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shybluebirdninja · 3 months ago

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Abyss of Time

Summary: In a dystopian future where mutants are hunted, Logan, a 170-year-old warrior, meets Y/n, a 25-year-old human who helps mutants escape persecution. Drawn to her bravery, Logan becomes increasingly possessive as their bond deepens, especially when Y/n’s dedication to her cause puts her in danger. Tensions rise as Y/n grows close to another mutant in their group, testing Logan’s control and their relationship. The story comes into the complexities of love and survival in a world where danger lurks at every turn, and Logan’s possessiveness might be the only thing keeping Y/n alive.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Female human-reader

Warning : None

The city was a maze of shadows and ruins, a twisted labyrinth where only the desperate dared to tread. Once a symbol of progress and civilization, it had crumbled under the weight of fear and hatred. The streets, once bustling with life, were now desolate, haunted by the echoes of a war that had left no corner untouched.

Y/n darted through the narrow alleyways, her breath coming in sharp bursts as she led a small group of mutants through the darkness. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from fear, but from the adrenaline that had become as familiar to her as breathing. This was her life now—running, hiding, fighting to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The group of mutants following her was a mix of ages and abilities, each one marked by the telltale signs of their genetic differences. In this world, those differences were a death sentence. The government had declared war on mutants, branding them as a threat to humanity, and had unleashed the Sentinels—soulless machines programmed to hunt and kill without mercy.

Y/n had lost count of how many mutants she had helped over the years. She didn’t do it for recognition or reward. She did it because it was right, because someone had to stand against the madness that had consumed the world. And because, deep down, she believed that mutants had as much right to live as anyone else.

As they approached an abandoned warehouse, Y/n slowed her pace, signaling for the group to stop. The warehouse was one of the many safe houses scattered throughout the city, hidden in plain sight among the ruins. It wasn’t much—just four walls and a roof—but it offered temporary refuge from the relentless hunt.

Y/n pushed open the rusted door and stepped inside, her senses on high alert. The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of a few battery-operated lamps. She scanned the room, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and froze when she saw a figure standing in the corner, half-hidden in the shadows.

Logan.

His presence filled the room, an unspoken threat to anyone who dared to cross him. Y/n had heard of him long before they met—stories of a man who had lived for over a century, who had fought in wars that were now the stuff of legend. But nothing could have prepared her for the reality of him. Logan was a force of nature, all raw power and barely contained rage, and yet, there was something about him that drew her in, something she couldn’t quite define.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked, her voice steady despite the tension thrumming in the air.

Logan stepped into the light, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Heard you were takin’ a risky route tonight. Thought you could use some backup.”

Y/n bristled at his tone, at the implication that she couldn’t handle herself. “I’ve been doing this long before you showed up. I don’t need your help.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, and you’ve been lucky so far. But luck runs out, kid.”

The endearment, meant to be a casual remark, stung more than Y/n cared to admit. She wasn’t a child, and she resented being treated like one. But she also knew better than to argue with Logan when he was in this mood. Instead, she turned to the group of mutants behind her, their eyes wide with fear and exhaustion.

“Wait here,” she instructed them before turning back to Logan. “We’ll rest here for a bit, then move on.”

Logan nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’ll keep watch.”

Y/n didn’t bother to respond. She knew Logan well enough to understand that he would do what he wanted, regardless of what she said. As she moved to help the mutants settle in, she couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was different, that something was lurking just out of sight, waiting to strike.

Time passed in tense silence, the only sounds the occasional rustle of movement or the distant hum of a Sentinel patrol. Y/n tried to rest, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. She kept replaying Logan’s words in her head, the way he had looked at her, as if he was trying to protect her from something she couldn’t see.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice at her side. “Y/n?”

She turned to see one of the younger mutants, a boy no older than sixteen, standing next to her. His eyes were wide with worry, his hands trembling as he clutched a worn blanket around his shoulders.

“Are we safe here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n forced a smile, trying to reassure him even though she wasn’t entirely sure herself. “For now, yes. We’ll move again soon, just to be safe.”

The boy nodded, but the fear in his eyes didn’t fade. Y/n placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay close to me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The boy nodded again, his grip on the blanket tightening. Y/n watched as he returned to the others, huddling close to an older mutant who put a protective arm around him. The sight tugged at her heart. These people had lost so much—family, friends, homes—and yet they still found the strength to keep going. It was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, mutant or not.

Logan’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re good with them.”

Y/n glanced over at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on her.

“They trust you,” he continued, his expression unreadable. “That’s not an easy thing to earn these days.”

Y/n shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “They don’t have much of a choice. It’s either trust me or risk getting caught.”

Logan pushed off the wall and walked over to her, his presence as overwhelming as ever. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

Y/n looked up at him, her heart skipping another beat at the intensity in his gaze. She had never been good at reading Logan, never quite sure what was going on behind those eyes. But right now, she could see something she hadn’t noticed before—something that made her pulse quicken.

Logan reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was so unexpected, so out of character, that Y/n froze, unsure of how to react.

“You’re brave, Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice rough with something she couldn’t name. “But bravery can get you killed if you’re not careful.”

Y/n swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I know the risks.”

Logan’s hand lingered for a moment before he dropped it to his side. “I’m not talkin’ about them. I’m talkin’ about you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched at the words, at the implication behind them. She had always known that Logan was protective, that he had a tendency to take on more than he should. But this felt different. This felt personal.

Before she could respond, a noise outside the warehouse caught their attention. Logan’s head snapped up, his senses immediately on high alert. Y/n tensed, her heart pounding in her chest as she strained to hear what had set him off.

The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as a figure stepped inside. For a split second, she feared it was a Sentinel, that their hiding place had been discovered. But then she recognized the newcomer and let out a sigh of relief.

It was Jake, a mutant they had picked up a few weeks ago. He was young, not much older than Y/n, with a cocky grin and a swagger that belied the horrors he had seen. Y/n had grown fond of him, his easy smile and unshakable optimism a rare comfort in a world gone mad.

“Jake,” Y/n breathed, her relief evident in her voice. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Jake grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Thought I’d check on you guys, see if you needed any help.”

Logan’s expression darkened at the sight of Jake, his posture tensing. Y/n noticed the change immediately, a knot of unease forming in her stomach.

“We’re fine,” Logan said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jake raised an eyebrow at Logan’s response but didn’t back down. “Just thought I’d offer. No harm in that, right?”

Y/n stepped between them, sensing the rising tension. “It’s okay, Jake. We’re just getting ready to move out. You can come with us if you want.”

Jake’s grin widened. “Sure thing. Lead the way, boss.”

Logan’s eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous, but he said nothing as Y/n led the group out of the warehouse. The streets were eerily quiet, the city shrouded in an unnatural silence that set Y/n’s nerves on edge. She kept a close watch on their surroundings, every sense on high alert as they made their way through the shadows.

Logan fell into step beside her, his presence a comforting weight at her side. But she could feel the tension radiating off him, the barely contained anger that simmered just beneath the surface.

As they walked, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, that the fragile peace they had managed to maintain was about to shatter. She glanced over at Logan, searching his face for some sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

“Logan,” she began, but he cut her off with a sharp look.

“Stay close,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep an eye on him.”

Y/n followed his gaze and saw Jake a few paces ahead, his posture relaxed, seemingly unaware of the danger around them. She frowned, confused by Logan’s sudden hostility.

“Logan, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he watched Jake. “Just do as I say, Y/n.”

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but something in Logan’s tone made her stop. She nodded, falling silent as they continued through the city, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

It wasn’t until they reached another safe house, this one a dilapidated apartment building on the outskirts of the city, that Y/n finally had a chance to confront Logan. The others had gone inside to rest, leaving them alone in the dimly lit hallway.

“What the hell is your problem?” Y/n demanded, her voice low but fierce. “Why are you acting like this?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the door where the others had gone, then back to Y/n. “You need to be careful with him.”

“With Jake?” Y/n asked, incredulous. “Why? He’s been nothing but helpful.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his possessive nature rearing its head. “He’s getting too close to you.”

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the accusation. “Too close? Logan, he’s a friend. That’s it.”

Logan stepped closer, his towering presence making Y/n’s heart race. “He’s a distraction, Y/n. And distractions can get you killed.”

Y/ne’s anger flared at his words, at the way he was trying to control her. “You don’t get to decide who I’m friends with, Logan. You don’t get to dictate who I care about.”

Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her closer. His eyes were blazing with a mix of anger and something else—something that made Y/n’s breath catch in her throat.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he growled, his voice rough with emotion. “You have no idea what’s out there, what could happen if you let your guard down.”

Y/n wrenched her arm free, her eyes flashing with defiance. “I don’t need you to protect me, Logan. I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”

Logan’s expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something like regret passing through his eyes. “You’re brave, Y/n. But bravery can be a double-edged sword.”

Y/n stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to argue, to push him away, but she couldn’t ignore the truth in his words. She had seen too many people die because they had been too brave, too willing to take risks. And yet, she couldn’t let fear control her, couldn’t let Logan’s possessiveness dictate her life.

Before she could say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, breaking the tense silence. Y/n turned to see Jake approaching, his easy grin in place, completely unaware of the storm brewing between her and Logan.

“Hey, everything okay?” Jake asked, his eyes flicking between the two of them.

Y/n forced a smile, trying to keep the tension from showing on her face. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just talking strategy.”

Jake nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Cool. Just wanted to check in before we head out again.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his posture tensing as Jake turned to leave. Y/n could feel the anger radiating off him, the jealousy that was so obvious it practically crackled in the air.

Once Jake was out of earshot, Y/n turned back to Logan, her voice low and firm. “You need to stop this, Logan. Jake is not a threat.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his eyes hard. “He’s more of a threat than you realize.”

Y/n shook her head, frustration boiling over. “This isn’t about Jake. This is about you not being able to control everything around you.”

Logan didn’t respond, his silence only fueling Y/n’s anger. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

“I can take care of myself,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to do it for me.”

Logan’s eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I know you can, Y/n. But I can’t help it.”

Y/n stared at him, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. She had never seen Logan like this, so raw and exposed. It was as if the walls he had built around himself were crumbling, leaving him defenseless against the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress.

Without thinking, Y/n reached out, her hand resting on his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, the warmth of his skin seeping into her own.

“Logan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Logan’s hand covered hers, his touch gentle despite the storm raging inside him. “You won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his words, the promise that lay beneath them. She had always known that Logan was dangerous, that he was capable of doing terrible things in the name of survival. But this was different. This was about something deeper, something that scared her more than any Sentinel ever could. Before she could say anything else, Logan leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead in a gesture that was both tender and possessive. Y/n’s heart fluttered at the contact, her emotions a tangled mess of fear and longing.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Logan murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Even if it means keeping you away from everyone else.”

