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shotmrmiller · 17 days

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simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.

gambling's illegal, you know.

thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.

a veterinarian.

good thing we're all dogs here, then.

he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.

seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.

what, did they guy like steal them or something?

no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.

incredible. (that's insane.)

he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.

lemme take ya out, love—

don't call me that.

and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—

stop talking, simon.

and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.

a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)

with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."

he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"

always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"

the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.

there's never any rest for the wicked.

"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"

the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.

"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."

you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"

his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."

he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"

"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.

"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.

the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.

"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.

black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"

simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."

you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."

he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"

his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."

johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.

pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."

you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"

he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"

"stop talking, simon."

johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.

this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.

simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.

even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.

"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.

pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.

simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.

heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.

he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.

"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.

johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."

he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.

oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.

"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.

simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"

he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."

you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.

"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.

"shit, let me go get my medbag."

he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."

a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.

"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.

"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."

you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader

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mausinly · 3 months

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Soap MacTavish x fem!curvy!militarynurse!reader who’s secretly insecure about her body and thinks that Soap is only interested in her to get in her pants or it’s a prank but he comforts her and proves that she’s wrong and how much he genuinely loves her and that he’s been obsessed with her since she was moved to 141’s base?

Never Far From You

John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Sorry this isn't exactly what you asked for, nonnie, but just know I am already attached to this reader and I will be slowburning this prompt. This story is getting unpacked layer by layer. I know you specified Nurses body type but it's never mentioned in this part. I couldn't find a way to casually fit it in with the idea I had but I will make it the forefront of another piece, don't you worry :]

This is also my submission for @glitterypirateduck and their Soap It Up challenge.

Prompt 2: "Do I make you nervous?"

Prompt 14: "I've been looking for you."

You haven't had to look around corners to check if the coast was clear since high school. It makes you feel childish. Makes you feel like a helpless teenager trying to avoid the prettier girls that whisper and leer when you walk past. You're too old to feel like that.

You don't know if you should be grateful you're not hiding from bullies or be more fearful of the person that's really chasing you.

You don't think you've ever been chased like this before. The girls in the halls never sought you out, and the boys that did only followed to continue jabbing at you as you tried to walk away.

No, this is much different. Too different. You don't know what to do with yourself.

Another nurse told you earlier that someone was looking for you. She gave a knowing smirk, telling you who with a teasing, sing-songy voice.

"Soap MacTavish." She grinned, leaning over the front desk, resting her chin on her hand.

You don't know why everyone thinks you like him. No. No, actually, you know exactly why. He won't leave you alone.

You left one of your patients room—a poor sap going by "Wick" that caught the nasty end of a bayonet—down a few halls to the nearest storage room. You stop before turning the corner, a suspicious feeling bubbling in your gut.

You peek over the corner, met with the rest of the long, bland hallway. He's not here. You don't like the feeling that replaces the suspicion. It's a sinking sensation.

This whole ordeal is eating at you. You know he's around somewhere. Unless he gave up after a while. Took him long enough, in your opinion. Part of you wants to run into him, though, just to get it over with and tell him to fuck off so you don't have to worry about it.

You straighten up again, pulling away from the corner and letting out a heavy sigh.

"So, who're we hiding from?" A horrifyingly familiar Scottish accent said from behind you, low and husky and almost a whisper.

You yelp and whip around to look at him, jumping back a little. Your feet scream to run, but you realize how ridiculous that is. You're an adult, you don't need to run, you're not in real danger.

The way he looks at you is dangerous, though. His eyes are lidded, relaxed as they take you in like he could do it all day. Those striking blues drag up and down your body, landing back at your eyes with such intensity that it makes you want to shy away.

He's so casual it infuriates you. He's just leaning against the wall beside you, arms crossed as he waits for your reply.

"I'm not hiding." You brush him off, tearing your eyes away from him and turning to walk away.

You pause, though, when he lets out a little huff of a laugh, almost a scoff. "Sure." He replied, not sounding all too convinced.

You look over your shoulder to glare at him but he only flashes you one of his little grins, eyes lit up with amusement and brows raised.

A real scoff leaves your own lips and you turn away again and continue down the hall. You suppress the urge to groan aloud when you hear heavy footfalls behind you as the Scot gives chase.

"I've been looking for you." He said, walking only a step behind you.

"That so?" You hum, trying to sound uninterested. Your tone doesn't sway him, it never does.

"Mhm, just asked the lass at the front where they keep the bonnie nurses and figured I'd find you around." He replied easily, and you don't have to look at him to know he's got that smirk on his face.

You hum again, not sure how else to respond. He follows you like a lost dog through the hallways until you reached the storage room. You open the door just enough to slip inside and much to your distain, Soap follows in suit, making a show of opening the door wide and waltzing in like he owns the place.

The storage room is fairly large, filled with rows of files and medications and equipment all broken off into different sections. You wind through the isles and try not to think too hard about Soap's heavy footfalls behind you. It makes you uneasy, fluttery in a way you don't want to think about. You feel like you're being hunted, like a little bunny that pops it's head up at the smallest branch snapping, unaware of the beast lurking just behind the foliage.

You stop walking and quickly turn to him, making him halt in front of you so easily that you think he was expecting it. You don't like that. You're not predictable, damn it!

"Do you need something?" You ask with exasperation, pumping up the attitude and irritation in hopes it scares him off.

You think it works for a second when his smile falters a bit and he has the decency to look a bit surprised by your outburst, but that hope immediately dies when he ducks his head down with a small chuckle that makes your stomach flip. He pulls one of his hands from his pocket and leans his arm on the shelf beside you.

He leans forward just a bit, those overwhelming blues flickering back up to you. "Does there need to be a reason?" He flashes you a lopsided, boyish smile and you feel like the ground is giving away under you.

"You always have a reason." You shoot back, cringing at the way your voice falters.

He notices, eyes looking back and forth between yours as his brows raise a little. "That I do." He replies, voice softer than before.

Soap takes a step closer, back straightening a bit in a way that makes you feel small in comparison. You straighten your back as well, taking a breath that comes in shakier than you wanted. Your attempt at coolness and defiance shatters when his other hand slips from his front pocket and slowly lifts towards you.

He's tentative, eyes holding yours and god, you can't look away. His hand lands on the side of your neck, fingers tenderly ghosting over your skin to see if you flinch away. You don't. You want to. You want to slap his hand away. You want to claw and sink your teeth into him so he'll scurry away with his tail between his legs.

But that won't happen. He'll just drag his way to your exam room and whine until you wrap him up, ask you to kiss it better. You almost want to.

The pads of his fingers drag up your neck and across your cheek. His palm is warm against your jaw and you're frustratingly pliant when he tilts your head. His eyes fall and you swallow when his thumb slowly traces your bottom lip.

"Do I make you nervous, hen?" His voice drops about an octave, low and just above a whisper. His eyes flit up to yours and you're halfway through your brain rebooting when you realize he's waiting for a response.

He isn't, really. He just wants to watch you try.

"No." You manage, a small murmur that in no way can be convincing.

He lets out a soft hum, head slowly tilting as he observes you. You feel like he's picking you apart, piece by piece. Pulling back your hardened shell to watch your innermost workings as they turn and click.

His thumb presses down on your bottom lip, tugging it down a little and he can feel the muted gasp you take. He leans heavier on the shelf beside the both of you and his hand drops away from you. A long, almost pained groan rips from his throat and he pulls back to run his fingers through his mohawk and tug at the strands. He drags his hand over his face and peeks at you through his fingers.

His eyes are narrow and hungry before he tears his eyes away again, waving you off. "Bah. Go get what you were looking for, I'll be finding you later."

You try not to sigh too audibly as you take a few steps back, your body visibly untensing as you put a bit of distance between you two. "Right, see ya." You say, a little clipped before turning on your heel and walking away.

Soaps eyes follow you until you turn a corner and step out of his line of sight, the back of his head falling back against one of the shelves with a thump. Run, little bunny. You're lucky he likes a chase.

#maus writes #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #so thankful that glitterypirateduck extended the deadline bc motivation was kicking my ass and it gave me just enough time to finish this 🙏#i blame ghouljams for making me love soap with darlings who dont want him #i wanna see him work for it and im a sucker for flustered stubborn mcs

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bubuslutty · 10 months

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Omg single dad Price?? Cliche as hell but hits all the right spots when ovulating hahah

omd thank you so much for this ask anon!

I've had so much writing abt single dad price! I hope I delivered 💙

cod mw2 masterlist

word count: 2.1k

tags: fem!reader, she/her, no descriptions of physical appearance, poc friendly, sfw

warning: none.

a/n: I wrote this on my periods and by God do I want this man so horribly bad. my mind is infested with filth when I think abt him but I also want to write fluffy things for him :((

okay so single dad price au

first of all, in my head, for some unknown reason, he'd have 2 boys, maybe twins and 1 little girl, the youngest. I see them as all being under 10 years old.

maybe you first met through one of his friends, Johnny maybe, who decided to invite you to travel down to Price's place all the way from Glasgow for some sightseeing and touristy stuff, or going to a festival or going to a show to see one of your favorite bands.

You knew Price, heard of him a couple of times but never met him face to face. and lo and behold when you do, your heart does a little flip and a giggle comes out of your mouth when he introduces himself and sticks his hand out, smiling down at you.

I SORRY BUT I'M WHIPPED FOR THIS MAN-

luckily he doesn't mind the giggle and his smile just becomes even bigger, because it's evident you're happy to be there, happy to meet him. and if Johnny likes you, Price is bound to like you as well.

And he does like you, easily swapping jokes and laughing together with Johnny. He gets comfortable pretty quickly with you, he leans forward and nods to whatever you say, seemingly captivated by your whole aura. After a whole pint of beer, he unbuttons two more buttons of his short-sleeved shirt. It was already hot outside, so maybe he wanted to cool down but his eyes say otherwise.

John is fucking massive, that you can tell by his body, even tho Johnny tells you he's a busy dad of 3 children, he somehow still manages to still go to the gym. He has both muscles with a healthy layer of fat on them, and you can appreciate a big man with a soft tummy but with the strength of a bull.

You've seen pictures of John before, shown to you by Johnny on multiple occasions. And his back still haunts your dreams. In a good way. He had such a huge back that you wanted to just climb it and cling to it.

And that man had huge arms and veiny hands with blond hairs on them, and a nice full beard on his face and fluffy hair with the warmest eyes you've seen. And the absolute unit of shoulders to waist ratio ever. And to top it off that man has WICKED hips, thighs and ass.

He mentions his kids once or twice over some drinks and yorkshire pudding burritos. And you sit up, interested and curious. You ask about their ages, names and because he's such a dad, he obviously has to show you his wallpaper of his boys and girl.

You lean closer to look at them, and they're so cute, with blond hair just like him, his boys have brown eyes while his little girl has blue ones. And they're genuinely adorable that you Aww at every picture he shows you.

This leads to Johnny telling you anecdotes from when they were little, like nappies little, and how one of his sons peed on him in the middle of changing his nappies once.

It's all fun and games until Johnny frowns down at his phone when he receives a message and he excuses himself, telling you and John how he has a thing to take care of, so he's leaving you two together to have some fun, and for John to take advantage of his child-free time.

Johnny leaves after giving you a tight hug and a wink, walking out of the nice pub John frequents.

"So… What's your favourite colour?" You asked, biting your lower lip and staring at John through your eyelashes.

And he seemed taken back by your question, "My favourite colour?"

"Yeah," You nodded, feeling a bit anxious for asking such a silly question, but you really wanted to get to know him, starting by asking him innocent questions and analyzing his reactions to them.

"Blue. What about you?" He answered with a shrug and a small smile.

"Me too! It's also my favourite colour!" You gasped, excited.

