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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 3: Let's Have a Baby

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence and death (ofc), implied child loss Note: The much-awaited part 3 of The Captain! Thank you so much for all of your support! And don't y'all, Part 4 is brewing ;) Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

“Mohawk’s gettin’ particularly long, Johnny boy. When’s the last time you took any off the top?” Freyja asked, tugging at the end of a long strand at the back of his head.

“Dinnae dae that!” Soap whipped his head around and gave her a look of playful irritation. “If it weren’t for that wee barra in your belly I’d knock ya one, lass.”

“You wish, tough guy.”

“Just you wait, soon as y’return to full duty, we’ll have a square go, ye fuckin’ weapon.”

“I’ll block off my calendar.”

She and Soap had grown rather close since they all returned to England following the mission. As promised, Ghost spoke with Price, who convinced Kate to transfer her to the 141 permanently. While she was on desk duty for now, being on the same team would be tremendously helpful in keeping their schedules in sync. The couple could carpool to and from the base together, and John would do his best to keep them from being deployed at the same time.

Plus, she got to spend all her day with her friends and husband, which was a phenomenal change of pace from their previous setup. It was far less lonely being surrounded by the bustle of the busy base and having other friends to talk to besides Price.

They had a standing ‘play date’, as Price called it, every Friday night, where they watched movies, played board games, and ordered takeout. Board games usually ended in a heated exchange between her and whichever unlucky soul had crossed her (usually during Catan), her normally fiery temper heightened with each month of pregnancy that passed. There had been several instances of Ghost scooping her up in his arms and hauling her away to cool off before (any other) objects were lobbed at someone’s head.

One time, Freyja was in rare form when Gaz refused to trade for a material she desperately needed, and whipped a pointed dinner knife in his direction.

“What is with you guys and throwing bloody knives at me?!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air as Ghost dragged her off, screaming obscenities in various angry-sounding languages.

Soap jerked the blade out of the wall. “Dunno if I should be turned on or terrified,” he had said thoughtfully, turning it over in his hand.

“BOTH, YOU SLIMY, CHEATING MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Catan was banned for a few weeks after that incident, and Freyja gave Kyle the following day off as an apology, though he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

Freyja lowered herself into a chair on the other side of Soap’s desk and leaned her head on her fist, watching him do his paperwork. She’d already finished for the day but was waiting for her husband to fetch her and bring her home to prepare for another Friday with the boys.

“So, Captain, any big plans for this weekend?” Soap asked, still scribbling away at the stack of forms in front of him.

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Nah. It’s our anniversary on Sunday. Have a routine visit tomorrow to see how the baby’s growing. Nothing crazy.”

“Anniversary?! You didn’t tell me that was comin’ up!”

Her eyes rolled with a chuckle. “Soap, we aren’t showy people. Never have been,” she started, adjusting to sit straighter after having slid down in the chair a bit. Her round belly had started to weigh down her body a few weeks back, and she was starting to feel the effects of back and neck pain. “We weren’t together for very long when we got engaged, if you’d even call it that. We got married a few days later, as soon as we got back to the UK. Didn’t want to waste time, given our line of work.”

Johnny laughed at this, tossing his pen into a mug he fashioned as a stationary holder. “Oh, I’d bet he just loved slappin’ his name after ‘Captain’, too,” he joked with a raised brow.

The image of a spinning circle on a computer came to mind because that was exactly what she was doing. Buffering, her mouth open slightly while she processed his comment. Her mind screamed at her to say something, anything, but nothing came out as she stared at the Sergeant.

He clearly picked up on her inner turmoil, because he asked, “What? What’d I say?”

Goddamn pregnancy brain. “Ah…Nothing. He didn’t like me taking his name, actually,” she mostly muttered, unable to find a way out of the conversation at this point. “He asked me not to change my name and I did it anyway.”

“I don’t get it, why wouldn’t Ghost want ya to change yer name?”

Freyja sighed as she rubbed a hand over the top of her bump, a recent habit for comfort. The baby hadn’t been particularly active that day, only offering a bit of shifting. “You’d have to ask him, John.”

She rarely called him John, so he knew the conversation was over on her part. “How’s your back?” Best to change the subject and move on.

She was grateful for it. “Terrible. Even sitting here is bothering me.”

Soap lit up and he practically jumped to his feet. “I can do that thing I saw Ghost doin’ last week!” He was already in front of her before she could even answer.

He had been relentless ever since he caught their cute little private moment in the kitchen when she was supposed to be getting herself some fruit to snack on. Simon followed shortly after, offering to get her fruit bowl together for her so she could sit down again. Craving some semblance of independence, she instead offered to cut up her snack while her husband took some of the weight off her back.

“Walked myself right into that one. You just want an excuse to grope my belly.”

“Me? Never! M’offended that y’would say such a thing, Bonnie,” he feigned hurt feelings, pouting with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, fine! Come’ere, I’ll show you,” she laughed, high up in her chest. Freyja pulled herself up with his hands and moved them to the more open space in his office. “Alright, so I’m gonna stand here—“ She turned to press her back against his chest and took his wrist in her hands. “—then you just wanna put your hands flat like this—“ She flattened his palms just under the swell of her stomach, by each point of her pelvis. “—and now you carefully pull up. Emphasis on carefully.”

She groaned at the sudden relief, her head falling back against Soap’s shoulder as he just barely lifted her stomach.

“There w’are. Steamin’ Jesus, how’s such a wee thing so bloody heavy?”

“Yeah, now imagine carrying that around with your back twenty-four-seven.”

They stood silently for a minute, soaking in the relief from the lack of pressure on her disks. A small hand dragged across the underside of her stomach, pressing against Soap’s hand. His chest rumbled against her back, but he held steady.

“Will anyone be coming for a visit? When she’s born?” It was bold of him to bring up such a sensitive subject, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“No.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“I have everyone I need right here, Johnny. Who else outside my husband would give my back a break and hold my giant belly?” She reached back to jokingly slap his cheek a few times.

“Where’s that husband o’ yours at? It’s gettin’ late.”

A soft knock on the open door had her turning her head. “I’m comin’, Jesus,” Ghost said, approaching with his hands in his pockets, t-shirt tight as ever. He took in her smiling form, intrigued by the scene in front of him. He smiled beneath his mask, eyes crinkling slightly. “How are my girls?”

Freyja flinched, a hand flying to her belly at the sharp kick. She sported an angry pout. “Ow! That hurt, you little–”

“Be nice. She can’t help that I’m her favorite.”

She pulled out of Soap’s hold, sad to lose the help on one hand, but thrilled to see Simon on the other. “You’re so obnoxious. I’m literally creating her organs and limbs, making sure she has ten fingers and toes, and I don’t get so much as a single hand or kick. But the second she hears your stupid voice, she’s suddenly an MMA fighter,” she complained, shoving at his shoulder. “Un-fucking-believable. I hate you.”

“Mmm, sure you do. How will I ever get back in your good graces?”

“I want Chinese tonight.”

“I think I can manage that.” Ghost bent down to gently, but briefly, touch his forehead to hers, one of their familiar gestures to refrain from more overt displays of affection on base. She would occasionally give him a peck over his skull mask, and they often shared passing touches, but neither partner was a huge fan of PDA. In the comfort of their own home, they were much more obvious, even around the other members of the team. Just not on base (save for a quick romp. Or two. Or– y’know what, never mind).

“Aw, lookit ya wee sook,” Soap cooed, nudging Ghost with his elbow as he walked past, gathering his things to head home.

She giggled and patted Simon’s pec. “He really is!”

Simon grumbled but guided Freyja to the door with a hand on her lower back. “If you lot keep talkin’ nonsense around me, I’ll pop a gasket.”

“It’s not nonsense, Simon. It’s a beautiful language. One that your people just so happened to smother into near extinction,” she sang, pursing her lips in a challenge as she looked up at him walking next to her.

“OOO, sick burn, lass!” Soap smacked their hands together, laughing heartily.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

~*~

Simon checked the time on his phone again with a deep sigh, shaking his head. He detested getting to work anything past ten minutes early, and it was currently five past six. Freyja had told him to go ahead and toss their baby bag in the car, which he had done ten minutes ago. He insisted they keep their ‘go-bag’ (her word, not his) with them, either in the car on errands or on base during the work week.

The area around their front door was littered with broken-down cardboard boxes from various toys and furniture from the nursery. The Task Force had turned out to be extremely generous uncles, to the point where the Rileys hardly had to buy anything. Johnny and Gaz were by far the worst listeners, continuing to purchase mountains of clothes long after Freyja and Ghost begged them to stop. Enough clothes that she would never have to wear the same outfit twice for the first year of her life.

Not even born yet and already spoiled rotten.

Her boots weren’t in the tray by the door, so she must have gotten to that part of her routine, at least. He pushed off the door frame in their entryway, making his way toward the living room. “Frey, what are you doin’? We’re already five minutes late–”

He cut himself off when he laid eyes on the sight in front of him – his wife, now 39 weeks pregnant, attempting to contort her body around her bump to lace up her boots. Simon allowed himself a moment to watch in amusement before clearing his throat and grabbing her attention. “Do you need help?” he asked, about to kneel in front of her.

She grunted and shook her head, then tried to smooth the mussed-up fly-aways that had started to poke up at the edges of her tied-back hair. “No, I can do this. I just did it on Friday.”

“Darling, that was three days ago. There’s no shame in askin’ for help–” He stopped again at the icy glare thrown his way, crossed his arms over his chest, and sat in the armchair across from her. “A’right, if you insist.” He had long noticed that she sometimes struggled to accept help with tasks she could normally complete on her own, if not for a protruding bump being in the way. He knew if she really needed help, she would ask.

This time, she propped the heel of her boot on the coffee table and attempted to stretch over her belly. She was proud of the strength and flexibility she had been able to maintain throughout her entire pregnancy, up until now. Not many people could say they could even see their feet this far into their pregnancy, let alone tie their shoes. After another minute of huffing and puffing, fingers just barely unable to graze the laces, she held her foot out to her watchful husband and sighed. “Fine,” she mumbled, crossed arms mimicking his.

He smiled softly under his mask, blue eyes twinkling with silent laughter as he slid to his knees at her feet, pressing the sole into his chest. “Thank you,” he praised, taking his time to focus on doing her shoes up at the tightness she liked to support her ankles, but allow breathing room at her calves. As he finished up the second foot, he heard a quiet sniffle and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

Bloody hell, not the waterworks again…

He gently pushed her legs apart and settled between them, his gloved hands covering and rubbing her knees. “What’s wrong, love?”

Freyja wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then used the neckline of her t-shirt to swipe at her wet cheeks. “Nothing, I’m just annoyed. Feels like I can barely function on my own.”

“If I recall, you’re the one who insisted on working until she’s born.”

“Fuck you.”

“Promise?”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes as she scoffed.

Ghost pulled his mask up to his nose, just enough to steal a long, soft kiss from her, fingers still gripping her thighs. When they broke apart, he swooped down to press wet kisses on her belly. Freyja put the fabric back in place with deft fingers. “A’right, we sorted?” He smacked her thigh twice when she nodded and offered her hands to help her stand. “Good, you know how I am about bein’ late.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be an early bird like her daddy.”

“Better than always being late like her mum.”

“Low blow, baby. Low blow.”

They made jabs at each other back and forth the entire ride to base (lovingly, of course) and during their walk to their offices, only pausing for the occasional passerby.

~*~

Kyle handed off a steaming mug of tea to Ghost, taking a small sip of his own as they watched the recruits spar with Soap. Most days, the three of them worked with the privates for a few hours, varying from marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, etcetera. Ghost tugged his mask up enough to enjoy his caffeine, the steam dampening the wrinkled fabric.

“How was your weekend, Ghost?”

He hid his subtle smirk behind the cup, the memory of their anniversary evening at the forefront of his mind. Ghost met Gaz’s gaze with a side eye, to which the Sergeant snorted with a throaty chuckle. Gaz fixed the brim of his hat lower to shade his eyes from the sun better. “Shouldn’t have asked,” he said, a bright, cheeky grin on his face. “Change the subject.”

Ghost thought back to that morning, snickering himself and cradling the mug with both hands. “Frey couldn’t tie her boots this morning.” He tried to hide his amusement, he really did. But both men burst into deep laughter, Gaz shamefully covering his eyes with his free hand as he imagined the Captain working around her stomach.

“Bloody hell, poor thing.” When they finally composed themselves, Kyle took a deep breath and wiped a stray tear from his eye. He sighed and placed his now empty mug on the ground, his hands now hanging onto the lip of his tactical vest. The Brit observed the training session, occasionally glancing over at Ghost to gauge his mood. Maybe he should mind his business, but Gaz also wanted to be a good friend to the Rileys. In the end, he decided to take the plunge. “I see it, y’know,” he said, choosing a careful tone.

Simon turned his head fully to shoot him a probing look, urging him to continue.

Gaz sighed to himself. In too deep, now. “Just something I’ve noticed. Seems like she’s done this before, s’all.”

Damn Kyle Garrick and his perceptiveness. How long had the Sergeant been sitting on that thought, watching and observing her mannerisms? Simon stood staring blankly at his companion, unblinking for too long. His heart clenched painfully, twisting and beating violently against his ribs. When his eyes did finally come back into focus, he covered his face again. “As you were, Sergeant,” he commanded, his tone stern and unyielding. Neither of them noticed the Scot break away from the recruits, reading a text from his phone.

