#keeping a distance not because of space or duties | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

totheblood · 9 months

Text

cutty love.

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie becomes your best friend and you stumble upon her journal

warnings: this is purely fluff, cursing, suggestive themes maybe once? idk very soft

a/n: this is because i want bff ellie and also domestic ellie and also wanted to put eleven labs to the test with their new features so please... enjoy! AI AUDIOS SPREAD THROUGHOUT THE FIC also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 2.2k

"all my dreams my dear they are of you."

spring came fast to jackson.

dew painted the grass on early mornings and little patches of snow began to melt into the soil. winter was finally over and you were finally back on farming duty. however, you weren’t as excited as you thought you would be.

patrol was something you would have dreaded a year ago, the idea of entering the outside world terrifying you completely. but as winter came around, and farming became obsolete, maria had warned you you needed to sign up for a new task. your dumbass, however, signed up too late and both stable and kitchen work were all filled up. patrol became your only option.

on your first day of patrol, you were assigned with dina. she basically held your hand through it: walking into buildings first, showing you how to aim and shoot your gun, and teaching you all the best places to hide. it was an easy day with one encounter with an infected (who dina shot on sight).

your second day you were paired with jesse, who was, to your surprise, gentler. he made jokes when he could tell you were getting scared, always walked with his hand outstretched in front of you when walking into new territory, and taught you how to make a molotov cocktail. you felt safe with them.

on your third day, you were paired with ellie who was less than kind at first. upon seeing you she rolled her eyes and scoffed, mumbling something like, “why do i always have to be paired with the newbies?”

to avoid confrontation you simply kept your mouth shut. you were supposed to be partners and you were going to do your best to keep yourself alive. like the others, ellie walked into spaces first and after clearing the area for any infected, started a small fire in the lookout to keep the two of you warm.

you stood at a distance from her where she was placing her palms just above the fire and then rubbing them together for warmth. you watched on with a shiver, shaking as you looked out the window.

“you’re not going to get warm from all the way over there,” ellie spoke up, causing you to snap your head in her direction.

“what?”

“the fire is over here. you have to stand close to get at least a little warm,” she commented, beckoning you over with the wave of her hand, “here, come get warm.”

“oh,” you stepped closer to the fire, sitting down across from her, bathing in the warmth the fire offered.

“you’re not really talkative, huh?” ellie chuckled, taking picking at her nails as she spoke.

“uh, no, i usually am,” you laughed nervously, looking to the raised skin around her nailbeds.

“oh, so you just don’t like me?” her tone was joking, but there seemed to be an ounce of vulnerability to it. her eyes looked up to yours, scanning your face for a reaction.

“no, i just,” you took a deep breath and shrugged, “earlier you said you didn’t want to be stuck with the newbie so i didn’t want to be a bother or anything.”

“shit,” she breathed, pinching the bridge of her nose. all of the skin around her nails were raw and red, “i’m such an asshole. i didn’t mean it like that. i’ve just had a shitty week.”

“no, it’s fine,” you forced a smile, “i understand. i’m just nervous and this is all new to me.”

she paused for a moment, looking you over and taking another deep sigh.

“i’m not usually an asshole.”

“sure.”

“no, seriously, i’m usually nice.”

“i believe you.”

“ok, i’m kind of nice, but i’m doing my best.”

“it’s fine, i’m also an asshole,” you spit out and she laughed. a full chested laugh that went on for what felt like a minute. it was the kind of laugh were all of her teeth showed and wrinkles formed by her eyes. it made your chest feel warm.

from that moment on you and ellie became close friends. if you knew you were patrolling with her you would bring her a corn muffin wrapped in fabric. she’d say something about how good of a cook you were or mumble a ‘fuck yeah’ before stuffing half the muffin in her mouth. if she killed any infected later she would say something like, “that was only for the muffin. you’re gonna need to bring me another before i do any more of your dirty work.”

occasionally, she would bring her guitar and show you some of the music she was writing in any downtime you had. she was always so excited too, saying something along the lines of: “let’s try to clear this area as fast as we can so i can show you my new stuff.”

when you sat in front of her, legs crossed in front of you, you watched as a bright blush spread across her face before she sang.

“this is new, so take it easy on me, okay?”

at some point towards the end of december she came to your house with something wrapped in fabric. her whole face was red, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the snow or her nervousness as she shoved the present into your hand.

“what’s this?” you asked, eyes wide ushering her in from the snow and shutting the door behind you.

“it’s a christmas gift,” she smiled, “i don’t know if you know what christmas is but people used to celebrate it back in the old days. joel told me about it and now we celebrate it every year. it’s basically just a holiday where you give your loved ones… or friends a present. they used to pretend this big fat guy with a beard came down people's chimneys and gave presents to kids who were good but i guess they gave up that idea. santa probably got infected or some shit. anyways, this is for you.”

when you peeled back the fabric, a picture of you sketched out on charcoal was on a piece of thick paper. you looked beautiful. it almost looked as if ellie had spent hours looking at your face and studying all the tiny details of it. not to your knowledge, but she had.

a gasp fell from your lips as tears welled up in your eyes. you didn’t even have time to thank ellie before you were squeezing her tightly in your arms, causing her to cough. you were literally hugging her so tight she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t mind it. she took a deep breath and hugged you back, smelling the pine on your hair and skin.

“i love it, ellie,” you whispered, “thank you.”

when january came around, ellie decided you didn’t know how to hold a gun. most of your shots were misses and the drawback made you stumble back. you were becoming a liability, but mostly ellie feared for your safety. all it took was one fall and you would never be the same again.

so here ellie stood giving verbal directions on how to hold a gun. you, however, were a mess who didn’t know your left from your right.

“your left foot! i said your left foot!”

“this is my left foot!”

“babe, that’s your right.”

“oh,” you switched legs but it wasn’t good enough. ellie came up behind you, placing her hands on your shoulder and fixing your posture. the heat from where her hands were on you radatied throughout your body and went straight down your legs. she stepped closer, placing a hand on your stomach and pressing it lightly. your breath hitched.

“okay, now move your hand like this,” her free hand moved from the base of your arm to your fingertips. she adjusted your stance slowly. slow enough for it to feel like foreplay, “just like that. yeah, good girl.”

you could feel her breath on your neck where your scarf didn’t cover. it was all too sensual and then SNAP. a sound in the distance made her jump back and step in front of you, her own gun drawn in a matter of seconds.

your gun stance was never revisited after that.

but now it was spring, and you would no longer be on patrol. as much as you liked spending time with ellie, it was still too much of a risk for you to take when you enjoyed farming so much. when you told ellie a big pout broke out on her face as she dramatically reached for you.

“what am i going to do without you on patrol?” she whined, squeezing you so hard it made you laugh.

“we can still hang out,” you reminded her, pushing her off you, “plus maybe i’ll be back on patrol next winter.”

“yeah, but i liked having 8 hours of us time. now we will get like 4 hours a day max,” ellie leaned her head back on her couch, the dramatic pout still there.

“how about we meet here every day after our shifts and have dinner together?” you offered, making her face light up, “i can cook and everything.”

“okay, but you have to sleep over at least once a week,” she demanded

“deal,” you smiled, teeth showing.

“if i’m not here though you can just let yourself in,” she casually commented, “i’ll give you a spare key.”

it went on like that for weeks, you coming over after your shift and making dinner and laughing with ellie about something joel or dina said until you eventually fell asleep on her couch. some nights you would watch a movie together, others you would bake something together (even though ellie usually tapped out when it came to cracking an egg). if ellie was running late or something you would make up time by cleaning up your mess from the kitchen or tidying up the living room, but by that time she would be stumbling through the door and apologizing for being late.

this night, however, ellie was running extremely late. you had already cleaned both the kitchen and living room and there was still no sight of her. to avoid anxiously pacing around the room and waiting for her, you decided to clean her room. you swept the floors, wiped down her bedside table, and began making her bed before you noticed a notebook tucked in between her bed and it’s frame.

you pulled it out of its place and examined it. it looked like it was frequently used, the edges of it torn and dirty. the yellow pages of the notebook were slightly hanging out and it looked like pages had been ripped out and stuffed back in. you shouldn’t read this, your mind rang clear. you wanted to respect ellie’s privacy, but curiosity got the best of you.

you flipped to a middle page, skimming over some entry about how much joel was being an asshole before stopping at your name. your name in her notebook with hearts drawn around it. your name written in pink over and over again. below the different variations of your name was a paragraph, presumably about you. you read it in ellie’s voice.

“another successful patrol. and by successful i mean i tricked her into holding my hand. i probably sound like such a creep but all i want is to be close to her. i want to hold her hand as we walk down the streets of jackson and kiss her in a booth at the diner. when she got scared she would squeeze my hand a little. it made me dizzy. this crush feels like it’s going to ruin me. i think she may ruin me but i don’t even care. all i want is her.”

you smiled, flipping a page, heat rushing to your cheeks as you read another passage about you:

“i sang a song for her today that i wrote about her. she told me my voice was beautiful and asked who it was about. i panicked and told her it was about cat. fucking cat!!! i haven’t thought about cat in fucking forever. i just want to tell her already because this is so fucking embarrassing. she probably thinks i don’t like her but i do. what if she never knows? i’ll tell her eventually… i will.”

you sit down on her still unmade bed, reading the next page.

“i wanted to kiss her so bad today. ugh. her lips were all red and pouty from the cranberry juice and when she smiled her teeth were all red. she asked why i was smiling at her and i told her that her teeth were all red. she looked so embarrassed and got up to clean them. i felt like an asshole but that’s better than being rejected by her right?”

another one.

“we watched curtis and viper today after patrol. she cooked us chicken and then cried because it was her favorite chicken. this girl has the biggest heart in the world. when the movie was done we just talked about what life would be like if the apocalypse didn’t happen. she said she would have been a teacher or some kind of helping profession. she’s fucking sweet. i told her i’d probably be a dentist or a lawyer. something fun. i left out the part where i’d want to come home to her every night. i’m such a loser. i think i love her.”

the last part made you gasp, except the gasp wasn’t coming from your mouth, it came from the person standing in front of you. ellie.

“what are you doing with that?”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

3K notes · View notes

thef1diary · 7 days

Text

Baby Jr | Four

— Meticulous Avoidance

Series Masterlist

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The sun slants through the blinds, casting elongated shadows across the room. You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you stare at the tenth pregnancy test you've taken, still in disbelief.

"No," you murmur as two pink lines stare back at you, confirming what you've been fearing for the past couple days.

You're pregnant.

Carlos's face flashes through your mind, his smile, his touch, the intensity of those nights spent together. It was supposed to be casual, fun, a temporary escape from the reality of the world around you.

While trying to escape reality, you've been hit in the face by it.

You and Carlos were reckless, that was a given, but now you also had to face the consequences of those moments shared.

You attempt to push back the wave of panic threatening to engulf you. Your vision blurs as your eyes fill with tears and your hands tremble, still holding on to the test.

How could this happen? How could you let it happen? What are people going to say? What is he going to say?

Your mind races, trying to grasp onto some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your thoughts. But deep down, you know there's no escaping the truth.

You're carrying Carlos Sainz's child, and everything is about to change.

Rising from the bed, your movements are mechanical, as if you're navigating through a foggy haze.

The room feels suffocating, the walls closing in on you with each passing second. You need air, space, a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts. With trembling steps, you make your way to the window, dropping the pregnancy test on the floor. You push the window open to let in a rush of cool morning air but even the fresh breeze fails to dispel the suffocating sense of unease that grips you.

Outside, the world carries on, oblivious to the turmoil raging within you. Birds chirp in the distance, cars hum along the street below, and somewhere in the distance, the low murmur of voices drifts through the air.

But in this moment, none of it matters. All you can focus on is the life growing inside you, a tiny, fragile being whose existence is now irrevocably intertwined with yours.

You lean against the windowsill, your gaze fixed on the horizon, lost in a maze of swirling thoughts and emotions. Despite how much you try, you cannot stop thinking about the new situation you've found yourself in.

