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caraphernellie · 5 months

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cowboy like me // e.w. [chapter one]

summary: a modern day princess living under outdated royal protocol in which your own existence is forbidden. in a typical state visit to strengthen your country's relations with the united states, you find it harder than ever to keep your sexuality secret when you meet the president's daughter, ellie williams, and sparks fly.

wc: 2.1k masterlist

content warnings: fluff, angst, eventual smut. homophobia, governments, monarchy, politics. reader is specified as lesbian with she/her pronouns used for plot purposes i sorry, smoking, making out, femme! reader. u-haul lesbians fr. reader plays piano. ellie is a disaster lesbian lmaooooo. she's also super privileged and a bit of an ass. mostly based off of the british royal family in terms of royal protocol and all that shit, don’t kill me if things are inaccurate i’m not american, this chapter is more an intro to ellie's character and establishing tension

authors note: i'm so excited about this fic... but i might hate it in the morning so we'll see!! i've never read/watched red white and royal blue but it did inspire this fic (do not expect it to be anything like rwrb as i said i don't know what happens in it lmao). ellie's the president's daughter obvs. if your country doesn't have a monarchy just pretend there is one. if you're from the us then L 💀 play pretend

converse sneakers pelting across marble tiled floors with an onslaught of urgency, ellie makes her way through the halls. she stops at a mirror for a second, a muse in her mind– eh, good enough.

smoothing down flyaway hairs, ellie realises spending free time in the courtyard outside may not have been the best idea on a cool spring day such as this. the winter is still lingering, breezes battering the flag of red, white, and blue on the roof of the building as warm temperatures are still fresh. still- she needs as much a distraction as anyone else. as if procrastinating on something like homework, assignments, except the only thing ellie has done is make herself late to the introductory banquet of the royal family. all she knows is the president won’t be happy with her.

bringing her wrist to her nose, ellie sniffs, though it’s less sniffing and more inhaling, trying to figure out if she has masked the smell of the cigarette she wasted or if she needs more cologne.

ellie’s caught by a housekeeper with her face stuck awkwardly into her suit jacket, furrowed brows as she inspects her own scent. pausing, a strained smile takes its place on chapped lips.

“he–”

“goodness, miss williams, you’re terribly late,” the housekeeper says, quickly approaching. “staff have been searching everywhere for you.”

“right,” ellie mumbles, straightening up her posture. “sorry. i’ll be on my way to the state dining room right now.”

approaching said room, ellie can already hear the fuss– loud and polite conversations, the snapping of photos, subtle classical playing over the speakers. christ, ellie thinks, how do i render myself invisible?

ellie’s worries ease the minute she steps inside, however, as the commotion isn’t around her own family today. it’s the royal family. and that realisation almost sparks up yet another mini freakout in ellie’s mind. she’s been looking forward to this for weeks, of course she has, a hot princess living in her home for an entire month..? that’s something she could get used to. but it’s real now, and just staring at you is sending a chill down ellie’s spine.

flash photography and yelling of the invited press is suffocating ellie as she ventures further into the room. she hasn’t even been noticed yet, thank god, so she decides to humbly busy herself at the table of finger food. until–

“ellie williams?”

a delicate voice smooth and sweet, ellie’s ears prick up to the sound of an accent unique and she knows exactly who this has to be.

fuck.

ellie makes quick effort to swallow the stupid cocktail frank she was eating and turns around, wiping her clammy hands on the ass of her slacks.

a princess standing right in front of her, of course these things only happen to ellie in her most cringeworthy moments. demolishing a table of finger food… what can she say? she’s an anxious snacker.

“ah-” ellie’s eyes meet your own and she gulps, extending a hand. “a pleasure to meet you, princess…”

get your head in the game, ellie. she clears her throat, putting on her famous, confident smile. and as you place your hand in hers, she acts purely without thinking, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. nobody was watching, but ellie drops your hand in an instant- is flirting with a princess the right move? even if it’s humorous?

your brain just about short-circuits, and ellie’s reeling. that was stupid, so stupid. acting on total whim.

the collar of ellie’s shirt feels too tight as she observes the split-second utter shock in your eyes, though she relaxes as you reward her a smile. and it isn’t that typical, media-trained smile, either.

“charming,” you murmur in response, eyes fixed on ellie’s piercing greens. however delighted you might be to be treated in this way by a girl like ellie, the way in which you hide it is effortless.

and charming, of course, is exactly what ellie is. messy, shirt creased and hair tousled and she honestly reeks of expensive cologne and faint smoke – but she has that handsome smile and that confident demeanour that the girls of washington d.c. fall for so easily.

“i hope so,” ellie says with an awkward chuckle, shoving her hands into her pockets. “that’s the aim of the game.”

you laugh similarly, politely, and make it as clear as possible to glance ellie up and down. “i’ll play.”

and the look on ellie’s face is plain silly at the least, her brows furrowed and eyes wide. “wh- uh..”

“say, it’s a little stuffy in here,” you say, gently fanning yourself, “you wouldn’t happen to know of any quiet spaces we could disappear to?”

ellie’s lips form a small o-shape as she processes the question. you want to be alone with her. a smirk crosses ellie’s face and she nods, “absolutely, your highness. my office.”

“would you be so kind as to show me to it?”

“of course, follow me,” ellie nods her head to the direction of the door. “we’ll have to sneak around.”

your heels click against the floor while ellie leads you down the hall, the sound a constant reminder to her that you’re actually walking alongside her. approaching a large door adorned by a gold plate with ellie’s name carved into it, she pulls a key from her pocket. and yet her eyes are on you the whole time.

the door clicks open and ellie holds it for you, only for her face to turn red when met with the sight of her office.

“excuse the mess,” she mutters, closing and locking the door behind the two of you. “i was uh, in here late last night. i had a speech to work on.”

“it’s alright,” you say, “some organised mess makes it homely.”

“right,” ellie nods. she’s beyond sensical thought now, just going along with anything you say. try harder. this is ellie’s issue, she eggs herself on too much, gets too overzealous, does things for the sake of doing them because her life has quite literally no direction if she doesn’t set herself these impossible dares. “just take a seat anywhere if you like. the couch is pretty comfy.”

ellie makes a pointless attempt to tidy some papers on her desk. she doesn’t necessarily do a lot of work here, though she enjoys being an activist, often writing speeches and finding causes to help others. though it did only begin in the first place as a way to increase the votes for her father’s party during the election- that doesn’t mean it isn’t genuine!

it’s just that ellie’s lazy ass needs pressure to do these things.

she gnaws her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, watching as you sit on the two-seater, eyeing the guitars along the wall of the office. “you play?”

“hm? no,” you say, watching ellie take a warm toned acoustic and sit beside you. “i’m a pianist, though.”

“pianist?” ellie chuckles, thumb stroking over each string of the guitar. “you’ll have to play for me sometime.”

you nod, watching intently as ellie begins playing a quiet tune. she can’t help but notice your rigid, straight posture. she can’t tell if you just have great posture, or if you’re uncomfortable.

but, noticing your eyes lingering over her nimble fingers as they pick at the guitar, ellie’s lips curl upwards just slightly.

she knows well when she’s got a girl worked up. she’d never expected the princess to be this easy.

“music is just beautiful,” you say with a small nod, again, that genuine smile small as ever on your lips insecurely. “nothing like it.”

“you think so?” ellie muses, and when you manage to finally stray your eyes from her hands, you meet ellie’s own soft gaze. “because i think… even the most beautiful ballad couldn’t compare to the solid view i got right now.”

you scoff, turning quiet as heat fills your cheeks. your brows furrow as you tilt your head a nod to the side, studying ellie’s features, searching for any hint of dishonesty. and it’s like she can tell that, with your gaze silently begging her to not be messing with you- she turns her expression more serious.

“you’re something else, williams,” you retort, though adjusting yourself a little closer. knees touch, and you don’t flinch away.

“yeah?” ellie grins. the room goes silent, ellie no longer continuing to play her tune. the guitar on her lap, she rests her chin over it. “something good, or something bad?”

there’s a more subtle smirk on her face now. she begins to move, setting the guitar down and leaning it against the couch as she shifts even closer.

