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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

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Headcanon with TF141 & König with Fem! Reader who had amnesia after loss blood from battlefield and how would the mens react. Pls!

Oof ouchie owie my heart 😭 this is so mean I love it 😭😭😭😭 (I’m not crying YOU’RE crying)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

When the nurse told him you suffered amnesia due to the severity of your injuries, he didn’t want to believe it. He refused. Even though they told him it could last a few minutes to several weeks or months, he didn’t want to believe it.

So he went to visit you, sat beside your bed, balaclava twisting nervously in his hands as he watched you sleep. He eventually dozed off, arms crossed over his chest, head resting back against the wall. He woke up to a soft prodding at his shoulder,

“Excuse me, are you the nurse?” You’d asked, throat hoarse and exhaustion evident.

“Who do you think I am?” He asked, his heart beat so hard in his throat, his stomach churning and heavy, he felt violently ill

“I… don’t know to be honest. I’m not sure why or how I got here.” Your voice was small and uncertain and fuck he wanted to cry. His eyes burned and his throat threatened to shut.

What should he do? Tell you what happened and risk further trauma? He’s the reason you were out here in the first place. What’s the right thing to do? What would you do in his position?

“Sir? I’m sorry, I’m just really thirsty. I’m sorry to bug you.”

“Don’t sweat it, here, have my water.” He uncapped his water bottle and got up to bring it to your lips, you took it from his hands before he could tip it back,

“I’ve got it, thank you.” You said with a weak chuckle. At least that’s still the same. He watched you drink your water, weighing his options in his head. If the roles were reversed, you’d be honest with him. Gentle, but firm. Even if it pained you, you’d tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

He was a both a coward and glutton for pain.

“You can call me Ghost, for now.”

He still wasn’t sure if he’d tell you about all the nights spent together, all the mornings you had breakfast in the mess hall together, your apartment that you shared, the tattoo he has under his collarbone of your callsign or the matching one you got of a skull on your hip. This could be his chance to spare you the pain of sticking around him any longer.

But he’s selfish, in that sense. He’s had you, he can’t lose you now.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s devastated. He’s absolutely heartbroken, there’s no way this is happening. He’s convinced it’s not real. It’s a bad dream and he’ll wake up in your arms and it’ll be gone. How he wishes that was true.

He comes into your room, the nurses words echoing in his head, triggering his tinnitus, making him nauseous. His legs are horribly unsteady and his hands have never shook this hard. He feels like such a fool for being so fucking weak in front of you like this.

This isn’t about him, it’s about you. It’s all about you, it’s about setting things right with you, it’s about bringing you back to him. It’s all about you.

He sat beside your bed and waited for you to wake up, and when you did you smiled so wide when you looked at him, that he honestly believed the nurses were wrong

“This might be wildly inappropriate, but you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

God how he wished the nurses were wrong.

“Could say the same for you, love.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and stamped out the ache in his chest

“Love?” You blinked in confusion, “are you my- oh god, I’m sorry, I… I don’t remember.”

“It’s alright, the nurses said it could happen. You’ve been through a lot.”

“If I’m here then, yeah, seems like.” You chuckled dryly,

“I’m Johnny.” He held his hand out to yours, you took it and couldn’t help how soothing his palm felt against yours as you introduced yourself shyly.

He could be strong. For you. He’d do anything for you, whether you wound up remembering or not, it didn’t matter. He’d do anything.

John Price:

He’s shell shocked. Please god no. Not you. Please sweet fucking Christ, not you. He doesn’t go to see you right away, he sits in his office quietly. He’s sitting in the dark, replaying the events that led up to this over and over in his head like a fucked movie on loop.

He snaps. He’s flinging everything off his desk, it’s all flying to the floor, he’s screaming, crying, raging. The team hears it and they all run to his office, Ghost is the only one to successfully hold him back. He eventually gives up and starts sobbing. Perception be damned.

He’s clutching onto Simon like his life depends on it, Soap and Gaz quietly start picking stuff up off the floor,

“Come on, mate, she needs you. Clean up and go.” He’s not stupid. He’s seen you two, seen the way you are with one another. It’s the best kept secret of the 141.

“I know. Fuck, I know.”

He hesitantly walks to your room, his heart pounding a mile a minute, he hears you talking to the nurse and you sound a little hoarse but it also sounds like you’re drinking water. He waits until you’re done talking and walks in, he steps aside to let the nurse walk out and sits beside you,

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Not great but the pain meds help.” You laughed weakly, “and you must be?”

“John.”

“John…?”

“Just John.” He sighed, slowly taking one of your small hands in his, giving you every opportunity to withdraw, “Your John.”

He’s a patient man. He can wait.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

He’s in tears before the nurse even has a chance to walk away, Price has a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an attempt to keep him grounded

“None of that, Gaz, just go see her. Somewhere in her heart, she’ll be happy to see you.” His words were reassuring and it helped give him the boost he needed to go and see you.

So he did, with an arm full of flowers, your favorite snack and candies, and fruits of course. He came in and set them down at the table quietly, watching you watch him as he did so. He took a deep shaky breath and pulled the chair up to the bed.

“Is that all for me?” You asked with a shy smile, even under the unflattering glow of the fluorescent lights above you, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen,

“Yup. I thought if I’d brought you the things you like, it might help you recover your memory.” He swallowed his tears, swallowed the lump in the throat, he’d set it all aside because there’s work to be done.

“I take it you and I are quite close then?”

“As close as two people can get, without being related.”

“Hm. That makes me happy, you seem really sweet…?”

“Kyle. Or Gaz. But you’ve always called me by my name.”

His heart skipped a beat when you tried his name out, getting a feel for it on your tongue, and then you smiled softly at him.

It’ll be hard work but fuck you’re so worth it.