How will you face Carlos? How will you tell him the news? And more importantly, what will his reaction be? The questions echo in your mind, unanswered and unsettling.

But for now, there's only one thing you can do: keep it to yourself. You remind yourself that the next race is two weeks later, offering a temporary reprieve, a brief respite from the inevitable confrontation that looms on the horizon.

As you draw in a steadying breath, you steel yourself for the challenges that lie ahead. Tears still continue to flow from your eyes, but as you peer down at your stomach, you can't help but feel a tinge of hope in between the fear of your future.

—

As the days pass, the weight of your secret presses down on you like a lead blanket. Every time you meet someone whether it's a stranger or a close friend, you feel the guilt internally shaming you just for keeping the secret to yourself.

You try to bury yourself in work, throwing yourself into your duties as a media personnel with a newfound fervor. You weren't needed at the track since there weren't any races, but you did need to step up the team's media presence and engage with the fans during the brief break.

Although you weren't required to see Carlos in person, your work required you to view the images and videos in which he participated in along with his teammate. You wanted to bury your face in your hands as you watched the videos again because you could hear his laugh and voice.

From considering Carlos as a distraction, now you needed a distraction from him and unfortunately your job did not allow that.

It didn't help that he would still text you, because after all you were still friends before it became physical. He sent you photos of the sunset from whichever country he decided to fly to because you once told him that you loved sunsets.

He was unaware of the turmoil of stress you experienced every time a notification popped up on your phone with his name. Your first thought was that he found out, even though no one else knew the secret but you.

You couldn't ignore his messages or else he would know that something was up, and that was the last thing you wanted him to know especially during the break.

No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, thoughts of Carlos and the impending conversation linger at the edges of your mind, a constant, nagging presence.

Finally, the week of the next race arrives, and with it, the inevitable reunion with Carlos. You stand in the bustling paddock, surrounded by the frenetic energy of the Formula One world. The air is thick with the smell of rubber and gasoline, the sound of engines roaring in the distance while the fans cheered every time they spotted a driver.

As you continue walking through the paddock, you notice a crowd of reporters and fans circling a couple drivers. You couldn't see their faces until you craned your neck, and as soon as you did, you wish you hadn't.

You caught a sight of Carlos in the distance standing alongside Lando which in itself causes an uproar as their friendship is infamous. However, in that moment, you couldn't care less about Lando, instead your eyes were drawn towards Carlos, as always.

He looks every inch the confident, charismatic driver you've come to know, his easy smile and charm putting those around him in a trance.

For a moment, you consider approaching him, but then you wonder what you'd say. It's not like you could tell him the truth in front of the crowd and there was no other topic you could think of.

Instinctively, your palm rests over your womb, and once you realize your actions, you quickly avert your gaze from him, turning away before he can spot you.

You slip into the shadows, dodging behind equipment crates and team trailers as you make your way through the paddock. Every instinct screams at you to run, to hide, to avoid the inevitable confrontation that awaits. And so you do, weaving through the crowds with a practiced ease, your heart pounding in your chest.

But no matter how hard you try to escape, you can't shake the feeling that Carlos is watching you, his eyes boring into your back with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine. You quicken your pace, ducking around a corner and into the relative safety of the media center, where you hope to find refuge from the storm brewing outside.

The noise from outside disperses away which you were thankful for but it only magnified your own thoughts. Fortunately, you spotted Ava but as you walked towards her, you noticed that she was speaking to Charles.

You gave her a nod in acknowledgement when she spotted you and turned to sit at one of the further tables, taking a moment to sigh. She notices the tension in your demeanor, the way your eyes dart nervously around the room, and she can't help but raise her eyebrows in concern.

You offer a tight-lipped smile, attempting to brush off her concern, but Ava isn't one to be easily dissuaded.

She pats Charles' arm and smiles at him before wrapping up the conversation she was having with him. You watched from afar, noticing the easy camaraderie between them, a hint of something more lingering in the air. Perhaps you were just seeing things and overthinking it because you were involved with Carlos.

You discarded that thought as you saw Ava approached you, her gaze filled with genuine concern.

"Hey, everything alright?" she asked, her palm resting on top of your hand.

You nod, "yeah, just a bit stressed with work." You hoped that she wouldn't press further on the matter since she also knew about those stressful days at work, having worked in the same field as you.

But, she furrowed her eyebrows, "is it just work, or is something else bothering you?"

Her gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity. The weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, each breath feeling more constricted than the last. You toyed with the idea of confiding in her, of sharing the truth that had been gnawing at you for weeks. But the fear of her reaction, of the potential consequences, held you back.

Ava reached out and squeezed your hand, her touch a silent gesture of support. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and understanding.

You nodded, your throat tight with unspoken words. How could you burden her with such a heavy secret? What if she reacted poorly, or worse, felt betrayed by your silence?

But as you looked into Ava's eyes, seeing the genuine concern and compassion reflected there, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she would offer the support and guidance you so desperately needed.

The silence stretched between you, each moment filled with the weight of unspoken truths. Finally, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's not easy, but I trust you, Ava. And I need you to know."

You had to tell her the whole story, start from the beginning from the night Carlos stopped by your hotel. You reassured your thoughts with a nod, racking your mind for the best way to explain it all.

As you gathered the courage to confide in Ava, Carlos' voice cut through the air, interrupting your moment of vulnerability by calling your name. You turn to see him approaching you, stopping once he reaches the table.

"Hey, can I borrow you for a moment?" he asked, eyes flickering between you and Ava.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ava who gave you a reassuring smile. "I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

You nod at her before looking at Carlos and standing up. He motioned for you to follow him, down the halls and away from prying eyes. As you walked with him, your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions — frustration at the interruption, anxiety over why Carlos wanted to see you, and a lingering sense of guilt for keeping secrets from both him and Ava.

When you reached the secluded corner, Carlos turned to face you, his gaze ever so watchful. He had a smirk playing on his lips and for a brief moment it reminded you of the time you spent together before finding out life changing news.

You rolled your eyes once you saw how quickly his expression changed, now only a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. Yet, you still asked, "why did you need to 'borrow' me?"

Carlos leaned closer, resting his palm against the wall like he's done before, his smirk widening into a playful grin. "Well, I just wanted to see you," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his unexpected admission. "Just to see me?" you repeated, a hint of skepticism in your tone.

He shrugged and stated, "it's been two weeks since I saw you last."

A rush of conflicting emotions washed over you at his words — relief that he didn't suspect anything, guilt from earlier, and a flicker of something else, something you couldn't put a finger to.

His fingers trailed down the length of your arm, settling on your waist. With his proximity, a sudden wave of nausea washed over you. The scent of his cologne, once familiar and comforting, now felt overwhelming, almost suffocating.

"Carlos, what cologne are you wearing?" you blurted out, unable to mask the discomfort in your voice.

Carlos pulled back slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. "It's the same one I always use," he replied, his tone tinged with confusion. "The one you always liked."

You blinked, trying to push past the nausea and focus on his words. "But it smells...different," you managed to say, your stomach churning with unease.

Carlos' expression softened, his concern deepening as he stepped back but still reached out to steady you. "Are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of nausea threatening to overwhelm you. "I think I just need some fresh air," you murmur, your voice shaky.

Without waiting for a response, you hurried away from Carlos, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air of the hallway like a heavy cloud. You found it odd, as it was never this overpowered to the point where you could smell it from afar, instead it was fairly faint, only smelling it when you were snuggled up next to him in bed.

As you step outside into the cool breeze, you take a moment to collect yourself, the nausea gradually subsiding with each intake of breath.

The fresh air also gave you a sense of clarity, able to think about the situation without it becoming too much to bear.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave — you almost went right back into his arms as if the pregnancy never existed. You would've willingly gone back to your old ways, spending time with him simply because he smiled at you and wanted to see you.

The temptation to bury the truth was strong, to pretend as if nothing changed between you two. But it was wrong, you can't possibly deceive him like that. He would find out one way or another, especially as the months go by and your pregnancy can no longer be hidden.

You softly press your hand against your stomach, a sad smile growing on your face. You wouldn't have to tell him if you didn't plan on keeping the child, but having to live normally again, as if nothing happened, would eat you alive.

Plus, you didn't even think about that option thoroughly, already feeling a blossoming connection to the little life growing in your womb.

You shake your head, discarding such vile thoughts. With a heavy heart, you made a decision to avoid Carlos until you built up the courage to tell him the truth. It wouldn't be easy to tell him right away, because this news could shatter the state of your relationship with him, whether it's friendship or more.

As you returned inside the paddock, you spotted Ava who was rushing around, holding a large stack of items you couldn't see from afar. Watching her hurried movements, you found yourself lost in deep thought again, this time, strategizing how to share the news with her, how to confide in her. The weight of the secret you carried felt unbearable now that you were back at work, and the thought of continuing to hide it from Ava was driving you to the brink of madness.

You consciously straighten your posture, a silent reminder to yourself that you were in a professional setting. The familiar sights and sounds of the workplace surrounded you, pulling you back to reality. Here, amidst the hustle and bustle of the paddock, there was no room for distractions from your personal life. Each moment was precious, each task demanding your full attention and focus. So, with a determined resolve, you pushed aside the turmoil of your personal struggles, channeling your energy into the demands of your professional responsibilities.

As the day wore on, you found yourself avoiding any encounters with Carlos as decided, darting down different corridors and finding excuses to linger in secluded corners whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the distance. It wasn't necessarily hard to avoid him, which made you realize that your job didn't entail being around him as much as he made it out to be. However, it did send a pang of hurt through you every time you heard his laughter or his name uttered by other people.

With each passing hour, you grew more resolved in your decision to keep your distance until you found courage to tell him the truth, after telling Ava.

Speaking of, your phone pinged with a text from her. 'I'm coming over after work, be ready to tell me everything'

Fortunately, the first race after the break was in your home city, which meant that you could show Ava the pregnancy tests you've taken.

The warmth of her friendship offered a glimmer of solace amidst the chaos of the day, and even the past couple weeks, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the prospect of confiding in her about everything that had been weighing down on you.

Taglist OPEN: @xoscar03 @pierregazly @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @lilymurphy03 @the-ghost-lovwr @ilovethefruits @lewlew44 @luvvtrent @hc-dutch @khaylin27 @lillyssh-tposts @thatgirlmj @ladyoflynx @tcfanmania @customsbyjcg-blog @sltwins @nonstopbookworm @glitterquadricorn @charizznorizz @mrs-bunny @moonliightbabes @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @teamnovalak @formula1mount @gaviymarcsbride @gotthemilk-69 @bwormie @llando4norris @ellesssssxzxz @arian-directioner @lou-bean28 @depressedgiftedburnout @halleest @amberpanda99 @borapsycho @cosmoscoffeee @mycenterfold @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sugarvibez @mehrmonga @aadu2173 @bokutos-babyowl @teenwolf01 @presidentdangdang @mrswolffs-blog @amyfelix14 @seasonswinter @amalialeclerc @amandadesantasworld @ystrolllll @xisab @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @pedrohoe04 @yagirlhayes @jadaaasworld @mmack23 @shimmermotorsport @darleneslane @mderby03 @jinimon-tr @landoslutmeout

#babyjr fic #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz angst #f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 smut #thef1diary fic #fanfic

451 notes · View notes

bluegiragi · 7 months

Note

I'm not sure how I found your account but I have loved all of your creations. They have fueled my hyper-fixation for Call of Duty.

When it comes to your Monster au, are there any characteristics from the team that you see them having that you haven't been able to draw out in a storyline?

that's such a good question omg...it'd probably be all the ways that the 141 grew up.

