#gary x reader

[shiroisotto64]

Fionna & Cake hcs

Fionna

She’s and adrenaline junkie. No questions asked. She loves to bring you with her on adventures! Fighting is already fun, but it’s so much better with company. (Especially if you’re dating)

You’d have to help her keep the apartment in check. It’s a mess when she’s not reminded to tidy it up. Put on some music and she’ll be more willing to get up and clean.

KEEP HER OUT OF THE KITCHEN. This woman CANNOT cook to save her life. That’s why Fionna and cake each sandwiches and take out. She’s tried but Fionna has a track record for burning water so…

Really affectionate and doesn’t mind PDA. She gets flustered but will return you’re affections without question. She’s also always hyping you up. New outfit? She’s the first to comment. Killed a bad guy really quickly? She’s quick to pull you into a strong hug afterwards.

Date nights are anything under the sun honestly. Cuddling in bed? Yeah. Going to a concert? Absolutely!

You could go skating, swimming, anything really but it’s best to do something that can keep her occupied. If she gets bored she’ll kinda space out. She doesn’t mean to though and will apologize later.

Simon

He likes to read to you. In fact he’ll lend you his books to read so you can both talk about it afterwards. He gets really excited to do this and tends to ramble. So you’ll have to excuse him.

Once you say something he’s more conscious and tries not to do it anyone unless your encourage him. He still has his dark days but it’s way easier with you. However Simon hates feeling like a burden.

So he’s not the best with communicating his problems. He tends to lock them away until he snaps. He always feels horrible and leaves for a bit to calm down and clear his head.

He’s an introvert. But if you want him to go with you he’ll try at least. But he will be vocal about it if he feels uncomfortable and wants to go back home. Date nights are pretty chill honestly.

Baking, watching movies / documentaries. Reading or talking about books together. He likes when you talk about you’re interests! He’ll listen and ask questions so he gets it to. He gets real flustered with PDA so keep that in mind to.

Marshall Lee

Real laid back and chill. He plays his guitar while y’all hang out. He has and still will write songs about and or inspired by you and his friends.

He’s really supportive. He encourages you to go after you’re dreams and do whatever makes you happy. Marshall finds it real cute when you wear his shirts or button ups.

Hell he encourages it even. He vents to you about his mom sometimes. He really appreciates you listening and is even more appreciative if you give him advice on how to properly talk to / get through to her.

Has a sweet tooth. You can easily bride him with sweets of any kind. Want him to wash the dishes for you? Whip out a box of his fav cookies from the store. He’s never washed dishes faster in his life.

You’d end up paying for a lot of stuff, sorry. He tries his best to get money singing on the corners and streets of the town yet it only pays so much. He really appreciates it if you’re patient with him.

He’s ok with Pda and will reciprocate you’re affections but doesn’t expect to not be teased in the process.

Gary

He’s like a mother hen. He gets worried if you don’t answer his texts within 10 minutes honestly. It might get annoying and if it does? Gently tell him how you feel and he’ll do his best to be more patient.

He likes cooking and baking for you. And it makes his whole week if you praise his skills and tell him how much you love it. Bonus point if you can bake or if you give him constructive criticism!

He likes it when you play in his hair. He loves it when you pull his head into you’re lap and run you’re fingers through his pink hair. He’ll be out in minutes honestly.

Gary swoons whenever you put on his sweaters. He has bought the both of you matchin ones. And he is also the type to wanna get matching couples outfits. Just putting that out there.

He likes it when you to clean together. He cleans the dishes and you rinse them off. You both finish that much faster and after he goes up behind you to embrace you. He’ll stay like that for as long as you let him.

Gets flustered by PDA but welcomes it anyways. And Gary is super affectionate at night. He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon just hold him.

Finn

He’s affectionate and tries to be as honest with you as he can. But Finn isn’t the best with negative feelings. We all saw how he struggled to help Simon and was a bit awkward while doing it.

Another adrenaline junkie. He likes to go camping and adventuring with you. Anything fun and active and he’s in. Finn Is also very considerate of the things you like and will get you something that reminds him of you while he’s out. Or something he knows you’ll like.

Really playfully. He’ll sometimes just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder before walking off to go knows where. He has complete faith in you and is real happy if you feel the same!

Doesn’t get jealous, like at all. Like I said complete trust in you. He doesn’t question you’re actions and just goes with the flow. He’s very comfortable with you’re bond.

He’s chill with Pda. If you hug him he’ll hug back. You want a kiss? You got it. No questions asked. He is protective of you though. Yet is also confident in you’re abilities but if you need help he’s there in the blink of an eye.

Winter King

Loves to sing to you! He’ll declare his love to you in and out of town. He loves to spoil you. Anything you want is yours. He always smiles at you whenever he catches you looking at him.

Will pull you in to dance with him. You both go ice skating all the time and if you don’t know how he’ll teach you. He’s real patient with you, so don’t worry. He tries to impress you. He’s very subtle about it but if you pay attention you can see it.

He’d melt if you sat on his lap while he sat on his throne. He has introduced you to ice Marcy. I think you’d all get along pretty well. Kinda like a little family. Also his two guards love hanging out with you.

Training and skating you name it they’re in. Simon chuckles while he watches them drag you around. He’s really affectionate to. You both are attached at the hip! He has to have a hand on you at all times or he’ll explode.

Winter king can’t help but to flush if you pull him down to press kisses to his face. He also loves when you run you’re fingers through his silky hair. He lets you go in his lab. He answers you’re questions if you have any.

Candy Queen

(I couldn’t find any gifs I’m sorry)

She’s the clingiest. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without her. You can barely get alone time in the bathroom. She’s always writing new songs to sing to you.

She’ll put on a show to win you’re praises and affection. Like i said she really affectionate. She’ll take naps on you throughout the day. She does drool a little but you’ll be ok.

Not much to say I feel like shes really straight forward. She’s not ashamed of the pictures she has of you in her room and openly flirts with you. Dose not mind PDA she heavily encourages it even.

Gets all giddy if you annotate affection. She’d be chill to watch cartoons with you while you both laze around doing nothin in particular.

[viceroywrites]

private show - part two

part two of three - henchman 21 x camstar!reader

ao3 ver here

Gary ends up stumbling upon your profile on a camstar website 24 had mentioned to him. He quickly becomes your most loyal viewer and top tipper.

So why not reward him with a private show?

(Set during Season 3/Pre-Two Ton 21)

18+ only, minors dni.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Gary exclaims in shock, holding his laptop in between his thick fingers as he rushes out of his room. He books it down the hall, banging on 24’s door in urgency.

24 sticks his head out, cautious that the Moppets may be on the other side and ready to slam the door but relaxes at the sight of Gary, “I thought you were the Moppets… come in.” He opens the door, allowing Gary to rush inside and shove the screen up to 24’s face.

“Dude, you are not gonna believe this! Look at this message I just got from her!” Gary says in excitement, still in awe of the whole situation.

24 grabs the laptop from Gary’s shaky hands, sitting down on his bed as he reads over the message. His eyes widened before responding, “I told you she’s into you! So you’re gonna take her up on the offer, right?”

“I don’t know… I mean I’d absolutely love to get a private session with her but what if she wants me to turn on my camera? I mean I totally would get that, since there are total creeps in her chat that are probably like 60 year old men.” Gary rambles, pondering his next steps, “I don’t know if I can do it. What if she sees what I look like and gets turned off and totally just blocks me?”

“Well, too late because I already said yes for you.” 24 says with a grin, turning the laptop over to reveal the message he typed out and sent back to you, written eerily how Gary envisioned he might respond. 

‘Oh my god, I totally wasn’t expecting this at all! It would be an honor to get a private session from you.’

Time freezes for Gary as he processes what his best friend has just done, staring between him and the computer screen before snatching the laptop away from 24, “Oh my god, is there an option to unsend?”

