#It's tough being the normal one in Team Guy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

temiizpalace · 3 months

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☆┆TEND TO MY WOUNDS !

SUMMARY: red alert! he’s injured! it’s alright, for the prefect of ramshackle is here to save the day.

CHARACTERS: leona, jade, jamil, rook, idia

(i spun a wheel to try and write other characters.. jamil and leona just love me teehee)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: the boys get injured, but nothing is life threatening. — cursing — MENTIONS OF BLEEDING (not fatal)

ROMANTIC, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“shit! ow—“

leona groans, feeling the stinging pain of alcohol rubbed onto his forehead. spelldrive didn’t go as it usually did.

everything was normal. practice was going well, and everybody was doing the proper training regiments. it was all fun watching leona and everybody practice by a nearby tree. except leona wasn’t practicing this afternoon.

today, he felt like napping right beside you. he laid his head in your lap, sound asleep. this all goes south when some freshmen decide to mess around, sending the disc flying in your direction.

typically leona would’ve been able to divert it with magic, but feeling a little hazy from barely awakening, it hit him straight on the forehead.

now here you both are, present in the infirmary, leona sitting on the cot, and you being his own personal doctor. “i can’t believe the great leona kingscholar got hit by a spelldrive disc. it is truly an honor to witness it first hand.” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes.

“tch.. whatever— FUCK.” it’s funny to see leona in such a state. one where his tough guy act isn’t all the way up. you thought he’d brush off the pain like a man, but surprise! we learn something new everyday.

“haha.. wait here. i need to find bandages.” you walk over to the cabinet, only to find all the boxes of bandages empty. except for one. a bandaid box. you snicker at the sight of them and take a couple out of the box. leona raises a brow as he heard your giggling in the back til you made your way back towards him.

you stood in front of him and placed the bandaids on his forehead. he liked the close proximity. he likes being by your side. you caring for him like this is actually one of his deepest desires. he won’t ever say it aloud of course, but he hopes you take the hints.

“you are now officially cured.” you grin, finally applying the last bandaid. he stood up, looking you in the eyes. he wanted to thank you. wanted to thank you for helping him. wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to do this. to help him.

but leona being leona cannot say thank you. “..I don’t wanna owe you any favors so,” he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and throws it to you. you catch it, nearly dropping all the thaumarks inside on the floor. “go buy somethin’ while you’re at it.”

he ruffles your hair, walking out of the infirmary. you flip through the wallet, it barely closing due to the amount of cards and thaumarks inside. rich boy privileges go crazy. ruggie wasn’t kidding when he said leona was stinkin rich. all you could do was stand there, shocked.

leona walks back out to the field, hearing the team laugh as he approaches. he looks at them with a puzzled look, the laughing becoming unbearable. “oi, what’s so funny? mind tellin’?”

“cute bandaids ya got there, boss. shishishishi..” ruggie chuckles, looking at leona’s super cute and silly unicorn bandaids on his forehead. at first, he’s confused. then he rips a bandaid off and looks at the patterns.

start running <3

🐬┆JADE LEECH

“jade, stop moving!”

you sigh, trying to place a bandaid on jade’s cut. you wanted to help him cook today since mostro lounge has been extremely busy lately. azul had been working him to the bone, so he used his time off as a way to spend time with you.

only to end up back in the kitchen, but whatever. since you’re there, it’s all good. while chopping a mysterious vegetable, (it’s a mushroom..) he accidentally cut his finger. he wasn’t paying attention to where he was cutting. cause he was looking at you.

normally somebody would wince in pain, but jade is jade. so. “oh my, this is unexpected.” he says, as his blood gets on his gloves and contaminates the mushrooms. “oh my what— OH MY GOSH, JADE.” you yell, as he’s abnormally calm about the fact blood was all over the mushrooms.

so now he’s sitting at one of the barstools in mostro lounge as you try to patch up his finger. anytime the bandaid gets remotely close to the cut, he squirms and jerks his hand away. you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or if he’s just sensitive to touch because he still has his dumb polite smile.

“jade. stop. moving.” you grunt, trying to grab his wrist to hold his hand still. “fufu..” his stupid chuckle is usually very nice but it’s just growing irritating.

for some reason he still has the impulse to tease you. even when injured. all you want to do is care for him, so why is he making this so difficult?! is he waiting for something?

oh. that’s an idea.

“jade, may i see your hand?” you ask, putting the bandaid on the counter. he raises a brow, but complies nonetheless. “of course. do be gentle though, im wounded.” well no shit.

you held his hand gently, raising a finger up to your lips. you place a gentle kiss on his finger. not on the wound exactly, but near it. his eyes slightly widened and his cheeks tinted slightly red. he loses his composure for just a moment, giving you time to apply the bandaid onto his cut.

you smile in victory, standing up from your seat. “there, all better!” you winked at him before making your way back to the kitchen. he sat there, dumbfounded. how curious.. if that’s a way to get free kisses..

“oh dear, it appears i had just cut my lower lip. what a shame. it appears i am in need of some assistance.” this wasn’t even five minutes later.

🐍┆JAMIL VIPER

“you scream like a girl.”

you laugh as jamil looks away from you. he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes. a little earlier, the both of you were sitting in the lounge of ramshackle as comfortable silence filled the air.

he was flipping through pages of a book while you leaned onto his shoulder, playing a game of some sort on your phone.

“..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

that silence was interrupted as you heard a high pitched scream next to you, turning your head to see jamil absolutely mortified and panicked.

“JAMIL?! WHAT IS—“ then you spotted it. the wretched cockroach crawling on the table. he shut his book and threw it at the table, missing. now he’s grabbing all nearby objects to kill the insect.

“JAMIL PLEASE CALM DOWN, PLEASE! FUCK, JAMIL—” he ended up using his magic, but used a lil too much. as you held him back, his leg bumped against the table, causing him to scurry back to the couch.

confirming that the roach had cleared the premises, you sat next to him and checked the bump on his leg. his breaths were heavy and a sweat was across his brow. you would’ve thought he looked insanely attractive if it weren’t for the incident just before.

now he’s embarrassed, his hood is pulled over, and he’s pouting as he looks away from you. “i think you got a small cut, but it should be fine. i’ll go get some bandaids!” you hum, getting up from the cushions to find the box of bandages.

he completely humiliated himself in front of you. he was weak in front of you. and he hates that. “im back and here to repair your boo-boo.” you came back with the box, sitting back down and opening it. you remove a bandaid and slowly apply it til you hear him mutter something.

“sorry.”

“hm? sorry, couldn’t hear ya. mind speaking up for me?” you heard him perfectly fine. he irks before speaking up, his tone hinted with annoyance. “sorry.”

“all is forgiven, my love.” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. he sighs, reciprocating the hug and leaning onto you. “please forget you saw that..” he mumbles, his face practically burning.

you chuckle, playing with loose strands of his hair as the both of you now lied on the couch. “no promises..” he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but placed a quick kiss on your cheek. he shuts his eyes, needing to recharge.

“mhm. love you too, jamil.” you whisper, allowing him to rest on your chest. he fell asleep in no time flat. let him rest. or even better yet, join him!

🏹┆ROOK HUNT

“how’d you fall?”

you ask, seeing as rook lied on the ground. i don’t know how to explain his pose, he’s just a theatre kid.

“never mind the details, ma chère. all that matters is that you had rushed to my rescue!” he smiles as you stood there. the most deadpan expression on your face. “i’ll just go get you bandages and not question it.” “merci!”

you rush to the infirmary, grabbing the bandages and rushing out. if nobody knew better, they’d all have assumed that rook was dead. he hasn’t moved an inch.

“where’d you injure yourself?” you ask, crouching down and inspecting his arms. “non, non. you must guess!” he laughs, sitting up right away. you groan as he initiated such an idea. “rook. im not going to guess—“

“if that is the case, ill be stuck in everlasting pain! it’d be unbearable.” he sighs dramatically, causing you to furrow your brow. “fine. did you injure your leg?” you grumble, checking each limb.

he shook his head, smiling like an absolute idiot. “here, allow me to give you a hint.” he grabs your hand guiding it to the place of the wound. of course he can’t do it without teasing you a little.

he places your hand on his shoulder, his hand, his neck, til eventually he stopped on his cheek. “my injury can be found around here.”

you look at his cheek, but there is no cut, scratch, or bruise to be seen. you raise a brow at him, but he has no shift in reaction. “rook, are you lying to me?” rook shook his head, looking you in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you, mon amour. perhaps you need a closer look.”

before he could even explain what that meant, he pulled you towards him. causing you to fall onto him. “can you see it now?” he asks, staring at you lovingly.

you sigh, pulling a bandage out and placing it onto his lips. his eyes widened, but he wasn’t mad. not in the slightest! he wrapped his arms around you. taking this opportunity for a cuddle session.

despite your “annoyance,” you smiled and laughed slightly. “you’re impossible, rook.”

he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, humming happily as you spoke. his fingers intertwined with yours as the sun hit both of your figures. creating a scene resembling one of a fairytale.

