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devils-dares · 17 days

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hi lovely can i get a carmy x college reader where she comes to his for dinner when the dining hall food is bad 🥹🫶🏻

YES YOU CAN

he's grumbling, pouring over his notebook with a cigarette dangling from his lips. he can't get this one recipe right and it's pissing him the fuck off. he's so pissed, in fact, that he doesn't even hear the door unlock. he ends up throwing the notebook across the room, burying the heels of his palms in his eyesockets. suddenly, you feel really bad about coming here to bother him, trying to sneak back out.

"what're you doin' here, sugar?" he asks.

"was just leaving, i didn't wanna bother you." he sighs deeply, standing up from the floor. he walks over to you, taking your hands in his.

"what's going on?" you blink a few times, thinking about how stupid your disruption really is.

"the dining hall food is bad and i haven't really been eating much. came over here cause i was hungry and-"

"you wanted me to cook for ya, sugar?"

"yeah," you frown, "but you don't have to. you're stressed."

"and my girlfriend's hungry," he says, kissing your forehead. he squeezes your hands gently before pulling you into a hug, "what can i make for you?" as you think, he scoops you up and plops you on the counter, standing between your legs. he brushes your hair out of your face, smiling at you. the stress lines seem to melt away from his face the longer he looks at you.

“make me whatever you feel like making,” you say, smiling at him, “long as it’s warm, i don’t care, it’ll be yummy.”

“bear secret menu item?” you giggle at his words.

“you’re just saying that so you don’t have to admit to stealing syd’s ideas.”

“syd can butt the fuck out of my relationship.” he starts taking some ingredients out.

“nothing too elaborate, carm, just messy and warm.”

“are you hungry now or can you wait?”

“i can wait. i brought my bag, i’ve got some reading to do.” he nods. you slip off of the counter, grabbing your book and notes out of your bag while he starts to cook. the smells enter your nose while you study, and your stomach grumbles loudly.

“when was the last time you ate?”

“good food?” he laughs.

“any food, sugar.”

“i had… a cereal bar this morning.”

“that’s all?” you nod. he sighs.

“how about i make you dinner, and then get some stuff ready for leftovers?”

“please?” he laughs softly.

“‘course, princess.” he starts to chop up some veggies as you pull out your books and laptop. immediately, the stress of school comes back, and you find yourself rubbing at your forehead already. as you;’re getting into the nitty gritty of your notes from your lecture earlier today, you see a glass of wine get dropped off at the table.

“gotta relax more, sugar. all that stress is gonna take a toll on you.” you smile up at him, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip.

“you don’t like this one.” you say as he takes a sip as well, “you hate pinot.” he shrugs.

“pairs well with the food.”

“no it doesn’t.”

“no it doesn’t.” he nods, repeating what you said and agreeing. you smile as he turns around, taking a sip of his wine. you can see the sides of his neck tense up, and you imagine the scrunched up look on his face from the taste of the wine.

“carmy-”

“it’s good, yummy.” he says, taking another sip and fighting the sour look on his face.

“i love you.” you laugh. he grumbles and goes back to the kitchen to cook.

soon enough, you’ve got a steaming hot plate of food in front of you, and your laptop gets whisked away.

“eat, and then study if you need to, but you’re not touching this until your stomach is brimming with food. i’ve got seconds.”

“won’t you come eat with me?” you ask, a pout on your face. he tuts.

“yeah yeah.” he refills the wine glasses, his wine looking much darker than yours this go around.

“cab sauv? not the best pairing.”

“better than fucking pinot.”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x female reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x female reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #1000 follower celebration #birthday celebration

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devils-dares · 17 days

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such such such a good series!!!

Only The Fools Fall [John "Soap" MacTavish]

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five

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seven

eight

this is a +18 rated fic. minors and ageless blogs dni.

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#dev's fic recs #soap x reader #soap smut

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devils-dares · 17 days

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UGH so many ooey gooey melty feelings in this one, this is exactly what i wanted to read

Same Timezone

John 'Soap' MacTavish / fem!Reader

Summary: Johnny is finally coming home to his girlfriend.

Content: pure fluff, long-distance relationships, coming-home-from-deployment, civilian girlfriend

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: For @buzzyb33 who asked for a continuation of Different Timezones! 🫶🏻 However, this can also be read as a standalone piece.🤍 I hope y'all are ready to meet my favorite oc character: Soap's grandma.

Johnny’s leg bounced nervously as he watched the citylights and snowflakes drift past the window of his taxi. Glasgow had been blessed by some heavy early snow instead of rain this year, people milling about on the sidewalks with thick scarfs and red cheeks, an old man complaining as he tugged his dog along.

He saw it, but didn’t actually take anything that was happening around him in.

