As I get more and more back into writing, I figured it was about time I actually make a proper pinned post!
My name is Spades! You can also call me just Spade, or some sort of card pun, I guess. I can't stop you lmao. I use mainly he/him pronouns, but I'm open to other pronouns if you wanna get creative :) Just please don't use she/her, and try to avoid they/them.
I am Canadian! If you see a stray U somewhere, no you didn't /lh
This blog is a trans safe space, and you won't catch me talking about the forbidden wizard book or it's creator other than to say FUCK J.K Rowling.
Also, here is your obligatory "Don't feed my work to AI"
There's going to be some NSFW talk on here, so Minors, Do Not Interact!
I can be pretty lenient about what I'll write about, and you can always ask me if you're unsure!
I will write fluff, I'll try writing smut, and if you catch me in a certain mood, I'll write angst.
I have written for Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Graves so far!
I have an OC! His name is Spade, too! (He actually came first, and I decided I really liked that name lol) I might write stuff for him, but you can always be nosey about him and ask me all sorts of questions!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Imagine being the waypoint operator for the 141s comms, in charge of directing their chatter to the correct channels when needed, right?
Your station acts as an added layer of security, encrypting the route the channels take in the event they are hacked. Sure, you work with other teams but the 141 are your main group.
One...small caveat of being in charge of their comms, is that you have to actually listen to their conversations in case they request a patch to someone.
Which leads to you hearing...way more than you'd like.
Gaz: sir. Stop poking it. Soap's waitin'
Ghost: think he had health issues. Look at his femur, odd texture.
Gaz: oh shit, really? Let me seeâ
Followed by far too graphic descriptions of the poor blokes leg. You had to skip lunch that day. You do most days they have missions, gross fuckers act like you can't hear all the shit they say.
Meaning, of course, that you hear too damn much about their sex lives or lack thereof due to missions. It's nothing new, and given you know what they look like, it doesn't paint a bad picture.
But this time? You're shocked by the subject of conversation.
Soap: ahm tellin' you, it's been too damn long. The poor lass is crying for attention!
Gaz: why not the guy from IT? He's eager enough.
Soap: no. Not really feeling that right now. Actually, you know who sounds nice?
There's that characteristic smirk in soaps voice you've long since learned to identify. You absently hear ghost prompt him to continue, wondering how the hell price tunes them out so wellâ
Soap: our waypoint.
You choke, splutter. Your own coughing making it impossible to hear gaz and ghosts reactions, but when you tune back in soap is viciously defending himself
Soap: no, no! Listen! Have you heard that voice?? Christ, just that and I could get a better wank than I've had all month! C'mon, ghost, I know you agreeâ
Ghost: you know they can hear you right now, johnny? Got anything to say?
Gaz: *chuckles* besides asking to get his dick wet? Maybe beg for a moan or something?
....silence
Soap: ....hey waypoint? You there?"
You shouldn't. Christ you shouldn't respond.
All comms are recorded, and waypoints should only talk when absolutely necessary butâ but the 141 comms are wiped every 24 hours and...
You lean close to your mic, voice weaker than you'd like.
Who do y'all headcanon as a walking furnace? Like, the best at relieving your aches and cramps through their warmth alone.
Naturally, I wanna say Soap or Ghost of course, but! I could def see, like, Graves being super warm.
Though ig the difference would be while Soap would probs be more than willing to just lay on you, and with Ghost you'd get a straight yes or no answer, Graves will gloat about you needing his help.
The man's a bastard and he likes to have his ego trips. He'd probably hold you close, pressing against whatever hurts, but yap the whole time like talking you through it will help all while you're imagining wrapping your hands around his neck if he doesn't shut up.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Relationship: Simon âGhostâ Riley x AFAB Reader
Characters: Simon âGhostâ Riley, Reader, Raphaela (OFC), Johnny âSoapâ MacTavish (mentioned)
Tags: Roommates to Lovers, Slow Burn, Living Together, Gardens & Gardening, House Cleaning, Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley is Bad At Feelings, Protective Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Needs a Hug, Touch-Starved Simon "Ghost" Riley, Anxiety Attacks, Family Dynamics, taking care of reader, AFAB | Assigned Female at Birth Reader-Insert, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, They/Them Pronouns for Reader-Insert, LGBTQ Character, Military Soldier Simon "Ghost" Riley, Military Inaccuracies, Drunken Flirting, Bathrooms, Smoking, Touch-Starved, Other Additional Tags to be Added
Summary: Simon meets Reader through a mutual friend and his life is changed forever.
