#codfic

[forsaire]

I turned talking about video game inaccuracies into something sickeningly sweet. Enjoy 😊 @crunchybeards

---

“Johnny, what are you doing? I’ve been waiting-”

But Ghost abruptly stopped talking as he rounded the corner.

Sitting on the couch with his body intensely leaning forward and his eyes squinted in focused determination that Ghost was familiar with seeing when they were on a mission – or when trying to cook – was Soap. The controller in his hands looked small compared to him and the light from the television flickered across his face.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asked.

“Just playing a shooter that one of the recruits gave me,” Soap replied, his eyes zipping across the screen.

Ghost glanced up to see bodies clad in camo military gear running forward towards a diamond point in the distance, Soap’s character following behind them. A flurry of gunshots rang out and the right side of his screen was splattered with streaking red. The character quickly slid to duck behind cover and look through the scope of their sniper rifle.

“You don’t get enough of this in real life?” Ghost asked, crossing his arms. Soap then cursed under his breath and shifted forward. “Evidently not.”

Ghost turned his attention back to the screen. The outline of the gun in the corner had a name, though from Ghost’s memory, it was the shadow of a completely different gun. The magazine size was odd too and when Soap looked into the scope again, there was something a bit off about the lines. He listened for a moment as the characters spoke out to each other – granted it was an American game – but the acronyms were also not familiar.

“It doesn’t bother you how inaccurate all these games are?” Ghost asked. “I understand the 18 year old civilian not giving a shite, but you at least know better. When are you coming to bed?”

Soap shrugged. “I don’t think about it much. Half of the time they’re talking bullocks but I don’t pay attention to the story. I’m just here to…got ya! Blow off a couple heads. They explode much nicer than in real life. Tons of ammo. A dog companion. Enemies showing up on the map. What more could you want?”

“Reality.”

Soap scoffed. “You need to make a more compelling argument.”

Ghost walked behind the couch. “You know what else the real world has?” He gently took Soap’s head in his hands and tilted it backwards, capturing Soap’s lips as he let out a surprised huff. But only a second later, Soap closed his eyes and leaned into it, his hand reaching up to grab at Ghost’s hair. Ghost pulled back ever so slightly, enamored by Soap’s shining blue eyes and pink lips. “Me.” He ran a hand down Soap’s throat. “Now come to bed.”

A loud grunt pulled both of their attentions back to the screen and a bloody game over wiped across the television. Soap sighed.

“You killed me.”

“If you don’t get in bed with me right now, I’ll kill you for real.”

The smallest, amused smirk pulled at Soap’s lips.

“Yes, sir.”

With two hands that easily linked back up with one another again, Ghost and Soap headed back to their room, Ghost ready to show Soap just how good reality could be.

[fineprintedsunsets]

𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 & 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒚 ; fox & red

a/n - oh hey. its been a minute *maybe a year* I'm into cod now, don't ask, I'm blessing you with drunk captain price AND ghost headcannons. enjoy u freaks <3

warnings - dirty talk. older men. praise. freaky!drunk price (for a quick second) ghosts possessive ass. code names but no physical descriptors. clif hanger (sorry not sorry!)

drunk!captain price who’s tells you to bend over in the middle of your living room after coming home from a night out with his men at the bar 

drunk!captainprice who is pulling those delicious purple panties off to reveal your soaking cunt 

drunk!captain price with every thought evacuated from his head besides eating you out

drunk!captainprice who is pressing his head into your pussy like he’s a starving man who needs to have his fill

drunk!captainprice price who makes you come 3 times on his tongue with words like “soak me” “good girl, grind into my beard” and “let me drink you down” 

drunk!ghost can’t stand the fact your getting shit faced drunk right now 

drunk!ghost who is currently holding a can of beer sitting tightly on a semi-questionable stained sofa 

drunk!ghost who watches you flirt and fumble through every man in the house, until somehow you end up outside 

drunk!ghost who sees your wobbly steps and facade of confidence as you stroll over to him

drunk!ghost who tilts his head to look at you like he doesn’t have any idea what your about to do 

“LT.” you greeted him, “Red” he greeted back, quick and gruff, emotionless. 

he was always strictly orders and command, even when the entire squad celebrated a mission win, ghost would always separate himself from the rest. you didn’t know if it was because his usual brooding-bad boy vibe needed to be upheld, or he just didn’t like drinking all that much 

either way, YOU like drinking, and you’ve had a lot this afternoon, and ghosts lap looks very comfortable and-

“Red? Fuckin,  hell…” somehow, between your drunk thoughts and curious feet, your body ended up in ghost lap

both your legs were situated on either side of him, your hair brushing the sides of his face. Ghosts head tilted up instinctively

but whether he wanted to get away from you, or pull you in closer was still a mystery, the grenade was on his turf and he was taking a very long time to throw it back 

in a rushed movement, ghosts tactile-glove had reach out to pull at your hips, beckoning you to press your body to his 

“watched your pretty little ass talk to every one of those men in there” ghost whispered into your ear, it made you shiver he sounded angry

possessive.