John chuckled at your excitement, taking a swing of his beer while you toyed with your phone like a fidget toy.

"I don't remember anyone ever asking me about my favourite colour, except my kids of course, and that one face paint artist at school fairs." John said and you giggled again.

"What did you get painted on?" You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sonic the hedgehog." He sighed and you started laughing, eyes watering and shoulders shaking, even snorting once and slapping a hand to your mouth, eyes wide and cheeks hot.

John doesn't think twice before prying your hand away from your face, "Don't. A snort isn't going to chase me away."

"And uhm, I know why we're here, really here. Johnny isn't as subtle as he thinks he is." John confessed and looked away from your face, as if embarrassed.

"It's alright if you don't want to get together or anything, we could forget this ever happened, John." You said, placing a hand on top of his and leaning closer to look at his face better.

He looked at you as soon as those words left your mouth, "I didn't say anything about not wanting to get together-"

"Really?"

John sighed and grabbed and squeezed your hand, running his other hand through his beard, "Listen, you're absolutely lovely, charming and as beautiful as Johnny claims you to be. I do want to get to know you better, It's just– I'm not really someone you easily date."

You smiled, "You're a package deal."

"Excuse me?"

"Buy one, get three free." You said, watching the absolute giant of man look at you all worried as if there was something wrong with him.

John was stunned, looking at you as if you grew an extra head.

"What? You thought I'd agree to meet and flirt with you, knowing I won't get with a single parent?" You said, scooting closer to him, resting your chin on your palm and looking at him through your pretty eyelashes.

"I don't know if this is of any help, but I'm the oldest of 4 children, and my youngest sibling is 15 years younger than me. So little kids don't scare me, trust me." You said, puffing your chest as if you were a decorated soldier with veteran experience in taking care of little shits.

John cracked a small smile, "I'm sure you're a great older sister."

"I try my best." You humbly said, bowing your head and John chuckled again.

"So, how about we go for a walk and you can tell me all about your workout routine, you can't be the only one looking like a much hotter version of Superman." You said and John all but agreed.

And you do go for a walk, and chat about everything and anything. and you have so much fun that John forgets what time it is for a bit and gets surprised when his alarm rings and he has to go pick up his kids from school.

You say bye to each other and he says how he's going to invite you and Johnny over for a hangout with his other guys back at his place.

So you do go, you keep meeting him, and you eventually meet his kids, and they're lovely, polite and wary of you at first, because they're still very young and are children to parents who don't like or love each other like most parents do.

So you try your best to approach them in the best way possible, and decide to tell them nothing but the truth and talk to them like you'd talk to adults.

So when you start seeing their dad, he tells them one night over dinner, just the, and you also confirm it to them when you get invited over, "I like your father.

And his boys look up from their legos and his little girl stops flying a dinosaur in the air right before she crashes it on a city made out of blocks and barbie dolls.

"We know." The twins say at the same time and they shrug, resuming their play.

"Dinosaur?" The little girl hands you another dinosaur, and you nod, and take it from her little hand.

"Dinosaur." You repeat and you watch her dive the dinosaur's head to a barbie's head and act like he was eating the barbie, so you did the same thing, with added sound effects.

You don't expect the children to call you mum, you aren't overly friendly with them or force your friendship on them. You give them space, time and respect. And John seems to be incredibly grateful for it, even if he doesn't comment on it, but his eyes and smiles say enough.

Things slowly evolve, and the children start asking for you when you're not around.

"Dad, where's your friend?" One of his boys asked him on the way to get ice cream after school.

"You mean dad's girlfriend." The other twin corrects his brother.

"Are you boyfriend girlfriend?" His little girl asks.

"She's busy with work at the moment, and we're not dating, not yet, at least." John says.

"Not yet?"

"Why?"

"But we saw you kiss in the kitchen!"

"Please be boyfriend girlfriend! She's nice and she's better at helping us with homework than you!"

So John is now stuck in his car, being roasted by his children on their way to get ice-cream, and he shuts them up when he tells them they won't officially date until all of them like you.

Which they obviously already do and they agree very quickly.

So Price takes you out on a date, to officially ask you out, with his children as some sort of witnesses and official welcome to their family.

They're in a nice italian restaurant, nothing too fancy, and he's wearing a light blue button up with a pair of slacks that do more than justice to his legs and hips. And he looks so so nice, hair brushed back and beard trimmed and oiled up, and he has a watch on his wrist and a bracelet his little girl made him on the other hand.

His little boys are wearing button up shirts in different colours and slacks, and his little girl is wearing a blue dress with a dinosaur pin on her hair, keeping her curls away from her face. And as soon as you show up, her face lights up and she excitedly shows you her dress, spinning around, and telling you that's "It's blue! Like your favourite colour! Like dad's favourite colour!" And she also shows you the dinosaur hairpin and you all but melt and tell her how pretty she looks, and how handsome his boys look.

"You also look very handsome." You smile at John and he blushes a bit, taking your hands in his while his children watch with wide curious eyes.

"And you look very beautiful, darling." He says and you bat your eyelashes at him, "Thank you."

He kisses the back of your hands and he pulls your chair out for you to sit, and you grin and sit down. And then the children all start talking at the same time, about what they'd like to order and what you should try and what they think you'd like, so obviously they have been here before and it's a family favourite.

John tells his little gremlins to calm down and you guys start by ordering drinks and some breadsticks, then he actually has a whole speech prepared about how he's been very happy with you and would love for you to officially join their family.

And while he's saying his speech, his eyes never leaving yours, you don't notice one of his boys holding a small piece of paper under the table and nodding along to his dad's words, and the other twin holding a up thumbs up to show that John is saying everything he's written down.

While John’s little girl somehow pulled a small dinosaur toy out of nowhere and is making it sit on the table and watch you both.

"I'd love to be your girlfriend, and join your family, John." You say when John's done and his children all cheer at the same time, making some people from other tables glance at you.

"Congratulations." The twins say at the time, shaking your hand and their father's in quite a formal manner, making you giggle, "Thank you, gentlemen."

"Can we eat now?" John's little girl asks, and nobody asks why she had shoved tissue inside her dinosaur's mouth, probably mimicking feeding it.

John laughs and nods, "Yes, we can."

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leigh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @chaoticevilbakugo @Lacunaanonymoused @whore4dilfs

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mindingmybidness12 · 1 year

Text

Taken Care Of [Jenna Ortega x GN! Reader]

Summary: You show Jenna how capable you are of watching over your home while she's gone (Yeah fucking right!). You also prove that you are the one that's best suited to take care of her.

Warnings: Fluff, little cursing

************************************************************************

“There she is! There goes… the girl that I … enjoy…”

Jenna just looked at you.

“There goes my cinnamon sugar queen.”

“….”

“My baby girl… my tall mocha latte.”

“We both know I’m not tall. Are you fucking playing with me right now?”

“I meant tall as in the Starbucks cup size… get it? Cause your so sh-“

Jenna took a step towards you.

“Ok! Shutting up now!”

“Really? Not gonna ask how I’ve been? What I’ve been up to? I just got home.”

That was a loaded question and you both knew it. But instead of saying anything that may get her to snap you decided to play along and hope that you could talk her down.

“Heyy, honey… how’s it going? How was your trip?”

“It was fun! The trip was good! But as for feeling… I’m left wondering.”

“yeah?”

“Yeah… I’m wondering why my mattress is on FIRE ON MY DRIVEWAY!!!”

“Now I can explain-“

“Explain. Now.”

"See what had happened was that piss had gotten onto the mattress-"

"What???"

"So me being that loving lover of yours, I decided to take the initiative and clean it up myself!"

"And how'd that work out for you, you big dumb idiot?" Jenna asked through that hooded eyed stare of hers. She couldn't decide on whether she should kick your ass or roast you. It looked like it would be both in a minute.

"Quite well, actually! Well.. up to the point where I drown the bed like the titanic. I think I went a little crazy with the water and soap."

"A little?"

"Ok maybe a lot." You acquiesced.

"Ok were gonna skip over the part where your GROWN ASS GOT PISS ALL OVER OUR BED and get to the part where you set it on fire even though it WAS FUCKING SOAKED!!"

Well so much for not setting her off.

"Ok well long story short, I decided to use all the blow dryers we had (all of two really) and cranked them up to MAXIMUM POWAH. I was duel wielding those bitches like John Wick, you should've seen it. It was going great...a little too great as you saw."

"...well this has to be a new record of yours. I've never wanted to throttle you so hard so soon after coming back."

"J-jenna, baby! Let's be reasonable here-."

"REASONABLE??!!!!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs, "I was being reasonable when I asked you to explain why I shouldn't catch a murder charge over your dumbass and what did you give me? 'I pissed on the bed, drowned it, then set it on fire’. Then you had the nerve to leave it on the driveway..." She now grabbed her head in both hands to stave off the oncoming headache. You would console her at this point but you were more focused on what she said.

"Jenna... I never said I pissed on the bed." You called out and she looked at you with more irritation and a healthy amount of concern.

"Y/N... are you telling me SOMEONE ELSE peed on the bed?"

*Bark* *Bark*

Jenna's eye widened and she whipped around behind and stared towards the kitchen. She looked back at you to look for what you assumed was a confirmation but that was taken out of your hands by the surprised you had planned for her.

*Bark!* *Bark!* *Bark!*

Jenna ran towards the kitchen in a hurry and you followed at a more leisurely pace. When you got to the kitchen you saw her eyes lighting up as she turned towards you, arms full with the cutest, chubbiest, most wrinkly baby bulldog the world had ever bore witness to. Her eyes were tearing up as she looked towards the salmon dinner you cooked for her along with the unlit candles, the flowers, and the chocolates on the counter.

"I already got the chocolates and flowers you had delivered to me while I was away. Valentine's Day already passed you didn't have to do this." She croaked out, voice thick with emotion as she tried to fight off the tears.

She had the most beautiful smile on her face and the love in her eyes made any pain you had ever felt in your life worth feeling just to be here in this moment. Despite your heart nearly beating out of your chest, you had a witty remark already forming on your tongue.

"Did you really think you could escape my icky gooey lovey-dovey wrath by skipping town? No chance in hell! Ain't that right, Doug?"

"Doug?"

"Yeah I named him Doug. I think it fits, no?"

Jenna just mulled it over while looking over the puppy's cute face.

"Doug... Doug-man." She whispered

"The DougMeister." she continued.

"Douggin and Buggin'" You returned.

"Dougie" She said and you both looked at each other and gasped as you came to the same conclusion.

************************************************************************

'Teach me How to Dougie' blasted through the speakers as the new family of three danced in the living room while the furniture people replaced the bed with a better one. You had ordered it with same day delivery. They even took care of the now no longer burning mattress on the drive way! The night ended beautifully in your eyes. Jenna and you had that romantic, candle lit dinner that you had set up. She held your hand from across the dinner table as she needled and made funny of your ridiculously absurd struggle of setting up what was supposed to be a mostly simple surprise.

You bantered back like always and got a few more laughs out of her. After dinner, you continued to dance and play around with Doug all the while taking cute photos on the polaroid you bought just for the occasion. Jenna always went on about how she wanted to start a photo album and tonight was as good a night to start as any in your opinion.

Pretty soon, little Dougie was all tuckered out and was soon put to bed. That left you and Mama all alone...

Jenna stared at you with her eyelashes fluttering. She twirled a piece of her hair with her finger as you stared back at her.

"Well. It's pretty late and I'm sure your tired." You began only for your girlfriend to shake her head no.

"Nah. Not tired yet. But I bet you could help with that."

"Oh my?"

"Wanna help me break in the new bed?" She smirked at you with a devious look in her eyes that made your face light up like a Christmas tree.

"Yes, ma'am!"