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity! When will a super hot chick just offer to have cam sex with you, no payment needed?” 24 attempts to rationalize it, placing his hands on Gary’s shoulders.

Before Gary can respond, a notification tone rings through 24’s room and the two huddle around the laptop to read your reply back.

‘You’re such a sweetheart, Viceroy. Just let me know what times and days work best for you, I’m pretty much available the rest of this week. Looking forward to it!’

“You’re welcome,” 24 replies simply, patting Gary’s shoulder, “Also, why are your keys sticky?”

“Well…” Gary trails off, and 24’s face morphs into disgust at the realization of what Gary was just doing prior to him storming into his room.

“Oh dude, gross! Now I have to wash these gloves!” 

-

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you read back Viceroy’s enthusiastic reply, having a brief back and forth to discuss each other’s availability before solidifying a time and day that worked with both of your schedules the following week.

You couldn’t put a finger on what had you so giddy about the prospect of potentially putting a face to the user behind the screen though you tried to level your expectations that he may not even show his face on camera. 

There was something about his charming yet dorky personality that showed through his sporadic comments that had you throwing caution into the wind, offering a private session that normally would cost a hefty price.

As the days began to approach, excitement bubbled in your chest, quite distracted from your day to day routine. In preparation, you had picked out a special set outfit that made you feel the most confident and sexy, and made sure your collection of toys was easily accessible at the edge of your bed in case you got any special requests.

The feeling was mutual as Gary had a pep in his step for the rest of the week, excited but also anxious about potentially having to reveal his face to you. He tried to push the latter feeling aside, though it was difficult to stay distracted considering his henchman duties were pretty much put on hold as the Monarch tried to find a new arch and the Moppets ended up going on the most recent arch.

However, after that arch went south and Gary and 24 joined the Monarch in his raid of the Venture compound against his wife’s wishes, things picked back up as Dr. Mrs the Monarch found an arch that was adjacent enough to Venture that it quelled Monarch’s desires to arch only Venture for now - his brother, JJ.

The days flew by, landing on the day of your scheduled private session. Gary and 24 alongside Henchman 1 were assigned to execute a Dark S7 Maneuver by the Monarch. What Gary had hoped would be a straight-forward mission that would somehow turn out smoothly and with him and 24 unscathed and back at the Cocoon by dinner time turned into a complicated mess with the addition of Henchman 1. Being stranded in the middle of the ocean somewhere near Spider Skull Island with no reception, Gary had no way of letting you know that he would not be making your planned private session.

-

You sat in front of your laptop, an antsy smile spread across your features as your hands fiddled with your outfit, assessing it through the webcam. You had agreed that Viceroy would initiate the call as he had mentioned earlier in the day that he may run a little late due to work. 

A few minutes passed and you shrugged it off.

5 minutes turns into 10.

10 turns into 15.

You bite your lower lip as you try to come up with reasons as to why he may be running late.

15 turns into 20.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard, shooting him a message through the camsite’s chat function. You curse internally, wishing you had another way of contacting him outside of the confines of the website.

20 turns into 30. 

When there is no response to your message, you slowly begin to give up hope. 

‘I mean he did say he might run late.. Maybe I’ll give it another couple minutes.’ 

30 turns into an hour.

You sigh in defeat, deciding to send a message offering to reschedule before shutting the laptop. Part of you thought about taking advantage of the fact that you were already dressed up to do a last minute live show but your ego was a bit bruised and you knew that you would be distracted the entire time.

You get up to change into something more comfortable, and slip back into bed, deciding to scroll on your phone to get your mind off of getting stood up tonight. It proved unsuccessful as your brain attempted to come up with reasons for why he didn’t show up.

Maybe work kept him later?

Maybe something came up after work?

Maybe his power went out?

Each excuse you made for him fell apart as you came to the reasons that revolved around you.

Maybe he didn’t want to do this?

Maybe you pressured him into this?

Maybe he got anxious over the thought of having to show his face and bailed?

You sigh, reaching over to grab your laptop from your bed-side table. You deflate slightly as there is still no response and decide to send one final message before closing the laptop and turning off the lights, hoping that there would be answers awaiting you the next morning.

-

The moment Gary boarded the Cocoon, he ran straight to his room, knowing he was at this point two hours late to the assigned time. By the time he and 24 figured out where Drop Point Alpha 7 was and got picked up by the Cocoon, it was dark outside and way past the time that you two had agreed upon for your private session. Praying for the off-chance that you might still be online, he opens his laptop, logging into his account on the cam site.

To his dismay, he’s greeted with the following messages.

‘Hey, hope everything’s ok! Just wanted to see how much longer you think you’ll be.’

‘It’s getting kinda late and I’m guessing you’re probably not gonna make it since it’s been an hour. Let’s try and reschedule!’

‘Hey, I’m about to knock out for the night but I just wanted to say I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by suggesting this. I also want you to know you don’t have to show your face on camera if you’re not comfortable and didn’t show up because of that. Let me know if you want to reschedule or if you’d rather not do it at all. I completely understand and hope you’re ok!’

“I can’t believe I screwed this up, now she’s gonna think I’m a total prick!” Gary groans, running his hands over his face before pulling back the hood of his uniform along with the mask in frustration.

He sucks in a deep breath, getting up to change out of his henchman uniform. After shedding his clothes, he sits back in his bed in just his boxers, laptop on his chest as he mulls over all the possible ways he can apologize.

After a few drafts that get rewritten over and over again, Gary finally hits send on his apology, placing his laptop on the side table next to his bed before closing his eyes, hoping that his apology will suffice.

-

You awake the next morning, finally sitting up in bed after about an hour of mindless scrolling. 

The sting from being stood up last night has subsided a bit as you go about your normal routine, getting out of bed, grabbing your laptop from your desk to check some emails, and heading to the kitchen to fix yourself some breakfast. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you carry your meal over to the table, taking a seat before cracking open your laptop.

You had started camming a few years ago after your work at the time had cut your hours, making it difficult to pay rent and bills without it being tight each month. After hearing about a friend’s experiences doing camming on the side, you figured you could try it out for a couple months just to help with your expenses while you searched for a new job.

A few months turned into a year which turned into more and while you were able to find a new job with more security, you liked having the extra money to spend on yourself and loved ones. It was like another job to you - log on, perform for an hour or two, log off. Rinse and repeat.

You rarely offered private sessions - only having done two so far in honor of hitting major milestones in your viewership. Yet you offered to a complete stranger who just started watching you regularly a few months ago. Something about Viceroy made camming feel different - more intimate, less like work. The last few lives you’ve done, your main focus has been what would rile him up versus focusing on appealing to your whole audience.

It was intriguing.

He was intriguing, clearly dorky and a bit awkward but that’s what made him so charming.

After checking your emails, you decide to log into the cam site, curious to see if there was any response from him.

Your jaw dropped, cheeks feeling hot as you’re met with way more text on the screen than you were expecting.

‘Oh my god, I am SO SO SO SO sorry! I feel really bad about keeping you waiting but please know I wasn’t blowing you off on purpose!  I got tied up at work way later than I expected and I didn’t have any signal out where I was so I couldn’t let you know. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all, I can't believe you even offered because you have all these dudes in your chat every live and you’re like an actual goddess. I was kinda nervous to show my face but it’s totally worth it just to get to talk to you one-on-one! If you’re still up for rescheduling, I’m free all day tomorrow. Again, I’m so sorry and I really hope I can make it up to you. ’

Your lips turn into an amused grin as you read over the text once more, giggling at the sweet and sincere apology. Part of you wondered what work he did that had him going to places with no cell service but you brushed it off as an unimportant detail. Thankful that you have the day off today, you reply right away, the butterflies in your stomach returning.

