Hi! I really adore your writing. You have really caught each guys essences.
If your requests are open, I was thinking of something like how each guy would carry you and in what type of scenario. I thought Zayne would do bridal style and Sylus over the shoulder, but if you see it differently, feel free to do it as you see fit 😊
How they would carry you (LaDS)
Note: This was such a cute request!! I had fun writing it, though I definitely rewrote Rafayel's like three times cause I couldn't make up my mind on the scenario. I went with a different idea for Zayne, but I think you'll like it ;)
I really hope you enjoy this! And I hope I wrote them all well. Thank you for the request.
Also, I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.
---
Sylus *over the shoulder*
“My feet hurt,” you grumble.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such cheap shoes,” Sylus hums, voice bordering on between teasing and mocking.
You shoot the man a glare. He gives you a smug smile in return, arms crossing over his chest.
Of course he’s right. But you can’t admit that, not after you made such a fuss about ignoring his warning before the night began. You had been stubborn, maybe a little too stubborn. The restaurant you were going to was just so nice, how could you not wear heels? You wanted to look nice for your date, and they paired so well with your dark cocktail dress. Of course you’d forgotten about how much they hate your feet.
Every step feels like a bunch of nails digging into your feet. Why did you park so far away? Oh right, because you thought the night was so nice, you wanted to take a little walk before dinner…Not your best idea in retrospect.
Another step makes you wince.
Sylus suddenly stops. This forces you to pause as well, your arm curled around his elbow as you walk. You glance at him questioningly, trying to hide the pain, not wanting to bother him further by complaining. Or endure more of his teasing.
But his gaze burns over you intensely. You shift a little, heat climbing up your cheeks, but putting your weight on your other foot only makes that prickling pain shoot up your leg, and you can’t stop your lips from twisting into a light grimace.
For a brief moment, Sylus’ face softens. He lets out a sigh before removing his jacket. Your brow furrows as he slips it around your waist, the warmth of the fabric covering your bare legs.
“Sylus?”
“I’m not so cruel as to make a woman suffer, kitten,” he hums, securing the coat by tying the sleeves. He then leans up to your face, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Especially when she got all dolled up and pretty just for me.”
Before you can blush even darker, you’re suddenly being thrown over his broad shoulder. You let out an undignified squeak, instinctively squirming to try and get out of his grip. You kick your legs, hands scrambling against his back.
“Sylus!”
“Careful, kitten, otherwise I might drop you,” Sylus warns, voice dancing with amusement. His hand slips below the hem of his jacket to curl over the back of your thighs, locking them to his chest. You freeze, heart fluttering wildly.
What a brute.
Though, there’s really nothing you can do to escape this man. Not that you really want to.
“Sylus, seriously, this isn’t funny,” you still whine, trying to keep face.
“Would you rather walk barefoot?”
Your nose scrunches at the thought. While you are in a nicer part of the city, it still sounds gross. You guess this is the lesser of two evils. Letting out a defeated sigh, you prop your elbows against his back to try to get comfortable. Also trying to ignore how defined his muscles feel against you.
Sylus hums approvingly, “There you go, kitten. Just relax.”
His hand tenderly squeezes your thigh and you’re actually thankful he can’t see just how red your face is. Probably as red as the wine you had with dinner.
It’s definitely embarrassing. Especially when you pass by a few people, catching their odd stares. But it’s hard to care when Sylus starts massaging your legs, his touch overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to his previous actions. His thumb presses firm circles into your ankle, drawing a breathy sigh from you.
“Feel better, sweetie?” He murmurs, and you can feel his voice rumble through your body.
“Definitely helps,” you breathe, “Though you could have just carried me in a more comfortable way, Sy.”
“Now, where’s the fun in that?”
“This isn’t fun for me,” you grumble petulantly.
Sylus shifts, suddenly putting you down. You blink in surprise when you find yourself sitting on the hood of a familiar car, your lover leaning over you. His fingers trace your leg, grazing up your arm, until he can cup your cheek, bringing your faces so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.
“And how can I make it up to you, my dear?” He purrs lowly, lips grazing yours teasingly.
“Well-” Letting out a shaky breath, you reach up and slip your arms around his neck. A blush still coats your cheeks, but you give him your best innocent look, pouting your lips as you mess with the silver strands at the nape of his neck. “I think a full massage at home might make up for the discomfort. The last one you gave me was pretty nice.”
Sylus quirks a brow in amusement, “Is that all?”
“Nope. I also want you to watch a sappy romcom with me. Then I’ll forgive your brutish ways.”
