#Is the fandom still standing strong or- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 2 to Truth or Dare

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Word Count: 5 k

Part 3: READ HERE

So many questions are left on Lt. Riley’s tongue as he finishes another cigarette and leaves the group of officers behind in the rec to make his way back to his quarter, the spectre's touch of your full lips still causing the skin on his mouth to tingle from the sudden lack of all that delicious pressure. There is so much he wants to make clear, even more he wants to do, but where to begin? It’s all so confusing.

As he lays down in his empty bed staring up at the ceiling, struggling to relax his feverish limbs as it still feels like he has been struck by a live wire, he fails to keep his wandering mind focused on his breathing to ignore the gnawing emptiness that is filling his chest from the absence of your presence. That’s when the questions start to roll in.

Did you feel something too? Maybe it was all just an act? Does that even matter if it was?

“No,” Simon mutters to himself through the silence to stop his train of thought from running rampant. He’s allowing himself to get distracted worrying about the unknown and that is something that will only cause more problems, but he is in turmoil.

Unsuccessfully he tosses and turns in the darkness that fills the space, his thoughts drifting back to that feeling of heat from the proximity of your bodies, the residual pressure from your mouth plastered to his, the look of pure lust in your gaze, and the gnawing compulsion of his fingers to get at your curves.

But this isn’t a lover’s island, there is a job to be done here and he has seniority. Maybe it is better to leave this alone where it stands; who knows what disaster could come from getting involved with another officer in such a capacity. And yet…

There is no stopping his mind from wandering ceaselessly back to those breathless moments where his lips fought yours for dominance with the mind-numbing electricity flowing between you, the attraction so strong it did not seem possible for you both to pull from it.

He has a problem and it isn’t going away.

Across base, laying in the dark in your own bed, your heartbeat pounding heavily in your chest, an ache runs its course throughout your limbs. There is a need for something to ease this overwhelming desire to be craved in a desperate, debilitating way, though you really don’t want to admit it. No, you don’t need something…you need someone. You need him.

You hadn’t been ready to admit it then, but there was a spark between you that is no longer possible to ignore now that you are alone, but you don’t know how to handle things any other way than to just ignore and move on; maybe the desire to have him again will die away if you just let it be. Even as the thought enters your mind you know it’s pure bullshit. There is no denying that things became complicated the second your lips met, that it was like igniting gasoline with a blowtorch. What was once mere infatuation that you could handle, has now grown into an untamed beast inside that leaves you feeling delirious and out of control.

Rolling onto your side, you convince yourself to leave all these questions alone and focus on something else, anything to get your mind off of what you would be doing with the lieutenant at this moment if you both had not been interrupted. As you close your eyes to force sleep to come, visions of a bare and glistening officer thrusting between your legs fills your subconscious and you hope the morning comes soon enough because sleep is going to be short tonight.

Luckily, life around base rarely stands still long enough for anything other than work to get tended to. Any hopes of exploring that tension and ecstasy has to be put on the back burner as life in the taskforce resumes its usual chaos. Daily operations keep your schedule packed completely full all week so that certain thoughts get pushed to the back of your mind. And yet, during those slower moments of the day, they come creeping back up just like they never left.

“ ‘ello?” Soap says as he waves his hand in front of your blank face. “Ye in there, lass?”

Your fork hangs limply from your hand, teetering over your plate lunch and threatening to fall with a clatter as you realize that you drifted off again. This is the third time this week that you have gotten so lost in thought trying to recall that feeling of the lieutenant’s lips that it’s becoming apparent to your fellow sergeant that something is off. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to clear your mind.

“What?” you shoot back at him as you stab the food and push it around the plate, pretending to eat even though you aren’t hungry.

“I’ve been talkin’ for a good five minutes and ye ain’t heard a word,” he says with a hint of agitation. His steady glare gives you the once over as he tries to read your face. “Where ye at these last few days, hmm?”

You mask your face behind your customary smile. “Maybe I’m just trying to imagine a more engaging conversation than the one I’m currently in,” you pick, but Johnny isn’t letting this drop.

His eyes are still on you, scrutinizing your body language even as you stare down into your food to avoid his gaze. From the corner of your eye you can see the gears turning in that mind of his as if he is trying to put things together. You let it go on a few more seconds before you speak up.

“You got a problem or something?”

“It’s just strange,” he chuckles and you raise an eyebrow as you tilt your head to the side. “It’s just…I was speakin’ to Gaz yesterday and he mentioned that the lieutenant seems…distracted…as well lately. Same vacant look ye got goin’ on. Ye wouldn’t happen ta know why, would ye?”

Your heart leaps with a strong thud in your chest. Just what the hell is he implying? You had been certain that Johnny knew nothing, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe you aren’t being as convincing as you think. “Why the fuck would I know that?” you play it off as you swallow down the lump in your throat. “Do I just know everything that goes on with everyone around here? I’ve got enough on my mind then to worry about the rest of you lot.”

Johnny leans in a bit closer over his plate and lowers his voice as he says the next part, making your blood run cold. “Must be a coincidence then, that both a ye just happen ta be actin’ different at the same time, ay? Ye know, on account a tha other night.”