(warning - lots of reading under the cut)

Price is a dragon hybrid, which means that historically his kind has not had amazing relationships with humans or each other. Close-knit dragon communities are still really rare, since instinctively they're extremely territorial and require space to themselves and a way to assert their own strength and hoard. But, sort of by government mandate, dragons need to keep within designated areas in case they accidentally torch a human city y'know. So he did grow up in a colony, but all the families there tended to keep to themselves, exempting mating season and the occasional territory fight. He left to join the military when he was pretty young, all things considered, and I think he did it mainly out of boredom. They were happy to have him of course - dragons are massive powerhouses with long lifespans, and very rare in their ranks (they dislike being ordered around). Price would like to think he's destined for a quiet life, but his job really let him wreak havoc and he took pleasure in indulging that primal urge of his. He grew out of that destructive phase though - nowadays, his priorities consist of taking care of his team.

Soap is a werewolf, which is a monster that subscribes to the 'it-takes-a-village' kind of mentality for raising a child. The Mactavishes are an average werewolf pack, with Soap, his parents, his grandparents, and his two sisters (one older, and one younger). Wolves are social creatures, but the older generation likes to stay within their own kind, if only for safety reasons. Soap's always been a go-getter though, so joining the military for a chance to see more of the world just made sense to him. Full-blooded werewolves are pretty sought after in the ranks, but they're a relatively newblood kind of monster. Superiors will often do their best to tame wolves and bring them to heel, with differing levels of success. If you win their loyalty, they're yours for life, but do them wrong and the pack will turn on you. Because of that danger of mutiny, officials will tend to keep it to one werewolf a team, despite them being stronger together.

Harpies are typically solitary and aren't very present parents, since they'll raise their children until they're 16 then dump them somewhere and tell them to survive. It sounds ruthless to most, but it's just how their culture is and it's how Gaz grew up. He's a resourceful type, and joined the military as soon as he could. Harpies are actually one of the more common monsters used in the forces, since their eyesight and wings make for pretty amazing scouting forces/snipers. In saying that though, there's no automatic comradery to be found between two harpies on the same team - in fact, they'll usually be combative at worst and cold/distant at best. Historically, harpies have found pride in their own independence, so being forced to interact/work together can be seen as an insult. Gaz himself is pretty charismatic and cool-headed, but even he'd get irritated if he was forced to share space with another harpy. He was shipped around between teams a lot as a lead sniper before he got promoted and met Price.

Simon is a wraith, but before that he was a normal human, if a bit freakishly strong. His time in the military was an escape from his home life, and after he became a wraith, that distance between himself and the human world only grew. Not a lot is known about wraiths, because the only way you'd be able to study one is if they let you and wraiths are inherently extremely private creatures with a tendency for extreme bursts of violence. They're also almost impossible to catch/imprison, so Simon's an asset the military is determined to hold onto.

#ooft that was a lot #i may tweak their stories a little bit as i go #but this is the general vibe for all of their backstories #askbox #anon

1K notes · View notes

flowersforchoso · 7 months

Text

Bi-han Marriage Headcanons

he takes his role as your husband seriously. perhaps a little too seriously

since he is a traditional man and a bit sexist, expect a very traditional marriage with you relegated to the domestic sphere

he goes straight home after completing his duties as grandmaster. there's no lingering. no extra hours. no night out with anyone. his routine is simple: work, then home & vice-versa.

strictly refers to you as wife while pet names are more of your thing

going out on dates is a rare occurrence (you'd have to bring it up) and when you do, he takes you to a restaurant or festival.

he is not too keen on pda; even holding hands is an issue that makes one wonder how you got together, but he insists you stay close beside him.

in short, he's very much reserved when you're both out in public because he doesn't want to give the impression that he's softened.

but he takes good care of you. being a man of actions afterall.

and since he's your provider & protector, its only right that he excels at it by meeting your material and physical needs

massages are a thing. he does it to help you relax since you always do that whenever he's stressed. starts with your feet, a little tease here and there then it turns into body worship, and ends with you on your back

also bathing together is a must when he's not too busy. its bonding time and wants to spend it refreshed

when you become pregnant, his care intensifies

he takes care of everything around the house, from cooking to cleaning (he's not above doing chores), not allowing you lift a finger

at first, he didn't know how to cook outside of making soup, but he likes to challenge himself. so he gets recipes from madame bo and follows through on them

surprisingly, the meals turn out great

he's much more present at home since he delegated his tasks to be able to spend more time with you

and after you give birth, this doesn't change.

he was with you all through. giving words of encouragement during that agonizing time

the baby is here and he never lets go. whether its a girl or boy, the gender matters not. he cares for the little one so much that he only ever hands them over to you when its time to feed.

if you're having issues with your self-esteem or health like postpartum depression, he will be by your side tending to you. bathe and feed you; if you found it difficult to do basic care. he's worried but would not allow his face betray such emotion.

aids you back to health. you would have to convince him you are well enough to care for yourself, but he would keep monitoring you just to be sure, before leaving to attend to other things.

he is very caring towards you and ensures you're always comfortable.

your marriage is relatively peaceful but that doesn't mean its devoid of conflict

and since bi han is quite stubborn, that would be the source of any rift between the both of you—his obstinacy

it happens every time you express your dissatisfaction with his prioritisation of the lin kuei. they took precedence over his family, making him unavailable and unattending to your emotional needs, which he takes offence to. because they were accusations, and no matter how soft and placating your delivery was, he didn't appreciate it, even if it was true

he makes a big deal out of being told not to take on dangerous missions when he returns injured, which leads to full blown arguments because he considers it infantilizing. he doesn't want to be babied; he commands hundreds. what kind of leader would he be if he didn't take charge of his fleet?

bi han would leave the house for days on end and when he gets back, he's still passive aggressive towards you.

because of this, you give him space but it only worsens his attitude—he doesn't want you to impose distance on him.

he is the classic example of not wanting to be paid back in the same coin. his attitude towards you might be nasty, but don't you dare retaliate

and he doesn't apologize either. it can be frustrating putting up with him.

you'd need to be patient, understanding and respectful of his role as grandmaster because thats a position he's trained all his life for. its a touchy subject. don't try to make him choose between the lin kuei or you

you'd have to extend the olive branch first by apologizing because the tension would be too much to bear

it'll take a while for normalcy to return with bi han coming to you (he's very prideful so don't rush anything)

he'll get you things of sentimental value like a trinket, or a necklace or a bracelet—this is his way of saying sorry

make up sex would be much more passionate because he needs to connect with you again. fighting puts a strain on the relationship no matter how little and makes his insecurities rear its head, one of which is the fear that you might leave him someday and go be with someone else. he doesn't want that, he wants to retrace his steps and do right by you.

it's at this point that he verbally professes his love for you to assuage whatever negative feelings you might harbor and since he rarely ever say the words, they are much more valued

overall, being married to him would be very fulfilling. nothing too crazy or difficult to navigate

#bi han x reader #bi han x you #bi han mk1 #sub zero x you #bi han sub zero #mk1 sub zero #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 sub zero x reader

831 notes · View notes

undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

you're a storm

simon ghost riley x f!reader (call of duty)

summary: because we're friends. are we? don't see a queue of other people putting up with your shit, ghost.

warnings: brief mentions of smut, p in v. friends to something close to a relationship (this is ghost). somewhat moody ghost. wordcount: 2.1k dedicated to @theashfallx who deserves a slab of softness and tattoos.

It’s raining.

Just like the day you'd first appeared.

You’d been drenched in it all, baptised for the introduction—droplets falling from your sleeve as you said your name, Price hanging back.

Your credentials had been told to them all a month ago. Not really asking if any of them minded, more telling them all. More him, than the others.

He supposed he’d do the same if he were in Price’s position.

Now, pellets hammered against everything they could, including the single-glazed window of his room. It sounded like it was hitting tin than glass, oddly reminding him of you—your talks of caravaning with your family or thin sheets and watching storms out across a sea.

You’d shared it with him once. Your eyes all transfixed on the lightning in the distance. Hands cupped around a mug that was no longer steaming in the centre of the place they were bunkered down in.

When’s the last time you slept? When was the last time you did, Lieut?

Lieut.

Not L.t. Not lieutenant. Some shorthand version you called him, simply because.

You who was now avoiding him because of his chosen silence. Because words had caught on the back of his teeth. His fingers not quite quick enough before you’d left him alone.

He used to like being alone, but somewhere between your rambling and lying next to him, you changed it. Changed him.

It’s the sole reason he’d stepped out. Tired of the four walls of his room, seeking a new space rather than any sort of conversation.

After all, he despised words. He preferred orders. Something concrete, not argued against. Enjoyed the unspoken ones shared between nods and occasional glares.

Ghost somewhat tolerated (liked) Johnny, sometimes even Gaz.

But you were the anomaly—the difference. He didn't tolerate you, he secretly wanted you. Wanted a smile, a laugh. Happy and content with just that.

No one knew—not even you—that sometimes you managed to tug a smile behind his mask. That your words from that day began painting themselves in his mind when he should be sleeping.

You share a lot for someone with a redacted file. Well, I like to keep those poking around, guessing. I’m not guessin’. No. Guessing means you could be wrong, and you like to be right too much for that, don’t you, Ghost?

You had a habit of pulling things from him. Words. A snigger.

It was all as though your smaller hands had found some rope, pulling on it until he began giving them to you more easily than he did the rest. You didn’t know everything, but he assumed what you didn’t, you’d guessed.

He’s seen firsthand how you fill in gaps. The way you assess and ascertain. It’s there when you stare at maps, hearing briefings—practically spots the marker in your mind circling things to question.

It's why he's not sure how you didn't guess you mattered to him.

How that you couldn't see.

He hears a clap of thunder, somewhere in the distance. Thankful it's a short walk to the canteen, the air thick with the scents of mossy earth and dirt before he’s met with the aroma of food and too many bodies trying to stuff themselves before lights out.

Not you, though.

Ghost watches you slip out through the opposite doors. Across tables and too many bent heads for him to get to with any sort of quickness.

He smirks, if only to himself.

Watching as barely a head lifts from the rest of your comrades and table at your exit.

But then, if they’d been paying too much attention, the gig would have been up a while ago. The secret out. There would have been opinions poked in the holes of their tryst—questions hurtled that had no answers either of you wished to confront.

He didn’t have friends, but he did have you.

Some scrappy thing which didn’t like to sleep, didn’t like to lose—and had the most stunning eyes. They seared into him even when surrounded by paint, cheeks smothered in mud and lashes clotted with sand. Burned a hole right through him that no amount of time would heal.

It didn’t help they found him often. Practically sought him, landing on him as though there weren’t others who deserved it.

Then he gained your sarcasm. Your whispered thoughts and soft smirk.

At some point between annoyance and admiration, you stepped over the line into friendship. He kept his eye on you outside of being your lieutenant; you checked on him for reasons he didn’t understand.

If you get lonely at home, my address is in your phone. I don’t have a phone. Ah yes, the very secret thing at the back of your second drawer isn’t a phone, Ghost.

He’d considered it: texting.

Why? Because we're friends. Are we? Don't see a queue of other people putting up with your shit, Ghost.

He'd almost called, merely to check in. Not wanting to visit or any real company, just the sound of your voice to convince him that you’re alive—that you hadn’t slipped in the shower or fallen into a sleep you’d never wake from. That you weren't hurt.

Ghost never called, didn't send a thing. Because it meant something if he did. Meant he cared, meant he’d latched—two things he tried desperately not to do.

And then, a new line was crossed. One jumped over because of circumstances the two of you hadn’t prepared for.

Your stubbornness and foolishness caused a blade to lodge in your thigh in a takedown—maroon flowing from around it, beginning to spread. Your radio message made something drip down his spine, his blood cold before Ghost managed to hack up gruff orders that fell from his tongue like lava.

The metal was still sticking out when he found you, all unmoved from your leg, a half-smile plastered across your cheeks.

He's knocked out, not dead. Don't care, le— I didn't take it out, Ghost. It's better I don't, right? Let me see.

You almost don't let him. And while you’d seen his face, his hands had still shook as he slipped the gloves from his fingers, touching the edges of ripped fabric and hating the sounds of your whimpers.