💀┆IDIA SHROUD

“you can’t lock yourself into your room because of this.”

you slightly chuckle as you patch up idia’s knee. moments before, his PE class had to do the sprints. looks like he went to class on the wrong day.

while he was running, he tripped on a conveniently placed rock and fell on his knee. ortho quickly went to find you and bring you to idia so that you can comfort him.

he had tears coming from his eyes, which caused ortho to panic. you both carried him to the infirmary since he had an inability to walk. you situated him onto the cot and grabbed some bandages from the cabinets. “don’t worry niisan! the prefect will take good care of you!”

ortho chimed, trying his best to comfort his brother. idia felt his stress lessen, but that doesn’t change the immense pain he was in. “thank you, ortho. but i don’t im ever gonna to go outside again.”

he mumbles, causing ortho to pout. you come back with the bandages, smiling as you sat to the side of the cot. “im gonna have to go explain to coach vargas why you’re not here! hang tight, niisan!”

you waved to ortho, leaving just you and idia in the infirmary. “idia, you’re not going to die because of this.” you smile, placing the bandage onto his knee. idia groans, picking at his fingers. “i looked so cringe just now. definitely not my moment.”

“you didn’t look cringe, idia. you got hurt.” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. he smiles slightly as you tried to reassure him. it was endearing to him. “thanks.. but i want to lock myself in my room for like ever after this..” he quickly mutters, hoping you wouldn’t hear that. surprise! you heard him.

“no idia, you can’t lock yourself in your room forever after this.” you sigh, realizing this was the man you fell in love with. “what? you can come too. you’d be free from all the normies surrounding you.” he stated bluntly.

“..no.” you hesitantly said, squeezing his hand slightly. you both sat in the infirmary for a few more moments before you sat up and let go of his hand. “can you stand?”

“no.” he quickly replies, not even bothering to try. you stare at him before exhaling deeply. “i’ll bring your switch then. wait here.” he smiled as he watched you exit the room. he appreciated how understanding you were. how you knew what he wanted before he even had to ask. ..well, most of the time anyway.

when you came back, you sat next to him on the cot. you both played smash bros together, playing until the console runs out of batteries. lucky for him, his console lasts for almost an entire week before it runs out of power.

let me just say, he beat your ass in smash bros.

A/N: this sat in my drafts for a very long time. i had to brainstorm A LOT to see how idia could get injured.

date published: 1/27/24

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst fluff #twst #twst wonderland

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc

doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰

thankyouu🥺✨

I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫

———————————————————————

Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.

His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.

The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.

The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.

While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.

Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.

You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.

You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.

Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”

“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”

His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.

“Why the glitter?” he asks.

“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.

“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.

“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.

“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”

“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”

He lets out a sarcastic scoff.

“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.

He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.

You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”

He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.

They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.

You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.

He is livid.

“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.

“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”

“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”

“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”

“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”

Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.

Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.

“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.

“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.

You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”

“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”

“And I had only one sheet of paper.”

“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.

“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”

They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.

“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”

“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.

“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”

———————————————————————

A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!

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jello-chennie · 7 months

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✧ tough guy iwaizumi hajime who ends up falling for his best friend’s cute little sister

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (nsfw at the end ⚠︎)

✧ word count 857

all three of you grow up together, with you being two years younger than tooru. oikawa is always doting on you, treating you like a doll. despite the very little age gap, no matter how old you get, he’s always referring to you as his baby sister. oikawa spoils you rotten. one look from those big brown eyes you both share, but look a lot cuter on you for some reason, and oikawa can’t help but to give you whatever you ask for.

in the beginning, iwaizumi is almost like your other, more responsible big brother when things go wrong. you’re always trying to tag along with your older brother and his friend, which is a recipe for disaster sometimes.

when you inevitably take a spill, and bump your knees, tooru is rolling on the ground, shouting out against the heavens for forsaking you. how could the higher powers let you just fall to the ground like that?? but iwaizumi is is silently wiping off the pebbles from your knee with his little hands, blowing cool air to help assuage your pain. without a word, he carries you back home.

eventually you learn to stop tagging along so much. you can only handle so much pain and embarrassment. other than those moments, iwaizumi and you never really spend that much time together. for the rest of your childhood, you’re more acquaintances than anything else.

but at some point, after oikawa desperately begs you to join the boys volleyball team as it’s manager (“its the only time we’ll be together in high school, you wouldn’t ruthlessly deny your precious and loving and dashing and charming big brother this chance, would you???”), iwaizumi begins to notice you again. but this time, you’re a lot more grown up than you were before. seems like good looks run in the family.

but he’s not the only one that notices. in the same sense that oikawa seems to have the student body under his spell, it seems you do as well, and without even trying.

you’ve had a sheltered childhood that you mostly spent in doors, so you’re shyer than most people. and your brother enables you with his doting behaviour.

iwaizumi finds himself frequently getting jealous at the basket of love letters and confectionery that you have to empty out of your locker and lug home every night. iwaizumi finds that his hands begin to ache after a while bc he clenches them so hard whenever he sees another person confessing to you. and he waits with baited breath to see their disappointed faces as they walk away—an indication that you turned them down again in the way that you always shyly do; an indication that he might still have a chance, yet.

in an effort to put the moves on you, iwaizumi is constantly performing little acts of service for you. he goes out with you to the fountains to refill the water bottles so that you have some company, and so that you won’t have to carry anything heavy—that should be his job, after all. in the most cliche move ever, when an errant ball goes flying right in your direction, iwaizumi coolly catches it with one hand before it can bounce off of your head, making sure to ask you if you’re okay after. he stays behind to help you sweep the floors after practice, striking up a conversation with you. when oikawa stays behind to practice his spikes, iwaizumi walks alone with you home, making sure to keep you away from the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road. iwa also makes sure to put your back against the wall of the train while standing in front of you, keeping you safe from any wandering hands.

eventually, he even starts buying your favourite milk drink from the vending machine, and brings it to you while he visits your classroom, the place where you normally eat your lunch. he sits, and eats with you (to which oikawa complains vehemently bc “why would you just sit in a different spot than we normally do without telling me?? you left me all alone!!")

iwaizumi’s actions don’t go unnoticed. you start to fall for it.

when you two eventually start to date, oikawa is whining and complaining that you two are both stealing each other away from him (there’s also relentless teasing on oikawa’s end bc “iwa-chan, isn’t funny that you fell in love with someone that looks just like me?? are you secretly gay and actually just in love with me :3 ??”)

but what’s really the kick in the back for oikawa is the moment he runs up to his precious little sister’s room to check and see what she wants for dinner. but upon opening the door, he finds both his best friend (who, of which, he didn’t even know was over their place at the moment) on top of his “adorable baby sister who can do absolutely no wrong”; the two of them are naked from the waist down, in the throes of passion.

he falls to his knees, asking god to strike him dead, right then and there.

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shyhaya · 12 days

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Hii! Can i plzzzplz request hcs/ or scenario of Barou,Rin, Kunigami and isagi liking the manager of their schools soccer team :DD???

Hi darling, here's your request! please forgive me for taking so long

──────♡──────

Oh Wait, Am I In Love? [Barou Shoei, Itoshi Rin, Kunigami Rensuke & Isagi Yoichi x GN! Reader / SFW]

❯── Barou ──❮

What an interesting situation.

I don't think he would notice his own feelings towards you until he's in too deep.

His teammates certainly noticed before him but they were all scared of telling him anything.

Nevertheless, maybe he heard them talking about his 'soft' if we can call it that attitude towards you.

He did treat you like a peasant, like everyone else, but he actually listened to you when you talked.

Plus, you got to be around him and even tease him sometimes and not even once he reacted brashly towards you!

Everyone in the team is shocked.

When he finally realizes this fact, his entire view of you changed slightly.

Now he understood why he tolerated your presence and even liked to hang out with you.

He was a bit clueless on how to approach you on this topic, but he's driven by the thought of possibly having even more of your attention.

