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All Genshin men x gn!reader (alphabetically) / sfw / established relationship -> women version (coming soon)
Aether
He won't acknowledge the way he sinks back into your touch when your fingers thread through the golden strands of hair hanging down his back, nor the way a low rumbling sound of bliss seems to emerge from the back of his throat when you massage a particularly sensitive spot on his head. Simply the feeling of your gentle hands brushing and re-braiding his adventure-knotted hair is a reprieve from his demanding everyday life.
Albedo
Watching you sleep is something he can't seem to stop, eyes wandering to you slouched form, observing the rhythmatic way your chest rises and falls as you dream, draped across his work desk or tucked into his side. He'll smooth a gloved hand across your hair, or drape a blanket around your shoulders to prevent the sub zero temperatures of dragonspine from seeping in. There's just something so peaceful about the way you look that soothes his fabricated heart.
Alhaitham
He'll be lounging on the plush cushions of your sofa after a long day of being the academia's scribe, one arm resting lazily behind his head and the other cradling some academic text or another. You'll slide in beside him, attempting to squeeze yourself in next to his broad form on the narrow sofa and he'll grumble under his breath in feigned complaint - he never really means it - but the shift of a bicep from behind him to tucking you securely into his side tells another story.
Ayato
He often takes a brief respite from his duties to wander the estate grounds, pausing in doorways when he hears the soft tune of your humming as he passes by. You'll be doing something inconsequential he doesn't bother to note, but the sound - no matter how perfect or off key it might be, it matters little to him - just seems to lure him closer. He'll wind his arms around your waist, whispering in your ear with a tone full of both amusement and fondness alike - yet he won't yet mention how the mundanity of such a task feels like a refreshing break from the formality of his everyday life.
Baizhu
Never will he outright admit his condition has worn him down, yet when you see him and the weariness of bearing the weight of Liyue's health on his shoulders, it touches a soft, vulnerable part of his tired heart. He'll gently decline your invitation to help, his duty is something he deigned to shoulder alone - and that is to be his fate - though when you insist on sharing that burden, such a concerned expression on your face well, he just can't say no to you it seems.
Capitano
He's not accustomed to gentleness or softness, so the contrast of your slow, soothing touch against the cold hard steel of his helmet is such a foreign sensation he takes weeks to get used to it. Your soft hands trace the inky black abyss where his face would be with such tenderness it feels like he doesn't deserve this sort of adoration, yet he'll lean down into your touch, bringing one large hand up to dwarf your own, brushing his fingers against your knuckles in what he hopes is a gentle manner.
Childe
He may or may not say - depending on the outcome - that being scolded by you is something of a guilty pleasure, though guilty is probably less of the right word in his case, try obvious. He tries at least a little to school his expression into something neutral when you frown and press the antibacterial cloth a little harder into the cuts littering his skin, telling him off for being so reckless. Despite the reprimanding tone of your voice, he can see the worry flickering across your expression - ok maybe he's a little guilty now.
Cyno
He returns home late most days, well into the early hours of the morning, so the last thing he expects is to see you slumped over the arm of the sofa - clearly where you've slid down from an upright position. He'll slide strong arms under you and slide you back into bed, only joining you after shedding all his heavy gear and the weight of his duties for the night. You'll receive a mild lecture in the morning - why you shouldn't wait up for him when it poorly impacts your own sleep - but when you shyly mention you seem to struggle to sleep without the warmth of his presence next to you, he can't help but soften and let you off the hook, only to find you in the exact same position the next night.
Dahlia
He's easy to please, any time spent in your company is pleasure enough for Dahlia, yet when you drag him to the sofa with two cups of warm sugary tea waiting for you on the coffee table - insisting he regale you with every minute detail of his day (not to mention the gossip he mentioned offhandedly a few days ago) - it's both surprising and heart warming to realise you've noticed and listened to the random things he says. And for that, he'll gladly indulge your curiosity, no matter how mundane.
Diluc
Watching you tiptoe your way back into the bedroom, swathed in one of his silken shirts that practically drowns your form and balancing a cup of coffee in each hand will forever be one of Diluc's favourite sights. You don't even notice he's awake, half propped up on his elbows with that piercing crimson gaze following you as you edge closer. When you do eventually catch him staring and burst out into laughter, passing him his mug as you slip back into the sheets beside him, he'll allow himself to join in, even if a little pink in the cheeks.
Dottore
He'll openly admit that he gets a little thrill when you depend on him for anything. No matter if it's something trivial and you could most likely do it yourself or you genuinely require help from him or a segment (unless you're interrupting important research - that will earn you a look that could put you in your grave and an irritated huff indicating you should 'do something yourself for once'). Though his favourite instance is when you get sick, he can test all manner of new remedies on you to his hearts content, satisfying that mad scientist element in him, but also quietly tend to that tiny part of him that still has something loving inside.
Heizou
Oh if anything could prove more entertaining and endearing then having you perched on his lap, attempting to help solve a case he figured out twenty minutes ago. He would tell you, but the sight of your brow furrowed in concentration and the gleeful look on your face when you turn around to point out a clue you'd linked is so terribly charming to the poor detective he'll follow along for just a little while longer. He then tests how many times he can repeat this scenario before you notice that he's already solved these cases, he just enjoys seeing your face light up, even more so when his own cheeks tint pink at the sight.
Flins
He's developed the awful habit of hiding away in his lantern every time you so much as have a petty dispute - terrible sulker that he is. Every time you sigh, chastising his childish behaviour under your breath but still picking up said lantern, purple glow flooding the darkness of the corridors, and set it on the bedside table before turning to sleep - he never expects it. He eventually comes to the amusing realisation you most likely can't sleep without him near, or struggle to at the least. When you wake, you'll find a certain fae out of hiding, wound around you like a constrictor with his face buried in the crook of your neck.
Gorou
Seldom does he let anyone near his canine features, until you manage to become a small exception to that rule. Oh he'll never admit it, but the blissful sleepy expression on his face whilst you comb through the matted fur of his tail after an exhausting day sparring and patrolling betrays his true emotions. If you deign to tease him even a little, he blushes a furious red and huffs in grumbled protest, yet he still can't seem to pull away from your soothing touch.
Ifa
Oh he's weak for seeing you in his clothes. When he emerges from the bedroom to find you perched on the edge of the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in hand and another waiting beside you, black and bitter - exactly how he has it - his discarded shirt from last night haphazardly thrown on, he swears he has momentary heart palpitations. Even more so when you throw a knowing grin his way and gesture to the cooling caffeine waiting for him.
Itto
The bigger question is what don't you do that makes him fold instantly? If he had to pick one thing in particular however, it would have to be when you indulge his childish dramatics. He'll boast about an onikabuto fight against a child from the city he won, he's aware it's not anything significant, yet when you laugh and clap encouragingly, it touches him in profound ways he can't seem to articulate.
Kaeya
He may not remember it most of the time, his memories a hazy blur of wine and charm, yet on the occasion he does recall you leaning his weight against you and dragging him home from the angel's share to heard him into bed and make him drink some water - swiping a damp cloth over his forehead in an attempt to sober him up just a little, lest he suffer another god awful hangover - he feels the sickeningly sweet feeling of what he refuses to admit is love settle at the pit of his stomach.
Kaveh
Oh he's far too flustered to admit that when he finds himself slumped against his desk, head on an array of architectural papers and pencil still in hand - waking up to instead realise he's propped up on a pillow, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a freshly made cup of tea still emitting steam inches away - his heart does a little flip in his chest. He knows you know it's a bad habit he won't stop anytime soon, yet the little things you do show him just how much you care.
Kazuha
He's a wandering spirit, unable to stay in one place for too long, and though it pains him to leave you behind every now and then - he can't help but feel a little more in love every time he sees you at the dock, waving at him with that saccharine smile and unbridled enthusiasm. It's the knowledge that you'll always be here, waiting for him to inevitably follow his loyal heart back to you that keeps him going.
Kinich
In the rare moments Ajaw isn't trailing behind Kinich like a loud record that won't ever stop playing - much to both yours and Kinich's disdain - he can't help but allow himself the indulgence of your touch. He may not seem like a very touchy guy on the outside, which is partially true, but with Ajaw's frequent interference, physical contact is a luxury not often afforded. So he finds himself wrapping his arms around you like he'll be ripped away the next second, leaning into the warmth of your body like it's his saving grace.
Lyney
He's become so adept at maintaining the façade, the show persona, that when you see past it for the first time, he can't help but be thrown a little off guard. It's when you notice the fatigue under the performer, that he feels seen. It's an odd feeling for him but one he learns to embrace anyway, and one day he finds there's little more comforting than the warmth of your embrace when you ask after his wellbeing.
