lame.’
‘Well, they were our code names during the war. Maybe you’d like to complain to the Marines about it .’
‘But why birds? You guys were in the sea, you should’ve been fish,’ I sauntered.
‘Dana.’
‘Would’ve made life so much funnier. Like, “Cod, this is salmon speaking.” Have you seen Spongebob Squarepants?’
‘Dana.’
‘Literally the Fish News Anchor.’
‘Dana!’
‘What?’
‘Owen’s here.’
‘Oh shit.’
‘You sound excited.’
‘I am.’
‘Liar.’
‘Well, I’d be if you weren’t here but you can’t always get what you want,’ I waved at Owen, who made his way toward me with an excited grin on his face. My mouth was still hidden in my scarf, having the cold weather as an excuse.
‘Be careful, Robin.’
‘I’ll be, Blackbird.’
…
‘It is quite a beautiful piece, isn’t it?’
‘What do you know about modern art, Owen?’ I chuckled at him.
He was staring at the figure of what appeared to be an iron stick on white cardboard. Even the sculpture had no name, and the author was anonymous, leading me to think it had only been a joke on the museum's behalf. Owen was staring at it with a concentrated look on his face, his eyes squinted behind his rectangular-framed glasses. He was scratching his chin in deep thought, nodding his head occasionally, as if the sculpture was talking to him.
‘Not much, but I wanted to impress you.’
‘What a pity, he can’t even make light conversation without making a fool of himself,’ Billy’s voice suddenly said in my ear.
I laughed, despite wanting to scold him. ‘Don’t be mean.’
‘What?’ Owen looked at me again, confusion on his face.
I widened my eyes. ‘To yourself, I mean. I don’t know much about modern sculpture either, I quite prefer impressionist paintings,’ I looked back at the iron stick, hoping Owen would fall for the quick comeback.
‘Yeah, impressionism’s cool. I like the, eh, brushes,’ he said, following after me as I moved on to another piece.
‘Brushes?’ I laughed.
‘Okay, I just told you I don’t know much about art,’ he threw his hands in the air. ‘I mean, I could have done that,’ he pointed at the painting on the wall, a few splashes of paint right in the middle.
I scoffed. ‘Yeah, but you didn’t,’ I said, enjoying the frown on his face.
‘Oh, c’mon! Even a toddler could’ve done that!’ a few people shushed him when he raised his voice.
I smiled at them in embarrassment. Billy wouldn’t have brought the attention to him like that. Why was I even thinking about Billy was out of the question.
‘That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s up to us to decide what the art is about. That’s what makes it beautiful,’ I said, almost wistful.
Those weren’t my words; they were Amelia’s. Amelia Jones, the woman who had sacrificed her life for me for twenty years without expecting anything in return.
‘That’s bullshit,’ Owen scoffed.
‘Well, get your own painting exhibited at the MET and then we’ll talk.’
I was suddenly annoyed by him, his words leaving a stinging sensation in my heart.
‘He’s an idiot,’ Billy’s voice was low.
It made me shiver ever so slightly. I didn’t respond.
‘Alright, I’m sorry, I just, I guess I never really knew how to appreciate the finer arts,’ Owen suddenly spoke behind me.
I turned around, lifting an eyebrow at him.
‘What did you do at school then?’ I tried to laugh it off, but every heartbeat only sent me further away from him.
He shrugged. ‘Chasing pretty girls like you.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dana, don’t fall for that,’ Billy groaned in my ear.
I had to stifle the laugh. It was a bit much even for me.
‘You tell every girl that?’ I asked Owen, much more interested now that I had Billy’s constant commentary just to myself.
‘Just the ones I like,’ Owen winked at me.
‘Anything else up your sleeve?’ I asked again.
‘I hope not,’ Billy grumbled.
‘Many things. But I’m not gonna show all my cards just yet,’ Owen grabbed my hand as he led me down the hallway, completely ignoring the rest of the exhibition.
I didn’t like the way his skin felt on mine. It was clammy and cold, and it did nothing to prevent the icy shiver that ran up my arm. Owen must have noticed, because he smirked smugly while he kept his gaze up front.
‘Why not?’ I was desperate to release my hand from his grip, the nervousness growing by the second, but I held my front and followed him regardless.
‘How am I supposed to keep you around?’ Owen replied nonchalantly.
‘I just know in his head it sounded so good,’ Billy noted.
I snorted.
‘You wanna keep me around?’ I smirked at Owen, already knowing how he was going to respond.
‘Definitely,’ he tightened his grip on my hand.
I tried so hard not to wince, not out of pain, but out of discomfort. Under any other circumstance I would have laughed and gone along with his awful jokes and made excuses to continue into a second date, but every single time I tried to think about a possible future in which Owen was something more than a classmate, Billy’s head popped into my head.
I barely noticed Owen leading me to the exit.
‘Wait, we’re leaving already?’ I frowned, looking back to the big sign next to the doors where the words ‘European Paintings’ shone as if someone was holding a light directly from above for me to follow the path to them. Grabbing our coats from the coat check, he didn’t spare a second glance at me. He drew his arm over my shoulders, and even the weight felt weird and unfamiliar.
Owen pulled me closer to him, making me stumble slightly as I stopped for a few seconds while I looked back, not ready to leave the museum, and slightly altered at his rash behavior.
‘Yeah, I think I much rather get that ice cream now.’
We passed over the big doors and into the street. A huge cloud passed over the sun as we went down the stairs onto the main street, and the smirk he sent my way suddenly turned dark.
…
Even the ice cream tasted wrong.
‘I don’t think this is the best idea, considering the temperature,’ I reckoned, looking up at the sky, where the clouds had turned almost pitch-black.
Owen followed my gaze and shrugged, unbothered. ‘I don’t see why you can’t have ice cream in February,’ he gave a big lick to his vanilla cone, fixing his eyes on me as he did so.
I had to stop myself from physically gagging, what I knew was his attempt at flirting going all the way south. The alarms had been blaring in my head ever since we left the museum, and I didn’t know how much louder they could possibly get until I paid attention to them, or they broke on their own accord, whichever came first.
‘Well, at least it won’t melt in my hands,’ I said, using the little spoon to grab a bit of my chocolate one, anything to give me an excuse to not look at him. I winced at the cold that met my teeth. ‘Ouch.’
‘What was that?’
‘Too cold.’
‘Well, I can’t control the weather,’ he took me forcefully by my hand.
I let him lead me away, noticing how he very straightforwardly walked across the gates to Central Park. I sighed slightly in relief, for at least people were walking around with their families and friends, infusing life into the biggest park in Manhattan. I knew that, no matter how much Owen wanted to, we wouldn’t fully be alone, and it would also give Billy plenty of space to hide.
Speaking of, I hadn’t caught sight of him when we left the museum, silently praying that he would be around, no matter how infuriating his presence was. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, his company had been rubbing on me, and the weird feeling his absence left was too powerful for me to ignore.
‘Turn back,’ Billy finally spoke in my ear.
He sounded a bit out of breath, and distant. Whatever connection we had over the ear coms, it wasn’t very strong now.
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘I don’t have powers, Dana, although that would be really cool. There is weirder stuff flying around, that’s for sure,’ Owen laughed. I had almost forgotten about whatever he said, but, once again, Owen didn’t notice the little shenanigan I was playing at.
‘There’s too much interference with the trees. Don’t let him take you to a second location,’ Billy answered pretty much at the same time.
The first thing that popped into my head was that maybe that interference could be nice. It certainly would allow me not to have Billy’s constant nagging in my ear every time Owen put his foot in his mouth. The second thing that popped into my head basically yelled at me to listen to him, and my own anxiety, and run far away from Owen, for good.
It didn’t take a genius to know what I did next.
I only retrieved my hand from Owen’s grip when he abruptly released it. I took fast bites of my ice cream, for some reason feeling I should have both hands empty for whatever came next with him around.
‘Why don’t we sit over there?’ Owen motioned to a bench under a big oak tree, a couple of feet away from where we stood.
I frowned. ‘Sure.’
Owen tried to grab my hand once again, but I swiftly occupied it with my ice cream, if only to give me another reason not to touch him. The flavor still tasted salty on my lips, and it only seemed to grow colder the more we walked.
The bench was a bit away from the main paths of the park, but still within clear distance. I discreetly looked around, trying to find the familiar shadow that has haunted me for days, but Billy was nowhere in sight. To say that I was concerned would have been a misunderstanding. Where the hell was he?
Owen promptly sat down and patted the seat next to his. I sighed and sat down, keeping a bit of a distance from him.
‘I certainly hope it doesn’t rain,’ Owen said, causally raising his arm and putting it back behind me on the headrest.
Looking at his hand, which rested in mid-air dangerously close to my shoulder, I suppressed a shiver and faced him once again.
‘You sure this is the best place for a date? I really think it’s gonna downpour any minute,’ I said looking up at the sky.
‘Nah, it’ll be fine, babe,’ Owen inched closer. ‘Have I told you that you look beautiful today?’
The pet name left me too stunned to speak. I didn’t like how it rolled off his tongue. I didn’t like how he directed at me.
‘No.’
‘Well, you do,’ his fingers braced my shoulder. Thankfully, the thick coat I was wearing didn’t allow the contact.
‘Honestly, Owen, I really think I should get going,’ I started, trying to stand up.
To my surprise, Owen’s hand gripped my arm tightly and forcefully sat me down again, pressing his body closer to mine.
‘No, wait, please, I… Look, Dana, I really like you. And I told you, we work well together, and I would love it if we could be something more.’
His eyes. Something hard gripped its edges and made his gaze somewhat menacing. Though he was trying to be welcoming, his grip didn’t falter.
It was the last warning I needed. ‘Owen… I don’t think I want that.’
He widened his eyes. ‘What?’
‘I’m sorry. You’re great, but I don’t think we should be together. We’re too different.’
He immediately got defensive. ‘Why? Because I don’t like staring at random points on a paper for hours? We don’t always have to go to museums.’
‘I know, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, you’ve seen how little time I got. Between the master’s, and my job, and…’ I stopped myself before I could add anything else. ‘My life, in general, Owen, I’m not fit right now for a relationship. I’d much rather have you as a friend, and a classmate if you’ll have it.’
