This is the key to safely navigating my blog, including tags I use and hopefully one day a masterlist of my works. BTW this blog is 18+. I absolutely will not post anything regarding children in a sexual way, anything to do with poop or pee, or anything regarding the abuse of animals. Incest is a no go. I also hate AI and anything pertaining to it. If you feed anything I write into an AI I will introduce you to new bodily sensations. If I can post stupid fanfic, so can you. It doesn't have to be perfect for it to be good and mean something to someone.
#the horse speaks = anything technical I might say, updates, life news, important prophetic dreams
#cod = anything relating to call of duty (I have played the first two modern warfare remastered games).
#cod fanfic, #codxreader fanfic, #(character name) x reader, #(character name) = expect to see one or all of these on any cod fic I write.
#rebog = anything reblogged (can someone fill me in on the lowdown with reblogs these days?)
#for lyfers = my long form fics. I'm a yapper so get used to seeing this one.
#one and done = oneshots.
#surprise sequel = just in case genius strikes or someone gives me a good idea for a follow up to a oneshot.
#maybe baby? = ideas I have and am sending out for feelers.
#Vip club = just in case I decide to post something spicy.
#And how do you really feel? = polls
#____ masterlist = what ever fandom you are looking for + masterlist.
Feel free to send me an ask or any silly ideas you might have.
I have seen many conflicting messages of whatever Konig has underneath his little hood. Here I have complied some of the ones I have seen so far. Vote for which ever one you like the most.
What's going on under there?
Big, Bald, and Beautiful
Luxurious long red hair (shot with grey if your a real one)
Here it is kids. My first fanfic. I'm going to be real with you. This thing is a mess. But I don't care. If I don't post it now I'll chicken out and mama didn't raise a coward. I have many devious Call of Duty ideas which I will further detail in my blog. Tell me how this first chapter makes you feel and then see if there is anything else on my blog you can get behind. And if you see grammar or spelling errors just drop me a message. Cheers.
Price x reader, Everything is the same but Price gets bitten by a Were-Bear. A doozy around 3,500 words. See tags for appropriate warnings.
You peered out of your front window as you saw a truck roll down into your neighbors drive way. It was a misty, grey morning, as it often was in this part of the country. You could barely see beyond the pebbly gravel road, into the lush green fields draped in thick blankets of grey clouds. Being just outside of town limits made both the gloom and the glow of oncoming headlights from the road even more noticeable. As you held back the dainty yellow curtain of your front window you could faintly make out the shape of the man sitting in the front seat of the truck between the orange headlights and the dusty light from the freshly risen sun. You let out a sigh of relief seeing who it was in the front seat.
Your neighbor, John Price, was a very nice man, but a very strange one. When you had first moved out to the country side, to the little cottage you now called home, he was more than a bit gruff and rough around the edges. It might have been because before you had moved in, the little cottage was occupied by a little old lady, who has since been moved to a care facility, whose children only came around every so often to make sure the home hadn’t fallen apart. The two homes were situated unusually close to one another for the countryside and you were sure John wasn’t thrilled about having a neighbor who could practically see into his back garden. Most people moved out here for the solitude, yourself included.
You were not built for city life. While it was convenient to have all the modern amenities so close to your house, it wasn’t worth increasing rent and urban smog. In London, no matter how many people surrounded you on all sides, you felt all alone. It was what you imagined being a tiny pebble in a fast-flowing river was like. Surrounded by people who share similar aspirations of becoming something one day, all worn down into smooth, easy to sum up summaries for their resumes by the never ending current of working low wage jobs during the day and living in apartments smaller than a broom closet but that cost more than two weeks labor. That place was stifling. Getting out was easier said than done, but your job being able to be done remotely and the luck of mother somehow knowing the old woman who once lived in your home was your lucky break. That’s the thing about you, something that you reminded yourself of daily. That you were a lucky, lucky girl.
That luck seemed to extend to the social aspects of your life as John warmed up to your presence. Now a days he would tolerate your invites for Sunday dinner and occasional social visits around tea time. When he was home that was. From what you’ve been able to pry out of him; John’s line of work was “travel heavy” and meant he would be away often for long amounts of time. When he was explaining that to you in stilted tones over a cup of tea, he wouldn’t make eye contact, eyes darting around the room like one misspoken word would summon some waiting for him to make a fatal mistake.