Neuvillette
Hardworking and hardly ever home should become the motto for Neuvillette's life sometimes, being chief justice of Fontaine means piles of paperwork makes their way onto his desk every time he so dares to glance away from it. It makes the bright afternoons where you slip into his office with lunch and a adoringly sweet kiss to his cheek all the more gratifying. Even spending those 30 minutes with you every few days makes the workload looming above him seem a little smaller.
Ororon
He's perfected the art of awkward fumbling and shy gaps in conversation at this point, no matter how close you get to each other he seems to never overcome this lull in interaction, though you find it endearing, he still flushes with embarrassment every time. Therefore he's come to favour the time he spends with you that takes place in comfortable silence. Whether you're helping him in the vegetable patch or simply sitting side pressed to side on the sofa together, minutes away from falling asleep - all of it soothes his anxious heart and lets him enjoy your company without the nerves of conversation.
Pantalone
For such a wealthy man, he's the farthest from profligate someone could be. Every expensive is documented and accounted for, yet somehow the jewel encrusted necklace that appears on your vanity one day seems to escape the logs. So does the subtly expensive perfume a few days later, then the flowers delivered to your workplace. When questioned, he'll deny any knowledge of such things, claiming they simply don't exist, but the way his lips curve upward when he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead is telling.
Sethos
He's a tease, a fact he won't even deny himself, especially when it comes to you. But then on occasion you'll find it amusing to return the favour, and suddenly he finds himself at a loss for what to do. He never expects you to turn the tables on him and whisper something in his ear or drag a finger down his chest in smug reciprocation, and it makes him blush and mumble something inaudible under his breath every time, much to your delight, he finds.
Thoma
Everyone on the Kamisato estate knows Thoma is arguably the best cook within a 50 mile radius, and he himself cannot deny that his skills in the kitchen are proficient. But on days housework and errands have made his muscles feel like lead and the thought of facing yet something else to tackle when he gets home makes him want to run in the opposite direction, walking through the front door to the smell of your already half finished cooking fills him with gratitude like no other. He'll smother you in kisses while you try and finish purely for taking the weight off his shoulders every now and again.
Tighnari
He's often up late, working on ranger schedules or logging another mushroom related incident as a result of yet another person that's not listened to his advice correctly - yet when he feels a pair of warm arms wind around his shoulders and your face settle into the crook of his neck - he can't help but feel an irresistible temptation to retreat back into the bed. He's been brushing off how tired he feels for at least an hour now and the way you murmur in his ear for him to give up and get some sleep has given him a fresh realisation of the weight in his bones. Maybe the work can be finished in the morning after all.
Venti
As the so called 'weakest archon', he's become used to falling into last place, and he doesn't even mind honestly - sometimes it's better to not have the pressure of being the most powerful. Yet the first time you call him 'my strong archon', he stops like a deer in headlights. He doesn't remember the last time someone referred to him like that, and so confidently too. For once the bard is genuinely flustered - having to turn away and bashfully hide his face before you can notice the impact those three words had on him. Maybe with you he can let himself feel like something other than the weakest.
Wanderer
He often finds himself awake during the night, restless and plagued by memories of the pasts he's lived. He won't admit it, but he doesn't want to burden you with the same, so he'll carefully extract himself from your embrace, pour himself a cup of the most black and bitter tea he could possibly make and head out to sit on the back step, staring up at the endless expanse of Teyvat's star smothered sky. He comes to realise merely minutes later, footsteps approach from behind. He won't turn to look - he knows it's you - but when you settle in next to him with your own cup and inevitably end up falling fast asleep against him moments later, he won't complain.
Wriothesely
Seldom does Wriothesley have the time to emerge to the surface, and that consequently results in very little shared time between the two of you. Therefore imagine his surprise when he returns to his office after seeing to a matter elsewhere in the fortress to find you perched on the edge of his cluttered desk, tea tray stocked and set beside you, with that knowing smirk dancing across your features. He's taken aback for all of a second before suddenly he's right in front of you, sweeping you up into his strong arms. A short break from his duties couldn't hurt.
Xiao
He's not used to being around people, that much is blatantly obvious after spending any amount of time in Xiao's company - he doesn't care for company much either. However after some persistence, he finds you've snuck your way into his space without him even realising, or caring at that - something about your companionship is less bothersome than most. You'll clamber your way up to the roof of wangshu inn most nights, perch yourself next to him and just... exist. He notes you don't scramble to fill the silence, you just lean against his shoulder and watch the stars with him.
Zhongli
He's lived for centuries, and every memory, every whisper of a ghost in the hallways of someone he used to know, is a burden he and he alone must bear. He's steeled himself to this reality - the price an archon must pay - yet when you, a mortal, string your hands through the golden tips of his hair, or gently trace the gold markings that line the charcoal skin of his forearms, listening intently to his stories like there's weight to each and every detail - the load on his heart feels just that little bit lighter.
A/N: This has been in my drafts for way too long why did i think this would take me like 10 mins </3
For how familiar you’ve grown with the corridors in this wing, the anticipation and paranoia never truly goes away. You no longer feel eyes boring into your back at least, but it’s of little comfort.
Pantalone’s room looks different from the rest. There’s sunlight coming in through the window and the room is clean, and unlike usual it doesn’t smell of nicotine.
He’s awake and is already looking at you when you walk in, nodding for you to come closer.
“I’m afraid the risk of infection is still too high,” he explains, as if you were here to urge him to get back to work, “I should be all set in a few days, however.”
You shake your head, yet you can’t help the surge of affection spreading through your body. Of course that’s what he’s going to worry about. You’re just a little surprised he didn’t immediately skip to asking you to light a cigarette for him and hold it to his lips.
“How are you?” You sigh as you lower yourself onto the stool next to his bed.
“Good,” Pantalone hums, “Dottore’s very attentive to my health. He doesn’t want to lose his funding, after all.”
“I don’t think he likes me very much,” you grumble, the memory of the ruby eyes staring at you still fresh in your memory. It never fails to send a shiver down your spine, just like if you were being watched by an overgrown crow waiting for its next meal.
“You’re simply of no use to him yet,” the man on the bed chuckles, “Besides, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near his greatest experiment if he wasn’t the least bit fond of you.”
“Aren’t you the same?” you ask, not necessarily accusatory, but not so nonchalant that Pantalone wouldn’t sense anything amiss.
“There there, don’t get sulky on me now,” Pantalone chides with a chuckle.
His hand reaches for yours like he knows you’ll be too hesitant to initiate the contact. He only answers the concern in your gaze with another gentle smile. It feels wrong to feel bandages instead of skin when you hold his hand.
“Will they scar?” You ask, carefully stroking your thumb over the back of his hand.
“Will you be embarrassed to be seen with me if so?” he raises a brow at you. If only he didn’t look so frail in the hospital bed. Or so at home.
“I’m just curious,” you shrug.
Due to your relationship you’re well aware of the scars littering his body. Nonetheless, acid burns will be new.
“I think so,” he sighs, “All of the procedures leave scars. I’ll have some more gloves made.”
You suppose it’s fortunate that the weather here makes gloves basically a necessity, even inside.
“Dottore made sure my sense of touch and motor skills remain unhindered,” he informs you like he can read your mind, “He really is skilled in his field.”
“Mhm, I wonder what’s become of the perpetrators,” you hum almost absentmindedly. Had you not eaten not too long ago, maybe you’d indulge in fantasizing.
“Oh, what makes you think he’ll be the one dealing with them?” Pantalone’s smile is just the same as he always wears. And perhaps that’s what makes it sinister.
“Getting your hands dirty first thing after release?” you fake surprise.
His smile twitches, only slightly, into something more akin to a smirk. Yet his other hand comes to take your hand too and remains perfectly gentle. He’d have you fooled for an honest man.
“I do need to test the limits of this new body I’m acquiring,” he says jokingly.
“So I take it this room is beginning to feel like home,” you tease too.
His gaze falters for a brief moment. Just as he can read you, you can read him. Your fingers slip between his and fortunately he doesn’t seem pained by the movement.
“I do miss coming home,” he admits in a whisper. His hold tightens for a second, but even that clearly wasn’t the brightest idea.
“It’s not going anywhere,” you huff, though you refuse to meet his eyes, “This time, for a change, you can taste what it’s like to wait for me to come.”
He chuckles, his hand slipping from yours to pat your head. His touch is barely there, careful not to get hurt again. His eyes sparkle with amusement.
“I’m no stranger to waiting,” he reminds you, “Hopelessly, for what seemed like eternity. I simply hope you won’t let me down.”
“Emotional investment and all that,” you roll your eyes.