“mmm…” you think for a moment, a smaller expression of interest visible across your features. “something that my head tells me is not a good idea, but my heart says is just fine.”

how the fuck did i get here, ellie wonders? she’s running on pure luck at this point. stumbled in late and somehow she’s got a princess way in over her head.

and ellie doesn’t leave you waiting a moment longer– the second you lean closer she’s grabbing your head and meeting your lips in a fervent kiss, one you gasp into and immediately lean into, hands falling into place with one on her chest and the other on the back of her neck.

pulling away breathlessly, ellie chuckles a bit and shrugs her shoulders, “eh- oops?” she looks almost embarrassed by her own reckless act. “sorry.”

there’s too much going on for you– just too much in your head. your first kiss, the first other lesbian you’ve ever met. her words get you weak in the knees, yet she gets just as flustered by her own actions which seem to only ever work on impulse. so you start laughing, and you can’t stop.

ellie herself laughs a little, watching you giggle at her pink face as you lean into the back of the couch and hold up a cushion to hide your face. it’s all snorting and snickering and ellie’s face is getting redder.

she snatches the cushion out of your hands and raises a brow at you, “if you keep being that cute i’m gonna–”

“sorry,” you laugh, “sorry-”

ellie can’t help but notice how much it seems like you really needed this laughing fit, the way it’s instantly relaxed you…

“that’s it,” she mutters with a chuckle, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. “c’mere.”

the yelp of surprise that ellie’s movement elicits has her beaming, holding you on her lap. she rests a hand on the back of your head, the other cupping your ass. it’s indecent, indelicate to touch a princess like that, and yet you’re not stopping her. ellie’s already found herself addicted.

because this time ellie lets herself just go, pressing her lips to yours. she swipes her tongue over your bottom lip, grunting as you gasp. with your lips parted she slips her tongue into the kiss. she isn’t just kissing you, she’s devouring. she’s making sure not to leave an inch of your mouth unexplored, nor will she allow it for your body, getting rather handsy. every pretty little sound you breathe motivates her to continue, pulling you back in every time you pull back for air.

a hand slides under your dress, gripping your thigh, the other squeezes your breast before gliding to the curve of your ass, and she slumps into the couch. her boxers are growing uncomfortably wet and she needs to do something about it, hold you down on her desk and–

a key turns in the door and her eyes snap open, as do yours. not a single word is said but the panicked look you share tells all as you move back onto the couch beside ellie, smoothing down your dress. she grabs her forgotten guitar and moves it onto her lap.

and in mere seconds, the door opens to reveal a housekeeper who had used the master key to get in. and she’s clueless, though a little discomforted by the taut smiles you and ellie offer.

“sorry to interrupt you, ladies,” she offers awkwardly. “nobody has seen either of you in a long time, it was requested by president williams that we search the place.”

“ah,” ellie muses, clearing her throat before her voice can come out as weak as it feels. “i understand. we’re alright, yes, sorry, um… we needed a quiet place.”

sitting there with that prim and proper posture once again, your leg crossed over the other, you stare at ellie, resisting the urge to reach over right now and fix her hair after having ran your hands through it with desperation.

this is going to be an interesting state visit.

tag list (msg me or find my tag list in my pinned post if u want to be tagged!!): @dinasvampgf

🙈🙈 omg this fic..

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #fem reader #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x you #ellie x yn #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x yn #ellie fanfic

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h3avens4ngel · 5 months

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𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: bratty Steven, jealousy, pussy eating! Face eating, switch Steven, slightly argument, reader slightly insecure about not showering after work, pussy fiend Steven, kissing, language, pet names (love, honey, sweet girl, sweetheart, perfect girl), mentions of Jake

Steven was so possessive at times. He hated whenever another man went up and flirted with you during your shifts. He’d scoff to himself and death glare the men, trying to look as intimidating as he could, yet protesting whenever Jake said he could take care of it.

Today was one of those days. You came home later than Steven, the museum had you doing some late shifts and Steven got the earlier shifts. “Hi baby” you bubbly smiled as you locked the door to Steven’s flat.

You turned around looking for Steven and getting a little taken aback to see Steven sitting on the couch with a bothered look on his face. “You ok?”

Steven didn’t answer, all he did was nod. You knew that meant no. “What’s the matter Steven” you worriedly hurried toward him, sitting next to him and fully facing him. “Nothing love” he muttered in a semi whiney tone.

“Steven what’s wrong” you sigh “nothing! Nothing at all. You seem to be occupied already” he hissed in a brattish tone “huh?” You raised an eyebrow at his words, occupied? With what?

“My job? Steven you know I can’t control the shifts they give me” you sigh, leaning into his shoulder and kissing his jaw “I’m not talking about your shifts!” He yells.

“What the hell Steven? I can’t read your mind!” You reply back in the same tone “that damn new guy pfft. With his stupid American accent ‘how are you today’ oh how he loves to talk” Steven muttered.

You tried not to laugh at Steven’s American accent, cute. “You’re jealous” you chuckled. Stevens cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you smiled over at him “you don’t need to be jealous Steven, I love you and only you. You know that already don’t you?” you cooed.

“I- I’m not jealous”

“Mmhm” you giggled. Steven was cute when he was all flustered and embarrassed, he was SO jealous. How adorable.

Steven’s breath hitched as you straddled him, pushing him back onto the couch and running your hands through his curly locks “look at me” you whispered.

Steven stared up at you puppy eyed and flushed “I only want you, only you Steven. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend than you” you hummed. Your lips softly pressed kisses onto his lips and down his neck “you’re all I could ever ask for Steven”

His hands were on his sides and head thrown back as you began to make your way back up to his mouth “I’m sorry” he whined. His hands shakily moved up to your hips “I- I was being a bit harsh” He quietly admitted.

You chuckled, nodding at his change in demeanor as he lowered his head and began to apology kiss all over you neck. “You were” you agreed.

Steven whined in response, feeling guilty, he was determined to make it up to you. “I’m sorry honey, I’m so so sorry.” He whispered, his lips pressing soft kisses and hands trembling as he hiked your skirt up.

“Let me give you one part of my apology sweetheart? You’re always nothing but sweet my perfect girl. But I let my thoughts get the best of me yeah?” He softly smiled. “Jealousy looks cute on you” you tease, a moan spilling from his pretty plump lips as you began to grind onto his lap.

“Let me make it up to you love?” He muttered, his mouth in agar as he tried to keep himself calm. “Of course” you hummed.

And with that Steven gently pushed you onto the couch, his hands exploring your body while trying to contain himself. “Fucking hell” he hissed after one look at how soaked your pretty lace panties were. Steven gawked at the way you were all gushy and sticky for him already.

As one of his fingers feasibly pulled past your panties and ran down you folds, Steven let out an audible moan. You were expecting a good fucking but once you saw Steven lick his lips, you got a little worried.

Sure you loved when he ate you out like it was the last meal he’ll ever get but you had been working all day you felt like that wasn’t the best choice.

Steven eagerly tugged your panties down and lowering himself down to your cunt “Steven I haven’t showered yet not th-“ you tried to protest but before you could finish your sentence he shushed you and muttered an I could care less.

You gasped as his soft tongue lapped at your puffy folds as he carelessly pulled you onto his mouth. It was so overwhelming feeling Steven buried between your thighs but he felt like it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, wanted to feel you completely immersed in him.

He pulled back hastily, pulling you up and taking your position as he lightly manhandled you. You were in complete shock at how easily he could lift you up and carelessly mold you into place. Steven was never usually this bold.

“Sit on my face lovey, come on honey” he whined as you sat up on his lap. You stared at him in shock but didn’t dare to not comply “I- yea- ok” you muttered. For the first time, you were the one stuttering, not him.

Steven tried to hide his smile but it was no use, he motion you up and yanked you forward the second you started scooting forward.

Steven felt like a jerk and a complete idiot for letting his worries and insecurities all out on you. He felt like it was a little unfair to eat you out as an apology since it was certainly no punishment for him.

You chuckled as Steven eagerly wrapped his arms around your thighs, salivating at the sight of your pussy “oh fu-“ you gasped as he pulled you onto his face, a loud moaning coaxing out of him as you sink onto his mouth.