“I don’t mean to pry, sir–”

“Lt?” Soap held the device up, brows knotted together. He didn’t make much of an effort to hide his emotions and was concerned. “Price needs ya, sir. Said he’s pretty sure yer wife’s been in labor for the last hour.”

The trio quickly appeared in her office, where she sat behind her desk, beads of sweat on her forehead as she typed away at her computer. John shrugged helplessly and then scratched at the stubble under his chin. About an hour into their daily morning meeting, where he brought her peppermint tea while they worked over files and potential recruits. They were mid-discussing her scheduled c-section when he noticed her breaths sporadically shake, or the muscles in her arms tightening for seemingly no reason. Price asked her if she was okay and was brushed off every time he prodded at her; when he finally had enough, he decided to call for reinforcements.

Freyja glared at the men, mainly aiming it at Price. “Traitor,” she growled, continuing to work through another contraction.

Simon tossed the keys to their car to Price, who swiftly snagged them out of the air and slipped behind them. In the meantime, he tucked his mask into the back pocket of his jeans, his slightly overgrown blonde hair and the top of his head sticking up. He sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at her as she attempted to ignore his presence. His foot slipped a little on the floor, and he found a small puddle trickling across the floor from the space under her chair. “Anything you want to tell me?” he asked, impossibly soft and gentle for a usually deep, gruff military man.

“No.” She was an accomplished sniper and a skilled linguist and had been deployed on hundreds of special missions, interrogations, and rescues during her military tenure. She, however, wasn’t very convincing when it came to lying to her husband, especially when another sharp pain rippled through her body, forcing her to flinch.

“Wanna try that again?”

Her eyes watered uncontrollably, her lip trembling as she tried to keep herself together. The notion didn’t last long, and her head shook from side to side.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“Hm.” Simon turned her chair with his shin until she faced him. As he suspected, dark wetness was creeping up the fabric of her jeans. “We should get going then, yeah?” He tilted his head to the side, watching as she grabbed his hand in a fierce grip.

“Simon–” The woman choked on her tears, panic starting to claw its way up her stomach and wrenching her tight throat. “The OB’s out of the country,” she whimpered, barely a whisper.

“I know. Seems that she’s taken after her old man, like y’said,” he offered in an attempt to give her some comedic relief in her state. Simon could see the panic attack set in, and while he knew he couldn’t stop it, he could at least lessen its effects some.

“I was kidding.”

He smiled softly at her and squeezed her palm, drawing soothing circles with his thumb. “Don’t think she’s quite old enough for sarcasm, there, sweetheart.” He got down to his knees in front of her, sitting back on his heels, just under eye level now instead of towering over her. A familiar position for them as of late. “Looks like we’re doin’ this the old-fashioned way.”

She started crying hysterically now, nearly crushing his hand and cradling her belly. “Simon…I–”

“I know.”

It was as if their audience had completely disappeared, leaving just the two of them for what should be a private moment. But Soap and Gaz were still pressed to the wall by the door. In the months they had become close friends with Simon’s wife, she was almost always composed, her moments of hormonal rage the only outlier they witnessed. They’d never seen her such a panicked, blubbering mess, but Gaz had an idea he knew what it was about, even without specifics. For that reason, he chose to keep his distance and advised Soap to do the same with a tap to the shoulder.

“This–This isn’t the plan. I wanted…they’re supposed to take her out. I don’t want to push again.”

“I know,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, love, but you’ll have to.”

“Can’t we just–” A gasp cut her off, her features pinching together in pain while she rode out yet another contraction.

“No. We can’t.”

“I can’t do this again, Simon! I can’t!” Her chest heaved and she sobbed, struggling to catch her breath. Panic attacks had become more frequent during her pregnancy. There had been about five or six instances where an odd feeling or uncomfortable pain had anxiety washing over her, sending her into a spiral until they could get to an emergency room or OB, snapping at them to ‘just fucking check, for fuck’s sake’. This was definitely one of the worst. All of her meticulous planning, down to every nitty-gritty detail to ensure she didn’t have an episode went right out the window because a certain impatient Riley was eager to make her exit and simultaneous entrance to the world.

The world was collapsing around her, dark and suffocating. The cold pit dragged her back to what seemed like another life, where she lay curled up in a hospital bed, sick and hot and in the worst agony she would ever experience. Her bones burned and ached, struggling to sit still yet unable to move at the same time. Price’s phantom touch ghosted up and down her bare back in that place, brushed her sticky hair off her forehead, pressed a cold towel to her neck as violent sobs and forced, unnatural contractions tore through her—

She blinked when different, gloved hands slipped under her hair, the warmth of her skin bleeding through the material as he cradled her face. Her fingers slipped down to dig into his tattooed wrist. “You can, and you will. Take a breath,” he took a deep breath, guiding her through the exercise. He held the air in his chest before letting it out in a slow exhale, which she mimicked. Ghost summoned Gaz over and rose, pulling her up with him. “Good girl. Can you walk?”

When she nodded, Kyle slipped into the space beside her, offering his forearm for support. She knew Simon could have handled her himself, but it warmed her heart to see him leaning on their friends. John had been a great support system when Simon deployed on his own, but having so many hands to hold made her feel loved and understood.

“A’right then, let’s have a baby, yeah?”

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

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So.... Hello! I'm not Very good at english since it's not my language but here we Go. I wanna to say i really love your art (from fanarts to your write style) and i Hope you have a good day today. Anyway i don't know If your ask are ope but How the Monsters trio Will react with they being your First in everthing! (Like First Kiss, First love, First s*x, etc) you can do nsfw-ish If you wanted

aww thank u!:) I am not going to go into grave detail because I am already doing a “First time” series with them but i like this request💓imma do it moreso where you’re THEIRS if thats alright

Being the Monster Trio’s First (NSFW-ish)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Mentions of sex

I am half sleep and typing this all in one go so mb for my spelling errors im just making up for lost time not posting consistently because school and coms☹️

Being Luffy’s First:

Crush: Being his crush is no different from being his best friend, he isn’t a very romantic guy if he likes you he will just tell you, “Y/N I think about you a lot, and I also think you may have a Lust DF power because when I think of you i get hard.” Bless him he is very blunt. BUT he does mean what he says so..be nice?

Kiss: Probably the most anticlimactic thing ever. Luffy already licks your face, hugs, and touches you a lot so when he starts running at you after a fight to see if you’re okay BAM. His lips smack into yours like a bowling ball and honestly. It’s cute. Completely uncoordinated, damn near sucked your bottom lip off, but…there was just something so addictive and attractive to his kiss that made you want more

Love: Very odd in his case. He just thought he liked you a lot. The signs were evident though, when you tell him he doesn’t deny it persay he moreso brushes it off because being in love is so new to him. However being his first love is something you can’t forget. He reminds you everyday why you’re important. Why he loves you. And why he fell in love with you.

Sexual Encounter: It was fun! You both were inexperienced. He didn’t know what hole to enter, you were shocked by how long he can stretch his dick. You both even spent the night laughing more than actually having sex, but once it came down to business it was a learning experience for you both. He was so attentive to make sure you were okay you felt yourself crying a little afterwards at how gentle he was with you.

Being Zoro’s First:

crush: He’s actually more of an asshole to you Not even on purpose he just doesn’t want to admit his feelings towards you. You’re beautiful, sweet, and charming and dammit he hates that he has feelings and how you always mess them up when you’re around him! He feels so powerless so please be gentle with him…or put him on blast. It maybe attractive to the mf.

Kiss: Awkward, awkward, awkward. He isn’t the rizzmaster okay. Yes he is pretty and he knows it but he is crap to flirting. absolutely crap. He was so hot in the face when you did the first move and kissed him he was a stuttering mess and pulled you back in for another kiss to prevent you from laughing at him. His kisses wasn’t BAD but …just practice with him. Yeah it was awkward but seeing your face so close and personal, smelling your scent. He couldn’t get enough.

Love: DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT Absolutely ridiculous how in denial he was. Everytime someone even said the word love he’d get so mad because that word applied to you in so many ways. He fell for you and he couldn’t do anything about it. You were the one opponent he could not beat and honestly, he didn’t want to. He fell for you and he fell so hard that it actually makes him nervous to be around you. He doesn’t know whether he loves you or hates you now for being so irresistible to him. Eventually he comes to terms with it and once it does and you feel the same way. Good luck getting rid of him.

Sexual Encounter: You taught him everything. He didn’t know his way from the clit to your ass. It took a lot of trial and error, sex wasn’t really NEW to him. He has seen porn but it’s completely different from films and pictures so sometimes he would back down when making out got too far, eventually he needed that release one late night while cuddling you and even though he could have went to the bathroom you stopped him and …helped him out. Let’s just say Zoro is so grateful he didn’t pussy out this go round!

Being Sanji’s First:

Crush: Sanji is an interesting guy because any woman that knows Sanji knows he is a mixture of a flirt and just having amazing manners for women. You however was just above the usual women he served to. Being his crush was an experience because you seen a side to Sanji most women don’t get to see. You seen him stand up straighter, sly comments that made your heart melt, and even kept his cool…too cool in fact. He really was Mr. Prince for you.

Kiss: The first kiss he planned it out. He knew his feelings about you and that you felt the same so he needed to plan it just right not just for him, but for you as well. The kiss was so soft and delicate you almost didn’t feel it. And that was because he shy’ed away for a moment, scared his sudden bold move would have you smack him, Luckily, he didn’t have to worry feeling your hands cup his cheek to kiss him back. He still touches his lips when he thinks about that time you kissed him.

Love: I mean man…you really are a blessed woman because out of all of the others he has seen and been with he chose you and only you. it’s insane really. He tries in his entire will to not mess this opportunity to find true love up. You being his first love he watches his mouth and actions around you more, He tries his hardest not to ruin the view you have of him and it shows. If you can just reassure him you love him for him and not who he thinks he needs to be. Sanji needs the confirmation that you love him almost as much as he loves you.

Sexual Encounter: LORD—- okay. okay. Just like Zoro trial and error HOWEVER. Much longer and worse. He really is still a pervert no matter how much in love he is with you so you have to take it very slow. Once you both are okay to be naked in front of each other he is back to being a shy boy so you constantly kiss and praise him, telling him how good he is for you, how well he is doing for his first time. You were so kind and patient with him, it never fails to leave a chill down his spine (in a good way) when he remembers that night of love making with you, and now that he has more experience he does nothing but reciprocate the same feelings back to you in bed.

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floral-force · 1 year

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hey babes!!! I loved that one of Simon and the meet cute, it had me melting 🥹♥️ I was wondering if I could perhaps request a Simon Riley x reader where the reader is part of the 141, but before working with them, she was apart of a special ops group that focused on stuff like infiltration/sabotage, and she’s almost like a black widow sort of character? seduces her targets and takes them out when they’re alone? she’s usually a ray of sunshine with the group, but Laswell presents the mission and everyone’s like “????” and the reader’s like “fine, I guess we’ll do this again” and she’s just COMPLETELY different once she infiltrates??? it gives the whole crew whiplash, but I’m particularly interested in how Simon would react!!! I hope this isn’t too much!!! thanks for always blessing us with your amazing work, and I hope you have an amazing day!!! ♥️

thank you for loving the meet-cute!! this request was fun to fill. I took some artistic liberties and this one really ran away from me...I hope you enjoy this!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Honeypot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (code name "Honey")

summary: You’re Task Force 141’s newest operator, and everyone knows you as bubbly and sweet, earning you the code name Honey. How will the team react—especially Ghost, your stoic but sultry lieutenant—when a mission requires your espionage expertise?

words: 2.9k

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ only. innuendo, canon-typical violence (fist fighting, gun mentions), bamf reader, task force 141 being buffoons, protective and jealous simon “ghost” riley, competency and size kinks if you squint, reader has a code name and uses she/her but no other descriptors

read on ao3 | masterlist

“The coup in Luxembourg is out of our usual bounds,” Laswell said, “but a covert agent working under the deposed Grand Duke has requested our aid.”

“They’ve been an ally to us in the past,” Price added, looping his thumbs under his tac vest, “so I expect you lot to execute this mission with as much precision and urgency as you would any other.”

“Country’s smaller than Scotland, innit?” Soap asked. “How the hell are we s’pposed to be discreet?”

“That’s where you come in, Honey,” Laswell crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “You remember your mission in Morocco?”

You smirked. “Is the sky blue?”

She gave you a small chuckle. “We need your expertise.”

“Fine.” You gave a dramatic sigh. “I guess we’ll do this again.”

“”M sorry,” Gaz interrupted with a scoff. “Do what, exactly?”

You turned to look at where he sat across the table from you next to an equally confused Soap. Ghost was twisted in his chair to look at where you sat behind him.

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes flicked between Price and Laswell. “They don’t know what I did in the States?”

“No,” Price muttered with a hint of embarrassment. He cleared his throat and shrugged like a tired parent as he said, “I suppose it never came up.”

Gaz gave an exasperated sigh, his impatience getting the better of him. “Well, go on then!” He urged.

“I was a contracted espionage agent for the Department of Defense, and—”

“The Yanks used contracted agents?”

