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[cumikering]

Lifeguard Alex Keller x mermaid reader

6.1k | fluff, drowning, blood Alex hated storms. He was supposed to die in one

With the rapid swing of the boat, Alex lost his grip on the railing and lurched overboard.

He gasped, fighting for the surface with a mouthful of salt that made his tongue tingle from the potency, but the water didn’t let him. Fire roared in his lungs as his head pounded, limbs weighing more than he could lift. The cold his bones as he sunk into pure darkness where nothing began or ended.

The jolts of his body weakened. The world slowed as his eyes fluttered at the muted thunder and lightning above, dragged further and further from his grasp. The embrace of death was comforting as it enveloped him. But it was a figure, an eclipse against the crumbling sky, which drew him towards the surface.

Alex stirred under the pale blue sky to the squawks of seagulls in the distance, salt crusting on his skin. He wanted to believe it was someone, something, or maybe just the mercy of the sea, that he was dead one second, and wasn’t in the next. But he was right there on the golden sand breathing fresh air down his arid throat into his stinging lungs.

The rising sun had never been as beautiful. He was spared for the crime of being caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. It brought tears to his eyes.

So years later, when another midnight storm raged above the beach resort where he worked, he rolled over and pulled his blanket closer to himself. He was safe, he chanted to himself. He was not in the clutches of the unforgiving sea, but in his bed, dry and warm.

The next morning, as the sun peeked over the horizon, Alex left his quarters to tend to the pool. If the duration of the storm was of any indication, there was a lot of to clean up. He had to start early to finish in time for the festival that night.

The flood had poisoned the pool, leaving the water murky with pieces of wood and debris floating about. He started with the biggest pieces, hefting them out. When he tugged on a damaged signboard, he revealed a woman face down under it.

He ripped his shirt off and jumped in, hoisting her out of the pool. He laid her down and had to do a double take on her lower body. She had no legs, a tail instead which was bleeding, impaled by a fragmented wooden pole. Her blood had a metallic gleam to it as it combined with water onto the ground.

He shook off his surprise, reaching for her neck. Her body was stone cold, lips pale, and despite being weak, she still had a pulse. He promptly performed chest compressions, earning him a small cough, and another before the creature roused with a gasp. He sighed in relief.

You cowered away from Alex, scooting backwards and wincing from the wound where a human thigh would be.

“You’re… You’re a mermaid…” he whispered in disbelief. You must have washed up after the storm. “You probably don’t understand me, but I’m going to take you back to the sea, okay? Before anyone sees.”

When he stooped to hook his arm under your tail, you shook your head. “Please, you must help me. It… It hurts. Please.”

You speak English? “Okay. I can take you to my quarters. I’ll patch you up, but we need to hurry before anyone sees.”

It was a tall order. No one in this lifetime had seen a merfolk before, let alone tended to their wounds. Could he?

Alex slung his shirt over his shoulder before scooping you up carefully. You gritted your teeth as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The premises stood empty as the sun climbed up the sky. He rushed to his quarters and laid you gently on the shower floor.

“I’m going to wash the dirt off your le- uh tail.” He turned the water on, aiming the shower head at your waist where the lilac, iridescent scales started down to the flowy, translucent fins.

Your blood sparkled in the sunlight as it swirled with the water down the drain. He turned to turn the water off as you screamed.

Your tail was gone.

“You have legs?!” He tossed you the nearest towel.

You scrambled to cover yourself up. “I- I thought that was a myth.”

He huffed. “Okay, at least I know how to patch up human legs.” He knelt down next to you, cracking his emergency it open. “This is going to hurt, okay? But I promise to do it as fast as I can.”

You nodded, grinding your teeth as he pulled at the piece of wood. It had wedged itself deeper than he initially thought, and you let out a cry when he finally pulled it out with a grunt. A clink reverberated within the walls as a shiny black sphere rolled across the floor.

He looked up to meet your eyes, blown wide. He’d never seen such terror, you looked at him like he was death itself.

You shook your head. “Please, please. I beg you to not tell a soul.” More pearls rolled off your cheeks, darker now. “You may have them, as many as you desire.”

“No, no, I don’t want anything.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you squeaked.

“I’m not going to. I’m going to patch you up and send you back as soon as possible, okay?”

“No, please, I won’t survive if you send me back now,” you choked. “The sharks will smell my blood. Please, you may have all the pearls in return.”

“I’m a lifeguard. We help people and expect nothing in return. Just focus on getting better, okay? I’ll send you back when you’re ready.”

You avoided his gaze, like you didn’t believe him.

“May I?”

You nodded weakly and he continued cleaning your wound.

“You can call me Alex. Um- I’ve- I didn’t think mermaids were real.” He chuckled. “It’s an ignorant question, but don’t you have magic or healing powers?”

“I did,” you mumbled, almost inaudible.

You stayed still as he worked on you, wincing occasionally.

“All done now.” He packed his kit. “Let me get you something to wear.”

When he turned back from his wardrobe with the baggiest t-shirt he owned, you stood at the bathroom door with wobbly legs.

“Easy now,” he rushed to you, an arm around your waist, the towel hung low on your hips. “Probably shouldn’t be walking yet, and you need to keep the wound dry. You can wear this meanwhile and take the towel off.”

He handed you his shirt, and you pulled it on over your top - made of pearly shells intricately strung together that clinked melodically when you moved a certain way.

He helped you to the bed and fetched you a glass of water. “I don’t know if you can, but we drink this.”

You reached for the glass and took the smallest sip before your eyes softened. You emptied it in a few gulps before a gentle smile tugged on your lips.

“Are you hungry?”

You shook your head. “May I please have more? It’s so sweet.”

He smiled. “Yes, of course. As much as you’d like.” He poured you another glass and placed the pitcher back on the nightstand.

He watched as you savoured your second helping, letting out a content sigh when you held the glass on your lap. His smile brightened as yours did before you yelped at the series of impatient knocks at the door.

“Alex? Alex, are you in there?”

“Shh!” He pressed his fingers against your lips. “What is it, Laswell?” he called out, catching the way you flinch in his peripheral vision.

“The festival is still on tonight,” the woman answered. “I need you to start cleaning the pool. It’s such a mess out there.”

“I’ll be out in a sec!”

When her footsteps receded, he turned back to you, removing his fingers off you.

“Okay, I need to go, but I’ll come back to check on you as often as I can. Try to not touch the wound.” He placed a handful of granola bars next to the pitcher. “And if you’re hungry, you can have these.”

You grabbed his wrist. “Will you tell a soul?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

You placed a palm over his still bare chest. “I thank you.”

Alex tended to the pool as fast as he could before sprinting back to his quarters. You were sitting up in bed, knees to your chest under his blanket.

“I got you-“

“My tail is cold.”

“Tail?” he asked, alarmed. He knelt down and pulled the blanket off before chuckling in relief. “Legs… These are legs, for now.” He patted your knee. “Do they hurt, or feel weird at all?”

You shook your head.

“I’m going to check your wound, okay?”

You shifted, showing him his handiwork.

“Wow, that’s amazing. It’s drying up. You sure you don’t have magical powers?” He looked up at you, but you didn’t seem to find the humour in his comment. “Uh- I was worried, if you needed something so I got you seawater.” From his bag, he handed you a glass bottle, the water casting dancing waves on his bed.

“Merfolks say… Our tails are a gift from the sea.” You popped the bottle open and sprinkled a few drops onto your feet, and before his eyes, your legs turned back into a sparkling, violet tail.

“Woah…”

“So it is true. When you rid my tail of the sea, it disappeared.” You wiped the drops off and with it, your legs were back.

“You get to have the best of both worlds. That’s wonderful.”

You let out a small sigh.

“I didn’t get to have breakfast.” He ripped open a granola bar and offered it to you. “Want to try some? Just a bit?”

You plucked a tiny piece off and popped it in your mouth. A smile flickered on your lips. “Oh, that’s even sweeter than your water. Is everything always this sweet?”

“Not always, only the best ones.” He smiled, handing you the packet.

Alex returned on his next break, panting once more from rushing the whole way. He cracked open the door to find you napping peacefully on his bed. He approached as quietly as he could, noticing the empty pitcher.

He refilled it and paused at the way your hair shone in the warm sun, the colour back on your pretty lips. Your eyes flickered open as he knelt down next to you, and widened before you realised it was him. You visibly relaxed.

“Hey. I’m going to check your wound again, okay?”

“Okay.”

You rolled onto your side, revealing that the wound had closed up, leaving but a faint scar.

“It’s truly amazing how fast you’re healing. At this rate, I can send you back tomorrow night, when no one would see.”

You nodded and sat up.

“I got lunch.  I figured you’d be hungry.” He pulled out boxes from the bag, revealing mild-tasting vegetables he thought wouldn’t overwhelm your palate.

“Thank you,” you said with a small smile before digging in just as he did.

“Do you think you can walk? We have a festival tonight. You’ve never been to one, have you?”