-

“I mean at least she offered to reschedule. Most dates I’ve had in the past that I had to miss because of henching didn’t even offer, they just ghosted me.” 24 said, reading over the messages from last night before glossing over Gary’s message, “Jeez, could you have laid it on more thick with the apology? An actual goddess?”

Gary snatches his phone away, crossing his arms defensively, “Hey, she is a goddess! Plus you’re the one who said this was a once in a lifetime opportunity!” 

Before 24 can respond, Gary’s phone buzzes to life, a notification popping up that you had replied to his message.

“Oh my god, she replied back!” Gary said with excitement, his fingers typing in his passcode hastily to unlock his phone to read the message.

‘Hey, glad you’re ok and thanks for your apology, it was really sweet and while I don’t think I’m quite goddess level, I appreciate the compliment. :) 

I’m coincidentally off today too, I’m gonna run errands in a bit but does 4 work for you?’

“I told you the goddess compliment was a bit much.” 24 said, reading over his friend’s shoulder to which Gary silenced him with a “Shush!” before typing out an eager reply.

‘It absolutely works for me! I’ll see you then, thanks for giving me another chance.’

Gary pauses before hitting send, looking back at 24, “You’re positive The Monarch doesn’t have anything planned for today?”

“Nope, think the boss is scheming up a new plan to arch Dr. Venture again. Plus today’s Friday, it’s date night for him and his wife so you’re in the clear.” 24 explains.

“Sweet, didn’t want to hit send and then he calls us to do some random reconnaissance in the middle of the day.” Gary huffs, finally sending the message before grinning up at 24, “We’re back in business, dude.”

“You’re not gonna wear your henchman uniform right? Though, she might just think you have a costume kink or something… It could hide your face too if you’re still nervous about that.” 24 points out, the two of them donning their costumes at all times while in the Cocoon.

“God no, I have my normal clothes! Besides, I get to see what she looks like all the time, it’s only fair for me to show what I look like.” Gary admits, having some anxiety about revealing his appearance but he’s certain that your comfort outweighs his discomfort. 

“Who knows, maybe after this private session, she’ll offer for you to come over.. and then you’ll have sex.” 24 says with a grin.

“Oh, don’t get my hopes up! I’m just glad I get another chance at this.” Gary grins, getting up from the chair in his friend’s room, “Well, I’m gonna go get ready, wish me luck!”

“Good luck! Don’t cum too fast, she’ll think it’s super lame!” 24 calls out. 

[macandcheeselover1]

Hi!! Could I request a Hell Park! Gary Harrison or Gregory of Yardale (separate) x reader with a reader who’s an angel?

SUREE!!

GARY, GREGORY X ANGEL READER

GARY

omg two angels?!

ANGEL BUDDIES

He luvs you and your wing color

he finds you as the most perfect being ever

he loves to cup your face and shower it with kisses

CUDDLING>>>

This man will cherish you and the ground you walk on

GREGORY

Demon x angel trope>>

He loves you sm

You're his dimond, his star, his gold

He loves to run his fingers through your wings

PICKING YOU UP>>

He forgets you can walk

cause he loves carrying you

protects you from everything and everyone

(GAHHH WHY CAN'T HE BE REAL)

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Roach: Hey, wanna see something funny? Y/N: Um, ok? Roach: Say ow Y/N: Ow? *2 seconds later* Ghost, Price, Gaz, Soap, busting the door down: Y/N? WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU HURT? WHO DO WE NEED TO STAB?

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

���daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[leyavo]

Omega!reader that rejects every bond that any superior offers.

You don’t speak much, that the Alpha’s and Beta’s that have asked you to join them think you only know how to say no.

So when Roach comes along and doesn’t force a conversation to hear you talk, you can’t help but be drawn to him.

Price watches the two of you go about your days in silence. Subtle hints that you are comfortable around the Beta, Roach. Your elbow brushing his, knee touching his thigh as you sit next to him on the sofa in the rec room.

How you lift your gaze each time Roach enters the armoury, where you work. Slight nod of your head as you offer a nonverbal good morning.

The way you sit with him in the canteen, nothing but the sound of your forks scraping the trays. How you trade food that you don’t like and go back for seconds when it’s not busy.

Each time they return from an op Roach searches for you, his boots no longer heavy and dragging along the floor. No, he just needs to see you, feel your presence not your voice.

Your scent merging with Roach’s that Price asks you if you’d like to join their pack. He’s seen the positive impact you have on each other.

And Roach doesn’t complain when he finally hears your soft breathy voice.

“Yes, Alpha.”

[lxvvie]

Simps 'R Us, Between the Sheets edition: Your faves and the wholesome and funny things you two get up to in bed, part I.

Capt. John Price - When he's half asleep and about to snore loud enough to wake the dead (Price vehemently denies this), you like to have random conversations with him because you know questions you ask will do one of two things: elicit a nonsensical answer from the Cap'n or... wake him up from his sleep altogether.

Gaz - Is curling up into himself because you're the big spoon, you're running your hands over his body because he's highkey lowkey ticklish, and your face is buried in his neck because... he's highkey lowkey ticklish. "Darling, please—" Gaz manages to gasp out between... wait, are you giggling, Garrick?

Soap - Your darling golden retriever chaotic good boyfriend loves... to sleep naked. You're not complaining, though, especially because he loves it when you lay on him. You've made a home for yourself between his thighs; his stomach is your pillow, and he usually has a hand rubbing your head. Helps him to relax, y'know, bonnie? And whenever you don't lay on him, it's an affront to Johnny's... everything. His heart is broken. His soul is crushed. You're too far away from him (even though you're still right under him). How could you do this to him? He can't live like this. No other stud muffin can offer you what he can, beautiful. But no really, bonnie, he needs you on top of him like... yesterday.

Ghost - You really like his body. Like... really like his body. You blow raspberries on his stomach, you smack his ass, you talk about his eyelashes—scratch that, you love his body. To you, every scar tells a story, and you've asked him plenty of times to talk about them. And then you did the unthinkable that had Simon wanting to disappear into the fucking blankets—"Si-bear, I didn't know you had a mole on your inner thigh!" Bloody fucking hell, he'll never hear the end of this. And then you kissed it and Ghost's face had never felt so bloody hot before. Christ, you'll be the death of him, sweetheart.

Roach - Nothing but the most sickeningly saccharine stuff to ever stuff happens with Roach. A poke-fest, a kiss-fest, a tickle-fest, you name it, it happens. Roach loves to sleep with his face buried in your chest and arms wound tight around you. Always. You rubbing his head soothes him to sleep as well.

Alex - You're also the big spoon here, too. You're busy talking about conspiracy theories you believe the government is/was involved in and Alex is entertaining you ("That so, Boss?"). In actuality, his eyes are comically wide because the truth is oftentimes stranger than fiction and you may or may not be walking a little heavy there, Boss.

Alejandro - Is the big spoon to your little spoon in bed no matter what you're doing. Loves to intertwine your legs together, too. Alejo murmurs how much he loves you in your ear and kisses the top of your head before telling you good night.

Rudy - Sometimes when he's asleep, you'll whisper "Rodolfo" in his ear which causes Rudy to shoot up, eyes comically wide because the only time someone calls him by his full government name is when he gets into shit but it wasn't him this time, it was that idiot Alvarez— "Didn't get to tell you good night and I love you, Rudy, so... good night and I love you, Rudy." Oh. Oh. Ha. Real funny.

Farah - A cuddle bunny through and through. She loves laying up under you, her head resting on your shoulder or under your chin, or her face in the crook of your neck. She wants to hear you as you sleep. She wants to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest or the resonances as you speak. Farah simply can't get enough of you.