Y/n closed her eyes, the weight of his words settling over her like a heavy blanket. She knew that Logan’s protectiveness came from a place of love, that he cared for her more deeply than he would ever admit. But she also knew that his possessiveness could be dangerous, that it could drive a wedge between them if she wasn’t careful.

When Logan finally pulled away, Y/n felt the loss of his warmth like a physical blow. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, his expression torn between desire and something darker.

“We should go,” Logan said, his voice strained. “The others are waiting.”

Y/n nodded, her heart heavy with the knowledge that their relationship had just crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. As they made their way back to the group, she couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change, that the fragile bond they had built was about to be tested in ways they couldn’t possibly imagine.

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The journey to the next safe house was tense, the silence between Y/n and Logan growing heavier with each passing moment. Jake tried to make conversation a few times, but the mood was too dark, the unspoken tension too palpable for any lighthearted banter to cut through.

When they finally reached their destination, a rundown building that had once been a school, Y/n was relieved to see that the other mutants were already inside, safe and sound. But the relief was short-lived. The moment they stepped through the door, they were met with the sight of another mutant standing in the center of the room, his presence radiating a power that made the air hum with electricity.

Y/n recognized him instantly—Erik, a mutant with the ability to control metal. He was a legend among their kind, both revered and feared for his abilities and his ruthless determination to protect mutantkind at all costs.

“Erik,” Y/n greeted him, her voice wary. “What are you doing here?”

Erik’s gaze swept over the group, his expression unreadable. “I heard you were in need of assistance.”

Y/n ’s heart sank at the words, at the implications behind them. Erik’s help always came with a price, one that Y/n wasn’t sure she was willing to pay.

“We’re managing,” she said carefully, glancing at Logan for support.

Logan’s expression was unreadable, but Y/n could sense the tension in him, the way his muscles were coiled, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Erik’s gaze flicked to Logan, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve made an interesting choice of allies, Y/n.”

Y/n ’s heart skipped a beat at the subtle jab, at the way Erik’s eyes seemed to gleam with something that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Logan’s been a great help,” Y/n said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

Erik’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “I’m sure he has. But his methods... they’re not always in line with what’s best for our kind.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. Y/n could feel the anger radiating off him, the barely contained rage that was so close to the surface.

“We’re doing what we can to survive,” Y/n interjected quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated. “That’s all that matters right now.”

Erik’s gaze shifted back to her, his smile fading into something more serious. “Survival is important, yes. But so is our future, Y/n . And sometimes, to secure that future, we have to make sacrifices.”

Y/n’s stomach churned at the words, at the implications behind them. She knew that Erik was right in some ways, that their survival depended on making tough decisions. But she also knew that Logan wouldn’t take kindly to any suggestion that involved putting her or anyone else at risk.

“I’m not interested in making sacrifices,” Logan growled, his voice low and threatening. “Especially not when it comes to Y/n.”

Erik’s eyes gleamed with a cold amusement. “And there it is—the possessiveness of the Wolverine. It’s almost... predictable.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she glanced between the two men, the tension in the room reaching a fever pitch. She knew that if something wasn’t done to diffuse the situation, things could get out of hand quickly.

“Erik, we appreciate your concern,” Y/n said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Logan’s arm, trying to calm him down. “But we’re handling things in our own way. Logan’s methods might be unorthodox, but they work. And right now, that’s all that matters.”

Y/n’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment, as if weighing her words. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained guarded. “Very well, Y/n . But remember—sometimes the only way to truly survive is to let go of the things that hold us back.”

With that, Erik turned and walked out of the room, leaving Y/n and Logan alone in the thick silence that followed his departure. Y/n let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, her hand still resting on Logan’s arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Logan’s expression softened as he looked down at her, some of the anger fading from his eyes. “I’m fine, Y/n. But we need to be careful. Erik’s not someone to be trusted.”

Y/n nodded, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that Erik’s words had struck a chord with Logan. There was a darkness in his eyes, a shadow that hadn’t been there before, and it made her worry about what the future held for them.

As they rejoined the others, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that things were about to get a lot more complicated. The fragile peace they had managed to maintain was hanging by a thread, and she had a feeling that it wouldn’t take much to tear it apart.

And as she glanced at Logan, she knew that the possessiveness he felt for her, the fierce protectiveness that drove him, could either be their salvation—or their undoing.

#hugh jackman #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan xmen #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett x you #logan x reader #wolverine origins #logan wolverine #james logan howlett #james howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan #x men wolverine #wolverine x fe!reader #wolverine x reader #the wolverine #wolverine

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fernsproutxx · 6 months ago

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GR96

@fusionspruntcityjournal

So how do you produce electricity with living plants? Simply by using the natural processes that already occur. In short: the plant produces organic matter via photosynthesis. Only part of this organic matter is then used for its own growth. The rest is excreted via the roots. Around the roots, bacteria feed on the organic matter and they release electrons. If you’re able to harvest the electrons into an electrode, you can couple the first electrode to a counter-electrode and build an electrical circuit, like in a battery. The electrons flow back into the natural system via the counter-electrode, so it’s completely circular. Because we use the natural processes around the plant, nature is not harmed. It works day and night, summer and winter. It only stops when the plant and its surroundings completely dry up or freeze over.

Sedum Oviferum

Sedum pachyphyllum is a ground-hugging succulent that spreads by rooting fallen stems and leaves. The succulent also goes by the names “Cerise Moonstones” or “Mauve Pebbles”. The short and stumpy round leaves have a light silvery-purple color; positioned at a right angles to the stem and curve upward, which in the wintertime, the tips of said leaves will turn into a notorious red.

Sedum Oviferum is a succulent that is very easy to grow and maintain. It is a resilient plant that can tolerate drought, moist and dry soils, and when given adequate exposure to sunlight and sufficient water, Cerise Moonstones will thrive outdoors. The Sedum Oviferum succulent grows at its best with regular exposure to sunlight. If Mauve Pebbles are planted in an area in a garden that gets plenty of sunlight per day, you will be rewarded with bright coloured leaves and flowers. In winter and early spring, Cerise Moonstones actively grow and produce blooms featuring red-orange petals and sepals that have the same pigmentation as the leaves. The flowers produced by Cerise Moonstones have a bell shape and a sugary fragrance.

Subterranean Clover

Trifolium subterraneum is also known as the subterranean clover (often shortened to sub clover), or subterranean trefoil. The plant's name comes from its underground seed development, a characteristic not possessed by other clovers. It can thrive in poor-quality soil where other clovers cannot survive.

This species is self-fertilizing, unlike most legume forage crops such as alfalfa and other clovers, which are pollinated by insects, especially honeybees. It is also grown in places where the extreme ranges of soil type and quality, rainfall, and temperature make the variable tolerances of sub clover especially useful.

Functionality

GR96 are powered by any plant of choosing on their back pod (the one we are going to discuss has a giant Sedum Oviferum and multiple sub clovers to operate) which is held in place by five strong suction cups. They’re manufactured for community gardens (strictly only one per garden), but they can also be bought by high class citizens for private properties, though at a way bigger cost since they’re financed by the city.

They can use their hands as scissors, shovels, and for watering (hence the big forearms, for storing the water), the latter which they do by dipping their hands in a bucket, opening the valve on their forearms so they can fill them up and releasing the water from the pinholes on their palms. Their “eyes” are actually a screen that can show plenty expressions, but the two circles above that peripheral screen are the real environmental sensors. They also have the same sensors on their ankles for inspecting the lower plants and ground without the need of kneeling, and their feet are shaped in a way so that weight is evenly distributed, lowering the chances of damaging a plant if they were to step on it. The ear like protrusions are small solar panels, used as backup energy (they don’t have any communication properties). Their speaker aka their “voice” is the mohawk-like structure on the top (which also has their series barcode 128 on the lower back), but when they speak there are these strips at the sides of the face mask that light up with the volume. The mask (non removable) has a set of pipes that are used for analyzing the air quality and humidity of the area surrounding them.

#my art #fusionsprunt #fusionsprunt oc #fusionsprunt clover #i’ll reblog this again later with their lore and alt design #the sedum oviferum is a fictional succulent i came up with since i couldn’t find one that i liked lmao #literally said fuck it it’s my oc i make the rules #[slaps a giant plant inside]#the energy gathering segment is based on a real article!#in its current state it can only power small leds #but i like to imagine a future where that energy could power full fledged robots :0

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months ago

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Remy I miss you I love you also. Titus. I love him and miss him. And also Nightlight reader. Babies. Beloved.

[I had am old blurbo with Nightlight and Titus I scrapped. Here's one for him and Remmy too]

Remmy finding Nightlight Reader at a thrift store while looking for more dolls to add to his collection of antiques. They're the most beautiful "doll" he's never seen- (anything that has a humanoid form and is made of plastic, wood, cotton is a doll to Remmy- even androids). He takes the android home - planning to clean them up and give them a comfortable spot in his room. When Remmy touches the heart on their chest-

"Powering on.......backup battery at 12% percent....Accessing memory...No memories found... error...error...err-"

"Ah!.. That was scary. Hm, where did I end up now? Oh! Hello, tiny person - are you my new owner?"

Remmy instantly falls in love seeing this robot pick up on the dolls on his bed and speaking to it as a normal person. "Um, actually..I think that's me."

"Whoa! Where did you come from? My apologies, owner - what should I call you?

Remmy falls more in love with Nightlight by the second. They're so caring, and warm, and they love to play with his dolls as much as he does. They would follow his every command as part of their programming, but Remmy hardly feels the need to order them around because he knows they'll never leave him and for that he'd do anything from them. Stays awake all night until nightlight carries him to bed making new clothes for them. Buys all the books he needs to repair any minor damages they might have - and completely erase any trace of their memories of the past.

All Remmy needs is Nightlight. All Nightlight needs is Remmy.

Titus is given Nightlight Reader as a present from his guards after finding the android in a landfill on earth and repairing them to working order- The emperor has been more irritable than usual- if he dislikes this bot, his guards pray that smashing them to bits will be enough to quell his anger at least for a time. The guards present the android to their king and wait-

"What have you brought to bore me with now?'

"We believe it is an earth made machine designed to relieve stress for humans-"

The emperor chuckles. "Is that so?~ I have been rather pent up recently, and it isn't a complete eyesore, but you are aware of our difference in size, yes? Are you certain it won't break on first use?"

"Er, not in that exact way, your highness. You see, they-"

Titus huffs. "Then what good is it?"

