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stories-and-chaos · 3 months

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Shrike: Angel Learns a Lesson

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable. Silly one shot inspired by my brain saying ‘what if a Stolas-esque bleep fest was extremely clinical’]

[One shot, 1106 words, no warnings needed]

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“Okay toots, you an’ me gotta talk,” Angel Dust found you reading in the hotel parlor. The lanky spider demon had been itching to talk to you one on one since you moved into the hotel. You’d moved into Alastor’s suite, happy to finally have your husband back after his seven year ‘sabbatical.’ That meant you were mostly in the Radio Demon’s company. Angel had learned not to ask him about sex the hard way.

You looked much more approachable. You had the air of a delicate bird. A little shorter than Vaggie, you had the perfect amount of curves for an hourglass figure. The shimmering flapper dress you wore showed that off nicely. Even though your arms and legs were vividly red for ⅔ of their length, they weren’t too alarming. Even your talons looked delicate. The black mask across your eyes was striking but offset by the fluffy silver hair framing your face. Your wings didn’t have a sharpness like a bird of prey and were proportioned more like a songbird.

All in all, you looked sweet, cheerful, and non-threatening.

So on a day that Alastor was out while you remained at the hotel, Angel Dust got the perfect opportunity to get some of the goods about tall, dark, and spooky. “Oh! Angel! What can I help you with?”

“I gotta know sweet cheeks, what do you an’ Al get up to?” You made an inquiring noise as you tilted your head to one side. Even that motion was bird-like. The porn star stared at you, unsure if you were pranking him. But the silence stretched on and he realized you actually didn’t understand. “Wha…how…you…” he didn’t know how to talk about sex with someone who didn’t understand innuendo. “How do you and Smiles have sex?”

That just confused you more. “Angel, ma petite araignée, I thought you worked in the sex industry. Surely you know the mechanics.” You paused. “Though I suppose I wouldn’t put it past that lousy moth to keep you in the dark.”

“I know how banging works! Jeez, I can’t do this sober.” He ordered drinks from a Husk that was trying not to laugh. He drank one, got a refill and brought one back for you as well. “A’right. You and Alastor are both as thick as two short planks about anything sexy, so I wanna know how you guys ever do anything in bed. Besides sleeping,” he hastened to add.

“Ooooooooh, okay! Sure, I don’t mind talking. But you gotta explain all those innuendos we don’t understand, got it cher?”

“You got it toots. Now spill, start with how often you do the deed.”

You sipped your whiskey as you thought back over the last century. “Mm, anywhere from one to four times a year? It varies, but infrequently is a good way to put it.”

“You only have sex once a year?!”

“I didn’t say that. It’s usually just for the night but intercourse occurs more than once when we feel up to it. Multiple times usually,” you clarified with a chuckle.

“Okay, makes sense, ya got me there. So it’s just when you’re both in the mood then?”

“I suppose you could put it that way. It’s an enjoyable activity, just not something we need to do. Or want to do as much as most.”

“A’right, we got the scheduling figured out. I gotta know technique. Positions, toys, he into kinky shit? You into kinky shit?” He leaned on the couch back, thrilled that he got you talking.

“Well [redacted] is our usual position. We’ve tried [beep], [bleep], [what], [why]. Oh and [really?] but that was uncomfortable for Alastor. [redacted] and [redacted] were fun but we were so worn out the next day. I like [beeeeeeeeeeep] to mix things up. I don’t know if they count as kinky but [oh god], [nope], [beepbeep], [thats a thing?], [redacted], [please stop], [srsly], and [wow] are all things we’ve attempted over the years. I like some [bleeping all this] and [this too] personally while he enjoys [hide your eyes], [nope], [double nope]. Oh, I almost forgot [holy shit], we gave that a try before his sabbatical.” Angel and Husk both looked at you in disbelief as your list grew. Then you continued.

“As for toys…[don’t wanna know], [redacted], [dang girl], and [bleepbleepBLEEP] all see some use. I guess [redacted] also counts. We tried [no thanks] but I hated it. We’ve both agreed we never want to try [ew] or [gross]. [How even?] has been fun. Alastor has indulged me with [no more please] a few times. Of course I reciprocate with some [BEEPBLEEP] if he asks. But really it’s mostly [redacted] for us. I’m sure we’re terribly boring compared to what you’ve been up to, ma petite araignée.”

Angel blinked at you in a daze. He held his drink loosely in his hand before downing it in a desperate gulp. Husk was once again pulling his ears down in extreme embarrassment. “I wouldn’t say that toots.”

You brushed his mop of hair from his face. The poor thing looked dazed. “Angel, cher, I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight. Husk, do you have any water for him?”

“Getting to know the guests my dear?” Alastor manifested from the shadows, making Angel jump and you smile.

“More the other way around darling.”

“So long as everyone is behaving themselves. I wanted to know if you’d like to go out to dinner tonight? I’ve come across a little place that claims to have authentic Cajun cuisine.”

“Mais oui! Although I’m surprised you’re willing to try after what happened to the last restaurant.”

“You cannot dump black pepper into sausage and rice and call it jambalaya. It’s a sin and a disgrace and the place deserved to burn for it.”

“Right you are, Alastor. Am I dressed well enough or shall I go change?” You stood up and twirled for his inspection.

“Hmm, lovely as always my dear.” He held out his arm for you. “Until later chums!”

“We’ll be back! Make sure you get some rest Angel,” you called as Alastor led you out.

Once the two of you were gone, Angel slumped over Husk’s bar. “I didn’t imagine that right? You heard her too, right?”

“Oooh yeah. I kept saying not to ask, but you just had to know.”

“Yeah well I learned my lesson. I’m gonna need another drink after that.”

“Nah, I think Y/N was right about you having enough for now.” Husk pushed a glass of water over to him, garnished with a lemon slice.

“Asshole.” Angel did drink the water though.

A/N: This is absolutely drawn from my being married for 10+ years and still not understanding innuendos. Doesn’t matter how many times we’ve done it, that’s not how I’m wired. I’m going with “you can’t be embarrassed if you don’t care” as to why Shrike is so frank with Angel btw. It’s as embarrassing as picking out her shoes for the day. Also when you’re approaching triple digits in how long you’ve been with a partner, I figure you’ve tried everything under the sun and beyond, purely out of curiosity. My count has roughly 600 instances from 150 evenings over their life- and death-time. Feel free to mad libs her bleeped portions, I honestly only filled in a third of them in my brain, and the canonicity is dubious anyway.

@edgyboi10000 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @deafsignifcantother @whitewolfsoldat @ch3sire-blu3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #asexual alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #asexual reader #asexual #acespec #ace representation

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toracainz · 2 months

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Shrike

Masterlist

Summary: Things with Marc have been…touchy to say the least. Can things get better?

Pairings: Marc x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing. Established relationships. Verbal conflict. Break up. Physical conflict with some asshole. Knife but no harm to reader. Everything is wet but not how you think. hurt/comfort. angst/comfort. i mean I hope the comfort is there lol.

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: this is for my first-ever fic request. never thought someone would ever want to ask me of all people for a fic. I hope everyone likes it. it kind of got away from when writing it sooooo lol

Things were fairly quiet in the flat as Marc enters looking exhausted. It doesn’t take him long to notice the sound of the shower running. You were home. Just great. With an exasperated huff, Marc makes his way to the chest of drawers to quickly pack for yet another mission. Grabbing the things he was looking for he begins to shove them in a bag, trying to hurry out of the flat before you can notice, but he was never that lucky.

The shower turned off as he was putting the last couple things in and in a rush Marc runs into a chair with a loud thud and a “Fuck!”

“Marc?” You called from the bathroom, hoping it was him and not some burglar, as you stepped out, wrapped in your towel. He had been gone for quite some time with no word on if he was okay or when he’d be coming back. You and Marc had been together a while now, so long that he actually trusted you enough to tell you about Khonshu and what being his avatar meant. It was a bit hard to believe at first, until Marc summoned his suit in front of you…there’s no denying it then. So you came to understand that what Marc was doing was for the greater good, that he was out there helping good people and punishing bad ones. The first few times he left on a mission, you were worried sick and oh so relieved when he got back no matter how long that would be for…but after a while, after many discussions about just a simple text being enough, some kind of indication he was alive and maybe even when you would see him again him being away also brought frustration and maybe a little anger. While fights had become frequent when his missions were brought up, you both managed to make up and move on…until it happened again.

“Shit…” Marc muttered under his breath, “Yeah!…yeah, it’s me. Just stopped by to grab some things…got a uh…long trip ahead.” He knew what was about to come, another fight, another round of the same old thing.

“That’s it?! You’re just grabbing things and going? Were you even going to say ‘hello’? Or ‘I missed you’? Or ‘I love you’? Just grabbing things and avoiding me now?” Your tone became more and more agitated with each question. You had been waiting for him to come back, like you always did, and had been looking forward to spending time with him. Did he seriously need to go on another mission right as he was coming back from one??

“I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“Do you even know what day it is? Of course I’m home, Marc.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Spector. How many more times do I have to ask you, to beg you to just send me a message or call me? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you really just didn’t give a shit.” By now you’ve shed the towel that was wrapped around you and began to dress yourself. You were fuming and you truly wondered if he did care, if he could change.