Congratulations! You've been promoted from useful peasant to the King's consort! :3

──────♡──────

❯── Rin ──❮

This one's tough.

Rin can be dense sometimes, but he was the first one to realize he fancied you.

It wasn't even obvious to anybody else, but he noticed the slight changes. How he found you attractive and not a lukewarm like the others.

He liked your advice and actually followed it, and your presence always helped him concentrate or not during practice and even real games.

But what is Rin Itoshi if not a stubborn brat?

He wouldn't tell you about his feelings right away.

If someone notices his almost kind attitude towards you he would deny it or just say it isn't anyone's business.

Soon though, he gets jealous of the rest of team because they're all nice and close to you.

This would be enough for the dam he built to contain his feelings to break.

He had a feeling you liked him too, so there's no way he's letting you go.

Good luck.

──────♡──────

❯── Kunigami ──❮

Oh, Rensuke baby, love, honey- I'll stop now.

He's clueless at first.

You're really nice to everyone, so he naturally gets along with you.

He doesn't find different how he's soon hanging out with you often he's like a big puppy!

During practice he's focused and still can't help but to glance at your direction, finding you adorable as you watch the practice match and how your eyes sparkle as they meet his.

Every time someone from the team mentions you, he immediately perks up.

His teammates realize this and they are the ones who make him realize.. he did like you, but in a whole different way than the rest of them did.

After that he gets a bit flustered every time you're close or when you get worried if he gets hurt during a game or practice.

He's an honest guy though, so he would tell you. No beating around the bush.

He's hopeful that you'll accept him, and can't wait to have you his own I accept my love, I'll even marry you if you want-

──────♡──────

❯── Isagi ──❮

Man, he realized his feelings for you fast.

He was kinda clueless at first, but after analyzing your interactions and how he couldn't help but to admire you, he accepted he was smitten.

He's the one who's all flustered when you're being your usual kind self and asking him if he's alright.

Stutters a bit more and is distracted by how pretty you are.

It's adorable how he tries to act normal but he's also trying to compliment you and maybe give you some clues about how he feels.

All of his teammates notice this and soon they're all teasing him every time they see him looking at you during practice.

He wants to test the waters first, figure out if you like him before he confesses.

If he notices even a slight chance of you liking him back, then he will take the chance. It's what s striker does anyway.

He's so sweet when he actually tells you.

Please say yes, this guy spent all night thinking of all the possible scenarios of how his confesión would go.

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

Note

that one slower scene in every superhero movie when the good guys take a beating from the villain and need to regroup, so one of the members of the team is like 'i know a place'.

so, nik gets some coordinates from soap and flies them to a countryside in scotland where mrs mactavish greets them on the front porch of a lovely house and immediately threats them with an ass whooping if they don't take their muddy combat boots off before going inside.

momma mactavish seems completely unafazed by a helicopter in her backyard, doesn't ask any questions, treats them all like a family. she's tiny and a little scary, makes them eat their vegetables and treats them to a delicious dessert. she can't stop kissing johnny's head and roast him for his mohawk.

ghost notices how relaxed and happy johnny is and how domesticity suits him. he would like to see it more often. for the first time in his life he is reluctant to come back to work.

immediately pictured the avengers at hawkeye’s house

Usually when someone on their team says I know a place when they find themselves in a bout of trouble, they don’t usually mean their childhood home.

Usually, I know a place means a warehouse, a run-down safe house, or, God forbid, some cave. And yet instead, here they all exist idly in Soap’s mum’s house while she coddles them in between scolding her son like it’s just another normal day for her. Like they aren’t all hardened soldiers standing in her home, each with innumerable kill counts and severely blacked-out personnel files.

It’s… weird, being crowded into a dining room and served a home-cooked meal despite coming unannounced and uninvited. That isn’t to say they’re not all thankful, having surely used up the last of Mrs. MacTavish’s gauze and bandages to get to this point, but it’s just—not at all what any of the team had been expecting.

Soap’s about the only one who seems unperturbed. Price is still rubbing his wrist from when Mrs. MacTavish smacked him for his insistence on helping with supper.

You’re guests, she had said, sounding positively aghast. What kind of host do you take me for?

Ghost can certainly see where Soap had gotten his fiery nature, as he bickers back and forth with his mother while the rest of them eat quietly, tentatively, like they’re not sure they’re allowed to. They may not share much in looks, but it’s no doubt that Soap is his mother’s son.

By the time dessert rolls around—which is yet another surprise—Mrs. MacTavish has finally been directing conversation to the soldiers sat around her table, asking about work and life as if they aren’t all bruised and scarred and about half-dead from an awful fight. Yet they all find themselves discussing what’s asked of them like it’s no more than the weather.

Something about Mrs. MacTavish’s spirit instills a sense of familiarity, homeliness. Ghost understands why Soap thought to bring them all there.

Ultimately it’s Gaz who charms Soap’s mum away to the living room along with Price and Nik that lets Ghost, at the very least, get away with helping with dishes once everything is said and done. Unfortunately for Soap, he’s never offered the choice.

“Good thing you have goin’ on here, Johnny,” Ghost eventually remarks, once they’re finally in the swing of wash, dry, wash, dry. “Not afraid of anything getting traced back here? To her?”

Soap shakes his head as he scrubs at a particularly tough stain. “Nah. It’s no’ on any of my records. Hell, it’s barely on any records. We’re off grid, LT, no need to worry your pretty head.”

Ghost rolls his eyes. He wipes off the plate that’s handed to him before setting it on the drying rack, and tossing his towel over his shoulder. It’s not until Soap’s trying to hand him something else does he take notice of Ghost’s pause.

Slowly, Soap sets the dish back in the water, frowning up at Ghost. “What?”

“…Nothin’,” Ghost says after much too long. He huffs. “Just… nice seeing what home looks like on you.”

Ghost doesn’t allow himself to linger watching Soap’s expression change from confusion to a near softness, instead making a reach for the discarded dish in the murky, soapy water to kick their routine back in gear.

He doesn’t want to think about it too closely. Doesn’t want to think about the things he’s realizing about himself this evening, or the fleeting thought that maybe he’d like to stay here forever, instead of return to the field where death waits openly at every turn.

It’s still appreciated, though, this moment of tranquility. He’ll have to make sure to thank Mrs. MacTavish when he gets the chance.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #task force 141 #ghostsoap #soapghost #writing

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doromoni · 8 months

Text

I hate you , right? | GR63

George Russell x Red Bull Driver! y/n

warnings : swearing

Summary : George was a little too attractive after the summer break.

“Oh fuck off Russell! Are you blind? Side mirrors are there for a reason! Learn to fucking use it! You almost cost me my race, dickhead!”

Y/N L/N the first ever female driver for the Red Bull racing team, only through sheer determination and hardheadedness was she able to achieve such an amazing feat.

Being the only female on the grid was hard enough as it is with misogyny and sexism biting at her rear , but adding a British asshole really did put the cherry on top on the cake of ass-hattery that Formula 1 offered.

“Not my fault you drive like a fucking lunatic, that turn was mine and you know it L/N! maybe next time learn how to actually drive rather than depending on your car”

The two drivers are at each other’s faces yet again . This had been a normal event, that even the teams have grown accustomed to the shouts and curses of each driver — whether its swearing at each other in the Red Bull garage or nearly pouncing and succumbing to physicalities at Mercedes. Y/N L/N and George Russell are sworn enemies in and off the racing track.

They used to be friends, best friends even. Both driving for the Mercedes driver academy with George racing in F2 while Y/N in F3. When George won the F2 championship, earning himself a seat at Williams ; Y/N then was promoted to a seat in F2 . A year later Y/N had won her own F2 championship, but no F1 seat was offered in Williams nor in Mercedes to the female driver. Another year had passed, George was offered a seat at Mercedes while Mercedes had no news for Y/N L/N. That was until a seat was offered by Red Bull — giving a shock to the whole motorsport world. As Y/N raced for the Red and Blue team , she had flourished and proved everyone who doubted her wrong.

No one knew how George and Y/N’s rivalry exactly started , but all hell broke loose when George collided with Y/N during the 1st lap and both had DNFed the race.

Y/N was furious and snapped , storming into the Mercedes garage straight to where the English driver was standing still holding onto his racing helmet— shoving him with all her strength into the garage wall. Their faces almost touching as unpleasant words were exchanged ; rendering both teams speechless and leaving them with a horrendous PR mess to clean up.