You shook your head.

“It will be fun. There will be music too, and dancing, and food.”

You looked up at him, the first time that lasted more than a glance. “With other humans?”

“Yes, but I’ll be there with you. And we can leave anytime.”

You smiled, at him finally. “Okay.”

Alex left for his stand again, and this time took longer to come back. You sat up when he knocked on the door.

“I got you this,” he said, kneeling next to the bed and pulled out a beach wrap and a pair of headphones. “You wear it around your hips. And these, you wear over your ears, if it gets too loud for you.”

You took a sharp breath, covering your mouth.

“And these,” he continued, producing a pair of mauve gumboots. They weren’t the same shade as your tail, but it was the closest he could find. “So you don’t have to worry about your feet getting wet.”

A pearl rolled off your cheek onto your lap. It was brilliant white.

“Thank you, Alex,” you whispered.

He beamed. “You’re welcome.”

You were more than beautiful in your seashell top that glinted in the light, with soft hair and the flowy wrap around your waist. Though the boots were adorable on you, he could tell you weren’t used to them at all.

“You can hold me here.” He pointed at the crook of his arm. “In case you need support.”

Your pretty fingers curled over his forearm. He could have sworn your nails didn’t have an iridescent sheen to them when he found you earlier. Your grip tightened whenever you passed people.

“You’re alright. I’m here,” he said as he leaned over.

On the beach, you sipped on vibrant drinks as you watched the sunset and how the soft shades drained from the sky. Alex grasped a handful of the white sand, still warm from the day, letting it trickle back where it belonged from between his fingers.

You didn’t budge even when the sea became pitch black. He shifted in his seat and turned to you, still with a faint smile as you looked ahead.

“Do you want to go yet? You can’t see anything anymore.”

“It’s beautiful.” You turned to him. “I never thought I’d be here, looking at home from up here.”

He forced a smile. The sky was clear. There was no storm even when he could taste the salt in the back of his throat.

“Oh, your top is gorgeous!”

You and Alex turned to the three women.

“Thank you. I made it myself.” You smiled proudly.

“I wish I was as talented. It’s so pretty.”

“Hey, come dance with us. The party’s starting,” another woman said.

You looked at him, and he gave you a reassuring nod, relieved to finally be away from the dark.

“I’ll be nearby.”

The other lady linked arms with you to the dancefloor, and as promised, Alex followed behind, noticing no wobble to your steps anymore. He ordered a drink and watched you from the bar as you danced and laughed with the group. You looked over your shoulder at him every so often until you didn’t anymore.

He didn’t take his eyes off you. You were ethereal.

After a few songs, you and the group piled to the bar for a refill. You approached him with a grin.

“Look at you, already making friends.”

You held your hands over your chest, face bright with awe. “They are all so nice, and so beautiful.”

Are they? He didn’t notice. “You want to get something to eat?”

Alex got you to try anything and everything you wanted at the festival, from skewers to wraps to bright desserts. He enjoyed witnessing your amusement, how that pretty smile bloomed on your lips as you looked at him with bright eyes.

Under the blanket of a starry night, the band played mellow songs as the crowd thinned.

“The stars are brighter out in the sea.”

He turned to you, your face tipped up to the sky. “I know. That’s why I love to sail.”

“It’s wonderful here, Alex. Thank you so much for taking me.”

“You can come back any time.”

He caught the falter of your smile before you turned back towards the band.

After the night died down, you returned to Alex’s quarters.

“I’m not supposed to have anyone here, so you need to be quiet, okay?” he said as the door clicked open.

He gave you a new set of clothes to wear before you cleaned up. Freshly showered, he flicked the bedside lamp off and let out a happy sigh when he lay on the ground next to the bed.

“Is it better there?” you whispered.

“No, but I figured you’d appreciate the bed more.”

“It’s so soft. There’s nothing like it where I’m from.”

He chuckled. “You can have it then.”

“We can share if you wish to. It is yours after all.”

The air hung before he sat up. You had scooted towards the wall to make room for him. The bed creaked under him as he climbed in and lay on his side to face you.

The light from outside was enough to make out the shape of your pretty face. Peaceful. Content.

“Could you tell me more about your world?”

“Of course. Ask away.”

“What was it that you said you do? You guard lives?”

“Yes, a lifeguard. I make sure people are safe in water and not drown.”

“We don’t have that in the sea.”

Alex smiled. “I imagine not.”

“How did you become one?”

“I owe the sea my life. It saved me many years ago, so I want to keep people safe in water too.”

“Are you my lifeguard?”

“I guess.” His heart racing as he ran his fingers through his blond hair, always lighter in the summer. “I guess we’re all lifeguards in our own ways, just trying to protect what we love.”

“Oh, what’s that?” You pointed at the nasty bruise on the inside of his upper arm.

“It’s nothing. I got it this morning when I was cleaning the pool.”

“My mum used to hum this little melody when I got hurt.” You hummed a gentle, low-pitched tune. You kissed your fingers and pressed them onto his arm before smiling at him. “All better now.”

“Thank you. Mine used to do that too. You’re making me miss her.”

“I miss mine too. It’s been too long.”

“You’ll see her again tomorrow, right?”

With a soft smile, you rolled onto your back.

“Alex. Alex, wake up.”

He squinted at you sitting back on your haunches next to him. “Are you alright?” he croaked.

“Yes!” With a grin, you barely masked the buzz in your voice as you tugged his hand to sit up. “I’ve got to show you something.”

He rubbed his eyes off the sleepiness. “What is it?”

Your hand extended towards for the glass of water on the nightstand. With a twirl of your finger, the water stirred to life, creating a vortex.

His eyes widen. “Holy f- Oh my God!

You smiled, flicking your hand up. The water followed your command out of the glass and swayed in a loose sphere between you and him.

“Wow, that’s… That’s amazing.”

You returned the water to its container. “Oh, I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Honestly, I’d rather look at that than sleeping.” He chuckled, reaching for the pitcher.

You beat him to it, letting a wave of water flow into his glass.

“If I could to that, I’ll be drinking hands-free,” he said before taking a sip.

You laughter rang sweet that early morning. This time you looked genuinely blissful.

When did your hair become so pretty? “Show me more.”

And you did. Alex had his hands behind his head as the both of you lie back, watching the water dance above you. It was magical, of course, he never thought he’d see such a spectacle in his lifetime, but you… With such a wide smile, your harmonious laughter filling his small room, you took his breath away.

Remembering he was sending you back at the end of the night weighed heavy in his chest, but two days were far better than none. It would be a secret he’d gladly take to his grave at least, that he met a mermaid, and such a sweet one at that.

He watched you until his alarm went off.

The hour of Alex’s lunch break was enough time to take you to the rooftop restaurant of the resort. When he picked you up from his quarters, you’d fashioned a dress out of the beach wrap from the night before, even did your hair differently.

“You look lovely,” he breathed.

The sweetest smile graced your lips as you placed your hand on his forearm. It was then he noticed his bruise had faded into the faintest yellow. He turned to his other arm, in case he misremembered where he hurt himself. It was the correct arm.

“The melody worked,” he said in disbelief, squeezing your hand.

“I’m glad.”

That day you didn’t tense up at the sight of people nearing, when kids laughed and zoomed past the both of you on the walk to the restaurant. He picked the table by the railing, front row seat to the soft horizon and the sparkling blue sea.

“It’s beautiful,” you said breathlessly.

It was brilliant cerulean as far as the eye could see with soft clouds gliding above. You revelled in the open view with a tender smile and a glint in your eye.

“Yeah? I thought you’d appreciate the view from further up.”

The breeze combed through your hair, lustrous under the gentle sun. You mindlessly put the strands back in place, eyes still transfixed on the faraway water.

With no thought, Alex reached for the stray hair on your forehead, making you turn to him. Surprise flashed in your eyes and you dropped your gaze to your hands in your lap. He pulled away, averting his eyes whilst chewing on his lip, pretending to scratch his neck.

You bit down a smile. “That’s something you only let someone special do.”

“Oh. Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“But you can touch, if you wish.”

“You don’t mind?”

You shook your head.

He hesitated, but rubbed the ends of your hair between his fingers. “You have the prettiest hair.”

“I like yours too. And…” You dragged a finger along your jaw. “No one at home has that.”

He laughed, grasping his own chin. “Facial hair? You like it?”

You nodded and turned back to the sea, the smile on your lips remained.

On the walk back to his quarters, he took a little detour to the pool.

“I spend a lot of time sitting there,” he said, pointing at his lifeguard stand at the end of the large pool surrounded by towering tropical trees.

“What’s in there?” You pointed at the gated garden at the far end of the area.

“It’s a small garden, very pretty. I’d love to take you there, but I need to clock in soon.“ He huffed. “Would you like to stay? You can have a look and lounge by the pool until I’m done?”

