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cumikering · 14 days ago

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Gym bro Soap x reader 2

3.4k | angst You were perfect for each other, couldn’t you see? (part 1) (part 3)

Johnny didn’t want to admit he started wearing tighter shirts to the gym for you - the ones that underlined the width of his broad chest and stretched over the generous bulge of his biceps.

He, too, found excuses to respectfully lean into you from behind, be it to help you with the pulldown bar or with reracking your weights. He might have imagined you stealing a glance or two at his arms, but he prayed that he was the one making you chew on your lip.

Like then, when he stood a little closer as he held your gaze for more than a few moments. This was working, wasn’t it? Wait until he busted out his compression shirts.

“Are you free Saturday fer dinner? I want to take you to that Italian near the park.”

“Oh, but that’s so expensive!”

“We’ve been consistent with our workouts, and yer making wonderful progress.” He shot you a reassuring smile. “I think we deserve to celebrate.”

“You know we can go to other places, yeah? It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

“Aye, but I want to go there with you. Please, hen?”

You averted your pretty eyes before nodding. He’d never get tired of calling you hen. If he knew he had that effect on you, he’d have started far sooner with the nicknames.

As the butterflies stirred in his belly, he balled his fist as to not reach out to cup your face like he’d wanted to for too long.

Saturday couldn’t have come sooner, but that morning Johnny’s body weighed a ton as he dragged himself out of bed. However, when you smiled when he walked into the gym, he forgot the odd ache of his body for a moment. You both stretched and warmed up before proceeding with each other’s routine.

But when he could barely complete a set, he knew something was up. He reracked his weights with an irritated grunt.

“You alright, Johnny?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“Feelin’ a bit off today.” He reached back to massage his tense shoulder.

“You do look a bit pale actually. Are you going down with something? Are you burning up?”

“No, don’t think so.”

You placed a hand on his forehead, and he would be lying if his stomach didn’t flip from the contact. Could a blush induce a fever?

“You seem fine, but I think you better get back and rest. Don’t want to injure yourself.”

“But… we’re still on fer dinner, yeh?”

“Don’t worry about that! We can go when you feel better.”

He lit up. “Ye know what’s goin’ t’make me feel better? My maw’s stew.”

He could cook and impress you with his mum’s recipe. Your weekly shopping was in order anyway.

Johnny did light cardio as he waited for you to finish your workout. While you cleaned up before going to the supermarket, he made sure nothing embarrassing or incriminating was on the floor or surfaces of his flat.

When he knocked on your door 30 minutes later, you emerged in comfy clothes and damp hair. You looked like you’d give wonderful cuddles, just what he needed when he was under the weather.

“Johnny, I almost forgot. I got you this.” You handed him a papercraft kit. “It’s Edinburg castle. I thought of you when I saw it.”

He gasped, clutching the gift to his chest. You thought of him? “Thank you so much, hen. I love it.”

You gave him one of those smiles again in reply. Well, he definitely had a fever now.

As you strolled through the cereal aisle, Mrs. Mactavish called back.

“Ye alright, Johnny? Ah was just in the garden.”

“No bother, maw. Am feelin’ a bit ill. Wanted tae ask for yer stew recipe.” He picked up another box of cereal to read its nutrition label on the back.

“Ye mean… yer cookin’?”

“Aye.”

There was a pause. “How..?”

His brows furrowed, placing the box back on the shelf. “What d’ye mean how?”

“Johnny,” she said gently, concern in every word. “Don’t ye remember wha’ happened last time?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggle.

“Maw! I will not leave it this time. Promise! Now, can I get the recipe?”

“Alrite, alrite, I’ll send a photo,” she relented. “But don’t say I didn’t warn ye!”

He grumbled a thanks before his mum hung up.

He turned to you with a grimace. “I promise am no tha’ bad.”

“Well, you know I’m not that good at it either,” you said with a chuckle. “I need to step up my cooking game.”

“Only one partner needs t’be good at it anyway.” He shrugged. “Been told I’m a fast learner.”

You blinked.

“I mean,” he sputtered, cheeks heating up. “Find someone who can cook, if you can’t, ye know.”

Was his game off when he was ill? He grabbed two boxes of his usual cereal and rounded the corner into the next aisle.

You finished up and got the ingredients needed. Back at his flat, you helped him greatly with the recipe (you caught him almost burning the meat, and once more, the onions). Didn’t higher heat mean faster cooking?! No matter what you said, you were still better than him, even that it was a pathetically low bar to begin with.

The incidents didn’t help his morale. Despite the comforting smell of home that wafted in the kitchen, he kept peering nervously into the simmering pot as both of you cleaned up. After the stew had thickened, you both grabbed a spoon for a sample. While you hummed in delight, Johnny’s shoulders sagged. It tasted nothing like his mum’s.

“Please don’t tell ma maw I messed it up,” he pleaded, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “I promise the recipe isn’t shite,”

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s mediocre at best.”

“No, I think it’s really good! I like it,” you reassured. “I’ll make some garlic bread to go with it.”

A relieved smile teased his lips. You always knew how to make him feel better. “You’ll have to taste the real thing.”

“I’d love to.”

You really should have been extra careful with the things you said, because how could he not imagine taking you back home to meet his parents now?

Unfortunately, Johnny felt worse by the evening. On the couch with a runny nose, he grumbled to himself about not being able to go out for dinner with you.

“It’s alright, Johnny. We’ll go next weekend, in time for your deployment too.” You placed the steaming mug of tea on the coffee table and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you want me to get takeout instead? Or I can cook something if you want.”

He should get sick more often.

“Actually, I’d like it if you could cook something, please. But only if ye want tae.”

Johnny wanted to help with dinner, but you insisted he worked on the papercraft at the dining table instead. He chuckled, feeling like a little boy being kept busy with his toys. He didn’t hate the feeling. It was wonderful to be pampered, being fussed over by you, only to be rewarded with some godly carbonara.

“Why’d ye say yer a bad cook?” he asked after his first bite.

You shrugged. “My family don’t usually like my cooking.”

“Missin’ out. They’re all missin’ out. I’ll eat this every day.” He shoved another forkful into his mouth.

He thanked his lucky stars he didn’t have to learn how to cook after all, lest be burnt the kitchen down. He could always compensate by doing the cleaning.

You took care of Johnny over the weekend, bringing him hearty meals to share. You even kept him company as he continued working on the papercraft. Having you at his doing your own thing, lounging around on his couch existing together… It was hard to not imagine that you lived there with him. Like you were a permanence of his life, just taking care of the sick love of your life.

He was, wasn’t he? Oh God, the fever was making him extra delusional.

You sent him little texts at work over the week. While he giggled and kicked his feet as he clutched his phone, he didn’t miss the way Gaz nudged Ghost at the other end of the rec room.

“He’s trying real hard to crawl out of the friendzone,” the sergeant quipped with a laugh.

Johnny gave him the stink eye, but he couldn’t blame Kyle. He was just jealous he had no pretty little thing making sure he was eating and drinking enough, let alone one who would wait for him at home with a warm meal.

You were doing just that, weren’t you? You cooked extra for so he could eat healthier and didn’t have to fuss about dinner. Thanks to your care, he recovered fast; he only had to skip another workout before getting back to his routine.

The following Saturday night, the anticipated dinner finally came. Johnny dressed up in a crisp button down and had gone to the barber the day before and even got his boots polished.

Did you understand how important this was to him? He wasn’t living another night without you knowing his intentions, especially after how selfless you’d been when taking care of him. He was going to make you feel like the only woman in the world.

But when you opened the door of your flat, he froze. You looked gorgeous in your outfit, it made his knees weak. He almost forgot the mission he was on because he needed to bury his face in a pillow and let out a squeal.

He cleared his throat, blinking as he struggled to keep his eyes off yours. “Wow, y- you look lovely, hen.” He didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but how could he not stare?

You didn’t meet his gaze, instead biting down a smile as you locked up.

He swallowed. It took everything to not pull you in for a kiss. He could already imagine how perfectly his hands would fit on your waist.

When he opened the door of his SUV for you, you mumbled a thanks. He wished you acknowledged his attire too, but the way he caught you glancing from the corner of his eye as he drove was enough of a compliment. You were very welcome to ogle. Would it help if he unbuttoned a few buttons?

Sat in a quiet corner, you admired the interior of the restaurant and how polite everyone was. He would never get tired of seeing that enthusiasm in your bright eyes as the conversation flowed.

“You been here before, Johnny?” you started after the waiter had left.

He shook his head as he raised his wine glass. “Was saving it for something special.”

“Which is?” You followed suit.

“You finally hit another lat pulldown PR,” he teased, clinking his glass against yours.

You laughed before taking a sip.

He was used to flirting to be liked and noticed, but with you, he didn’t need to. It was a blessing to be in your presence that his instinct was to admire you and be in the moment. You made him feel like he was enough without having to be anyone else. Was this the reason it was so effortless to be around you?

Unfortunately, the pasta you ordered didn’t turn out to be the best. You didn’t have to tell him - he’d grown familiar with the small tells of your face.

“I think we should order something else. This doesn’t look like enough food.”

“No, no! It’s plenty.”

“Want to have more of mine?” he pushed his plate of risotto closer to you.

“That’s fine, Johnny. It’s your favourite.”

“But you like it more.” He swapped your plate with his. “And we can always come back.”

You gave him a apologetic smile, your shoulders sagging. You didn’t have to feel so bad. The night was all about you anyway, and he was more than happy to ensure you enjoyed your time.

The both of you lingered after dessert. You never seemed uncomfortable with him, but that night the air around you was different, like you were even more open and loose. He could see in the way you leaned in more and held his gaze longer. He scooted his seat closer to the table, his stomach fluttering each time you laughed at his jokes.

Please, please, never stop. It was his favourite sound ever.

With his belly and heart full, you headed home. He wordlessly offered you his arm, but you didn’t seem to notice with the way you averted your gaze when he called you hen or bon. He didn’t mean to! They rolled off his tongue, because he meant every word.

At your door, he grasped your keys from your soft hand and helped you with it.

“Thanks so much for dinner, Johnny. I had such a good time.”

He couldn’t help return the grin. “Pleasure’s all mine, hen. I’m just happy you said yes.”

He didn’t like getting ahead of himself, but this was going fantastically well, wasn’t it? They way you looked at him with those eyes… Did you know what you were doing to him, how fast his heart raced for you?

John Mactavish was just a man.

Maybe he’d get to kiss you soon. Maybe even next week, before his deployment.

However, the optimism didn’t last very long. Because when he stepped in for a hug, you jumped and hurried past your door, closing it behind you with a frantic goodnight.

Johnny blinked. What the fuck just happened? You just said you enjoyed the night. Had he read it all wrong?

He turned on his heels as he blinked fast, hoping it was enough to keep the brimming tears at bay as his chest seized.

Radio silence replaced his joyful days with you.

Johnny tried not to think too much about you, or the fact that you didn’t even text in the following days. He didn’t either – how could he recover from that night? Even the day before he was to ship out, he didn’t allow himself to wonder why you didn’t reach out to arrange something with him like you always did.

But as he lay in bed, with a heavy heart that wouldn’t allow his mind to stop reeling, his phone buzzed with your text.

Wishing you all the best for tomorrow. Take care

He squinted. Did this mean more than what it looked like? Were you brushing this under the rug? He stared and stared at his phone until his head hurt before sighing.

Thanks

It was impossible you didn’t notice the shift – you wouldn’t be this way otherwise, as if keeping him at an arm’s length. It was a hard pill to swallow, but it couldn’t be any more obvious now that you weren’t interested. He just wished it wouldn’t hurt this much, like getting shot in the stomach with a bullet that kept digging and digging.

He was gone for weeks at a time. Did his deployments get in the way of his progress with you, that you had to warm up to him all over again every time he came back? Did he miss his chance? Did the chemistry dwindle over the months? Did you, like most women, not want long-distance? Did you find someone else, someone who treated you better than him?

The longing gazes he could have sworn you shot him had all been in his head. It was clear now you weren’t taking things slow, let alone playing games.

You were simply uninterested.

When Johnny came back weeks later, out of courtesy, he picked up a new gym schedule as to not cross paths with you.

