#ghost x mare

[unreliablesnake]

Dirty little secrets (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: Ghost finds out you are fuck buddies with Graves, and now he wants a piece of you too.

Note: Mare is the code name of the reader.

Warnings: None, which is surprising considering the amount of smut I wrote lately. Afab!reader.

Graves pulled you into a big hug when you met again. By then you were a member of the 141, but he always said, "once a Shadow, always a Shadow." You had worked for him for about four years, by the end as the lead interrogator. Shadows had their own rules, being brutal was something Shadow Company usually appreciated. And you could be brutal when needed.

"Are they treating you right? You know you can come back to us anytime," he said with a smirk, his hands moving down to your lower back.

With a polite smile you pried him off of you, stepping back to build some distance. "Everything's great," you replied shortly.

He tilted his head to the side as he examined your face, probably trying to find out why you were so cold all of a sudden. You couldn't blame him, but you couldn't let the others know that back in the day the two of you were fuck buddies. You loved his arrogance and sense of humor, and his boyish charm was the cherry on top.

Soap appeared before Graves could say anything, greeting him like an old friend. The two engaged in a conversation, while behind you Ghost began to move around, his size making it impossible for him to stay undetected in this situation.

"Mare, come on, we have things to do," he told you as he passed by.

You nodded and followed him, out of the corner of your eye noticing how Graves wanted to object when he saw you leave. Once you were out of earshot, you turned to the lieutenant. "What exactly do we have to do?"

He let out a questioning hum, but immediately realized what you were asking him. "Oh, nothing. I just saw how uncomfortable you were when Graves became all touchy during that hug. Thought you might want to be away from him," he explained. "Is he like this with every female employee?"

"No," you replied immediately, maybe sounding a little offended by the idea.

"Just asking. I guess there's a story then." Letting out a long sigh, you nodded. Ghost looked down at you, studying your face with an intrigued expression. "You were together?" You remained silent and his eyes grew a little wider. "You're still together?"

For a moment you wondered how much you should tell him, after all you've been trying to keep it a secret from them. But strangely enough, he made you feel safe, probably because this man seemed to be good at keeping secrets. "We're not. We're just… friends with benefits," you admitted.

"He looks like the type of guy who's into that, but I didn't think you would like it," he noted as you walked into the hangar.

"We're having fun without the commitment of a relationship."

He watched as you hopped on a table, eyes glued to you the whole time. You could tell he was still thinking about the idea of you and Graves occasionally having sex, probably judging you for being this open-minded. But you didn't mind. He could think whatever he wanted.

"And how does it work now that you don't work together?" he suddenly asked, his arms now folded over his chest.

With a smile, you replied, "A few weeks ago he got on his plane and flew over to visit me."

"He took his private jet for a trip to have sex with you?" When you nodded, he whistled. "If I needed it that badly I'd just go to the nearest pub and pick up some bimbo," he said.

"You're into bimbos?"

Ghost shrugged. "They're easier to impress. Much less effort than impressing girls like you."

"Was it a compliment?" you asked with a playful smile.

"Maybe."

He was watching you, eyes intense and dark as he thought about something. You knew that while he was silent, his mind was probably insanely loud at the moment. "What?" you spoke up, getting bored of his silence.

"Nothing," he brushed you off.

"Come on, Ghost, I can see the wheels turning in your head."

Taking a deep breath, he clearly considered answering your question. Then he nodded, letting you know he was ready to give you a glimpse into his mind. "Why did you leave Shadow Company if you were having fun with Graves?"

"Price said some things that made me come here."

"Like what?"

You smiled and let out a small laugh. "I know you recommended me," you informed him.

Ghost gulped, but he quickly recovered and soon stepped between your legs, using his knee to push them wider apart so he could fit in there. You nervously looked around to see how many people were staring at you, but there was no one near. He put his hands on your knees, gently stroking your skin through your pants to get your attention.

"Why did you recommend me? Something tells me there was a personal reason," you told him, hoping he would finally say something.

"I think I saw you and Graves once." With a frown, you let out a questioning hum. "We were working together on something and I needed you for an interrogation. Someone told me you went to get something from the plane, and sure enough, you were there," he began before leaning really close to you so his deep voice dropped to a whisper, "being eaten out by someone."

That smug bastard was smiling, you could see that in his eyes. But you couldn't be mad when you were embarrassed, wishing you could crawl into a hole and die. "I don't even want to know what you think about me after that," you said.

But Ghost only tilted his head to the side as he studied your face. Your skin was burning under his gaze so you looked away, but he grabbed your jaw and made you look at him forcefully. "I've been thinking about what it would feel like to be the reason why you make those sounds," he finally told you.

You felt the heat building up in your core, every cell now yearning for more; his touch, his kiss, any kind of physical contact, really. Ever since you had joined the 141, you'd been on good terms with Ghost, the two of you often drinking together at night, and he even told you some personal details. You knew he had nightmares. You knew he had a traumatic childhood. You knew--

"Mare, are you in here?"

Graves. Fuck. You instinctively pushed Ghost away, who only moved because your actions took him by surprise. "Damn it," you muttered as you jumped off the table and gave him an almost worried look. "Nothing happened," you told him before walking away.

You met the commander halfway, flashing a nervous smile at him the moment you stopped in front of him. "Is everything okay?" he asked, putting a hand on your flushed cheek.

No. Nothing was okay. You wanted to find out what Ghost really wanted from you. Was it just sex? Did he get the courage to act on his dirty fantasies because he knew you were fuck buddies with Graves? There were too many questions for your liking.

"I'm good," you managed to say in the end. "Let's talk somewhere else. Do you have booze?" you asked with a laugh.

As you walked away, you turned back for a short moment, not missing the way Ghost stood there with his hands stuffed into his pockets, watching you leave without saying a word.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #mw2 #mare x ghost #ghost x mare

[fromthepinnacle2thepit]

“Your Bloodiest Night-Mare”

mary goore x reader

summary: Strange things have been happening in the cemetery. But things only get stranger when you meet the culprit. Now, you have to deal with him quite often. A rivalry blossoms in this macabre place. Maybe more?

warnings for this chapter: pocket knife, blood/fakeblood, cursing, and Mary is just Mary

word count: 3k words!

an: i’ve been planning this for forever, i have so much lined up and planned and im so excited!!

each chapter will have a goth or rock song as its inspiration. the two for this are: Shadow by Twin Tribes and Vicious Pastimes by House of Harm

Enjoy!

Light had not yet begun to creep in and chase away the shadows of night when you opened your eyes for the first time of the already rainy day. You sat in front of your window, feeling the brush of cold air- which did carry a few sparse drops of rain- against your skin. It was another early morning. Too early, by your standards at least. Your body- with your eyes being no exception- longed to be back in your warm bed, asleep, and not sitting in front of a window at an hour most would rather quit their job than be up at. But you couldn’t quit your job. As much as some days you told yourself you were going to, you knew you couldn’t. Much to your dismay, there would be too many monetary issues, along with a few slight emotional ones. But nevertheless, you were awake now.

Admittedly, you’d been awake, for a longer time than you were willing to acknowledge just yet. More than that, it had become a worryingly growing habit to be up later and later. And that was how you had come to be in this situation. In the earlier hours of the night, your body had ached for sleep but your mind had overpowered that with a near constant bombarding of new thoughts. Luckily you had gotten a little sleep, enough to the point where you knew you could make it through the day. The only downside was that it hadn’t been enough sleep to make it a deep sleep, and since it wasn’t a deep sleep, it hadn’t stopped a crash of thunder from waking you up. You’d decided (though it wasn’t really your choice) to give into remaining conscious, and observe the spectacle of weather that nature was performing. You had opened your window, though it had taken you a minute since all your body was still drowsy and frankly felt a little dead. The scent of petrichor had filled your lungs, and you sighed into the morning air.

It seemed like it was both a few minutes ago and a small eternity since that had happened. Maybe you would’ve sat there for an eternity. That is, if your alarm hadn’t startled you out of your state of…well, being. You shut the window, and to your relief it was much easier to close it than it was to open it, now that your limbs were accustomed to being awake again. You climbed out of bed, still reluctant to leave. After stretching for a moment, you walked softly to the lamps around your room and turned them on. Now that the room was bathed in a soft golden light, you could get ready. And so you did.

As you threw on your clothes and readied your appearance, you thought about the tasks for the day. There were never too many, but you supposed that was a large benefit of working at a cemetery. Then…it dawned on you. That you, for now the third time this week, had to stay late and close up. One of your new coworkers had now been continuously “sick” quite often. She had been the one in charge of the night shifts and you wouldn’t be surprised if she was fired soon, as much as it was nice to have someone to talk to there in the few times she came in during the day. Your boss had tried to stick you with the night shift a few times in your coworker’s repetitive absences as well as your daily ones, but to preserve your sanity, you had refused.

It came as a great relief when your boss accepted that you wouldn’t be doing the night shifts. But he seemed determined to at least make you close up late, and you had reluctantly given up and accepted that fate. When you thought about it, the night shift truly wasn’t so awful. It simply required sitting in the office/visitors center, peeking at the surveillance cameras a couple times, and taking a stroll around the grounds once every few hours. You may have taken it if you didn’t respect your need for sleep so much. But did you truly respect that need if you’d been up so late lately? You wondered if you should take it, but after another crash of thunder interrupted your thoughts, you were reminded of the fact that you were not a morning person. Especially not with weather like this. And so you decided against it. Plus, it left more time for you to spend with the small group of friends you had. The group of friends who all dressed in dark (mostly black) clothes, with chains and corsets and other accessories that only enhanced the looks in the best ways, and found themselves at rock concerts so often. The same friends who many would have made snap judgements of- or been scared of- treated you with such kindness and closeness. You smiled to yourself as you remembered the outing you had planned with them that was coming up soon.

When you thought about it, it was slightly ironic. You, who worked in a cemetary, and was a bit too familiar with the late hours of the night, and had goth friends. It all seemed dark to the outside eye. But to you, you couldn’t be happier. You reveled in it all. You admired the style your friends had, and you’d even put together some nicely crafted gothic outfits of your own. You liked the quiet of nighttime, it allowed you to think without much interruption, and you always felt so at home at night. And you appreciated the tranquility of the cemetery, you respected those who had found their final resting place there and you’d come to care for the place greatly. As much as someone else might’ve not seen the beauty in all this, you did. And that was that mattered, in your opinion.

After completing your morning routine, you set off on the short walk to the nearby cemetary. By this time, the storm had calmed down, leaving only howling winds and a few rogue drops of rain to be your opponent on your way. You scurried down the stairs of your apartment, trying not to step in any puddles, and ultimately failing. A long jacket was wrapped tightly around your figure, in your attempt to keep out the cold. Finally your journey down the long flight of stairs was over and the rest of your walk began! You stepped quickly around more puddles, and occasionally pulled your jacket closer to your body in the chilly air. The sky was still a giant swirl of gray, but you had noticed that hints of blue had begun to creep in, replacing the lighter areas of gray. A few cars swooshed past you on the old road that laid next to the sidewalk, harshly pushing some of the resting water into your path. At this point, you didn’t mind. It was all just a factor that would become blurry after the passing of the next few hours. It took a little while longer, but at least you reached the black gothic gates of the familiar cemetery. The day had- at last- finally truly begun.

⊱ ────── {⋅.𖤐 𐕣♱ ✯ ♱𐕣 𖤐.⋅} ────── ⊰

Tombstones blocked out patches of the now sunset covered sky. The graveyard was peaceful. A less-than-warm wind still blew through the trees, although it had warmed up a bit. It wasn’t so cold that you weren’t able to handle making your walking rounds throughout the day, thankfully. You had truthfully enjoyed the way the wind had made your face burn and tingle ever so slightly, and the puddles had cleared up a bit more than you’d expected. Some still spotted the ground, but there were much less now.

Closing up the office/visitors center on days where you needed to was always a much better part of the day than you always expected it to be. You loved the way that the cemetary was doused in all the colors of the setting sun, saying a final goodbye to those who had said their final goodbyes to life. It calmed you, in a strange macabre way.

Though, you knew to keep an eye out during your leave today. Strange things had been happening. Today as you’d made your rounds, you’d noticed some out of place things, some random items, and an eerie feeling all throughout the day. Maybe it was some carefree, or really careless teenagers out for some disrespectful fun, maybe it was a homeless person who didn’t mean any trouble but had needed a place to stay during the previous night, maybe it was the remains of a funeral? But no funerals had happened recently, at least none that you’d seen. And you knew the cemetery was locked at night, so you weren’t sure if a homeless person would be able to get in. But then how had these things happened?

The first, well, strange occurrence was when you found a discarded food wrapper. It wasn’t all that unusual, you’d found worse things in the cemetery. But this one seemed new. It hadn’t been crinkled much and it wasn’t dirty- much to your relief. The next, was a dark black and red pocket knife. It had looked sharp, like a good brand. That was what probably disturbed you most. The last largely obvious thing you found, was a ring. It was silver, with a skull. With an intricate black design all around it. You had picked it up, pocketing it, intending to take it back to the visitors center and put it in what would be an improvised lost and found. But you had forgotten and would continue to forget, as it was still in your pocket. It had been heavy, but you liked the feel of it. The other things had been an empty thing of eyeliner, a discarded piece of paper, and a smudge of what you desperately hoped was fake blood. You had tidied it all up, and tried to brush it off. But of course you couldn’t. I mean, who really would? Not many things happened in the cemetery. It was typically so quiet and uneventful. Though eventually you had been able to push the thoughts from your mind and focus on getting home quickly and safely. Telling yourself you’d think about it when you reached your long-awaited home.

Finally outside and done with the center, you had begun to watch towards the gates. Your coat was once again pulled tightly around your form and you walked with a new tiredness. You admired the thick trees that surrounded the cemetery, listening to them rustle in the wind as the sun faded more and more. You could see blue weighing down heavier and heavier on the sunset.

You finally reached the gates, starting to get the lock from the coded box on the pillar that held up the gate and marked part of the entrance. Just as you were starting to put the code in, you heard a noise. A swish, a changing of chains and metal against metal, and something landing on the hard ground. The pillar you stood by was partially hidden by a tree, which was helpful in keeping others from somehow accessing the lock. But you turned, to see what had just happened behind you to your left. You looked over and your eyes widened. A man stood there on the grass. He was tall, and had black spiky hair that slightly hung over part of his face. On his chest was a dark tank-top that looked it’d had it’s previous arms viciously sawed off, around his middle was a chunky belt, and on his legs were ripped up black jeans. Dark bracelets adorned his arms, along with rings. His neck wasn’t barren either, no, he wore a couple morbid necklaces. On top of his tanktop, was what you could best describe as a jacket vest thing that had multiple pins stuck into it.

Who was he? You watched as he looked around, scanning the graves. When he looked satisfied, he started to walk. This was near the front, by the entrance. He started to walk to the back, or the middle, wherever he was headed, it was away from your direction. You wondered how he wasn’t cold. Looking back at the lock box, and peaking up at the darkening sky, you decided to go against your better judgement. You had to close, and by what you could guess, this was the guy who’d left the stuff in the cemetery! And of course it went against the rules to leave stuff like that and especially to hop the fence after closing time. After a moment, you got the urge to speak. He was still a few feet ahead of you, but you didn’t want to get too close and have him be violent.

“Hello? Sir, I’m sorry, but we’re closing now. Well, I need to close up. Sorry. Are you ok?,” you asked with some hesitation. The man froze and turned to look at you. When you could see your words begin to register. His eyes quickly landed on you and you watched as they widened and then narrowed at you.

His hand rose to his forehead, pushing back his hair while sighing, before running it down his face.

“Fuck,” he said exasperatedly. It wasn’t directed at you. It was the kind of curse someone says when they know they’ve been caught. And he had. He really had.

For the moment, you just stood there as he looked like he was contemplating what to say. Blue had taken over a little more than half the sky at this point, and the temperature wasn’t growing any warmer. You began to get a little nervous. But the man spoke and you were brought out of your thoughts.

“Were you followin’ me?” he asked, looking at you directly in the eyes. The question was avoidant and you thought it should’ve been obvious why you had been following him. But looking at him, it seemed mischievous. You were a little frustrated, yes, but you hoped this would all be solved out soon.

“Yes? No- but also yes. I just saw you hop the fence and you know, didn’t want to startle you. But we are supposed to be closing now, I can tell you where to find a schedule of our opening and closing times if that helps?” you asked.