That breaks the intense air between you. Sylus chuckles, the sound deep and fond, making you smile. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
“I accept your terms, kitten.”
“Good. Now chop chop, mister! Let’s get home!”
---
Zayne *koala style*
“Darling.”
Your eyes flicker open, eyelids heavy. Letting out a sleepy hum, you drag your blurry gaze to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes. Zayne kneels beside the car, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek to keep you from falling back asleep. You lean into his touch with a content sound, making him smile.
“We’ve arrived home,” he murmurs, voice quiet, “Would you like me to carry you inside?”
You nod, head still fuzzy with sleep. All you can really focus on is that you don’t want his touch to go away. It feels so nice.
“Alright. Can you wrap your arms around my neck for me, darling?”
You reach out blearily, your fingers blindly finding their way into the soft strands of hair at his nape. Zayne carefully turns you until your legs dangle out of the car, giving him a better angle to slip an arm under you. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, drawing you flush against his chest.
You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting out another happy hum as he readjusts you so you can tuck your face into his neck. One of his hands stays secured under you, the other sliding up to hold the back of your neck tenderly.
It’s almost impossible to not fall back asleep like this. Surrounded by his warmth, his fingers massaging your neck so lovingly, the gentle sway of his body as he walks. Your eyes flicker closed again as you nuzzle deeper into your lover.
You love when Zayne holds you like this. Not that bridal style isn’t nice, but this is just so much closer, so much easier for you to wrap yourself around him. Plus you like the feeling of his fingers gripping your thighs, reminding you of just how strong the doctor is. It just makes you feel…safe.
“Wish you’d carry me like this more,” you mumble thoughtlessly into his neck.
“Is that so?” Zayne hums, a small smile curling his lips.
“Mhm.”
You press a sluggish kiss to his collarbone to show just how much you like it. Zayne’s steps falter imperceptibly. But you notice, a bubbly giggle escaping you.
“Don’t trip, Doctor Zayne,” you tease sleepily.
He pinches your thigh in warning. “Perhaps a certain hunter shouldn’t be so distracting.”
You squeak, pulling yourself further up by his shoulders. Zayne chuckles, palm smoothing over the spot, though he didn’t actually pinch you that hard. Still. You draw back a little to pout at him.
“So mean, Doctor Zayne. What if I bruise?”
“My apologies, darling,” he murmurs, not at all apologetic. You hold your pout, only weakening when he tilts his face up to brush your noses together. “I’ll be sure to treat it once we get inside. A kiss should do, hm?”
God, he’s so perfect. You’re not sure your heart can take it. The warmth behind his eyes, the small, rare show of affection. It leaves a lingering heat under your skin that turns your cheeks rosy pink, and you duck your face back into his shoulder to hide your blush.
“So, so mean,” you grumble.
A fond smile graces Zayne’s lips. If he’s being honest, he likes carrying you like this. He likes how you feel in his arms, your weight, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s not often you let him take care of you without complaint, so he takes full advantage of when you do. It helps calm whatever deep-seated need he has to look after you.
The fact that you’re so easy to fluster is a mere bonus.
You settle back into a comfortable silence, barely paying attention as Zayne navigates through your apartment complex. You only notice when he shifts his arm further under you so he can fish his keys from his back pocket and unlock your shared apartment.
He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as he carries you through your home, straight to your room. You grumble as he bends down to set you on the edge of the bed, your fingers tightening around his neck when he starts to draw back.
“Don’t go,” you plead softly.
“Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable clothes, sweetheart?”
“‘m already comfy,” you assure him, leaning against his chest, “Just take your pants off and cuddle with me.”
“What a bold patient I have,” he teases, though his voice dips into a low timber that makes you shiver.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, doctor,” you whisper, a little bashful, cheeks going warm again. “Just don’t want you to stop holding me.”
Zayne softens. His fingers trace along your heated cheek, drawing you back just enough so he can lean down and capture your lips in a lingering kiss. You press into him immediately, a delighted sigh passing your lips when he settles onto the bed beside you. When the kiss ends, you tuck yourself back into his side, content once again now that you get your way. A drawn-out yawn escapes you, and Zayne curls his arms around your waist, guiding you so your head can rest against his chest.
“Sleep now, I won’t go anywhere,” he promises softly into your hair.
“Mmm, love you, Zayne.”
“I love you too, my snowflake.
---
Rafayel *bridal style*
“Oh, “ you chirp, cool air washing over you as you step out of the venue, “it’s raining.”
