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starstruckmiraclekitty · 5 months

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Simon’s heart was racing, a sheen layer of sweat covering his body as he slowly made his way up his driveway.

Your car was there as it always was when he came home but instead of bringing Simon peace, it made him more nervous than he’d ever been.

He found himself pausing at the door, his trembling hand hovering over the handle as he steadied his breathing. He knew when he opened that door, his entire life would change.

When he left for deployment, you were 7 months pregnant. Now here he was, nearly three months later, about to meet his child for the very first time.

He regretted more than anything, not being there for you when you needed him most. While you were giving birth, he was half a world away, and he felt so incredibly guilty for it. He knew you were strong, he knew you could handle yourself, but that didn’t ease the self loathing thoughts that swirled in his brain.

Closing his eyes, he took one final deep breath before sliding off his mask and entering the house.

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” He called out, setting his belongings on the floor. He slowly made his way into the living area, his hands still shaking from before.

“Hey, handsome.” You greeted, a warm smile on your face as you turned and stood from your spot on the couch. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Simon felt his breath leave his lungs as he took in the sight before him. There, nestled in the love of his life’s arms, was a baby girl. HIS baby girl.

“Simon, this is Y/D/N.” You spoke, your tone gentle. You walked up to him slowly, and leaned in a way that Simon could get a better look at his child.

His brain went numb as he took in every little feature of his daughter, a whirlwind of emotions hitting him at once. “She’s…she’s..she’s beautiful, Y/N.”

You felt tears pooling in your eyes as you watched your husband be rendered speechless. The way he was looking at his little girl had your heart soaring. There was nothing but unyielding admiration, and awe in his eyes. “Do you want to hold her?”

Simon’s breath hitched in his throat as he nodded curtly. He watched as you walked up to him, gently placing the infant in his arms. As he held her, the entire world around him seemed to slow, and the only thing in the world was just him and his little girl.

He held his daughter as if she were made of glass, not daring to move a muscle as he admired her. He began to notice small bits of himself in her, the dark brown of her eyes, the soft curve of her small nose. Never did Simon think anything that came from HIM would ever be so….perfect.

Simon had never felt a love like this before. As his daughter smiled up at him, Simon made a silent vow that he would do absolutely anything in his power to keep that smile on her face for as long as he lived.

“Thank you.” Simon whispered, smiling down at the newborn. Her small hand wrapped around his pinky, causing Simon’s eyes to pool with tears. She was so, so small compared to him.

“For what?” You asked, as Simon pulled you closely into his side.

“For giving me the family I never knew I wanted.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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celenawrites · 9 months

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pretty when you cry

pairing - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

word count - 2.4k

warnings - Ghost is a bit of a dick but he gets better, Reader is a bit of a crybaby here but it's just cuz she's very in tune with her emotions, Simon is emotionally constipated and cannot handle feelings, some fluff, heavy-ish (?) angst, open ending, etc.

Note - Kinda got tired of writing fluffy stuff all the time and my mental health is fraying atm, so I decided to (hopefully) hurt some folks with this little piece. Enjoy!

AO3 Version

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

You cry easy.

That's what Ghost thought of you when you first joined Task Force-141.

While he has always been skeptical of any new additions (often temporary) to the team he has come to love and trust after going through hell and back, Price was convinced that your impeccable record on stealth ops, your physical agility, and your skills as a sniper were much needed.

Reluctantly, Ghost silently accepts his Captain’s decision.

However, time and time again, your sensitive nature had him worried that you might prove to be a heavy liability to the team.

When you stub your toe against the leg of the table, you let out a few tears of frustration and pain, cursing everyone and their mothers while you hold your injured foot in the air as you comically jump around the kitchen, even though your lack of spatial awareness was to be blamed here. It is almost always a comical sight, Gaz rubbing your back in comfort while you curse and cry, failing to hide his amusement. Soap is not afraid to laugh at your face for it, while Price has this twinkle in his eye as he asks you to sit and eat something for breakfast.

Simon ignores the flutter in his stomach when you take a seat next to him on the table, your wet hair letting out wafts of jasmine - all for him to smell and keep to himself.

You cry when you accidentally let the door close on your pinky, dramatic hiccups leaving you as Soap ties up your little finger with white bandages, stroking your hair as he consoles you, "That's a brave lassie, yeah? You got this". (Soap has always been good with people, Simon notes.) Sometimes, Soap will be ‘kind enough’ to offer you to kiss your injuries better and you’d shove him, your face giving away the embarrassment and the humorous jest you feel around the demolition expert.

You weep uncontrollably when you watch Marley and Me with Gaz in the rec room. Price and Ghost had been passing by, discussing the aftermath of a mission they had just returned from when they heard loud sobs coming from the usually empty room. They peer in to find both of you huddled close in soft blankets, a bowl of popcorn propped up in your lap and a box of tissues in Gaz’s lap, as you munch on the buttery snack and cry over the adorable dog finally being put to rest. You lean into Gaz for comfort and Ghost wonders if you still smell of mud and caked blood like you did on the field.

Price decides to break up the party as he enters the room, clearing up his throat to grab the attention of his Sergeants. Your lip wobbles as he lightly scolds you, his brow laden with concern as he looks at you and tells you both to go get some much-needed rest. You pass him by as you leave the room, your hand being a feather’s touch away from his and he almost holds onto you. (He still has no idea why he almost reacted like that to you)

One time, Price had been sent to help Laswell out on a crucial mission and all you had accomplished during those three and a half weeks was mope around and wish your Captain were here. You’d be lying on the sofa in the common room and you’d whine to your companions. “I’m so bored. I miss Captain. I wish he was here”, you’d pout and Soap and Gaz would gang up on you, teasing you as they asked you whether you had some unresolved feelings for dear Price. (The idea of you coveting Price like a lover seemed ridiculous to him, really. You and the Captain? Not a chance)

And then there was that one time when you had to go on a solo mission (the first of you being on your own since you joined the task force, really) and when you had come back to him them, battered and bloodied and disheveled but still safe and sound and Price lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as if all the weight of the world has disappeared now that you’re back home, back to your team (where you now rightfully belong). You rush to them, running as if you cannot close the distance between them fast enough, and Price hugs you with steady arms as he lets you cry into his shoulder, wetting his uniform as you all but sob in relief, leaning on your Captain for support as your legs turn like jelly, unable to support the weight of your weary body.

It must’ve been terrifying - being out there on the field, hostility and death surrounding you in all directions and the only person you could possibly rely on is yourself. Keeping yourself safe and sane as you navigate unknown terrain and fight off the monsters who wear the skins of humans and pollute the very Earth they have been raised on. Blood and gore and gunpowder clinging to you like a second skin as you pray to survive another night and make it back home safely. Back to your team.

Back to your kind captain, and sergeants you have befriended and a cold Lieutenant who sometimes fails to hide the care he carries for you in his brown eyes.

Price has a look of sympathy and understanding on his face as he drags you to the infirmary, even holding your trembling hand in his warm palm as you flinch at the sight of the large syringe needle and hiss in pain whenever the alcohol-soaked cotton is applied to your cuts. He soothes you with a gentle pat on your back, mindful of your treated injuries as he softly tells you to clean up and maybe get some much needed sleep, asking Gaz to supply you with something to eat before you doze off due to fatigue and the morphine still floating in your system.

Ghost found it annoying for the most part - sometimes snapping at you to "Shut up and focus" on bad days and while he’s still irked at the sentimentality you possess, something that he and his comrades have willingly allowed to wither and die in their souls, a small part of him - a part of him that still resembles who Simon was, a mimicry of the humanness he hasn’t felt in his dead soul for years, worried about you. Worried sick about you and your emotions and the lack of lid you have on it. Worried if he had been too harsh on you because he doesn’t do emotions, and clearly he is out of his depth when it comes to dealing with people, but especially when it comes to dealing with you.

He realizes he doesn’t mind you crying all that much.

You go out for drinks to celebrate your successful solo mission and you spend the time you had lost on the field with your teammates - you play billiards with Gaz against Soap and Ghost and lose sorely, and then you try out a peg of whiskey the Captain has ordered and Price laughs heartily as you sputter and whine as the drink burns your esophagus. You somehow convince Ghost to teach you how to throw darts and he tries to not lean into your warmth as he stands behind you, his gloved hand holding your wrist as he positions you and teaches you how to throw the wooden dart you hold between your smooth fingers, and tells you all he knows about making sure that the little thing hits the dartboard without fail.

Simon can smell your jasmine shampoo and your citrus perfume on you as he uses his hands to correct your posture. He can feel how soft and pliant you are under him, eager to obey and please him, and all he can think about is what it’d be like - being your confidante, being the voice of reason for you when you’re drowning in emotions, being a sturdy shoulder for you to cry on.

And he knows for a fact that you’d be all that and more in a heartbeat if he allowed you to.