“And you still found your way to me”

“You let any of em touch you, red, or are you just a tease?” Ghost pulls at your hips, attempting to bring you closer.

"want to find out?"

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Everyone should send me asks for things they want to read (ANY COD CHARACTERS)

Please I NEED to fetish write or something

[thevaticansaint]

New chapter is up!!

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Russian Ultranationalists, Kate Laswell Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Trans Simon "Ghost" Riley, Pining, Autistic Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vaginal Sex, Trans Male Character, Anal Sex, spy mission, Canon Divergent, no beta we die like men, Flower Language, I just wanted Ghost in a tux tbh, Undercover Missions, Recon Mission, Self-Harm, It's minor self-harm though, Panic Attacks, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Cunnilingus, John "Soap" Mactavish Has Catholic Guilt, Cockwarming, Pegging, Exhibitionism, iconoclasm, Blasphemy, John "Soap" MacTavish Has PTSD, Near Death Experiences, Under-negotiated Kink, Marking, Mentions of Past Torture, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, Past Domestic Violence Summary:

When Laswell enlists 141 to run a recon mission, the last thing Ghost thought he would be doing was baring his face and wearing a tux to take down some Ultranationalist thugs who had nuclear weapons at their fingertips. Soap, Gaz, and Price are all with him, but that doesn't eliminate the anxiety of being vulnerable in a lion's den.

It doesn't help that Johnny has been acting... odd since Las Almas, and his own hangups have created an unintentional wall between them.

[macravishedbymactavish]

Someone to You (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader mostly Platonic)

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2019 / 2022 Masterlist |

Kyle comforts you after you get stood up on a date

TW for some light angst, being stood up, swearing

“You look amazing.” Kyle commented from his spot on your bed. Taking in your outfit as you smiled at him from in the mirror.

“Hope so, I'm nervous. I need this to go well.” You sighed, rubbing your palms over your thighs as you turned to face your best friend. Wiggling your shoulders as he chuckled, standing up and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Leading you toward the front foyer.

“Now, if you need anything, you give good ol’ Kyle a call. A ride, an escape, an alibi, or a pep talk. I'm a phone call away.” He explained, releasing you momentarily so you could put your shoes and jacket on. “You look drop dead gorgeous. Nothing to worry about.”

Smiling widely, you pulled the man into a tight hug. Thanking him before walking out the door, hands shaking as you walked to the restaurant. 

Tears poured down your cheeks as you walked home. Shoulders slumped forward as you wiped your face, inhaling deeply to keep from sobbing. 

You felt like a fool.

Silently stepping through the threshold, you heard Kyle laughing in the otherwise silent livingroom. Signaling that he was playing online with his friends.

“One sec, mates. Gotta see how date night went, I'll be back on shortly.” You grimaced at his words, squeezing your eyes closed as you slumped on the couch beside him. “So, when are you and Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome going out again?”

Kyle's demeanor shifted when he saw the tracks of tears covering your cheeks. Shoulders now tense as a frown pulled on his mouth.

“What happened?” He asked bluntly. Waiting quietly as you shook your head, sniffling as you finally made eye contact.

“He was so handsome and charming when we met.” You sniffled, shaking your head as your frown deepened. “I just don't know what I did wrong. He didn't even show up tonight.”

You felt the couch beside your shift, as your best friend was now up. Walking into the kitchen with heavy foot falls. Leaving you to cry on the couch, wondering why you just couldn't find a romantic connection with anyone. 

Kyle returned a moment later, placing a large bowl of ice cream on the table in front of you before returning to his seat. Both of you eating in silence for a minute before he spoke up.

“You know what, fuck that. Charming is overrated. You know who was charming? Ted Bundy.” Kyle scoffed, flicking his spoon.

“Ted Bundy is a whole ass serial killer. If you ask me, you dodged a bullet.” He continued, shifting so his body was facing you.