He was annoyingly vague on what the job actually was, but you had gleaned that it was something government related. You could understand why he wasn’t forthcoming about his job, for all you know he could be some kind of super spy, going across the world to stop bad guys in their tracks. The thought of John trying to squeeze his muscular body through tiny, dusty vents had always made you giggle. He would probably somehow have that fashionable yet old fashioned Boonie hat still on.
You knew the most likely story was that his job was quite stressful and that he’d rather not divulge in front of the Sunday roast. Not everyone could get as lucky as you work wise. You had your father’s reputation to thank in snagging some fairly high-class clients. Your father had been a financial advisor for almost 30 years, working his way up the company ranks and eventually splitting off to make this own small firm. He had always encouraged you to follow your dreams of becoming a librarian, claiming that you were what inspired him to follow his. Your father is on the other side of the country, but every time you take apart dusty shelves of books that have been touched by tens of generations of people and show them the care and love they deserve, you send a silent thank you to your father for his support for all these years.
Whatever it was that was making John Price so reluctant to tell, you weren’t going to press the poor man. When he came home it was early in the morning or late at night and he would only stay for two to three weeks before packing up and leaving at the same ungodly hours. Anyone with a job that required them to keep hours like that had enough on their plate and didn’t need to add a nosy but well-meaning neighbor too it. So, you simply set your burning curiosity aside and kept any of your theories to yourself.
Because of John’s unusual hours of operation and sporadic time spent at home, you had taken it upon yourself to make sure nothing bad happened to his home while he was gone. It was fairly easy, given that due to the lack of lights out in the country, even the headlights of a car quietly passing by would wake you. You were also close enough that if anyone broke a window in a break in attempt, you would hear it clear as day. Not to mention that almost no one came down your lonely country lane, unless they were lost or visiting either you or John.
That’s what had led you to be staring out the window this morning, your face hovering close enough to the glass to feel the chill of the outside on your skin. You continued to watch as John stepped out of the truck, dressed for the cool weather in dark brown cargo pants, a big blue farmer’s jacket, and of course you noted with a little smile, the signature Boonie hat. He had his head down as he futzed with his keys, looking for whichever one would open his little cottage. As he came to a stop in front of the door his head suddenly shot up and turned in your direction.
Oh, crap
In a panic you ducked your head down dropping away from the window. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man move that quickly.
I hope he didn’t notice me!
If you were being completely honest with yourself, you tended to stare to stare out your windows a lot when John was around. You were sure that he would recognize your flitting form behind the curtains from all the times he glanced over when you didn’t expect it. Okay, you had a little bit of a crush on him. Just a tiny one. How could you not? Once he had stopped grumbling at you (around the end of your first week here), he became quite the gentleman. Every time you came over to visit, he would pull out a chair for you and would offer to carry things for you if you saw each other in town. It would be one thing if he was simply polite and homely. But John Price was one of the most ruggedly handsome men you ever had the honor of seeing. Even though he didn’t spend a majority of his time out here, he fit right into the swooping valleys and jagged cliffs that dotted the landscape. John was a solid, sturdy type, the kind of man made to last that the big cities just couldn’t produce any more.
You loved to watch him move about on the farm, always occupied even in his brief time off. He never seemed to be able to take a day off. Your favorite of his farm chores though was when he would chop wood in his back garden on the rare day when the sun would pierce the clouds. He was pretty predictable in terms of schedule, and you would always migrate to your kitchen window to get the best view of his well-built back as he swung the axe down in a swift stroke. You loved to admire how his muscles would ripple and flex under his t-shirt or wife beater as he worked. He was awfully efficient, splitting logs in one swing, maintaining a constant rhythm.
It was always convenient that you had some kind of refreshing drink made up about that time of day. You would usher him into your kitchen in all of sweaty glory, his fingers meeting around your largest glass, brushing against your fingers as he gently took it from you. Your generous offer of refreshments wasn’t completely selfless though. Watching the muscles in his neck work as he chugged his drink was like an encore to the show he gave you earlier.
You tried not to get distracted by the thoughts of those few bright days in your sun-soaked kitchen, your ears still ringing with the echoes of soft belly deep laughter from John.
Surely, he’s made his way inside by now.
You chance a peek out the window and let out a deep breath of relief.