“Is that what you think?” Marc let out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head, his grin at your accusatory statement beginning to turn sour. “You’d like that wouldn’t you. To be right about me, huh? Someone who doesn’t give a shit about us, about you? Fine…you know what you’re right. I’ll save you the trouble and just get the fuck out of here.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Is he fucking serious right now? That’s it. “Good. And don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” The words felt cold even to you, but what else could be done? Sleepless nights, the secrecy, the blatant disregard for your relationship…you were basically like another goldfish for him and the flat your tank, just waiting for Marc to come back and feed you the little flakey sorry excuses for quality time or physical touch. It’s time to find open waters.

Marc couldn’t believe you, he didn’t believe you, that you would seriously leave. If he’s being honest with himself (which let’s be honest he can rarely be honest with the people he cares about let alone himself) he’s surprised you haven’t left him before now. Maybe he really is a piece of shit that doesn’t care…no, he can’t think like that. You’ve fought before and you make up and…everything’s okay. That’s right. You’re the one constant in his life and he really does look forward to seeing you after his missions…everything’s going to be okay.

He looks at you, intense brown eyes assessing you for your bluff…of course you’re bluffing…he shakes his head letting out a puff of breath through his nose before turning and walking out the door, shutting it a little harder than intended but not quite a slam.

Unfortunately for Marc…you weren’t bluffing.

As he makes his way out of the flat and on to his next mission you had begun to pack your things, anger simmering into frustration and heartbreak as tears roll down your cheeks. You try to steady yourself but you can’t stop the tears. Grabbing your things, or as much of it as you care to take with you, you walked out and locked the door. With the key in hand you looked it for a moment and sighed.

“Goodbye, Marc Spector.”

You knelt down and slid the key under the door, turning away and headed home.

~*~*~*~

Marc tries to quietly enter the flat like he had weeks earlier…once again he hadn’t called or texted you to update you on his mission, how he was, when he was coming back. This time however he was going to be able to just relax a while. Knowing things were left not on great terms, he had been ruminating on how to make it up to you. “I won’t be here when you get back.” The whole time he had been away those words stayed with him, he would tell himself you didn’t mean it, that you would still be here. After all, you were so patient and understanding of him, his past, and trying to help him make a better future.

Marc wasn't the best at keeping people close, especially the people he cared about. He told himself the reason he never called or texted you while on a mission was for your safety, he didn’t want anyone catching wind of him having something or someone to lose. He told himself it was the same reason that when he returned from a mission he would never come directly home. He would always stay at his storage locker a night or so or even stay somewhere else entirely before making his way back to the flat to see you. Of course he never expressed this. That would have made too much sense, made things too easy. And Marc was never good at making things easy, especially for himself.

He walked around the flat, looking for a sign you might be here. He didn’t see your bags or your laptop anywhere and he didn’t hear the shower or sink so you weren’t in the bathroom.

“Babe???” He called out. Maybe you were hiding? Yeah right, not really any place to hide in this open floor plan flat. “Baby???” Still he called out hoping just maybe you were hiding. He started back to the front of the flat, thinking you might have been in the kitchen (maybe with your headphones in listening to music) and he just didn’t notice. Marc was beginning to feel like a kid that had gotten separated from their parents at the grocery store. But when he got to the kitchen it was empty. Now he was beginning to panic. Maybe someone had found out about you and took you. He was already jumping to the worst possible scenario.

Clenching his fists, he hung his head trying to think of what to do, how to find you. His hands found their way into his curls as he gave them a tug getting more and more desperate with each passing second. That’s when the glint of something metallic flashed at him from a spot on the floor in front of the door. Confused and intrigued, he slowly approached it as if it might suddenly attack, but once he got closer he felt like he would have preferred a key monster attacking him.

Your copy of the key.

He knelt down, picking it up, examining it. This was definitely your key. Realization came crashing down on him. You really meant what you said. He really fucked up.

“Shit…SHIT!!”

He had to find you. He never wanted it to end like this, hell he never wanted it to end in general. It was one of those moments where you don’t truly appreciate what you have until it’s gone. Marc grabbed his jacket and keys and started back out into the chilly London night, thunder rolling in the distance. He had to find you and apologize. You deserved at least that. He told himself that even if you didn’t take him back, even if you didn’t forgive him, he wouldn’t blame you or be upset, you had every right to be upset. He fucked up royally after you begged him to be better. Maybe next time he would learn from his mistake, if he allowed himself to find someone else…but he didn’t want anyone else.

He managed to find a flower shop that was just about to close. Briefly summarizing his situation the shoppist took pity on him, letting him buy a small bouquet. Marc felt that if it was too big his apology might seem insincere or that he was just trying to bribe you to come back. No, the size he got was modest, but not puny. He hoped you would like it, even if you no longer liked him.

With an aching heart, he begins the trek to your place. You both hadn’t talked about moving in together just yet, but maybe if Marc hadn’t been such an ass maybe you could have.

~*~*~*~

The past weeks had been…hard, to say the least. You had gone home and cried and got angry and cried some more. By now the pain, though still fresh, had simmered down a little. You didn’t want things to end that way, but Marc just wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t change. It was hard having him gone so often, worrying if he was alright even knowing the suit would heal him. You just wanted to have him near you, hold you, and you wanted to do the same to him. He’s a good man deep down, but he just can’t seem to get out of his own way.

Your friends had been taking you out on the town since you broke things off with Marc, trying to get your mind off of it all. It worked, sometimes. Other times you would call it an “early” night and head back to your flat. This was one of those nights.

You had dressed cute, a very flattering outfit in both fit and color. You had a drink or two but nothing crazy, not like one of your friends. They all decided to stay out into the early morning, you however thought about your bed and sleeping in. The sound of your shoes against the sidewalk was really the only sound around in this sleepy part of town, aside from the thunder that seemed to get closer. Heaving a sigh, you cursed at yourself for not having brought a proper jacket or umbrella, but you were close to your neighborhood so maybe you could get there before it truly started raining. Now the bed was sounding even better than before, rain outside, cozy blanket, your comfort movie on, the feeling of being watched…your steps were no longer the only ones heard echoing in the night air. Your thoughts were yanked from the blissful thoughts of home to the very present moment and the gravity of just how alone you are this late at night.

You don’t dare look back, so you start to walk a little faster…the other steps picking up their pace too. Again and again, until you’re practically running, but try as you might those other steps are quicker. A strong arm suddenly grabs you from behind as a hand quickly covers your mouth as the body begins to carry you into an alley as rain begins to sprinkle down. The man harshly presses you against the hard exterior of the building…a glint in the dim light…a knife coming to hover in front of your face. As the rain begins to come down truly, it hides the tears that had begun to roll down your cheek.

“Hey, pretty lady. Where’s your friends, hmm? Seen you walking this way couple times…watching that ass move down the road. But that isn’t all I want. Give me your purse, your phone, anything of value…now.” His voice was harsh and his smell somehow still carried through in the rain. You hate how close he was, close enough to know things about him you never wanted to know. As he shifts against you, adjusting his hold on you, you can’t help but whimper in fear.

“Come on now! Don’t have all night pretty thing…out with it.” He barked in your face as your trembling hands began to comply, handing him your things.

“P…please just…please don’t…” Trying to catch your breath at this moment proved nearly impossible. Your heart pounding against your ribs, your lungs doing the same as your hastened breath matched your heart. This couldn’t be happening, why was this happening.

The man tucked your things away, to where you didn't know and didn’t care. You let out a whimper of fear of what might come next. The cold rain beating down on the both of you made you feel even more helpless, especially when a figure was suddenly standing at the entrance to the alley you had been dragged in. It was difficult to make out his features with the way the street light was lighting him from the back. Anxiety spiked as you began to wonder if this was another creep wanting to get in on the action, if they were a weird team or something, but more than anything you hoped it was some kind soul who would help you…though you were quickly running out of hope.

“Oi, what are you looking at huh?” The creep challenged the figure, so they obviously didn't know each other. You glanced around hoping the man would be distracted enough that maybe you could make a break for it, but before you could hatch a plan the figure was headed towards the both of you. “Are you deaf?! You better walk the other way and mind your business, yeah?!”

By now you had closed your eyes, you didn’t know what to do, words were failing you. All you wanted was to be home in bed and for all this to be some sick nightmare brought on by the night's tiring events. The sound of plastic hitting the ground was nearly drowned out by the pattering of rain. In an instant you were colder than before. Was this it? You stood there trembling as time seemed to drag on one agonizing second after another. You realized the creep was no longer caging himself around you, there was a thud and splash of a body hitting the puddling rain on the ground…then a repetitive thunk, thunk, thunk.

Your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton as you slowly opened your eyes, raindrops collecting on them before inevitably falling to your cheeks. And there you see the second man, pummeling the creep until he’s just a groaning barely writhing mess on the ground. When the man stood he gave the creep a swift kick to the gut causing him to cough and wheeze as the man wiped his knuckles clean before retrieving your things…and pocketing them himself. Oh shit, no this can’t be…not another asshole. Your legs could finally hear your brain’s commands as you started to hurry to the alley opening, the crunch of plastic as you stepped on what the man had dropped.