************************************************************************

A/N: And that's that! A bit late for valentine's but here it is! I hope you like it and I'll see you when I see you!.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n

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beansricejc · 9 months

Text

John Wick x F!Reader: The Lurking Wolf

summary: stalker!JW finds you oh so fascinating. kind of a mesh of headcanons/one shot.

warnings: stalking, p in v descriptions, implied (potentially) noncon, male masterbation, unsolicited photography, murder fantasy, physical assault, mugging, general violence, cursing, bondage references, female reader (no use of y/n).

not proofread! uploading this at 12:15 am, so I’m def half asleep. pls enjoy.

the first time he saw you, it was a complete mistake. you were both at the New York City Trader Joe’s, which in itself is one of the busiest buildings in the damn neighborhood.

you’re walking out of the checkout line, reusable bag in hand full of wine and nice cheese for your friend’s dinner party that evening.

crash! a huge body slams into you, as the bigger person was in a rush, you drop your bag, and on instinct a pair of arms catch it for you before it hits the laminate floor.

his forearms are toned and tan, with his veins swelling under his muscular flesh. you even notice a pattern of multicolored bruises scattered on his brawny limbs. large hands grip the bottom of the bag, and a soft grunt escapes his lips from above you.

the scent of a car shop, aftershave, and few other things enter your nose while this is going on. it must be what this man smells like.

“oh, I’m sorry!” you apologize. you don’t know why you apologize, it’s certainly not your fault, it’s actually his, he was in a rush and wasn’t looking out for you. maybe it’s your anxiety spiking because you avoid confrontation, and John spots this out instantaneously.

your head tilts up to look at the accident prone man. unbeknownst to you, he’s the world’s most lethal weapon. of course you don’t know that, you just get lost in his deep brown eyes for a few seconds before laughing and flashing an awkward smile.

but John can’t keep his eyes off of you. he scanned your entire being, your figure, your pretty face. he snaps out of it when you apologize to him.

“no, it’s my fault. sorry about that.” his grumbly voice says to you while he hands you the tote bag. he clears his throat, and you take your bag back. you give him that nervous pressed lip smile that you give everyone, nod your head before you turn to leave the building.

you’ve made it a few blocks but you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. your cute little head has even whipped around your peripheral view a few times just to be sure.

you shrug the feeling off as your anxiety spiking from that grocery store encounter. naturally, you have no idea of the creature that’s following you back to your small Brooklyn apartment.

to John, you’re the embodiment of perfection. an angel on earth. every time he watches you from a suitable distance, there’s a tingly feeling in his chest and stomach. he doesn’t know what this is. he’s never felt this way about a woman (not even Helen herself, god rest her soul).

he’s even brought his camera he only uses for his targets whenever he comes to see you. he’ll wait in his black muscle car, right when your delicate hands open your bedroom curtains to let in the morning sunshine.

John gets to work. Pointing the lens at just the right angle, from when you reach on your tip toes to open window, giving John the perfect view of your well shaped hips and thighs.

he snaps a few more pictures and he can even spot some blue cotton panties that are revealed by your oversized shirt being a bit disheveled.

the blood rushes to his cock, and has to bite his lip to try to stop the feeling. it doesn’t help.

over the past few months of following you around, he’s come to realize he’s never actually interacted with you besides for the grocery store incident. he’s gotta change that.

there’s been a reoccurring fantasy that has haunted John for the past few weeks. for you to be saved by him. for John to be your knight in shining armor.

the things he would do to feel your body pressed to his. to have his arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in a protective position from harm.

well, he’s paid someone to find out. mainly to figure out if you’re a fight or flight kind of gal. he’s expecting the first option.

he knows your thursday night routine. your 9:30 pm trip to the bodega two blocks from your apartment. John assumes you have the munchies from those really low dosage THC gummies you buy from your friend Sam every other month.

he knows a lot about you.

and he’s paid a low level lackey to shake you up a bit.

the bell rings when you open the door to the shop, the cashier waved to you and greets you. you’re on a first name basis. John knows this, and the thought of you even speaking to another person of the male gender forces his blood to boil.

John has dreamt of putting his hands around the necks of the men in your life, besides for your step-father, and the nice old man at the local library you occasionally play chess with.

His strong hands would squeeze and squeeze as the men would gasp for air. With every blink of John’s eyes, the face would change. Your four ex boyfriends, your coworkers, your boss. The several guy friends you have in your big friend group. All of them, gurgling, gasping, choking. And then…

snap.

the hitman’s hands would finish the job. just another target. no, not just another target. a roadblock that has been demolished. one of the roadblocks, to you.

of course, John would wake up in a cold sweat, and for some reason, his dick would be completely erect from the images of taking the lives of the men you know.

his tip would be swollen and leaking of his precum. why was this the thing that made him the most hot and bothered?

the hands that have taken the lives of hundreds, gripping around his own girth and twisting, using his own arousal to lubricate it. but not too much, John prefers a decent amount of friction.

then his hand lurches up and down on his throbbing shaft. hips jerking forward. buck after buck. he’s picturing you, tied to his bedposts, legs spread wide.

the thought of thrusting his fat cock hard into you could make him finish if he’s not careful enough. but now? it’s coming in handy.

imagining the squelching noises from the sin you two are committing. damn near hearing your cries and whimpers, pleas of mercy, erupting from your lips, as your cunt quivers around his cock.

you’re taking him so well.

and oh, John’s letting you know.

“Good girl, how’s my princess feel?” he’d groan out, feeling how good your wetness is on his dick.

feeling you tighten whenever you’re close to climaxing.

but unfortunately, sometimes in these fantasies, they would go sideways, fast.

John’s eyes want to look at your chest and stomach, but he’s met with bloodied flesh. the crimson covers your soft torso, his hands, all the way up to your chest, which is bouncing with each needy thrust.

John’s head whipped to the side, realizing there were a few of your male friends, dead, on the bedroom floor, below you and John making love. was it love? or was it John getting his way?

with the cries of your duct taped muffled mouth, he couldn’t tell.

then John would break out of his dream, chest heaving up and down from the stimulation of the act.

“fuck…” John cursed, fist punching the bedside table. “I didn’t even cum.”

but here you were, back at the bodega late at night. you’re happily humming a song that you’ve been listening to a lot this month. John made a fake account, and followed you on Spotify.

cue that low level lackey we mentioned earlier. some gangster in his thirties, bald, with a goatee and big sunglasses.

you’re busy figuring out which Mexican soda you’d like. and tonight, you’ll be thanking your preference for that type of drink.

“gimme all your money, bitch! or you’re fuckin’ dead!” the lackey threatens with a nasty tone to his voice. you’re high but you jump, a gasp leaving your mouth.

“shit! okay.” you mumble, before a stupid idea comes to your head. it’s as if a little lightbulb turns on over your head, and your long eyelashes bat a few times.

“well!? wait are you waiting for?!” the goon asks, now finally pulling out his large firearm. of course it’s not loaded. he’s just been paid to play a part and scare you a bit.

you don’t wait.

John’s eyes widen as he watches from the bodega window, since your hand is reaching for the glass bottles of soda in the fridge.

his jaw drops when he sees your arm hurdles towards the goon. the bottle fractures right onto his pale bald head, the shards immediately exploding around you two, and also cutting into his scalp.

he’s bleeding everywhere. there’s even a few spurts of the soda and his blood on your face.

John has burst through the bodega entrance, as the guy he hired fell to the floor and covers his head from another attack.

and you’re still high as a kite during all of this, so you step back, and the bottom of your pink crocs slips on the cherry flavored Mexican coke that has splattered all over the hard floor.

so there you go, stumbling and making you body tumble backwards. cue Free Fallin’ by Tom Petty.

now, instead of your reusable tote, it’s you.

a pair of strong hands come into play. hands that have murdered, tortured, and paralyzed. the hands grab you by the waist, his grip is firm and safe, he’s got you.

John grits his teeth, moving ever so slightly to get a whiff of your hair. the scent of your coconut shampoo that you’ve bought on amazon a few times, make him go beserk. his heart faces, he swear he can feel every cell in his body stiffen up.

you’re facing away from him, he takes a quick peek at the back of your waist, up close and in person. now those dreams of pounding you from behind are slipping back into his head.

the moans, the slapping skin, the stench of sex in the air (which is just a mixture of cum, pussy, and sweat).

he has to use his fingers to dig into your sides a bit more just to force them away. he’s not sure if that even helps.

you catch your breath, trying to comprehend the events that are happening at the moment. unfortunately, you’re a bit foggy from being under the influence. the sting from John’s grasp is muted because of it.

but the scent of the man who caught you from behind is almost familiar. aftershave, oil, barbecue. that’s the exact same smell as…

“well hello again, sweetheart.”

…the guy at the grocery store.

————

tysm for reading! pls feel free to support with feedback, likes & reblogs! sorry for the different format, just been feeling a bit uninspired, and my summer is much busier than I thought it would be. love u all!

#john wick #john wick x you #jw #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #jw4 #keanu #john wick headcanons #john wick one shot #john wick fanfic

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konigs-whore · 30 days

Text

Familiar contact- A John price fic.

Random inspo I had, but hopefully people enjoy it. I stayed up till 7am writing it lol. Might make something out of this but I idk yet.

I have attention span issues so if it veer off, please don’t come at me for it. I’ve skimmed over it, but there’s probably some things I missed and grammatical mistakes. Thank you❤️

Word count: 3k+

MDNI- mature themes, language, choking, supernatural beings, dark themes.

I told myself to be home by midnight, before the hunting hour started. To lock myself safely in my home, surrounded by wards.

Sigils adorned the doors and windows, passed down from generation to generation by witches determined to protect their dwellings.

The eerie stillness of the night was broken by distant howls and screams, while sinister whispers lured unsuspecting victims into their grasp. These cunning creatures preyed upon human greed, offering promises of fulfilling desires before revealing their true, malevolent nature through blood-red eyes hidden within the shadows.

"I'll give you everything you desire"

" You will desire nothing else, if you come closer"

I pay no heed to their twisted tongues, for I know the moment I look their way, or so much as utter a word, I'll be trapped in their soulless hell. Become a mindless creature like them, existing only to feed on souls until the earth turns to dust.

And I refuse to become one.

I pull my coat tighter around me, trying to shield myself from the biting chill. But it seems to seep through every layer, penetrating deep into my bones. Come to us.

The gusts seem to have a life of their own, swirling and dancing around me, almost taunting me with their strength. As I trudge through the forest, trees now look twisted and tortured under the relentless assault of the wind. Nothing on this earth is truly safe from their wicked powers.

Their branches whip back and forth, creaking as if in pain. Some of them have already succumbed, their broken limbs littering the ground like casualties of war. Despite the fierce resistance of the trees, the wind shows no signs of letting up. It blows with such force that I struggle to keep my balance, stumbling over rocks and roots that are hidden beneath a carpet of leaves. My hair is wild and tangled, whipped into a frenzy by the wind's powerful grasp.

As I stand in the midst of this chaotic scene, I can feel the energy of the whispers pulsating through the air. They seem to be growing more desperate by the second, their voices becoming more urgent and insistent. These phantom entities, longing for control over my soul, reach out towards me with ethereal hands that pass right through my body.

But I refuse to acknowledge them, refusing to give them the power they so desperately crave. Meanwhile, the trees around me struggle against the relentless force of the wind. Some bend and sway gracefully, while others are unable to withstand the intense pressure and break, crashing to the ground with a loud thunderous sound. My heart aches at the sight of these ancient trees, some of them hundreds of years old. Despite surviving in such a harsh environment, they stood tall and thrived, only to be struck down by the dark forces of hell. Life is truly, cruel.

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

My small home, tucked away in the dense forest, comes into view. Smoke curls out of the chimney and warm light spills through the windows, creating a comforting glow. Thick moss clings to the weathered stone walls, leading up to the old black roof. A protective barrier of sturdy stone surrounds my home, making it feel like a fortress. My pace quickens as I approach, eager to escape the eerie whispers and relentless winds that seem to follow me. But as I near my house, all sounds of nature cease and an ominous silence settles over the land. My steps falter as my eyes narrow, scanning for any signs of danger.