“Kyle!” You snorted, wiping your cheeks once more as he stood. Bowl disregarded on the table as he began pacing the room.

“What vehicle does he drive?” The man asked, laughing after a second when you didn't answer. Too busy giggling and wiping your cheeks on the couch. “Really, what vehicle?”

“Does it matter?” You asked, voice distorted by your laughter. Stomach and cheeks both aching as he slammed his hands flat on the coffee table.

“Yes! It matters!” Kyle, holding back his own laughter now stared at you. Leaned over the table as he kept his expression serious.

Clearing his throat, he looked at you. The tactical stare as you once called it. “Now, we need to know what vehicle he drives. If it's a Volkswagen, we have a copy cat killer on the loose.”

A beat of silence passed between you two, before both of you broke into laughter.

“Kyle! That's horrible.” Fresh tears still poured down your cheeks, long forgotten now as your best friend continued to tease.

“Killing people is horrible!” He yelled back, “you dodging a bullet with Mr. Fred BundtPan isn't though. “

He watched as you fell back into the cushions, shoulders shaking with laughter. Silently, he once again made his way over to where you sat once the shaking transitioned from laughter to pain.

“I really liked him, he seemed like such a good guy.” You whispered, wiping your cheeks once more as you played the embarrassment of sitting alone at the resturaunt over in your head.

“I know. He's a daft cunt for giving you up.” Kyle whispered, pulling you into his side as he rested his cheek atop your head. Listening to you pour all your emotions out, not once letting you go.

“At least I didn't get murdered by Fred Bundtpan.” You whispered toward the end of the night. Now leaning fully against your best friend as grogginess overtook your mind.

“That's very true. Fuck Fred Bundtpan.” Kyle nodded, thumb rubbing circles in your forearm as you sleepily echoed the end of his sentence. A smile tugging at the corners of his lips when you fell asleep against him. 

“Fuck Mr. Bundtpan indeed.” Kyle whispered into the dark. Wondering how mindless a man would have to be to give you of all people up.

A mistake he wouldn't be caught dead doing.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

[annie-of-my-eye]

If by some misfortune you have not yet encountered the amazing and entertaining videos of @mcnallhofficial on YouTube, then you're welcome

[bi-writes]

i'm new to the codfic world and my cousin is a pedro pascal girlie and when i was like "oh!! one of my favorite writers did pedro pascal stuff! here is a link!" she was like "oh don't worry. i read all of bi's stuff. even the codfic. B)" you have a family sponsored stamp of approval.

oh my gawwwdddd ;)))))

[ohbo-ohno]

sometimes i forget not all codfic is dark and then i read like a simon x reader and end up very confused for the majority bc ?? i thought we all agreed he wasn't soft and vulnerable like that ?? and then i realize i've made my way to the wrong corner of codblr lmao

[ceilidho]

As far as I’m concerned you’re the Dos Equis guy of codfic I’ll believe anything you say

KFKJDKHDKWKA “believe”?

I love you though 😭❤️❤️

[themoonshoes]

new ch of codfic coming. soon.

[forsaire]

A MacTavish Christmas

When Soap can't make it home for Christmas, Ghost plans a surprise and brings Christmas to him. (~2k)

It's me @emmster! 🤭🤭

Here is your secret santa gift! I hope you enjoy how utterly, disgustingly sweet it is 💚💖

Ao3 link

---

Soap had always made it home for Christmas, it was something he spoke about with warm pride. No matter where he was or how late a flight he had to take or when the last time he slept was, he was always there for Christmas morning. He was always there in his mum’s arms who would pepper him with kisses until he had to pry her arms off him, always handing out messily wrapped gifts with newspaper and anything he could find last minute to his siblings, always letting his nieces and nephews climb all over him in their excitement to have Uncle John’s attention.

He'd been especially excited the week leading up to it, his energy both infectious and exhausting. Ghost often found himself listening in content silence as Soap spoke about his fond memories of the traditions the MacTavish family had been doing for years.

On Christmas day, they hid the baby Jesus figurine somewhere in the house for the kiddos to find and whoever did got to return him to the manger, finishing the nativity scene. They always had these amazingly fresh croissant rolls to eat with dinner that everyone adored, and which one year almost caused World War III when they were accidentally forgotten. Soap’s mum had decided that decorating the Christmas tree would remain a family affair. After all the kids moved out, she waited until everyone came back together so they could put the ornaments on the tree together just like they always used to do as kids, reminiscing at the memories and laughing at the poorly decorated ones.