A strong, forceful, calloused hand grabbed your arm as you let out a scream. “NOOOOO! LET GO!!!” Somehow your fight had returned as you pulled against the man’s grip, his other hand coming to grab your arm. He was…saying something, but you didn’t want to hear it, you just wanted to run.

“BABY!!”

You froze, your eyes snapping to look at the man holding you still, eyes wide from adrenaline, fear, and shock. The street light no longer casting a shadow over his features, now the light shone on his damped tan skin and making his wet curly hair glisten.

“M…Marc? Marc…” You couldn’t help it, seeing him there feeling his grip holding you steady, everything came crashing in. A heartbreaking sob clattered from deep inside. Marc reached up, cupping your face in his hands.

“Shhhh…shhh it’s okay baby, it’s okay. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe.” His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks before slipping behind to pull you in close. The rain beat down on you both as Marc held you until you had managed to calm down enough so your thoughts could catch up with what was happening.

“Marc, you…how did you…why are you…?” You stuttered as his hand reached up, gently wiping your hair out of your face where it had clung to your skin.

“I uh…I was coming to see you…to apologize. Wanted to get my thoughts together on what I wanted to say…felt like walking was the best way to do that. Well, walking where I could. That’s when I heard a bit of…what was happening. I was already ready to step in and do something…but when I saw it was you I just saw red. Baby, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” The way he looked at you, his chocolatey brown eyes seeming so dark in the late night, you still didn’t understand.

Marc carefully and slowly let go of you to pick up the plastic wrapped bouquet of flowers, now slightly trampled and looking a little rough.

“These were…these were for you. Though, I don’t blame you if you don’t want them now.” He turned the bouquet this way and that to examine the little bit of damage they sustained. Looking back at you, clearly still in shock, he hands you the bouquet and begins to take off his jacket, putting it around your shoulders. The jacket shielding you, it was warm and helped take the chill from your skin. Putting his arm around you, he began to lead you out of the alley and down the sidewalk to your flat. Once at the door, he helped you to unlock it.

“Well, um…you get inside and get warm.” He stood there a moment, not sure what to do really. Should he come in? Would you even want him to come in? Maybe you should call one of your friends to come over…Marc doesn’t believe you’d want him to stick around too long. So, he begins to take a few steps away from you and the door.

“Why did you come to find me, Marc? The flowers? What is…what is happening here? I mean—thank you, for saving me. For—for being there, I just…I don’t understand.” Shaking your head you still tried to make sense of what felt like a very strange sequence of events. You looked at him, like really looked at him. The man you thought you’d never see again except for an awkward exchange at a pub or a tesco. He resembled a sad puppy that had been left in the rain.

“That’s probably the shock. You’ll want to lay down for a while…like I said, I wanted to—to apologize. For being an ass, for not listening to you, for all the times you begged me to do something and I never did. Look,” Marc took a deep breath, his shirt now beginning to cling to his body. “I am in no way expecting you to forgive me or take me back or give me a second chance cause quite frankly I don’t deserve it. You asked me so many times to do something so simple and I had convinced myself that by me not doing that—not texting you or calling you—I was protecting you. That I was making it so people wouldn’t find out about you…and I should have just told you that. I am so sorry. If I had—if I had maybe you wouldn’t have been out tonight. Maybe you would have been back home waiting for me to come home, you wouldn’t have…” his chest began to rise and fall as his breath hastened.

He did this. He caused this domino effect where you could have gotten seriously hurt. It seems no matter what he does, he can’t help but hurt the people he cares about. Maybe it is better that he just not get close to anyone…as much as it breaks his heart.

While Marc had begun to spiral you made your way down the front steps over to him, taking his hand in yours.

“Marc, stop that. None of what happened tonight is because of you…sure I might have been somewhere else, but some creep could have found me any other night. He could have found me while you were gone on your mission, but,” you quickly added, giving Marc a stern look, stopping him from saying that that would have been his fault too for not being here, “you can’t blame yourself for that. Marc, do you know how long I’ve just wanted an apology? An acknowledgment of how you were hurting me.” When those words left your mouth, Marc brows knit together, causing that crease between them to appear, he looked positively gutted. Of course he was hurting you, there didn’t need to be some weirdo in the middle of the night or some enemy of his to cause you pain—he was already doing that.

“I know…and I should have said it a long time ago. I should have because you deserved that much…that’s why I came out to find you…why I got the flowers. I—You deserved better. I understand why you left and I’m sorry it had to end like that.” He did everything he could not to look at you, he thought if he did his heart would hurt more than it already did. “You deserve far better than someone that doesn’t realize what he has until it’s gone.”

Your hand reached up, gently cupping his rain slick cheek, the both of you thoroughly soaked by now, but not wanting to leave the other despite the rain. When Marc felt the warmth of your hand on his cheek he couldn’t help but lean into it, damn he missed this.

“Oh, Marc…damn it. I never wanted to leave. I wanted you to work with me. It broke my heart to leave, but I didn’t see any other way. You didn’t seem like you wanted this to work…wanted us to work.” Your other hand came up to move his hair from where it stuck to his skin like he had yours. This really hit Marc hard. He wanted to be with you, couldn’t imagine life without you. Well he got a glimpse of it tonight and the horrid taste it left in his mouth was something he wished to never taste again, but that wasn’t up to him.

He took a deep breath, a calloused hand coming to hold yours against his cheek.

“Come inside, Marc.”

“I—I shouldn’t.”

“I wasn’t asking. You say you don’t want a second chance, that you don’t deserve one, but if anyone deserves a second chance it’s Marc Spector.”

His eyes snapped up to find yours, slightly widened at this news. “Baby…”

“Marc, I love you. And I want you in my life, but if this is going to work, if we’re going to be together…some things have got to get better. All I’ve done since I left was think about you. So…promise me, if we do this, that things will get better.” You stepped closer to him, your body pressing against his as his other hand comes to rest on your waist.

“I swear. Baby, I swear. I’ll text you, call you, send postcards, anything you want. I’ll make it up to you, all the times I fucked up.” He pulled you closer, arm wrapping around you.

“Marc, let’s take this a step at a time. Okay? A new start. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven on Earth. Like I’ve been reborn.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flowery statements. Marc could be goofy when he wanted to, you felt like he was only able to relax when you were around and you didn’t mind that. It meant that you made him comfortable, that he felt like he could let down some of his walls and let you in.

Hearing your laugh made his heart lighter, a smile spreading across his lips. Marc was in awe of you, of your features, your laugh and voice, and your saint-like patience. He found himself leaning in, eyes drifting down to your lips, yours doing the same. You couldn’t help it, not with how close he was and how his hand held you against him.

“Marc,” you breathed out before his kiss took your breath away. He pressed his lips to yours like it had been a lifetime since he’d kissed you. The rain didn’t seem so cold anymore as you both embraced.

taglist: @saberlight1 @roseqzpd @rosecentaur1916 @ahookedheroespureheart @sleepyamaya @parkeepingparker @lockleysgrl @marc-spectorr @vermillionsails @harrys-tittie @n0ripeaches @missdictatorme @bitchyglitterfox @spacecowboyhotch @randomchick546 @teacupcollector @local-mr-frog @stevenknightmarc @ahookedheroespureheart @mccn-bcys @juneknight

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction

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revacholianpizzaagenda · 3 months

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Apocalyptic squirreling

We're not, like, impaling these quotes like the proverbial shrike or anything, just hoarding them away in a nice stash. A collection of Disco Elysium tidbits about the end of the world compiled by @yekokataa and I, feel free to add!

...starting with the game's earliest teaser trailer.

(28 rather than 27 could be its own odd math, there's some miscounting in the text now and then just like there's the occasional typo, or it could follow the fact that the year of canon events was changed at some point. for that matter, the infamous 22 years to the nuke should be 21, like it originally followed that same 28 and wasn't edited - consistently, the variable it flags is ice.andre_hyper_rc_succ_28)

(this is an example of odd math to me, for the record, as it's 365x27 to the day. It could be it's the EXACT count and also that Elysium doesn't have leap years, but I would've expected a less precise number, personally)

Ours has actual six thousand years of history: it spans from its own version of the early Bronze Age (Perikarnassian period) to the early Middle Ages (Franconigerian period), to the Renaissance (Dolorian period), right up to a decade we call “The Seventies”. It’s a world like ours, one that has evolved culturally and technologically over widely varied periods of time. No Truce With the Furies takes place in the modernity of this world.

(source)

Q: How tight is the connection between the book and the game? Is it a Witcher-like situation? KURVITZ: Things in this world are connected to each other like things in our world are connected to each other – not like things are connected to each other in Star Wars. The book and the game share themes and historical developments. The book is set in the early seventies and the game is set in the early fifties. They are connected the way two stories set in our world would be. The fault-lines developing in the fifties are more apparent in the seventies. The situation has worsened, the political climate has shifted, but there is no Skywalker saga. The main story in Elysium is history.