König:

He feels violently ill. He’s nauseous through and through, he’s in shock, he’s grieving, he’s mourning, he’s furious, he’s appalled, he’s miserable

It’s all playing over and over and over and over again, the exact moments that led up to this. You trusted him and let you down. He fucking let you down. He ruined it. He ruined the one good thing he had going for him in this shithole. It’s gone it’s all fucking gone. And it’s all his fault.

All of that was repeating in his head as he punched a hole in the tile in the bathrooms, it repeated when he’d try to sleep until you woke up, it repeated while he’d wait for you, it repeated until there was nothing but self-inflicted venom pumping in his system, circulating mercilessly

And then you woke up. He’d at least had the presence of mind to take his veil off so he wouldn’t startle you, but in his vitriol he forgot something,

“You’ve got a little something on your uh… all of that.” You sleepily laughed, pointing at your eyes,

“Ah yes, that’s intentional.”

“Why?” You blinked in confusion, weakly trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes,

“Helps keep me concealed when I wear this.” He lifted the veil in his hands for you to see,

“I imagine it’s hard to do with your size.”

“It can be but I’m quite determined.”

“You seem upset, I take it you and I are close and the nurses told you?”

He gently took your small hand in his, his eyes watering, lower lip starting to quiver,

“Oh schatz, you have no idea.” His voice shook and your heart broke for him, his accent brought you peace even if you couldn’t exactly remember why, you could still put the pieces together. You don’t know why, but you wanted to be strong for him,

“Then give me an idea.”

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daisygirlwrites · 1 year

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Behind the Wheel

Summary: Times when Ghost's driving (& piloting) gets the team in trouble.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, injuries and drinking (but not really). Mentions of death. Mentions of throwing up.

Pairing(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader (Platonic), Task Force 141 x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1,642

Note: No use of (Y/N)

a/n: hey hey! so sorry that this is late! school just started for me and i've been doing job interviews as well. finally got some time tonight to finish this. sorry if the ending felt rushed, my brain didn't know how to word. might post another fic/headcanons this week though! also, thank you so much for 100 followers! and another thanks to @thoughtfullyhauntedchild for inspiration :3

taglist: @bobfloydsgf

Las Almas

Seeing the truck almost brought tears to your eyes. You were exhausted to say the least, also pissed off with Graves and Shepard and even more that you got shot. It was not your day. But during the darkest hour, that running truck was the ray of light you needed.

After exchanging shots with the remaining Shadows in the area, Ghost rams through the blockade without warning. Still sitting up from covering the men in the front, the forward momentum launches you out of the backseat, body moving towards the already broken windshield.

If it weren’t for Soap's quick reflexes, it would have been the second time you’ve been thrown out the window during a mission. Thankfully he grabs the back of your vest to slow you down. But instead of glass, your face hits the dashboard. The pain was blinding white, tears threaten to spill as Soap pulls you back and you cradle your face in your hands.

You missed Ghost’s eyes widened with shock (and slight amusement) as yours was still closed to stop the tears from leaking out. Soap’s eyebrows furrow with concern as he gently tilts your chin up and carefully slides the balaclava down your face, a chain of "owies" leaving your lips.

“Sorry Lass, I’m just gonna feel if it’s broken, okay?”

“As long as you let me whine about it.”

Using his pointer finger and his thumb, Soap makes small squeezes down your nose. You mutter curses as he does so. “Fuck, dammit! Oh Jesus Christ, shit!” Soap mumbles back apologies, keeping his hand steady as the truck drives through the uneven ground. He pulls back, giving your face another inspection.

“Definitely swelling but nothing feels broken to me.” You give him the okay sign. Moving back to your seat, you gently maneuver your mask back on.

Ghost can feel your eyes burning holes on the back of his head. Maybe he did feel a little bad but it really wasn’t his fault that you slammed your face on the dashboard. He just hopes your nose isn’t broken or else he won’t hear the end of it. But still, he kind of apologizes.

Giving you a glance through the rearview mirror, he acknowledges you. “My bad, Sargent.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes and feeling like this is the most he’s going to say, you let out an audible sigh.

“It’s cool, LT."

Moscow

Whenever the team goes out after missions, you were almost, if not always the designated driver of the group. It started as a “rookie responsibility” but honestly, you liked taking care of others. It reminded you of your college days, dragging your friends back to the dorm building, feeding them goldfish and water before tucking them in bed and leaving them some painkillers for when they wake up. Now, you do the exact same things but with taller military guys that claim to have high tolerance.

However, tonight’s a little different. Nikolai piloted the team to safety and as a thank you, Price promised to buy everyone's drinks. You initially declined the offer but Soap’s question made you reconsider.

“Don’t you wanna try real Russian Vodka?” He grins at you. He watches you open your mouth before closing it, eyes deep in thought. Sensing your hesitation, Soap looks over to their Lieutenant that was in the back of the group.

“Hey LT, can you drive us back tonight?” Soap shouts at him. Ghost narrows his eyes. “Please? Crash has always driven us back!”

Ghost doesn’t respond but you do instead. “Don’t worry about it LT! I won’t drink tonight, I’ll drive everyone to the hotel.”

Soap lets out a whine, disappointed and even Gaz looked a little bummed. Clearly annoyed, mostly with himself for giving into peer pressure (and not wanting to deal with Soap’s bitching for the rest of the night), Ghost lets out a sigh, “Oi, Crash.”

Watching your head turn back at him, he opens his hand. “Keys,” He demanded. You raise an eyebrow at him, silently asking “Are you sure?” He just nods. Fishing the keys out of your pocket, you toss it towards him.

A few hours and many shots later, the group piles back into the SUV. Nikolai sits up in the front passenger seat, giving Ghost slurred directions back to the hotel, while Soap and Gaz laying passed out in the back row. You and Price are in the middle, him telling you a story from his past and you, not really comprehending, nodding along.

The car makes a slight jump when hitting a bump on the road, the movement not helping your stomach. It’s becoming more frequent now, along with the addition of the sharp turns. Looking away from Price and to the driver in front of you, your brain was slow to process what was going on. The bumps continue, eventually waking the two men in the back seat. Even with your hazy mind, you notice a pattern during the beginning chaos. Slide, bump, slide, bump. Glancing out the window to confirm your suspicions, you watch the tires going over every curb you see.