It's only as he lifted his eyes, his chin, did you kiss him. Right over the mask. Before he can question, before he can surrender, your head rips back, eyes brimming with tears you refuse to let fall.

Had to, just in case. None of that, alright?

Those three words don’t come out easily, almost clotting in his throat like scarlet does around your wound.

Lift it up. Your mask.

He’s not sure why he did.

Why he bent to such a request—an order, but he did. No sooner is it over his nose does he feel chapped lips against his, softly moving, desperately seeking something. A moment, a chance. He isn’t sure and never asks. He just tastes you, the happiness that lives within, mixed with the desert, iron and somehow, even bleeding profusely, hope.

You kiss better than I thought, Lieut.

It was a month later before you brought it up. Dangled it in front of him, the chance to do it again—to kiss you, to do more than kiss.

He’s human. And only a fool would say no to someone as gorgeous as you. Someone good, talented, full of fire and light that could, if you tried, bring him to his fucking knees.

Which he supposes you did, ironically.

Your leg hooked over his shoulder, tongue lapping up your want as your hand grabbed fistfuls of his hair. He was praying to you, and you were whimpering a hymn compiled of his name.

SimonSimonSimon.

You both cross a new line together moments later, the final one. The one harder to come back from and pretend never happened.

Because then he knew how it felt to have your thighs on either side of his hips. To brush his fingers against your cheek and wipe the tears from coming on his tongue all away as he eases himself into you.

Ghost knows how your hand feels clasped around his forearm as his cock sinks into you. How your nails dig into the ink on his skin, secretly hoping it leaves a similar mark.

So big. Too— You can take it. I can—I will. I know. Know you will, sweetheart.

Then it became a habit.

You became a habit.

You're both heaven and a misdemeanour. Something he craved but knew he shouldn't let himself enjoy. Even if he did—whenever he could.

Ghost runs his teeth along your collarbone, and leaves welts under your uniform. He presses your cheek against cold walls, snaking his hand under the waistband of your trousers and standard-issue underwear, making you mew.

You’d do better with someone else—be far better suited to someone more open. Someone who’ll let you have more than scraps when night falls and will sit next to you on a canteen bench and nudge their knee against yours.

Ghost won’t do that, but Simon might.

That's what he clings to, that Simon could be enough.

Even if all of him have been falling for you, all unbeknownst to him until it's all he thinks. Having studied every curve of your body, taken note of each whip of your sharp tongue and marvelled secretly at how your brain thinks when challenged.

It took him a while to see the brains behind the big eyes and the smirking lips. Now, it’s all he sees.

He sees both a capable soldier and the person who has had their lips around his cock. The person who has laid in his sheets, staring up at him, mouth parted as you moan; the one who’s rolled their hips against his tongue, pleading for more as your fist clamps around a sheet.

Friends don’t…. do what we do, though. Suppose they don’t. What are we, then?

He didn't answer, and so you didn't push.

It stung the silence. It worsened when you dressed, when you said goodnight before the lights are even out.

You pulled away after that. And he felt it instantly. The draught of you not being beside him, your body not being curled around his before the sun rises—your laugh not peppering his ears.

Mostly, he found it torturous that your eyes don't land. Your snark swallowed, never meeting the air, never greeting him.

He tried to shake it, even if he beguns to feel the weight of the words he should have said. The ones he has thought for a while, the ones he feels. It not mattering, always coming back to the same thing: it’s easier to show than to tell.

It’s why he’d let you map his past with the pads of your fingers rather than tell you the gruesome truth. That he lost so much, it’s hard to ever want again. He suspects you can tell, just from how your eyes land on him, when your hands feel the deeper ones—the ones who make him see flickers of how they were caused behind his eyelids.

Ghost knew he’d fallen, having descended into want and affinity before you'd left that night. It consumed him in the time that followed.

Too many cold showers and anger-fuelled stares, before he truly acknowledges the ball is in his court. Before he lets the fact, he doesn’t want to rot away alone anymore but rather live for someone to fuel him to speak up.

He considers ordering, demanding.

Instead, he beckons. Fingers wrapping around your elbow, ignoring your eyes, flicking from the corridor ahead to him until the two of you are safely inside the four walls of his room.

Then, he pours it out. Mask ripped from his face, lips burning words against yours. It’s different, fuelled by passion than relief—not soft, but not aiming to conquer the other.

He buries himself in you differently, easing himself in—running his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing whispered words to your ear.

“I know…” you whisper fingers curled around his neck.

You say it as though you’ve heard his unspoken confession somewhere else. Like he’s left the script somewhere, and you know the act that's about to follow.

“Show me,” you add. "Show me you want me, Simon."

And he does.

Driving himself in and out in long, slow strides. He feels the feather-like touches over his back, the way your breath dances along his chin and neck. The lamp in the corner is the only light source, forcing your pupils to expand until they’ve almost swallowed the colour he admires and hopes to name.

Ghost finds only his reflection in them—staring into wide and hopeful eyes. Seeing himself back in them, able to glimpse a person who isn’t a collection of shards, but someone almost whole.

an: i was listening to some moody music.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost angst #ghost x you #ghost riley #ghost call of duty #cod x reader smut

895 notes · View notes

reminiscingtonight · 4 months

Text

All's Fair In Love And War

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

[WOSO Masterlist]

Sometimes long distance relationships have their perks.

You and Ana never get sick of each other. There’s so much time spent pining for the other through the screen of your phone that when you’re with each other personal space is not a thing that exists. Ana either has her arms around you, or you’re cuddled against her side, or she keeps your hand in hers when out with friends, but there’s never a moment you’re not touching.

Surprise gifts are also a thing. You love coming back from practice to find a package at your door, nothing to hint towards what’s inside until you open it on your kitchen counter. Ana likes sending you something whenever she thinks of you (spoiler: she thinks about you quite a lot) so you’re always finding sweet things sitting upon your doorstep.

And who could forget the sex? Let’s just say the time spent brewing all by your lonesomes really helps when the two of you find yourselves in the same vicinity again.

There are so many great things about being in a long distance relationship.

But sometimes they sucks.

Like now.

It all starts with your alarm not going off.

You only wake up when Alex calls you, waiting outside your house to drive you to practice. Half awake and still wishing you’re in bed, you hobble around your house, quickly trying to pull on your training top while packing your bag.

Alex gives you a sympathetic smile when you collapse into the passenger seat.

You mumble out a greeting, eyes dropping to your phone as you start the delayed act of going through your daily notifications. There’s a couple emails here, a few messages there… And it’s then that you see it.

Alex notices the way you stiffen, instantly rasping out a concerned, “Everything okay?”

You clench your jaw, eyes kept firmly glued to your screen. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything is not fine.

Like any good girlfriend you have Ana’s instagram notifications turned on. You pride yourself in always being one of the first to like and comment on her pictures, the only time it doesn’t happen is when a post goes up when you’re asleep. Like last night.

So you go to do your girlfriendly duties, heading straight to her profile to like her post. Only to stop. Because while you’re always a sucker for whatever Ana posts, even you have your limits.

And your limit?

Well Ana deciding to have a photoshoot in a leather jacket that quite honestly should be illegal is at the top of your no’s.

You’re not a jealous individual. Both you and Ana have learned to keep your cool, really the only way to survive a long distance relationship especially when your significant other is surrounded by so many attractive women at her job.

So no, you’re not mad because of Ana’s choice of material. No. This limit of yours all boils down to the fact that Ana’s over there on the opposite side of the world looking fine as hell while you’re stuck over here, not able to do a single thing about it.

The day goes too slow for your liking.

You’re itching to call your girlfriend all day, but a combination of your late start to the morning paired with a busy day at practice, you’re not able to find a moment of peace alone until lunchtime.

Alex gives you a knowing look when you sneak away between lunch and weight training.

“Good morning, my love,” Ana chirps when she picks up.

You ignore the fact that it’s not morning anymore, gritting out a stern, “Ana-Maria.”

You can practically hear Ana’s smile through the phone. “What’s wrong?” The words are cooed out as your girlfriend plays coy.

“Don’t ‘what’s wrong’ me, Ana. You know exactly what you did.”

“And what is it that I’ve done?”

“You’re just… you are… ugh, you’re just so hot! And so far away!” This time Ana bursts out into laughter, unable to hold it back anymore. Your words drop into a whine, foot stomping on the floor in an act of petulance. “Why did you have to post those photos when you know we won’t be seeing each other for a couple more weeks?”

“And what would you do if you saw me?”

You huff out an indignant breath, not believing that she would need you to spell it out for her. “Fuck you until you can’t walk. Or make you fuck me until I can’t.”

She barks out a sharp laugh, not expecting you to be so blunt about it. “All in due time, babe. All in due time.”

You drop your head against the wall, letting out a slow breath.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

You hum, annoyance bleeding away with each second that passes.

“You’ll have to wait until after practice though. It’ll be--”

“Waiting on my doorstep,” you sigh, finishing her sentence. “I miss you.”

And just like that, the two of you go from teasing each other to something more mushy. Because you do miss her. A lot.

Your promise of playing together some day in the future couldn’t come soon enough.

“I miss you too. Just hold on a little bit longer.”

When your eyes drift to the clock in the corner of the room, you sigh, knowing you’ll have to wrap this up soon.

“I love you. So much.”

“Love you too. Always and forever,” she murmurs.

---

It’s to no one’s surprise that you remain slightly distracted for the rest of the day.

Some of your teammates notice, subtly shooting concerned looks your way.

Alex plays the role of the best friend well, reassuring everyone that you’re just having an off day today.

It isn’t until you almost drop a weight on Abby’s foot that you decide you’re done for the day.

You and Alex drive home in silence. It’s not for the brunette’s lack of trying. She tries to bribe you with talks of her daughter, but even the topic of Charlie isn’t enough to raise your spirits.

“Okay, well you obviously have no soul if Charlie of all people can’t make you happy.”

You snort in response, not bothering to say anything in return.

“Though I spy something else that might help with that.”

You frown, looking up to see Alex pointing at something over your shoulder. You follow her finger through the passenger side window, eyes widening when you finally see what’s caught her eye.

Alex doesn’t even get a goodbye before you’re bolting out of the car.

There’s a familiar blonde smiling your way as you storm up your driveway. “Hi--”

Ana’s words are cut short when you get a firm grip on the front of her shirt, dragging her through the door after you. Ana stumbles, barely able to keep her balance as you yank her through the foyer and up the stairs.

Your bedroom door opens with a bang, and Ana’s quick to find herself dropping on her ass as you shove her onto your bed.

She licks at her lips when your hands drop to lift your shirt over your head, fully expecting you to make good on your earlier threat. Your eyes stay locked to hers as you slowly strip, making sure to tease this out as long as you can.

“Do you want to go firs--”

Ana blinks when you disappear the second the last piece of clothing hits the floor, bathroom door slamming shut in your wake.

“You better be naked by the time I’m done showering!”

After everything she’s put you through today, who’s to say you can’t have a bit of fun torturing Ana yourself?

After all, it’s all fair in love and war.

#ana maria crnogorcevic x reader #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #Ace writes

308 notes · View notes

yandere-genji · 7 months

Note

Hi, big fan of your work!! Could you please do Yandere Genji or Cassidy snooping through their fem s/o's internet history to make sure she's been a good girl, only to discover she's been looking at all different kinds of sex toys?

tw: yandere, abuse reader is gender neutral

💚 Genji

What sets Genji apart from other yanderes is his method of keeping his darling under control. Genji works from a distant. Sure, stalking goes without saying, but his motive runs deeper than simply watching his darling from afar. Since his time in Blackwatch, he’s worked in the shadows. Honed the ability to use himself as threat to subdue enemies. Because when you realize he’s made you a target, it’s already too late.

So he might not be by your side commanding your every move, but he’ll be there. The unsettling wind at your back, the shuffling of footsteps somewhere in the distance, the displaced objects in your home. He might confront you face to face, depends on what he has planned for you. But by technicality, you’ll have your own space.