You took your time in the garden, and by the time you made your way back to the poolside, Alex was already at his stand. You took the sunbed closest to him, next to a family with a little girl. He lowered his shades, giving you a nod. In return, you smiled up at him, a hand shielding your eyes from the sun.

It didn’t take long for the girl to approach you with a shy smile, halfway hiding behind her mum as she grasped her beach wrap from the timidity. Alex chuckled to himself.

The next time he looked over, the girl sat in your lap as you braided her hair. Two other girls sat on your sunbed as they chatted animatedly, sipping on their juice boxes.

“See, Mr. Lifeguard keeps looking at you!” one of them screeched with excitement, pointing at him.

You smiled. “He’s my lifeguard,” he faintly made out.

The three girls giggled and cooed. “You and lifeguard sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

He looked away, unable to wipe the grin off his face. He wished he could kiss you.

Would it be selfish if he pretended he didn’t promise to send you off that night? He’d grant your wish to leave in a heartbeat, but was he allowed to forget you had a home to return to a little longer? You were a ray of sunshine in his otherwise monotonous days.

The thought of the little trip he planned occupied his mind as he clocked out, but Kate emerging from her office interrupted it.

“Alex, we can’t have your girlfriend running around while you’re on the clock,” she began. “And I know she’s been staying with you. I let it go because I thought she was only staying for the festival.“

He held his breath. He was in deep trouble.

“Look, she needs to go tomorrow and we don’t have to talk about this again. I can’t risk my job, Keller. You understand.”

“Right, of course.”

He didn’t need another reminder that he only had a few hours left with you, when the dread in his throat kept swelling. When he turned back towards the pool, you stood there a few metres away with a small smile.

Alex took you to a nearby diner on his co-worker’s scooter. The way you held him close, your arms tight around his waist, almost made him forget that you had your loved ones waiting for you, probably worried sick too. He let out a long sigh as he helped you with your helmet.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” you said after a sip of his strawberry milkshake.

You were never his to keep, he knew, yet it weighed heavy all the same. How was he going to say goodbye to such a lovely smile?

“It’s my favourite,” he said, sliding the glass closer to you.

He ordered another and later shared his strawberry pancakes with you too. The whipped cream was the best part according to you.

Above, the sky dimmed as clouds swirled. It was his cue to head back before you got stuck in the rain with him, although if he was honest it didn’t sound terrible at all.

It had started raining when you got back the resort, and you giggled as you hurried to his quarters, his hand in yours. This was how romance budded, wasn’t it? Sharing laughter under unfortunate circumstances that crystallised into charming memories you’d pull out of your pocket to reminisce later along the way.

But not in this life. In this life, each moment was another one to lose, and the faster your feet went, the sooner it was to a goodbye.

When Alex got out of the shower, you were toying with water again. It was irrational how he dreaded having you leave, but something ceaselessly drew him to you. In his shirt, in his bed, warm from the shower, you looked like you were more than just a visitor.

He leaned onto the doorframe, taking in the sight. Was it the way your smile lit up the room, the way you said his name in a gentle voice? Or the twinkle in your eye as you took in the world with such pureness.

You were a lungful of fresh air he wanted to remember longer. You weren’t supposed to be just a visitor.

“Alex, how often do you dance?”

He smiled. “Not enough.”

“You should dance more.” The globe of water sloshed back into your glass as you sat up. ”Come, I won’t have my feet forever.”

He tinkered with the radio and allowed soft music to fill the room. His breath stalled when you wrapped your arms around his neck. You swayed and he chewed on his lip as he gingerly placed his hands on your hips.

“I’m curious. You said you don’t have your powers anymore, but you’re doing all that with water, and you healed me.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible. I did something terrible and the sea cursed me for my sin and took my powers away,” you muttered. “It’s forbidden to be seen by humans. There’s a reason why we live in different worlds.”

“Is that why you’re so scared of me, of us?”

You averted your gaze. “Merfolks say humans are wicked. If you are captured, they shall make you cry black pearls for riches. And you know where black pearls are from.”

“I would never think of doing that.” He shook his head. “Ever.”

Your eyes flicked up to him. “I know. I can feel it here.” You leaned onto his shoulder, a hand over his chest.

Thunder struck, bright out the window for a blink of an eye, followed by the whip of lightning. Alex jumped and retracted his shaky hands off you before curling up in bed, pulling the comforter over himself.

Think of a nice place, a nice time, he repeated as he shut his eyes, his heart racing.

The bed dipped quietly as you came up behind him. Your touch was tentative, feather light at first before your confidence grew to stroke his hair.

He didn’t understand the déjà vu that cloaked him, like he’d been there before, like he’d been in your arms already.

Maybe in another life. One where you didn’t have to leave.

His breathing slowed. He still had a few hours to savour this, etch this into his mind. But if he could be so bold to daydream, he liked to imagine you wanted to stay as much as he wanted you to.

You caressed his bearded jaw. “Alex, if… If the storm doesn’t pass until sunrise, may I stay another day?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly, holding your hand against his face. “You can stay however long you want.”

“I’ve been selfish. I’m sorry for overstaying my welcome. Just another night, and I’ll promise I’ll leave.”

He turned to you. “Why are you saying that?”

“Earlier, Kate spoke to you. I know I’m not supposed to be here.”

He let out a deep sigh as guilt settled in him. “Your family must be worried too.”

Your gaze dropped, shaking your head. “I was banished for what I’ve done. It’s a fitting punishment for the shame I brought the people.”

“I’m sorry, that’s awful.”

“It’s just how it is. I knew full well and did it anyway. You’re the first person to speak to me ever since, let alone be kind to me.” You paused. “There’s something about this place. I can’t explain it, but it’s the best I’ve felt in forever, and for that I’d like to thank you.”

He pulled you close, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “You don’t need to thank me.”

In each other’s arms, despite the roaring storm outside, there was nowhere safer than right where he was.

The rumble of the sky jolted Alex awake from his peaceful sleep.

“Fuck,” he muttered in the dark, heart racing. He reached out to pull you to him, only to realise the bed was empty.

He got nothing back when he called out to you, discovering the bathroom vacant. It was then he noticed the glint on the floor next to your boots. A grey pearl.

Outside, the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. He followed the sparse trail to the beach where your wrap was stuck on a post of the beach divider, fluttering in the wind. In the dark, he almost missed your figure in the shallow water with your tail, looking ahead towards the horizon.

“What are you doing here? You forgot these.” He knelt down next to you, holding your boots out to you, not caring that his shorts were wet. “How were you going back to my room?”

“I must return, Alex.”

He knew this was coming. “But I’ll see you again, right?”

You shook your head. “I can’t see you anymore.”

He hugged you. “Why not?”

“You make it so hard to leave.“ You pried his arms away from you.

“Then don’t. I meant it. Stay as long as you want. I’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you for everything, Alex, truly. But I don’t belong here. Please don’t make this harder for me,” you choked. “Goodbye.”

Still on his knees, he froze as you swam away, your amethyst tail flicked one last time before disappearing into the darkness. You were gone from his life as fast as you came in it.

It took him another minute to get back to his feet, which he barely dragged a few steps away from the water before he froze.

Alex ripped his shirt off and dashed after you. His heart raced as he dove into the darkness, and he swam and swam.

“Come back!” he choked out between breaths, pushing himself further despite the sting in his lungs. “I don’t want to not see you again.”

He slowed when he realised the storm was coming his way. He turned back, but it was pitch black all around him as the rain pricked his skin. The ache of his whole body weighed heavy. He’d gone too far.

It was senseless for him to swim after you – reckless, moronic, especially not in the rain, not when the dark and open water paralysed him to the very core. Even if you didn’t have a head-start, he never would have caught up. But he wasn’t going to die this way. Not again.

He scrambled after the smallest glint of light, the general direction of where land was. Where he belonged, but you didn’t.

He threaded to even out his breath, pretending the thunder and lightning above didn’t exist. His eyes could barely stay open, but he forced his arms to propel, pushing himself every painstaking inch closer to home. Yet he couldn’t help but slow. His lungs wouldn’t stop burning.

Something- you. You reared yourself above the water in front of him.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief when you pulled his arms over your shoulders, his chest against your back.

“Hold on,” you said and headed for the shore.

Under the brightening sky, he stumbled on his feet. Water sloshed with each careless step before he plunged onto the sand. He coughed up a fit, the jagged rock he laid against digging onto his sore back, his throat like the desert. As you sat beside him, the blush of gold peeked over the horizon behind you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Alex, you shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t go,” he croaked, holding your hand against him. “Please. I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s not about that,” you muttered, looking away. “I’m dying, Alex. I washed up was because of how weak I am.”

His heart dropped. “You’re sick?” he whispered.

You nodded. “When I saved that human from drowning, I lost the necklace of my first tear; a merfolk’s most prized possession as it holds our powers. I’ve been wasting away ever since, getting weaker every day.”

Chills ran down his spine.