He didn’t text, and you didn’t either. His days with you were gone – the laughter, the quiet afternoons sketching, but the memories remained close to his heart. They pricked more often than not.

Distance was imperative to move on, but he still found it hard to breathe sometimes – his chest heavy with the ache to see your smile. The photos he had of you couldn’t hold a candle to how beautiful you were in real life.

He had no one but himself to blame. As soon as he knew he couldn’t have you, he should have backed away, protected himself, especially when his feelings wouldn’t fizzle after the months. Instead, he was too soft to walk away, settling for any shred of you.

You were perfect for each other, couldn’t you see? You motivated each other, pushing each other to be better. I think I’m in love you, he’d muse to himself as he looked at you. Sometimes the need to say it out loud made him want to cry, like he was choking on the words.

He could have said them outright - maybe he should have, he was a grown man, for fuck’s sake! But he never did, because deep down he knew you’d run. So he carried on, with his feelings buried deep, avoided like a tin of radioactive waste welded shut.

It was undeniable having you out of his life was torture, but it will pass. Eventually. Hopefully. Still, for all the joy you’d brought him, there was not a regretful bone in his body.

What he didn’t expect, though, was how soon this would end.

You, on the other hand, never imagined even a fraction of the depth of Johnny’s feelings towards you.

The radiant Scot didn’t seem like one to be sentimental. He was happy go lucky and… friendly. Attractive men always were, especially when they had such an easy, charming smile. You didn’t want to flatter yourself - and shouldn’t - by thinking this was anything more than platonic. You weren’t his type, and you were smart enough to not fall for someone you could never have.

He was a good man, but not good for your if you caught feelings, so you tried not to. Keyword tried.

It was impossible when he was right there. He was irresistible with that boyish smile you couldn’t help but return. He kept your spirits up with his boisterous laugh and funny stories, and those sky blue eyes… ever grounding on your worst days. Whenever you had an issue, he was the first to offer help. He made the effort to be there for you in any way he could, even when he was away.

It was a slippery slope, and you were losing the battle fast. Before you knew it, his text was the first thing you looked for when you woke, and he was the last thing on your mind before drifting to sleep.

It was the way he called you hen, wasn’t it? There was something in his powerful yet gentle voice, like he meant it just for you as he looked into your eyes.

You played with fire. You chose to be around him knowing you couldn’t have him, and it was your fault you got burnt at the end.

You couldn’t be happier when he invited you out to such a nice place. It meant the world to you that he’d dressed up and was so accommodating about you not liking the dish you ordered. You could almost pretend it was real – that you mattered - even when it didn’t mean a thing to him.

With a smile and a sunny personality like that, he could have anyone, and you were nothing more than his neighbour and gym buddy.

Still, you didn’t mean to dodge his embrace that night, because of course, you’d wanted it. You wanted his gorgeous eyes to bore into yours before kissing you, just like in your daydreams. But in the midst of telling yourself to be realistic and get over your own feelings, him stepping in caught you off guard.

Why did you have to make it weird, you screamed at yourself. It was a friendly embrace; it wouldn’t have worsened your feelings anyway. You wanted to crawl into a hole. You’d ruined your friendship, without so much as the relief of a confession.

But you’d be fine. You’d get over it eventually, like you always did. You just had to put your big girl pants on.

When the wound had healed, maybe you could be friends once more without having to worry about getting your heart broken.

Masterlist Possessive best friend Soap

@tiredmetalenthusiast @astraluminaaa @noicedog @devcica @ray-rook

@loveergirll @marvelssssssss @wannabhere @vmaxis @asbestos-n-asbesties

@teranyaa @sinelity @solemnlyswearss @rip-cod-brainrot @dilf-luvr-4evr

@eve-lie @cloudynoxx @maskfan25 @winnieb00 @wyverns-and-songs

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the-californicationist · 10 months ago

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The Window (4 of 7)

Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 --- AO3 Link

Seeing him again had been a shock. They’d arrived late — not that you were checking on their flight or anything — and they were all a bit worse for wear. Usually, after any mission, good or bad, the flight home was cathartic. Everyone could breathe easy. They were going home to good food and infinite WiFi. It was cause for celebration, no matter how beaten and bruised they felt. But, this time was different.

Price was walking through the hangar while you were cataloging ammunition shipments, lowly desk work while your leg healed up, and he looked so small. Well, he still towered over all of the other soldiers in the bay - except for Ghost - but he just looked so pale and listless. His eyes were dull, staring at the ground, watching his feet take their steps, aimlessly driven to his next destination.

Ghost followed him, equally distracted. His mask was off, and you could see his eye-black smeared all the way down to his mouth, like he’d been rubbing his face, fretting. Gaz had looked furious. He was tossing their gear like it had personally offended him, and he railed into one of the trainees for getting in his way. His warm brown eyes had turned cold and harsh, unfeeling.

Soap was the worst. He jumped from the chopper and immediately started to scan the room, looking for you. He pulled one of the mechanics aside and you heard him asking for you by name, and as the man pointed in your direction, you hid behind the crates. Undeterred, he headed your way, so you crawled into the dark space between where he wouldn’t find you. He searched and searched, pushing aside heavy boxes and truck wheels, hunting for you. He became frantic, pacing back and forth, until Price called his name. His eyes lingered on the darkness where you were hidden, looking but not seeing. Then, glassy-eyed, he retreated, his gaze turning from desperation to unbridled frustration.

It was when you’d been trying to sneak back to the barracks that Price had found you, chasing you through the base. You weren’t running, per se, but you were moving quick enough, and you had quite the head start. He, however, was sprinting, pushing people out of his way, calling after you. When he saw the look on your face, he knew he was in trouble.

“Get back here, Sparrow! That’s an order,” he shouted down the hall.

You turned around to face him, throwing up your hands in an exaggerated shrug,

“You’re not my CO, sir.”

“Spar — Get out of the bloody way!” He shoved a trainee into the wall, pushing past him in an attempt to follow you to your room.

Price was panting, his chest heaving as he grabbed for you, his hands sinking into your soft flesh. You wrenched your body away from him and blocked him from coming into your room. He furrowed his brow and said,

“It’s Sunday. It’s my day.”

“I’m already pregnant. Your services are no longer needed,” you spat, “Much like mine, apparently.”

You tried to shut the door on him, but he blocked it with his huge shoulders, looking at you with a ravenous hunger in his eyes,

“I just got back from the fuckin’ sandbox. We can fight later, but I need you, little bird. Please.”

“And I need you to go fuck yourself… sir.” You slammed the door so hard that you thought you broke the hinges.

You listened to the handle jiggle in the lock from Price’s audacity. Then, silence.

Why was it the silence that hurt the worst?

Soap was at your door that night, banging on it, shaking the frame,

“Bonnie! I ken you’re in there. Lemme in. I jus’ wanna talk to you. Bonnie?”

Silence again, and then there was a slow, wiping sound against the door, like a big palm being slid down it.

“Sparrow? Please.” His voice was so strange. It seemed small. Usually, Soap was the loudest, the most boisterous. And now, he sounded ill.

You listened at the door, hurt and angry, but missing your men. Hearing Johnny beg was almost enough to make you unlock it. Almost.

Over the next week, they all tried to get back in your good graces. Gaz brought you flowers no matter where you were. He covered your desk with them, and you kept throwing them out or giving them away. He left them outside your door, sitting in the hall, complete with little handwritten cards:

I’m so sorry, baby. Please text me? - G.

Come to the main hall? We just need to talk. - G.

You ripped his notes up and tossed them in the trashcan irreverently.

Johnny had been a little less subtle. At the end of a long day, he’d be waiting outside your door, sometimes alone, sometimes with the others, trying to get you to listen to him,

“C’mon, bonnie. Dinnae shut us out. Please, lass.”

You had become an expert at the cold shoulder.

Ghost, fitting with his quiet demeanor, wouldn’t beg. In fact, he wouldn’t say a word. But, he followed you everywhere, haunting your office, stalking you at the gym, sitting at your table during briefings. One time, he cornered you in the elevator, riding with you past his own floor, his eyes burning into your skin.

And then there was Price. Other than his presentations during mission briefings, you hadn’t heard his voice since that very first day. But, he was always around. His smoke gave him away. Your room reeked of his tobacco, and when you were working, you’d smell it in the air. But, when you’d look up to spot him, he was nowhere to be found.

That didn’t mean he failed to reach out to you. He was always on your phone. He called you every morning when he woke up, and he called again every night when you went to bed. You never picked up, but as you lay in bed watching his smiling face pop up on your home screen again, this time, you did.

You didn’t say hello. You just waited to hear what he had to say. You needed to hear him again. Anything. Just a hello.

“Sparrow, it was me. It wasn’t them. You have to forgive them. I was the one who —”

You hung up the phone and cried into your pillow hard enough to make yourself sick.

After that night, things got so much worse. Your emotions were raw, and everything made you terribly sad. Your body was in desperate need of someone to care for it, and your hormones were going absolutely haywire. You were either nauseated or horny, and there was no warning which would hit at any given moment.

You found yourself sneaking out of work early, hiding in the shower, furiously coming on your hand over and over, thinking - wishing - that it was Soap's or Gaz's mouth instead. When you lay in bed at night, you desperately ground your hips into your dildo, riding it like you wanted to ride John and his men, wanton and soaking your sheets.

Eventually, you had reached your limit, and you met Soap, Gaz, and Ghost in the mess hall. They were all sufficiently apologetic, and they were curious as to what had changed your mind.

“Dinnae get me wrong, lass. It’s been hard without you, and I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but… why are you forgivin’ us?”

“Price told me what he did. He said it wasn’t your decision to take me off the team.”

“That’s not true,” Ghost refuted, earning himself a swift nudge from Soap and a glare from Gaz.

“Shut up, mate. Do y’know how long it’s been since —” Gaz hissed, but Ghost interrupted him.

“The captain was the one who fought to keep you on the task force. He was out-voted.”

“Out-voted? There’s only four of you. Should’ve been at draw…” you observed.

“Exactly. We all voted against him. You’ve no bloody business on the field right now, and you know it. You can barely sit here with us for ten goddamn minutes before you’re sprintin’ off to wretch in whatever can’s the closest.”

You averted your eyes from him, trying to process what he was saying, and feeling the sting of shame when you had to admit that he was right. This first trimester had been an absolute nightmare. You were a sweaty, puking mess here in the offices, and you shuddered to think of feeling this way out in the Urzikstani sands, getting shot at, eating nothing but MREs and instant decaf coffee.

“We just wanted the best for you, birdie,” Gaz reached out for your hand and held it in his, “We know how badly you want this baby, and we…” He looked at the others for a moment and said, “And we’ve fallen in love with you, Sparrow. We can’t lose you. Let us take care of you.”

You were so tired, and you needed to release the tension you’d been holding inside of your chest, so you relented.

They followed you back to your room and sat you on the bed, kissing you so deeply that you could feel their hunger. They’d been waiting for you.

All of them were dripping with precome, and you watched as it stained the thick canvas fabric of their pants, making you wonder if they’d even touched themselves in the time they were apart from you.

They began to strip themselves and you, kissing every bit of your skin, leaving purple marks from their aggressive desire. Gaz held your hand to his crotch and rubbed it across the front, making you feel his hardening rod, encouraging you to stroke him. Johnny was busying himself with your pants, aching to put his mouth on your molten core, and just the thought of his tongue was enough to make you shiver.

Ghost bent to suck at your nipples, peeling your shirt and bra off in one go, and you held his head, cradling him with as much affection as you could muster, but as you looked up at you, he knew there was something wrong.

“Hey, stop.”

The others, as if burned, immediately stopped their worship of your body and looked up at you.

Ghost continued to pry,

“What is it, love?”

“I just…” You could feel yourself start to cry.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You may have forgiven Simon, Johnny, and Kyle, but you missed John. You needed him there. Without him, even their kisses felt hollow.

“We’ll bring him back to you, dinnae fash, hen,” Soap reassured you, throwing on his shirt.

“C’mon, he’s in the gym. I saw him with his bag,” Ghost followed Soap out of your door, hard as a stone and trying to adjust himself to something a little less indecent.

