my name is Harper, i'm 24 and my pronouns are she/her. i love writing and this blog is basically my creative outlet for that! a masterlist of all my work can be found here.
iām primarily a Call of Duty blog, but i also write for The Pitt, Sons of Anarchy and more in the future. a full list of who iām currently accepting requests for & my rules can be found here. i keep it regularly updated and requests are pretty much always open.
my writing will mostly consist of f!reader and gender neutral!reader. i write a mixture of genres including fluff, angst and smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! my blog contains 18+ content.
my sideblog for reblogs/rambles is @steamertrunk. iām always open to messages and making new friends!! :))
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pathetic konig who is so obsessed with you that he just cant stop fucking you (in a chokehold, creampie AND overstimulation) ? š
this is delicious i hope i managed to deliver everything hehe ;)
content: SMUT MDNI, creampie, overstimulation, idk its just dirty lol
Boyfriend Kƶnig who just loves you soooo much that he can't help but overstimulate you both when he fucks you :((
He's got you face down on the bed, his whole damn body weight pressing you into the mattress as he bullies his fat cock in and out of your cunt. There's a creamy ring around the base thanks to how many times you've both already come, the slick noises almost obscene.
"Schatzā¦ you feel so goodā¦" he slurs the words into your ear, completely drunk on the sex and on you. He shifts slightly, one hand sliding underneath you to angle your hips up, allowing him to fuck you deeper. His other arm loops around your neck, his meaty muscles almost choking you as he pulls your face out of the pillow you'd buried it in. Kƶnig whimpers when your sweet noises fill the room again, his hips stuttering in their rhythm.
Somehow, you're on the edge of yet another orgasm, your body worked up into a goddamn frenzy. "Kƶnig! Too much," you gasp, your body tensing up beneath him. He growls, feeling the way you clench even tighter around his sensitive dick, sucking him in. He's so addicted to you, so obsessed with the feeling of you. His thrusts speed up again, his hips hitting your ass with each punishing movement that pushes you closer and closer to your high. You finally come with a high pitched mewl, followed by a broken sob. Your body twitches, your cunt pulsing wildly, every nerve in your body overwhelmed.
The sensation makes Kƶnig almost fucking blackout. You feel so good that he can't stop himself from fucking into you faster as he feels his own release nearing. "Ah, maus," he whines, biting at your neck as he lets go. His whole body shudders as he floods you with what seems like an endless supply of his seed, his cock twitching inside you until it's empty. You feel his body grow limp, crushing you beneath a solid wall of muscle. Even now, with both of you exhausted and overstimulated, his hips are still moving in slow grinds that have you whimpering beneath him.
Once his vision and mind clears somewhat, he pushes himself up and reluctantly pulls out with a hiss. His dick feels raw - it's been milked dry by you, by his insatiable need for you. Kƶnig watches hungrily as a smear of your combined juices slides from your puffy, well used hole and drips down your thigh.
That sight alone is enough to make him want to go again, even if neither of your bodies can take itā¦
Kyle Garrick isn't your boyfriend. He's your teammate, your colleague and your friend. But you aren't dating him. He isn't yours.
So there's really no reason for you to feel so fucking jealous right now.
The new recruit is pretty, the kind of girl guys dream of. She's a blonde with blue eyes, tits that are barely contained in her uniform. And she's flirting with Kyle so hard that it hurts. Flicking her hair, fluttering her eyelashes, laughing at his jokes, touching his arm... she clearly wants him. You get it. Kyle is, well, Kyle - handsome, charming and funny. He's perfect.
You stand across the training yard, next to Price and Ghost. They're talking, but you can't hear a word they say. All you can focus on is Kyle and that woman, anger flowing through your veins. If you clench your jaw any harder, it might break.
You could kill her. Okay, maybe that's a little extreme. You could certainly smack her, though. Really hard. She's embarrassing herself, and you. You're ashamed of how you feel for a man who isn't even yours. A man you didn't even realise you wanted to be yours until this moment.