Ghost was annoyed again. Nikolai’s instructions were sudden, therefore making his movements jerky. The safer option is to slow down but Ghost wanted everyone in bed.

“Jesus, Si. The fuck you haulin’ ass for?” He hears your voice call out. "Fuckin' driving like a teenager, hitting curbs and shit."

“The girl is right. Wouldn’t want the police to show up,” Nikolai comments. As if he had been blessed with the gift of prophecy by Apollo himself, Ghost catches the sight of red and blue lights flashing behind him.

“Oh fuckin’ hell."

Swiss Alps

One of the pilots is dead, the other was putting pressure on their arm that was sporting a gunshot wound, the aircraft itself was spinning out of control and you were panicking. Honestly, everyone was panicking but you’re the only one showing it.

“Oh man, why am I forgetting my training for this?” You questioned, mostly to yourself. Price keeps a tight grip on your shoulders, trying to calm you down from your ramblings. Constant beepings and warnings are heard throughout the helicopter. Gaz, already bracing himself while Soap frantically looks around for anything useful.

Ghost, looking unbothered, shoves the body aside and takes a seat. He glances over at the injured pilot. “You’re going to instruct me to land this thing.”

“Crash landing to be more accurate. Look for big snow piles,” They yell out. Ghost nods, grabbing hold of the cyclic and quickly scans for snow mounds. Finding one that looks big enough, he leads the helicopter towards it. It was supposed to be simple, just crash on the fluffy snow and call it a day. However, trying to stabilize a malfunctioning aircraft wasn’t as easy as he thought. Though, upon seeing the pile of safety, he gives out a breath of relief.

Ghost on and off the field is a machine. So when he completely misses the snow mound, he lets out an audible gasp. Along with the loud beeping, Soap and Gaz join’s your screaming.

“HOW DID YOU MISS?! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU MISS THE-” Your yelling was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

141 Task Force Base

Waking up in the med bay was something he wasn’t expecting, along with being alive in general. The lights were dim, his eyes adjusting his surroundings quicker. Wiggling his fingers, he was relieved to feel them touch the cotton sheets. Unsure of what injuries he had, Ghost slowly lifts his hand up to his face. He lets out a quiet sigh when he feels the familiar fabric of his balaclava. Suddenly his mind races to his team, to Soap, to you.

The last thing he recalls was blurs of trees and everyone screaming.

“Hey! LT’s awake!” A familiar Scotts voice rings out, followed by someone shushing him and what sounds like a slap on the head.

The lights turn a smidge brighter, as if to not hurt Ghost’s eyes. He watches the team walk into the room, looking a little more rough than usual. His gaze lingers on the shortest member of the group. A couple bandages cover her face, along with a frown. Arms crossed and eyes refusing to meet him.

Price explains to him that after the collision, he, Gaz and Soap had to drag you, him and the other pilot out. And also the helicopter exploded. They watch him run a hand down his masked face.

He looks at you again, “You’re pissed.”

You meet his gaze this time, “No shit.”

Sensing some tension, the team spreads out through the room, not wanting to get in the way but also wanting to see you go off on the Lieutenant.

“Your driving sucks ass, LT! Like Cher from Clueless! Hitting curbs like a teenage girl. Holy fuck, my guy.” You start. All Ghost could do was stare at you, more amused than angry. “You almost broke my nose in Mexico with a freaking break check, I threw up in front of police officers- wasting eighty dollars worth of good vodka! And now this!” You point at your face. “My face is all jacked up!”

That last comment made him chuckle, out of all the things you were concerned about, it was your appearance that mattered. He inspects your face, besides having new scars, everything else looks the same. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief.

“Crash, you are such a girl.” He gives you a smile. You couldn’t see his mouth but his eyes expressed it. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

That comment caught you off guard, feeling heat coming up to your cheeks. You were speechless.

"Also, it really wasn't my fault."

"YES IT IS!"

#daisygirlwrites #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john mactavish #soap mactavish

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cod-dump · 9 months

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I come back with another TV series quote, Stranger Things addition. I've been seeing all these posts about how done Gaz is with Soap and Ghost, so I thought I'd contribute.

Ghost, driving to the rendezvous point: *Arguing with Soap* What are you gonna do, walk to the extraction point?

Soap: I will do anything if it gets me a way from you!

Gaz, very tired and very done with this bullshit: Children! Children! Children! This interminable bickering was amusing at first, but it's getting stale, and we've got a long drive ahead of us.

Gaz: So why don't you two cut the horseshit and get to the part where you admit your sexual feelings for one another.

Ghost, almost stearing into a ditch: Woah!

Soap: You are way off base, buddy!

Gaz: Oh, spare me, spare me, spare me! *Leans into the middle concel, looking at Soap*

Gaz: Yes, yes, hes a brute. I know. Probably reminds you of a bad relationship, and gosh, you'd really like a nice man to settle down with, but admit it, you're real curious to know what he's like I'm the sack!

Gaz, turning to Ghost: And you! Hah! Well, you're just a big man baby who'd rather act tough than show his true feelings because the last time you opened your heart, you got hurt. Owie.

Gaz: And now, rather than admit these feelings, you're dancing around one another with this mind-numbing and frankly borish mating ritual. So please, for my sake, either quit

Gaz: Or pull over, tear off those clothes, and get it over with!

Ghost and Soap: *Silence*

There was a period after all that was said that Gaz was sure that he was dead.

The silence was loud, suffocating. Nothing was said for several minutes and that gave Gaz plenty of time to think about what exactly he had said and to who. He’s known Ghost longer, he knows how he feels about being confronted with his emotions, his humanity. Gaz felt comfortable with Soap but he knew the man sometimes had a explosive temper. So the silence, the silence that would not exist if it was just one of the men instead of both, was very nerve racking.