“Precisely,” he says and somehow he doesn’t sound like a businessman for once, his hand strokes down your hair to your cheek, cupping your face, “So don’t make a mistake thinking I don’t want to return home soon.”
You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel his touch that doesn’t feel like it really belongs to him. His hand is colder than it should, the gauze is rougher than his gloves or skin. It’s unfamiliar and unpleasant, if not for his gaze comforting you.
Eventually, however, you have to move on. The bank relies on him, and as his proxy while he’s incapacitated, you do need to consult with him about the most pressing matters.
The conversation takes the inevitable turn smoothly, as much as it saddens you that you both mastered such detachment from your relationship.
John "Soap" MacTavish
You were the rookie who tripped on gravel and called a flashbang a "shiny rock." Soap laughed so hard he couldn't aim straight but he kept you close, teaching with a patience masked in teasing. He watched your stumbles turn into strides, and one day you cleared a room before he did. He didn't say anything then, just gave you that grin- half pride, half disbelief. Now you move together like clockwork, back-to-back, breathing in sync. He slaps your vest with aloud, "That's my partner!" in front of everyone. You're not the rookie anymore you're his right hand, his heart, his favorite teammate on and off the field!
Simon "Ghost" Riley
You were nervous around him at first. Everyone was. Ghost didn't talk much. Didn't explain things. He just moved, expected you to follow. But you learned to read the tilt of his head, the twitch of his shoulder. He noticed that. Slowly, the silences filled with trust. When you made a clean shot across a wind tunnel, he didn't say good job-he just looked at you a little longer than usual. Now, he waits for your call before making a move. "You ready?" he'll ask, voice low, trusting you fully. You're not just his rookie. You're the one he fights best beside. The one he protects without hesitation.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
You were so green that Gaz joked about planting you in the dirt to grow you stronger. He gave you nicknames, razzed you in front of the squad, but always stayed close never letting anyone talk down to you. And then, one day, you pulled him out of a hot mess with nothing but a smoke grenade and a ridiculous plan. He looked at you different after that Pride in his eyes. He still teases, sure, but when someone calls you "rookie," he bristles. "That's my partner," he corrects. These days, you move like a unit-his voice in your ear, your shoulder against his. Equal Earned.
John Price
You were a lot to manage in the beginning full of energy, too eager, and lacking control. But Price? He never gave up on you. He guided with firmness, never condescension. Showed you how to think, not just react. You soaked it up like a sponge, and one mission, you made a call that saved both your asses. When you got back to base, he handed you a whiskey and said, "Didn't think I'd say it so soon, but I'd trust you with my six any day You've stood shoulder to shoulder ever since. Now, when he's planning an op, he waits for your opinion. And that means everything.
Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Roach took one look at you tripping over your own boots and nearly choked on his gum laughing. But he always doubled back when you lagged behind. Always passed you notes with drawings and arrows="don step here," "that's a claymore, genius." You learned quickly under his chaotic but oddly effective style. Now you can read his hand signals better than anyone. You cover each other's blind spots, click together like puzzle pieces mid-sprint. Sometimes he still pokes fun calls you "Newbie" for nostalgia-but his tone's full of affection. You're not his trainee anymore. You're his favorite person to jump headfirst into danger with.
Nikolai
You were nervous, and Nikolai was... everywhere. Boisterous, loud, spinning tales mid-flight while you tried not to throw up in the chopper. He gave you your first nickname before he even learned your last name. But he was kind-explained things, watched over you, always quick with a joke when you panicked. You didn't realize when it shifted, only that one day he was asking your advice. Listening closely. And smiling like he was proud. Now you fly together, watch each other's backs, argue over maps and fuel, and fall asleep side by side after long nights. "Partner," he calls you. "And also my favorite co-pilot"
Alejandro Vargas
You respected Alejandro the moment you met him-disciplined, charismatic, fearless. He was always patient, even when you asked the same question twice. He'd correct you with warmth, guide your hand in drills, make sure you understood. The first time you corrected him-caught a detail he missed-he paused, blinked, then smiled like you'd just passed some silent test. From that point on, he treated you as an equal. Now, when you move through missions, he doesn't lead- you lead together. "Mi compañero," he calls you, voice full of trust. You've earned your place beside him in the field and in his heart.
Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
Rudy was the gentle hand on your shoulder, always making sure you understood the "why," not just the "how." He was the first to praise your small victories, the first to cheer when you landed your first clean mark. He stayed behind after drills to help you improve, even when it meant staying up late. And now? Now he tosses you the keys to the truck, trusts you to plan infiltration routes, consults you when the team needs a plan B. He still looks at you with warmth, still checks in, but now it's with pride- not concern. He doesn't see a rookie anymore. He sees his partner, his person.
Valeria Garza
Valeria laughed when she first saw you- eyes wide, hands shaking. "This one's gonna die on day one," she smirked. But she kept pulling you out of danger, mocking every mistake with razor-sharp wit. Still, she noticed. She watched you learn, grow, sharpen like a blade under pressure. And when you out-bluffed a cartel negotiator without flinching, she stared at you in stunned silence, then grinned. "That's my rookie," she whispered. Now she stands beside you, no longer above you. Teases you still, sure-but follows your lead sometimes too. You're not her underling anymore. You're her equal. Her match.
Keegan Russ
Keegan didn't talk much when you first joined his squad. He gave instructions, corrected your form, and occasionally pulled you out of danger by your vest. He wasn't mean-just distant, professional. But you started to notice the quiet nods when you did something right, the way he always ended up in your orbit during missions. Over time, he let you in-small comments, shared glances, silent understanding. The first time he got pinned, you were the one dragging him to cover, and when the dust cleared, he gave you a long look. "We've come a long way," he said. He doesn't see you as green anymore. You're his partner. And it means more than you know.
König
You were overwhelmed when you first met König. Not just by his size, but by his şilence, the weight of his presence. You tried your best not to screw up, knowing he was watching, even if he rarely said anything. But König noticed everything. When you started holding your ground, making smart calls, watching his back without hesitation he began to trust you. Quietly. Gently. He'd wait for you to lead sometimes, stepping behind you like a shadow. And one day, he said it under his breath: "I like working with you." Now he stands at your side instead of ahead, shield and hammer paired with your fire. You make him feel less like a monster-and more like a team.
Nikto
Nikto was terrifying at first. Cold, unreadable, brutal in his methods. You weren't even sure he liked having a rookie around. He didn't explain things-just expected you to survive. But survive you did. You adapted. Matched his pace. Started reading his movements and filling the gaps he never asked you to. He started sparing glances your way. Small nods. The way he began giving you intel before the rest. The first time you disobeyed a direct order because you knew a better way, and it worked, he gave a rare smile. "Not bad," he said. And that was how you knew-you weren't the rookie anymore. You were his equal. Maybe even something more.
Krueger
Krueger always had a smirk when you messed up. He liked watching you fumble- it amused him. But he never let anyone else Laugh at you. He kept you under his wing, sharp-tongued but attentive, always pushing you harder. You didn't notice when his tone changed when he started saying " good" more often, when he trusted you to take point. Then came the mission where you disarmed a trap he missed, and he gave you a look you'd never seen before. Respect. Interest. Maybe even pride. Now you share the same rhythm, same shadows. He may still tease, but now it's laced with affection. You've earned your place at his side.Right where he wants you.
Philip Graves
You were the newbie who spilled coffee on the Shadow Company HQ floor, and Graves nearly laughed you out of the compound. But you didn't quit. You trained harder. Paid attention. Cleaned up after your own mistakes. He gave you hell, but also chances-and you nailed every one. When you pulled him out of a collapsing hallway with one hand and a grenade in the other, he finally looked at you differently. Now? You're in his inner circle. He slaps your back before missions and jokes, "I taught you everything you know," even though he knows you're damn good on your own. You're not just a soldier under him. You're his trusted right-hand, and he wouldn't trade you for anyone else.
Farah Karim
Farah wasn't going to hand anything to you just because you were new.She pushed you. Expected you to understand the why, not just the how. At first, you stumbled under the weight of her standards-but you learned. You started anticipating her moves, backing her up before she had to ask. Slowly, she started relying on you. Letting you take command in tight situations. She doesn't say it often, but the way she looks at you after every mission, the way her hand lingers when she clasps your shoulder-it says everything. You earned her trust. Her admiration. Now she doesn't fight alone. She fights with you. And that makes her stronger.