But is it yours, really? Because you can’t relax when you have eyes on you. You’re hyper vigilant, all too aware of any vulnerability you might expose. Still, Genji doesn’t have time to keep watch on you at every second. He has business to attend to from time to time. So when you do have those moments alone, you’re quick to take advantage of them.

Unfortunately for you, Genji is always sure to check up on you when he returns from his duties. He has a few excuses for this, namely that he wants to make sure you’re doing alright, that you’re safe. It’s thinly veiled, though, when he rummages through your delicates, unlocks your laptop and searches your internet history. It was only a matter of time until he stumbled across your unsavory interests, but he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face at the victory of unveiling them.

When you come home, the atmosphere is uneasy, an eerie shroud weighing heavy at your breast. Small things had been misplaced in ways that don’t make sense. You flick the lights on in your bedroom, and you’ve seen Genji before, but never so close and in such an intimate space.

He approaches you and you’re too stunned to even move. He holds up his hand and turns over a particularly impressive toy you’d had your eyes on, though the sight of it now has you ill at ease.

“This one caught your eye?” your face burns red as he examines the toy in his hand, “You’ve indulged me this much, I thought I might return the favor.”

❤️‍🔥 Cassidy

If you’ve never had a helicopter parent, Cassidy is going to take a lot of adjusting too. He loves to baby you, always watching over your shoulder and keeping you on a tight leash. His trust is gained in drops and lost in buckets, so his vigilance all depends on your temperament. That being said, he is very generous in rewarding good behavior, the conditions of which involves varying degrees of eager submission. Just be a good baby, and you’ll have nothing to worry about.

But it’s not the worry that gets to you. It’s the constant hovering, he’s by your side whenever he can be and watching your every move. You have to be his perfect little angel or he’ll be sure to correct you, and God does he take every chance he can get. The more you gain his trust, though, the more forgiving he will be.

At first, he’ll shower you with little gifts like clothes or trinkets, he might even let you have some TV time. Then it’s trips to the park, picnic dates and even some restaurants, with the condition you never leave his side. Still, the outside exposure is dearly missed. And when he buys you a laptop, you wonder if it’s a test.

Despite his experience in a highly technical organization, Cassidy is completely oblivious to anything involving technology or computers. It was never a skill he had use for developing, his brute strength capable enough to render any other ability useless. So, he was handing the responsibility to you, trusting you wouldn’t betray him.

And you didn’t, you were really good, especially when it was new and exciting. The little things were enough to satisfy you, watching YouTube videos, listening to your own music, or simply reading the news. It’d been so long since you had internet access. As time went by, you got a little bolder, messaging some friends and playing video games. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the urge you felt when Cassidy was sent out in a mission, leaving you all to yourself.

When he was here, you had your fill of sexual attention. Honestly, you couldn’t get his hands off of you. Though it could be exhausting, it trained in you a need. Something you couldn’t quit cold turkey. And without Cassidy to satisfy that craving, you developed a terrible habit of browsing sex toys.

And what a stupid habit it was, especially when Cassidy caught you red-handed on an early return. The way his smile beamed made you want to recoil into yourself, vanish right then and there.

“Cassidy! I can explain!” your mind was already in the process of spinning some story, “There was this stupid pop-up ad, I didn’t mean to click it - actually I was clicking out of it, but the stupid track pad- Oh my gosh, I swear.”

You knew he was going to laugh, you were prepared for him to tease you, you knew it was going to happen. But the preparation wasn’t enough to shield your embarrassment.

“Naughty thing, ain’t ya?” he purred, his lips curling in a wily grin.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you pleaded with big doe eyes you knew would melt him.

“Oh, pumpkin,” he cupped your chin and circled a thumb over your lips, “Must’ve missed me bad. Let me take care of you.”

From then on, pandora’s box was open. Cassidy loves to see you embrace your sexual side, especially when he can take advantage of it. And your new interest is another opportunity to do just that. He’ll have you put

on display while he sits back and enjoys a nice cigar and cool glass of whiskey.

#can’t come back from a long break without a cassidy piece #yandere #dark overwatch #yandere!overwatch #dark!overwatch #yandere x reader #yandere au #male yandere #cole cassidy x reader #cole cassidy #yandere cole cassidy x reader #yandere cole cassidy #genji x reader #overwatch genji #genji #genji shimada #genji shimada x reader #yandere genji x reader #yandere overwatch

344 notes · View notes

frost-link · 1 year

Text

Overprotective Sidon with S/O

Despite Mipha's death being over a century ago, he still cannot help but be protective of you. Ever since he had grown feelings towards you he feels like he must keep you safe. He doesn't want to lose another loved one again. In his mind, protecting you is his way of making up for the fact he couldn't keep Mipha safe all those years ago. Ever since Princess Zelda and Link disappeared and the upheaval in Hyrule, he's become more protective than ever.

When you both have an established relationship, he moves things along rather fast encouraging you to move to Zora's Domain. It's the best way he can keep you in a space knowing that you will be okay considering all of the monsters out in Hyrule.

He is often away because of his princely duties. During times when he's not with or around you, he always has one of the guards to check in on you from a distance so he knows where you are to ease his worries.

Are you leaving Zora's Domain? You have to let him know in advance. He will personally send one of his guards to come with you.

If something goes wrong and you get hurt despite having a guard with you, he won't let you leave the domain for a few weeks until he knows you're okay. He'll be the one to personally escort you to where you want to go for a while. He keeps his trident close to him, and you closer.

If he notices something that feels off, he'll quickly pull you behind him pulling out his lightscale trident, holding it on the ready.

Sidon is pretty much your personal body guard.

When you both are together out on a stroll, he typically likes to be fairly close to you. It gives him a sense of security knowing you're right by him.

He's very gentle with you when it comes to physical touch.

There comes a point where you finally snap at him because you feel like he can't trust you. He will eventually come to acknowledge that maybe he was indeed being a bit overbearing. From that point forward there remained open communication and Sidon finally came to terms that maybe you were okay on your own.

When you both finally wed, his over protective behaviour comes stirring back in, making fears increase that he could lose you, but you ease him every once in a while, and he relaxes.

While he's gotten better at not being so overbearing, he at the very least always wants to know where you're headed if you plan on going outside of the Domain. Someday he'll find a way to overcome the past, but for now this is what helps make him feel at ease.

#sidon x reader #prince sidon #king sidon #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #legend of zelda

612 notes · View notes

francis-writes · 2 months

Text

Being in polyamorous relationship with Feyd and Rabban HCs with GN!reader

( specifically in a vee type of relationship so you're with both of them but there's no incest)

SFW

I know I said before that they wouldn’t share you, at least with each other but hey, a girl (gender neutral) can dream! And ending up with them both isn't so impossible.

It's easier to start if you're with Feyd-Rautha first, or if you're free and still trying to choose. Feyd is more confident so it's less risky in his eyes to share you. Though he's possesive, well, however that sounds, he sees this as a way to show his superiority over Rabban. Like yeah, you choose Feyd first and Rabban wouldn’t be able to have you if Feyd didn't mercifully agree for that. Rabban isn't very happy with this idea and games of his brother but he accepts it as the only way to be with you. The other way around, it would be much harder to convice Rabban for a polyam relationship because he doesn't want to give away everything to his brother and he would be afraid that you would leave him eventually. But there's also another reason that motivates them both to agree on sharing you: threesomes. But NSFW part will be later.

If you agree on this relationship, you have an important duty and that's bringing balance and stability between them. Watching shit go down is funny once in awhile but it's better if you're boyfriends don't have a constant war with each other.

You usually spend your time with only one brother at once, not just because they like to have your full attention but also all of you have own duties. But every now and then you make sure to spend time all three together.

For longer time, it's not official. Giedi Prime might be famous as planet of debauchery but it's only in some ways: you can have as much concubines as you want, especially when you're rich, but having a stable relationship with two men is still taboo. The other matter is fact that Baron still considers gaining power through getting his nephews into political marriage.

Speaking of the Baron... I mentioned in other post that he would enjoy if brothers competed for your affection because he could use that conflict for his own goals. Happy stable relationship isn't useful to him at all. Even if you have some higher position there's still two problems: 1. Why waste two nephews on one political marriage. Not stonks 2. Happy stable relationship is a threat to his power. Nephews may listen to him less. Rabban may gain self-esteem. That's a big risk. But well, you're still safe as much as you can be. Brothers protect you and they had a talk with their uncle to ensure some rules and your status.

Your relationship isn't official and known to most people, commoners, other Houses and even some local nobles. You don't accompany brothers during public events and even if you're there, you keep your distance and have believable excuse for your presence. Only their inner circle knows about what's between you three. You can be more open about it during dinners together, though when there's Baron Harkonnen present, you can sense he's not very happy about any sign of affection. But who knows, maybe one day he will start appreciating you.

Still on sfw note, when you're all in one place, you usually share a bed. Unless you're not very cuddly and each one sleeps in separate bed to have enough space.

In a scenario where they all survived events of Dune and remained in positions of power, when there's no one stopping them, they would eagerly marry you if you wanted (by no one I mean their uncle; Bene Gesserit and many other Houses thinks that it's a scandal but uhmm Harkonnens don't give a shit abt that). Any previous conflicts and fight for dominance would be put aside. They want to show that you're equally married to one of them, not just are a spouse of one and lover of the other. Desire to show the middle finger to social expectations is even stronger than any their competition.

NSFW

Of course, I know I couldn't skip that part. I know you waited for it. So yeah, now you can finally read about threesomes, the reasons you got into this post.

I'll skip the moments when you are just with one of the brothers because there are many other posts about it. The only thing I can add in that matter is that for some time they considered making a schedule to make sure that you don't spend too much time with one of them but eventually you gave up on this idea.

Question is, isn't it awkward for them to share you? Wouldn't they feel weird while spitroasting you - lets say, you suck off Rabban, he looks up and looks in the face of his brother while Feyd fucks you from behind. Isn't it unfomfortable even for them? The answer is no. At the beginning they may have some doubts, but lust quickly wins with other feelings and they never mind it again. Despite all the conflicts between them, they know each other well enough to not feel embarrassed while naked around each other. Also they are kinky enough to uphold the reputation of House Harkonnen loving pleasure and perversy. They would rather high five each other over your back than feel awkward (it's just a metaphor. Unless... jk)

Dynamics change everytime, especially if you're a switch. As I mentioned before, Feyd is dom leaning switch and Rabban is sub leaning switch but that doesn't stop them from ocassionaly dominating you together. Or sometimes you dom one of them while other doms you. Or you dom them both. Or you dom one of them and the other helps, well, not sexually but for example he says something to help you humiliate your sub (I'm not pointing fingers). You get the point.

Sometimes you fuck just one of them but you're not completely alone and the other brother just sits next to you and either minds his bussiness or just observes you while being kinda turned on and kinda supportive.

You: Feyd, I am sorry but do you have to keep staring?

Feyd: *shows thubs up* i just admire your strength. Go on. Ride him like Fremen rides a sandworm.

You and Rabban: ;_;

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #glossu rabban x reader #rabban harkonnen #beast rabban #beast rabban x reader #feyd rautha x reader x rabban #dune imagine #house harkonnen #no one can stop me

85 notes · View notes

wolven91 · 9 months

Text

You Will Be Snugged

Sqwee checked his paperwork which caused his eyes to go wide. He read it again, then a third time.

There was a human due to dock today and he was marked as their escort for the station. It was the third time Squee had met a human, to meet one was like winning the lottery, to meet three over the course of a few months was like winning the lottery three times in a row whilst getting struck by lightning.

"I got 'human duty' again..." Squee mumbled, reading the side comments offered by the upper administration.

"Haha, good luck Sqwee, 'human duty', god I couldn't handle that!" Shouted a delightfully smug voice.