The fact nothing was said the rest of the drive said far too much, that Gaz said too much.

They made it to the extraction point where Nik was waiting. Again, nothing was said that was strictly business on the flight back. It was obvious that Nik picked up on the tension and quickly figured it stemmed from Gaz. Man had always been observant so Gaz was hoping he could rely on him for protection if it came to that.

They made it back to base and thankfully Price was there, waiting for them in a professional yet relaxed pose. Silently, the three climbed out and Gaz hung back to avoid walking between the all too quiet Soap and Ghost. He felt Nik’s gaze on him and then Price’s, the man quickly picking up on whatever Nik and felt/seen. Fortunately the man didn’t say anything about it and just walked them inside to debrief.

Everything after that point would just be too quiet. Even with the regular chatter of the soldiers, everyone moving and working as normal, it was too fucking quiet. Soap and Ghost went their separate ways after the debriefing and just disappeared all together after that. Gaz was terrified to go to his office or room so he chose to stick next to Price.

“Sergeant… dare I ask what the hell happened on that mission?”

Gaz just sat silently next to him, eyes flickering to the door of the room, as if expecting someone to come barging in and attack him. That might’ve been Soap’s approach, Gaz has never seen Ghost go in guns blasting unless there was no other option.

“More like what happened afterward… I think they’re going to kill me.”

“Why would you think that?”

Price was definitely showing more interest in whatever was going on with Gaz over the paperwork before him. Man loved to hear gossip even though he would rather eat straight coffee grounds than admit it.

“May have overstepped with Soap and Ghost.”

Price was laser focused on him and it made Gaz shudder. He tried to avoid looking at his captain and just focus on the door completely. Gaz knew he couldn’t beat around the bush forever (Price would beat him if he did) so he just took a deep breath and told him everything. He explained their argument, what lead to it, and what Gaz had said to them on the car ride to the extraction point. Gaz took a breath after the final word, leaning over the table and closing his eyes to avoid looking or perceiving anything.

Price laughed loudly and Gaz just hunkered down more. Price tried to say something throughout his fit of uncontrollable laughing fit but was simply unable to get anything out. Price wasn’t the type to laugh at someone’s misery (though it has happened) so Gaz was hoping the situation was just too ridiculous and Gaz’s worry was purely irrational.

Finally, after Price laughing long and hard enough for him to be out of breath, the man calmed and pat Gaz’s shoulder.

“I wish I could’ve been there!”

“Cap-“

“You’re fine, Kyle. They’re not going to do shit.”

Gaz relaxed at Price’s certainty. Price was right, he was fine.

Gaz would stay fine until the next day early in the morning. He would be at breakfast in the mess, attempting to chase away the grogginess with coffee when he noticed someone sit at the table he was at.

“Hey, Gaz. How’d you sleep?”

Gaz was surprised to hear it was Soap, “Fine. You losing your voice, mate? Sound like- OH MY GOD-“

Gaz had opened his eyes to see Soap and the absolute murder scene that was his neck. It looked like someone strangled him then bit him to hell and back. Gaz gawked, Soap avoiding looking him in the eye like he was Medusa. Gaz struggled to say something, anything.

“What the fuck happened to you?!”

Soap was red in the face, turning his upper body away from Gaz. Gaz was going to push more but then Soap muttered, face practically on fire.

“Had a… ‘talk’ with Ghost about our feelings yesterday.”

Gaz gasped louder than what others would’ve deemed necessary, but to him it was very necessary. Soap decided to leave quickly, Gaz just staring after him with his jaw hanging open. Soap disappeared out of the mess and Gaz didn’t know what to do other than grab his phone and immediately text Price what he had just learned and seen.

#first bigger thing I’ve written in forever! yay!!#cod mwii #call of duty #modern warfare ii #kyle gaz garrick #john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #drabble #ficlet #fic

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thewatercolours · 2 years

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So, when @captmickey and @gerbiloftriumph first told me about how Graham's sisters were conceived as each corresponding to one of the heroic paths (Anisette=wisdom, Madeline=compassion, Ginger=bravery) I loved the idea. I also liked the idea that these attributes don't necessarily come out in stereotypical ways.

In my fics, Anisette went to sea as a cabin girl at fourteen and later on ends up getting a ship of her own after saving the former owner's life and going on seabound adventures - but she's the wise one, the one who operates by cleverness and knowledge of human nature and book learning and charts and maps and previous experience. She's a good captain because she's wise. But a single glance would put her down as the brave one.

I haven't done much with Ginger (yet - she has an already written scene later down the line in Rippling Consequences,) but I'm imagining her as the tough one, the one who would face any danger, the one who could put you in a headlock without hesitation, the one who would charge straight into a monster's den to save a stranger. But I've also put her down as the first of the Cracker siblings to find love and get married. In her upcoming scene, she's got a six-month old baby. She's surprisingly the biggest homebody of the lot. You can do both.

And Madeline - I have been having thoughts on her. Madeline is the compassionate one, and in some ways her compassion does come out stereotypically - the kind older sister who's there to tell stories and kiss owies and encourage your dreams. But... I think it's hard when you belong to a family that has truly determined to be wonderful to each other, to be there for each other, to make your home are kind and authentic as it can be while respecting each others' independence. This is exactly what you should be reaching for in a family. But - there are innate hardships that come with that. And tricky things to deal with. And I wonder if the Cracker home isn't a little more complex than I'd thought in this regard. Not that there's soap opera drama hiding beneath the surface just for the sake of trouble. But just- I was blessed to have a fairly happy family myself, and I wouldn't change the choices that made it so. But there are things that are tough to navigate in happy families, too. This is really only the beginning of a train of thought. Just one big hmm, really.