You try and lift yourself up for his comfort but to his protest, he groans and sinks his nails in your thighs “sit f’me” he mumbled into you pussy. Steven was getting needier by the second, the taste of your natural scent mixed with delicious slick coating his tongue was overwhelming.

His hips thrusted subconsciously into the air, his whines and moans growing in intensity as you pulled at his pretty brown hair “stevennn oh my go-“ you shakily squealed, a high pitch moan filling his ears as you began to throb in his mouth.

He could feel your poor throbbing clit against his tongue encouraging him to lap and swirl his tongue at what was his “mine, al- all mine mmhmm” he panted. Steven messily ate you out as he watched you begin to shake above him.

You were in shock by the way he had you in his grip, he wasn’t going to let go until he showed you how sorry he was. The feeling of his soft wet tongue expertly swirling around your clit was something you could never get tired of, neither of you could.

“I- I’m gonna I- Steven oh fuckk” you gasped as you slumped forward. His moans grew even louder as you pushed deeper into him. All you could hear was muffled whines and moans as he began rubbing his hips against the cushion for some friction, hoping his pants would tug on his painfully hard boner.

Steven let out a loud moan as he came into his boxers, his loads coating and messily seeping through his thin boxers. You softly sat yourself back into his lap, letting him ride out his orgasm and encourage him as you softly grind onto him.

Steven looked so pretty like this, eyes squeezed shut as he threw his head back in bliss. He was panting and whining as he came down from his orgasm “I love you so much, my sweet girl.”

#masterlist #steven grant #smut #moon knight #moonknight #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moonknight smut

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snootlestheangel · 7 months

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Hear Me Out

Guys, just, hear me out: YouTubers/Streamers AU for COD. There was a series of posts on @cod-dump 's blog about what games are banned for the boys and I've just been thinking about this but with Ghost, Gaz, Soap, and Alex where one of them is the actual streamer/gamer dude and the others just almost always play with him (maybe Roach if we went on the path that he's not actually mute, just kinda hates talking)

Retired or discharged for whatever reasons, the 141 are actually kinda happy to be living semi-normal lives. Maybe they're not all entirely civilian now, maybe Price has a position that doesn't require him to be on the field but he's still teaching/being a Captain.

But he's constantly telling the boys to find things to do to keep themselves happy. Especially Gaz and Soap, cause the military is kind of all they know, they've never had to be civilians really as adults.

Ghost is transitioning fine, and he's been a huge help for Soap, but Gaz is still kinda struggling. Eventually something happens and Alex is part of his life, but it's still not really what Gaz needs to feel "normal".

So Soap and Alex convince Gaz to start streaming/recording videos of their gaming sessions. It's a slow start, and Gaz is getting frustrated.

Until one time they play something silly but incredibly rage-inducing. It's a trending game because it's designed to pit you against your friends but is still silly nonetheless. There's one clip in particular that starts trending and becomes the reason Gaz's channel starts to take off.

The clip? Gaz yelling at Soap for something and Soap immediately just cursing him out in straight Scots only for Alex, an American, to scream into his mic as loud as humanly possible "WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER?!?!" after having been dead silent for the last 2 minutes. Why did he scream this? Not because of Soap's Scots, but because he had secretly just won the round after having lost the entire time they'd been playing.

People eat that shit up! Suddenly everyone's like "damn there's this hella attractive dude that records gameplay with his friends and they're all really funny." Everyone falls in love with Gaz's appearance first, but then they actually hear him and his friends interact and it's just trading insults and stupid jokes, acting like there's no one watching and they're suddenly kids again.

It eventually comes out that Gaz and his friends are all veterans, and despite the air around military not being the best, there's no denying that caring for veterans is a must. People slowly start to support Gaz's channel/streams, and before he knows it, he's actually got quite the following. His whole thing is about "wanting to do something to distract himself and others from the shitty aspects of life with a few laughs and some good games"

Eventually they convince Ghost to start gaming with them. It makes Gaz's popularity grow because now there's this really deep accent in the mix that's completely clueless as to what he's doing like 90% of the time (I just have this gut feeling that '22 Ghost is so fucking awful at video games) that they refer to simply as "Ghost". Suddenly, the chaos Gaz and his friends are known for increases tenfold. Ghost is flirting with all of them, Soap is arguing with him over literal couple things that come with living together, and there's a new element of really dark humor that wasn't there before (there was dark humor, just not this dark)

They're playing The Backrooms one time. They're not even in the game yet, just in the lobby. Gaz is laughing at Alex's tag for the game "MYLEG!" which is a reference to that one fish in Spongebob always yelling "my leg!" after an incident. Gaz is laughing too hard to actually explain to his viewers that, yes, Alex is an amputee. Soap starts making fun of him, as usual, and that's when it happens.

Alex: "I'll take my leg off and hit you with it, Soap, I swear to god." Soap: "I forgot you were already missing one for a second there and got real concerned." Alex: "No, Soap, I planned on removing my other leg. The one that's still attached, yeah. Just like a lil *pop noise*, ya know?" Gaz: *wheezing so hard he almost throws up*

Then they're playing this silly monster/cryptid hunter game called "A Day Out" and there's skeletons every now and then on the map. Gaz walks up to one and just starts freaking out, saying Ghost's name over and over.

Ghost, freaked out: What?? Gaz, pointing at the skeleton: Look, it's you! *cackling* Ghost, after a concerning long pause: *quietly* Nah, I'm not gonna say that Alex: SAY IT COWARD Ghost: No, that's my brother *Gaz making the most horrified face as he tries not to laugh* *Alex and Soap are losing their shit* Gaz: NAH THAT'S NOT OKAY

That clip posts and the internet looses it. I see this being the actual first video Ghost is in, so for this to be the first thing the viewers get of him, it's safe to say he's a hit. It's also never explained that Ghost does have a deceased brother, so there's just an acceptance of Ghost's skeleton brother.

There's several times where they've all gotten together and played silly games like Mario Kart when there's a bunch of them. There's the sober one and there's the drunk one, where there's so many different languages being hurled as curses at each other, Gaz gives up on captioning ANY of it.

OOOOooooooooohhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! WHAT IF! Roach becomes his editor once he gets popular enough so he can spend more time playing games, solo ones when the others are working.

For a while, everyone's going crazy wanting to see what the others all look like, and sometimes (cause we're assuming the world they live in now during all this is a lot better), they're joined by Rudy or Alejandro, or both in one rare instance. Sometimes, for old times's sake, during the drunk gaming sessions, they'll call Laswell only for her to scold them. There are times they'll bully Roach who always, as the editor, changes their words from the insults to compliments. Or he definitely trolls Gaz a lot with some of the editing, and it's all around just a good time. Hence why everyone wants to know what they look like.

Then it's around the holidays after about 2 and a half years of Gaz's channel being as popular as it is. He posts a single picture on his socials with a group of people and the caption: "Love seeing the boys over the holidays."

It's such a nice photo; Alex with an arm wrapped around Gaz's shoulders, Soap and Ghost on his other side with Roach between Soap and Gaz.

And the internet has once again gone crazy. Why? Cause not only are these dudes fucking hilarious, but they're hot and taken.

Except, as they all end up teasing him about, Roach is very much still single XD

I have been watching too much YouTube lately, can y'all tell?? Haha anyways back to my hole I shall crawl

#I don't know what this is #I just kinda threw something up cause the brainworms need to be released regularly #kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz modern warfare #gaz mw2 #gaz is a gamer #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #alex keller #call of duty alex keller #gazalex #au?#civilian au #cod incorrect quotes

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gonetoforks · 25 days

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Introducing; Yuichi Usagi-Cuddles!

There’s a slight typo in his basic character bio, (first, grey image) other than “yuich,” his family in America lives in the part of the hidden city under Jersey. He lives in Jersey. He’s a Jersian. So in terms of leosagi, it’s gonna be an enemies-to-lovers comedy-of-errors muahahahaha!!

More (a LOT more) info about him as his own guy under the cutoff :D ⬇️

Basically; He’s a silly guy! I feel like his kinda buffoonish, embarrassing personality in canon is simultaneously PERFECT for Rise’s writing style & grievously underrated in fanon depictions. So he’s this clownish type of character, haha.

Okay, time to go hyperfixation mode.