Suddenly, a swirling mist materializes to my right, coalescing into the form of a tall, muscular man. Curled horns protrude from his head and his bright red eyes lock onto mine with malicious intent. My heart races as I realize he is a demon - not just any demon, but one of great power and influence. I recognize him from my extensive research on the seven gates of hell - standing before me is none other than John Price himself, ruler and master of all seven gates.

In a deep, smooth voice with a British accent, he sneers at me with a wicked grin. "Well hello there, little witch," he says mockingly as he takes slow steps towards me. Fear courses through my body like ice water. Why does his voice sound so familiar? That nickname….

“ John” I say, somehow holding my voice steady despite the tremble in my body. my hands twitch at my sides, ready to defend myself. “ what do you want?” I hiss. but he just smiles even wider, tilting his head at me.

“ Can’t I visit a lonely little witch? whom lives by herself in the forest”. He steps closer.

“ no, you cannot. I have no business with you, demon”

A sharp gasp escapes my lips as he materializes in front of me. He leans down, bringing us eye-to-eye, his intense gaze locking with mine. The scent of smoke and fresh pine fills my nostrils, mingling together in an intoxicating combination. His long fingers, slender yet strong, grasp my chin firmly yet gently, his thumb lightly caressing my cheek. His touch, it feels familiar too. But why?

“ Been watching you, darling. A nasty little witch you are” His breath fans my face, our close proximity jolting my senses back into place.

I grit my teeth, taking another cautious step back as his hands fall from my face. His amusement is evident in the glittering mischief in his eyes and the sly curve of his lips. I feel a surge of electricity tingling at my fingertips, slowly spreading up my arm until bolts of raw energy flicker and dance beneath my skin. With a few whispered chants, I channel the power and unleash a dazzling bolt of lightning towards him. The air crackles with anticipation as the bright beam strikes the earth where he stands, sending up a cloud of dust in its wake. The ground trembles beneath me, humming with residual energy.

my eyes narrow as the dust fades away, and there he stands. a cloud of mist surrounding him in a protective barrier. This grimy little bitch.

“ Now darling, that wasn’t very nice”

“ Oh really? thought i’d give you a proper welcome” I sneer, my fingers twitching again. my mind reeling for a plan. My grandmother never said anything about defending myself against the king of hell. What the hell am I supposed to do.

The mist around him disappears into the earth. He crosses his arms.

" Well you could do me" he retorts and I frown. Get out of my head!

I send another bolt his way, and he deflects it with a flick of his wrist. John's laughter echoes through the forest, sending shivers down my spine.

" What do you want John. I haven't broken any laws, nor did I summon you".

His eyes gleam with amusement as he takes a leisurely stroll around me, his steps echoing in the unnatural silence that surrounds us.

"I do love a feisty one," he muses, his voice smooth like silk yet carrying an underlying edge of danger. "But I'm not here for your misdeeds, dear witch. No, I am here for something far more intriguing."

My heart pounds in my chest as I try to maintain a façade of calmness, even as his presence threatens to overwhelm me. "Then what is it that you seek from me, demon?" I demand, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at the edges of my mind.

John Price's smile widens, revealing a row of perfectly straight and gleaming white teeth that seem to glint in the dim light. As he approaches me, his footsteps fall with an air of confidence and authority. He stops in front of me, tilting his head to reveal the sharp angles of his jawline beneath his beard, and the way the moonlight catches in his dark hair.

"I have come to claim you, little witch," he purrs, his voice low and smooth like velvet. I can feel his warm breath on my skin as he speaks.

"Claim me? What the fuck are you talking about?" I snap back, my anger boiling over at his bold words.

"Your coven, centuries ago, promised me a bride if I granted them power," he explains, his eyes never leaving mine. "Twenty generations from then, a woman will be born with powers stronger than any witches before her. And only she will be worthy of becoming my bride." A knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he finishes his declaration.

And if I could've sent every last bit of my powers away, I would have on spot. Simply bag them and ship them off to the next person.

The earth trembles beneath my feet, my anger coursing through me like molten lava. My eyes blaze with a fiery red intensity as I bring my hand up to meet his chest. The wind responds to my rage and strengthens, pushing him back with a forceful gust. He stumbles several feet before landing gracefully on his feet, a smug smirk plastered across his face. I grit my teeth, wishing desperately to wipe that lecherous expression off of his creepy features. "My, my," he purrs, "those eyes are like untamed flames."

He watches me with a mixture of amusement and fascination as I confront him with a strength that surprises even myself. The air crackles with tension as we stand facing each other, a silent battle of wills raging between us. I can feel the power coursing through my veins, a primal energy that demands release.

With a fierce determination, I raise my hands towards the sky, calling upon the elements to aid me in this dire moment. The wind howls in response, whipping my hair around my face like a dark shroud. The trees sway in a wild dance, their leaves rustling in a chorus of support.

John Price's eyes widen with recognition as he senses the ancient magic surging around me. In a swift motion, he raises his own hands, summoning shadows that twist and coil at his command. Darkness engulfs him as he prepares to strike back with his formidable powers. No, he’d never hurt me. But how do I know that?

Emotions wage a war inside me.

But I am ready for him. With a primal scream that echoes through the forest.

With a fierce cry, I unleash a bolt of lightning so powerful that it reverberates through the earth, leaving my body trembling with its force. The smell of ozone fills the air as electricity crackles around us, sending shockwaves into the ground and trees. And then suddenly, I am flying backwards, my back slamming against a rough bark of a tree. The impact knocks all the air from my lungs and I land on all fours, gasping for breath.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, I see John lying on the ground, his body smoking from the electric blast. Despite my own discomfort, anger surges within me. I grit my teeth as I struggle to stand, my muscles protesting from the jarring impact. God that hurts like a bitch.

But even as I rise, determined to keep fighting, I hear him chuckling. It is a sinister sound that sends shivers down my spine. My eyes narrow as I face him, ready to take him down. As if I could, I know I’m not strong enough.

"That's what I need," he groans as he stands, brushing off his clothes with an air of nonchalance. His red eyes have returned to their normal state, but they seem even darker now - like staring into a void.

"You want more?" I growl, raising my hands to strike again. But he raises his own in a mocking surrender. "I don't wish to fight you, little witch," he says with a sly smile. "A man should never harm a woman."

His words are like a slap in the face to me. This man is supposed to be the king of Hell, yet he claims to be against hitting women? I scoff in disbelief.

"Oh please," I retort. "Don't expect me to believe that for a second."

He shrugs as if it doesn't matter to him one way or another. And then suddenly, mist begins to form around my feet and up over my body. It spreads like a thick fog, rendering me immobile. Panic sets in as I struggle to break free.

"Let me go!" I shout, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to force myself out of the misty grip. But it seems to have a will of its own, keeping me firmly in place.

" I can't do that, love". He appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I hiss at the contact, his touch sending jolts through my skin.

“Now sleep, my love” He whispers. and I curse myself, as my eyes start to grow heavy. “w-what”.

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

I am jolted into consciousness, my body drenched in a cold sweat. My mind pulsates with a throbbing ache, as if being relentlessly pounded by a massive block of stone. With wide eyes, I frantically scan my unfamiliar surroundings.

It is then that I notice John seated in the corner of the room, engrossed in a book. His calm demeanor reveals no trace of concern or surprise, almost as if abducting people is just another routine task for him.

The audacity of this man! I want to strangle him.

"Where the hell have you taken me?" I shout at him, but he simply ignores me. Fine, if we're playing games now.

I curl my index finger and softly whisper a few words. Suddenly, his chair bursts into flames, scorching his backside. He springs up from his seat, dropping his book and grabbing his now charred rear end. As he curses and flails about, I smirk at him.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me?" I mock with a smug tone.

The fiery gaze of John meets my own as he casually pats his still-smoking ass. My questioning eyes shift to the discarded book on the ground, my raised eyebrow expressing confusion. "A cook book? Is that truly your book of choice?" I prod. He responds with an eye roll, snatching the book from the floor in annoyance.

Maybe I'm unhinged for being so casual at the moment, but my head hurts too much to really care. I'll unpack this after ibuprofen.

“You insufferable woman, you ruined my favorite armchair,” John seethes, pointing to the charred remains. I roll my eyes, unimpressed by his dramatics. You just kidnapped a witch and you're over here fretting over a chair.

“Take me back home,” I demand, standing my ground.

“No,” he replies firmly, a hint of anger in his voice. What is wrong with this man?

“Yes, I refuse to be your unwilling wife,” I argue, climbing out of bed and trailing after him as he storms into his closet. He pulls out a pair of unburned pants.

“You don’t have a say in this matter,” he declares. I cross my arms in defiance, scoffing at his arrogance.

“Because forcefully taking a wife against her will always make for a happy marriage,” I retort sarcastically.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment when he casually removes his burnt pants, standing only in his undergarments. "Jesus!" I exclaim, quickly turning around to face the wall. He chuckles behind me, clearly amused by my discomfort. " Jesus is not here, darling"

oh fuck right off.

I hear the sound of a zipper, followed by his footsteps approaching. I turn around, bumping my nose into his chest. not expecting him to stand so close. “ the hell” I mumble, rubbing my nose.

“ let me see this contract my coven signed. there’s got to be a loophole. I mean, why me? there’s other witches out there”.

I follow him out of the closet. He spins around, pushing me against the wall. I narrow my eyes, lifting a finger to zap his ass when he slowly pushes my finger down. as if I just showed him an ugly photo.

he then places both his hands on either side of my head. “ be a good girl and hush, yeah?”.

his low husky voice sends a shiver down my spine. fuck me, what’s wrong with me.

“ You be a good boy and release me, yeah?” I mock, smiling.

his hand slithers up to my throat, grabbing it tightly. he growls, I feel the rumble in his chest against mine.

"You wouldn't dare," I gasp, struggling to breathe as his grip tightens around my neck. The fear in my eyes is unmistakable, a raw and primal emotion that courses through my veins like poisoned venom.

"Try me," he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. I can see the darkness within him, the deep-seated hatred and anger that has been simmering inside him for centuries. So much for not harming women, huh? bipolar asshole.

And then, without warning, he lets go of my throat. There's a strange mixture of relief and disappointment that washes over me as he steps back. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes firmly fixed on me.

" All I want is for you to accept your fate and become my wife. I want no one else but you" His voice is calm, almost soothing, but there's an underlying edge to it.

His words prick at something in my brain, erupting pain through my skull.

I glare fiercely at him, mustering all my hate into my eyes. As if that alone could poof him into dust. " Fuck you, you crazy bipolar demon"

He shakes his head, walking away from me. leaving me standing against the wall, mind reeling and grasping for any ration response.

I mean, not even ten hours ago I was freely walking through the forest on my own, collecting herbs. And now, I'm stuck god knows where with a demon who claims I'm his bride.

But why does it feel like I know him?

My head pounds, sharp pain piercing my temples. I cry out, grabbing the sides of my head as I crouch down. Whispers ringing in my ears, the voices of my mother and grandmother.

As fragmented images race through my thoughts, I am transported back in time. Current reality intertwines with hazy flashbacks, creating a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions. In one vivid recollection, I am young and standing in my mother's bedroom. Her screams echo off the walls as she fiercely argues with my grandmother.

Tears stream down her cheeks, "I will take her away, far from his reach." With a forceful shove, she pushes my grandmother out of the way and storms into the closet. Mom, why are you crying.

Overwhelmed by the intense scene before me, I tremble and cry silently. Despite my limited understanding at the time, I know that something is gravely amiss, and it involves me. "There's not a place in heaven or hell where he won't find her, Eylean. Our ancestors made the deal, and there's nothing we can do to stop it" My grandmother argues, chasing after my mother.