Ghost enjoyed listening to Soap ramble on, sharing his own family with Ghost even if just in colourful stories. Ghost didn’t have his own, not anymore, so he let Soap paint the picture for him. Soap smiled and Ghost savoured the way his eyes crinkled as they lit up.  

But that smile was stolen.

It was at the end of a debrief, Price giving the men a heads up about an urgent meeting coming up – illegal arms trading hands in preparation for an attack on one of the embassies halfway across the world. But the mission had landed in their lap and it was up to them to stake it out and prevent the meeting from happening.

“We leave at the crack of dawn,” Price finished saying. “0500 hours. Five days from now.”

Five days.

Ghost could see Soap’s face fall as the numbers aligned in his head.

Christmas day.

Soap had gotten lucky all these years, he knew he had. He had leave fall over the Christmas break, or he’d been able to make arrangements with other soldiers, or when he joined the 141 Price had given them the time off, or the world seemed to slow down for a couple days and they simply weren’t needed.

But not this time.

Soap’s disappointed eyes dropped, his lips downturned into a faint frown. He didn’t say anything, there wasn’t anything to say. Nothing would matter whether it came from Soap, or Ghost, or Gaz, or anyone else.

They had a job to do. Service above self.

And Ghost had to watch that heartbroken face all the way back to their room.  

For as much good as Soap put into the world, he deserved better. They saw the worst of the world 364 days a year, and still Soap was able to remain optimistic, warm-hearted, kind.

He deserved better.

So that night, Ghost found himself in Price’s office, a suggestion falling from his lips that he needed some help with organizing. And with a nod and a grunt – the greatest level of acceptance he was ever going to get out of Price – he received a promise that Price would help.

And the days went by, that subtle spark that was always inside Soap continuing to remain dim, his disappointment hurting Ghost because he knew he couldn’t do anything to fix it. As Christmas day slowly approached, Ghost began to worry a bit more that his plan wouldn’t come in on time.

But then, Christmas Eve, 11:30pm.

A knock on the door jolted both of their heads up from where they sat on their separate beds, Soap looking up from his drawing and Ghost looking up from his book.

“MacTavish,” a muffled voice called out from behind the door. “You have a package.”

Furrowed brows glanced over at Ghost in surprise before flicking back to the door. He put his notebook down and walked over to it, Ghost following a few steps behind. When he opened the door, his eyes were pulled downwards.

Sitting in front of them was a cardboard box, 2 feet long, 1 foot wide and tall. It was hastily wrapped with packing tape on both ends, looking as though it had just come from a warehouse. On top of that box was another smaller one, half the size, this one decorated in striped Christmas wrapping paper.

Incredulous eyes glanced at Ghost again to try and find an answer. Ghost simply gestured towards the packages.

Soap pulled the boxes inside and closed the door.

He took out his pocketknife and expertly slid the blade across the tape to break the seal. He flipped open the top and reached into the dark box.

The branches flopped open as he pulled it from the box, expanding as if taking a breath. Faint shock rippled across Soap’s face as he glanced down at what he was holding.

A small Christmas tree only two feet tall, the synthetic pine needles dense, and a bright red base attached to the bottom.

“Uhh…” Soap breathed out as he put the tree on the table. He then turned his attention to the smaller wrapped box.

He carefully tore the wrapping paper off to reveal a standard sized postal box. Soap untucked the tab and opened up the lid. On the very top was a handwritten note, the bright green crinkle cut packing paper surrounding it in all directions.

Soap picked up the note.

“This…” he said quietly, “this is my Ma’s writing…”

He began to read the note out loud.

Hi love,

Ma here, hoping you have a Merry Christmas. We were all looking forward to seeing you, the kids especially. I know you can’t be with us this year and I know how disappointed you were, but we all understand that your job means you have more people that rely on you than just us. And that’s okay.

We’ll miss you dearly, but I hope wherever you are, you can still have a MacTavish Christmas. On Christmas morning, we will decorate the tree in your absence and I hope you get to do the same too.

Come visit when you can. I’ll be waiting to spoil you rotten with my cooking. I love you, mo chridhe.

“P.S., thank Simon for the idea-”

Soap whipped his head up to look at Ghost, his eyes quickly then glancing into the box which was stacked with ornaments. His mouth dropped open a sliver.