(source)

yes yes we've all seen the nuke convo but let's put it here for completionism's sake

This connection - saying 22 instead of 27, or 28 as the variable reminds us - could seem strange based on game data alone, but it neatly follows the context of the book, which shows us that the bombing of Revachol is one and the same as the material beginning of the end of the world.

This one is also a fun book throwback, from apocalyptic Kurvitz self-insert to apocalyptic Kurvitz self-insert

(being appreciative of that kind of future just nets you a YEEEAGH)

more personally ominous than globally ominous but ominous nonetheless

("we become vapour" being, of course, the planned title of the eventual Elysium tabletop setting rulebook. sigh.)

This one's intriguing, isn't it? With an eye to Le Retour...

Her echoes of the other dialogue options are similarly ominous, for the record.

And we don't know if Nilsen had visions of his own (the man sounds well-acquainted with his Half Light, on behalf of the war crimes, so it's not... entirely out of the question) but we do know that his pocket calculator lap cat second-bestie very much did and could've been his source.

Also a strong book callback, among other things. Remember kids: object permanence!

Harry, all these quotes like this one sound like they would make sense for the actual guy who goes and blows it all up, not you personal-

...ah yes. Ambrosius looms... yeah buddy it sure is solemn AND historical, I'm afraid:

and of course, in closing:

🥲

...for the remaining 276 pages of Elysium tidbits about the end of the world, of course, over here.

#disco elysium #yekokataa #fayde-weaving #or something

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months

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Would you maybe possibly do a platonic Larissa x fem Student reader? The reader’s mother is shouting at her outside the school because of her grades, but the reader is obviously upset and overwhelmed and Larissa stands up for her. The student opens up to Larissa about everything once her mom leaves and Larissa comforts her and tells her like “you can always come to me, my office is always open.”

(Totally not what I’m going through rn🤭)

Platinum Goddess to the Rescue ~Soft!Larissa Weems xFem Student!Reader

Summary— Larissa comes to Readers rescue out of a difficult situation, comforting and loving on Reader.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Anon response— Hey anon…! Thank you for the request, but I am sorry that you know some of what this angst is like 😣♥️ Hope you Enjoy! 💞💞

Warnings: Angst, then fluff, comforting, yelling, implied verbal abuse, physical comforting, happy endings, etc.

Enjoy (:

Every morning, Larissa did her morning walk around the school grounds. Especially this weekend with all the parents in town, Larissa made sure to get up early to get an extra lap around Nevermore in.

As she walked along the school hedges, nearing the school gates, Larissa caught wind of shouting. Larissa stopped in place, her ears perking up.

“How do you expect to succeed in life? Go to college??” Your mother shriked.

Silence.

And then a stomp and a huff.

“You are destined to fail, you always have been. Just like your father…!!” The woman shriked again.

Larissa was alarmed at the tone that this woman was taking with whomever she was speaking to. Rounding the hedges and stepping through the gates, Larissa walked right up to where the shrill voice was stemming.

There, outside the gates of the school, she found you, standing with your arms crossed and your head hanging low, your whole body trembling. She examined further and saw what she assumed to be your report card, trampled in the ground, and across from you and the paper was your shrieking mother.

The whole sight made Larissa’s face twitch in infuriation. Your lip was trembling and you looked like you were about to burst in tears.

“What on earth is going on here?” Larissa said with already strained teeth in the most professional tone she could muster at the moment.

“I was just having a word with my daughter. This doesn’t concern you, Principal Weems.” Your mother said, her tone turning sickly sweet.

But Larissa didn’t buy her newfound tone. Not one bit. She stepped forward, picking up the trampled paper in front of you, then coming over to you. Larissa placed a hand lightly against your back.

“I will be needing to discuss Miss L/N report card with her in my office. If you will excuse us.” Larissa spoke definitively.

Larissa gave your mom no time to say anything else, she simply turned you and around along with her and led you away. As you two entered the school, you vaguely heard your mother yelling something which made you shake even more, but Larissa kept her hand against your back, rubbing it comfortingly in circles.

You spoke no words all the way to Larissa’s office. Once you made it to Principal Weems’ office, she closed the door behind the two of you, and then she guided you to sit on a big couch by the fire.

She threw away the report card, and then came and sat next to you, continuing to rub your back, looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright, love…?”

You were still shaking a little and your lip was still trembling as you shook your head lightly. You looked at Principal Weems with teary eyes.

You snapped as she gazed down upon you, breaking down into tears. Larissa was quick to scoop you up and you easily curled into the woman’s lap.

“I am so sorry, Darling…” Larissa comforted you, “You can always come to me, you know, my office is always open.”

You nodded in the woman’s lap, as you began to calm down more and more.

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

#Larissa weems fluff #larissa weems angst #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #soft!larissa weems #soft Larissa weems #gwendoline christie #Gwendoline Christie character #student!reader #student reader #cissyenthusiast010155 answers

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a-book-of-creatures · 11 months

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It’s been nagging at me for a while, so I’m going to try to put together my thoughts on the Quetzalcoatlus sequence in Prehistoric Planet 2. In the grand scheme of things it’s tiny, insignificant, and I loved Prehistoric Planet, but I’m not going to turn down the opportunity to talk at length about scavenging birds.

(Spoilers (?) for Prehistoric Planet 2 ahead. Go watch it!)

I’m talking about the part where a Tyrannosaurus is driven off from an Alamosaurus carcass (presumably carrion and not killed by the tyrannosaur). The tyrannosaur is expressly stated to be concerned about losing an eye to those Whopping Big Beaks. The pterosaurs aggressively fly over it a few times and honk angrily until the tyrannosaur walks away in Shameful Defeat, leaving the carcass to the pterosaurian pterrors.

And that confused me.

Before I go on, I want to point out that this is not a Who Would Win discussion, I’m not going to argue for or against one or another. Not going to discuss if Tyrannosaurus should really have won because of the massive weight advantage and lack of fragile bones/wings, or if the big landlubber had it coming and the numbers and aerial advantage was too much. I’m not arguing about Quetzalcoatlus being scary or not either (it’s scary as all hell).

No, the issue I had was with the beaks.

This is the Quetzalcoatlus as it appears in the show.

Impressive beak, isn’t it?

But it’s not the beak of a flesh tearer.

Let’s back up a bit. Birds that eat meat by tearing it into manageable chunks typically evolve sharp, hooked beaks to make up for the lack of teeth. Like this eagle for instance.

Majestic. They make the cutest sounds too. Look up golden eagle sounds, don’t believe the red-tailed hawk propaganda.

Raptor bills look intimidating, but they’re not there for killing. They’re cutlery. The talons do all the work, and then the beak tears up the meat into delicious gobbets of protein.

Even shrikes get in on the act. They don’t have killer feet, so they use their ripping bills to impale prey and tear at it.

Aw, look at it, it thinks it’s accipitrids.

The Quetzalcoatlus’ bill, though, doesn’t have that hook. It doesn’t look like the bill of a bird that dismembers its food. The closest thing I could think of to compare it with was stork bills. Specifically the marabou.

Ol’ pickaxe-for-a-face. This is the beak of an animal that stabs smaller prey and swallows them whole with minimum processing.

But a bill this long and pointed, turns out, is good for stabbing but not for tearing meat. Marabous are scavengers, but they won’t tear apart a carcass on their own. The “[b]ill [is] not well designed for dismembering carcasses, so [it] normally steals scraps from vultures or snatches up morsels that are dropped” (del Hoyo, Elliott, and Sargatal, 1992).

As you can see, vultures retained the hallmark accipitrid steak knife face, and are much better at Ripping and Tearing. This one (the lappet-faced vulture) generally goes first, being big and strong enough to Rip and Tear tough hide and get to the fleshy interior.

In fact, “[d]espite its huge bill, the [marabou] stork can rarely dominate a carcass and normally stands by the much more numerous vultures and nips in from time to time to snatch morsels which are dropped by others, though Tawny Eagles (Aquila rapax) in turn often steal food from the stork. The bill is not apparently very effective for cutting up meat and dismemberment is normally carried out quite simply by pulling” (del Hoyo, Elliott, and Sargatal, 1992). And if marabous have trouble with the average carcass, I wouldn’t imagine Quetzalcoatlus would fare much better with a titanosaur, which presumably has rather thick skin too.

One big happy family. That’s a much smaller carcass being shared (with the obligatory squabbling) by a whole bunch of dinosaurs. Neither vultures nor marabou are trying to monopolize it.

So... I don’t see why the big stork pterosaurs would chase away a perfectly good meat processor. I know everyone wants to see Big Prehistoric Animals Fighting With Lethal Intent, and everyone wants to see Tyrannosaurus Getting Knocked Down A Peg By The New Hotness, but I think it would have been a more interesting and believable scene - not to mention more in keeping with Prehistoric Planet’s attempt to be as scientifically believable as possible - if the pterosaurs acted like marabous the size of giraffes, both them and the tyrannosaur keeping a respectful distance of each other, and snapping up bits of meat left behind. And maybe the pterosaurs pulling the dinosaur’s tail for good measure, the way ravens bully eagles.

But it would make for a much less exciting scene. Who wants to watch a bunch of scavengers milling around a carcass and honking at each other as they jockey for the best morsels and settling their differences in ways that involve as little risk as possible? I mean, I do, but I don’t assume the average viewer does.