You lean onto Simon for support, your head lolling onto his shoulder as he quietly guides you to your bedroom. You hum quietly as he carefully makes you lie down on your bed, removing your shoes for you and when you beg him to help you remove the little makeup you had applied for the night (Price blatantly ignoring the use of contraband because it’s you), he surprisingly complies. Years of applying camo paint on his face give him the needed experience around using micellar water and makeup wipes as he helps you prepare yourself for a night of mindless sleeping, which will be followed by a hangover in the morning plaguing almost all of them. (He swears he’ll force you to drink the ginger tea he’ll make, no matter how much you’d whine about it tasting ‘yucky’. He’d rather not have you hurling over everything like a cat with a persistent hairball stuck in its throat).

“I’m so happy”, you hum to yourself as Simon tilts your head up.

“Close your eyes, Sergeant”, he orders and you comply, feeling the soaked cotton pad rub against your eyelids as your Lieutenant removes your pink eye shadow. It’s a pretty color on you, Simon thinks but he never says it out loud.

You stay silent as he finishes up with your work, his calloused fingertips tilting and moving your head to look at any missed spots he might’ve overlooked in the dim bedroom light.

“All done”, he scruffs, getting up on his feet and he hears you call out to him as he leaves the room.

“What is it?” he asks, wishing to be in his warm bed on this cold night.

“Thank you, sir”, you say earnestly with your eyes shining with sincerity and an unrecognizable emotion.

Simon observes you - you lying on your bed in the clothes you wore to the bar, with most of your makeup removed and your eyes struggling to stay open as intoxication and tiredness tempt you to forget the world and sleep.

A moment too late, he asks you, “What are you thanking me for, rookie?”

Only to find you out cold.

He sighs, draping the thin blanket over your shivering body and leaving you alone in your room.

When you wake up the next day with a hangover headache, your makeup removed and your blanket draped over you tenderly, you make your way to the common kitchen and you ask your moody superior if he remembers anything from the night before - your hazy memory failing to cover the gaps in your memory.

He gruffly says out, “No” and then hands you a cup of ginger tea, looking at you intensely as he waits for you to whine about the bitter taste of the tea he’s made for you. Knowing it’s a lost fight, you let out an exasperated sigh and thank your Lieutenant for the hangover cure. He looks at you a beat too long before leaving you to your own devices, exiting the room, and going God knows where.

It takes him time, with all that he is and all that he has been through, to come to a new conclusion for his first impression of you. Steadily with time, Simon realizes that the reason you cry so easily is not because you're weak.

It’s because you’re brave.

Brave enough to express yourself and not fear rejection from others. Brave enough to show that you care, to show that you love life and people and everything life has to offer. Brave and kind and valiant in everything you do, Simon is almost jealous of your ability to be so open and free. He wonders what it would be like to let go and just allow himself to feel.

It’d probably drown him alive.

It might set him free.

He’d never get the chance to know though.

Now again, you sob as you put pressure on his abdomen wound as you talk to him with a wet, unstable voice, “Stay awake for me, Lt. We will all make it”. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. (You need that reassurance more than him anyway).

He’s sluggish, the blood loss and pain makes it hard for him to focus on your blurry face and the skull mask on his face doesn’t help him either. He’s immobile, despite trying his level best to raise his hand up so that he can wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. He parts his lips to tell you to please stop crying, to tell you how he’s not worth the worry, he’s not worthy of your tears - not when he has vehemently admonished you for them all this time.

But all he can do is let out a low moan of pain, his eyes rolling back in his head. He can hear your voice, can hear the worry and fear and panic as you call out to him, but everything is hard and he can hear you but comprehending your words is near impossible with the ringing in his ears and the whirring of the helicopter that came in to rescue him and his team. He’s aware of his teammates sitting beside him - he can imagine their solemn faces as they cope with the possibility of him succumbing to his wounds before they make it back to safety. But he focuses on you instead - sweet, radiant you who worries about everyone and everything; who wears her heart on her sleeve and still holds onto the hope that he will make it out of this ordeal alive, even though he can feel his life slipping away from him like the sands of time.

Each breath of his is labored, and Simon wishes for nothing more than to wipe away your tears or to maybe hold your soft self against his injured body, cradling you close to his heart as he vows to survive this for you. Only for you.

Through black spots and dryness, he blinks up to look at you and he has this realization, a moment of pure ‘Eureka!’ as he observes your worsened state of being.

You have never been prettier than this instant, crying over him and praying to any kind of deity who’d grant him the boon of life.

Satisfied with his discovery and suddenly extremely tired, he allows himself to close his eyes, letting the fatigue win and the last thing he sees is you crying for him to stay alive and fight.

The last thing he hears is your sobs as you beg someone, anyone to save your Lieutenant.

Note -

Title is thanks to the song 'Pretty When You Cry' by Lana Del Rey, although I wasn't actually listening to the song while writing this.

#call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty fluff #call of duty angst #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley fluff #call of duty headcanons #char.simon ghost riley

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luveline · 3 months

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hey jade! i’m really going through it right now so was wondering if we could have something with eddie and roan? i love them

eddie and roan try to make you feel better after a strange day alone. (step) mom!reader, 1.5k

You don’t feel well, but you’re having a hard time articulating why that is.

Maybe not having Eddie and Roan at home is throwing you off kilter. You don’t have reason anymore to be here without them. You wake up and leave while they’re still getting ready, and you get home after they're already home. If Roan is at her Uncle Wayne’s, Eddie’s begging for a date night or spending the weekend in your lap, and if Eddie’s with friends, Roan’s hanging off of you with a Barbie in hand. You’re used to having company. You love it.

Your stomach aches at the thought of seeing them… You miss them, but it isn’t what’s making you feel so poorly. Life is just tough right now, it’s hard, and you’re tired.

You curl up into the couch, the tight fabric of your work trousers stretched over the backs of your thighs. They aren’t used to this positioning. You’d change if you had the energy.

“Watch the step,” Eddie says from outside. You scrunch up into yourself further, knowing you’ll have to explain why you’re home, and worse why you didn’t tell him you’ve been here all day. “Babe, every day! You come up these steps every day and you still don’t remember.”

The babe in questions laughs at his light chastisement. “Well, sometimes it moves.”

“Does not.”

“Does too.”

Eddie turns his key in the door and tries to open it. “Oh, what? Did I forget to lock the door?”

Now is the least awkward time to confess. You force yourself to sit on the couch on your knees and look over the back of it, catching his attention as he opens the door. “Sorry, just me,” you say.

Eddie takes Roan by the shoulder to direct her to you. “Hey, mom!” he says, surprised.

“Mommy,” Roan says, chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles and drops her school bag on the floor. “What are you home for?”

You sit down properly as they both enter the living room, arms already open in anticipation of Roan’s hug. She climbs into your lap shoes and all, her purple coat wet with the drizzle outside. “You’re so cold,” you worry, hugging her close to your chest. Her nose is pinking, her lips chapped. “Oh no, princess. The weather got you.”

She laughs easily, sinking into your embrace. “It’s cold outside.”

“I can feel it on you. You need some chapstick.”

She puckers for a kiss. You laugh and kiss her cheek as she kisses yours.

Eddie takes his coat off and folds it over his arm. He smells like diesel immediately, oil staining his wrists and the thigh of his work pants, but he’s amazingly handsome, so you barely notice. “What are you doing home, lovely girl?” he asks, meeting your eyes over her mess of damp curls.

It catches you off guard. Eddie is a solid babe guy. Babe, baby, bub. Sweetheart and sweet thing when he’s feeling brazen, but ‘lovely girl’ is rare. Pretty girl when he’s flirting, but lovely? He says it so softly, it falls off of his tongue, with the sort of gentleness he’d give Roan when she’s hurting. You must look more wounded than you thought.

Your voice turns tight. “Um– uh.” You clear your throat, eyes widening as Eddie approaches, as he leans down to touch your cheek. “I–” You look between him and Roan, not wanting to upset her, but not being able to handle it internally. “Eddie.”

“What?” he asks in concern. “What, Y/N?” He puts his hand on Roan’s shoulder, thumb quick to rub a soothing line.

“I just don’t feel very well,” you say weirdly.

You sound like you’re going to burst, they both hear that. You frown at Roan as she frowns at you, trying hard to fight back tears. “Sorry,” you say, touching her cheek with the back of your pinky. “Sorry, Ro, I’m okay.”

Eddie scoops Roan gently off of your lap and puts her in the seat beside you. “I’m sorry I’m so filthy,” he says, kneeling down in front of you, hands on your legs, “I don’t want to ruin your nice shirt.” He looks you in the eye.

You shake your head.

“Hey. Tell me.” He waits, as he always waits. You could tell him anything in the world right now and he’d make it better, because he’s been taking care of you for a long time.

“I couldn’t face it.”

Eddie catches the tear in your lashes before it can fall. “Couldn’t face what, sweetheart? Work?”

“I just didn’t want to do anything today.”

“That’s okay. God, I wish you’d told me, but that’s okay!” He leans up for you, taking your face into his hands. “Is something wrong? You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes and let your face fall forward into his hands. Your lips part, but in place of the apology you’d meant to give falls a whining breath of air, a sudden dispelled panic. Things feel so awful, but he’s going to take care of you; your relief is an immensity off of your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing your cheek, hands moving around to the back of your neck. He holds you in place.

