#HEEHEEHEEHEE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bloomingdog · 2 months

Text

Captain Honeybun

John Price, Captain John Price, is a big guy, he’s hairy, he smells like tobacco, he’s the captain of a military task force, he’s a grump. He’s all of those, and he’s also your honeybun. That’s the sickly sweet nickname you’ve given him, and he loves every part of it.

He laughed the first time you called him that, but only a little.

“Why are you laughing?” You’re fully in your right to ask.

“That’s a silly name, my love.”

And it is, it very much is. It’s silly and borderline ridiculous, and yet he lights up when you call him that. It’s an antonym to his call sign.

“Honeybun?” You call as you get home to try and locate him.

“In here!” It’s a saccharine parody of Marco-Polo the way that name works.

You’re able to find him inside the bathroom with the door ajar, dressed in only a towel and tending to his beard, he thought he’d have time to shower before you got home. You reach up for a peck, it smells of beard oil. He looks cute in a way, you can’t help but give him a hug and nuzzle your head against his chest.

“My baby.” It comes out muffled. John laughs, he’s anything but a baby.

He’s forgotten his name, truly.

“John!”

He’s turning his head to the sound the moment you raise your voice.

“I’ve been calling you.” You explain.

“‘S not my name.” Is his excuse before getting up from the couch to where you are.

“It’s not?” A mischievous look grows on your face. He shakes his head no. “What is it then?”

“Honeybun.” It comes out as almost a whisper, a secret code only you should know. There’s a big smile on your face that prefaces a laugh. He feels like a teenager, head over heels and much too sweet.

He’d endure torture to make sure nobody knew about the nickname, however, the control he has over himself and the training he's received are lacking when it comes to technology. He’s holding his phone up for Ghost to read an e-mail, it’s customary, sent to the entire base, but Ghost didn’t receive it for whatever reason. And that’s when it pops up, the bubble of a notification from the top of the screen, Ghost can’t help but to switch his attention to it: “Hi honey bun! What time are you gonna be home? :-)” he can’t also help the chortle that comes out of him. And Captain John Price is mortified.

“Are you done reading?” He’s evading the elephant in the room.

“Yes sir, thank you.” And he thanks every God there could possibly be for the fact that the lieutenant also chose to ignore it. He relaxes a little as Ghost starts leaving. “No worries I won’t tell, honeybun.”

His face is red, whether from anger or embarrassment he’s not sure, and yet he's grateful it wasn't MacTavish.

#HEEHEEHEEHEE #im also writing smth for soappppppp #so apparently im writing for cod now #john price x y/n #john price x reader #john price #john price fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic #cod x reader

2K notes · View notes

leiawritesstories · 2 years

Note

i was reading about people whose very cheap aliexpress smart watches exploded or caught on fire and i thought it’d be a good prompt? burned wrist and rowan was a hot doctor or maybe it turned into a serious fire?? idk i just thought you’d be amazing at writing an avoidable explosion leading to romance lol if you feel like it?

OMG THIS IS HILARIOUS AND IT'S SO THEM THANK U SO MUCH MARIA

word count: 1,895

warning: language, non-severe injuries

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a completely normal day, the morning sun warm but not uncomfortable against Aelin’s skin as she jogged along the familiar trail with Fleetfoot’s leash clipped to her waist, getting in her morning exercise and letting the excitable golden retriever expend her boundless energy. She glanced at her smart watch, an imitation Apple watch she’d impulsively bought off Aliexpress because the price was too damn good to resist.

No matter Lys’s warnings. Bitch, you better be ready for the thing to be worth the five dollars you paid. Goddamn, girl, you trying to hurt yourself? You know about all those people whose Aliexpress shit exploded! And finally, just her best friend’s famous eyeroll when Aelin got the package, opened it, and promptly started wearing the watch everywhere. Because it looked like the real deal. And, if she was being honest, it worked like one too. She’d barely noticed the difference, and Aelin Galathynius wasn’t one to not recognize when something was a fake.

She spared a quick glance at the watch as she jogged around the trail’s loop, half-propelled by her energetic pup. 2 miles. Time to loop back. Whistling to her enthusiastic dog, she circled all the way around the loop, pulling Fleetfoot back into course as they headed home.

A few minutes later, Aelin’s wrist started to itch beneath her watch. She shifted the little screen, thinking it would relieve the itch. To her mild surprise, the screen felt...hot? Shrugging, she dismissed it as the sunlight heating up the black glass and kept running.

Her wrist got hotter beneath the watch. She glanced down again. And did a double take. Was that...steam curling off the screen?