He didn’t say anything. He only kept looking at me. I was about to ask him whether he was fine or not, but then my phone rang. The tension didn’t leave my shoulders even after slowly taking it from my pockets and bringing it to my ear, without checking the caller first.
‘Hello?’
‘Are you fucking stupid?’ Billy almost barked.
‘Wow, hello to you too,’ I tried to laugh dismissively if only to stop Owen from listening to Billy’s near-shouts.
‘Where are you?’
‘Central Park.’
Owen tensed beside me.
‘I know that. Which part exactly?’
‘Nearby the Great Lawn. Why?’
I didn’t like the desperation in his tone.
‘Get out of there immediately.’
‘Why?’ I still couldn’t fight the annoyance that came with his order.
‘For fuck’s sake, Dana, just listen to me for once!’
‘Not until you tell me why? I’m tired of being thrown around like a fucking puppet!’ this time I stood up, walking a bit away from Owen. I turned my back to him as I stopped, staring into the distance, noticing the many families that were picking up their things. Small droplets fell on my hair mere seconds after. ‘Is it because of the rain?’
‘No, Dana, just get out of there. Go back to the MET and cross the street, we’ll meet there.’
‘You’re kind of freaking me out,’ I tried to laugh it off as my heart sped up.
I turn around to face Owen, only to find I was alone at the park. Owen had left.
‘Holy fucking shit, are you kidding me?’
‘What’s wrong?’ even Billy sounded anxious.
‘He’s gone.’
‘Owen?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Dana, get the fuck out of there.’
‘You bet,’ I said as I started walking back towards the MET, much to my own disappointment. I really didn’t want to be following Billy’s words, but I had nowhere to go anymore. ‘Fucking dick, you turn him down and he dips… Who the fuck does that?’
‘Hurry up.’
‘Shut up, Billy.’
‘Blackbird,’ he corrected.
‘Whatever. I’m coming, I’ll see you at the MET.’
I hang up before he could protest against it. A wave of emotions flooded my brain as I thought about the day, the initial anxiety that had kept mounting up since I woke up seemingly crashing down on me. I was angry at Owen for abandoning me, yet I was glad I didn’t have to pretend to enjoy his company anymore. Finishing the last bits of my ice cream and throwing it into a nearby trashcan, my walk didn’t last long, for a fast stream of screaming people made its way across the lawn in every single direction.
‘What?’ I muttered, looking around until my eyes caught what had had the people run for their lives.
Three figures, dressed in black from head to toe, were walking around with big riffles in their arms. Their heads were covered with ski masks, and their bodies were clad with all sorts of other weapons, just as deadly as the guns they held. They started shooting at everything that moved, the firing echoing violently in the air.
I was suddenly paralyzed. I saw people fall to their knees as the bullets made contact with them, yet the shooters didn’t stop. They kept walking forward, using the lawn as their private hunting spot. More men came from the other side of the trees, making more people run and crash as they tried to flee the warzone. I managed to hide behind a tree, too scared to move or run. Parents were grabbing their kids in their arms, leaving their belongings behind as they all ran, trying to get away.
‘Ro..?’ Billy’s static voice was weak in my ear, either because of the interference or because of my own fear.
‘Ro… Black… py?’ he tried again.
‘Blackbird?’ I cried, pushing the earpiece even deeper, praying to whatever god he could hear me.
‘Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?’ he finally came clear, his voice in ragged breaths. I knew he was running, the possibility of running toward me both relieving and frightening.
‘Robin to Blackbird, please, help me.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Great Lawn.’
‘Shit. Can you run?’
‘I don’t want them to see me.’
‘How many are there?’ his voice sounded clearer.
‘I count six.’
‘Damnit.’
‘Blackbird?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m scared.’
‘I know. I’m gonna get you out of there.’
I dared peek behind my hiding spot. Even though the tree wasn’t thick enough, it still gave me enough coverage to look back at the carnage without being seen. Dead bodies littered the ground, red covering the once-green field. I felt physically sick to my stomach, and it took everything in me not to throw up right there on the spot.
‘Almost there,’ Billy panted in my ear. ‘I’ve got my men ready, too.’
The quick movement of one of the men immediately got my attention.
‘Robin?’
I don’t know at which point the tears started to fall, but my blurry vision was making everything worse. The man held something small over his head, but I quickly realized what it was.
‘He’s got a grenade. Shit.’
It all happened too fast. One second I was deliberately running away from my life, following the screams of people and the police sirens that had invaded the dead silence between the trees. My lungs were burning, gasping for air and begging to stop, but I forced my legs to keep going. One minute I was running, and the next I was on the ground, heat flooding my body as my head collapsed on the ground. My eyes closed on their own accord, and the ringing in my ears was the only thing I heard for a few minutes.
Everything around me was silent, although I knew it was anything but. Through my peripheral vision, I caught blurry movement, running in every direction. Blue and red lights littered the place, and the air smelled of ash and sulfur. I somehow managed to lie on my back, staring at the dark sky, where the rain had only intensified during the attack.
‘Dana!’ a distant voice called my name, but I couldn’t answer back.
The smoke that had circled the area was heavy on my lungs, and my erratic heartbeat only thumped louder in my ears even as I tried to get up. I felt weak and beaten down, and the side of my head felt hot and heavy. One look at my fingers after gently touching it showed the red blood that trickled down my cheek. I winced in pain, feeling returning to my body and making me realize how every movement hurt.
‘Dana!’
Two strong hands pulled me up. I knew it was Billy, but my gaze was still so out of focus that I could only distinguish him thanks to his black robes. The urge to throw up was even bigger now, the image of the men imprinted on my brain forever. I caught sight of Billy’s gun on his hip when he gripped me by my arms.
‘Are you okay?’ his voice sounded muffled and distant.
His fingers touched the side of my head and I winced once again. I still couldn’t talk, out of shock or pain, but Billy, thankfully, quickly caught on to that.
‘We need to leave. Can you walk?’ he asked, but before I could answer, he shook his head. ‘Nevermind.’
The wind was knocked out of my lungs when he hurriedly hoisted me up into his arms, dodging the many officers and workers that were now rushing to aid the injured. Crying and yelling filled my ears. My vision was still a bit blurry, going in and out of focus, but I caught sight of the many broken people, standing around in shock with tears in their eyes.
‘Don’t look at them, look at me,’ Billy whispered in my ear.
This time I shivered. It would have been ironic, really, after spending the entire afternoon with his nasty comments in my ear. Only this time, his breath tickled the back of my neck, and the way he pressed his nose to the helix of my ear brought a warmth to my body much different from the one that the grenade had caused. And this was a warmth I wouldn’t mind experiencing every day of my life.
He occasionally glanced down at me, his eyes wrinkling at the sides with worry. It would have been a cute sight, if black spots weren’t dancing around my eyes. With every step he took, it became harder to keep them open.
‘Hold on a bit longer, Dana, we’re almost there,’ he continued.
‘I can’t,’ it hurt to speak. I coughed at the hoarseness of my throat.
Billy’s frown became even deeper, and he secured his grip on my legs. I unconsciously rested my head on his chest, his fast heartbeat making me frown too. But it was warm, and I was too tired.
‘Billy…’
‘It’s okay. I got you.’
And then, everything went black.
Next chapter
#billy russo x reader#billy russo#billy russo fanfic#billy russo x female reader#billy russo x y/n#billy russo x oc#the punisher#billy russo imagine#marvel#the punisher au#frank castle#billy russo could step on my back and i'd say thank you
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I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm
Summary: The sky was already filled with grey clouds and a haze that only meant one thing– snow. And it was coming soon. It was rare for them to get snow thanks to their proximity to the coast and even when they did, it didn’t stick around long. As nervous as Johnny was about the impending storm, he was equally excited by the prospect of being snowed in with his lover.
Or: The boys get snowed in together.
Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley
Word Count: 4,567
Warnings: none :)
A/N: I am gonna take a minute to thank all the people that helped me with this monster piece. Lots of love to the CoD Babygirls and GhostSoap servers- so many people helped generate ideas and cheered me on and I'm so thankful to all y'all!
Extra love to my beta readers/editors for this piece: Xnihilo and ANTchan. All my fucking love to y'all cause I seriously couldn't have done this without your help <3
And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3
AO3 Link (if you prefer): I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm
The shop was bustling with people stocking up– word had gone out that a brutal winter storm was headed their way and it had everyone rushing out to prepare. Johnny scanned down the aisle, looking for a few pantry staples they had recently run short on when he felt the cart move, the familiar shadow of Simon in the corner of his vision.
With a glance down, Johnny couldn’t help but laugh. Tablet, shortbread, and caramel logs now rested atop the pile of groceries. “Ye and yer bloody sweet tooth!”
“You know you love me…” Simon responded, eyes crinkling at the corners, signaling he was smiling beneath his black medical mask.
“Aye, that ah do… now go be of some real help and grab some Irn-Bru, would ye?” Johnny just barely caught the way Simon rolled his eyes before slipping back down the aisle in search of Johnny’s favorite drink. Simon failed to understand the appeal of the strange orange soda. To him, the taste was a peculiar mix of cream soda, ginger, and bubble gum that made him want to scrub his tongue with a Brillo pad.
By the end of the shopping trip, two boxes of Simon’s favorite tea and a bottle of Johnny’s favorite scotch had also appeared in the cart alongside the things they actually needed– milk, bread, jerky, fish food for Bubbles and Casper, and cat litter for Old Man. This could quite possibly be their last shopping trip for several days– the threat of heavy snow combined with the location of their cabin almost guaranteed they would be snowed in.
As much as Simon had come to love their little cabin beyond the edge of town, he had to admit it had taken getting used to. The nicely sized cabin sat on a decent piece of land, with beautiful old pines along one edge of the property and sprawling green grass along the other. There was a large space cleared out behind the house where Johnny had taken to keeping a garden. Simon, on the other hand, had taken claim to the shed, using the space to fix up his motorcycle (and secretly fix one up for Johnny).
But the best part of their new home (and life together) was the privacy. The only people who passed along the road at the edge of the property were the neighbors who lived 5 miles down the road in either direction or the occasional lost tourists. Aside from that, they were left alone, with no one to bother them or their pets.
-----
Johnny couldn’t help but smile to himself on the drive back. The sky was already filled with grey clouds and a haze that only meant one thing– snow. And it was coming soon. It was rare for them to get snow thanks to their proximity to the coast and even when they did, it didn’t stick around long. As nervous as Johnny was about the impending storm, he was equally excited by the prospect of being snowed in with his lover.