"Go cough up a hairball Daw." Sqwee snapped back, more on impulse than paying attention to them. The notes on the file made mention of how the other two humans had praised Squee for his attention to their needs, his welcoming attitude and openness which 'showed humanity how welcoming chintians can be'. His application to become a guardian, had been fast tracked, all because of the human's comments.

"Again?" Asked another voice, a different colleague leant over his chair to read the confidential message. "...So this must be one of the human scattering paths? It's the only reason they keep appearing..." They murmured, talking to themselves.

"Well keep it to yourself, you now how dangerous it is for them. Information like that is valuable to the wrong people..." Squee retorted, turning off his computer to go meet his new ward. He ran his hands through his whiskers as he left the office, leaving his colleague to their discussion.

Sqwee was a rotund creature. Not because he was fat, but because his fur was 'poofy'. As a chintian, they were well known for their luxurious fur which was not just silky and thick, but deliciously soft too. Squee tried everything as he hustled towards the docking bays to get his fur in order. It was important! Especially for the humans! He had a damn fine idea as to why they liked him.

When the last two humans arrived on the scene and made it clear that they had zero respect for personal space and every intention to pick up and stroke and squeeze and pamper any chintian that got in their way. Squee discovered that most were frustrated or even angry at them for showing this kind of attention.

In the end, general opinion was to just deal with the exuberant human and move on with one's life. It was, however, always hilarious to watch someone else to have to deal with a human from a distance so you could point and laugh at them as any protest from them was ignored completely.

Sqwee had a secret, however.

He loved the way humans treated him. He adored it!

He wasn't just a clerk with a human. He wasn't a nuisance or an irritation. Humans wanted him, to help them. They seemingly universally adored his fur and gave it high praise. Sqwee loved it when they complimented his fur. He was very proud of it. He couldn't even remember the last time someone other than a human had given him, even a passing compliment.

He wasn't alone by any means. A compliment to one's fur is high praise for a chintian at least, but many were taken aback by their... enthusiasm.

So here Squee was. Stood at the bottom of the ramp and his new ward was due to step through the bulkhead at any moment. He'd do his very best for them and show them just how wonderful chintians could be. They may only be a foot tall, but chintian's had their own culture just as big as an ursidain! Bigger even!

It was the first step that was important. First impressions.

When the bulkhead did hiss, unlock and fly open with a whoosh, a new human stood there in all their glory, blinking into the station lights.

Squee assumed it was a she, and an older one at that. Her skin was exposed with no fur apart from a greying patch atop her head. Her features weren't wizened like the elderly, but there was wisdom and experience there. Oh how Squee wanted to hear her stories... But first!

The human glanced down and caught sight of the foot tall, chinchilla-like alien. Her eyes lit up, a wide smile cracked her face and she bounded forwards down the ramp.

Sqwee, aware of the likely events about to unfold, raised his arms up as if reaching out for her. When she snatched him up, he was pressed underneath her chin, folded within her arms and they both span once in a small circle until he was pulled from her and held at arm's length.

"Well you're the most adorable thing I've ever seen!" Came a kindly voice from the alien. "I sure hope you're my guide!"

He smiled softly to himself, relishing in the loving embrace and warmth the humans gave out so willingly. She spoke as if he were just an animal, and at first there had been mild insult, until the very first human had explained that they'd never met a chintian before and didn't know there were sentients smaller than a human. To be fair, aside from chintians, geckins, and sluggats there weren't any smaller races that Squee could recall.

"Look at you! You're too fluffy! Much too fluffy!"

'Yes I am.' he thought privately to himself, grinning at the praise.

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #human #furry #human x furry #chintian #chinchilla

237 notes · View notes

corxoran · 2 months

Text

The masked apprentice is kazuma but with all his previous motivations and identity as the final remaining asogi stripped from him. This is a version of kazuma who isn't weighed down by his duties or discovering the truth, a version of kazuma who's more tame and reasonable, but also a version of kazuma who has nothing. No history, no overbearing weight of responsibility, no achievements, not even his best friend who he began to lean on. What's worse, having an identity that burdens you, reshapes you, and stresses you, or having no identity at all?

This is also why I love to explore the masked apprentice's relationship with ryunosuke because even with his memories hazy, even if he doesn't recall their relationship in any way, I have the feeling he could fall in love with ryunosuke all over again. Except this time, this version of himself has nothing to hide from ryunosuke, nothing bearing down on him and forcing him to keep that distance. This version of him would want to give himself to ryunosuke entirely because he doesn't have much of any idea what else he's to do. This version of him would allow himself to be a little selfish, a little VULNERABLE, because he has no great purpose to be strong for. He is simply a person, not an asogi.

But ryunosuke knows this older version of him (a version who was idolized and so far from the truth), and the masked apprentice would feel such envy. He isn't kazuma, but he wants to be if only so ryunosuke will love him that way. He wants to remember him.

BUT also even if you lose your memories, MUSCLE memory doesn't just disappear because your brain literally changes when you learn and blah blah brain stuff, anyway - imagine the masked apprentice with habits he can't quite explain, or a feeling that things about ryunosuke just feel familiar. Must talk about ryunosuke's side of this because I most often see people talking a lot about kazuma and not so much about ryunosuke - no way this guy just got into his buddy's suitcase if he didn't trust kazuma and keep an equally large space in his heart for him. Yes yes kazuma needed ryunosuke and loved him and wanted to lean on him, but surely ryunosuke wasn't inert in their relationship. He had motivations of his own, and feelings of his own. He trusted kazuma so much, and held him so high up on a pedestal - he thought the world of kazuma. Now, after all that's happened, all that he's discovered, I don't think he'd change his mind. Ryunosuke's not a "just for show" kind of guy, he wasn't just kazuma's friend for the shits and giggles. After learning all of this, he'd come to realize that he never really knew kazuma at all, only what kazuma wanted to show him to stay that strong, perfect person in his eyes. Because HE WANTED RYUNOSUKE'S LOVE AND REVERENCE BUT ANYWAY - ryunosuke would want to know the REAL kazuma. The guy he followed to britain, the guy he wanted to help in whatever journey he was on. The guy he followed despite knowing he wasn't being told everything because that's just how much faith he had in him. All of this makes me think that ryunosuke doesn't have much going for him. There's no way he's got a whole career plan and parents and all this stuff that he just dropped to go to britain and never mentioned any of it. I believe this indirectly shows us that ryunosuke had no strong convictions of his own, and so this journey with kazuma was something he was able to go on without much holding him back. Even his speech for the contest was apparently shallow, and he doesn't seem as serious about many things as kazuma. He didn't even remember the speech story at first, but every detail was ingrained in kazuma's head.

I think ryunosuke was content just being kazuma's friend, even if he didn't know every single thing about him. He probably found it very remarkable that someone as amazing as kazuma kept choosing him over and over again. But ah... don't take my word for it I'm one of those girlies who hasn't much time or motivation - I haven't even finished the games yet 😢

#cork yap #asoryuu #asogi kazuma #asougi kazuma #kazuma asogi #kazuma asougi #naruhodo ryunosuke #naruhodou ryuunosuke #ryunosuke naruhodo #ryuunosuke naruhodou #masked apprentice #masked disciple

69 notes · View notes

danibee33 · 2 months

Text

Part III of undercover!Ghost 🩶

ghost x reader (callsign: Hela)

word count : 4.7k

>>> [PT 1] [PT2]

You aren’t avoiding Ghost. Not really..

Ok, maybe you are.

The week since the undercover mission had been busier than usual, so it’s not like you don’t have an excuse for your absence- you did have other duties and responsibilities to attend to collaterally to the one-four-one. But were you using said collaterals to possibly steer clear of a certain person..? Well, that’s not important.

“Been awhile, lil’ LT..”

You return Soap’s grin, looking up at him as you both take tentative steps- him reaching out first, and you deflecting,

“D’ya miss me that much, sergeant?” You say, eyes skimming his form, looking for any weakness in it, waiting for the right opening.

It wasn’t a planned meet up, you just needed something to do- you’ve been so restless lately, like no matter what you do, it’s never quite enough to stem the relentless flow of thoughts. Which is how you found yourself on the sparring mats opposite the equally restless man at such an ungodly hour.

“Always miss ye, hen..” Soap grunts just before lunging for you, attempting to swipe your leg but inadvertently opening himself up for you to get your arms and legs wrapped around torso- using your body weight to bring him to his knees,

“Steamin’ Jesus, lil LT- worse than a fuckin’-”

Whatever insults he might’ve tried to spew are cut off when you suddenly readjust, but he recovers quicker than you expect- lifting up and bringing you along with him,

“If ye wanted to cuddle, ye could’a just said so..” Soap says, that flirty little lilt at the edge of his words, the same one you’ve heard him use at the bar a hundred times now. And the lopsided smirk on his lips is all too familiar as he tightens his grip around your waist–

God, he’s such a fuckboy…

With a breathless groan, you switch your hold again, crossing your arm over his face in order to put distance between you while still keeping him mostly trapped,

“Shut it, MacTavish. I’m still winning, aren’t I?”

You go back and forth like this until you’re both struggling to breathe and your muscles begin to quiver with fatigue- throwing jokes and jabs easily. It had always been effortless to talk with Soap, banter with him came naturally, but you think it’s only because you two are alike in that way. Never at a loss for words to fill a silence.

And by the time you’re both thoroughly exhausted, all sweat and panting breaths as you stick uncomfortably to the mat, does he roll to his feet, brushing his hair back in the same motion,

“Always a pleasure, ma’am.” He grins, dwarfing your hand in his own as he tugs you up, “And we’re, uh, we’re goin’ out tomorrow night- or well, tonight, I s’pose.” he fumbles over his words in that adorable way he does sometimes, like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher, “If ye’d like to come.. I can have LT text ye the details.”

At the mention of Simon, you feel the very tips of your ears begin to burn. The sergeant’s prompt too quickly bringing back all the thoughts and memories you had been trying to purge yourself of by coming here,

“Um.. Sure. No promises, though. It’s been busy, ya know..” You say, fighting to keep your tone flippant and casual- but John MacTavish is more keen than you might have given him credit for.

He walks by your side out of the gym, obviously searching for the right way to bring it up, until finally it’s almost like you can feel his own curiosity win over his better judgment,

“Ma’am.. Did somethin’ happen? On the last mission?” The next few seconds are filled with him trying, and somewhat failing but it’s amusing nonetheless, to explain why he’s asking- mostly due to your unusual absences since returning that night. The way you’ve been avoiding the entire team in favor of doing paperwork in your office-

Which you never did because you said you hated being back there on your own.

No, you always preferred to take care of those things in the common spaces, where the chances of having company were always high.

“Was it seein’ LT’s mug? I ken that’s always a bit of a shock for first timers, but-”

“What?” You interject, eyebrows raised in surprise, “No.. no, it has nothing to do with that..”

Well, that’s also not entirely true, is it? But you don’t think it’s for the reasons Soap’s imagining.. It’s more about the fact that everytime you even catch a glimpse of the giant man, you’re reminded of how handsome he was on his knees in front of you, how big his hands felt over your thighs, how his tongue-

“Well, just think ‘bout joinin’ us, won’t ye?”

The sheer amount of hope in Johnny’s voice pulls you out of your reverie, replacing the memory of amber eyes with bright cerulean ones, and that signature fucking smirk,

“Fine! Just chill out with the puppy dog eyes, MacTavish.. Begging like a damn dog.” You concede, waving him away and turning toward your hall without waiting for his reaction. But he doesn’t let you get far before you hear his chuckle, husky and chocked full of guile, bounce off the concrete walls,

“Woof, woof, lil LT..”

Ghost doesn’t like new places.

He doesn’t like being unfamiliar with his surroundings, because he spends too much fucking time being unfamiliar in nearly every surrounding he’s sent to. He doesn’t like leaving things up to chance, doesn’t like how much more stress accumulates around his shoulders and neck- it annoys him, the ache.

But Johnny and Gaz had just been so damn adamant about trying out a new pub. One on the opposite end of town, and he can admit it’s nicer than their usual hole in the wall, but still.