The heel of your boot immediately connects with his foot only hard enough to make him yelp and pop back upright in surprise. You always forget that Johnny is smarter than he lets on and it’s clear he has been paying attention. Too bad you will never give him the satisfaction of admitting anything. With a laugh he sits back in his seat as you stare him down before rolling your eyes.

“Why are you so worried about the lieutenant? Seems like someone’s a bit too obsessed and that can be a problem. You should probably talk to someone about that.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever ye say, lass,” he says, punctuating it with another chuckle as he tucks back into his lunch. “Whatever ye say.”

Firearms and ammunition is on the schedule for the rest of your day. It is your job to take inventory of all the munitions you’ll need for tomorrow’s end of week training. At least the repetitious task will keep you busy enough that hopefully you won’t be thinking about a certain lieutenant and what he could be up to right now.

At least that is the plan that you start with, but just as every other day this week soon that hulking officer begins to creep his way into your mind. Has Johnny been lying about how distracted the lieutenant seems lately? Could it be about what happened the other night or could it be something that has nothing to do with you? Little by little, it chips away at your calm until that is all you can focus on, even as you try and get through counting and gathering all the materials you’ll be needing for tomorrow.

There is no way for you to know, but at that exact moment there is someone coming your way with a burning question that needs answering.

All week Lt. Riley has gone about his days as usual, except try as he might to focus only on the tasks given to him, all he can do is mull over the same question in his mind: did you feel something in the kiss the way he did? It is eating him alive to know the answer and no matter where he is, who is speaking with, or what he is doing, the question is there to make him restless.

Until finally he has had enough. Just as the question overwhelms his mind again he throws down the work on his desk, shoves his chair back to get out, and leaves his office in a flurry. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but as he walks he passes by Captain Price’s office, the one person that would know where you are stationed today. Quickly he steps inside the doorway to ask.

Price checks his computer screen that has all that information already pulled up. “She has firearm trainin’ tomorrow with the newer recruits, so she will be takin’ inventory in munitions today,” the captain relays the information, curious as to why his lieutenant seems tense and sounds a little out of breath.

Before the captain can ask any more probing questions or mention to his officer that he will need to speak with him in a bit, the lieutenant heads off in a rush towards the munitions depot. No matter, the captain will let him conduct his business with you and send a messenger in a bit to bring him back.

Lt. Riley crosses the base with nothing else on his mind but to get to you and when he does he finds you are completely lost in your work, none the wiser that you aren’t alone anymore until it’s too late. You don’t hear that signature click that means the main door is opening, nor the careful, but heavily booted footsteps padding across the floor in your direction. Just a few feet from you he stops and stares silently, waiting to see if you notice his presence.

It doesn��t take long for you to feel a pair of eyes on you and looking up you come face to face with the person that was just on your mind. You can’t stop the way you hold your breath the moment your eyes connect as every involuntary process in your body gets interrupted by his sudden appearance. Desperately you try to regain composure and shake off that initial surprise; there is no need to make this awkward, it will only make things worse for yourself in the long run.

Clearing your throat, you shoot him a smile. “Sir,” you greet him with a nod and a slight tremor in your voice that you quickly swallow back down. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. Did you need something?”

The adrenaline makes your limbs tingle and instead of just standing there awkwardly as you wait for him to respond, you put your hands back to the task before you hoping to cause your nervousness to settle. If you have to stand looking into his face in the stillness of the room for much longer, you might combust and the risk of looking like a fool is enough to make you act out being too busy to give him your full attention.

Standing this close with the lingering feelings from the reaction that happened the last time you were together, the lieutenant is overwhelmed and it makes him pause. That same magnetism that he had felt that night is already pulling him to you, until his composure falls apart faster than he can calm it. Still, there is a question on the tip of his tongue that he is choking to ask; it’s the whole reason he’s here and he’s not leaving without an answer no matter what.

“I need ya to stop and look at me,” he says as he steps in towards you. You discreetly take a deep breath as you set your things down to turn your face back to look up at him.

He’s already scrutinizing your body language, focusing on any sign that might give him an idea of where your thoughts are at this moment. Those brown eyes catch how tense your shoulders are through your t-shirt, how your pupils seem dilated as you meet his gaze, and finally the way your hands tremble as they hang at your sides.

“I want ya to tell me the truth, yeah?” he says with a nod.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyes sparkling in the overhead lights as your pulse runs fiery hot through your limbs with the growing anxiety from wondering what the hell is going on. “Yes, sir?”

The mask covering his face clings a little too tightly and the clothing on his chest traps in the heat rising in his body, making his skin clammy as he struggles to vocalize that loaded question he’s had swirling in his mind for days. Lt. Riley clears his throat; he thought he’d come up with something better than this, but thinking clearly has long gone now. All he can do is just spit it out.

“Mactavish’s stupid fuckin’ dare, ya remember it? I keep thinkin’ ‘bout it and I need ya to tell me somethin’: was it all an act, the way we kissed?”

Fuck, how are you supposed to answer this?

There is warmth blossoming in your cheeks as the thumping grows stronger in your chest. His question is simple enough, yet there isn’t a simple way for you to answer. Tell the truth? Could you actually go through with something that risky? For all you know he could be asking just to tell you that the kiss is to mean nothing because it will never happen again, that he wants you to let it all go to clear the air of any misconceptions. You pray that that is not what he’s about to say, but as you silently think about how to answer, he pushes for you to stop avoiding the question.