Sure, he and Simon had their fair share of wintery missions– brutal snow storms, shitty MREs, and frozen fingertips– before they retired, but those paled in comparison to snuggling in front of the fire together, warm blankets and hot drinks in hand, watching fluffy flakes of white drifting past the window.
Simon’s hand found its way to rest comfortably on Johnny’s thigh, thumb brushing along the thick material of his jeans, “You good?” His voice was soft, having noticed the way Johnny was lost in thought.
Johnny hummed in response, a sweet smile spreading along his face, “Aye, just thinkin’…”
“Don’t hurt yourself, love,” Simon teased, a sly grin on his lips. Johnny reached over to smack Simon’s chest, a chuckle escaping his lips as he did.
-----
The bitter cold nipped at Johnny’s fingertips as he leaned against the door frame. He couldn’t help but stare as Simon worked his way through the long-neglected woodpile next to the shed. Strong, broad arms swung the axe through the air with ease, and a satisfying crack rang out each time the steel made contact with the soft pine. His eyes raked across the delicious outline of Simon’s muscles beneath his thermal shirt– jacket long shed so he didn’t overheat.
Johnny allowed his mind to wander, images of Simon on top of him, caging him in with strong, broad arms, firm fingers gliding down flushed skin filling his brain. He imagined warm lips working their way down from his ear to his jaw, neck, collarbone, from his sternum down– an especially loud crack of the axe stole Johnny’s attention from his fantasy. “Love, when yer finished, ah need help gettin’ a few things out from storage!”
“I’ll be in soon, we need anything from the shed?” Simon leaned on the axe, chest heaving from the exertion as he took in the delicious sight of Johnny wearing his sweats. The pants were hanging loose on his hips, his sleeves a little too long, the neckline showing just the top of Johnny’s shoulder. ‘Riley’ was emblazoned just above his heart. Simon tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. Johnny, the little minx, knew what it did to Simon when he wore his clothes, the way it made his heart race and head spin seeing his Johnny so clearly claimed.
“Dinnae think so… just bring some of that firewood in and I’ll help ye get the rest later!” With that Simon gave a nod and turned back to the woodpile. Johnny took one last sinful look at his ass before slipping back into the warmth of their house.
In all honesty, Johnny probably could have figured out a way to get their sleeping bags and insulated jackets down from storage on his own, but he much preferred Simon helping. After years spent skirting prying eyes and sneaking moments alone, Johnny had become greedy for Simon’s time and attention, unable to stand much time apart. That, and Johnny knew the cold would be seeping into Simon’s bones by now, fingers especially cold courtesy of his poor circulation.
It was almost automatic, the way Johnny moved towards the stove, putting the kettle on and reaching for Simon’s favorite mug– one Johnny had bought him. ‘World’s Best Dad’ was sprawled across the front but ‘Dad’ had been crossed out, replaced with ‘Lieutenant’. As he had a hundred times before, Johnny added two sugar cubes and a bag of Simon’s favorite Earl Grey to the mug. It had been one of the few subtle ways he had been able to care for Simon when they were deployed. Every morning, there had been a fresh, steaming mug on Simon’s desk accompanied by a sticky note doodle, always signed ‘–Johnny’.
The sound of the back door closing and boots on the hardwood brought Johnny from his thoughts. The kettle was already whistling, demanding his attention. Johnny filled the mug, meeting Simon halfway from the kitchen.
A few beads of water clung to his blond strands, courtesy of the snow beginning to fall at a heavy rate. “Snow’s moving in, I’ll need to get the firewood in before I help you, doll,” he said, graciously accepting the mug and placing a gentle kiss to the top of Johnny’s head. The warmth seeped into his fingertips, a gracious relief from the growing numbness.
“Aye, I’ll head out, ye get warmed up a bit. Cannae have ye freezing to death on me… leaving me behind with Old Man, Casper, and Bubbles…” As if on cue the scrapy old shelter cat came slinking down the hallway, happy to settle himself between Simon’s legs.
“Impossible, you wouldn’t survive a day cooped up with em’ all. We can barely keep Old Man out of the fish tank as is,” Simon chuckled, leaning down to scoop Old Man up in one arm. “Isn’t that right, Cap?” The old cat bristled at the sudden change in elevation, taking a languid swing at Simon’s head.
“Just like Price,” Johnny laughed, moving towards the door to pull his boots on. “Shouldnae take me too long, stay here and get warmed up.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer, love.” As Simon moved to the oversized armchair in the living room, Old Man followed, happily settling into Simon’s lap once he was comfortable.
And if the sight of Johnny ditching his sweatshirt after a few visits to the woodpile, broad tan chest glistening with sweat despite the crisp edge to the air, warmed him up more than the tea, then that was his business.
-----
“Ah think we just need our winter gear… oh, and the sleepin’ bags in case the power goes out!” Johnny was standing at the foot of the ladder, supposedly helping Simon get the winter kits out. Really, he was staring at Simon’s ass more than he was doing any real helping.
Simon reached for the bin containing their old white camos, flexing a little extra for his lover as he did. “Grab this for me, Johnny?” Simon passed the bin down single-handedly, rolling his right shoulder to ease the ache afterward. It had never quite recovered after the mission that pushed them both to retire.
It wasn’t something either of them looked back on with any fondness– a source of nightmares and panic attacks for both boys long after returning home. An op gone wrong, courtesy of bad intel, put Johnny in the hospital for 3 weeks in a coma and left Simon with nerve damage in his right arm. It was then that they both put in for retirement, realizing just how much they had to lose now that they had each other.
This time, Simon reached out with his left arm, grasping at bundles of fabric that had been pushed to the back of the shelf. The silky material slid across his fingertips as he struggled to find purchase on one of the straps they were tied up with. With a final stretch, he got a good grip, hauling them towards the front of the shelf.
The slight hyperextension of his shoulder was enough to aggravate the old wound, the muscle spasming in response. All at once, the sleeping bags fell from the shelf and his grip on the ladder gave out, sending him tumbling to the floor.
“Simon!” In a flash Johnny had ditched the box, sliding next to Simon. Thankfully, the Brit had landed on top of the sleeping bags. He was silent for a moment before a bright grin stretched across his face, accompanied by his deep laugh.
“Wha-” Johnny was quickly cut off, Simon’s strong hands guiding him to rest in his lap.
“I’m okay, doll… maybe just a little bruised up,” Simon’s honey-brown eyes sparkled in the dim light of the closet, locked on the still bewildered face of his lover. Calloused hands reached up to cup Johnny’s face. “You okay?”
“Bloody hell… ye scared the piss outta me, Simon Riley!” Though Johnny’s tone was scolding, he couldn’t hide the smile threatening to take over his features.
“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, now that you’re old and retired.” There was a sly grin on Simon’s face as he gave Johnny’s hips a gentle squeeze.
“Oh, piss off!” Johnny grumbled, pushing himself off of Simon’s lap before offering the Brit a hand up. Johnny collected the discarded bin as Simon gathered up the sleeping bags, both heading back towards the living room. “Besides, ye cannae say I’m the old one when ye cannae even stand on a ladder.”
Simon took the opportunity to toss one of the sleeping bags at the Scot, grinning as it bounced off his back. Johnny stumbled forward. “Hey!”
“Don’t look at me– it was Bubbles and Casper!” Simon fluttered his lashes and gave a soft, innocent smile, shrugging towards the fish tank as he tossed the other sleeping bag onto the couch.
“Bubbles and Casper, my arse,” Johnny grumbled, tossing the other sleeping bag to the couch.
-----
Johnny pulled the last few blankets from the dryer, having taken the opportunity to finally give them a good wash, and brought them to the living room. A bright laugh was ripped from his lips as he watched Simon struggle to manage the guest mattress by himself, eventually settling to drop it on the floor and push it the rest of the way. They planned to spend the evening snuggled up in front of the fire, just in case they did lose power.
“Ye could've asked if ye needed a hand, love,” Johnny teased, tossing the stack of warm blankets onto the mattress, now situated in front of the roaring fireplace. Simon threw himself into the warm pile without hesitation, immediately snuggling up like a cat.
“Thanks, Johnny, have a good night!” He pulled his favorite blanket from the pile, tucking it up under his chin.
“Oh no ye don’t! Ye promised we’d go outside and make snowmen!” Johnny pounced on the mattress, swiping the blanket away and grabbing Simon's chin, tilting his face upwards to look him in the eye. “Unless ye lied to me, Simon Riley…”
“Lie? To you? I would never, I’m offended you’d even think that.” Quickly, Simon leaned up, capturing Johnny’s lips in a soft kiss. He then reached down to give Johnny a quick smack on his ass. “Go grab our jackets from the bin, I’ll grab your boots.”
“On it, sir!” Johnny gave him a quick kiss in return before heading to collect their coats.
In no time, the boys were bundled up, donning their old insulated jackets, the white and grey camo pattern worn away in a few spots from the years of good use.
Simon kneeled down to tie Johnny’s boots, wordlessly grabbing his leg and placing the Scot’s foot on his thigh. Fingers slipped into a familiar rhythm, weaving the lace through the last few hooks before pulling tight, a sturdy knot securing it all in place.
Johnny watched, a faint blush creeping up his neck, still amazed to see this side of Simon. The side that was always taking care of him, putting him first– one of the thousands of reasons he loved the man before him.
The Scot was out the door first, practically vibrating out of his skin as he waited at the top of the stairs for Simon. Simon had seen Johnny excited plenty of times, but this was different– more innocent, more childlike– and Simon couldn’t get enough. The way Johnny’s smile stretched all the way to his eyes, alight with pure, unbridled joy. The way he had planned everything out from the moment they got the weather warning.
The Brit tugged on his coat, the weight settling firmly on his shoulders, a remnant of their past life. “Down boy, I’m right here,” Simon chuckled, slotting his hand into Johnny’s as the Scot immediately started down the stairs.
In an instant, Johnny’s foot slipped out from beneath him, his grasp on Simon desperately tightening. Instead of being hauled upright as he had hoped, Simon unwillingly joined him on his downward trajectory. A heap of tangled limbs and snow was how the boys found themselves at the bottom of the stairs.