And that concludes my altogether far too long opinion on a single scene from a great series. Of course, I’m not a paleontologist and never will be, I’m only approaching this with what I know about birds, so please feel free to let me know if there’s any details of Quetzalcoatlus anatomy that do in fact suggest it could rip and tear!

References

del Hoyo, J.; Elliott, A.; and Sargatal, J. eds. (1992) Handbook of the Birds of the World, Vol. 1. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

#prehistoric planet #prehistoric planet 2 #dinosaurs #pterosaurs #quetzalcoatlus #birds #paleontology #paleoblr #long post #disclaimer: I am not in any way throwing asparagus at Prehistoric Planet 2 #I'm not panning it in any way #tyrannosaurus #azhdarchids

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desert-fern · 7 months

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 22: Reunion

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

* image by Ilaria Ubinati, found on Pinterest*

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: Bear gets a little existential, her team is amazing and supportive, really not much else imo

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist >> Part 21 >> Part 23

===

It had been nearly 5 months since Bear had left the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln in order to meet with Admirals Will “Shark” Harris, Beau “Cyclone” Simpson, and Navy psychologist, Dr. Hazelwood. They had required her to take a mandatory leave effective immediately, weekly sessions with Dr. Hazelwood, and had barred her from engaging in discussions relating to the day to day operations of the US Navy and its members, as well as forbidding any contact with those directly involved in the investigation of what would be former Lieutenant Commander Colton “Hazard” Richards.

Needless to say, the third condition struck a nerve in the Commander. Her team was her family, as she had said numerous times, and in her mind, it was needlessly cruel. The rest of her orders she could understand. Hazard had been taken off the ship directly by NCIS agents along with the rest of his so-called team, and she knew that Bug, FAK, Daisy, Shrike, Jake and a few others would be crucial in building the case against these five. But that also meant she couldn’t talk to them until after they had finished up their parts for the agents and the prosecution.

She couldn’t talk to her family. Nor they to her, and it tore her heart to shreds.

But Bear just nodded, gritting her teeth in frustration. “Sirs, may I suggest a change to the conditions?”

Admiral Simpson looked surprised at her boldness, but her boss, Admiral Harris had expected this and motioned for her to continue regardless of the look on his colleague’s face. “You may, Commander.”

“I would like to request a psychologist not connected to the US Navy.” Bear’s tone was even, controlled. She knew what she needed and unfortunately this psychologist wouldn’t be it. “I mean no disrespect to you, ma’am. I have no doubt of your qualifications, but in order for me to be at the level I need to be, I require counseling from someone that isn’t going to sign off on me the second I show even a fraction of improvement.” This was a genuine concern. Bear knew that if they could slap an ‘all better’ on her file right now, then they would. However, for her sake, for the sake of her team, Bear had to be at her best and right now, she was far from it.

Harris raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “And who exactly is going to fill in for Dr. Hazelwood?” He had been caught off guard by Bear yet again. Both he and Cyclone had figured that Bear would want to be put back into the field as soon as possible. Neither one of them had considered this request as something that she would ever bring up.

“I’m sure that there are private psychologists who have been vetted by the Navy should this ever arise.” She met Cyclone’s gaze and held it, refusing to even entertain the idea of a compromise. Bear knew that she was damaged, that her experiences had broken something inside of her that couldn’t be fixed with three sessions and a bandaid. She needed help, and deep down, Bear knew that she would walk away from this life if she couldn’t get the help she needed. “This is one of those circumstances.”

Cyclone glanced at Shark before nodding. “We’ll see that that is done, Commander. And may I commend you for your professionalism at this time. It is a rare thing.”

Bear nodded in thanks, her jaw feeling like it had been wired shut. She shifted on her feet, ignoring the itchiness of a scab on her side while the Admirals talked at her, discussing item after item, barely taking more than a few seconds to ensure that the information was being absorbed. She had been in that office for far too long and her mind was nearly at its breaking point.

Now though, Bear sat on her couch, wrapped up in a blanket as she stared at the wall. Today’s session had left her emotionally drained and she wanted nothing more than to be with someone, to be near someone. She had gone home to Vermont almost immediately after her leave had been approved and spent two of the five months with her moms, both loving and hating the familiarity of it all.

She recognized the feeling as the same one that had hit her after her first deployment. Bear had gone home and the world had seemed different. The lush forests that she used to train in, the well-worn trails feeling foreign, the overall peaceful serenity unnerving. It was almost like she had stepped back into a life that wasn’t hers, a period of her history that had faded and been lost to time. She distantly remembered sobbing in her mother’s arms, the reason long forgotten to time, memory, and pain.

Since that time however, Bear had grown stronger and bolder, grown into who she was now. Rather, who she had been before Hazard and his goons tried to ascertain a command of their own. She knew that eventually the pain would heal, and thanks to Dr. Carter, her new psychologist vetted personally by Admiral Harris, Bear was well on her way to managing the nightmares, trauma, and the sting of betrayal brought in spades by Operation Hellfire.

So Bear sat, the silence filling her, bringing her a semblance of peace. She had recovered slowly; spending hours focusing on her breathing, going to the gym on nights that sleep eluded her, writing down what she could about her day, and just did her best to heal. She couldn’t recall the last time she had had so much time to do what she wanted and it was both scary and freeing.

The prosecution had finished with her main team three months after her leave had begun and Bear had cried after getting the email from Harris that she could chat with a few of her team, namely Fireball and Bug. The lawyers had wanted to spend longer talking to those who had been directly impacted by Hazard’s actions and those who had been crucial in putting together the evidence for them.

She had given her own initial testimony days after being put on leave, much to the anger of Admiral Harris who had demanded that his Commander be allowed time to recover from her ordeal. It had been difficult. She had barely been able to piece together sentences of her experience, the words getting lost in the fear and pain she had been through, but she had persevered. She pushed through it, tearing open the mental wounds she had spent weeks trying to heal and in her pain, her tears, Bear had found it within her to admonish the prosecutor who demanded answers. He had been stunned into silence from the force of her words as she stood shaking in front of him.

He had backed off. Given her time. He had requested time to speak with her again a month ago and she had felt ready, so Bear had finally worked through the apprehension and spoke with him, detailing what she could remember. He thanked her, offering his apologies for his brusque nature the first time they had met, and told Bear that he would call if he had any more questions.

And despite all obstacles against her, Bear was healing. Today’s session hadn’t made her burst into tears. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. Progress that she was immensely proud of. Bear had also heard from Dr. Carter that her mandatory leave was up soon, and that Cyclone and Shark wanted to meet with her in a few days.

She was ready. Bear was ready to see her team again, her family. Maybe if she impressed her bosses, they would let her train with her team. The mere thought had her smiling widely as she picked herself up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen to make dinner. It was nothing fancy, but Bear still found herself dancing as she cooked, the joy seeming to radiate off of her. “If only Jake were here,” she thought. “Then it would be perfect.”

===

The day of her meeting came quickly, and Bear had never been more excited to put her uniform on than today. It beat out the first time she had put it on by a mile and she didn’t quite know what to make of that. Each button fastened brought her closer to her goal: Harris and Simpson had to be convinced that she was better, that she wasn’t a risk.

Bear grabbed her backpack, keys, phone, and wallet and slipped out the front door of her house. The same house that had once stood out for being starkly unlived in, now seemed to blend in a little more. The flower beds were now full and blooming in colors they never had before, the lawn was clipped, and it looked like a home. With all the time on her hands, the work made her feel normal. It had been a source of peace for her while she recovered and it continuously made her grin as she drove the roads to the base.

The guard at the entrance to the base had shouted “Welcome home!” when she had rolled her window down and his enthusiasm made her laugh as she handed him her new ID.

“It’s good to be back.” Bear took back her card, waving to him as she drove into the base, parking as close as she could to the Admiral’s office and slowly made her way inside, passing colleagues and friends who each greeted her with smiles, handshakes and hugs.

“Commander. It’s good to see you.”

“Sirs.” Bear couldn’t help but grin a little as she saluted the two men before her. “It’s good to be back.”

“At ease, Commander.” Cyclone gestured for her to take a seat in front of him, eyes watching Bear as she did. “We received word from Dr. Carter that she feels you are ready to come back.”

“Yes Sir. I was informed of the same.” Bear shuffled in her chair, trying to get comfortable. The cold sterility of the meeting room they sat in never failed to make her uncomfortable and today was no different, especially when she was waiting desperately to see those whom she hadn’t seen in over five long months.

Admiral Harris glanced over at Bear. “And do you feel the same?” He could sense her eagerness to return to the job, his Commander was hardly subtle in that regard. Her love for her job and her people was something he hoped her successor would possess and from what he had seen from Bug, he knew that Team 3 was in phenomenal hands.

“I do. I don’t think I’m ready to be deployed immediately, but I feel ready to rejoin my team, to start training again.” Bear knew what she wanted from this meeting, and she could tell that the men across from her knew it too, but this was still a formality that they all had to go through.

“I see.”

And the conversation continued from there. By the end, the two Admirals had decided that while Bear still needed to pass a psychological exam by a Navy psychologist, she was essentially cleared to train again with her team.