“I got that. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” he asked, and it became even more clear now that he had intended to roam in after hours. His words weren’t entirely malicious but they certainly weren’t filled with thrill.

You scoffed, “Maybe you don’t know what you’re doing. I mean, I found plenty of evidence you were here already.”

You watched as he took in your words, his eyebrows lifted and turned now to face you more. Your arms had closed in an effort to both stay warm and prove your point.

“Huh?” he asked. What an intelligent answer, you thought sarcastically.

“Yeah, I found your stuff. Food bags, pocket knife, all that. I wondered who it was but I think the culprit’s been found,” you replied, the smallest smirk growing onto your face.

“Fucking shit..,” he muttered looking around frustratedly “I knew I left some damn thing here.”

“Yeah. So, maybe you don’t know what you’re doing. Whether you do or you don’t is irrelevant. I need to close up, and unless you want this situation to escalate I suggest you leave.” you paused, hoping you hadn’t been too harsh “Please.”

“Well shit, now I guess I gotta. I mean, with you findin’ and followin’ me and all. Sucks that I just got here too, babe,” he replied. A little smirk accompanying his ending sentence. You were confused by the pet name. Those things always confused you. Was it flirting or was it just mischievousness or politeness? You couldn’t tell what it was in this situation. But either way, you were glad that he wasn’t being too difficult.

“Thank you,” you slowly said “You can come with me to the gate if you want, I don’t mind, I’ve just gotta get the lock then-“

Mary cut you off. “Nah, I got it sweetheart.”

He started to walk over to the fence that surrounded the cemetery and for the second time that night, hopped it. He only stopped once to call over his shoulder, “See you around,”

⊱ ────── {⋅.𖤐 𐕣♱ ✯ ♱𐕣 𖤐.⋅} ────── ⊰

You had watched him walk off, face frozen in a confused expression. Questions and possibilities had raced through your mind as you stood there in the almost total darkness. He had disappeared into the trees, not turning back, and you’d stood there until he was out of sight. That had been a while ago now.

Now, you were resting in your bed, letting the warmth of your apartment wash over you. You were still very confused, and still had a brain full of questions. Who was he? Why had he been there? Were you too mean? Why didn’t he just come in the daytime? Of course no discernible or explanatory reason came to mind yet. In the end you knew you’d just have to wait and see, but it had been such a strange occurrence.

You wondered if you’d see him again tomorrow and you weren’t sure whether to be unhappy or intrigued. He had been messy around the cemetery. And he had hopped the fence. Along with his snark. You decided to be displeased and hesitant for now.

As the night went on, and with the sky now being completely dark, you laid in bed staring at your ceiling with two thoughts and two thoughts alone. The strange man, and the cemetery.

Alright that’s it! Much to come soon! <3

Expect the next chapter this week!

#my mary goore fic #bloody scary mary🤭 #your bloodiest night-mare fic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #mary goore fic #mary goore smut #mary goore x you #tobias forge #bloody mary goore #ghost

[mare-noctis-studios]

I can't help myself

Taken from Chapter 5 of Not Alone by Сталкер on AO3

#cod #call of duty #ghost x soap #modern warfare 2 #cod: mw 2 #scene study #the fandom files #ghostsoap #soapghost #john “soap” mactavish #simon “ghost” riley #john mactavish #simon riley #soap #ghost #mare-noctis #ghoap #john soap mactavish

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- exploratory

it’s giving anakin and padme in the fields in that one scene from attack of the clones except add in smut 💐

warnings: smut, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, missionary (also yes i am aware that this is fantasy and theres no protection here, she's not gonna get pregnant from this time because i say so lol i make the rules!)

Under the vast expanse of the open sky, the gentle clip-clop of hooves resonated through the serene countryside. You and Ghost rode side by side on your horses, the wind playing with your hair as you explored the winding trails and rolling hills of Kastron. You were rarely let out of the castle, so this little day trip with Ghost was meaningful to you. You were excited to see the natural beauty of Kastron. There was an air of freedom around you, the two of you escaping your responsibilities just for today, finding solace in the beauty of nature. 

As you rounded a bend, the landscape before you transformed into a breathtaking sea of color. A ginormous flower field stretched out like a living painting, petals swaying in the breeze like waves on a tranquil sea. Your eyes widened in awe, a delighted gasp escaping your lips. You reined in your horse, a large grin forming on your face. 

“Simon, look at this!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with excitement. 

Ghost pulled his horse to a stop beside you, his gaze following your pointing finger. The corner of his lips quirked up as he studied your reaction, his normally stoic expression softening in the presence of your sheer delight. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice warm.

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling. “I've never seen anything like it! I’m going to see it up close.” You slide off the saddle, patting your mare before turning to face the fields. 

"Of course," Ghost replied, his tone holding a hint of amusement. He sits high atop his horse, studying your form. 

The scent of flowers filled the air, wrapping around your body as you entered the field. The world was a carousel of colors – vibrant reds, delicate pinks, and radiant yellows, – all coming together to create a rainbow. 

Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you let out a joyful whoop, throwing your arms up in the arm. You spin around, your arms outstretched, face upturned to the warm sun. Your laughter blended with the rustling of greenery in the breeze. Turning your gaze to Simon, you found him watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes. Your elation mirrored his expression, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

With a mischievous grin, you whip around and take off running through the field, your feet sinking into the soft earth with each step you take. Simon’s gasps for a moment, watching you take off. He jumps off his horse, following you as you twirl and skip amidst the flowers. His heart swells in his chest at your joy, in your simple infatuation with the fields of flowers. You’re dozens of feet ahead of him, your dress whipping in the wind as you frolick. 

Yet, as you looked back to see where Simon was, you stumbled over your own feet, your laughter mixing with a surprised yelp as you fell to the ground. Simon’s heart lurches, and he breaks out into a sprint towards you, his concern immediate. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks, chest heaving, falling to his knees beside you on the ground. 

You roll over onto your back, your hands hiding your face. He can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying. 

“D- don’t cry,” he says gently, hands hovering over your form. 

You bring your hands down over your mouth, and he sees your eyes are filled with mischief. 

You burst into laughter, unable to contain the amusement bubbling within you. As your eyes meet his concerned gaze, you can’t help but laugh even harder, your mirth contagious. 

“I- I’m not crying, Simon!” you manage to get out between fits of laughter.

Simon blinks at you, clearly confused by your reaction. Relief starts to mingle with his confusion as he watches you laugh, and then his lips slowly curl into a reluctant smile. 

“You scared me for a moment,” he says, letting out an exhale. He looks at you, your smile, your beautiful face, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He rips his balaclava off his face unexpectedly, catching you off guard. You look up at him, mouth slightly agape as your laughter dies down. 

Suddenly, he straddles you, swinging his legs on each side of your body. He presses his hands into your shoulders, fingers gently squeezing your soft skin. You gasp at the feeling of his body on top of yours, and you bring your hands up to hold his wrists. You grin up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement. The flowers you’re laying in surround you like a colorful crown. The sight of you laying amongst them makes Simon’s heart pound. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just clumsy…” you murmur, brushing his tousled hair with your fingers.

He just looks at you. Your eyes flit to his mouth, his lips slightly parted. He hovers over you, unspoken desires hanging in the balance of the moment.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all day,” you whisper, trailing one of your hands up his chest. 

Before he could respond, you closed your grip on his tunic and gently tugged, pulling him down towards you. The surprise in his eyes turned to a mixture of warmth and anticipation as your lips met in a soft, tender kiss. 

He groans quietly into your mouth, his hands drag up from your shoulders to cup your face. 

As you pulled away, Simon’s lips curved into a genuine smile. "That was worth tripping for."

You chuckled, your fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of his tunic. "Definitely worth it."

He kisses you again, pressing his hulking body on top of you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, his hands cupping your cheeks to deepen the kiss. You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so full of anticipation and your body has gone to jelly because Simon is engulfing your senses, so big and strong, so perfect, as he kisses you. 

The warmth of his body against yours ignites a fire within you, the moment intensifying as he gives you more, more, more. Every touch, every caress means something more than it ever has before.

He breaks away from the kiss, panting with his face flushed. He licks his lips, pupils blown as he stares at you with nothing but adoration. 

“Si, please.” 

That nickname, the breathy please that fell from your lips. 

It was over for him. 

In an instant, he’s latched onto your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your skin, hands running down the sides of your body. He presses his hands into your sides, squeezing your soft curves. He lifts his head up from your neck when you let out the quietest, breathy moan. He looks down at you, your mouth slightly agape, his eyes search your face. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You lick your lips, nodding your head.

“No, no, darling, I need to hear you. Use your words.”

You shudder at his words, at his implications. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

He delves back into your neck, sliding his hand behind your head to push you closer to him. 

“Wanna make y’feel good,” he mumbles into your neck between kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin. Warmth floods your face as he speaks, your core growing wet with arousal. You press your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in your core, your clit throbbing as he kisses you. 

Your hands brush over his broad shoulders, swallowing as he works on your neck. Suddenly, he starts sucking hard at your skin, putting pressure into the curve. He kisses a trail from your neck, up to your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You gasp quietly, and he pulls away, admiring his work. The feeling of his feather light breath on your skin makes you shiver ever so slightly, arching your body up into him. He lets out an amused huff, running his fingers through your hair. 

“What do you want, lovie?” he coos, twirling your hair in his fingers. 

“Everything,” you moan lightly, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him close to you as your heart races. 

He nods once, then tilts his head to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. He’s so gentle with you, methodical and patient in a way you’ve never experienced or expected from someone like him. 

“‘M gonna take my time with you,” he says gently, searching your eyes. “Tell me, please, tell me if it’s ever too much at any point.” 

You cup his face with your hands. He flicks away a stray flower petal that fell into your hair. 

“I trust you,” you smile at him, stroking a thumb along his cheek. 

With that, he slowly makes his way down to your legs, hands pressing into your ankles as he starts to lift your legs over his shoulders. He starts to bunch up the skirt of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly to give him access to your dripping core. 

“Wait, won’t someone—”

“No one will see, I promise,” he says firmly, giving you a reassuring squeeze before delving under the skirt of your dress. “Besides, there's no one around here for miles,” he chuckles under your skirt. 

The anticipation nearly kills you as you feel his hot breath on the insides of your thighs, your pussy throbbing for pleasure. He peppers light kisses on the insides of your thighs, calloused hands gripping onto your supple skin with purpose. One of his hands cups your clothed sex, a finger tracing the thin cotton of your panties. You’re so wet already, and he had only kissed you.

“S’ wet already,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.” 

You gasp, hands reaching out to your sides in the earth as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulls your panties down your legs and around your ankles. 

And then, as soon as he fully pulls your panties off, his mouth is on your core, licking a single stripe up your wet pussy. A light moan slips from your lips as this newfound sensation, grasping the grass and flowers around you, pulling at the flimsy stems for support. Simon starts to run his tongue in circular motions around your clit, applying pressure into it as he expertly explores your pussy. You moan louder now, more freely, as he applies pressure, thighs quivering as he sucks on you, lapping your wetness like a man starved.

You can’t take it anymore, you pull your dress off his head, raking your hands through his hair as he laps at your sweet cunt. You watch as he delves in and out, watch as his nose presses against your clit just right, his tongue pressing into your hole ever so slightly. Your back arches as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, tugging his hair as you moan. Simon flits his eyes to you, still lapping at your pussy with an eagerness as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. That cheeky bastard. 

“Si,” you whimper, a plea for a moment to take in what you were feeling. You make another sound, a mix between his name and a moan, all high pitched and breathless, and he groans, his pants feeling extra tight and restricting. He exchanges a groan into your core as he holds you tighter.

“Taste s’ good f’me,” he grunts against you, “such a beautiful girl."

His groans are muted but dripping with desire against your wet cunt, pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You writhe under him, moans freely slipping from your lips, pressing your core up against his face as you arch your back into him. You can feel him salivating against you, worshiping you like a man starved, like you were the most precious thing in the world. You are to him, though. You’re everything and more to him.

The coil deep within you starts to build towards a climax, your muscles tightening as he works on relaxing you, on helping you reach the pleasure that you so highly deserved.

“Let go,” he says against your clit, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. The huskiness of his voice, the way his tongue expertly explores your core is enough for the coil in your abdomen to unravel, and you cum on his tongue. You moan breathlessly, muttering his name, chest heaving as you let go. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he breathes as he pulls away, licking your dripping wetness from his lips. “Perfect, beautiful girl.”

You keen at his praises, tugging at his hair harder as he lifts up from your core. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. You’re panting, heart racing, staring up into the sky, blissed out from your first orgasm. You whimper as you watch him lick his lips, and you reach your hands out for him to come to you. He immediately obeys, and as he hovers over you, you can see how his cock is straining against his pants. You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing his bulge for a moment before he kisses you, hard and deep. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

“So good,” you say in between kisses. Your hands dragging up to the collar of his shirt. You start to paw on it, wanting him to take it off. 

“Take this off, please,” you beg, fingers sloppily moving to the buttons of his shirt. 

The way you say please so prettily, he’ll do anything for you. Anything.

He doesn’t wait to unbutton each of the buttons of his shirt, so he rips the shirt off, popping the buttons off as he rips the shirt off. 

“Ohhh-kay,” you whisper, taking in his bare chest. This wasn’t like when he fell into the lake, no, no, this was better. You run your hands over scars littered across his coarse skin, feeling him shudder under the touch of your soft hands. He lets you just, touch him, feel him. It’s quite nice, honestly, he thinks. He studies your face, your eyes growing wide as you run your hands across his chest and up to his broad shoulders, and squeeze them tightly. 

Absent-mindedly, Simon reaches up by the side of your head, plucking a rather large wildflower from the ground. Slowly, he slips the flower behind your ear, pushing away stray strands of hair from your face. 

“So beautiful, darling,” he sighs contentedly, his voice confident and full of pure affection. 

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away. A warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you smile at Simon, your heart fluttering in your chest. His touch is gentle, and his actions speak of a tenderness that leaves you breathless. You find yourself lost in his deep, brown eyes. 

“I’m yours, Si,” you murmur, as you start to slip the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. “All yours.”

He watches, entranced, as you pull your sleeves down lower and lower, and immediately he reaches up to help you. He takes the fabric of your gown into his hands, and he shimmies it up and off your frame, casting it to the side. 

His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your naked form, eyes unabashedly raking down your body. You swallow the lump in your throat, the nervousness once taking a hold of you dissipating as he looks at you with nothing but adoration and devotion. His hands trace down your shoulders to your breasts, an animalistic desire to take you then and there strong. But no, no, he was going to take his time, be gentle, focus solely on you. 

“You really don’t understand what you do to me,” he says, kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipple, pulling a string of light moans from you. 

He lowers his head down, latching onto your nipple with a contended hum. His hand grazes from your side, past your thigh, and down to your dripping core. His fingers tease your clit, and you gasp with a jolt. He chuckles against your breast, mouth moving to your other. His finger traces down from your clit to your entrance, and just before he pushes a finger in, you gasp out. 

“I– I’ve never—”

He raises his head immediately, looking at your flushed face. You bite your lip, eyes looking away with embarrassment. Simon’s face morphs into a gentle, reassuring smile. 

“Shh, shh, I understand. Let me take care of you, darling,” he coos, stroking your skin. “Relax f’me.”

With a breath, you nod your head, and try your best to relax your muscles, breathing in and out steadily. You stare up into the sky for a moment, grounding yourself, watching passing clouds casting shadows all around. 

He agonizingly slowly plunges a single finger inside you, stilling for a moment as he feels you adjust. You shudder for a moment, your mouth open slightly as you take in his thick digit.

“Good, good girl,” he encourages, slowly pumping his finger inside you. Your back arches involuntarily, your hand sweeping in the flowers, plucking some out of the ground from your grip.

Simon grabs your hand with his free hand, allowing you to squeeze it as he works his way into you with a second finger. He starts curling his fingers inside you, reaching places you never knew existed. You let out breathy moans, gripping his hand as he picks up the pace, fucking you with his fingers. 

“So perfect,” he mutters, pressing his thumb into the thumb of your hand, massaging it slightly. 

“Simon, feels good,” you manage to spit out, your eyes fluttering closed as you just feel. Your wetness is gushing around his fingers.