A small hand touches your back. “Yeah!” Roan says, patting you with a clumsiness that’s clearly meant to be gentle. “Don’t be sad, mom, please.”

“I’m not,” you say uselessly.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says again. “Roro, she’s not sad, she’s tired. We cry all the time when we’re tired, don’t we? She needs to lie down.”

You laugh through your tears. There’s a sludgy headache behind your eyes and your throat aches —you really do want to lie down.

“Sorry if I’m freaking you out,” you say.

“You always freak me out,” Eddie says, “that’s your thing. You’re amazing.”

You laugh-sob and force him into a hug that gets oil all over the side of your shirt. Eddie holds you without argument, without a hint of complaint. He just sits up on his knees even though it must hurt and covers up as much of you as he can with his arms, his hair all over your face, your breath damp and warming your skin where you're tucked into his front. “I should have called you this morning,” you say with a little sob.

“Yeah, babe, you should have, but it’s fine. We’re here now.”

Roan stands on the couch, hugging your heads. “‘Xactly!”

Eddie asks Roan to go and get changed. You see him winking from the corner of your eye, and Roan kisses you with a smacking, “Mwah!” before she does as he’s asked. From there, Eddie turns investigative. “What’s wrong?” he asks between kisses, the daintiest, softest kisses he’s ever given you as he rubs your tacky cheek. “Please tell me. You can’t just be by yourself all day when you don’t feel like yourself. You gotta keep me in the loop.”

“I really didn’t mean to. I thought you’d still be here ‘cos I got to work and I turned straight back around but you’d already left, and then I kept wanting to call you but I didn’t know what to say. I just feel sick and everything is stressing me out.”

“Okay,” he says, kissing you super, super softly before climbing onto his feet. “I’m gonna get your notepad and we’ll make a list. We’ll write it all down, and we’ll see what we can fix.” He smiles hopefully. “It might even be fun.”

You lift your head and look at him, his lovely eyes creased with concern, his hair falling into his face, the dirt on his arms. He’s worked all day and now he’s taking care of you, even though you don’t know what’s wrong.

You stand before he can get away from you and thrust your face into his chest, arms thrown behind him. “I’m so glad you’re home,” you say.

Eddie covers the back of your neck, a smile evident in his tone, “I wish you would’ve called me.”

Eddie encourages your head back, the two of you smiling at one another without worry. Eddie’s gonna write a list. You’re probably gonna sit in his lap while he does it. Things will be okay.

Roan bumps down the stairs. “Mom, I have brought your pa-jamas.”

“What about me?” Eddie asks.

Roan shrugs. “I couldn’t reach them.” She hugs you around the thighs, your pyjama shirt slipping out of her hands. You can see now where she’s put her shirt on backwards, and lost a pony tail holder in the process of getting changed.

“Wow, my big girl! You did it all by yourself!”

She cuddles into your leg. “I know.”

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impishjesters · 7 months

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Jax x Reader w/depression/suicidal tendencies

warning(s): mentions of depression/suicidal behavior/tendencies, nothing graphic though, mentions of morbid/dark humor note: it's only mentioned that he has feelings for you, whether romantic or platonic is left up to the reader. A/N: I think this is the fastest I've ever wanted to write for something utterly new to me, usually it takes a while of being into a series or liking a character to wanna write something. This was...less than twelve hours? This was probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a while.

Nobody was safe from Jax’s pranks, including you—regardless of how much he found himself gradually enjoying your company.

It’s actually a right of passage at this point that every new person (as rare as it is) who shows up is subjected to some awful prank to gauge just how much of an easy or difficult target they’ll be.

You handle the pranks with ease. Sure it can be annoying, but there’s little that can seemingly “kill” you here.

Which is a shame really—well, only slightly.

Your therapist would’ve probably found it a good thing, trying to off yourself in a digital world where sleeping and eating were no longer required likely meant the inability to die.

Not in a traditional sense anyway.

You’re the only one ballsy enough to prank Jax back, which isn’t easy but when a prank is successful? Oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction.

There’s an unspoken prank war back and forth, but typically the other’s are the subject of your guys’ pranks. Somehow it feels more rewarding with the joint effort.

It's not often, but sometimes Jax's pranks will go a step too far and trigger something unpleasant. He's not really sure why you just walk off like that, those pranks don't make him feel as satisfied for whatever reason.

Once a special type of friendship grows between the two of you, the pranks lessen—not entirely though—nah he loves the unsuspecting reactions of a prank you didn’t see coming.

The pranks become less hostile and more casual—he’s got a reputation to keep after all, regardless of how he feels about you.

The initial reaction to someone being told there was no way out was to panic, you however, didn’t..well not outright. Your initial reaction is dark humor—even with the whole censorship thing.

Ragatha is the only one initially disturbed/worried over your dark sense of humor, which should be expected from one of them since they’ve been there longer.

Jax is aware of your morbid sense of humor and often plays along with it, especially in the beginning—later in the friendship though? Yeah, there’s no noticeable physical change, but he’s only a tad worried.

When not tormenting the other’s Jax stuck with you, or vice versa.

After the attempted drowning and standing (willingly) in harm’s way of one (or three) of the rides, Jax keeps your bedroom key closer in hand than the others.

And honestly? Ragatha doesn’t even blame him. You aren’t distant from them, but you do tend to favour Jax’s company. Regardless of her feelings about him as a person, it becomes obvious that he feels something less hostile towards you compared to them.

It takes a while before you finally confess to Jax that prior to being trapped in this digital hell, you were medicated for depression/suicidal tendencies. And while the digital world took away things like needing sleep and food, it didn’t get rid of the thoughts or urges.

Now—had this been someone else telling him all this? He’d be very uncaring and probably make a nasty “joke”, but because it’s you? He’s treading into foreign territory here when it comes to emotions.

There’s not really anything he can say that would make you feel better, but he does show a more rare tender side, offering to be there whenever you need him. Just to backpedal like a tsundere and say that he won’t always be free ( a lie, the fuck else does he have to do?), but he’ll try and make time for you during those moments.

He doesn’t do some pinky promise bullshit, I mean he can and would, but he doesn’t expect his offer and attempts to do that much (words of promise aren’t on the same level as a prescription drug after all).

But if being around his rude ass self and doing the occasional nice *gag* gestures of like, hugging or whatever helps you, he’ll do it—just, not with others around obviously. Again, man has a reputation.

From then on Jax is more aware of where you are around him at all times, not in a suffocating way though. Well, not intentionally, he has his moments. But he’s trying, again this is new territory for him.

Jax makes it his unspoken, personal goal to make sure you don’t tread the line of becoming abstracted.

Bonus (fluff)

Jax will make an attempt not to immediately recoil from your touch when others are present.

I’m not talking “Whoops, sorry to bump into you”, I’m talking about grabbing onto his arm or being in his personal bubble because you need something grounding or whatever.

More often than none his immediate reaction is to just use you to lean on, elbow or arm resting on top of your head to give you some contact and pressure. (He does it out of habit even when you don't need it.)

Sure he probably looks like an ass to others, but after a while, they sort of just get used to it since you never bring up being offended by the act.

But in private? Yeah, sure shoot, just don’t expect him to put any effort into returning anything. Maybe the drape of an arm or his legs, but if it’s really bad? He’ll lay or sit there while you cling to him like a koala.

Jax actually finds it kinda funny how tightly you hold on whenever he gets up.

“Wow, you really holdin’ on there.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #jax #jax x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader

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johnpriceslamb · 1 month

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hiii i love ur hcs smmm 🩷🩷😭 can we pls see arthur w a super affectionate clingy adorable cheery girlfriend pls im dying to see that man happy w an optimistic angel 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓮

❥ Headcannons w/ Arthur + his affectionate gf

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ ❥ female ! reader ❥ hyper-feminine ! reader ❥ reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below ❥ 1k wrd count. ꒱

❥ Oh, he loves you.

❥ He was a bit reluctant to be in a relationship because of his past experiences. But he knew you wouldn’t handle his heart with carelessness, and as he gave in to his decision of being with you- he felt as if he entered into a relationship with an angel.

❥ You were so kind to him, so sweet, so utterly gentle it made him almost throw up rainbows and glitter. Sometimes he wondered how you even managed to be in the gang.

❥ He wouldn’t be so used to the clinginess at first. Before you came in his life, he didn’t get hugs nor felt someone cling onto his arm unless they wanted something, so it was a big change for him personally.

❥ But did he hate it? Absolutely not. When you first wrapped your little arms around his arm, his demeanour softened up immediately but his urge to protect you became even greater.

❥ PDA was new to him. Again, he was reluctant at first since he wasn’t so experienced in this field despite having past experiences, but he’s managed to get comfortable over time.

❥ The first time you’ve managed to display affection publicly with him was by interlocking your pinkie with his as you both walked around Valentines. A discreet action that no one could see unless if they were to near the both of you and squint their eyes.

❥ His cheeks became embarrassingly red when you intertwined your little pinkie with his, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the cheeky sight. He coughs awkwardly, tilting his head down which made the hat he wore block out the view of his face as he murmured that it was the sun making his face warm.