The two of you were attending the opening night of Rafayel’s new exhibit. You’re surprised you didn’t even hear the rain, considering the streets look about flooded already. Puddles collect along the sidewalk, a small river running along the edge of the road. Paired with the rapidly setting sun, it leaves a chill in the air that makes you shiver slightly.
“I like it,” Rafayel hums and drapes an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You glance at him, biting back a smile when he playfully avoids your gaze, as if trying to keep your warm might hurt his “cool” factor. “The smell of the ocean is stronger when it rains, don’t you think? And the puddles look like tide pools.”
“They certainly do,” you giggle, “though neither of us are really prepared for the rain. Should we call a cab? I’d hate to ruin these shoes since you just got them for me.”
You look down at the kitten heels you’d worn for the event. They’re so cute, a soft baby blue color, decorated with little pearls. You remember pointing them out to Rafayel on one of your walks down the pier. They were just so pretty, and reminded you so much of him in a way, but the price was out of your range. Not that it deterred Rafayel, of course, who secretly went back the next day to get them for you.
A pair of shoes really shouldn’t mean that much to you, but every gift from Rafayel feels special. You can’t bear the thought of messing them up.
“Hmm, I think I have an easy solution.”
You let out a squeak when Rafayel suddenly ducks and sweeps you up into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden loss of balance. The sound of Rafayel’s laughter rings in the air, light and full of mirth, as he dashes into the rain with you.
“Rafayel!” You squawk and break into your own fit of laughter despite the icy cold rain immediately drenching your clothes. “Rafayel! Put me down!!”
“I’m already carrying you, putting you down would just be more work,” he teases, that infuriatingly charming smile pulling at his lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about the puddles, at least.”
“But we’re still getting soaked!” You squeal, trying to hide away from the rain by tucking your face into his neck. “Why didn’t we just call a cab?”
“A little rain won’t hurt us, yeah?”
“Says the merman. It’s freezing.”
Rafayel chuckles, the sound close to your ear. Warmth blooms across your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your temple, the touch lingering and soft with adoration, making everything slow down for just a moment.
“Then hold me tight.” he whispers, voice dipping to a low rumble that has your heart racing, “Take my warmth. It’s yours, my beloved bride.”
Any remaining complaints get lost somewhere in your throat. The heat under your skin rivals the cold. A dark blush coats your cheeks, and you try to bury yourself against his chest. You can’t hide from him though, your neck just as rosy, and you can practically feel Rafayel beaming with pride.
Stupid fish.
But he is warm.
You let out a wavering sigh, pressing the cold tip of your nose into the warm crook of his neck. Rafayel shivers, but his hold around you only tightens, as if he wants to envelop you in the heat of his body. It’s almost like being held by one of those heat up stuffies. It’s so comfortable, you can’t help but melt into him, fondness for the merman curling deep inside your bones.
“Do you always run this warm?” You murmur and rest your cheek against his shoulder so you can look at his face.
“Not always,” he hums. A stray drop of rain drips down his jaw and you reach to brush it away. Rafayel’s voice shakes almost imperceptibly at the touch, the tips of his ears going red, “For the most part, Lumerians endure harsh, cold temperatures, so we actually run colder than you humans.”
“Then why are you so warm?” You ask curiously.
His blush only spreads, until his cheeks match yours. The artist glances away, almost looking embarrassed to admit, “My fire evol is useful for more than just fighting wanderers, you know.”
Ah. So he can warm himself up with his evol. And he’s doing it to keep you warm.
The revelation fills your chest with a giddy kind of love. Like, a fuzzy, dizzy kind of love. You bite back the urge to keep teasing him, to see just how red he can get. God, how can you love this man so much? Every new thing you learn about him, every surprise he somehow pulls out of his sleeve, leaves you slipping further into the ocean of affection you’re already drowning in. The rain is nothing in comparison.
“I guess you’re my knight in shining armor, then,” you sigh wistfully, “Against the wanderers and the cold weather.”
“That’s right.” Rafayel puffs out his chest a little, almost like a preening bird. A giggle escapes your lips, and he gives you one of those heart-stopping smiles. “You should really thank your knight in shining armor, cutie. Otherwise I might not feel so inclined to swoop in to save you next time.”
“Well, thank you, Rafayel.” In the blink of an eye, you reach up and draw his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss. The artist jumps back, eyes wide as he stares down at your mischievous grin. “Even though we could have just taken a cab and avoided all of this.”
His shock quickly turns into a pout.
“You’re no fun, cutie.”
---
Xavier *piggyback style*
“Really, I’m fine, Xav-”
You wince as Xavier gently flexes your foot, hot pain prickling up your leg. The hunter gives you a rather disapproving look.