Read on Ao3 || Join my Tag List || Chapter 2
A/N: Inspiration for fic
Chapter 1
You meet Simon through an old friend of yours,, who happens to be his neighbor when your friend decides to have a party. Simon is in a skull-imprinted balaclava sipping a beer in a far corner of the room in blue jeans, combat boots, and a shirt that stretches across his upper chest and shoulders so nicely. Feeling relaxed thanks to the alcohol, you go over and introduce yourself. You let him know you realize he probably wants to be alone and you respect that. You even offer to help him leave and make an excuse for him.
He pulls up his mask revealing nice pale pink lips that sip his beer before replying with a small smile. âNah vanks, luv. Told âem Iâd be âere.â
You smile and nod, âYeah, they can be quite coercive when they wanna be and then make you feel guilty as fuck if you leave or donât show, but theyâre a great friend otherwise.â
He shrugs. âNah worse van Johnny,â he replies and nods over to Johnny, another new acquaintance youâve made. Heâs rather loud and a bit brash but rather funny and charming.
âMind if I join you?â You request permission.
He pulls a chair up almost against his seat and motions for you to sit. You sit down and lean back. Simon manspreads in the wooden chair and you sip your beer trying not to giggle. He glances at you. You shake your head.
Standing up, you ask, âBeer?â He nods. You hold your empty hand out. It takes him a moment before he hands you his beer. âBe right back,â you comment.
What you donât know is that Raphaela has been eye the two of you comes over to talk to Simon.
âHowâs it going?â She inquires.
He grunts and crosses his arms.
âDonât be like that. Thatâs my little sibling youâre talking to. You hurt her, I will kill you,â she warns, an ex-navy veteran herself. It makes him smile and nods.
He holds up three fingers like a Boy Scout. âPromise.â
She smirks and rolls her eyes.
She grows serious and quietly mentions. âThey donât have many people. The ones they do, they will do anything for. Be careful with them. Sheâs family.â
He reaches out and pats Raphaelaâs arm. âI understand, Sergeanâ.â Raphaela nods.
âWhat are you two gossiping about?â You ask, approaching the two and breaking the serious moment.
âYeah,â he informs. You take both beers and hitch them against the edge of the back of the chair, smack them good, popping the tops off, and catching them. Holding out Simonâs beer to him.
âMy one and only party trick. Congrats, youâve witnessed it.â
âMan, you can do so much more than that,â encourages Raphaela. You roll your eyes and sit down with a gulp of your beer.
âThis person can draw like you wouldnât believe,â she compliments. You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up. Raphaela then does the one thing you didnât think she would do. Simon and you follow her hand. You immediately look down, your face heating up so much. Your heart is pounding and begin to feel a bit dizzy. She points to the colored drawing of her spouse and her that you drew for their first anniversary. âEntirely self-taught,â she adds.
âI hate you,â you murmur. Your body heats up and can feel pinpricks of sweat forming in your hair. You chug the beer, stand up, exchanging a look with her before thrusting the glass into her chest. You glance at Simon. âExcuse me, Simon. Bathroom calls.â
You go to the bathroom in Raphaelaâs bedroom. In the bathroom, you slide down the door and lock it, sitting on the tile floor, trying to stop an anxiety attack. You breathe slow and deep. You realize this may have been a bad idea and blindly reach up, unlocking the door. Tears flow down your cheeks. God, youâre at a party with your family and their friends, and youâre stuck in the fucking bathroom having an anxiety attack because your big sister was trying to be a wingman and showing you off .
You have no idea how long itâs been, only been stuck in this feeling of embarrassment, humiliation, and feeling like youâre a burden to your found family. You moved to the large bathtub behind the shower curtain wanting to hide. You run your hand down your face wiping some of the tears off then wipe your hand on your own blue jeans.
Suddenly, a knock is heard on the door. You freeze and try to sink a little more, only your eyes and the top of your head above as you wait and listen. Simon calls your name. âRalph asked me to come check on you,â his accent rolled off his tongue so easily and nicely. It calmed you a little. Your panicked mind trying to decide if you should respond or be silent but remained indecisive.