Gaz kissed your lips, his full mouth warm and tasting of cinnamon sugar,

“Be right back, pretty girl.”

You waited five minutes, then ten. You decided to lay down, just for a moment, and before you knew it, you were out.

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but you woke up in someone’s arms, opening your eyes and watching as he lay you in the big, combined bed the five of you shared. You turned to see his face when you felt him crawl into the sheets beside you, blinking the sleep away and trying to catch your bearings.

“John?” You croaked, struggling to find your voice.

“Shh,” he whispered, “Go back to sleep, little bird.”

“They told me…”

“I know. They bloody well shouldn’t have. You need them. You’re both going to need them.”

“I can’t be mad anymore, John. I’m so tired. I just want you all back. Please,” you clutched at his chest, drawing him closer to you in the small bed, “Don’t leave me again.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Sparrow. Here. Feel?”

John’s huge cock was half-hard, and he fit it inside you, slipping it into your wet pussy, squeezing himself through you, just as he loved to do, letting you warm him up. The shock of it went right to your head, and you gasped, hiding your face in the fur of his chest, letting his arms wrap around you protectively.

“I’ll stay right here, birdie. As long as you want me to.”

“Aye,” Soap’s voice spoke up in the darkness, deep and low, “We all will. Tha’s a promise, lass.”

One by one, each of your men came back into the bed, laying their heavy arms over you and each other, bodies and limbs tangled and gripping at whatever flesh they could find.

You felt Ghost’s hand slide over your hip, resting his hand on your belly protectively. Gaz leaned over Price to kiss you before settling his arm over the captain’s ribs, his arm cradling your arm as you cuddled with John. Soap’s feet were wrapped around yours, keeping them warm.

As he hardened inside of you, John kissed your forehead softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, John.”

A part of you was still upset at how heavy-handed they had been with your independence, but you felt your smooth muscles fluttering against John’s cock, and it was getting harder and harder to hold onto the anger that you so desperately wanted to let go of.

As they all settled in to sleep, you decided to try and rekindle the bond that had been broken. You rocked your hips forward, sliding your slick body up and down Price’s fat length. His eyes shot open, burning into you with a dark passion.

“Little bird?”

Your lips found his neck, trailing wet kisses up to his earlobe, taking it in your mouth and suckling at his skin.

“Not tired, love?” Simon asked, planting his own kisses on your shoulder blades, coaxing your hips to rock back and forth, chasing your high.

“You need us, innit tha’ right, lass?” Johnny’s fingers reached over your hip, following Simon’s and then trailed down, finding your swollen clit and rubbing slow, tight circles around it, making you soften around Price like an opening bud, petting your petals until you practically unfurled for him.

“Ungh, Garrick. What are you… “ Price growled through gritted teeth.

You watched as Kyle licked his hand and tucked it behind John’s back, heading for his tight asshole, fucking him gently on his fingers.

“Keep fucking our girl, Cap. She needs you,” Kyle told him, “I’ll take care of you, sir.”

“I’m not as patient as the sergeant is, lover,” Simon rustled under the sheets to find his cock, and he held it in his fist, pumping it against your plump ass cheek, “Will you let me in?”

You turned over your shoulder and let him kiss you, feeling his soft lips slide against yours, giving him your tongue to suck on as his hands kneaded your sensitive breast.

“Yes, Si,” you whispered, “Anything you want.”

You thought his reaction to your words was a little over the top, but Ghost was reacting to Soap, ducked below the sheets, eating his asshole, shoving his tongue deep in the tight opening, prepping him for more.

Simon tucked his cock between your legs, spitting on his hand and rubbing it on you and himself, lubing you up in a messy, frantic sort of way, too desperate to care about finding a bottle of gel somewhere in the room.

Johnny was already rutting into his lieutenant, making Simon’s cock leak and jump, excited and drooling for its own warm hole. When you felt his head touch your asshole, you sighed at the tingling electricity building there, eager to be stretched by him. Finally, he popped into your ass, and he began to fuck himself up into you, inch by inch, filling you up.

Price was grinding his fat dick inside of you, and he groaned when he felt Simon join him on the other side, making you even tighter, forcing the captain to struggle to fit.

Soon, all five of you were fucking each other at the same time, moaning and kissing and licking one another’s skin, twisted together in a wet mess, and you had never felt such pleasure before. It was as if you were all on the edge, ready to come at the faintest breath of an orgasm, waiting for the spark to ignite the whole room into an explosion of ecstacy.

“Mmf-fuck!” Simon’s hand wrapped itself around your neck, “Your fuckin’ arsehole feels like heaven, love.”

“Dinnae stop, Si. I can feel when you bottom out in her. Makes you so tight, mate,” Johnny begged him, pinching the lieutenant’s nipples between his fingers over and over, teasing him relentlessly.

“You alright, little bird?” John asked you, kissing you softly, barely dragging his lips across yours, dreamily moving against you harder and harder, chasing his pleasure, “Fuckin’ Garrick is takin’ away my stamina every time he rams into me like that. Gonna make me come too quick, Gaz.”

“Sorry, sir,” Kyle smiled, giving you a wink, as he licked and nipped at the same earlobe that you had, remembering how much he loved that spot, “Feels too good to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, wrapping your hands around John’s shoulders, holding on for dear life, “Don’t ever stop.”

While you wait for the next chapter, please consider checking out my other work. Thank you!

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain price x you #simon riley x you #johnny mactavish x you #kyle garrick x you #tf 141 x reader #141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x you

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laswells-ashtray · 16 days ago

Note

It’s 9 AM where I am now and I have work at 10 (no car). I’m pretty certain I have some type of chest cold/phenomena, but I’m not 100% sure. And I’m on my period.

Can you info dump about all of the little COD ideas you have in your head so I can read about it on my break or when I get off? If that makes sense? It doesn’t have to be full stories, just the Autism Thoughts.

Damn, and to think I just had dinner. To be fair it was an early dinner but it was homemade spaghetti and it was fucking banging. Don't die of illness and such, also if you've cursed me I swear to God because whenever anyone tells me about their period I end up synced with them and that's happened seven separate times. It's like fucked up Bluetooth. And to the one person who reads this and thinks I'm oversharing, what are you gonna do about it?

Ghost has, and will again smack Soap across the back of the head for referring to food as "orgasmic" in public.

Nikolai has a penchant for hazelnut Happy Hippos. He has sworn John to secrecy but God forbid that man smoke a joint and get near a box of those fuckers.

Alejandro and Rudy once got into an argument because Rudy admitted that out of all of Alejandro's nieces and nephews, Rudy has a favourite. The argument only ended because after Rudy named his favourite, Alejandro realised that it was his favourite niece too.

Once while drunk, a baby gay let Kate hit her vape in a bar and Kate considers it the lowest she's ever gotten while drinking, this is nowhere near true. She threw up in a man's mouth when he tried to kiss her while she was drunk in her early twenties, she does not regret it. Nor should she.

On more than one occasion, Farah has woken up to find Alex's face smashed against her shoulder with him drooling on her shirt. She'll never say a word because it's endearing, it's adorable and if she told him he'd never sleep next to her again.

Speaking of, Alex is a wrestling guy. He's always liked The Undertaker bit, especially the entrance music but he doesn't like the man behind the costume. Follows Stone Cold on an Instagram account that he has mainly for watching reals, he likes photos of Stone Cold with his chickens or his cats. Loved the Punkintyre feud, and sided with Punk because he's a good ol American boy but Drew McIntyre awakens something deeply bisexual inside of him. Likes watching Cena and Bautista in any movies they're in, loved them back in the day. Fucking loves Toni Storm's transatlantic, old-timey actress bit.

Valeria is a reader, likes a good murder mystery with a glass of wine and some takeout. Will sit down to read a chapter or two and finish the book. She has a shelf full of her favourites, she'll read them online first but the ones she loves, she buys a copy of. The only non-murder mystery books she owns a physical copy of are the Jurassic Park novels but she bought ones with sophisticated covers so no one would be able to tell unless they open up to the inside page.

He isn't scared of them but Simon is deeply mistrusting of swans. He refuses to explain why to anyone, he just calls them cunts and moves on with his life.

John's go-to move when Nikolai is irritated with him is to drop to his knees and unzip Nik's zipper with his teeth. The Russian goes for it every time even when he knows it's just John's way of playing with him.

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potchi-fics · 2 months ago

Text

zaun (part three of attention)

i | ii | iii | iv | v

rays of sunshine creep through the tiny cracks of your blinds, waking you up from your deep slumber. the moment you open your eyes, you let out a groan of annoyance. what’s worse is it hurts when you swallow, you feel a slight throbbing in your head, and you feel sluggish. you think that you might be sick. just in time, your alarm clock screams. a slam of your hand shuts it up: shut up, im already up. you force yourself out of bed and opt for a quick shower– grabbing your towel and necessities, you walk to your bathroom. thanks to your shampoo and soap, you manage to smell like lavender and vanilla; a scent youve always adored.

stripping your clothes, you step under the showerhead and turn it on– letting the cold water hit your somehow hot body. im gonna run a fever, arent i. you grumble in irritation, but you focus on the water hitting you, pondering about your interaction with sevika. now that you think about it, its been a couple of days since her last visit. a single question runs into your mind: maybe i should go to zaun again, it is my day-off.

youve made up your mind, you’ll explore the city.

laying out clothes on your bed, picking your choice of outfit; black cargo pants paired with black shirt, layered with a coat, and black boots– cant forget your trusty dagger. you check your watch and you figure you’d be there in a couple of minutes. with one final look at yourself in the mirror, you head out.

the bustling city fills all your senses, i probably wont get used to this. this time, you fully take in zaun– kids playing on the streets, drunkards already drinking, elders talking to each other, everyone seems lively today you thought. putting your hands in your pockets, you turn into an alleyway. markus was right, curiosity will get you killed. while walking, you see a child crying in his grandmother's arms and of course, you being a nosy woman, listened to them.

“but grandma,” he wails out, “i really love that radio. why’d they have to destroy it?”

his grandma rubs his head comfortingly, “hush now, ill buy you a new one.”

you know that look in her eyes, that guilt and regret swimming in her eyes: she wont be able to buy one. look, you werent always a piltie, but that story can be told another time. absentmindedly, your feet bring you to them. you were only snapped back to reality when you hear her ask.

“what do you want? we dont have anything anymore.” the elder hisses out.

you raise your arms, “im not here to take anything, im here to see if i can fix your radio.”

what?

“what?”

this is what i get for being nosy, “i know a few things about ‘em.”

but the twinkle in the boy’s eyes, his sniffles quieting down, and hugging his grandma tighter? you had to do something.

“r-really?” he’s a timid little kid.

you slowly kneel beside them, “yeah, kid. ill try to fix it, cant promise you though.”

you take a look around their house– its small and messy, considering theyre living in an alley, you cant judge. tools that you can use are tucked away in a box in the corner, thinking theyre good enough. seeing that youre eyeing them, the kid hurriedly brings you the box. thanking him, you carefully grab the radio; its old, and run-down, but it works. using a flathead, you disassemble it.

“its not broken, luckily.” you take a glance at the two, “the screws are loose, so you just have to tighten them again.”

you turn it on once you assemble it back to its original form, a small smile creeps into your face as you hear static before hearing voices.

the grandma brings out her waller, “how much do i need to pa–”

“dont mind,” you stand up to interrupt her, “its my day off.”

her face shows gratitude but her eyes show seriousness, “dont give kindness here easily, kid.”

your eyebrows furrow, confused by her comment. you could only offer them a nod before making your way deeper into the alleyway, relieved you could fix the radio. before turning, you hear the kid yell a thank you which makes you chuckle. but your victory is cut short when you hear a fight going on. your instincts turning on, you put your back against the wall and take a peek behind it.

its sevika. and shes not looking good. her arm isnt working, she’s outnumbered: she looks like she’s about to pass out. debating whether you should help, you watch for a few seconds. one man was about to punch her but you quickly jumped in to block it. her eyes met yours almost immediately, however, you ignored her and put yourself between her and them.