#king's quest #kings quest #headcanons

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ocenitram · 2 years

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Snow walks over grabbing Emma's ear and pulls her to the bathroom "Your language young lady! I'm cleaning your mouth with a bar of soap and then I'm changing your diaper again. You must fear someone I mentioned since you just pooped again. Also I think I will call Regina about firing you and making your daddy sheriff "

"Owie owie owie Mommy it hurts," Emma whined as she was being pulled by the ear the blonde did not expect her mother to pull her by the ear. "No, you can't I won't let you." Emma kept her lips tight shout she wasn't going to open her mouth for anything or so she thought then she heard what her mother said and that got her "I am not a scared of anyone I am big girl, and you can't, am the sheriff me mee mot daddy and I don't wanna be fired. nana doesn't like daddy why would she replace me with him? Emma ddint realize the mistake she had made by opening her mouth Snow could take advantage of the big baby's mistake.

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urmommies--girl · 2 years

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"Love you too, meanie" - poly!marauders

Anon: wassup bestie, back with a request. first of all i love your writing and it has propelled me in to my marauders era. surprising it happened so late but we’re here for it. i was wondering if we could get a fic with remus, sirius, and reader. it can have smut in it, it might not, whatever you want to write. i’m just a sucker for reading aftercare, so if you could write some that would be cool. also if you just don’t like this request please don’t feel like you have to do it bc i understand the writing grind lol

A//N: BABY I LOVE YOU! OH MY GOSH MY REQUESTS ARE FULL OF SMUT SO I LOVE WHEN I GET A FLUFF REQUEST! MY HEART EXPLODED WHILE WRITING THIS 💕💕

Warnings: 18+ (no smut my blog is just strictly 18+), None really just super fluffy aftercare with the marauders, mentions of sex, subspace,

Word Count: 839

You lay on the bed panting heavily as you came down from your high, cum dripping out of your used hole while your boyfriends lay beside you, planting kisses over your face.

“You’d so good for us, bun.” Remus praised, kissing your lips, you giggled softly.

“Can we get your cleaned up now, baby?” Sirius hummed from beside Remus.

You nodded in agreement even though your foggy mind didn’t quite understand what he meant.

The raven haired male got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom, seconds later you could hear water running.

You pouted when you realised Sirius was gone, forgetting that he went to run you a bath, “Where’s Siri?” Your bottom lip jutted out at Remus, “He went to the bathroom, bunny. We’re gonna get you cleaned up.” He explained, you sniffed and sat up, nodding to the boy.

The two boys stood up beside you and helped you to stand on your shaky legs, “Think we did a good job, Prongs.” The lycanthrope smirked, “Course we did.” James gave a smug grin back.

You found Sirius testing the water with his hand, “Siri!” You squealed, almost stumbling over as you ran towards him, “Hi, sweetling.” He smiled, kissing your cheek as you sat in his lap.

“Y’want bubbles, baby?” Asked James as he held up your two favourite soaps, you nodded eagerly and pointed to the lavender one, “Y’want this one?” He hummed, you nodded once more with a giggle.

James poured the liquid into the tub before swishing it around so the bubbles formed.

Sirius lifted you into the water and you yelped at the hot temperature, “Owie!” You squealed, “S’too hot, Siri!” You whined, Remus climbed in behind you, “S’not to hot, baby. Y’just sensitive.” He teased, “M’not sensitive. Right Remmy?” You sniffled to the lycanthrope above you, “Course not, bun.” He pecked your forehead lovingly.

“See? Remmy said m’not sensitive.” You crossed your arms, Sirius and James smiled adoringly at you and the raven hair male pecked your nose, “Well then Remmy’s lying to you, baby. I can assure you y’re definitely a crybaby.” He taunted, you stuck your tongue out at him, “Don’t like you, Siri. You’re mean.” You huffed.

Sirius grabbed a handful of bubbles and sculpted it on your hair which made you giggle, “Don’t lie, petal.” He booped your nose.

“C’mon, gotta clean you up so we can sleep, m’kay?” Remus hummed from behind you, you nodded, “Kay.” You hummed simply.

The three boys worked together to clean you up and wash your hair, scrubbing you gently and lovingly.

Remus lifted you into James arms and he wrapped you in a towel— “S’fluffy Jamie.” You giggled as he began to dry you off, James smiled softly, “You like it?” He hummed, you nodded and grinned, “Soft.”, James pecked your lips, “Lets get you dressed now.” He walked you out of the bathroom.

You left the bathroom and flung yourself onto the bed, still wrapped tightly in the towel.

“Come here, princess. Gotta get you changed.” Sirius cooed, you shook your head, “Wanna stay the fluffy towel. S’warm and snuggly.” You told, Sirius sighed, “I’ll let you wear my quidditch jersey.” He offered, your eyes lit up at the suggestion and you flung off the towel, James snickered in the background.

“Panties first.” The boy held up some panties for you, you huffed as he helped you step each leg through.

“Arms up.” Sirius told, you obeyed quickly and raised your arms in the air so he could slip his jersey onto you, “Good girl.” He kissed your forehead.

You turned around and pouted when you couldn’t see Remus, “Where’s Remmy?”, “Remmy went to go get you some tea, bun.” James told, your lips formed and ‘O’ shape as you nodded.

Remus returned with a tray of tea and placed it by your side, you were resting sleepily on Sirius chest while you played with the rings on his fingers, “you’re back, Remmy.” You yawned, opening your arms so he could hug you, he embraced you and kissed your neck softly.

“Y’want some tea?” He asked, you nodded groggily.

The lycanthrope held the cup to your lips while James held you in a sitting position.

“Who’s bed y’wanna sleep in tonight, pup?” Sirius questioned, “Yours.” You responded, wiping the spilled liquid from your lips, “Always the favourite.” James rolled his eyes causing Sirius to smirk, “Course I am. I let her wear my jersey.”, “She spilt ink on mine! S’not my fault I don’t trust her!” James whined.

Remus ignored the conversation between the two other boys, “You still foggy, hun? Cus’ you know we can’t sleep if your still foggy.” His brows furrowed, you shook your head, “M’back Remmy. Promise.” You answered, he nodded and kissed your lips, “Goodnight, petal.”.