Come outside, sweetheart. A voice whispers in my head, gentle and comforting. Come to me.

I do as the voice says, running out of my mothers room. My little legs struggling to keep up with the fast pace, threatening to misstep. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I ran, adrenaline driving me forward. The sound of the back door slamming echoed in my ears, a reminder of the argument that had just taken place, the booming voices inside. Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled towards the stone fence, desperate to get away from the chaos inside.

Why, why me?

With trembling hands, I gripped onto the rough edges of the stones and pulled myself up and over the fence. My clothes snagged against the sharp edges, leaving small tears and scrapes on my skin. But I don't care. All I want is to reach my safe haven. As I reached the other side, my feet hit the soft grass and I took off running again. The cool air brushed against my tear-stained cheeks as I made my way towards the massive red oak tree. It stood tall and proud, its branches reaching towards the sky as if welcoming me with open arms. With shaky breaths, I collapsed against the trunk of the tree. The vines that twisted around it provided a sense of comfort, almost like they were hugging me. I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my face in my legs, letting out loud sobs as I tried to calm my racing thoughts and emotions.

The wind started to howl, the force of it whipping through my hair and stinging my cheeks. I could feel tears sliding down my face as I tried to make sense of what was happening. The wind calmed, replaced by the sudden cold chill in my bones. Raising my head slowly, I glanced around through my blurry vision. Through the mist that had settled in front of me, I saw a figure emerge. It was a man, his large build crouching down in front of me. As he placed a comforting hand on my knee, I caught a glimpse of his bright blue eyes. They were like pools of clear water, sparkling and drawing me in.

Despite my fear and confusion, I couldn't help but gaze into them, feeling strangely captivated. A small smile tugged at the corners of the man's mouth, as if he were trying his best to offer comfort. His voice, deep and soothing, was one that I recognized from earlier. The sound of his accent brought a slight sense of familiarity. He spoke softly, reassuring me, "It's okay sweetheart. You're safe here." But I couldn't stop the sobs that wracked my body, my mind still reeling from the events that had just unfolded. "But they're fighting," I hiccupped, shaking my head. "Mommy says a bad man is going to get me." My words came out barely audible through my tears, but the man seemed to understand.

He moves to sit down beside me, our body’s brushing against each other.

“ I’m already here, little witch”

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #captain john price #john price cod #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price #john price x you #captain johnathan price #captain price #captain price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x you #price call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty monster #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare ii

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fortheloveoffanfic · 1 year

Text

Warmer

John Wick x Reader

Author's Note: One of a small handful of holiday-centric drabbles.

Masterlists

Warnings- hints at age gap

“I can’t believe you’ve never had hot cocoa,” Y/n scoffed, expression etched with disbelief as she regarded John, who was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar in her Manhattan apartment, “You’ve been around for like, fourty-” He offered her a pointed look and in response, she pressed her lips together, barely restraining a grin, “A while,” she eventually corrected.

“I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart,” he shrugged, absently fiddling with the edge of her decorative fruit bowl, “Its just…not the kind of thing I got growing up,” he face fell a little and he ducked his head to hide it- though Y/n saw anyway. “Then the Marines…..we’re more partial to coffee,” he chuckled dryly, attempting to lighten the mood, “After that it just felt like….” He shook a shoulder, “Kid stuff.”

Arching her brows, she sauntered over to the counter, leaning forward over the marble surface to reach for one of his hands. “Are you calling me a kid, Jonathan?” Her question carried an air of feigned seriousness but her fingers toying with his were enough to prove that she wasn’t actually upset.

“I suspect that I should choose my next words carefully,” he moistened his lips, a glimmer dancing in his dark eyes.

“You should,” Y/n warned lightly. After another moment of easy silence, they both snorted a brief fit of quiet laughter.

When they settled, Y/n bent her head and bought John’s hand to her lips, pressing a chaste, lingering kiss to his knuckles. She always felt the need to be gentle with his hands; they’d been through so much, it only made sense that someone take the time to offer them- like him- some tenderness and care. “I’m sorry I made fun of you,” her tone dropped, remorse finally seeping in; it wasn’t his fault that he’d never been afforded simple pleasures of the holiday season, like cocoa with marshmallows during winter or a Christmas tree.

Or someone to spend the holidays with.

“Its okay,” John flashed her a faint smile, weaning his hands out of hers to hook his fingers under her chin. The rough pad of his thumb caressed her jaw and he added softly, “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I didn’t,” Y/n confirmed, shifting her face to peck the inside of his wrist before pulling away altogether, returning to her saucepan on the stove. Giving the contents a gentle stir with a wooden spoon, she reached for the festive mugs she’d left nearby. “This should be cool enough,” she announced, lifting the pot off the stove before setting it down moments later on a pot holder and reaching for a ladle so she could fill up both mugs.

“So how do we do this?” John’s voice behind her coupled with his hands suddenly landing on her hips made her jump a little, and he chortled quietly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, bringing his lips to the top of her head. His face lingered there for a moment, nose buried in her hair, breathing the scent of her shampoo.

It always amazed her; he was so big and imposing, yet so impressively quiet when he moved- Y/n supposed it came with his job description.

“We do it," she giggled softly when his hands slid from her hips to her front, while he simultaneously stepped forward a bit, so her back would be flush against his chest. “Like this,” Y/n managed through her laughter, just after topping the mugs with whipped cream and a few mini marshmallows.

“Try it,” she encouraged, turning in his tight embrace to offer John one of the mugs.

“It looks sweet- like sugary,” he clarified, furrowing his brows a little before finally bringing the cup to his lips. At the initial taste, John- her back coffee, one sugar, whiskey neat man- hummed appreciatively. “Its good, actually,” he sounded weary, as if the thought liking cocoa was a threat to his reputation as a big, bad assassin who could punch his way through any situation that called for it.

He squinted his eyes a little when she put her hands over her lips, stifling a small laugh, “What?”

“You’ve got a little…..” She reached up, using her pointer to swipe some whipped cream off the top of his nose, subsequently popping her finger into her mouth.

“See why I’ve never done this?” He joked, setting the mug down on the counter once more as she leaned against the edge.

Y/n snorted, “Cause you hate whipped cream?”

John huffed, smile softening, “Cute, but no,” with his hands now free, he reached for hers, lifting them a little between them, “Because I’ve never had someone to share it with.”

Her cheeks warmed up and not knowing how else to respond, Y/n tilted her head slightly and regarded him with a fondness that was reserved only for John, “I think you might be sweeter than the cocoa.”

A soft sound- like a hum contained low in his throat- was John’s immediate response. Though, after a moment, he let her hands go in favor of wrapping his arms around her in a hug, something that was a little unconventional with John; in their time together, he’d started becoming more acquainted with physical affection-with the idea that his body could do something more than inflict pain- but conventional hugs were still a rarity. Y/n got the sense that they must have made him feel too vulnerable, and while she did enjoy being close to him, she loved him more than enough to respect his boundaries and the pace he wanted to go at

She also appreciated the moments where he trusted her enough to initiate one.

Slightly, John lifted her off the ground, just as her arms tightened affectionately around his neck. His salt and pepper beard ticked the side of her face, and she smiled while nuzzling closer, just as he whispered; “I think you’re warmer.”

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #christmas fic #john wick fanfic #warmer

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ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask · 26 days

Text

Flirting

Kelly furiously dressed in her BDUs, using a towel to wick the shower water from her hair. Only the ends still retained her customary blue dye, the rest having grown out to its natural dark brown. She tightened her boot laces to the point of being uncomfortable and growled in frustration.

Third place.

They’d taken third place.

And it was her fault.

The obstacle course was going as well as usual. Blue Team had been only just trailing Purple. Kelly saw an opportunity to overtake Isaac. If she could knock him out of place it would give Sam and John a chance to close the gap. She was sure they could take this. She got cocky.

Then Vinh blind-sided her. She never saw it coming. Was too focused on being the big hero. It was a stupid oversight. The other trainee sent her tumbling end-over-end and left her gasping in the mud. Isaac sent her an infuriatingly smug grin over his shoulder. Kurt managed to slip by her as she scrambled to her feet. Purple and Green were done before Blue finally managed to get their act together and cross the line.

She glanced at the mirror. Glared at her reflection. Idiot, she seethed. Impulsively she pulled a fist back, preparing to smash it through her own face.

Someone behind her caught her fist just before she could launch her strike. She contorted and whipped around, glaring at the intruder upon her self-destructive introspection.

A pair of familiar green eyes stared back at her. A smile crossed his face. His black hair still dripped from his own shower.

“Let go, Fred,” she barked. She knew it was his plan that had knocked her Blue out of their standing. Not only was he the leader of Purple, he was the only one who could have anticipated her movement that well. She was furious with him - almost as mad as she was at herself.

“I’ll let go if you promise not to punch that mirror,” Fred said with an easy grin. “It would break my heart to see such a beautiful reflection get shattered.”

Kelly felt an unexpected thrill run the length of her spine at the unexpected compliment. An excitement she didn’t trust. So she glared more harshly and blew a huff of air through her nose. “Just shut up and let go,” she grunted, turning away from him.

Fred kept a hold of her hand. “Promise,” he prodded again. A glance in the mirror showed a surprising sincerity in his eyes. His hands were warm and his grip, through firm, was surprisingly gentle. Distractingly so.

“Fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “I won’t punch the stupid mirror.”

Fred grinned and released her hand. Kelly noted an unfamiliar sense of loss at the broken contact between them.

“Good,” he answered, taking a step back and smirking. Kelly found herself noticing his strong jaw and dimples, wondering why those attributes were suddenly standing out more to her. “You’ve got take care of that hand,” Fred continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “It’ll be hard to kick my butt if your knuckles are all torn up.”

Kelly felt her cheeks begin to burn. He was doing this on purpose. And she was making it pathetically easy for him… two flirtatious comments and her stomach was already doing flips. She set her jaw and clenched her fist.

Two could play at this game.

She spun on her heel to face him again. He had been close enough behind her that they were nearly pressed up against each other now. She pressed that advantage, edging even closer until her arms brushed languidly against his.

“I don’t know,” she hummed, looking up at him through her eyelashes, reaching up to brush her cool fingertips against his cheek, “I couldn’t bear the thought of putting a bruise on that handsome face.”

For several long seconds Fred showed no response. Then, all at once, his face ran through a full series of rapid-fire microexpressions. His eyes widened slightly. His pupils dilated. His jaw slackened. His breaths shortened. His cheeks started to redden.

“I, uh…” he stammered, looking like he wanted to bolt but for some reason couldn’t. He swallowed loudly. “I…” he tried again, but his voice faltered. Finally he closed his eyes, took a stiff step backward, and fast-marched out of the locker room.

Kelly watched the other Spartan beat his hasty retreat with a smug grin on her face. She took a moment to remember the utter shock on his face, committing the moment to memory with a grin. Then, with a shake of her head, she followed him out of the showers, insisting that the butterflies still fluttering in her stomach were just the effects of the leftover adrenaline from the earlier exercise.

Still, that didn’t mean that she was going to let this new tactic go to waste…

---

Inspired by a conversation with @helix-studios117 and @makowrites

This was written on my phone, so I blame any and all poor formatting on that. And also my general ineptitude as an author, but that's more or less whatever.

#halo #halo fanfic #my writing #fred 104 #kelly 087 #fred 104 x kelly 087

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obxone · 11 months

Text

Marmoris (Chapter Fifteen)

Edited-ish. ~1.95k words

Warning: A sprinkle of hinted happenings (don't read if you are underage)

Masterpage

JJ follows you downstairs and nearly trips while ruffling his sleep mussed hair. You try not to laugh at him when his hand brushes the back of your bare thighs to play it off.