“you shouldnt be here, pretty little thing.” the middle guy snarled.

you only stare at them, “i really dont give a fuck. like, at all.”

guess that pissed him off because he quickly charges at you but you trip him and stepped aside to give him to sevika, seeing the vulnerable man heading her way, she quickly uses her right hand to punch him in the face. on the other side, you were dealing with two guys. one rushes to throw a fist but you evade by ducking and giving the other man a punch in the liver: a body shot, he crumbles down to his knees– giving you the chance to deal with the other.

“lousy,” you comment, jabbing him and hitting his nose, “weak, unfocused, poor execution.”

with every insult, you land hit after hit. he bares his yellow teeth at you while holding his bloody nose and mouth. you feel arms around your torso– throwing your lower body in the air and forcibly throwing yourself down, you make the clingy man stumble forward– hitting his buddy. your gaze goes back to sevika and you see her getting pinned to the wall. quickly grabbing your dagger, you make your way to them and slash the back of his knees, making him let go of her. sevika pants but lands a hit to his jaw– knocking him out cold.

you turn to look at the other two, only to see their back turned against you, already running away. cowards. hearing her groans and labored breathing, you turn around and help her up– putting her arm around your shoulder and trying to support her weight.

“i didnt need your help,” sevika grunts out.

you sneer back, “sure, sure. you look like you were winning actually.”

she tries to escape your hold but right now, you are much stronger than her. you scold her and force her to hold onto you.

“dont play with me right now, sevika. my head is already hurting,” you warn her.

sevika huffs out, “just this once. i have a safe house somewhere around here, its not far.”

scared that she was gonna bleed out, you briskly walk, but still gently handling her. after a few minutes, you reach an abandoned building. she leads this time. this place is a goddamn maze, the smell of wood and cigarette brings you back to reality, the door to her safe house opening.

you take in the sight, you snort at the messy place. she limps to sit on her couch, letting you close and lock the door. you rush to her to assess her injuries: bruises, cuts, and a wound that would probably need stitches.

“you got a kit?” you ask but youre already rummaging through her things.

she snorts, “bathroom, lower cabinet.”

making a beeline for it, you hurriedly walk to her bathroom. seeing the kit, you let out a breath of relief and grab yourself a few ointments and a wet cloth. you go back to her and she looks like she’s really about to pass out. your voice wakes her up, making her stare at you.

“this is gonna sting,” you prepare the stitch to start.

she dismisses your comment with a wave of her bloody hand, “this is nothing.”

only breaths and occasional groans from her fill the quiet room, giving your entire focus to finishing her stitch. snipping the thread, you move on to clean her wounds with the wet cloth you grabbed earlier– dabbing and rubbing the blood away, sevika lets the calming action take over her. too tired and worn out to complain. roughly twenty minutes pass and you finally reach her face; taking a moment to stare at her, your eyes roam from her eyebrows, down to her nose, and travel down to stare at her lips.

“you done starin’ at me?” though her eyes are still closed, you figure she mightve felt your gaze.

warm cloth meets her skin, “wasnt staring at you, i was starin’ at your wounds, asshat.”

she suddenly grabs you by the waist to pull you to her, your hands landing on her chest to steady yourself.

“what are you doing.” red paints your ears.

she chuckles lowly, a sound that makes you want to rub your thighs together, “im only making it easier for you.”

“actually, this is harder for me,” you manage to blur out, “stupid.”

you attempt to pull away but her hold only tightens around you. sevika finally opens her eyes to look at you and you realize: blood loss.

she looks intently at you, slowly leaning in and putting her nose into your throat– inhaling your scent. you flush at this, the redness covering your entire face now. sevika drags her nose up to the side of your neck, finding your pulse; youre scared she’s gonna feel how fast its pulsing. your hand grips her bicep, feeling the muscle and how solid her body is. your eyes shut as her nose travels up your jaw, her lips just grazing your skin.

“you shouldnt have come back here,” she whispers out.

you didnt know it was possible to be closer to her but she grounded you on her crotch– making you straddle her. she pushed you down into her, emitting a throaty groan from her. you, on the other hand, are breathless, you cant think properly, your ears are ringing, and your hands are shaking. she kisses your jaw, resulting in you opening your eyes.

your hand that’s holding the cloth squeezes between the two of you and positions itself on her forehead to push her away. her head lolls back as she finally sleeps. Ignoring the fire in your abdomen, one thought crosses your mind: fuck, that did things to you.

note: finally building tension

#sevika imagine #sevika arcane #arcane #wlw post #wlw #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #sevika #fanfic #sevika fanfic #sevika x you #female reader #fem reader

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poetryandfluffycats · 9 months ago

Text

His Girl~

A/N: part of my Nikolai stalker au! might be the last one for awhile since for may ill be on the grind for enstars NSFW month🤍

Pairing: Kidnapper!Nikolai Gogol x fem!reader

Content: Bathing with kidnapper Nikolai...

Warnings: kidnapping, suggestive(?)

Words: 887

Oneshot under cut!

"Dove, how would you like a bath?"

Nikolai leaned over my shoulder, wrapped his arms around my middle and squeezing my belly fat. "Hm, and maybe some new clothes? You must be getting sick of this old number! Aha!"

A bath? I would've loved a bath. It'd been so long since the last time I'd properly bathed, my only way of cleaning myself whilst down here being a dirty rag and a bucket. Even though there was a bathtub in the bathroom of the basement, Nikolai had never let me use it for whatever reason.

The thought of clean water, soap, shampoo, maybe even bubbles? It had me tingling. New clothes too? Clearly something had put Nikolai in a good mood today, which I wasn't going to complain about.

Something about the offer, however, made me shiver. Something about the way he held me, about the way he squeezed me just a bit too tight, told me that he wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his own heart.

"That sounds nice..." I mumbled, turning my head around to face him. There it was, that stare again. Pupils blown out beyond humanness, jagged teeth showing in his wide grin.

Anyone would've called me crazy if I told them, but that was his happy face.

"Wonderful! Yes, let's get you all nice and squeaky clean, hm?"

He intertwined his fingers with mine, a bounce in his step as he dragged me towards the bathroom, which was located in the far corner of the basement. Once inside, he closed and locked the door behind us, patting the counter top and gesturing for me to sit down. I did as he wanted, hopping up onto the counter and swinging my legs back and forth.

The action reminded me of when I was a child, watching my mother do her makeup at the vanity while I begged her to put some on me too. I wondered if she missed me, if anyone did.

"Now, I wasn't sure what type of scent you liked, so I got a whole bunch! I think the lady at the store thought I was crazy, aha!" Nikolai giggled, opening the cabinet beneath me and pulling out bottle after bottle of shower products. "Strawberry, peach, vanilla, cherry, this ones called 'A thousand wishes' how odd...! Oh, bath salts, you need bath salts! Here, I got a few options for those as well"

"Vanilla sounds nice" I smiled softly, pointing at the bottle in question. Nikolai grabbed it and popped open the lid, holding it out for me to smell. "Smells nice too"

"Vanila it is then! I'll fill the tub, and you strip for me, mkay? Don't be embarrassed, I'll behave myself! Scouts honour"

Scouts honour? I couldn't imagine Nikolai as a boyscout, actually, I couldn't imagine the manic as a child at all. I preferred to think of him as some sort of demon that just spawned one day as what he is now. What would a younger Nikolai be like? Probably the kind who went around setting bee hives on fire and stealing from the collection box at church.

"Strip, strip, strip! Don't keep me waiting, dove" Nikolai sang, tilting his head to the side, keeping an eye on me as he fiddled with the faucets of the bath.

"Kolya...?" I hesitated in pulling my nightgown off, the fabric bunching up in my grip.

"Hm?"

"Don't stare, okay?"

"You can count on me, love! But, you can't blame me if I do sneak a few peeks, alright? How am I supposed to bathe my girl without looking at her? Hm?"

My girl.

What an idiot. I wasn't his property, you couldn't own a person, didn't matter how long you kept them trapped in your basement.

Without any further trouble, I untied the bow holding my gown together, letting it slip down my frame and pool at my ankles, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable at Nikolais mercy. I was quick to cover my chest as I hopped off the counter top, trying to keep just an ounce of my modestly intact.

"What a beautiful body-eck! Stupid Nikolai, stupid! She doesn't want you staring! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" The jester hit himself in the head a few times, muttering a string of different curse words with each smack.

"Ah, ignore me, dove. Go on! Baths nice and warm for you!"

I didn't need to be told twice, mumbling a quick thanks as I slid down into the tub. It felt like bliss, the bubbles popping under my weight and creating a tickling sensation on my skin. The water was hot, but not so hot you felt like you might boil to death. Just right.

I reached for the vanilla scented body scrub that Nikolai had layed out for me, only to have him grab my wrist before I could get a hold of it. "Ah-ah-Ah, allow me" He wagged his finger back and forth, grabbing the scrub himself and scooping a generous amount into his palm.

It felt wrong, his grubby hands on my bare skin. This should have been a luxury for me, something to enjoy, but I couldn't help but feel like a piece of meat on display. Mere prey, a toy to dress up.

And in a way I was.

#bsd x reader #bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere x reader #yandere #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd nikolai #bsd nikolai gogol #bungo stray dogs nikolai #nikolai x reader #yandere nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai gogol #bsd gogol #oneshot

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creepyclothdoll · 1 month ago

Text

Ant Problem

I really thought it was a dog. I swear. I swear I didn’t know.

How could I? Vi never told me anything. She just expected people to know.

Walking into Grandma Vi’s house was like walking into a halloween haunted maze made out of ant traps. Flypaper hung from the ceiling and walls like streamers. The floor was littered in dusty plastic traps, and empty and half-full boxes of borax and liquid ant killer were stacked along the walls. The smell of the place was strange and cloying. Soap and poison.

I never liked being there. She made me uncomfortable, even as a kid, when her paranoia wasn’t her defining trait just yet.

She was a neat freak back then. Her rules were foreign to me, but not as foreign as the genuine outrage she expressed when those rules were broken. I didn’t even know what a coaster was, why was I being snapped at for putting my water cup down? You’re not sleeping in the attic bed, why are you so pissed at me for leaving it un-made? Don’t get mad at me for not drying the entire shower after I’ve used it– I didn’t even know anybody did that.

Grandma Vi would never tell you what weird unusual protocols she expected you to follow, she’d just fly off the handle when you didn’t do it, and that’s how you’d find out that it was disrespectful to wear a hat indoors or not offer to wash the dishes as a guest. She’d turn up her sharp jaw and suck her thin teeth and scowl endlessly.

I could honestly say that I missed that version of her.

Compared to this Grandma Vi, that one was a delight.

This Grandma Vi collected dirty paper dishes in her room. She stacked them high. She sprayed them with bleach. She refused to let me wash them– the sink drains were all clogged in the house now, stuffed with paper towels and borax.

“Ants could get in through there,” she explained.

When I brought Grandma Vi her groceries, they had to undergo a period of “disinfecting,” in which they were double-bagged in black trash bags and sealed for two days. This, Vi reasoned, would suffocate any insects that might be passengers inside the lettuce or the cornflake boxes.

No sugar, obviously. Ants loved sugar.

I tried not to eat in front of Vi. The day I spent as her full-time caretaker, I unwrapped an egg sandwich in front of her and it sent her into a panic attack.

“You’re dropping crumbs all over the floor!” she screamed.

I wasn’t. And even if I was, it’s not like the floor could get any dirtier. Vi would not let me vacuum because I did it wrong. Vi didn’t vacuum either– she couldn’t. Just walking around the house left her fatigued. Her hair had always been long and thick, but it was so hard for her to care for now that she’d had it shaved near to the scalp. She’d struggle to lift anything heavier than a spoon.

I reminded myself of that daily. Grandma Vi was a sick, dying old woman. She was in pain. She was used to independence and solitude. This was the worst she’d ever felt and the most disempowered she had ever been.

And, importantly, my dad was paying me to do this. Because someone had to.

So I tried not to hate her guts. And I ate my meals outside, on the picnic table in what used to be her garden, even in the winter. I refrained from cleaning without her permission. I never, ever, ever used the front door.

The front door could let in ants.