“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon carefully flexed his hips, trying to stretch out the muscle. “You solid, beautiful?” His voice was low and he reached for Johnny, hand making contact with his shin. Somehow Johnny ended up splayed halfway on top of Simon, his head cradled between the Brit’s shins. Neither boy was injured enough to be worried over, just bruises and scrapes reminiscent of their time in the 141.
“Aye, I’m alright,” Johnny pushed himself off Simon, misjudging the amount of snow and landing face-first in the powder. “Steamin’ bloody jesus!” he sputtered, rolling onto his back and wiping his face.
Simon hauled himself up into a sitting position, forearms resting on knees as he watched Johnny start to squirm in the snow. “Love… did you hit your head on the way down?”
“Awa' an bile yer heid!” Johnny laughed. “‘I’m makin’ a bloody snow angel!” Simon blushed as he finally saw it properly, chuckling to himself.
“C’mon, let’s get you up before you catch a cold and I have to care for you for two weeks.” Simon pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand for Johnny.
“Caring for me…? Does that include ye in a little nurse’s uniform?” Johnny waggled his eyebrows at the continuously flushing Brit.
“That’s enough!” Simon laughed, somehow turning an even deeper shade of red, and leaned down to haul the Scot up and place him firmly on his feet.
“So that’s a no on wearing a skirt for me?” Johnny fluttered his lashes as he gave Simon his best puppy dog eyes.
Simon hesitated as he brushed the snow off his pants, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Johnny would have to be blind to not notice Simon's hesitance combined with the way the blush had completely overtaken him. Couldn’t help but imagine the way his pale blushing skin would look in lacey white fabric, cute red ribbons, a short skirt… “That’s not a no!” Johnny exclaimed, cutting his own thoughts off, stumbling a little as he laughed.
Both boys set to creating their snow sculptures, occasionally lobbing a snowball at the other.
“Si!” Johnny was beaming as he stepped aside, revealing a rather proper-looking snowman, three round globes of snow piled high, blue scarf wrapped around its neck, rocks making up its face, complete with a snow baseball cap.
“Is that… is that Gaz…?”
A deep laugh erupts from Simon’s chest as Johnny proudly nods.
“Aye, it is! What did ye make, love?” The Scot moved closer to Simon, trying to understand what the boxy form before him was. There was a series of wide rectangles stacked one atop the other, a small downed branch poking out the shorter side of the stack of the rectangles.
“It's a uh… I made a tank. Figure you wanna use a ground assault this time instead of demolitions though…” Before the Brit had even finished his joke, Johnny was launching himself through the air, directly on top of the pile of snow. He landed with a puff of snow up into the air, legs dangling out of what was once the side of the tank.
With a huff and shrug of his shoulders, Simon joined Johnny in the snow, a hand planted on either side of his face, leaning over him. He took a moment to admire Johnny, the flush to his cheeks, the sparkle in his eyes, his bright laugh, the little white flecks of snow on his lashes, everything he had ever dreamed of and more. Simon pulled his glove off with his teeth, gently cupping Johnny’s face.
“You know how much I love you, Johnny?” His voice was soft, breath condensing in the air with each word.
“Aye, ah think ah do, but I’ll never say no to hearing it again…” Simon’s hand felt so soft on his face, despite the callouses and years of scaring, it was one of his favorite things.
“I love you more than the moon loves the sun, Johnny. I love you more than the waves love the shore… I love you more than I love breathing, John MacTavish. I will ‘till the day I die.” He leaned down, lips slotting perfectly against the Scot’s. Soft and sweet and filled with so much love it made Johnny’s heart feel like it was about to burst.
“Ah love you so damn much, Simon Riley.” He eagerly reciprocated, hands wrapping around Simon’s waist, sliding down past his hips, resting with a firm grip on his ass, pulling him closer.
By the time they untangled themselves from each other’s arms, neither man could deny the cold was starting to get to them. Simon’s fingers started to feel more than just the regular level of icyness for this time of year. Johnny slipped his arm around Simon’s waist, attempting to take some of the weight off his bad knee– the slip down the stairs seemed to have taken more of a toll than he first realized.
“I’ve got you, doll.” Simon slipped his arm around Johnny, basically shouldering all of the smaller man’s weight as they all but hobbled up the stairs.
“We make a right lousy pair, don’t we?” Johnny chuckled as Simon pushed the front door open.
“Are you calling me lousy? I’m wounded!” Simon feigned a hurt expression, his hand dramatically over his heart. As had become routine for the pair, Simon kneeled down, fingers deftly undoing Johnny’s laces before undoing his own. The old well-worn boots were discarded by the door, snow-covered jackets were tossed over hooks on the wall.
“Wounded and dramatic as ever, Lt. Ahm going to make some hot chocolate, should I add bourbon in yers, love?” Johnny was already halfway into the kitchen, making a mental note to stop at the pantry to grab the brown sugar, chocolate, and cocoa powder.
“Fuck yes, doll,” the Brit called out, peeling off towards the living room and swiping his lighter from the table near the entryway as he went. He set to making up the mattress, Johnny’s favorite sheets under layers upon layers of soft blankets. One of Johnny’s favorite candles was lit and Simon slipped off to the bedroom to grab his book and the Scot’s sketchbook.
By the time Simon made it to the kitchen, Johnny was leaning over an old, dusty cookbook, spatula in hand as milk heated on the stove. The Brit threaded his arms around Johnny’s waist, resting his chin on the Scot’s shoulder.
“Hey… you didn’t tell me you got the good chocolate…” Simon placed a gentle kiss below Johnny’s ear, hand sneaking forward towards the cutting board.
“Oh no ye don’t!” Johnny exclaimed, smacking the back of Simon’s hand with the spatula. “That chocolate was damn near 30 pounds and ye will not touch any!”
“Selfish bastard,” Simon grumbled, placing his hand back around Johnny’s waist.
“If ye cannae behave then ye can get gone from here!” The Brit smirked at Johnny’s challenge, an opportunity to get back at the Scot’s teasing about a nurse’s uniform. He let his cold fingertips slip beneath the warm material of Johnny’s shirt, beginning to trace delicate patterns into his skin.
“I can be good for you, promise,” Simon whispered in Johnny’s ear, lips just barely grazing the sensitive skin. Simon could feel the shiver that ran down Johnny’s spine.
“Simon…” A breathless moan escaped Johnny’s lips, and he had to press one hand into the counter to hold himself up on suddenly shaky legs.
“Hmm…? Something wrong, doll?” Simon’s voice had dropped deeper, rumbling through Johnny’s chest. He let a hand wander down the front of Johnny’s thigh, squeezing the firm muscle.
“You… Please, Si… cannae focus like this…” Johnny tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, desperately trying to contain another moan and focus on the recipe in front of him.
“Oh, but I think you can, doll. Used to be able to handle all that flirting in the field… don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on me…” his lips traced down Johnny’s neck, settling in the crook, teeth scraping along sensitive skin, lips living behind a light pink mark.
“We… Later Si… Ah– ah swear, please…” The Scot’s head dropped back onto Simon’s chest as his knees went weak, neck fully exposed as Simon held him up.
Simon smirked and nipped at his neck again, one hand sliding up to grasp Johnny’s chin, guiding him to refocus on the stove, “Focus, beautiful.” In a flash Simon had disappeared from behind the Scot, seating himself at the bar with his book already open in front of him. “Be a good boy, Johnny.”
Johnny gripped the counter, knuckles white, taking a few steadying breaths. He glared back at Simon for a moment before resuming his task of following his gran’s hot chocolate recipe. He could occasionally feel the weight of Simon’s stare, particularly on his ass as he worked.
After a few minutes of silence, Simon looked up as a steaming mug slid into his peripheral. “Yer favorite bourbon in it, like ye like,” Johnny kissed Simon’s cheek as he headed towards the living room, his own steaming mug cradled in his grasp.
Johnny couldn’t help the soft blush that spread across his cheeks when he noticed the way Simon had prepared the living room. The mattress was piled high with blankets, a roaring fire and his favorite candle filling the entire space with warmth. Old Man was curled up in the armchair, halfway sitting on top of his sketchbook.
Johnny lowered himself down onto the mattress, setting his mug on the coffee table Simon had moved to the side. “C’mon handsome, yer not gonna leave me all alone here, are ye?”
Simon chuckled and shook his head, mirroring Johnny's movements from mere moments before. Johnny tugged the Brit closer, smiling as he rested his head on his chest. “As much as ‘m not a fan of the cold, I wish we got snow like this a little more often…”
“Aye, would be nice. ‘Specially if it meant getting to keep ye all bundled up and wrapped up in my arms like this more…” Johnny placed a soft kiss on the top of Simon���s head, pulling him ever so slightly closer.
Simon hummed, tucking his head into Johnny’s chest, relishing in the warmth of their bodies together. Johnny had become his safe space, his anchor. No matter how good or bad the day was, Johnny was there. The last time Simon felt this loved was when he was young, wrapped up in his mother’s arms. Johnny was there, every nightmare or panic attack, he was there, holding him tight, holding him together. No matter how much Simon fucked up, Johnny was there. He hoped Johnny knew that Simon would burn the world down if he asked, and would stop at nothing to take care of him.
Johnny carded his fingers through Simon’s hair, eyes tracing over the sharp features of his face. He knew he was lucky to get to see and know this side of Simon– he thanked whoever was above everyday for the opportunity. The man so soft and sweet in his arms had come so far from who he was when they first met. He had worked so hard and Johnny was more proud than he knew how to express. Hoped Simon saw it in every cup of tea Johnny made for him, every candy bar he picked up on grocery runs, every forehead kiss. Hoped Simon knew how hard he was trying too, how much he cared and valued the trust he put in him. Hoped Simon knew how grateful he was for him too, the effortless way the Brit was able to hold him together like it was the easiest thing in the world.
They watched the snowfall for hours, big, fluffy white flakes pilling ever higher and higher. The fire roared on, keeping all 5 inhabitants of the Riley-MacTavish house plenty warm.
At some point, the boys slipped between blankets, soft kisses littered across flush skin, hands pulling bodies ever closer. And when the heat got too much between them, if they stripped down and carried on then that was between them and no one else.
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#ghost x soap#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#simon riley x john mactavish
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One-shot: Status: Legendary
If you go down to the mines today you're sure of a big surprise...