“I don’t know how long I‘m allowed anymore, but I can’t thank you enough for giving me such a lovely memory. I shall cherish it until the very end.” You smiled, eyes closed as you held a hand over your chest. “Please don’t be sad for me. Life is a beautiful gift and I don’t regret saving one, even if it takes mine.”

He grasped your hands. “What does your necklace look like?”

You let out a gentle sigh, looking ahead at the rising sun. “A pearl, the shade of my tail.”

“There was a storm here many years ago, the worst I’ve ever seen. I fell off my boat.” He swallowed. “I saw shadows, but I thought I was hallucinating on the brink of death. The next thing I knew I was on the beach come morning, a purple pearl on a broken string next to me, the only evidence someone, something was there.” He paused. “Did you save me?”

You gasped, tears welling in your eyes as you covered your mouth.

Alex never sprinted so fast in his life to retrieve the box of mementos he kept under his bed and back to the little cove where you waited.

His chest heaved as he dropped to his knees next to you. He popped open the ring box to reveal the glossy lavender pendant nestled inside.

Your lip quivered. You held the dark velvet case against your chest as he pulled you to him. Silver pearls rolled off his shoulder onto the soft sand.

“You saved me, Alex.” you whispered.

“You saved me. You’re my lifeguard.”

The sun crept further up the vast sky as you lay on his chest, the tip of your tail brushing against his feet.

You hummed a melody – a different one. A happy one.

Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @sofasoap @two-gh0sts

[cumikering]

Simon, absolutely dejected, thinking his first ever pie didn't turn out

From this fic

[cumikering]

Ghost x plus-sized reader

2.1k | fluff, drink spiking Did you just call Simon weak? The rest of the 141 didn’t like that

“Can I carry you?”

At the pub table, you almost spat the last gulp of your drink at the question. You turned to the source of the gruff voice, meeting the man’s chest before craning your neck up to his eyes. He had to be over 6 ft tall.

You set your glass down. “I’m sorry?”

“My mates are betting I can’t get anyone to piggyback.”

“And you picked me?”

He nodded at your top. “Skulls are sort of my lucky charm.”

You scoffed, looking past him at the other ladies in the room. “Are you serious? There are plenty who weigh far less.”

His brow rose. “Are you calling me weak?”

You took in the width of his shoulders, how his loose black shirt couldn’t hide the thickness of his biceps – the left one inked. He was handsome, rugged with the scar across his cheek, his short blond hair and light scruff, but his stare and bluntness made him beyond intimidating.

How could you get out of this situation with the least fuss?

“N- no.”

His eyes softened a touch. “May I? Please?”

Playing along and getting it over with should be the safest bet. “Okay... But-”

He turned his back and squatted slightly. “Hop on.”

“Wait- are you sure you can?”

“Hop on,” he repeated.

At that point, it was not your fault anymore if he ended up embarrassing himself. So you gripped his hard shoulders and did as told before he swiftly hooked his large hands under your jean-clad thighs. He didn’t grunt or strain when he bounced you to position and straightened up. As if you weighed nothing, which was a feeling you never thought you’d experience.

You had to give it to him - his strength was impressive. You chuckled to yourself, seeing the top of everyone’s head amused you. Across the pub, the table of three men grinned at the massive stranger. The one with the mohawk was very much entertained as he gave him thumbs up.

It was then that Simon groaned, because his team was embarrassing the hell out of him. That, and he finally got to feel how soft and warm you were pressed up against him. A little creepy, but a man was allowed to fantasise about a birdie he’d been eyeing, right?

“That’s all, yeah? You just have to carry-”

He stepped towards the bar, making you latch onto him.

“Oh! Where are you going?

“I’m getting you a drink.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, I insist.” When he flagged the barman down, you held on tighter. “It’s the least I can offer for getting you involved.”

You laughed, your breath warm against his ear. “Are you going to set me down or am I having my drink on your back?”

“Don’t give me ideas.” He chuckled as he lowered you to your feet.

He leaned against the bar, arm folded as he stared at you on the stool, downing your shot before looking at yourself on your selfie cam.

“Would you… like something as well?” you asked after you tucked your phone back in your pocket.

He shook his head.

“Okay. Well, thanks for he drink. You could get back to your mates if you want.”

“I’m Simon,” he mustered instead.

“Hi.” You shifted in your seat. “Is something the matter?”

“No.” He frowned. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s just you’ve been staring, and there’s nothing on my face. I checked.”

Bloody hell, could he be any more awkward? He just wanted to ask why you were alone without being weird about it.

He looked away. “I didn’t mean to.” You make me stupid. It didn’t help that your previous drink had tinted your lips, looking even more kissable up close.

“I think your mates want you back though.” You chuckled, nodding at his table.

When he turned to them, they immediately busied themselves with their drinks, averting their gazes.

“They’re a nosy bunch, they are.” He inched closer to you. “The one in the beanie, that’s our captain. The other two are my sergeants.”

“You’re the lieutenant?”

He hummed. “The one with the mohawk is the prankster. He’s a bad influence. He’ll talk you into doing anything.”

“He put you up to this then?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.

As if on cue, Soap looked up with an uncontained grin, only to look back down when he realised eyes were on him.

”Seems like he can’t wait to say hi.” He swiftly picked you up off your seat, bridal-style. “Is this enough to show you weigh nothin’?” he asked, fighting the urge to grab a handful of your soft thigh and waist.

“Oh- oh dear!” You laughed, arm wrapping around his neck, pretty fingers grasping his bicep. “Wait, wait, put me down!”

When you were back on your feet, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Sorry, I’m actually meeting someone. He’s almost here.”

So that was why you were alone. You were waiting for someone. Disappointment anchored at the bottom of his chest.

“Right. Okay.”

You smiled. “Thanks for the drink, Simon. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He grunted and you headed to the end of the bar. He stood umoving for another second before retreating to his table like a kicked puppy.

“L.T., wha’ happened? She was havin’ so much fun!” Soap shot as soon as Simon took his seat next to him.

“She’s meetin’ someone,” he said quietly.

“Aww… Sorry, Ghost,” Gaz said. “But hey, she let you carry her!”

With your back to him, you looked at your phone whenever a man walked in.

Huh, first date?

You flagged down some other blond man who walked over to you with a smile. The barman took your order before you chatted with him with a polite smile, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

Simon was in no place to watch and invade your privacy – he really should look away. But what was it that simmered in him when the bloke scooted closer, his arm along the back of your chair?

He laughed, pointing at something on the TV. You looked up, and your hand deftly covered your drink, like an instinct.

He smirked. Smart girl.

“I know she’s with someone, but I can tell she likes you more,” Price said, and Simon finally tore his gaze away from you.

“Ye should fight ‘im, L.T. He dinnae stand a fuckin’ chance.”

“You can knock him out with a slap,” Gaz quipped.

He chuckled, blatantly looking over Price to you again. “Rather just look.” While it wasn’t for him, at least he could watch your pretty smile from here and quench his thirst a bit.

With the bloke’s drink in hand, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his other hand inching to your covered drink now. He tipped his glass over you, causing you to jump and grab serviettes to dab yourself with. Just as fast, his fisted hand opened over your drink before helping you.

“No fucking way,” Simon said out loud.

“What?” Gaz followed his line of sight.

He marched over, yanking the man around by the shoulder. “What the bloody hell did you just do?”

He stumbled off his seat from the force, making the lieutenant tower over him even more. “What? Who- Do you know him?” He turned to you.

His finger jabbed the man’s chest. “What. The. Fuck. Did you put in her drink?”

“Nothing! What are you accusing me of?”

Simon didn’t miss the crack in the man’s voice. He raised your drink to the man’s face, a tiny white tablet swaying at the bottom of the glass. “Empty your pockets.”

“Simon, what’s…”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

The man fished out his phone, wallet and keys with trembling hands.

“That’s not all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing else, mate!” he said exasperatedly.

Simon’s patience ran dry. He patted his front pocket, hand bumping over something. “You need to see this,” he said quietly to you.

You hesitantly stuck your hand in the man’s left pocket, coming up with a bag of white tablets.

The man smacked the bag out of your hand. “You planted that, you slag!”

“If you didn’t do anything, drink it.” He spat, holding out your drink to him, now cloudy and fizzing.

He stared at the glass. “Fuck you,” he said, pushing it onto Simon’s chest before dashing out of the pub.

“Did he…”

“The fuck was that, Simon?” Price questioned from behind him.

“Fucking piece of shit spiked her drink.”

Price turned to you, a hand on your shoulder. “You got his name and number, love?”

“Yes.” You blinked. ”Yes, his number and dating profile.”

“I’m sending the coppas his way.” He picked up the evidence on the ground with a serviette. “Simon, get the details and make sure she gets home safe,” he said before approaching the barman.

You dried his ruined shirt with a wad of serviette. “I can’t even begin to thank you for your help, Simon. Really, thank you so much. I wouldn’t have-”

“You did good.” He squeezed your hand over his chest. “You covered your glass when you weren’t looking, but spilling his drink on you was something else.”