Adhd & his stubborn attitude;

He has ADHD! Executive function issues makes it hard for him to start tasks & manage himself, so he relies on his teams (the Mad Dogs when he’s training & the Rise equivalent to his canon friend group on his own time) to not only instruct him, but also hold him accountable & keep him on task. He’s body-doubling without even realizing it.

Although, he resents the things he does to accommodate his disability. He doesn’t notice that doing the things he does genuinely helps or why so he thinks he’s using them as a crutch because of incompetence. Every time he gets stubborn and ignores the things he needs to do, he crashes and burns. When he was new in town with no teacher & no friends who liked martial arts, he became a huge sad sack until the kraang invasion.

His character arc is about being able to rely on other people & accommodations. That relying on a bit more help than other people doesn’t make you incompetent, choosing to seek out the support you need so you can do your best is the true mature thing to do. I was inspired by canon Yuichi’s struggles with paying attention and Rise’s themes of cooperation. (& also my own experience with adhd and learning with executive function issues & junk)

Relationships w/ the turtles;

The Mad Dogs agree to let him like, intern with them? So he can see what it’s like to be a vigilante, they offer him advice and they occasionally go on low to mid-tier missions with his help. They take him on cause they think more heroes and allies out there, the less work they have to do haha. Also, one of the writers mentioned a season 3 would have them adjusting to being ~official heroes,~ I think this would be them trying to be “real.”

He’s closest friends with Mikey out of the whole group! (Adhd solidarity) Then it goes Donnie -> Raph -> and finally Leo (for now muahaha)

I tried to give Leosagi an interesting dynamic with constructing his character like this; They have similar insecurities from drawing self-worth from technical capabilities that they can develop past together, but Leo is clever and calculating about it vs Yuichi being rash and impulsive. So like smart x stupid but they’re the same actually.

His Family in Jersey;

He speaks english fluently because he’s visited his American family frequently his whole life, they’re very close. He has an accent though since he mainly speaks Japanese.

I haven’t fleshed out this concept enough, but I think members of his jersey/Cuddles half of the family would be spoofs of characters from the original yojimbo comics, implied to be reincarnations? Except Miyamoto ofc. (i’ll explain later..)

Reusing the ninja orphans plotline from the original show, his family utilizes their cute appearances to run an orphanage too. They wonder why this Chizu lady is constantly showing up with unhoused children, but they’re just grateful they’re safe now.

Everyone in his family HATES Mrs. Cuddles, they all think she’s in prison and are happy about it. She might’ve given him that scratch on his face.

Additional;

He is gay.

Thank you for your time.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #artists on tumblr #rottmnt #leosagi #leoichi #tmnt #tmnt fanart #adhd #adhd character #rottmnt usagi #tmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo

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roboticchibitan · 4 months

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One of these days when I'm feeling spicy already and come across exactly the wrong idiot I'm going to swing a bat at a hornet's nest and go on my "my $5 monthly donation to the food bank is more punk than your 'both parties are the same' post" rant. So far I have kept this rant private because I just know it'll blow up and then I'll have people who think hating the goverment makes them punk in my inbox. That doesn't make you punk it makes you the average American.

I once got so incensed about this I went on a full redneck accent rant about this to multiple people. But I'm not stupid so I kept it in private. I've started unfollowing people who post that shit or post about encouraging people not to vote. I hate the government too but the only ones who profit from leftists not voting are the people trying to destroy any semblance of democracy we have left.

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

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Young!John Wick x Model!Reader Imagine

Imagine you are the love of John Wick's life...

You meet in Paris when he’s a young man. You spend a mind-blowing night together, and watch the sun rise from Sacré-Coeur. He disappears, and you’re devastated because no one has ever made you feel that way, and you’re certain you’ll never see him again. But throughout the years he keeps finding you as you travel for work. He kisses you silly in the Gamla Stan of Stockholm, makes you cum on his fingers in a dark club in London, and when he leaves you utterly wrecked in Rome you know that you’re in love with this man. You don’t know exactly what he does for a living, but you’re not stupid. You’ve memorized every inch of his body, and you notice as his collection of scars multiplies over the years. You are half convinced he's a spy, but then there are the tattoos...ominous as they are captivating, they suggest membership in a darker world than the shadows of international espionage. You cannot reconcile it. How can this sweet man, this man who makes you laugh, who brings you joy and such exquisite pleasure, be a part of such a violent occupation? When you finally get up the courage to ask him he just shakes his head, and says it’s better you don’t know before kissing you in that way that utterly scrambles your brain cells.

-It all started in Paris with a broken heel... You nearly fell into traffic, but a strong arm around your waist snatched you back from death.

You hid against his chest for a long moment, even though he was a total stranger, because he felt so safe. You were in Paris for your first Fashion Week—and you were so lost. It’s the 1990s, a dark age in which we didn’t have handheld computers to pleasantly tell us where to go, and we used archaic documents to find our way known as paper maps...And you’d left yours in your hotel accidentally.

You look up to see kind brown eyes fixed down on you. “Are you alright?” You hate to think it, but you are so relieved to hear an American accent. You have been yelled at no less than three times in French that day, and even if you totally deserved it, you're a bit gun shy now.

“Yes. Thank you. Jesus, I...” You look at the traffic barreling by at breakneck speed, a chill running down your spine. “Thank you,” you say again. You look up at him, really look at him, and realize you're in the arms of the most handsome man you've ever seen—and you work in fashion.

“You're welcome.”

He seems as taken by you as you are by him, and for a stretch of long moments you just stand there staring at each other like moon-eyed idiots. He looks down, suddenly shy. It's totally endearing. “Sorry,” he apologizes, releasing you slowly. You teeter on your broken heel, and you can tell he is ready to grab you again if he has to. This protectiveness makes a surprising warmth bloom in your heart.

“Do you...need help getting somewhere?” he asks. You wonder if it’s that obvious you’re lost. Usually you'd be wary of that question from a stranger. You've dealt with so many creeps throughout your life. But somehow you sense that he’s sincere.

“I guess I'd better get back to my hotel.”

Sebastiano was going to kill you. You broke a $600 pair of heels...well maybe Gucci should have made them better, the lazy bastards.

“Can I get you a cab?”

With your broken heel, you guess you’re not hoofing it back. “Sure.” He hails one down, and you’re delighted when he climbs in with you, speaking to the driver in perfect French, bless him.

“Where are we headed?” You give him the name of your hotel, and he repeats it the way it’s supposed to be said. Oh. No wonder the previous drivers gave you such contemptuous looks… You took Spanish in high school, ok? You can read French but have zero experience speaking it.

When you arrive at the hotel your savior thrusts a wad of Francs through the window before you have a chance to even open your purse, and helps you out of the cab. You are totally leaning against his arm more than you have to. You can feel the hard curve of his bicep beneath the fine fabric of his suit, and it makes you a little giddy. Only once you’re safe in the lobby does he seem willing to release you, though somehow your hand has ended up in his, and you find you don’t really want to let go. “Are you doing anything later?” you ask boldly, before he can disappear back into the bustle of Paris and you’ll never find him again.

He pays you a melancholy smile that squeezes your heart for some reason. “Unfortunately, I have to work,” he says. You make a pouty face that draws his attention to your lips. The intensity in those dark eyes is thrilling. “Maybe if I finish early…I could join you?”

You know you grin like an idiot at this suggestion. “I’ll be at the Versace afterparty. I could…have your name put on the list?”

This seems to amuse him for some reason, his mouth twisting in a smirk. “I can find you,” he says, and your heart flutters. In fact, when he presses his lips to your knuckles, your heart attempts to flutter right out of your chest.

He turns to go but you call, “Wait!” He pauses. “What’s your name?”

The smile he pays you is heart stopping. “Jardani,” he answers quietly. “But everyone calls me John.” You bite your lip, nodding, very pleased with this new bit of information, sensing that maybe he’s told you something just for you. “I hope I get to see you later.”

He nods too, touching your cheek lightly. “You will.”

It sounds like a promise.

-You should be beside yourself with excitement because you’re walking your first runway in Paris, and this could be the moment that makes or breaks your career, but the real reason for your nerves is the hope that you’ll see him again.

-The show goes great. You kill it. Sebastiano, your friend and the designer you’d modeled for, can hardly contain himself. But you find you’re just watching the clock ticking down the seconds until later.