“These…” he said incredulously, picking one up, “these are mine. From back home. These are some of the one’s my Ma has. You…”

Soap’s eyes softened as he glanced at Ghost.

Ghost’s smile was warm but reserved. He picked up one of the ornaments, an old looking reindeer made from construction paper, googly eyes, and pipe cleaners.

“You said it was tradition that the MacTavish’s decorate their tree on Christmas day,” he replied tenderly, hanging the reindeer onto one of the branches. “I wanted you to still be a part of it this year. I know it’s technically Christmas Eve, but…”

Soap’s expression had melted into grateful disbelief, touched beyond belief at Ghost’s words. His eyes shimmered as he stared up at Ghost softly.

“Now c’mon,” Ghost said quietly. “Let me see what embarrassing family ornaments you have in here.”

Soap continued looking at Ghost for a few more moments, the weight of all his attention like a warm blanket wrapped around Ghost’s shoulders. Then, he smiled, Ghost’s life being ignited with that spark yet again.

Soap reached into the box and pulled another ornament out, smiling down at it sentimentally before slipping the ribbon around one of the branches to hang it on the tree. They slowly decorated the tree, Ghost barely paying attention to what the ornaments were. No, he was focused on the way Soap’s eyes lit up upon recognizing them, sometimes laughing, sometimes crinkling his eyes happily, something cringing.

“This one,” Soap said, holding up a small picture in a golden-rimmed frame with a young boy inside. He had a round face, crooked teeth, and the same familiar blue eyes. “This one was made in after school daycare. But as a kid I didn’t realize my Ma gave them the photo herself. But she still acted so shocked and thrilled to receive it from wee John.”

“Oh, and this one!” Soap held up a snowman wearing a t-shirt with the Greek flag on it.  “I got this one on a family trip to Greece.”

Soap’s eyes suddenly faltered in reminiscence. He picked up a ceramic dog, the golden retriever peeking its head out of a wreath, the name Baxter on top with the year 2015 on its collar. “This was my childhood dog. He was the best…”

Soap then widened his eyes as he reached into the box again. He pulled out a giraffe wearing a Santa hat made up of a bunch of thin, cylindrical beads that stood on top of a blue base.

“Ghost,” Soap said seriously, holding it out in between them. “I need you to shoot this giraffe.”

Ghost’s air pistol immediately became unsheathed and he levelled it at the giraffe, the muzzle hovering just a few inches away.

“Goodbye old friend…” Ghost lamented before pulling the trigger. His hand jolted up slightly at the recoil as the bullet was fired.

Soap pressed his thumbs into the base from underneath, causing the taut string that the beads sat on to suddenly go slack.

“Gah!” Soap let out, mimicking the sound of getting hit as the giraffe instantly flopped over. After a second, he let go of the button and the giraffe bounced back up, resurrected once again. He pressed the button several times, watching it flop over and over.

Soap giggled. It was so stupid, but Ghost succumbed to Soap’s joy and also found himself laughing at the floppy giraffe, the feeling light and freeing.

With his own smile plastered onto his face, he listened as Soap recounted some of the ornament’s stories. Or they simply laughed at the wonky one’s clearly made by a dumb child. Glittery pinecones, felt mittens, marker drawings on sheets of wood, one with Santa’s bare ass entirely on display, fancier snowflakes and bobbles.

And before he knew it, Ghost’s watched beeped twice, something it did at midnight every night. The tree was crowded with ornaments, some of the branches teetering under the weight. Soap looked down at Ghost’s watch, also familiar with what that beep meant.

Ghost leaned over to peer into the box, it now just a mess of crinkled paper. But peeking out from underneath the stuffing was something shining, yellow. Ghost reached in and pulled it out, shaking away the loose paper.

It was a star tree topper, its miniature size perfect to fit onto their miniature tree. Ghost stuck the curling base onto the top of the tree. It slanted slightly and he adjusted it with a finger nudge to sit up straight. Once he was sure it wouldn’t fall over, he turned back to Soap.

Soap was watching him with indescribable tenderness, an inkling of a smile lingering warmly on his face.

“There’s another MacTavish tradition I haven’t told you about…” he said softly, his voice low and quiet, his words just for the two of them.

“Yeah?” Ghost asked. “What’s that?”

Soap stepped closer, enough to send Ghost’s heart leaping into his throat. He was so close, all he had to do was reach out, he could pull Soap in by the waist, press them together.

Soap’s eyes flickered down to Ghost’s lips.