The ant obsession– I never found out where that came from. My dad just shrugged it off as one more drop in a giant bucket of assorted mental illnesses.

“She’s been getting worse ever since Grandpa Joe passed,” dad said to me over the phone while I called him, crying in my car one day. Vi’s husband had been gone since before I was born. If there was a tolerable version of her, I never met it. “Grandma Vi relied on him. When your mom was growing up, Vi was actually a very quiet, mellow person. She was never… nice. But she felt safe. She had security. She didn’t feel like she had to go on the attack all the time.”

I hated imagining my mom as a child in this horrible house.

“Your Grandpa Joe was a nice person,” dad said. “Not like her at all. I believe that missing him is a big part of what made her crazy.”

I didn’t argue with him, but I didn’t think he was right. Because in Grandma Vi’s halloween haunted house of traps and poison, every single photo of Grandpa Joe– a tall, dark, handsome man with a very kind smile– had been turned backwards to face the wall.

The first month I was there was quiet. Then the scratching started.

It sounded like a raccoon climbing around on the roof and walls. Every time I thought it was done, it started up again. It was the deep of night, and I couldn’t sleep. I slipped out of the attic bed where Vi still expected me to sleep and climbed the ladder down to the main floor. There was a porch light outside. I hoped it would scare away any animals.

But as I started unlocking the back door, a sharp, cold hand grabbed my arm. I jumped. Vi was there, her dark eyes wide, her wrinkled face pulled tightly into a mask of pure terror.

“Don’t open the door,” she hissed.

“I’m just turning the light on,” I said. I unlatched the door.

Vi screamed, and I felt a sudden hot pain across my face. I put my fingers to my cheek and felt blood. Vi had scratched me. I swore, and she re-latched the door. I ran to the bathroom to wash my new cuts out in the clogged sink.

When I found Vi again, she was in bed. She wasn’t sleeping, though. And she definitely wasn’t sorry.

“If you attack me again, I’m leaving,” I said to her.

“You oughtta be grateful,” Vi said. “You don’t even know what you almost did, stupid.”

I refrained from calling her the names I was thinking of calling her in my head. I swallowed those teeth and asked,

“What did I almost do?”

Vi laughed.

“You were just gonna let in those ants.”

In Vi’s house, I was never to leave the house at night. I was never to open the back door at night. I was never to open the front door at all. I was never, under any circumstances, to let anyone else inside the house.

The scratching would come every few nights. Once it started, Vi finally started asking me to fix things around the house. She didn’t let me clean, but she did make me go up on the roof and look for holes. Nests. Anywhere ants could be living or trying to get in. And for once, to her credit, I did find some damage. It looked like termites, maybe. I sprayed bug killer and sealed up the chewed spots.

One day, Vi screamed at the top of her lungs in the middle of the night. I ran into her room to find her frantically springing from her bed. She collapsed into a dresser and knocked over the stack of paper plates she kept there, sanitized with bleach. She was staring at the window with pure horror. I didn’t see anything out there. She wouldn’t tell me what she saw. She only wept and shook and cried Joe’s name over and over. The next day she had me cover that window with cardboard and plastic and seal it. And then I had to re-seal it, because she saw a microscopic space that no one else would notice. Big enough for a potential ant to get in.

“You never met your Grandpa Joe,” Vi said to me out of the blue one day. Her room was lightless and stuffy, and she had spent her recent days sitting in bed and doing nothing but listen to audiobooks on an old cd player. “You never saw him.”

“I heard he was nice,” I said.

“He’s dead,” she said. “He’s never coming back.”

“My dad says he’s with us in spirit,” I said. “He says he can feel him sometimes, loving us.”

“Listen, you moronic little girl. He’s dead. He’s not with us. So if you ever see him around, you better tell me. And you better keep the doors locked.”

I was taken aback.

“Have you seen him?” I asked.

“No. But the ants have. They’ve seen him and they know what he looks like. And I’ve seen the ants.”

Vi would deteriorate a little bit at a time, and then a lot at once. When I started, I wondered if we’d develop some sort of closeness over time. That was a very silly idea. The more Vi needed me, the less she could stand me. She would snip at me and scream at me. The first time she needed my help in the bathroom, I was punished for helping her with a long string of insults and criticism which, at this point, I had learned to tune out.

I brought her a bowl of corn flakes in a paper plate in bed. She commanded me to spray her stacks of paper plates with bleach while she ate.

“I don’t think that’s safe,” I said. She shot me a dagger glare.

“You want ants in here?” she said.

“I just think this is an unventilated room and it’s not safe to spray bleach all over everything.”

Vi responded to this by throwing her bowl of corn flakes at me. Cereal splashed all over the floor. Milk soaked into my sweater and my hair.

“That’s it,” I said.

I took my wet sweater off. I changed pants. I took the vacuum cleaner out of its dusty closet.

Vi screamed and screamed at me as I cleaned up the mess. I took all of the paper plates and put them in garbage bags. I took down the flypaper. I threw the empty borax boxes in the dumpster.

Vi couldn’t do anything but sob while I took over the house. When I got thirsty, I set my cup down on the table without a coaster.

I was worried the neighbors were going to call the cops with all the yelling and crying going on, but no one did. Once, I looked out the window and saw a dark man in dark clothes standing on the sidewalk across from the house. I couldn’t see his eyes under his cap, but I thought he was looking at me. There was something familiar and disturbing about him which I couldn’t place. And then he was just gone. I looked away for a second and he had disappeared.

The sun went down. I came into Vi’s room with her dinner and her pills.

“You hate me,” she glared. “You really, really hate me. I must deserve it.”

“Vi, I cleaned your house.”

“You’re gonna let in those ants.”

“If ants get in, we’ll just stomp them. Listen, I’m not gonna live here and help you if I can’t live in this house.”

“Then you better let me die.” She scowled at me. I rolled my eyes.

There was a scratching sound at the front door. Vi jumped and pulled the blanket up like a child afraid of the dark.

I stood up to go see the source of the noise.

“Get back here!” Vi shouted. “I’m just seeing what it is,” I said.

“You stupid bitch! Get back here!” Vi screamed louder as I walked up the hall to the front door. The scratches sounded heavy, huge. Not like a raccoon at all, but something bigger. For a second, I had a sudden, irrational thought– it was that man I saw before. It was that tall man with the cap. And when I opened the door, I thought, I would see him standing there, his uncannily and unplaceably familiar face grinning at me. And his teeth would be black, and his eyes dark and gleaming. I got scared. My fingers stopped on the latch.

I flipped on the front porch light.

I peeked through the hole.

Of course there was no man. It was a dog.

A big black lab. He had a collar around his neck. He scratched the door again, tail wagging.

I hadn’t seen this dog around the neighborhood before, but to be fair, I hadn’t been able to get out very much in the past few months. It could very well be a neighbor dog. He was big, but he looked skinny. His dark coat shined slick in the porch light.

I unlocked the front door. The dog looked at me through the screen, its glittering dark eyes docile.

“Hi,” I said to the dog. The dog wagged its tail slowly. “Are you lost?”

The dog didn’t whine or bark, but only pawed at the door again.

Vi would never, in a million billion years, let me help this dog. But Vi wasn’t in charge anymore. So I opened the door.

I only meant to step outside and check his collar. But the moment the door was open, the big black dog strode into the house.

Not a labrador, I realized. Maybe some kind of great pyrenees mix. It was big. Huge, even. It crossed the threshold and I swore it seemed to grow.

Not a pyrenees. A dane.

As the dog brushed past me, I reached my hand down to pet his dark coat.

My fingers passed through something grainy, crunchy, and moving. Something which slithered in rivers around my fingers, millions of tiny legs–chitinous, feathery, pinching.

Not a dane.

Not a dog.

The creature didn’t move right as it lurched down the hall. The legs bent wrong. The body writhed. It moved quickly, with purpose.

I was too shocked to move. The dog-thing swelled up into an enormous, amorphous mass, and flooded into Grandma Vi’s bedroom, where she was already screaming.

I ran to her. I did hate her, but I ran to her. Maybe I meant to help her. Maybe I just wanted to see.

Either way, by the time I got there, there was nearly nothing left of Grandma Vi but a thrashing corpse.

I couldn’t tell when the wild flailing stopped being her death throes and started being purely the erratic undulations and tossings and turnings of millions of tiny black ants, moving her bones.

They crawled all over the floor. They crawled all over the ceiling. They crawled over my arms and legs. Not biting, just moving over me on their way to and from her.

I turned and fled the house.

The ants didn’t follow me. They were far too engrossed in dismantling their quarry.

I really didn’t know. How could I? Vi never told me.

She expected me to just know.

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l0v3tast3 · 2 years ago

Note

What if the 141 Team had a y/n that LOVES spiders and has like 5 big ass spiders at home and everytime they see one ( even if it is the ugly ass scary ones) they will go like "omg! How cute!! I am going to keep it!" And gives them stupid names.

✎ i hate spiders with every fiber in my body irl like if they all went extinct i think all my mental illness would be cured but this is cute lol

✎ tags: uhh spiders?, young military reader, gender neutral reader, platonic, fluff, not proofread as usual

♡ you never make any outright mention of it, but they notice your not-so-common love pretty quick. it's not like they expect you to jump up onto a table and scream when you see a spider, but this isn't what they expected either.

♡ you're all at a safehouse, it's your first mission with them and they don't know you very well yet. kyle, price, and you are sitting at a table going over countless building plans while ghost and soap are fiddling with the armory currently set on a coffee table.

♡ kyle looks over at one of the empty chairs and is just like "oh, a spider" and starts rolling up a piece of paper to smack it with, but you've already got it scooped up in your hands. he watches you walk out of the front door, basically coddling it, holding it much closer to your face than most people would.

♡ it happens a couple more times on that mission (the safehouse is kind of old and grungy, just the usual) and everyone sort of takes notice then. soap mentions it while they're scraping the last of whatever is left out of their rations and you're in another room.

♡ "what's with the kid and spiders? why don't they just kill 'em?" he asks, and kyle shrugs, muttering that you just seem to like them. soap shakes his head and suppresses a soft shudder (he does not like them).

♡ later, you're all in a forest surrounding the building you're scoping out. it's all quiet and you're passing along hushed counts of people and potential entrance points through your mics when they hear you let out a soft gasp.

♡ price asks if you're alright and you whisper-yell through the mics "sorry, there's a huge spider here!" and kyle and soap raise their eyebrows at each other while price rolls his eyes. they think that's the end of it, and eventually price says it's time to go back to the safehouse.

♡ you're the first one back and they all walk in to see you at the table with a grungy tupperware box containing, lo and behold, a huge spider. you've poked holes in the top of the box to make sure it could breathe.

♡ soap is the first to speak. "ah, c'mon kid, what the hell is that thing doin' in here?" you give him a slight side-eye and keep cooing at it through the plastic. "i'm keeping it!" you proclaim. "i can do that, right?" you're looking at price with practically doe-eyes now.

♡ price tries to protest that you shouldn't, it could be an invasive species or something, but you shake your head and tell them what type of spider it is, that it's actually pretty common in most countries, you'll make sure it doesn't get out, that you've had a couple of these before in the past so you know how to take care of it.

♡ "you've had a couple? like as pets?" soap asks incredulously and you just nod without giving him a glance. he gives you a weird look before following ghost to dump his gear off next to his cot. ghost has already been giving you weird looks through the mask, but he doesn't say anything.

♡ price gives up pretty quick and saying no and just tells you to make sure it stays in the box and you nod and promise you will. kyle sits down with you, albeit across from you instead of next to you, and eyes it warily.

♡ "it won't bite! this one's nice. the ones i have at home will though," you joke, and kyle scoots his chair back a teensy bit. price laughs at him.

♡ they learn that you have five other spiders at home. you whip out your phone, eager to show them pictures when they express vague interest, and soap leaves the room entirely. ghost rolls his eyes at him but doesn't move to come see the pictures either. kyle just says "oh... nice!" and price nods along.

♡ they try to limit your collecting habit in the future, but it's hard for them to say no to you. you keep showing them you're ever-growing collection every time you guys see each other again, and kyle ends up knowing all your spiders by name (regardless of if he actually wanted to or not, he just doesn't want to be mean).