Before you can think twice, your feet are moving, walking you towards the pair of them. What's your plan? You aren't sure. Hopefully you won't hit her. You can't afford another disciplinary action against youā¦
"Oh, hi love," Kyle says as you reach the two of them, his eyes lighting up like they always do when you're around. "What're youā" you cut off his words with a grunt, cupping his face in your hands and pulling his lips to yours. It's a kiss that's hard and claiming, meant to let this bitch know that he's yours. Even though he technically isn't.
Your tongue plunges in his mouth as his breath catches in his throat. His hands hover in the air for a moment before settling on your waist, gripping you tight enough to almost lift you off the floor. After a minute, you pull away, leaving Kyle panting with darkened eyes, his dick already hard in his pants as you turn your attention to the blonde.
"Hi!" you chirp with mock kindness, your eyes glaring daggers at her. "I'm not sure we've been introduced..."
thinking about your dad's best friend john price who has a pool at his house that you use during heatwaves...
content: MDNI, age gap, price is a dirty old man and a bit of a creep
anytime the temperature creeps up towards 30Ā°, you're calling John and asking begging so sweetly if you can hang out by his pool. you don't have to ask twice - just the idea of watching you lounge around in next to nothing makes John's cock stir to life. he'll take any excuse to shamelessly stare at you.
when you get there with so much skin on show, a possessive growl rumbles up in Johnās chest at the idea of other men seeing you like that. he quickly ushers you into the privacy of his home, his hand burning where it rests on your lower back. ācome on, doll,ā he purrs into your ear, ālet me get you a drink.ā
John gets you settled outside, a drink in your hand that he swears barely has any alcohol in it. the sun is shining brightly on you, providing him with the perfect excuse to touch you. ālet me put this sun cream on you, love,ā he murmurs, his rough hands gliding across your soft skin. they linger a little too long on your hips, rub a little too high up on your thighs, but it's fine! heās just taking care of you!!
when you finally get in the cool water of the pool, he's standing there watching you with hungry eyes. the way the water glides over your body, the way you swim so effortlessly... if you see him palming himself over his shorts, don't be surprised. that's just the effect you have on him.
he watches as you pull yourself out of the pool, his eyes roving over the way the water droplets cascade down your body. he licks his lips, stepping closer to you. you look up at him as you speak, "can I have a towel, John?" the way you say his name makes him groan, his hands already reaching out for you.
"course, love. let's go inside and I can help you... dry off," he says, dragging you to the house, ready to show you his own special way of drying you...
a rabbot wedding <3 kind of a follow up to this post
The afternoon sun is bright and warm, but not as warm as the smiles on Robby and Jack's faces as they walk outside to the cheers of their closest friends. Their fingers are intertwined, both palms a little sweaty with lingering nerves. Today was the biggest, most important day of either of their lives.
Their wedding. The day they finally tied the knot.
The ceremony itself was a quiet affair. That's what they both wanted. They're old men - they didn't want to make too much fuss about this. People already give them enough trouble for taking so damn long to get to this point. Jack and Robby accept that teasing with chuckles and nods, because they're right. They did take too long to finally admit their love for each otherā¦ but it's not too late for them.
"The happy couple!" Dana shouts, someone tossing another handful of confetti over the two men. There's no photographer, not a professional one, anyway. Just an old friend with a camera, capturing the special moments that will become cherished memories.
"Kiss, kiss," comes a chant from Trinity, a sneaky grin on her face. Robby huffs and Jack rolls his eyes, but they're already turning to face each other. Robby's hands grip Jack's waist as he leans down, their lips meeting in a kiss that says more than words. It's their silent way of saying 'I love you', and it means even more today. They lose themselves in the kiss for a few moments, momentarily forgetting the people gathered around them.
When they finally break apart, Jack is grinning and Robby is blushing. Actually blushing. Someone makes an 'awww' sound and Robby's glare could kill. "Okay, okay," Jack says with a chuckle, "Let's go get this party started, yeah?
Inside the marquee they hired out for the evening, the music is playing and the drinks are flowing. The speeches have been given, with a few laughs and more than a few tears. It's almost time for the couple's first dance, but the two men manage to slip outside for a moment to themselves. They stand watching the sunset, the muffled sounds of people having fun a soundtrack to their quiet moment together.