His flight had been delayed by almost two hours, and his thunderous mood must have shown on his face, since not even the usual (and quite lovely) customs control lady, Martina, had said a word about his newly collected passport stamps. She’d just waved him through in a hurry after checking his gun licence, casting nervous glances at Johnny. Maybe he’d bring some cookies around when he left for deployment as an apology.

But, in his defence, he was late for his own coming-home party.

So late in fact, that Johnny was sure no one was waiting for him any longer, and that their friends and his family had all gone home before the forecast blizzard hit.

He’d only gotten his request for leave approved at the very last moment, and taken the next flight home two days later. His phone had died approximately three hours ago, just as he had been about to land. To say that he was in a foul mood was putting it mildly.

They pulled up to his address, and he hastily paid the outrageous fare as he exited, then rounded the booth and slung his heavy backpack over one shoulder, not even waiting for his change.

The brick house was dark from the outside, a thick layer of snow making the steps slippery as Johnny rummaged around for the keys. One of their neighbours had already put up Christmas decorations, and a blinking reindeer shone down at him through their fogged up window.

The front door fell shut behind him with a heavy clang, and then he was bounding up the stairs, trailing snow and sludge behind as he went.

No noise was to be heard outside their sunflower yellow entryway, courtesy of the time his girlfriend had watched one too many DIY videos during lockdown, and Johnny’s heart sank a little as he dropped his bag by the coathanger and then kicked off his boots.

He’d secretly hoped that at least his girlfriend would still be awake, and perhaps-

Just as he scraped the key around the lock, the door flew inwards. Bright lights suddenly turned on all at once, and the sheer wall of noise that greeted him was enough to make Johnny stagger backwards in a fright.

About ten different people hollered “WELCOME HOME!” at once, and then suddenly, blissfully, a warm body slammed into him.

He just about managed to catch his girlfriend as they almost tumbled down the staircase, her legs around him and face pressed so tightly into his neck that he couldn’t make out a single word she was shouting. Her soft hair brushed over his cheek and Johnny pressed her against himself tightly, breathing in the sugary smell of baked goods and her skin.

“You’re back!” She sobbed, disentangling herself long enough to pepper his face with kisses, then hugged him again.

“You’re late, laddie!” His grandma complained instead as she hobbled over to them, pinching his ear painfully and Johnny yelped in protest, laughing. “I dinnae have much time left on this God given earth an’ you go an’ make yer poor mhamó wait, John?”

“It was the plane, the weather-”

“T’was fine enough when yer wife picked me up. On time I might add,” she grumbled, then accepted his kiss to the cheek with an angry mutter.

They’d stopped correcting her about the ‘wife’ part of their relationship two years ago, and Johnny couldn’t bring himself to argue about the fact that people didn’t have to get married in a church anymore to belong to each other. She was his either way.

His girlfriend let go of him, wiping under her eyes as she stepped back and let their friends take over the rounds of hugs and pats to the back.

Johnny kept an eye on her as they all herded him inside his flat, the small living room even smaller now that they had expanded the dining table and put so many chairs around it.

Steaming pies, vegetables and sausages were kept hot under one of her fancy kitchen gadgets, and her brother lit copious amounts of candles around the place as a friend from uni turned the news channel on the TV up again.

“Did ye lie in wait for me this whole time, mo gràidh?” Johnny whispered, pressing his lips to her temple as they stood amidst the chatter of excited people.

“We turned it all off when we saw your taxi pull up,” she admitted, grinning up at him as she wound her arms around his waist. They usually weren’t the kind of couple that showed a lot of affection in front of others, but Johnny felt that he could be forgiven for being extra clingy that night.

“Cheeky,” he said, then grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her into a proper kiss, earning them a few wolfwhistles and cheers. When he pulled away with a smirk, she stared back up at him, red-cheeked and smiling then pulled him over to the dinner table to push him into the next best chair.

“I made your favorite,” she whispered in his ear softly, hands on his shoulders as Johnny leaned back with a sigh, the long journey home suddenly catching up with him all at once.

They opened a few bottles of beer and wine, shared the food and Johnny mostly just sat and listened, his right hand intertwined with his girlfriend’s as the night went on.

He’d waited so long for this moment. The thought of being here with her in their shared home had carried him through bellycrawls in the desert, waiting out snowstorms and hails of bullets, only able to hear her sweet voice every other week or so, whenever he was back on base.

Each time he returned, it became harder and harder to leave again. To exchange her soft skin and their king size bed for bloodshed and long nights spent in the back of nondescript transporters.

He looked at her, at the way she was practically glowing in the candle light, how her eyes lit up with a smile as his granny complained about yet another neighbor in the assisted living home.

“Stop tryin’ to guilt her into coming around every day, mhamó,” Johnny laughed, and it earned him a kick under the table. “She has a life and a job outside of you.”