This time was no different. Y/N and George were at each other’s throat, only this time it was Y/N pinned to the wall inside George’s driver room . George tightening his grip on the Red Bull driver’s waist, leaning his full body weight on the girl who was squirming for release.

“What even is the problem Y/N? We’re both on the podium and you’re team got a 1-2. Stop being a child, it’s racing! What do you expect”

“My problem is you Russell! You’re so careless and aggressive, we could’ve crashed again. You never changed, George , you’re still the fucking same!”

George’s eyes darken as his face drew even closer to the female driver— his voice like honey, dripping as it lowered an octave.

“Yeah?!And you changed so fucking much, I don’t even recognize you anymore Y/N! Now all I see is a bitch obsessed with winning. Tough luck! You’re Verstappen’s teammate, you will always be second.”

Not backing down , Y/n drew herself closer to the english driver ,enough that their noses where touching. A teasing yet derisive smirk formed on her lip, tongue darting out wetting her lips. Catching George’s eyes , as it glanced down towards y/n lips.

“Oh how rich! Coming from the guy who’s living in Lewis Hamilton’s bloody shadow. Like I care what you see me as , you were blind from the very beginning.“

A deep chuckle vibrated in George’s chest , drawing shivers up Y/N’s back , as he said

“ I hate you”

“No, duh Sherlock. I hate you more”

His eyes quickly darting from her eyes to her lips , as if contemplating something. Having enough of his antics and taking matters into her own hands, Y/N fisted his Fireproofs as she brought him down to her level. As their Lips almost touched , rapid knocks on the door distracted them from their daze.

Suddenly realizing their positions , Y/n pushed George away from her. Fuming, the female driver parted ways and left the Mercedes garage with a huff ; wrapping up the first race of the seond half of the season with glares and silent threats. Not realizing what was on each other’s mind

“ Such a rude mouth, what i’d do to shut that up and get a taste”

“I need to control myself. I was ready to pounce on George and have my way with him. Damn him and his perfect hair and golden skin”

The Red Bull and Mercedes driver starting the other half season with pent up anger and sexual tension thick enough to suffocate.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #george russel x reader #mercedes #george russel imagine #george russell #gr63 #red bull formula 1 #red bull racing #f1 imagine #mercedes amg f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 2023 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #george russell x reader #george russell imagine

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tinygarbage · 4 months

Text

December

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: simon has been in a foul mood all of december and you think he hates you

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, implied trauma, american reader lol, mentions of alcohol (reader is slightly buzzed), implications of familial trauma, no use of y/n, no physical description, not edited fully bc i am last minute on this (again), military inaccuracies bc im just a silly girl on a silly app :p, lmk if I missed anything :)

au: lol there’s not really a plot to this but i plan on building on this little friendship so if u like it lmk :) just something silly i wrote bc the holidays are a little tough for me :)

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹

The two sargents and the captain of the one-four-one find themselves tasked with a new objective when December rolls around. Keep you from being alone with Ghost. Even stretching far enough to keep you away from situations that might cause an outburst from the broad Brit.

It all started one morning in the kitchen. You and Soap having your morning coffee. You being American and him being Scottish, you two were the outcasts. The only coffee drinkers.

"We outta finish these quickly." Soap speaks, looking over a report meant to be turned into Price by noon.

"Why's that?" You ask, completely oblivious to why you have to gulp down your steaming mug of coffee so early in the morning.

"LT," Soap says as if it's an obvious thing.

"What about him? He deals with it every other morning." You say with a shrug, sitting up in your chair as your boots are tied perfectly tight. Leaving it impossible for the laces to come undone during training.

Soap looks at you as you take your first sip, wincing at how hot it was. You glance back at him, feeling his wide eyed stare. "What?" You ask, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"You're new. That's right." Soap says, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Not that new. I've been here for 10 months already." You say defensively. You had just escaped their teasing nicknames and comments about how green you were. To the team, that was. Which, to be clear, never messed with their trust for your skill. They knew you were an important asset to the team. But what's friendship without a little teasing?

"Yeah, but you're new to LT and December." Soap chuckles, gulping more of his coffee.

"It's just another month," you say with a shrug.

"Just finish your coffee, hen." Soap says, shaking his head as he finishes his own up. Rinsing it and the pot out in the sink.

The rest of the month is similar. The team still shielding you from Ghost. You see him obviously. While on the training grounds, during morning roll call, passing through the common room. But you hardly talk to him. Instead, overhearing stories about his mood towards new recruits being much worse than normal. Which was astonishing to hear because his mood towards them was typically foul.

You knew why the team was creating a barrier as soon as you heard about his mood. It's because to Ghost, you're just a new recruit. No matter how many times you cover him on a mission, or prove yourself and your strength time and time again. You're green. A baby deer stumbling to walk. And it drives him nuts. He constantly ignores your looks of admiration. Brushing aside your words of praise as you hold out your fist for a fist bump. A tradition strong among the rest of the guys and you.

Instead, he gives you disapproving stares. Degrading lectures in front of the new recruits when your golden retriever attitude gets too bubbly. Scoffs when you suggest strategies or try and help during mission briefings. Shoving shoulders when you stand in his way. And your least favorite, the mumbling. Little remarks and insults spoken under his breath. Hardly hidden from behind the mask. His harsh words still fall on your exceptional hearing, causing your nostrils to flare as you see red.

You'd spent nearly 10 months trying to prove yourself to him. And you nearly got him. His walls slowly coming down, brick by brick. He'd start making small jokes about the new recruits to you when partnered together. Pat your back firmly after a good shot. Acknowledge your presence when you both were in the kitchen or the common area.

Until bloody December rolls around. Again, you're thankful to the team for shielding you from his horrendous mood. But you're frustrated that you can't keep trying to weasel your way into getting him to like you. That all of your efforts have been thrown away and you'd have to restart as soon as you have full access to his side again.

It isn't until the end of December that you're alone with him for the first time in a month. It's late, just past midnight. He's sitting in the common room, a steaming cup of tea in front of him. You walk in late from a night out at the pub after gaining Price's approval to go out. You were just catching up with a couple friends who were studying abroad. Your heart feeling twice it's size after seeing a little piece of home.

It's dark. The only thing lighting up the room is the glow of his phone screen and the light from the door outside the common room. Which you held open as you stared at him like a deer in headlights. Not knowing what to say. Or do.

Slowly, you close the door. Making your way across the common room slowly. Your converse tapping the tile of the floor with each step. Vision slightly blurred from the pints you indulged in. You're almost past him, completely avoiding eye contact as you quietly walk past the couch he's spread out on.

"It's a bit late," He speaks up. His deep, gruff voice sending a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps forming on your skins despite your warm hoodie and worn jeans.

"Captain gave me a pass. For the Holidays." You speak carefully, eyes finally meeting his form in the dark.

The pale moonlight from the window across from him gives her a better view. His phone screen lighting up his face. He's wearing a black surgical mask, covering the lower half of his face. A black hoodie covers his upper half, the hood up to create a perfect shadow over what the mask wasn't covering. The only thing really visible to the eye was his eyes. His dark chocolate irises that scan over your casual appearance. Taking in the sight of you outside of uniform or athletic clothes. Instead seeing you in the dark jeans that hung from your hips. Hoodie and jacket baggy on your upper half.

You look past him, seeing the time on the clock above the door way. The green electronic letters reading 00:13. It's now officially Christmas. Your eyes shift back to him, catching his intense stare. The air seems to run cold as he glared, his demeanor clearly bothered by your existence. You can't stop the small shiver that runs down your spine as you stare back. Blinking slowly as you try and keep your brain working.

"Merry Christmas, Riley." You finally say, eyes dropping down to your scuffed converse.

His head turns and he checks the clock. He turns back, "Merry Christmas." He says. His voice sounds...different. Tired? No...defeated...maybe.

You smile politely, your sneaker twisting against the tile of the common room. You should walk away. Leave him to his own thoughts. Get into bed and sleep off the couple pints you threw down with friends. But you don't. Instead you stand awkwardly near the exit of the common rooms. Your brain busy with contradicting thoughts. Say something. Go to bed. Ask him about his mood. Shut up and go to bed. Sit next to him. Scream at him for always being an asshole. But you do nothing. Standing as still as a statue. Not daring to move, your muscles completely stone.

"Don't break yourself, kid." He retorts, a small chuckle at his own humor.

"Huh?" You ask absentmindedly, before it clicks in your head that you were standing still like an idiot. Thinking so loudly that Russia was probably disturbed. You awkwardly blurt out a response, "Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

He raises a brow. Clearly unimpressed with your inability to act normal around him. "You want to say something?"