"You good?" Jack asks Robby, turning to look at him in awe. This man is his husband, finally. All the years of quiet longing were worth it to get to this point, even if it almost killed him to keep his feelings hidden at times. Everything is out in the open now, both of them laid bare, how it always should have been.
Robby smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes Jack worry he might faint right there and then. "Never been better," he says, and it's the truth. There's a certain light in Robby's eyes that Jack hasnāt seen forā¦ years. And now it's back, brighter than ever. "I love you," Robby whispers, leaning in to plant another kiss on his husbands lips.
Jack smiles, murmuring into the kiss. "I love you, more," he challenges, pulling back with a smirk. Robby laughs, shaking his head.
"Always gotta be a smartass, huh? Even on our wedding day," Robby says, grabbing Jack by the hand and dragging him back towards the marquee. "Come on, you owe me a dance." Jack goes willingly, already planning on dancing with the man he loves for the rest of the night.
He didn't take those dance classes for no reason, after allā¦
a/n: this was written for the 141recon's pride event where i got the theme 'wedding'!! so happy to have an excuse to write for jack and robby again <33
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content: simon finds out heās going to be a dad, mentions of childhood trauma and fear of parenthood, pregnancy, f!reader, kinda comfort/fluff with a tiny bit of angst??
wc: 1.6k
a/n: so itās fatherās day in the uk this sunday and i had this idea for a little fic, butā¦ it got out of control. enjoy <3
Simon Riley never celebrates Father's Day. With the pathetic excuse for a dad he had growing up, why would he? There was nothing about that man he wanted to even think about, let alone celebrate.
He has a vague recollection that today is the 'big day'. He saw the cards in the shops, heard the adverts on the radio. They were more like white noise to him, though. Something in the background that he barely paid any attention to. Today is just another day to Simon. There's no grand plans, just a quiet day in with you.
Or at least that what he thought.
When he wakes up, he feels the absence of you beside him immediately. His eyes snap open, his hands reaching out towards the empty space on the bed. The sheets are still warm, meaning you haven't long gotten up. It's strange and he knows straight away that something isā¦ wrong. He wastes no time getting up and making his way into the kitchen, searching for you.
"Love?" he calls, voice rough from sleep. He comes to a stop in front of the kitchen table, his heart sinking at the sight in front of him. You're not there. Instead, there's a letter and a box. Simon's mind automatically goes to the worst case scenario - you've left him. He knew it would happen some day. That you'd get fed up of his quietness, his traumas, his job, him. He's been preparing for it since the day he fell in love with you.
He sinks into the chair heavily, his hand shaking as he unfolds the letter. He's ready to see the words, that you're sorry but you can't do this anymore. His eyebrows shoot up when he reads what you've actually written. The letter starts out with you telling him you love him. That you've gone out because you think it's better if he's alone when he finds out. Maybe that was cowardly of you, but you couldn't stand to be there if his reaction was as bad as you feared.
"The fuck are you talkin' about, love?" he asks to the empty room. Confused and slightly concerned, he places the letter down and opens the box. At first, he isn't sure what he's looking at. A mug and some sort of white stick. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, like some part of him already knows and his brain is just refusing to accept it. He reaches in, pulling the stick out and holding it up.
It's a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.
"ā¦fuck," Simon says, the word more of a grunt than anything. Now he understands why you left. It is better for him to be alone right now, because he wouldn't want you to see him like this - out of control. He throws the test with a growl, the plastic bouncing against the floor as he grits his teeth together so hard they could crack. His mind races through all the different emotions - denial, anger, fear. How could this happen? He didn't plan this. He didn't want this. A child. His child. That thought sends a shiver down his spine, but he isn't sure if it's from terror or something else.
He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment as the idea of being a father settles in his mind, running through his options of what the fuck to do about it. He could just leave now, disappear somewhere you won't be able to find him. It's a tempting possibility and Simon thinks about it more than he'd like to admit. Then, he remembers that there's other another item in the box. The mug. Reluctantly, he pulls it out and his heart almost stops when he reads what the ceramic says.