Thank God! I don’t think I’d ever recover if he noticed me!
A loud firm knock came from your front door. You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound, the adrenaline from nearly being caught came rushing back. You scrambled over to your door and wrenched it open.
You stood panting in the door way as a confused John Price raised one thick eyebrow at you.
“Did you have company you’re expecting love? Don’t know if I warrant that kind of response. Hope you’re not too disappointed,”
John grinned at you as he crossed his arms as you felt your face growing hot.
“Well, yes, but also, no I mean I,” You babbled at him as his grin grew at your struggles. You huffed at how embarrassing you were at the moment. John – who seemed to be amused at your struggle- leaned against the doorway.
“You, you’re the guest I was waiting for, not that I don’t have other guests that is! I mean not at this time of morning,” You mutter under your breath “not that I’m upset you’re here, quite the opposite actually” Turning around you squeak out the last part as you head to the kitchen “Never mind! I’ll put on the kettle, make yourself at home” You command as you turn your back to him, hoping that he can’t tell just how flustered you’re getting.
You flee into your kitchen, followed by the sound of his surprised chuckling, hoping that the familiar motions of making tea will help get your nerves back up.
Gosh, I knew I had a crush on him, but now I’m just making a fool of myself. I’ve got to get it back together! Okay, okay, I’m not going to think about big brawny arms or his- NO!
You shook your head at your errant thoughts. How could your mind betray you at a time like this!
The tea kettle let out a shrill whistle as you hastily set up a tray with two cups, honey, milk, and a pastry you had made the other day. You nosily clattered your way out to the living room, setting the tray in front of a now seated John. You kept your head down and avoided eye contact, embarrassed at being caught watching.
Oh my god, I hope he doesn’t think I’m some kind of busy body!
There would be nothing worse than your one neighbor thinking that you were some kind of creep. As you poured the hot water in with the tea leaves and handed it off to a still silent (probably contemplating whether or not he lived next to a mad woman) John, you noticed something strange peeking out of his jacket sleeve.
Was that a….
“…Bite mark?”
At your unintentional question, John quickly leaned back and pulled his jacket sleeve down to cover what looked like teeth marks. He cleared his throat and stared at his teacup, turning it to swirl the liquid content inside.
“Just some complicated foreign affairs negations, you know how messy politics is love”
You narrow your eyes at his unusual non-answer, as he looks up to meet your eyes. There’s something buried within his eyes, something steel hardened that tells you not to ask. Something that whispers to you that it’s better to not know. You look away, not sure you want to look to far into his eyes, for fear of the truth lying in the mind behind them. You pour yourself a cup of tea and drop in some honey. You clear your throat in an awkward attempt to reset the conversation.
“So beside aggressive negotiations, how was your trip?”
You swirl your spoon in your tea and meet his now placid gaze. He smiles at you, almost in an apologetic way, and you had a feeling that his earlier snub was more for your protection then his. You smiled back and cut a slice off of the pastry you had prepared.
“Would you like some, I made it yesterday. I was hoping you would come a long soon so we could share it.”
You already knew the answer would be yes as his face lit up and he leaned forward in his chair.
“Well, I’m glad I came back then love. Both for the pastry and for the treat of being in your company.”
He said in a low rumble as you slide the pastry onto one of the dainty plates from your tea set. You passed in tiny plate to John, who’s hands held too many calluses and scars for any diplomat, and sat back to listen about what ever vague details he would give this time.
John had been home for a couple of days when you saw the bear. The day had been almost aggressively normal, you and John settling back into your usual routine. You and him had a symbiotic relationship of some sorts; you almost had to considering how much your land overlapped. You too spent a considerate amount of time in each other’s presence because of that; it certainly helped that both of you enjoyed it.
In the morning John came over and fixed the kitchen door hinges that had become squeaky in his long absence. He stayed for lunch after which he helped you clean up. Then as the sun started to shift to the west and the light become golden and the shadows long, you met John in his back garden to pick the early harvest of apples. Well, John did most of the hard work as you stood next to the ladder taking full baskets of crisp red apples and giving him empty ones, keeping him company with news from your most recent job (“I’m pretty sure that they use their books as fine China with how many crumbs I’ve found lodged between the pages” He only shook his head in response). After all the apples where all picked the sun was almost touching the western hills. You bid a goodbye and goodnight to John after he had given you well over half of the apples, despite your pleas, and scurried back to your home, already plotting recipes for your bumper crop.