“That’s it, lovie,” he encourages, voice sickeningly sweet. “Just one more.”

He plunges a third finger in, and you have to hold yourself back from screaming. 

“My perfect girl,” he praises as you take in his third finger, now reaching deep inside you. A deep set moan releases from your throat as you take in three of his fingers, wincing just a bit from the large adjustment, but feeling pleasure nonetheless.  Simon remains the embodiment of thoughtfulness and care, taking you in as you are, knowing that he has the privilege of being intimate with you. The way he stares at you in amazement, in awe, in affection has something growing even deeper within him. He loves the way he can make you come undone, the way he’s the only one who is allowed to see this side of you, the way he’s the only you trust fully and completely like this.

And with that, he can’t hold back anymore. He kisses you deeply, his fingers working in you slowly, methodically. 

“Simon, please,” you beg, panting between kisses, your core aching for more than just his fingers, “need you.” Your clit is throbbing as he presses into it, building up another orgasm. The way your fingers flutter around his fingers makes his cock jump, suddenly painfully aware of how badly he wants to be inside you right now. 

“I know, darling,” he soothes, yanking his pants down, his aching cock springing free from the confines of the fabric. You start to feel your muscles pulling, your wetness building up as his fingers hit a spot inside you, beckoning you to cum.

“Cum on my fingers,” he grunts, the pressure of your velvety cunt around his fingers making him move faster, reach deeper. You swallow heavily, your hips bucking into his hand a few times before cumming, soaking his fingers. 

“I need you, Si,” you’re practically crying, pawing at his chest for more. Your clit is throbbing, cunt aching for his cock. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says again, sucking your slick off his fingers with a satisfied hum. You watch him, mouth agape. 

“Please,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around his waist, beckoning him towards you. 

In a rush, he’s checking you over, making sure you’re comfortable in the plush grass before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushes the tip inside you, letting you adjust to the size of his cock for a moment. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head as he barely pushes his way inside you, but this feels better than his fingers. Much better. The stretch wasn’t without some pain, but you bear with it, gripping onto him as he starts to push himself inside you further.

“I know, I know, you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear, his deep voice rattling your eardrums.

He lets out his own moan, feeling the way your pussy squeezes him just right. Your back arches at the sensation, a gargled moan slipping from your lips, encouraging him to slide the full length of his cock into you.

“F– fuck, lovie,” he moans, his voice high-pitched and husky. “So perfect—”

He finally bottoms out, hips meeting yours as you both pant, the stretch feeling so fucking good. He stills for a moment, relishing the way you squeeze and flutter around him, relishing the way your face is contorted into nothing but pleasure. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, hands reaching to his shoulders as he hovers over you.

He grunts and thrusts himself into you as deep as he can. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. You can barely breathe as he sets a pace, slow yet not teasing. He works his way into you with a reigned fervor, his hands gripping onto you like you could break into a million pieces. You feel like you’re floating on air, your back arching, pressing into him as he pumps inside of you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your vision being taken up entirely by Simon. His eyes meet yours and for a moment, you swear he falters. He’s taken with you entirely, your eyes on him is all he needs to be happy in this world, he decides. 

He hisses as you drag your fingernails down his back, holding onto him as he starts to move faster, harder. 

“My beautiful, perfect wife,” he grunts, rocking into you. He beckons you to wrap your legs around his waist, yanking you closer to him. 

“So soft, so soft,” he groans, lips meeting your neck in an open mouthed, sloppy kiss. “S’ happy you’re my wife.” 

Your face flushes at his words, too flattered by his words to say anything. Pure bliss courses through you as he praises you, fucking into you like a man starved. He hits a region deep inside you, and you moan abruptly. 

“That’s it,” he groans, his own eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head as he watches you intently. A coil builds faster by the second, your stomach muscles clenching.

“Si—” you manage to moan, your hands moving up from his back to cup his face.

Tears blur your vision as you stroke his cheek, and he almost stops thrusting in you at the sweet action. In a flash, he’s moving faster, the colors of the flowers around your body becoming a blur as his vision narrows in on you, you, you. 

His hands slide down to grip your waist, his hold on you tightening. Your hands move to clasp around his neck, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, your movements sloppy as he fucks you so nicely, so perfectly. He has to will himself to stay upright on top of you, wanting to pass out from how fucking beautiful you look, how fucking perfect you are to him. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect wife,” he moans, trying to express just how much he fucking loves this, how much he holds you in high regard. 

“I love you,” you blurt out, yanking him down on you. And then he’s pulling all the way out, just to slam into you again, and he can’t even find the proper words to respond, just absolutely fucking you into the flowers. 

“I love you,” he strangles out, bucking his hips helplessly into yours, and you press a kiss on his shoulder. “I love you, I love you,” he groans, letting you pull his face towards yours as you give him a deep, sloppy kiss. 

“I’ve loved you–” you try to say, your mind foggy as you leave open mouthed kisses along his face and neck, going down to his collarbone as he ruts into you. Simon mewls, his head dropping to your neck as you work on his skin. The coil within you is about to snap, your wetness coating his cock perfectly.

“Let go,” he says, pumping into you deeply, hitting a point that his fingers couldn’t even reach. “Let go, sweetheart.”

With that, you let out a garbled moan as you cum on his cock, clenching your eyes shut as you ride out your orgasm, the world fading away as if it's just you and him. His cock twitches inside of you as your walls flutter around him, his cock pulsating and throbbing, pent up from fucking into you. He breathes heavily, cumming into you with no remorse. God, you think you see stars as you feel him fill you up, moaning lightly as he slows to a stop. Simon is hovering over you, his hands planted on both sides of your face. 

“I love you,” you say again, wrapping your arms around his neck, prompting him to lay on top of you. He stares at you, mouth agape, blinking slowly.

“I thought I dreamt you saying that,” Simon says quietly, before letting himself drop on top of you. You grunt as he lets his full body weight rest on top of you, but you didn’t mind. It felt good. Felt so good having your husband laying on you like this, after the most intimate moment you’ve ever shared with him up until this point. 

He turns his face to press a kiss to your cheek. He picks more flowers from the side, stuffing them behind your ear, pushing stray hair out of your face so he can see you clearly. 

“I meant what I said,” you whisper, voice hoarse. You brush some stray grass out of Simon’s hair as he goes to lay his head down in your neck. 

“I know you did,” he whispers back, inhaling your scent.

“I love you, too,” he says, leaving a gentle kiss on your pulse. 

. . . 

After laying together for a little longer, he begrudgingly gets up to slide his pants back on. He goes over to your dress and undergarments, again, begrudgingly helping you get dressed again. You blush as he slides your panties back on your legs, breath seizing in his throat. When he finally pulls up the sleeves of your dress, you take his hand in yours. 

“Si, I honestly don’t think I can ride my horse back home,” you blush, securing the flowers behind your ear. 

“Ah,” he nods, looking down at you with a small smirk. “Of course.”

Suddenly, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you as though you weigh nothing. You let out a small yelp, fastening your arms around his neck securely as he makes his way over to the horses, both grazing on some grass a while away. 

As he approaches his horse, he sets you down for just a moment, reigning in your mare. With a lead, he attaches your mare to his horse. You watch him for a moment before he’s back on you, lifting you up so you can sit side saddle on his horse. With a grunt, he swings on behind you, gripping your waist so you can sit steady. 

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning your cheek on his chest. 

“Anything for you,” he says, motioning the horses to go home. 

You didn’t notice the bouquet of flowers he had shoved in his back pocket.

A souvenir to remember this day by. 

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#FINALLY #tooth rotting sweetness exudes from this smut #blushing so hard #cheesin so big #i'm screaming at my own fic #i'm so lonely #i'm going insane #i'm eating drywall #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

[wrestlingwithlife]

Task Force 141 Boys with Cowboy (Head canons)

Decided I’d write some head cannons for Cowboy!Reader with our main boys either that haven’t written about yet or have but are so cute I wanted to reiterate <3

Task Force 141 x Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

Soap :

#1 hype man fr 🗣️🗣️

Absolutely obsessed 😍

Will literally find any excuse to get Y/n to talk just to hear his accent

After watching Ghost get man handled by him he actually begged Y/n to spar with him

Looks up southern stuff to say to Y/n

“Y/n, will you take me to a Honkytonk? 🥺”

He tries his best but at this point he’s just doing it to get a reaction

Stumbled across the song “F***** by a Country Boy” and thought all country music was like that

Couldn’t look Y/n in the eye with hearing it in his head for a solid week

Never sleeps better then when his head is in Y/n’s lap

Literally will sleep like a rock

Soap is usually the one who falls asleep on Y/n

He didn’t realize how cuddly Y/n actually was until after one fateful night

Soap had came to watch old murder files with the southern male one night

Y/n fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder, slumbering silently

When Soap went to lean forward to grab his water he was yanked back into Y/n

Y/n bear hugged him to his chest and refused to let him go

Soap cherished that moment for the rest of forever

Added ‘Save a horse ride a cowboy’ to his Instagram bio

Has def stolen Y/n hat and tried it on

Y/n didn’t have the heart to tell him about the hat rule

But he’ll handle it eventually~

Absolute thigh guy

Has been caught staring so many times

Does not care

Continues to stare 👀

Has asked Y/n to crush him between his thighs

Y/n thought he was joking

He was not

#relatable

Ghost :

Absolutely whipped

Won’t even deny it if someone calls him out

He’s all about that Honkytonk Badonkadonk🤠

When Y/n says a word or phrase he doesn’t understand he just nods along until the male walks away, in which he will whip out his phone and immediately search it up

When Y/n mentioned there were times he missed his horses he made it his personal mission to find horses for him to pet

Ended up finding a place nearby that did horse therapy

He and Y/n both went and they absolutely loved it

The horses absolutely adored Y/n and smothered him with love

The southern male was happy to reciprocate

Ghost took a picture of it and now it’s his Lock Screen

Ghost was nervous the horses weren’t going to like him

Most animals don’t like his mask

Was elated when he realized the horses didn’t care about it

They really started to love him when Y/n showed Ghost how to feed them

Ghost was in heaven

He grew particularly fond of an old shire mare

She was all white and covered in scars but she was so impossibly gentle for her massive size

The worker said they called her Big Mama and she’d was a retired logging horse that had been rescued from going to slaughter

She adored Ghost and followed him everywhere

The workers explained she had a knack for taking the more nervous horses and animals on the ranch under her wing and making them feel a safe

Ghost almost cried when he hugged her 🥺

Now where Soap liked to sleep on Y/n, Ghost prefers to have Y/n sleep on him

Was laying in bed with Y/n one night while scrolling through his phone

Y/n was already snoozing 😴

Ghost went to put his phone on the nightstand only to get yanked back

Bro was shocked

Y/n snatched him back, burrowing under his arm

Almost cried again 🥹

Price :

Absolutely adores Y/n southern culture

Has a little notebook where he keeps stuff he learned from Y/n written down 🖊️

Occasionally uses southern slang around Y/n but unlike Soap he’s completely serious

Except the word Ain’t

He refuses to say that

When he finds out Y/n feels homesick he does everything he can to help

Gets Y/n all his favorite things

Favorite candies, books, flowers, even got Y/n a cow stuffie when he talked about missing his animals

Y/n put it next to his horse stuffie he got him last week

Price is a good cook but he doesn’t usually have the urge to do it that often

But when Y/n talked about a dish from his home town he missed??

Price spent two day’s learning how to make it and getting the stuff

Whipped that shit up like freaking master chef

The cowboy was elated and gave Price the most bone crushing hug

Snuck a little cheek kiss in there too 💋

Price’s cheeks turned pink so fast

I’m just going to say it…

Has drunk made out with Y/n before 🤯

The two got absolutely turnt on whiskey and just went for it

They never spoke about it after that but when they get close they still think about it

Price misses how the American male tastes

Something definitely awoke in him the day that he watched Y/n ride that mechanical bull

In a game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ Y/n would Marry Price a hundred times over

I mean, me too 😍

Tried southern Cajun food that Y/n made once and his heart almost stopped

It tasted good and then all of a sudden everything was on fire

Did better at holding his spice then Soap tho so 10/10

Y/n’s go to after solo missions

Y/n will stumble into his office all tired and instead of pulling up a chair just plops on the floor and leans his head on Price’s leg

Price just plays with his hair while he finishes paper work

He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t occasionally wander with how close Y/n was to his nether regions 😜

Gaz :

Trails Y/n like a puppy 🐶

I mean this boy hangs off his every word

If Y/n ever has to run an errand off the base you best believe Gaz will be going with him

Also looks up southern slang to understand Y/n better

Also listened to “F***** by a Country Boy” and couldn’t look Y/n in the eyes for a solid week

Always offers to help Y/n when he works out

Sometimes gets distracted when he’s spotting but no one can blame the poor boy

Acts of service is def his love language ❤️

Demands to know the names of every animal Y/n owns

Made a playlist of songs that Y/n mentioned he liked

Listens to it constantly

Likes to ‘help’ Y/n cook

Really just hands him stuff that Y/n asks for

Handles the spices the best out of any of them

When it’s just the two of them going out for whatever reason he’ll just grab onto Y/n somehow

Holding a hand, the hem of a jacket or shirt, or intertwining their arms

Y/n is happy to reciprocate

People will come up to Gaz while Y/n is distracted and compliment how cute of a couple they are

Just thanks them and doesn’t deny it ever

Sleeps in Y/n’s bed more then his own

Y/n will be working at his desk and Gaz will just wander in in and plop onto his bed to sleep

If Y/n takes to long Gaz will sigh loudly till he gets the hint

Always fights Soap for Y/n’s lap on movie nights

Besides Price he’s probably got the best sense of self control

He ain’t perfect though

Is Y/n isn’t watching him he is LOCKED ON

Always locked onto those cheeks 🥵

His mind does tend to wander

Y/n could ask Gaz to fake his death and run away with him and Gaz would do it in a heartbeat

#task force 141 #cod x male reader #cod x reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod gaz #cod x cowboy!reader #cowboy!reader

[sapphire-writes]

Winter Rose

pairing: Aemond x Stark!Reader

summary: Raised among wolves, and raised among dragons; throughout time Targaryens and Starks seem to find their way to each other.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2.3k

note: this is mostly fluff! enjoy my loves 💙

You had been a small child when your father died; when your elder brother Cregan was named Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Though he was just a boy of three and ten at the time. You remembered the funeral of your father, the way Cregan held your small hand in his own.

“You need to be brave, sister,” Cregan had whispered in your ear. 

Your eyes were wide as saucers, gazing upon the still body of your father. You expected his chest to rise and fall, as though he were simply in a deep sleep. He remained motionless. You had only seen one other corpse in your life, that of your mother.

The image of her flashes in your mind. Beautiful, wild, and gone. Petals in the wind. Your father would lay beside her for eternity in the crypts of Winterfell. The thought comforted you, your parents in the earth below you, and your brother. Simply sleeping beneath the mighty fortress of Winterfell.

Cregan squeezes your hand. 

Your uncle, Bennard Stark, was to rule as regent until Cregan came of age. A feat that does not bode well when Cregan reaches adulthood. But Bennard succeeds nonetheless. 

You grow alongside your brother, both of you fierce, both of you spitting images of the First Men. Both are haunted by the ghosts of wolves before you. You and Cregan are one and the same until you come into your maidenhood.

That is when things seem to change between you, suddenly you are thrust into the role of a soon-to-be mother, though still unwed. Lords vie for your hand, present themselves to your brother for the chance to bed, and breed you like a prize mare. You are having none of that. 

“Lord Umber is a fine choice!” Cregan yells, running after you as you flee from the great hall.

“You heathen!” you snap at your brother.

You stop, causing Cregan to nearly run into you, glaring at your brother. 

“You’d ship me off to Last Hearth, is that it?” you accuse, “who’d do your booking then hmm?”

Cregan flushes with embarrassment. 

“I’d make do without you,” he says.

“You’re shit at bookkeeping,” you accuse. 

“You’re a lady, it’s your duty-”

“My duty!” you scoff, “How very convenient to you!”

Cregan frowns, visibly frustrated by your angry disposition.

“You like Lord Umber.”

You look at him incredulously. 

“He is my friend, Cregan, it does not mean I wish to bed him.”

“Sister, you must listen!”

But you are off already, across the yard, angry tears wet on your face. They do not last long as you hastily wipe them, crystalized in the cold air they fly like diamonds to the gravel below. 