“And do ye know what the poor lass dinnae got, John?” The old woman shouted down the table over the heated discussion some of his friends were having over a recent rugby game. “A proper husband and kids to care for! It’s not right to make her wait so long just so ye can pin some more medals on yer coat-”

His grandma continued to rant some more, but Johnny was much more interested in the sudden blush that graced his girlfriend’s cheeks, and the way her fingers cramped around his at the mention of kids. With raised eyebrows, he leaned in closer to her, so that it was just them amid the crowd of people, and whispered.

“You alright, dove? Don’t listen to her, you know she’s just talkin’ to talk.”

“I know,” his girlfriend sighed softly, and played with her dessert absentmindedly, not meeting his eyes. “It’s just… have you ever- I mean-”

“Thought about kids?” Johnny smiled. “Of course. Just say the word and we’ll get started on a whole football team.”

His girlfriend groaned, then put a hand over her eyes as she giggled despite herself. She threw him a smile that had his stomach do a little flip, and then she kissed the back of his hand quickly before putting her other hand right on top of it and resting them in her lap.

“Let’s talk about it some other time, yeah?”

Johnny nodded, smiling as well, content to sit among people that had no interest in war or politics.

Who saw him as nothing more than John from university, John from church, John the brother-in-law.

Who were only here for him, who cared enough to wait for hours for his return, who were steadily getting snowed in more and more as time passed and made no move to leave.

Who made him feel, at last, that he was safe and loved.

Squishing my cheeks right now, Soap is so cute. I hope y'all liked it🫶🏻 Do you love his grandma? Because I am obsessed with that woman.

Anyway, you can find my other COD works here, if you're interested!

Much love, stay healthy, and until next time! - A✨

#dev's fic recs #john soap mactavish fluff #soap x reader

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devils-dares · 17 days

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shut up this is so good! i love it so so much brb reading pt 2

Different Timezones

John 'Soap' MacTavish / fem!Reader

Summary: Johnny is unusually quiet during a mission. Ghost suspects it has something to do with the Polaroid firmly tucked into his wallet.

Content: pure fluff, long-distance relationships, pining, civilian girlfriend

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: I CAN'T STOP WRITING THESE, the COD lads have me in their clutches. This weekend I had so much time to let all the creative juices out and I just want to thank you all for the crazy warm welcome to the fandom!

The way the grass smells at night And you've got flames all in your eyes As they reflect the sparkler And you say we'll never die

Johnny's leg kept bouncing restlessly next to Ghost, irritating him to no end.

Gaz and the Captain were chatting in the front of the SUV, tinted glasses dulling the relentless desert sun outside. There was music playing through the radio and the hot breeze wafting in from the cracked open windows gave Simon some much-needed relief under his gear.

When the Scotsman pulled out his phone for the tenth time in what felt like minutes and then shifted a worn leather wallet from one hand to the other, Ghost couldn't resist throwing him the deadliest glare he could muster. Which, when it came down to it, was quite lethal.

But Johnny didn't look back at his Lieutenant, attention solely on the small square that was glued to the dark leather, index brushing over the frayed edges. Usually, Ghost was not one to pry into the private life of his comrades, but Soap's silence combined with the longing look in his blue eyes was so unusual, he simply couldn't resist glancing down at the picture himself.

It was a little blurry, with Johnny only taking up half the frame. His arm was slung over the shoulder of a pretty woman, with a wide smile and eyes that almost disappeared from how hard they were laughing together.

"That your missus?" Ghost asked quietly, voice not as rough as it usually was.

Startled, Johnny looked up from his phone, before sliding it back into one of the many pockets of his vest. He threw a glance at the men up front, but neither of them seemed to have heard Simon's question.

Reluctantly, he handed over his wallet and Ghost took great care not to crease the Polaroid any further, worn as it was.

"Yeah, that's my girl," the Scotsman mumbled, lifting his chin. "It's her birthday today, but timezones are fuckin' annoying, aye?"

Ghost just nodded, inspecting the picture one last time before handing it back to Johnny.

"Scored way out of your league, Seargent," he smirked behind his mask.

"Oi, careful, L.T.," Soap laughed, then tucked his wallet away and crossed his arms in front of his chest before leaning his head against the cold glass of the jeep. "Gotta catch a few minutes of sleep before it all goes down again, I reckon."

Ghost nodded, giving the other man space as he zoned into the idle conversation that Gaz and the Captain were having instead.

Well, there's blue jeans in the driveway And you're walking inside sideways The wine always affects you in beautiful kind ways Asked me if I'm staying and I say that I'm sleeping on the floor

Meanwhile, John's thoughts circled endlessly around the picture burning a hole in his pocket. Of the woman waiting for him at home, the memory of a party years ago, when she'd kissed him drunkenly for the first time and her friends had taken a picture right after.