Keegan - It's really you teasing him because Keegan isn't one to really get flustered or deviate from his infamously neutral expression. Much. Until you came along. You two are relaxing in bed and you're the one randomly calling out, "Hey, Kee-Kee," to which Keegan makes the most surprised and disgusted face in response and you're wheezing.

[oaksgrove]

hello!

i’m wondering if you would be able to make some blurbs or something where the tf141 boys react to the reader having a fear or driving/ wanting to be a passenger princess? i’m terrified of driving and think this would be a cute idea

Passenger Princess

pairing: John Price x Reader, Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Reader, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Reader, Gary “Roach” Sanderson x Reader

synopsis: You hate driving. Absolutely loathe it. The mere thought of merging into traffic or hearing tires screech makes your heart race—and not in a good way. Luckily for you, the men of 141 are more than willing to take the wheel. Whether it’s quiet reassurance, ridiculous chauffeur antics, or a glove box full of snacks, each of them makes sure you’re safe, calm, and treated like royalty… their own personal Passenger Princess.

warnings: Mentions of anxiety related to driving, comfort after stress, fluff, soft!141, affectionate teasing, some light kissing

word count: 1690

John Price:

John had long since accepted that he was your personal chauffeur. No questions asked, no complaints made. If you needed to go somewhere, he was already jingling the car keys in his hand, tilting his head toward the door like Come on, sweetheart.

It had started early in your relationship—how you hesitated when he handed you the keys once, how your fingers curled into your palm, how you laughed it off and said, "You drive." He noticed how you tensed up in the passenger seat sometimes, how you sucked in a breath when cars got too close, how your grip on the door handle tightened ever so slightly when the traffic got heavy.

So he drove. Always.

John made sure it was comfortable for you. The car was always stocked with your favorite snacks in the glove compartment, a soft blanket folded neatly in the back seat for cold days, and a bottle of water tucked into the cup holder on your side. If the sun was in your eyes, he’d hand you his sunglasses without a word. If you were tired, he’d keep the ride quiet, just the hum of the engine and the occasional "You alright, love?"

Tonight, the sky was dark, the roads slick with rain, and John was driving you home from dinner. You had been fine at first, chatting softly as the streetlights cast golden streaks across his face. But then, the rain picked up, heavy droplets smacking against the windshield, the rhythmic swish of the wipers barely keeping up. The roads were glossy, reflecting the glare of headlights, and you had gone quiet.

John noticed instantly.

His fingers tapped the steering wheel before he reached over, resting a warm, calloused hand on your knee. He gave it a firm squeeze, his thumb brushing slow, reassuring circles over the fabric of your jeans.

"Easy, love. I’ve got you."

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. His voice was so steady, so certain, like there was no other option but for you to be safe with him. You turned your head, watching the way he kept his focus on the road, his jaw set, his hands steady.

John knew you trusted him. But he also knew your fear wasn’t about him—it was about everything else. The what-ifs, the unpredictability, the feeling of being out of control. So he made sure he was the one thing you could always rely on.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into your driveway, put the car in park, and turned to look at you.

"You alright?" he asked, voice softer now.

You nodded, a little sheepish, but John just leaned over and kissed your forehead.

"Come on, princess," he murmured against your skin, lips curving into a smile. "Let’s get you inside."

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Simon never made a big deal out of it. He never asked why you didn’t drive, never pushed, never made a comment when you hesitated at the sight of car keys.

But he noticed.

He noticed the way you tensed when traffic got heavy, how your fingers curled against your thigh when the car in front of you braked too suddenly, how your breath hitched just slightly at sharp turns. He noticed how you always hesitated before getting into someone else’s car, scanning the driver with barely concealed apprehension.

So Simon took it upon himself.

If you needed to go somewhere, he drove. That was that.

He made sure his driving was always steady—never reckless, never too fast. His hands were sure on the wheel, his movements deliberate, calculated. No sudden stops, no sharp turns. Just smooth, controlled driving, the kind that made you feel safe.

One evening, as he drove you home from town, the streets were busier than usual. Cars zipped past, headlights casting brief flashes of light across Simon’s face. You were staring out the window, but he could tell—your shoulders were stiff, your fingers twitching slightly in your lap.

Then a car in front of him braked abruptly. Simon had already been keeping his distance, so he stopped with ease, but you still flinched. It was small, barely noticeable. But he caught it.

His hand left the wheel for just a second, reaching over to brush the back of your hand with his fingers before settling back.

"You alright, sweetheart?" he murmured, voice low, calm.

You nodded quickly, but Simon knew better.

His grip on the wheel tightened for a moment before he spoke again, softer this time.

"You’re safe, yeah? I won’t let anything happen to you."

And the thing about Simon was—when he said something, he meant it.

So you let out a slow breath, nodded again, and this time, it felt easier.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Kyle loved it.

The first time he realized you had absolutely no intention of ever driving, he had grinned at you like you’d just handed him the best news of his life.

"So what you’re saying is," he had teased, leaning against the hood of his car, "you just wanna sit there, look pretty, and let me do all the work?"

You had rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully, but you didn’t deny it. And Kyle? He loved it.

He made it a whole thing.

Every time you had to go somewhere, he’d hold open the passenger door with a ridiculous flourish, bowing slightly.

"Your ride awaits, madam," he’d say, his voice exaggeratedly posh, like some over-the-top chauffeur.

He always let you pick the music, too, handing over his phone without a second thought. If a song came on that he knew you loved, he’d crank up the volume, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he stole quick glances at you singing along.

And if the roads got a little busy, if you started to fidget or press your lips together, he’d reach over, resting a warm hand on your knee for just a second. A silent reminder: I got you.

One evening, after a long day, he pulled up to your place and, as usual, jogged around the car to open your door.

You raised an eyebrow. "You really don’t have to do that every time, you know."

Kyle smirked, holding out a hand to help you out like some old-fashioned gentleman.

"Nah," he said, giving you a wink. "You’re my passenger princess. Gotta treat you like royalty, yeah?"

And, honestly? You weren’t going to argue with that.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish:

Johnny was obsessed with the fact that you refused to drive.

From the moment he realized you had no interest in being behind the wheel, he had latched onto it like a golden opportunity—an excuse to dote on you in every ridiculous way possible.

Every car ride with Johnny was an experience.

He had to open the door for you. Every single time. It didn’t matter if you rolled your eyes, if you told him you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself—he’d still jog around to the passenger side, pulling it open with an exaggerated flourish.

"Your carriage awaits, my lady," he’d say in his best attempt at a posh accent, barely holding back a grin.

If it was cold, he’d fuss over you like a mother hen, adjusting your seat and tucking your coat around you before you even had a chance to buckle up.

"Cannae have my bonnie lass uncomfortable, now can I?" he’d tease, making a show of patting the coat into place before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

And then there was the mid-drive hospitality.

It started as a joke. One time, during a long drive, he had reached over, handed you a bag of crisps, and said, "Would ye care for a wee snack, miss?" in a perfect impression of a flight attendant.

You had laughed so hard you nearly choked, and from that moment on, he had fully committed to the bit.

Now, every time you were in his car, he’d offer you snacks like you were on some high-end airline.

"MacTavish Air prides itself on its exceptional service," he’d say, keeping one hand on the wheel while dramatically gesturing to the glove compartment. "Mid-drive refreshments are included in the price of admission."

"And what’s the price?" you’d ask, already knowing the answer.

He’d smirk, tapping his cheek. "One wee kiss, lass. Non-negotiable."

And of course, you always paid up.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson 

Roach didn’t just understand your aversion to driving—he accepted it without question.

No teasing, no prying, no “But don’t you wanna learn?” Just a nod, a “Got it,” and then he made it his job to drive you anywhere you needed to go.

And he was a good driver. Smooth, careful—never reckless. He made sure you felt safe, always keeping one hand steady on the wheel and the other available to reach over and squeeze yours if he ever caught you tensing up at a sudden stop or a sharp turn.