It was like she was flying at their words. Bear knew that what they were saying was important, but she was too caught up in the excitement of being able to see and talk to her family again. It would be awhile before any legal action came down on the people who had hurt her with their plotting, but they hadn’t won. She was sitting here, in front of her bosses, paying just enough attention to their words so she wouldn’t miss anything important, while her heart was doing backflips at the thought of just seeing her people.

“Congratulations Commander. You will be reinstated shortly.” The amused voice of Admiral Harris cut through her thoughts. “Go and rendezvous with your team, Bear. They have been clamoring at the gates trying to see you. I believe Petty Officer Hamilton sounded the alarm that you were back.”

Bear smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, Sir. He was all smiles when I arrived earlier.”

“He is the type to do so, Commander.” Cyclone was watching her carefully, amused by the humor in her voice. It was clear to him that Bear was ready to burst out of the room, so he dismissed her, nodding at her salute and watched Bear slip out the door. “Is she always like this, Harris?”

“Eager to get back to work? Yes. The type to tune us out? No, that’s likely from her not being able to help her team for the last five months.”

===

Bear raced out of the building, descending the stairs so fast she nearly fell down them. She closed the distance quickly, slowing to a walk as she quietly approached the empty training warehouse. Her heart was pounding, both from the exertion and because after five long months, she was oh so close to finally being near the people that had always had her back.

Her team was okay, definitely worried about her, but from the updates Fireball had been giving her over the last few weeks, Bear knew that they were alright. Bug was doing her best to keep their spirits up, and Bear couldn’t be more proud of Priya. She knew that her second would step up when needed and Priya did exactly that.

They had come together in her absence. Growing stronger as a team, they were all so excited that their boss, their friend, and to some, a maternal figure (not that they would ever say that to her face), was coming back to them.

And she was right outside the doors, listening intently to the cacophony of voices yelling over one another. Bear heard Bug shout over the noise, silencing most of the group, except for a few who kept chattering away excitedly. “Now! To the two newbies that joined us a few months ago, you only know me as your CO. You haven’t met Bear yet.” Bug stopped halfway through her sentence to swing her gaze over and stare down the new Seals. “And if you two would stop your yammering, maybe we can finish this up so you can meet her.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They both looked thoroughly chastised and Bug smiled. Her job had gotten a little easier as time had gone on. She still wished that Bear were here to help guide her, but Priya knew that this was the same way her commander had learned the job. Training wheels didn’t exist in the Navy and Bug was proud of just how much she had been able to do despite her hesitation.

“Good. Now,” she continued. Her smile had only grown wider as she felt the excitement of her colleagues grow with every passing moment. Everyone wanted to see Bear again, and thanks to Petty Officer Hamilton, the whole base knew that the Commander was back. “Bear is still in her meeting with the Air Boss and Admiral Harris, so did we have any questions about our training this week?”

A few hands were raised and Bug answered the questions as best she could. She was distracted and it had felt like time was crawling as she breezed through the last few questions, clarifying a few points and restating another four, much to her dismay. Bug had just asked if there were any remaining questions when a familiar voice echoed through the quiet room. “I have a question. What does a woman have to do to get a hug around here?”

“Bear!” The room erupted in chaos, Seals scrambling out of their seats to hug their Commander, pushing and shoving others out of the way to be the first to greet her. A cacophony of voices made Bug cringe at the volume and she caught the gazes of the other Lieutenants who had held back, letting their platoons hug their boss.

“Alright. Alright!” Bear yelled over the noise, her hands out in front of her. “I’m not running out on you guys. I will get to everyone, I promise.” The room immediately settled down, people shuffling out of Bear’s path as she walked up to the front of the room.

Bear had begun tearing up when the room exploded into shouts of joy. Her team was okay and the sheer weight of the emotions she had felt all week dissipated in a heartbeat. Each hug, handshake, and story shared seemed to lighten her heart in such a way that it felt like it was seconds from floating up, up, up into the sky to fly alongside the F-18s on base.

Each step towards Bug felt like miles. Bear had heard the endless praise of Priya since the moment she'd arrived back on base and it was comforting to know that she had chosen well. “Priya.”

“Bear.” And Bug was in her arms, holding her tight. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Bug.” She held the other woman for a moment longer, before letting go to wipe her tears. “You’ve done an incredible job with them. I couldn’t be more proud.”

A tearful thank you left Bug as she swiped at her tears, letting Bear turn to envelop F.A.K. into a tight squeeze. The medic mumbled something to their Commander, making her laugh despite her tears.

The rest of that morning and early afternoon was spent catching up, Bear found herself holding court as she answered question after question from her team, refusing to leave anything out. Her team weren’t children, they had all suffered from her disappearance and Bear felt that they deserved to know at least a fraction of what had plagued her over the long five months apart.

“… I did go home to Vermont,” Bear said, laughing when someone yelled out that a person couldn’t be from Vermont. “I’m serious. My moms live there, in a small town in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

A few more adamant shouts had the room dissolving into giggles and for what felt like the millionth time that day, Bear felt a lightness that she hadn’t felt in a while. Not since the early days in Riyadh with Jake.

Jake. Where was he? Come to think of it, where were the Daggers? Bear hadn’t heard a word from any of them except Rooster one time when he stopped by to lend her a book. She had yet to give it back to him, and she would be lying if she said that was the only reason she wanted to see the pilots who had become a third family to her.

Sensing Bear’s distraction, Bug jumped in to dissuade the next few questions, sending the Seals off to lunch, while keeping a close eye on the suddenly pensive Bear. “Are you okay?”

Bear nodded. “I’m fine. Honestly. Just missing people.” She was trying for nonchalance, but from the look Priya gave her, it was clear that she had failed miserably.

“The Daggers have been away since Monday for a four day intensive at Lemoore,” Bug began, a knowing smile growing wider as the seconds passed. “I hear that they should be back sometime today or tomorrow.”

Bear hummed her acknowledgment and continued staring out through the open doors at the planes taking off in the distance. “It’s strange being back,” she said after a while.

“Good strange or bad strange?”

“Is it bad if I don’t know yet?”

Bug shook her head. “I don’t think so. I would probably feel the same in your shoes.”

“And I hope that you never have to be.” Bear’s tone was dark. A firm edge that forbade Bug from ever following her path to the woman she had become. “As long as I am in charge, you will never have to make the same choices I did in that desert.”

“You can’t promise that.” Bug’s tone was soft, almost like she was trying to talk Bear down.

Bear turned, meeting Priya’s gaze. “What I had to do…” she trailed off, shaking her head at the thought. “I will do whatever I can to make sure that none of you ever face the demons I did. I can promise that much.”

“Bear, what happened wasn’t your fault. None of us have ever blamed you.” There was now urgency in Bug’s voice, pleading with Bear to believe her. “Not a single one.”

“I know you don’t. Only one person deserves the blame.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, like they didn’t belong to her. And for the longest time, they hadn’t. Dr. Carter had spent months ensuring that Bear knew that she had nothing to be blamed for. These words belonged to Dr. Carter, not Bear. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I knew I could survive what I was dealt. That I did what I did so that none of you endured what I did.”

Bug was silent. Bear wouldn’t be swayed from this belief that her sacrifice was a good thing. To Bug, however, it wasn’t. The choice had been made, but Bug was still worried that Bear would make the same decision if the opportunity presented itself. So she hummed, gathering her thoughts. “We did get new equipment earlier this week, wanna see?”

Bear seemed to snap out of her melancholy, standing up. “New equipment? Hell yeah.”

“Come on then. We get to test it out for the first time later today.”

===

Hours later, Bear arrived home. Her body hurt, unused to the rigors of training after being away for so long. It had been a sobering realization, but she had known that she wouldn’t be at 100% from the start. She had to take it slow. Well, slower than previously thought.

But holy shit had it felt good to line up her shots, to watch bullets punch through paper targets, to help T-Pot and Zero find the sweet spot to take their shots. She felt useful again.

So now, sitting on her couch in her pajamas with a bowl of mac and cheese on her lap as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone, Bear was content. Today had been good, save for her one moment with Bug. But when she wrote about her day in the journal she had been given, for once it didn’t feel like she was condemning her actions.

Today was progress.

She was startled from her couch potato state by a knock at the door. Glancing at the time in the corner of her phone, Bear frowned. Who the hell could that be? It was late and while she had the weekend off, it didn’t make sense to have visitors.

Groaning, Bear unwrapped herself from her blanket and stood, her knees and ankles popping as she moved. She made her way over, her socked feet sliding over the wooden floor of her home, and opened the door to see Jake standing on her porch.

It was like all of the air had been punched out of her body as she gazed upon him. Even in the darkness outside, his figure illuminated by the single porch light, setting fire to gold in his blonde hair, resembling a crown, he was beautiful. He always had been beautiful, but now, after five long months, here he was in front of her and Bear was left speechless.

Back where they had first begun. When her feelings had become feelings. Jake on her porch, and Bear standing before him, one hand on the open door. Only this time, there was no pizza.

They stared at one another for a moment, before Bear managed a strangled “Jake.”

“Teddy.”