You rolled your eyes at the interruption. “Yes, Soap. Now, as I was saying,” you continued, shooting the Scotsman a playful glare, “I was hired for infiltration ops. Ones that required a certain…je ne sais quoi, a more feminine touch you lads wouldn’t be capable of.”

When they all stared at your smiling face with blank expressions for a few moments—even Ghost’s eyes were narrowed with confusion—you jerked your head forward and waved your hands. “Guys, I seduced the targets.”

The confused silence persisted, and you looked around, giggling at each of the guys’ reactions, looking at Ghost last. His gaze pierced you the most, his brown eyes never leaving yours. Your teasing giggles faded, and you severed the eye contact with a roll of your eyes. You looked at Laswell again and crossed your arms, bored of the topic.

“Now that that’s settled, can we please finish this briefing?” you implored. “I have to make sure I have a dress that’s fitting for a date with a dictator.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright?”

“For the hundredth time—” you swung a heeled foot on a worn curb with a huff and hiked up the fabric of your dress—“yes, LT, I’ll be fine.” You adjusted the holster on your thigh and smirked at Ghost’s silence. “See something you like?”

There was a pause, and you looked up to see Ghost quickly look away at the street. Guilty.

You knew he felt some sort of way about you; whether it was good or bad was still unclear. One thing was for damn sure: Ghost had his sights set on you. You’d felt his skeletal stare linger on you ever since the briefing a week ago, and he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was at stealing looks when you were at the range or sparring. Anyone else might feel like his prey—trapped by hungry eyes and cornered by a hulking frame—but you were so used to being the predator that you didn’t let it get to you. It was a little…fun.

Sure, he gave you butterflies, but that was because you’d never dealt with seducing men like him—at least, that’s what you told yourself after thinking about him with your hand between your thighs.

For now, you’d innocently tease and poke and prod the masked man with Soap and Gaz’s support. For now, you’d holster your loaded M9 and leave your leg exposed in yellow lamplight as you made sure your clutch had everything you needed. For now, you’d pretend that you weren’t thinking about him trailing his hand up from your ankle to the holster and grabbing the meat of your thigh.

“We’ll be able to hear everything through your earpiece. Soap and I will have eyes on you in the palace, but stay near windows,” Ghost said, interrupting your thoughts. “Gaz’ll be on the roof.”

You swung your leg back down, wobbling. Ghost clutched your forearm, and you gripped his, fingernails scratching the fabric of his sleeve and digging into it for stability. His large hand snaked up to hold your bicep right above your bent elbow, your ears heating up when you met his eyes and saw something akin to lust in them.

His grip lingered even after you were steady on your feet again, only letting go when you gave him a flustered smile. You busied yourself with smoothing out the full skirt of your dress and adjusting the discreet monitor in your right ear.

“All you have to do is get ‘im to the roof. The lads ‘n I will take it from there, as planned.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “If anythin’ goes wrong, jus’ get yourself out alive, Honey.”

“Got it.” You adjusted your necklace, and sheepishly asked, “Is it centered?”

You could smell sweat and sandalwood when Ghost stepped closer, his broad armored chest just inches away from your body. His large, gloved fingers graced over your skin and hands, delicately centering the elegant piece with tactical precision.

Brown eyes looked you up and down. “Looks good, Honey.”

Ghost stepped back and his hands fell, one curling around his radio and the other limp on the rifle slung across his body. You burned underneath your dress.

After testing the comms and getting location reports, you gave Ghost a thumbs up and started walking to the palace down the street, rolling your shoulders back and taking a few deep breaths. You could feel his brown eyes burning a hole through you the entire time, so you made sure to sway your hips a bit more than you usually did while seductively strutting somewhere.

It hadn’t taken her long to reach the third floor and approach the tall paned window with the target, just as she’d been instructed to do in their final briefing. Watching Honey expertly navigate the gala and get the target attached to her side faster than the speed of light stirred something within Ghost. Whether it was admiration for her skill or arousal was unclear. Either way, he’d be lying if he said she didn’t look ravishing in her dress. He tilted his head and greedily peered through the scope one last time before tearing his eyes away and adjusting his position on the grassy hill.

Honey was as lethal as she was sweet, and if her saccharine smile didn’t instantly ensnare her target, her sugary tongue would. Instead of doling out compliments, she accepted them and kicked innuendos back; instead of making cringy puns and flashing finger guns, she bit her lip and tugged the target’s suit jacket. It was entirely different from who she was around the team on base, and Soap had made sure to emphasize that all bloody night. Even Gaz had chimed in a few times, both men trying to get him to comment. Ghost silently refused, skin flushing under his mask.

Now that she was closing in on the target, things had become even more heated. He looked at her through the scope again and listened. Ghost heard her laugh, the sound bubblier than the champagne in the flute she raised to her pretty lips. She took a sip right as Soap said the punchline of a joke, her shoulders rising and falling sporadically with a daintily covered cough.

“Watch it, you twat, you made her choke,” Ghost snapped.

“Sorry, lass, sorry!” Soap crackled over the comms. There was a rustle. “In my final position. Eyes on Honey and the target, LT.”

“Gaz?”

“In my final position, LT, eyes on the extraction point,” Gaz replied, his voice set and sure.

“Captain Price will leave on your command to meet you and Sergeant MacTavish at the rendezvous point, Lieutenant,” Laswell buzzed in his ear. “Gaz, you go with Honey and the target.”

“Affirmative,” Gaz and Ghost responded.

“Affirmative. And, Laswell, you can call me Soap.”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“Aye. Copy that, loud and clear.”

“Shut up, Soap.” Ghost grumbled.

They heard Honey giggle in response to another one of the usurper’s idiotic compliments, and Ghost saw her flirtatiously tap his arm with her knuckles.

“Y’know, if she heard one of us say tha’ in the pub, we’d never hear th’end of it.”

Gaz hummed in agreement with Soap, and he couldn’t help but shake his head and smirk. Honey laughed again and clearly echoed another awful line the target gave her. Ghost could tell the grin splitting her pretty lips wasn’t genuine—her nose didn’t crinkle like it did when he deadpanned the punchline to a stupid joke or when Soap had called Price “Pa” a few weeks ago.

There was snickering over the comms. Ghost boldly asked, “Honey, take a drink if you meant for us t’hear that shite attempt at flirting.”

Soap cackled when the rim of the champagne flute touched her lips and her throat bobbed with a long sip.

“Well?” Gaz asked expectantly.

“Was a yes, Gaz,” Soap responded.

Ghost saw her eyes flutter closed as she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, and he grumbled; hopefully nobody had heard him. He was itching to move, his finger hovering over the trigger and his jaw clenching each time the target touched her.

“Right, Honey,” Ghost said, focusing the team again and settling himself down. “Once you’re on the roof, I’ll call Price—Gaz, move on my word or Honey’s, or when Price arrives. Soap, get to the rendezvous when I call Price. I’ll watch Honey and the target. Understood?”

Gaz and Soap gave him their affirmatives. Honey nodded, looking out the window and winking.

She looked back at the target and seductively bit her lip. “Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more…private?” Her query was laced with something sticky.

The target gave her his piss-poor attempt at a sultry smile, resting a hand against her neck and disturbing the necklace Ghost had adjusted earlier.

He’d be lying if it didn’t make him want to shoot the git dead where he stood.

There was a quiet yes, and Honey said, “I’ve always wanted to be kissed under the stars.” She forced a coquettish giggle. “Well, kiss, and…more, if you catch my drift.”

The target leaned in and pressed a kiss on her right cheek, the act on full display to Ghost.

“That can be arranged, my sweet,” the target murmured, his voice tainting their comms and making Ghost roll his eyes.

When the target abruptly gripped her waist and pushed her against the window, Ghost heard the faint sound of glass breaking and heard Honey force a playful comment about dropping her flute. Now, Honey’s back was to him, one of her hands flat against the window, her fingers splayed out. His clear shot was ruined. Ghost swore and Soap did as well.

“Target moved too far to my right. Can’t get a clear shot. LT?”

“Negative,” Ghost answered. “Honey, make a fist if you need back-up.”

Normally, he would’ve already had someone storming in to help if he wasn’t already, but Price had made it clear that this mission required tact. Ghost was on edge, but he had to trust Honey, even if the sight unfolding in the scope of his rifle made his skin crawl.

Honey clenched her fist.

“Affirmative. Gaz, Soap, hold your positions. Comms are quiet unless absolutely necessary.”

“Affirmative, LT,” the men immediately replied.

“Extraction is ready on your word. Get out of there—alive,” Laswell stressed over comms.

“Affirmative,” Ghost sighed, his trigger finger ready and aching to move.

“Not here,” Honey mumbled. Her fist remained clenched, the other hand still clutching her tiny bag.

She squealed in surprise when one of his hands dropped to grab her ass and squeeze. Ghost sharply inhaled, and he heard Soap clear his throat, holding back from asking for a visual on Honey.

“Not here, Johann,” Honey snapped, the sweetness quickly melting off her voice. “I want you, but I want you to touch me on the roof.”

The target’s other hand grabbed the other hidden cheek, fabric bunching up in his grip. “Want you here, you lovely little thing. Roof can come later.”

Honey gave him the tinkling laugh she shared with the team after showing them a video of a puppy or some other baby animal. Sometimes, Ghost smiled under his balaclava when it was thrown his way—but he’d never tell a soul.

This time, the sunny bells were a warning, and if the target didn’t do as she said, Ghost had a feeling he’d regret more than the coup.

“If you say so.” Her voice was uncharacteristically dark, its hidden sharp edges revealed.

“Gaz, Soap, be ready for my word,” Ghost said as Honey pushed forward, her heel pressing her dress’s hem against the window.

Just as they both responded, a howl pierced the comms, making Ghost wince. The target was doubled over, and Honey was kicking off her heels, sending them flying towards the windows across the hall. She took a lunging step forward over the broken glass and adjusted her body before throwing a punch to the target’s left cheek. He staggered up and took an angry, sloppy swing at her, but she dodged it and kicked her heel into his knee to destabilize him so she could gut-punch him. The target dropped to the floor. Ghost’s mouth went dry, and his cock twitched as she grabbed a fistful of the target’s hair.

“We’re going to the goddamn roof,” Honey gritted out.

When the target gave her a sly smile, she took a step back and let go before punching him again. The corner of Ghost’s mouth twitched with a smile when he saw the target staring at her with fear. She’d literally punched the smile off his ugly mug.

“On your fucking feet,” she growled, and he obliged.

Though he stood, he fought her the whole way to the stair entrance, and each time, his resistance was met with another blow to the gut. Ghost hummed in approval. This honeybee had a wicked stinger and wasn’t afraid to use it.

When she disappeared from Ghost’s sight—still swearing and commanding the target up the stairs—he made the call to Price, then barked over comms, “Soap, rendezvous. Gaz, be ready to assist if Honey calls for it—and, Honey, Gaz is ready to help restrain the target.”

“Negative, LT,” he heard her pant.

He saw her push the target through the door and onto the roof’s hidden balcony. Gaz was crouching down where he hid, his feet ready to run and his gun in his hands.

Ghost heard her sharply exhale and barely tracked her hand fly up to the target’s bicep. Then, he saw the target slump down to his knees and fall face-first to the ground.

“Is the target alive?” Ghost hissed, impressed but angry. “If you killed him—”

“Affirmative, LT,” she interjected, catching her breath and pulling an orange bag out of her clutch and depositing something in it. “Just a sedative. He’s gonna take a nice nap during the flight home.”

She hummed a random tune—her favorite song, Ghost noticed—as she put the bag back in her clutch. Honey waved at Gaz when he came out of hiding and walked over to her. Ghost saw her nudge the target with a bare foot and proudly put her hands on her hips.

“Bloody hell, Honey!” Gaz exclaimed, shaking his head. “Did Price know?”

“Affirmative,” Price boomed through the comms.

The helicopter came into view and Ghost stood up with a huff, slinging his rifle back across his body. He could see them helping Honey up onto the hovering ramp, her dress blowing in the wind. He chuckled before turning running into the forest behind him towards the rendezvous point.

“Headed your way, Lieutenant.”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Ghost replied as he came to a halt next to Soap in the clearing.

“LT!” Soap exclaimed, yanking his earpiece out, mouth agape. “Th’fuck I’d miss?”

“Ask Gaz,” he said simply, earning a groan from Soap.

The chopper thrummed overhead as it descended. They ran towards the ramp as it lowered, Honey’s triumphant face illuminated by the hold’s red light. Ghost climbed in and sat beside her with a grunt.

Once they were airborne and starting their flight back to base, Gaz described the scene Soap had only heard. Ghost noticed her diamond necklace was askew from her skirmish and hesitantly centered it. She gave him a soft smile and turned her head so her chin grazed over his covered knuckles. The gentle hum she gave him coated him in sticky-sweet syrup. “Honey” certainly was a perfect codename for her, he reckoned, contrasting her innocent sweetness and cutesy smiles with her impressive—and, at times, lethal—infiltration skills.