❥ It was cloudy that day.

❥ Each act of affection he’s received from you makes him all sappy and mushy inside, even if he was about to die from anger.

❥ Let’s say Micah manages to piss him off again the umpteenth time this whole week and his veins were visible on his forehead, a simple hug from behind by you or a little kiss on the cheek would make him droop and deflate, the anger which was bubbling inside his system was somehow replaced with comfort and relief just by your little action. He wonders how you manage to have that effect on him.

❥ Arthur is a big man, no doubt about it. It was kind of silly to see such a large comparison between the two of you. Even if you were as large as a wolf, or as tall as a palm tree, Arthur still manages to tower over you.

❥ Arthur enjoys your cheeriness. He envisions you as a puppy that yaps all the time, little tail wiggling at the back eagerly as he amusingly gives into your little babbling sessions of how you hoped that you made his day today.

❥ And he figures that you’ve already made his day just by existing.

“Arthur!”

There you were. Zooming to him like an excited puppy, hands giddily behind your back as you stand in front of the looming man. You can feel his eyes sizing you up and down multiple times to see if you’ve managed to get any blemishes from the time you and him didn’t see each other.

“Easy, girl.” He lets out a soft grunt at the feeling of your demure figure clinging to him like a koala. He holds you tightly with one arm below your tush to stabilise yourself, hoisting you up like a toddler. It takes him barely any effort to keep you still.

“Arthur,” You happily nuzzle your cheek into his chest, cooing out his name like a mantra, “I’ve missed you oh-so much!”

“‘S only been a day, darlin’.” He replies with that slow, southern drawl of his, “I missed you too though.”

“You better!” You beam as he strolls to his tent, plopping himself on his bedroll. You sit on his lap prettily, but you still manage to cling onto him like a koala.

He narrows his eyes at you, before sighing softly at the tiny kiss you give him on his cheek, “You’re a handful, y’know that?”

It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate that little kiss of yours, landing his thin lips on your cherub-like cheek.

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colourstreakgryffin · 2 months

Note

If we saw how Charlie and Alastor reacted to Rarity like!reader and Pinkie Pie like!reader,maybe a Fluttershy like!reader x Husk??

Idk I think they would be cute together

Haha. Awww, I can just imagine Husk carrying us away whilst we’re crying in fear over Charlie borrowing our little animal friends for the Hotel briefly! Needless to say, this is actually the cutest and one of my favourite MLP-Hazbin mix-couples/duos so far! And again, kinda short!

Husk- Glass Barfly

As I stated previously, Husk is a sweetheart of a lover and his patience is quite high so trust me. He can handle his precious timid helpless little girlfriend better than anybody else. Somebody who is so shy yet kind that she hides behind him for support, he is quite good

Of course, Husk can’t help but instinctively treat you like glass. The most beautiful glass figure he’s ever found. He knows what to do with you

Husk is emotionally intelligent and able to recognise problems very well. So, he can recognise your antisociality and your fear over coming off as a fool, for that, he’ll slowly and carefully push you into pushing your own boundaries for your own good

Husk is getting better and better with your animal friends. He isn’t perfect but he doesn’t ever harm them… well, not on purpose. He’s growing to handle how many they are and how often you carry around your hot-tempered bratty bunny, Devil

Husk finds you precious and he’d beat the shit out of Alastor with the bar itself to protect you. You’re a little fragile butterfly, a charming doll of kindness that loves her animals. It’s natural that he adores every fibre of your being. Others may get annoyed with your shyness, he doesn’t

You can fly like Husk and have wings like him. He is lazy and dislikes flying but he will fly to encourage you to use your wings more. They are soft and beautiful, you deserve to be able to rely on them. He wants you feel comfortable so he will make it that you are. Luckily, he always succeeds

Husk is quite proud everytime you stand up for yourself or you do something you’d never normally do without his push. You’re learning, you’re growing! He can’t help but feel his heart swell at it and he showers you with praise and pride as soon as he can

Husk is learning to be a good person whilst you’re learning to be more confident. You’re helping each other and for that, you’re both quite dedicated to each other. Husk is your armour but you’re his heart

Husk knows you like the functions of a roulette game. He knows when your patience has been pushed too far and when you’re willing to be firm, if not cruel and harsh, and when that happens. He doesn’t even try sway you, he steps back and waits for you to cool down before calming you even more

Husk is always covered in your animal friends. And always means always! He has birds, squirrels, bunnies, butterflies, all kinds of Hell animals following him about the Hotel and he knows that they like him as much as they like you

Husk enjoys snuggling you in bed after work hours. Wings perked overs yours and laid over your back. You’re warm, you’re safe and you’re covered in soft fur. Both you and him like this so every night. You hop into the bed you share with Husk and he hops on top of you

Husk is the only one who can and will hear you in your whole singing glory. You’re way too insecure to sing around anybody else and it took some time for you to be comfortable with him but now that you are, you feel confident and safe singing around him

Yep. Husk got you a cute ring with a pink butterfly-shaped gemstone in the middle. It’s, to you, a sign that he is your safe spot and always is your safe spot. The one you can not be so frightened of embarrassing yourself with, somebody you can lean on and feel supported with

Husk knows about your crippling fear of social situations and how easy it is to embarrass you so you two regularly just spend time together and not ever go out, not until you actually feel okay with it. But of course, you’ll always do stuff for him too. You both give and take from one another

If it is my choice, y’all are engaged

“Leitora, butterfly. Don’t worry, the little buds will be okay. Do you want to go back to our bedroom, we don’t have to watch anything Charlie does with ‘em”

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bakubunny · 8 months

Text

bnha: their partner has an oral fixation (part 2)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Dabi | Tomura | Shouta

more smutty bnha headcanons no one asked for but i’m writing them anyway because it’s fun.

obligatory mdni, 18+ content. you will be blocked.

tags: fem!reader, oral fixation (obv), oral sex, rough sex, fish hooking mentioned, facials mentioned, finger sucking, unintentional hand & finger kink

Dabi

i hope you love sucking dick and getting face fucked, cause he loves it too. any time, anywhere, as many times as you want. at least once or twice a day if not more. also he loves painting your face if you don’t swallow.

lets you cockwarm him at night if it helps you fall asleep. he’d never admit it, but it helps him fall asleep too. he’d also never say that he’s got a tiny soft spot for how sweet you look with his dick in your mouth while you lay in bed.

he might make you beg or tease you a bit if you’re bratty, but you both know the second those needy doe eyes come out, your head’s getting shoved into his lap. he thinks it’s even better when you’re standing and he gets to grab you by the hair and pull you down to your knees.

finger fucks your mouth just to see you drool and make you blush, and makes you look him in the eye when he does it. might even do it when his friends are around because he doesn’t give a fuck, he wants you to be a pretty mess, and he doesn’t care who knows it.

you can bet your bottom dollar he will fish hook you when he fucks you from behind because, “you look so pretty like this, babydoll. i can’t help myself.”

Tomura

he thinks you’re insane for playing with his hands as much as you do, and he loves it. you think you might be insane too, but you’re with Shiggy for fuck’s sake, of course there’s at least a little part of you that likes the fear of being turned to dust when he’s got that beautifully wild, sadistic grin on his face.

might like to taunt you with the fear, but would never actually harm you.

enthusiastic about it in the beginning because god do you look so fucking slutty and needy, but the more he sees that you genuinely care about him, the more afraid he is of hurting you. wears specific gloves that cover his pinkies because you’re special to him because it makes him less anxious.

your love and tenderness with the part of him that has only ever destroyed, only hurt people and hurt them bad, is painful and he doesn’t handle it well. he pushes you away a lot, but you’re patient with him, knowing he’ll always come back.

once admitted that you make him itch a little less, but refuses to think of the ramifications of what that means about his feelings for you.

lets you give head whenever you want. enjoys it a lot when he’s playing video games and he gets to ignore you no matter how enthusiastic you are. will occasionally grab you by the hair and use you as a way to get off.

Shouta

man’s busy and so are his hands - grading, case work, lesson planning, training, taking care everyday life - so they’re not something you go for often, but you don’t mind so much. you appreciate any moment you can share with him, especially if he’s curled up next to you or in your lap.

occasionally puts his hand towards your lips in bed at night without thinking; so much of his life is on autopilot out of necessity that sometimes he doesn’t think twice.

most of his appreciation for your fixation comes out in sex; he loves the blissful look you get with his finger(s) in your mouth while you ride him, and he loves how hard it makes you cum.

loves to give head, so you get the luxury of his lips on your body frequently, which in a roundabout way satisfies your craving.

likes receiving head, but mostly because of how much you enjoy it. sure, it feels fantastic, but he appreciates the intimacy of it more.

came up because you point blank asked if it was okay. he shrugged. “why not?�� which quickly became, “oh. we’re doing this again.”

banner created by the lovely @cafekitsune.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #aizawa x reader #fem!reader #dabi #shigaraki tomura #aizawa shouta #smut hcs #bnha smut #mha smut #smut headcanons #x reader #millennialmagicalgirl

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luv4freddie · 4 months

Text

Aerophobia (fear of flying)

Your fear of flying had kept you off a broom ever since first year, but dating Oliver Wood was bound to fix that. 575 words, fluffy mini story

“Please doll?”