“I need ya to answer me,” he says firmly, eyes never leaving yours. “Were ya pretendin’ or did ya not want it to fuckin’ end?”

A sharp inhale of air does nothing in helping to calm your nerves; you just have to get on with it. “I-it…wasn’t an act,” you say.

The lieutenant has his answer, that’s what he wanted, right? Just to hear you say that the spark ignited between you in those few ecstasy-fueled minutes were genuine; that is it, isn’t it? His curiosity is sated and he should be able to move on, but he can’t. With your confession comes something more, something that he can’t let go of, and that is now that he knows it was real he wants it again. It consumes him to the point that he cannot move away and instead steps in closer as he grabs your biceps, forcing you to move backwards until you find yourself against the wall directly behind you.

“Sir?” you ask to get his attention as he continues to stand there staring intensely into your face without so much as a sound. You hadn’t felt this overwhelmed by his presence since the night you two kissed, but now it is back to cloud your mind and set your pulse pounding through your limbs.

Your furrow-browed stare wavers as you clear your throat and repeat your question again. “Sir?”

Consequences are an inconceivable concept right now; the only thing playing in his mind are how fucking soft your lips look and how he desperately wants to get lost in them again. The sensations of reliving that experience from that night in the rec consumes every molecule in his body until there is nothing left inside him except for you.

He needs it, he needs it now, and as that deep, longing ache settles itself in his chest to cause his heart to pound so hard that he can hear the beat in his ears, he throws sensibility away as he moves to grab your hips firmly in his gloved hands.

“We really shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he says, his body pressing against yours as he draws you in. “Ya know it’s trouble.”

His actions don’t match his words and the contradiction causes your mind to falter on what you should do. Did he want this to end or not? Does he even really know?

“Do you want to stop, sir?” you ask timidly as your body begins to vibrate with the sudden, intense pleasure of his hands as they are back on you again. “You know we can just forget it; it’s really fine.”

One of his hands leaves the curve of your hip and travels upwards so that those long, covered fingers can string themselves through the strands of hair at the back of your head. “Who said I wanted ta forget, hmm?” he admits with his eyes firmly on your lips, watching as they part slightly so you can take quick, short breaths in and out. “Do ya think I wasn’t there, that I didn’t feel what was happenin’ between us that night? Ya think I could just forget all that? Do ya think I want to?”

His gloved thumb wraps around your face so that he can brush it over your bottom lip, letting the electricity pass through the fabric from his fingertips into your mouth. You gasp from the ache his touch leaves behind and he exhales heavily at your reaction. “Do ya know the fuckin’ power ya have over me after that? Shit, I’m riskin’ a lot just ta be here like this with ya again, knowing what could happen when we’re alone. All because ‘a one fuckin’ kiss.”

You swear if he doesn’t do something soon you are going to pass out; your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable. Only a small swatch of fabric covering his face keeps you both apart and yet you can still sense the heated air from his mouth as it sweeps across the delicate skin of your lips the closer he lowers his head.

He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves you to the point of insanity right now. No, if he was going to stop it should have been long before now. As his hands cling to your body, there isn’t any chance that he is going to let you get away. He needs you, he has to have you, and it has to be right this fucking second to ease the painful longing that has kept him up all week.

Lt. Riley is gone; in his place is a depraved being that only yearns to feel that overwhelming passion that you gave him once again.

“I need more of the way it felt,” he groans adamantly. “I need ya, now.”

Before you can properly react to his heart-stopping statement, the lieutenant frantically wrenches his mask up and completely off his face, not wanting to be hindered at all from you anymore. All you catch is a crown of short blonde hair as he lets the cloth fall to the floor, closes his eyes, and leans in without another word to harshly smash his juicy lips together with yours in a reckless abandon that makes your knees buckle.

Fucking hell it’s everything that he remembered and so much more; you taste like the best type of sin and he is ready to pay everything for it.

The force of his advance shoves your head backward into the wall as he takes your mouth with dizzying harshness, not hesitating to shove in his tongue to fill the cavity behind your lips to capacity. The tip of that wet muscle strokes across the roof of your mouth and the sensation causes your eyes to roll back into your head. If there was any doubt left in your mind, it has all dissipated now that his mouth is back on yours.

“Stop callin’ me sir. Say my name,” he forcefully demands in that husky, breathless tone, a yearning in his voice that makes your soul burn as he speaks those desperate words onto your skin. “Call me Simon.”

You break from his mouth, your lips instantly desperate to form the word and say it aloud. “Simon,” you moan and it breathes new life into his name that he could never have predicted he needed.

Pining you tighter to the wall, he overtakes you rougher and rougher until the harshness of his movements abrades the skin of your mouth to make it swell and bruise. Relentlessly he siphones the breath from you to keep him going. That moist air fills his mouth so that he can speak. “Say it again,” he orders in a growl.

It’s like honey as it rolls off your tongue and you can’t help but want to repeat it. “Mmm, Simon,” you whimper onto his mouth and goddamn the euphoria of having to swallow down the desperation in your voice suddenly awakens an insatiable ache that will need more to quench.