Yeah, Ghost was stuck in her treacly trap—and he didn’t plan on escaping.

masterlist

taglist (join here): @tizylish @dheet @sinfulsalutations

#thank you for the request!!#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley fic #cod fic #call of duty fic #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii fanfic #my fic #filled request

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blorbocedes · 2 months

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resharing riddle of rosberg by Will Buxton, because OP who originally posted it deactivated, and it's a very interesting read. since WB recently talked about how he didn't like Nico until they had a breakthrough moment and he realised that's his German sense of humour, this contextualises how people perceived Nico. Buxton wrote on Nico back in 2014, which covers his early GP2 career, the 2014 F1 season and provides a fascinating insight into Nico’s character. Highlights below:

I can’t recall the first time I met Nico Rosberg. All I remember is that I despised him, everything he was and all he represented: the cock-sure, entitled, bolshy son of a world champion. No grace, no humility. Wafting in, a blur of blonde hair and arrogance. A Formula BMW champion yes, but only a few F3 wins and just three years in single seaters gave what I held to be little foundation for such seeming conceit. I disliked him intensely. It got to the point where I held such disdain for him that I would actively seek for our paths to not cross… which was fairly hard given I was PRing the championship in which he was racing. I’d simply ask someone else to grab his quotes for me. They always seemed to be able to pull more out of him anyway.

Nico Rosberg had been quick from the outset, and watching his racecraft develop as the season went on became a growing point of emotional turmoil for me. He was so impressive; seemingly effortlessly rapid and blessed with a precision that was metronomic. But I just couldn’t like him. I wished he’d been a good guy, one I could get excited about. But instead I felt huge sadness that such a wonderful talent had been given to a guy who was apparently such a Class A prat.

I recall the low point only too well. He was breezing past on his way to dinner. His team-mate Alexandre Premat had topped qualifying, and I’d used the staggeringly unoriginal press release headline of “Premat Powers to Pole.”

“Why don’t I ever “power” to anything?” he pointedly sneered as he walked past.

I looked up, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit, and I wondered why he was being so petty. The headline was simple alliteration. I had probably or would probably use “Rosberg Reigns” at some point of the season on the back of one of his wins. It was just Nico being typical Nico.

“Dick!” I whispered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Later that night, I needed to talk to his then-PR guy Karsten Streng and hopped into the ART truck to find him.

“Karsten, can we have a chat?”

Out from behind his race overalls jumped Nico.

“Oh, so you don’t want to speak to me then? Huh? What’s that all about? You’d rather speak to Karsten than to me?”

I turned on my heels and walked out.

Karsten ran after me.

“Will, man, you can’t let that get to you. You know he’s only joking, right? Just fire it straight back at him. He’ll love it. He’s really a fun guy… honestly. But if you don’t give it back to him he’ll think he’s got the high ground. He loves a challenge.”

The next day Nico sent some pithy comment my way, so I turned around, flipped him the bird and winked. “Fuck you Rosberg.”

He looked taken aback. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was not behavior becoming of the championship’s press officer. Had I just managed to ruin any relationship I might have had with the man destined to be our first champion?

A smile broke across his face, and we never had a cross word again. Indeed, we started to get on really well. At the end of the season I received a package to my home, from Monaco. In it was an ART team shirt, signed by Nico, thanking me for my support. I had it framed, and it remains one of my most treasured pieces of memorabilia from my career in racing.

Nico was the most savvy driver I ever worked with. Stepping down from the podium after winning the GP2 title, he spoke to the awaiting press in turn, each in their own language. I’d only ever seen him in individual language press briefings, and to see him utilise such cool and calm intelligence so soon after the elation of what was at the time the most meaningful moment of his career left me astounded.

But therein lies the deepest issue with Nico Rosberg. He isn’t just smart. He’s the sort of smart that makes the rest of us question if we’re quite as clever as we thought we were. And at times it can be his undoing.

I’d seen his intelligence and need for the high ground cause him trouble time and time again in interviews, even in the GP2 days. The interviewer would sit down, all smiles, ready to start the conversation. But Nico, fearful of being on the back foot, would fire retorts and wrestle control of the interview back into his own hands. He would put the interviewer at ill ease in order to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. What resulted was a terrible interview, and the prevailing opinion of Rosberg being precisely the one I’d drawn when first we met: that he was cocky and arrogant. When I came back to journalism in 2008 I had booked a sit down with him at Williams and for the first 2 minutes of the interview, that’s exactly how he was: back against the wall, stand-offish, arrogant, unlikable. I switched off the Dictaphone and asked him if he was going to carry on being a prick or if we could do this properly. He looked sheepish, apologised, and we picked back up with what ended up being a great interview.

All of which led to a question often asked: is Nico Rosberg too smart for his own good?

It’s a question that has come back again this year.

Many will point to Monaco as a stand-out point of the season. I always felt Rosberg was smart enough to pull off that stunt in qualifying, but I never believed he was that cynical or cold. To be a world champion takes more than intelligence and speed. As I argued over Multi-21 last year, while we may hate to admit it, what marks the champions out from the also-rans is the ability to be a complete bastard when the moment arrives. In Monaco, Nico was the bastard and turned that qualifying controversy into a race win that had the ability to completely shift the tide of the season.

That it didn’t, however, is his own doing.

Lewis Hamilton is widely regarded as one of the best qualifiers in modern Formula 1. And yet, with a dominantly fast car at his disposal, he has lost the Pole Trophy to Nico Rosberg, the German amassing 10 poles to Hamilton’s seven. That metronomic precision has played into the Rosberg’s hands on many occasions this season, and more often than not it has given him the upper hand going into the race. On Saturdays at least, Rosberg has proved beyond doubt that he has the pace. But he hasn’t turned that Saturday pace on regularly enough in Sunday’s race.

Mentally, what happened in Budapest was also a tremendous shock. Hungary should never have affected him as much as it did. Perhaps it all comes down to how much brain capacity we consider Nico Rosberg as having, but that August break should have been used to move on from what he perceived as injustice, and start the second half of the season fresh and with total clarity of mind. Rosberg used all of that mindfulness, however, to focus on the negatives and came back to Spa with it still playing on his mind.

That incident on lap 2 of the 2014 Belgian Grand Prix has been poured over to frankly ridiculous degrees. To me, it was a nothing moment. Rosberg could have backed out, Hamilton could have given more room. That both went into it so pathetically ultimately resulted in the damage it did. If Rosberg had truly wanted to teach Hamilton a lesson then he should have gone in hard. That he didn’t is the only reason that Hamilton’s tyre was sliced. Any intent, and Rosberg would have snapped his front wing, bouncing it off the side of the Briton’s tyre. Hamilton would have stormed off into the distance while Rosberg was forced to switch his wing.

I argued at the time that Rosberg needed to embrace one side or the other. He needed to be a hero or a villain, because if he was neither, he risked becoming nothing. And so it emerged after the race that he had told Hamiton he had allowed the impact to happen. A step towards becoming that villain? Perhaps, but it wasn’t enough. And that’s the big sadness of his season. He has been so fast and so consistent, but his inability to pick a side and his attempts at being all things to all people has led to him being left wide open to attack from all sides.

The way he interacts with broadcast crews is an incredible illustration of this. In Monza, in speaking with me on American television he spoke in confident and unashamed tones despite his apparent dressing down by the team over Spa. With the Germans he was the same… almost bullish. And then to the British TV and radio crews, his shoulders slumped forward, his head bowed down, his tone was full of contrition and regret. What he was saying was no different to what he had told the German or international crews, but the way it was said was at total odds with how he had been just 10 seconds before.

Just as in Bahrain at that GP2 finale 10 years ago, I stood in awe. So savvy, so intelligent to his audience… but perhaps, in this instance, a reflection of him trying to be just that little bit too smart.

The thing is, he can be so charming too. He has a dry and sarcastic wit, which can sometimes be played out with a deft finesse. In America and Brazil, he started to have a very subtle jab at his championship rival by adopting Lewis Hamilton’s apparent mot du jour. In almost every interview, Rosberg would drop in a little comment about how “blessed” he felt. Shrewd. Subtle. At times, however, he can be a total child. In Hungary this year I was running from my commentary position to the GP3 podium to conduct the post race interviews. Time is tight at the best of times, but when I arrived at the swipe gates I felt an arm around my waist pulling me back. At first I thought it was an over-zealous security guard. But no. It was Nico, giggling away with a huge grin plastered across his face.

Should he be crowned 2014 Formula 1 world champion, be it through double points or, let’s hope, a barn-storming wheel-to-wheel thriller, some will still argue that Nico Rosberg does not deserve to be world champion. With them, however, I would disagree. Lest we forget, this is the only man who, over the course of a full Formula 1 season, finished ahead of Michael Schumacher as a team-mate. As if to reinforce the point, Rosberg achieved this giant toppling feat not once, but thrice.

His out-and-out pace in qualifying this year has been insurmountable. That he has won the inaugural Pole Trophy is evidence of that. So we know he has the pace, we know he has the temperament to win races, and we know that on occasion he can embrace his inner bastard and drive with the ruthlessness that sets world champions apart.

Nico Rosberg has shown repeatedly in 2014 that he possesses the attributes shared by the best of the best. We should not deny him his glory should he be confirmed as such on Sunday.

#will buxton straight up was writing how nico is a manic pixie dream girl #essential read for nicologists #nico rosberg #will buxton #nicology #longform article

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toomuchracket · 7 months

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black cat (dad!ross x reader fluff)

day 28 of promptober, the penultimate fic for me, and the return of dad!ross in fic form!! i like this one a lot. basically... you come home from work, and there's a cat in your gaff. cute! hope you enjoy <3

the first thing you see when you get home is your three year old son sat on the stairs by himself. keir is engrossed in one of the little thomas the tank engine picture books he loves so much, so engrossed that he doesn't even register the door opening, or the rush of cold air into the house that follows.

only when he hears the door close does keir look up. his little face lights up when he sees you, and he slowly sit-shuffles down, a stair at a time, before running to you and wrapping his entire little body around your leg. "hi mummy."

"hi baby," you lean down (with more difficulty than you'd care to admit) and kiss your son's head, shrugging your jacket off as you do. "how are you?"

"sleepy."

"me too, sweetheart," you hang your jacket on the coat stand. "you want up?"

keir nods, raising his arms. with a bit of effort, you scoop him up into your own - it's not that he's too heavy to lift, he's just so long-limbed (a trait he did not inherit from you) that manoeuvring him always takes a second. but it's worth it for the way he snuggles into you and faffs about with the string on your - well, ross's - hoodie.

speaking of ross - "where's dad, keir?"

"kitchen," comes the response, muffled by your jumper. "with eils."

"oh, ok. let's go and find them, yeah?"

keir nods sleepily into your neck, cuddling into you as you wander through the house. the incredibly tidy house, far neater than it was when you left this morning. there isn't a stray piece of lego anywhere, for once, and the carpets, you notice as you pad over them in your socks, have all been vacuumed to perfection. even the mess of blankets on the sofas have been folded - that never happens.

hmmmmm. interesting.

"what did you get up to today, then, baby? did you go to the park?" you nudge keir slightly when you see his eyelids fluttering closed. he's only just gotten past the napping phase, and you and ross are determined not to let him slip back into it.

your son brightens up immediately, and you know exactly what he's about to say. "yeah! me and dad played football. eilidh did cartwheels."

"who won the game?"

keir smiles smugly. "me."

"that's my boy!" you kiss his cheek.

he giggles. it makes your heart happy. "what did you do today, mummy? was your day good?"

oh, bless him. "it was, baby, thank you," you smile. "went to do some planning for when dad goes back to work. saw your auntie - she told me to give you a big hug from her, by the way - and cuddled lyla for a while."

"is the new baby here yet?"

"no, not yet. he will be soon, though."

(imminently, most likely - your friend is extremely, extremely pregnant. like, to the point that you were genuinely concerned about her leaving the house to hang out in a café with you. but she insisted, with an "i had to get out of there. matty's driving me up the fucking wall"; a statement you have also personally related to in life.)

keir hums. "and then he can play football with me."

"well, he won't be able to, for a while," you giggle, lightly poking your son's stomach. "he needs to learn how to walk first, remember."

"oh, yeah," he nods seriously. "maybe we can still get him a kit, though? just so he's ready?"

"i think your auntie and uncle will probably want to buy him his first one, but i'll ask them," you make a mental note to text after dinner. "sound good?"

keir nods again. he smiles, eyes crinkling really cutely, as you kiss his head and continue towards the kitchen. you can smell garlic and herbs and something rich that you can't quite name, wafting through the house quite deliciously; your stomach rumbles at the smell, but your eyes narrow. clean house, dinner on… ross is up to something.

as you near the kitchen, you can hear ross and eilidh whispering to each other through the half-open door. it's difficult to make out what exactly they're saying, over the sound of something bubbling on the stovetop, but they both sound fairly animated.

their backs come into view when you slowly nudge the door open with your hip, and find the two of them standing in front of the sink, bunned heads looking down at something in the basin. that image only lasts a split second, mind you; as soon as they hear the creak of the door (ross didn't fix that today like he's been promising to do for a week, apparently), the two of them spin round to face you so quickly that eilidh nearly falls off her ikea kids stepstool.

her eyes are wide, but ross smiles sweetly at you. "hi, my love. didn't hear you come in. you must've been really quiet."

to the untrained eye and ear, ross would seem completely unfazed right now. but to you, the person who knows him best in the world, his smile is slightly too fixed to be natural, and there's a tiny tremor to his voice… he's freaking out about something. what?

before you can question, though, keir speaks. "yeah, dad, she was quiet. i didn't notice she was there. and then the door closed and i knew."

"keir!" eilidh wails. "you were meant to notice! that was your job! you were on mummy lookout, stupid!"