===

A/N: This cut-off is only because this would have been longer than the last one if I had kept this and the next part together. I’m done hurting people. I promise. @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky, you guys are incredible.

Taglist: @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @twsssmlmaa @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris @havlindzk @a-beaverhausen @killcomet @buxkybarnez @topgunruinedme @hangmanscoming @smoothdogsgirl @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby

#fern writes #a gun amonst daggers #jake hangman seresin x reader #bear and hangman #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin series

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lil-demi-boy · 2 months

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Help I'm obsessed with them ♡♡♡

#some of these weren't drawn sober forgive the sketchiness #but yeah this is the hyperfixation im obsessed #i keep rewatching it and have sooo many theories ♡♡♡♡♡#my art #monkey wrench #mw shrike #mw beebs #shrike sanchez #bulldog browns #monkey wrench shrike #monkey wrench beebs #self ship #self shipping #self insert ship #self insert shipping #[beebs]#could have been me [shrike]

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toastedclownery · 2 months

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Okay I'm gonna be a bit crazy on the main tag and share a theory

I think Beebs tried applying for Civil service but couldn't because of his... History

I think it went like this

He was studying/training for it and he was about to be accepted

Something... Tragic happened. The "accident" where he lost his limbs? That might or might not have been his fault. But he was charged for it

He was no longer able to apply because he has a criminal record now?

We've seen a couple of times that he's ready and prone to help and protect people, it's just something in his nature

Also he's very quick to adapting to other species' customs or societies, or their biology. Like being respectful to Punti, and being surprisingly chill when he was communicating with the Agari's phantom.

It would explain the speech he gave before attacking Us, it'd be something that he learned from his training

Maybe his glove which is a similar blue to Killix' uniform and his multi-tool?

Now I don't have evidence for this last point but it's giving me vibes okay. I think he might have been banished from his home planet for what happened in the accident, too.

We barely know anything about Walrinian culture, but I figure their tusks are important. At least with real walruses, tusks are a form of status. I think him removing his tusks (or possibly having them removed against his will?) could be a sign of dishonor.

Or maybe he just lost them in the accident and he just filed them down. But either way, the Symbolism is still there. He no longer has a connection with his home planet and culture.

Beebs strikes me as someone who knows what it's like to lose it all, and he really doesn't want it to happen again, so he plays it very safe with everything he does. Like for example how he wants to slowly build up on the Monkey Wrench company

And I'm willing to say he's taking this approach with Shrike's friendship too.

He's the opposite to Shrike, he dislikes risk. I think it was this accident or... Whatever happened that shaped him into what he's like today. And it would make this conversation with Us make more sense.

If all of this is right (or close), that means he's lost so much. The majority of his limbs, the direction he was going to take with his life as a civil servant, possibly the link to his family and his culture. All of this happening so quickly might have motivated him to...

Yeah.

#I told you it was gonna turn into a character analysis #monkey wrench #monkey wrench theory #beebs #bulldog browns #bulldog fucking browns man #the civil servant line. makes me insane.#it's in the first 5 seconds i CAN mention it #toasted texts

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nightingale-ghost-writer · 1 year

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Your Wildest Dreams [Soap x Fem!Reader]

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

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

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

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

Shrike /SHrīk/ noun

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laswell’s sources had been wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The intel-”

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

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

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

“W-what are you-”

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

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

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

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

“How’re you holding up, hen?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everywhere Soap’s skin touched felt scalded.

“You’re so hot,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pulled him closer.

The kiss turned feral in a heartbeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice.

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks flushed remembering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year

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I saw you were looking for lotr requests, could you maybe do enemies to lovers with either Aragorn x reader or Legolas x reader? Thanks! :)

shrike

aragorn x fem!reader

summary: aragorn confronts you of your reckless ways and you wonder if his anger is coming from irritation or simply a place of worry.

warnings: ranger!reader, angst(at first?), mentions of nudity(not nsfw), hurt/comfort.

a/n: since you gave me options I decide to do aragorn, hope it's to your liking<3

°°°

Aragorn hisses through his teeth as the bitter cold finally starts to affect him after three daya of patrol.

His annoyance however, wasn't just directed at the weather. You had left 5 days ago to make sure the further away forest in south of Ithillien were clear of any orcs.

And unsurprisingly, you still had not return.

He had not even see glimpses of you nor any footsteps to follow since he started his patrol. Though some would say all that was just another sign of your capabilities as a ranger, he knew better.

When dusk had finally reach, Aragorn, with a defeated sigh decided to return to the small abandoned hut deep in the woods, marked by the dunedains as a safe house whilst it being unknown to other folks.

His stomach growled but he ignored his hinger as he started attending to his horse, cleaning it and making sure it's fed first before him.

As his fingers comb through it's mane, the birds screamed along the skies, alerting him of a presence. And by the loud sound of hooves getting nearer, his heart was relieved and at once he leaves his horse and turns towards you.

The thumping of the horse came to a half when met with Aragorn. Hands folding together againts his chest, the ranger was ready to launch into a long detailed lecture, but as the sight of you slumped on the horse, hands trembling as you hold on to the reins, he could only mutter a mouthful of elvish curse before rushing to your side and easily pulling you down into his arms.

You were not passed out, of course not. For if you were, you wouldn't be struggling againts his hold, determined to attempt a walk inside the hut.

After finally getting inside with his help, you shoved him off of you, walking in large shaky steps towards dinner table.

"No dinner?" You slurred as you fell right on the chair.

You felt Aragorn's gaze burn through your back but could barely care. "Oh, I thought you would've been in charge of that, seeing you were gone for almost a week, the least you could do was steal a chicken for me, you know."

You didn't have to turn around to know he was being sarcastic, one of his weirdly attractive scowls probably plastered on his face.

"There were orcs when I got there, now there aren't. I got the job done and that's all that matters, so I'd appreciate less yelling and more cooking." You responded casually, unaffected by his anger.

Aragorn had moved from across the door to your side in a split second, fingers holding you up by your chin to meet his eyes. "That is not all that matters you impetuous rodent." He grits out, voice low yet every word felt like a shout.

You ripped his hand of you face, hating how much of a child he's making you feel, immediately turning away from him.

"That is all that matters to me. Not you nor your opinion of how I complete my tasks." You hands were still shaking, but now of anger, not from tiredness. "I hate you." You remember to add. He says nothing, eyes unwaveringly glaring at you.

"You know-" you started, feeling defensive of yourself.

"I've fought multiple group of orcs with nothing more than a sword and a bow, and for every punch to the ground I receive, I've always managed to get back up." He lets out a short humourless laugh at your prideful statement.

"And what if one day you don't? What if one day you're slammed to the ground and couldn't find it in yourself to be revived from the cold grounds of earth?" You note on the softness of his tone, even still, as stern as ever.

"Then, I'll pray for the dirts of the earth to close itself around me and let myself remain there, where I belong." Oh how he hated to hear those words. It wasn't the first time you've said something along the lines.

You were so stubborn in everything you do, was it so hard for you let someone else make the call for once.

the silence after your last sentence was almost peaceful, too long for your liking however.

Aragorn then, ended the excruciatingly long quietness with a loud and tired sigh, embarked from the deep of his chest.

"I'll start skinning the chicken, if you could start boiling some water for it before you take a bath." He concluded.

You gave him a nod before gently getting up to do as you're asked.

Once the water was ready for him to boil the chicken, you make your way to the river not far from where you're residing. Sliding into the warm water, your eyes closes at the cleansing feeling of the water against your skin. Orc blood was so hard to be removed off, but this was a start.

You flinch as you rubbed some water againts your stomach, where a terribly bandaged wound was forgotten to be there. Strengthening yourself, you ignore the sharp pain throbbing where the water hits and finish off cleansing yourself.

You ducked your head under the water for one last time, water splashing about as you rise up from it's depth.

Basking in the light of night stars, you shake off the dripping water from your hair and body before turning around to climb off of the river.

As your eyes falls to the clean clothes instead of your dirty ones by the side of the river, it does not fail to notice the shadow of strider, walking inside the hut as soon as your head turned.

The ranger says nothing as you enter the hut a few me minutes later, but the elephant in the room remained, that is of how you're currently wearing his clothes.

He gives you plate of chicken and you muttered to him a small thank you before diving in.

As good as it was for an unseasoned chicken, the urge to make jests of his cooking has arose in your chest. You never did enjoy a quiet meal time. "Perhaps some spices next time, hm?"

He glares at you.

"This isn't your mother's house, we make do with what we have." You rolled your eyes dramatically, making sure he saw it. That was your aragorn, so serious all the time, like an old tired father of ten.

"My mother is dead so I'd have to make do if I was at her house anyways." You spoke quitely, still heard in his ears. This time it was he who rolled his eyes. childish rodent. his annoyingly aggravating rat.

Finishing the rest of the meal in a more comfortable silence, the tension on his shoulder and frowning face seeming to lessen.

You helped him with the dishes before going out to attend to your horse, feeding it and brushing it's mane before leaving it with a goodnight kiss on it's nose.

Expecting Aragorn to already be asleep, instead you're met with him awaiting you on the dining table with bandages and medicine rolled on the table. You stand by the door, staring at his preparation in suprise.