The light of the full moon was visible from the small gap in your curtains as you settled into bed. Just as you reached over to turn off your bedside light a metallic rattling came from outside your house. You paused.
*Thunk* A long silence *Thunk, cachtingggg*
You almost jumped as you heard what was probably your garbage can lid hitting the ground.
Maybe that fox from last summer is back? But this sounded bigger. Hmmm. Maybe someone’s lost dog?
You made your way down the stairs, still cautious, but more annoyed than anything. You crept to your backdoor, the flood lights you had installed last summer already triggered by whatever was moving out there. The farther you got down the stairs the louder the noises became. It was clear that this was no skinny, swift fox or even one of the bigger dogs you had seen before in the village.
As you started to move across the living room a massive shadow obscured the path before you. You froze, in awe of the sight before you. Surely not. It couldn’t be? It was impossible, bears have been extinct from this land for thousands of years, wiped out by the push of human occupation. But the shape was unmistakable. No other animals were that big with a face like that, rounded ears and a short blunt snout. Outside the beast, the bear, had shifted, and you were suddenly aware of how still you had been. What were you even supposed to do in a situation like this? You had heard somewhere that bears didn’t like loud noise, but you had also heard that would actually make it worse for some bears. The most experience you had with bears was Paddington and the stuffed variety. You stumbled backwards; your trajectory now aimed at calling the police or animal control or maybe even…..
Fuck! John doesn’t know about the bear! He could go outside to put out his bins and spook it and then…..
You let out a sharp inhale as you thought back to all of those tv shows and movies you’ve seen over the years and the descriptions of people who were attacked by bears.
Mauled is what they called it, goring if it was really bad.
You glumly thanked all those programs and books for giving you the vocabulary to describe the worst-case scenario but very little in the way of preventing it. Another metallic thud came from outside, spurring you into action. You swiftly crossed the kitchen floor, crouching slightly in an attempt to stay out of view. As you crept across the floor you cursed yourself for not shelling out for something to boost the practically nonexistent cell reception. Quickly you dialed John’s number, phone glued to your ear as you waited impatiently for his gruff tone on the other side.
Goddammit, pick up the phone!
The staticky dial tone sound seemed to mock you as your eyes swept around the kitchen for anything you could use. From the corner of your eye, you catch the glint of your cast iron skillet hanging from the wall. Slowly you stretch your arm out, fingers brushing the edge of the handle.
Just as you wrapped your hand around the cold metal a heavy Whump came from the door as it shook in its casings.
Oh my God. The bear must be trying to get in!
Lifting the pan higher you slowly crept to the door. The curtain you had covering the glass of your backdoor could not conceal the great form that was pressing against it. Illuminated in the orange-yellow lighting was the bear. The Bear. It’s dark brown fur poorly concealed the rippling musculature of an apex predator.
Just then the beast shifted its head, which had been lowered before, raising. You both tensed and went slack jawed once as you met eyes. Your heart beat became almost a living thing of its own as you looked into the glittering blue gaze of the bear. In a way it pierced through you, ceasing all thoughts of escape or defense and instead choosing to freeze you to the cold linoleum of your kitchen. There was a certain kind of intelligence in the bears eyes, almost a spark of recognition and understanding that you were previously unaware that a wild animal could possess.
The moment lasted what felt like an eternity but what was in reality a single, long-drawn-out breath you didn’t realize you has been holding until you felt almost light headed. The bear turned abruptly, clearly deciding that it has better things to do then stare at you all night. It trundled away into the meadow behind your home and was quickly obscured by a hill.
You stood there, pan still raised in hand, until the flood lights clicked off. Now the only light was that from the full moon, which bathed the room in a silvery shadow. As the beating of your heart slowly resumed its normal pace the sound of the phone’s static from where it hung abandoned in the chaos seemed almost deafening.
I have made this blog after a long day of writing and realizing I had no where to put it. This blog will be for any fanfic thing I write. I have also made an Ao3 but they need to take it into the back to trim it up. Once I get that squared away I'll put a link or post somewhere here. I'm very excited as a have a bit of an archivist crush on the Ao3's tagging and sorting system. It's just so sexy.