✎ hnghhn sorry i've been gone so long again lol i'm writing again tho i promise <3

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itsohh · 2 years ago

Text

Mi Calvario

A/N: Female reader, didn't want to write a full series so here's just a bunch of snippets of events that took place. Anything in box brackets is spoken in Spanish. (Because like who wants to try scroll for a key during a fic, not me and my Spanish is horrible. (I cheated in Spanish class in highschool))

Summary: With Las Almas in ruin, Rudy makes sures to check up on the only other Vaqueros who isn't in prison. Wife of Alejandro, you insist on joining Rudy in the fight. Despite the constantly underlying illness that keeps you out of the field, your determined to fight for your home.

Word count: 1981

Warnings: None

AO3 Masterlist

Ever one with the shadows, Ghost paused with his reunion with Rudy. "Who's your friend?" His eyes glanced to the darkest corner of the room, Soaps soon followed his lead. Soap really had to squint and then the smallest movement came.

"[Stand down.]" Rudy didn't need to turn his head for you to know he was speaking to you.

"[Look at you Rudy, still making friends even at this age huh?]" Out from the shadows you stepped, rifle now slung over your shoulder.

"[More of Alejandro's friends but eh.]"

"[Always was the one to work well with others.]" You fiddled with the strap of your glove around your rist, tightening it slightly.

In full view of the moon light the two SAS operatives were able to see your full form.

"Forgive me, this Ghost and Soap."

"Pleasure." Soap smiled and Ghost nodded to you.

"This is Major-"

"Ah not any more. That's you now." You tutted. Rudy paused and glanced towards the men.

"She's ex Vaqueros."

"Ex?" Soap raised a brow.

"Retired if you believe it. Well, at least I was until the entire fucking city went up in smoke."

"Bit young to be retired?" Soaps question had you light slightly under your breath.

"Ah, a charmer. My retirement wasn't one of my own will. Medical reasons. Active duty kept it making it worse." A sigh left your mouth. "I would have kept working until I dropped but ah Alejandro wouldn't have it. Caring bastard. Don't worry, it won't affect my performance." You gave him a wink.

"Alejandro's going to kill me for getting you involved."

"Think the whole citys involved at this point. Think the question is, what is this? What shit have we stepped into?"

Ghost glanced at Soap, a small nod before he opened his mouth.

"So, your close with Alejandro?" Soap asked as the four of you approached the prison.

"Very."

"What made you join the Vaqueros?"

"Alejandro of course. There's not many people out there who are as passionate about their home like he is. I was I suppose when it comes down to it, a drifter. Just went and did what my military told me to. It wasn't until I met Alejandro that I realized why we fight. His passion is contagious." There was a gleen to your eyes as you spoke.

"You sound like you idolized him."

"I do, in a way. If there's anyone worth dying for it would be him."

"[Yeah but he's also your husba-]" Rudy started to speak before you interupted him with a harsh but non serious tone.

"[Shut up.]" A deep breath left your lips. "[I'll have you know, I've believe that long since anything happened between us. Besides you feel the same way, I don't see how that would relate at all.]"

"[I wasn't trying to make an attack I was just bringing it up.]" The pair of you started to bicker, still rather teasing. Your words so fast, Soap wasn't unable to keep up. Ghost could.

"I'll take point." You nodded to Ghost as he braced against Alejandro's cell door. At your signal, he opened the door and you took a step in. To an empty room? Your thought and slight confusion was cut off when your back slammed against the wall of the cell. Alejandro's arm pressed against your throat and anger consumed his face. Despite the pain, you couldn't help but stare at him in glee. You loved to see him like this and it felt far too long since you had seen him at all. The sweet sound of Alejandro's demanding voice filled your ears and Rudy quickly jumped to your defense.

Alejandro's eyes blinked and he glanced from Rudy to you. "[If you wanted to get rough darling I won't complain but perhaps let's keep that to our bedroom hmm?]" You groaned slightly and Alejandro immediately stepped forward even closer. There was no gap between the two of you. Both hands on the side of your face, his lips roughly pressed against yours. A thousand words all put in one kiss.

"Oh!" Soaps' surprised voice broke the pair of you from your little world.

Just as quickly as it started, he stopped.

The group of you had a job to do.

"[What are you doing here, you should be safe at home?]" His voice was one of concern but still adoration. It seems it was a mutual agreement that the pair of you hadn't seen each other recently enough.

"[And leave you to rot in this old prison? Never.]" He flashed you a smile as he was given a weapon.

"[That's my girl. My Calvary eh?]"

"[Make no mistake darling, I'm still very much retired. I'm not Calvary anymore."]

"[Nonsense, your always my Calvary, once Vaqueros always Vaqueros.]"

Gloves off, Alejandro subtly rubbed your hand while Price made his speech. When you went to reach for the mask, Alejandro grip tightened.

"[This isn't your fight.]" His voice hush, low enough for only you to hear.

"[Did all those years mean nothing? Los Vaqueros is my family, Alejandro. That place is my home too. I'm not letting some fucking entitled little American take it. He needs to pay for burning our city.]" Alejandro glanced away for a moment but let go of your hand.

"[I missed seeing that fire of yours.]" He grinned, eventually turning back to face you, he wouldn't fight you on this. Alejandro gave you a nod as you took the mask into your personal. There was still a lot of prep to do.

Adjusting the scope on your gun, you didn't look up as Soap approached you. Ghost hovered near by the man, an eye on the pair of you. "You alright?" He placed your gloves on the crate near to you. They had been on the planning table.

"No complaints here Sergeant."

"Arthritis?" He glanced down towards your hands. "You keep stretching your hands."

"Carpal tunnel." You looked up and placed the gun down before you hopped up on the grate. "The vibrations from gunfire make it flare up."

"Alejandro seemed worried. He keeps staring at your hands."

"Mmm." You eyes flashed over to Alejandro you true to Soaps words, was staring at you. When you eyes caught his, he gave you a smile and looked back towards Rudy who was well used to his behavior. "He's protective like that. When this is over, ugh I'm not going to be able to do anything around the house." Despite the annoyance in your voice, there was a warm smile on your face.

"How long have the pair of you been together? I don't think I've seen anyone look at another person like Alejandro looks at you."

"Ah, officially about four years give or take. [What about Ghost?]" Your eyes flashed over to the man who stood, watching and no doubtly listening to your conversation. Soap gave you a slightly confused look while Ghost silently glared into your soul. He certainly heard you. A laugh bubbled from your chest and you lightly hit the side of his arm. "Ah perhaps you will understand when your older Sergeant."

"Heard that one before. Why'd they call you Calverio?"

"Calvary. Ah you show up one time on horseback and you don't hear the end of it."

"What happened?"

"Ask Alejandro that one when you're not busy. It's his favourite story to exaggerate. His entire face lights up. Only other story that makes his face light up I think is our wedding day."

"A good day I presume."

"One of the best, a little bit daunting on my side though."

"How so?"

"Ah, lots of people, lots of traditions. It's was a massive, massive festival. Then there was always that unlying threat. What if someone took this opportunity to kill us."

"Someone would do that?"

"People will do anything when they're desperate. When their hate rules their honor."

"Ain't that the truth."

"But." Your face lit up with a smile. "Everything went according to plan. I remember him complaining about his checks hurting a few days later from smiling too much." Your smile turned into a laugh. "I actually have a photo in my wallet if you would like to see."

"Of course, bit surprised you have it on you."

"I came in my normal clothing. I use these shoes to do shopping." You hummed and brought out your wallet. Soap watched as you pulled back a small compartment and pulled out a picture. It had creases on the folds and could see how you had taped it up to prevent it from deterioration. He leaned forward and moved next to you to look at the picture.

There in the middle of a massive group of people, the pair of you stood. Both dressed in white surrounded by friends and family. He could see the walls of brightly coloured flowers in the background only outshone by the smiles on your face. At first, Soap could only recognise the pair of you and Rudy who stood next to Alejandro.

"Wow, you look beautiful."

"I'm just glad you can't notice that I was still crying."

"You were crying?"

"Yeah, Alejandro was crying too. That happened at the reception though. I think that's when it was sinking in." Soap squinted at the picture for a moment.

"Is that Laswell?" He pointed to the back of the picture. It was almost impossible to see her with the woman next to her.

"It is. Yeah, Kate and her wife showed for the ceremony. Didn't stay too long at reception. They didn't really know too many other people. Regardless, it was good to see them. Mmm, if we ever end up renewing our vows you should come. It would be fun to have you all there."

"And see Alejandro, a blubbering mess? Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Of course that's if we get around to it. Maybe one day in the future. Alejandro's a very busy man and this whole thing is going to make him a lot busier. Perhaps he would let me come back to work." You hummed, your eyes trailing off the picture to find Alejandro but failing your mission.

"Not going to happen." A hand on your shoulder practically made you jump. So used to Alejandro's movements, you had almost become immune to it. His steps, his presence didn't set off a single red flag in your head so often he would get the element of surprise on you. "Showing Soap pictures of our wedding are you?" You head turned to see that light expression on his face.

"Just the one. I could do some desk work-"

"[No. I recall the doctor saying that desk work would perhaps make your hands even worse.]"

"Ah there's no arguing with you about this is there. Can't blame a girl for trying no?"

"[Perfect time to renovate.]" The pair of you stared at the base.

"[Will have to.]" He agreed. "[How's the house?]"

"[Unaffected. The Shadows didn't come that far out.]" He turned to face you, suspicion on his face. "[Rudy originally only came to check up on me.]"

"[Let me guess, you insisted on join him?]"

"[He could get all the help he could and you know he was never really good at saying no to me.]"

"[That's only because you don't listen when people tell you no.]"

"[Your one to talk Colonel.]" You drape your wrists around his neck, his eyes on yours. "[I felt like I've just woken up from a nightmare in a way. All this destruction doesn't seem real.]"

"[Mmm woken from a nightmare into a dream perhaps.]" His eyes flickered from yours down to your lips for a moment, you knew exactly what he wanted. A request you were happy to make. With a roll of your eyes you granted his silent request, his upon his as the sun set behind you.

#mw2 x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas #modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #call of duty #reader has long term carpal tunnel syndrome #(it flares up)

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risetherivermoon · 2 years ago

Text

i like ranting about my own works, so have a bunch of little details about the universe of how to not die young, basically just some small little canon things i like (some may be written & some i might not get to adding,) (psa, some are silly & happy and some are very much not,) (another psa, there is no major spoilers in these,)

middle school James had a baby mustache that he insisted he'd grow out but he eventually shaved it off because he hated the sensory of it

Sirius and Mary used to date, but they split up when they both realized how gay they are (now theyre just very good friends)

Lily and Remus met because Lily used to be the librarian's assistant and he kept hiding in there, (he also had a shit ton of overdue books)

Remus' mom has a degree in english literature, but right now she works for tech support at an old person's home

Remus has never gone trick or treating

Regulus was a biter as a child, Sirius has a scar to prove it

Marlene tries really hard to impress Dorcas but fucks it up everytime by either tripping over her own feet or saying the wrong thing, (Dorcas thinks its cute)

Barty has eaten a bar of soap before

Evan knows Monty because he works as the secretary at his doctors office,

Barty has never met any of his grandparents because his parents never bothered introducing him,

Remus can handle any other kind of 'after fight reactions' besides the silent treatment/being ignored, it makes him severely anxious (*cough* trauma *cough*)

Barty has never watched spongebob,

alternatively, Evan was a spongebob lover as a child

Pandora once tried to see how many crayons she could stick up Evan's nose while he was sleeping, he didn't wake for like twenty minutes, the answer is 17

James absolutely loves children

Dorcas and Barty have spa nights

Regulus is observant as fuck, and knows things before people tells him all the time, it freaks people out

Regulus steals things from Sirius constantly because it's funny,

Barty almost died as a kid because he choked on a coin (he was 13)

Remus is a shit chef, he only knows boxed mac and cheese and ramen

Sirius fucking loves baking,

all of the marauders signed Sirius' arm cast with their nicknames,

James has dyslexia

and Remus has dyscalculia (hes me fr)

Remus is very expressive, like you always know what he's thinking,

Regulus burned one of his bras in a trash can after Sirius let him smoke one time

Peter ate an entire block of cheese on a dare

Mary practices her makeup on Peter

Sybil does palm readings for Peter, he's a very supportive bf

Remus bites Sirius a lot

Marlene punched a teacher in the face on accident before,

Minnie & Poppy are married <3

Barty only has Remus' number to send him the most atrocious takes he has at like three in the morning - Remus leaves him on read frequently

Sybil and Pandora are fairly good friends

Pandora and Evan had a Wii U as kids and Evan was the fucking best at Wii bowling, you have no idea, (he has his own technique, he calls it 'the Evan Method')

Pandora likes eating pomegranates and then going up to Evan and smiling at him with red stained teeth, he screams like a little girl everytime

James has always wanted a little sibling

James' parents don't know he has anxiety problems because he just stuffs it down so much

Sirius eats dandelions, for some fucking reason, he's just weird

Regulus used to have dinner alone some nights because he'd skip dinner with the family to avoid the constant loudness and bickering, sometimes he'd make something for himself, sometimes Kreacher would make something for him and sit with him

Regulus tells Sirius whenever his boobs hurt because it makes Sirius gag

James and Remus are the ultimate people pleasers

anyways, thats all, maybe ill make more, i have sm brainrot for this fic, theyre all my children

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hezzabeth · 1 year ago

Text

The lost princess, the biggest grandest portrait in the entire gallery, stared down at Revati. Amma had often said many claimed she was the most beautiful woman on Mars. Papi would then laugh and say she didn't hold a torch to Amma. Revati honestly agreed with her father; the princess always seemed to have an insipid, fragile look to her. She seemed like the sort of person who would cry when stepping on an ant. Also, her saree in the picture was a hideous combination of beige and mustard yellow.