"It's late," you say sheepishly, "Why are you still up?"

His eyes drop down to his tea. You watch as he shifts slightly, revealing more of himself in the moonlight. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, fitting tight against his thighs as he manspreads on the leather couch. Taking up space with his huge, muscular body.

"Cant sleep." He says shortly. In his typical, gruff manner.

"Something keeping you up?" You ask without thinking.

You brace yourself for a snotty comment, or a silent glare as he pushes past you. Instead, you hear a huff of laughter. Or what was supposed to be laughter. You can never tell with the Lieutenant. "Isn't it always something?"

"In our line of work, typically," You shrug, fingers tingling in the pockets of your jacket. "Do you," you pause, clearing your throat to sound more sure of yourself, "Do you need to talk about it?"

His eyes meet yours. He says nothing for a few seconds. Letting your words hang in the air. "I just don't fancy the holidays."

You nod, somehow smart enough in your tipsy state to realize exactly what he meant. It was more than the military. It was his life. "I get it." You say softly, "Do you mind if I sit with you? I need to gather myself before I try and stay quiet."

"Go ahead.”

Easier than you thought. You cross the common room carefully, sitting at the other end of the love seat. Immediately drawing your knees into your chest. Your arms wrap around your legs as you press them into your chest. Gaze falling to the window to see the brick building across the way. You're not exactly sure what to say, drawing in controlled breaths as you sit in silence. Fighting the urge to ask a million and one questions as your buzzed brain runs wild.

"You've been avoiding me." He says suddenly. Ripping through the silence.

You turn your head, chewing the inside of your cheek as you look at him. From this angle, you see the rest of his face. His dark scar poking through the surgical mask. His other scar curved above his thick eyebrow. His usual eye black is nowhere to be seen. Just dark circles formed under his eyes from exhaustion. His dark eyes darting around. He seems..uneasy. Which is unlike him.

"I haven't been," you say quickly. Both of you let the lie sit for a second before you eventually come clean. His intense eyes sending you straight into confession mode. "Ok, maybe I have been."

"Why?"

"Aren't you happy I'm not up your ass anymore?" You can't help but ask.

"At first."

"What changed?"

"Maybe I don't mind having you around," he shrugs.

You stare at him for a minute. Waiting for him to say he's just playing, and actually wants you to get out of his face. But the words never come. Instead, you look at the man next to you. His usual determined expression is no where to be seen. Replaced with a sheepish gaze as his eyes dart around everywhere but on you. He wasn't joking around. He liked your company.

"The guys said to keep my distance," you reply. Figuring there was no reason to lie about it.

"Because December." He finishes.

"Pretty much," you say with a shaky exhale. Not exactly fond of the route this good take.

"You didn't have too. I wouldn't have snapped at you," he says, voice soft. "I just don't do well around the holidays."

"You don't have to explain yourself." You reply with an empathetic tone. "I'm sorry for avoiding you."

He turns to you, finally making eye contact with you. Shifting slightly under your gaze. "Thank you."

You smile, "You don't need to thank me. We all have our own shit. Just know I've got your back if you ever need me."

His eyes soften in the moonlight, "And I've got yours."

You smile, turning your head back forward. Knowing that if you continue to look at him you'll lose the small sense of control over your buzzed emotions. As you sit in a comfortable silence, you quickly realize you can't stay in the room any longer. His lingering cologne and his kind words creating a pool of fluttering butterflies in a cage. Locked right between your ribs.

Carefully, you drop your legs. Your converse plant on the ground and you push yourself up, the room shaking as you regain full balance. With your hands stuffed back into your pockets, you walk towards the hallway filled with the small rooms the team occupies. Before you leave, you turn on your heel. Staring at him for a second as you try and form words. A lump of complicated feelings lodged in your throat. So instead of saying anything of importance. Or stating why you are fleeing the scene at a rapid pace after he said his first genuine non-work related thing. You give him a tight lipped smile.

"Merry Christmas, Simon."

"Merry Christmas, kid."

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹

part two :)

there u are :)) it’s small and uneventful but sometimes i really enjoy writing small moments like these :)

thank u for reading <3 happy holidays !

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod x reader #christmas

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lyak12 · 1 month

Note

Lucy bronze x reader. They just had a tough game and reader had a lot of back pain and Lucy helps her and massages her and takes care of her. Some fluff :)

I have your back

A/N: This was just so cute. Again it's not very long, only about 1k words, and I'm honestly half asleep right now so I don't know if this is any good but I couldn't help but see how Lucy would see right through readers facade at this req. Not proofread, and again, I'm a bit rusty, but still, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None I can think of, if you see something lmk:)

It's your first season playing for Barça and you love it. Especially since you're reunited with your girlfriend again. Lucy and you play both for the English national team and have been dating for over two years now.

As Lucy had moved to Barcelona about a year into your relationship, you had been scared that your relationship wouldn't last, but you quickly realized that your love had known no distance.

Nevertheless, as the opportunity arose for you to join her in Barcelona, you had jumped on it, and it's been the best decision you made.

Life with Lucy in Barcelona is great. The weather is unbelievable and the food to die for.

-----------

It's is your second time starting for Barça and since you were one of the best teams in the league, you hadn't expected the game to be so rough. Not rough in the team is super strong, but rough in you felt like you're playing rugby.

It's around the 70th minute, Barcelona is in the lead with 6:0 as you jump up for the header. It's a beautiful pass from Lucy and it finds you perfectly. However, before you can even head the ball in, you feel a player from the other team jumping in your back.

You fall to the ground without being able to really catch yourself, landing mostly on your back, which causes the wind to get knocked out of you.

You groan as you try to catch your breath. For a moment, everything is black. As you open your eyes again a moment later, the first thing you see are your girlfriend's worried eyes.

"Are you okay y/n/n? That was an ugly fall", Lucy asks, worried, her northern accent coming out thickly when she's worried. "Yeah, I think so", you say and try to sit up. Your back is killing you.

The medics come running towards you to make sure you're alright and didn't get injured in the fall. They notice you're still breathing a bit shallow, but from what they can tell, nothing is seriously wrong. They help you up, and you stretch your back slightly.

You stay on the field, partly because you are too stubborn to admit you are in pain and partly because you feel like you need to prove yourself on the new team. "Are you sure?", Lucy asks, worried but you just nod.

Your back is in agony the rest of the game, but you push through. As the game is over and you win 7:0, you can't help but celebrate with the others on the team. However, Lucy can look right through your facade.

She keeps a hand on your back gently and makes sure you take it easy without causing much attention. After a nice hot shower, all of you get dressed and get back on the bus to drive back.

You wince slightly as you sit down, the bus seat certainly not helping your back. Lucy just smiles sadly before patting her lap. Normally, she's a bit more reserved in front of the team, but right now, her whole focus is on getting you as comfortable as possible until you're home.

You curl up on her and end up dozing off a little. The drive back luckily wasn't that long back to the headquarters. Once you all got off, Alexia and a few others asked, "Do you guys wanna get some food with us?".

Lucy knows you'd never tell your new captain no, so she's quick to answer, "Not tonight, I think we'll call it an early night and get some well needed recovery done. Thank you, though. You guys have fun." Alexia just nods with a smile, knowing how important recovery is for Lucy's knee.

That Lucy is feeling completely fine is beside the point.

"Why did you turn them down?", you ask softly, trying to appear tough, but Lucy sees right through you. "Because you're in pain, love. And I'd rather spend the rest of the night to make you feel better than going out to eat", Lucy says as she kisses your forehead, and you just smile softly.

The way home is not far, thankfully, and once you're in the privacy of your apartment, you can no longer keep the facade up. "Bloody hell, this hurts", you say as you lean on the kitchen counter. "Yeah, that was a pretty rough fall. I can't believe you kept playing after that", Lucy says, gently rubbing over your shoulder.

"Don't act like you wouldn't have", you say with a raised eyebrow as you look at your girlfriend. "Guilty, but we both know I would've gotten an earful from you as soon as we were home", Lucy says with a chuckle, and you just laugh slightly before you wince. Laughing hurts.

"Come on. Let's get you on the bed so I can massage your back", Lucy says, gently ushering you to the bedroom. "Luce, you don't have to. You must be tired and.. ", you try to argue, but Lucy interrupts, "Close that cute mouth and lay down on the bed, take off your shirt. This is not up for debate."