"Just....allow me to turn them on. Please place your finger on their heart, your highness."

"This is ridiculous...."

The emperor does as instructed

"Powering on....Battery at 100%...System rebooting."

"Mm....Huh? What a strange place... Are you my new own..er? Oh, owner- your stress levels are dangerously high - they're increasing by the second! Why won't I sing you a lullaby while you relax with your favorite drink? I know lots, but I can always make up new ones - maybe one about your pretty eyes."

"That..... actually sounds wonderful. I haven't had a decent night of rest in ages. It's humorous to me how you were able to figure that out in seconds when these fools have been with me for centuries. I think I'm going to enjoy your company more than I thought."

Titus cannot go or sleep anywhere which his little nightlight. Feeling their heated, smaller form is all thats needed to knock him out like a light. Nightlight Reader is restricted from joining Titus in meetings for that sole reason. This whole ass tyrant sits in his chair pouting like a child until he can reunite with his little love. Decorates them like the doll they are with jewelry and adorable outfits. Whenever Titus is in one of his rages, guards quickly run off to retrieve nightlight from wherever they're exploring in the palace

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #male yandere #Remmy my oc #Titus my oc #Yan

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xiaq · 6 months ago

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Listen, I'm a boss ass bitch and all but when I call upstairs for my husband to bring down one of my backup DeWalt batteries for the orbital sander, if he doesn't deliver it with a gentle kiss to whatever part of my face is least disgusting I will make sad high-pitched noises until he remembers his duty.

#lol #diy #carpentry #our gender roles are fun #he makes dinner #i make bookcases

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ghouldtime · 2 months ago

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Ghost'ed Part Two

Follow up to this post about literal ghost! Ghost

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Normally, an investigation wouldn't be halted so early on, especially upon seeing true, actual evidence. However, to simply put it, your equipment was fucked. No amount of button pushing would change that and replacing the batteries was a bust considering those somehow disappeared too.

Ghost the ghost who ghosted you might as well be a rotten thief too. You're certain that you put those batteries in your bag yet no matter how you rummaged through the many compartments it was as if they had vanished into thin air, much like the specter that roamed somewhere around the house.

As much as frustration weighed on you, urging you to just throw your hands up into the air once more, walk out, and quit - you knew that wasn't an option. You'd been paid to do a job and still had yet to finish. Saying "Oh well, sorry, my equipment died" wouldn't be a good enough explanation and would only end up with more sceptics and a thorough verbal berating you're sure would be worse than dealing with any ghost out there.

You couldn't let this bastard win. It's time to go the old fashioned route.

"Okay, I know you're here." You spoke as you grabbed your 'emergency' power out kit, knowing that there's no better time than the present to use it, "But so am I. You're not getting rid of me."

At least it paid to be prepared. It wasn't your first rodeo and unruly ghosts weren't unheard of but this is certainly the first time that one has had the audacity to steal your batteries.

A simple golden compass, glowstick, service desk bell, manual thermometer, mechanical film camera, and spirit board would hopefully be your saviors. All of your high tech equipment had failed you but that didn't mean the old reliable, tried and true methods couldn't work. They'd just take more time.

Rummaging in the bag, your fingers curled around the smooth glass of the thermometer tube and the gilded surface of the compass alike, pulling them out and settling them into your hands. The glowstick followed suit as you took it in hand, the crack of the tube echoing throughout the house as you shook the contents to life. While the dull, luminous green glow might not be much, it at least was better than having to rely on your eyes in the darkness alone.

The rest of the equipment stayed in the bag as you hauled it on your back. They'd come in use when you finally found this slippery bastard who you were already beginning to not like.

Each step you took further into the house echoed off the lofty walls and ricocheted off the high ceilings as you set off once more. Every hair stood on end as you kept all of your senses on high alert, listening for any little creak or groan that might give away the presence of something else.

This wasn't a basic ghost, it couldn't be. You mentally mused as you checked through the kitchen, the red liquid of the thermometer refusing to go down stubbornly as the compass idly swayed. Normally ghosts didn't usually have the capability to drain all equipment at once. Sure, draining a battery or two or short circuiting some devices were common enough - that's why you had backups. But all of them? That's nearly unheard of.

And that wasn't even considering the fact that it stole your batteries.

You didn't misplace them, that you knew. You'd reassured yourself too many times for it to be anything else. Checking through your equipment and being anything less than thorough wasn't your style. When it came to dealing with the paranormal and the undead, you couldn't be too careful. And yet it's like your batteries didn't even exist in the first place, like you'd never even put them there.

How it possessed such capability was beyond you.

Were you dealing with a ghost? Came to mind as an intrusive, unwelcomed thought as you checked the bathroom, scrutinizing for any abnormalities. The pipes felt cold to the touch still and absolutely nothing had moved in there, making yet another room that was a bust.

Ghosts usually weren't this strong. Taking things is unheard of. Was it a demon? The possibility flashed across your mind as you creaked open the door to the guest room, checking the temperature and compass alike which sadly both seemed content to stay in one place.

Then again, it drained everything. Maybe it took that energy just to steal the batteries. You tried to reason. A shudder ran down your spine at the possibility of dealing with something much worse than a simple paranormal apparition.

Dying to Ghost the demon would be laughable. This was just a prankster spirit, right? It had to be.

Checking through the house twice more turned up no results. Not a single temperature fluctuation, not a single moment of the compass going awry. Whoever or whatever this was was one slippery, sneaky, bastard. Your mind shuffled through the possibilities as you racked your brain, trying to figure out the next steps in this careful dance.

It couldn't leave the house, most spirits and paranormal were location bounded. So it had to be here. Maybe you needed to give it a minute after doing something that big - maybe it just needed to recharge.

Sighing, your lips pursed downwards into a frown. Wandering around aimlessly for another half hour would prove to be fruitless. Trying to do the same thing over and over again and expecting different results was the definition of insanity. You needed to switch it up.

Normally, taunting and trying to draw it out was risky behavior, but your equipment was broken (that would be a pain in the ass later to swap out the batteries on literally everything) and what else could you do? Maybe except for hoping that this just was a really bad spirit and not something worse.

"Okay, Ghost. That's your name, right?" You spoke as you started walking down the halls once more, brandishing your glowstick like the faint beam of light could turn up some evidence. "I'm not playing games with you anymore, I'm here for a reason."

Silence still greeted you, only interrupted by the sounds of your own breaths and heartbeat alike. "But I suppose you are too."

The stillness that greeted you should be expected for such a house but it still sent a shiver down your spine and had your hair stand on end as you tense, ears straining as you listened for something, anything.

Oh how you wish your beloved spirit box was working right about now.

"I don't know if you want to be here," You began as you kept walking, eyeing the streaks of paint that you supposed were supposed to be thought provoking paintings that hung on the wall, a small cringe running through your system at them, " But I sure don't. I mean, it's a place creepier than you. Who chooses white furniture? Now that's scary."

You're not sure if talking would do anything but at least it might make you feel a little less alone in this place, like you could possibly find the something that you knew was out there somewhere. "Not exactly a prime place for a haunt. Can't imagine you went out of your way to want to be here."

Solitude seemed to be your only companion as everything went unanswered, still, as your round of the house started to creep up upon a full circle. "Look, Ghost, I'm here whether you like it or not. And I'm here to help. It's your choice if it's going to be the homeowners I'm helping, or you. I'm the only one going to listen. You think the people who monogrammed their soaps are going to care about what happens to you?"

Maybe you needed to instigate, just a little bit. "If I can't find something or get an answer, you know what's going to happen? They're going to get a hot-shot know-it-all in who does something stupid and either straight up banishes you into non-existence, or traps you to a room. Do you really want that?"

Yet again the echo of your voice was the only thing that greeted you, but out of the corner of your eye the red of your thermometer slowly bobbed down, as if having been awaiting this cue.

Thoroughly resisting the urge to cheer as your heart leapt at the possibility that you've finally called its number, you didn't stop the smile that bloomed on your face or how you nearly dropped the items in your hand as you held them up.

The thin needle on the compass swayed the smallest bit, far too much to be because of the smallest jittery tremble in your hands. You had to keep going, this was the right way, "C'mon, you just have to work with me. That's all that I ask. Maybe I can even get you out of here." You spoke louder, hoping that your voice may carry further.

When the last sentence left your mouth, the compass needle twirled as a chill settled upon the air in an instantaneous reaction. Goosebumps prickled your flesh as your breath fogged in front of you, your movement halting as you glanced around the hallway you found yourself in. Moonlight filtered through the wide windows, bathing the space in a silvery glow that almost could've been comforting if it weren't for the fact it only drew out the contrasting lack of color that matched everything in this house.

Built in bookshelves and cabinets alike lined the wall, though the items on it were sparse aside from a few gaudy statues and decorative items which you couldn't quite figure out the shape of. Aside from that, there was little to note. The space seldom seemed used between the light layer of dust coating the racks and the obvious disinterest they had in decorating it. Maybe there was something here you overlooked - something they overlooked too.

Setting the bag of your stuff down, your first instinct was to peruse through whatever the shelf may have, but setting up first seemed a lot wiser. This time, though, everything was thoroughly ghost proof. Unless this was a throwing stuff kind, which you doubted (or at least sincerely hoped not).

Clouded mists of your breath fanned in front of you as the temperature kept lowering, a small shiver inevitably wracking your spine as you set up. Luckily, them leaving a lot of space meant you had plenty of room to do what you needed. Brushing some of the dust off, you set the brass bell down and placed the spirit board beside it. The compass and thermometer went back in your bag as a preventative measure in case it was the aforementioned throwing things kind of ghost, you would hate to have things damaged... or to have to clean them up, while the glowstick still remained.

Taking the still-luminous tube in hand, you held it up as you inspected the contents of the shelves closer. "You're tied to something here, aren't you?" You said mainly to yourself as you tilted your head to read the gilded writing that brandished the sides of the few books there were.

It would make the most sense, you rationalized. Ghosts could often have their spirits tied to certain objects and with how the homeowners insisted they hadn't had problems up until a few months ago, it was likely something that was brought in. And seeing as they didn't exactly seem to be in this area, maybe they simply forgot something in their own possesion.

Your eyes flickered over towards the desk bell and the spirit board alike, hoping to catch some form of a response, but once again nothing happened. Typical.

Near everything present seemed to be typical, boring, modern - not something that you'd figure was tied to anything aside from an abnormally bad sense of style. Books on finance, economics, and healthy lifestyles could be horrifying in their own way but they're nothing you were looking for.