When you looked up at him with wide eyes, he dropped your hand.

“Would you like me to send you home?”

“I don’t want to trouble you. I don’t even live nearby.”

“Would you let me, if I want to?”

There was a pause before you smiled. “I think I’d like that, actually.”

When he grabbed his jacket from the table, Soap patted him on the back.

“Good catch, L.T. What a fuckin’ disgrace, the lad.”

“Have fun, Ghost,” Gaz teased.

Outside the pub where the streets were quieter, you forwarded the profile and chat screenshots of the man from your group chat to Simon.

“Can’t be too cautious. I’m not surprised if that’s not even his name honestly.” You shrugged, stuffing your phone back in your pocket. “I knew it was dodgy he insisted on meeting here when I said I’d rather somewhere in the middle, in broad daylight. That, and he was half an hour late too!”

It was disheartening to know this was the reality of dating, that all sorts of people lurked online, sometimes not with the best intentions. He’d show you his ID just to prove he wasn’t a creep, just someone smitten with a staring problem if any.

“If it was me, I’d have taken you anywhere you wanted.”

You chuckled.

“On my back too, if you prefer. I think you quite enjoyed that.”

“I did, actually,” you teased. “Is it a bad time to tell you I’m starving?”

“Yeah? That’s good news, because I’m always hungry. A kebab sounds about right at this hour.”

“Extra chips?”

“Extra chips,” he affirmed.

“You know what, I think this is my sign.” You pulled out your phone again, deleting an app. “Don’t think online dating was ever my thing.”

Is a stranger at a pub who shamelessly stares at you more your thing?

“Going out with someone who offers to carry me around is more like it.”

He bit back a smile. “So? Another ride on my back?”

You chuckled. “Next time,” you said, taking his arm instead.

As much as he enjoyed your touch, he couldn’t do with your fingers over his jacket. He needed to feel you. When he held your hand in his, you smiled up at him.

Simon had to thank his team for painstakingly convincing the stubborn lieutenant to approach the lady he’d been staring at. You didn’t have to know there was no bet, that asking to carry you was his own idea, an outrageous excuse to talk to you. But he wouldn’t complain if he ended up helping you, taking you for a little supper and even got to send you home.

“When’s next time?” he asked at your door, squeezing your hand.

You really shouldn’t have said it, because he was going to make sure there would be one. It had become a goal to show you how you deserved to be treated on a date.

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Right now isn’t even too soon.”

You laughed, pulling him down by the shoulder to meet your lips.

Neighbour Ghost AU if he still had his family Masterlist

For @glitterypirateduck ‘s Ghost Challenge :D check out her page for fic recs!

[cumikering]

Guitarist Gaz x reader

2k | fluff, teenage crush, late 90s You were in a band with Gaz

“You’re pulling my leg,” Kyle deadpanned.

“Really. My mum said I should be studying for my A-levels.” Jack hung his head as he tried to smear off the crusty mud from the side of his sole.

“But the gig is this weekend!”

“’m sorry, Gaz. She’s holding my guitar hostage. Said she’s going to sell it if I’m not home right away after classes.”

“You know we can’t do with only three members,” he said exasperatedly.

“There’s still a few days, I’ll help you find someone.”

After band practice sans Jack “mum-said-I-can’t” Wilshire, Kyle hopped onto the local forum with a grumble.

This was stupid. It would take a miracle for him to find a replacement for Jack in mere days. Regardless, he punched the words into his keyboard.

Sixth Form alt band looking for a stand-in guitarist for a birthday gig this Saturday

Later that night, his PC pinged with a notification.

Hiya, I’m interested in the gig. Where do you practice? I can meet tomorrow to see if I’m a good fit.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was still hope. He didn’t have to cancel and embarrass himself.

Sweet. Here’s my college. See ya at the bus stop at 2 mate

The next day after classes, Kyle and his two bandmates waited at the bus stop.

“Gaz, how do you know he’s not a no-show?” Tim sat on the bench, twirling his drumsticks.

With his foot, Owen toyed with the overgrown grass under the bus stop sign. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Come on, lads. We need him, yeah?” He turned to them, trying to cheer up his mates. ”Let’s just hope he’s decent.”

Across the street, a bus alighted with a screech and a loud hiss. A few seconds later, it departed, revealing you behind it. You wore your college’s uniform, hair lightly tousled from the weather, your gig bag on your back.

“It’s a she?” Owen straightened up.

“Well, I assumed-“

Tim stood up, slipping his drum sticks in his back pocket as he walked over with a smile.

“No,” Kyle stood in front of him, trying to bite down his smile. “She talked to me. I go.” He marched towards you, ignoring Owen’s ‘or we could wait for her to cross the street’.

“Kyle?”

“Hiya.” He smiled, the most charming one he could muster. “Thought you were a bloke.”

You cocked your brow. “I thought the handle was obvious.”

Was it? He was too focused on the fact that he got a candidate (the only one so far).

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, well let’s go meet the lads.”

You followed as he made his way towards his mates.

“This is Owen, our bassist.”  He pointed at the tall bloke with the blond buzzcut. “And this is Tim, our drummer.”

He nodded at you, his dark fringe bobbing in the air.

“And me, I’m the vocalist and lead guitarist. You’re going to be Jack’s stand-in as the rhythm guitarist. Is it okay if you play us something here? Apparently, we’re not allowed to bring non-students onto the campus.”

“Yeah, no worries.” You sat on the bench and took your guitar out. “Anything specific?”

“Nope, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

The familiar intro of Wonderwall wafted in the air. You were a little quiet at first but encouraged by the approving nods and smiles of the lads, you opened up. Kyle watched the way you strummed, fingers expertly dancing across the fretboard, chords held precisely. Your clean notes did the classic justice. They all sang the last verse together.

“Wow, that was real sweet.” Owen said.

“Watch out, Gaz, you might be the stand-in by the end of this.”

He gave Tim the side eye before smiling at you. “Should we start practicing today?”

Practice was at Tim’s the days leading up to the gig, as it always was. His spacious room was cosy and soundproof, plus his mum baked the best cookies.

How obvious was it that Kyle always wanted to sit next to you on the bus? Or let his mates walk ahead of the both of you, so he could have a little moment with you to chat?

But it was the next day that he only dared to make his move.

“It’s getting late. Would you like me to walk you home?”

You looked up as you zipped your gig bag close.

“I live closer to you than her and you never offer to walk me home,” Owen chided, making Tim cackle from the other end of the room.

He pretended not hear anything, his eyebrow rose instead as he rapidly lost his cool.

You stifled a laugh. “Okay,” you said.

Kyle beamed, flipping Owen the bird before he shut the door on his way out. He left his guitar because ‘we’ll be back tomorrow anyway’ and helped you carry yours instead.

“You hungry? That chippy is good.” He pointed at a busy shop on your way to the bus stop.

“I am, actually.” Your steps slowed.

After a bit of queuing, the both of you sat in the cramped corner of the shop.

You took small bites of your piping hot chips. “What are you doing after Sixth Form?”

“I’m enlisting in the army,” he said with pride.

You smiled. “Your parents must be so proud.”

“They are. I’ve always wanted to do this and I’m glad they’re supportive.”

“I wish you the very best, Kyle. I think you’d be a wonderful soldier.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

The conversation continued to what you were going to study in uni, and how the both of you got into music. He told you all about his heroes and seeing how you lit up in recognition of the names made him gooey. You get me.

After the meal, you waited at the deserted bus stop, pedestrians passing occasionally.

“Can I play?” He gestured at your guitar.

You nodded and he took it out of the bag, skilfully picking the strings to Iris. You smiled in recognition of the song and couldn’t help singing along. Engrossed in the little concert, none of you registered the bus was approaching.

His hands slowed, and you turned behind you.

“Oh, need to go, need to go!” You laughed, grabbing the bag beside him, scrambling to the edge of the pavement.

He smiled behind you as you boarded. The bus had no empty seats left, and the both of you stood there facing each other as he held your guitar, resting it on his shoe.

You didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes, but he found it cute. You had a sweet smile and an even sweeter laugh. He appreciated your openness to spontaneity, loving the twinkle in your eye as you sang with him just a minute ago. You were a breath of fresh air.

The next day, Kyle offered to walk you home after dinner again. You let him, even had his hand brush against yours a few times. The next, since he finished his classes early, he asked if he could pick you up in front of your college.

He waited at the bus stop, head on a swivel, worried that he’d miss you among the sea of students. But you soon approached with your friends who giggled as they eyed him.

He smiled at the refreshing sight of you, hands pulled out of his pockets. “Hiya,” he breathed, barely glancing at your friends.

You stood in front of him as you chewed on your lip, smiling but not meeting his eyes. “Hi,” you mumbled.

One of the girls nudged you with a teasing smile before walking along.