-John does find you later. You have a drink, and you dance, and from the adoring way he looks at you, you feel brave enough to ask if he wants to go someplace quieter. You go for a little walk, and even though it’s the wee hours of the morning you feel perfectly safe with this man. He kisses you on the Pont Alexandre, his hands in your hair, and your fingers curl in the lapels of his jacket to hold him to you. You ask if he wants to go back to your hotel, and he agrees. This man looks at you like you are something irreplaceably precious, and you don’t know how you’ll let him go.

-He is strong. In your hotel room he picks you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall, kissing you senseless before carrying you to the bed. His hands are calloused, but he’s so gentle with you. He touches you like you were made for him, like he was born knowing how to make you see stars. He claims you with his hands and his mouth and his big, beautiful cock deep inside you, and you know you’ll never be the same after this. You’ve been disappointed so many times that you almost don’t know how to handle an encounter going this well.

-When he stirs in the blue light of pre-dawn your arms tighten around him. You’re not even awake yet, but you don’t want him to leave. He kisses you behind the ear and you practically purr. “Want to see the second most beautiful sight in Paris?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“Bring your camera.” You’d told him about your interest in photography. Maybe modeling was paying the bills, but you’d actually majored in fine art, and minored in literature. Naturally, your interests make for shit at paying bills.

Sleepily you get dressed. It takes a little longer than usual because you can’t stop kissing each other between pulling on garments. Soft, slow kisses that curl your toes. You sense deep down that every one of them is infused with apology, and goodbye. It breaks your heart, but greedily you’ll take every second with him you can get.He takes you to Sacré-Coeur in the heart of Montmartre, the very roof of Paris. You sit on the steps and watch the sun rise over the city, fiery oranges and pinks painting the sky and rendering the buildings aglow. It truly is beautiful, but you don’t lift your lens to try to capture it. You sit with your arm linked with his, and experience this moment with him as fully as you can. You want to remember everything.

“You didn’t take a picture,” he teases once the sun has cheerfully risen above the horizon.

You pull out the camera and frame him in your lens, his sleepy smile and bed-mussed hair. You feel something shift in your heart as your finger depresses the button. Click. You’re not sure if it’s the camera in your hand, or something settling into place in your heart that has always belonged there.

“Now I have the first most beautiful sight in Paris,” you say.

He laughs at that. “I meant that was you,” he insists, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand. He takes you to breakfast, and you enjoy dark coffee and delectably crafted pastries with your legs tangled together under the table. Afterwards he takes you back to your hotel, and in the gilt-appointed lobby somehow you know what’s coming.

“I have to go,” he says sadly. You actually believe his regret isn’t an act.

You nod, leaning into his large hand on your cheek.

“I’ll never forget you, y/n.”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, and you close your eyes. You are not going to cry.

“Likewise, I promise you.”

You don’t exchange any further information. You know that if it was possible to see him again, he would have offered it to you. There is something mysterious about this man. Something almost…forbidden, and a part of you knows that the little time you stole together was a precious gift.

He kisses you one last time, a passionate, soul-rending thing that leaves you utterly weak in the knees. He says nothing more, pressing his forehead to yours one final time before turning to go. You watch his tall, dark form exit the hotel into the Paris morning, and you know he’s taking a piece of your heart with him as he goes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

tbc because goddamn this got long...

part deux >>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #ok so maybe you are helen?#but its written from your pov so you're welcome lol #john wick x helen #keanu reeves #keanu x you #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #ernff i just saw JW4 last week #that sunset tho #fucked me up

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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heya, just wanted to ask if you write for chubby!aegon?? If so I’m dying for a request (even just a small blurb) just about Aegon and how he’d be with an innocent reader? including how the sex would be cause I reckon he’d still be sooo good won’t even phase the dude 😭 + breeding kink, thank youuuuu!!!

THIS WAS FUN!!! Thanks for the ask, hope it’s good mwah! I had a hard time researching English things. The whole crisps-biscuit-chips-muffins is a nightmare but they did it first soooo. But then went on a hole again on why southern Americans have the accent they do, an educational lesson in the name of smut!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Frottage, TW: WG, internalized hate, sad boy Aegon, Tyrell!Reader, she’s pretty innocent but Goes For It, chubby Aegon revolution, breeding kink, culture differences, innocence kink, He’s Trying To Do Right For The Poon

Cumming face on God ⤵️

According to the Faith, man and wife should remain chaste until they are wedded. Aegon was definitely not that man. Alicent had hammered it into his aching heads that his bride-to-be will remain untouched. The prince said fuck that and the stupid Gods she adhered to. Targaryen’s did what they want.

If they did exist they crafted his sweet little nymph to tempt the wicked men of the world. Aegon could barely restrain himself from jumping her bones when she giggled at Otto’s dry wit, or helped Helaena scoop up one of those hideous bugs she cared so much for.

The girl was a Tyrell. Otto had to pull some serious strings, or swords to get them to allow the cousin of the powerful Reach family to be his wife. Viserys wanted him to marry Helaena. Aegon refused to consummate, one of the few things he stood up for. They were annulled and Hel ended up with dutiful Aemond. They seemed like a good fit— strange.

Aegon slugged down some wine after his generous portion of meat. His belt dug into his belly. The blonde skimmed a conscious hand down his once flat stomach. His bride would probably think him a pig. Aegon frowned, planning on dragging his lazy ass to training or taking Sunfyre on more arduous rides.

Something to melt off the flesh softened by the drink.

Her musical giggle interrupted Aegon’s thoughts. He glanced up to her wide eyes, quirking a brow. She ducked, hiding a hand over her sculpted lips, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His cock twitched. Aemond held that annoying smirk of his. His cock un-twitched, if that was possible. The eldest Targaryen snapped, “What’s the fuss?”

She shook her head, snickering. Aemond supplied, “I was telling the little rose about the time you were so drunk they found you trying to ride Cole’s horse thinking it was Sunfyre,” he barked a laugh and waved his hands, “Sōvēs! Sōvēs!” Aegon’s face grew red with irritation. Stupid one-eye.

He grumbled, “Real funny Aemond. Never thought you’d get that spiked cock out of your ass to make jest,” violet eyes turned to the Tyrell, “In your free time, ask dear brother about the Pink Dread hm?”

Aemond slammed his cup down and hissed, “I think I see the pink dread supping right now.”

Aegon was flustered now. Absolutely joyous was he. The pretty girl’s snickers died down to a gaping look. Aegon stood up with his refilled wine and called, “I’ve had my fill, good night to you lovely rose.” Aemond smarted, “Are you positive Aegon? Usually half the feast is gone by now.”

The younger brother shared a look with the Tyrell, shrugging with a ‘hm.’

Aegon fought back the tears in his purple eyes. He was thoroughly embarrassed. He yanked off his belt in a fit, ignoring the pooch of his belly. Off he stomped to his quarters, ignoring one of the twins. Slamming the door behind him, Aegon perched on a thick wooden chair, a trusty flagon already prepared.

He slumped down, poking his soft midsection. Aegon squeezed at his thighs and arms, growing more upset. He groaned aloud, taking a swig of the Dornish Spiced. The prince couldn’t help but wonder if he was dooming the girl to a life of misery like Alicent and Viserys.

Forced to lay under a writhing, bloated man. Bear his heirs.

He suddenly felt very ill. Aegon blew out a breath to calm himself. He ended up tossing the flagon of wine out the window in a fit anyhow. Aegon had never once stopped his race to be the worst being to think about reality. Reality was harsh, unforgiving, made his head spin. He felt ill again, an uncomfortable flush making the prince sweat.

The door was rapped upon, once, twice. Aegon miserably groaned, “What Cargyll? Tell mother I’m indisposed!” The blonde dreadfully wanted to undress but feared what he might see. He had an inkling it was ghastly pale and girlish.

Softened by indulgence.

Aegon’s eyes flicked up to the door, an insult on pouty lips. Instead it was his rose, bashfully peaking through. He straightened up, sucked his belly in as best as possible. Her pretty curls bounced as she squeaked, “The Queen had forbade me from entering your chambers but you looked so upset my lord. Ser Cole said I could visit for a short time. Is everything alright?”