You’d been very adamant about one thing in your time at Hogwarts, and it was that you would not be getting on a broom.

Your first year flying lessons had been a very unfortunate experience, with the amount of falling and bumping into other students you did it was a miracle they even let you finish the class.

And ever since then you’d sworn off getting on one of those cursed cleaning tools.

A relatively easy ban, until you ended up dating Oliver Wood— someone who might actually spend more time on his broom than on his feet.

One thing led to another, and now here you are, with your boyfriend giving you his pretty puppy eyes and a broom hovering next to him.

“I told you-”

“I know,” he says, familiar with your objections, “but your wonderful boyfriend is here and he’s an amazing flyer and he promises to not let you fall off.”

“He’s also talking in third person, which is weird,” you mumble.

Oliver laughs, but he recognizes that you’ve given up.

He holds the broom horizontally and lets you climb on, before climbing on behind you.

He’s reaching around you to hold his hands in front of you so that you’re trapped, his arms acting like the bumper rails you’ve seen at muggle bowling alleys.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Just go before I change my mind.” You state, gritting your teeth in nervousness.

He lets out another chuckle but kicks off anyway, and you screw your eyes shut as a gust of wind hits you in the face.

The broom stabilizes in the air, and you wait to feel him take off zooming, but he never does.

You cautiously open one eye, squinting around at your surroundings.

You’re hovering about ten feet in the air— not moving.

“Ollie?” You have to speak up to be heard, as you’re too scared of shifting the broom to turn his way.

“Yes love?”

“Why aren’t we moving?”

“Do you want to?”

“I just thought you would.” You risk the small movement of shrugging your shoulders, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again.

“I’ll move, but you can’t close your eyes, deal?”

“I don’t know…”

He lifts one of his hands off the broom to offer his pinky to you, but you let out a squeal, leaning your back further into his chest.

“Oliver Wood you put your hand back on this broom right now!”

He laughs, “make the deal then.”

You let out a groan, still pushing further into him, and decide that anything is better than falling off the broom.

“Fine. Deal. I’m not moving my hand though.”

He places his hand back on the broom in front of you, at the same time placing a kiss on your cheekbone.

“Good answer.”

You brace for the broom to take off, clutching the handle tighter but keeping your part of the deal up— your eyes stay trained directly in front of you.

Oliver moves one hand further up and the broom gives a small lurch forward.

You hear him laugh at the squeal you let out, but you’re moving much slower and less aggressively than Oliver usually is on his broom, and your fear starts to drain as he continues to gently move the broom forward.

“Look, you can see the courtyard over there,” his voice is calm in your ears, and you excitedly look over.

“I see it! Look! Do you think that’s Fred and George?” You question, pointing to your left at two ant sized figures with red hair.

“Might be.” He hums, trying not to point out your sudden confidence as your hand moves again, pointing at something else.

Five minutes later and you’re back on solid ground, Oliver helping you off the broom with a satisfied grin on his face.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He teases.

“I guess not,” you concede, popping up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“What’s that for?” He asks, although he’s already got a smug smile on his face.

“For taking such good care of me.”

He grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers and placing a sweet kiss on your knuckles while leading you back to the castle, his other hand holding the broom.

“I’ll always take care of you.”

#oliver wood drabble #oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood scenarios #harry potter scenarios #oliver wood fluff #harry potter fluff #harry potter boys #golden trio era

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yandere-kokeshi · 2 months

Note

How would Soap and Ghost (separate) react to their darling having a large pet snake named after them? Thanks, Kosh!

— Yandere Ghost and Soap with a gn darling having a pet snake

Warnings: yandere behavior, and talks about Ghost’s past trauma.

A/N: I love snakes, so this was hella fun to write! Thanks for sending this in <3

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Ghost is scared of snakes as a result of his abuse his father subjected him too, so of course, he’s uneasy. He immediately grunts, body turning stiff as a board, and narrows his eyes at the Reptilia.

He has dark thoughts regarding the animal. Wanting to get rid of the reptilian as fast as he can, but when seeing your lovely face, adoring your animal slithering on the table, registers that he needs to do better. And, possibly, work on getting over his severe fear with baby steps.

“Not exactly what I thought ya’d have in mind… sweet’eart.”

Really tries to care for it, goes as far to dip his pinky into researching it. But as soon as he has to physically touch it, he’s out. An urgent no slips out, and physically removes himself at the thought of touching it.

In all, he’ll never become a huge fan of it, still keeping his distance and only letting you handle him. But, naming the snake ‘Simon’, does make him feel a bit better. It’s still intimidating, though.

However, he does care for it a bit. If it needs to go to the vet, or have surgery because of a certain issue, he’d do it in a heartbeat because it’s yours and he, the snake called Simon, makes you happy.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

He just looks at the snake, blinks before looking back at you with his blue captivating one’s before chuckling. Ain’t you a cute thing?

“Odd choice of a pet, ay? But ain’t judgin’ ya, sweets.”

Johnny actively loves all types of animals, even the reptilians. He’s hesitant at touching the snake, that’s so-called Johnny, which makes him laugh.

He’s not scared, just nervous of hurting the slithering Reptilia. When excited, he gets a bit rough, so his hands are naturally shaky. In response, it’s cute, something that he and they share in equal sparse, but he’s a bit uncomfortable and surprised with how soft it feels.

Does a ton of research regarding the diet, breed, toys, and learning more about its habitat. Helps out as best as he can, and definitely spoils the slithering man as much as you; buying funny hats, new enclosure and letting it slither around him.

Johnny treats it as his own child, baby-talking to it as he holds the snake the 5th time a day. He also refers to it as your guy’s child.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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thebearer · 9 months

Note

some carm + jewelry thoughts after reading your blurb about his dangling chain:

-he buys you a gold anklet with a “c” charm on it so he can watch it dangle when he puts your legs up on his shoulders to fuck you

-he has a signet ring embossed with a design (maybe a bear? st anthony? family crest?) and he turns it so the design is facing inwards and he spanks you so it leaves a brand on your ass

-after the big checks start coming in he buys you an exorbitantly expensive necklace and fucks you with nothing else on

omfggggg smut ahead minors dni 18+ but i have to elaborate

ok number one the anklet???? yes. yes. yes.

you mention wanting one, sorta in passing, and carmen's like weirdly adamant about you getting one lol??? you don't really understand why but he shows up a few days later with one you'd shown him online, except it has an embellishment. a tiny 'c'.

carmen's kinda blushy about it but you're beaming and squealing and just smothering him in affection bc it was so cute and sweet, and he really was too!!

then you quickly realize why carmen likes the anklet so much when he's putting it on you, then your legs are up in the air thirty minutes later as a "thank you".

your heels are digging into his shoulders, and normally his eyes are on you solely when he's fucking you especially like this. but you keep catching him staring at your anklet, fucking you hard, gripping your claves while he watches it bounce lightly.

maybe it's the thought that he has a sorta mark on you now. wherever you go, you've got something that symbolizes your his- that he's yours.

it was his grandfathers, then mikey's, and then his. mikey gave it to him when carmen went to new york because "you're a big shot now. need the ring to match since you're gonna be goin' to all that fancy shit, carm."

the ring was gold with a black onyx surface, a gold encrusted 'B' in old english font laid on top so it stood up. carmen didn't wear it often, didn't want to lose it or damage it, but every now and then- on date night, mainly, he'd wear it.

and you loved it.

the chain, nice outfit, plus pinky ring? you were drooling. watching him grab the door handle, cut your food, hold your hand in the car. you couldn't help yourself. he knew you couldn't either. it's why when you got home, he just nodded and you were over his lap.

carmen would take his time pushing up your dress, letting his hand glide over the small of your back, down your exposed cheeks, smug at the way you shuddered in excitement. he'd turn the ring around so the etched side was inwards, cracking his hand down on your ass over and over.

you'd squirm and mewl, gripping onto his legs or the sheets. carmen would just stare, mesmerized by the faint emblem showing on your skin only for a flash before fading.

the bear had made the chicago tribune after a raving review from a lifestyle travel influencer posted a video on the menu and it went wild. you were booked a year out, a waitlist a mile long, a million newspapers, magazines, and interviewers wanting a chance to write about the bear. it was buzzing around chicago, and carmen couldn't be happier. or busier.

he felt bad that with the newfound press, he'd been busy. you'd always been understanding but still, he felt bad, heart breaking every time your shoulders would fall when he said he had to work.

the two of you had just moved into the brownstone. you spent your days decorating and unboxing, showing him swatches of paint that you'd mull over for hours.

"carm, which one looks better?" you'd ask, turning around to see him standing there. only this time, he wasn't empty handed.

the infamous teal bag in hand, grinning at you proudly. "what's this?"

"a gift." carmen shrugged, pulling you over to the couch, setting you between his thighs.

you hummed, unraveling the tiny box. "you really didn't have to get me- oh my god." you were expecting a tiny piece of jewelry, not the dazzling strand of diamonds that sat on the tennis bracelet.