“Oh, uh, see you on Monday, babes!” you called out to them.

“Good luck for your gig!” the blonde said.

“I hope I’m up to par for tomorrow,” you said to yourself.

“You are, trust me. We don’t need Jack anymore.”

You laughed.

“Here, let me just…” he grabbed the strap of your gig bag.

“You’re the sweetest, Kyle.”

He smiled, pulling the straps over his shoulders. I’m trying! “I got you this.” He pulled out a packet of gummy bears from his pocket.

“Thank you so much!” You tore the packet open, popping a bear into your mouth, before offering him some.

At the bus stop, he sat next to you just a little closer than a friend would.

“Oh, one of my girls let me borrow Jagged Little Pill for the weekend.” You grabbed your Discman from your bag, handing an earphone to him. “I wanted to listen to it with you.”

How did you not expect him to melt at that? When each of you had an earphone on, you hit play and he wouldn’t be mad if the bus never came. With you, this was the perfect afternoon.

He should have got more gummy bears.

You and the band played through the setlist flawlessly as the party went on. It was the most fun Kyle had had at a gig that he didn’t realise the hour was up. When Owen and Tim went off to grab food, without missing a beat, he strummed More than Words.

Kyle barely took his eyes off you as you sat across him with your guitar throughout the gig, a sweet smile on your face. If he kept playing, this would never have to end, right?

Your arms paused in the air as you took your guitar off before setting the strap back and smiling in recognition. You sat back down, your foot tapping to the gentle rhythm before joining him in singing. The crowd gathered and sang together, and you both couldn’t help dueting a few more mellow songs as Owen and Tim cheered on.

By the end of the night, Kyle was holding your hand. It was nice to not be insecure of his calloused fingers. Yours were too, like a shared secret. As you neared home, his arm grew stiff. Was this his last time walking you home?

“We don’t have anything else coming up, but you’re always welcome to swing by anytime.” He handed you your guitar. He insisted to help you with it even when he had his too. “We can just jam together.”

“What’s going to happen to Jack?”

“Like I said, we don’t need him anymore.”

You laughed. “Yeah? I should probably study for my A-Levels too.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “We can always meet at your college if you want. Or somewhere else. Wherever you want really.” I just want to keep seeing you.

You smiled. “I’d love that.”

Since then, he picked you up after classes almost every day. If not to jam at Tim’s, it was to study at your dining table. He caught the teasing looks your mum shot you that made you look away with a shy smile. He didn’t mean to, but his grades were better than ever, baffling his mates, including Jack.

Thinking of the distance that was to stretch between you was like looking up a mountain too tall to see its peak. It was irresponsible of him to ask for more as he was leaving for the army. With a heavy heart, he allowed himself to enjoy the last weeks he had with you, forced to be content with the fleeting touches and bashful gazes before they, eventually, fizzled out with time.

At the park, he played Lovefool, one of your favourites. You sat facing him, knees pulled to your chest wearing his hat he plopped down on you when you squinted at the sun earlier.

“Love me, love me, say that you love me…” He looked up from the fretboard to your pretty smile as you hummed along, hair swaying in the wind-

His strumming screeched to a stop as his heart lodged in his throat. “D- do…”

Bloody hell, Gaz, why are you stuttering like that!

You blinked. “You alright?”

“Doyouwanttobemine?”

Your smile brightened.

Oh, he was going to serenade you every chance he got, even when he was a thousand miles away from you. He hoped you didn’t mind.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts

@rowanyaboats @mangoguy

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

Line art from part 4

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie

@luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter

@cmbghost @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula

@opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs

@strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

@astraluminaaa @mehjustalasshere @corruptowlette @youllgetafuneral

@lyenera @kcmizzz @s-rinaldi-18

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 7

2.3k | angst, drinking irresponsibly If Simon could do it all again (part 1) (part 8/end)

“You don’t look good, sir.” The sergeant stood at attention, looking straight into his lieutenant’s eyes.

Simon had to commend the balls of Kevlar required to walk right up to him to point the fact out unprompted, but that was why he liked Sgt. Eric Jefferies the most. You had no time to waste when you raced with death on the regular - he would tell anyone they didn’t look good.

He knew he didn’t - it was the same bland face he had the pleasure to look at in the mirror each day. Annoyed, but not surprised by the darkening circles under his eyes, stark against his pale complexion. It didn’t help that he nicked himself in the jaw shaving that morning.

“Dining hall, sergeant,” he grunted.

“You’re barely eating, Riley,” Lt. Ramsay said, the same bloke who’d catch him sneaking back to his room. “You know you’re contributing to the food waste when you don’t ask for seconds, yeah?”

It was true, and the table chuckled, but Simon continued to shove whatever was on his plate into his mouth. It was enough to not starve.

“He never leaves his room anymore, not even on the weekends,” another lieutenant quipped, but was promptly elbowed by the officer next to him.

That, too, was true.

Simon had nowhere else to be, like how it always was before his mum came to Hereford. These days his flat was too empty and cold with the hole in his chest. He never came back after that night.

It wasn’t like he was thriving in his quarters either, but it was still a little better – at least it was untouched by you. Though his nights were dreamless at first, he kept waking, and waking until the dreams started.

It was a glitch in the universe, wasn’t it? That the memory that played in his mind to insanity was the last time he saw you, about crawling back to your door with limbs that didn’t feel like his, vision swaying with the lights, coming on and off, his heartbeat ringing in his head.

It’s not supposed to end this way… I want to try…

He sighed at another disturbed night. Tea would slow his mind. Instead, he found the box of Darjeeling you gifted him to take back to base. ‘So we can have the same tea over the phone,’ you’d said.

Was there a way to escape you, make you stop haunting? He needed an exorcism.

He put it back in his drawer. One day, it wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.

And the nightmares came back. It was once, then twice, and thrice a week of waking up in cold sweat in the dark.

Simon’s performance slipped. There was a reason sleep deprivation was a popular torture method. He requested sleeping medications - his career was the last thing he had and he wasn’t about to let it go. Any unrestful sleep interrupted by the vivid images his sickly mind conjured up was still better than no sleep at all.

Quitting you was impossible when the thoughts still followed. If pushing you away didn’t work, maybe basking in the memories would, even if it hurt more. Aching for your warmth, the scraps of it, he’d go anywhere you’d been to see your ghost. The pain was better than the void.

“You lads are volunteering at the soup kitchen this Saturday,” he announced to Sgt. Jefferies after hours.

“Saturday, sir?”

“It’s good for you. Reminds you why you’re doing all this.”

“Can’t tell me what to do,” he teased. “You’re not my L.T. on the weekends.”

Simon’s stare didn’t waver and the other bloke’s smile dropped.

“Copy, sir. I’ll tell the others.”

When the four burly SAS soldiers entered the kitchen, chatter and clanks stalled as all eyes turned to them.

“May… May I help you young lads?” one of the middle-aged ladies said.

Simon recognised her from his last visit, but he quickly realised this was a silly idea. He was out of place, knowing no one there.

He flashed half a smile. “Just wanted to give a hand. Got any lifting to do?”

The lieutenant and his sergeants hauled the food items to the kitchen, including the bread which he taught his sergeants to half and butter. They were offered to peel potatoes, but Simon decided it was wise to leave it to the pros instead.

People still avoided his gaze while his boys exchanged pleasantries with the other volunteers; Eric even got called handsome by the group of older ladies he impressed with his strength as he hefted the sack of potatoes. While the night was as pleasant, it wasn’t the same if you weren’t there to hold his hand and laugh at his jokes.

When the boys invited Simon to the pub at the end of the night, he said no. He thought he was ready, but even after weeks, coming back to his flat was just as sickening.

The silence pierced. Despite all the lights flicked on, the place made his skin crawl, the space too vast and empty. But he didn’t become a lieutenant from succumbing to his emotions.

As he lay in bed, he recalled that you too slept there once. That the mattress once dipped with the gentle weight of you, but unlike the bed that bounced back, you’d left a lasting imprint that disfigured his soul.

Simon wondered what you were up to, if you knew he was there drowning, miserable in his cold room. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your door to be closer or further: closer so he could catch a glimpse of you without meaning to, or further so he wouldn’t be so tempted to go over and get on his knees.

You said begging only reduced you to nothing, but for you, he’d beg and beg. There wasn’t much to lose when he wasn’t much to begin with. He was a stray for a reason.

He tossed and turned, and was granted a wink of sleep before the same bloody dream flashed in his mind.

I don’t care how hard it gets…

He sat up, feet thudding on the floor as he rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. It was always that one moment, like a broken record. Why couldn’t it be you on a night out, or kissing you on the kitchen counter, or simply, you smiling? It was a curse. If only the heart could follow where one’s feet went.

With no plans on coming here, his sleeping pills lay on his desk at base. He looked through the cabinets to distract himself, finding various bottles of dusty, unopened spirits he was gifted. They weren’t his cup of tea.