The odd sculptures that decorated the shelves and the few trinkets seemed to be relics of a wine night and art class. Matching initials carved into the corners of the pieces seemed to confirm that, as did the more recent dates engraved right beside it. Imperfections present in each told how it was the work of an amateur and certainly wasn't something that was picked up, but rather handmade. Honestly though, as weird as the sculptures were, it was the most human thing in the house. At least there was some semblance of personality in them.

All of the shelves, however, were devoid of anything that could even be a plausibility for an object of interest. Nothing even remotely sent a chill down your spine, nothing immediately registered or seemed like a fit, all of them were too modern, too plain. Deciding to squat down to the cabinets, you popped open the doors and shone the feeble light of the glowstick inside, hoping to find something, anything.

Yet it's only when you reached for a plain, small, leatherbound book in your back that the familiar feeling of being watched prickled the hair on the back of your neck. A gust of breath fanned along the shell of your ear as the same voice you heard earlier spoke. Though this time not through a spirit box or any device, it was right in your ear as clear as the night sky itself.

"Took you long enough, love."

Barley missing hitting the top of the cabinet with your skull, you yelped. Backpedaling, you whipped your head around and were met with anything aside from the nothingness that graced you prior.

All of your breath left your lungs in a single beat as the shimmering apparition tilted their head at you, still crouched. His form swirled in an indistinct yet solid inky blur, as if made up from the shifting shadows themselves. Though the intricacies of his form were swallowed by the shifting darkness, the bleached eternally grinning facade of a skull decorated his face. Had it not been for the fact he stood so close that you could see the ridges of it lifting up as it settled on his face, you would've mistaken it for his skull.

Deep mahogany eyes regarded you with an unreadable, scrutinizing gaze as he simply stared right back at you. "Well?" He asked as he tipped his head the other way in a slow tilt.

Like molted lead had been poured down your throat, any words that had possibly been formed burned away, sinking into the pit of your belly.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He quipped as he rose to his feet, taking a step back from you but staring all the same.

If you weren't so taken aback by his sudden appearance, the absolute absurdity of such a comment coming from a ghost himself would have had you scoffing. Yet he didn't seem to mind your lack of reaction as you stared, all color draining from your face as your mouth fell open.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the dark brown pools of his irises stood out amongst the stygian shroud of fog that made up his vaguely human form . Had he been a bit more opaque and had a solid consistency instead of a shifting pattern of darkness, you're sure he could have passed for another living being with how he held himself and how clear his voice resonated in the otherwise silent house.

A shiver racked down your spine as a small tremble made itself known in your limbs as you scrambled to your feet. Throughout all your investigations and countless nights spent investigating in dozens of places, you'd never seen something someone so consequential and solid. Any interactions with your equipment, any spirit orbs spotted in a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of your eye, any hushed whisper you heard down a dark hallway, utterly paled in comparison to the being in front of you.

"Y-you.... you're..." Words failed you as your tongue tied itself in knots, your mind scrambling in every which way as it tried to figure out what to say.

You knew ghosts were real but this was -

"Ghost?" He offered, picking the word for you. The thick Mancurian accent lingering on the washed out, almost echoing tone was much too real to be apart of your own vivid imagination.

This was something very different than what you're used to.

You nodded, shutting your mouth as you fell quiet, not trusting yourself to say anything sensible. The rapid thudding of your heart pounding against your ribcage as your breaths came in shaky exhales was the only thing that echoed in the otherwise still, silent room - aside from automatic rush of blood in your ears as your body urged you to run, to do anything to get far far away from here.

Yet adrenaline wouldn't save you from this one. It held you prisoner as you stood rooted in place, your limbs not obeying anything you pleaded them to do as your eyes refused to leave the singular reason you were even in this house to begin with. Said silence remained even as he took a step forwards, the lack of any noise persisting despite the fact he clearly was walking. Even on the hardwood, there wasn't a whisper of noise as he moved closer. "You're awfully quiet now for someone who has been chatting my ears off all evening." He remarked as those dark eyes, framed with the smallest hint of pale lashes that glinted in the moonlight narrowed once more.

Your heart must've skipped another beat at that realization that he'd probably been there from the moment you stepped inside and started talking, lingering in the shadows. "You - you listened?" You spoke, nearly choking on the stuttered words that came out as you tried to find your voice amidst the storm of emotions you felt.

"Hard not to with how loud you are." He snorted, though he seemed less peeved and more amuse with how his eyes seemed to once again fold in what you're assuming was a smile under the mask he wore.

The faintest heat of a blush rose to your cheeks, dusting your pallid features with something warmer as you glanced away for a split second, unable to hold his gaze. Logically, you know you shouldn't be embarrassed about doing your job. Yet you couldn't help but to feel ridiculous when faced with such a real creature of the night, calling you out for doing such things.

Putting yourself in his shoes, you're sure you'd be not too happy all the same if someone waltzed into your house and started throwing their equipment around as they tried to get your attention. Then again, it's not like you were invisible or in that situation. It's not like you were the one haunting the house.

Another realization struck you when you snapped your gaze back to him. The self-consciousness faded away to something that burned much brighter as you tried your best not to glare. "Then why didn't you say anything? Do you know how long I've-" You cut yourself off, shaking your head.

Of course he knew how long you were looking for him, all around the house. He was right there the entire time.

He seemed none too bothered with it, tilting his head once more. If he were arching a brow or smiling again, you couldn't quite tell as the expression faded. "I did." He countered, "It's not my fault that you found my answers unsatisfactory."

"You only said ghost!" You protested, unable to help the half pitch up and the rush that your words came out in.

He nodded, "Answered your questions just fine, love."

You swear you heard the self-satisfied smirk in his voice, even if it were hidden amongst the everything that he was. Another flare of indignation rose in you at that as you pointed an accusing finger at him.

"I asked you your name! Not what you are."

"That is my name. Or was."

You weren't sure if he was plain stupid, confused, or truly thought that's what he was called. An exasperated sigh left your lungs as you threw your hand up and dropped it on your thigh.

"You're telling me that you, a ghost, are named Ghost?" You echoed, pressing your lips into a thin line.

You didn't let him answer as you continued, "You're also aware that you're not alive and that ghost is a thing - a way the people here," Your hands swept to the house in a broad gesture, "Are referring to you as because they don't know your name."

The charged hush that fell between you was anything but peaceful. No words were said for a few long moments as you glared at him. Raising up his arms, he crossed them as he regarded you with the same, unreadable expression.

"I'm dead, love. Not deaf." He replied, his own voice infuriatingly calm, "No need to shout."

Your mouth fell open once more but this time not from horror or surprise, but from the utter audacity he had. The same low, rumbling chuckle that you heard earlier echoed as he surely grinned. "While I'm dead, I'm not stupid. I'm well aware." He answered as he moved further backwards to lean against the wall, nearly seeping into the shadows there.

"Ghost was my name before I died." He explained with a casual shrug, "Quite ironic to end up this way, really. Suppose its the universes' retribution and eternal punishment for using it as my callsign - if you believe in that sort of thing, anyhow."

You might as well with what you were staring at. Had there ever been a moment to believe in such things, now would've been the perfect time as you stood in the presence of an undead being that shouldn't have existed; much less, one you shouldn't have been talking to. Even as he said that though, he didn't seem to care for it or believe it himself as he snorted a small sigh through his nose and shrugged, regarding you with a lazy gaze.

"Callsign..." You repeated, your brows furrowing as you wracked your brain from where you knew that word from.

"You were in the military?" You asked the moment the connection formed, recalling such a thing from the videogames you played in the days of your youth.

Ghost gave a single, curt nod. "It's the reason I'm Ghost in more ways than one now."

At least his sense of humor wasn't dead - as much as you weren't a fan of it right now.

"Right." You said, biting back the instinctive urge to apologize for something you didn't do, as a pang of something seized your heart with a relentless grasp.

You weren't the reason he was dead, and you certainly don't know what you were apologizing for. The fact that he met his maker? The fact he was here right now? The fact he was a ghost? Either way, it wasn't your fault, but you had to bite back the 'Sorry' that threatened to fall out on instinct, as if you were hearing about someone's bad day.

"Why are you here now, then?" You asked after another small beat, looking around the house that seemed anything but fitting for him. "I mean... in this house. I don't think either of us can figure out the afterlife thing fully." You clarified in a quick rush, trying your best not to sound like a total idiot.

Though the flush on your cheeks returned and made itself known as it warmed your body once more like you donned a light winter jacket, he didn't say anything about it or your jumbled rush of justification.

Ghost contemplated it for a long moment, glancing around the hallway itself and staring at the figurines on the shelf and the few decorations to match. Bringing a hand up to his face, he scrubbed it down his chin. "Wasn't my idea, believe me. I've seen livelier decor in a hostage cell."

Admittedly, that part had you agreeing as you suppressed the smile that fought so hard to surface and the giggle to match. You weren't going to admit that as much of an initial annoyance he had been, he was growing on you and... okay, maybe he was funny. Not yet. The annoyance from earlier would have to fully fade away to nothingness.

Ghost nodded towards the bottom cabinet that you had left open, "They have my journal. It was on me when I died."

Your eyes were drawn back to the faded frayed edges of the black leatherbound journal, tucked away in the corner that you had almost touched before he made his appearance. That had to be the one. Hesitancy weighed on you as you didn't reach for it just yet. Touching such a personal item with him right there felt wrong - especially admitting it was something that he had on his person when he finally met his maker. Yet you didn't fight the urge to step forward towards it, nor to urge to kneel right back where you had been.

"You should be able to fill in the rest. After all, aren't you the paranormal investigator?" He remarked as he too stepped closer too, silent footfalls leading him to hover over you.

Of course you were - and of course you knew. Violent deaths meant there's a chance that a spirit can be tied to something, especially a personal object of value. It was your initial haunch when you stepped into this all too modern house. There had to be something here, a reason why a ghost would suddenly turn up. And seeing as there weren't any deaths or burial grounds or anything to warrant such a level of haunting, that was the typical reason.

Seeing as he was in the military and didn't seem to be too old, it's likely because he met an untimely end too that he ended up anchored to such an object to begin with. Unfinished business, as they would say. Not that he had a choice in that matter. You weren't going to pry on that part and why or how he died, but it told you all that you needed to know to do your job here.

Technically, you now had everything you needed to know to finish your job. You could walk out that door, evidence in hand, and tell them that they were indeed housing the super natural. That's what your job was as a paranormal investigator and nothing more. They called you in to find evidence of the supernatural, not to "take care" of it. You were not exorcist or priest to match and weren't ready to play on that scale of fucking around and finding out.