"eilidh macdonald! don't be so rude to your brother!" you say sternly, at the same time keir buries his head in your neck, and ross turns to your five year old and just raises his eyebrows. it's quite impressive how quickly he can shut anyone up with that look - even you aren't immune, and that's saying something.

your eldest looks at her dad, then you, then at keir and his quivering lip, then at the floor. "sorry. please don't cry, keir, i didn't really mean it."

too late. you can feel both hot tears hitting off your bare neck and your son's shoulders rising and falling as he sniffles. ross nudges eilidh forward, and you don't miss the way he steps to the side so the sink is blocked from your line of vision; she tentatively puts a hand on her brother's arm and speaks. "really didn't mean what i said, keir, i'm really really sorry. please can we be friends again?"

keir turns to look at her with an expression of complete and utter betrayal. "you promise you didn't mean it?"

eilidh nods sincerely.

"'kay," keir sniffles. "but i get to tell mum the secret."

"deal."

"tell mum what secret?" you question, eyes flicking to meet your husband's. "has it got something to do with the suddenly very tidy house, and the dinner you're currently making? which, off topic, smells incredible. but yes. i would like to know what's going on."

"oh, you noticed the living room. nice," ross says, his face indicating the opposite.

"ross, babe, why are you freaking out?"

"i'm not! well - ok, fine," your husband sighs. "kids, you need to take over. it's better if it comes from you. you're cuter."

"aha! you are trying to butter me up," you point at ross, who just shrugs, and then look at keir. "ok, baby, tell me the secret."

"know how i said we went to the park and me and dad played football and i won and eilidh did cartwheels?"

you bite back a laugh. god, your little boy really is just so adorable. "yeah…"

"and when we were walking back home there was a cat."

he stops there. you wait for a beat and then talk. "ok…?"

ross interjects, hands on eilidh's shoulders to stop her from jumping in. "and what did the cat do, mate?"

keir has to think for a second; he grins when the penny drops. "oh! it followed us home."

the penny is also beginning its descent to the ground for you, now. "a cat followed you home…"

"...and now it's in the sink," keir finishes the sentence for you.

for fuck's sake.

"ross, can i talk to you in the hall for a second?" with great effort, you keep your voice steady, despite the fact you're screaming on the inside.

your husband sees that, though, of course he does. gulping almost imperceptibly, he nods. "kids, keep an eye on our guest, yeah? hands off, though. and no touching the cooker either."

"ok, dad," eilidh kindly runs to get her brother's stepstool and put it next to her own. "keir, come and see!"

you put your son down, and he runs to join his sister. she wraps her arm around his shoulders, and you allow yourself a second of smiling at how cute they are before you pull ross through the doorway and let your anger take over.

as soon as he closes the door behind him, you let rip. "you let our children bring an alley cat into my house?! just picked up a random creature off the street and brought it in? what if it's feral? or it has fleas? the last thing we need right now is it scratching someone's eye out. or an infestation, my god. wait, what if it's already got a home, and you've just stolen someone's pet? jesus christ, we could be criminals! i can't believe this. i need to sit down."

"love…" ross begins, tugging you into him in lieu of you sliding down the wall onto the parquet floor. something about the familiarity of his arms and aftershave enveloping you makes you teary, and he patiently rubs your back.

"what are we going to tell the kids?" you sniffle into ross's chest, not unlike the way your son was sniffling into your neck a moment ago. "when it turns out we can't keep it because it needs to be sheltered or it already lives somewhere else? they'll be distraught, babe! i can't do that to our babies."

ross unwraps his arms from your waist. your lips start to tremble as soon as he lets go, but you're appeased when he cups your face in his big hands instead. "listen to me, my love. please," he says firmly, but not unkindly. "d'you really think i'm daft enough to let our kids bring home a cat that i thought would ever hurt them, or you, or me?"

"no, but-"

"and don't you think i've checked with the neighbours to see if anyone's missing a cat? because i have. even spoke to scary margaret."

you giggle. "is she as terrifying up close?"

"worse. don't wanna talk about it," ross smiles, and you get the sense that everything will be alright. "popped into the vet on the corner to get our new friend checked, too. no microchip, no fleas - and i gave it a bath, too, just in case, did the fairy liquid trick and everything…"

"how the fuck did you know about that trick?"

ross sighs. "tiktok, but, love, it's really alright," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. "it's just… a random nice cat, who really likes our kids."

"you're sure?" you ask, still giggling sporadically at the way he defeatedly admitted to watching cat care tiktoks.

"positive."

"alright," another thought crosses your mind; you squint suspiciously at ross. "and what about the tidying, and the dinner? were you genuinely trying to butter me up?"

ross's cheeks go pink. it's adorable. "a little bit…"

"i knew it!"

"...but we also thought that it would be nice for the cat to see its new home in the best circumstances."

you loop your arms around the back of your husband's neck, grinning. "you're so sure i'll approve of this new addition to the household?"

"once the two of you finally meet, yeah," ross pecks your lips. "come on, love. before the dinner gets burnt and the kids start crying again."

shaking your head as you huff out a laugh, you take ross's hand and lead him back into the kitchen. he immediately heads towards the cooker, while you lean against the doorframe for a moment to watch eilidh and keir watch their new friend, still obscured from your line of sight. in spite of your inhibitions towards the whole situation, your babies' joy is undeniable, and you feel a proper fuzzy sense of love looking at them.

keir looks over his shoulder, beaming; dear god, he really is just ross's mini-me. "mummy, come and meet him!"

"him?" you raise your eyebrows as you pad over slowly. "you know he's a him?"

"we saw when we were washing him," eilidh doesn't look up from the sink, too fixated on her new furry friend. "well, me and keir didn't. but dad says he's a boy."

you look briefly over at ross, who nods in confirmation, before patting your daughter's head. "well, i guess we're outnumbered, bean. you cool with that?"

eilidh nods. "he's so cute i don't care. look, mum!"

you do as requested, and your jaw drops. lying half-wrapped in a soft old baby towel you had no idea you still had, sat in the belfast sink, is the cutest little kitten you think you've ever seen; almost pure black, with a tiny little white patch of fur on the top of its head and the biggest green eyes you know you've ever seen on a cat. it looks fairly healthy, if slightly on the thinner side, and content to be in the warmth of your kitchen and be gawked at by your kids.

experimentally, you rest your hand just so on the rim of the sink, so your fingers almost dangle down; the cat stretches and stands, then wanders over to you and gently nuzzles into the digits. he purrs as he does, and any and all reservations you had about keeping him dissipate completely.

"hi, darling," you coo, gently picking the cat up and cradling him. he lets you do so with absolutely no resistance, purring the whole time as you scratch at his stomach. "oh, you're just the loveliest, aren't you? would you like to stay here with us? yeah? we would like that too - wouldn't we, kids?"

eilidh and keir answer in hushed tones, taking it in turns to carefully pet their new friend. ross wanders over, smiling, and kisses your head. "guess we'll need to name him now, yeah?"

you nod. "what do you think, kids?"

"salem," eilidh answers immediately.

ross squints. "have you been watching sabrina the teenage witch?"

"yeah."

"i mean, great show, but where, baby?" you ask.

"at lyla's."

"oh, ok," ross nods, then leans down to whisper in your ear. "how upset d'you reckon matty'll be when i tell him he's been replaced as eilidh's favourite?"

"oof," you wince. "heartbroken. anyway," you shift your attention back to the kids. "what's your choice, keir?"

your youngest ponders for a moment, looking intently at the cat. "he kinda looks like toothless. maybe that?"

ross pouts, like the cuteness is too much for him. "he does look like toothless the dragon! that's better than my choice, keir - i was going to say guinness, because of his head."

you scoff - typical ross - while eilidh's brow furrows. "i don't get it."

"and that's why we shouldn't call him that," you say, stroking the cat's little head. "we can have a think during dinner and decide later. i'll hang onto him; i think i need to get to know him better before i make any name choices."

ross smirks. "alright, love."

true to your word, the cat genuinely does not leave you the whole night, except to take food and water breaks - you continue to hold him while ross dishes up the pasta he made, he naps as you eat dinner, and he curls up contentedly on your lap as you watch tv with a cuppa later in the evening.

and yet… you still can't think of a name for him. the process of coming up with one becomes so tortuous that you have to text the friend you saw earlier in the day:

you: hi babe, hope you're having a good night! would either you or matty be able to drop off that baby-name book i loaned you tomorrow? i unexpectedly need it back lol x

bff: WHAT

bff: of course i'll drop it off but OMFG ARE YOU PREGNANT AGAIN

you: omg haha no

you: sorry i kinda implied that didn't i x

another text interrupts your convo:

shortarse: fucksake can you not stress us out like that please

shortarse: she genuinely got so excited about the thought of another baby macdonald that i honestly thought she was going to go into labour

shortarse: tf do you need the book for then

you: came home to find ross and the kids had brought home a cat lol

shortarse: fuck off

shortarse: send pics

shortarse: wait no ew that sounds weird nvm

shortarse: can we come over and meet it lol

you: drop the book off tomorrow and i'll consider it

you: also keir wants to buy the baby a football kit lol can we? nufc obv

shortarse: sound

shortarse: aww i love that kid

shortarse: of course he can get a kit

shortarse: also my girl says you should have another baby and it can be best friends with our baby lol

shortarse: i mean it's not like our kids won't be best friends anyway

shortarse: but you get the point

shortarse: i think it would be cute tbh

shortarse: anyway i'm off to go and calm her down before our son makes his debut appearance on the carpet

shortarse: byeeeeeeee we love you all we'll see you tomorrow

you: we love you too!

chuckling, you click your phone off and throw it to the side of the couch. ross lifts his head from your chest as you do. "what are you giggling at, love?"

"i just asked if someone from the healy household could drop the baby-name book off, because i genuinely have no idea what to name our new friend…"

"...and they thought we were having another baby?" ross smiles, kissing your cheek.

"there was so much excitement that the new baby almost made an appearance, apparently," you smile as ross throws his head back laughing. "but i explained that you and the kids had been adopted by a cat…"

"...and matty insisted on dropping the book off tomorrow so he could meet it?"

"god, you're good at this game. he did, after asking me to, and i quote, send pics. of the cat, obv," you shake your head. "i was spared a pussy pics joke, thankfully."

ross snorts. "well, he has got baby brain."

"i'll say. he and the missus tried to convince me that us having a third kid would be cute."

your husband smiles, softly caressing the sleeping cat and trailing his hand up your arm. "well, i wouldn't be opposed to it."

"really?" you gently turn his head so he's looking at you - there's not a shred of insincerity in those lovely eyes of his. "you're not just saying that to further fulfil your dream of shagging a milf?"

"no, love," ross giggles, and your heart skips a beat. "i'm just saying, i wouldn't mind having another baby with you. but i think we should probably at least name the fluffy one on your lap first."

"yeah. and sort out litter trays and all that," you scratch the cat between the ears, and savour the purring that he emits. it's a perfect little domestic tableau you've got going on, what with you snuggled into ross with the cat asleep on your lap, and eilidh and keir sat on the floor against ross's legs, happily watching bluey; a baby would slot in perfectly. "i'm up for it too, though. i love our family. i love you. and i think we should at least consider a third kid."

"i love you too," ross leans in to kiss you sweetly. "fourth, though."

"hmm?"

"the cat. our third kid. a baby would be the fourth."

you smile. "i suppose you're right. ok, let's give our third kid some time to settle in and get used to the house - which, by the way, i expect to be this tidy all the time from now on - and then we'll discuss a fourth. sound good?"

ross kisses you again. "sounds great."

#mads muses #mads does writing #dad!ross #promptober75 #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader

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lady-of-endless · 3 months

Text

Amor Fati (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

(lovely gif is not mine, please show appreciation to the OP)

Author's Notes: Italics=Flashback!!! Surprisingly, this has to be one of my favorite fics I ever written.

If you want to go for the full experience, you can listen to this song I used to write it on repeat: https://youtu.be/4cfeGqMGIa0?si=ABbfS4SqOqYj7qgb

Warnings: descriptions of physical injuries and pain (Croco is suffering a bit).

Tags/tropes: old flame, new old flame, reunion, distressed Croco - as I mentioned in the warnings.

It is believed that across an infinite span of time, everything repeats endlessly in your life. Some events are like relentless echoes, whispers that can accompany the present.

Sir Crocodile did not believe in such philosophy, not when for him the past stayed dead.

His inner brows were raised in boredom as he watched some thief being brought into his office by two of his men. This thief stole supplies from his syndicate's stock and it seemed just a minor headache he needed to get rid of. He puffed on his cigar, blowing out a dense cloud of smoke as he looked at the person in silence. The one that was interfering with his work was unfortunately tied up, sitting on a chair in front of Crocodile's desk, with a hood on their head. He made a sign to his men to leave him alone with the culprit.

Crocodile sighed and walked to the person, his words coming out naturally because of how many times he used them.

"You should have known better." He started in a low tone, grabbing the dark cloth and getting rid of the hood to see the face of the victim.

There weren't many times a man like him got speechless in front of someone. His eyes widened and his pulse quickened as he recognized your face.

"Oh dear..." The man heard you say in a shocked voice from a triggered flashback.