“You do not have to lie to me,” he sighs and lowers your foot back down, “I will not think less of you for being injured.”
Heat creeps up your neck, and you have to tear your eyes away from his soft, unassuming gaze. It really wasn’t that bad. While fighting a wanderer, you had dodged an attack too quickly, somehow, twisting your ankle in the process. You couldn’t just stop fighting though, so you had grit your teeth through the pain until you finished the wanderer off, and then collapsed on a nearby rock. That’s when Xavier had rushed over to you, asking what was wrong.
You attribute your embarrassment to the stubborn bit of pride you carry as a hunter, so used to taking care of yourself that you don’t often let others do it for you.
“I’m really okay, it’s probably just a sprain,” you grumble, “I’ll ice it when I get home.”
“And how exactly do you plan to get home?”
Your nose crinkles. Right. Glancing back at Xavier, you find him looking at you with a small, rather amused smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. The little punk. He really can be mischievous when he wants to, huh?
But you do not have an answer to his question. So you just shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. You’ll just have to rely on him this time it seems.
“Would you like me to carry you?”
Immediately, your blush spreads up your neck, painting your cheeks rosy and warm. Eyes wide, you look at him incredulously.
“Xavier, that’s- I don’t- What?”
“I can carry you.” The hunter tilts his head, much like an adorable puppy. Your heart flutters at the sight. How are you supposed to resist that?
“I mean,” you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck, “if you think that’s the best solution…”
“It’s the simplest one,” Xavier hums, quickly standing up, pulling you carefully to your feet as well.
He turns around, ducking a little so you can get on his back. You hesitate again, though.
“Are you sure?” You ask, voice wavering.
“Positive.” Xavier looks at you over his shoulder. That gentle smile curls his lips again. “Who wouldn’t want to carry a pretty girl on their back?”
God, you hate him sometimes. Shaking your head, you gingerly step closer. You curl your arms tentatively around his shoulders, careful to avoid his neck so you don’t choke him. Then you jump. Xavier catches you with ease, fingers slipping under your thighs to hold you as he stands up straight again. It only takes a moment for him to find his balance as you get comfortable, your chin tucked over his shoulder.
He hardly seems affected by your weight. Like he’s carrying a light backpack. It eases your consciousness a little.
“I always forget just how strong you are,” you mumble.
Xavier holds back a shiver at the way your breath warms his ear. His fingers tighten around your thighs though, thumbs massaging circles into your skin. You hum softly, facing tucking into the collar of his uniform. This is nicer than you thought it’d be.
“You could take a nap until we reach our destination if you’d like.”
“No,” you sigh, though you do feel suddenly exhausted, “That wouldn’t be fair. I want to keep you company.”
“Mm, okay. Then what should we talk about?” Xavier peeks at you, amusement curling in his chest at the thoughtful pout you give.
“How about…what we’ll get for dinner tonight? We did complete the mission, afterall, we deserve a treat.”
A low chuckle escapes the hunter. Tilting his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.
“Whatever you’d like, my star,” he hums, fondness warming his usually calm voice, “Is there something you have in mind?”
“That new diner opened down the block from us, we could try that!” You suggest, excitement lighting up your features, like a kid in front of a christmas tree. You look at him, smile brighter than any star he could compare you to. “What do you think?”
How could he ever resist you?
“Mmm, sounds delicious.”
“Perfect! We’ll go there then!”
You spend the rest of the walk back to the transit station talking about what dishes you might order, what movie to watch as you eat. Anything and everything. Neither of you notice the odd looks you get, too comfortable to care.
You all but forget about the pain in your ankle. Why focus on that when you can focus on the absolutely charming man willing to carry you all this way?
---
Can you tell which characters I main based on this? Just curious.
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Calling them by their Call-signs.
Mentioned: John Soap Mactavish, Simon Ghost Riley
The reader is a civilian. The scenarios are separate. The reader is not gender specific.
John Soap Mactavish
"Soap!" You shouted from the other room, which earned you fast footsteps to the said room. The door was swung open and there stood John Mactavish in all his glory.
You had a basket in your hands, leaning it against your hip and holding it upright.
John was frowning at you, unusually quiet. It was obvious he wanted you to have the first word.
You, all too aware of what you had done with the name-call, smiled innocently and started speaking.
"Do you have any black clothes I should throw in the bin?"
John audibly relaxed before cursing.
"Yer think dats funny, hen?"
"What do you mean, Soap?"
"Nae. Nae. Nae. Dats nae reserved for ya. Not when we're home."