Yet, for some reason, you hesitated. As much as you wanted to be out of the house, you didn't want to go and simply leave this restless spirit. Doing such a thing after making a discovery this huge felt like abandonment after he showed his face and talked to you.

Of course, it could be a trick. It could be another supernatural creature posing, pretending to be the spirit of a soldier who met his end all too soon. Maybe it was a demon taking form and -

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his form flicker. The solidness of it fading in and out, as if a flashlight were being shone through him. "As nice as this chat was, afraid I don't have the energy to be here much longer." He spoke, the echo of his voice more pronounced, like the whispers of his tone were being dragged out and thrown to all ends of the room, "The batteries you had were lovely but they can only do so much."

You didn't even have it in you to be mad at him for that anymore. Not when he probably swiped them and drained them of all their energy just to be able to make himself visible and to come to you. How long he had been waiting to do something like this, hoping to have someone, anyone to talk too you didn't know. There were so many questions, so many things unanswered, but those were pushed to the back of your mind as you locked eyes with him once more.

Like a watercolor wash, those deep browns ebbed away bit by bit as they faded out into a tawny shade to match the swirls of shadows that made up his form hazing into fuzzier lines. Even though they were waning like the moonlight from the tall windows as they turned into a muddled shade, the slight melancholy and droop of his the corners spoke plenty that words couldn't say.

You didn't need to say anything else as you took ahold of the book before you could think, the thrum of energy that greeted you instantaneous as the pads of your fingers grazed the cool leather. The electricity that flowed through your veins caused your hair to stand on, the tidal wave of a summery balm coursing through them all the same as it set your nerves alight. While he couldn't touch you physically, its as if he himself were matching your energy with his own, the little that he had left. You didn't need to ask anything to know that this was right.

Wrapping it in your arms in a wordless promise, what had once been a plain unassuming book alone gathering dust on a shelf was now the most precious thing you could hold. You weren't holding a book alone, no, you were holding a life - a life that had been cut short and doomed to walk the earth, bound to the confines of the singular object that weighed him down more than any physical anchor could have. What you held was his lifeline and his burden all the same; his chance at redemption and damnation all the same. And you weren't going to let that, or him, go anytime soon.

A silent vow passed as your eyes met what was left of his - you weren't going to leave him, you weren't going to abandon him or leave him here to rot all in his lonesome. He'd taken a chance and so would you.

Before he finally disappeared, he leaned forwards, bringing the tips of his wisping fingers to skim against your cheek. Though his ice cold touch froze you as it gusted across your skin in a breeze, sending another shiver down your spine, your heart couldn't have been warmer. Your eyes snapped shut at the sensation, the cool touch fading just as fast as it came.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted with an empty room. The pang of disappointment that hit faded as fast as it came as your hold on the book tightened once more, the smallest spark of energy tingling through your veins. He might not be in the room but he was still here, tucked underneath your fingertips.

Your eyes traced over the name etched on the top that had gone unnoticed prior as you held it up in the moonlight, "Alright, Simon. Let's get you home."

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

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my thing is I'm capable of any of this stuff up to at least level 3 and can do them for special occasions and if I've rested enough no problem, but I can't do it OFTEN because it just uses up too many spoons. any thoughts on this? besides practice, I already cook as often as I can (which is not very)

Mise en place your life as much as possible. I've talked about this before but this is what I do to make things easier on myself. My baking station with all the ingredients out and clearly labeled instead of at the bottom of the pantry where I have to dig for them makes it much, much, much easier to bake. My knife strip on the wall and the dozen cutting boards in a rack on the wall and the frying pan that lives on the stove instead of under the counter all make it much easier for me to cook.

Like, a lot of what I've been going through and doing in terms of home improvement/home decor is attempting to configure the house in such a way that large bastard and i can easily do the things we want to/need to do. We need batteries all the time, so the batteries live in an organized box where we can see it instead of in the back of the cabinet. We also need to *discard* batteries all the time, so the battery discard tub is right next to that box otherwise we'll start accumulating used batteries on surfaces.

The instruments that live on my kitchen counter are the ones that get used most often so that I don't need to go looking for them and so that I know at a glance if they're clean (if so they're in the canister on the counter) or need to be washed. The appliances that I use the most either live on the counter or get put places where it's convenient - I don't have enough bowls and plates that I need to use the top three shelves of my cabinet for bowls and plates like my parents did, but I do use my rice cooker twice a week so my rice cooker lives in the same cabinet as my dishes (as does my tofu press, my waffle maker, and the easiest-to-use 16oz food storage containers).

And you know what sometimes i just can't do it. Sometimes my back isn't working or my hip isn't working or i got glutened recently and I can't do much of anything.

I've got a variety of low spoon foods that I always have ingredients for (one recent addition to this list is tofu; i went from eating no tofu to eating tofu twice a week because two days a week i can't really use one of my arms to make dinner so i just prep the tofu at lunchtime and when i get home from the plasma center all i have to do is season and pan fry it and make a pot of rice. And I also make a shitload of extra rice because rice with eggs and sweet-spicy sauce is now one of my easiest and best go-to lunches) and whenever I make a pot of soup (something that I do pretty much every weekend when it's cool enough) I will make enough for lunch that week plus usually some extra to go in the freezer as backup "I don't feel like cooking" meals.

So, yeah I guess what I'm saying is get a good list of low-spoon foods that you like and can keep the ingredients handy for (ground beef goes bad in a week, tofu lasts like a month, i love tofu, it's so easy and so cheap to keep a bunch of tofu handy), and throw out the idea of what a kitchen is "supposed" to be like and figure out if there are ways to make your kitchen more adaptive for you.

Get anti-fatigue mats for your home kitchen. Get a tall stool that you can sit at while cooking at the stove instead of standing. Reorganize your cabinets for maximum efficiency for your needs. (large bastard and I have been doing this both with organized visible storage like wall racks as well as putting his stuff up high because bending over isn't easy for him but it is easy for me).

And also, like, consider if it's worth it, or how it can be worth it. How do you want to be a better cook? Do you want to be better at making meals for large groups or do you want to be more comfortable cooking for yourself or do you want a wider repertoire of recipes - all of those things will take a different path and some will be harder than others if you're wrangling disabilities that make it difficult to cook. I'm probably never going to be great at cooking for large groups because it doesn't really suit my lifestyle and it hurts! It hurts a lot and after hosting thanksgiving last year i needed to use my cane for a week because of how much it hurt my back! But I can work on stuff that makes it easier for me to cook, like having my baking station or keeping my rice cooker in an easy-to-reach cabinet.

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regionalcinnabonmanager · 1 year ago

Text

“You wouldn’t have a key to this random door, would you?”

Flufftober 14: locked in/trapped

You and Leon are stuck in a storage closet at the DSO's headquarters. One problem: You're claustrophobic.

fluff, (obvi) second person pov, gn reader, idiots in love, mutual pining, leon is awkward at feelings, he is also a major simp for you, written with re4 leon in mind but can be read as any, let me know if i need more tags. i don’t think it needs much? NOT PROOFREAD.

word count: 2.1k

i fell in love with leon and subsequently hopped on the fluff train, now i'm writing this nonsense fic. rationale is,, not optimum rn but thats fine, uhh enjoy, simps.

“Ow-!” Leon winced in response to you stepping on his foot by accident.

“Sorry!” You took your foot off of Leon’s as you tried to look for that damn battery pack Hunnigan told you and Leon to look for, struggling greatly to find it as you shined your flashlight in various directions, trying to find it.

A blackout had happened at the DSO. Those usually never happen at HQ, due to there being backup generators during city-wide blackouts, but apparently, some idiot electrician fixing something down there had screwed up and caused all the lights at HQ to go bye-bye.

So now you were stuck in a dark, small, storage room only big enough for two people to freely move around in, looking for a spare battery pack for people’s flashlights.

“Found it yet?” Leon asked, shining his flashlight at the storage racks filled with various chemicals and cleaning supplies. You scoffed in response.

“If I did, I’d be grabbing the thing and getting out of this damn room ASAP. Starting to get really uncomfortable here..” You replied with snark, spotting the battery pack a little bit after. With a feeling of accomplishment, you took it. “Found it.” You turned around and held it up, shining your flashlight upwards.

“Good, let’s get out of here and get it to Hunnigan. Still don’t know why she made us do this..” He sighs, hand reaching out to turn the lever door knob.

As he does so, the door knob falls to the floor with a clatter. Leon picks it back up and tries to reattach the piece of metal, but fails; and it falls to the floor again.

Silence envelops the room as the two of you stare at the door knob for a few seconds… and then slowly, your eyes meet each other’s.

Shit.

“What did you do!?” You were the first to break the silence with an exasperated remark, questioning how the fuck Leon managed to break the doorknob.

“I didn’t do anything! The knob just.. broke.” He replies, equally as confused as you are.

Oh shit, this was your worst nightmare put into words. Which was ironic, considering you worked at an organisation that dealt with nightmarish monstrosities on the regular.

Of all the things you could be afraid of, somehow small spaces were one of those great fears.

You felt yourself begin to panic. The room felt suffocating.

“Okay, relax, I’ll just call Hunnigan and tell her we’re stuck in the storage closet. She’ll get us out.” Leon pulled out his phone and flipped it open, dialling Hunnigan. Shortly after, she picked up, and he explained what had happened to the both of you.

As Leon was on the phone with her, you bit the inside of your cheek and began to zone out, trying to keep yourself together. You could barely hear their conversation as a high-pitched ringing drowned out their voices.

“..Thanks Hunnigan. Bye.” He ended the call, flipping his phone closed with a sigh. “Hunnigan called facilities. ETA is in an hour, so we might as well get comfy.” He pocketed the device as he turned to your still form staring at the wall. “Hey, you good?” He reached over to pat you on the shoulder, snapping you out of your trance.

That seemed to work, as your head immediately turned to him. “Huh? What?”

Leon sighed, repeating what he just said to you. “Are you okay?” He added at the end. “You were kinda.. zoning out.”

You shook your head and sighed, your face twisted into a frown. “No- yeah, I’m uh..”

Leon raised a brow. “Are you okay or not?”

Figuring that you can’t hide the truth forever, especially not in a room as small as this, you decided to tell him your fear. “I’m claustrophobic. And I’m kinda, y’know, freakin’ out right now-” You laughed in an attempt to stop yourself from spiralling, but it just made you look sad.

A look of realisation crossed Leon’s face as he tried to think of what to do to help you calm down. He had experienced panic attacks before, and he knew how to deal with them. Maybe that can help?