It was a good day to gather some resources. Rain was pouring down above ground, and once he'd hung around long enough to ensure it wasn't a thunderstorm, Pix had donned his armour, grabbed his sword, pick, and bundle, and jogged over the bridge to his mine entrance.
About the only thing rain was good for - other than getting him soaked - was bringing more fish to the surface. And he'd already spent half of yesterday staring at a bobber drifting idly on the river by his base camp, with eight cod, three salmon, a soggy leather boot, a bone, and an old stoppered bottle of water being his resulting catch.
The boot he'd left to dry by the fire, since it looked to be his size and he'd already caught a match for it several days before. With a thorough massage with some leather conditioner, he could get it soft and supple again, since it didn't look too old. The salmon and cod were speared on a stick above the fire, gently cooking. The bone... well, he could grind that up into bonemeal when he next had half an hour with a hammer and a grindstone. And the old stoppered bottle? Well, that was a curiosity in itself, as something looked to be floating in it. He'd check that out later tonight, though, when he was done mining. For now, he needed some gold and redstone.
Read it in full at AO3: Status: Legendary
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The Long Labors
My grandmother said it was going to be long—as long as you can hold your lineage—depending on how long you can hold your tongue—as long as your tongue can wrap around the pit—of some stolen stone fruit—as long as you can hide your pitter-patter face—glued in sun-split splinters—lengthening shadows as long as your face—longing to be mirrored back—back to your daughter your mother your grandmother—freckle by freckle—furnished forever across—the long loaming haul— Collapsed in a pool of spit—my mouth over papers—raccoon doctorate—luxurious loser with thin branch fingers—no meat in the palm—no muscle in the bending—the farmer in me is atrophying—the cook the factory seamstress the clerk the mother in me is pooling out—all that I come from—all that I owe to them—what is left of me—what is—me: professorial rat—book-leavened and maddened in meetings—chewing at my desk on a frozen anything—microwave spun and splattered on lessons—wondering who packaged this—who spooned this glacial sauce into this plastic hull—whose hands whose daughter does she look like me does she like dancing in the gloaming—funneled into my greedy mouth—I: daughter of long labors—I: knock-off half-price guilt—I: impossible imposter big words big words—trying to prove what—and to whom—I wait to be seated at a restaurant—a white person enters and orders from me—“I want sweet and sour chicken but without bell peppers and brown rice”—and I almost take it down— In the twelfth hour of night-shift overtime—my mother gobbles the air of the facility—mouth opening a cavern or a bowhead whale or a sinkhole—gobbling up its oxygen its nitrogen its argon its skin its hair dust its swirling smog—collecting time collecting benefits—her eyes so baggy they carry a leaking pack of chicken breasts—she had planned to cook tonight for us—but look at the break room clock she is out of time and now—they will surely go bad—what a waste at $1.50 a pound—she returns to her station rubs tiger balm and lavender oil along her wrists and hands—chews dried ginger to keep awake—the root of herself sharpening salivating—reapplies pink lipstick swivels the tube upward—rituals of resilience—feeds letters to machines churning intestinal noise—electricity bills and love letters and baby photos and magazines ladies who lunch will take to the salon and credit card limited-time offers and reminders from the dentist and supermarket weeklies and postcards from Oahu—“you wouldn’t believe how blue the water how restful how peaceful bring the whole family next time”—ginger chew ginger chew— Who made this for you—do you know the song that reminds them of home—do you know to play the radio as loud as you can and roll down the windows and smack your cheeks ten times in order to stay awake for the drive—do you know who sewed on this button—do you know the murmuring leg ache from standing all day a tree for whom—do you know who processed the letter you received today—fed it into a machine with paper cuts as wide as a river you could float in—do you know how long you can hold your urine until your 15-minute break—the roiling pressure in the abdomen the tick-tap of the feet the hands—how much to tip the gas station attendant in Jersey how the smell sticks behind both earlobes—the temperature when flipping a wok the oil burns the white paper hat measuring salt at the brim—how your impatient face resembles a slowly rotting peach—worms in the snarl—do you know the name of your fishmonger the name of my uncle—the times he snuck in a call to say he will be late picking up his daughter fish scales glittered to his elbows like opera gloves—do you know cuticles peeling white like flecks of cod after washing dishes—do you know the smell of nail polish remover stinging bees in your nostrils—do you know the back—how the back curls how the back bridges how the back puckers and crunches—like packed snow no one else but you will shovel out—I look up how labor is used in a sentence—“the obvious labor”—“immigrants provided a source of cheap labor”—“negotiations between labor and management”—“wants the vote of labor in the elections”—“the flood destroyed the labor of years”—“industry needs labor for production”—anthropocene capitalism gentrification—what do these words mean—and to whom—helping my mother over the sink—I snip the ends of long beans 豆角 with kitchen shears—the ends rolling away—green lizard tails—I cut away each word like a long bean—gentrificat—gentrif—gen—ge—g—glugging the g—down the drain— If only lying on a beach—limbs loosened like an old garden hose—if only watching the movements of our stomachs—rising and falling like baby jellyfish—our thighs waxing and waning—in bristle-rough sand if only—reading a book the pages—wrinkled and curled like a snail shell—from falling asleep against our faces—if only devouring a cloud—full of no rain no metallic muscle if—only softness if only we—went off in the softness—into the downy relaxing abyss—what is this word—vacation—my grandmother asks me chili hitting the wok like delicious dying stars— My grandmother said it was going to be long—going out the door always late for work—shirt inside out—said go on and bounce a howling baby (my mother/me/et al)—while skimming oxtail broth—the fat sheen of look how well we eat in this country—lest you forget it was worth it—lest you forget—the dilation of the cervix going the contractions going the grip the placenta the shit the vernix the garbled life going the soft flashlight eyes the milk the teeth the nails the hand on heart the soup coagulating on the stove—you must go—for what gleams in the dark turns to look at you—remember this— The work and the afterwork and the work of being perceived as not doing enough work though you are working well over enough—will this ever be enough—when is enough enough—the chorus now: not until the knots of fat—melt in this wok—not until you have nothing left but this suet—this smear of high-heat lineage—gleaming in the gloaming—and it is yours and it is mine and it is your dream daughter’s and it will last longer than you will ever believe—believe us—
Jane Wong, How to Not Be Afraid of Everything (Alice James Books, 2021)
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Day 125 - 9 January - Tokyo
We started off by going to Shibuya Scramble Crossing which must have not been very busy compared to some times but it was interesting to see. We then walked back to our area and had a matcha which wasn’t like these lates you get and was just pure matcha. I didn’t mind it but it wasn’t Nins thing.
We then went and got some sushi rolls in a place nearby which you hand roll yourself. We had a big selection, including tuna, taro (also tuna), cod roe, a sort of bean, and others. I had a cold oolong tea which I really liked.
We then did a bit of vintage shopping as there are loads of shops round the area. Lots of stuff was frustratingly too big or small but I did find a pair of trousers I liked so bought them.
We then walked to a famous Shinto shrine built by the Meiji which was so interesting partly because it was a big forest in the middle of Tokyo. We then went to the Metropolitan Govt Building Observation Deck on 45th floor just after sunset and watched the lights take over from the day. You could clearly see Fuji in the distance.
We then walked into Shinjuku which is the kind of soho area and had a drink and some food. We went to a yakitori joint, continuing our love for things on sticks and had a beer and bbq snacks we had; chicken skin, chicken, leek, pickled daikon, cabbage with miso and mayo, pork liver, pork heart. They were all really nice, I think my favourite was the pork heart. I then had an oolong and Shochu which I think was mainly oolong.
We then walked to this mad shop aptly called Don Quijote which was a cross between Poundland, Curries, Mr. Calculator (the shop I got my Pokémon cards and game boy games in), and that sports shop on Leicester Square that is now a sports direct. It had four floors and by the end my brain had melted so I went and took some pictures of the street.
We saw a large (life size?) statue of Godzilla leering above a building, a quick bit of googling said that on the hour he would breath fire, we waited the 5 mins and saw some lights come on in his mouth and some tinny sounds emanating from somewhere nearby.
We went to a tempura place in the red light district, passing hotels that advertised ‘rest’ and ‘stay’ as different prices. We first went into one restaurant and then were ushered out and shown to the restaurant that did tempura.
The tempura place had a single bar with a chef cooking in front of us which I think is the classic tempura restaurant way of doing it. We got a Kirin and ordered a selection. The chef cooked it with long chopsticks and took it over to us, they also give you three types of salt to eat it with, pink salt, curry salt and matcha salt. My favourite was the scallops, but the mushroom was very nice too. It felt a very classic experience.
We came out and walked to the train, and passed some baseball batting cages but unfortunately we didn’t have any cash. The lack of cash was a real issue when we tried to buy a train ticket as the machines only take cash or make it very difficult to pay with card. We got back and chilled and went to sleep.
Day 126 - 10 January - Tokyo
We took the train out to Ginza to go for food in the old fish market. We started off by going to a sushi restaurant which had seats for about 10 people with two chefs preparing the sushi behind the counter. There were two French men sat beside us tucking into a lots of sushi. We had a tuna selection and then salmon selection too. The most delicious one was a it of tuna fired a bit with a blow torch. After our delicious sushi meal we went around the market and got some food from the stalls. We had some eel yakitori, a Japanese egg sando (delicious with this nice mayo and sweetness from somewhere), an oyster and some mochi (I had a custard cream one that was reallly good, like my favourite desert).
We then went to a Kabuki theatre production. They go on for about four hours, but you can go for one act which is what we did. The first production we saw was about a brave warrior who defeats a giant centipede and is rewarded with a bag of rice that never goes empty. The second play was about a woman who is heartbroken and is offered the chance to become a deamoness to get back at her lover, and a sorcerer and his friend have to save her (and their friend the love rat who she has cursed). It was very interesting and very stylised. The theatre had lots of rules, one of them was not to sit too far forward to block other people’s view. Japan seems to have lots of rules, but they are generally in order to support the people on the whole, which I think for a visitor makes it look and feel really nice, ordered and peaceful. I wonder if this level of rules and stipulations might get a bit oppressive living over time, but it does feel very calm as a visitor.
We then went to these gardens which I’m sure are beautiful but were not very interesting in the winter. We then took the driverless train to the dock lands area but left quite quickly after because there wasn’t that much to do. I think this was a slightly odd part of the itinerary that Nina’s friend’s mum had suggested.