Right as she reached to take it off, there was a crack and a pop of smoke, and the cheap-ass watch belched out a handful of sparks and a whole lot of steam and heat and cracked into pieces.

“Shit!” Aelin shrieked, tossing the shattered pieces of her discount watch onto the ground. At her feet, Fleetfoot whined, sensing something wrong. “It’s okay, pup, I’ve only been proven wrong. Again.” She sighed. “Ugh, Lys is gonna have a fucking field day.” She moved her hand, testing. “Shit!” she exclaimed again, seeing the bright red burn on the back of her wrist and a couple of cuts from the watch breaking apart.

She’d better take care of that.

Mentally calculating the distance home, Aelin swore, realizing that her wrist was beginning to drip blood and she should really go into urgent care and make sure there wasn’t anything very wrong with it. Luckily for her, the urgent care was only about a quarter-mile from where she was, not far from her apartment complex. To keep her injury from getting worse, she took off her headband and wrapped the fabric gingerly around her wrist, keeping it covered.

It wasn’t long before she’d arrived at the urgent care building, fastening Fleetfoot’s leash to the bike rack before entering the building. After a quick exchange with the receptionist, showing the kind older lady her wrist and filling out an intake form, Aelin waited a little anxiously on an ugly green chair, forcing herself to take deep breaths.

“Miss Galathynius?”

Aelin rose and followed the young woman in navy blue scrubs into one of the exam rooms. The woman gently unwrapped her wrist and examined it, her brows scrunching as she tried to determine if there was anything seriously wrong with it.

“I’m gonna go ask the doctor to come in,” she told Aelin. “See, I’m only a med student and it’s my first urgent care rotation and I’m not sure if I should call for a scan or anything.” She was almost babbling.

“Hey,” Aelin said softly, unable to help the part of her that wanted to soothe the clearly nervous student. “It’s okay, go ahead and get the doctor. Nobody’s going to blame you for wanting to be certain.” She grinned. “And I think you’re doing amazing, I would never have been able to tell it’s your first rotation.”

“Thanks.” The girl blushed. “Okay, we’ll be back in a minute.” Less than five minutes later, the student was back.

With one hell of a handsome doctor behind her.

Aelin covertly pinched herself with her good hand in a vain effort to keep her gaze from sweeping over the doctor. Tall, muscular, eyes the precise shade of the Oakwald Forest, tanned, and with silvery hair that either meant he was as old as Emrys and she was a creep or he was a silver fox. And she still looked like a creep, checking out the doctor at urgent care.

“Miss Galathynius?” the doctor asked.

Aelin snapped herself back into reality. “Yes?”

He settled himself on the wheeled stool. “Doctor Rowan Whitethorn.”

“I can read your nametag, you know,” she joked before she could think better of it. Dammit, Galathynius, do you have to be so stupid?

Surprisingly, Dr. Whitethorn chuckled. “Yeah, force of habit. I spend too much time at the hospital introducing myself to patients that I forget my name’s literally embroidered on my coat.” He tugged on a pair of blue latex gloves. “Evangeline here says you’ve injured your wrist?”

All business, then. “Yeah,” Aelin sighed, holding out her arm. Rowan’s touch was firm but gentle as he examined the burn, the cuts, his gloved hand expertly feeling for any serious damage.

She wouldn’t mind those hands feeling other parts of her.

Mentally, Aelin slapped herself. Pull yourself together! This is a professional interaction, not a bar! “So?” she asked, unable to keep a faint edge of worry out of her voice.

Rowan--no, Dr. Whitethorn--flashed her a charming little grin. “No major damage,” he reassured her. “Eva, grab me gauze, aloe, and antibiotic cream.” He turned back to Aelin. “I’ll clean you up and get you bandaged, and you’ll be all set to go.”

“Thanks,” Aelin murmured as he wiped her wrist with a warm washcloth, cleaning away any dirt that might have slipped into the injury. He took the ointments from Evangeline and dabbed some onto her wrist, covering it up with gauze and wrapping a stretchy bandage around it.

“Change the dressing before you go to bed,” he instructed. “Keep it covered for a couple of days, then you can leave off the bandage. You should be all healed in a week or so.”

“Thanks again,” Aelin grinned. “It’s a relief to know it’s not serious.”

Dr. Whitethorn chuckled. “Well, these kinds of injuries usually aren’t.”

“What?” She blinked. “You’ve seen people with this exact kind of injury?”

He just winked at her as he disposed of his gloves and stood up to leave. “The next time you want a smart watch, Miss Galathynius, you might want to buy the real thing.”