âWell,â he huffed. âShe said to âget âem out of my bathroom and put some water in âemâ,â he quotes, trying to mimic her American accent. You giggle at his poor attempt. âMind if I come in?â
You bite your lip, nodding before remembering to speak. âYeah,â you reply, your voice breaking. You sniffle and dip further in the tub. The bathroom door slowly opens. âYer dressed, luv?â
You snort, wiping your nose. âThereâs guests here. âCourse I am,â you can hear how shaky your voice is and hate it.
His steps are so quiet as he approaches the tub. You can see his form through the curtain, watching him. He stops and asks. âYa gonna come ouâ?â
âNo,â you state simply.
âWhy noâ?â He sits on the toilet, body angled towards the tub.
You open your mouth but close it, unsure how to explain. âLook gross,â you quietly reply. He tilts his head. âYou do know Iâm military, righâ?â
âMost of Raphâs friends are, so I assumed.â
âIâm active,â he informed.
âOh.â You shift in the tub and slowly pull the curtain back. Your red-rimmed eyes peer over the tub at him. âShe didnât tell me.â He frowned and nodded.
âSo, youâre on leave?â You inquire. He nods again.
âHow long?â You follow up.
âThree moâ weeks tâJohnny ân I âead on back.â
âOh, ok.â You accept.
His eyes scan over you, able to see more thanks to his height despite sitting. You look inside the tub then back at him. âWanna join me?â You quirk a brow at him.
You can see he furrowed his brow despite the mask. He holds out a sweaty bottle of water. âWould ya drink vis fer me firsâ?â
Slowly, your hand comes out of the tub and takes it from him. Shifting, you lean back, eyes remaining on Simon, and open the water. Once the cool liquid hits your tongue, you realize how thirsty you are. You drink half of it, lick your lips, and take a breath before returning it to your lips to drink. Your eyes never leave him.
When Simon sees you shift, he can see how damp the collar of your shirt is from wiping off your face. It breaks his heart to see your ruddy, flushed complexion from being so easily upset.
You finish the bottle, put the cap on, lick your lips, and hand the empty bottle back to him. He throws it out next to him and takes another bottle from his back pocket. You smile as he hands it to you when he stands up. You take it and hold it. You shift up, pushing your knees against your chest giving room for Simon.
âYa, sure?â He questions. You shrug. âDonât have to if you donât want to.â
He remains silent and steps in, slowly sitting down and adjusting to give himself room. You huff a laugh and turn sideways, sticking your legs over the tub's edge. Simon does the same. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers you one. You stare at it before pulling one out. You dig in your pocket and light it. Theyâre smooth and nice Turkish ones. You nearly moan at the first exhale. Simon lit one up too, he looked at you surprised by the sound.
âI havenât smoked in years and you got the good ones.â
You could see the wide smile and it reached his eyes. âDonâ vink Iâve eveh been complimenâed on me fag choice.â
He raised it to his lips, inhaling. âI admit I prefer a well-rolled cigar with a good shot of rum or whiskey if Iâm gonna indulge but that shit is expensive.â
He scoffs. âVatâs an indulgence.â
âHey, I work a shit job for shit pay, and even with government assistance, Iâm happy when ends meet. Anything extra makes sure I have gas, food, and my meds.â You inhaled deeply then started coughing. You groan. âFuck.â You put the cigarette to your lips, holding it as you open the water bottle. Simon takes the cigarette from you, holding it as you take a gulp of water before capping it back. âLike I said, I don't smoke much.â
He holds it out to you and you take it, your fingers brushing. âThanks.â He nods and takes another inhale of his.
âFigure Raph would be loadinâ ya up wiv ter green,â he comments.
âI only do it when I stay the night. Donât wanna drive intoxicated or anything. Also, my meds only work so well. Gotta love fucked up genetics.â You inhale again and slowly exhale trying to be silly with it. It makes you smile. You miss Simon smiling as he watches you before he inhales his cigarette again.
You two remain silent and finish your cigarettes. Tears burn your eyes and you look away as they slowly fall again down your cheek. You wipe your face on your arm. âI should head home,â you say as you begin to shift to get up.