We then went to the baths in Shinjuku which were huge and really great. We were there for about 2.5 hours, it was separate men’s and women’s baths but we met for some food in the restaurant about halfway through. I went back to the main baths after that, the sauna had TVs in it and we were watching a cooking show, when a guy who worked there came in and added water to the sauna. He then turned off the TV and started playing this very chipmunky song with the lines ‘this is my happy song, want you to sing along, I’ll teach you the words and you can sing along’. While this song was playing he started using a towel to fan hot air to people. When he finished everyone clapped, it was a strange moment.
We were very close to the batting cages, so now that we had change we went. I did 3 rounds of hitting. It took a bit of time to get into the zone, I think I tried to hit it too hard a bit. I did manage to stroke a coupe straight back over the pitchers head but I ended up snicking quite a few off.
We went back to our apartment and had a couple of drinks and played a couple of very light drinking games between us. We then walked up to a bar about 20 mins away where the son of my dad’s friend (who we are staying with in Hawaii) who lives in Tokyo was having a leaving bash. The place was very cool and there was a DJ playing nice discoy tunes, he then finished and another dj really took the tempo down which was a bit of a letdown but he was playing some nice jazzy stuff. We met Ty, the guy whose party was, he was very busy making dumplings for everyone so we let him get away. Ty’s brother was there so we spoke to him for a bit before heading back to the apartment, after having couple of dumplings which were delicious.
Day 127 - 11 January - Tokyo
Checked out and put our bags in a bag storage on a very busy street in Shinjuku, after which we went to these photo booths in a basement beside the lockers and took some very deranged photos, which were digitally altered by the Photo Booth. I sent the photos from one of the booths to my email but rather than sending them to my Trinity email which I used for more trivial things, I sent it to the same username but at gmail.com! So some person has probably got a very strange Japanese email with a link to some pictures which I hope they will put in their junk!
After the excitement of the Photo Booth, we went to this area a bit out from where we were where there were lots of nice coffee and vintage shops which we looked at for a bit. They had lots of classic stuff which would have looked great on me had I been bigger or smaller. It was also quite expensive so we didn’t get anything but it was nice to see.
We then went back and got our bags and took our stuff to our new hotel in Akhihabara Electric City which was a classic Tokyo neon set of streets with lots of shops. It is also famous for these cafes with very attentive waitresses in maid costumes, which we did not go to, however this is meant that there were lots of women dressed in not enough clothes for the weather standing outside with flyers. Our hotel was a very classic Japanese tiny hotel room which although it was tiny was very nicely set up.
We then went to an area nearby called Asakusa which had lots of pre-war low rise buildings which was now shops and restaurants and a massive Shinto shrine. We walked round looking at the shops and the shrine which was very nice and then went to dinner at this bar/restaurant which was quite rough and ready and very delicious. We had some grilled tofu with soy and ginger, grilled mackerel, baked potato with butter, Japanese omelette and some kimchi. We had a nice beer with it as well.
After that we then went across a bridge and went to the Asahi sky bar which is in the top of their big head office. It was a great view of a part of Tokyo that we haven’t seen yet, Tokyo is so big and seeing it at night really excentuates it. After that we went back to the hotel.
Day 128 - 12 January - Tokyo > Honolulu
We got up, checked out and made our way to the National Museum. We spent most of the time in the Japanese history section. It had beautiful Japanese art and a few incredible samurai swords and armour. I loved the paintings of Fuji and of snow. They also had prints that were really amazing, although the Hokusai weren’t on display which was a bit disappointing, although we have seen them in loads of different ways so I guess I will need to see them when they come to london.
We then went to the Asian art wing I wanted to see the Indian miniatures that they had. They had a bit on Kyhmer sculpture, which they said they had acquired in 1944 in an exchange with the French Ecole de L’orient which was during WW2 and would have been an exchange with Vichy France and Imperial Japan which was a bit spicy. Leaving the museum we found out our flight was cancelled and had to wait an hour to speak to a person on the app. When we did speak to Mary Bernadette she got us on the next available flight which was with a different carrier but about an hour later which suited us perfectly.
We then walked to Yanesen which is a charming low rise neighbourhood to walk around. We had a lovely Tonkotsu in a restaurant, and then strolled round looking at places. A strange thing I noticed was that on streets they pipe music into streets and that different areas have different genres I guess based on the vibe they want to give off. We then walked to a bathhouse nearby and went for an hour. I was the only non-Japanese person there which was interesting. One of the baths was full but had this small section which had a little wall around it, making a little alcove and no one was in it, so I sat down in it. As I sat down, my whole legs started to cramp weirdly and I stood up quickly and looked down a bit flustered. An old Japanese man burst out laughing and made a shocking gesture. It turns out that this alcove was a place to be shocked locally which I didn’t do again as i felt a bit sheepish.
We went back and got our stuff via a muji and got to the airport on the monorail. We got through pretty easily and had some sushi near the gate. There was an Australian family near us who were playing cards and chatting. I was quite tired and in my head I was saying ‘straila’, but accidentally verbalised it twice till Nina shushed me! I was mortified. We then got on the plane and took off.
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Learned how to do the read more, which means it's time for Angus fic. He's back, baby !!
2.4k words of a guy that hates everyone, let's go
Bryce belongs to @tangodyke
He’s below the water when it happens, like he always is. He has been here since the end of the world and the rebuilding of time, and he has no plans to leave.
He feels a little bad for ditching Bryce when he found more people, but the thing was that they were just friends out of circumstance. They were both angry kids, they didn’t know what to do when everything ended, and finding more people meant that that circumstantial friendship was over. So he left.
He went back to the water because he was tired of the air drying him out and he didn’t see the point in sticking around when there were other people to keep Bryce busy. Not that Bryce needed keeping busy, but Angus wasn’t just going to leave the woman alone. He was pretty much done with everything, but he wasn’t going to be that much of an ass.
The point is that as soon as there was civilization and he knew he wouldn’t be leaving his sort-of-kind-of friend alone, he got up and jumped into the nearest body of water and left. Sometimes he thinks he should have left a note or something. Other times he knows it wouldn’t have done much.
He found a good river, a deep one, wide and full of fish– salmon he could eat and cod that made him sick to look at. The thing about not knowing what you are or where you come from is that you don’t know how long you live, so he settled at the deepest dip in the river floor and just waited.
There was a pocket at the bottom, something like a cave, something that you couldn’t see unless you were really looking for it. He crawled into it and called it not-home, because it wasn’t home, but it wasn’t not home. And he waited.
Eventually, when some time passed, people started coming back. He saw the shadows of boats passing overhead, occasionally saw fish swimming up, up, up to get caught on hooks hundreds of feet at the surface. When people got tired of boats, they built bridges.
They never quite reached the bottom of the river, but it was fun to watch them try. If he had to guess, the best one lasted around fifteen winters, years, before the ropes that kept it together finally frayed and snapped. A group of around five people fell in, and apparently they had enough faith in the bridge that they did not bother to learn how to swim.
He had waited for them to black out before pulling them up to the shore. Maybe that was a bit shitty of him, to wait until they were probably dead to save them just because he didn’t want to go through the bother of being seen. Either way, they were brought to the surface and he slunk back into the water as soon as he saw one of their eyes open just a little.
The bridges stopped for a year and the boats came back, but the people got tired of boats again and set to work with their new-old technology again. This time, they dropped heavy stones to the bottom. Every month for a year, they dropped more and more stones until they scared all the fish away and the sun started to take longer to reach down because of all the dust. It was annoying and frankly rude.
The next time someone slipped and fell in, he didn’t wait for them to close their eyes. He swam right up to their face and found out, with a little confusion, that people were smaller than he remembered. Maybe he was larger. He didn’t bother to help them, just stared, and when they looked scared enough, he grabbed them.
Maybe it was cruel of him to take special time to freak someone out, but it was cruel of them to scare the fish away and steal the sun, so he didn’t really care. He held them under until they ran out of energy to squirm, and then he brought them up to the surface. He didn’t want them dead. He just wanted them gone. He didn’t like being bothered while he was waiting.
The rocks stopped falling for another short time, but they came back after another year. This time, there were floating docks next to them so no one could fall in.
When he figured out that they would not stop their mission to create a bridge, he gave up. He got used to the dust and the blackout of the sun that came with their stupid work and he watched them make a bridge that had to be even bigger than the one that used to cross the great ravine.
Sometimes he swam just close enough to hear the people talk. They talked about the bridge, the Greatbridge, they called it. They talked about the growing capital, about trade, about their families, about anything. A few times, they murmured about the beast at the bottom of the river. They said he drowned children that got too close, which he didn’t, and that he was so large that when he moved it caused storms, which was also untrue.
They had a lot of nasty things to say about him, but it wasn’t like he was going to do anything about it. So he went back to the bottom, and he waited.
He waited through the finishing of the bridge, he waited through the dust settling and the fish returning, he waited through wars that sent unholy amounts of rock into the water, he waited through the end of people, again. Or at least through the end of the capital people. Once or twice, he dragged himself up to the surface just to see if they were still there.
They weren’t.
He walked through the ruins once. They had lots of homes, hundreds, and they liked their farms. They liked their museums and their catacombs and their schools that taught a new language he didn’t know and had stories on boards of what looked like sharp-toothed sea monsters grabbing people from bridges. It took him four whole days to walk the entire length of the city, and four more to walk back.
When he slipped into the water he found he still liked it better. And he stayed there for so long he thought maybe he was immortal, and maybe he was. He found he didn’t have to eat as much as he thought he had to, so he spent more time asleep. When he woke up, he never knew how much time had passed.
But one day when he opened his eyes again, the surface was closer. Not by much, maybe a hundred feet or so, but closer nonetheless. He closed his eyes and did not think of recessing swamp water.
Every time he woke up, the surface was closer and closer until finally it stopped, six hundred feet deep instead of its original depth that almost hit the thousands. He dug deeper into the sand and didn’t cry. He didn’t.
Because he didn’t care about the end of the world, he didn’t care about the rapture, and he didn’t care about being crushed by rocks and he didn’t care about making out only to see that no one was left, that their leader had taken the fucking dogs but left him to die, he didn’t care. So he didn’t cry.
He just went back to sleep and he waited.
The point is that he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep when he hears noise, real noise, again.