“Alright, deep breaths right now, okay?” Leon took your hands and sat you down on the cold floor in an attempt to ground you back to reality. He gently took your face and made you look at him, his blue eyes meeting yours. “Tell me five things you can see.” He took your shining flashlight and pointed it up, letting you see your surroundings.

You looked around momentarily, your eyes landing on a plastic container filled with an orange liquid. “Floor cleaner,” Your eyes trailed over to other spots, “Rat poison, white floor, mop, mop bucket.”

“Good.” Leon tried to remember the next step. “Four things you can touch.”

You raised a hand and felt around the place, landing on the cold floor. “Floor..” You touched your arm, fabric balled into your grip. “Clothes,” you reached behind you to feel the cold metal of the storage rack. “Storage rack..”

You then looked down at Leon’s hand on yours, turning your wrist to intertwine your fingers with his. “Your hand..” You mumbled with a little warmth in your cheeks. Leon seemed to share the same heat on his face as well, but you both chose to ignore it.

Clearing his throat, Leon let your hand stay with his as he ran you through the last three steps of the grounding technique.

“You feel better?” He asks softly, rubbing the skin of your hand with his thumb.

You nodded, looking up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m.. feeling better now..”

There was a kind of tension in the room as the two of you sat on the floor of the supply closet in silence, hand in hand. Neither of you had ever done this before, so there was a definite awkwardness.

He was just trying to help you calm down, You thought to yourself, rationalising his actions. Nothing more to it.

Your eyes shifted over to Leon, glancing at his face for a second before looking away.

Shit, they’re probably uncomfortable right now, Leon silently thought to himself. But, they’re not pulling their hand away.. Maybe they don’t mind it?

“How- how much time did Hunnigan say facilities would get here?” You broke the silence with a question.

“An hour, she said. Although, they might get here a bit later because they’re still dealing with the electricity problem. Then they’ll get us out.” He replied with a sigh, leaning back into the metal storage rack behind the two of you. “Don’t worry. It probably won’t be too long.”

You nodded in response. An hour, huh? Well fuck. What’s two people to do ‘til then?

The two of you sat in more silence as you quietly waited for time to pass by, the occasional clicking of shoes together the only source of sound in the room. Leon’s flashlight was propped up and acted as the singular light source that illuminated everything just enough for it to be visible. With which, you decided to admire your best friend’s arms.

Everyone with eyes knew Leon was a catch. He was blessed with good looks, and a body that looked like it was chiselled by the Gods. Whether he knew it or not, he was dashing. You knew that, everyone did.

Fortunately, (or unfortunately,) you had the pleasure of knowing what was behind that physical layer and found the treasure underneath. He was kind, endearing, always fought for what was right, and was overall, a really good guy.

And thus, the crush began. You’ve been hiding it pretty well, you’d think. He didn’t seem to notice anything. Besides, if he did, it’s not like you could do anything about it. He probably doesn’t feel the same..

As you went on your little thought train, your mind wandered deeper into the brainrot, thinking about how his arms would feel wrapped around you and embracing you in a warm hug..

“Can you like, hug me?”

Leon turned to you, giving you a look of confusion. “What?”

Shit, did you say that out loud? FUCK.

Well, no turning back now.

“Uh- can you.. give me a hug?” You asked again, a little more embarrassed this time.

He was a little bit hesitant, but you reassured him that it was fine. And so he finally put his arms around you, gently pulling you towards him and resting your head on his shoulder. The position was not innocent at all. You were facing him, your chest against his as his arms wrapped around your waist and your head rested on his shoulder.

A little intimate for ‘best friends’, there. A little voice in your head spoke up, but you quickly shut it down, deciding to ignore it in favour of feeling the comfort of Leon’s arms around you.

Even if he doesn’t like you in the same way, then at least… you can still enjoy the feeling of being his best friend. Enjoy this hug.

Your shoulders slumped a little at that thought.

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, the holiest of fucks. What in the actual hell am I doing?

Leon silently panicked to himself as he held you in his arms. Was he really doing this? Was this real? Did he or did he really not have his best friend/long-time crush in his arms right now? And you’re the one that asked for the hug? This was a dream come true.

Maybe… this is a hint that they like me? He thought to himself, before dismissing the thoughts. No.. they probably don’t feel the same way.

He heard a little yawn from you, betraying your fatigue. “You wanna sleep?” He asked, to which you nod in response to. “Alright..” Acknowledgement comes from him in the form of a soft whisper.

Fuck, they’re so cute when they’re tired.. He raised a hand from your waist to your back, drawing circles to help you fall asleep. He knew you deserved this. You’ve been running around settling the technical things since the blackout, no wonder you’d be just about ready to collapse.

After about 20 minutes, he eventually feels you relax in his arms, your breathing slowing down to a calmer, more peaceful pace. A tell-tale sign that you’re asleep.

He sighs quietly, deciding to talk to himself as you sleep. “Why did I have to fall for you?” He whispers as he continues to draw circles on your back. “Why did it have to be you?”

“You’re way out of my league. Stunning, smart, funny… God, I knew I’d never have a chance, but I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

It was really no wonder how he fell for you. You were everything he wanted, but he knew he’d never have you for a multitude of reasons.

“You’re much better off without me. You shouldn’t have to worry about someone who’ll die on you anytime I’m away. But fuck, I want you so bad.”

That was the truth. His job made it hard to maintain a relationship, he knew that, you knew that. In fact, every agent in the building knew it. Though there were no restrictions on having a family, most were either too busy to find love or chose not to for obvious reasons.

Leon held you tighter in his arms, being careful not to crush you. “I love you. So much. I know I can’t have you, but that’s fine. I’ll keep loving you from afar.”

He sighed, thinking about why he was even spilling his heart out like this. “What am I saying? You can’t even hear me..” He chuckled mirthlessly. His hand gently cradled the back of your head, a small smile on his face as he played with the hair on the nape of your neck.

Unbeknownst to him, you were still awake. Half-asleep, but you heard everything.

Bonus:

The lights flickered back on, waking Leon up from his sleep. The power was back, and there was a clattering of the lock on the other side of the door.

“You two okay in there?” Hunnigan’s muffled voice called from the other side of the door. “We almost got the lock opened, just hold on.”

A few minutes later, the door opened, revealing a guy from facilities and Hunnigan standing in the doorway. “Oh, thank God you two are fine-”

She stops in her tracks, spotting you in Leon’s arms, sitting on the floor. She blinks a few times, trying to connect the dots. “Did you two-”

“Nothing happened.” Leon got up, carrying you with ease and walking out of the door. He did not want to speak of what happened, lest it caused a gossip storm among the employees. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Hunnigan just followed along, kind of having this ‘whatever’ mindset.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #flufftober 2023 #resident evil 4 #leon fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #mmmmnnnnggggg #leon brainrot go VRRRRR #enjoy my brain's jumbled mess

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moonlight-tmd · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! I just want to say that your headcanon and aus are so cool! I love reading every one of them! I'm really glad i saw your blog, because my favorite character is bumblebee and blitzbee is one of my otp.

The idea that bee is more than what his team think he is really excites me (like your celestial, electro, spark-eater, and warframe bumblebee aus), because i can read bee being a badass or have some hidden trauma.

I do wonder if electro bee have any side effect with his power?

I hope you are doing well! :)

Thank you so much!

I do enjoy giving Bee more than they expect him to handle- which he handles just fine in secret. The thrill of hidden danger is too good. And yes, angst is the best.

As for electro Bee- as I mentioned in earlier posts about it, he gets his power via EM field or touch, that's why he likes being in the city- it makes him more energetic than if he was in the forest.

He can drain of electric energy anything that has it- machinery and mechs alike. He wasn't aware he was doing it until Ratchet pointed it out to him after her handed him a tool with full battery and it shortly died after Bee gave it back. Guess that's why mechs always seemed tired when he hung around for too long.

He also gets hyper during thunderstorms. You can't get him to sit still at all.

For the "bad side effects"- before he had his stingers he was struggling to keep his ability under control- he still does sometimes, if he's holding in too much emotion his static charge will rise and make electric arches across his frame and to nearby things that conduct electricity. He accidentally zapped his teammates few times when they were arguing, they try to do less yelling and more reasoning in behavior so Bee won't get too mad and get the point across.

Since Bee's circuitry is fucked enough to not make him take shock damage I imagine he wouldn't notice if he has high static charge, he's just go about his business and it often ends up in his frying something/someone's circuit if it/they are too close. Ratchet has started checking his EM field everytime Bee comes back from somewhere so they won't get hurt nor something gets broken.

A funny one- Bee is essentially a walking battery. He has a lot of energy stored for such small size, if need be his teammates will sit him down plug those weird car battery clippers to his horns and make him the backup power supply for the plant. He often just plays games on his pocket console while sitting near the braker box all upset, Optimus always gives him baked sweets to make up for these situations.

That's all I can come up with for now, thank you for the ask! And ye, I'm a lil iffy from all the shit blooming rn but I'll be fine! Have a good one yourself!

#maccadam #tfa #ask box #tfa bumblebee #tfa au #electro bee au

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nightingale-ghost-writer · 2 years ago

Text

Your Wildest Dreams [Soap x Fem!Reader]

Summary: In a mission gone wrong, you and Soap have to hole up in a safehouse, trying to stay warm during the cold Russian winter

Author’s Note: Not me thirsting after Soap for 5.1K words instead of finishing the companion piece I started for Maybe… also, my first ever shot at writing reader-insert! Anyway, here’s a really plot-lacking, self-serving piece for anyone interested

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, extremely suggestive, borderline smutty? No actual explicit smut, but let’s call it NSFW to be safe

Shrike /SHrīk/ noun

a songbird with a strong sharply hooked bill, often impaling its prey of small birds, lizards, and insects on thorns

a 10-foot (3-meter), 400-pound (180-kilogram) U.S. air-to-ground missile designed to destroy missile batteries by homing in on their radar emissions

Icy water enveloped you. Pinpricks instantly broke out under your skin, dancing through your blood and your bones. For a blessed moment, your mind went blank. Then, survival instinct kicked in. You kicked your already numbing legs as hard as you could, launching yourself back toward the night sky. Just as you thought your lungs might burst, you broke the surface, gulping in the crisp mountain air. It burned the back of your throat as you bobbed in the current, trying to get your bearings.

What should have been an hour-long intel collection mission had gone to shit in less than a minute.

You and Soap had been dispatched to a safehouse of Makarov’s in the Russian countryside to gather intel. You were anxious- excited to be out with Soap, nervous about the actual infiltration. Soap’s signature flirting melted that anxiety quickly. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed missions with him so much… and one of the reasons you got so flustered around him.