Hadir Karim
Hadir was a whirlwind. Bold, passionate, always acting on instinct. He didn't even notice you were struggling in the beginning he just assumed you'd keep up. But when you started pulling your own weight, matching his momentum with your own drive, he noticed. One mission you covered for him without hesitation, and he turned to you afterward, eyes wide with disbelief." You're braver than I thought," he murmured. Since then, it's been chaos and synergy.He loves having you at his side-matching his energy, sometimes even taming it. He trusts you with plans, with risks, with him. You're not a follower anymore. You're the storm beside the flame.
Alex Keller
Alex took the time to get to know you. He was patient with your mistakes, encouraging with your progress. He joked to ease your nerves, clapped you on the back when you got something right, and always had your six. Over time, the jokes turned into banter. The drills into trust exercises. The camaraderie into something ... more. You proved yourself in a dozen small moments, and one big one-when you risked yourself to get him out. Now he looks at you like you're his equal, his partner, and something deeper. He fights better with you next to him. Smiles easier. Sleeps better. You're not just his teammate you're his anchor.
Kate Laswell
Laswell doesn't hand out praise easily. You had to earn her trust-one detail at a time. You learned fast under her guidance, adapted to her style, always asked the right questions. She noticed. She always notices. She started relying on your input, bringing you into higher-level meetings, trusting you with classified intel. When you brought her a lead she'd missed, she blinked once and said, "Good catch, partner." You felt it then-how far you'd come. Now she doesn't just teach you. She confides in you. Plans with you. The title " partner" isn't just official. It's personal. And it means the world to her.
Vladimir Makarov
Being Makarov's rookie was like being thrown into the deep end of a frozen lake. He was ruthless, impossible to read, and completely unpredictable. He didn't care if you sank-until you didn't. You rose, adapted, learned to think like him. You weren't afraid. And he found that
intoxicating. You made your own calls, sometimes against his orders-and when they worked, he gave you the first real grin you'd ever seen from him. Now he watches you with sharp interest, includes you in his darkest plots, keeps you close. You've become his confidant, his co-conspirator, his match. You're not beneath him anymore. You're beside him and that makes thing's dangerous. For everyone else.
The saddest thing about modern romance is how some people will say “Posting a private instagram story that only you can see is the equivalent of Gatsby throwing lavish parties hoping Daisy would notice” and other people would genuinely believe them.
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₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.
[ 🖐️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do their hands feel like: soft, calloused, trembling ?
[ ☂️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they crave touch or fear it ?
[ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ?
[ 🕊️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen did they feel the safest ?
[ 💤 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they sleep ? curled up, sprawled, holding onto something ?
[ 🦇 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a fear they never talk about ?
[ 🔒 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a secret they’ve sworn never to tell ?
[ 🪢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they broke a promise ?
[ 🫳 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they feel they owe, but never paid back ?
[ 💼 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do they always carry with them ?
[ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ?
[ ⛓️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does guilt feel like to them ?
[ 💢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho have they never forgiven and never will ?
[ 🩸 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there something or someone that, if lost, would break them ?
[ 🌧️ ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a pain they refuse to heal from ?
[ 🪞 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen have they looked at their reflection and hated what they saw ?
[ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ?
[ 🌊 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they cried ?
[ 🐾 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo animals like them instinctively ?
[ 🪶 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they laugh ?
[ 🫀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho taught them what love is ? did it hurt ?
[ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ?
[ 🎀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is their main love language ?
[ 🔦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they search for ?
[ 📜 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a story they love sharing with others ?
[ 🌒 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a dream or goal they have given up on ?
[ 🕯️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat memory do they replay when they’re alone ?
[ 🌪️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the one choice they regret (not) making ?
[ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ?
[ 🍻 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of drunk are they ?
[ ✉️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of letter would they write but never send ?
[ 🗡️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a scar that they have but never talk about ?
[ 🕸️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a favourite lie they like to hear ?
[ 🪦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat would they want on their gravestone but never admit aloud ?
[ 🎱 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it ?
[ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ?
[ 🍃 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they feel like they belong ?
[ ⚓ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does “home” mean to them ?
[ 🧭 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhere would they go if they could disappear tomorrow ?
Phillip Graves | 2.9k | fluff
A Fix-it Felix and Sgt. Calhoun retelling (p2)
It was a rescue mission. A Marine Corps Sergeant.
She and her team were tasked to raid an Al Qatala cell in Al Mazrah and secure the hostages held. However, they were ambushed during exfil and the Sergeant stayed behind to protect the extraction plane from the heavy enemy fire. She ordered the pilot out of the battle zone.
Her comms went silent soon after. Her men promptly asked for a retrieval team, but under the circumstances, her CO deemed the recovery too risky.
It was subordination, but her men reached out to General Shepherd instead. 12 hours later, Phillip Graves, his Shadows and her men got off the SUVs at her last known location to no trace of her. The unit split up and widened the search area.
It didn’t look promising. Her life was in an hourglass and it had been many, many hours. If she had survived, she’d have found a way to make contact back home. But she hadn’t, and that usually only meant one thing, no matter how lethal she might have been according to her dossier.
But Graves wasn’t a quitter - he was going to try his best to find her. He would have wanted his men to do the same for him if he was the one missing, and her selflessness to finish her mission wasn’t going to be unrecognised.
He and two of his boys reconed an abandoned hospital, the one he’d shot up to hell and back a few months ago on his AC-130 when giving air support. Combing through the building silently, he made it to the top floor, and a few steps into the room- a sharp strike to the back of his left knee, and he fell to his knees.
“Identify yourself,” the woman commanded, metal pressing against the back of his neck.
He dropped his rifle and held his hand up, ignoring the flare in his knee. He scanned the room, the pack and the Marine uniform on the floor in the corner all too familiar.
“Are you the Sergeant?”
“I said-“ she jabbed the sidearm harder- “Identify yourself.”
“Shadow PMC, here to extract you.”
You took a beat before exhaling, retracting the sidearm. “Took you long enough.”
“Well, you didn’t make it easy to find ya.” He began to stand, planting his foot in front of him.
“That’s kind of the point.” You holstered your weapon as you circled and studied him.
He froze at the way you towered over him. Yes, he’d got a hold of your dossier. Seen your photo, where you were from, your birthdate and height, but he didn’t expect you to look like that. The unruly hair and the grime smudges on your face only made you more gorgeous.
You folded your arms across your chest. “What are you looking at?”
He cleared his throat and got up on his feet while snatching his rifle from the ground. “You got shot?” he gestured at your bandaged left arm before meeting your eyes.
Phillip wasn’t short by any means, but this close, the few inches you had on him were in full effect.
“Just a scratch.” You turned towards your pack and pulled your uniform over your green skivvy shirt.
A scratch wouldn’t bleed enough for it to seep through bandages.
“Did my men make it?”
“They did. Mission was a success.”
“Good.” You buttoned your blouse down. “Where’s the exfil?”
He reached for his radio. “Shadow-1 to all stations. Found ‘er, need medical. RV outside.”
“Gold Eagle Actual to Shadow-1. Roger that, Graves,” the General’s voice crackled through the comms. “Knew you’d find her. Report back when you’re RTB.”
“Out here,” he replied.
You got to your feet and fastened your pack. “What’s your name again?”
“Phillip Graves. Ya know, I think we might have crossed paths before.”
You hummed. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I’ll take point,” he said, turning to the door.
With your rifle drawn, you followed behind him. “Hey, watch your ste-“
You didn’t even get to finish your sentence when the ground crumbled under him. With a gasp, you scrambled to get a hold of something but lost your footing all the same. It was second nature to pull you close to shield you as you fell on top of him onto the floor under. He blinked up at you and for a stunned moment you both froze.
“You broken?” he croaked.
You pushed yourself off him. “Never,” you said, turning away.
“Commander,” the comms crackled alive. “You heard that?”
“Yep, that’s me. Fell through the floor. Watch your steps, boys.”
“Rog.”
He sat up, some sort of starstruck as he stared up at you dusting the front of your uniform off. “You’re bleeding again.”
You inspected your arm and tsked. “I’ll live,” you said before observing the room.
The rubble had blocked the door out. You tipped your head up to the massive hole in the ceiling you both fell through.
“I got a hook, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to climb up with how weak the structure is.“ You turned to the collapsed window. “Suggest we rappel down instead.” With no answer, you turned to him again with a frown. “You gonna get up or what?” You offered him a hand.
He cleared his throat and took your hand. Your grip was strong and warm as you pulled him to his feet, but white-hot pain shot up his leg and his knee buckled. The same one you’d kicked minutes earlier.
You gripped his arm to steady him. “Aw, shit. Did you fuck up your leg?” You zeroed in on your rifles tossed a few feet away from the fall and handed it to him. “Let’s get out of Dodge. I’ll set up the line.”
He hopped away from the rubble to follow you.