You know that tone, so you do as you're told and lay down on the bed on your stomach, top less. Before you know it, you feel Lucy straddle your thighs as she spreads some oil on your back and starts massaging.

You normally love Lucy's hands on you, but at the beginning, with your muscles being so tense, it's just painful. You can't help but groan a few times, and Lucy says gently, "I know, I'm sorry. Try to relax, baby."

Eventually, you do relax, and your tense muscles are starting to loosen up. By the time Lucy feels accomplished with her massage, you were fast asleep. This game took it out of you, and Lucy can't help but smile at you.

Kissing your head a few times, she gets ready for bed herself before crawling in with you and tucking you both in. You instinctively cuddle into her chest, and she just pulls you close, pressing a kiss on your forehead before mumbling, "I love you, sleep well, Baby."

#lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #woso x reader #woso fic #barça femeni

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

Text

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?”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @lethalchiralium, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis

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comicaurora · 9 months

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One thing I noticed is ever since MAWSM came out is how people in discussions have been decreasingly calling Clark "Superman" and now almost exclusively refer to him with his real name. Yeah, of course. He is Clark first and foremost. The farmboy from Smallville, Kansas; reporter at the Daily Planet. Superman is an extension of Clark. He's not like the other dude whose hero persona is his core identity. He's just a normal guy at heart who happens to be indestructible. He's just... Clark.

I think it's because until My Adventures With Superman, his primary cartoon presence was in series that were overtly superhero shows with threat-of-the-week formats, where Clark's life was the two-minute framing sequence around Superman getting to do the good stuff. Even the original Fleischer superman cartoon was ten-minute shorts that couldn't afford to go slice-of-life when they could be animating Superman punching a hole in a jet.

There have been little moments that hinted at this in other series - the Justice League episode Comfort and Joy springs to mind, being one of the only downtime episodes the team gets, where J'onn sees Clark back home on the farm with Ma and Pa Kent and is surprised at how relaxed and genuine he is when he isn't "working", aka "being superman." But for the most part Clark doesn't get that kind of personal focus, and the seasons that center on him are entirely about Superman's villains and the risk of Superman becoming a despot like his Justice Lord counterpart.

Live-action shows have been a little better about this, if only because of the SFX requirements of superman meaning it's cheaper and simpler to lean into Hometown Hero Clark Kent, exemplified in the series Smallville, which had an actual development policy that Clark was never allowed to put on the cape or costume. It started as teen drama where the protagonist just happened to have superpowers and a weird allergy to green rocks, and for a while it even had a similar gimmick to MAWS, where every other episode he developed a new power or discovered a new trait of his physiology that the audience was already expected to know about. But the problem there is that the audience also has the biggest point of dramatic irony hanging over their heads for the entire show - we know Clark's destiny is to become Superman. So while the show is ABOUT Clark, there's this tonal undercurrent that most of the messy things that make him Clark are things he'll eventually outgrow.

I think what's making My Adventures With Superman work is that it's (a) deeply sincere and (b) centered on the thesis that Clark is an emotional, vulnerable person AND ALSO a flying invulnerable brick with laser eyes, and his stress over his powers isn't just "aw it's tough to be a god now put on the tights already" but it's the very reasonable "I don't know why I'm like this, I don't understand what it means or if it's dangerous, I can't stop breaking the things I touch but I don't want to be alone."

Clark's isolation has always been something other characters muse about privately (usually Batman) or a bit of fridge logic he turns into a cool boast (the World of Cardboard speech reframing every fight he's ever been in by telling the audience he is 100% pulling his punches ALL THE TIME) but to my knowledge it's never been played for this deeply impactful and HIGHLY resonant "there is Something Wrong With Me that I don't have a name for but I will regardless find a way to live with myself and the people I love."

When Superman is framed as Clark's inevitable destiny, we lose sight of the fact that Clark is, by necessity, the kind of person who would create Superman.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

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Male Reader X 141 boyfriends (individually) where he has a pet wolf and the rest of 141 reacts to it on and off the field

Also can it be a BIG ass wolf too plzzzz?

(Super simple really lol)

141 x male reader

Headcanons

You said big wolf, so I made it a big wolf, big enough to ride on. I know this isn’t realistically possible, but I don’t care :)

You callsign in this is Lycan, because of the wolf lmao. It isn’t really mentioned but yeah.

John Price

- Now Price added you to the 141 he had read in your file that you had a canine with you. He just assumed it was like any other dog that was in the military, imagine his surprise when you pull up with a wolf big enough to ride on.

- It takes a good while to get used to the big wolf, which he learned it was and not a dog, especially when he sees it walking around on base at night, it almost gives the poor guy a heart attack.

- At first, he would think it would be a disadvantage to have such a big animal with you on missions, but when the wolf turns out to be super useful during missions, he will change his mind.

- He acts all tough, but you’ve caught him petting and cuddling your wolf more and once, but you have a mutual agreement to never mention what you saw to anyone.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- Gaz had no idea how to react to the huge wolf you brought along, and he’s kinda nervous around it in the beginning but its mouth it big enough to rip someone’s head off. When he learns the wolf is friendly outside of missions though, he becomes close friends with your wolf.

- He half heartedly complains about the dog hair everywhere, even though he’s the one cuddling your wolf and getting covered in the stuff.

- Gaz would be kinda on edge for a little bit after the first time he sees your wolf rip a poor enemy soldier apart as if they were a chew toy. The cautiousness stays for a while though your wolf searching for cuddles with Gaz helps warm the man up to the canine again.

- He takes pictures of your wolf all the time, he’s also the one who started calling you Lycan when you joined the team.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

- Ghost gives the vibe of the kind of guy who likes animals more than people, so he wouldn’t outwardly show it but he’s ecstatic when you show up with your wolf.

- He would of course be cautious in the beginning because that’s a big animal that can easily kill a man and has military training, but when your wolf turns out to be pretty much harmless, he would allow himself to pet it when no one was looking.

- At some point you notice how Ghost sticks around your wolf and finds comfort in its presence, so you offer to teach him the commands and how to fight closer alongside the wolf. In exchange he teaches you some of his moves too.

- It becomes a thing that if your wolf isn’t with you, it’s with ghost during missions and outside missions. Ghost makes a horrifying picture walking around with your wolf, it only makes the legend of Ghost even greater.

- He secretly carries treats for your wolf in his gear, not that he would ever tell anyone.

John “Soap” MacTavish

- I headcanon that soap hates dogs, this stems from him being attacked by dogs when he was younger and the fear just kinda stuck. So, when you rock up with a wolf the size of a horse, he doesn’t know what to do and almost just keels over right then and there.

- Soap would avoid your wolf most of the time because of him not being super comfortable around them, so this would also mean the two of you wouldn’t bond as quickly as normal since you are typically around your wolf.

- After your wolf saves his life during a mission, he grows a little more comfortable with your animal partner, though he still isn’t the biggest fan of being too close or touching.

- As time goes on, he grows more comfortable and might even pet your wolf every now and then, though he isn’t all over their fur like some of the others are.

- Soap sketches your wolf in his notebook every now and then since it’s a great reference.

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rileyslibrary · 10 months

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Chest candy for Ghost and the 141! After many successful missions (and being the baddest bitches in general) the team is going to receive some medals. Ghost tries everything in his power to not have to attend the ceremony. Having to wear that stupid ceremonial uniform, all the attention and the fuzz around them - that sounds like hell to him. He's just doing his goddamn job after all.

A/N: I was very disappointed when I learned what a chest candy is, ngl. A literal version (like a crate filled with gummies and stuff) would be so much better. Anyway, on with the story.

———————————————————————

“You walk like you’re chafed down there, mate.”

Ghost stops and shoots a threatening look at Soap. And reasonably so—your poor lieutenant was trying his best. Price negotiated with him, and they reached an agreement for today’s dress code—he would put on the fancy uniform but keep the balaclava on.

The captain decided this was a fair exchange—persuading Ghost to wear anything other than camo deserved a chest candy of its own. Not only that, but many people will attend today’s ceremony; even worse, the press will also be there. There was no way he would get rid of his “comfort blanket.”

But, even a day without his camo, standing in front of strangers and being photographed, is a century for the lieutenant.

You, Soap and Ghost are preparing for the event in the town hall’s bathroom. Ghost struggles to walk in his new shoes, so you figured some practice might help. You made him walk across the bathroom stalls, which was an unfortunate location since Soap was already in one of the toilets and popped out, offering a “helping” hand.