If he ever noticed you getting too anxious, he had a strategy.

Distraction.

"Hey," he’d say casually, casting a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. "If we get into a car chase, you’ll have to be my co-pilot. Think you can toss banana peels at the enemy?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What?”

"Or red shells, if you’re feeling aggressive," he continued, completely deadpan. "Mario Kart rules. We gotta defend ourselves."

You snorted, shaking your head. “I think I’d be a terrible co-pilot.”

"Nah, you’d be great," he said confidently. "I’ll drive, you just focus on sabotage."

It was stupid. Absolutely ridiculous. But it worked.

No matter how uneasy you felt, Roach always knew how to make you laugh—knew how to pull your mind away from the creeping anxiety and make you focus on something light, something silly.

And the best part? He never minded being your permanent chauffeur.

"I don’t care if I gotta drive you everywhere for the rest of my life," he had said once, completely serious as he pulled up to your place. "Just as long as you’re comfortable."

And honestly? With Roach behind the wheel, you always were.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth @kittygonap @rainyjellybear

[druap]

!! diff version under the cut !!

+ google drive link for easier download

i also made a google drive folder so it'd be easier for yall to print/download cards in case you wanna print em n etc

includes (both eng and ru): - og version (with kisses); - no kisses version; - empty card - fonts for the cards

+ empty ver in case you wanna write sth else

[kortac-sweetheart]

cuddle hcs w/ my fave cod men (୨୧ᵕ̤ᴗᵕ̤)

(also ranked from best to “worst” cuddler)

best cuddler around:

ok now hear me out, i think nikto and velikan would be tied for best cuddler.

they don’t move at all, whatever position you want to cuddle in will be the way they stay all night. (unless you want to change cuddle positions, then they might grumble the tiniest bit before moving.

their bodies are also very warm and sturdy, perfect to be held and perfect to hold you as well.

nikto’s favorite cuddle position is when you’re facing each other, your head resting on his bicep and chest to chest, legs intertwined. they like holding you close, like a teddy bear, it makes them feel grounded; assured that you’re real and you’re there with them.

he’s so warm that you could forgo a blanket entirely, warmed only by his body heat but nikto won’t allow it. constantly pulling the covers up to your chin, fussing quietly over you. just let them take care of you, ok?

velikan’s favorite cuddle position is whatever your favorite is. although he’s slightly partial to you laying entirely on top of him like he’s the bed. don’t worry, he can handle it. in fact, it’s like a weighted blanket, it grounds his mind and his body and it lets him relax, knowing you’re so close to him, basically face to face.

he’s also built like a heater too, so it’s like lying on a warm electric bed or something, except it’s holding you tightly too. he’s also another one that makes sure you’re under the blankets, your chest may be warm but your back is getting cold, honey.

(if it wasn’t a huge hassle he’d let you spin around on top of him like a rotisserie chicken to make sure all of you is warmed up, but alas.)

second best cuddler is… roach!

his new call sign should be cuddlebug instead of roach with how much you two cuddle. he’s down to cuddle, wherever, whenever. he’s perfectly warm and soft to hold, like your personal teddy bear, and you’re his.

loves any positions that’s face to face, laying down is fine and you sitting in his lap or his in yours is great too. he just wants to be able to see your cute face grow sleepier and sleepier until eventually you two fall asleep in each others arms.

cuddles are always filled with little giggles, small and lighthearted jokes between you two, gentle nose boops and squeezing each other in tight hugs. they’re tooth achingly sweet and you’re always told to “get a room!” if anyone catches you two cuddling on base.

next best cuddler is keegan!

another one that’s always down to cuddle but in a more, casual, manner than roach. will see you standing or sitting somewhere and he’ll rock up behind you to gently pull you into his chest and arms. he’s very observant and in tune with you (thanks to his sniping skills) so he knows when you’re feeling down, don’t even try to hide it, sugar.

so he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, gently swaying with you if you’re standing, and squeezing you if you’re laying. he doesn’t say much, just allows the both of you to relax in each other’s company in silence. (he doesn’t move at all either, sniper skills coming in clutch again.)

that’s why his favorite position is being the big spoon. it’s simple, it’s easy and it lets him hold you tightly, what’s not to love? his body and yours fits together like two puzzle pieces, meant to be together, like this.

ghost is almost tied with keegan, but keegan is slightly better

simon is like keegan in which he’s very observant and in tune with you but it’s harder for him to jump over the hurdle of intimacy. he wants to comfort and hold you, but he gets inside of his head sometimes, and it physically locks up his body.

most days he triumphs over the hurdle, and other days he falls flat on his face over it. but those days he’s able to hold you are some of the best, he pulls you close into his chest, rubbing a large palm up and down your back. he knows you like the low gravelly tone of his voice and the way his chest rumbles and so he yaps, just for you, about anything and everything (except for work).

but other days, he’s unable to comfort you unless you come to him first or johnny gives him a shove towards you (quite literally actually), and he’s suddenly able to move again. quickly wrapping his arms around you, squeezing tightly as if you’d slip away, ephemeral.

as stated before, his fave position is you tucked closely to his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and legs intertwined too for good measure.

and right behind simon is johnny!

it’s not like he’s a bad cuddler necessarily it’s just that he moves a lot. (and he gets a little handsy with you too) if he’s not tired out already then you will be switching cuddling positions every 15 minutes, i’m sorry it’s just how it is with him. (his favorite position is holding you entirely on one arm while he walks around doing things lol)

he’s itching to move even just a little bit and so he’s always rolling over (with you in his arms too mind you). that’s why it’s best to cuddle him right after he comes back from deployment. he’s too tired to move at all, so he just lays there on the bed, basically boneless and you can cuddle up to him all you want without him moving.

if he falls asleep in post-deployment cuddles then you’re not moving until he wakes up again, that’s also just how it is with him. you’re gonna be trapped in his solid arms for a good few hours, and this time he’ll grumble when you try and move. hope you went to the bathroom before this because sorry bonnie, you’re not going anywhere.

krueger is tied with johnny tbh

he’s a man of two extremes when it comes to cuddling, either he’s unable to stop moving around or he’s cuddling you like a python. and you never know what mode he’s in that day until you’re in bed and cuddling with him.

on days he can’t stop moving, muscles restless, he’s dragging you around with him wherever he goes. it’s a common sight to see you perched on an arm or his back as he goes about his business. (no one ever dares mention it to him either, they’d like their sternum intact thank you very much)

he likes the feeling of your weight on him, a constant reminder that you’re safe, with him, and not to mention you’re so nice to hold. so soft and warm, perfect to hug..

and that’s when he shifts into python mode. running (yes running) back to your or his room, whichever is closer, and delicately laying you down on the bed. he then wraps himself around you, arms AND legs holding you against him, and no you can’t move. at all.

he will complain if you move around, just tell him that you need to get comfy and he’ll loosen just the tiniest bit, allowing you to turn around and face him instead before his limbs clamp down on you again.

he’s surprisingly… cold to the touch, and it always gives you a little shock to touch his skin (much to his amusement), it only makes him hold you closer. you’re his personal heater now, so quit moving schatzi and let him warm up (for a few hours.)

konig and oni are tied for… mediocre cuddlers..

they’re both very stiff cuddlers, it’s like cuddling a wooden plank.

konig is very, very not used to cuddling anybody. this is extremely unknown territory for him and so he just. doesn’t know what to do with his limbs. you practically have to maneuver his arms and legs to wrap around you, yourself. only then when you’ve settled into his arms it’s when he then relaxes. eases his arms around you, but he doesn’t hold you tightly, more akin to cupping a delicate flower in his hands, afraid to accidentally hurt you. if you want him to hold you tighter you’re gonna have to speak up or move him yourself.