Simon pulls you back down and against his side. He wraps his arm around your small shoulders. âI told Raph I would take care of ya. Yer not ok tâgo anywheh, let alone drive.â
You sigh heavily and go slack in his arm. Your face falls against his chest as tears fall. He shifts in the tub, taking up the space as he pulls you into his lap. He presses you against his chest, arms wrapped tightly against you as you silently cry. He coos at you, petting your hair, and slowly pulls your ponytail out to card his fingers through. He slowly works knots that have formed in the strands as he comforts you. âI got ya, luvie. We got all nighâ,â he murmurs. You nuzzle against his chest as tears flow. At some point in the night, you fall asleep on him.
When Raphaela and her spouse come to quietly check on you two. Sheâs at first a little worried that you two got busy, but when she finds Simon and you cuddling in her tub, she takes a quick picture before he realizes it to send to you later.
You havenât had anyone hold you without expectation or need in so long. You havenât been taken care of by someone else in years. What you donât know is Simon is going to change that.
At some point, your cell came out of your back pocket and Simon put his contact info in it without you knowing.
You stayed the night at Ralphâs while Simon went home. She texted you the image of you two in the tub cuddled up. You keep it in your phoneâs hidden images files since youâre not sure if heâs ok with it or not. It makes you feel warm looking at it. It makes you feel comforted and remember how his arms felt around you. You look over it when you get stressed, finding comfort in the memory.
Thinking about Graves being kinda subby... Like, this man will never admit to it, but he doesn't need to. The moment you touch his cock he's squirming oh so slightly, if you tease him just right you'll get to hear his voice pitch up into a petulant whine that he'd rather be dead than admit to making, and if you get your mouth on him? His eyes roll back beautifully, and his hips stutter like he doesn't know a thing about control.
So now I'm thinking about Simon seeing you play a renovation game and making a joke about how you could always do that irl.
At least, you think he's joking. It's just another one of those jokes about gamers being lazy, right? How they will do anything in a game, but never in real life. It can be hard to tell when Simon's joking, with his dry sense of humor, so it's a 50/50.
Except he's not joking.
You want to rearrange the living room? Go for it. Redecorate the whole place? Tell him when. Paint a room a new colour? He's already buying the supplies.
You almost give him a heart attack the first time you swung a sledgehammer, so you're banned from that, but that's fine. You won't complain about getting to watch Simon knock down walls.
Wouldn't be shocked if the whole reason he moves out of a shitty flat was to move into a house where you can truly experiment. He loooves the idea of coming home from a mission and letting you give him a tour of all the changes you've made.
Or, alternatively..
Johnny who likes to rest his chin on your shoulder while you play your games. Perfect companion to anyone that struggles with choosing colours, you never end up disappointed with whatever he chooses.
Makes a fuss about the state that some of the places are in when you first start, just to try to get you to laugh, and makes a point of acting wounded if you suggest that he might've lived like that at one point. (It's true)
Y'know, a little while ago I thought of something to write for Johnny, but it was late and I was half asleep so I thought the worst thought a writer can have.
"I'll write it in the morning"
And now I can't remember what it was :( but I keep remembering that I wanted to write something for Johnny
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Back on my self indulgent shit, but y'know how whenever someone makes a streamer!reader it's almost always when they've got a big following? What about small streamer!reader, who's still awkwardly talking to no one?
You've heard it's easier to start streaming or recording when you have a friend in a call to talk to, but unfortunately they couldn't make it this time, and you're still trying to keep a consistent schedule for the few people that pop in for a bit and the ones that you know leave your streams going in the background.
It's difficult, there's no one to bounce off of and you know you're being quieter because of it, but what can you do? You talk about the game you're playing, little details or how far you are in your task, whenever you can but it always trails off awkwardly because no one is talking in your chat.
Until someone new pops in. You know it's not one of your lurkers because you watched the viewer count jump up by one before they start chatting.
And fuck, do you cling to this new chatter. Doing what you can to keep them entertained with your limited knowledge of how all this works. You ask them questions, they ask you some too, and you actually have a back and forth with this person.
You ask what they do for work at one point and they tell you they're military. A sergeant.
They also admitted that they had been looking for a way to kill some free time, and stumbled across your channel. They claim they can't believe how low your viewer count is when you have such a nice voice. You tell them that people have to actually stick to your stream to hear it.