The news comes to Winterfell when House Stark is invited to the capital to represent the North at King Viserys nameday. Evidently, all the great houses are to feast in the capital, with tourneys and celebrations to last for several days. 

“Allow me to represent our house, and when I return I shall not fuss about marrying Lord Umber,” you tell him, bile rising in your throat as you panic at the thought.

Cregan senses your hesitation. Brothers are like that, sensing your lies. 

“You shall?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. 

“I shall.”

The journey to King’s Landing is long and tiresome, taking the better part of a month. Layers of clothing are shed the closer you get to the capital, as the air around you warms, snow melts and flowers bloom. It is as though you are blooming as well, pushing through the soil and towards the sun.

You are presented at court, as unwed ladies often are, to the king and the royal family. Though King Viserys is not in attendance, represented by the Hand instead. 

The first of the festivities you attend is a tourney. 

“You do not wish to participate, my prince?” you ask, out of courtesy.

“I do not care for tourneys, my lady,” the one-eyed prince tells you, “I believe them to be a foolish waste of time.”

You smile slightly at his honesty.

“They are said to prepare men for the battlefield,” you tell him, “though I do not know whose enemy would wait for his opponent to pick up his sword.”

Aemond glances at you as you take a sip from your cup. He glances at the tourney field, understanding your jest as he observes two knights waiting to fight. A flicker of a smile appears on his chiseled face.

“Most knights simply wish for the attention of those of court,” Aemonn tells you, “Fame and glory; to be a page in a song.”

“To have the favor of a pretty girl,” you agree.

Aemond looks at you once more. A pretty girl. You meet his eye, smiling. Aemond looks away quickly, clearing his throat.

“Have any of these knights won your favor, my lady?” Aemond asks.

You shake your head.

“No, I am afraid not,” you tell him, “I prefer a real warrior to a pretender.”

Aemond watches as you excuse yourself and walk away, a curious expression on his face. 

The feast later that evening is boisterous and full of merriment and delight. It makes you miss home, an ache appears in your chest that you cannot shake. No matter how many lords you dance with, how many ladies you chat with. Though you wished for an escape, you so miss the walls of Winterfell. Cregan’s hand in yours. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps the North is where you belong. Winterfell, Last Hearth. Did it matter which castle, truly?

“My lady,” the voice of Prince Aemond pulls you gently from your thoughts.

He is kind, you can tell. Though his exterior is cold, reptilian almost. Like the snakes that slither in the greenhouses of Winterfell, searching for warmth and life in the frozen ground. Simply trying to survive. Aemond bows to you, offering his hand, violet eye scanning your face. 

You want to ask him about it. But you bite his tongue. You know all too well how people enjoy poking the bruises of others, teasing out the memories of pain a person holds inside them simply for their own selfish curiosity. You shall not be like them.

You take his hand and allow him to lead you to the dance floor. You cling to the young prince for the rest of the evening, finding calm in his cool presence. It is nice, standing beside him feeling as though there is no silence you need to fill. Feeling as though he simply enjoys that you are there. 

When you return to your chambers, a blue winter rose rests its petals on your pillow. You pick up the flower, inspecting it carefully between your fingers, the cerulean petals catching the moonlight. A reminder of home.

The remainder of your visit to the capital is spent on Prince Aemond’s arm. In the library, on walks through the gardens. He even entertains your passion for hawking, joining you as you travel into the Kingswood. It is nice to have a friend among so many dragons. Someone to talk to, someone who enjoys your company. 

As the days pass, you have collected a bouquet of winter roses; they sit beside your bed in a glass vase, the first flower only just beginning to lose its petals. They scatter across your chambers like freshly fallen snow. 

A raven arrives, confirming your brother’s visit to the capital. Cregan is often impatient and comes to the conclusion that he must join his sweet sister in the capital, bringing Lord Umber with him. A determined pup, your elder brother can be. 

Aemond senses a shift within you as you wait in anticipation, though he cannot quite figure out what the cause is. When your brother arrives, you avoid his presentation at court entirely. Though Cregan is relentless, and spots you as you attempt to escape to the gardens. In your haste, you nearly run into Aemond. You clasp his arm.

“Quickly,” you say nervously, shifting on your feet, “I must go, quickly.”

“It is your brother,” Aemond says, looking over your shoulder, “why do you wish to run from him? Have you not missed him this time apart?”

Aemond knows you have been missing him, missing home. It is why he took such care with the flowers left in your chambers. He had enlisted Helaena for help; winter roses are fickle plants that require delicate care outside of the North. 

“Of course I have,” you tell him, trying but failing to hide behind his tall frame.

Aemond smiles slightly as you grab his arm. Cregan has spotted you, a determined grin on his face. Lord Umber has joined him on his journey to King’s Landing. He has brought the wedding to you. There’s nowhere to run anymore.

“Then why do you hide little wolf?” Aemond asks, chuckling.

“He wishes to marry me off,” you tell the prince, “ship me off to Last Hearth.”

Aemond’s face falls slightly, he glances over his shoulder as your brother comes closer with each passing second. Aemond turns back to you, eye scanning the distressed expression on your face. 

You bring your gaze back to the prince, an idea coming to you. 

“My prince,” you say suddenly, “do you trust me?”

Aemond frowns, not fully understanding what you are asking.

“Of course my lady-”

“Then kiss me.”

Aemond’s jaw slacks as he looks into your eyes. 

“Quickly, please,” you beg, “Aemond.”

His eye flickers from your lips to your eyes.

“Trust me,” you say softly.

The one-eyed dragon prince needs no more convincing. He bows his head to your height, and you stand on the tips of your toes, hand caressing the back of his neck bringing his lips to yours. Aemond is gentle with the kiss, as though he has never kissed someone before. He nearly pulls away after the first peck, but you secure your hand on his neck, opening your mouth against his, deepening the kiss.

Something comes alive in Aemond as you slip your tongue into his mouth. Fire curls in his belly, desire lodges at the base of his spine, and his cock strains against his trousers as your nails scrape his scalp. 

You pull away when the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls you from the prince’s trance. Lips reddened by the hasty kisses, Aemond’s violet eye is wide as it meets yours.

“Sister,” Cregan says awkwardly, “It is good-”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark,” Aemond interrupts, nodding to the young wolf.

“Your grace,” Cregan says, bowing slightly.

“Delightful to be surrounded by kin,” Aemond tells him.

“Kin? I do not understand,” Cregan tells him.

“My betrothed has missed her brother for too long now,” Aemond clarifies, much to Cregan’s and your surprise. 

“Betrothed?” Cregan asks, looking between you two. 

“Yes,” you tell him, sliding next to Aemond, pressing your body against him, “Prince Aemond has asked for my hand. And I have accepted.”

Cregan’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly.

“Without informing me?” he asks.

“We wished to surprise you,” Aemond says softly, “your sister was so excited by your arrival, she wanted to tell you in person.”

You nod eagerly as Aemond speaks, and Cregan raises an eyebrow at you in question. You smile widely, showing too many teeth. A she-wolf, daring him to question you aloud. 

“Tis true, brother,” you tell him, “Who am I to deny a dragon prince?”

“I suppose if you did not want to, you would not,” Cregan says, sighing, “A stubborn woman, my sister is.”

“One of the many reasons she is so charming,” Aemond agrees, his words causing your heart to flutter inside your chest.

Warmth pools in your belly as the prince smiles down at you. Cregan raises an eyebrow, nodding in approval. 

“I dare ask, what else has entrapped your attention, my prince?” Cregan asks, “It is my understanding the Queen wished for you to take a wife for some time now, to no avail.”

Aemond nods.

“Your sister is a rare find, much like a winter rose south of the Wall,” Aemond begins. 

Your heart leaps in your throat. Though you had expected it, now it is confirmed. It was he who left you the flowers. He who took such care with them. 

“However, did you do it?” you ask, eyes wide. 

Aemond smiles at you knowingly. 

“Precious flowers take time to bloom, they require special care,” he tells you, “but they are well worth it.”

You flush at his words, believing he means more than just the flowers. 

“A marriage must be treated with such care as well,” you agree, lacing your fingers through his. 

Aemond’s hand is rough from training with the sword, but your hand fits perfectly in his. The warmth of his palm settles the flurry of nerves in your stomach. 

“Are you prepared to give this union such care?” Cregan asks, his voice hardening, “This is my sister you are marrying, and she deserves nothing but the best.”

Aemond smiles, looking down at your intertwined hands. His thumb rubs against the back of your palm. 

“I would gift her the world if I could,” he admits, “I promise you, I shall spend the rest of my days devoted to making her happy.”

Your eyes well with tears and your heart swells with pride at his words. You tug him closer to you, taking his other hand in yours.

“You must excuse us brother,” you tell Cregan, “though I have missed you, I require a moment with my betrothed.”

You lead Aemond away from Cregan, away from the curious eyes of court, until you are in a secluded area of the castle.

“Where are we going?” Aemond asks, a smile playing on his lips.

You tug him closer once more until you are pressed up against him.

“I wish to kiss my betrothed unwatched,” you giggle, bringing his mouth to yours once more. 

This time, you do not stop.

______________________________________________________________

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[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 8

A/N: So sorry this chapter is coming so late into January. I hope everyone is doing well. Let's get this chapter rolling!

Summary: Love comes with many sacrifices.

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Chapter 8

He’s up all night as if consumed by grief all over again.

Adrian is familiar with the feeling, the ache within his chest, which devours him whole.

It stings in his body and mind when he rises with the sun, clouded and forgetting the previous night’s memories. He tells himself he will never be vulnerable with another, over and over, but his time spent with you draws that closeness he needs. He was craving more and more of your closeness and it grew easier and easier to feel it with you.

He was sure that if the consumption of wine continued, he would’ve done something he regretted, unravelling all the work to form an attachment and friendship that took so long to create.

It was the wine, he told himself. It causes anyone to do stupid things.

But it’s not the wine, he knows it. He knows it’s an excuse – a poor one to use when facing something far more lethal than a friendship on the line. He knew it had to be wrong, to put you in a position that made you downright uncomfortable, and the soft touches the two of you shared brought him far bigger feelings than he’d ever felt before.

It wasn’t far from trusting someone anyone, he knew it was something that could’ve been done long ago to betray him. And despite it, Adrian fears it could come any day, no matter how much his emotions grow.

He feels like a boy with a childish crush, not fully understanding the entire complexity of it all. It feels far more real than a simple crush: Adrian yearns for it, begs for its stay, to flourish and build into something much more. It’s a desire, a wish to anyone who would listen.

No, it would never happen. He told himself over and over again, cold in the bed as if there had been another beside him. It was far different to that fateful night, and the ghost of arms around him felt more tender than they had ever been. She is my friend, my closest friend.

Adrian had never felt colder.

When the sun reached his eyes, he squinted, as if its heat would finally put him out and catch him ablaze. Anything to end my misery. He wondered if more wine had been left, but it would’ve started a routine he dared not start again. Not with you around.

He said he would never return to that, not when you stayed.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered into the chill of the air, awareness hitting him like a blow to the face. If he was truly wanting to remain sober for you, something was deathly wrong. “I truly am becoming a Belmont.”

He rises with the rest of the day, telling himself he will apologise if you’re still stiff with him, but he will continue as if all the previous days had been the same. Nothing to hide, except for muddled emotions.

It’s the reminder to himself when he looked over the fireplace mantel, sitting cosy above with its pretty dark curls he made by uncoiling dark thread, and brown buttons for eyes, the skin tone as close to yours as possible, that he cannot have you finding this of all things.

-

“Are you ready?”

You draw your eyes over to the blond, readying a chestnut mare, the two of you standing in the castle stables. Adrian tells you that the town is not too far, it may take a bit longer to get back with such a large supply he hopes for. The castle’s food supply was dwindling, and Adrian kept a list of what needed to be restocked.

Adrian was kind in giving you some spare clothes, simply because you didn’t want to get your pretty dresses dirty: simple dark pants with a pair of riding boots, a dark green vest and a white tunic shirt that was too big and you had to cinch in with a belt. You also carried on you a small satchel, a cloak and gloves in case of the cold.

“Yes,” you shuffle closer to him, wary of the large beast in front of you, its beady black eyes staring right into your soul, “it’s a beautiful creature.”

“Indeed,” Adrian answers, soothing the horse by scratching just behind the back of its neck, behind its ears, “she is a gentle soul. She will not be frightened by you.”

You warily stare ‘her’ up and down, inquisitively, “What is her name?”

“Oh,” the Dhampir seems understandably abashed for not giving her one, “I did not think that far.”

“Really?” You stare between him and the beast, surprise blooming in your voice. It only makes sense for you to give her a name now! ��How about… Lady? No, no—or maybe—”

“Luna?”

His voice catches you by surprise, but it is a wonderful idea. “Luna?”

“It’s a pretty name,” Adrian strokes her snout affectionately, “I like the other name too.”

“No, I like Luna more.” You follow with a guide of Adrian’s hand in knowing where to stroke Luna; just above her snout, his hands lingering longer than you both expected in this subtle affection before he pulls back. His touch still lingers, and it comforts you the size of his hand compared to yours.

“Shall we get going?”

“Indeed.”

It takes some minutes of humbling yourself to get onto a horse- with Adrian’s help- but you’re far more ashamed of how you embarrassed yourself in front of him. It’s not graceful how you straddle, the discomfort that comes from your legs so far apart and how you’re already dreading when it moves.

 Adrian is quicker than you, almost leaping on with ease as he sits behind you, his hands coming from behind to grab at the reigns.

“Easy,” you think he’s telling the horse to be at ease, but you realise it’s directed to you, his hands reassuring you, “You’re not going anywhere, little witch.”

You’re thankful he can’t see the way your face heats, the way you wish he would do what he said, but you have to stop those thoughts from occurring.

The laugh that comes from you is more of a wheeze, and you correct yourself before you can embarrass yourself further. “Are you talking to the horse or me, Adrian?”

Adrian chuckles lightly at your jab but knows it is all a tease. He guides the horse out from the stable, and almost immediately begins a sprint. The castle seems like a speck in the distance the further you travel, trees whipping past like shadows of figures you thought were human.

Animals could be heard within the trees as if they surrounded you, but instead of fear, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and across your face. You imagined this was what it felt like to be a bird, or the fastest horse free in a field. It was in some way what you imagined what a vampire felt like hidden and part of wildlife.

With the speed and wind on your side, you arrived in the town by the time the sun was highest in the sky. You forgot how lively a town could be: bustling with life. People of all ages, genders and skin tones wandered the market. Mothers with their babes and young children playing around her skirts. Those who came to sell and trade within the markets. Couples of old and young fill the streets with tender displays of affection for one another.

It made you blush when you looked around, realising that some could maybe say the same about you and Adrian looking like a couple. Would Adrian notice this too? Would he feel ashamed to be associated with you?

You didn’t realise you had been distracted by your thoughts when you felt a tender hand shaking you gently out of your thoughts. Blinking owlishly, Adrian stood before you, his golden eyes were wrought with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Overwhelmed, but I’ll survive,” you told him, puffing your chest out to show you weren’t feeling all sorts of worries. “Have you got the list?”

Adrian doesn’t want to shake away his concerns for you, but he unravels the crumpled note from inside his coat pocket to hand to you. You scan over it quickly before you nod. “See you back at the carriage?”

“I must hire one first,” Adrian chortles, “but yes, I shall see you then… be safe.”

Be safe.

It’s enough to make your heart swoon, and you nod, fleeing like a lovesick teenager who just said hi to her crush. You absorb yourself by finding the necessary things, trying your best to not get engrossed by the things around you.

You get mostly through your list before something catches your gaze.

An array of jewels of different sizes and colours greet you: some attached to bracelets, necklaces and brooches, others gaudy and lavish and sitting for all to see. It doesn’t take you long to fully stop and be standing in front of the older woman’s stall, looking over them carefully.

If only I had enough money.

“The peridot would suit you nicely, young lady,” you look up to catch the warm gaze of the woman, her crow’s eyes wrinkled. “Or alexandrite. Very pretty, will catch anyone’s eye.”

“They are very pretty,” you muse, though you already know you won’t be buying anything from her, it is always nice to look around. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Light colours would suit your skin tone,” she begins as she points to different items, holding them as if for you to compare until the next thing to come from her mouth leaves you practically gasping, “I’m sure your husband would agree.”