“You know… we probably could’ve stayed hidden up there for a few more hours,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. You playfully smack his chest with a shake of your head before freezing at the sight of Sarah and John B tangled together on the sectional. Your lips part, and JJ laughs, pulling you back against him, and you both gape at the sleeping couple. “Damn, I didn’t think that would happen so quickly.”

You shush him before pecking his lips. “Let them sleep. They were probably up late… talking.”

“Like we were?”

You blush hotly and turn away from him to compose yourself.

JJ grins before leaning over the couch to get a better peek. “She’s dressed, I don’t think it went too far.”

“How scandalous,” you tease as he follows you into the kitchen. His hands are needy. He touches you constantly while you pull down cereal and bowls. “Breakfast is served.”

He snorts and lifts you quickly so that you are sitting on top of the counter. “Not the breakfast I had in mind.”

Your lips part, and your cheeks flame at this suggestive comment. He laughs, nudging his way to be between your legs. His hands are on your thighs before he kisses you. You kiss him back, fully aware that John B or Sarah could walk in, but you do not care as your hands trail over his clothed torso. You shiver when his hand slips under your t-shirt to touch you.

“Jay.” The moan that leaves you is breathy and desperate as the night before plays in your head. “We are in the kitchen.”

“We can go back upstairs, Baby.”

You giggle before pecking his lips over and over until he chuckles. “Please eat breakfast.”

His eyebrows wiggle suggestively, and you smack his chest.

“Stop!”

“Okay, fine,” he playfully whines before grabbing two bowls. “Which one?”

You point to the Cheerios box, and he scrunches his nose, causing you to laugh. He makes your bowl before making his own of a sugary brand before resuming his position between your legs.

“Is this going to be all the time now?” You ask around a bite.

“Yep.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Such a needy dude.”

He flashes his dimple before offering you a bite of his cereal. You scrunch your nose and turn away this time. He laughs before glancing at the sound of shuffling, and you turn to see Sarah with John B following. Sarah wipes the sleep from her eyes before smiling when she sees you both.

“Morning Lovebirds,” JJ jokes, and you push him in the chest gently. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you mutter.

“I’m your idiot, remember?” He knocks your knee with his elbow. You wink at him before turning to look at your sister and John B. A smile spreads across your face when you find them both gazing at you and JJ with knowing grins.

“How well did you sleep on that couch?” You ask. Sarah shrugs, moving forward to make a bowl of cereal. You point to John B and then the cereal. “Help yourself.”

He moves forward and copies JJ’s choice of a sugary brand.

“Want to come and sit at the table like a civilized person?” Sarah teases you.

“Sure.” You flash a wicked smile at her before nudging JJ back. He grumbles but relents and takes a seat at the table with you. You study Sarah over. “Did you guys talk all night or…” John B groans, clearly not ready for a little teasing so early in the day, and you laugh. “Let me finish! Or watch a movie?”

“Both,” Sarah responds, her eyes cutting to John B. Both of their cheeks color and you laugh, leaning into JJ’s side. “Oh!” She whips around to point her spoon at you both. “Don’t think we didn’t hear you either!”

“I call bullshit,” you mutter while immediately looking at your cereal.

JJ laughs and shakes his head at your reaction.

“Trust me,” John B speaks up then. “We heard plenty.”

You bite your lip and meet JJ’s gaze. His cheeks are as red as yours probably are. You make the decision to play it off with a shrug. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Sarah leans over to move the collar of JJ’s shirt to the side to reveal your collarbone and neck. John B mocks a moaning noise, and you feel like you will burst into flames from embarrassment. Sarah raises an eyebrow at you. “Need I say more?”

You swat her hand away to cover the love bite. “We didn’t do anything but make out.”

“Uh-huh,” John B muses. “We totally believe you.”

“Jay…” You look to him for help, but the look on his face gives you both away in seconds, and all three of them start laughing. You groan and close your eyes for a moment.

He leans over, his hand brushing your back. “It’s okay, Baby.”

You glare at him playfully, and he rolls his eyes. “So…” you turn back to Sarah with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Are you two dating now?”

“No.”

You raise your eyebrows at Sarah’s immediate response.

“No,” she repeats a little calmer. “We’re friends right now.”

JJ wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and John B shakes his head at him telling him to cut it out.

“Right…” you muse, and she rolls her eyes, but you let it drop.

JJ’s arm falls over the back of your chair once he is finished, and you lean into his side, ignoring the knowing look from Sarah.

“What are we doing today?” JJ asks, dragging his hand down your side.

“Beach picnic,” Sarah answers before looking at John B. “Pope and Kie are meeting us there.”

“Just pogues?” You ask, your hand falling to JJ’s thigh. His hand covers yours, his fingers lacing between your own with a squeeze. The idea of any kooks around makes you nervous.

“A few other pogues are coming,” John B adds. “Maybe do some surfing.”

You grin and glance at JJ. He smiles, brushing his thumb across the back of your hand. “We’ll come.”

“I’ll get changed,” you muse as you scoot back from the table and go to rinse out your and JJ’s bowls. He watches you before glancing at John B when you start to leave the kitchen.

“Go ahead,” he laughs, and JJ quickly clambers up from the table to follow you. Just to tease him a little, you start to run and glance back once you are on the staircase to see him jogging behind you. The small distance closes as you scramble to get up the stairs.

“JJ!” You cry out as he clasps his hand on your hips. He laughs before moving into the bedroom with you. “I have to get changed!”

“I want to watch!”

A hot blush floods through you, but you give in, allowing him to stay before you go into your closet, He shuts your bedroom door before throwing himself back onto your bed. You emerge with your clothing for the day. A pair of shorts, a tank top, a bikini, and Converse. You meet JJ’s gaze as you reach down to lift his shirt up. He groans loudly.

“You wanted to watch…” you singsong before starting to lift it, but he grabs your waist and pulls you into him and the bed. “Jay! I have to get dressed.”

"Not yet," he begs and cups your face. You sigh and sink into his chest, allowing him to kiss you. He smirks, moving his hands down to grip the hem of your shirt before he tugs it up and off. "Lay back, Baby."

"We don't have time."

"We do," he reassures you, glancing at the door to make sure it is locked. You do the same before pecking his lips and doing as he says. He moves over you. He works quickly to remove your underwear before he is back between your legs. "Better than cereal, I promise."

You gasp as he dives right in. Your hand fists in his hair as he repeats the events of last night.

You climax in record time, and he sits back on his knees with a sigh of contentment. You stay in your position, unsure if the trembling in your legs will let you stand.

"Are you okay?" He asks, dragging his hand over your thigh and down your knee.

"Mm-hmm," you hum, closing your eyes briefly. "I need a minute."

He laughs. "Take all the time you need."

"We have surfing though..."

“I hate surfing.”

You laugh and touch his face when he moves to lean over you. “No, you don’t.”

He grins before pecking your lips. "I'll get a washcloth."

"Please," you whisper and watch him go into the bathroom before he comes back and helps you clean up. He peppers your skin with kisses until you have to gently push him back and remind him that your time is up. You dress quickly before turning to see him burying his face in the blankets and pouting. “All done.”

He lifts his head and groans at the sight of you fully clothed. You lean down and peck his forehead.

“It’ll be okay, Baby.” You whisper. “Besides, there is always tonight.”

He perks up, and you laugh, patting his head before moving to leave the room. He follows closely behind you. You stop in your trek, and he nearly runs you over, his arms wrapping around you. You grip his forearm and jerk your chin to the sight before you. He gapes, and you bite back a giggle. JJ leans past you to wolf whistle loudly. The two break apart, cheeks flaming red at having been caught. You giggle louder as you watch them scramble up from the couch in a flustered state.

“Really? We were gone for five minutes max.” You ask teasingly.

“Shut up!” John B attempts to shove JJ backward as he passes, and you laugh, but your boyfriend clings to you. “I’m driving!”

“Shotgun!” Sarah yells when JJ starts running after him. She reaches for you, hooking her arm around your waist as you head for the front door.

“Did you get changed already?”

“Yep.” She smiles. “You were definitely more than five minutes.”

You blush and lean into her side for support.

“What about you and him, hmm?” She peeks at you. "You seem different."

You shrug as you step outside the house, and she follows. “We’re good.”

“Did you guys… you know?”

“No,” you respond softly. “Not really... just a little oral. We went further than I anticipated. I don’t regret though,” you rush out the last part before laughing awkwardly. “He’s… JJ is changing me, Sarah. My walls are coming down.”

She grins, glancing over her shoulder before her arms wrap around your waist in a hug. "I know, you seem really happy."

"I am!" You smile and blush when Sarah winks at JJ before skipping past you both to get into the Twinkie. JJ’s lips brush your neck.

“I'm glad you are happy, Princess.”

You blush hotter and close your eyes before you turn to face him. Your arms hook over his shoulders before you peck his lips.

“Let’s go! We got some great waves today!” John B bangs his hand on the hood of the van before waving at you both to get in.

“Come on,” you laugh and grasp JJ’s hand pulling him to the Twinkie.

(Chapter Sixteen)

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx jj maybank #outer banks jj maybank #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

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cannotgiveafuck · 2 years

Text

Hhmmmm I have been inspired. Have a Constantine and Billy drabble.

“Hey, John, you there? John? Hello? Is the mirror on? Jooohhn! I can see you, ya know. C’mon turn around! C’moncmoncmon pleeeaaas--”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Constantine threw the scrolls down on the desk and whipped around, snagging the cig from edge and glaring at the two-way mirror that sat innocently upon the bookshelf, right where he left it. Right where he could see and hear for whenever one trouble-prone Billy Batson could reach him. The little shit was lucky John deemed pants a worthy effort that day. “What?”

Billy grinned at him, all bright eyed and apple cheeked and very obviously up to no good. It was hardly a wonder why John liked the brat so much. “Do you know how I can get to the veil without actually going through it? I mean, how Marvel could?”

Sometimes, he also really hated how much he liked him.

Through the steady stream of smoke as inhaled and exhaled, John squinted suspiciously at the kid as he tossed the words about in his head for a moment. “Why the fuck do you wanna go there? Not trying to bring someone back from the dead, are you? Cause necromancy is nasty shit, especially for the Big Cheese.”

“No! I am not doing necromancy. I just need to get to the... the midpoint. Not quite here, but not there yet.” And he said all that in a way John was sure Billy thought he was being rightly clever. That he could dance around saying outright what he wanted, using half truths and side steps, as if John Constantine wasn’t the fucking master of that particular game.

“You mean you wanna get to the Crossroads.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Well, John had to give him that - he knew when to not bullshit the bullshitter.

“No.”

“John--!”

“Do you even know what the Crossroads are? Literally and figuratively and spiritually - do you?”

“I mean--”

“No, no. Lemme finish.” He took a long drag just to give the kid time to pout and rethink whatever nonsense he wanted to get into. “The Crossroads aren’t for the likes of you nor me, got it. Because you know who resides?”

“Well, kinda--”

“The fuckin’ Fates, that’s who! And unless you’re going to them to tell personally and explicitly to fuck off, you’re not setting foot passed this plane of reality. Understood?”

Billy sighed loud and dramatic. A 50/50 on if John’s words got through. “I’m not trying to contact the Fates, John.”

Oh. Well, that was good.

Still, woulda been a joy to hear about bright and shiny Champion of Magic telling Fates to shove it.

“Then, why the fuck- This isn’t another stupid fuckin’ game Klarion is trying to rope you into, is it? Or a sorry sob story some poor dead sop gave to you about not wanting to move on? Cause there is no goddamn reason you should be having any sort of business there.” And the more Billy delayed telling him the actual truth, the antsier John got. But he knew, deep in his rotted, wicked heart, he knew how to follow these steps. Knew the script Billy wrote by because that was how he lived this long - testing the waters before going head first. John appreciated every wary bone in that kid’s body. Something had to balance out the overwhelming sense of compassion.