Crocodile was too vulnerable to dismiss you, too exhausted and broken from his battle with Whitebeard. He was stumbling through narrow streets at night when you found him like that. There was blood in one of his eyes making it hard to see clearly and some on his face and he couldn't understand why. The pain in his arm was dominating any other pain from other wounds he had. He didn't even want to look down at his body, not wanting to realize the damage.

A stranger rushed to help him. You offered him help, stitches, a bath, a place to stay for a while and sort his thoughts.

Days went by and you stayed by his side until he was healed enough and until you finally knew his name and he knew yours. Possibilities of silent bonding moments were always neglected by him as he faked sleeping whenever you would check his bandages and temperature. It seemed like healing took such a long time for him but he was not alone. You were the one he was shouting at when the pain from his phantom limb was unbearable, shouting and clinging to you tightly. You were the one to patch the scar from his face over and over again when he took off his bandages too early in an ardent wish to get rid of them. Every day, you were trying to come up with ideas for a prosthetic for his left arm and every day you tried to be there for him.

So many times, you witnessed his wrath, not because of his scars but because of his failure.

There was denial, then anger - lots of it, understanding of his situation followed by despair. You never got to see him go through acceptance, he passed that as he started planning his next steps with a furious determination. He was blessed with ambition but poisoned with rage. You listened to his grand plans until it was late at night because he wasn't the one to open up so when it happened, you always listened closely. He denied it but he wanted to change for you, he wanted to show you and everyone that he can get powerful and wealthy.

All until one morning, when he was gone.

Not a goodbye note, not a thank you, not a clue of where he might go. Only his used bandages were left behind like damaged skin that had been shed by a reptile. And old skin of the man he was before those scars.

His eyes were now analyzing your face, trying to assess what changed about you and what stayed the same but you did the same. Crocodile scowled as your eyes woke up useless nostalgia and caution in him. He saw you looking at the scar from his face like you haven't seen it before so many times.

"Don't worry about it." You said once as you fixed the last strap of bandage from his face. "It will look good on you." You added with a reassuring smile.

Now a ghost of that old smile he remembered played on your lips.

"It does look good on you." You finally talked, tilting your head and studying him more.

Immediately after that, your eyes followed his left arm, down to where his hand was destroyed in the past. Your breath hitched as you noticed a golden hook. The sharp replacement looked heavy, you wondered if it caused him pain.

"Do not look at me with the pitiness from years ago." He said in a voice that was intentionally cold, knowing how his eyes probably softened at the sight of you after so many years.

He was standing tall before you like he tried to prove himself and his growth to you, something out of his character, something he never did nowadays.

"I'm not." You tried to lie and change the expression on your face. "Just worried."

Crocodile sighed at your care. He wished that this trait would disappear from you in time, but it did not. He lit up another thick cigar and his eyes lowered on the bindings from around you.

"I cannot say that I am glad to see you again. Not like this." He started, regarding you messing up by stealing from his allies without even knowing. "But I am pleased to see that you are still alive so I can finally pay my debt. With this being said, I will let this minor incident pass without consequences." He explained in a monotone voice as he moved closer to untie you even if he knew he should keep his distance to maintain his composure.

You waited patiently, not being able to take your eyes off him. Crocodile was taller, broader, and sophisticated, with a deep voice and a few fine expression lines on his forehead that made you curious. His slicked-back hair made you want to run a hand through it only to remember how it looked messy. He tried not to look at you as he bent down slightly but his eyes met your lips and the curve of your neck, his favorite spots he used to look at in the past to calm himself down.

"You started smoking." You blurted out as he leaned closer to untie the knot from your back and smoke from his cigar invaded your nostrils. His moves stopped for a moment in which he looked at her eyes from up close.

"You started stealing." He muttered narrowing his eyes. "From whom you should not, even." He said with a calm intensity.

"I had to." You responded firmly. "You never know when you stumble across an injured man that you need to share your supplies with." You retorted with mirth, never breaking eye contact.

You could have sworn that you caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face at your ironic answer.

After he freed you, Crocodile walked straight to a cabinet where he kept his liquor and prepared two glasses for them. He felt like he needed it after the reunion with a face from his past, a face he could not get back to, and maybe try to thank for everything.

"So...Who did I steal from more precisely?" You finally asked calmly breaking the silence. You wondered what he had become in all this time he went missing.

The image of you standing in front of him now slowly made Crocodile allow himself to bring back old memories he tried so hard not to recall.

Little by little, Crocodile started to list every plan from those he told you in the past, the difference being that now those were already successful. For a few moments, it felt the same as it was years ago as you listened to him. As much as he changed, there still was a certain dangerous gleam in his eyes when he talked about his goals with you that remained the same. While he was narrating most of the horrible things he did to get where he was there, the sun was slowly setting in the desert, seen from the window behind him. Crocodile even went further and subtly conjured fine grains of sand around himself to show you the ability he has. You thought about how he truly looked like a Desert King.

The two of you, who seemed like you had never met before because of how much you have changed but yet somehow recognized each other at your very core, looked into each other's eyes and felt a sense of eternal recurrence.

You listened to everything he said, sipping his fancy alcohol and clinging to the nostalgia while he clung to the possibilities of this reunion.

Perhaps it was a chance to start over and do things right this time, but it also meant a chance to repeat his mistakes all over again.

#one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile op #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x you #sir crocodile fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece x reader #sir crocodile headcanons #one piece hc #op crocodile #crocodile one piece #sir crocodile one piece

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tarotwithdanise · 1 year

Text

20 things that May will brings to you.

This can be realizations you will feel, new hobbies, your career and finances, love and relationships, blessings or negative outcomes that you might be experiencing.

༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ how to choose a pile? ✧ . ˚

꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.

MASTERLIST - PAID READING SERVICES - TIPPING JAR

1 - 2

3 - 4

Pile one

If this pile may have many negative messages outcome for you, don't claim them focus on the positive sides and avoid dealing with them. Perhaps we can't probably do that all the time, in the first week of this month wear something dark such as black especially in days like 2nd and 11th or in every Tuesday and Friday to block any evil eye. Additional advice here, put salt in your doorway and do smoke ritual.

Going back to places that reminding you your childhood ; a heal for your inner child.

There are some outcomes that will make you so happy.

If you are someone who is in the field of social media like influencer or well known in a specific community- you probably gonna gain a lot of followers that will respect and honor you the most.

A shocking news ; can be bad or good well it's depends on you on how you perceive this situation.

Someone in your back doesn't agree with you at all and just playing nice towards you because they can benefit something from you, for simple description; you are a tool for them.

If you are experiencing unstable health currently, this pile is a confirmation that you are in good health yet slow and steady.

You might loss some of your property.

An enemy ; an averting evil for you will watched your moves this month. And possibly waiting for you around the corner.

If you are planning to learn some new language, new diet plan or new instrument, this tells you this is the right time for you start.

A sincere new friendship may build and come for this month.

Some of your efforts will be crowned with success.

You will be a bridge to a new develop couple so they can linked and get together.

Good fortune is coming and so you need to trust your family more.

Satisfaction in your home may likely to happen.

You will pay attention and focus to your physical and mental health.

Someone who is strong authority and influence to the public will be significant for you.

A healing for you with a married woman ; this can be your mother. Healing about your mother wound issues.

If you planning to get married with this month. You and your partner may have a happy and comfortable life.

Be careful when investing money or buying something from someone, you might get scammed.

You will find yourself truly blessed with the Universe with this time. And so you feels like to inspire others as well be inspired from them.

Thank you so much for reading my work, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated. Tipping jar is already mentioned above of this post !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

Pile two

Planning to meet someone who is popular and famous?Like attending to your favorite idol concert? This will bring a lot of happiness for you. You will enjoy this situation. If not, you are likely planning and savings money for you to actually meet them.

Someone who will get married or if not, you likely to attend and be invited with this wedding.

A partnership. Agreement or soul connection may happen this month with someone.

You will develope a new exercise plan or if not, you maybe interested to join in a exercise program.

Your spiritual growth and intuition will be on point.

You will forgive someone.

Your like or crushing to someone may develop into the next level of like, especially love.

Step out of your comfort zone. (In case, you were looking for a sign this maybe a sign for you to start doing it.)

You bring love and peace into a situation.

Shock from a bad news.

A end of someone or something, can be an actual 💀.

You will be surrounded by true friends.

Fulfilment of your high hopes.

For some, new love may develop.

Swimming??Not sure if it's pool or beach though.

You will discover a secret of someone.

Family quarrels may come.

You will receive a good fortune and neutralize the evil near to you.

Strong unexpected fortune.

You will receive a message from someone that will touch your heart.

Thank you so much for reading my work, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated. Tipping jar is already mentioned above of this post !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

Pile three

You may somehow feel deeply hurt.

Manifesting exactly what you want, just keep a positive mindset.

Moving on from a heart break and arriving of someone.

An awaited message may finally arrives ; text, call, email.

You will be talked online? You will be relevant somehow for others.

You will stop a toxic pattern.

A short embarrassment may happen to you that will follow a happiness moment.

Someone might stole something from you so better watched out your things ; a theft.

You maybe get a rival for a competition into someone or something.

A confession from someone you know.

If you have business, it will like get recognition and success.

A enemy will decided to go and turn their back away from you.

Motivation for others and for yourself.

A change of mind.

New pet or working on a new jobs.

A personal issues will finally found it's solution.

You will decide to work with your fears because you think your bigger than them.

You will start dancing and connecting more with Nature.

Starting a new hobbies especially baking sweet treats and writing a journal.

A planned vacation may happen or you will move into a new house, room or dorm.

Thank you so much for reading my work, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated. Tipping jar is already mentioned above of this post !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

Pile four

A get together with your friends.

New hair color and hair style.

After a long months of not watching a movie, you will decided to watch again.

A study to stars or if not, a study to astrology.

You will go to see a doctor for check up.

You will buy a new sets of book for yourself.

Deep breathing can calm down your anxiety, you will nourish your temple.

You will let yourself to be playful and enjoy for this month.

A new phase of your life will be happening and preparing yourself for an union with the next coming months.

A freedom from toxic relationship or addiction habits.

Contented of being alone, you will start your own self-care.

A pain???

Your fierce enemies are near to you with this month.

A popularity of someone or yourself will bring so much joy to you.

Your feelings for someone will grow be intense.

Important advice from someone who is female.

You will have a lot fun coming here for you pile four.

Someone you like will like you equally can be friends like platonic.

Someone will try to gaslighting you so be aware.

You will find out something from someone that will shock you and everyone.

Thank you so much for reading my work, let me know your thoughts, feedbacks as well tipping and reblogs is well appreciated. Tipping jar is already mentioned above of this post !! ♡

࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚ 𝓞 ops you already reached the end. ࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚࿙‌֒࿚

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onnoffwrites · 8 months

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I have been losing my shit over this damn panel for the past THREE DAYS (more or less) and I need to yell somewhere so it's gonna go here.

It all began when I was writing my fic (I think this was for My Immortal), and I needed to recap significant hakukai moments. And I remembered "hey, I should include this one thing saguru said during sunset manor that was stupidly super gay for no fucking reason" bc like, yea hakukai not canon, but if canon was gonna give me a whole ass confession then I might as well use it. So, like always, I head to mangadex to look for this panel... Except... It's not there... The line... The line's not there... But I remember... I remember something about "the only one to disrupt/disturb my thinking/mind"... Where... I didn't imagine that right? I mean I read a lot of google translated Chinese fanfics but... I REMEMBERED reading that line... In a manga... In English... ON mangadex...

This is where I should mentioned, that if you weren't around for the Great Collapse of Mangadex. Then... Well, so there was this period of time where mangadex just DIDNT EXIST. Bc there was some cyber?? Attack??? On the site??? I can't fully remember. But it like wiped out most of the site. The mangas r just, gone. So mangadex fixed it. It took a while bc they figured "might as well revamp our site and system". And they did. And it's great. And it looks beautiful now, even more than before.

But see. The line I remembered? Yea... Yea that was from before The Collapse. And mangadex let multiple translation groups submit their translations. So u can read diff translations of diff group, see how things are interpreted differently... And... I remembered this one, that I posted here up top, but I remembered there was another. One that had The Line.

And it was driving crazy so, like usual, I asked my cn friend. But my cn friend (why am I still saying that, it's @beingvv , that's the friend) has A Life, and isn't always online, and we love that for ppl. So. I'm still crazy. I can't trust my own damn mind and memory bc why tf do I remember something that isn't there (happened before btw, but that has nothing to do with this).

Luckily, I have a friend who knows jp. UNLUCKILY, I don't have the jp raws and it's from chapter 300 and we are in the thousands. So, I went back to losing my mind. Until I found it again, and realized. Heyyyyyyy there's a whole ass ANIME. So like the baggage my dear friend had the misfortune to be saddled with, I went to find the ep, timestamped it, yelled begged them for help.

This is where I lose my damn mind the first time in the recent weeks.

(thank you my dear piglet, u don't even go here but u tolerate my insanity)

THIS. THIS WAS THE LINE. THATS WHAT I REMEMBERED.

So, I feel a little more sane (bc my mind didn't fabricate a memory again) and also A LOT more insane bc WHY WOULD U SAY THAT, HAKUBA SAGURU 😭😭😭 WHY WOULD U SAY IT LIKE THAT 😭😭😭

In any case I feel validated. Told beingvv about my discoveries (for whenever they come back) not that they need it cn fandom already got the correct translation. And finished writing my fic.