“Husband?”

“There you are.”

The first thing you notice is the arm that snakes its way around your waist, a body leaning in closely to you as you feel your body freeze on the spot. Adrian is looking over the jewels with you with interest, softly musing to himself, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You’re gawking now, no words are coming to you and it’s only when the old woman brings up impatiently that you’re buying anything that Adrian pulls a bag from his pocket, casually handing the woman the change as if it's nothing. “The peridot I think would look lovely on you.”

He’s moving away, back to the wagon with you following behind like a lost puppy.

“What was that?” You whisper when it’s just the two of you, watching the world go by.

“What do you mean?” He asks as he pulls out the necklace to inspect himself. “I thought this colour would look nice on you.”

“Yes,” you replied, fiddling with the hem of your gloves. “It’s just—”

Adrian seems to read you easily, and he knows when you’re showing some discomfort. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“Far from it,” you laugh it off, though your heart hammers to great lengths, “She had been the one to say I had a husband.”

Your laugh leaves Adrian silent, quieter than he normally is, and it leaves you spiralling. What was he thinking? Was he too uncomfortable with the choice of words?

“Turn round for me?”

You blink thoughtlessly at the question, slowly following as you turn your back on him. You have to stop yourself from gasping aloud when his gloved fingers graze over the back of your neck, pulling back your curls to give him a proper view.

You’re shivering, and you realise what state you’re in, crumbling just from a singular touch, but you try your best to keep your cool. Adrian steps close behind you, his scent is strong in your nostrils as he collects the links of the necklace, putting it around your neck before securing it.

 “It suits you.” He quips, knowing that his words are having an impact on you, before he turns away to the cart, you follow hot on his heels to nag him for making you feel so unsteady.

-

It's sometime later on the cart on your way back when Adrian suddenly touches your hand.

Even when he wears his leather gloves, you can feel the warmth that resonates within him, the raw strength and power that comes from him. He’s a killer, a killer who could’ve overpowered you a long time ago, but who you put your undying trust in.

Your shock freezes you as you look over at him, his gaze on the road ahead, but you know for a fact, that he’s aware you’re staring. “Is something the matter?” He draws softly, looking at you through his peripheral.

“You’re…” You can’t find the right words, but you direct your gaze to his free hand occupied in holding yours, and he follows. “My hand,” he states coolly, though you feel as if there is a hidden motive to this. “You were cold.”

Right, you tell yourself that, and a harsh chill bristles through you before you have time to think it through. He’s smart, too smart.

“Oh." You don’t consider he’s telling the whole truth, but you don’t shake away the way he’s holding your hand. It brings a great comfort to you. You’re still side-eyeing him as he continues on the road, the silence that envelops you is calming and quaint.

You’re very aware that your heart is hammering, the necklace wrapped around your neck is being twirled as you think heavily with your thoughts. Shall you tell him now how you feel? Would that break everything you built with him? It’s only a matter of time before your feelings are split accidentally and your friendship is cursed.

You squeeze his fingers to get his attention, “Adrian, there is something I wish to tell you-”

You’re lurched forward from your seat at the front of the cart, the suddenness of it is all to not still your nerves. The horses snorted in anxiousness, and all around you stood still as if holding their breath. Adrian’s eyes were deadest on something within the trees, and you couldn’t help but feel even more nervous at what could be out there.

“Night creatures?” You whisper to Adrian, but he only gives a glance your way, a way to tell you it was way, way worse.

It was still far too early for creatures of the night to be out, but with the fading sun passing over the horizon of the trees, that was when you spotted them.

They blended with the trees at first, but you could see their silhouettes, standing as rigid as statues, ready as soldiers for war, staring down at you like vultures. They can’t be just human bandits on the road, their presence alone gave off a bad omen. You don’t know how many you count, their clothes blend as one with the growing darkness as the sun settles.

Adrian’s voice is already speaking to you, cutting the silence with a knife.

“Y/N, get to the back of the cart, do not come out until I tell you so,” it’s not a warning, but an order, and you don’t want to waste his time by stalling. His voice is serious, eyes stone cold as he glares down at the figures not far and lurking around the trees.

Adrian easily hops down from his spot as he flicks the scabbard off his longsword. You watch in a mix of wonder and dread at the scene that unfolds.

The figures draw in closer, watching and snarling as Adrian holds a solid line, almost unfazed as he holds the sword close to his face.

His sword glows suddenly as if imbued with holy light, a shocking flow of blue flames engulfs it, glowing and hissing with life. The flames flicker close to Adrian’s face as he readies his action, changing his stance before he is on the closest one.

He’s quicker than your eyes can register, a shadow of crimson shifts as he moves at lightning pace, soon in front of the hooded creature as his sword moves as one with him. He is no longer holding it, rather, the two of them move as if it is a dance, fluid and graceful.

A hiss of a cry lurches into the darkening skies, one is down on the ground, its skin hissing and bubbling as it disintegrates.

Two more are on him with a flash, but Adrian fights with valour and dances around him, swords crashing against the sound of their taloned nails. You’ve not stuck around to know what was happening, having crawled through to the back of the cart for safety.

Once huddled in a spot surrounded by crates, you can only rely on sound: clashes of silver clang loudly around you, bodies fall and you have no clue if Adrian is winning or not. You can only assume he is, from the way you can still hear the glow of his magic sword, twirling around as silent as he is.

Another noise resonates from just outside, creeping behind you and you freeze, before the sound of splattering blood and a gargled choke dies down. You look just to your left to see that the material of the cart is splattered in the thick, viscous liquid, and you shudder that Adrian is here to protect you.

You don’t know how many of them are left, and you can only think that the best thing for you to do is protect yourself if one finds you inside. You scramble to your feet, clumsily looking for any blade that could be of use. You find only a flimsy dagger, and you clutch it close to your chest as you settle in the back of the cart, trying to calm your racing heart.

Something draws in close and you stutter a gasp before you realise it’s too late. The figure pauses almost dramatically, inching closer to the back of the cart, their movement deliberately slow, trying to edge as much fear out from you.

You pray it’s Adrian coming to your rescue, to tell you the area has been cleared, but as the face emerges through the curtains of the entrance to the cart, it’s not those golden eyes you’ve grown to love staring back at you.

They’re red, crimson as the blood that will soon spill from you.

Your screams fall silent as the face erupts into a smile, wide and fanged as the rest of its vampiric kind. The dagger in your grasp feels more like a twig as you stare down, wide-eyed the vampire in front of you.

“What a pretty little thing you are,” his voice is soft yet hoarse, and his red eyes seemed unblinking as he seemed to taunt you from the entrance, blocking one of the ways you could escape. “What a delicacy you’ll be.”

Your fight or flight had kicked in and instead of either of them, you had become frozen in your spot, dreading that this would be the way you died, dying in a smelling cart as a vampire ripped at your throat.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, inching closer, a clawed hand bracing the inside of the cart as he further draws inside, “I’ll make sure I’m quick with you.”

-

Adrian's POV

Blood soaks through the leather of his clothing, but he is thankful it is there’s and not his.

The last of the creatures die within an inch of him, sizzling into nothingness as he stares down what remains. Ash of their bones and the burnt clothes remain, the reminder to anyone who crossed him he would do it a hundred times over.

All in the name of love.

He had once didn’t understand the meaning of love, the way it would pull at his heart and lurch within him. He needed it as if it was necessary like water or food, a hunger that he yearned for in the waking hours of the day to the late hours of twilight.

He is his father's son after all.

Dracula did it in the name of love, and he found he was killing his kind all to keep you safe.

“Y/N, it’s safe.” He calls you to, and he listens for any sound except for the sounds of nature surrounding him. It’s startling how quiet the outside world could be, and how quickly his heart could plummet in knowing something was deeply, deeply wrong.

His heightened senses could not smell blood, not the blood that came from you but what had fizzled and dried. It seemed almost deathly quiet, but Adrian’s mind was racing, the pulling of his heart meant you were not here, or worse, he had failed to keep you safe.

A scream brings his attention, and he wastes no time in hurtling towards the back of the cart, his heart racing.

No, no, no, if he's failed in doing the one thing, he's failed you and himself.

He hasn't even got his face an inch through the gap before he senses something telling him to move out of the way, an object being flung just where his face would be. His head snaps to see a dagger clatter to the dirt just behind him before it turns to what stands before him, a snarl leaving his curled lips.

You were safe, for now, though the vampire he failed to miss had his disgusting fangs inches from the base of his neck, his clawed hands wrapped around you, keeping your body locked to his chest.

 “Son of Dracula, the Messiah,” the vampire greets him, observing him with a lazy smile. You continue to squirm in his grasp, eyes locked onto Adrian for any semblance of safety. “Care to take a bite of your pet first or shall I do the honour?”

His venom is bitter and his anger is boiling at the words he uses for you. How dare he call you a pet!

“Unhand her now,” his voice resonates inside him and he channels his father, the voice he would use and boom across the castle grounds, “I will not ask you again.”

“Ah, ah, one step and I spill her neck open.” The hooded vampire fusses, his movements almost consoling to Y/N as he runs a hand down her cheek, tears drying on her skin. “This one is a waste if you keep it.”

He laughs easily as he stares Adrian down, his next words bringing Adrian close to lopping his head clean off. “Though it is no surprise, you are Dracula’s son, keeping human women around as your pets. It was Dracula’s weakness,” he leant close into Y/N, drinking up her tears as he licked his tongue up the side of her face, “and it will be your undoing.”

Adrian is hunched as if ready to pounce to get him off you, but his golden eyes are never leaving you. A cry leaves your lips when his tongue licks up the side of your face, and you’re shivering, hands clutched around the tightened grip of his forearm.

There is a silent connection that only he can feel when you are close, and it comes from your eyes that stare back at him. They don’t seem as frightened as they did before, and he believes he knows you want him to be calm and not quick to action. Your eyes calm him like a storm approaching, ready to destroy all in its wake.

The vampire holding you runs a hand through the links of your necklace, the hands glimmer in the low light inside and it’s the only thing Adrian sees, trying to not imagine it coated in blood. “Such sweet, sweet blood.” The vampire says, his face drawing into your neck, but you stop him from doing anything further.

With your hands clutching his forearms tightly, Adrian watches how you shut your eyes tight, before shouting the words that resonate through you:

“Ardeo!”

It amazes him every time when you speak that spell, the way flames spill from your hands as easily as water flowing. The endless cycle of nature flows through you, and the power within your hands cries with a mighty scream that neither Adrian nor you know who it’s coming from.

The flames roar as they lick up the clothes of the vampire, and his screams join in fright as they clutch around his arm, a grip in itself that never lets him go. They take and they take, scorching the fabric as they bury deep into the skin.

The vampire is held in place as if something within an endless cycle of life and death ties him to his spot, scorched by your touch as he squirms and screams. He sounds like a pig, Adrian notes, but the sound is as annoying as the actual animal dying.

The vampire is quick though, and though his arm is distorted, blackened and charred, he shoves you away from him, his nails catching you by the skin of your arm, nicking it as you collide with the side of the cart.

Adrian is there in a flash to end it all, to end its misery, to end its hellish torment. He does it for you when his sword is a flash of lightning, quick to the bite and cold as a kiss to the vampire’s neck, coming out the other end before anyone could realise.

Your breath is caught in your throat as you’re unaware you’ve been cut, though the adrenaline dies down as quickly as the body slumps in front of you, turning to ash before your very eyes.

Adrian is beside you, a hand tending to your arm before the sting catches up with you. You hiss in pain, realising what had happened and how deep the wound is. Three long scratches reach down to your elbow, bleeding freely.

“Careful.” He’s quiet with his words, delicate as if treating you like the fine China you are. He rips part of your shirt, wrapping the open wound to stop the flow of blood. He reminds himself he needs to clean it when you return to the castle.

You’re staring at him as he does so, your eyes glazed over as if in a daze, and before he has time to register if you’re okay, he feels something press against his cheek, and he realises it’s your warm lips, chaste and sweet.

“Thank you,” you murmur, leaning into him as the silence fills the cart. Adrian is silent for what feels like forever, but his mind is screaming. You kissed him, and he’s gaping like a dead fish. You kissed him and he feels like a boy all over again.

He shakes out of his thoughts to collect himself, to calm the rush of blood that goes straight to his head, and he feels lightheaded, but he gladly accepts your embrace, cradling you to his chest.

“No... thank you.”

-

Latin Translation:

Ardeo - (I) burn

#castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania fanfic #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #reader x alucard #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #reader is a witch #mixed race witch #half black reader #part 8 #witch! reader #alternate universe

[lookingforlia]

They are the type of boyfriend to ,

Tsukishima x reader (since you guys seem to really like this piece of salt )

(reblogs would be much appreciated (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) )

Tsukishima is the type of boyfriend who wouldn't be as much as confident in telling you simple words as " I love you ".

To him , it's far from simple . To him these words hold so much meaning and so much power , so much depth . He doesn't want to roll off the words off his lips as mare words that holds nothing . What he feels towards you is so much vaster than just three words. and he genuinely thinks that those three words aren't enough to word what his feels for you. It seems shallow to him to put all the contents of his heart in the mare words . what he feels for you is greater to him than any amount of words could ever be . Just a simple ' I love you ' doesn't really embody how he feels for you.

But he still says it . Because he feels so much and is able to express so little off it .

Tsukishima is the type of boyfriend who feels too much and is able to express so little of it . His love for you doesn't come in subtle' I love you's ' . It comes in as holding you a lil bit tighter to his chest snaking his long arms around the small of your back allowing you to listen to the loud thunder of his heart . His love for you comes in stolen glances towards you when you're not looking. Observing how your hair falls off your face to your features that are so unaware of his gaze on you. Staring at you a lil bit too long than he intended to observing how you did your makeup today and absolutely how you take his breath away . A small blush ghosting his face when you're about to look up at him , catching him almost red-handed .

His love for you comes in taking mental notes of your meals on if you're eating and sleeping well . Paying hyper attention to your emotions without letting your figure out that he knows that you're feeling a lil bit blue .

His love for you comes in small thoughtful gestures he does for you to cheer you up . Stolen kisses when nobody is looking to make your train of negative thoughts come to a halt and stomach covering in butterflies. And you never seem to figure out that it was intentional and he knew exactly what you were thinking .

Tsukishima is the type of boyfriend who loves so hard and is so bad at saying it with his words . So he used his actions instead . His actions speak louder than mare words. He doesn't know how to tell you how much he loves you , but he can show you in his actions . That's why he always holds you as tight with so much adoration in his eyes when he pushes stray strands of hair off your face . You never thought he could look so love struck . He's bad at saying 'i love you' but his entire face is saying it for him . Holding you with the silent yet gentle promise that he's always , here for you . Because he probably loves you a lot more than you love him .

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #hq headcanons #hq imagines #headcanon #hq fluff #hq oneshot #animie #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsunade #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima fic #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima x you #tsukki x reader #haikyuu #hq fanfic #headcanons #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu tsukki #tsukki headcanons

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt 10.

(Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader x Cersei Lannister. SMUT: Domme Cersei, light knife play, fingering, bondage, light degradation, overstimulation, oral <male receiving>)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

The day had finally come for you to return South and you were glad of it.

There was nothing worse, in your opinion, than being trapped in a clearly troubled place where there is nothing you can do to help.

Before you left, Theon Greyjoy stopped you. "Apologies, my lady. But, Lady Stark would like to have a word before you leave."

Catelyn Stark had holed herself up in main tower at her child's sick bed, never leaving as far as you knew.

You agreed, following the young man up the stairs and finding Lady Stark sitting in a worn wooden chair, hands clasped at her knees. She looked more ghost than woman.

"My Lady?" You breathed carefully, as if approaching a baby deer. "You sent for me?"

"Lady Clegane" Catelyn almost jumped when she saw you, as if she had forgotten summoning you at all, "Thank you Theon, you may go."

Left alone with Catelyn, you let your eyes wander the the little bundle in the middle of the bed. "How is he?"

"No change." Catelyn sighed, "but the Maesters say he is out of danger now"

She turned to you with sunken, sullen eyes. "I've asked you here to ask a favor."

"Anything, my lady" you nodded, feeling great pity for the woman before you.

"This will be my daughters' first trip south, away from home." Catelyn breathed, "Their father will be with them, and he is a good man, he is but...."