Edinburgh had been freezing cold that night, but she'd still only worn a short sparkly dress and tiny heels and John had complained that she'd be hungover and sick the next morning.

Don't be such a buzzkill, she'd giggled, I thought you'd like it.

Oh, and he did like it, alright. But they were somewhere between friends and definitely interested, with him unsure how his career and a relationship would go and her aloof enough that it was impossible to read her intentions.

But then he'd been singing along to a terrible rendition of the top ten songs of the past decade, the whole pub full to bursting point as they counted down the last few minutes of the old year. And she'd been screaming along next to him, jumping up and down with one of his friends from uni and Johnny had laughed until he felt a little dizzy and grabbed her by the waist to steady her.

She'd looked up at him from behind dark eyelashes with a grin, and then pulled his face down towards her, crushing their mouths together without much finesse but so much passion, that the echoes of it still made him smile.

He'd walked her home that night, laughed some more when she twirled around lamp posts and stumbled a bit. She'd asked him straight out if he was staying the night and John, big idiotic sap that he was, had insisted on the sofa.

A gentleman, she still teased him to this day. But my pride will never recover.

Soap slid out his phone for the hundredth time in an hour, and saw that it was only a few minutes left now. Irrationally embarrassed, he glanced over at Ghost, who stared out the window in silence but was clearly vigilant. A nudge with his boot got him the attention of the Lieutenant, and dark eyes snapped over to him, then the phone in his hand.

"Would ya mind, you know-" Soap trailed off as Gaz turned around with interest.

"What is it?" Ghost asked, voice unreadable.

"Totakeapictureofme." He rushed out between clenched teeth, as quietly as possible.

"For your girl."

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes, already regretting not snapping an awkward angle selfie instead. Gaz gasped and Price's eyes studied him in the rearview mirror as well.

"Soap's got a girl squirrelled away somewhere?" Gaz asked, eyes shining.

"Yeah, far away and safe from nosy bastards like you," he snapped, arms crossed in irritation now but Ghost reached over and tugged the small iPhone from his hands.

"Better fix that face, Johnny, 'm not doin' a photoshoot with you."

"Get the gun!" Gaz smirked, reaching back to tug Soap's AK-47 straight where it rested between his knees and on the back of Price's seat. "Ladies love a proper soldier."

The whole situation was so ridiculous, that Soap couldn't help but laugh. Ghost had a concentrated look on his face as he gave a thumbs-up to him, then the distinct sound of a camera shutter sounded.

Barely glancing at the photo out of sheer mortification over the three smirking faces in the SUV, Soap hastily typed out a message accompanying the picture and hit send, just as the world clock for Edinburgh turned to midnight on his phone.

🧼: I love and miss you. Happy Birthday, baby.

She opened the message almost immediately and John ignored the teasing comments and laughter from Gaz and Price as he watched the three dots dance next to her name.

💍: Omg.

💍: You look so hot, what the fuck. Best present ever. Come back home soon and be safe! xx

Then a picture of her appeared only moments later, with a silly party hat perched on her head and sparkler in hand. Her brother was saying something next to her, drink in hand and she was beaming into the camera. Soap stroked over the grainy image with his thumb for a moment, smiling.

Grab me by the hands Just as callused as I am And say you're proud

Soft and silly Scottish men have my whole heart. If you enjoyed it, you can find the rest of my COD masterlist here! (We also got some steamy stuff over there folks 👀)

Song lyrics by Zach Bryan - The Good I'll Do. 🖤 One of my most listened to love songs of all time.

NEXT PART: Same Timezone

#dev's fic recs #john soap mactavish #soap x reader

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devils-dares · 28 days

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the little pod where the driver sits hope this helps <3

what part of the formula one car exactly is the tub. just curious.

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devils-dares · 28 days

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HELPPPP

i love watching shows for the first time with no spoilers bc now im losing my fucking mind watching queen charlotte bc the king is HOT

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devils-dares · 1 month

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@galaxysgal

me @ my mutuals

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devils-dares · 1 month

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this is so cute 🥹

Neighbour Ghost x reader 2

2.1k | fluff You had many dinners with Simon (part 1)

Simon Riley white-knuckled the vegetable peeler against the poor carrot in his other hand like it owed him money.

He’d knocked on your door that morning with the full intention of being helpful, but it was painfully difficult to hide the fact that he was beyond clueless as he stood there at the counter. He even dressed for the occasion, wearing a loose black shirt to not dirty his sleeves. It was his first time seeing you in something other than a hoodie, and he caught your momentary gaze on his tattooed arm.

Sure, he kept telling himself each time he came up with an excuse to have you over was for his mum’s company. It made him happy to see the smile on her face as she chatted with you, your laughter filling his otherwise quiet flat. But was it really for her company now, when it was just the two of you as he embarrassed himself?

Regretting what he thought was a brilliant idea, he glanced at you, absolutely horrified of being a hold up and ruining lunch.