You shrugged. You knew exactly why. Soap was who he was on duty. The man who would kill with orders and clean the field with efficiency. The name meant John was on track. That he was ready to make a run for it. And it being spoken in this domestic setting...? It made him upset. The fact you were doing it knowingly? He was annoyed.
"I don't understand, Soap. Why don't you want me to call you by your name?"
John's eyebrows furrow, and he lets out an exhausted grunt before making his way to you. He grabs the bin and just throws it to the ground before scooping you off of the ground.
You don't act surprised, you were kinda rooting for this. A grin betrays your play of innocence and stretches wide on your face.
"Soap aye? Soap. Fucking Soap? Fine. Let's go w' it."
"What--"
"Let me remind mah name, bonnie. Maybe muscle memory will help ya?"
John throws you on the bed a little roughly, and you can see just how annoyed he is.
"Wait John--"
"Och, it is John now? There we fucking go. Told ya muscle memory helps."
You grumbled, face incredibly red and a smirk accompanying it.
"Wait where are you going?!" You sat up abruptly, about to stop John because he made a move to take a step away from the bed.
"... Aye ah wasn't serious... Ah would never initiate without... ye ken... That's nae very... okay ta just throw ye like that cause lil ol' me was pished."
"John if you do not get your hands on me I swear to god---"
"Do nae have to tell me twice."
You add the clothes in the bin after.
Simon Ghost Riley.
You grab the remote and raise an eyebrow at Simon. He isn't looking at you, he is looking at his phone; scrolling away.
"Hey Ghost, you won't watch with me?"
Simon snaps his head up the moment the name is out of your mouth. He stops. Looks at you with widened eyes and a piss poor expression. What did he do?
"Sorry, love. Yes, yes I will."
"Hop close big boy." You pat the spot next to you and Simon plops himself right next to you. What did he even do?
He just sighs, throwing an arm around your shoulders and looking at the screen.
"Ghost, you think we got popcorn?"
"What did you just call me, love?"
"Ghost? Your name?"
Simon frowns. His blonde lashes flutter aggravatedly. He huffs in annoyance and slowly wraps a strand of your hair around his point finger.
"Since when I am Ghost to ya?"
"What are you saying?" You fake innocence, but don't make the mistake of looking at his face. You can't. You know how upset he must be- how annoyed he must look.
Ghost is, well, the Ghost. Ghost is cold, he is a weapon. He is a man who dug his own grave and crawled out of it like the legend he is. He is no man. He is more than that. Simon thought he had told you that. That the Ghost wasn't meant for your lips. He was always Simon with you in his house. He'd never dare to look at you when he is Ghost. When he is dirty, when he is corrupt.
The dark memories make him frown deeper. His eyes darken noticeably and you think about giving up on this name calling here and now.
"Ghost?" Simon parrots, then he laughs.He laughs, with tears in his eyes. "You think that's funny?"
"You are laughing...?"
"Call me that again."
"Simon, love--"
"No, none of that. Call me by my name."
"Are you sure I--" You turn to look at him. That's not the reaction you thought you would be triggering.... You clear your throat. Asking if he is sure is stupid. "Ghost."
"That's it, you want the Ghost?" Simon hooks his fingers all around your hair and grabs a fistful.
"Ghost, please, I was just joking." You are sweating. You look into Ghost's eyes; they are not as bright. His thoughts are not very bright either...
He grabs your hair and makes you face him, rotating your head however he likes gently with the grip he has on your hair. His lips catches yours, and immediately drowns you into a deep kiss.
The dark thoughts, the memories... All of them flicker away as if your lips was all he needed all along. His mind clears, and he can't even feel anything but a strange giddiness. He doesn't let it show on his face, or the pace of the kiss.
When you part away, you pant for air. Your lungs are burning and heart is skipping multiple beats. "My love..."
"Shhh shhh..."
It is no surprise that Ghost is a petty man. It is a surprise that it is turning you on. You swallow hard, his hand pulls your hair and positions your head however he likes. He has a go at your neck, down your collarbone and all under your jaw.
His heart is light, his mind is empty. He smiles as he presses his lips all over your warm skin.
You stop when Ghost has left your torso bare of cloth.
His eyes search for a hint of discomfort in your body, he finds nothing akin to it. Not with you. Never with you.
"Are you mad at me?" You barely manage, mind too foggy.
"I am having a good time. Are you mad at me?"
"For pulling my hair?"
"And for stripping your chest bare."
You laugh, holding his face in-between your hands. "I am having a good time, Simon."
"Y'know... I don't mind being the Ghost with you."
"No?"
"No."
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