Fresh tears began to well up in her eyes and she wiped them away firmly.

"They've never been away from their mother before and I need...I am asking you to watch out for them, as if they were your daughters. Please, do this for me?"

"Oh of course, Lady Stark." You were relieved the assignment was so straight forward, "I will do everything I can."

You weren't expecting the sudden onslaught of physical contact as Lady Stark wrapped her arms around your neck.

"Oh thank you!" She sobbed, "thank you, thank you."

You nodded and waited for her to let go before clearing your throat. "Forgive me, Lady Stark. But I must go before they leave without me."

"Of course" she pulled away, face once again wet with tears, "go, go. You mustn't keep them waiting"

You gripped her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, "my prayers will be with you, Lady Stark"

---------

"What did she want?" Sandor grumbled, annoyed you had left him holding your mare's reigns to wait for you.

"She asked me to keep an eye on her girls." You sighed, "that poor woman, she looked closer to the grave than her son."

"It doesn't feel right" Sandor mounted Stranger as you pulled the mare up beside him. "Give me a good, clean death. I wouldn't want to get stuck between."

"Ugh" you pulled a face, "I don't want to think of you dying. There's been enough unpleasantness these last few weeks. I'm just glad to be going home."

Sandor didn't say anything, not wanting to point out that all that likely waited for you in Kings Landing were bitter nobles and nasty rumors about the upstart handmaiden who had slept her way into the Queen's Court.

He knew there was very little he could do to shield you from that. His speciality was in the feild and the fighting pits, with his sword or his fists. The gentry was an entirely different beast.

Part of him wanted to ship you off to the Westerlands to Clegane Keep. It was a generous bit of land gifted to his grandfather by the Lannisters, and had plenty of forest and farms to draw a profit from if you actually bothered to maintain it.

But the queen would never allow it, and a part of himself wouldn't either. Away from him meant closer to something else. Brigands, lustful lords, and worst of all, Gregor.

Sandor knew that at some point, some point uncomfortably soon, you would have to formally meet your new brother by law. Gregor was more beast than man, never sticking around court too long lest he find some stuck up noble to decapitate or unlucky lady to rape.

How would Gregor react to his younger brother marrying before he did? Probably producing a Clegane heir before he did? Would he see it as a challenge to his seat?

Sandor prayed he didn't.

But he didn't bring this up, not to you. Instead he rode in comfortable silence beside you, keeping an eye out for Prince Joffrey, who was probably being held hostage by his lioness mother trying to woo Lady Sansa.

That poor kid, he thought, that family was going to eat her alive.

___________

At dusk, you had come to an inn and thanked the gods for it. Who knew just a few weeks at Winterfell would soften your legs so much.

"Ow," you hissed as the chaffed flesh of your thighs touched. "Dammit"

"Sore?" Sandor smirked, his thighs of iron practically impervious to riding sores. "Perhaps you need something between them to make you feel better"

"You offering?" You challenged him with a teasing smile.

"Run along" the not-knight pulled down your hood and kissed the top of your head, "you queen wants you."

Cersei smiled as you approached the royal carriage. "Lady Clegane, come sit with us" she reached out to you and you took her hand carefully as you climbed into the carriage.

Inside was Lady Sansa and Princess Marcella who had been chatting like eager birds.

"You remember Lady Sansa?"

"Of course" you nodded to the spry 12 year old who nodded back politely. "How is the travel treating you so far?"

"I've never been so far from home before." Sansa confessed, "it's thrilling"

"I hadn't traveled much before this either" you agreed. "But this Northern countryside is just heavenly. So quiet."

"You must be exhausted, my darling" Cersei fussed "all that time on that beast, you must join me in the carriage at least once"

"I will try to tear myself away, your grace" you promised almost teasing, relaxing as the queen linked her arm in yours.

"You, guard." The queen swiftly called to random servant, "find the Hound and tell him Lady Clegane will be spending the evening with the Queen and not to worry." She glanced at you, eyes tracking your form like a wild cat, "She will be very well taken care of"

"At once, your grace" the servant scurried away and you smiled shyly.

"The king will not mind?" You whispered, unsure how much could be said in front of the younger girls.

"His Grace is busy orientating his new Hand" Cersei assured you, "trust me, he won't even notice. Now-" she raised her voice, indicating they no longer needed to talk in circles around Sansa and Marcella.

"I sent a raven to my dressmaker while we were in Winterfell and bless him, he was able to get a response back to me before we left. If we take your measurements and sent them to Kings Landing tonight, he should have some gowns ready for you upon our arrival. Any alterations needed can be done when we get there."

"Wow" you were awestruck at the efficiency. If left to your own devices you wouldn't have known where to begin. "I can not thank you enough, your grace."

"Nonsense" Cersei moved to leave the carriage, trailing you and the girls behind her like ducklings. "I will not have you looking any less than your best when you're received. Marcella, why don't you run along and find your Septa, I'm sure you have some lessons to go over. And Sansa, isn't you sister around here somewhere?"

The girls dutifully fled as Cersei's arm went from your elbow to your waist, "and you, Lady Clegane" she breathed, "will take me up to my room"

The innkeep had set aside the two largest rooms in the inn for the King and Queen. Cersei's room contained a large 4 poster bed, a writing desk, full length mirror edged in carved oak, and a fireplace.

"Have you ever had your measurements taken?"

"No" you swallowed, knowing damn well that wasn't why she'd stolen you away for the evening.

"Stand up straight" Cersei pulled a measuring tape from her bags. "Arms at your sides, there's a lamb"

The Queen's breath warmed the back of your neck as she measured your legs, your waist and bust, and your arms finger tip to finger tip.

For a moment you thought you had fooled yourself. She hadn't called you up here for anything more than measurements, that was all.

Your skin prickled as the leather measuring tape brushed your throat suddenly, unsure when it had even gotten there. The strap pressed against your windpipe lightly, not enough to restrict you but enough to threaten.

"Put your arms behind your back" Cersei purred into your ear, nipping gently at the lobe until you obeyed. You felt the thin leather wrap around your right wrist, then your left before they were pulled together tightly.

"I want to tell you a story" Cersei's hands fell to your hips, guiding you to the full length mirror. Her chin rested on your shoulder thoughtfully, running her hands up and down your body.

"When I was a little girl, I had a doll. Well, actually, I had a great many dolls. But one doll in particular was my favorite. I thought she was the most beautiful doll in the world."

As the story began, you watched in amazement as her elegant hands cupped your breasts and rubbed tender circles on your hips. It was like they moved on their own, Cersei fully engrossed in her own story and letting her hands grope and feel as they pleased.

"I took that doll with me everywhere I went. I brushed her hair, made sure all her dresses were clean and beautiful. When her paint chipped, I made my father's craftsmen repaint her as if nothing had happened"

Her hands found your clothes nipples now, rubbing her thumbs over them until the hardened and ached.

"Then, one day, my father informed me that I had grown to old for dolls. He made me throw her away with all her beautiful dressed, and I cried and protested but in the end the doll was gone." Cersei's hands came back to your shoulders, hugging you to her in a surprisingly tender embrace. She kissed down your next and back up again until she reached the shell of your ear.

"But now, my doll has come back to me, hasn't she?"

"I- yes, my queen" you agreed, not fully understanding but playing along.

"Hmmm" she cooed and looked you up and down in the mirror, pulling at your riding gown critically. "I don't like this dress on my doll."

You gasped as the skirt of your dress was sliced down the back. "Your Grace!"

"Shhh sh sh." Cersei hushed you, fingering the small blade she kept hidden in her sleeves, flashing the blade at you in the light. "Don't flinch now, I don't want to knick you"

You tried to keep as still as can be as the sound of blade cutting through wool filled the room and more and more of your body was exposed to the cool air. You jumped when the knife ripped open your bodice, earning you a sharp slap on the tit that stung wonderfully.

"Now look" Cersei forced you to look back into the mirror, hands once again traveling up and down your now exposed flesh. "Isn't that so much better?"

"Y-Yes, your grace" you closed your eyes to the slight but Cersei bit into your shoulder.

"Keep looking" she hissed, cupping your bare breast in both her hands and making you watch as she pinched and pulled your sensitive nipples.

Once a hot flush had filled your face and chest, Cersei pushed your legs apart with a growl. "Let me see" she taunted, slipping a hand down your back, affectionately toying with your bound wrists before you saw her clever hand appear between your legs in the mirror.

She stroked your folds softly, reveling in how quickly you got wet for her.

"When I do this" she stared into your eyes through the mirror, "I want you watching. I want you to see how beautiful you look getting fucked. If you stop watching, or if you close your eyes, I will punish you. Are we clear?"

"Yes, my queen" you were trembling by now, desperate for her to touch you and oddly intrigued by your own reflection.

The queens graceful fingers wasted no time dipping between your wet folds, gathering your wetness before slipping up to rub your clit. It was an usual experience, being forced to stand, forcing your knees not to buckle as she pinched the nub between two fingers and rubbed in circles.

"Eyes open" Cersei cracked her free hand against your ass and your eyes shot open instantly.

Once your knees were buckling, Cersei slipped three fingers inside of you. The intrusion almost made you double over, if she hadn't caught you by the hair and kept you standing.

"Remember to keep quiet this time sweetling," Cersei chuckled into your ear as you bit your lip to keep the moans from spilling out. "That's right, good girl."

The sting from your scalp meeting the relentless pleasure between your legs had you struggling to keep from falling off the edge, but you didn't. You wanted to keep going for as long as you could.

"My sweet girl, my little doll. I know your close" Cersei pressed, curling her fingers up into your g-spot. "You know, everyone had has the pleasure of watching that sweet little face of yours cum. Me, Jaime, your precious Hound."

She taunted you as you struggled against your bindings, the restraint becoming all too much.

"Everyone but you. Have you any idea how pretty you look, when your eyes roll back, sweating, flushed? It's fucking addictive."

The queen knew you were fighting it off, desperate to keep this going, to be the center of her frantic and cruelly pleasurable attentions.

"Stubborn little slut, aren't you?" she growled. "Fine then, you can't hold out forever"

The withdrawal of her hands felt like punishment and you sealed your mouth to muffle an involuntary sob that turned into a whine.

"Don't worry, doll." The queen dragged the chair from the writing desk to the mirror, pushing you down into it with a menacing grin

"You're not done until I say you're done"

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

It was the hour of the Rat when Sandor finally decided to look for you.

Neither you nor the queen had been to dinner, and you hadn't been seen for hours.

"I have an idea" Robert had grumbled, three sheets to the wind.

Approaching the highest floor of the inn, Sandor paused moment. It sounded like something had fallen with a dull thud.

Stripped of plate, he tried to be a quiet as possible as he drew closer. He didn't know why he had come, it's not like he didnt know what was going on behind that door.

Part of it, he presumed, tracked back to that night in camp when your cried of agony and pleasure had been the symphony of the night.

A siren's song.

He could hear that song again, but it was muffled now.

"Have you learned your lesson, sweetling?"

He strained to hear the response and sucked in a breath when the sound of flesh hitting flesh drew forth a drawn out moan.

"Too fucked out to answer? That's fine" The queen purred, "I wonder how your husband would feel seeing you like this? Blissed out, cunt swollen and drenched, ass bruised. Would he be disappointed by his little slut of a wife?"

The description alone has Sandor growing hard as his mind wandered.

"No, don't look so sad. I don't think so" Cersei's voice became something resembling encouraging. "I bet he'd find you just as beautiful as I do. Should we ask him? He's right outside."

Sandor's stomach dropped as the bedroom door squealed open and he stumbled back. Queen Cersei was draped only in a floor length silk robe, and from this angle it covered very little.

"Looking for your wife?"

The Hound's mouth went dry and silent as the queen chuckled at his embarrassment.

"Come along, she's right this way."

The queen had never really spoken to him before, let alone touched him, so it was strange when she grabbed his large hand with her lithe one and pulled him into the bedroom, closing the door firmly.

You were probably more beautiful now than he had ever seen you.

Laid out on the bed like a girl from the gods. Your arms stretched above your head and held in place by a leather strap exposed the whole of your body for his eyes to feast on. Your nipples were puffy and lightly bruised, shining with saliva to match the swollen lips of your cunt. Your eyes were screwed shut as if trying to block out everything in the world, trying to bring yourself back to earth, and your hair was fanned out in the pillows behind you like a halo.

"What do you think Clegane?" The queen prompted you. "Do you think she's had enough?"

He blinked hesitant, entirely unsure how to interact with the royal in this situation.

"Don't be shy" Cersei moved across the room, pouring herself a cup of wine then offering his some. He accepted.

She sat next to you on the bed, removing the bindings at your wrists and offering you a sip from her wine cup. "Darling? Your knight is here for you. He got worried, isn't that sweet?"

Your eyes settled on him over the rim of the cup and before he could argue you were pulling him by the hands towards the bed.

"Darling" you cooed into his ear. "Sweet husband. My love, please hold me" you begged him in a voice so sweet it would have killed him to deny you.

He swept you up carefully, melting as your curled your face into his chest sighing.

"One moment now" Cersei pulled a loose frock from a chest. "You can't very well walk her through the inn like that."

Carefully she helped you slip into the dress. It was as if you were drunk, only there was no smell of wine or beer on you. You stumbled occasionally, leaning on either your husband or your lover to catch yourself.

"Goodnight sweetling" Cersei killed your mouth firmly, then your forehead. "Go on now"

Clegane moved to pick you up again but as he bent down he froze. Cersei pressed her soft lips against his gently, almost chastely if he hadn't smelt the distinct scent of sex on her.

"Be good to her" she leaned into his ear, hand pressed against his shoulder, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

By now you were able to walk, and the bliss filled fog that had clouded your mind was clearing.

"We should go" you urged them, pulling your shell shocked husband gently. "Before the king catches us"

"She's right" Cersei agreed, "a woman is one thing, but if Robert thinks I've pulled you into this that's all our heads"

Rushing out into the night, you gasped as Sandor pressed you against a wall when you turned the corner. His kiss was insistent and fierce, hands cupping your jaw firmly.

"Darling." You sighed into his mouth, "did you miss me that much?"

He breathed heavily, trying to figure out what to say. "Is it always like that?"

You laughed and shook your head "I think she was just in a really good mood"

"I may have to learn a thing or two from our queen" Sandor growled, "You looked like an angel laid out like that."

His hips pressed against you hard, grinding slightly and you smiled tiredly. "Darling, I dont think I have it in me to go again"

He grumbled in disappointment but moved to free you until your hands gripped his hips.

"But, my throat feels just fine"

#cersei lannister smut #sandor clegane smut #cersei lannister x reader #sandor clegane x reader #Cersei Lannister imagine #Sandor Clegane imagine #game of thrones smut #asoiaf smut #Her Grace's Handmaiden

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, introduction.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, mentions of death, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mafia - type organisations, eating disorders, depression, heavy mentions of gruesome death, abortions.

song to listen to when reading this: Dolcenera, Fabrizio de Andrè.

Black that carries away, that carries away the way,

black not seen in an entire lifetime,

so sweetblack, black, black that beats you up, that knocks down the doors.

The first time he ever saw her, she was crying. No, not necessarily crying, she was in a weird state of shock and terror. She was angry, more than anything. She looked like a demonic bunny, she was sweet and gentle but the look of pure rage on her face nearly scared him. His captain asked him to give her a ride to her house, it wasn't safe for her to drive in that condition. He thought she was his daughter he never knew about. Take one of the cars, he said, would you please get her out of here? He sensed something strange in his voice. Worry or, perhaps, guilt. What happened? Who was she, was she in danger? Why? The captain turned towards her, slightly slouching to get at her eye level. He couldn't really hear what he was saying, something along the lines of 'I trust him' and 'you don't worry, he'll get you home'. She looked at him like she was gonna jump on him and eat him alive, bite his neck and rip his skull open. Then she looked up at Ghost like he was going to be her next victim, right after his captain. She stood silent, fists curled with rage at her sides. She was small, short. She had a bag with her, large enough to fit a laptop. Did she work there? She was wearing smart attire, a blazer jacket a turtleneck, shiny black shoes. Was she a doctor? A lawyer? She's too young to be a lawyer, how old is she, 22? 24?

Black of bad luck, that kills and moves on,

black like the misfortune of making a den where there’s no moon, moon,

black of bitterness.