Tensions with Russia were high, so rather than sending a full team, the pair of you had been dropped off by helo three clicks from the site. You’d go in, get the intel, get to the safehouse, and wait for evac. Barring any immediate danger, you’d be holed up there overnight, hiking out early the next morning to be picked up. Price was unhappy about sending you in without comms or backup, but Laswell was concerned with radio traffic and her sources had told her it would be empty.

Laswell’s sources had been wrong.

You’d taken a long, cold hike up the frozen mountainside to a deteriorating stone building that might at one time have been a castle, but was now little more than half-crumbled walls and hastily built wooden shacks. There had been no indicators that anything was amiss- no footprints in the snow, no pings on Soap’s heartbeat sensor, no noise. Laswell’s intel had seemed good.

Then you’d opened the door to one of the shacks and been met with a full squad of soldiers. They clearly hadn’t been expecting you, and you had the distinct advantage. Before they could react, you’d grabbed the nearest soldier, using him as a human shield while you put him in a headlock. Soap had sprung past you, shooting two others before ducking behind a desk. An overeager and overconfident soldier had fired several shots at you, nearly grazing your arm, but killing his teammate in the process. Soap had lunged at him, baring him to the ground and stabbing a combat knife deep into his throat.

The three remaining soldiers raised their weapons, shouting to each other. You’d killed one with a well-placed throwing knife as you threw yourself behind a table and watched in horror as another launched himself at Soap. You raised your gun, but there was no clean shot with them grappling as they were. Then, you were blindsided by the last soldier. He leapt at you as you tried to line up a shot on his teammate, knocking your gun to the ground and grabbing one of your wrists.

Instinct took over as you wrestled, and before you knew what was happening, you and your attacker were flying through the nearby window. You both rolled down a steep, snowy hill toward a frothing river, each trying to get the upper hand. Before either of you could, you went straight into the icy river, sinking instantly. Luckily, you recovered first.

After taking a moment to breathe, you dove back underwater, looking around for your attacker. He was close enough to reach out and touch, back to you as he tried to get to the surface for a breath of air. You swam toward him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hoist yourself up, and stabbed him. Once in the neck, once in the ribs, and then once in the chest for good measure. His body had gone limp at the first thrust, but you couldn’t be too safe.

As soon as his body floated out of your arms, you realized the bigger issue- the current, and the cold. You were already being dragged downstream, the tide splashing over your head and threatening to pull you back under. You swam for the bank, but your progress was minimal. Your muscles were already starting to freeze up. You looked around frantically, desperate for something to hold onto. Just as your fingers met with a sharp rock, you heard Soap’s voice calling your name.

You looked up to see him scrambling down the hill, sliding on snow and loose bits of shale. Blood dripped from his temple and he seemed to be cradling his arm to his chest. You tried to pull yourself out of the water to meet him on the banks, but your muscles refused to work. The icy water was doing its work and you could feel your body beginning to shut down.

“Soap,” you called weakly. He had almost reached you. “I can’t move.”

He waded waist deep into the water, reaching out for you with the arm that wasn’t held carefully to his side. “‘S alright, hen, I’ve got you. Take my hand.” You shakily, slowly, tried to reach for him, barely managing to brush the tips of your fingers against his, and he managed to lean just a bit further out to wrap his hand around yours. He tugged you toward him, and after a moment, was pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing, Shrike,” he murmured, rubbing your arm for a moment. You were shivering violently, barely able to move.

“I am,” you said, teeth chattering. “Your head.” Soap waved you off as he looked around, gaze settling in the direction of the town where you were supposed to wait for evac.

“The intel-”

Soap cut you off, shaking his head. “Forget the intel. Price said if anything went wrong, we get to the safehouse.” His eyes scanned your body, looking for any injuries, as his hand rubbed over your arms. “Are you okay? Can you make it back to town?” You nodded, your violent shaking making it nearly impossible to tell. You reached for his wrist, pressing on it gently. You were no medic, but it didn’t feel broken to you.

You held his wrist with one hand as the other reached up to wipe the blood from his temple. “You okay?” you asked. He winced as you wiped at the blood, but nodded. You breathed a sigh of relief when only a shallow cut was visible.

“Just a sprain,” he said. He pulled his wrist carefully from your grip and unzipped his jacket, pulling it off.

“W-what are you-”

“You need it more than me,” he said. He walked around behind you, tucking you into the jacket before zipping you up in it.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested. Soap only shook his head, offering a lopsided smile.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

You were afraid your legs would refuse to move, but were so grateful when they didn’t. The warmth that bloomed in your chest at Soap’s sacrifice warmed you more than the jacket itself, although it did keep out the worst of the biting wind. You both trudged through the snow toward the village, teeth chattering and bone-cold. You walked in relative quiet, broken only by Soap’s soft inquiries.

“How’re you holding up, hen?”

“I can’t feel my toes, Soap.” “Hang in there, Shrike. We’re almost to the safehouse.”

As the town came into view, your vision began to swim. You’d been given the safehouse address. Now you just had to find it so you could lie down and bundle up until Price could send someone to get you.

You breathed a sigh of relief as Soap found the house, prying off one of the address numbers to reveal a key. He opened the door, revealing a tiny studio. It took less than a minute to clear- the only room with a door was the bathroom. While Soap dug out the radio system hidden under the sink, you turned the heater on full blast and looked for blankets. You found a pile in a cupboard, dropped them onto the foot of the bed, and headed toward the kitchen in search of a kettle to heat some water.

You only vaguely heard Soap talking to Price through the fog in your mind, something about getting some rest and pickup in the morning. Then, very suddenly, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling, wondering when you’d stopped shivering.

“Shrike? Shite!” You only realized you’d fallen when Soap pulled you upright. “Shrike?” He raised one hand to your neck, feeling for your pulse. He cursed under his breath, muttering in an unintelligibly thick Scottish accent as he hauled you up against his chest. You were vaguely aware of being carried into the small bathroom and deposited on the countertop there. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to stay awake. You were suddenly so sleepy.

You opened your eyes when you heard a squelching sound, freezing as you watched Soap strip off his clothes. You’d seen him without a shirt, but only in passing in the halls on base. Never this close, and never with no one around to check your gaze. Nevertheless, you’d memorized his scars the last time you saw his bare chest. He had some new ones since then. You stared at his rippling muscles as he unbuttoned his pants, peeling the wet material off his toned legs, leaving him standing in front of you in nothing but his dog tags and boxers. You tried not to stare at the outline you could see in the fabric as he took one step toward you to stand between your legs. Then his hands were on his jacket, the one you were wearing, pulling the zipper down and your arms out of it.

“Stay with me, Shrike,” he murmured. His hands shook as he unbuckled your tac vest and pulled it off. You raised your arms as he pulled up your hoodie, then your shirt, leaving you i n just a sports bra. You let your own hands rest on his chest as you lowered them.

You giggled, tracing patterns across his pecs and down his ribs. His muscles jumped under your fingertips. “What are you doing, Johnny?”

His cheeks reddened as he glanced up, dutifully keeping his eyes on the task at hand as he hastily pulled off your boots and pants.

“I’m trying to get you warm,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Checking you out,” you said boldly, arching an eyebrow at him and smiling. You weren’t sure where the confidence had come from, but you’d had a crush on him since day one and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of this opportunity. He had just reached up to grip your hips and he faltered for a moment before pulling you down off the counter. He turned you around, walking you toward the bed with his hands on your waist until pulling back the covers. Soap sat, pulling you down between his legs and back against his chest. He pulled up the extra blankets, wrapping them around both of your shoulders. You giggled again, wiggling back against him as his arms wound around you. You couldn’t tell whether he shuddered or whether it was just his shivering. You’d started to shiver again, yourself.

“Stay with me,” he repeated. His body trembled around you, proof that he probably should have kept his jacket after all. His hands rubbed your shoulders, occasionally tracing the straps of your sports bra, and he curled his legs up, bringing yours with them. His knees held yours together and he shifted one arm down to circle your waist, keeping your back pressed to his chest and your hips connected. One hand brushed your hip and he tilted his head so that his chin rested in the crook of your shoulder. His hold on you was tight, but reassuring. You savored the way you fit perfectly in his embrace.

Your bare skin felt numb, even under the pile of blankets.

Everywhere Soap’s skin touched felt scalded.

“You’re so hot,” you murmured.

You felt as much as heard when Soap chuckled low in his chest. “I’m actually freezing.” His voice shook when he spoke.

You leaned your head back on his shoulder, turning so that your cheek touched his. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smiled, eyes fixed on some point across the room. “I’m just trying to save you from saying things you don’t mean, so you don’t regret them later.”

When you cocked your head at him, shifting in his arms to better face him, his smile dropped. “C’mon, Shrike, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Hope flared in your chest like a bonfire. Your mind ran through all the possibilities of that statement, and every one of them suggested attraction to your lovesick mind. You stared blankly at him and he tipped his head back against the headboard, heaving a sigh. “I’m sure Gaz would be none too pleased if I made a move on you when you were only flirting because of hypothermia.”

“Gaz..?” You didn’t understand what Gaz had to do with Soap making a move on you, and you were too confused to focus on either the fact that he said that he might, or that he had just admitted he knew you were flirting with him. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. You barely dared to breathe.

Soap’s face flamed as he looked away. He had stopped shivering so badly, but his voice still shook a bit when he spoke. “You and Gaz. I know you’re… well, something. I’d never-”

You hadn’t imagined it. Your snort cut him off. “Gaz and I are friends, that’s it.” Now it was Soap’s turn to stare blankly. You fought to speak normally, not with the giddy optimism you felt. “Remember the day Price introduced me to you all? Gaz was the first one to shake my hand, and then he showed me around base? I knew right off the bat that Ghost didn’t trust me and I thought you wouldn’t either, since you two were clearly so close.”

That brought a smile out of Soap. As much as Ghost tried to play it off, the two had definitely become good friends over their time working together. Soap loved to flaunt his position as the resident boogeyman’s right hand, to anyone who would listen. But mostly to the boogeyman himself.

You turned again, snuggling closer into his hold. His arms tightened around you, almost imperceptibly. “Anyway, yeah- Gaz was my first friend. But he’s just my friend. Nothing more than that. You and Ghost are Batman and Robin, Gaz and I are Mario and Luigi.” Soap barked a laugh, and you grinned.