This time when Billy sighed, it was more resigned. More coming to terms with the inevitable fact that he was the one that contacted John because he needed to know something, and no matter what, John would tell it to him straight. Wouldn’t tell him no on the sole basis of whatever bullshit the League of Goody Fucks would feed him. Constantine may still very well say no, but he at least gave a good damn reason, thanks.

Blue gaze right on John, “I have business there cause I need to contact the Goddess Hekate to invite her to dinner.”

Oh, for fucks sake.

“Oh, for fucks sake, kid.”

#billy batson #john constantine #Me? combining my current hyperfixation with my undying love for these two magical miscreants?#its more likely than you think #anyway giving my Goddess Hek some acknowledgement and love here #because uh. Goddess of Witchcraft and magic. Champion of Magic. it makes sense #It doesnt make sense to John. At all. But he generally tries to avoid any and all gods #also that one in particular is fucking terrifying. please yall. her domains are vast.#but yeah Billy wants to idk. have a nice chat and dinner with her. Maybe a graveyard picnic.#Shes heard aaaalll about him from her main girl Persephone. so she'll agree.#Ive been wanting to stretch my banter muscles. esp with Billy since ive gone on an unexpected hiatus #maybe this will help. or some more drabbles #shazam #captain marvel

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 years

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Are they on the Naughty List? Or have they’ve been good all year?Well that’s for you to decide.

Start:November 01

End: December 31

•+•

REQUEST RULES

⇀ONE PROMPT PER CHARACTER; meaning you can pick from an action prompt or a dialogue prompt, if you don’t want spicy then pick from the nice list ↼

⇀I will be posting the fandoms below that I will write for this event↼

⇀I have 61 days, so you’re welcome to request the same character for any prompt. ↼

⇀ when you send a request in please specify that it is for this event or else it won’t be part of the event and will instead be seen as a regular request and therefore won’t be posted in for Tis The Season ↼

⇀Green/Red means it is taken. ↼

Fandoms for Tis The Season 2022

Bridgerton

God of war

Call Of Duty

House Of Dragons { game of thrones }

Cyberpunk 2077

John Wick

Saiyuki

Naruto

Stranger Things { Season 3-4 }

The Quarry { or any of Supermassive game *1 character per game }

The Wolf Among Us

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Resident Evil

Assassins Creed

Ghost of Tsushima / Ghost of Tsushima Iki island

Far Cry 5/6/new Dawn

Vox.

Fruits Baskets

Bleach

Fma brotherhood

See a fandom you don’t like/see then send me a character for that fandom and I may write for them

Naughty Dialogue Prompts:

1:“I’d like to be one of the unhealthy things you put inside your body this weekend.”-Ebenezer Scrooge

2:“You know, tying the legs together keeps everything moist.”-Phillip Graves

3:“You’ll want to loosen your belt long before dinner.”Karl Hisenburge

4:“I’m not much of a cook, but I’m good at glazing.”Alejandro Vargas

5:“I’m going to have you stuffed better than the turkey by the end of the night.”-Alex Keller {MW}

6:“The turkey’s not the only thing getting stuffed today.”-Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

7:“Breasts/thighs are my favorite part to nibble on.”Johnny ‘Soap’MacTavish

8;“Save some of that whipped cream for later.”-John Price

9“I’m a master-baster.”

10: “I prefer cherry pie.” -Freyr (God of War)

11: “Let’s do something that puts us on the naughty list.”- Bigby Wolf { with Red Ridding hood wife }

Naughty Action Prompts

1. Kiss me under the mistletoe.-Rodolfo Parra

2.A naughty sleigh ride || Exhibitionism sex ||

4. I picked you for secret Santa but I wrapped the wrong box so now I’ve given you a very festive sex toy, and oh my god this is so embarrassing-Alejandro Vargas

5:Reader wearing nothing but a Santa hat-Nikolai {RE3}

6.Snow/temperature play-Bigby Wolf { with Witch!Reader}

7:Cabin sex-Alejandro Vargas

8. Bath{ warming up from the cold}-Johnny ‘Soap’MacTavish

9. we were going to a Christmas party but fuck if you don’t just look sinful in red, and you know what? Fuck that Christmas party- Tadashi

10.Nibbling on holiday treats-KK { Ghostwire: Tokyo }

11: we got a little too carried away with the Christmas lights, and now suddenly my hands are bound with the lights and oh my god are we about to have sex?-Ethan Winters

12: it’s holiday dinner with your family, and oh jesus where are your hands going? Alejandro Vargas

13:Wrapped in ribbon.-Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

14: Santa Baby: reader has decided to dress as Mrs. Claus for a little more “adult” Christmas fun. Oh boy! - Akito { Ghostwire: Tokyo }

15: Christmas shenanigans under the tree, if you know what I mean.-Simon “Ghost” Riley {COD:MW2}

Nice Dialogue Prompts:

1. “Alright, mister. I know you’re the one who keeps hanging up mistletoe everywhere.”-Bruno Madrigal

2. “Do you need help hanging up the Christmas lights?”John Price

3. “Will you make a gingerbread house with me?”- Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

4. “Excuse me—where is my Christmas kiss?”Ezio

5. “I made you some hot cocoa.”- Genjo Sanzo

6. “It’s snowing!”-Cloud Strife

7. “You look even more beautiful covered in snow.”Naruto Uzamaki

8. “It’s time for hand turkey’s everyone.” “FUCK YES YES!” Johnny “Soap”MacTavish

9. “Thanksgiving is for giving thanks” “And for body slamming each other during the family football match!”

10. “I wish you the happiest of happy Christmases.”-Zoro { one piece }

11. “Did you decorate the tree without me? I can’t believe this!”-Ethan Winters

12. “Go on, open it.”-Travis Hackett

13. “Carmel apples, leaves falling down. What could better then November?” “I don’t know maybe fucking June?”-R.J. MacReady

14. “Would you like to put the star on the very top of the tree?”-Russel Adler

15. “Did you spike the eggnog again?”-Simon “Ghost” Riley

16. “I can’t believe you’re making snow angels at a time like this!”-Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

17. “HAPPY NOVEMBER!” “No one wishes anyone a happy November.” “Well I just did.”- Karl Heisenberg

18. “Merry Christmas, motherfuckers!”-Johnny “Soap”MacTavish

19. “I think you might have gone a little overboard with the food.” “There’s no such thing as overboard during Thanksgiving!” Kyo Sohma

20. “I can’t believe you did that to Santa…”- Dad!Aizen

21: “How many candy canes have you eaten?”John Price

Nice Action Prompts:

1: The scent of real Christmas trees.-Freyr (God of War)?

2:Baking holiday cookies.- Ebenezer Scrooge

3:Peppermint-flavoured everything-Modern{ Prince!} Jin Sakai

4:Watching the snowfall from inside a cosy house-Damon Salvatore

5:Walking in the dark to see festive light displays-Alex { COD:MW }

6:Wrapping up in soft cosy blankets-Simon “Ghost” Riley {COD:MW2}

7:Snow Ball Fight- Alejandro Vargas

8:one lending the other their coat/scarf/hat to keep them warm.Sauske

9: building a snowman! Yuki Sohma

10:Hanging Stockings-Ebenezer Scrooge

11: Handing their S/O a positive pregnancy test with a sprig of holly and a note reading ‘Merry Christmas’.Jackie Welles

12: Falling asleep in front of the fire whilst their S/O is playing them ‘dance of the sugar plum fairy’ on piano. They pull a blanket over them and curl up beside them.-Rodolfo Parra

13:Ice Skating-Ichigo

14: Snowman competition, the judges are a bunch of five year old kids.- Bigby Wolf { x RedRidding Hood!Reader }

#drabbles #drabble #imagines #challenge #tis the season

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johnsbleu · 3 months

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Wait omg could u write a little snippet it of like when reader was prego and she was having those hormone lash outs and john trying to be understanding but so confused one minute shes crying the next shes mad

ask and you shall receive.

under the cut is something i just whipped up real quick. might not be exactly what you wanted but i wrote it with the amount of time i had. if i had more time, i probably wouldn't have stopped until it was 10k lmao

This is not the current timeline. It's from when she was pregnant with Ronan. John's POV, 2.3k words

“Okay, you got your list?”

Y/N holds it up and smiles, tilting her head back, “Thank you for going.”

I look out the window and see the rain coming down in thick windy sheets, “No reason you need to get all wet.”

“I can think--” she puts her head down and laughs, “Never mind. I shouldn’t finish that sentence.”

“Well, I think you should.” I say, and she looks at me. I give her a quick kiss, “I’ll be back. I love you. Call me if you need anything.”

She nods her head and salutes, “You got it, Wick.”

I take one last look at her before I pull the hood up on my coat and run out to the car.

I got more than what she wanted, but with it raining so much, I know that neither of us will want to leave the house. It’s the perfect weather to just lounge around and watch movies, plus it’s a little on the cooler side, so there’s currently a crock-pot in the kitchen full of chili. We’re going to have a date night in and watch a movie and each some chili. I can’t wait. I love my wife’s chili recipe too.

“I’m back,” I say, looking up to see Y/N coming into the kitchen, “I got everything on your list, and then some. I got…the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and whipped cream cheese.”

Y/N hums loudly and reaches for it as I watch her in curiosity, “I’ve been thinking about this lately. Baby girl wants some spicy food. I love Cheetos, so I thought it would be good to try this.”

I watch as she opens the cream cheese, which she specified had to be whipped, not regular, then she scoops some of it up with a Cheeto. She takes a bites and chews a few times before scooping up some more. She scrunches her face up and looks at me, still chewing.

“Well?”

“Um, not really that great. I mean, it’s good, but it’s not as great as I thought it would be.” she says, scooping up more, “I’ll still eat it though.”

I laugh as I reach in and get a few more things out that she wanted. I set the ice cream down on the counter and smile proudly, but her face falls which makes my stomach sink.

“This is the kind you always get, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she says in a soft and quiet voice, “But it’s not the…it’s fine.”

I furrow my brow when I see her tearing up, “Baby, talk to me.”

“It’s not the kind I wanted,” she says, absentmindedly playing with the wrapper, and I stand there staring for a moment in pure confusion.

She is absolutely not the type of person to cry over the wrong ice cream. She’s the type to eat it anyway since it was bought. This isn’t the first time I’ve accidentally bought the wrong thing, but she’s never made a fuss about it.

“It’s the chocolate and peanut butter kind that you like,” I say, walking over to stand next to her, “You just wrote ice cream, so I thought--”

“Oh, right, it’s my fault! You had one job and it was to get the ice cream I wanted!” she says, then she puts her head down and cries harder, “Sorry! I’m not mad! I’m just…I’m a little sad. I didn’t want this kind.”

I place my hand on her back, “I can go back and exchange it. That’s no big deal.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, despite the fact that she’s fully sobbing now.

She’s sobbing. Over ice cream. Surely there’s something else going on.

I don't know what to do so I just stand there like an idiot for a minute.

“I just really wanted that one brand we talked about, you know, the one that we tried.”

I furrow my brow as I look around, then it clicks, “Are you talking about when we went grocery shopping and they had samples?”

“Yeah!”

“Baby, that was over a month ago,” I say, but it just makes her cry harder. I immediately dig through the bag for the receipt and grab the carton of ice cream, “I’ll fix this. I’ll go get it for you right now.”

She shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. Really. I’m just being a baby.”

“No, you want what you want. I’ll be right back.” I kiss the top of her head and grab my keys off the table before quickly rushing back out to the car.

What my baby wants, she’s going to get.

I’m not even halfway down the street when I hear my phone ringing in my pocket. I dig it out and hold it to my ear.

“Everything okay?”