“DON’T! I’m not falling down another floor!” you scolded, whipping to him. “Just hold onto me.”
With his arm around your shoulder and yours around his waist, you led him to the solid wall near the opening.
From your pack, you pulled out a coil of rope, and the buddy strap which you tossed towards him. Next, you secured the line around the corner structure with practiced hands before tossing it out through the shot-up wall. Phillip could only watch you get shit done in awe.
“Ma’am, I just gotta tell ya. You are one dynamite gal.”
You paused before looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t call me ma’am,” you countered.
He grinned. As a Marine NCO, he never liked getting called sir either, even then as a commander, but it was always fun pushing a button or two. And he wanted to see you smile.
“A Gunny should know better.”
“So you do know me. My last rank?” He chuckled. “I’m flattered. What else do you know?”
“Shut it, Graves.”
The smile only widened. “That an order?”
“You sure talk a lot for someone who isn’t helping.” On your knees, you zipped your pack back up.
He hobbled over. “I’d love to help, but you have everything under control.”
You held your hand up. “Just put on the strap.”
“Case in point.”
You rolled your eyes.
He shouldn’t be having this much fun with you, should he? With a chuckle, he followed your order before speaking into his comms, “Erikson, give us overwatch. North side wall. We’re rappelling down.”
“Rog,” he replied.
You put your pack on him, and with your back against his chest in a squat position, pulled the buddy strap over your shoulders. “Who contacted you?”
“Your corporal, via General Shepherd.”
You straightened up and pulled the straps tight, securing him to you. “You mean my captain?”
“No. Corporal Boyle.”
You stilled. You knew what that meant.
Phillip grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have told you. “Your men have enormous respect for you. The kid fought tooth and nail to get you back.” He might be staring at the back of your head, but he could imagine you pressing your lips into a thin line.
“It’s nothing personal,” you dismissed, stepping over the two ropes and brought the sides over your hips for the makeshift harness.
It wasn’t his first time being carried at all, but by you, and so effortlessly? It wasn’t everyday someone as gorgeous as you helped him. He couldn’t help the flare in his cheeks. Was it his knee making him delirious? He latched on, legs around your waist before you stepped backwards towards the edge of the building and off it.
“Graves, is that you?” Erikson called.
He turned to his men on the ground staring up at the both of you.
Dipaolo snickered before piping up, “Thought you meant the medical was for the Sergeant.”
“Not a word,” he warned.
When you made it to the ground, you set him down gently and turned to him. He looked up at you, eyes wide, face impossibly hot. “T-thank you,” he muttered.
The beginning of a smile -the first one- flickered on your lips. Until giggles rang behind him.
You scowled, gaze moving past him to his boys. “Alright, enough with the goo goo eyes.” You drew your rifle. “Let’s head back. Your commander looks like he might be having a fever.”
Oh, it was just the awful, awful honey glow in his cheeks.
Erikson drove and Dipaolo tended to your “scratch” while Phillip filled him in on his knee, which thankfully looked like it only needed a few days of rest. You were quiet on the ride as you hydrated and had snacks. Poor gal, you must have been exhausted having been on the run all alone.
When the vehicle pulled up at RV, your men jumped to their feet.
“Appreciate the help, boys.” You clapped the back of Erikson’s seat and nodded at Phillip. “Graves.”
He smiled, but you’d turned and stepped out of the vehicle.
“Sergeant! We assumed the worst!” the corporal exclaimed as the group jogged to you.
“Likewise. Good to see you boys.” You smacked Boyle’s shoulder.
Phillip held onto Dipaolo as he helped him to the building. “Your ride’s waiting. Take care boys.”
“Aye, sir!” the men answered.
He might have rounded the corner, but he still heard the suppressed laughter.
“Oh shit. Why’s he limping?” “Sergeant, did you kick his ass?” “He must have called you ma’am.”
“Park it,” you ordered. “Let’s head home.”
Shadow stayed back and finished their business in Al Mazrah before heading back to HQ the following week. It didn’t use to matter where Phillip was, with no one waiting for him at home, but this time, it was different. There was something he was looking forward to.
It was a pleasant surprise your base and his were in the same county. Okay, it wasn’t a surprise. He’d known this having read your dossier, and it was the last base he was stationed in, and it just happened to be that you were there too. It was a coincidence, but what good was a coincidence if he didn’t do anything about it?
It was Thursday when he pushed the door into the open office. There you were, scribbling away at your desk when everyone else was in the chow hall.
He walked up to you, but you didn’t look up. He waited. A chance to look at you freely: your creaseless uniform, your hair combed – not a strand out of place. Was it bad he thought you were just as gorgeous the last time he saw you?
“If you have nothing to say you can leave,” you finally said.
“Nice base.”
That got you to whip up to him. Your eyes widened for a split second. Did you like him in civilian clothing? He did try to look good in his jacket and jeans.
“Ain’t mine,” you countered. “The general’s not here.”
“Well, I’m not here for him. Here to see ya.”
“For? Hey, how did you even get clearance?”
Phillip chuckled. “Wanted to see if you’re free this weekend.”
“And why would that be any of your business?”
“Oh, I don’t know-“ he shrugged, looking away playfully- “Maybe because you owe me one. As I recall I found you in Al Mazrah, and you kicked me behind the knee.”
That got a smile out of you. “And what about the fact that I had to buddy rappel you?”
“Which is exactly why I owe you a coffee.”
“I’m good.” You chuckled, going back to your papers. “Don’t need any more coffee in my system.”
His blue eyes slid down to your ring finger. “Well, will someone get jealous if I called it a date?”
You failed to hide that amused smile.
“How about we settle it in the range? If you win, I don’t ask again.”
You paused before meeting his eyes. How much was he allowed to enjoy having you look up at him for a change?
“You know what, I think I do need to shoot something.”
He grinned. “We have time.”
You led the way to the range. Not because he didn’t know his way, but because if he hung back he had all the time in the world to eye your strong shoulders, square as you walked with your boots thudding assuredly.
“This was my last base,” he said with a fond smile, taking in the halls. “Place hasn’t changed much at all. Some people still recognise me too.”
“You’re infamous. Everyone knows you.”
Phillip smiled. “Not you though.”
You sucked your teeth playfully. “I’ve only heard of you. But I think I was already here before you left.”
You were, according to your dossier. It was very possible you’d met years ago but were none the wiser.
He quickened his steps to be next to you. “Am I really infamous?”
“The verdict is split. Some think it’s not very Marine of you to do it for the money. And some think…” You let out a light chuckle. “Well, bills don’t pay themselves.”
He barked out a laugh. “And which camp are you in?”
“As long as you’re fighting for the right cause, it doesn’t matter which colour you wear.”
He nodded. “Well said.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I don’t like getting told what to do-“ he shrugged, turning to you- “Very pedestrian, huh?”
You laughed, loud and open.
That resonated with you, didn’t it? The sight made him smile. “I’m not complaining about the bills getting paid though.”
“At least you’re honest, Graves,” you said, a glint in your eye.
At the training facility, you unlocked the weapon’s locker and gestured at the line of handguns. “Pick your poison.”
With Phillip’s choice in hand, the both of you headed to the outdoor range. You stopped at the 7-yard lane.
“10 rounds. You go first,” you said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped up and pulled back the handgun’s slide.
“Thought you didn’t like getting told what to do,” you teased.
He assumed his stance. “Thought you didn’t like getting called ma’am.”
“Touche.”
He aimed down range. “I don’t mind you telling me what to do.” Bang. “I’ve always been pretty good at taking orders after all-“ he glanced over- “ma’am.”
“You can call me that if I get to call you sir.”
Bang. He didn’t mean the smirk. “Threatening me with a good time?”
“God, you’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes, but smiled all the same.
He didn’t want to be cocky, but he wasn’t a bad shot at all – wouldn’t have challenged you to it if he was. But you took your shots with so much poise that he frowned. Were you going to beat him after all?
The both of you walked up to the board for the score. He got 89 out of 100. Respectable. You, though, got 91.
“Fuck me,” he muttered. He didn’t mean to.
You laughed. “Sorry, Graves,” you said, not looking sorry.
He huffed. “Well, you sure are one dynamite gal.” He was going to honour his promise, but it didn’t make it any less disappointing.
You put away the pistol and headed back, Phillip silent next to you. Personnel had started to return to their stations from the chow hall, greeting you as they passed.
“Oh, come on! Don’t go sulking now.” With a chuckle, you bumped his shoulder with yours as you approached the building. “It’s just 2 points, was probably home-court advantage.”
“Do I get a rematch then?” he teased. “My base is just an hour and a half away.”
You smiled.