'This way' that's all he said. She was following him, dead serious. This is what weird nightmares that hunt you for the entire week look like. She walked with her back straight, she walked fast. Who is this, he continued to ask himself. He couldn't ask her for sure, he didn't want to die just yet. How come I never saw you? What did you do?

'Are you alright?' he finally asked when they approached one of the black trucks in the parking lot of the base. She spoke for the first time. Her voice was of someone who had been screaming and crying. 'Drive' she said, her voice raspy but her tone steady and firm. He watched her close the car door on the passenger side, she kept looking at the base behind them. Is someone after you? What happened, are you being followed is that why is not safe for you to get home by yourself? He did as she said, without replying. Her eyes stood fixated on the base that kept getting farther away from them as they took off, driving towards the city center. If she lived there, it would probably take them about 20 minutes to get there, through the desert. She seemed to slightly relax once they were deep in the deserted street, going just 10km/h over the speed limit. No one was on the road. She had her hands pressed between her thighs, to prevent them from shaking. She looked straight ahead of her. If he didn't kept glancing at her, he could have sworn she was a ghost.

He never managed to know what had happened, nor who she was. She vanished. No one ever spoke about that evening and he never saw her again. That is, until today.

notes: he could have sworn she was a Ghost babyyyy. brace yourselves this story will be long, I have a lot to say. my name is mare, first of all, i use she/her pronouns and english is not my first language!! I have no idea how to work with Tumblr, please bare with me I'm new, I don't know anything, teach me... the story is ongoing, however I have many chapters prepared. also, everything is fictional, every place, person, mission, everyone is fake. if you see similarities with the real world, it's a coincidence. these characters are not real. there will be a lot of detail, new people, characters I made up along with the original ones and notes at the end of each chapter. I do not consent to this work being re-published or translated. if you don't like how I portray the characters, don't read the story. if I make mistakes, do tell me. please read the trigger warnings because it might get violent and I am not responsible for your media consumption. the main character is an original character which I created, she has a name and is described physically in detail. enjoyy.

notes: song concept: "Dolcenera" is about a tryst that never came about due to the disruption of a major flood, such as occurred in Genoa in 1970. The term "dolcenera" refers to the dual nature of water - sweet when it is pure and life-giving, and black when it is fouled and out of control as in a flood.

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap cod #john price #captain price #gaz cod #gaz call of duty

[unreliablesnake]

High

Note: This... I don't even know what this is. I'm gonna start a series with a reader whose code name is "Mare" (as in the creature that causes nightmares), an interrogator at Shadow Company who joins the 141.

Warnings: afab!reader, oral (f receiving), thoughts about masturbating. MINORS DNI!!!

Someone told him you were on the Shadows' plane, looking for something you had left there. Ghost nodded, already walking towards it when the man he just talked to said something he didn't quite catch. He walked up the ramp, but soon came to a halt when his ears picked up a strange sound.

The lustful moans of a woman.

Moving on quietly, he tried to find the source of the noise out of curiosity. And sure enough, there you were, sitting on a metal table with a man's head nested between your thighs. Head thrown back, eyes closed, you were panting heavily and buried your fingers in the guy's hair, keeping him close to yourself.

"Bloody hell," he muttered to himself before turning around to leave. He shouldn't stick around to watch the scene. As beautiful as you looked in this state, this wasn't something for him.

Yet…

He felt his cock throb from the excitement he felt, the need to unzip his cargo pants to free his aching member and stroke himself as he listened to you clouding his judgment.

"Fuck, right there," you whimpered, out of breath.

Ghost thought about who this guy could be, and what Graves would have to say about two of his own having an affair. But whoever he was, he was surely skilled enough to make you feel this good, sending you up so high that the lieutenant wondered if you could ever come down.

After gulping, he decided to walk away, this time for real. He didn't want to hear you come, because that would surely send him into a spiral. It was already hard to think about anything other than fucking you himself, unknowingly challenging this guy to see who could give you the best orgasm of your life.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #modern warfare #mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #smut #ghost x mare #mare x ghost

[tieronecrush]

exile

joel miller x reader

rating: M

word count: 3.1k

summary:

i think i've seen this film before / and i didn't like the ending / i'm not your problem anymore / so who am i offending now? / you were my crown / now i'm in exile, seein' you out / i think I've seen this film before / so i'm leavin' out the side door

warnings: break up, discussion about closure or lack there of, talk about grief, death, self-doubt, self-deprecation, idk man it’s just sad

a/n: second fic for the folklore anthology!! hope you all enjoy, sorry for the sadness lol <3

It’s an early start — the crisp early spring air swirls around in gusts while the fresh blanket of dew squishes under his boots as he walks over to the stables. Lilac skies watercolor above, the last of the winter dawn painting yellowed strokes across the horizon as the sun rises, reflecting against the thirst-quenched earth.

Billows of his tepid breath puff in front of him, walking through the warmth of each exhale as he makes his way forward and across the paddock to the stalls. Rubber soles scuff onto rough concrete under the cover of the roof, neighs of horses and huffs of their breath vibrating their lips the only sound that fills his ears when he looks down the aisle to see you. Standing in the pen that holds Shimmer, Ellie’s beloved mare, you brush her chestnut coat as you prep to saddle each animal for the incoming patrol shift.

Joel meanders down the walkway over to the stable across from you that holds his own horse, Old Beardy, which he bonded with over lengthy patrol shifts. After the horse that Tommy had loaned them to reach Colorado, Callus, was killed by David and his men, Joel had chosen a similarly colored one in Old Beardy. It was another painful reminder he forced upon himself of what he had gone through — what Ellie had gone through — and what he did to get her through it. He never wanted to forget, not that he thought he ever could, and this was a small piece that added up to keep him weighed down by his choices and guilt every day.

It was that same guilt that burrows into his chest now as he looks at you while he saddles his horse. Nothing is spoken, not even a glance sent his way; completely ignored, the cold shoulder chilling him more than the early morning temperature. 

You had left him a few weeks ago now — completely blindsided him when you sat him down in his living room and broke another crack into his heart. At that point, he didn’t think it was possible to feel any more fragmented than he did for the last twenty years, but you quickly became another piece of his heart destroyed by his actions. It had to have been something he did, what it was he doesn’t have a clue. But with the way you cared for him, loved him for that fleeting time, he would have never chosen to give that up and he couldn’t see a reason why you would either.

He had to know.

It was keeping him up at night — that and his nightmares that seem to have never ceased. Around here, he doesn’t have his knockout combination of pills and alcohol to keep his ghosts at bay, so he’s faced with them every evening, creeping in along with the midnight.

You would help him, talk him through, remind him of the good in him, even though he never fully believed you.

He misses you.

He loves you.

Crossing the aisle again after slipping out of the stable of his horse, he takes a breath before leaning his arms onto the walled gate that separates the two of you. Breaking the fragile silence that floated in the air for the last few minutes, Joel speaks lowly despite you two being the only ones around.

“Morning.”

Silence.

“Need any help with the horses?”

More silence, the thud of the leather saddle being thrown over Shimmer’s back clapping in the stale air. 

He persists.

“Now I know you probably don’t wanna hear anything from me, peach, but I just gotta ask you — what happened? To us. I’ve been wracking my brain to try to figure it out, but—but I gotta admit, darlin’, I thought things were alright. That we were starting a peaceful life together.”

He lifts his arms off of the gate, standing up straight as he waves one arm out in a gesture toward his house — the house that you used to spend every single night in, the pieces of you strewn throughout. Flowers on the kitchen table, dog-eared books on the couch, clothes thrown onto the floor and into his hamper, your favorite lavender soap from the apothecary withering away in his shower marking the time you two were together. It sits untouched now, still as full as the last time you used it, another reminder of your absence.

“But then, just out of the blue, you were gone. You took just five whole minutes to neatly pack up the loose ends of us, talkin’ to me as you grabbed all your things from my house, wiping the presence of you completely. And when you left me standin’ in the hall, you left me with it, that guilt. And all I could do was just stand there with all this love that I needed to give to you, watching you walk away without any goddamn clue as to why you were leaving. It wasn’t fucking fair.”

Joel crosses the threshold of the stall, standing only a few feet away from you as his frustrations begin to fully air, slithering out of him with venom laced behind his tone. He doesn’t want to feel this angry, this upset. But this hurt in his chest hasn’t been felt for years and it’s killing him, squeezing everything in him out.

“And now,” he nearly growls out, “Now I hear around town you got some other man around for you. That you got over us so quickly, found someone new to spend your time with. Did I really mean that little? To be able to tidy up real quick and move on?”

A laugh barks out at that — he can see it on your face how ridiculous you think whatever he said, something he said in all that was. It only fuels the fire inside of him, boiling up to his ears and over to the point he must have steam coming out of him.

What the fuck was so funny?

Here he was, being honest about his feelings and you were laughing.

The steel toe of one of his boots knocks against the wooden walls as he kicks it gently, turned away as he starts to listen to you open the floodgates. Your hands pause their work, turning away from the toasted brown horse to face him fully. Hands on your hips and head tilted to one side, your stare burns the back of his neck as he stands away.

“Really, Joel? There’s nothing you can understand about why I might have left you?” Your eyebrows furrow with your own fury, deep creases that he has only seen from concern for him, his wellbeing, and Ellie’s. Anger is a new look on you, and it isn’t one he is feeling fond of causing for you. That storm of guilt rumbles inside of him; another reason to hate himself for making you feel something you rarely do, making you into something you’re not — bitter.

“Also, I don’t really think you’ve got a right to be upset with me and bringing up that stupid shit bein’ said around town. I left the bar with one guy, one time. The rumor mill snatched up that story from the few people that saw us leave. Didn’t even go home with him cause I couldn’t stop seeing you like a fucking ghost. I left and you are still consuming my brain. I still wonder every day if you’re okay; if you’re still even here.”

That whips his head over his shoulder, the fracturing of his heart felt even deeper, a cut to his bones from your words. He never knew that you knew — what he had tried years ago. Admittedly, the thought crossed his mind again once, and only once. It quickly dissipated when you stepped into his room, your tender smile eager to tell him about your day. He loved listening to you, being a sounding board and an observer. How could he ever give that up? How could he ever hurt you?

Apparently, he didn’t need to wonder anymore. He did that without even realizing it.

Mouth agape as you continue, crease between his brows shadowed as he takes a step closer to you, the pull of your red-hot rage driving him nearer to your molten center. It was the one way to feel your warmth again, even if it was more like burning at that point.

“I can’t believe that you would even give that gossip a second thought. Must be grasping at straws there. But I guess that proves my point, the reason that I left.”

You turn away to handle the animal again, shaking your head wildly and rolling your eyes at yourself. His own frustrations bubble again, another step closer as he walks around your shoulder to your field of vision. A head tilt of his own, a nonchalant shrug.

“And how do you figure that, darlin’? Please, enlighten me,” his words cut into the air, attempting to antagonize you in a subconscious effort to keep you talking, to keep you around.

“God, that’s so fucking rich coming from you, Joel. Wanting explanations, wanting me to open up so you can understand. That’s why I left. I tried so hard to get you to open up to me, to let me in, and to be even the smallest bit vulnerable. I wanted you to show me that you trusted me. When I met you before you left with Ellie, things felt different. And when you came back, you had been getting more and more closed off the longer we were spending time together. I don’t know what happened out there if something happened between you and Ellie, and I don’t need all the details, but I needed something. And I gave you so many chances — second, third, hundredth chances to give me something that could show me you trust me or could even grow to trust me, but that didn’t come. All I wanted was to help you, Joel. I care about you so much. I loved you. But it didn’t seem like you felt the same. Never told me you felt the same.”

A step away from him, arms around your chest to protect your heart — from him? From breaking again? He didn’t know you needed the words; he tried to show you through his actions, his touch, the care he took of you. Words never came easy to him, actions did.

“And now, you’re being this fucking alpha, masculine man stomping in here and talkin’ to me about how you hear I was with some guy. Actin’ like I’m just trying to make you jealous like he was some understudy or rebound. Well, nothing happened like I said, so you can wipe off the face that looks like you’re gonna go get your knuckles bloody for me.”

The crease in his brow resolves, the sour twist of his lips relaxing as he drops his head in shame. You were right, always right. He would knock the lights out of the guy if you said one more word — if you said that you had moved on for real.

“All of it, still being around you and being reminded of you all the time, it feels like I’m trying to balance again on breaking branches. And every time I see you around, in person or in my head like a shadow following me around, those eyes — your stupid brown eyes pleading with me, they just add insult to injury.”

“I wanted to help you, Joel, to just be there to help you mend, even a little bit. But you never gave me a chance.”

A sigh slips from his lips, barely audible. You turn away as he steps toward you, tender eyes and gentle touch resting on your shoulder. When you don’t recoil, one of his rough, work-worn hands grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your head to meet his eyes as he quietly speaks, lower than the whole conversation has been.

“I never knew that is what you were worried about, darlin’. I’m fine, there wasn’t anything that happened between Ellie and I ‘cept that ambush at the hospital that I told you about. I didn’t think I was actin’ any differently than before.”

A scoff, shaking your head out of his grasp and pushing your hands against his chest to separate. You slip away, crossing the stall to grab more gear to dress the horse in.

“You are unbelievable.”

Now he’s really getting annoyed.

“What? What is so unbelievable?” His voice booms, echoing a bit in the empty horse barn, biting back his tongue as you close your eyes tightly. He opens his mouth to apologize for raising his voice, but your raised hand stops him.

“It’s obvious you are not fine, Joel, and you can’t even admit it now after I’ve told you that all I wanted was for you to be open. You can stop running. Slow down. Live. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself in silence.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, looking away as he works his jaw back and forth before he turns to you again, “I couldn’t read your mind! All this time, I never learned to read your mind. I can’t read Ellie’s mind — I can’t figure it out with either of you. Two of the most important people, two of the handful of people that I am still around for, have distanced themselves from me and I can’t seem to pull myself together to figure it out. I feel like I’m drowning out here on my own and I’m not even being thrown a fucking life raft. You never gave me time to turn things around, you never gave me a warning sign of what was goin’ on.”

The tightness in your shoulders falls, curling you smaller into yourself, and there goes another crack in his heart. Broken like old pavement when the Earth shifts, takes destroying it all to rebuild it.

Tired. You look so tired, and he aches with the thought that he’s exhausted you, even away. What is he going to do if he is open with you? Isn’t he going to be more of a burden?

No, he wouldn’t let himself. He would be honest with you. But there is no expectation that he could be fixed, that you could shoulder any of this weight he’s carried for twenty years. It’s lighter to him now, endurance built to keep himself under it without getting crushed.

“Joel…I gave so many signs. I checked in with you every day, I asked you directly how you were doing. A lot of the time, after long days, you’d be so short with me. Either annoyed or just brushing me off and changing the subject. So when asking you didn’t work, I tried to open up more myself to try to get you to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. You would just listen and move on. Nothing inspired you to give me even a little sliver of yourself, of your heart. I closed myself off more and more cause it felt like I was prying with someone who couldn’t even care less about me. You didn’t even notice that we didn’t touch, we didn’t kiss, we were barely intimate with each other in those last few weeks — we completely drifted, Joel. I tried to give you so many signs before I couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t even see the signs.”

Thoughts and memories rewind in his head like an old tape, picking up patterns in himself and in you that he has been too blind to see. All he wanted was to move on, sweep it under the rug and live whatever life he could with you, with Ellie.

“I’m sorry, peach. I am so sorry. I swear on my fucking grave that I had no idea this was all happening for you — I was too in my own head. My heart is hurtin’ so much without you around; knowing I did something to push you away. And hearing what you were holdin’ in ‘cause I was bein’ too closed, too selfish to see what was wrong? It is destroyin’ me. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am.”

No response is given to him. He watches as you bend your arms, lifting them to press the backs against your eyes. They turn and run over your face, an ache in him to reach his own out to pull yours away, replace them with his own to hold your beautiful face again. When he speaks up again, he sounds like a child — soft, pleading for the punishment to end.

“Could you ever, I don’t know how to ask this really, but could you ever give me another chance? Would you?”

His eyes are glossing over, vision blurring slightly at the edges as you meet his gaze. A deep, exhausted sigh rolls from your chest, head shaking back and forth as your stare leaves him, running a million yards away somewhere.

“I—God, I don’t know, Joel. It felt like I was just there to give you comfort when you wanted it, when you thought you needed it, and that was it. That was my purpose to you. That you didn’t even want to try to open up, to build trust or anything between us. Things would really have to change for me to feel ready to try again.”