His gloves have to go, now, as his bare hands are burning to get their fill of your curves. Those thin pieces of fabric are hindering him from being able to connect with all that silky skin so that he can know what it feels like against his calloused palms. It is torment to be kept from all that ecstasy. Struggling to peel them off his fingers as he cannot pry his mouth away from yours at all, he finally frees those long, brawny digits and they waste no time in pawing wildly at your body.

Greedy fingers recklessly claw and tear at your clothing, searching for an opening where he can penetrate to find enough balmy skin available to fill his hands until he cannot hold anymore. Deliriously and without looking he rips the pieces of your uniform up until he can get underneath them and let his fingertips get that first touch he has craved nonstop since the second he had pulled away from you that night. Those hungry lips continue to overwhelm your own as Simon is able to grab the hem and his hands have finally found their prize.

Laborious panting breaths fill up the space between you as the roughness of his hands grip into your hips and square them up against his own, pelvis’ grinding together in search of as much friction as they can find. Only a few layers of clothing keep your bodies apart, but that doesn’t stop Simon from rutting against you and you matching his movements. There is nothing else inside your head except the overwhelming euphoria of his touch along the lines of your body and the growing bulge in his pants that drills into you harder and harder the more it grows.

No immediate danger is there to keep you both tame, no time limit looms over your heads that will force you to stop, and when two desperate things have nothing to lose, they simply let go.

Every single one of his senses is overflowing with all of you: the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your sweet breath in his mouth, the warmth of your skin brushing over his, the beat of your heart that he can feel through his fingertips, the sound of your quiet whimpers making his head spin. Goddammit you are eager, so willing to meet his advancements with everything you have; there is no question about what you want. And he cannot lie that he wants it too. You’ve both started down this path and there is no turning back; he knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop, but he won’t.

You are in his veins, circling inside his mind, part of the very air he breathes; whatever risk comes with this could never outweigh the reward of getting to sate the hunger that has been driving him insane.

“Fuck it all,” he growls and suddenly his hands are under your arms and you are being hoisted up off the ground.

Your body reacts from pure instinct by spreading your legs wide and wrapping them around his broad hips, securing yourself to him with a clench of your thighs together. Simon knocks a gasp out of you as he slams your back up against the wall to use it for leverage, his body crushing yours as he begins to grind up into you with that throbbing, engorged cock that is straining to break the zipper of his pants.

Through your clothes he thrusts up into you with powerful strikes, hips rolling into yours over and over with desperation as he tries to get just a little bit more friction between your bodies. You use your thighs to help push yourself up off of him, bouncing over his crotch in response to mimic the way you’d fuck him.

Simon knows he shouldn’t go any further, that he should slow things down because this isn’t the place, but he won’t. Everything is already so close, but still not close enough. He needs the real thing, not this cheap imitation. Even in the haze of this delirious union, there is only one thing he knows he has to do.

He has to get you both naked.

Feverish fingers claw into the negative space between your bodies at the bottom of your shirt until Simon can find the hem. The cooler air outside of your clothing hits your skin with a tingle to make goosebumps appear as he pulls it up off your stomach and over the swell of your breasts.

“Lift up your arms,” he says quickly and your eyes flutter open so that you can follow the demand.

In one swift motion the shirt is off and Simon doesn’t waste any time in ripping off his shirt as well. The feeling of skin to skin sends shivers of ecstasy down his spine as he presses against you. So soft, so warm, fucking hell is he in over his head. He leans in, bending forward so that he can kiss the tops of your breasts through your bra as he hands wander again between your bodies to the clasp on your pants.

Just as his fingers loop through the waistband, you hear the tail end of it. There is no mistaking it, it’s the signature sound of the door to the armory closing shut. You have no time to act as a private with a message from Captain Price enters in a hurry, not paying attention, and stumbles upon something he shouldn’t have under no fault of his own.

“Lt. Riley, Price needs to see y–” the messenger says as he finally looks up, immediately stopping dead in his tracks as his cheeks flush bright red at coming face to face with the two of you half naked and twined together.

The private is tripping over his words as an exasperated growl shuts him right up. “Outside; now,” Simon barks harshly through a heavy pant as he turns his head enough to lock eyes with the now terrified private. Quickly the young man turns tail and bolts for the door, stumbling over his feet to get out as fast as he physically can. Once the click from the door closing shut is heard, those brown eyes turn back to you.

Simon draws in a deep breath before his head falls forward to rest up against yours, foreheads pressed together as he just holds onto you for a moment. “Goddammit,” he curses under his breath in disappointment.

Carefully he untangles his body from yours and sets you back down onto your feet. “Times up,” he repeats the phrase that ended your encounter the last time, though his tone is markedly more miserable this time, and you can’t help the way your stomach knots tightly.

Simon grabs all your clothing back up off the ground, handing you your shirt back as he goes to put his own back on. You immediately redress and straighten your uniform as best you can with your unsteady hands. Everything gets tucked back in place once again as you wait for him to head out without a word, since this seems to be following a certain pattern now.

But instead of simply walking away leaving you to agonize about if you will ever get a chance like this again, his arm reaches out and those long gloved fingers wrap around your belt buckle, gripping it tight in his hand so that he can drag you back against him. The other hand finds its way under your chin to force you to maintain eye contact with him; he needs you to hear him and make no mistake about what he is saying.