He couldn’t help returning it. “Joking. Well, you got friends nearby, if you ever need any help. Corporal Boyle knows how to reach me.”
“I don’t.”
He turned to you, brow raised. “Are you asking for my number?”
“How am I going to call you otherwise?”
“Will you?” he challenged.
You shrugged. “I don’t know yet. You’ll have to find out.”
He laughed to himself. You were having too much fun now. He liked seeing you so. He placed his phone in your open hand and you texted yourself.
“I’ll be waiting for your call.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“Didn’t say I would call.”
“Oh, but I think you will.”
You smiled. “Right, now get out of here. Don’t need people talking about this.”
It was embarrassing the smile Phillip wore the whole walk back to his SUV.
The next part is linked above if already up
Masterlist
Okay so in the PHM book Grace mentions that, since his last name also happens to be an English word, Rocky just calls him the Eridian word for “Grace”. But considering “grace” is a relatively niche word that would probably take a while for them even to develop the vocabulary to translate, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a little more going on here, and have ended up with two conflicting headcanons to explain it:
When they first meet, Rocky is just as worried about whether the alien will be hostile, and is so relieved by their first interactions being so positive that he names the alien the first thing he has discovered about him: “Kindness”. (It isn’t until Grace is explaining the possible interpretations of his name much later that they realize the coincidence. It feels strangely fated.)
Rocky has been calling him “Idiot [affectionate]” this entire time and lied about the whole “grace” thing when asked because who’s gonna know the difference. (when they make it back to Erid, Rocky has to make some very hasty, awkward explanations to the leaders planning to welcome the second savior of their world, culminating in a heated debate over whether to change the human hero’s Eridian “name” and in doing so expose Rocky’s crimes, or go with a planet-wide “commit to the bit” and keep the “Welcome to Erid, Idiot” decorations as is—all while Adrian loses their mind laughing in the background)
I like the first one! Especially the "Rocky is just as worried part" bc in the movie it seemed like he came with some sort of weapon in his claw and tried to poke it at Grace when both of them scared eachother LOL
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※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※
{ Shot Through the Heart } ※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※ ao3
You've worked with Colt off and on for years, building an easy rapport with the stuntman. The rest of the crew sends you to check up on him after he's bad off following a stunt that seems to have caused his nearly career-ending injury to act up.
On unsteady feet and with linked arms, you and Colt stumble along in the sand. You’re hanging onto each other. The warmth of the man at your side is almost more intoxicating than the beer you’ve been sipping all night long. The ocean is refreshingly cool against your ankles as you trail through the lapping waves, shoes and socks clasped firmly in your hands.
※ .{ D R A B B L E }. ※
Golden Hour ※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader
Playtime ※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader
Scene Partner ※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※ 18+
※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※
{ I Do Nothing but Think of You } ※ Driver ※ ao3 ※ 18+
He can't eat. He can't sleep. He's obsessed and restless. What else is there to do but go for a drive?
{ Under Pressure } ※ Driver ※ ao3 ※ 18+
Driver is feeling under the weather. Blaming the oppressive Los Angeles heat for the tightness in his chest, the mechanic leaves in the middle of his shift to try to recover only to receive a shock when it turns out to be something that he should be utterly incapable of.
※ .{ D R A B B L E }. ※
Choking ※ Driver x AFAB!Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request} 18+
Clumsy Stalking ※ Driver x GN!Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request} 18+
Maintenance ※ Driver x GN!Reader ※ ao3
Repercussions ※ Driver x GN!Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request}
※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※
Driver ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+
※ .{ M O O D B O A R D }. ※
Driver ※ "There's no good sharks?"
Driver ※ Werewolf!AU
※ .{ F A N A R T }. ※
Werewolf!AU Driver screenshot study
※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※
{ Birthday Boy } ※ Officer K x Joi ※ ao3
Officer K does not often find himself surprised. He was made to be clearheaded and adaptable, able to get a read on most situations at a glance. Joi is a true wildcard in his life. She elicits feelings from him that he never could have predicted. As a result, he finds himself floundering in the wake of an unexpected gesture.
{ Somebody to You } ※ Officer K x GN!Reader ※ ao3
With a tremor threatening to shake his body, he slips his fingers under the edge of his shirt sleeve and pulls it up to his elbow. His soulmark is laid bare before your eyes. The wound that he had left in his own skin when he had tried to carve out the design has faded to a raised, pale line. “That wasn’t there before,” you murmur, taking his forearm in your hands. Your pointer finger traces over the scar.
※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※
Officer KD6-3.7 ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+
※ .{ M I S C }. ※
Officer K's jacket
※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※
{ Crimson Headache } ※ Sierra Six x AFAB!Reader ※ ao3 ※ 18+
You wonder something about Six. Will he allow himself to surrender to what he really wants?
{ Leap of Faith } ※ Sierra Six (solo) ※ ao3
What if the escape mission had gone a little differently? No outcomes are certain. No one is impervious to fault.
{ Witness in the Dark } ※ Sierra Six x Claire's Sister!Reader ※ ao3
Don't we all just want to feel the companionable reassurance of another human being?
It only takes a single tragedy to tear your life to shreds and make it to where you're unable to sleep through the night. You tell yourself that you will never trust a bodyguard again, but things don't go according to plan when a man with a number for a name is assigned to the Fitzroy household while your uncle is away.
※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※
Sierra Six ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+
※ .{ M O O D B O A R D S }. ※
Sierra Six ※ Just another Thursday."
※ .{ M I S C }. ※
Sierra Six's tattoos
※ .{ DRIVER x KEN } ※ { ONESHOT }
{ Draw Me In } ※ Driver x Ken ※ ao3 ※ 18+
Ken's insatiable curiosity leads to a messy outcome when he fails to give Driver any semblance of personal space.
{ Take You In Real Slow } ※ Driver x Ken ※ ao3 ※ 18+ 🕊
He twists his house key in the door and turns the knob to open it. Locked. Adjusting the basket resting against his hip, he frowns and tries his key again. The door unlocks this time. The knob is slippery in his grasp. When he pulls his hand away, it’s covered in more of that red stuff from the elevator.
{ The Way You Stare } ※ Driver x Ken ※ ao3 ※ 18+
Ken has never learned the importance of being patient. His efforts to be the sole recipient of Driver's steady focus earn him a hard and frustrating lesson from a man who is not very composed himself.
※ .{ DRIVER x KEN } ※ { MOODBOARDS}
Driver x Ken ※ "I'm thinking 'bout how I want to see you in some kinda lip gloss. Might feel sticky and gritty if I kissed you. Bet you would look pretty, just like now. All pink. Sparkly."
※ .{ OFFICER K x SIERRA SIX } ※ { MULTI-CHAPTER }
{ Eyes Always Searching } ※ Officer K x Sierra Six ※ ao3 ※ 18+
Unpleasantly, K feels the return of the drowning sensation he had felt earlier. It is almost as though someone had placed a mirror in front of him in a dream. The reflection is him, but distinctly not.
※ chapter one: In some Sad Way
※ chapter two: I Already Know
※ chapter three: I Will Not Ask You, Neither Should You
※ .{ OFFICER K x SIERRA SIX } ※ { MOODBOARDS }
Officer K x Sierra Six ※ K places his right hand on the table beside his guest’s. He can feel the warmth of his fellow Nexus sink into his own skin. He swallows, pulse jumping. The hand not on the table clenches around his thigh. His nails dig into the outer seam of his pants.
“What was your most shameful moment? ” the baseline mocks at him in his mind. He can’t do it. He can’t bridge the gap. He can’t-
※ .{ O N E S H O T }. ※
{ Bad Dog } ※ Ken x GN!Reader ※ ao3 ※ 18+
You have volunteered to give Ken a lesson in being a good dog. It takes a firm hand to get positive results.
※ .{ M U L T I C H A P T E R }. ※
{ Ocean Boulevard } ※ Holland March x Merman!Jackson Healy ※ ao3 ※ 18+
Struggling, he can’t seem to reach the surface no matter how hard he paddles upwards. He’s going to die down here if he can’t cover any distance. He’d failed to take in any air when he went over on account of knocking himself senseless. Making a mistake, Holland looks down and sees the darting shadow of a pointed dorsal fin. Shark. There’s a fucking shark in the water with him.
※ .{ D R A B B L E }. ※
Frequently Bought Together ※ Ken & GN! Reader ※ ao3 ※ {request}
※ .{ T H O U G H T S }. ※
Henry Letham ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+
Holland March ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+
Lars Lindstrom ※ Partner Headcanons ※ 18+
Ryan Gosling!Ken ※ Partner Headcanons (bad end) ※ 18+
Ryan Gosling!Ken ※ Partner Headcanons (good end) ※ 18+
※ .{ M O O D B O A R D S }. ※
Henry Letham※ "If this is a dream, then the whole world is inside it."