Ghost doesn’t like new places.

Well, that was until he caught sight of you. And then he found himself slightly more drawn to the low lighting that danced over your skin, the way it glowed in your eyes as your survey the bar-

“Hel’s ‘ere?” He asks, downing the last nip of bourbon in his cup.

Johnny’s head whips up then, spotting you in an instant- and there’s something about his response that causes Simon’s gaze to narrow at the shorter man. It’s too… giddy, too reverent for his liking.

“Aye! Invited her the other night.”

That ache in his neck returns but somehow significantly worse.

The other night? You had been with Johnny the other night? When this entire fucking week he hadn’t been able to get three fucking seconds alone with you-

Ok, no, he hadn’t worked up to trying to just call or text, that felt too impersonal. He was shit at all that anyway, he needs to see your body language, needs to analyze all the little expressions that give away so much more than words do. But you had somehow found a way to beat him at his own game. You turned into a ghost, only ever catching your silhouette from the corner of his eye, hearing your voice but never being quick enough to be within a few meters of you.

And possibly the worst was when he would enter a room you had been recently in, the smell of you permeating the air, causing his heart to stutter just so with every deep breath.

Fucking hell..

But here you are. And at Johnny’s request, no less.

Ghost despises new places.

Yet, he does think he could learn to like the overly enthusiastic beat of the music when he sees your hips sway to the rhythm as you wait for your drink. You’re in tight jeans and a black leather jacket that fits your figure like a goddamn glove- and he swears he can feel the silk of your skin by just memory alone, the curves of your body already etched into his mind.

“Gonna get a refill.” He grunts, already walking away from the table with the empty glass in hand.

The sound of a cup being sat on the bartop snaps you back to the present, followed by a heady rush of chills when you hear the baritone of Simon’s voice far closer to your ear than you expect,

“So, she lives.”

You let out a small breath, turning to find the burly breadth of his chest taking up nearly your entire field of view- clad in black from head to toe, which doesn’t surprise you one bit, but it’s not his usual hoodie and jacket. No, this time he’s in a black henley that fits more like a second skin, the fabric deliciously stretched over his pecs and shoulders, the top button left open to give you just a peek at the silver chain glinting underneath and… is that a tattoo?

“She does..” You say, meeting his eyes.

And you really should know better, with too many of your nights haunted by the deep amber of his irises- but the instant it happens, it’s like you’re back in that damned office all over again. The music grows faint, and the people around you turn into little more than blurs at the edge of your vision. He’s all you can feel, the heat of him, the intensity behind his gaze, the way his head tilts softly to the side, studying you as if he might be recommitting your features to memory- not that he needs to.

Because you’ve haunted him just as much. You’ve been the bane of his existence this last week, and somehow the only thing he can see when he shuts his eyes. The sole focus of his loathing and his desire-

“Ma’am, your whiskey sour-” The bartender announces from behind you, effectively breaking the spell you’ve been so wrapped up in right before you hear another small clink, “and a bourbon, neat.”

Without hesitation, Simon leans closer, big arm reaching around you to pull his glass from the bartop and the black surgical mask covering his mouth and nose down in the same motion. He keeps that same heavy gaze on you, your own eyes growing wider at the sight of his face, his crooked nose and scarred lip. You watch him take a short sip, but just as quick as it happened, his mask is back in place, and he’s stepping back,

“C’mon. Table’s over ‘ere.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt whiplash quite like seeing Ghost turn his back on you, easily carving a path through the patrons that fill the space-

But you are damn sure the infuriating Brit isn’t going to get the last word in this.

Ghost can feel your stare, feel how it’s directed right at the back of his skull. A perfect kill shot if he were a betting man. But he can also hear the quiet click of your boots following after him, the tightness in his jeans growing more noticeable with every step-

Fuck.

“Lil’ LT! Glad ye’ could make it out!” Johnny shouts over the crowd, blue eyes cast in mischief and that open sort of admiration that Ghost is sure the man couldn’t hide even if he tried.

You round the table, looking up at the Scot with a devastating smile on your lips before nudging his shoulder with your own,

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure your ego wasn’t too damaged after kicking your ass this morning, sergeant.”

“Ach! -”

Ghost can hear Johnny sputtering on and on in that terrible mashup of English and Scottish slang that’s always grated on the lieutenant’s ears- but whatever he’s saying doesn’t quite register. Instead, he can only really hear the way your laugh brightens the dim room, see the way your head tips back as you take another sip of your drink.

And it’s only then he realizes that he just wishes you would look at him like that. Wishes that he could draw the melodious sound from you, that he could be the reason you smile so brightly-

“Well, well, well-” the group looks over to see Gaz and Price meandering through the throng of bodies, the younger man with outstretched arms, “Hela! Thought you’d up and left our sorry arses!”

All Simon can do is grit his teeth as Gaz embraces you in a quick side hug, Price close behind with a warm grin even on his bearded face,

“And miss out on all the fun? You know me better than that, Garrick.” You say, raising your glass to the Captain in greeting.

So, no, Ghost doesn’t like new places.

But he can’t deny that as the next hour passes he’s smiled more than a few times at his team’s antics. And he certainly can’t say that he hasn’t missed the way you bring them all a little closer, your bubbly brand of forwardness allowing them to each get out of their heads, even if just for a little while.

“What’s this about you handin’ MacTavish's arse to him?” Price’s voice booms over the music, which has only seemed to get louder the later it gets-

Ghost watches you down the rest of your whiskey sour without so much as a flinch, your cheeks flushed such a pretty pink from the alcohol,

“I mean, is that really a surprise?” You shoot back, the man in question all but slamming his glass down on the table in rebuttal-

“Ooh- yer arse is oot the windae! I want a rematch!” Johnny’s words slur together just enough to give away how good he’s really feeling, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “Watcha say, lil LT? And this time we’ll have a proper judge, right Cap? No cheatin’-”

It really isn’t fair how you lean into him as you chuckle, that ache in Simon’s neck creeping up again at the sight.

Christ alive, why can’t he just get it together? Why does he care? You’ve never been one to shy away from physical touch… but fuck all if it doesn’t eat at him.

“Oi, who wants another round?” Gaz, thankfully interjects, drawing everyone’s attention with a collective and resounding sound off.

The others waltz away through the crowd in the direction of the bar, everyone but you- standing across from Ghost at the table, toying with the toothpick in your glass,

"Late night spar, huh?" You don't miss the added gruffness in his tone, or the fact that he refuses to look at you now, staring somewhere over your head.

And if you were a better woman, you wouldn't feel the need to play into his offputting display of jealousy- but you're you after all.. and he's Ghost. So, you give a little hum before plucking the tiny skewer from your cup,

"Couldn't sleep.." You shrug, looking up at him under you lashes, his eyes already on the maraschino cherry that drips down your fingers, "Figured I'd do something a little more productive since I was up anyway-"

Simon tracks your hand, falling right into your terrible little game as you bring the fruit to your lips- it's tooth achingly sweet when you finally bite into it, mixed with the burn of whiskey. And it's when the juice runs down your chin that you meet his gaze, swiping up the liquid on your thumb, he watches with a severity that sends a dangerous chill up your spine- not even daring to blink as you suck the digit clean.

You know he's keenly aware of exactly what you're doing, but that doesn't stop the lust and satisfaction from rushing through you at his deep growl- those coppery eyes darker than you've ever seen.

All too innocently, you flash him a smile, "I think I'll have one more.. you want anything, sir?"

Ghost thinks he can feel the crystal glass in his hand begin to splinter under his grip, unable to tear his eyes away from the red stain on your lips- it's enough to drive him mad.

He gives you a curt shake of his head, knowing that if he had another drink, he might lose whatever vague sense of self-control he's clinging onto so precariously.

And instead of watching you walk away, he turns toward the pool tables, needing something to do with his hands- because if he clenched them any fucking tighter he think he might draw blood with the way his blunt nails dig into his calloused palm.

Without waiting for the others, he racks the balls before picking up a cue stick and breaking the formation- moving around the table just as Johnny sidles up to him,

"Did’nae take ye for a billiards guy, LT.." He says, quickly working to chalk up his own cue.

Gaz and Price follow soon after, eager to join in on teams- and it works, for a short time anyway to distract him. If he can just stay focused on making each shot, then he won't have time to think about you. But, that's a rather silly notion, isn't it? Because sure enough, just as he leans in to take a shot, he spots you bump elbows with his Scottish counterpart.

"Here to give me some good luck, lil LT?" Johnny looks down at you with a lopsided grin, both hands wrapped around the cue stick as he leans on it.

You take a slow sip of your drink, just enough time to glance at Simon- sleeves now pulled up to expose the thickly corded muscles of his forearms and the faded black ball cap on his head turned backwards. He's calculated in his shot, efficiently knocking a striped ball into the nearest pocket-

"I don't think you want any of my luck, sergeant.." You drawl, eyes flitting up to see his deep blue ones already on you, "Can't say I have the best track record when it comes to that."

Soap's chuckle is warm and laced with silk in your ears, watching him copy his superior's movements, finessing his own cue to score a bankshot. Gaz is next, followed by Price, and you follow them ardently, moving around the table as they go until it's back to Ghost-

"Aye, LT-" Johnny calls, "Why don't you show Hela how to do a jump.."

You've managed to get close enough to the towering man now that he has to look down at you before glaring back at his sergeant,

"'m sure she can figure it out on 'er own, Johnny."

"I've actually never really played." You say before your better judgment can stop your mouth from moving- maybe you have had a little much to drink.

And the way Simon's jaw clenches, having taken off his mask as the other patrons slowly dispersed, makes your core tighten- biting the fleshy inside of your cheek between your teeth. You shouldn't push it. You’ve done enough of that already, haven’t you?

Yet, in one swift motion, Simon's hand is on your hip, the other taking the half-empty cup from your grasp before positioning your body in front of his. It isn't exactly gentle, there's a roughness to his movements that put you on edge, a stiffness in his voice that only stokes the the fire in your belly,

"Hold it 'ere.." You take the stick in your hand, the wood still hot from his touch, "and 'ere."

When you grab it this time, he covers your hand, easily repositioning it further down- "Like that."

Very suddenly, you're regretting putting yourself in this situation, so swept up in the feeling of Simon all but dwarfing you, his proximity far more intoxicating than any of the alcohol you've consumed tonight, that you don't notice the sly smirk on Gaz's face- nor the knowing looks shared between your teammates.

In your defense, Simon makes it hard to concentrate on much of anything with the way he slowly leans into you, urging you to bend forward- his hold light but still strong enough to make the slightest adjustments to your stance,

"Lift your elbow now." He mutters, his breath tickling over your exposed shoulder, your jacket left slung over the nearest chair. But it's his hand that catches you off guard, because unlike every other movement he's made with purpose and intention, a man simply doing a job; when he moves now, it's slow, his fingers grazing up your side before softly caressing the skin of your arm,

"Good."

You shift on your feet, your body feeling like it might combust at any moment, the one word spoken in his brassy accent threatening to unravel you on the spot.

The next few moments seem to pass in a blur, you feel him lean in just a bit closer, his left arm bracing over you on the edge of the table as his right hand lands right behind yours on the stick. Whatever he does after is more like a magic trick than logic, rushing the tip downward on the ball with enough force to nearly jerk you forward, but with enough finesse that the little sphere hops off the table- knocking what you assume was the intended target into its pocket.

It takes longer than you're proud of to recover, scrambling to put a bright smile on your face, moving when he does and hoping to whatever deities might exist that it's dark enough to hide the red hue of your cheeks,

"Look at that, a natural, ma'am!" Gaz shouts, clapping a wide palm over your back- and you try to force out a laugh, try to keep your eyes away from the dark form that's moved back towards the table now.

Away from you.

And you wish it didn't make your stomach twist, seeing him pull his mask back on and fixing his ballcap again so that the bill sits low over his eyes-

"Headin' out, Simon?" Price speaks up, an unlit cigar propped lazily between his lips now.