Well, shit.

A week and a half later, Aelin’s wrist had healed nicely, just like Dr. Whitethorn had said, and she, Lys, and Elide were out for drinks. She’d worn one of her favorite dresses, a form-fitting gold piece that made her ass and her tits look absolutely spectacular, and she was giggly from the shots they’d taken.

“Psst.” Lys elbowed her in the side. “Don’t look, but there’s a fuckin’ hot piece of ass staring at you.”

“What?” Aelin’s head whipped around, scanning the dimly lit bar, the place buzzing with conversation.

To find a pair of pine-green eyes locked on her.

A wicked little smirk curled the corner of her mouth. “If he’s so hot, Lys, why aren’t you going over to meet him?” she inquired, turning back to her friend as she dropped a tiny little wink in Whitethorn’s direction.

“Because he’s looking at you like he wants to rip that dress off, that’s why,” Lys snickered, sipping at her drink.

“Lys!” If the lights were brighter, Lys would have seen her blushing.

“What?” The brunette winked at her. “You don’t want to get laid?”

Aelin snorted, taking a long draw of her drink and sliding off the stool, her purse in her hand. “I’ll venmo you for drinks,” she chirped, heading onto the small dancefloor, Lys’s rather rude comment following her.

It took all of three minutes before she felt hands slide around her waist, a pine-scented cologne drifting into her nostrils. “Miss Galathynius,” Rowan Whitethorn purred. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Same to you, Dr. Whitethorn,” she returned, keeping her hips swaying to the music.

“Rowan, please,” he murmured. “Doctor is my working name, and sometimes it’s good to get away from that.”

“Rowan,” she agreed, turning to face him, her hands looping around his neck. “Then I’m Aelin.”

“How’s the wrist, Aelin?” he asked.

“Almost totally healed.”

“Good.” His voice took on a hint of a drawl. “I like seeing my patients well taken care of.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know you took very good care of me,” Aelin smirked. Two could play this game, oh yes they could.

Rowan’s hand flexed against her waist. “Your friends are staring at me,” he murmured into her ear. “It’s throwing me off.”

Aelin couldn’t contain her snicker. “Lys and Elide are extremely protective, as well as extremely meddlesome.” She grinned at him. “They’re probably just making sure you’re not as old as your hair suggests.”

“I’m thirty-one,” he sighed, “not ancient.”

“And I’m twenty-six,” she replied.

He grinned at her. “Want to go somewhere without protective friends?”

“And here I thought protection was everyone’s friend,” she mumbled.

Rowan snorted, clamping his lips together to contain the laugh that threatened to erupt. “Gods, Aelin.”

She just winked. “Yes, I’d love to.”

He linked his hand with hers, pulling her out the doors and down the street to another bar, this one a little less crowded, and led her to a booth as he waved to the bartender. “Vaughan’s an old friend, he’ll bring us whatever we need.”

“Okay.” Aelin slid into the worn, comfortable booth. “So tell me, Rowan Whitethorn, how much do you like this dress?”

They stayed at that bar until almost one in the morning, sharing stories and jokes and a couple of drinks, talking and laughing until Rowan glanced at the clock and swore. Time to get home. Like the gentleman he was, he drove her home, since she’d carpooled with Lys, stopping at her apartment building to let her out.

“Thanks for the night, Rowan,” she murmured, impulsively kissing his cheek as she reached for the door.

He caught her before she could step out, cupping one hand around the side of her face and pressing a slightly hesitant kiss to her lips. She melted into his kiss, bracing one hand on his broad shoulder for balance. When they parted, both of them were grinning.

“When can I take you out again?” Rowan asked, his soft voice stuffed full of boyish hope.

“I’ll text you,” Aelin promised. “My schedule gets awful at this time of year, what with so many publishings and launches scheduled. But I’ll make time.”

“Okay,” Rowan grinned, kissing her again.

She blew him a kiss as she walked into her building, that golden dress clinging to every curve and line of her body. In the elevator to her floor, her phone pinged with a text from Rowan.

>Can’t wait.

>And Aelin?

<Yeah?

>Wear that dress again.

Her lips curled into a sly smirk. Wear that dress again.

Oh, she would.

~~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed!

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@flora-shadowshine

@nerdperson524

@claralady

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@julialovebooks

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@story-scribbler

@mackenzieclutt

@stardelamode

@gracie-rosee

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

@tomtenadia

@backtobl4ck

#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #tw: injury #doctor rowan #heeheeheehee #answered prompt

136 notes · View notes