"Come on then you stubborn rabbit, that wrapping is awful, it'll fall open once you start jumping around again." He chided.

His voice broke the trance you were in as you obediently walked towards him, letting his expertise to bandage your wound properly.

You'd argue you could do it yourself, but even lone rangers need a helping hand sometimes.

#lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #aragorn x reader #aragorn #aragorn heir of isildur #the lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic

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daisygirlwrites · 1 year

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I was wondering if I could get a platonic Simon ghost Riley headcanon of just simply being best friends with him ??

Rough Start (pt 1)

Summary: The first few months of Ghost and Crash's relationship

(pt 2-olive branch)

(pt 3-little things)

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and death. Mentions of verbal abuse. Slight Angst

Pairing(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem! Reader (Platonic)

Note: No use of (Y/N). Crash's former callsign was 'Shrike'

a/n: hello hello! im so sorry that i've been late with posting, my schedule keeps changing >:0 but i am finding times to write! as you can see, this is going to be a multi part because i had no self control when writing these headcanons. not sure how long it's going to be but i do know that the next part will be up this week! another thing, just passed 200 followers! i will make a separate post about itbut please send me asks/request! thank you so much for reading!

taglist: @bobfloydsgf , @itsscromp

He, along with Price, heard the rumors going around you. It was said that your skills were similar to his and that people called you “Little Ghost” behind your back. Like him, your specialty is sabotage and infiltration. Both men do some digging into your file.

Ghost was sent a redacted report, wanting to see what skills and training you’ve had but not really interested in your past. On the other hand, Price and Laswell were given the uncensored one.

Some parts of the report made his eyebrow raise though. Especially the one about your former team and their last ‘mission’. At this point he was curious and wanted to take a look of Price’s copy because some of the things he read was:

“Captain Lovelace Reported Dead” “Section Name: ‘BIRD'S NEST’; Turned Against Each Other” “Multiple Buildings On Fire” “Three Survivors: [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [(LASTNAME)]”

Hell, your (former) callsign was covered with a black line too

But again, he looked over your skill list and previous experiences. If he were to compare an old file of his to your current file, it would be identical. No wonder why Price wants you so badly on the task force, you’re a younger Ghost

He gets called in by Price to have a meeting about your recruitment. He wanted to know Ghost’s opinion about you, though, his mind is already made up about having you on the team. Ghost tells him that having you would be beneficial and that the task force needs more members anyway. But what he doesn’t tell Price is his hesitation for you. Files and reports are one thing but he needs to see you in action to be fully convinced

Price, knowing Ghost for years now, can see the slight uncertainty in his eyes. To help with this, he and Laswell call up old contacts and former teammates that worked with you. All of them give you a glowing review but Ghost remains unconvinced. That is until Price contacts Mace, a former operator that Ghost used to work with.

“Just need your honest opinion about her.” Price said to the phone.

“About Shrike? Well, let’s see; Quiet, does what she’s told, hell of a shot and handy with knives too,” Mace paused for a second, trying to find the right words for what he was going to say next. “She’s still young and honestly, she can benefit with some training but I’m telling you, Price, she reminds me of Ghost when I worked with him seven years ago.”

Laswell made a face, as if she were to say ‘I’m impressed’, while Price eyed Ghost, studying his eyes for any reaction.

“You don’t say?”

“Look, if you don’t want her on the task force, I will gladly have her join my crew.”

Price lets out a soft chuckle, “Sorry Mace, I think we’ll have her transferred to us.”

As Price and Laswell finalize your transfer, Ghost starts making his way out of the office. Price stops him. “Simon,” He calls out. It was rare for him to get called by his last name, let alone his first. Hand already on the doorknob, he turns his head, facing Price. He watches him take a breath, before stating “You’ll be mentoring her.”

“I’m sorry sir, what?”

“You heard me. You’re going to be her mentor.”

Ghost lets out a scoff, “I don’t want to play babysitter, Captain.”

“Out of everyone in the team, she shares the same skillset as you. Plus, it shouldn't take long before she catches up.” Ghost looks away, not wanting Price to know that the last comment bothered him. All he could do was nod and leave.

Fast forward a couple weeks. He, Price and Laswell stand outside the base, watching planes and helicopters land and take off, waiting for your arrival. After a couple minutes, they see a Black Hawk touch down a couple hundred feet in front of them. The blades slow down as the side door opens. Out walks you, a duffle bag in each hand and a rifle case strapped to your back. Spotting the trio, you walk to their direction

Ghost stares at you as you walk towards them. For one, you are much shorter than anticipated, probably around 5’4. Another thing that he notices is your outfit; black hoodie, black cargo pants and a simple black facemask. Price looks at you two and takes note that you look like Ghost’s mini-me, matching outfit and all.

Price was the first to greet you, and ever the gentleman, takes one of your bags even though you respectfully refused. “Now you can properly shake my hand.”

Laswell was next but she gives you a look, as if she were trying to remember something (or someone). Still your introduction was pleasant.

Ghost stayed silent as he watched your interactions with each other. He didn’t even say anything to you as you held out your hand and told him your name and rank. There’s an awkward air between you two and Price watches on, only stepping in to introduce Ghost himself. “This is Lieutenant Simon Riley, your mentor.”

Finally, he returns your handshake. “Call me Ghost.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Training doesn’t start until after your first mission together, which is literally the day after you got to base. Price was concerned at first but Ghost reasons with him; he wants to see how you do when being thrown in the deep end

And you do better than he expected you to. He understands what everyone is saying now and why they wanted you in their team; you may be young and have many things to work on, but you have the potential to be like him. As he is in the height of his career, within years time and training, you have the ability to surpass him.

This makes him a bit conflicted. For one, it’s an advantage to have someone like you in the team but on the other hand he’s worked hard and suffered through so much to be where he is now, so seeing you, young and even optimistic at times, makes him jealous. And Price’s comment stuck with him. A part of Ghost feels like he’s going to get replaced by a younger and better verison in a couple years

So when training does start, he treats you as if you were in basic again and he doesn’t hold back either, especially with how you are on the field.

Price thinks Ghost goes a little too rough in the training sessions but he doesn’t know his jealousy towards you

Will nitpick at every little mistake you do, yelling and shouting as he does so. Has called you stupid, idiot and weak. Does not hold back his strength during hand to hand.

But time and time again, you get up, hands and arms anticipating his next moves, blinking away tears that threaten to spill in front of him. Honestly, this makes him respect you whenever you do this and it also pisses him off even more.

During missions, you are amazing but Ghost wants perfection. He only talks about the objective and anything relating to it. However, when you get back to base, even if the mission goes well, he reprimands you on what you did wrong and what you could have done better. And like how he is during training, he isn’t nice about it either.

This hostile attitude towards you goes for about four months since you joined the team. The rest of the 141 made comments towards him about it but never really stepped in, mostly with how you’re taking everything and not letting it bother you. Yes you’re quiet and shy in the group, but they’ve seen your small acts of kindness. Helping to put gear away, getting them drinks and snacks during breaks and cleaning up the meeting room after it’s done.

But you are still human and you have your limits too. Everything that he throws at you starts to chip the mask you wore whenever he yells. And tonight, you were at the breaking point.

The mission went well, all things considered. Objective cleared and only leaving with some minor injuries too. However during the mission, you noticed some movement from the corner of your eye. An enemy and he was close behind Ghost. You were going off of instincts, immediately pulling out your knife and chucking it towards the man behind him. From Ghost’s perspective, you literally turned around and threw a knife in his direction. He would have screamed at you if it weren’t for the sound of a man choking on his own blood. Ghost turns his head and finds the said man, slumped down against the wall dying and your knife stuck in his neck. Grabbing the handle, twisting it for good measure, he takes it out and hands it back to you. You feel a small sense of pride and happiness when he nods at you.

Thinking that you did good in the mission, maybe this time Ghost won’t yell at you afterwards. But you were very wrong. Once you enter the main building at base, he goes off on you. And your heart breaks all over again, confused at why he keeps doing this and angry at yourself for believing you did something correct.

Price and Soap step in, between you two, to defend your actions and even call him out on his behavior.

Honestly, at this point, Ghost just wants to see you blow up and he believes that you will. But to his shock, you put a gentle hand on Price and Soap’s shoulders and shake your head. You step towards him, meeting his eyes.

There’s a usual ‘sparkle’ in your eyes but this time, you look like you’re dead inside. Months of this verbal abuse, you’re done and he can tell.

The rest of the team step back to give you some space, the room filled with uncomfortable silence.

Your voice, barely above a whisper, questioned him “Why do you hate me?” You search his eyes for an answer, a sign, anything. But he doesn’t give you one, so you guess instead. “Is it because you envy me?”

Ghost eyes widen and you scoff in response, finally getting the message and leaving the room without acknowledging the others.

The team didn’t hear what you were saying but they can tell that it properly pissed off Ghost, watching his hands ball up into fists. However, he doesn’t go after you because in the end, you were right

Part 2 Here!

Part 3 There!

#daisygirlwrites #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john price x reader #price x reader #john price #john mactavish #soap mactavish

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