So he packed, to get his mind off you, from spiralling and digging a deeper grave for itself.

It was time for a change. With the accommodation he was provided, he never needed to rent, but he did anyway in case his mum ever needed the place. It was a good call he did, but with the divorce on the way, keeping it was pointless. He’d rather spend the extra money on his mum and nephew.

Yes, he came to remember- not to forget, but you wouldn’t leave, would you? In the dead of night, when he pulled the hoodie he’d forgotten about out of his wardrobe, he decided he’d had enough of his bloody flat and drove back to base.

He still had another weekend to before his next deployment, a two-month mission. He’d finish packing then.

“You’re right, sir, it feels good volunteering.” Eric grinned at his lieutenant. “We’re going again tomorrow. Also one of the ladies is introducing her daughter to Sam. See you there then?”

Never again. “Dining hall, sergeant.”

Simon was a fool for not finishing his lunch sooner and bolting, instead lingering for the announcement. With how atrocious he did on his tests, he must have been beyond high to still hope for a miracle, that despite everything, he still had a chance at a promotion.

He didn’t make to the top 3.

Amidst the wishes from the table, Lt. Ramsay’s turned to him. His grateful smile faltered.

Simon’s fists clenched. It was supposed to be him, his. But who was he to be mad. It was the fruit of his incompetence. He knew this was coming. Things were going to shit. The unforgiving truth was staring right at him mercilessly: he had nothing else.

He left for his office.

“Sir, sir!” Sgt. Jefferies called. “We’re heading to the pub tonight. Come with us.”

He gritted his teeth. Word travelled too fast.

“Let’s get out of the base for a bit,” he continued when he caught up to his long strides. “It’s the last weekend before we ship out.”

Simon eyed the display of vibrant bottles behind the bar as he listened to his sergeants’ orders, the names foreign to him. Above, the telly showed a rugby match rerun no one paid attention to.

“Jefferies, how much you reckon it takes me to get pissed?”

He chuckled. “You, sir? At least 10,” he said before taking a swig of his beer.

“Nah, 15 sounds more like it.” Richie, the designated driver for the evening piped up.

Sam downed his first two shots, hissing as he slammed the glasses on the bar. “Agreed. Do you know how much he lifts?” He nodded at Simon’s biceps, bulging under his loose black shirt.

It was a genuine question. Simon didn’t want to get pissed, he only wanted to forget. He didn’t mean to go over his limit he had no idea was at seven.

Drunk Simon was a weeping, blabbering mess. It didn’t help that he was massive, because his sergeants had trouble getting him to the car before Richie drove him to the address of his flat he barely managed to gurgle out before passing out.

“Sir, you’re paying for the bloody cleaning if you get sick in my car!”

Why did he think this was a good idea? He was never a drinker, barely even touched alcohol socially. It was the poison that turned his dad into a demon, and it too became his downfall. The only thing he thought he would always have – his resolve, let him down too. He’d lost you, his mum whom he was supposed to protect, his future, and now his dignity.

Desperation was a lethal sentiment.

And that dream came again, that he stumbled to your door. Legs wobbly, his vision in and out as the world spun in slow motion.

“Luv… Luv, it’s not supposed to end like this,” he slurred, the same line he always opened with.

A marionette, a prisoner in his own head, it was a loop he couldn’t escape. The awful show had to commence to end the same way each time.

“I’m sick of losing and I wouldn’t know what to do when you leave, after how much you’ve given. Instead, I left when you needed me. I should have been there for you, gone through all this with you, no matter how hard it got.

“If you would give me a chance, I’ll quit the SAS. I’d start all over again. I’ll butcher the carrots and apples with the bloody peeler, I’ll let the steakhouse mess up our reservation and eat a dozen soapy tacos… If you ever show up at my door with your pie again, I swear I’d kiss you, not scare you. And I’ll never let go. If it has to hurt, I want it to be you.”

The door clicked open, and like how it always went, it meant the dream was coming to an end.

“You make it worth it,” he muttered as his vision faded.

…

Simon gasped for air, this time staring up at blinding lights. He shielded his wet eyes, chuckling to himself.

“Bloody hell, I think I’m sick on the inside.”

“Only your past, but you are not your past.” Your voice echoed in the distance.

His body was too heavy to move. “Could you forgive me, for all of this?”

“Could you? You need to forgive more than you need to be forgiven.”

He laughed as another tear slipped.

Simon woke on his couch, still in his clothes from the night before. Dreaming of you always drained him, leaving him hollow and out of touch with his body.

He sat up with a groan, rubbing his face as the dizziness settled. He didn’t remember much after getting dragged to Richie’s car. Judging by the gnarly bruise on his arm, he probably fell last night, but he was glad he found his way back to his flat in one piece.

Stumbling to the shower, he hissed when his toe stubbed one of the boxes on the floor. It was a horrendous decision to drink so much, still having to pack the rest of his stuff. He leaned over the sink, staring at his bloodshot eyes.

His sergeant was right. He didn’t look good. He never did. What the fuck are you doing to yourself, Riley?

With his hair damp, he made his way to the kitchen. As he realised he’d packed all his tea stash in one of the bloody boxes, a series of knocks echoed in his flat.

He grumbled. It better be important for someone to disturb his peace, especially with the pounding of his head. He couldn’t be bothered putting a shirt on before he swung the door open.

It was you, a pie in hand like the first time he met you all those months ago.

“Hi, is Simon in?”

His heart lurched as he crushed you in a hug.

“Thought you said you were going to kiss me.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast @alright-i-guesss @maresoleil @mehjustalasshere @rrtxcmt

[cumikering]

Alex Keller x plus-sized reader

.8k | fluff, body insecurities Even if you don’t love yourself, Alex will until you do

The door of your shared apartment slammed shut followed by a couple of thuds.

“Baby?” Alex called from the couch, looking over his shoulder.

When you rounded the corner with a frown, he rushed and wrapped an arm around you, noticing the wobble of your lower lip.

“Oh, sweetie, what is it? Did something happen?”

You’d jumped out of bed with a grin that morning at the thought of the shopping trip ahead. One of your girls had their birthday coming up and you were getting matching dresses.

“No… It’s just…” You sighed, fighting the brimming tears. “I couldn’t find anything.” The first tear fell anyway, which you wiped away immediately.

He led you to the couch.

“Each time they found something cute, I had to be the bearer of bad news and tell them they didn’t have it in my size, or that it looked horrible on me. We went through the whole mall, and I had to look at all these cute dresses that I’d never get to wear because nothing would fit right. I feel so left out.” You sniffled. “I… I was feeling good. Got to have a nice brunch and boba after, but now I just feel guilty about ruining the day! We spent the whole day out and we didn’t even get anything.”

“You didn’t ruin the day, sweetheart.” He gripped your hands. “You just haven’t found the perfect dress yet. It takes time, doesn’t it?”

“I couldn’t even find anything remotely flattering. How am I going to find the perfect one? I don’t… even want to go anymore.”

You still wouldn’t meet his eyes when he wiped your tears away. “How about this, you get a dress you like, and we’ll get it tailored? Then you’ll get to showcase all those gorgeous curves I love so much.”

“But… It’s not supposed to be tailored. It’s supposed to look good right away.”

“Clothes off the rack don’t usually fit everyone perfectly. My dress uniforms were tailored too.” He tilted your face towards him. “We’re living, breathing things. We don’t all look alike and that’s normal.”

After a long silence, you muttered, “Why are you with me, Alex?”

“Because there’s no one I want more than I want you, no one with a sweeter smile or a lovelier voice.” He kissed your knuckles. “Some days I wake up and I wonder what you are doing with me. You should be with someone who doesn’t have to leave you all alone for weeks, make you worry sick if he’s coming home. Someone who doesn’t have so many ugly scars.”

“Alex…”

“It’s the same reason you’re with me, isn’t it? It’s never about what I see, always about how you make me feel.” He kissed your forehead. “I don’t see these flaws you talk about, because to me they’re not. I wish you could see yourself how I see you, just 5 minutes,” he said, caressing your cheek.

“Your smile is what keeps me going in the field when things go sideways. This pretty face is my absolute favourite thing to come home to.” His hands slid down your arms. “Because there’s nowhere safer than your arms when you hold me tight, or when you stroke my hair with your gentle hands.”

He squeezed your waist. “This is a wonderful reminder that I keep you happy. What else am I supposed to grab when we spoon?” His gaze trailed further down. “I love when you jump into my arms, especially when those thighs wrap around me, or when you get on your tippy toes on to kiss me.” He gave you a once over before bringing your hand to his lips again. “Fuck, there’s nothing I don’t love about you. I can’t ask for anything more.”

Your lips wobbled again, but for a different reason now.

He pulled you to his chest, his strong arms around you as he kissed the side of your face repeatedly. “I know it’s hard sometimes. But I’m going nowhere, and I’ll love you even more the days you can’t.”