It starts with the same sounds of construction that came with the not-so-great-anymore-bridge when it first began, but this time nothing falls in, no one falls in. He sticks his head out of his cave just enough to look up and see small boats and shadows. He doesn’t go further up to investigate, because he doesn’t have to. He just watches.
There is noise, but no one thinks to dive under the surface and the fish still fall for the same trick their ancestors did, swimming up, up, up, to meet hooks and become dinner for someone else. He thinks that the new people are rebuilding the bridge. He sees new shadows come and stay where old ones were violently toppled over.
It’s only months into their noise that someone actually falls in. They don’t flail though, they just sink. Maybe they meant to fall. Angus doesn’t investigate. He sticks to his cave and just watches. The person does not try to swim up, in fact they seem impatient.
They hit the bottom of the river with a muffled thud and pull themselves– herself, to her feet, And then she starts walking. She paces the river floor and scoops loads of clay into her arms and simply climbs back up the steep sides.
She keeps at this for three more rounds. The fourth one, though, she passes his cave. She shoves her head in to look for more clay and instead meets his eyes. It takes a couple seconds to recognize her, to see her face for what it is, what it was, how it has changed.
He sees the face that rolled eyes at him and snapped at him to stay down for the first weeks after the rapture, because if he moved he’d split his torso open again and his organs would water the clay and she didn’t want to deal with the smell of dead fish in a palace that she didn’t want to be in anyway.
It’s cracked some and she looks less like the king and more like her own person now. Her eyes don’t widen too much, never have, but she does stop moving for a second. Then she squints at him, looks him up and down, sees the raised and valleyed scars that came from her own not-great medical care, and points at him rather aggressively. She then points up with the same energy.
He shakes his head. She points again. He glares at her. Just because he recognizes her does not mean he will move for her. He will not move for anybody anymore. She grabs his arm and pulls.
He doesn’t move, because he realizes that it is him that’s grown, not the people who have shrunk, and he’s too large for her to move, too large for her hand to wrap all the way around his arm like she so easily used to be able to do. She cannot pull him anywhere, and he snaps his teeth at her.
He doesn’t expect it to scare her, and it doesn’t. If anything, she just glares back and aims a kick at his hand, still on the sand. She moves slow underwater though, and the force is lost. She flicks him off and takes sand from his cave instead. She leaves with what would probably be an aggravated huff. It’s just bubbles down here though.
She doesn’t come back for another week or two, and this time he stays awake.
When she hits the bottom again, she just stares at him. She doesn’t walk to the cave again. She just stands there, lets the air bubbles leave the crack in her face, and when they are all gone, she turns and collects clay and sand again.
He just watches, waits, listens, stares back. She doesn’t tell him to come to the surface again. She just stares at him, gathers materials, and leaves.
And one day, he follows. He slithers out of his hidey-hole and swims slowly up to the surface. Then he stays there for an hour or two, twenty-so feet under, waiting. He watches the sun set and watches the colors change under a film of green-blue-brown until it is all dark again.
He pulls himself up finally, shuddering at the cold air. He doesn’t leave fully, just sticks his head and shoulders up enough to feel the air and breathe it in, thin and dry. It’s just as gross as he remembers it.
He looks around, side to side, stares at the bridge that sits high above the water, much higher than it ever did when it was built. And then he looks up at the land itself and sees her sitting there. She glares at him. He glares right back.
“Fucking finally.” She says. She stands up, but doesn’t make the trip down to the water. She just stays there, shouting down from the steep hill.
He sinks down further again.
“Ah bup bup-” She calls, “No, you get up here. Explain yourself.”
He blows bubbles in the water.
“I know you can talk, Angus. Stop being a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.” He sounds gurgly through the water and his throat kind of hurts because he hasn’t really spoken in– oh, however long it’s been.
She pulls a face, “You sound like shit. Why are you still alive?”
He shrugs. She exhales through her nose, even though she doesn’t have lungs and doesn’t need to breathe. She’s doing it to exaggerate her emotions. He didn’t know she had those.
“If I knew you were gonna live this long, I wouldn’t have sent you off. You got so big. Could’ve helped rebuild Mezalea.”
“I don’t care about Mezalea.”
“Yeah, neither do I, but free labor is fun. Less work for me.”
He makes a face. She makes one back.
“Anyway, it’s Natalia now.” She says. “Go back to sulking or whatever.”
Natalia shoves her hands in her pockets and turns around, disappearing over the edge of the cliff-hill. Angus waits. She doesn’t come back, so he pushes himself under the surface once again. He won’t explore the city this time.
Instead he sinks to the river floor and wonders what comes next, wonders how long it;s been, and he remembers how angry he was when everything first ended. He knows he’s still angry. He knows it, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.
So he sits. And he waits. And he is angry, because he was left behind and because he is worth less than dogs and because people are still alive that shouldn’t be, and Natalia doesn’t particularly care that he is too.
He wishes the stories were right. He wishes that he could make tsunamis just by sitting up. He wishes he let those people drown.
But he is here now, and he is waiting for something to happen, and he is waiting for the sun to rise again. Maybe in the morning he will pull himself all the way onto the land and really scare someone.
A salmon swims past the cave. He reaches out and it is the size of his finger. It swims through his hands too fast to catch it.
He’s grown.
And the real point is that he fucking hates it.
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This is how it happened.
Dream said to put his things in the hole, and Tommy did. He hadn’t mentioned what he had been doing that day, what simple tools he made and wooden carvings he had been working on. He hadn’t mentioned the gunpowder he had gathered by the handfuls, shoving it into his pockets greedily under the morning sun. He hadn’t thought it was important, although in hindsight, it was.
Dream had always come heavily armed, weapons gleaming and freshly polished. It made Tommy nervous, the sight of the netherite enchantments glimmering. It reminded him constantly how weak he was, how exposed and flimsy human skin could be under a blade.
Dream visited not only with weapons, sometimes there were gentle sounds of potions hidden in his pockets, other bits of equipment rattling inside the various pouches on his thighs. Tommy should have said something- he should have, but he didn’t. The gunpowder ignited with a loud crackling pop-pop-pop!
Dream flinched back, just enough to jostle his hip and spill free a collection of eclectic bits and and a handful of blaze powder. Tommy wasn’t the potions master Wilber had once been, but Tommy knew blaze powder and gunpowder created volatile reactions. Combined with purple potions Tommy didn’t recognize and a single shiny enderpearl rolling from Dream’s hip into the stewpot hole- well.
Dream vanished with a rattling bam! And Tommy was a tad bit anxious, waiting for the aftermath of his own stupidity. Surely it was his fault- he should have mentioned the gunpowder in the hole. He should have warned Dream about the combustible nature of today’s spoils. He should have done…something.
What if Dream was hurt? What if he had teleported somewhere randomly and was laying in the woods unconscious. Would Tommy be allowed to leave then? Could he go and get help then?
“He’s probably fine,” Tommy muttered to himself. He fidgeted, wriggling in the sand as it worked its way below his shorts. He flexed and curled his toes near the water, wondering how long until it would be safe to leave. If Dream didn’t come back….Tommy didn’t want to think about it.
He sighed, standing slowly. His little camp was too quiet. Birds were chirping somewhere, singing in the trees as they nibbled at seeds shed by long grass. There were fish leaping somewhere, maybe if Tommy watched the horizon long enough he’d see a dolphin pod or two. If he rummaged through his chests, there would be bread leftover from the previous night.
“Fuck this,” Tommy said to himself, wincing at the loudness of his voice. He felt terribly lonely, and guilty for feeling lonely to begin with.
He could be productive. Tommy didn’t need anyone bossing him around- he had a fishing rod! He could scrounge around for wild herbs, find some potatoes hidden beneath the dirt. Maybe he could make a stew for Dream when he came back. Dream couldn’t possibly still be upset over the gunpowder by then…right?
So, Tommy did what he did best. He dragged his feet, stalled and stretched out the moments. He turned a tiny action into a monumental waste of time. He build towers out of dirt and tore them down, he splashed water and mud and turned his clothes brown.
He shouted until his voice went hoarse, singing loudly and scaring the robins which roosted above him in an oak tree. He filled the silence with his sound until he felt the isolation caress him tighter and tighter.
He built a fire, coaxing it with burnt fingers and dry logs. It spat at him, spitting sparks and embers that swirled upwards in the offshore breeze. Tommy roasted cod on bending sticks, scales burning because Tommy didn’t know how to descale a fish. Dream always laughed at his attempts, throwing away most of the meat.
Tommy sat, folding inwards on himself. It wasn’t cold yet he shivered. The gentle sound of water pushed and pulled in harmony to the heartbeat in his ears and lingering tinnitus. He poked the fire, shifting a log ineffectively.
“This is stupid,” Tommy grumbled to himself. He had a brief inspired thought to kick the fire and send the log flying, something dumb that appealed to his arsonist tendencies. Dream wouldn’t approve, but Dream hadn’t come back yet. The fish was finished cooking, but Tommy hadn’t the appetite to try and gnaw away on the fragile bones.
He sighed, then selected to moan to himself miserably. Placing his head in his hands, he wondered if there was anything more he could do besides sleep. Sleeping this early felt like quitting. He wondered if he should put his things in a hole. He wondered if Dream would notice.
The fire crackled again, soft and gentle. A leaf moved and Tommy looked up.
Someone stood on the edge of his fire, barely illuminated by the orange haze. Crouched forward, at first Tommy thought it was a mob with the stillness of its posture.
“The fuck!” Tommy shrieked, kicking out reflexively and toppling from his log. The thing stared at him and Tommy thought coherently: what the fuck is that?
Tommy had never seen eyes that color and shape- not a cat but not an enderman. Too green to be a human, but too foreign for any mob Tommy had ever met. They were practically glowing, oval and unblinking as they tracked Tommy’s heaving breath. It slowly turned its head, rotating to the side terrifyingly slowly.
And it asked from the edge of the light- a black bandanna resembling the lower hem of trousers sheared off crudely wrapped tightly across its lower face: “are you going to eat that fish?”
#dsmp fanfic#dsmp dream#dsmp tommy#exile arc fanfic#maybe it’ll be a fic#just crazy dream lore#who knows!
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I know you haven't really done many prompts for Empire SMP, but having seen Jimmy's perspective today, I really want to see him just talk about everything that's against him and I think it would be really fun to see him just breakdown with Pixl.