But it’s not just the shoes that hinder his ability to act normal. He seems to struggle with something deeper within himself. He constantly fidgets, readjusts his blazer, pulls at his collar, and avoids direct eye contact. His gaze constantly darts between you, the sink, the floor, and back to you again.

Except for now.

He’s staring at Soap like a feral animal, ready to leap on its prey. And you get it. You do. Given what he’s used to, this situation should be tough and quite uncomfortable.

He slowly shifts away from Soap and towards you.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Tell him,” Soap taunts you with his arms crossed, “tell him how he looks.”

“Why are you still in here?” You snap at him.

“I’m sorry!” Soap shouts and throws his hand up, “Have you guys booked the toilets for a private viewing?”

You close your eyes and rub your forehead. This better not escalate.

“Can you please leave us alone for a mom—”

“How about forever?” Ghost snaps.

“Fine”, Soap says and heads for the exit. “Just don’t let him pull another runaway bride on us again, okay?”

You wave for him to exit the bathroom. Soap does as he’s told, and you lean against one of the stalls. You examine the lieutenant from head to toe, but he’s too busy patting and pulling at the blazer to notice you. He grabs his tie and tugs at it.

“Don’t loosen the tie.” You command, “It’s supposed to be snug.”

“Who the fuck decided that wearing a noose around your neck is a good idea?” He says and starts tugging at his collar.

“And stop doing that to your collar—you’ll rip a button off.”

“It’s too tight.”

You approach him, place your index finger inside his collar, and trace the circumference.

“Ghost, it’s not that tight.”

“It sure feels like it.” He replies.

You sigh and slap your arms against your thighs. How will you make him understand what he’s feeling right now? He has to turn his attention inwards and observe his body. Acknowledge it. That’s the only way he’d be able to befriend his current state.

“Is the collar and tie the issue here, or is it your throat?” You ask.

He clasps his neck and looks at you, puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“Your throat,” you explain, “does it feel tight? Is there a lump when you swallow?”

He throws his head back and closes his eyes. He’s trying to become acquainted with his senses. He takes a deep breath and swallows hard.

“Affirmative,” he states, “a lump is indeed present.”

“It sucks, doesn’t it?”

He opens his eyes wide and nods slowly. “Sure does,” he murmurs.

“It feels like when we’re at the beginning of a mission, right?”

“Just like it.” He nods, “especially when we’re unsure of what we might come across.”

“How about,” you say as you straighten his tie, “We approach this event in the exact same way?”

“How?”

“What are the objectives here?” You ask.

“Get that fucking chest candy, and get the fuck out of here.”

“And what should we do to accomplish that?”

“Get up on the stage, shake some dickhead’s hand, and walk away.” He replies.

“How long would you recon that’ll take?”

He tilts his head. “About three minutes max.”

“That’s not too bad!” You shout and pat his chest, “Plus, I doubt the people awarding us want to be here either.”

He huffs. “You think so?”

“Of course! It’s just as inconvenient for them as it is for us.”

“Then why are we all doing this?” he wonders and throws his hands up, “Why pretend?”

“Because,” you reply, “sometimes in life, you must pretend; pretend to be strong, courageous, pretend to know what you’re doing even though you have no clue….”

“Fake it till you make it?” He asks.

You smile. “Yeah, Lt., fake it till you make it.”

He shakes his hands and kicks his feet. He straightens his suit and posture, then looks at the bathroom window.

“This won’t fit me this time, so we might as well get done with it as soon as possible,” he says and turns to you, “on me, soldier.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You salute him.

You walk towards the entrance where the ceremony is taking place. Many people are in the room, but you always stay within his proximity to make him feel safe. Sometimes you direct him on what to do—shake this person’s hand, relax the shoulders, pose, stand over here.

He leans towards you while waving at another soldier.

“Do I walk like I’m sore?” He murmurs.

You smile at a photographer and lean towards Ghost.

“No,” you whisper, “why?”

“Soap said so.”

Fucking Soap. He was right; these shoes make him walk like a duck, but you can’t admit it, especially now. He’ll flee.

“Yeah, well,” you reply, “Soap also walks around with a mohawk on his head.”

“Ridiculous,” he says and laughs, “and here I am, wearing a full suit, right?”

You raise your head and look at his black-painted eyes and skull balaclava. He can’t be that delusional regarding what’s ridiculous and what isn’t. But if it helps him right now, so be it.

“Damn right, Lt.,” you say as you nudge his side, “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

———————————————————————

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vividvivvy · 3 months

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how would the MSBY 4 react to fem!reader being stronger then they look by picking each of them up easily??

So, when I saw this immediately one thing popped into my brain. Cause you know who is stronger than they look and pick people up easily. Cheerleaders. (This is biased because I do competitive cheerleading)

MSBY Jackals boys reacting to their cute little cheer leader girlfriend absolutely rocking their shit.

Shoyo Hinata: he had known you did competitive cheerleading of course, but the first time he went to one of your competitions he was in awe. He had never seen anyone jump higher than him until now.

After your round was over he rushed off the bleachers and swept you up into his arms, "oh my goodness babe that was amazing! You didn't tell me you could do any of that stuff!" He pulled back and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you profusely as he shouted and rambled about what he had seen while you were on the mat.

"you were like, up and then back down and then you even picked up that other girl! All by yourself! And then you even threw her in the air!" The smile on his face was one you'd never forget, he looked so proud of you but to you this was just another thing you did regularly.

"Shoyo I have to pick people up like that every single day" your voice was gentle as you wrapped your arms around him and easily managed to lift his feet off the ground, even giving him a small toss before his feet landed back on the ground. "You would make a great flyer Sho"

He faltered for a minute and just stared at you, being picked up wasn't particularly new to him, he was normally one of the smallest people in his friend group, but he'd never been picked up by a girl, especially not one that looked so small and cute, and yet here he was, his sweet little girlfriend had just picked him up like he didn't weigh more then a bag of flour.

"you just did that..."

"yeah, that's kind of what I do babe"

Kotaro Bokuto: brags about you like there is no tomorrow, he knows damn well that he has a cool girlfriend. I feel like that would be well established the first time you did a standing back tuck in front of him (basically a back flip). He had never messaged the team group chat so fast, something like.

"GUYS MY GIRLFRIEND CAN LITERALLY DO A BACKFLIP"

He didn't expect, however, that one day while you were helping out at his volleyball practice, he would see you scoop up his teammate with ease and carry him off the court when he had hurt his leg and couldn't stand. Once the man you can been carrying was set down and settled Bokuto ran up to you yelling. "Babe! Babe! Pick me up to!"

At first you had turned him down, saying that you didn't want to strain your arms too much before practice later, but he started sulking in a random corner of the gym and wouldn't budge. So you walked over and picked him up bridal style.

It was a comical sight honestly, a short girl with skinny arms, holding her giant muscle man of a boyfriend like he was a princess, but there it was. No one would have believed it if they hadn't seen it, but it was right in front of the whole team's eyes. And Atsumu had never snapped a picture faster in his life before walking away and chuckling to himself, Shoyo bouncing like a happy dog at his side, laughing at the photo he took. "That's going on the teams Instagram".

Bokuto couldn't care less about all the eyes on him though, he was beaming with happiness.

"my girlfriend can do a backflip AND she can pick me up!"

Miya Atsumu: Miya thought it was amazing that he had a girlfriend that did competitive cheer, I mean who wouldn't want a cheerleader girlfriend. But he didn't realize how much work went into your sport. You go to the gym almost more than he does. On top of that you do weekly yoga class and have an entire mini gym set up in your house.

"God damn princess, I knew that you were tough but don't go showing me up" he laughed as he watched you easily squat his max, you only smirked and went to get more weights. "It was your idea to go on a gym date my love"

He rolled his eyes and "well yeah but I didn't think you'd totally show me up, I thought I'd get to show off to you." He watched you squat again, you were squatting more then he had in, well ever, "what do you do in cheer, cause God damn"

"I throw people" you spoke nonchalantly and he laughed, waiting for you to continue on, but you only glanced at him from the corner of your eye. "I'm serious babe, I'm a base, my job is literally to throw people" you did crack a smile, you couldn't really stay serious when talking about throwing your teammates around.

"then throw me" he challenged without hesitation, you paused what you were doing and stepped away from where you had been doing your squats, walking up to him with the most neutral face he'd ever seen you with, and reaching down, and lifting him up from just above his knees.

Of course a lot of people in the gym had started staring at this point, I mean a girl who looked like she had never set foot into a gym just lifted her built boyfriend up like a ragdoll.