"Drink, Ma'am?" a tourist dressed in an ill-fitting servant's uniform asked, holding up a tray.

When it became clear that everyone was going to be trapped in the park forever, people started getting creative. Revati's father had raided the tea shops on Baker Street for any easy-to-grow fruits and vegetables. Thankfully, he came across a bag of potatoes, some old lettuce, and the heads of a few carrots. By the time the supply of souvenir-themed food had run out, they had their own little garden.

"Nice to know you're using the potatoes I traded with you to make strawberry vodka instead of food," Revati sniffed, grabbing one of the glasses. Thirteen years later, Jay's vegetable scraps were now a profitable farm, guarded that Revati kept heavily under guard.

"At least it's better than the apple drink they were serving last time. I spilt some of it, and the paint melted off the wall," Aurora remarked as she joined Revati.

"True, but I was able to use it to burn that dimwit who tried to break into our rainwater supply," Revati remarked as they moved into the assembly room.

The assembly room had been designed decades ago to resemble a "cherub's paradise." The walls were covered in chipped baby blue paint, while someone had painted a mural of fluffy white clouds and flying naked babies on the ceiling. Forty or so teenagers, the children of Whistleton actors, were lined up in formal outfits with numbers on their chests. When the appliances invaded, the actors on Baker Street had fled for their lives, leaving the tourists to their devices. The actors in Whistleton, on the other hand, seemed to think Armageddon was an excuse to fully commit to their historical romance fantasy. The teenagers all bowed to each other and then began to dance in an intricate pattern. Several servants, trying their best to make music using a prop piano and several empty water jugs, accompanied them. None of the dancers were Dityaa.

"So, are you going to keep the boy or cut him loose?" Aurora asked, and Revati shrugged.

"Not sure yet, the plant thing is interesting… we could use him in the garden," Revati said, weighing her options. Other leaders firmly believed in trimming the fat; Revati, however, knew it was better to turn the fat into soap.

Bridgadeiro was approaching them now, eating a canapé fashioned from strawberries and a lettuce leaf.

"This food is fascinating! It actually tastes like it was grown in the ground," he remarked.

Aurora and Revati exchanged a confused look.

"Of course it was grown in the ground; all the food here is... or they're fried insects," Revati said, explaining. While Baker Street had potatoes and carrots, Whistleton managed to grow strawberries, pineapples, and peaches.

"Really? Where I'm from, only the very rich get to eat actual grown food! We make do with fruit made in our Creatrix," he said before taking another bite of his strawberry lettuce cup.

"What's a Creatrix, mistress?" Aurora whispered to Revati.

"One of those metal box things that makes food and clothes using sand from Saturn, my parents had one before the invasion," Revati explained, and Aurora's eyes widened.

"You mean you live on a planet with actual modern technology? That must be thrilling," Aurora cried, clapping her hands together.

"Well, technically I live on the southwest space station," he said. Revati merely walked away, taking a sip of her drink. It tasted like a mouthful of expired perfume.

A queen was sitting at the very back of the ballroom on a small stage. A majestic queen, her dark skin and towering wig dusted with gold powder. Unlike the other dancers, her ballgown was fluffy, modern, and a deep blood red. She whispered to one of the teenagers in an empire gown standing next to her. Then crisply she nodded towards Revati.

"Well, Queen Victoria has spotted you," Aurora remarked.

"Queen Victoria? Don't you mean Vicky Ditchwater?" Revati smirked.

"Shh! The last person who mentioned her old name got thrown out to the hair dryers," Aurora hissed back, and Revati just shrugged, casually walking across the ballroom, disrupting the dance.

"Mistress Rave, how lovely to see you! And in such a becoming gown," Queen Victoria said, her smile parting into a frozen smile.

"I like your dress as well, is it new?" Revati asked, not really caring to hear the answer.

"The latest design from New Singapore! It's part of a new style called robotic vampirism," the Queen replied.

"And how many of your unmarried subjects did you have to give to the appliances to get it? Three? Four?" Revati asked, raising an eyebrow.

Queen Victoria's expression froze. One thing the appliances were constantly searching for was new fresh feet. One thing Whistleton constantly strived for were "perfect matches."

"Just two, last season was incredibly successful," smiled Queen Victoria serenely.

"And I see this season you have your eyes on my sister”

Revati pointed out.

Here's the corrected version of the text:

"Well, she is uncommonly pretty, and has such a gentle personality," the Queen smiled.

"Gentle personality? Her brain is made out of marshmallows and glitter! The last thing she needs is for the Duke to abandon her in hostile territory," Revati said, folding her arms dramatically, and the Queen waved one hand.

"Oh, she'll be fine! The Duke is a lovely boy! He brought us an entire crate of heating blankets," the Queen said.

"She's clumsy! She trips and sprains her ankle at least once a month; she won't last a week in occupied zones," Revati replied wearily.

"The Duke specifically asked for her! He parachuted from the sky, insisting he was here for the eldest Sheikh sister," Queen Victoria protested, sounding vaguely annoyed.

"He wanted Dityaa? Why would he want her? How would he even know she exists?" Revati asked, incredibly confused. The only record of Dityaa’s existence came from the one year she spent in public school before the invasion.

Once Revati had asked about her birth certificate when working on a recorded list of residents on Baker Street. "Your sister was born in a refugee camp during the beginning of the war! There were no birth certificates," Amma replied.

When they were little, Dityaa would frighten Revati with ghost stories. Tales about how Dityaa’s “other mother” would visit her as a ghost while everyone else slept.

"Do I have another mother who’s a ghost?" whispered Revati, hiding under her blanket.

"No, just me. She says I have four strands of life inside of me instead of two," Dityaa whispered. The stories stopped once they found themselves stranded on Baker Street. Sometimes Revati would wonder if there was any truth to it.

While Revati helped her mother fix broken electronics, Dityaa would spin around giggling. While father and Nani dug up potatoes, Dityaa picked flowers, turning them into a crown. Dityaa wasn’t quite like anyone in the family. But then again, she did look an awful lot like Amma.

#doctor who #fantasy #nanowrimo #the Star beast #Steven universe #nanowrimo2023 #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #bridgerton #jane austen #queen victoria #queenofoklahomacity #life on mars

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 1 year ago

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Man those people on your ‘why are you straight edge’ poll are really showing their disdain for people who engage with any sort of drug… if I may add, I voted for having a medical restriction (my liver is failing thank youuuu immune system) AND I also take prescription opiate medication to help with pain. Every time I take my painkillers on days where I’m not working so that I can enjoy my hobbies I have complicated feelings about it because anti opiate rhetoric is just EVERYWHERE and it’s like… I just want to have a nice day. Getting over the ‘oh but it can be ADDICTIVE’ stigma is so important and it’s really not different just because I have a prescription. People who are so nasty about drug use for recreation are so stressful to me.

Ikr it's like people have such disdain for addicts, and drug users in general. I get upset about this because while I personally am a very casual user and I spend most of the time sober and am self assured so I can walk people being dicks about it off, but I know addicts and their lives are hard enough without all the stigma piled on top of it. I just wish everyone could be addiction neutral and pro harm reduction but they're so moralistic about it. I wasnt the politest I could have been about people not drinking and having sex because I was trying to keep it light and I know people take things like this really serious and it kinda backfired.

But like I totally know what you mean about the opioid thing. I really think that our society could benefit from being a little more addiction neutral, because yeah sometimes substance dependency does ruin your life, but I'm neurodivergent and I've met people where I think that doing life with drugs is better for them. Like you raise a great point about opioids. They're dangerous and addictive but if you're in pain because of a disability you need pain management. It's not really an option if you want to lead a normal life. There's a lot of heroin addicts who got that way because they needed pain management and their doctors refused them on the basis that they might become addicted, but taking a daily pill to improve your life, while it may be illegal depending on the substance, isn't bad. I bring up my own neurodivergence because I've heard of the same thing with ADHD and stimulants. Most people who have an ADHD diagnosis can get an Adderall prescription, but undiagnosed people and people falling through insurance cracks will sometimes turn to the street version. And it's like those people, both the ones with a script and the ones who are self medicating, should not be forced to live a substandard life because of someone else imagines there's some purity to a life without drugs. The goal should be to get those people the drugs they need in the safest way possible.

And I come down really easy, to the point where I forget to take prescription meds and don't experience any ill effects, but I have a friend who experiences a come down from their adhd meds thats not unlike the comedown ive seen from my other friend who's a meth user, and this friend with the ADHD meds can't function without them. But when the doctor and the pharmacist get them their meds on time they live a perfectly happy fulfilling life. That's what I mean when I say I'm addiction neutral. Most people who get addicted didn't just pick up heroin or whatever one day for shits and giggles. When I fuck around with "highly addictive" substances I make sure I'm in a good place and it's not a problem to drop them. People who develop problems are usually either they're escaping from something or self medicating. The goal for society can't be to never do drugs we've had drugs literally for longer than we've been humans.

I've heard second hand of a study which I haven't gone looking for, I might, because as you can tell this is a bit of a soap box for me, where they gave Heroin addicts a prescribed dose of heroin like you would pick up Percocet for chronic pain at a pharmacy, and because those addicts weren't shooting up mystery amounts and worrying where they were going to get their next hit from so they didn't start rattling and all the other things that make addicts lives hell, they were able to start doing things like holding down jobs. That study should have been a game changer. I want addicts to be able to live, and selfishly I want to be able to go to the drug store when I'm bored and say "one mdma high no fentanyl please" and leave with something to spice up the afternoon. That's like, not a moral failing on my part even though I'm not self medicating I'm just having fun.

The way the war on drugs has ruined drugs, which like, genuinely drugs are sort of magical when you think about it. Not just the fun ones either. Like when I was a baby I had a really bad bladder infection that absolutely would have killed me if I had had that same situation just like 100 years ago, but my mom was able to force a pill down my throat and it went away. Since then I've probably had at least a dozen little things like that that would have killed me dead if someone hadn't invented a chemical that could interact with my body and make it genuinely not a problem. and the fact that we have that for things like chronic pain and we're too afraid to use it because of stigma is so insane. Like god forbid people get high.

#drug posting.#my soap box #im sorry you activated my trap card anon #this isnt even getting into how hallucinogens can be a genuinely spiritual experience.#not everyone can do them obviously ive had some people on that poll who said their doc told them not to smoke weed due to a family history.#...of schizophrenia and that totally makes sense brains are weird and you wouldn't want to fuck up the chemical balance if its precarious #but also I can do them and i really really like them #i talked to Yuggsothoth and i want to do it again some day #i think thats beautiful #like people have used hallucinogens in Religious ceremonies for centuries and i understand why #what is the reason to take that away? other than bigotry?