You didn’t even look up from the pot you were stirring. “You know, I really don’t like doing the dishes. Would you like to help with that instead?”

A small sigh of relief escaped him as he dropped everything on the cutting board, thankful you spared the sliver of dignity he had left. He did most of the cleaning while he watched you. You said you weren’t the best cook, but your movements were serene, easy. You didn’t look like you were going to chop your fingers off, and to him, that made you far above decent.

Evidently, Melanie complimented the meal generously while Simon simply asked for a third helping. He beat you to the dishes after that, not allowing you to lift a finger after all the cooking you did.

At your door, you turned to him. “In case I don’t see you again before you ship out-“

“You will. I leave Thursday morning.”

“Oh.”

“Can I have your number?”

You handed him your phone and Simon Riley called himself from it.

“I’ll see you around, Simon.” You smiled at him.

Again, he only left when you’d closed your door. When he entered his flat, his mum looked up from wiping down the dining table.

She sighed softly. “How long am staying, Si? It’s been over two weeks now.”

“As long as you want, mum. I’d rather you here.” He walked over to her. “At least I know you’ll be safe.”

“What’s going to happen to your dad?”

“You wouldn’t let me bash his face in, and he’s not my dad. Not sure he ever was,” he said gravely. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I just need to know you’re safe. That’s all I’m asking.”

She turned away, the discomfort evident in her eyes. Simon knew the look to well.

“You need to leave him, mum,” he said under his breath.

“I think I’m going to stay a few more weeks, two months tops,” she finally said. “Until things settle. I’ll look for a job meanwhile.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to feel useful, Si,” she reassured. “You’ve been too kind to me.”

“Never enough.”

When's the latest you can have dinner before it's not called dinner anymore? Simon texted you Monday afternoon.

Is this the premise to a joke?

He tilted his head. On second thought, it did sound like one of his dad jokes.

No, was a genuine question actually.

9, maybe. Why?

I'll be home before 7:30. Would it be okay to wait for me for dinner until then?

Who's cooking?

Takeout chef down the street. You pick who the lucky bloke is

You smiled as he stood at your door with takeout in hand. The way you looked at him made him question his clean shaven look that day. Did he look too much like an adolescent with no scruff?

Simon didn’t like making conversation, let alone with someone as sunny as you, but he was surprised to find that he wanted to put himself in a social situation with you. Still, he wasn’t used to it. He tried saying more, he really did, but the most he managed to tell was that he was an apprentice butcher back in Manchester before he enlisted, and that he was a currently a lieutenant in the SAS.

After dinner, you sat facing each other on your small couch sipping on tea, knees almost touching each other’s.

At this point, he noticed you didn’t look away as much as you did the previous instances. Either you’d got used to his unyielding stare or his attempt to appear less scary succeeded. You didn’t ask further about his job, and he hoped it was because you thought it was mostly confidential, not because you were afraid of him. That was alright though, you were far more interesting than his work anyway. He enjoyed watching the way you lit up talking about your interests.

He didn’t want to leave yet, but before it was even remotely late, he excused himself for the night.

“The day at the base starts early, eh?”

He gave you a small smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Good night, luv.”

On his way to the lift, he knocked on the door of his own flat. His mum answered, clutching her cardigan close to her chest.

“Oh, Simon. I wasn’t expecting you.” She stepped aside. “Are you staying the night? I’ll get the bed-”

“No, ’m just dropping by.” He closed the door behind him.

“Did you need something? Have you had dinner yet?”

“I did, yeah.”

A knowing smile tugged on her lips. “Was it with someone I know?”

“Wanted to say good night and make sure everything’s alright.” A blush might have crept up his neck as he stepped in for a one-armed hug.

But the next night, Simon dropped by again before going back to base.

“Why are you here every day now?” Melanie looked at her son with a teasing smile. “I’m not complaining, but I thought you said you were too busy to come home.”

“Can I not want to see my own mum?”

“Sure, Si.” She gave him a playful side eye. “Let me see what ingredient I’m missing, in case you want to run to the shops.”

He groaned. “I’m shipping out Thursday. Wanted to take you somewhere nice for dinner tomorrow. Get yourself an outfit. Use my card.”

“How nice!” She beamed. “Is she coming with?”

He looked away. “I didn’t invite her.”

“Would you like to?” When he gave her an unsure look, she reassured, “I don’t mind at all. She’s sweet and I’m happy you’re meeting new people.”

Of course it didn’t take any convincing for him to invite you to his favourite steakhouse in the city. In fact, he very much looked forward to having another excuse to see you, especially dressed up. Not like you didn’t look nice, but thinking of taking you out made him giddy. He suddenly didn’t dread the med evals, trainings and briefings he usually detested before each deployment.

When he arrived at the barracks, your reply waited.