You held him there for a moment before he felt your entire body shift at your knees, and the large male heard you whisper "1, 2, down, up" then you let go of him and he was in the air, and before he knew it he was planted back on the ground.

It all happened way too quickly for him to process, he just stood there for a minute before a smirk grew over his face.

"well shit. My girlfriend literally just threw me"

Kiyoomi Sakusa: he was never one to show much interest in your sport, he would go to your competitions and congratulate you when you did good and support you when your team didn't do great. But other than that he didn't ask many questions or pry about it, just like you didn't with volleyball.

Though even though you didn't pry much about volleyball, you couldn't help but get super excited for your tall boyfriend when his team would win games. The team had grown accustomed to you rushing the court after they won to jump into your boyfriend's arms, he normally kept his cool in these situations, simply hugging you and holding you up while you shouted and cheered for him.

But this game played out a little differently, you had been on the edge of your seat the whole time, and you could visibly see Sakusa getting more and more frustrated as the two teams were in a constant back and forth. So when Hinata had managed the winning spike, you had never raced down the bleachers faster in your life.

Sakusa braced for you to run up and jump at him like you normally do, wrapping your much smaller frame around him and clinging onto him. But instead you threw your arms around his legs, just below his (flat) butt, lifting your 6'2 boyfriend off the ground. His teammates had never seen the calm and collected Sakusa lose his cool that quick, his center of gravity leaned directly backwards but his short girlfriend held firm to the ground, and didn't put him down until you heard him mumble.

"hey, put me down..." You scrambled to put him down and immediately started apologizing.

"I'm so sorry Yoomi! It's just what I do with the girls in cheer I didn't- it was muscle memory i-"

"it's fine just, no more picking me up when hundreds of people are staring at us, it's really awkward"

Sorry if it's not what you expected! I heavily base y/n on myself so when I read your request it was the first thing that came to mind. I hope it's ok 🫶

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faithshouseofchaos · 2 months

Text

Maxs payback — Logan Sargent x reader + bff Oscar piastri part two

Tagged— @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @67-angelofthelordme-67 @a-casual-romantic @amatswimming @bblouifford @badassturtle13 @bbtoni @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @disneyprincemuke @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @faithsotherhouseofchaos @loganshouseofworship @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @hrts4scarr @ironcowboycopnickel @jeffs77 @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @ladymarvel27 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @norrisleclercf1 @norizznorris @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 @vivreadsfics @vellicora @venusisnothere @eviethetheatrefreak

It was quiet for a moment. “I feel like it will be a prank that goes way too far,” you said after thinking it over for a couple of seconds. Max was not the guy who usually took things lightly. He was a competitive guy who would go to great lengths to get back at someone.

——————————————————————

“Agreed” Logan nodded his head. “We have a rough time ahead of us so we really have to watch our backs.”

“And that is an understatement,” you added. The situation was serious and needed to be handled accordingly.

“Do you have any idea what he could be planning on doing?” Logan asked.

“I have a feeling that it would be a big dramatic elaborate prank” you replied with a worried look on your face.

“Oh, I would bet that it would be a prank that would go down in history.” Logan added with a smirk on his face.

Your expression remained worried,and you didn’t look pleased at all. “This isn’t funny Logan” you said with a hint of irritation in your voice.

“Come on,it can’t be that bad” Logan added with a small pout on his face before cracking a small grin. “We won’t know until he executes his plan”

That didn’t comfort you in any way and you couldn’t help but notice how calm he was about the whole situation. “It’s not normal that he’s this calm. Something is up.” You added trying to keep your voice low. “He is definitely up to something”

“I don’t know if I want to find out though “ you replied with an apologetic smile on your face. The thought of it made you nervous. You hadn’t realized how scared you were of what he was capable of. He could do literally anything.

“We need to get to Oscar we have to stay together at all times” you say

“Agreed” Logan nodded his head in agreeance. The last thing you needed was Max getting the drop on you. You needed to stay on high alert and you needed to stick together no matter what.

The trio was on high alert Max was planning something. He was being really nice and docile towards the three of you. Max was angry you had messed with his beloved redbull and in his eyes that means war.

Oscar was the first one who Max pranked. Max snuck into Oscars and went into his bathroom replacing his shampoo with Bright Orange hair dye.

Oscar was not happy. At all. When he walked out of the bathroom he had a bright orange mop for a head. Oscar’s hair was orange from the front to the back. It had been stained completely orange. Oscar was stunned and speechless. He didn’t say a word as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was extremely angry at this moment and he was seething.

“Looks good on you” Max said with a smirk on his face. It was a smirk full of satisfaction seeing the aftermath of his prank. “Really brightens up your personality,” Max added.

“Shut up” Oscar snapped back. He was clearly not in a good mood and he didn’t want to hear from Max at all. The smirk on Max's face was annoying him even further.

Max chuckled softly to himself as he watched Oscar try and process his new orange locks. Max had no sympathy for him. Oscar was definitely going to have a tough time living this down.

The next victim was Logan.

Max waited patiently for the right moment to strike he learned Logan’s schedule so when Logan was stuck in a team meeting. Max had purchased a Williams blue paint and Waltzed into Logan’s drivers room and set up a camera and the bucket of paint and left.

The paint bucket had spilled its contents over Logan’s body covering him from head to toe. His hair,his head,his body, his hands and arms all were stained blue. The blue paint was a bright vibrant blue that almost seemed to glow under the room’s lighting.

Logan was absolutely livid. All he saw was blue when he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like an absolute idiot. He was beyond pissed at this moment. He couldn’t believe that Max had been able to pull off such a bold and daring prank without him noticing.

Logan didn’t even try to wipe the paint off his body. He looked like a damn clown and he knew that there was no way that he would be going anywhere like this. The paint had soaked deep into his skin and he didn’t want to make it worse by moving around or rubbing his body. So he just stood there. In an absolute rage.

“Feeling blue Logan?” Max asked from behind him

“Feeling blue I get it hahaha very funny Max” Logan says

Max snickered “So funny right? I thought I would give you an early birthday present. So now you look like a smurf”

Logan was seething with anger but he managed to keep his rage in check despite his frustration at the moment .

Max had been enjoying himself and Logan could tell that he was enjoying watching his plan unfold. He took in the scene with a smirk on his face,his expression slowly turned into a wide grin that seemed to say “mission accomplished.” Logan was livid at this moment.

You were the next person on Maxs hit list. Max knew you were in your driver's room sleeping. So he quietly walked in to your on and superglued your hand to your forehead. As Max left your room he left with a slam on your door.

You were sleeping in your driver room and you weren't even aware of the fact that Max had walked in. You were sound asleep and Max had taken the opportunity to pull off the unthinkable. You woke up from the noise of your door slamming shut the minute Max had stormed out of your room. You woke up slowly and you didn't realize what was on your face until you saw your reflection in the mirror. Your hand was stuck to your forehead.

You tried to reach with your free hand to pull your glued hand away but it was a futile effort. The adhesive was too strong. You would need a significant force to remove it. Your hand was stuck to your forehead. You would need time to figure out how to remove your hand without hurting yourself.

At the end of the day you met up with Logan and Oscar to check out the damage Max had caused.

“Let me guess Max got you both back huh?” You asked with your hand still stuck to your forehead.

“You would be correct in that” Oscar replied in a low grumble. He rubbed his head which had been covered in bright orange hair dye. It had been stained onto his hair as well as his skin. “Max hit me with orange hair dye while I was taking a shower”

Logan looked at you with a look of concern. “Are you okay? What the hell did he do to you?”

“He super glued my hand to my forehead” you replied feeling extremely frustrated. You tried to move your hand to see if it would budge but it was no use. You couldn’t get your hand off your forehead. The adhesive that Max had used to glue your hand to your forehead was extremely strong and thick.

Logan didn’t even need to express himself to know that you were pissed at this moment. “You look pretty damn funny with that hand stuck to your forehead,” Oscar added. He smirked slightly as he made this comment.

Logan scrunched his face in embarrassment. “I look like a damn smurf?” He asked, looking at you as well as Oscar. Max’s pranks might not have made you angry but you couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the sight of Logan covered in blue paint and Oscar looking like a carrot.

You could admit at this point that Max had definitely gotten you good. You had to praise him a little bit for being able to get you all at once. “Max really got us this time,” you admitted. You didn’t like that you had lost and had your hand glued to your forehead but you couldn’t deny that Maxs pranks were hilarious.

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