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ghostismybbygorl · 2 years ago

Text

Neighbor troubles

Soap x ghost (in gaz' perspective)

Nsfw: mentions of sex

This is based off of this tiktok

Pic: @pandemicdragon on tiktok

Enjoy >:3

Gaz sat up in bed nestled in his plaid robes with his pink flamigo blanket tucked around him. He was reading soaps book about art having a couple of the pages marked for him to study later. He was finishing up a paragraph where he hear a set of light footsteps walking down the hall and the sound of his neighbors door open

"Youre late" a low whisper emitted

"Yeah i know i know got caught up lookin for my book. Havent a clue where it went"

Gaz's ears perked up when he heard the thick Scottish accent.

Soap....in ghosts?..... in ghosts room?..... this late?

Gaz shook his head head looked at the clock

"Oh wow 2 am" he thought "its actually pretty late" he looked at the page he was on.

"Maybe ill just finish this chapter....."

"OH FUCK!" A loud whisper interrupted his thiughts

Gaz's eye looked up from the works analyzing his surroundings

Did soap stub his toe or something?

Another sound emitted from the room

"Mmm fuck! yes! yes! yes!"

They must be playing smash or something right? Gaz quietly panicked trying to deny the fact that something is happening and returning back to his book.

The he heard the light

Creak...creak....creak...creak

Gaz ket oht a awkward chuckle

Maybe theyre changing seats

"Ohh yeaahhh~" soap moaned

"NOPE" gaz said slamming the book shut and civering his ears

NOPE HIS COMRADES ARENT FUCKING

creak..creak..CREAK...CREAK..BANG!

Maybe they're just wresting? Yeah! Theyre wrestling!

BANG.BANG.BANG

"GOD DONFT FUCKEN STOP OHH FUCK YES YES YES YES!" Soap moaned

gazs eye where wide with shock his ears defiled by the lewd sounds emitting from his neighbors room

He panicked theowing his blanket off of him and running out the door and slamming it shut. He briskly rushed down tge hallway where he still heard the distance sounds of soap getting his back blown out by his lieutenant.

He ran as far as he could go ending up at prices office at the other side of the building. He quickly rushed in closing the door huffing for air

Price jumped out if his seat his the papers he was looking at now littered on the ground

hia cigar that hung from his lips was now on-top of the desk gently letting a small hiss of what was burning below it. Price hurriedly wiped the ashes off the desk placing his cigar on the ash tray next to him

"Fucking hell kyle! What's got you in such a fuckin' tizzy?!"

Gaz froze the words from his lips couldn't form a sentence

"Answer me Sargent! Did you need anything or are you here to give me a good scare?!"

Kyle blinked a couple times before succumbing ti his surroundings

"N-nothing sir....just had a night terror...needed a place to... uh.... calm down?"

Price gave him a series of expressions ranging from concern, confusion and then acceptance

"Right.." price said stacking his papers and setting them on the desk

"Care to talk about i-"

"NO!" Gaz replied harshly "uh i mean no sir i dont want to talk about it"

Price noded his head grabbing his cigar and taking a drag

"Well then" he tapped his cigar on the ash tray the picking it up and walking towards kyle

"You can stay here, ive got a blanket on the loveseat you can use or if you need company i have a sleeping pad in my room you can rest on. Choice is yours" price patted his shoulder walking out of the room taking a puff from his cigar. "Night kid

Gaz sat down on the loveseat wrapping the blanket around his shoulders eventually drifting away to sleep

"Gaz" a hushed whisper emitted

Gaz opened his eyes to see ghost standing there with a box. Gaz immediately shot up rubbing the sleep out if his eyes

"Lieutenant! what uh what are you doing here?"

"Went to drop off some papers for price and saw you sleepin ere" ghost replied handing him the box

"Sorry for uh last night....."

Kyle gingerly grabbed the box which was a nice pair of noise cancelling headphones

"Oh!" Kyle replied "uh...thanks" rubbing his meck

"Yeah..no....no problem... if this uh happens just bang on the wall..."

"Got it...."

There was a awkward silence between the two. Gaz got up from the love seat

"Well im gonna go to my room and uh....get ready for the day"

Ghost nodded as gaz skedaddled to his room to get ready for the day.

Later that night the same thing happened

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump

"FUCK!"

Thump.thump.thump.thump

"MMM DONT FUCKING STOP"

"Jesus fuck!" Gaz yelled how the fuck are they at it again wasn't one night enough? He banged on the wall earning a knock back. Gaz face was in pure confusion did they just knock back??? Gaz heard a snicker behind the wall before the Thump thump thump started back again

Gaz groaned grabbing his headphones and playing some white noise to wash away the lewd sounds that echoed from the lieutenants room. He huffed scrolling through his phone when he got a text from alex

Hey! Ill be around for a short mission tomorrow wanna hang out after? Maybe play some chess? ♟️😉

Gaz smirked

Time for payback 😈

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idolsummons · 1 year ago

Text

Sick Day

It's totally normal for your sister to have objects of the occult hidden in her room, right? Yeah, totally normal.

'Remember, Misaka, you can reach me or your dad if you have any problems, okay?' 'Yes, Mum.' 'You've got both of our numbers?' 'Yes.' 'And my work number?' 'Yes,' she droned. 'And your dad's number?' 'Mum, I just wanna get some rest.' 'Sorry, dear. Alice will be back this afternoon, okay?' And at the risk of contracting Misaka's mystery illness, her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead. 'Bye, Misaka.' 'Bye, Mum.' Misaka closed her eyes and cuddled up in her bed, peacefully napping. That was, at least, until she heard her mum lock the front door behind her and her car pull out of the driveway. That's when her eyes shot open and she slid out of bed.

The truth was, Misaka was perfectly fine, at least physically. The words of her bullies at school had been cutting deep and the prison cell that was the classroom was the last place she wanted to be. Hopefully she could get another day or two off school before her mum tried dragging her off to see a doctor. Now, there were so many ways to fill her day - where to start? There was a marathon of that stupid western soap opera that she'd shamefully gotten hooked on in the past couple of months, but she'd hate to accidentally ruin the outcome of Jamie and Leanne's wedding if she caught a later episode by mistake. There was video games, but she wasn't sure she could stomach the latest RPG with everything swirling around her head. She could always raid the kitchen, of course, but an empty pantry would be a telling story of the truth. That just left one of her other favourite past times. With not an ounce of regret, Misaka walked towards Alice's room and opened the door, leaving it wide open in case she needed to make a sudden escape. Even though she had grown out of typically rifling through anything she could find, Misaka found Alice's room to be a treasure trove of secrets and, given Alice wasn't about to tell her family a single fun fact about herself, Misaka thought it her duty to find out whatever she could about her sister in the hopes of being able to relate to her just a little better. The light flicked on. Alice had so much up on her walls, from posters of gothic bands to paintings which looked to be centuries old (who knew if they really were) and even a framed taxidermy bat which made Misaka feel a little sick whenever she saw it, that it seemed like she was trying to stop any natural light from entering. Now, where to start? The drawers were a decent spot, but much, much too intimate; although Alice did have some admittedly pretty underwear, Misaka did not want to go through it like she was some creepy guy. Under the bed could also hide many secrets, but Misaka had vowed off that area after she once found her birthday present there (a signed copy of Miyu's latest album at the time). Which left one good option: the sizeable wardrobe which took up most of the long wall. Misaka slid the door open and her eyes fell, as usual, immediately upon the plentiful dresses and shirts which hung upon clothes hangers. It was a sea of blacks and deep blues and reds, organised by their colour, some with nice patterns on them. Misaka's personal favourite was one she didn't immediately see here, a deep blue dress with constellations around the skirt. But her eyes travelled down, past the section of platform boots and shoes to boxes which had been pushed to the back and the side, right beside the suitcase which Alice had brought with her to Japan. Remembering a package Alice had received only days prior, Misaka took the top box, crimson red, where she knew her most recent letters to be stored. Misaka placed the box down and carefully removed the lid. Twelve November. That seemed right. And so she began to read:

My dearest Alice,

How long has it been since I last laid eyes on you? Since I last smelled your rose-scented perfume and hair which matches? When will I be able to gaze into your ocean blue eyes once more, or hear that gentle voice leave your lips in the hopes that you will call yourself mine? At times I fear my memories of you are growing hazy, only for my heart to skip a beat as my phone pings to tell me you've posted again! And again I get to remember how beautiful you are, how sweet and doll-like your features, and my mind begins to wander and I imagine you taking the outfit in your picture off layer by layer, leaving you in nothing before -

Nope, nope, nope. She absolutely did not need or want such images of her sister floating around in her head, especially when it came from the mind of some creepy guy obsessed with her. Misaka jammed the letter back into the box and put the lid back on top and the entire box back in its original position. A shiver went down her spine. Gross. Her eyes then came to the white suitcase, which she pulled out from behind the dresses, careful not to mess them up. As she did, the contents of the suitcase could be heard within, thudding gently against its walls. A puzzle will get my mind off that. The truth was that as much as Misaka had gallivanted about Alice's room, not once had she ever been able to get the combination lock correct. Every time she would move a few numbers around in the hopes of hearing that promising little click. Where was I up to? 0600... Nothing. 0601... Nothing. 0602... Nothing. 0603... Click. Misaka could feel her heart ready to jump right out of her throat. She laid the suitcase down on its side. Alice knew well enough that Misaka enjoyed going through her belongings. Whatever was in the suitcase had to be her most personal possessions. Something from France, she assumed. Misaka unzipped the suitcase. Perhaps a keepsake of her mother... She opened it up. Inside she found nothing like what she expected.

A black robe. A dagger with a silver hilt, symbols which she did not recognise inscribed upon it, and a curved blade. A book with no title, but symbols which resembled those upon the dagger. Misaka's hands shook. Alice was strange - Misaka didn't really understand the whole goth thing - but a dagger? Why would she need a weapon? She picked up the book. Opened it. Inside, at least, were words, written in French. Maybe it's her journal. Misaka pulled out her phone and brought up the translation app. As she scanned over the pages, the words appeared on her screen translated into Japanese. Her stomach dropped. Sacrifices. Blood rituals. Demon possession. All in the name of - the app couldn't translate the word into Japanese, but she knew enough English to be able to read the word - Vh'thra. This is all just some work of fiction, right? 'Misaka!' The growl came from behind her but there was no time to process it before she was thrown to the ground. Alice kneeled over her. 'A - Alice,' stammered Misaka, 'I thought you weren't meant to be home u - until later.' 'Shut up.' She hadn't heard her sister talk like this in a long time. 'How many times have I told you not to go through my stuff?' 'Wh - what is all this?' 'How did you get into my suitcase?' Misaka's eyes followed Alice's hand as she reached over and grabbed the dagger. She brought it high above her head, aimed right towards Misaka's chest. She was unblinking, unwavering, like this was nothing new to her. 'You're going to keep this to yourself, aren't you?' Misaka didn't move. 'Because if you don't, there will be grave consequences for you.' She wanted to say something, make a counter threat. I know about all those men chasing you. About the manipulation. I know about the baby. Nothing came out. 'And if you tell Mayumi and Taichi -' Alice brought the dagger down, close to Misaka's neck. Alice herself leaned in close so she could see little more than Alice's face and those pretty blue eyes that looked so intimidating now - 'then I will not hesitate to end you all and make it look like a fucking accident. Got it?' No response. Alice pressed the dagger against Misaka's skin. 'Got it?' 'Y - yes, A - Alice.' Tears filled Misaka's eyes. Alice stood. 'Now, get out of my room, and I better not see you in here again. Understand, you piece of shit?' Misaka, shaking violently, could only nod. She ran out as quickly as she could and back to her room, where she would spend the rest of the day hiding under her covers, crying her eyes out.

#gothic manipulator ･ﾟ✫ side muse (alice delecroix)#little slices of an existence ･ﾟ✫ drabble

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