He sighed and thanked the strange Valyrian gods for letting him toss the wine. At least he didn’t look like a total drunkard. Aegon sighed, “Uh, I’m not feeling very well, but do come in.” She gave a small curtsy and rushed in, green silks dazzling against pretty skin. The lady perched delicately against the chair adjacent to Aegon.

The blonde’s violet eyes searched her own, wide and doe-like. He asked in a quick breath, “Do you find me pleasing?” She opened her mouth to be cut off, “Don’t lie to me little rose.” Aegon’s twisted soul vastly enjoyed her surprised noise and tremble of untouched lips. He couldn’t help but watch the flicker of uncertainty making the highborn woman squirm like a beggar, posture drooping.

She gaped, closed her mouth, and let out a small ‘hm.’

Aegon hid his fear with a lazy, “Hm? Taking too long dear.” He spluttered when she launched into his lap. Face to face. Her legs tight against his own, hanging off the sides of the chair. The Tyrell stared him down, a never before seen intensity to his eyes. Her little hands braced against his chest.

Aegon meekly asked, “Is that a yes, my lady?”

He grew more hot under the collar, her tight little body against his softened own. She hummed, “That was uncouth. I didn’t know to how explain that I find your very desirable.” The Reach girl curled a hand into his pale hair, smiling. She whispered, “I’d never thought I’d be married to one of the beautiful dragonlords. My father said your kind is too pretty.”

Aegon found himself hiding a genuine grin up at her. He liked her accent, even the nobles of the Reach sounded strange with their ‘r’s. The prince gently laid a shaking hand on her lower back, humming, “Am I too pretty? I cut my hair but now I feel like a muffin.”

She shook her head, curls bobbing. Aegon willed his cock to still. The Tyrell giggled, “You’re beautiful my prince.” Now was Aegon’s chance to go ahead and break the seal. He injected in a jumble of words, “Am I not trim enough?” His face was suffused in a blush now. How suave.

She laughed harder, “What? You should see the lords of the reach, massive beasts they are,” the lady slid a hand down to his belly, “I’d say you’re the right size. Not all boney like your brother.”

Aegon felt himself relax. Besides his prick. That thing was coming to full attention, fast. He sighed, “Thank the damn Seven.” The prince leaned into her face, earning a sharp inhale from her. He purred, “I’d be a right mess if I didn’t have the attentions of the prettiest rose in the Seven Kingdoms.” It was her turn to grow flustered now.

She looked to the side, biting her full lower lip all bashful and shy. Aegon grabbed her chin and redirected her look. The Targaryen breathed, “No, no, look at me now rosebud. You’ve got your prince riled up.”

His cock ached at her blown pupils, lips lax and for the taking. She whispered, “We can’t yet.” Aegon tucked himself into her tight curls, humming, “There’s other ways around it. As long as I don’t take your maidenhead dear.” She whimpered, hands clawing into his tight doublet.

“H-how do we do that?”

Aegon hummed, “Get on my bed and pull up that dress of yours. Your prince commands it.”

He lazily grinned at her jumping up and skittering to the bed, haphazardly toeing off her shoes. She hopped on and hiked up that beautiful green samite, exposing herself. Aegon’s violet eyes scanned her closed lips, shaking hands, and swollen cunt. He bit down on his knuckles with a groan.

Her shy reed of voice filled the room.

“Aegon? Will you come here already, please? I wish to look upon you.”

Aegon ambled up and approached her, breathing out in relief of the loosening of his stupidly tight breeches. He yanked off his boots first, promising, “Just a moment my rose.” She whimpered again, gazing upon his thickened thighs. The prince crawled between her trembling thighs, smoothing his hands up quavering flesh.

He lectured, “We’ll keep it outside for now. There’s other places on your perfect pussy that’ll make you cry for me,” Aegon nestled his cock against her weeping cunt. She wound a hand into his hair, pulling the prince flush to her body while kissing his plump lips. The prince couldn’t help but rut against his rose at the way she whined and eagerly received his more skilled kisses.

Aegon gripped her thighs as he drug his stiff cock against her clit and slit, the glide impossibly easier with the copious slick. His rose cried into their kisses, babbling against his lips. “S’good, oh my prince,” she whimpered. Aegon crooned, “Poor thing, hasn’t had a man show her real pleasure. Taking what you want.”

The prince off-handedly unbuttoned his coat, uncaring of his pudgy body. Not when this gorgeous creature was crying and begging wrapped around him, calling his name, sworn to bear his children. And those Tyrell’s were famously fertile as the grounds they ruled over.

She made a pouting noise at the release of Aegon’s lips, squeezing her thighs in annoyance. He laughed and spewed filth, “So eager for me already. I can’t wait to fill your pretty pussy full on our wedding night.” The girl practically howled at that, growing frantic. Aegon teased, “Yeah my rose? You like that? Getting stuffed full of my seed, bearing my heirs? Round and ripe with it?”

Tears pricked her eyes as she sobbed, “Yes! Yes! Wan’ your pretty babies!” She seized his lips for a sloppy embrace, whining and carrying one, leaking more and more. Aegon moaned himself, focusing on stimulating her bundle of nerves. She was tightening beneath him, grasping hands growing more insistent. The blonde murmured, “C’mon then, m’close sweets. Cum on me.”

She nodded and gushed against his cock, legs squishing into his waist. Aegon’s eyes rolled back, cumming to her desperate cries and hot slick. He grunted and yelped her name, rolling them over. She whimpered softly, panting while now on top. Aegon’s cock grew limp as he kissed her a couple more times.

She hummed, “I can’t wait. I’ll have as many as you want Aegon. As many.” She gently thumbed his plumped cheek, smiling at the degenerate like he hung the moon. Aegon grinned for once, promising, “I’ll give you as many my sweet,” he smacked her ass, “Too busy to rule because I’m fucking my fertile wife huh?”

Round two was about to begin based on her darkening look.

#hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd smut #aegon ii x reader #asks answered

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pablitogavii · 1 year

Text

Story of my life Pt. 1

Short series coming your way loves :) Hope you enjoy it!

PART 2

First and foremost, people usually knew about you as the daughter of the famous Xavi Hernandez, old Barça player and current coach of the first time. But besides that complicated fact, your life was pretty normal and simple..until you became best friends with Pablo Gavira.

"Would you stop chewing so loud bombon!? You will scare all the guests away" Pablo smirked and you rolled your eyes chewing even louder on purpose to spite him.

"Which movie are we gonna be watching anyways??" you said stuffing your mouth with the delicious carne asada while he chuckled shaking his head at your behavior.

"It's the new one you kept whining nobody wanted to watch with you. One with Jenifer Lopez in the main role" Pablo said and you smiled that he agreed to watch the movie with you despite knowing he wasn't much of a fan of going to cinema especially since the crazy fans would always start to develop stories whenever he is seen with any girl.

"And what if the die heart fans think we are dating??" you chuckle seeing him roll his eyes in annoyance shaking his head.

"Nahh. It's not like I'm going to take you to the back row so we can make out in peace but accidentally get caught with someone's camera..." Pablo said and you almost chocked on your meal seeing him laugh hysterically at your reaction.

"Cabrón! I have a boyfriend if you forgot!" you said and Pablo rolled his eyes never really being the biggest fan of your as he calls 'boy-toy' Trevor Parker, cute American exchange student who was as far away from your type as possible but somehow menage to charm you in school. All lies aside, it was during the time Pablo was away for the World Cup and you were lonely.

You always found Pablo attractive and that was no secret (even to your dad) but somehow you found girl's obsessing over him as a clear sign you should stay away. You didn't want to be one of the many.

Your phone kept buzzing and you lowered your light seeing five unread messages from Trevor who was wondering where you were. As much as Pablo disliked him, Trevor hated Pablo even more always saying that he is trying to steal you away. He even asked you to drop Pablo as your best friend but you refused so now you hide whenever you are with Pablo in order to avoid stupid arguments.

"Tell the cabrón you are busy and turn that shit off!" Pablo was annoyed and it took you by surprise this being the first time he showed he was affected by Trevor that much. You did as he said giving your focus back to the move while catching sight of Pablo's clenched jaw from time to time. Why was he so angry??

After the movie ended, Pablo gave you a ride home opening the door for you like always but then the sound of Trevor's american accent interrupted the moment.