"Happy Father's Day to the world's best dad!"
It's like a punch in the face. 'World's best dad'. Simon sits with those words, silent and focused on the weight of them and what they mean for what feels like hours. His fears sit heavy on his shoulders, a million 'what if's' running through his mind. What if he can't be a good father? Or worse - what if he turns into his own father? He can deal with war and bloodshed, but the thought of making you or his kid cry? That makes him feel sick.
He's so lost in his own head that he doesn't notice the front door opening, doesn't hear you saying his name. "Simon?" you call, your heart dropping every second he doesn't respond, convincing yourself that he's left both the house and you. You should have told him the news in person, you think. Maybe that have deterred him from running.
When you turn into the kitchen and see him sitting there, your first feeling is relief. That's quickly pushed away when you see the almost distant look in his eyes, though.
"Si?" you whisper, approaching him slowly. You're not sure if he's about to run out on you, yell at you or accept this. It's moments like these that you wish you you'd fallen for a man who was easy to read, but then he wouldn't be Simon. You hover in front of him, your hands twitching at your sides. "I'm sorry I wasn't here, and I want you to know that if you don't want this, it's okayā"
His growl cuts you off. His head snaps up and you can see that his eyes are a little red, like he's been crying. "Don't say that," he snaps, but not out of anger at you. No, he's angry at himself. Angry that he made you feel so afraid to tell him, that he made you think he would turn his back on you. "Don'tā¦ don't apologise, either. Iā¦" his words get caught in his throat, his voice almost cracking as his eyes drift down to your stomach. It's still flat, but the knowledge of what's growing beneath the surface is enough to bring him to his knees.
Literally.
Simon slides off of his chair, slowly sinking to his knees on the kitchen tiles in front of you. His hands shake slightly as he reaches up, resting his palms over your belly like it's something sacred. You can see the storm of emotions in his eyes: fear, wonder, awe andā¦ happiness? You really weren't sure what to expect, but it feels like you can breathe a little easier knowing his reaction is positive. At least to some extent.
"I'm fuckin' terrified, love," he whispers, looking up at you through his blonde eyelashes. It's not easy for him to be honest like this, especially not about his feelings. But he's had a lot of time today to sit and think in the silence of the house. Without you here, it felt empty, more like a prison than a home. And Simon knows that having a child won't be easy, but he never wants to hear the silence again. He wants to hear you. He wants to hear the giggle of a baby, even the damn crying. "I don't know how to be a father. Not like I had a good example to learn from," he admits with a half smile that's laced with pain. You sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and he leans into your touch before continuing. "But I'm going to try. I'm going to make sure I deserve that mug. I swear it to ya.. and to them."
His words have an immediate effect on you, tears gathering in your eyes You can blame it on the hormones, right? Definitely those and not the man currently at your feet. "Oh, Siā¦" you say, cupping his cheek. "I know you will. I know." It's the truth. He might doubt himself, might see his father reflected back at him when he looks in the mirror, but you don't. You see the man you love - loyal, protective and brave. All things a good father needs to be.
You keep your hand on his face as he lifts your shirt, pressing a kiss against the skin of your stomach. His eyes flutter closed, his breath warm when he whispers. "I've got you, little one. Always." He lingers there for a few more seconds before rising to his feet, a hand cupping the back of your head to press your face against his chest. You let the tears come then, dampening his shirt as he kisses the top of your head. "And I've got you, sweetheart," he murmurs into your hair.
You pull back, resting your forehead against his. You want to tell him that you're afraid, too. That neither of you know what you're doing and that you'll figure it all out together. But you think he already knows that. He can probably read it in your eyes. So, you kiss him instead. A slow, lingering kiss that says more than a thousand words ever could.
"I love you," you murmur against his lips, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. Simon reaches a hand up, cupping your face and catching a stray tear with his thumb. He smiles for the first time today, a real smile that shows his dimple and makes him look younger somehow. You smile back, letting out a little breath that could be considered a laugh. "We're having a baby," the words come out like you can't quite believe them. Like this is all a miracle.