You admit that you usually employ the help of a friend to keep yourself talking, but they couldn't make it today.
The rest of the stream feels like it goes so much smoother with this new person, who you jokingly refer to as "Sergeant Suds" based off of their username, and you're happy with it when it's done.
Considering they're military, you don't expect them to be a regular on your streams, you imagine they're probably pretty busy.
You discover that you're partially right. They aren't a regular, but they apparently employ the help of their squad to make sure you have someone to talk to. Sure, out of the three new usernames that appear in your chat, one of them doesn't say much at all, and one of them types a bit like a grandpa, but that's still activity that you can count on.
i mean, just look at him. you can see it in his eyes, can't you?
i can picture him literally biting off a man's fingers. like torture or whatever isn't working so he ramps it up and just chomps (i remember being told as a kid to watch my fingers when giving the horses a carrot bc it takes the same amount of strength to bite off a finger as it does to bite a carrot or something).
it translates to the bedroom. of course, its not as harsh as it was out the field. he bites your skin gently, your thighs and working his way up to your neck.
he leaves so many hickies on your neck, you look like a pair of horny kids. he leaves other bite marks on you, enough so that your friends ask if you've gotten a puppy.
johnny is also that fucker that will get your bite mark tattooed on him. you do an impression into a malleable material first and the artist draws from that. johnny get its on his bicep like you're the one that bites him.
Yâall say this but donât support fluff nor angsty fics if it doesnât have smut attached to it. You canât have both. And then yâall donât reblog or comment on your favs works so they go back to the smut. In the words of Kendrick Lamar, itâs not enough.
on top of this, the month/year just started, let ppl breath
first and last time Iâll ever pitch in on fandom discourse, because I like to keep my blog centered on whimsyâbut these posts are so tiring to read.
if you canât find the fic you want to read, write it.
I wonât listen to the âbut I canât writeâ talk, because literally no one can unless they start. my first fics are an absolute mess. the grammar is fucked beyond repair, and Iâm sure there are words in there that arenât even English. itâs why theyâre safely hidden in my personal folders and not online. theyâre training grounds, full of cheesy dialogue and poorly written lines, but they brought improvement after improvement.
if youâre lazy and you donât want to write, then interact with the writers who do.
if youâre afraid of being found out by friends and relatives who follow your blog, anonymous messages with compliments in the inbox do wonders. share positive feedback. show interest. itâll push the writer to follow certain trends in order to keep the community they built happyâwhile being happy themselves.
fluff-exclusive stories are the ones with the lowest interaction on Tumblr and AO3.
even angst and MCD are more prolific in that regard, because fluff-exclusive multi-chapter stories lack the catharsis that things like sex or confrontation bring. unless the author is writing it as a passion project, the lack of feedback will have a negative impact on their will to continue, and they will inevitably switch to something that creates more discourse and interactionâbecause the beauty of writing also resides in sharing.
most of the time, fluff writers end up sitting at a table on their own, while the food they made is picked apart by a few who wonât even thank them for preparing it.
also, stop shaming smut writers.
sex isnât something that needs to be further demonized. the world as it is today is doing a fairly good job of shaming sex by itself; we donât need to spread more hate toward something that is literally biologically made to be fucking okay.
thatâs it. write it yourself, or share how much you loved it. and stop being mean about sex, for christâs sake.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Yâknow what? My birthday is tomorrow, so self indulgent birthday post.
Thinking of Johnny asking what youâre doing for your birthday and being shocked when you just shrug and mention that the tradition is a cupcake for breakfast and fast food for dinner (it used to be whatever you wanted for dinner when you were a kid, but making those choices came for free with adulthood).
That was it.
Thinking of Johnny struggling to wrap his head around it. Because birthdays were an event for him and his family. Lots of birthdays, always with one big thing, and with a big enough family that it was always a birthday party. He canât understand the fond tone you use with such a tiny celebration.
So, naturally, he takes matters into his own hands. A party that wasnât as big as the ones he grew up with, but he was working with limited time.
Safe to say, the day of, you were more than a little shocked to come back from your fast food run to find that Johnny had managed to smuggle his team into your apartment (including Ghost, who looked like he had been told about none of this if the way he was awkwardly standing there as if sitting down without permission would instantly kill him), along with snacks and a proper cake, homemade and putting your store bought cupcakes to shame.