Holland March ※ "I had to question the mermaids."
Ken ※ "Every night is boy's night."
Ken ※ "To be honest, when I found out the patriarchy wasn't about horses, I lost interest anyways."
Ken ※ "What will it take for her to see the man behind the tan?"
Sebastian Wilder ※ "Are you shining just for me?"
※ .{ M I S C }. ※
Favorite Ryan Gosling movies {ask}
Favorite pairings for Ryan Gosling characters {ask}
※ .{ HOLIDAY & EVENT COLLECTIONS }. ※
{ 12 Days of Goosemas } ※ 2023 ※ ao3 ※ 18+
This is a collection of twelve fanfictions all under two thousand words each and all pertaining to characters played by Ryan Gosling. Not all of these works are directly intended to be Christmas themed, but they are all set in the month of December and have some seasonal vibes!
01 ※ { Hot Chocolate } ※ Officer K / Reader
02 ※ { Christmas Movie } ※ Driver / Ken
03 ※ { Winter Break }※ Henry Letham / Reader
04 ※{ Snow }※ Sierra Six / Reader
05 ※ { Holiday Party }※ Julian Thompson / Reader ※ 18+
06 ※ { Decorating }※ Sebastian Wilder / Reader
07 ※ { Alone }※ Driver / Reade
08 ※ { Lights } ※ Holland March / Jackson Healy
09 ※ { Cookies} ※ Driver / Ken※ 18+
10 ※ { Snowstorm } ※ Colt Seavers / Reader
11 ※ { New Year }※ Henry Letham / Sam Foster
12 ※ { Mistletoe } ※ Driver / Reader ※ 18+
※ .{ THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT SERIES }. ※
A collaborative series written with @danime25 centered around the relationship between Holland March and Jackson Healy.
{ Give Me the Night } ※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※ ao3 ※ 18+
What if Healy had broken Holland's right arm instead of his left?
Like most jobs involving stakeouts, the night is going by slowly. That all takes a turn, however, when Holland March, pent up and frustrated, finally pushes his fellow detective too far.
Part one of the Butterfly Effect Series. (Can be read as a standalone)
{ Don't Go Breaking My Heart } ※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※ ao3 ※ 18+
Even during the most wonderful time of the year, Holland March can't help but be clumsy. A stressful hospital trip to set the detective's re-fractured arm leads an unfortunate revelation about his relationship with Jackson Healy.
Part two of the Butterfly Effect Series. (Can be read as a standalone)
※ chapter one: It's Up to Us // ao3
※ chapter two: I Think We Can Make It // ao3 ※ 18+
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Summary: It’s the morning after Grace had his nightmare, sharing his worst memory with you. He wakes up to find that you stayed.
Grace wakes up before you. His eyes blink open, fluttering in the soft light mimicking morning coming from the ship's interior. Above him, Rocky is fidgeting with some xenonite thing, engineering another tool for their mission back to Erid.
Rocky begins to sit up, taking notice of Grace's awakening. Before anyone can say anything, you breath out a soft breath, moving around, getting comfortable in the bed. Your hand is no longer linked with Grace's. Instead, it drapes over his torso and your head now rests on his chest.
Grace felt his heartbeat begin to race as he realized the situation he was in. Then he stopped breathing. You getting comfortable…now included nuzzling into his neck, soft breaths tickling the underside of his chin.
Rocky was above, watching over you both. The nightmare that you had helped Grace out with last night had scared Rocky bad. Rocky had learned about two things last night. Nightmares and the cruelty of other humans.
Grace was sure that he wanted to ask Rocky about his thoughts on the matter because do Eridians have cruelty? They must right? But they are also aliens with their own culture and Rocky was so nice! Anyway, Grace had to table that thought that raced through his brain because many thoughts were currently racing through is brain and a few of them had priority.
For one, Rocky. Rocky waking you up. You would wake up, realize the position you were in and it would make things awkward. After last night and the trust that had been strengthened through the ordeal, Grace was not willing to let them take two steps back. They had been through a lot and he could not imagine that this would make things better.
Two, Grace really, really, really wanted to spend a few more minutes like this. He felt selfish thinking this thought, but he had not been held like this in a long time. The last time he had nearly full contact with another being had been that fateful, tragic, horrifying day back on Earth when he had been…well, no… he didn't want to think about that anymore.
He had relived it too much last night to think about it again first thing.
"Rocky! Don't speak. I can't change the volume on your program right now, so if you speak, she will wake up." Grace whispered, bordering on whispering aggressively loud, almost speaking levels. Rocky seemed to click his claws together in amusement at Grace's tone. "I'll watch over her while she sleeps, bud, why don't you go work on something somewhere else."
Grace waited, crossing his fingers on one hand. Rocky seemed to tilt his body slightly, as though squinting at Grace. Grace waited, eyes pleading toward Rocky, even though Rocky probably couldn't hear the facial expression.
Finally, Rocky got up, slowly rolling his ball out to the other side of the Hail Mary. Grace hoped Rocky understood that he wasn't in trouble or anything, but just that Grace needed some time. Alone.
Well, not alone. You were here.
In bed. Snuggling up to him.
Grace had to take another slow, deep breath as he gave his full attention to this new development. Sometime in the night, you had exchanged holding hands with laying very close together. Grace's left arm was resting on your back as you laid on his chest, your face still tucked into his neck.
Grace's could barely see your face, you were so close. The ship kept a fairly cool temperature, fighting heat coming from the equipment inside, as well as the void outside sucking away any extra heat. You must have gotten cold, the one blanket shared between the two of you not enough to stop goosebumps raising along your arms.
Your solution in your sleep was to get close, share body heat.
He could feel one of your legs thrown over his, half of your torso insulating his chest, and your arm tucked into his side. Now that he was awake, the vignette of sleep no longer blurring his thoughts, he realized he was overwhelmed.
It had been so long since he had touched another human. Last night, he hadn't been fully coherent during the hug, just relying on comfort to get him out of his nightmare. He had been aware of the hand holding, but this… this felt different.
His breathing stuttered again as his mind shortcircuited, but this only nudged you even closer to the brink of daylight, your eyes fluttering at the sudden movement of the body under you.
Grace took a deep breath, mimicking your own as you slept. He was being selfish, but he wanted to lay like this longer. Feel the weight of your body. Engage in human contact for the love of it because that is what it was right? He was just starved for touch. It had been so long, so many days before you had woken up, alone. Even longer for you to begin to get close enough to brush fingers when exchanging tools or holding a hand over a back as one shuffled past another in a small space.
This couldn't be anything else. Grace told himself that he couldn't let himself float away into what could be.
It wasn't time. Maybe it would never be, but especially now, it wasn't time.
He dared to drag a light hand over your back, something so light, it couldn't even be ticklish. Just a gentle, soothing motion, helping you stay asleep.
He took another deep breath, hoping it would slow his heart rate down. He was sure that you would wake up, your ear right over his heart, where it was thumping as though it was trying to escape from his ribcage.
He had started to recite pi in his head, hoping to distract himself, when you moved again.
Your arm reached out from under his side, patting around the side of the bed. He stared, watching as you grasped around, huffing in frustration. He wanted to help you out, give you what you were looking for so you wouldn't wake fully, but the blanket was already around you and there was nothing else for you to grab on the bed.
Then, you patted closer to you, and accidentally patted Grace's arm, lying out straight.
You kept searching, outlining his forearm, then his wrist, the drag of your fingers raising goosebumps on his skin, before…
Oh.
It hadn't been an accident.
You laced your fingers with his, bringing them up closer to you. Now your head was on his heart and your hands were together in the leftover space.
You sighed, before stilling again.
Ok. Mission failed. Grace's heart had skyrocketed. It was gone. Back all the way to Earth. There was no returning down from this level.
Now that he had time, he savored every second that you were this close. This wasn't just comfort, this was right. This felt like it was meant to be. He knew how he came to be on this ship, so far from home, but he still couldn't remember why you were here. It had to be a kind of cosmic fate, a roll of the dice so ridiculous that it actually did happen.
Of the four people put on this ship, on this mission, with all the odds against them, somehow you and he had survived. You had both woken up.
And again, he had woken up before you. Except now, he knew how much you meant to him. You weren't just someone in a chamber, some random face that could have been anyone.
You were… you. You were his best friend, his partner in crime, the person who would laugh at his silly jokes and then turn around and make him laugh. You were so smart, smart enough to be on this mission to save Earth. You held him when he cried, supported him anywhere you could, and you were kind. You would spend so much time with Rocky, explaining words and Earth culture simply because Rocky was curious. You would bring extra skittles to Carl and him while they were working, and run errands for Stratt, even though it wasn't your job.