Thank you so much for the invite. The place sounds lovely, but I don’t want to intrude. Have a nice evening you both!

His shoulders sagged. Can I at least see you after dinner?

Mrs. Riley beamed when Simon picked her up with a rose in hand. He didn’t remember ever seeing her so dressed up, and he was glad to have given her the opportunity to. She gushed over the delicious dinner, the wine and how polite the waiters were that it brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.

He could tell how much the evening meant to her, and it broke his heart that no one had cared for her that much in a very long time. He held her hand as they walked back to his flat.

“You be safe, Simon. I’ll be waiting for you,” she hugged him tight at the door as her voice wavered, her eyes brimming with tears.

He gave her a squeeze, feeling the emotions rubbing off on him. “Will do, mum. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he said into her hair.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before he headed to your flat.

Simon didn’t recall feeling this heavy upon shipping out in recent memory, but as you answered the door in your loose shirt and shorts, his arms ached to wrap around you. Instead, he shoved his hands in his trousers pockets.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I can’t,” he said. Because if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave.

You looked away, seemingly a little embarrassed by his rejection.

“May I ask why you didn’t want to come earlier?”

You stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind you. “I feel your mum would appreciate it more if it’s just the two of you, that’s all.”

“Maybe next time with you then?” he asked hopefully. “Just us?”

You nodded and a smile blossomed on his lips in return. You both lingered a few more seconds in silence.

“I’m wishing you and your unit the very best on your mission. Please take care out there.” You cast your gaze down.

He caught the wobble in your voice and the sincerity was the push he needed. You barely had time to react to him stepping in for a hug. His arms encircled your frame loosely, but tightened as soon as yours wrapped around his waist. He curled over you, inhaling your scent as your breath tickled his neck.

The lack of distance only highlighted how much he towered over you. He was sure you could feel his racing heart under his turtleneck, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to hold you.

“Let me know when you’re back,” you said when he pulled away.

“’course.”

Simon very much looked forward to your texts whenever he had time to himself. While he asked you about your days, he unfortunately couldn’t say much about his. Instead, he sent you photos of the sunrise, or the shit cup of tea he was having. In return, you sent photos of the Hereford sunset and your meals. He said the kind of food he ate would ruin your appetite.

You told him his mum got a job at that bakery you loved – you knew the owner. On some days if her schedule allowed, you could walk back home with her. Simon thanked you for keeping her company, knowing how much she must have appreciated it.

The two weeks seemed to roll by a litter faster than usual. You were the first to know as soon as he was scheduled to fly back. He said he’d probably get home a late, but would love to see you if you had the time.

At his first knock, rapid footsteps came from behind your door which you swung open with a grin on your face. “You’re back!”

“May I come in?”

You made way for him, and when the door closed behind you, he stepped in, arms lifted a little. With a chuckle, you closed the gap, squeezing him tight.

“Are you available for dinner tomorrow?”

You pulled away. “No, going out with friends.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sunday then?”

“That’ll do.” You smiled, walking backwards to the kitchen. “Come, I’ll make us a cuppa. Co-worker gave me some oolong tea.”

His eyes softened. “Sorry, can’t stay long, luv. I’m going back to base.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday. I thought you stay home on weekends.”

“Yeah, but it’s too late now. I don’t want to bother my mum.”

You gestured at the couch with a chuckle. “I’d offer you this, but it’s way too small for you.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bother his mum - he wouldn’t. He could get in and out the place without a sound, nor was your couch a problem. He could sleep on the floor and it would still be better than some of the places he’d had the pleasure to sleep in.

He wasn’t ready yet, especially not when he just got back, with his mind still reeling 1000 miles an hour.

“That’s okay. I can head back.”

Your brow rose at him. He understood how silly it was now, driving all the way to you at this hour to not even stay 15 minutes. It was embarrassing, if he was honest, how much he was transfixed on seeing you that he didn’t even think of the logistics of the visit.

“Sorry, I’m not a late sleeper. I’m dead tired and always sleep like a log the first night back.” His eyes flicked to your lips as he swallowed. “I’ll pick you up Sunday?”

You smiled. “Where are we going?”

“The same place. I think you’re going to like it.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @fruitymoonbeams-blog @ghostslittlegf @luvecarson @sparrowgalaxy @insert-weird-name @nocturnalreader106

#call of duty #simon riley

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devils-dares · 1 month

Text

still open! request away!

Birthday/1000 Celebration

thank you for allowing me reach this massive benchmark of 1000 followers, it means the world to me! i want to finally celebrate this milestone and combine it with my birthday celebration!

this celebration will run from march 6th to march 16th. refer to read before requesting before sending in asks.

i'll be filling out requests with short drabbles for any character on my list, also feel free to drop a message in my inbox or just come and talk to me!