When his cold nose nudged behind your ear, you couldn’t even pretend your shudder was from the cold. You gathered the last of your courage, waning with the arctic chill in your bones, but bolstered by his near-confession. “So tell me, Sergeant.” You’d lowered your voice, turning up all the charm you possessed. “What am I making ‘harder than it needs to be’?” Soap froze, and panic washed over you like water as cold as the river you’d come out of. He hadn’t been confessing anything. It had been nothing more than his usual firefight flirting, harmless and silly and just a little cocky and oh-so-hot and why would you ever think he could actually be interested in you and-

Soap flipped you, one arm around your waist as he lay between your legs, propped up by the elbow next to your shoulder. Before your mind could catch up with what was happening, he leaned down, lips a hairs’ breadth from yours, and hesitated. It was the longest and shortest second of your life. You could feel his warm breath on your parted lips as his eyes scanned your face, looking for any sign of hesitation. You half expected him to lean back up, all mischievous smile and twinkling eyes, and tease you. He knew. He knew how you felt and he was going to mock you for it. Then he leaned down, eyes fluttering shut. His lips brushed yours softly, barely touching, and your mind went blessedly quiet. Your body responded of its own accord; your knees came up, framing his waist and squeezing lightly; one hand went to his bicep, lightly grasping there; the other slid to the back of his neck.

You pulled him closer.

The kiss turned feral in a heartbeat.

The arm around your waist tightened, pulling you half up off the bed, as he let more of his body weight rest against you. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You happily gave it. Your tongues slid together, fighting for dominance as you each tried to deepen the kiss even more. You raised a leg, wrapping it around his waist, and he groaned your name into your mouth. When you pulled on his mohawk, his head fell to your neck as he sucked softly on your collarbone.

“Johnny,” you breathed. He swore, lifting his head to kiss you again. He pulled his arm out from under you, running a warm hand across your bare skin from your hip to the back of your knee where it wrapped around him, before wrenching you up against him. You gasped at what you felt. If you’d had any doubt before, there was none now- Johnny was packing. You could feel the heat of him through both your underwear and his boxers. Time seemed to slow as he rocked gently against you, pressing his forehead to yours as your hands cradled the back of his head. He was panting, pressing light kisses against your face. He dropped his head to your shoulder, tucking his face into your neck. He seemed to be steeling himself, trying desperately not to move.

“Not kissing you,” he whispered. It took you a moment to think through the haze of lust and realize he was answering your earlier question. “What am I making harder than it needs to be?” “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Some of your earlier boldness had returned, shored up by his clear physical response. “Only that?” you whispered back.

The groan of your name on his lips was the single most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“What?” you teased. “That’s all you want?”

He tugged at the back of your knee again, pressing you against himself. You both stifled moans. “You know damn well that’s not all I want. I want you. All of you.” He turned his head, ghosting his lips against your cheek. “I’ve wanted all of you from the moment you asked me why a ghost would need soap.”

You started, turning his head with your hands so you could look into his eyes. “That’s the first thing I ever said to you.” He nodded, gaze unflinching. His eyes smoldered, but there was a softness in them you’d only seen a handful of times over the years. When your brother joined the military, following in your footsteps. When your best friend’s husband cheated on her. When your mother died. Any time you’d cried in his arms.

“T-that was the day we first met,” you stuttered out. Again, he nodded solemnly. He turned his head in your hands, kissing your palm.

“I knew right away,” he whispered. Soap had laughed, a fully belly laugh, and clapped you on the back. Ghost had rolled his eyes, and you’d hoped his reservations about you would fade. Not only so you could get closer to the devilishly handsome, charming Sargeant who followed his every step. When you didn’t say anything, he released your leg, mumbling apologies and sitting back on his heels. The loss of his body weight and heat, along with the blankets, made you shiver all over again. Johnny didn’t see it- he was running his hands over his face, head hanging. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I had no right, please forgive me-”

You reached out a hand, grasping his wrist to stop him from retreating any further. “Forgive you for what?” you asked softly. His face was pained as he struggled to hold your stare.

“For taking advantage,” he began. But you shook your head, reaching out your other hand to touch his cheek. You didn’t think he even realized that he leaned into your touch.

“You didn’t take advantage of anything.” You scooted forward on your knees, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You leaned up, kissing along his jaw, before licking a stripe of skin just behind his ear. He trembled under your touch as you ran a hand down his arm and pressed yourself against him. “I want you, too. So you should take me.”

“Steamin’-,” Soap groaned your name. “You can’t just say that to me,” he whined, breathless. His fists were clenched, eyes squeezed shut as your fingertips skimmed his skin.

“And why’s that?” you teased. You were sure that nothing could ever match the rush you were getting from his reactions to you.

“Because,” he ground out. He’d lost the fight to keep his hands off and they now rested on your hips, intermittently squeezing the flesh and hovering. His pupils were blown, nearly eclipsing his irises. You’d never seen hunger like that in your life and it set you on fire. “If I start with you, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice was lower, hoarse. Desperate.

You scooted forward until your knees touched his, pressing as much of your body against his as you could. His entire body quivered in his struggle not to devour you whole. You dragged your lips up the column of his throat, pausing when they brushed the shell of his ear. “Then I suggest, Sergeant, that you don’t stop.”

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You woke up to a soft thudding sound in your ear. You were so comfortable that you didn’t want to move, but then you remembered you were on the field. Your head snapped up, looking around the tiny room. The thudding had stopped, and when you looked down, you realized why.

You’d been sleeping with your head on Johnny’s chest, his heartbeat in your ear. His arms were still wrapped tightly around you, face turned toward yours. He looked younger asleep. No worry lines creased his handsome face, and his brows were relaxed instead of their usual serious, lowered state. His lips were just slightly parted, breath softly fanning across your shoulder.

The night came back to you in one big wave. Kissing Johnny, straddling him, holding him close between your legs, his mouth on your neck, your mouth on his shoulder, your name on his tongue, being pressed to the wall, the stretch of him, and both of your hands seemingly everywhere at once. You ached everywhere in the most delicious way. Even your throat was sore from moaning his name over and over and over again as he made good on his promise that his mouth was good for more than just talk.

Your cheeks flushed remembering.

As if sensing your racing heart and thoughts, Johnny stirred. His arms tightened around you, pulling you nearly on top of him as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when his eyes settled on you, slow and lazy.

“I thought I dreamed all of that,” he said softly. His voice was husky with sleep, accent thicker than normal, eyes soft as he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand.

You quickly weighed whether or not you were prepared to deal with the cockiness that would come with your next statement. “Certainly good enough to be a dream,” you whispered. The grin that split Johnny’s face was instant and radiant.

“Oh, aye?” he asked. “Would you say it’s everything you’d dreamed of?”

“I love you,” he’d gasped, holding the back of your head to his shoulder as you fell apart for what must have been the tenth or hundredth time. “I love you,” he’d repeated as he lost control, trembling violently in you and in your arms. “Oh, God, I love you,” he’d whispered as you cried out his name and carried him in a vice grip right over the edge with you. You’d never dared to confront your feelings for him too deeply, refusing to dig beneath the surface of the crush you’d harbored for him. In all your wildest dreams, you’d never begun to imagine him putting to words what you felt- and never in the most intimate moment of your life.

“Better than my dreams,” you mumbled, turning your head away from his and pressing your cheek to his chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a purple bruise you’d sucked into his shoulder. You winced, raising your head to apologize, but before you could even open your mouth, Johnny turned your head and kissed you softly. You kissed him back, and then smirked as a thought crossed your mind. “Dream of me often, then?” you asked.

Johnny’s eyes darkened as he pulled you down for a searing kiss. “Every night,” he whispered. You shuddered. You could already feel his body responding beneath you as you kissed him again, smiling to yourself when he groaned. He reached for the tiny bedside table, muttering about a clock, and found the alarm there.

He turned a wicked grin toward you. “We’ve got time for round two.”

“Round two?” you shrieked. Johnny snickered as he lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Round five was no less impressive than the first four, in no small part due to the added feat of Johnny holding you up against the cold shower wall while the hot water beat down on you both.

“I can’t believe,” he’d panted “That we could have been doing this all this time.”

“You should scold Gaz for getting in your way,” you’d panted back. Johnny had practically growled at that, picking up his pace.

“I’m about to scold you for saying another man’s name while I’m inside you.”

He came undone the moment you moaned his name in his ear, pulling you off the ledge with him.

By the time you’d actually managed to get clean, your clothes had miraculously dried despite laying crumpled on the tile floor all night. You were thankful as you both stepped out into the flurry of wind and snow to trudge up the hillside toward the evac point. You hiked in companionable silence, only breaking it once you could see the ridge where you’d be picked up.

“How’s your wrist?” you asked. You’d been worried about it all night, but Johnny either hadn’t been in pain or hadn’t been in enough pain to pay it any mind.

“It’ll be fine,” he answered, smiling at you over his shoulder. “How’s your… you?” You both snickered at that.

“It’ll be fine,” you parroted. Your Scottish accent was horrible, but Johnny beamed at it all the same. You were about to pull yourself up by a rock when he grabbed your wrist, nudging you until your back touched a tree. He tilted your chin up with his knuckles, lowering his head slowly to kiss you tenderly. You sighed into the kiss, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he held you close by your waist. His lips tugged at yours softly, lightly dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back to look at you intensely. He seemed to be trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“We can’t tell anyone, can we?” you whispered.

For a long moment, Johnny was silent. When he finally answered, his voice was low. Sorrowful. “I don’t know,” he said.

You nodded, pasting a smile on your face even as your heart throbbed. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

He smiled back. “Yeah, we will.” Your smile felt a little more genuine after that. You trekked the last bit up the hill, and by the time you reached the top, you could hear the whir of the chopper. You shared one last longing look at each other from a respectable distance before the bird touched down. When the door opened, Ghost’s skull plate greeted you.

“You guys injured?” he shouted. You both shook your heads, clambering in and strapping yourselves into harnesses on opposite sides of the chopper. Ghost slammed the door, strapping himself in again on your side.

He stared at Soap, some look you couldn’t quite read. When you glanced to Johnny, his eyebrow was raised at his partner.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Ghost rumbled.

Soap looked to you, then back to his friend. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We didn’t get much rest- too cold,” he said evenly. If you didn’t know it was a lie, you’d have believed him. But something in the way Ghost held his stare told you that he didn’t. He could read everyone like a book, but especially Johnny. You needn’t have worried, though. Soap started right in on recapping the mission for his friend, chattering away as he always did, and you watched as Ghost’s shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit while he listened. His gaze flicked to you every so often, and you added to the tale where you saw fit. Ghost took your words as truth- he trusted you now, years later, after you’d proven yourself to him and the rest of the team.

You smiled to yourself. It would be good to see the rest of the team, to be back on base, in the comfort of your own bed… and you were sure Soap would find his way there, too.

#john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap #john soap mactavish x reader #cod mwii #nightingale writes

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