“This isn’t over,” he murmurs as he guides your head forward to place one last, lingering kiss on your lips before he breaks away to situate his mask back down over his face.

With that he turns and heads outside to the private patiently waiting to finish giving him the message from the captain. You let your eyes follow him the entire way out the door and only when he’s gone do you finally release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

This isn’t over. The words repeat on a loop in your mind. Fuck, you sure hope so.

Now the question is: when?

Tagging: @spooky-pomegranate

1K notes · View notes

ofstarsandvibranium · 6 months ago

Text

Precious Truths: Part I

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you've been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month's time.

Ever since you were little, you found solace in poetry. Your mother highly encouraged your governess to have you read any and every poetry book that was ever made. The imagery and feelings it produced was something you never experienced before.

After your mother died, your father forbade you from reading poetry. He forbade you for ever mentioning your mother again. Their love was strong and true. As a result, it caused your father deep heartache. He became cold, heartless, and cruel. A drunkard and a gambler. Fortunately, his sister, your aunt, had moved in and became lady of the house. She became your mother figure, but she could only do so much.

She snuck you poetry books when she could. The words now being the only part of your mother you had to connect to.

Because of this love, you began to write poetry yourself. You only ever shared it to your aunt and friend, Kate Bridgerton nee Sharma, another lover of stories and poetry. Both having expressed their hopes of you publishing your writing some day.

"Maybe some day," you'd always say.

What they didn't know was that you did publish your poems. You went under a man's pseudonym, Arthur Talbot. His poetry books were becoming popular among the ton and it brought you joy and a sense of thrill whenever someone mentioned his name to you.

You'd recite your his poetry readings held at Lady Danbury's often. Everyone was always in awe of how the words poured out of you with intense and deep emotion.

But the one who was most taken with them and you, was none other than Benedict Bridgerton.

_______________________

The small group break out into applause and you curtsy. Lady Danbury walks up to you with a proud grin on her face, "Another splendid performance, Miss L/N. I can tell you deeply resonate with Talbot. "

You bow, "Thank you, Lady Danbury. His words mean a lot to me. It's as if he and I are one." You hold back a laugh as you express your gratitude to the hostess.

"Well, I think this calls for a break," the older woman turns to face her guests, "Everyone please enjoy some refreshments."

People begin to disperse, leaving the sitting room for other parts of the Danbury estate.

You're standing off to the side, watching those around you, when your dear friend, Benedict, approaches you. You smile wide at him, "Ben!"

"Another splendid performance, Miss L/N," he lifts his glass to you.

You chuckle, "Thank you. But I think Arthur Talbot deserves just as much praise. They're his words after all."

Benedict nods, "Yes, but you perform his words so beautifully."

You look away, feeling a heat crawl up your cheeks. Benedict clears his throat, "I take it you still have no marriage prospects since you haven't mentioned anyone courting you."

You look back up at him and snort, "Ben, this is my fourth year in society. I highly doubt I'll ever find a man willing to marry me at this point." You cast your eyes down to play with a thread on your skirt, "No one wants to be married to someone who has gambling drunkard father. Doesn't matter if he's a Lord or not."

"If my brother, Anthony, managed to find love and a wife, you will to, Y/N."

You scoff, "How dare you put me in the same category as Anthony."

"I agree," you turn to see said brother and Kate, approaching you, arm in arm, "You're much better than my husband," Kate says with a smirk.

"Still disgustingly in love, I see," you arch a playful look at your friend.

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

Anthony unhook his arm from Kate's and moves towards Benedict, "Come, brother. Let us let the ladies socialize." He takes Benedict's glass and downs it in a gulp.

The younger brother frowns, "I was drinking that."

"Then we shall grab another and drinks for the ladies," he pats his brother's shoulder and Benedict groans, following his brother out of the room.

You and Kate take a seat on the couch and catch up while the men grab drinks.

_____________________

"So, have you finally decided to court Miss L/N?" the eldest Bridgerton asks.

"We are friends, Anthony. Nothing more."

"So you don't love her anymore?" Anthony asks with a curious gaze, taking a sip of brandy.

"...I didn't say that. Besides, you originally didn't want me involved with her because of her father. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, well, we are the not the sins of our parents. Miss L/N is a lovely woman. She's smart, well-read, not to mention she laughs with you even when your jokes aren't funny."

Benedict's brows furrow, "I am funny!"

Anthony takes another sip of his drink and sighs, "What I mean to say is that I think you two would be a fine match. Besides, it's not like any other man is interested in her."

Benedict immediately clenches his jaw and takes a leering step towards his older brother, "Don't talk about her like that."

Stunned by the sudden change of his brother, Anthony takes a cautious step back, "I meant no harm, brother, but is it not true? It's been years since she's stepped into society and very few men have made an effort to court her."

Benedict lets out a deep breath and apologizes, "I'm sorry."

Anthony clears his throat, "All I'm saying is that you've had several chances to be with her. If you don't take the opportunity, you may lose her."

_________________________

"I apologize for missing another one of your recitals," Kate says, grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. Ever since she married Anthony, you two have become acquainted due to your paths crossing whenever you came to see Benedict.