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devils-dares · 1 month

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frat lip who falls for another frat guy’s girl pause okay let me cook…

maybe it’s not a dude a part of lip’s frat specifically but either way, they run into each other all the time. and it’s definitely sexual attraction at first until he sees you enough to get to know you. sees you enough for him to know that this asshole boyfriend isn’t treating you properly. and lip just HAS to let you know. maybe he’s a little tipsy, but he found you at a party and he’s just kinda…yapping.

“no, no, listen—that guy’s a fuckin’ dick, sweetheart. you—you should be with a real man. one tha-that’d treat you good. i could do that, y’know? make you real happy.”

STOP STOP SHUT UP I LOVE THIS.

you didn't expect to see lip gallagher at your boyfriend's frat house, a few beers in with a pretty flush on his cheeks. he's in front of you, grinning like an idiot while he offers you a shot of something pink. the alcohol stings your throat and your eyes go a little wide when you finally tune in to hear what he's on about.

"listen, listen—this red, it's your fuckin' color, sweetheart. has he even told'ya how fuckin' stunnin' y'look?"

you can't help but laugh, the vodka swirling in your blood and making you dizzy. "lip, what?"

you watch lip as he just smiles at you for a moment, eyes tracing over your features lazily. "c'mon. you—you should be with a real man." he tells you, eyes darting down to your lips, then back to your eyes. he shifts nervously, throws a glance over his shoulder, then steps closer to you. his knee brushes your thighs, one hand landing possessively on your hip as you feel his breath warm against your ear. "someone tha-that'd treat you right. make you happy."

you look at his eyes, curiosity coloring your face. you take mental stock of every place he's touching you, from his nose brushing the shell of your ear, down to his foot placed squarely between your own. he feels good.

"what're you implying, hm?" you ask him, biting your lip. now it's your turn to throw a glance over your shoulder, seeing your boyfriend across the room. his arms cross over his chest and he glares possessively at you, looking not unlike an animal hunting its prey. you harden your gaze at him, turning pointedly back to lip.

"i could do that. make you happy, sweetheart. treat ya real nice." he says it so sincerely, looking at you a little through his lashes. his teeth worry at his bottom lip while he waits for your response.

it's cute, you realize. his face pulled with concentration, a tinge of worry. he's cute. and funny. and now, you were learning, he was sweet. it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if he just... kissed you right now. but you see in his eyes he's too caught up in his thoughts to make that first move. he's waiting for your response.

and you're just staring.

you snap back to the moment and bring your palm up to his cheek. in a split second your lips are on his. no warning was provided, but lip didn't seem to mind. he kissed you back eagerly, both hands now secure around your hips as he pulled you closer.

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devils-dares · 1 month

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MEOWWWWW

Being a bit tipsy after a party begging for frat lip to fuck you ✨

ohhh yeah ok ok. get into it. yuh. nsfw 18+. prior consent for a loving couple to fuck like madmen while tipsy. not too much filth, just a bit of rambling.

you'd known going into it that tonight would be a long, mostly sober affair. the time trudged on as you and lip manned the bar, keeping an eye out to make sure no one got too drunk. "liabilities and all" is what the chapter president would say. you and lip agreed that it wasn't so much of a chore if you did it together.

then, whenever the action started to fizzle out, the two of you would try to outdrink each other. you'd place little bets on a number of things; who knew more lyrics to a song, who could get someone's number the quickest, which team was about to make a last minute win.

the winner was rewarded. salt, shot, lime.

the tests and bets got harder as the night came to an end, both of you thoroughly tipsy and too occupied with need to truly compete. while the lights come up and the music fades out you'd follow after him, holding on to his hand and helping him in little ways. you kissed him too, as you went about the house to make sure there weren't any lingering party-goers.

after a final sweep and a quick snack while you finished your end-of-night cocktails, the lights went off again and each of the house boys stumbled their ways to bed. your mouth pleaded against lip's bicep, his shoulder, his neck, all in hushed tones. with a smattering of kisses.

"c'mon, baby. need it. please."

you let the words bleed into his skin as he shuts his door, then locks it for good measure. rough palms slide under the hem of your shirt, and his lips pressed warmly under your ear.

"hm?" he hums, teeth grazing your ear as he backs you towards the bed. lip''s cocky in that way, making you say it. you can feel his smirk against your neck.

"need you," you repeat. the backs of your knees hit his bed and you buckle, pulling him down with you. "please, lip, just fuck me already."

he huffs out a pleased laugh, nimble fingers pulling at the little ties on the edge of your skirt. "good. thought you'd never ask."

#maggie my beloved

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devils-dares · 1 month

Text

Birthday/1000 Celebration

thank you for allowing me reach this massive benchmark of 1000 followers, it means the world to me! i want to finally celebrate this milestone and combine it with my birthday celebration!

this celebration will run from march 6th to march 16th. refer to read before requesting before sending in asks.

i'll be filling out requests with short drabbles for any character on my list, also feel free to drop a message in my inbox or just come and talk to me!