that’s why konig likes being the little spoon better. he doesn’t have to be stiff in holding you, and it makes him feel good to be “small” sometimes. to be pampered and cared for, it’s something entirely unknown but it makes him happy, safe in your arms.

oni is also like konig in which he has never ever cuddled or been cuddled in his entire life. he hasn’t done anything romantic in his life actually, so this is all very new to him. the first few times you try and cuddle with him he’s really stiff. unsure where to put his arms and he’s just super tense underneath you. it’s better if you curl up into his side like a cat and wait for him to move to hold you.

he gets the hang of it quickly, liking it more than he thought he would. it’s nice, not to think about anything but you in his arms. focusing on the way your dreamy face twitches in sleep, your steady breaths, your consistent heartbeats, and it lulls him to sleep too.

he likes it, you curl up into him first and he follows suit, sleeping and cuddling face to face.

horangi… horangi is the worst cuddler, sorry

horangi cannot stay still to save his life. his muscles and mind are always itching to do something, anything.

you manage to get him on the bed and he’s already moving to do something, asking you if you needed anything while he’s up. if you really want to cuddle this man you can’t let up you’re gonna have to throw him on the bed and lay your entire body weight on him to make him stay, and even then that’s a struggle.

it’s better to come to a compromise between the two of you instead. he physically cannot lay down to cuddle but you want to be held and so he (just like johnny) holds you in one arm while he does things around base/home. holding you above his hip in one arm like a baby (you’re his baby) while he’s walking around. or hell, he doesn’t mind giving you a piggyback ride either, you get to hold him and he gets to do things, win-win!

[happy74827]

Talk To Me

[Eggsy Unwin x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: With your boyfriend sneaking out 24/7 and always returning with carefully concealed injuries, it's only natural to be concerned.

WC: 3033

Category: Slight Angst + Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

I watched Carry-On last night (10/10 so good), and it got me re-thinking about one of my favorite films. Kingsman supremacy 🙌

『••✎••』

You loved Eggsy. Dearly. Truly.

You loved him so much that sometimes it scared you. How fiercely your heart clung to his smile, how tenderly your hands always seemed to reach for his, how naturally your entire world had shifted around him without you even realizing it. He was yours—scruffy, sweet Eggsy Unwin—and you believed you knew him. At least, you thought you did.

But then, the nights started.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Everyone had their own struggles, and Eggsy never struck you as someone who’d open up easily about his. He’d always been the type to handle his own problems, to wear his hardships like armor rather than show them. But that was before the late-night disappearances, before the quiet footsteps across your floorboards, before you’d wake up in a cold bed at 3 a.m. to find him gone.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was gradual—so gradual you could almost convince yourself you were imagining it. One night turned into two. Two turned into a week. And before long, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The first time you tried to confront him, you did it gently. You’d asked him if everything was okay, masking your concern with casual curiosity. "You seem really tired lately, Eggsy. Is work being a pain?"

Eggsy had smiled, all teeth and dimples, and said, "Nah, luv. Just gotta lot on my plate, s’all."

You believed him because you wanted to.

But then there were the bruises.

The first one you noticed was along his jaw, faint and shadowed under the soft light of your kitchen. He’d winced when you kissed him there, just a tiny twitch of his lips, but enough to make you pull back. "You alright?" you’d asked.

Eggsy had waved you off. "Yeah, yeah, fine."

"Fine."

The word had felt too tight on his tongue, too forced. But you’d let it go because that’s what you did when someone you loved was hurting. You gave them space.

Except the bruises kept coming, each one a little harder to miss than the last. The faint cut above his brow, the stiffness in his shoulders when you hugged him, the way he’d flinch—just barely—when your fingers brushed against his ribs. And you noticed. Of course, you did. How could you not?

There was the other stuff, too. The sudden shift in his wardrobe. Gone were the trainers and bomber jackets, replaced with sharp suits and polished shoes. He’d started wearing glasses—ridiculous little round things that didn’t even have a prescription—and he carried himself differently now. Straighter. More serious. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the change. You did. Eggsy looked good in a suit, and you’d told him as much. But it was the why that lingered in the back of your mind.

Everything about him was changing, and yet you were still supposed to believe he was fine.

You weren’t stupid.

And so tonight, when you’d felt him slip out of bed yet again, something inside you had snapped. Enough was enough.

You stayed awake, feigning sleep as you listened to him shuffle around the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the muted sound of a zipper, and then the quiet groan he let out as he bent to tie his shoes. He was trying to be quiet, but you could feel his movements, his tension, the exhaustion radiating off of him like smoke.

The front door closed behind him.

For a moment, you thought about following him. Your mind painted a dozen possibilities—none of them good—and the urge to know was almost overwhelming. But something held you back. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the sick feeling that if you saw what Eggsy was hiding, you wouldn’t be able to unsee it.

So, instead, you stayed. You waited.

And you waited.

Hours slipped by, the quiet hum of the room punctuated only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional thump of your restless heartbeat. You sat in the darkness, curled up on the couch with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

It was almost dawn when you heard it—the sound of keys fumbling at the door.

Your breath caught as the door swung open, and there he was. Eggsy. Exhausted, disheveled, and dragging himself inside like he’d just run a marathon. He tripped over the shoes you’d left by the door, letting out a hushed curse as he stumbled and caught himself on the wall. "For fuck’s sake…"

You watched him for a long moment, your heart twisting. His shoulders were slumped, his face pale under the bruises, and there was an air of defeat clinging to him that you’d never seen before.

Your hand hovered over the lamp beside you.

Click.

Light flooded the room.

Eggsy froze. His wide, tired eyes met yours, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

"…Where were you?"

Your voice came out steady—colder than you intended—but you didn’t care. You needed answers.

Eggsy straightened up, wincing slightly as he did, and ran a hand through his messy hair. "What’re you doin’ awake?"

"Where were you, Eggsy?" you repeated, softer this time.

He opened his mouth to answer, but you saw the hesitation in his eyes. That flicker of guilt, of indecision. And it hurt.

You watched him—really watched him—take in the situation, his gaze darting from you to the lamp and back again. He looked so tired, the dark circles under his eyes stark against the pale exhaustion in his face. His bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might lie to you.

He always did that when he was nervous, chewing his lip like he was trying to hold the words inside.

And then he sighed.

"Look, luv—"

"No." You cut him off, surprising even yourself with the sharpness in your voice. Your heart was pounding now, a steady thud in your chest, and you swallowed the knot rising in your throat. "Don’t 'look, love' me, Eggsy. I’ve given you space. I’ve ignored the bruises. I’ve let you—whatever this is—carry on without question. But not anymore."

Eggsy’s mouth closed. He shifted on his feet, his wince almost imperceptible, but you caught it. You always caught it.

"Are you hurt?" you asked, voice trembling slightly despite the resolve you tried to hold. Your eyes dropped to the faint, bloodied scrape on his knuckles and the stiff way he held his side. "Jesus, Eggsy…"

"I’m fine." The words came out fast—too fast—and though they were meant to be firm, they only sounded hollow.

You flinched like the word was a slap. "You’re not fine."

He sighed again, this time deeper, and rubbed a hand over his face. "It’s complicated."

"Complicated?" you echoed, your voice pitching with disbelief. "Complicated is when you forget an anniversary or don’t know how to split rent. This isn’t complicated, Eggsy—this is you sneaking out in the middle of the night and coming home bruised and battered, and I’m scared."

There it was. The confession you’d been holding back. The thing that had been gnawing at you for weeks, clawing at your chest every time he slipped away. Your voice broke slightly, the words tumbling out like a dam had burst, and Eggsy’s face softened in a way that almost broke you.

You could see the guilt then, raw and unguarded, etched into the lines of his expression. He took a cautious step forward, but you held up a hand, needing the space to breathe.