And then Saguru's comeback was announced.

So I've been losing my shit for 3 days on twitter, looking at all my fave KR and JP accounts and the things they say.

And then someone dug up and old tweet thread that talked about this panel. Specifically, op talked about the nuance in the word choice used.

Here's the og thread if anyone wants to read or Google translate it urself.

(mkppyong my love, bless you)

Bc mkppyong talked to a jp acquaintance about ??? Uh I dunno just language I guess. POINT IS. They pointed out that gosho used specific words/phrases that really wasn't needed if all he wanted to say was "the only one who drives me crazy/mad." But he did used them. It's specifically "his thoughts/mind" that's being driven crazy. And that if he wants to just talk about Saguru's mind being disrupted/confused, then there's rly no need to use the words "go crazy"

And then they wrote out a whole symbolism about clocks and saguru and being broken down/disrupted and I lost my shit over the clock symbolism, sue me 😭😭😭

I don't think I'm making sense anymore bUT WAIT, THERES MORE, THE FINAL BLOW

THE THAI TRANSLATION

This is where I expose myself more than I ever want to, but here's a fact. I'm thai

Here's a second fact. I'm SHIT at Thai. I've been bad at this language before I got good at English. My Thais as good as an elementary student. Every time I understand difficult words I get confused bc where did I know THAT from???

In any case, point is, I saw that tweet, read the text, immediately understood it and began losing my shit all over again... And then I doubted... Bc like, I'm not good with this lang anymore... Maybe im understanding it wrong? So I look up Google.

Google: คลุ้มคลั่ง just means go crazy

So I was like, damn guess I'm wrong, read too much into this. BUT SEE BC I LIVE HERE I HAVE FRIENDS WHO ARENT A DISGRACE. And so my friend said:

SO WELCOME TO MY THIRD ROUND OF INSANITY.

HAKUBA SAGURU WHY WOULD U SAY THIS SHIT IN FRONT OF LIKE NINE OTHER PPL 😭😭😭😭😭 BOY WHY R U TELLING THEM UR OBSESSED 😭😭😭 youre driving ME crazy 😭😭😭

So. Here we are. At the end. I have no idea how tf I'm supposed to end this post. I'VE been obsessed for 3 days straight. I don't have a lot of braincell left in me (there weren't any to begin with). I don't have a statement to wrap this post up in a nice little bow. Go make ur own conclusion I dunno.

But I would not have been losing my shit over this stupid panel for a month if it wasn't for the fact that eng translation was missing a pretty crutial thing in what Saguru said. I don't know if this was a mistranslation or a misunderstanding or something, but the English translation was lacking. And I love and have always been thankful and grateful to the ppl who worked hard to translate mangas in their free time, and do it all for free, bc I haven't had any real way to rent/borrow mangas from renting shops/libraries in years. So this was one of the only ways I can read mangas. But, even as I checked the raw panel with Google lens just now, even google translate it as "the only one to make my thoughts go round." No where was there any mention of "case" and "solving." So that's just, multiple accounts of ppl who knows jp, including native jp speakers, all saying that this panel is Saguru saying "the only one to drive me crazy". And man I rly hope this doesn't make me come off as ungrateful or like shitting on the translation team, I'm rly not. But yea. Uh. The translation was wrong. And I remembered that there used to be a diff eng translation. And it led me to go to all this trouble and journey to find out what was actually said. And here we are, at the end.

The only one who could disrupt Saguru's thinking.

The only one who could disturb Saguru's mind.

The one whose sole existence drives him mad.

The only one to make his mind obsess over till he's driven to madness.

Or to use the symbolism mkppyong wrote: the only one to break down the clock, the precise and accurate mechanism, that is Hakuba Saguru.

#hakuba saguru #hakukai #magic kaito #dcmk #sagukai #ramblings #oh god this is long #lost in translation #tbh it's also FOUND in translation #long ass fucking post holy shit #im sabotaging my own fics by tagging this with thr ship tags tbh #now my fic posts are completely buried #edit: not me noticing several typos months later

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fishynurse · 2 months

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its ok x we know the truth is vile is still salty about the breakup so he likes the ego boost .(if vile ends me for that its fine im taking one for the team 🫡)your doing great out there x do your best you lovable blueberry (also bless your art ,your art is so great and comfy and makes my day honestly, take care of yourself get lots of rest and i wish you lots of happiness and good vibes op 💕)

(AHH THANK YOU 💕that makes me so happy gosh…i’m crying, you’re very kind and i hope you have a wonderful day! i’m sending you the biggest hug mystery person!)

#quiet questions with robots #sorry for the lack of finished arts lately though ahh i’ve been taking it easy while working on WIPs #these silly asks are great warms ups so hehe

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cyberrose2001 · 1 year

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hi hope you're well, a kinda long text coming...

with all the requests FILLED (literally) with joy with optimus, I shall be the one to break it HAHAHA so... can you do like a scenario where the reader and optimus are happy living their lives with the sparklings (imagine triplets!!!) everything is perfect but then........

optimus wakes up from his dream and realizes it all, the perfect family is not real, the reader is not alive, not being able to live with it, he suffers everyday bc of those dreams, he traps himself in this "reality" of his dreams (like that episode fr tfp on Megatron's mind) and isolate himself

hope that's not to sad >:) and if you're comfortable writing this, if not sorry.

Thank you author ❤️❤️❤️

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

you're very welcome anon!! this took waaaay too many drafts HAHA but im quite happy with it now, this is such a sad concept and now i just wanna give op a hug :(

I should also mention that I left the details of the sparklings biology unspecified. Whether you prefer them to be cybertronian, human or half-and-half is up to you! <3

Warnings: Angst, SFW

Word count: 1436

“Optimus, honey?” The wonderful voice of his lover called out to him. Closing the front door behind him, Optimus breathes a sigh of relief. Her soft voice calling out his name plays on repeat in his processor. “Is that you? Could you come and help me for a second?”

He had no idea how he got so lucky, to start a family with who he considers the most beautiful specimen in the known universe. Together, they both created three sparklings, all triplets and it was further proof that either Primus or another deity of life had seen the good that Optimus had done and blessed him with both her and sparklings. The day he found out that she was pregnant with them was the first time in his life that he experienced pure joy, the second time was when she gave birth to his little ones and officially became a sire.

With a soft smile, Optimus follows her voice to the playroom of the quaint house he calls home. He is thankful that mass displacement technology exists, allowing him to comfortably live in the house with his family. He observes from the doorway as his sparklings play with stuffed toys and little building blocks, making an absolute mess of the room. He clears his throat and leans against the doorway with folded servos, “I hope you young ones are going to help your mother with cleaning up.”

Three small heads perk up at the voice of their sire, all of them dropping their toys and bouncing over to him. He kneels down and gives his two sons a strong hug, pecking them both on the heads with kisses.

“Daddy!” The last born of the three calls out to him. Optimus chuckles softly as he opens his arms for her, embracing her close to his chassis. Now Optimus is not the one to pick favourites with his sparklings and loves them all equally, but his only daughter was the first one to hug him whenever he came home. She was also the one who took the most interest in his stories of when he was the great leader of the Autobots, constantly begging for her sire to re-tell them as a bedtime story, with the more graphic details left out. It makes the inner archivist within Optimus swell with pride that at least one of his sparklings has taken a liking to the history of his home planet.

“Hello, my sweetspark.” Optimus nuzzles his faceplate to her nose, enjoying the little giggles that erupted from her. He picks her up and places her on his hip, a servo supporting her under her bottom, “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah! Look what I do!” His toddler babbles as she points to a large tower made out of the small plastic blocks. It wasn’t very impressive by Cybertronian standards of what sparklings can do, but it doesn’t matter to Optimus, he will gush over anything that his kids build or draw in order to expand their creativity.

“Did you build that?” Optimus smiles at her, “How clever of you, honey.”

She nods eagerly, a big grin on her face, “Mommy helped!”

“Did she?” He looks towards his wife who was kneeled on the floor, stomach swollen with the life of another sparkling. She was sorting out the seemingly endless pile of toys that was thrown about on the floor. Optimus can’t help but admire his wifes devotion to their children, playing with them even when heavily pregnant. The incredible and important job of being a mother is something that Optimus has learned and respected during his time on Earth, especially after witnessing it firsthand.

“I did, now could you help me get up off the floor?” She chuckles, a hand rubbing her pregnant stomach.

Optimus carefully steps over the toys to walk over to her. He offers his servo and she graciously took it, pulling her up off the floor. She huffs a little bit and tries to catch her breath, bent knees trying to brace the weight of her unborn child.

“Thank you, love.” She sighs, lightly tracing the servo that still held onto her hand, “You would think I’d learn from my previous pregnancy to not get on the floor.”

Optimus laughs softly, readjusting his daughter on his hip, “It is probably not the wisest decision.”

She laughs, reminiscing the memory of her stuck on the floor while she was pregnant with the triplets, and he can feel himself falling in love with her all over again. She is absolutely glowing, and Optimus can’t help but bask in her natural beauty. Leaning forward, he presses a chaste kiss to her lips, smiling through it as he hears their sparklings protest as most children do when they see their parent’s smooch, “Yucky, Daddy!”

He pulls away from the kiss and brushes a servo across the tight skin of her stomach, feeling the little kicks of their soon-to-be newborn. Optimus doesn’t want to jinx anything yet, but he prays to Primus that it is another little girl.

She smiles and places her own hand on top of his, sharing the moment together. But Optimus does not notice that her smile faltered for a second.

“Optimus, you know that this can’t last forever.” His wife whispers quietly so that the sparkling he held can’t hear.

Optimus perks his helm up to look at her, confusion plastered on his face, his gentle caresses on her stomach halting for a moment, “What cannot last forever?”

She reaches a soft hand out to caress his faceplates, a small tear threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks. Despite being incredibly confused at his wife’s turn of behaviour, Optimus felt a need to comfort her and returns the gesture to wipe her own tears away.

“It’s not healthy for you… you need to wake up.”

Taking a step back, digits leave her face as he nearly trips on the carpet. The words that just left your lips made his spark sink to the floor. There was no way that Optimus was dreaming, he refused to believe, not when everything that has happened within the last few months felt so real and genuine. As quick as he felt his spark sink, the cosy home that surrounded his family began to crumble and disappear around him, falling into an endless cold void. The weight of his daughter on his hip was no longer there. The softness of his wife’s hand had disappeared. Optimus was left with nothing but the darkness of his empty mind. And at that point, Optimus felt his own optics lubricate and fall down into the void, the last echoes of his wife reaching his audial receptors.

“Optimus…”

“Optimus.”

“Optimus!”

Optics snap open, scanning the ceiling above him. In an instant, he sits up right on the berth below and vents heavily. He looks around carefully at his environment and realises that he is in his berthroom on the Autobot base, it feels lifeless.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” A gentle yet firm voice reassures and pushes him back onto the berth, “I heard a distress signal from your internal instruments, is everything alright?”

Optimus recognises Ratchet, but the old bots words are drowned out by his processor running on overdrive. His wife, his sparklings, and his unborn little one are no-where to be found. Frantic optics flicker around every inch of the emptiness of his berthroom, hoping and wishing that they would be waiting just outside the room or hiding somewhere, playing that fun earth game called hide-and-seek that he enjoyed playing with his sparklings.

Ratchet notices the distant look in his friend’s optics and places a servo on his shoulder to try and ground him to the present, “Optimus, you’re fine, it seems as if you have just experienced a nightmare.”

His grip on the berth was hard. That was no nightmare. That was his life, a life that has now been taken away from him as a cruel punishment. All Optimus had ever wanted was right there in his grasp. He didn’t care about his friends, and he didn’t care about the Autobot cause anymore.

He just wants his family back.

“It was not.” Optimus whispers out, vocaliser stuttering. He knew Ratchet wouldn’t understand the monumental loss that he had just suffered, but Optimus could not deal with his old friend at this point in time. Just as Ratchet was about to question him, Optimus lets out a pained sob.

“Please…” He held his helm in his servos as lubricant began leaking from his optics once again, “Just leave me be.”

#transformers #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp optimus x reader #angst #sfw #x reader

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

Text

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Hey, Jealousy

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: NSFW, SMUT HEAVY CHAPTER, MDNI. Canon typical violence mentioned. Note: HELLO ALL! It's been a minute! This fic isn't going anywhere by any means, just had a bit of writer's block and lack of motivation to write for a bite lol. A special thank you to @lethalchiralium for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

“This is your target. Memorize it.” John paused as the surveillance photo of their target, a dark-haired woman with almond-shaped eyes, made its way between the trio. He placed a black cell phone in the center of the table while Soap regarded the image. “Freyja, you’re the best pickpocket out of all of us. Your task is to lift her phone and swap it out with the duplicate. Rumor has it there’s a major weapon’s deal rearing up, and I want to know when and where.”

Taking a moment to examine the photo now pinched between her thumb and forefinger, Freyja raised a brow. While she wasn’t one to judge solely based on appearances (a tactic she relied upon herself many times), the woman pictured looked far from an arms dealer. She seemed fairly young. “She has the details?”

Price nodded and partially sat on the table, arms crossed over his chair. “She’s the buyer. Rather unassuming, I know, but our intel is good.”