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devils-dares · 1 month

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Idk if u write for this sort of thing but if you do, can I request frank castle in subspace x male reader who takes care of him?- just some fluff with frank being cuddled and spoiled 👉🏻👈🏻

mdni for slight sexual content

okay i feel like he'd have to really trust the person he was with in order to let himself even think about going "brain numb" but...

it'd be after a long, arduous mission. something that really took a toll on him and made him just... need you. usually he comes home and grumbles about, taking a shower and then cracking a beer and slumping on the couch, but this time he seeks you out, and that's how you know it's different. he's softer, slower, shoulders sunken versus sitting at military attention. i feel like he'd be an entirely different beast, and he'd be physical about it, draping his body weight over yours while you're doing whatever. he's quiet, even when he's needy he never expresses what it is he craves.

anyways, i feel like afterwards, when you two are laying there, skin glowing with sweat in the aftermath.

"need anything? some water, a snack?" he blinks up at you, eyes glassy.

"huh?"

"can i get something for you? or can i do something for you?"

"i- water would be nice."

i genuinely he'd be like a little shocked, a little frozen because 99% of the time he's the caregiver in the relationship and now he's thinking why is the person i have a need to take care of taking care of me?

and you'd just quietly bring him water and slide back into bed, holding him against you as he drinks the water, praising him as he drink the whole thing and now he's actually so confused. he's getting into his head about it and you're so quick to snap him out of it that he doesn't even realize it until he's a melted puddle against your chest cause you're scratching his scalp. but the fact that he knows, even subconsciously, that he trusts you means that he's not even mentally there anymore. he's just floating away on some lazy river.

he can vaguely feel a towel of some sorts, a warmth flowing through him as he realizes you're just cleaning him off because there's no physical way you're dragging him to the shower. he feels pressure on his forehead, a gentle kiss, he thinks.

"frank?"

"mm?"

"feelin' okay?"

"high as a kite." you laugh at his words.

"that's nice."

"tha' fuck did'ya do t'me?" you laugh again.

"i'm magic."

"fuck outta here."

#dev writes #frank castle request #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x male! reader #frank castle x male reader #frank castle fluff

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devils-dares · 1 month

Text

yo when did this even hit 1000 notes 😭 thank you all so much!

Head to Bed

summary: nodding off on the razor crest

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

wordcount: 438

warnings: none

a/n: my first din djarin fic! this was inevitable with @galaxysgal convincing me to watch the mandalorian and putting up with all of my shitty star wars questions.

comments and reblogs appreciated!

-----

Hyperspace was calming. It was quiet and calm and even flying through space without any pirates or looters was calm. You’d been sitting in the Razor Crest next to Din, who was currently flying the craft. You were beginning to nod off, catching yourself before your chin dropped too low.

Din was watching as you tried your best to fight the slumber, smiling under the mask as you snapped awake again. He waited a few more minutes until you actually fell asleep, leaning on the side wall, to wake you.

You felt a hand on your thigh, eyes opening to find the beskar helmet staring back at you.

“Head to bed,” he says, “I can fly for a while, take the kid.”

“I don’t want you to be here up alone, we’re about to go through open space.”

“Just for a little bit, I need to stop for fuel, and then we’ll be right back on our path.”

“Din-”

“I will be fine,” he presses, “look, the kid’s snoring in your arms, head to bed.” You look down to find him drooling on your shirt, ears drooped down in his slumber.

“Okay,” you give in, truly too tired to argue, “but you have to promise to wake me if you need some rest, or if you meet anyone giving you any issues.” He laughs.

“I know how scary you can get.”

“I’m serious.”

“By the time I’ll need rest I’ll be able to put it on autopilot.” He reasons. Your hands rests on his shoulder for a few seconds before you head down the ladder and climb into Mando’s bed, placing the kid on his hammock.

You can vaguely remember the ship landing on some fuel site, and Mando’s armored footsteps clunking across the ship floor. The takeoff wakes you again, but you settle quickly, falling asleep only seconds after waking.

A little while later, the panel to the bed slides opens. Squinting, you make out Mando’s silhouette, shedding piece after piece of beskar.

“Mando?”

“Shh.” The bed sinks on one side.

“D’ya need me to fly for a while?” You ask, voice rough and groggy from sleep.

“No, just stay facing that way.” You hear a few clicks, and then he presses himself up against your body in the tight space. You can feel his breath on your neck, realizing that he’d rid himself of his helmet. His hand snakes under your shirt, calloused fingers running over the much softer skin. His chest is pressed flush against your back, and you can feel his breathing even out slowly.

“Night, Mando.” You say, but he’s already fallen asleep.

#self rb

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