"carmen." you gaped, snapping the box shut, holding it against your chest. "how-how much was this?"

"doesn't matter." carmen shrugged, prying it gently out of your grasp. "let me put it on you. i wanted to get you somethin'. the restaurant is doin'... great. and ya know, i couldn't do it without you baby."

you pressed him about the price, but carmen waived it off. you knew he'd been making money- your new house and car told you that, but the kind of money to casually get gifts at tiffany's? it was new to you. a splurge still, but one that you treasured.

carmen left the necklace on, hips rolling while he fucked you in front of the fireplace, right on the new rug. he wanted to take a picture of the moment, watching you ride him, your head tipped back, diamonds sparkling still even in the low glow of the fire.

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #bearblahs #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmy smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #the bear fx #carmy the bear #the bear season 2 #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff

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eee-lordy · 3 months

Note

Number 13 please? I love sickfics!

here is a short little sick/comfort blurb for ya 😍

"I don't feel so good."

───※ ·❆· ※───

Jacob was bounding across the tarmac, suitcases flying behind him. After one long movie shoot and a never ending press tour he was finally home.

You stood giddy, watching him step closer and closer to car you waited outside of. Ever since he left to film, Jacob phoned every day, dreaming up plans with you for when he landed home again. There were countless dinners and dates and trips he couldn't wait to make happen with you, and it was finally time.

"My love!" You called, when he was finally in ear shot. Jacob halted his luggage by the tires of your car and swept you into an embrace that sent your heart fluttering. You hugged him back and let him lift your feet off the ground and rushed to stand and face him when you registered his sniffles.

"Miss me that much?!" You cooed. Jacob's eyes were red and misty, and then he spoke.

"Well duh. But... I don't feel so good." The poor guys voice was worn and you could tell now that there was a pallor to his face.

"Oh babe, come on let's get you home." You pet his face and watched as he grumbled in frustration, still keeping a hold of you.

"But we have reservations tonight. I really want to take you out. It's been too long-" Jacob whined and sniffled.

"Hey, s'okay. We can still make up for lost time without big plans. Don't argue! Get in the car, you poor tired thing." With a nudge, you directed your boy to head to the passenger seat while you snatched his luggage before he could reach it.

///

That night you whipped up a cocktail of cold remedies, drew a bath that was probably too hot, and dotted on Jacob's every move.

"S'just a cold love, I'm not a cripple or something." Jacob laughed a stuffy chuckle as you presented him with a warm pair of joggers and an old concert tee.

"Even if you weren't sick I'd still be all over you silly. I've waited months to trail behind you like a lost puppy. Months!"

"God I'm so glad you're who I've got to come home too. Once I don't feel on the verge of constantly passing out, you're getting this treatment times a billion." Your sweet boy ended his declaration with a vicious cough.

He'd pushed himself so hard this last handleful if months, to get his film finished and promoted and get the hell home. It was no wonder he caught a little something at the tail end of his never ending adventure.

You saw Jacob off to bed, tucking yourself in at his side and insisting he save stories of his time away for the morning.

///

The next day you snuck to the kitchen to cook up a big breakfast, letting him sleep away the sick and relishing in the simple fact that he was home at long last.

When Jacob finally padded into the main living space he tried insisting he felt much better, beginning a speech about taking you on a date.

"Absolutely not." You waved off the offer and sat the tall guy down. Neither of you were going anywhere until the red left his eyes and the sniffles stopped entirely. You ordered takeaway and kept Jacob on a steady cup of hot hot tea.

After a day of lounging, he seemed almost back to normal. Though you were hesitant to offer, you said "If you're still this lively by tomorrow night, I'll go out with you."

"Swear?" Jacob rose a brow, grinning in anticipation. You held out a pinkie as if to promise. You weren't long up, cozy in bed with your beloved boy, another early night.

And then... you woke up coughing. Awe fuck.

You tried to play it off. Like a passing tickle in your throat. But soon you were sat up sniveling away, much to your dismay. All your racket woke up the man at your side. And he registered your condition right off.

Jacob let out a low chuckle of surprise, a smile growing wider as he sat up to reach out to you.

"Jacob Elordi are you excited that I'm sick?"

"Of course not." He responded, planting a firm kiss to your head. "But I am looking forward to taking as much care of you as you've taken care of me the past two days."

You cooed and cuddled closer to his side, feeling weaker now that the sickness was unavoidably addressed.

"Don't you dare move. It's my turn now, my love." Jacob smiled, locking those beautiful dark eyes on yours before getting up to follow in your footsteps. Cooking and cleaning and laying out your clothes so you didn't have to lift a finger.

You were bummed to miss another night out. But you were so damn glad Jacob didn't let a little sickness ruin the time the pair of you had been waiting to spend connecting again after so long.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#jacob elordi #jacob elordi x fem!reader #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi fanfic

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clovermunson · 1 year

Text

king hargrove — b. hargrove

summary: billy never saw himself as a dad, but he’d never trade his two little girls for anything— even when they ask him to dress up like a princess and have a tea party with them.

warnings: tooth-rooting fluff. like eating two bags of cotton candy and chasing it with a 72 oz. big gulp soda at the state fair. brief mentions of billy’s upbringing (not detailed). bee’s full name is beatrice but she’s called bee. oh and a mention of mechanic!billy. no use of “y/n”. first fic i’ve written and actually finished in…months? i think?? that’s about it really.

pairings: billy hargrove x fem/mom!reader

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i told y’all motherfuckers i was gonna give billy something happy, and here it is!! it’s the most i’ve written in about two weeks and y’all can thank this lovely goon: @bookshelf-dust for that. anyway, as always likes and reblogs (especially reblogs) are greatly appreciated, i just ask that you DO NOT copy and repost my writing and claim it as your own!! — xo, morgan🖤

Billy Hargrove was many things. A bad influence, a womanizer, some might even say an antagonizer, of sorts. And while he’d agree to being all of those things before he met you, if someone would’ve told him that he’d become the father to a little girl in the spring of 1989, and then again in the summer of 1991, he would’ve told them they were crazy.

But now as he sat at the ridiculously small white dining table set, on the floor with his legs outstretched rather than in one of the dainty chairs that he was sure would crumble under his weight, he was certain that he wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

“Daddy, you gotta wear it.” Bee, your youngest daughter, had shoved a pink feather boa at him, making him jump back.

“Pleeeease? And this?” Juno, your eldest daughter had asked, holding a tiny plastic tiara out to him, “pretty please?”

“Okay okay.” Billy held his hands up, finally accepting defeat before letting Juno place the tiara on his head as he took the boa, wrapping the feathered accessory around his neck, then smiling for his girls.

Lord, if the guys at the mechanic shop knew about this, they’d never stop giving him hell over it.

“You look pretty.” Juno giggled at him as she pretended to pour two cups of tea.

“Pretty, huh?” Billy chuckled, “I don’t think the pink goes with my shirt.” He tugged at the material of his dark red shirt, showing how it contrasted.

“Oh well.” Bee shrugged, “gotta wear it.”

“Bossy.” Billy couldn’t help but laugh at the miniature version of himself, but if anyone asked where Bee got it from, he’d say it was from you.

“Get it from my daddy.” Bee didn’t miss a beat with her response, further showing just how much she was like her dad. All Billy could do was smile to himself, knowing that she was right.

Before he knew it, Juno had offered him an empty teacup, and he’d be damned if he turned it down. The floral patterned cup was abnormally tiny in his hand, but he still brought it up to his lips, pretending to take a drink.

“Pinky up.” Juno was quick to correct him, wiggling her tiny pinky at him.

At first, Billy looked confused. Why did he need to have his pinky up?

He felt Bee’s little hand grab at his, trying her hardest to raise his pinky.

“You’ve gotta put your pinky up, daddy.” She tried to pry his pinky from the tiny cup handle, giggling as Billy fought back with her.

“Daddy!” She whined, pouting at him. It didn’t take much for Bee to get her way. All she had to do was get those big ocean blue eyes a little misty, and she’d convince anyone to get her whatever she wanted— mostly her dad and her uncle Steve.

“Alright, alright.” Billy raised his pinky, waving it at Bee, “better?”

Bee simply nodded, appeased with her dad’s actions as she sipped her fake-tea.

You’d been carrying a basket full of laundry when you’d heard the giggling coming from the girls’ room. Instead of going on your way to the laundry room, you’d stopped just out of sight, leaning against the wall beside the doorway to listen in. Though you had to admit, seeing Billy in a tiara was quite the spectacle.

“You’re the king of the castle!” Juno exclaimed, quickly jumping up from the wooden chair to twirl around, her yellow polka-dot skirt twisting around her, the sleeves of her white blouse flowing from the small breeze she’d created.

“Is that so?” Billy watched as Bee joined in with her sister, both of them twirling around the table, skipping and jumping over their scattered toys.

“Mhm.” Bee agreed, “you’re the king. The king makes the rules.”

“I dunno about that, kiddo.” Billy snorted, “I would say I’m pretty influential around here though.”