Lore-wise, Jimmy really has gone through the ringer.
he really has T_T someone pls save him
...
Pixlriffs is working on setting up some more candles around the vigil when he hears a noise from behind him. Immediately alert, he spins round, already pulling out his sword, but he freezes when he spots a figure half-limping towards him.
As he rushes towards the figure, he realises with a jerk that it’s his closest ally. “J-Jimmy?!”
The ruler of the Cod Empire is dishevelled and clearly exhausted, and instead of his normal cod mask, he’s wearing the brown llama mask that Pixl remembers giving him a few weeks ago.
Pixl reaches out to steady his friend, holding him by the arms. “Jimmy, what on earth-?!”
“Gosh, your empire is… is really out there,” Jimmy murmurs, his words slightly slurred. “In the middle of a desert. I’m so hot…”
With that, he collapses against Pixl.
“Jimmy!” he gasps, propping his unconscious friend up.
He manages to lift Jimmy onto his back and hurriedly carries him over to his home. He lays Jimmy down on his bed and hesitantly removes his friend’s mask.
He’s shocked to see a fairly fresh cut on Jimmy’s face from his left temple to the corner of his left eye. It’s not still bleeding but it looks untreated. Maybe from the last day or so.
Forcing himself to ignore that for now, Pixl fetches some water and an ice pack, the latter of which he applies to Jimmy’s forehead. Immediately, Jimmy lets out a quiet sigh and stirs slightly, though he doesn’t wake.
After about ten minutes of gently tipping sips of water down Jimmy’s throat, Jimmy’s eyelids flutter.
“Hey,” says Pixl quietly, giving his friend a soft smile. “Can you hear me?”
Blinking groggily, Jimmy frowns. “What happened? Where am I?”
“In my empire,” says Pixl. “Do you not remember?”
Jimmy lifts a hand to his forehead. “My head’s a little fuzzy.”
“I’m not surprised; you were pretty dehydrated. Do you have any idea how long you were wandering around in the desert?”
“No, not really.”
“Well if you walked all the way here from your kingdom, it’s a wonder you didn’t parch to death,” Pixl responds. “Why didn’t you use your elytra?”
“I wanted to walk as long as possible and then when I eventually tried to take off, I realised I didn’t have any rockets,” says Jimmy sheepishly.
Pixl chuckles. That’s so Jimmy. “Right, I see. Why would you want to walk all the way here, anyway? We didn’t have a meeting or anything, did we?”
“No, I…” Jimmy hesitates. “I just needed a break. And I wanted to see you. And I needed to be several thousand blocks away from everyone else.”
“Really?” Pixl frowns. “Are you okay?”
Jimmy hesitates again, before deciding to tell the truth. “Um… no. I’m not okay. A lot of stuff happened yesterday and I’d really like to curl up and cry right now.”
Pixl gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Tell me about what happened.”
“W-Well…” Jimmy sits up in the bed, taking a deep breath. “fWhip covered my nether portal in cobblestone so I told him to come over and clear it up but he used tnt to blow it up and then when I told him to fix the hole in the ground, he blew a bigger hole under the first one and then Scott and Gem showed up and I was hoping they might be on my side but apparently Scott actually helped fWhip make the cobblestone thingy so then I got really mad and hit fWhip with my sword but then he killed me and stole my Codfather mask and I begged him to give it back but he just flew off with it a-and I don’t know how to get it back now cuz Scott said I keep starting things I can’t finish and that even with my allies, I couldn’t hope to beat fWhip but I need that mask back Pixl I can’t-.”
Sensing Jimmy’s rising panic, Pixl quickly grabs Jimmy’s shoulders to stop his friend. “Hey hey hey, shh. It’s okay, Jimmy. Shh.”
Jimmy lets his breathing settle, clearing his throat as his voice cracks. “Wh-What’s wrong with me, Pixl…?” he whispers. “Why am I such an easy target? Is this all because I stole stuff from Sausage so early on? Do I deserve all this?”
“No, Jimmy,” replies Pixl immediately. “fWhip is being a bully, and bullies always have their buddies backing them up so they feel stronger. First it was Sausage, now it’s Scott.”
“I just… I just don’t understand. I thought Gem and Katherine were my allies but Gem is now fully on fWhip’s side and Katherine pretends she’s on everyone’s side but she always seems to back up the person who isn’t me. Who do I have on my side?”
“You’ve got me, you’ve got Joel, you’ve got Lizzie.”
“I do trust Joel and Lizzie, and you of course, but… I-I’m just kinda expecting everyone to leave me if another alliance offers something better. And I wouldn’t even blame them.”
Pixl pauses, casting a brief look at the walls surrounding him. “...well, I’ll never leave you.”
“I-I don’t think you can realistically promise that,” Jimmy responds dejectedly.
This reinforces Pixl’s resolve. “I’m doing it anyway. You need an ally you can always count on, and I will be that ally. No matter what, Jimmy, I’ll stick by you. I know my empire is a long way from yours but if you ever need backup again, send me a message and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and fly straight over.”
“Really…?” Jimmy stares at him with hopeful eyes. “Wh-Why would you do that for me? Aren’t there better, stronger empires out there you can ally with?”
“Frankly, yeah, there are. But I don’t care. It’s not all about power.”
Jimmy scoffs.
“It’s not,” Pixl repeats. “Power gets you through a war, sure, but wars aren’t the only things empires have to deal with. You’re a kind and fair ruler to your subjects, Jimmy. Villagers, animals, everything. You always go the extra mile to ensure their comfort and safety, and in this world, that’s a rarity. Power really isn’t the only thing that matters. It’s one of the biggest, but that doesn’t mean you should be counted out just on lack of power. That’s why you find yourself a powerful ally, right? And I like to flatter myself that I’ve built up a pretty powerful empire here. Maybe not fWhip-level powerful, but strong enough to defend us both if a certain tnt-crazed empire comes calling.”
Jimmy gazes at him. “Would you really put your empire on the line for my fights?”
“Of course.” Pixl gives him a kind smile. “That’s what allies do.”
“...Pixl, I…” Jimmy can hardly muster any words to express his emotions. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. All we need to do is take care of each other and we’ll be okay.”
“Pix…” Jimmy is almost completely lost for words. He’s never had someone show this level of dedication towards him before, especially considering they haven’t known each other very long. “A-Anything you need, Pix, anything at all, just ask.”
Pixl’s smile falls as his eyes flicker up to the scar on Jimmy’s face. “Actually… I do have a question. How did you get that scar on your face?”
“Huh?” Jimmy’s hand automatically moves to touch the jagged line on his forehead. “Oh. This. A, um… a piece of debris from fWhip’s second tnt explosion got me. Nearly got my eye, actually.”
“It looks bad. Untreated.”
“Yeah, I… I’m not so good at first aid and I did ask Scott and Gem if one of them could help me clean it but they refused.”
Pixl’s eyes widen. “They what?!”
Jimmy nods sadly. “They made some excuses and left. Scott said it didn’t look that bad and I could deal with it myself. I looked at it in the river and I also didn’t think it looked that bad.”
“Gosh.” Pixl shakes his head disapprovingly, a deep frown on his face. “That’s… That’s so terrible.”
“I-I’m sorry,” whispers Jimmy.
“What? No, not you. I can’t believe Scott and Gem would leave you when you were clearly hurt. Do you have a first aid kit back in your base? And your food situation: do you have enough food? What’s your diet like?”
A little taken aback by the sudden questions, Jimmy hesitates. “I’ve, uh… been eating fish, mostly. Cod Empire, you know.”
“Any potatoes? Carrots?”
Jimmy shakes his head.
Pixl scrutinises him. “Right, okay. Jimmy, you’re gonna stay with me here for a while.”
“A-A while?”
“A few days. You’ve been through a lot lately; you need someone to take care of you. I’ll get that wound treated for you, show you around my empire, and make sure you get some nutrients in your diet. Do you have a potato farm?” Before Jimmy can reply, Pixl continues, “Nevermind, I’ll get you enough potatoes to either get started or improve it, whichever. You need to keep drinking water, though; you’ll get dehydrated really fast in the desert.”
He pauses as he registers the smile on Jimmy’s face. “What?” he chuckles.
“Nothing.” Jimmy averts his gaze, though his smile remains. “Just… thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you on my side.”
Pixl smiles back and squeezes Jimmy’s shoulder.
“I’ll always be on your side, Jimmy. Always.”
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HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section
(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)
First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol
Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.
Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3
Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters
Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3
From best to worst:
#1: BadBoyHalo-
Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.
He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?
His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.
While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.
Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.
(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this-
The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it,
“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.
“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap.
“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George.
And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon.
“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)
#2: Philza
Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.
Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.
He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.
He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).
(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?”
When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail.
“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.”
It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)
#3: Quackity-
Quackity:
Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.
He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.
He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!
As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.
(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea.
You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens.
He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)
#4: Schlatt-
Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.
During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.
Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.
He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.
Overall, a good 4th place on the list.
(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head.
“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Schlatt.”
“Yes.”
The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently.
You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look.
“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)
#5: Dream-
Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.
He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.
Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).
To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.
Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.
One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)
(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy.
It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm.
His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)
#6: Technoblade-
Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.
6th place ^^; sorry king.
He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.
Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.
He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.
As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.
(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you.
You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races.
“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.”
Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him.
“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.”
He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)
#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.
Fundy-
Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.
He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.
Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)
Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.
7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.
(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly.
The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument.
He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday.
So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying.
You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was.
Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)
Sapnap-
Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.
Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.
He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.
Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.
(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking.
At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets.
“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper.
“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed.
“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.”
You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant.
Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)
#8. George-
Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.
He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.
To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…
(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it.
It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth.
Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)
#9: Wilbur
Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.
You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”
Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.
With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.
(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur.
“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively.
“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?”
“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!”
You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)
// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3
#mcyt x reader#c: dream#c: george#c: sapnap#c: badboyhalo#c: wilbur#c: technoblade#c: philza#c: quackity#c: fundy#c: schlatt#hc#hc: call this the 'can they cook section'#pt1 maybe ;3#fluff#rada rada#dream x reader#georgenotfound x reader#sapnap x reader#badboyhalo x reader#technoblade x reader#wilbur soot x reader#philza x reader#quackity x reader#fundy x reader#schlatt x reader
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