"I love you, too," he replies, kissing your forehead. "We'll work it out, baby. You, me and them." It's a simple statement, butā¦ it's what you needed to hear.
For now, it's enough.
big thanks to my bestie @ofcourseiwillmydarling for reading this as i wrote it <3 divider is by @saradika-graphics !!
i agree with leo vibes, are u into like big 3 or 6 stuff as well? do you maybe have any headcanons for him?
ooooo okay!! so Graves is a Leo sun, Gemini moon and maybe a Scorpio rising?? or at least thatās what i think
random headcanon is that he claims to think horoscopes and zodiac signs are ābullshitā but he secretly reads his weekly horoscopes and enjoys looking at zodiac memes when he should be working LOL
and heās definitely the type of boyfriend to buy you things with your zodiac sign on if youāre into it <3
the 141's favourite place (or places) to kiss you š
Price is a master at forehead and head kisses in general. One of his big hands cupping the back of your head as he leans in to press a firm kiss against the skin of your forehead. He loves when you're in bed together, spooning you from behind as he kisses the top of your head and breathes in the scent of you. Something about a forehead kiss makes Price feel in control, makes him feel like the protector. He knows that he can keep you safe in his arms.
Gaz loves to kiss your hands because it's smooth and such a gentlemanly thing to do. He claims it's the most intimate place to kiss. Whether he's holding your hands while you're walking down the street, he's helping you out of the car or you're feeding him something. He kisses your palm, your fingers and your knuckles. He also loves to kiss the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse point is, feeling the flutter of your heart beneath his lips that gives away how much he affects you.
Ghost is a classic mouth kisser. His lips might be chapped and scarred, but they somehow feel like heaven against your own. He always gives you a long, deep kiss before he goes on deployments, like he's trying to memorise the feel of you. When he gets home he does the same, sighing against your lips. It's a reminder that you're real and alive. When you kiss him back, tongues meeting in a dance as old as time, it proves that despite all his flaws, you still love him.
Soap will kiss your neck at any opportunity. He loves the way you shiver every time. He'll come up behind you when you're getting dressed, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck before simply walking away. The spot where your neck meets your shoulder is his favourite, especially when you're both relaxing on the couch. He'll leave kiss after kiss there, maybe sneaking in one or two bites if you let him. There's something so intimate about it that he loves. No one else kisses you there, only him.
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request: headcanons for phillip graves when he realizes he is in love with you?
this was such a fun request!! not sure if this is exactly headcanons because i got a little carried away with it but enjoy! š«£
Honestly, Phillip will have been flirting with you for so long before he actually falls for you that it takes him a while to realise it. It probably hits him one day when he sees someone else flirt with you and a hot rage settles in his stomach. How dare someone else try to make you smile like he does? That's when he knows he's in love with you, but more than thatā¦ he has to make you his.
And he won't waste any time in doing that.
There's no phase of denial for Phil, no wondering if you want him too. He goes straight to trying to woo you. Huge bouquets of flowers start arriving at your door, a handwritten card with a compliment on tucked beneath a piece of ribbon. Every time you see him, he's puffing his chest out and showing off to you. He's not shy about giving you expensive gifts - jewellery, bags, clothesā¦ whatever he knows you like.
One day, a fancy car comes to pick you up for some extravagant date he's arranged. That's when you tell him that he doesn't need to do all of this. All the showing off isn't exactly the way to win someones heart. This news is like a revelation to Phil. A big slap in the face. What do you mean the excessive flirting, the cheesy lines and the money he's thrown at you aren't what you want? When you explain that it's him you care about, not all the other stuff, his jaw snaps shut as he has the second biggest realisation of his life.
That he's an idiot.
After that, he shows you he loves you in smaller ways. A hand on your back in crowds. His eyes always finding yours in a room. Memorising your favourite orders and the little things you mention you want. Making you smile.