“Infuwentual?” Bee stopped in her tracks, a bewildered look on her face. She struggled with the word, but Billy had quickly realized his mistake by using a big word.

“Influential.” He gently corrected her, “it means that daddy’s got a lot to do and say with what happens around here.”

Bee nodded, seemingly understanding the meaning of the new word. “So you make all the rules?”

“Not necessarily, babygirl.” Billy shook his head, smiling. “I do get to help make them though.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.” Bee crossed her arms, expressing that she didn’t agree with that decision— or whoever made it. Clearly an attitude she’d picked up from her father.

You smiled to yourself at that. Of course you and Billy made the rules together, and it was a very delicate balance of give and take between the two of you. But if your little girl could have it her way, she’d be running the world in no longer than two weeks’ time.

“But that’s how the world works, Bee.” Billy shrugged, “what can you do?”

Bee sat for a moment, seemingly contemplating her choices. Finally she spoke, and her little voice carried so much certainty with it, that even you were sure you’d let her have whatever she demanded. “Become the queen.”

“You wanna become the queen, is that right?” Billy couldn’t believe what he was hearing, feigning shock.

Bee nodded proudly, her plastic tiara nearly falling from her head.

“Well, you’ve gotta be a princess for now.” Billy had made it fairly obvious that he could match his daughter’s sass, “you do such a good job at that already.” He adjusted her tiara, making sure it was straight again.

“‘Course I do.” Bee sounded almost offended, “I am the princess.” She annunciated the word, only to add emphasis.

“Yeah, the mean princess.” Juno stuck her tongue out at her younger sister, knowing that Bee would retaliate.

“How rude!” Bee tossed one of the little building blocks at Juno, pouting.

“Meanie.” Juno threw a block back at her, which Billy had caught with astonishingly quick reflexes, making both of his daughters’ eyes widen.

“Girls.” Billy’s voice was firm, yet gentle with them, “that’s enough.”

“Sorry…” both girls mumbled, afraid to even look at each other.

“Neither of you are in trouble.” Billy felt the need to clarify, as he always felt like the bad guy when he had to scold them, “you just can’t call each other names and be mean to each other.”

The girls nodded in unison, showing that they understood the ground rules.

Since Billy had become a father, he’d become more gentle and less abrasive. He’d never once yelled at either of your girls, choosing to raise them with the kind of gentleness and unconditional love that you’d find in a family movie— the kind of home that Billy wasn’t lucky enough to have growing up.

He’d be damned if he didn’t give his little girls the best life they could possibly have though. Juno was the surprise baby, and sure money got tight at times, but he always worked extra shifts and overtime to make sure she had everything she needed and wanted. Then when Bee came along, Billy had been promoted to assistant manager, which came with a nice paycheck every week that was more than enough to support your little family.

Instead of continuing on to the laundry room, you decided instead to turn on your heel, heading back to the living room with a bright, almost dopey smile on your face from witnessing possibly the sweetest thing you’d ever seen. You set the basket of laundry down on the couch, making your way to the kitchen where you began to prepare dinner.

After about twenty minutes, Billy had gotten himself out of the princess tea party by claiming that he had ‘kingly duties’ to attend to, and while the girls were upset over it, they allowed him to leave.

“Mmm,” Billy hummed as he approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, then he inhaled the aroma of the kitchen, “whatcha making?”

“Spaghetti.” You responded with a giggle, “or as Bee calls it, ‘pasghetti’.”

“She’ll get it eventually.” Billy chuckled, “she’s got her mama’s brains for sure.”

“And your attitude.” You laughed, scrunching your nose, “what a killer combo.”

“Tell me about it.” Billy grinned, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your neck.

“William.” You scolded him, giggling as you shimmied out of his grasp, “not here.”

Before Billy could even put some space between the two of you, Juno and Bee had come barreling down the stairs, stopping just at the threshold between the kitchen and living room.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” They both asked, their puppy dog eyes on full display.

You looked at Billy, a brow arched as you continued to stir the pasta noodles.

“Don’t look at me.” Billy held his hands up, shaking his head, giving you that million-dollar smile of his, “I didn’t tell them they could”.

“But you’re the king!” Bee shouted, the anticipation was clear in her voice.

“And if the king says we can have ice cream for dinner…” Juno trailed off, looking up at her dad.

“I may be the king, but mama’s the queen. What she says goes around here.” Billy leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, knowing that the girls wouldn’t even try to argue with you over it. “Even I can’t get her to change her mind.”

Juno sulked, padding over to her chair at the table, seemingly having accepted defeat.

Bee took a big whiff of the air, then smiled. “Mama, is that pasghetti?”

“It is spaghetti”. You gently corrected, knowing she still wouldn’t say it right anyway. “Go sit at the table with your sister and I’ll make you a plate.”

“Okay.” She chirped, nearly sprinting to the dining table, taking the seat right next to Juno.

Billy watched as the girls chatted amongst themselves, their senseless babbling making his chest swell with pride and an almost overwhelming sense of joy. Everything he never knew he needed was right in front of him, and he wouldn’t trade it for the anything. He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he felt that warm sense of comfort wash over him that he’d been waiting years for.

Seeing the opportunity to tease your husband, you took it without so much as a second thought, though you kept your focus on making dinner.

“You may be the king, but you make a pretty princess too.”

Billy’s eyes darted over to you, and he smirked to himself. He knew that arguing was pointless, because the queen was always right.

#this shit killed me to write #cutest shit i’ve ever written #girl!dad!billy can have my life #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fic #clovermunson’s fics #morgan’s writings

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s1ckh1mb0 · 5 months

Text

Task force x puppy boy! Reader headcanons

Guys I’m having absolute COD brain rot so expect more of them for a while. Also this is SFW and NSFW🫶🏽

Also sort of OOC but atp do I ever right characters in their canon way?

SFW

•The boys absolutely dote on you but don’t show it as much in front of people.

•They aren’t shy they just want to keep it a secret so you aren’t targeted by anyone.Even though you can handle yourself they do not care and feel a need to protect you.

•they have their favorite love languages. Gaz’s is acts of service. He’s always doing something for or with you. Ghosts and Prices is physical touch. It doesn’t have to be anything major just small touch’s like your pinkies being interlocked is comforting to them. And Soaps is quality time. Have y’all seen the amount of dad jokes him and Ghost make? That man is going to be telling you them for hours to see which one works best.

•Gaz and Soap is literally obsessed with touching your ears. They love the way they feel and can.

•Ghost is no better either but instead of your ears he is touching your tail. He finds it the literal cutest.

•all of them by you the cutest toys (just for you to absolutely destroy them the same day)

NSFW

•you have a different collar for each of them. Each one being their favorite color. While some only use it in the bedroom (Gaz and Ghost) the others will use it in public if you start to be a brat in public with no shame at all.

• Speaking of when you’re a brat the moment you act up pray that only one of them is around. They will gang up on you

• **IMO** Price is a hard dom and there’s nothing y’all can say to change my mind. You wanna act up? Okay well he’s bending you over the nearest and sticking his fingers in your mouth to muffle your cries as he spanks you and teases you left his fingers brush against your dick but never going further then light brushes. And he’s gonna keep going until you’re begging him.

•Idc care what y’all say Ghost is soft with you. Like man is strong as shit, and it doesn’t matter if you’re stronger than him he sees the need to be soft with you in bed. He’ll have you in a full Nelson and whisper to you how you’re his absolute favorite person in the world, your his puppy and his for life.

• Soap though he’s a complete tease. He’ll have you on his lap grinding your ass against his dick. His fingers sneakily making their way to yours and rubbing your bulge through your underwear making you moan. And if you get to quiet for his comfort he’ll tug on your tail or collar and tell you to speak up or he’ll make sure you won’t be able to talk with how much you’ll be crying out his name

•Gaz is a soft dom, he’s praising you while fucking you stupid. Loves to look at you (eye contact is so 😫) never lets his eyes leave yours. Your fingers are intertwined with yours as he ruts into you, telling you how much he loves you and is gonna put a ring on your fucking finger

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the bad shit

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,192

warnings: swearing, possible allusions to depression, brief mention of death, a tiny finger injury, comfort

a/n: my brain does not seem to be in a writing mood right now, but i did manage to crank this out. i do enjoy making billy cry, so there’s that. i hope it’s alright! please let me know what you think. i’d really appreciate it. <33

————

Billy’s been fidgety since he woke.

You hear the soft thud of his boots, muffled against the carpet of your bedroom floor. He makes his way towards you and kisses your forehead, knowing you’re probably too sleepy for a real kiss this early.

He doesn’t tell you how badly he needs one—that his hands are shaking with it. Though he doesn’t need to tell you.

You’d heard his alarm clock go off, felt him stay in bed longer than usual, glimpsed him rubbing his face on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to get up. Not one bit.

And even though you can feel sleep calling you, feel the way it presses at your eyes, the way the warmth of the bed pulls you in—you sit up.

Billy’s closer to the door now, but he hears you shuffle, and he’s quick to move back to you.

“You need to sleep, baby.”