James was next— pressing a gentle and devoting kiss to your forehead and moving to his bed.

“Sleep well, puppy. Love you.” Sirius whispered too you as you nestled onto his chest, “Love you too, meanie.”.

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nctsplug02 · 2 years

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hi hi, literally LOVE ur writing 💕 idk if you're taking requests or not, thought I'd drop this for you😅

Jaehyun/Yuta, gets home all injured & whtvr, OC cleans him up & helps him take a bath, but gets pulled into the tub😏

sorry if ur not taking requests, just ignore🙏

[11:39pm]

genre: fluff and suggestive

yuta one coming soon…

you sigh, finally after being able to put the kids to sleep you decide to draw yourself a bath. your husband wasn’t home, he was going out with some of his friends for a birthday.

you were in your towel, sitting on the edge of the tub while your hand moved around in the water to get the bubbles going.

knock! knock! knock!

“who is here this late?” you asked yourself while leaving the bathroom to go downstairs.

you cracked the door open and saw your husband. he was drunk.

“jae? get inside, it’s cold out.” you open the door bigger for him. you watch as he stumbles inside with grunts as he tries to clear his throat.

“baby, i’m hurt. look, i’ve gotta boo boo. see.” jaehyun points to the busted lip he has and the cut on his nose and cheek. “jae, what did you do? what happened?” you cup his face and examine the cuts.

“ve got into a fight and by ve i mean me and my fends. these guys were talking shit so we confonted them but they hit us first— they hit jungvoo— the birthday boy.” his words slurring up from the way his lips were smooshed up.

you almost giggle.

“they look bad. let’s go draw you a bath, yeah?” jaehyun nods and quickly slips his shoes off.

jaehyun follows you upstairs to bathroom like a puppy on a leash. “okay, now get naked.” jaehyun smirks and starts undressing himself.

he winces in pain so you look down to see bruises on his abs. “baby,” you walk forward with pouty lips. “i’m okay, babe.” jaehyun sighs, pulling you into a hug. “no, you aren’t. hurry, let’s get you into this bath, okay?” you pull jaehyun towards the tub.

“it has bubbles and, and.. candles.” you nod, pulling jaehyuns briefs off and helping him into the tub. “so nice.. and.. relaxing.” jaehyun immediately closes his eyes.

“love,” you hum, picking up his dirty clothes. “why’re you in a towel?” you sigh. “well, after i put the kids to bed. i was gonna take a bath but it seems that you need it most.” jaehyun peeks his eyes open.

“join me.” you laugh, putting his clothes on the counter.

“i shouldn’t. i can stay in the bathroom with you while you bathe?” you suggest.

silently, you walk over to him and grab the loofa, soaping it up and washing his body with it. “lift your arm for me.” jaehyun does what you say and lifts his arm. “thank you.” you hold onto his wrist and soap his arm.

“okay other ar—?” you shriek when being pulled into the tub. “mm’aw man, now my towel’s soaked!” you whine, pulling the towel off you and squeeze it until it’s nearly dry before tossing it onto the floor.

“i’m sorry, love. it’s just, i needed you.” you sigh, fixing yourself into the right position. “could’ve asked nicely.” you mutter under your breath.

minutes of sitting in silence, soaking up the hot water, jaehyun sighs. “it’s too hot. i’m ready to get out.” jaehyun whines, pushing himself up and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around his waist and helping you up.

“cmon, love.” jaehyun says wrapping the towel around you like he’d do with his kids. “such a cutie.” he giggles and ruffles your hair.

“i can see where airem gets her prettiness from. pretty just like her mommy.” he coos at you and you laugh. “stop it.” you push him away.

“wait, hold on,” you pull on his arm when he tries to walk out the bathroom. “we need to clean your.. owies.” jaehyun looks at the mirror and then giggles. “oh yeah.”

jaehyun sits on the toilet cover and sits silently while you cleaned him up. wiping his cuts with q-tips that were drenched in alcohol and then putting cute hello-kitty bandaids on his cute.

“okay, now we’re ready for bed.” you say pulling him out the bathroom.

#nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nctsplug02 #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop smut #nct 127 #kpop scenarios #nct writing #jung jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun

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vcg73 · 3 years

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FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014. I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard!

He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday? My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there. What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.

Burt was less lucky.

Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us! Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs. Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty. Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right? Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this. Just remember everything I taught you. You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima. He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though. Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love. May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

#birthday drabbles #Kurt and Burt #Kurt and Mercedes #Kurt and Adam

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littlestarfish · 4 years

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Owie... I got soap in an ouchie on my thumb :(

#smolxspace #safe agere

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firecrackerwrites · 5 years

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You guys wanted cute potty training Link, so here it is!

Sometimes it started as a dull ache. Other times it started as a squirm that led to a bounce that led to Link fleeing full speed down the hallway. Either way, he had to be inclined to agree that reading his body was not a skill he possessed any longer. He was sure he had at one point, but after he’d started regularly regressing? Not so much. He’d blurred the lines between headspaces and now his body couldn’t keep up with it. Sure, he’d always had a notoriously small bladder, but nowadays it seemed like he was constantly rushing to either make sure he didn’t wet himself or to get himself cleaned up before someone saw if he did. He was starting to get tired of it. Half the time when they weren’t doing anything that required him to bend over or where his shirt might accidentally ride up, Link wore protection just to hedge his bets.

He could tell that Rhett wanted to step in, but he was grateful that Rhett was keeping his distance. Though on some deeper more Little Link level, Link wanted help very much and it was all very confusing to him. But he pressed his headspace down and kept trying to forge on as an adult. He made it for all of three weeks before Rhett finally snapped, all that pent-up caregiver energy coming out full force one afternoon. It was right after Link’s most recent unsuccessful trip to the bathroom, when he’d emerged wearing a pair of their GMM sweats and carrying a plastic bag.