“The person who puts the star on gets a kiss…”

Then without hesitation, he leaned in, inching up slightly on his toes and pressing their lips together.

As soon as those lips were on him, Ghost’s mind blanked, whisking him away from reality until there was nothing else but the two of them. Ghost immediately melted into the kiss, his soul overwhelmed with relief after having suffered with yearning for so long.

Ghost wrapped his arm around Soap’s waist, easily pulling him as if they’d done it a million times before. Soap’s hand reached up and grabbed at Ghost’s shoulders, locking them in place.

It was beyond anything Ghost could have imagined, butterflies exploding in his stomach, and lights dancing behind his eyelids, and softness greater than anything he had felt. He was dizzy for a second as he felt himself reorient. Then, stillness. Every part of himself pointed at Soap.

Their kiss ended far too soon – though Ghost could have taken those lips forever and never gotten tired of them – and Soap gently rest their foreheads together. His hand cupped the side of Ghost’s face, such tenderness single handedly repairing the deep cavern that had torn Ghost’s heart open long ago.

His thumb gingerly rubbed back and forth.

“Merry Christmas, Simon…” he said softly.

Ghost couldn’t hold himself back and he searched desperately for Soap’s lips once again, finding salvation in their warmth. Soap chuckled and wrapped his arms around Ghost’s neck, happily sighing into the kiss as well.

[sentientcave]

i bring you fruit as tribute. 🥭 + 🍋!

🥭 Rank from most enjoyable/fun to write to least: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Crack.

This is actually really hard to decide. I guess Fluff, Angst, Smut and then Crack, although I do love to get silly with it. Maybe flip those last two. Writing smut is fucking hard.

🍋 What’s your favorite spicier trope to write?

I love like, marriage tropes, forced or of convenience or any variation on the theme. Especially when there's some kind of expectation that the involved parties have to bone down. Also like, it's not one that I've written for Codfics but I love the like alien or fantasy culture trope where one accidentally engages in mating rituals 👀 Also it's one I've seen a few times around here (you literally wrote and posted one today) where it's like partner sharing or showing off to a superior officer/higher ranking individual? I've started a few fics like that but haven't posted any yet (because I'm surprisingly bad at writing actual sex lmao. Maybe not surprising.) Also I'm a big big sucker for like "oh you're injured" and then succumbing to the intimacy of being cared for. I use it in Sparrow twice. And I might use it a third time! Who is going to stop me, the police?

Thanks for asking!!

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

TWELVE DAYS OF FICMAS!

Okay maybe it's a little stupid, but I've written out twelve prompts of Christmas fics!

Yes, some are smut, most are fluff because that's what I write more of and are better at writing.

I've been working on this so hard that I haven't been writing much else. Still will have a special 100 follower fic (König x Reader because I basically will never really write him unless recommended/asked to) and still will TRY to get requests done, but they'll take a little while longer.

PROMPT LIST:

1. Mean Girls Christmas Dance w/Simon

2. Baking Gingerbread w/Kyle

3. Carolling w/Johnny and Kyle

4. Christmas With His Family w/Johnny

5. Ice-skating w/ Price

6. Secret Santa w/Simon and Price

7. Setting up the Christmas Tree w/Kyle and Price

8. Christmas Shopping w/Simon

9. Christmas Cookies and Moviethons/Johnny

10. Mistletoe Pranking w/Kyle

11. Christmas Dinner Preparations w/ Johnny and Simon

12. Wrapping presents w/ Price

---

I'll be getting these all out (if everything goes as planned) at noon EST, and I'm still writing other things! Thank you, Merry Christmas <3

[soaps-mohawk]

I fell asleep reading codfics but somehow ended up dreaming about George Weasley confessing he liked me and woke up at that exact moment he did because I could feel my heart beat in my ears. I'm just wondering how this guy wormed his way into my mind when all I've been thinking about was CRCB🕴️

And since the appearance of those two threesome scenes, I had this thought like, would the pack ever go through a—packsome?

If yeah then, I'm betting on the alphas getting exhausted the most🥳

—🎼🎙️

That's...quite the jump there. I haven't watched Harry Potter in years. Just isn't the same anymore.

Anyway

A packsome? Maybe.

[g36a2]

punk teenagers strangely friendly to cops are a baffling yet recurring type of character in codfic. post-tiktok is a grim time to be a punk i suppose

[aietherealsz]

me when most fics of simon riley are smut and cis-fem coded :-(