"Do you…" Your voice faltered. You didn’t want to say it—didn’t want to voice the fear that had whispered in your mind during the loneliest hours of those nights. “Do you not trust me, Eggsy? Is there something you can’t tell me?”

Eggsy’s head snapped up at that, his brow knitting as if you’d insulted him. "What? No. No, it’s not like that."

"Then what is it?" Your voice cracked, and for the first time since this all started, you felt your eyes sting with tears. "Because I’m running out of scenarios, Eggsy. I thought maybe… maybe it was someone else, maybe you’d stopped loving me. But then I’d see the bruises, and I’d hear you groaning in your sleep, and…" You trailed off, pressing a hand to your forehead. "I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’re falling apart right in front of me."

The room was silent save for your quiet, unsteady breaths. For a moment, you thought Eggsy wouldn’t answer, that he’d slip into that shell of his again and leave you stranded in this mess of unanswered questions.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he crossed the room in two quick strides, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft kiss—not like the ones he’d give you after long days or lazy mornings. It was desperate and grounding, like he needed to make sure you were real and that you still loved him despite everything. You froze for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden warmth of his lips on yours before you melted into it. Your hands gripped his wrists, holding onto him like an anchor as your heart hammered against your ribcage.

When he finally pulled away, you stared at him, breathless and reeling.

"Eggsy—"

"I’m sorry," he muttered, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make you think that. Any of that." His voice was low and earnest, the accent softening as the words spilled out. "You’re the only good thing in my life, alright? The only thing that keeps me goin’. It ain’t you—it’s me. I’m just… I’m tryin’ to keep you safe."

"Safe?" Your brows furrowed as you leaned back to look at him. "Safe from what, Eggsy?"

He hesitated. You could see the war playing out in his eyes—the push and pull of wanting to tell you the truth but still trying to protect you from it. He was holding something back; you knew that much. Something big.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. "It’s work. The bruises, the nights—I can’t tell you everything, but you gotta trust me when I say I’m doin’ it for you. For us."

"Eggsy…"

His thumb brushed along your cheek, and you realized then that you were crying—just a little.

"You’re right," he admitted softly, the words heavy with guilt. "I shoulda told you somethin’. Not everythin’, but… somethin’. I just didn’t want you to worry, love. Didn’t want you to see this part o’ me." He smiled faintly, the corners of his lips tilting upward. "You deserve better than this mess."

You stared at him, the boy who had somehow become a man without you noticing. His rough edges were still there—still scrappy, still stubborn—but there was something more now, too. He carried weight on his shoulders, weight he hadn’t let you see until tonight.

"I don’t care about the mess," you whispered, your hands sliding down to hold his. "I care about you. And if you’re hurting, I want to know. I want to help."

Eggsy blinked at you like he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear that. Then he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly as if trying to shield you from the rest of the world.

"You’re mental, you know that?" he mumbled into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Too good for me, you are."

Eggsy was warm against you, his arms solid and grounding, but you couldn’t let yourself melt into it—not entirely. Not when you could still feel the lingering tremor in his body, the careful way he was holding you like he was afraid of falling apart completely if he let go.

So you didn’t let it slide. Not this time.

You pulled back slightly, enough to look at him, your hands sliding to rest against his chest. He avoided your eyes for a beat too long, gaze flicking toward the floor as if the answers to all of your questions were scattered across the floorboards.

"Eggsy," you said softly, forcing him to look at you. "You’re doing it again."

His brows furrowed slightly. "Doin’ what?"

"Avoiding." You swallowed hard, your voice gentle but firm. "You keep saying you’re trying to protect me, but from what? From you? From whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into? I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with half-truths and cryptic excuses."

He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a tight line as the silence stretched between you like a taut wire. You watched him, the Eggsy you knew—the one who laughed too loudly, who lit up rooms with his smile—hidden behind this new, heavier version of himself. A man weighed down by secrets you weren’t allowed to touch.

You felt your throat tighten. "If you’re in trouble, I need to know."

"I’m not—"

"Gary." You said his name softly, but with enough weight that he stopped, his shoulders sagging just a little under your gaze. You could see the walls going back up, the way his expression started to close off again, and your heart ached. This wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about digging into things he didn’t want to share. This was about him—the man you loved. The man standing in front of you with bruises and exhaustion, painting him in shades of worry and pain you didn’t recognize.

"I love you," you whispered, the words breaking through the quiet. His head snapped up, his eyes finally locking onto yours. "I love you, Eggsy. But this—" you gestured gently between the two of you "—this isn’t fair. You don’t get to shoulder all of this alone. Not when I’m right here."

You could see the cracks in his resolve then, the guilt splintering through his expression like fractures in glass. Eggsy exhaled, a heavy breath that deflated his entire posture, and he reached up to cup your cheek again, his thumb brushing faintly at the tears still lingering there.

"It ain’t trouble," he muttered after a long pause, his voice low and rough like gravel. "Not like you’re thinkin’. I ain’t into anythin’ shady, I swear."

"Then what is it?" you asked softly. "Please, Eggsy. I’m not leaving. I’m not running. I just need to know what’s doing this to you."

He hesitated again, clearly grappling with something you couldn’t see. For the briefest moment, you thought he might tell you—might rip off the Band-Aid and let you into whatever world he’d been keeping you out of. But then, as if on instinct, he sighed and shook his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before resting his own against it again.

"You don’t wanna know, luv," he murmured, voice so soft it nearly disappeared into the space between you. "I promise you don’t."

You stared at him, your heart twisting painfully. You could feel it now—the invisible door he was trying to close, to lock between you—and the worst part was, you knew he thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was protecting you.

But all you felt was the sting of being shut out.

"This isn’t fair," you said again, your voice trembling slightly. "You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, Eggsy."

His lips parted slightly, and for once, he didn’t have a rebuttal. He just looked at you—really looked at you—as if weighing the woman in front of him against whatever dark reality he’d been hiding.

"I can handle it," you pressed, your voice steady this time. "Whatever it is, I can handle it. I can handle you."

Eggsy pulled back slightly, his hands slipping to your shoulders. There was a flicker of conflict in his eyes, and for the first time that night, you saw a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface. "It ain’t about you not bein’ strong enough," he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. "It’s about me not wantin’ you to see the worst parts of what I do."

"What you do?" you repeated carefully, and you saw him flinch—just barely—like he’d said too much.

"Eggsy, I don’t…"

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Jesus Christ, I’m shite at this."

Your eyes searched his. Part of you wanted to press further—to keep pushing until the dam broke—but the other part could see his exhaustion, the way he was leaning slightly against the counter like his legs were struggling to hold him up. He looked so tired. So defeated. And you hated it.

You let out a soft sigh, taking his hand and lacing your fingers through his.

He stiffened.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was a question lingering between you, the same one you knew he was struggling to answer.

Tell her.

Don't.

It felt like an eternity had passed when you finally said his name, squeezing his hand gently.

His gaze lifted to yours.

And you let it go.

You didn't push. You didn't demand. You didn't ask. Because this wasn't a fight, you were going to win.

He wasn't ready.

So, instead, you just said, "Promise me something."

"Yeah?"

You hesitated, the words feeling heavier on your tongue than they had any right to be. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and whispered, "Promise me you’ll come home."

Eggsy stilled.

It wasn't much of a request—more of a desperate hope that this wasn't all leading to some unavoidable ending you weren't ready for. It was an offer of surrender. A silent, exhausted plea to put the pieces back together, to stitch up the cracks before they could break.

He studied you, his tired eyes roaming over the lines of your face as if he could read the question lingering there.

And then he pulled you into his arms, a hand cradling the back of your head. You felt the warmth of his embrace, the weight of his body against yours, and your arms wrapped around him as tightly as you could. For a second, you weren’t sure if he would answer. If he even could.