“Bloody hell,” Ghost mumbled, leaning into her space to sneak a peek. “They just keep gettin’ younger and younger…”

“Ah dinnae mean to be rude, but Ghost’s no’ exactly inconspicuous. A bit hard nae tae notice a giant with headgear at a social event.”

A fair point. Ghost was the tallest member of the team outside of König.

“Which is why you will be partnered with the Captain.” Freyja didn’t miss how her husband’s watchful gaze flickered between her and her co-captain. “You’ll have to couple it up to blend in; a single woman at an event like this would draw suspicion. Ghost will be going undercover as security detail and watch your six.”

“Me? Are ye sure, Captain?”

“Affirmative, Sergeant. I’d rather not have another incident like last time.”

“Last time?” Johnny looked between them. “What happened last time?”

THEN

It should’ve been a simple task, really. A pretty young woman lures a gullible, unsuspecting new hire to a roped-off room with certain expectations, only to be met with the cold steel of a knife to their throat.

As expected, the information burst from the young man’s lips like water through a broken dam, hoping to save his own skin. The quick execution Ghost offered was a mercy compared to what would happen if his boss found out he had snitched.

He could be merciful when he wanted to be.

The Simon she married was not a jealous man. A younger Ghost, at the beginning of their… “situationship”, however…

After the body was stuffed in the room’s closet, hopefully not to be found until at least the next day, he wasted no time hoisting Freyja up against a wall with ease and fucking her senseless. Her legs tightened around his waist immediately, her Venetian mask coming loose at the sudden movement and falling to the floor.

“Yes, right there. Hah, hah, nngh-”

“See what you do to me?” he growled against her cheek, hips snapping against her shaking thighs. “Can’t even get through a fucking mission without my cock gettin’ hard, and you’re over there, actin’ like a slag. Touchin’ that bastard like that-”

“I was just - doing - my job-”

Ghost’s brutal pace stopped and pinned her to the wall. One hand no longer supporting her weight, jumped from her ass to her throat, the bare, calloused skin squeezing the sides.

“You took it too far. I should leave you high and dry for the show you put on.”

Her fingers scratched at the short hair near the base of his neck, earning a warning sound from the man. Freyja wriggled her hips to find some kind of friction, a release. “Fuck fuck fuck – please, Ghost, don’t stop. Make me come, please–”

“Yeah? Y’want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please! Please, I need to come–”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, so sorry! Fuck me!”

“You’re fuckin’ lucky I’m feelin’ forgiving.”

“Oh shit, thank you, thank you, I’m sorry–”

“You’d better be.”

NOW

The sergeant looked between Price and the couple, studying Price’s lifted brow and Freyja’s pressed lips and flushed skin. Ghost snorted beside her, which got him a sharp jab from his wife’s elbow.

“Bunch o’ rabbits, you two!” he snickered, laughing into his fist. Just how they managed to bone in the field so often, he’d never know. “It’s a miracle ye don’t have a thousand wee bairns by now.”

“Could’ve had them discharged for the mess I had to listen to.”

“We said we’re sorry!”

“No, you said you were sorry. I won’t apologize if I don’t mean it.”

“I’m going to kill you–”

John cut them off, standing again and collecting his paperwork. “The target rarely comes out of hiding, so we can’t risk spooking her. Freyja, Soap, you’d better sell it.”

“Oh, I’ll make it believable, a’right.”

“And if somehow you find a way around this arrangement – please, for the love of God, no shagging on the job,” Price stressed, pointing at each of them for emphasis. “Got it?”

Johnny raised his hand. “Ah would just like tae point out that, for once, I’m the good egg here,” he pointed out with a wide grin.

Multiple sets of eyes rolled. “Right then. Dapper up. I’ll see you all tonight.”

Ecstatic about their upcoming mission, the Scot jumped up from his seat, still beaming. He was already bubbling with ideas for their strategy, the backstory of the characters they would play, what he was going to wear–

“Johnny.”

“Sir?”

Ghost leaned forward, elbows planted on his knees as he looked up at the man. “Remember what I said about flirtin’ with my wife?”

“Aye.”

“Still in effect.”

Soap made it his mission to be as handsy as humanly possible the moment they stepped out of their vehicle. Ever the gentleman, he stuck behind Freyja when taking the steps up the grandiose front stairs into the venue; once at the top, his hand slipped across her lower back from one hip to the next.

Both operators kept their attire simple yet appropriate for the dress code. They complimented each other nicely; Johnny sported a simple black suit and a white collared shirt with the top two buttons undone, while Freyja donned a rich, dark purple, satin gown with an open back dipping to her tailbone. They were meant to fit in, not draw attention to themselves.

When they entered the ballroom, crystal chandeliers twinkling above, she glanced around the perimeter at the masked guards. Only taking in their stature for a second before moving on to the next, attempting to locate their backup –

There.

Ghost blended in seamlessly, dressed exactly like the other guards stationed around the room. All black ensemble, black combat boots, and a balaclava with a window for the eyes. They met briefly with Frey’s before she shifted her gaze up to her date, placing one hand on top of his at her side, the other between his shoulder blades.

All night, Ghost’s stare could have burned a hole through her skin straight down to her soul as her partner positively manhandled her. Nothing was safe. Her ass, hips, bare shoulders, and stomach were frequently groped, pinched, and caressed; you name it, Sergeant MacTavish did it. He came up from behind with a champagne flute for her, pressing against her as his hands snaked around to cradle her belly. Kissing obviously wasn’t off the table, his warm lips frequently finding hers; he had enough decency to keep that portion of the night brief.

Finally, after an hour and a half of loving it up with her husband’s best friend, Johnny turned Freyja into a pillar, forcing her to squeak in surprise. Gentle kisses pecked from her collar up to her ear, using his body as a shield.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” she whispered, keeping up the appearance of a drunk, handsy couple by carding her fingers through the back of his mohawk.

He chuckled against her hair. “That’s the idea, Hen. Figure one o’ us should get a good fuck outta tonight.” Frey rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to shove him. “Eyes on the target. She’s had a chance tae get settled. Move in on yer mark.”

She followed his guidance, subtle pressure at the base of her skull pointing her in the direction of their target. Thankfully, a small purse dangled by the woman’s pelvis on a long chain, ripe for the picking. If all went according to plan, Soap would walk them into each other, allowing her to switch the dummy in his pocket with the real thing.

Freyja initiated their objective by stepping in that direction but allowed her companion to take the lead. Clinging to his bicep and stumbling slightly, she whined, “You are in so much trouble when we get home!”

“Aw, c’mon Bonnie! Ah just cannae help myself!” he purred, bending to nibble her ear and give her a reason to jerk away.

“Hey, stop that!” As she lunged to the left, she fell out of the Sergeant’s grasp and into the young woman, grabbing her to keep upright. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“What the fuck!” She wheeled on them, eyes wide at the sudden intrusion into her conversation. “Watch where you’re going!”

Freyja huffed angrily in Johnny’s direction, straightening herself and her dress. “I am so sorry about him. You know how men can be. Always impatient.”

“Unfortunately,” the woman mumbled, nose turned up in disgust. If Freyja could rely on anything, she could always lean on most women’s mutual distaste for men. While it always felt distasteful to manipulate while undercover, it got the job done.

With a soft huff, Freyja grabbed Soap’s hand again and departed with a soft wave, tugging him toward their exit point. Ghost was nowhere in sight.

According to plan, the Brit had dipped into the women’s bathroom when he was sure the lift was successful, and they would eventually follow. Going into the bathroom after two people clearly looking for a space to hook up would look suspicious. The real trick was leaving enough time between their entrances that nobody would notice, without waiting too long for the other guards to notice Ghost’s absence.

She used her best high-pitched, giggling squeal and ditzy movements, swatting at the wandering hands pawing at the shiny, smooth material of her outfit. It had been at least two minutes since Ghost had disappeared, and she decided that was enough leeway for them to follow without raising any alarms. But just as her palm pressed against the cool doorknob, her ally stopped behind her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Freyja felt the abdominal muscles under Soap’s shirt tense; otherwise, his composure remained unchanged. “Sorry?” he asked with a laugh, keeping his body turned toward her. She refrained from ripping the stranger’s hand off Johnny’s shoulder and ripping back his ring finger–

The man smiled, perfect white teeth nearly sparkling in the light. “Ye owe meh a drink! C’mon, one more shot fur a fellow Scotsman?”

“Shite! Ah completely forgot!” Johnny hovered over her still and bent to run his nose along the shell of her ear. “Ah’ll be right behind ye. Just give me a fiver to finish my drink, aye?”

“Sure thing.” Freyja hung her hands on the lapels of his jacket, anchoring him in place to stretch and purr in his ear, “Don’t take too long.”

She was so fucking dead when they got home. Likely won’t walk right for days.

Barely halfway through the door, a firm grip pulled her into the room, slammed the door shut with her body, then wrapped around her throat. Her heels brought her just a bit closer to her husband’s height, brown eyes practically set ablaze. Ghost had abandoned his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his button-down, exposing the black ink on one forearm.

I should put in for a day or two off.

“Did you not learn your lesson last time?” Ghost asked, low-pitched and gravelly as if he had been restraining himself for hours. He probably had been. “Must’ve been too generous. Let’s try this again.” A man on a mission, he swiftly twisted the lock on the handle and hauled her with him several steps away from the door before forcing Freyja to her knees. His touch moved to cup her jaw.

“Broke my fucking finger watching him touch you, touch what’s mine. This mouth-” His digits snatched her cheeks, making her painted lips purse with a soft whimper. “-is mine. Your cunt is mine. Your body is mine – facts you’ve apparently forgotten. Let me remind you.”

Freyja gulped helplessly when his other hand slid the leather strap of his belt out of the buckle, then looked up at him through her mascara-coated lashes.

“Soap-“

“I. Don’t. Care. Do it.”

Her cheeks were enflamed under her blush, but she still raised a brow at him. Again, Simon wasn’t known to be a jealous man; they were very secure in their relationship, trusting each other completely. Plus, Johnny was in a committed, loving relationship, after all. But still, watching his best friend all over her, purposefully egging him on and pushing boundaries…

Anyone would lose their patience.

Her nails, painted to match her color scheme for the evening, worked at undoing his slacks and dropping them and his underwear down enough to free his already hard member. Slacks which, by the way, were fitted perfectly to hug his ungodly figure. Saliva pooled in her mouth at the sight, her hole already clenching around nothing.

As if he had read her mind, Ghost seized the back of her head and snarled, “I’m beginning to lose my patience, love.”

Suddenly he was buried down her throat, to the hilt. Tears sprang to her eyes; she moved to dig into his thighs for purchase, which earned her additional pressure at the back of her head. “No touching.”

All Freyja could do was blink up at him and hold her hands behind her back, hoping he understood the message. Thankfully, he let up and slowly drew out before easing back in, fucking her throat with soft moans and the occasional curse. Ghost groaned at the sight of his precum and her spit gathering in his blond curlies, her dark lipstick smudging on his cock, tear streaks running lines in her makeup…

She flattened her tongue, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm while breathing through her nose and intermittently taking him until her nose was enshrouded in coarse hair. Even if she wasn’t getting off, and Ghost’s pretty face was hidden by his mask, the expressions in his eyes as she edged him toward his release were almost as satisfying.

“Fuck, you like that?” he questioned, hoarse and needy. “Almost like you were – hngh, shit – hoping I’d p-punish you.”

Even submissive, vulnerable on her knees before him and choking on his cock, Freyja still made him stutter and whimper. How many hours had he spent uncomfortably hard, keeping his dutiful post as their backup? Observing the near obscene show Soap had put on?

Ghost leaned his torso forward, supporting his weight against the wall with his free hand. He didn’t have to tell her he was close; even with his controlled breathing, his eyes threatening to flutter shut was a dead giveaway. Still, the head of his cock popped out of her mouth, garnering her attention again.

“How much of me can you take?”

“All of it.”

“Bloody hell…” He presented himself again, the hooded tip resting against her lips. “Lick.”

She immediately ducked under him and laid her tongue against the vein on the underside of his dick, applying soft, slow pressure to the tip again before taking him back in her mouth. Freyja picked up the speed and hummed around him, pushing (or rather, pulling) him closer and closer…

“Fucking shit – take it, take it, take it–”

His warm cum spilled down her throat, but she continued slowly guiding Ghost through his orgasm as he pulsated and huffed quietly above her. Freyja basked in the way he flinched, eyes closed as her touch bordered on overstimulating and torturous.

Satisfied and out of breath, Ghost jerked his hips away to avoid any more of her touch and offered his wife his hands. She immediately took them and was pulled to her feet effortlessly with a moment to find her balance. When he was finished tucking himself back into his trousers and fastening his belt again, Ghost slid the delicate strap of her dress that had slipped off her shoulder back into place, his gentle touch dragging across her skin.

Freyja was about to speak when the door rattled, someone trying to open it before they both heard a familiar accent on the other side. “Bonnie? ‘S me, open up.”

She gestured for him to stand out of sight for a moment while she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to let Soap in, careful not to expose her current state to others who may be watching from the party. When it was closed and secured again, Johnny took in their appearances; Freyja, clearly dazed with her hair tousled and makeup smudged, and Ghost, with his fly down, shirt untucked, and blazer tossed carelessly onto the sink.

Then, with the absolute, most shit-eating grin, said, “Ye’r welcome, Hen.”

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