He still sends the flowers and buys you gifts, though. What can he say? His love language is gift giving, doll.
walking into your shift only to find out the new attending is your ex girlfriend baran al-hashimi š
content: SMUT MDNI, jealousy, messy relationship??, making out and fingering in a storage closet lol, f!reader
The last thing you expected when you walked into work this morning was to end up pinned to the door of a storage room with your ex girlfriendās fingers knuckle deep inside you. Then again, you didnāt expect to find out the new attending was your ex, either.
āBaran,ā you gasp, her name both a curse and a prayer on your tongue. You hand is fisted in her hair, fingers tangled around the curls you love so much. Her lips are pressed against your neck, her teeth lightly grazing your skin. Every time she crooks her fingers, you moan, hoping no one outside this room can hear you.
Baran smiles against your neck, dragging her lips up to your own. āShh, baby,ā she whispers, kissing you and muffling your sounds of pleasure with her mouth. āDonāt want anyone to hear you, do we?ā Thatās not exactly true. A part of her does want people to hear, to know that youāre hers.
Itās your own fault for flirting with your co-workers today. After you saw Baran, you wanted toā¦ provoke her. Itās been a few months since you broke up and youād be lying if you said you hadnāt been thinking about her. Plus, her jealousy was always hot to you.
āFuck you,ā you growl against her lips, your hands moving across her body, roaming down her back and grabbing a handful of her ass to pull her into you. Her fingers donāt stop, but you hear her groan as she breaks the kiss.
She presses her forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. āAlready doing that, arenāt we?ā she teases, but her voice is thick with desire. The fire between the two of you has always burned hot, hot enough to hurt. āCāmon, babyā¦ let go for me,ā she whispers, her thumb slipping to rub circles over your clit.
The added stimulation makes your back arch away from the door. You bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, quieting the moans and cries of her name that are threatening to escape you. Your pussy clenches around her finger as you fall apart, a shudder wracking your entire body. She always could play you like an instrument.
Baran could watch you like this all day. Eyes glazed over, skin flushed, chest heaving... it's the same image she's pictured every time she's touched herself since you left. And now she has you back in her arms, she isn't planning on letting you slip away again this time.
With a soft pop, she pulls her fingers from you and brings them up to your lips. You flick your tongue out automatically, tasting yourself. She moans, eyes dilating at the sight. "Good girl," she purrs, pulling her hand away and fixing your clothes. Trying to make you at least at little respectable for when you walk out this room.
call of duty - simon ghost riley, john price, kyle gaz garrick, john soap mactavish, kƶnig, phillip graves, valeria, kate laswell + nikolai
the pitt - michael robinavitch, jack abbot, frank langdon, cassie mckay, baran al-hashimi, trinity santos, mel king, dana evans, samira mohan, victoria javadi, parker ellis, jesse van horn + brendon park
sons of anarchy - jax teller, opie winston, juice ortiz, happy lowman, tig trager + chibs telford
the walking dead - rick grimes, daryl dixon, + negan smith
andrew āpopeā cody
joel miller
ships - can't list them all here, but i have written ghoap, pricegaz, poly!141 and rabbot. happy to write others!
rules:
i'll write most genres, like fluff, angst, smut... just specify in the ask which you'd like!! this also applies to headcanons and AU's - feel free to get creative!
i'm happy to write both f!reader and gn!reader, but please let me know if you want one or the other. add any quirks, appearance or personality traits you want, or give me free reign
dark topics are welcome, but if anything makes me uncomfortable i will just delete it! don't be shy to send unhinged and horny asks ;)
any homophobic, racist, sexist, or otherwise hateful messages aimed at me or others will be deleted
if there's a character not on my list that you'd like something written for, ask! there's a good chance i'll be willing to write for them lol
Soap who always answers the 'boobs or butt' question with the cheesy answer of personality or heart... but you know the truth
content: SMUT MDNI, basically just Soap being obsessed with your tits, f!reader
Boobs. The answer is boobs. Soap loves them, your boobs especially. In fact, he loves them to the point of worship.
He practically drools when you wear lowcut tops and dresses, no matter how much cleavage is on show. Just a sliver is enough to get him hard. He loooooves leaving hickeys across your chest and seeing them peek out from beneath your clothes. And if you wear necklaces - or better yet, his dog tags - that nestle in the valley between your breasts? Yeah, he's dragging you to the nearest bathroom to take care of the problem in his pants.