“Link,”

he nearly lost his mind with panic, shoving the bag behind him and relaxing once he realized it was Rhett that was approaching him.

“Link,” Rhett sighed once he finally reached him. “Dude, we gotta do something about all this,” he murmured softly. “How many times has this happened today?”

Link’s headspace plummeted and he looked down at his sneakers. “T-twice,” he stuttered. “But I forgot to bring more protection, so only the second time messed up.”

Rhett gave a soft hum, looked over his shoulder and began to steer Link towards their office for a bit more private place to chat. “I know. I realized you’ve been having some problems lately,” he kept his voice pitched low until the door was firmly shut behind them. “But I think I have an idea on how to help fix that.” He took the bag from Link’s limp hand and tucked it into his gym bag to take home later. “Siddown for a minute, c’mere,” Rhett changed his mind halfway through his sentence, deciding instead that he would very much like to be selfish for a few minutes while they had this conversation and shamelessly get some cuddles from his boy.

Instead of sitting on the downstairs sofa, he climbed up into the loft. Link trailed behind him mutely, clearly thinking that Rhett was upset with him somehow. Rhett folded himself down into the little blanket nest that Link had left up there and patted his lap reassuringly. “C’mere, buddy. I’m not mad at you, I just wanna talk for a minute, okay?” He’d stashed Link’s binky up there earlier, hoping he’d be able to get him to come up for a conversation. Rooting around the pile of soft blankets, he found it and held it up with a little knowing gleam in his eyes. “Come on, Link. Why don’t you come sit with me for a while, hmm? Come down here and sit with Bubba for just a little bit. I got somethin’ I need to ask you about.”

Link didn’t look entirely convinced, nibbling on his fingers and shifting from foot to foot. Rhett patted his lap again with his free hand and that was it. That was all the stupid, grownup, icky self control Link could handle. He was done. He lowered himself to his knees and then crawled over to Rhett, smushing himself up into his lap as small as possible. Rhett put his binky in his mouth for him, which was good, because Link wasn’t sure he could move his hands from being clenched into Rhett’s shirt anyway. He let out a soft whine as he desperately sucked at his pacifier, grateful for the instant reaction as Rhett rubbed his back and shushed him.

“I’m not mad at you, Bumblebee,” Rhett murmured, rocking a little and holding onto Link tightly. “I’m not mad. You haven’t done anything wrong. You just need a little help, that’s all. Now I have something to ask you, but you gotta promise not to be mad at me.” he rocked and hugged for another moment before tapping at Link’s shoulder softly. “C’n you sit up for me? I wanna see your face for a second while I talk to you,” Link let out another whine, the slightly slobbery squeaky noises coming from the desperate way he worked the pacifier were the only other noise in their little space. “Hey, come on,” Rhett kept his voice soft. “Come on, baby boy. I know you’re so sleepy and so scared, but can Bubba please see that cute little face?” he ran a hand through Link’s greasy hair (when was the last time the kid had taken a shower?) and hummed a little. “Stop hiding, Bumblebee. Please?” It took a good while (Rhett figured this was one hell of a drop for poor Link), but eventually he peeled his teary face away from Rhett’s midriff long enough to look up with a crinkle of the chin.

“Oh, poor little Bumblebee,” Rhett crooned. “Don’t be upset, bo. Promise. Bubba’s got this all figured out, but you gotta work with me, okay?” Link gave a desperate and high pitched whine that typically meant ‘I am tired please, i want to nap right now, i’m so tired and cranky’. Rhett shushed him gently, cupping his cheek. “I know. I know you’re very sleepy, aren’t you?” he babbled on in the typical toddler and baby manner, just asking the same few questions and rubbing Link’s back to soothe him. “Just a few minutes and you can have a little nap, okay?” Link looked like he wanted to bury his face in Rhett’s shoulder again (and Rhett wanted nothing more than to cuddle him up close like that) but Rhett kept him at a little bit of a distance with his hands on his shoulders. “How do you feel about staying home with me for a few days? Does that sound good? We can work on your potty skills together and that way when we go back to work you won’t be so scared anymore. Deal?” Link whined again but a spark in his eye said he was interested. A beat of silence passed wherein he played with Rhett’s shirt a little before he dragged his binky out of his mouth and met Rhett’s gaze once more. “L-Link...” Link sounded like he might cry some more. Rhett didn’t begrudge him. This was a hard conversation to have. Rhett rubbed his thumb gently along Link’s cheek, giving an encouraging smile. “Link has potty?” he pointed off to the side and Rhett gave a little nod. It seemed the curious toddler had discovered the half-opened box Rhett had gotten delivered the night before.

“Yeah, Bubba got that just for you,” he said brightly, trying his hardest to keep this something exciting for Link. Christy and Jessie had helped him do a little shopping, and had outfitted the basement with an epic blanket fort. Christy had even put fun smelling and colored soaps in the basement bathroom so Link would remember to wash his hands. “It’s got your name on it, too.” Rhett finally gave in and let Link curl back up in his lap. “We’ll look at it when we get home. Right now I think you need a nap before we get back to work.”

So maybe Rhett had forsaken doing work and cuddled with Link during his nap. They both needed it. In the end he’d just let him be little for the rest of the day, bundled him into the carseat and gone home early. As soon as he’d gotten Link upstairs, Link had been begging to look at the new potty. Rhett was sure he’d like it, they’d all picked it out and customized it to make it as special as possible. It was bright yellow, with black lettering spelling out Link’s name on the front, and little bumblebees “flying” around the sides with dotted lines to show where they’d come from. He pulled it out of the box and put it on the bed so Link could see it better. The distraction gave him the perfect time to search for the tube of rash cream.

“Do you like it?” he called from the bathroom, opening the cabinets.

“Letters?” Link asked quizzically, pointing.

“That’s your name, Link!” Rhett said brightly, moving back into the bedroom, tube in hand. “See?” He pointed to each letter and spelled it out. “L-I-N-K. Link.”