"I knew you were with him! Where have you been!?" Trevor was yelling and Pablo was getting angrier by the second hating to stay silent while someone was talking to you in such a way. Why is it his fucking business where you were with your best friend!? Pablo hated this guy!

"Tranquí hermano. We just hung out and that's all" Pablo said but Trevor was ignoring him looking straight at your guilty face. You shouldn't have lied, that's true, but you wanted to avoid being yelled at again just for wanting to spend time with your best friend.

"What were you doing all night with him!?" Trevor was yelling at your face and Pablo was having enough knowing it's not his place to say anything but just wanting to hold you to his chest and save you from this asshole!

"We were watching a movie.." you whispered and Pablo could tell that this guy was scaring you into obedience which was far away from love..he just wished you saw yourself right now and stopped finding excuses for this toxicity.

"So you have a boyfriend but instead go watch a movie with some other dude!? Why didn't you ask me!?" Trevor said while Pablo was holding his hand in tight fists imagining them hitting his stupid face.

"I did ask you..but you said no.." you reminded the boy who only laughed at that saying that it was the stupidest movie to ever be made to what you only shrugged.

How could you stay with someone who treated you like this!? Pablo wasn't a big movie fan but seeing you next to him with a big smile while watching your favorite celebrity was enough to make that his favorite movie from now on..it was your happiness that mattered to him.

"Let's just go inside!" Trevor said and Pablo could tell that was not what you wanted but nodded your head anyways.

"Are you sure bombon?" Pablo's eyes were full on concern and you didn't want him to worry about you nodding your head and faking a smile.

"Thanks for the ride, Pabs. See you around!" you said walking towards the door feeling Trevor's hand slap your ass on purpose to make Pablo see it and you felt so disgusted- like a piece of meat he was using to prove a point.

Pablo haven't seen your for a week after that, knowing that cabrón didn't let you out of his sight but secretly hoping you will come to the next game tomorrow.

He couldn't stop thinking about Trevor slapping your ass wanting to break his arm for ever laying a finger on your precious body but then he remembered that he wasn't your boyfriend. You were no Pablo's to protect..you were not his.

"Míster, viene tu hija??" Pablo asked Xavi in the changing room and the man nodded saying she is sitting on her usual seats right by the tunnel. The man knew of your friendship and unlike Trevor, Pablo was someone he trusted much more.

Pablo went to say hello a little surprised when he saw you wearing your regular red shirt instead of his jersey. Ever since he gifted you his jersey after the big El Classico win, you were wearing it to every game ever since as a sign of support to your best friend.

"Dónde está mi camiseta bombon?" Pablo said and you looked down sadly shaking your head remembering for how long Trevor yelled at you when you wore it so you had to change out of it if you wanted to go at all.

"He wouldn't let me Pabs...I'm sorry" you said and Pablo clenched his jaw wishing he can beat that entitled american ass so badly.

"Well he is not here now..here you go" Pablo took off his jersey and your eyes widened as he climbed the railing asking you to raise your arms before slipping it over your body making you smile wide.

"Good luck Pabs!" you said and he smiled back jumping off and looking up at you as his teammates started running to the pitch for warm ups.

"I won't need it..you are here watching me" Pablo said with a big smile and you nodded as he left to join the rest of the team.

He won..of course he did..and he looked so good doing it..you were mesmerized for those two hours but then reality hit you. Trevor was right, you were falling in love with Pablo (or maybe you always were in love with him) but you committed to someone who should have your full attention.

Pablo will never give you his attention fully..not with football and the girls throwing themselves at his feet...Pablo is an impossible mission!

"Did you see that bombon!? We won! You're my lucky charm!" Pablo hugged you tightly but you didn't hug him back backing away before taking off his jersey giving it back to him.

"Congrats..um I have to go Pabs..I'm sorry" you said not wanting to cry in front of him and he just took his jersey with furrowed eyebrows watching you leave the stadium in a rush.

You came home locking yourself in your room crying for what felt like eternity, before finally dialing Trevor's number wondering if he wanted to come over. You could use some company to forget about Pablo.

No answer. Again. No answer. Huh? Where was he?

Pablo went to the nearby club to celebrate the victory with his friends although he wasn't much in the mood after you leaving so suddenly. He wanted to call you or even better drive to your house but he knew that wouldn't be the smartest idea if Trevor was there.

The last thing he expected was to see Trevor sitting right across from their boot instead making out with some blonde who clearly did way too much plastic surgery..I mean her boobs looked like they might explode any second.

His poor girl..she was going to be heartbroken over this imbecile!

Pedri noticed Pablo getting up quickly before rushing to their table surprising Trevor before hitting his face with all the pumped up anger he held in for months.

"You disgusting hijo de puta! You are cheating on the most amazing girl with her!? " Pablo sat at him about to hit him again but Trevor got up to his feet.

"Your shortie of a friend doesn't have much of a body bro! I mean when did you ever seen her wear something hot??" Trevor was clearly drunk not knowing what he was saying and Pablo smirked pushing him back.

"This morning..when she was in my jersey!" Pablo said hitting the right spot

Trevor punched him and suddenly everyone was yelling rushing away from the fight while Pedri ran to pull Pablo out of the club and into the cab before paparazzi arrived.

Pablo was on the bike when he saw you enter the training center looking extremely angry asking your dad if you could see Pablo outside and he permitted it wondering himself what happened.

"Hey bombon, what happened?" Pablo was concerned when you didn't reply to his calls last night when he was trying to tell you that Trevor cheated and now you looked like you wanted to kill him.

"You told Trevor about the jersey!? Why Pablo!? Are you trying to break off my relationship!?" you were yelling angrily and Pablo couldn't make you shut up so he can tell your about Trevor and that girl at the club.

"He cheated on you Y/n! He cheated and had an audacity to say you don't have a good body when you are nothing short of perfect! I couldn't let him win!" Pablo was yelling now too expecting you to be shocked after hearing that Trevor cheated but you weren't.

"He told me about the girl..and I forgave him Pablo" you said and now Pablo was the one in utter shock.

"Why!?" Pablo said wishing that all of this was big bad dream that will soon be over. Why would you let someone disrespect you over and over again like this??

"Because I've cheated on him too..well not really..but I've been thinking about someone else while we were together and he sensed that..which is why he was angry and said all of those things" you explained not wanting to be too detailed but Pablo knew that this guy was manipulating you and making you stay with him for some reason.

"Do you love with Y/n?" Pablo took you back with that question while you gulped heavily knowing that the answer is no but nodding your head nevertheless. You will start loving him now that you stopped thinking about Pablo..right??

"Just promise you will come to me if you ever need me bombon?" Pablo said and you felt your eyes fill with tear almost feeling like this was a goodbye you never wanted to say.

"I promise Pabs.." you say hugging him tightly and he tugs you back never wanting to let go but knowing he had no right to keep holding you any longer.

Pablo cared about you too much and was too stubborn to just let this go...you mattered to him and someone was using your kindness for personal gain but Pablo wasn't going to allow it without a fight. He was determined to find out what this kid wanted from you and save your from his toxicity no matter what it took!

You might not be his girl..but he felt like you were his to protect and he felt motivated to do so!

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sukunastits · 6 months

Text

Weaponized Incompetence

Weaponized Incompetence 2/?

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Warnings: none? other than my near endless supply of stupid shit that can be said to make men think you’re stupid. Sfw

Part 1

You were entirely blameless for the next incident. Truly, you had been minding your business, avoiding responsibilities like any good non-commissioned officer. Secluded in one of the far off storage rooms on the west side of the complex, counting boxes of paper towels - far enough out of the way that Sgt. MacTavish had to have come looking for you, specifically. Adorable man, you thought giddily, watching him situate himself in the metal fold out chair next to you.

He wasn’t a tall man, maybe the shorter end of average, but you figured he made up for it by being the general size of a wide-load tractor trailer. Which was to say, when he slid the chair - legs scraping against the concrete ground - closer to you, he invaded like the tide. “Listen, lass,” he started, like you couldn’t smell his cologne over the stale, dusty air. Tobacco and vanilla, maybe. A little slutty, combined with the eyes and the facial hair and the accent.