But your hands are already on his cheeks, and then you’re kissing him, shutting him up and telling him you’re right here. And you’ll be right here when he gets home from work. You’ll be a phone call away if he needs you during his shift.

“I’ll walk you out,” you say, and your tone informs him that there’s no room for arguments.

You hook your fingers in his belt loops as you push off the bed, hoping that this will keep your half-asleep form from slamming into the wall.

You kiss Billy again on the stoop, even if he is berating you for being barefoot in the cold. You watch him walk to the car, catch the way his fingers fumble with the keys, the way he doesn’t even have it in him to slam the door shut.

He waves at you from behind the steering wheel.

“I love you,” you mouth, blowing a kiss. He’s quick to catch it in his hand, gesturing so that he’s tucking it away in his pocket for later. He responds just as he always does, but you can tell he’s still sleepy.

That he’s tired.

————

You aren’t home when Billy gets back to the house. There’s a note on the counter in your sweet scrawl, telling him that you ran out to pick up dinner. Eating at all had completely slipped his mind.

Billy’s just having a day. He’d wanted to stay home but couldn’t, and not only has he been fidgety, unable to focus for want of home, of you, but his thoughts are getting the better of him. They’re suffocating. Telling him he’s not good enough for you, that he’s a waste of time—of your time. That he should’ve died like he was supposed to in that fucking mall.

And he knows it isn’t true. He knows that you loved him before any of that, when he was just being an asshole, when he was just pissed that he’d had to move. And you love him now, even when he has bad days like this.

But his head. His mind. It tells him otherwise. It fights and it claws and it screams at him. And today he is losing that fight, letting his mind yell and tear at him.

Billy tries to distract himself and wash the dishes, but he only gets so far before he drops something and almost breaks it, before he cuts his finger on a knife he put in the damn sink. After that he tries to find a band-aid but spills all of them on the floor, and the first one he opens gets stuck on the wrapper and he can’t use it.

Once he does secure the pink bandage around his pinky, he goes to clean up his mess and hits his head on the counter. He tries to change clothes and trips, gets his belt loop stuck on a drawer handle.

“God fucking dammit.”

After that one he gives up and throws himself on the kitchen floor, choosing a beer with a pull tab rather than a cap for fear he might actually hurt himself and bleed out.

He hears the sound of you locking your car, the door squeaking when you open it, and he knows he should’ve gotten up to help you, but he just couldn’t. He starts to cry.

“Billy? Where’s my baby?”

The sound of your voice causes him to hiccup, and you’re on the floor in front of him in a matter of seconds.

He’s covering his face with his hands, and you know then that the day must’ve gotten the better of him.

“Hey, let me see you. It’s okay, honey, I’m right here.”

Billy looks up at you, lashes clumped together with tears, nose red and lips all swollen. He looks so frustrated with himself, so beat, that you ache for him.

He wishes he was stronger. That he wasn’t breaking down in the middle of the kitchen, but you told him once that it’s okay to have bad days. That you're always going to be there on the worst ones.

He puts the beer down the moment you hold your arms out, crawling into your lap and burying his face in your chest. You don’t care that he’s heavy or that you’re not entirely sure you’re getting any air in your lungs. You care that he’s letting go and that he’s showing you this vulnerable part of himself.

Billy cries, he weeps, against you for what seems like forever. But you don’t mind. You only want him to feel better. You rub his back, play with his hair, anything to soothe him just that little bit.

When he’s finished, when he’s caught his breath, he pulls away. His cheeks are pink and you’re sure he’s berating himself for having just sobbed like that. He’s sitting on his knees, fingers scratching at the freckled skin of his arms. He looks young like this. Lost.

“Was it just a bad day? Or is it the bad shit?”

That is Billy code for I’m spiraling and I need help. For I’m having a hard time and I can’t do it alone. I don’t know how to say it.

You established that little code pretty early on in your relationship, knowing it would be helpful in getting Billy to talk about his feelings with you.

“The bad shit,” he tells you.

“It’s not true,” you say. “Whatever your head is telling you today, it’s not true. Not today, not ever. You gotta say it for me, okay?”

He gives you the barest shake of his head before he pauses and tries to steel himself so that he can do it. He doesn’t want to let you down.

“It’s not true.”

You grin at him. “Right. And you’re a badass. And we’re gonna eat dinner, and then we’re gonna talk it out, and then we will lay down. And maybe I’ll scratch your back for you.”

Billy nods. He hates that his breath catches at that, that the offer brings him pure, unadulterated joy.

“Okay.”

He can do that. He knows he can offer that much.

Because he is a badass. And he can try for you. For himself.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson

#savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fluff

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cxtori · 6 months

Note

Hello 👋 can you please write dating headcanons for Uramichi and Mitsuo from Life lessons with Uramichi Oniisan? Thank you ☺️

Dating Headcanons ft. Uramichi Omota & Mitsuo Kumatani

cat’s note: sorry this took me so long, anon. i suck at writing headcanons for some reason lmao

Uramichi

you met Uramichi when he came into the digital planning department after being sent to invite you to a work party.

You were talking (arguing) with Kikaku about some new toy design when he walks in, though the conversation continues

Uramichi is surprised when you get Kikaku to retreat and stop his yelling. Uramichi is intimidated by you, and yet he finds himself drawn to you at the same time

After talking to you he realizes you’re actually a very kind person. You just don’t take Kikaku’s shit and he respects you for it

He seeks you out at the work party and spends the entire evening talking to you. You’re so drawn to each other and find it super easy to have a conversation last hours and you were both sad when the party comes to an end

He surprises himself when the words “would you like to get dinner sometime” leave his mouth. But he’s even more surprised when you say yes. The rest is history

Despite what some may think, he’s not great at communication.

He’s been so used to handling his own problems that it doesn’t really occur to him that he should talk them through with you.

But, all you have to do is bring it up once for him to realize his mistake and correct it. It’s a bad habit, and it’ll take some time to break it, but he does his best because he wants to be the best for you.

Just because you’re dating doesn’t mean his depressive episodes will go away. He’ll have his days when all he wants to do is curl into bed and hide away from the world.

On these days, be patient with him. Give him his space but remind him that you will always be there for him

He’s for sure very playful with you. With other’s, he often comes off as quiet and closed off. But around you, he’s smiling, laughing, actually enjoying himself.

He’s a bit touch starved. Between his childhood and his unsuccessful love life up to this point, he’s never received much physical affection.

Because of this, he’s attached to your hip almost constantly. He’s always touching you in some way, whether it be his arms wrapped around your waist or your pinkies interlocked.

He’s not very big on pda though. He much prefers to leave his physical affection at the house. unless no one’s looking lol

You take a lot of evening walks. The quiet street, the cool night air, and his warm hand wrapped around yours. Yep, those are your favorite.

He’s the type that enjoys cuddling on the couch. Whether you’re watching a movie or sitting in silence, he doesn’t care. he’s with you, that’s all that he needs.

Mitsuo

You met him at the store when buying cat food

You were mumbling to yourself, trying to decide if you should get chicken or shrimp when Mitsuo walks up beside you to pick something up

He overheard you talking to yourself and ended up suggesting a food brand, which ultimately led you to talk about your new cat and show him pictures, which he thoroughly enjoyed

After that, you would bump into each other in the pet section every now and then until one day he just blatantly asks you out

He loves to take you fishing. Even though he’s the one who puts the bait on the hook and takes the fish off cause it grosses you out

No one does emotional support like Mitsuo. Anytime you’re upset about something, he’s right there beside you with his arsenal of things that he knows will make you feel better

There is absolutely no hiding your feelings from him. He’s perceptive, and when your mood shifts even a little, he notices. And there’s no point in lying or brushing it off. He knows, and you know he knows

He’s actually amazing at communication. He knows when to speak and when to let things be. And while he typically doesn’t speak on things, it’s different with your relationship. He knows how crucial it is and he doesn’t disregard it.

He’s mild when it comes to physical affection. He likes to cuddle, but it if starts to get too hot, he’s the first to untangle himself from you lol

When he makes out with you though? whew

He doesn’t mind pda, but he’s not super obvious about it. he’ll hold your hand around others just fine. but expect him to steal kisses the moment people look away

Despite being a usually quiet and reserved person, he’s very open around you, especially in private

You are required to watch every man-eating salmon movie at least once lol

Speaking of man-eating salmon, it makes him laugh. It’s one of the few things that makes him genuinely chuckle like a goofball. His laugh sounds like heaven

You two definitely start fostering cats. It accidentally started with 1, and then it turned into 3, and then into 5

You’ll go back and forth on the pros and cons of possible adopters, which will sometimes turn into silly, unserious arguments lol

#☆彡cat writes #𖥸requests #ngl idk how i feel about these lol #i feel like i struggle with headcanons for some reason #idk i’m prob just overthinking it haha #life lessons with uramichi oniisan #uramichi omota #uramichi oniisan #uramichi #mitsuo kumatani #kumatani #uramichi x reader #kumatani x reader #mitsuo kumatani x reader #life lesson with uramichi #life lessons with uramichi x reader #life lessons with uramichi headcanons #uramichi headcanons #kumatani headcanons

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