Another step brings him a foot away from you, the itch in his fingers too much to ignore anymore as he guides his hand up, caressing your cheek and brushing his thumb along the line of the high bone there.

“Sweetheart, honey, I’ll be better. If you give me another chance, I’m gonna do better by you. Gonna try more. I promise, peach. I’m not gonna fuck this up.”

Eyes flutter shut under his touch, the weight of your head falling into his gentle care a bit heavier.

When they open again, he can see resolve has been built. A defensive wall put back up after leaning in too much into the temptation of jumping back into the deep end.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Selfishly, he wishes you would just jump, dive into his waters with him so you can offer him a lifeline.

“Of course, peach. You come ‘round whenever you wanna talk. I’m gonna be there for you. Whenever.”

His lips press to your hairline, large hand stroking at the back of your head before he pulls away and exits the stall, crossing over to lead Old Beardy out of the stables to mount for patrol.

With his back to you, he doesn’t see the shaky breath you take, composure crumbling as you lean your head against the leather saddle, teardrops littering the surface.

taglist: @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @bearsbeetsbeskar @serenaxpedro @casa-boiardi @rav3n-pascal22 @dinsdjrn @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @johnwatsn @amanitacowboy @leeeesahhh @isitmelookin4u @javiscigarette @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sugarspiceanthrax @orphanbird95 @space-cowboy-like-me @tuquoquebrute @rsquared31 @morning-star-joy @canseethebrushstrokes @atremises @sstarboy777 @undrthelights @butiknewyoudlinger @dayrdreaming @disassociation-daydreams @joelsversion @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mydailyhyperfixations @diamndx @mingiast @kdogreads @blxsphemy7 @marchai @littlevenicebitch69 @ghostofbrock @iwrotethissky @ladynightingale @jksprincess10 @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters @northernbluess

#writing #joel #folklore anthology #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic

[mare-noctis-studios]

One More Hour (with the ghost of you)

my new short ghost x soap ficlet that I'll be publishing on AO3.

#ghostsoap #ghost x soap #cod: mw 2 #cod #call of duty #soap #ghost #soap mactavish #john “soap” mactavish #simon “ghost” riley #mare-noctis #soapghost #ghoap #john soap mactavish #cod fanficiton #archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #book cover #cover creation #creative writing #writers on tumblr

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- journey

You wake up in the morning, groggy from last night's lack of sleep. Sliding out of bed, you dread today. Ghost was taking you to your new “home.” Kastron. 

After a silent breakfast, you’re standing at the bottom of the courtyard, taking in the hustle and bustle of footmen and maids packing the carriage full to the brim with your and his belongings. Of course, this leaves you no room to sit in the carriage on the journey to the Kingdom of Kastron. Four days of traveling on horseback. Great. 

You had been riding multiple times before; you had your own horse and everything. You usually went riding a few times a month, but it was mainly for fun. You knew this journey was about to test your physical capabilities. God, you could already hear the sniping comments directed at you from him. 

You had the foresight to wear male pants and a blouse, paired with a pair of boots you knew were going to come in use. 

You watched as you saw Ghost holding the lead to his horse and your own horse. He approaches you in all his glory, decked now in his simple iron armor. His sword is sheathed at his side, an alarming reminder of his strength. His skill. You noticed the simple silver band on his finger as he held out your horse’s reins to you. The hand of a killer, you think to yourself.

“Good morning.” He practically purred.

You clutched the lead from his hold, stroking your mare's head. “How much longer before we leave?”

“Any minute now,” he says energetically. “You should say goodbye to your parents.”

“No,” you say firmly, leaving no room for argument. Your grip tightened around the lead. You refused to look at them, acting all innocent standing in the doorway. 

He stares at you for a second.

“You’ll see them at the wedding.” 

Ghost comes up to you to help you mount your horse, grabbing your waist with an iron grip. As soon as you’re settled in the saddle, his hand lingers for a moment. You look down at him, and in that moment, he retracts his hand in an instant, as if he had been burned. 

With that, you set out together, the captain of the guard, servants, and luggage following behind. The people of your village were quiet, sparse applause in the crowds as your entourage made its way out of the kingdom. They knew just as well as you did where you were headed. Who you were with. They could only hope that their princess wouldn’t be crushed by the man who has wiped out armies.

After a couple of hours you were already exhausted, bones and muscles aching from the treacherous terrain.

Every once in a while, Ghost would turn to you to ask if you were alright, and every single time your answer was a snappy “I’m fine.” You were determined to not show how physically weak you actually were. 

As the sun started to set, you noticed how truly exhausted you were. Your arms ached, your thighs and legs spasming from overuse on the saddle. There’s no way you can do three more days of this. Eyes drooping, you were practically falling asleep in the saddle, fighting to keep your eyes open.

Ghost has looked completely unbothered the whole day, his posture practically perfect even as he donned his heavy armor. 

He held up a single hand, stopping the entourage. You sighed in relief, thankful to be able to finally rest for the night. 

“Set up camp here,” he calls out to the footmen, and they quickly spring into action, pulling out materials and tents. “Secure the perimeter,” he orders his captain. 

Ghost dismounts his horse, rolling out his shoulders before coming up to you. Your hands are still gripping onto the reins. If you let go, you think you would fall asleep right then and there. 

“My lady,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take.

You practically leaned into his body as you dismounted the mare; you were too exhausted to respond. You had to grab onto his forearms with all your might, afraid that if you let go for even a moment, your legs would give out. Fighting with everything in you, you try not to wince as your feet settle onto the ground. 

He saw your condition right away, cursing to himself. 

“I ought to have realized you weren't capable of traveling this far.”

Immediately he’s dragging you towards a tree, letting you lie against the base of the trunk to rest. You shut your eyes, too exhausted to speak to him. You think you fall asleep for a moment because he’s shaking you awake, telling you that the tent is constructed and ready to use. 

Ghost leads you into your shared tent. You barely register what he’s saying until he’s motioning to the cots that were set up a few feet apart from each other.

“Separate beds. You need to sleep.” 

It took all of your strength to change into your sleepwear, not even considering how exposed you would be next to your now-fiance. Collapsing into bed, you roll onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow. Before sleep can consume you, you feel hands on your shoulders.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

[fizzyxcustard]

Invisible

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC)

Pairings: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pining, angst, insecurity, vague smut mention, attempted ghosting

Word count: 1880

Summary: From the imagine, "You are in love with Guy and he is still pining for Marian. You cannot carry all the pain."

Comments/notes: Takes place around season 2, despite the above GIF being from season 3. This fic was requested by @sazzlep

As always, if you enjoy, please consider a reblog. If you wish to be added to my tag list for any character, fandom, or fic series, let me know.

Marian had disappeared, leaving you with the shattered pieces of Guy’s broken heart. While trying to mend your own heart, you were busy tending to Guy’s. And that pain was becoming unbearable. Shifting the weight of two broken hearts was crippling you. 

Guy had left your home again at nightfall, having borne his heart to you. The woman he loved and had lived in high hopes of wooing, had run off into the forest with her outlaw lover. In the time you had known Marian, you had been on fairly friendly terms with her. But you had always been aware of her manipulative tactics, taking advantage of Guy’s feelings for her. For all those months and he had been completely blind to it, only seeing her sweet smiles as a hope for something more than just friendship. 

You stood at your front door and watched his dark shape, atop a black horse, disappear into the gathering dusk. You and Guy had been close friends for years, being each other’s rock, and this has been the case since he came to Nottingham as a young man. He had been swept up into duty for the Sheriff, but the two of you had still remained close. Guy had been the one who comforted you when your mother died, and had even brought you food when you fell upon tough times. Potential suitors had come to your door, and if they had not been to your liking, it was Guy who had told them to leave. 

How long could you continue this for? Every day you saw him and you felt more of your heart become warped from the inside, like a disease spreading outward. The only cure would be to take yourself out of the situation completely and sever yourself from him. 

The moon was high in the sky and you remained in that spot for some time, feeling the red hot tears fall down your cheeks. All of your pain was invisible to him; in his own anguish, he had completely overlooked you. 

***

Guy woke the next morning, light bursting through the window. 

Realisation hit him hard that he had overslept. 

He shot out of bed and began dressing quickly, only to see a piece of parchment on the stone floor at the foot of his door. Guy reached down and took the parchment, noting that there was no envelope. The parchment had just been folded. Upon opening it, he instantly recognised your beautiful handwriting. It brought a smile to his face. 

Guy, 

While I know that you are in the midst of deep pain, I must leave Nottingham. I plan to move back to my father’s home and search for work. I cannot carry the weight of both our broken hearts on my shoulders. 

May God watch over you and keep you safe. 

Leaving? But why? 

Guy raced from his chambers, heading down towards the courtyard where he slipped out to the stables and collected his horse. 

Once he had rode to your home, he jumped from the horse and banged on your door. No answer. Your own horse, a brown and white mare, had disappeared from the small field behind your house. 

Your father’s home was a two-day ride, and within seconds, Guy’s horse was galloping through the small patch of woodland which was to the north, leading out onto the main road. Surely you could not have gotten far. Guy was a far more experienced rider than you so would easily be able to catch up to you, despite your head start. 

***

The ride that morning had been pleasant. The sun was shining amidst a cloudless sky. A gentle breeze took the edge off the early summer heat. A simple breakfast was still sitting in your stomach quite nicely; bacon, eggs and freshly baked bread. There was an inn about half way, at the perfect place for you to stop, before continuing on the next day for the second part of your journey. 

All morning and you had imagined Guy’s face upon opening your letter. Would he even care at all? It seemed that he didn’t. Normally Guy was up around dawn, ready for his duties. He should have caught you just before you left, but you had not seen him. And you had given your letter to Abe, one of the guards, at the castle gate, two hours after sunset. Surely Guy would have received it by daybreak. 

You stopped for a quick break, taking a sip of water from a skin in your leather satchel. You sat down on a fallen tree trunk and took a deep breath, looking up at the rays of sunlight piercing through the bright green leaves. 

Suddenly you heard galloping hooves coming from behind. A figure emerged from the edge of the curving path, and got larger, moving towards you quickly. 

“Guy?” you whispered, feeling relief wash over you, but also fear. 

Guy stopped his horse a few feet from yours and jumped from the saddle, storming over to you. He stood in front of you, his arms crossed. “What is going on?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. His silver blue eyes were wide in irritation. 

“I told you in my letter. I can’t carry both of us anymore.” 

Guy sighed and sat down beside you. “Maybe you could start with telling me what you’re carrying and stop being so stubborn in carrying it yourself.” 

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “Are you sure you really wish to know? Because after I tell you, you won’t want to know me anymore.” 

Guy scoffed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

You looked at him, seeing that all too familiar smirk begin to form on his face. It made your heart flutter. 

“If you really believe that then you know me less than I thought you did. In fact, you don’t know me at all.” His tone was accusing and full of irritation.

You could see the offense written on Guy’s face, and you reached out to take his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that, Guy.” 

“Then how did you mean it?” he snapped. “You’re all I have in my life, yet you seem to think that I’ll walk away from you. Despite you being the one who was ready to walk away from me…” The words trailed off into a whisper and loud sigh. 

“Do you want to know the real reason I’m leaving?” you asked. “And if you do choose to turn your back on me then that is your choice.” 

Guy hissed. “I will never turn my back on you.” He pointed his finger at you in anger as he spoke. 

You got to your feet and took a deep breath. “All these years we’ve known each other and I’ve been invisible to you. You’ve never noticed all the times I’ve had to smile at you but wanted to weep. You’ve never seen how I feel about you. Instead all you’ve ever seen is a woman who has taken advantage of you and used your feelings for her to get what she needed. It’s crippled me.” Tears fell down your cheeks. “I love you, Guy. I love you so much and never once did you ever see it. I know you don’t feel the same way and I’m not expecting you to.” 

Guy got up from the tree trunk, and without a word, curled his hand around your cheek and kissed you. The kiss immediately became wanting, needing and hot. 

Reluctantly you shifted your head away and looked up at him, your tears blurring your vision. “I told you that I’m not expecting anything from you...” 

He smiled. “I’ve loved you from since the first moment we met. I was always invisible to you. I valued and respected you far too much to ever overstep any boundary. I was terrified you would think I was dishonouring you. Marian became my way of letting you go, but under it all, I never could. She was the hope of something I could never have with you.” 

“All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and because of me, you tried to gain love in a place where you would never find it.” 

“It wasn’t because of you. It was my own cowardice. I would look at her and see you, in everything she did. Then with each man who attempted to court you, I could see how impossible it was for me to ever think you’d be mine. A lot of those men were honourable and so much more than what I could ever wish to be.” 

“I know you, Guy, and all you’ve ever wanted is to be loved and needed by someone. I’m offering that to you if you’ll take it.” 

Guy kissed you again, and then let his lips trail down your neck. “And I will give that back to you tenfold, my love.” 

***

The two of you rode your horses back to your home, watching as thick clouds began to swarm in, threatening rain. 

By the time your house was visible, spots of rain began to fall. 

You pulled on the reins of your horse, bringing it to a stop in the pen behind your house. Guy had already dismounted his horse, his hand reaching out to take yours. You couldn’t help but smile and giggle as he helped you down, his ice blue gaze never unlocking from you. 

The two of you kissed again, the rain starting to pour all around you. The horses by now had wondered away into the small wooden shelter which was situated at the back of the paddock. 

“Let’s get inside,” you told Guy. 

He smiled in response and wound his arm around your waist as the two of you walked to the door of your home. 

Once inside, you started a fire and put a large pot of water to boil. “I need to head into the market for food shortly. I hope the rain stops,” you told Guy, glancing out of the window. “Is there anything in particular you would like for dinner? I can cook us a meal.” 

Guy never answered, but instead kissed you again. 

A short time later and the two of you were idly tangled together in your bed, having just made love. You noticed that Guy seemed the most content he had done for quite some time; he had a faint smile on his face as you rested in the crook of his arm. The only sound was the tapping of rain on the roof, and it soothed you. The heavy weight in your heart had now lifted. 

“Was that how you imagined our first time to be?” you asked. 

Guy grinned and kissed you again. “It was so much better than any of my expectations.” He gripped your hand tight in his and then kissed your head. 

“I suspect the Sheriff will be looking for you.” 

“He can wait.” 

You looked across at Guy as you began to slip from the bedclothes and pull your dress back on. “You’re taking a big risk thinking that. You know what he’s like.” 

“I don’t care anymore. I’ve got you, and that’s all that matters to me now.” 

***

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#Robin Hood BBC #Guy of Gisborne #Richard Armitage #Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader #Guy of Gisborne x You #Guy of Gisborne x Reader #Insecurity #Angst #Guy of Gisborne Imagine

[mayorundertheplumtree]

Some headcanons of my own understanding of the three ships

p1 MachinNate X AntiMatter（cyborg x cyberghost）

"The number of times the little robot accidentally hurts himself is often far greater than the number of times it repairs itself. His ghost roommate and co-worker may not be very talkative, but he does worry a lot about him. Can the soul that has lost its body but is bound by electrons find the answer in the cyborg that the world thinks is just an empty shell? Perhaps only time will tell what the answer is."

p2 Some old fashion MadeMare（Although this is actually a Succubus Mare AU lol）

"As the saying goes, couples who quarrel at the end of the bed make up at the end of the bed. This sentence also applies to some superficial enemies. But to be honest, although you are the former boss and the former night guard employee to each other, is it REALLY NOT some kind of office romance that we are seeing?No matter what, at least those plush robot dolls don't really seem to mind this kind of thing. They obviously think that opening a pizza shop is more fun than the boss's love affair.”

p3 AlterMatt X Skelly (The horror product of the new media era X the prince of traditional horrors)

"Is this the time of a renaissance in horror culture？Or is it just a whim of people following the Internet trend in the streaming media era? The little monster born in the new media era often don't quite understand what kind of situation he's in, but he IS quite happy to have a good senior in horror who can help him. As for the little prince, well, watching the alternate tring to eat an apple with the roots of his simulated human teeth is already interesting enough for him to share his experience."

#natemare nwtb #natepat #madmare #natewantstobattle #nwtb egos #natemare #madpat #nwtb fanart #natewantstobattle fanart #skelly nwtb #nwtb fanfic #i guess