Maybe you were just projecting.

“Ah get that you come from tae city,” he continued, phone in one hand while he braced the other one on the back of your chair. A part of you wondered if you should be worried; cornered in a far off room by a commanding officer wasn't the best start to happily ever after, but whatever. You were here to drive him up a metaphorical wall, not a white picket fence. “And ye probably never had tae deal with farm animals, but ye can’t go ‘roond spoutin’ nonsense like the other day.”

Was he still on that? You had hit him with that well before the weekend, and he hadn’t wasted time with cornering you. It was Monday. God, you thought, I am blessed to live rent free in the Scottish Highlands.

He wiggled the phone entreatingly.

Staring back from the screen was Google, “are eggs dairy” typed into the search bar. Pressing your lips together, you slanted a sideways glance at him. He looked back, expectant.

The nice thing would be to let him win this, you knew. A little tee hee, so sorry sergeant, let it die down before you hit him with some other out of pocket shit. But you hadn’t gotten this far in life by letting men win, even pretty ones.

Especially the pretty ones.

“Ohh,” you breathed, nodding to yourself like you’d had a world breaking - egg cracking, even - revelation. Sgt. MacTavish smiled, broad shoulders relaxing as he leant back, dipping back out of your personal space. “I get it now.”

“An easy mistake,” he placated. You both knew it wasn’t.

“No, yeah. You still think birds are real.”

An atom bombed dropped slower than his smile did; there one moment, gone the next. Total annihilation. You would have to play this one carefully. Not laughing hysterically would be a herculean effort, but so worth it.

“What tae fu -”

“No let me explain,” you cut in, flapping your hand at the wrist. It annoyed men, for some reason, a floppy wrist. Like a weak handshake, it triggered their little neanderthal brain. “I get that it sounds weird out of context. But like, okay. So in the, like, 1970s, in America? They had this President, right, Ronald Reagan?” Wrong. “And he, like, hated birds. So he formed the CIA,” made even funnier by the Task Force tangentially being CIA controlled, “And had them capture and kill all the wild birds, right? Except obviously people would have noticed if all the birds just disappeared, so he had them replaced with robots.”

You stared at him for a moment, waiting to see if he was keeping up. He stared back, lips pressed together and nostrils flared. “Or androids? I don’t really know. Are they different? I think they’re synonymous. Anyways, he had robot birds made so that he could spy on the American people during the Cold War. And, like. He couldn’t do it with domesticated food birds, so he had them sterilized. And cows evolved to make eggs because birds couldn’t.”

You nodded, and smiled, empty. Vacant. Not a thought in this head. “So I guess you used to be right,” you finished, patting his arm like it was a consolation.

MacTavish opened his mouth, closed it. Let out a breath through his nose like an angry bull. For a moment, you wondered if this was it. Was this really all it took? The Birds Aren’t Real Conspiracy? You had so many more. GMOs. Bananas. You could be a very convincing Flat Earther. Buffalos. God, you loved the buffalo bit.

“Who,” he stopped. Started again. “Who told ye that?”

“My Governments teacher,” you answered immediately. “Mr. Schumacher. I loved his class, he taught us soo much.”

“He lied.” MacTavished butted in, voice low. You bet he sounded like a blender in the morning, all gravely bass. You wanted to coo at him, at how cute he was, all ruffled. Instead, you did your best sure, Jan and shrugged.

“I mean, I think a teacher would know better than the internet, but if you say so, sergeant,” you agreed placidly.

Stressed, he rubbed a hand over his mohawk. And then, phone still in hand, he pointed at you, and left.

You watched him go, agreeable with the way his jeans sat on his ass. You wondered if he ever wore those bedazzled Buckle jeans. You wondered if you could ever get him into a pair either way. The door slammed behind him, shaking a layer of dust off the ceiling tiles. After a moment, when you were sure he wouldn’t be coming back, you tossed your package of paper towels into the nearest box.

You needed a new hiding spot.

#John MacTavish x Reader #Soap x Reader #Soap MacTavish x Reader

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aledethanlast · 2 months

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Neil Josten arrives at Palmetto on the first week of August. The air is so thick with moisture it threatens to drown him right here in the middle of the parking lot, where the sun can bake him for the carrion.

He wants to hate this place. If he weren't sent here to play exy, he probably would. As it is, he has to settle for bone-deep suspicion, because this is too much of a good thing for his handlers to give him with no strings attached.

Neil's trolley glides smoothly across the tarmac, still black from a recent recoating. There's an expensive looking car parked right by the entrance, probably belonging to the team's coach, and Neil feels a small pang of longing for his bike. His handlers confiscated it, claiming it's "too flashy". He's pretty sure they just took it to have a hostage, in the absence of any family they could threaten.

The large door is unlocked, and the lounge within well lit. He can hear sounds from the direction of the inner court, but for now his attention comes to the large tattooed man who's face he was shown just two days ago.

Neil's considers stammering, then decides to change tacks. "Coach Wymack," he says in an American Midwest accent. Confidently, but with relief, like a lost lamb happy to find something familiar.

"You must be Neil Josten," Wymack says, pushing himself off the arm of the couch. He'd been waiting for Neil, otherwise he would have been with his players further inside. Neil meets him halfway for a handshake and overcompensates on the grip. "Haven't been to the dorms yet, then?" Neil shakes his head. "That's fine. After this I'm heading over anyway to help the rest of the team move in. You can leave the trolley here if you like."

"I'd rather it stay with me," Neil says, and gives the words an edge. Makes his gaze a dare. Wymack doesn't so much as lift an eyebrow. He just leads Neil down the hall to his office and let the desk split them apart as they sit. It's cluttered but not messy. The paper tag on the back of Wymack's swivel chair says Ikea, and Neil has a hunch it was bought on the same day as the desk.

"Was the flight in alright?" Wymack asks.

Softball question. "Oh, I didn't fly in. I was already in North Carolina so Dave just dropped me off here."

"Dave being David Browning, your parole officer."

Neil nods. "He said you've met already?"

"Briefly." He sits back, considering Neil. Unsure what the man is looking for, he considers Wymack back. "What's your story, kid?"

Neil doesn't hesitate. He didn't spend the past two days hammering out his cover story to stumble right out the gate. Step one: don't actually tell him the story. "How do you mean?"

Wymack reaches past his computer speakers to slap a thin file between them. "There are three pages in this file. One has your description and basic the medical history from your time in juvenile detention. Attached to that is your audition CD. The next two pages are instructions for your parole and what allowances I can give you within them."

He pushes the file aside. "Needless to say, there's absolutely nothing in here I can work with."

"They could've sent you more."

"Yes, but they can also lie to me."

"I can lie to you."

"But if you lie to me first I can choose to believe you anyway."

The basis of a good cover is to mix it in with enough facts that the answers feel natural. So when Neil rolls his eyes like he thinks this whole thing is stupid, it's because he really does think this whole thing is stupid.

Nevertheless. "Parents were assholes so I left home. Got caught burning some shit—"

"What kind of shit?"

"I think it was a bank. Anyways, went to juvie in Arizona, warden was a bitch so I got transferred to Colorado, warden got sick of me so I transferred to North Carolina, warden figured giving me parole is easier than transferring me to prison when I hit 18."

Technically, all of those points were true. The lie lay in the omission.

The bank he'd burned down was in Belize, but when the British caught him getting off the boat in Honduras they were actually expecting someone else.

Arizona and Colorado were little more than couple-week bookends on a two-year string of assignments in the Balkans. Then it was Singapore, which he'd turned into Israel, and THEN he got shipped off to North Carolina.

Wymack nods along. "So why are you really here?"

"To play exy," Neil says sarcastically.

"Alright, let's try again: what is the FBI looking for, that you think is minor enough to be worth playing snitch?"

"They think there's a tie between exy and organized crime." Which is true, and Nathaniel is living proof. "Which is obviously the dumbest thing I've ever—"

"No, it's true," Wymack says, flipping a cool penny into the rails of Neil's train of thought. The crash is magnificent.

"You can...prove this?" His mind splits down two tracks: one, how quickly can he get this assignment over with and get the hell out of here. Two, how long can he drag this assignment out before his handlers become overbearing.

#aftg #neil josten #tfc #one day ill write the rest of this

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