You shrug, "You've heard it all before, Kate. Just another one of Talbot's poems."

"You're quite smitten with this poet, it seems."

You laugh, "I can't help it! His words are as if he speaks to my soul!"

"Maybe I should write to this Talbot and see if he'd like to ever attend a Bridgerton ball."

You shake your head, "Oh no. Please, don't. People say never to meet your heroes, so I don't think I would want to meet him."

Kate shrugs, "As you wish."

Anthony and Benedict come back with drinks in hand. Anthony hands Kate a glass and Benedict hands you one.

"Thank you, Ben," you give him a grateful smile and he smiles back, "Of course."

He sits in the chair beside you and you two fall into discussion about the poem you recited, all the while Kate and Anthony give each other knowing looks.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagine #f!reader #female!reader #fem!reader

1K notes · View notes

andreawritesit · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! I hope I am not bothering you :) I was wondering if I could ask for a Cregan Stark x Reader where they have a busy day and cuddle under the furs for the night, sweet kisses and pillow talks and all this kinda stuff. Just a small drabble would be ok.

i adore fluffy so please make it as sweet as you can, thank you :(

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader

Words: 952

The arrival of winter was always a busy time in the North. As the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, Cregan and you had spent the entire day overseeing the preparations for the upcoming winter. The castle buzzed with activity as you both coordinated food storage for the harsh winter to come. It was your duty to make sure that the people of the North would be well-protected against the biting cold. You had assisted Cregan throughout the day, your presence a constant source of support and encouragement. Whether it was reviewing the storeroom inventory or ensuring that the workers were well-fed and rested, you had worked tirelessly alongside him.

As the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the snow-covered landscape, the fatigue of the day began to weigh heavily on you. You glanced at Cregan, who was engaged in a final discussion with his advisors. His strong and commanding presence never ceased to inspire you, but even he looked tired at the moment. Finally, he sent them on their way and walked over to where you were standing, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You must be tired, my love. Come, let's retire for the night." He held your hand and led you out of the hall.

You made your way to your chambers, the warmth of the castle a stark contrast to the icy chill outside. Cregan held your hand the entire way. You felt a sense of relief as you entered the cozy room, the flickering fire casting a comforting glow. Cregan closed the door behind him, and the day's burdens seemed to melt away. You let out a long sigh which elicited a soft laugh from your husband.

"What's so funny, my lord?" you asked him.

He shook his head and hugged you from behind. "Nothing. You truly are very tired. Forgive me, in between all the preparations for the winter, I perhaps didn't pay much attention to you today."

You turned around still in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his torso. He rested his chin atop your head and hugged you closer to himself. "Not at all, dear husband. You were doing your duty and so was I. I'm indeed tired but I'm also quite proud of how much we accomplished in just a day."

He kissed the top of your head and released you from his hold. A chill ran over you in the absence of his warmth. Without another word, Cregan began to shed his heavy cloak and boots. You followed suit. You both moved in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from deep understanding and mutual affection. Once you were both in your nightclothes, Cregan pulled back the thick furs on the bed, inviting you to join him.

You put your clothes on the chair and walked over to him. He had already climbed under the warm furs. You quickly slipped beneath the furs, the soft, warm fabric enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort. Cregan immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. Snuggling against his chest, you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

"You know what", his deep voice rang, sending shivers down your spine, "today was truly exhausting. It feels like there is a mountain on top of my head."

You tilted your head to look up at him, your eyes filled with care and love. "Does it ache a lot? I can call the maesters. There is no reason for you to suffer, my love."

Cregan shook his head slowly and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "It's nothing I can't handle. Besides, you've tired yourself enough today. Now I want you to stay here and rest."

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. Cregan leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of warmth and love. When you finally pulled away, Cregan rested his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling in the cool air.

You lay there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a gentle light over the room. Cregan's hand stroked your hair, his touch soothing and tender. You were just starting to fall asleep when Cregan suddenly asked, "Do you remember the first time we met?" a smile playing on his lips.

A sound somewhat between a sigh and a laugh left your lips. "How could I forget? You were so serious and intimidating. I thought I'd never get through to you." Cregan smiled, looking at you with love and admiration in his eyes. "We've come a long way since then," he said softly. He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips soft and tender against yours.

"I love you, Cregan," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," he replied, kissing you once more. "More than words can say."

As the night wore on, the soft crackling of the fire and Cregan's steady breathing played on like a lullaby, summoning you into the land of dreams. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you nestled closer to Cregan, your head resting on his chest. Cregan held you close, his arms a protective cocoon around you. "Sleep, my love," he murmured, pressing a final kiss to your forehead. "I'll be here when you wake." You sighed contentedly, your eyes fluttering shut. "Goodnight, Cregan", you breathed out before falling asleep.

"Goodnight," Cregan replied softly, his own eyes closing as he held you close.

#hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark fanfic #andreawritesit

727 notes · View notes

better-call-mau1 · 2 years ago

Text

@lady-grey-1993 that’s the most unsettlingly accurate take I’ve ever heard. Star Wars has a wholesome, campy facade and comes off as a “classic, fun franchise for the whole family!” but…

LITERALLY ALL THE MAIN CHARACTERS DIE TRAGICALLY AND THERE ARE NO ON-SCREEN HAPPY ENDINGS except for Rey and Finn and Poe…? but I’m not convinced that Rise of Skywalker was anything less than a fever dream that the whole fandom experienced together so they don’t count…

Before the Sequel Trilogy squashed that beautiful ending scene in Return of the Jedi with all the heroes (living and deceased), celebrating together, Star Wars was a hopeful story of adventure and good overcoming evil…but eight years later, we’ve come to expect that beloved characters will die in heartbreaking fashion, and for good reason. With the way they’re starting to tie the Mandoverse into the sequels more directly, I feel like Lucasfilm and Filoni are sending this message:

Lucasfilm: Literally every single romance or almost-romance we’ve ever written in the Star Wars universe has ended in tragedy.

Lucasfilm: Han/Leia? Split up after their son went off the deep end. They eventually died broken and alone.

Lucasfilm: Anidala? No match for Palpatine’s plotting, Anakin’s attachment issues, and Padmé’s Sadness.

Lucasfilm: Obitine? Jyn/Cassian? Reylo?Tragedy! Tragedy! Tragedy!

Lucasfilm: At least we gave you Kanera. Aren’t they just so sweet and devoted and —— oh, whoops! More tragedy!

Ezra: I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Sabine, drawing her blasters: They can pry you from my cold, dead hands.

Ezra: Please don’t tempt them.

#sorry for the rant 😅#I don’t hate the sequels as stand alones #but as actual sequels…? they take away so much more than they offer #anyway #do we actually think Ahsoka is going to ride off into the sunset???#there’s just no way based on what they’ve been doing #girl has been through so much and she deserves that at this point #we can try to say that being the good guy is its own reward…but that has limits #like Ezra is going to come back from 5-10 years in exile…to what???#more conflict and heartbreak???#it’d be one thing if they let him and Sabine have their romantic or platonic happy ending together #but they just won’t #and maybe it’s because they don’t know how to do it the right way #killing off characters to keep the plot going is easy after a while #but finally saying “hey we’ve reached the end of this story! the bad guys have been subdued and this saga is over!”#well I think they failed at that with TRoS and I don’t have faith they’ll even try with the Mandoverse #THIS IS WHY WE HAVE FANFICTION PEOPLE #the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF fandom still has a pretty strong community on AO3 #and I’m sure Star Wars (Rebels included) will for a long time too

233 notes · View notes

bixels · 3 months ago

Text

The Ryoko Kui interview's reception is such a disaster over a pretty normal (yet still flawed) interview between a non-Japanese fan and Japanese artistic. This is discourse for discourse's sake, and it's no surprise that almost every Twitter user I've looked at who's using this interview to parade Kui around as a goated mangaka standing strong against Western ideology is anti-trans.

Like, I do think the interview was kinda wonky with its focus on fandom culture, which Kui clearly didn't have much interest in. But sometimes that happens. Sometimes interactions between two people, especially a fan and a creator, two people who view and interact with a piece of media in completely opposite perspectives, don't click. Does this really need to get blown up into a "West vs. East culture war" issue.

Anyways, Kui saying "I don't consider my audience's interpretations when writing. I leave it to their imaginations, but I have my own read on things too" is the healthiest, most normal thing an artist/writer who wants a non-parasocial audience could say. Artists and writers use this line all the time. If Kui didn't enjoy autistic Laius or Farcille headcanons, she would have probably voiced/signalled her discomfort, like she did on the topic of Senshi fanservice. Overall, Kui handled the interview really well. Props to her to sticking to her guns and keeping a healthy disconnect from the fandom. While I think the interviewer could've/should've been more tactful and restrained, the flaws in their questions is not a symptom of the woke mind virus trying to wriggle its way into the pure Japanese psyche. It's the sign of an over-eager fan who sees a piece of fiction differently than its creator.

#personal #delete later #this isn't even worth talking about in depth #but it's crazy that we're rehashing the “artist intent vs fan interpretation” crap again.#read stuart hall's encoding/decoding.#is it so terrible that laius reads to nd people as autistic even though the writer wasn't thinking about it #is that really something to criticize #also you may think the last sentence is me exaggerating but that's literally what the twt discourse is about #anyways i feel bad for the interviewer who's getting harassed over this #i'm seeing every side of discourse be super uncharitable toward them because it's funnier to make them sound outta touch and confrontationa #like. i'm seeing posts from cool people making the interviewer look like they asked “why did you make laius autistic??”#when the actual text of the interview goes “a lot of nd people interpreted laius as autistic. did you have that in mind when writing him?”#and obviously i think a lot of fandom people upset about this are weird too. joking that kui. a real person. is probably autistic is weird #but who am i more willing to criticize. the overeager parasocial fans taking things a too far and making things kinda weird #or the “kill the woke mind virus” weeabo/otaku terfs who still use the r-slur against queer/nd teen anime fans

594 notes · View notes

rebelliousstories · 3 months ago

Text

Their S/O Walking in on Them Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,222

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Leave a TIP: Here and Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Logan has been around a long time, and has long let go of any shame of someone catching him in that vulnerable position. That being said…

* He never likes anyone coming into his space unannounced. Clothed, or not. So, someone coming into his room, without knocking, while he’s sliding pants on, dressed only in boxers; he’s pausing and sniffing the air to determine if the claws are necessary. When he doesn’t smell an immediate threat, he’s still hunched over and stationary when he sees you walk in.