Simon gives his signature nod, which barely a perceptible gesture, but you're all used to it enough by now. The captain, already out past his bedtime, is happy to begin rounding up his own belongings as well, urging the sergeants to get it together and get to the truck,

"I call shotgun!" Soap calls over his shoulder, already barreling towards the exit, Garrick hot on his heels,

"Fuckin' hell.." Price grumbles, looking back at you, "Need a lift, love?"

"No, I'm good. See you tomorrow, Cap." You say, a tired smile reassuring him enough that you would get home-

And just like that, the once bustling pub is more like a ghost town when you step out into the crisp night air, watching the tail lights flicker away. You had gotten a taxi here, but you feel too wired to call for one now- your body felt like it was vibrating, still so lost in the fading memory of what happened inside. But maybe you were just imagining it.. maybe you had let those lines between reality and fantasy blur a little too close for comfort.

Simon climbed into the driver's seat, his hands hitting the steering wheel before ripping the hat and mask off and throwing them onto the dash-

"Fuck."

What was he thinking? He should have never given into it, never touched you the way he did, held you, gotten close enough to feel you against him again. Should have never fed the monster.

God-fucking-damn MacTavish and his annoying fucking antics, never knowing when to quit. Ever since the undercover mission, the man had been a hound with a scent. Testing and prodding and sticking his damned nose in places it didn't belong-

Simon loathes new places.

But there you are. Standing under the milky glow of the street lamp, your hands tangled in your hair and your cheeks puffed in frustration. And so fucking beautiful he can't stand it.

He should leave. He needs to go back to base, needs to take a shower so cold it hurts, needs to bury himself in work just like you did. He needs, he needs, he needs.

Yet, he doesn't do any of those things.

No, like the awful, depraved man he is, he steps out of the truck and makes a beeline right for you- which, looking back on it, might not have been the best course of action because the instant you see his hulking frame he watches how you go on the defensive. Your posture stiffening and your hand reaching for one of your many concealed weapons if he knows you like he thinks he does.

That's ok though, he imagines you could stab him right here in the parking lot and he wouldn't mind one bit. Hell, you could slit his throat and he would smile as he bled out at your feet.

Thankfully, you do neither of those things.

And as soon as you're within reach, he's got those big hands framing your face, crushing his lips to yours.

Shock is all you can register at first. Your mind and body flooded by adrenaline, ready for a fight when you initially saw the shadowed figure coming for you. But in those same few seconds, you recognized him, recognized every purpose driven stride, the steady sway of his shoulders-

Though him kissing you hadn't necessarily been on the list of things you had expected.

You're pulled to your tiptoes, and for a moment you think it might be a dream, the way he audibly groans when your lips begin to move against his. But he doesn't relent, and you don't want him to. So you lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as your muscles can catch up to your thoughts.

You feel his tongue gently glide over your bottom lip, a gentle urging for you to reciprocate- which you're more than happy to oblige. The kiss turning somehow more heated, sloppy even, something you had never experienced yet something that you never want to end.

But all too soon, he does pull away, his fingers threading through your hair, "I'm sorry-"

Again, hearing Simon Riley apologise was just not on the bingo card for tonight.

He presses his forehead to yours, your heavy breaths mingling with his, remnants of whiskey and bourbon filling your nostrils,

"Sorry?" You look up at him, eyebrows tightly knitted, "For what?"

"The mission.. I shouldn't have- I didn't-" --he stumbles over his words, scarred lips finally pulling into a grimace, "Hel, is it true?"

The way his gaze bores into you feels intimate, like he's trying to peel you apart, "Gonna have to be a little less vague there.. I'm smart, but I can't read minds."

Your breathy chuckle helps to ease the tension, if such a thing were possible with how close he still holds you,

"That you've never been with anyone, like that.."

Oh. GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU, MACTAVISH.

When you take a step back, he reluctantly lets you go, his expression faltering for a moment- and you hate it. Hate that you had possibly hurt him- but you just needed space to put it all together, to try to explain.

"Yes.." his face falls even more, and it's like you can feel the shame that radiates from him, your hands reaching for him on their own, fingers tangling into the fabric of his shirt, "But I wanted it.. I wanted.. you. I want you- jesus, fuck- I'm so bad at this."

"You didn't say anythin'.."

You shake your head, a laugh huffing through you as you look to the inky sky above, "Would it have changed anything?"

"I wouldn't have-"

"You wouldn't have done what you did? Why?"

That seems to stump him, his mouth opening and then closing, opening again, "You deserved more."

"Simon, just because I've never had sex doesn't mean I'm completely naive.." You initiate the kiss this time, mimicking the way he had held your face, pulling him closer, "I'm under no illusion that it's suppose to be this magical moment-"

He eagerly returns your kiss, an arm wrapping around your waist as you continue, "And, let's be honest, having 'The Ghost' on his knees was waaayy better than sex."

You feel his smile right before he bends down and hoists over his shoulder,

"Simon!"

But, your shrieks and giggles fall on deaf ears, hands smacking at his back in a lame attempt to wiggle free, "Mm.. no, no, keep screamin' my name, sweet girl. I like the way it sounds."

a/n: this one got away from me… but your honor, they’re down so bad for each other 😭 thank you for reading!!

[PT 4] (coming soon)

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #it’s getting hot in here yall #haha oops #it’s a four parter i guess #sorry?#call of duty #cod fandom #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #john price #reader #fem reader #no y/n

70 notes · View notes

aemondsbeloved · 1 year

Note

Helloooo, may I request headcanons about which words or actions that would make Aemond’s heart skip a beat? 💕

Like The Fairytales

summary: Aemond has a distaste for the romance in the fairytales the ladies of the court read, knowing someone’s heart could never skip a beat. At least he thinks it is impossible, until he meets you.

notes: this might be the fluffiest thing I've ever written. enjoy!

The very first time Aemond had met you was when your family had arrived in the Red Keep for a feast the King was hosting celebrating his elder brother’s name day celebration. Then you were just a lady from some house that Viserys was obliged to invite and he had not seen you until you were at the feast that eve.

When sitting at the high table he had done his best to ignore something Aegon was saying but in one of the tables far away he had notice a shimmer in the candlelight and the movement of hair as you had sat besides your family. Aemond was usually subtle, a master in observing without needing to be observed in return, so he had no fear as he looked at you for a moment. You were talking animately and your smile was a large grin as you turned to the young boy next to you and said something to him with what seemed to be a laugh.

Then you turned your head to slightly but it still led you to looking at him and Aemond stiffed, though he knew you could not tell from the distance. You did something he found strange, you smiled at him. It was no grin but a soft, kind smile that almost seemed... gentle to Aemond, as strange as that was. The ladies in the court looked away from him or only pretended to pay attention to him because he was a prince, both of which was something he found distasteful.

You did not strike him as the latter and you surely were not the former as you had not only looked right at him but smiled. It was very strange indeed, especially when the young boy you had been talking to before had nudged you with his elbow and said something that was a jape by the looks of it. It was only then that your eyes widened and you glanced on the young boy, and Aemond thought you almost looked flustered.

He ignored the feeling your stare and smile had incited and pretended that the light feeling in his heart usually so heavy was nonexistent.

Events like feasts such as these were not something that Aemond hated in itself but more so what came with it, dancing. He was a fine dance, proficient as he was in everything else he studied but he never did dance. Over the years he had rather begun to detest dancing at feasts. As usual at these celebrations he would do what duty begged him to and nothing more — he would dance with his mother and sister, one time each, then he would retreat back to the side of the hall until it was acceptable to leave.

He never had the urge to dance with a lady not when they were never interested. His elder brother danced plenty and the ladies of the court would flock to him even if they knew his reputation to be true. A drunken craven prince was more suitable than Aemond merely because of his scar and lack of two eyes. The bitterness this knowledge had grown in him was something he found comfort in. He did not need to be the prince whose hand every lord wanted for his daughter.

And yet, this eve he had wanted to dance with you and he might have enjoyed it if his mother had told him tomorrow how your father had asked Viserys to betroth you to him.

But when people had begun to move to the space in the middle of the hall to dance as music had started, Aemond had frowned and looked down at his plate still full. He had no intention of eating. Now, he felt the fool. He did not know your name and since when did he care for ladies of the court.

Helaena had insisted Aemond dance with her and he could not deny her but as soon as she switched to another dance partner he had turned from the crowd, intent on standing on the outskirts.

“You do not dance, my prince?” a voice so sweet had asked him and he moved to face you, the very person who would not leave his mind since he saw you his evening. again, he had ignored the way you made his heart nearly flutter like one of the characters in those idiotic romantic fairytales.

If you noticed his stiffness and lack of approachability, you did not make it known, merely tilting your head in the side, your hands clasped in front of your stomach as you wore that gentle smile.

“Only on occasion,” he replied and noticed how you did not seem fearful in his company. “Most ladies prefer my brother’s company.”

“They must have spent time with a different Prince Aegon than I then,” you smiled and he thought maybe you enjoyed the surprise on his face as you grinned. “Or perhaps they are all overly fond of wine. Either way, not to my taste and a drunkard makes for a poor dance partner.”

He should have reprimanded you for your words but instead he huffed a laugh. When you looked something close to flustered at his amusement with something near fondness in your eyes, he felt lighter and though he knew it to be impossible, he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat.

Aemond thought himself brave but when he knew your family would be leaving he did not say goodbye. It would be foolish, would it not? At least this is what Aemond told himself. Later in the afternoon he had promised to have supper with his mother and Alicent had given him a letter. “Lady Y/N had her handmaiden give this to Talia who gave it to me. It seems she wished for you to write her.”

“Who?” Aemond asked before he had the sense not to. When his mother smiled softly he realize this lady was the one he had talked to yesterday eve.

“The one you talked to at the feast,” she told him what he recalled now with happiness. “You forgot her name?”

“I did not ask for it,” he replied and felt foolish. This was not the order of things. The prince was supposed to ask for the lady’s name and he was supposed to ask her to dance. He was meant to ask to write her, not the other way around. He could get nothing right it seemed.

And yet the prospect of her wanting to write him set his heart fluttering no matter how much he pushed the feeling down. His mother surely saw the smile on his lips but did not say anything more.

The first letters sent were stiffly written on Aemond’s part but you always had much to say. Despite the one conversation you had he had learned all about you in — your interests, your homeland, your favorite colors, all of it. In turn, he had told you on his. How he enjoyed spending time with his sister, his favorite things to do were riding Vhagar and finding a new history his uncle Ormund would bring from the Citadel.

It was many moons before you arrived in the Red Keep again but this time Aemond had been there to greet your family. Again, your smile had seemed to captivate him and he had barely hidden his own joy upon seeing you. Later when you had taken his arm and walked with him through the castle, all the while animatedly talking to him about everything, he had realized this was the first time he had held you near. As slight and minimal as the touch was he nearly felt lightheaded and his chest felt tight in way almost pleasant if it weren’t for the lack of control.

That night when he laid on his bed he wondered if this was love was, being weak and embracing it. Was it surrendering your heart to someone even if they would step on it? Even when he woke the next morning Aemond realized that what love was when all he could think about was seeing you.

He would ask you to stroll the gardens today, he decided. He would ask if you had affections for him and if you would agree if he asked his father to betroth you two. Aemond had not felt sure of much in his life so far, not like he was sure you would agree to this.

When he posed the question later by the rose bush you had commented you adored in one letter, you looked much like you did the first time he saw you in the hall, eyes widened and looking flustered. Only now you have an air of happiness around you as you smiled sweetly at him and told him that was all you wanted, to be his.

Perhaps it was possible for his heart to skip a beat, Aemond decided. He forgot propriety as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close, kissing you on the lips with what he tried to convey as love. When you kissed him back, placing a hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder Aemond was sure you loved him too, now more than ever.

For the first time Aemond was looking forward to the feast this eve. He even wanted to go dancing.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! <3

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen headcanons #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x y/n #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen

571 notes · View notes