When you're at home, your tits are never safe from him. If you're cooking or washing up, he'll come up behind you, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck while his hands slip under your shirt to grope at you. If you're lying on the couch, he's gonna bury his face in between your tits and use them as a pillow. He loves when you shower together or share a bath so he can lather you up, focusing on your chest for longer than necessary.
Cowgirl is his favourite position purely for the view. His pupils will be blown out wide as he watches you move above him like some sort of goddess. He'll either be reaching up to grab handfuls of your flesh, or leaning in to lavish them with his mouth. Likes to pinch and suck your nipples until you squirm. You gave him a boob job one time and he barely lasted a minute. Not that you minded.
So, whenever Soap answers that question with what you know is a lie, you silently roll your eyes. He's a boob man everyday of the week.
Hey, just wanted to ask if you write for ghoap too if asked, since I saw you've written some yourself before?
hi anon!! yes i do write for ghoap and am open to requests for them :))
probably should have added this into my list and i will go back and edit it but i will write for a lot of different ships like basically any of 141 shipped with each other <3
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saw the mw4 trailer and it got me thinking about being the partner John Price left behindā¦
content: angst, rogue Price, military inaccuracies oops
āI told you, Simon,ā you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time today, your voice weary, āI donāt know where John is.ā
Simon watches you from across the table. The interrogation table. You can hardly believe youāre here, being treated like some war criminal all because your husband abandoned you for revenge. They keep telling you youāre not in trouble and that youāll only be here for a few hours, but youāre losing hope. Especially when Simon looks at you like that.
āI donāt believe you,ā he states flatly, his fingers drumming against the table. Heās desperate. āPrice must have told you something. Anything. We just need a lead, love.ā A lead, like itās that simple.
You shake your head, looking up at the ceiling. āHeād never put me in danger like that,ā you whisper, feeling the emotion build up inside you. āYou know he wouldnāt. I know heās fucked up, but you and I both know heās doing this for the right reasons.ā You level your gaze with Simon, your eyes raw and honest. āLet me go home. Please. This hasnāt been easy for me, or the family.ā
You see a tiny flicker in his eyes, sympathy maybe. Perhaps guilt, even. He leans back with a sigh, slowly nodding before getting to his feet. āIāll drive you back,ā he says, resting his hand on your lower back as he guides you out of the room.
You say goodbye on your doorstep, with a hug and a promise to phone him if you hear anything from your husband. Then youāre alone in the house you that, up until a few days ago, you shared with John.
It feels too quiet, too empty without him. The smell of him - the combination of bourbon, cigars and gun smoke - is already fading away. You do everything you would do on a normal day, but the absence of John feels like a physical in your chest. Nothing about this is normal.
By the time evening rolls around, you double check that the front door is locked before closing all the curtains in the house. You make sure that the whole house is secure and safe, even though you can see the unmarked car parked across the street. Watching you and your house for any sign of John.
With a sigh, you retreat to your bedroom. The bed feels too big without John sharing it, his clothes still hanging in the wardrobe. You perch on the edge of the bed, watching as the clock on the sideboard ticks towards 9pm. Your fingers play with the necklace youāre wearing as you wait, a gift from John on your first wedding anniversary.
Then, as soon as the hour ticks over, the phone rings. Right on time.
Not the landline. Not your mobile.
You drag the suitcase from under the bed, digging under the clothes to pull out the black brick of a phone. Untraceable and unidentifiable. Your hand is steady as you press it to your ear, a slight smile tugging at your lips as the familiar voice of your husband fills your ear.