* “Hey,” he’ll grumble, “you okay, bub?”

* He’s not afraid of you seeing him like this, but the pausing is a little concerning for him. Logan gets his pants on, does his belt, and then comes over to you.

* Logan always smells like smoke and whiskey, coupled with what can only be described as an animal-type musk to him. But it’s not terribly overpowering. And his chest is so very warm when he crowds you in after catching you staring. Logan’s hands on your waist just fill you with warmth. He is a walking furnace, and definitely uses it to his advantage.

* “Everything alright in that head of yours?” He would just love to tease you when he caught you openly gawking at him. It makes him feel better about himself, and your relationship. Every version of Logan has enough trauma to fill several books, so reassurance is something he definitely needs every now and again.

* Safe to say that walking in on Logan is a wonderful chance for him to get the praise he wants, and maybe a pair of wandering hands across his chest.

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

* Oh boy, walking in Wade is both a blessing and a curse. This man is well aware of his physique. He holds no illusions that his cancer ridden skin is not the most attractive thing in the world, but he made do with what he had. So catching him is near impossible. Before the mutation had wrecked his look, he would have gladly let you catch him in the middle of changing. Now, well, he didn’t want to make you lose your lunch.

* So, all that to say, catching him changing is very difficult. However, it has happened. It was just a regular day. Well, as regular as it could get into the household. Wade had just returned from an afternoon of Deadpool-ing around the city, and was trying to get changed before you came home. He knew that he was cutting it close as it is, but he still held out hope that he would be done. That wasn’t the case. The sound of a door coming open made Wade try and get out of his suit fast, but that only succeeded in getting him stuck in the suit.

* “Well, this is an interesting sight.” He flopped on the bed, and looked to the door. There you stood, with a shopping bag from your day out, and watching your boyfriend struggle with his suit.

* “I know. It’s like a golf ball covered in skin that went into a red leather condom. Can you just yank on that leg please?” It’s a much less funny event than you would expect. And when you don’t leave after getting him out of his suit? He’s utterly confused. Standing there in his boxers, Wade was patiently waiting for you to go. But you never did. Your eyes stayed glued to him, and he couldn’t help but make a comment.

* “You can’t honestly like this, you little freak?”

* “You bet your sweet ass I do.”

* He doesn’t believe you, but after a few rounds, he might come around to the idea.

Remy LeBeau/ Gambit

* My sweet southern gentleman. Let me tell you one thing that I said in the last headcanons; This man is so respectful. Remy LeBeau, walking in on you, is embarrassed about betraying your trust like that. However, Remy LeBeau that you walk in on, is a tease, sly, smug S.O.B.

* I can fully see where he would be changing too. He’d be a gentleman and allow you the first shower so you can have all the hot water and a longer experience. But Remy is burning up. It’s summer in New Orleans, the bug screen is up on the windows, but the breeze can’t cool him down enough. He figures that he could at least take off his shirt while he’s waiting. But his pants soon join the shirt on the ground as well because he still can’t cool down. He’s about to flop down onto the bed when he hears the bathroom door open and out you walk in just a towel.

* “See somethin’ ya like, cher?”

* “Go take a shower, you stinky swamp rat.”

* He might be a little cocky when he catches you staring at his figure that he usually keeps hidden under many layers, but when your face heats up n a fierce blood red blush, Remy is quick to get her his clothing and move in to go take his own shower. Once he’s out though, prepare for a menace to be on your hands.

* He’s constantly asking if you like his body, and will gently tease you for the rest of the night about you not being able to wait to catch him in such a state of undress. If you play along, he’ll keep going till the moment calls for it. But if you aren’t here for the banter, he’s genuinely asking if he made you uncomfortable. Your comfort is paramount with our swamp rat.

* But Gambit will tease you about it occasionally, especially in public, when it can almost guarantee a rise out of you.

Poly! Deadpool and Wolverine

* Much like the DP headcanons above, I feel like this is going to happen after a mission they go on. The two of the stumble home to the apartment, and already have their masks off, when they fumble and slam their way into the bedroom. They try to be quiet because they know that you’re asleep in the bed in the middle of the room, but it’s hard when the grunts of sore muscles and moving leather fill the room.

* “Stop making so much damn noise, mouth. You’re gonna wake up the beast, and I don’t feel like dealing with that right now.” Logan would grumble.

* “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that my quiet unzipping of my suit meticulously was overpowering your grunts and groans like you just got out of a cage match.”

* “Will the two of you shut the hell up and strip so I can have something to dream about?” Your voice startled the two men, who had assumed that you were sleeping peacefully.

* Let me remind you, these are fully grown men and they decided to spend the next fifteen minutes taking off their suit while putting the blame on the other for you waking up. Like a couple of children, but you sucked it up because it was worth the eye candy to help drift you off into dreamland once more.

* By the time they get into bed and quit their bickering, you have already fallen asleep to the dreams filled with Logan’s perfect sculpted body, and Wade’s side comments. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

561 notes · View notes