You were everything to him.
He realized now that his body had gone on autopilot while he went down memory lane. He was dragging circles on your wrist with his thumb and stroking your back with his other hand, doing everything he could to keep you comfortable and asleep.
"I really love holding you."
With his quiet confession lingering in the air, he felt you release a big sigh, the soft exhalation brushing his chin. Then… he felt you squeeze his hand three times.
He froze, eyes widening.
He desperately wanted to see your face, see if you had woken up. He tried lowering his head, peering to see your face. He could just make out your soft lashes, closed, brushing the top of your cheek.
He returned the pattern, three squeezes, hoping it wasn't a fluke. Hoping that you remembered.
Instead, your eyes fluttered. A mumbled, "Five more minutes, please," escaped from your mouth as you shuffled around to get comfortable.
Grace was already panicking, red rising up his neck to his ears and his hand began to shake in yours.
That's when you became fully conscious. Your head popped up from his chest, eyes staring at your hands holding each other. You looked down, seemingly taking in the fact that another body was next to you. Not even next to you. Under you.
Your eyes snapped to Grace's, his mouth opened in the shape of an 'O', words flashing through his brain, but nothing catching.
You both stared at each other for a few seconds, before you blurted out, "You're a good pillow!" before you cringed at yourself.
His eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly in disbelief. A shocked laugh escaped him, causing you to giggle at your own awkwardness.
"You are! You are a great pillow!"
"That is not…what I expected the first thing you would say when you woke up," Grace huffed out in between laughs.
"Oh, really? What did you expect me to say?"
"Oh, something like, get off of me, what are you doing, Rocky, get help?"
"I would never!"
Grace looked down at you, laughs subsiding. A softer expression spread across his face and his eyes flickered between your own and your hands holding his.
You looked back at him, before saying,"I like holding hands with you."
A smile broke out on his face, like sunshine entering through a window as bright as a sunrise.
"I do too."
You smiled back. You then rested your head back down on his chest. "I was serious about those extra five minutes."
You peeked back up at him, "If you are ok with it?"
"Yeah, I'm ok with it. Anything you need."
He saw your cheeks move as a small smile graced your lips, you tucking away back into his chest, hiding.
You both laid there, listening to each other breath, and Grace went back to rubbing circles into your skin on the back of your hand.
Five minutes later, Rocky's hamster ball tumbled into the room.
"Humans awake! Five minutes passed. Time to get up. Time go to help Rocky! No more hugging without Rocky!"
You looked up at Grace, then Rocky, and back to Grace before rolling your eyes.
"Rocky is so punctual."
"Rock's practically an alarm clock. Always comes in at the exact moment I don't want them to."
"Rocky hear humans. Humans talk bad about Rocky. Not appreciate Rocky."
Grace and you stumbled out of the bed together, talking over each other about how much you appreciate Rocky and how good Rocky is, how helpful Rocky is.
Rocky laughs at you two, rolling toward the lab.
As you walk back to the main part of the ship to get some breakfast before beginning your work, you bump Grace with your shoulder, smiling.
He responds by grabbing your hand, bold for once, smiling back at you.
Idk sometimes I really hate the fact that I was born into a family that can't give me any help in this job market that is mostly dependent on "hey i know someone that does something let me talk to them and see what they can do for you."
And i really think i chose the wrong major holy shit
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Summary: They call him the Devil. They tell her to steer clear of him. They say that he'll steal her soul. But Lily Callaghan came to Small Heath fleeing monsters and unspeakable horrors. And her soul seems a small price to pay in exchange for the things Tommy Shelby has to offer her.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, smut, past sexual assault, suicidal thoughts and behaviors, canonical major character deaths, codependency, and polyamory including threesomes.
Word Count: 717,732
Part 1: These Devilish Intentions
They strike a deal on a bridge in the dead of night. It is sealed. It is done. It is everlasting. It is the beginning of something neither of them ever expected to find.
Part 2: Does the Devil Have a Heart
Tommy loved her from the first moment he saw her. Though it would take him a while to actually realize it.
Part 3: Teach Me How
Lily wants Tommy to teach her something.
Part 4: Barren
Lily receives some news.
Part 5: Not Afraid of a Little Blood
When an incident occurs that leaves Lily horribly embarrassed, Tommy has to find a way to reassure her that a bit of blood is of no consequence to him.
Part 6: The Shovels Against the Wall
Tommy isn’t sure if he can forgive himself after a nightmare causes him to lash out with unintended consequences.
Part 7: Stitched into Skin
Tommy wants to get a tattoo of Lily's name.
Part 8: Thunder
Thunderstorms bring bad memories.
Part 9: Bound in Blood
To some, a blood bond is as sacred as marriage.
Part 10: Red Right Hand
Trouble comes to them in the form of a crate of stolen guns, a bloodthirsty inspector, and a blonde barmaid.
Part 11: Don't Look Back
Families are complicated.
Part 12: Bloodied & Broken
An incident at the betting shop nearly costs Tommy far more than just a few shillings.
Part 13: Dance of Darkness
Tommy’s latest plan brings with it many unexpected dangers. Some new, and some from what was thought to be the long forgotten past.
Part 14: Everything
Lily doubts her place in Tommy and Grace’s life in light of some new developments.
Part 15: Accepted
Lily and Grace bond over the knowledge that the Shelby matriarch will never fully accept them.
Part 16: Lady of the Various Sorrows
Lily is finally forced to come clean to Tommy about her inability to have children.
Part 17: Not Yours
John says something regarding Lily's relationship with Charlie that cuts deeply.
Part 18: Moth
Lily has a rather uncommon phobia.
Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter
A tragedy occurs that threatens to truly break Tommy and Lily beyond repair. With threats coming at them from every direction, they struggle to survive while the agony of loss is still howling in their bones.
Part 20: Smoky Kisses
There's nothing like some smoke in the lungs to make the head spin.
Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir
Mistakes, both those from the past and those still yet to be made, threaten to alter Tommy and Lily's lives forever.
Part 22: This Misery We've Made
Tommy's personal life is starting to cause issues in his ability to rise up in political spaces, forcing him to make a choice that has the potential to fracture his relationship with the woman he loves.
Part 23: No More
Lizzie's announcement at dinner reopens some old wounds.
Part 24: Dirty Little Secret
After so much hardship, Tommy just wants to do something nice for his lover.
Part 25: My Darling One
Tommy overreacts when he learns of the crush his secretary has on his lover.
Part 26: Do You Love Me
They are entangled down to their very souls. So intricately that it is hard to know where one ends and the other begins. Lily has often wondered if either she or Tommy could survive separation. She supposes now she will finally get to find out.
Part 27: Fuss
He always gets so worried every time she gets sick.
Part 28: Still Here
The trauma of almost losing each other is not easily healed.
Part 29: Back From Under the Ground
As their dealings with their enemies reaches new dangerous ground, a blow in their personal life threatens to finally bring Tommy and Lily to their knees.
Part 30: Forever Yours
With the work all done and their wagon burned to ash, maybe there actually can be a bit of peace and happiness for them in this life, after all.
Part 31: Now We Rest
Snapshots of Tommy and Lily's honeymoon in Switzerland.
Part 32: Peace at Last
Lily reflects on the years following her marriage, and the life she and Tommy have built together.
Sometimes you cursed the house you lived in. Cursed it for being so big, so empty. For making the worst noises echo and the nicest ones slip by, unnoticed, hidden between the gaps in the furniture. When Tommy was away you fell into the cracks with them. Got lost with the noise. Even with the maids in their quarters, you were alone; the house suffocated and laid you bare all at once, left you exposed yet drowning. You hated it as much as you loved it.
This night was no exception. You stood in the bathroom, goosebumps across the uncovered portions of your skin. The mirror was fogged, clouding your image, but you stared at it nonetheless. You were in your underwear - freshly showered, with an open dressing-gown covering your back and shoulders. A vision of silk and hopeful thinking. The thinking, of course, being that maybe your husband would come home early. And that, maybe, he would compliment you on what you wore, and how your hair was still nicely styled from the day - despite your showering. That he would see the effort you made, and accept it as a return for his.
After all, he worked every day for you, for the kids, for the house you sometimes hated. All you could offer in return was this. A half-dressed partner, ready if the mood took him. Waiting to take the ache away like the whiskey on his desk.
Sighing, you turned the tap and grabbed your toothbrush. Tommy wasn’t there to see you, and the longer you stood staring, the more you wanted to change and disappear into the folds of the house.
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