āHello, darling,ā John murmurs into the phone, his voice crackling thanks to wherever he currently is. āMiss me?ā
a/n: thinking about expanding this into a full fic?? maybe??
can i request a trinity x fem reader fic wherein its inspired by bags by clairo? ive been listenjng to that song so bad and its making crave angst with trinity in it,,
hi anon!! i'll be honest and say that i'd never heard this song before, but i had a listen and i hope that this is fitting... i actually loved writing it even though it hurt </3 part two maybe???
content: angst, trinity santos is bad at feelings, lil argument, f!reader, bad communication and unspoken feelings. 911 words
The evening sun shines through the blinds, painting the room in soft shades of pink and orange, but all Trinity can focus on is you. On the way the light catches your eyes or the way your whole face lights up when you laugh at something on the TV. All she can feel is the heat of your body against her own and the way her heart is beating in her chest like it wants to break free.Ā
āHey,ā she blurts out suddenly, her voice cutting through the sound of whatever shitty movie is playing. Itās a Saturday night thatās become a routine for the two of you - movie and takeout at Trinityās apartment. You turn your face away from the screen, an eyebrow raised in question.Ā
The words are right there on her tongue. Just a few fucking simple words. It shouldnāt be this hard for her to say them, not after the shit she deals with at work everyday. But a gunshot wound isnāt half as scary as the thought of losing you. Itās not even about rejection; she could deal with that. You walking out of her life? That would destroy her.Ā
She doubts you feel the same way about her as she feels about you.
Trinity shakes her head, clearing her throat as she gently pushes you away from her. Literally and figuratively. āGoing to grab a drink,ā she mutters, standing and heading towards the kitchen, leaving you alone with the movie and your thoughts.
A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you sink into the couch. You don't know what's going on with her lately, but she's been acting like this for weeks. It's like something has changed between the two of you, something you weren't even aware of. You wish she'd justā¦ tell you. You're her best friend - why can't she be honest with you?
With a sigh, you turn off the TV and head into the kitchen. Trinity is standing at the sink, her back to you. You lean against the doorframe, your arms crossed over your chest as you speak up. "What's going on with you, Trin?" you ask, your tone almost blunt. You want her to know that you want the truth, once and for all.
Trinity swallows, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly turns to face you. She leans back against the counters, gripping the edges either side of her. "Nothing," she says, "I'm just tired from work." It's a weak excuse, but believable, right? She did have a long shift today, and you know that she's been dealing with some shit there.
But you also know when she's lying.
You scoff, shaking your head. "That's bullshit," you reply, taking a step closer to her. "You've been like this for weeks. Did I do something? Is that why you'reā¦ not telling me stuff?" It hurts you to ask that, but you know you have to.
She wants to laugh at that question. Did you do something? Only steal her heart, she thinks silently. Only make it impossible for her to go a day without thinking about you, without imagining how it might be to finally kiss you. She doesn't say any of that, though, shaking her head instead. "No, you didn't. I justā¦" she trails off, clenching her jaw as she fights for what to say, but you cut her off before she can get another word out.
"Then what is it, Trin?" you ask, demand, walking towards her until you're right in front of her. "What is it you're not telling me?" You search her eyes with your own, looking forā¦ something. The eye contact is intense, almost too much for Trinity to handle. She can't tell you that she's in love with you. Not now. It's not the right time. She doesn't know if it will ever be the right time.
So, she does what she does best.
"Jesus, can you just chill out?" Trinity snaps, holding her hands up in the small space between the two of you. "You're acting like you're my fucking mother or something. I am allowed to not tell you things." This is what she does best - using sarcasm and anger as a defence mechanism, as something to build a wall around her heart. You can't reject her if she pushes you away first. It's a broken logic, but it's all she has.
You rear back as if she slapped you. In fact, you think her words might hurt more than a physical hit would. You know that this is what Trinity does, but you never thought she'd do it to you. You though you meant more to her than that. Your face crumples in pain for a few moments before you square your shoulders, setting your lips in a thin line that's almost a frown. "Well, if that's how you feelā¦" you mutter, walking backwards, opening a gap between the two of you that's more than just space. You hope she can't see the glossy sheen to your eyes. "I'm glad you finally stopped holding back, Trinity."
You call her Trinity, not Trin. That feels like a goddamn stab straight to her heart. She watches as you spin around, already heading towards the door. You're leaving, walking away and it's all her fault.
She reacts too late, reaching out for you with a quiet "Wait," but all she gets in response is the sound of the front door slamming shut behind you.