“You don’t have to go, John. It’s fine. I was just having a moment. I’m sorry.” she sniffles and laughs a little, “I’m sorry.”

I laugh, “It’s okay. I’m literally down the street from the grocery store. It’ll take me 10 minutes. I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll make sure to get the kind you want. What flavor?”

“Same flavor,” she says, and I start to laugh, “Just a different brand.”

“Okay, my love. I’ll be right back.”

I hear the smile in her voice when she says goodbye to me.

Despite the whole ice cream debacle a few days ago, things have been good. Y/N found a piece of fabric with a color she really liked for the baby’s room, so we ran into the hardware store to get it color matched. The problem was that they don’t do that at our tiny shop in Mill Neck. We were instructed to head to the big hardware store in Oyster Bay instead, which turned out to be good because I actually needed some new bolts for a few things. With a baby in the house soon, I want to make sure not a single thing falls off the walls. All of the furniture will be anchored to the wall in her room as well.

I’m not taking any chances.

“Excuse me,” a woman says, and I look over my shoulder at her, “Do you know where I can find water pumps?”

I shake my head, “No, I’m sorry. I’m not sure where that would be. I…I don’t work here.”

She laughs, touching my bicep, “I am so sorry. I just saw the dark blue shirt and assumed. I’m so sorry.”

“No problem,” I laugh, then I look up at the hanging signs above us that say what’s in each aisle, “If I had to guess, I would say bathroom stuff would be a few aisles down.”

“Okay, thank you.” she says, then she walks away.

I turn back to continue looking through the bolts, searching the size I need.

“What was that about?” Y/N asks, and I look over at her.

“Oh, she just wanted to know where water pumps would be.”

Y/N scoffs, “Water pumps. Sure.”

“Yeah, you know those pumps you put in your basement to get out water. I assume her basement flooded with all the rain we’ve had.”

“Yeah,” she says, then she scoffs again and looks at me, “I just knew this was going to happen.”

I furrow my brow and turn to face her, “What? They can’t do the paint here either? I guess we can go to Jimmy. I’m sure he knows someone who--”

“I just knew that once I got a belly and you would immediately not be interested in me anymore. I just knew you’d start to look at other women. You probably want a divorce."

I shake my head because I am confused. I’m standing here with boxes of bolts and screws in my hands, staring at my wife, so beyond confused. I just went on a 15 minute rant this morning about how beautiful she is, and I certainly didn’t go easy on her this morning when we were intimate. She’s sexy! She’s the sexiest she’s ever been, which is saying a lot because I’m fairly positive she’s the sexiest woman on this planet and that’s not a lie. I’m insanely attracted to her. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself before and I really can’t now.

“What are you talking about?” I tilt her chin up and look into her bloodshot eyes, “Honey, I am not looking at anyone but you.”

"Yeah, for now."

I tilt her chin up again, "You were there this morning. I know you know how crazy I am about you. I love you more than anything in this world, Y/N. You know this."

Y/N sniffles and closes her eyes as tears run down her cheeks, “I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” I say, bringing her into my arms, “You’re…”

She leans back and looks at me, narrowing her eyes, “I’m what?”

Her emotions have been all over the place. I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on. Sure, when she freaked out about the ice cream the other day, I was confused at first, but then it all clicked into place. She’s hormonal and going through a lot right now. She cried over a laundry soap commercial on TV the other day, she got furious when they got our order wrong at lunch, which I will admit made me mad too since I reiterated many times that she didn’t want shrimp--she’s allergic and pregnant. She’s feeling everything on a much more intense level. I honestly feel bad. My wife always has such a cool demeanor and she’s always just relaxed and hanging out, but this past week has been rough!

“You’re feeling a lot of things right now and you’re not sure what to do with all those emotions.” I say as gently as I can since I don’t want to upset her, “Your body is going through a lot of changes right now.”

“I’m crazy, John.”

I laugh, “You’re not crazy, peach. You’re pregnant and feeling all of these emotions at once. It’s normal.”

I assume it’s normal. I don’t really know. I remember Tess was very emotional when she was pregnant.

Y/N stands back and exhales sharply, looking up at me, “I’m not gonna scare you away, am I?”

“Hell no,” I say, and she instantly smiles, “You could never scare me away. Not sure how thrilled you’ll be, but you’re stuck with me, peach. Forever.”

“Forever? Ugh, how horrid,” she jokes, then she wraps her arms around my waist, “I promise I’m getting better.”

I laugh, “You’re only six months pregnant. We have a few more months to go, so don’t make any promises.”

“Hey!” she playfully whacks my arm, “I’m trying! Give me a break. By the way, you did this to me!”

I laugh when she gestures to her belly, “Oh, I know. I actually like the little attitude you’ve been giving lately. Well, when it’s directed elsewhere. Not when it’s directed at me.”

“I’m trying not to direct it towards you, I hope you know that.”

Nodding my head, I smile, “I do.”

Y/N smiles, then it quickly fades, “I have to pee. Right this minute!”

I watch as she waddles a little and I grab the things I need before walking up to stand in line. I look around after a few minutes and see her coming back over to me with a huge smile on her face despite her red eyes. She links her arm around mine and tilts her head back to kiss me when I lean down. We walk up when it’s our turn, and the cashier glances at Y/N and furrows her brow a little when she sees her bloodshot eyes.

“Oh,” Y/N laughs, moving back a little to smooth her sweater over her growing belly, “Pregnancy hormones. I’m crying over everything. I cried over a laundry commercial the other day. The one with the little teddy bear. The little girl lost it but her dad found him, and he was all dirty, so he…took it and washed him and gave him…back. I can’t even talk about it without getting choked up, oh my god!”

I look at her when she puts her head down, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder to pull her close. The cashier laughs and tells Y/N she’s not alone and that she was very emotional with her first baby too.

After I pay for our things, I take the bag and wrap my arm around Y/N’s shoulder as we walk out to the car. I smile when she watches me opening the car door for her, helping her in, then I rush back to the driver’s side.

“John, I’m serious,” she says, and I look at her, “I’m not always this crazy.”

“First of all,” I turn to her and take her hands, “You’re not crazy. Do you think that because you’re showing different emotions I’m going to think you’re crazy?”

She nods, “Yeah. I mean, I know that I’m pregnant but one minute I’m crying, then the next I’m mad about something like…you didn’t fold the towels right--which by the way, were folded right. I’m just--”

“Don’t say it!” I warn her, and she slouches. “Stop talking about my wife like that.”

“You’re not a mind reader and I need to realize that. I need to be more vocal with my wants and needs,” she says as I reach for her hand, “Especially during this time. I can’t get mad at you for not doing something when I didn’t even tell you in the first place. I really am sorry.”

I reach over and touch her chin, “I love you. I love all of your moods and emotions. I love seeing my sweet wife cry over a laundry soap commercial. I love this side of you.”

“It’s a freaking mess.” she says, laughing tearfully, “But thank you for loving me. It won’t last forever.”

“And even if it did, I would still love you anyway,” I cup her face and lean over to kiss her, “When I said I would love you forever, I meant that.”

She smiles as she rests her head back, “Forever is a really long time.”

“With you, it’s not long enough.”

I hold her gaze for a few moments before we both start to laugh. I absolutely meant it but I will admit it was a bit corny. She loved it though and she knows I meant it. I start the car and reach over to pat her thigh and she smiles at me, leaning over to kiss me.

“I kinda want some ice cream now.”

Looking over at her, I start to smile when I see the smirk on her face, “Tell me exactly what brand and flavor.”

#what am i gonna call this?#hmh snippet #sure idk lmaoooo #no bc i would probably cry if i wanted a certain ice cream too she's so real #anonymous #ask

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eptodaytommorowforever · 5 months

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Elvis Presley’s History Of On Tour Shows Performances, Concets, History, Today On The 28th November In 1976 He Played At The Cow Palace Arena In San Francisco In CA.

Elvis Presley The Cow Palace, San Francisco, Ca 8.30pm Show Performance Concert November 28, 1976 Rare Live Candid Photos Of This Show Performance Concert By Australian Fan Club President Wayne Hawthorne Of The Elvis Presley Fan Club Of Victoria in Australia.

Wayne Hawthorne The President Of The Elvis Presley Fan Club Of Victoria Australia 🇦🇺

A Review Of The Cow Palace Concert At San Francisco Arena On The 28th Of November In 1976 Also Of Meeting Elvis Presley Linda Thompson And The Fat Controller The Manager Colonel Parker Himself.

Wayne Hawthorne, President of Elvis Presley Fan Club of Victoria recalls the time he met Colonel Parker, Elvis Presley and Linda Thompson in concert...

Although it only seems like yesterday this time 25 years ago that I was in San Francisco for Elvis Presley concert of November 28, 1976 at the Cow Palace.

I had been to the US a number of times without catching an Elvis Presley concert but this time thankfully (as only 32 months later sadly he would be gone dead) I was not going to miss out.

Thanks to local member Hedy Drissen and Cow Palace manager, John Root we has scored front row seats which was an unbelievable bonus. The prelims are a blur as nobody paid much attention - Elvis Presley was the only topic of conversation!

Despite what many books say, Colonel Parker was very much in attendance and keeping an eye on everything. In fact, it was our club T-shirt that drew his attention and I had the pleasure of talking with him. Despite the many reports to the contrary I found him to be very amicable and openly frank and honest in his comments.

As for Elvis Presley travelling to Australia (there had been rumours in the local Australian rags) he gave a straightforward 'NO!'.

He was totally honest in saying the '...the money was not in Australia' and that if Elvis Presley toured in this region it would be to Japan. He further stated that Elvis Presley was not interested really in overseas tours.. except maybe for Germany which was on the cards for 1978 as Elvis Presley wished to thank the German people for their hospitality during his Army days there.

We (meaning Wayne Hawthorn and his first wife, Gina) had the pleasure of talking to a very beautiful and friendly lady in Linda Thompson, who was seated next to us front row!

'Marriage?' was the immediate question asked Gina blurted out which that offered a very quick '... awh not really on,' response from Linda. Ironically, it was that very night that Linda Thompson and Elvis Presley ended their relationship.

You may read many different dates in many different books regarding this but only Linda's brother Sam Thompson seems to have got it correct in his book.

There certainly was no the slightest hint of what was to come. For during the concert Linda walked the couple of paces over to Elvis Presley and asked for his scarf which she then gave to Gina (a cherished moment for her at the time'

Elvis Presley was in exceptional form that night. Despite rumour of ill health, he appeared vibrant, suntanned and fit.

The first thing that struck us were his piercing blue eyes. I'm sure each and every one of the 17 odd thousand people, whether front wow or in the bleachers, felt he was looking straight at them. Combined with an infectious smile his presence was awesome to say the least.

Elvis Presley went through some 23 songs and proved he still had that magical recipe that could whip audiences into frenzy. This was no Vegas crowd. On no less than six occasions there was a stampede towards the stage consisting mainly of the younger female brigade.

Teddy Bear and Love Letters were two of the songs that drew such a response but it was the suggestiveness of Fever that drove them wild.

With slow pelvic movements, wicked smile and caresses of the stand-up mike more reminiscent of the 50's Elvis Presley had them eating out of his hands.

Fever the crowd rushed Fever! a pelvic thrust - the crowd rushes again and so it went on.

Those poor security guards should have bee paid ten-fold just for that one song!

Throughout it was obvious that Elvis Presley just loved every second of the 'tease'. One could just hear him thinking '...here I am 20 years later and I've still got 'em goin' crazy!.'. Yes sure he surely did!

Elvis Presley late called for his guitar '...just to prove he could play' and strummed his way through fantastic renditions of Blue Christmas and That's All Right.

All too soon - it was all over!

Many of the crowd seemed too stunned to move. Elvis Presley had hit them like us like a thunderbolt that night!

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