Link did a happy little wiggle. “Bumblebees!” he squeaked eagerly, jabbing a finger at the happy smiling bees.

“That’s right, buddy! You’re so smart! Helpful little bumblebees for my little Bumblebee!” He tapped the mattress with one palm. “Now come lay down so I can put this on your owies.” Apparently he’d been having more accidents than he’d let on. When Rhett got him into the tub when they got home, Link had presented quite the case of diaper rash.

Link obediently clambered up and lay on his back. “No pants for Link?” he asked hopefully.

“Only if Link uses his manners.”

“Link no has pants, p’ease?”

“Look at you being so polite, Link. Sure, buddy. You don’t have to wear pants if you don’t want to.” Rhett worked the clean pull-up back onto Link’s hips. “Now lemme wash my hands and we’ll go see if we can’t find that missing dinosaur binky.”

After locating the missing binky, Rhett fed Jessie and Link their dinner and then Jessie disappeared off upstairs to play dress-up until Christy came home. Rhett had relocated Link downstairs into their little nest. Said little one was currently ensconced in a blanket, sucking on the newly recovered binky and waiting for Rhett to join him for several episodes of Bear In The Big Blue House (something that Link had recently discovered even if it was about a decade or two too late). Rhett made sure to set the training potty just inside the bathroom for easy access.

“Okay, Bumblebee,” Rhett crawled into the little refuge. “Let’s cuddle up, hmm?”

He’d been refilling Link’s cup every hour or so, trying to get Link to at least maybe be able to feel that he had to go. Two hours in and Rhett was rewarded with a squirmy boy. He cleared his throat and paused the show. “Bumblebee,” he said quietly. “Does somebody have to go potty?” He looked down at Link and Link gave another delicate squirm. “Link,” he spoke clearly, shifting a little to get him off of his lap. “Link, look at me. I asked you if you had to go potty.” Link looked up from where he was twisting his shirt in his hands, eyes wide and teary. Rhett didn’t care right now what the reason for the tears was, he just wanted to boost Link’s self esteem by getting him to admit he had to pee. “Link?” Link nodded softly and kept squirming in place. “Potty.” he agreed, not taking out his binky. “Thank you for telling me, bo. Come on, let’s get you in the bathroom, then.”

Well. Attempt number one had come close, but not close enough. Poor Link hadn’t been able to stand the jostling as Rhett all but carried him across the room. “It’s okay.” Rhett assured again, holding him close. “We’ll try again later. You want me to get you some juice?” A pathetic nod came from the depths of the blanket burrito that had replaced Link. “Okay. I’ll get you some juice and then we can try again later.”

#drabbles

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wispscribbles · 1 year

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💀

#ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soap x ghost #soapghost #john soap mactavish #my art #cod fanart #ghost fanart #cod #soap got an owie :(#couldn’t decide which one to post so I get both

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

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I’ve recently picked up the guitar again and OWIE my fingies!!! I’ve lost my callouses and now I gotta build them up again and wowie owie they hurt… so here’s the 141 + König with an s/o that plays an instrument!

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He’s mesmerized, he’s watching your fingers as they move up and down the keyboard, hypnotized by how graceful they are

(Bonus points if you’re on the task force with him, he’s in awe that something so beautiful is made by those hands that have killed before)

He loves hearing you play, even if it’s just practice, those warm up scales are like music to his hears, he’s instantly flooded with warmth as soon as he hears them, he knows beautiful music will soon follow

Whether you were classically trained, picked it up as a hobby, or you’ve made a career out of it, it’s all the same to him, you are amazing and the music you play sounds gorgeous coming from your hands

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He loves hearing you play, as soon as you grab your guitar he knows he’s in for a treat

He drops what he’s doing and goes wherever you’re sitting just to be in the same room

Even if you’re just strumming to warm up, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, he’s holding his breath when you start playing and if you sing??? Man’s gonna be window shopping for an engagement ring

It’s so magical hearing you play, he’s definitely gonna request a song or two, always cracks up when you say “anyway here’s wonderwall” and then you actually play it??? Incredible

John Price:

He’s so in love with you, it’s not even funny. He loves hearing the music carrying through the house, it’s so fucking beautiful to him

The living room is furnished around the piano, his favorite chair is positioned so that he’s able to watch you play

Sometimes he likes to sit on the bench with you and lean on you as you play, his eyes never leaving the way your fingers gracefully glide over the ivory keys

Whether you’re playing your favorite Chopin song, a song from your favorite video game or movie, or a pop song you heard on the radio, it all sounds so gorgeous to him, bonus points if it’s a song he knows, he’ll be humming along

Might even nod off on the sofa while he’s listening to you practice

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

Oh god he’s obsessed

Every time he hears a song he likes he sends it to you like, “[link] 👀🎶?” He has every ounce of confidence in your musical skills, whether you’re a novice or a professional

If you play more than one instrument? Rip. He wants the guitar version and the piano version of the same song smh so demanding

And when you’re able to pull it off? He’s hype man number one, he’s applauding like a mad man, like his life depends on cheering you on

Low key has recorded one of your practice sessions, he loves letting it play when he’s overseas and in his room, he feels so much closer to you, it’s like you’re right there with him and he feels so at peace

König:

He’s rooted in his seat as soon as he sees you grab your acoustic guitar, he immediately gets comfortable

Even if you’re just practicing and running through the same verse over and over again, he loves watching and hearing you

He watches your fingers as they pluck the strings and glide along the fretboard, he’s watching the way your tongue pokes out when you’re really focused, he chuckles quietly when you hit a sour note and groan

He’s every bit as excited as you are when you call him over to hear the finished song, he’s watching you with stars in his eyes as all the hours you spent practicing comes together

As soon as you’ve finished playing the new song, he’s got your face in his hands, peppering kisses all over you, he’s so proud of you!!!

(funny story that no one asked for bc I love over sharing: playing the piano is what made my husband want to date me when we first met 🤭)

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod headcanons

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