And then, in the softest voice you'd ever heard, he whispered, "Always."

"For you, always."

[viceroywrites]

meeting ms. fischer (drabble)

[gary/21 x gn!reader]

[very loosely tied to my gary fic but can be read separately]

[you & gary started dating during blue morpho arc & went to hs together at one point]

[i gave gary's mom a random name since she isn't named in show]

i've been sitting on this drabble for the last three months and decided to post it cause why not. enjoy!

-

“If she makes you uncomfortable at all, you say the word and we’re out of there!” Gary says firmly, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you both pull into a residential area, having left the bustling city to a smaller suburban neighborhood.

“Gary, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s meeting your mom for heaven’s sake, not a Guild interrogation.” You chuckle, reaching over to place a soothing hand on Gary’s thigh and squeezing gently.

“I’ll take scaphism over this, any day.” Gary groans as he pulls into the driveway, glancing over at you, “You sure you want to do this? Because once you’re in there, my mom will talk your ear off, keep you prisoner.”

“Positive. Now let’s go.” You say with a grin and Gary sighs, unbuckling his seatbelt as he begrudgingly gets out of the car and unlocks the front door to his childhood home.

Being caught up in all the Blue Morpho drama when you first started dating, you and Gary both realized over dinner one night that he hadn’t let his mom know that he was dating let alone now had a significant other.

Needless to say, the moment he called her to let her know, she demanded that she needed to meet you as soon as possible.

An tan, energetic dog comes dashing towards the doorway the second Gary opens the door, immediately jumping on you with its tail wagging happily.

“Oh my god, Lady, no! Mooom, call the dog!” Gary yells out, gently tugging on the dog’s collar to get her off you.

“Gary, it’s fine!” You laugh as Lady happily licks at your hands as you try to pet the squirmy dog, “I didn’t even know you had a dog! How could you not tell me?”

“Technically, my mom got Lady after I moved out to become a henchman so she’s not really mine. She’s super friendly thankfully.” Gary sighed before wincing as he heard his mom’s voice calling from the kitchen.

“Gary, I told you to call me before you got here! I’m still making lunch for the two of you!” 

“Mom, I said not to make anything! We had a late breakfast!” Gary groans, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen.

As you walk into the kitchen, you see an older woman with the same shade of brown as Gary’s hair with slivers of gray showing through, hunched over the stove. She finally turns around, wiping her hands on a nearby kitchen towel as she sees you for the first time.

“Mom, this is my partner, [Your Name].” Gary introduces the two of you, squeezing your hand tightly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Fischer.” You say politely, extending your hand but blink as instead you’re wrapped in a warm embrace instead. 

“Oh my god, no need to be so formal! Call me Irene!” Ms. Fischer teases before pulling away to look at you full on, her eyes assessing you up and down before they widen, “Wait a second, I remember you!”

Gary and you glance at each other confused before saying in unison, “You do?”

“Weren’t you two in the same little comic book club, Gary? Remember you had that meeting here when the school kicked you out for trespassing, thinking you were an adult. I told you they were cute, didn't I?”

“You remember that far back? That was before I even turned 15!”

“I’m not that old, Gary!”

-

After Gary begrudgingly agreed to split the lunch his mom had prepared for the both of you, the three of you were squeezed together on the couch with Ms. Fischer sitting in the middle, a worn-out photo album in her lap, showing you page after page of baby photos of the henchman.

“Mom, don’t show her that one!” Gary protests, his cheeks red as he attempts to snatch the photo of him as a toddler wearing just a diaper with a plastic sword and a paper crown on his head.

Irene’s reflexes are too quick for him, dodging his large hand as she places the photo into your hands. “I swear, I could never get him to take off that darn crown once we went to Medieval Times.”

You reach across her lap to give Gary’s hand a firm squeeze, grinning at the cute photo, “It’s okay, Gare. You were such an adorable kid,” Your hand reached up to squeeze his cheek playfully, “And you got even more adorable as you got older.”

Gary smiles warmly, pressing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. Irene looks between the two of you with a look of admiration before clearing her throat, “Gary, those comics that you got shipped to our house are piling up in your room! Can you please go grab them?”

“Now mom? I can do that later…” His voice trailed off when his mother gave him a stern look. “Alright, fine! I’m going!” Gary groans, getting up from the couch, heading to his old room in the basement of the Fischer home, leaving you alone with Mrs. Fischer.

“I swear, I don’t know where he gets his stubbornness from.” Irene sighs before placing the photo album on the coffee table and turning to face you. “I just wanted to get you alone for just a second to say thank you for looking after my Gare Bear. He’s such a sweetheart and I worry about him doing all that dangerous stuff.”

“Of course, there’s so much to love about him and I’ve always got his back.” You say which Irene beams at, bringing you into an embrace and squeezing you tightly before pulling away, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“And if he ever does something stupid, you call me and I’ll whip him into shape!” She says pointedly to which you hear a groan echoing from your boyfriend as he ascends up the stairs, a box full of comics in his arms. 

“I heard that, mom!”

-

On the drive back to your shared apartment, Gary makes you pinky promise not to tell the Monarchs about his mom’s nickname for him.

“Of course… Gare Bear.”

“[Your Name]!”

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups

I am demanding my smooches now.

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.

Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.

If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.

A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.

You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.

Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.

Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.

The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.

Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.

“Why does Johnny like you?”

Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.

“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.

“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.

Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.

“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”

Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.

“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.

“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”

“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”

Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.

“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.

Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.

“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.

Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.

A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.

“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.

You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.

Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.

“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.

They had to be fucking kidding you.

Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?

How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?

Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.

Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”

He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.

Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.

“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”

“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.

Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.

Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.

You called him as you started packing.

“Price.”

���Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”

“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”

Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.

“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.

“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”

“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”

“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”

“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.

A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.

The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.

You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.

Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.

“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”

The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.

Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.

Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.

Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?

Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”

At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.

“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”

She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.

“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.

“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.

“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”

The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.

In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.

You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.

He offered to marry you.

You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.

“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”

The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.

Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.

You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.

Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.

The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.

Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.

Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.

Except you weren’t.

They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.

The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.

Part 2

Masterlist | Secrets Masterlist

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: I cut my finger Y/N: I can kiss it so it'll get better Ghost: That works? Y/N: Yeah my mum used to do it when I was little *later* Ghost: I need you to punch me in the mouth Roach: Fucking finally

[feralgoblinqueen]

At the rehearsal dinner, the night before your wedding, your bridesmaids have prepared a presentation for you. They laugh conspiratorially before pulling the slide show up on the projector. The title is: Y/N Being Feral for Her Future Husband. Each slide has a photo and beneath is the unhinged text you sent with it. All the photos are sneaky pics you took while working with them.

Slide one: A slightly blurry image of him sitting on a bench at the gym.

The caption: “Sitting on his lap would probably fix me.”

Slide two: Picture is of him sipping his morning coffee or tea, disheveled.

The caption: “I’m jealous of a mug.”

Slide three: It looks like a selfie at first but you’re in the bottom corner and he’s in the background in full tactical gear.

The caption: “Love a man that uses protection.”

Slide four: Another blurry image obviously taken on a drunken night out with the rest of the team. There’s a tipped over shot glass and he’s licking the liquor off the bar. He’s got a big, goofy grin, being egged on by those around him.

The caption: “How many shots do you think it would take for him to want to lick me like that?”

Slide five: It’s a picture of his bicep flexed and the corded muscle on display, a slight sheen of sweat glistening in the light.

The caption: “I want to gnaw on him like a chew toy.”

Slide six: This is, much to your relief, the last picture. It’s of him sitting across from you at a dining table, dressed in nicer civilian clothes. Your first official date.

The caption: “Please, whatever deity is out there, don’t let me fuck this up.”

__________

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for ages. I don’t even know if anyone else will find it as funny as I do.