He brushed the new tears off your face with his thumb and peppered more kisses on your cheek as he held you.

“We have the whole day to shop tomorrow. We can go anywhere you want, maybe the matcha cafe you like too after?"

“You don’t mind?”

He shook his head, giving you one of his gorgeous smiles. “The best things take time, like finding you. But had I known it’s you, I’d have waited longer.”

Happy birthday to my C aka my April sis aka the one Alex Keller would literally be on his knees for aka the story itself @shadofireshinobi. Here’s to many more times I’m gonna slide into your DMs and rizz the hell out of you <3

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 6

2.7k | angst No matter how loyal, guard dogs still have their teeth (part 1) (part 7)

Simon’s steps to your door were heavy, as his heart had been since that call.

Despite his blazing wrath, he was unprepared for the waves of guilt that washed over, the shame that wrestled to drown him. He was unable to protect you from his past – he brought it upon you, even after how much too sweet you’d been, how softly you’d touched him. How could he ever look you in the eye again?

The stray never deserved any of that.

When you gave him a squeeze at the door, he didn’t return it. Still, you tugged him in with the same lovely smile, even when it wasn’t as wide.

“Fancy a cuppa?”

“No.”

Your pretty hand shouldn’t be in his filthy one. Do you even know what I do with these hands?

You sat at the dining table and Simon remained on his feet to your side, eyes fixed on the cup of pu erh before you. His fists clenched and released. You didn’t like pu erh.

At the end of the day, he was still a reaper in dress uniform - one with an unrelenting demon that lurked in the far corner. He could have fucked him up that evening at the bakery. Feel his nose crumble against his knuckles, maybe even the snap of his scrawny neck in his hands.

But no, this happened because he didn't. Like his mum said, you were good for him, of course you were. But was he for you? He was nothing but trouble.

You smiled up at him. Always so sincere, so delicate, making his stomach twist more.

“My dad’s visiting this weekend. I was wondering if you wanted to meet him? And… Um, what I should introduce you-“

Not addicted, he'd tell himself too many times, as if it didn’t sound like a bloody lie to his own ears. You were the beginning of an incurable addiction, a cliff with the bewitching view he was a step away from falling off of.

His gaze left you. “I’m going back home with my mum tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you said, your disappointment evident. “Okay, maybe next time then.”

His heart pounded in his ears as he forced the words out, nails digging into his palms. “We should stop this.”

“What… What are you saying, Simon?”

“This. Meeting you, staying over. I’ll have less time when I become captain. This isn’t going to end well,” he reasoned, but it sounded more like he was convincing himself this was the right thing.

He knew it was, even when it didn’t feel like it, like a lot of things in life. He knew one day he’d be glad he did this. One day, even when right then it felt like the worst thing he could be doing. Would someone, something, rip this decision away from his hands?

“You don't get to say that yet, not right now. I know you're going through a lot.” You reached for his hand. “But we can wait until things settle and we’ll talk-“

He pulled away from your touch. “I've made up my mind. I never meant for things to get this far.”

In the still room, his stare remained on the cup you hadn’t touched since his arrival.

“You knew this all along and you still let it happen,” you said as realisation dawned.

He looked up to meet your hardened gaze. He’d seen you sad, annoyed, angry, but this was the first time your eyes were devoid of warmth. Being the receiving end of that stare was a stab to his chest.

“I should believe people when they show me who they are.” You chuckled humourlessly. “Get out, Simon.”

The world slowed. It was hard to draw his breath as he remained unmoving, like he was chained to the floor of where his sanctuary once was. Despite the arms that ached to wrap around you and never let go, he forced himself to walk away as his blood ran cold.

The door slammed behind him. He didn’t expect a positive response, of course, but it was definitely not the shatter of his own heart.

Still, it didn’t hurt as much as it would have had he waited until you inevitably left him for one reason or another. At least he’d never have to worry about being like his dad, about hurting you, betraying you, if you weren’t there to begin with. Like he’d always known, you deserved better, someone as lovely as you – unlike this stray who would never be enough.

It’s the right thing.

He could give his mum his undivided attention now. She would never leave nor kick him out the door. If he was not wanted, he had to be endlessly needed, used dry until he was nothing but a ghost.

“Who the fuck broke my bloody door!”

Simon and his mum had been waiting for his dad’s return to the house that had turned into a complete mess. Meanwhile, she’d packed as much of her belongings as she could, her luggage in the living room.

“Sign the bloody papers before I make sure you never can anymore,” Simon barked, standing tall next to his sitting mum.

His dad rounded the corner and Simon’s jaw ticked thinking of what he did to you. He let out a weak sigh at the sight of his wife and son at the dining table, a sight he hadn’t seen in over a decade. His eyes softened.

“I don’t want anything from you, James. Please sign them and we’ll be out of here.”

He pulled out the chair across the table and propped his elbows up, face in his hands as he took a deep breath.

“I need to apologise, Melanie,” he began. “I’ve made your life hell, and I know there’s nothing I can do to change that now. I was my fault.”

“She didn’t ask,” Simon said through gritted teeth. He shoved the papers closer when he ached to break the filthy table with his dad’s skull.

“I’m sorry about your last night here. It was unforgiveable, what I did.”

Simon slammed his fist onto the table. He had watched the grand performance too many times. “You’re not fooling anybody with your tricks. Sign the bloody papers. I swear this is the last time I’m asking.”

His mum patted his hand, and he reluctantly took the seat next to her.

“I want you to have the house, Mel. You’ve always kept it too beautiful for a man like me. It’s the least I can give you after everything.” He let out a steady breath, flipping open the document. “I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me for how much I’ve hurt you,” he added quietly.

Was that remorse that settled in his hollow eyes?

His mum bit her lip as a tear slipped. When Simon wrapped an arm around her, she sobbed into his chest.

No words were exchanged as his dad went through the papers, and it remained so until Simon wheeled his mum’s luggage out the door behind her.

“Goodbye, James.” She didn’t spare him another look.

“Simon?” he called in a small voice. “I’m sorry I’m not the father you deserve.”

The lieutenant threw the door shut.

Simon spent the next few days with his mum, Tommy, his wife and son. Since his last visit, Tommy’s got a new job and seemed to be spoiling his son rotten with plenty of new toys, including the shiny red bike outside. Unfortunately, even after over a year, he and Beth still hadn’t had much luck trying for a second child.

Joseph was a brilliant kid with a toothy smile, just like Tommy was, and it always surprised Simon how big his nephew got between each visit. It was a shame he only got to meet his family twice or thrice each year.

“Joe, you’ve been sitting on your uncle’s shoulders all day,” Beth said with an amused smile. “Give him a break.”

“It’s the best seat ever!” His little arms wrapped tighter around Simon’s head, eyes glued onto the cartoon on the telly.

“You need to do your homework.”

“I’ll do it here.” He poked the top of Simon’s head.

He laughed. “I don’t mind.”

She shook her head. “Come on now. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You don’t want to be late.”

“Okay…” he huffed before dragging his feet to his room.

While he flicked through the channels,  Beth went back to the kitchen where his mum was. He wasn’t one to watch the telly apart from football, but his thumb hovered over the button when the Great British Bake Off came on.

He remembered the episode. He’d watched it with you, the only person he ever watched the show with. It was yours, like a secret only the both of you knew.

It’s the right thing.

Faintly, his mum chuckled at something her daughter-in-law said, and his mind couldn’t help but drift to all the times it was you and her in his flat instead. Sharing stories, laughing, while he smiled at the sight from afar.

It’s the right thing, Riley, I promise.

He turned the telly off and went for a walk instead.

At dinner, the table admired little Joe’s drawings he’d done at school – he always saved them for when his daddy came home. With his precious family beaming, it seemed like the life Simon should have had, the one he always imagined was supposed to be like. But even without the devil trailing behind like an ellipsis, this, somehow, didn’t feel right either.

Despite his smile, his chest was heavy with the rotting carcass of the heart he didn't know he still had until weeks ago.

It’s the right thing, it’s the right thing, it’s the right thing.

Later that night, Simon’s head tilted when he entered the guestroom his mum occupied.

“Have you not packed yet? We’re leaving tomorrow. I’ve still got training on Monday.”

On the bed, she lowered her book and frowned. “I’m not leaving. Manchester is my home, Si.”

“Home is where you’re safe, mum, and you’re not here.”

She sighed, the sympathetic kind, before putting her book away. “My well-being and happiness aren’t your responsibility.”

He scoffed. “‘course they are.”

“I can’t thank you enough for thinking about me, but what’s happened, happened. I’m trying to start over, and that includes not being a baggage to you.”

He blinked. “Mum, what are you on about?” he asked carefully as he sat next to her.

“You need to live your life. You push good things away, Si.”

What… “I don’t. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Always so stubborn.” She shook her head. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, Si. My first love… Your granddad didn’t want us together, and I ended up with your dad. I grew to love him, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I chose easy over real. Sometimes I wonder if I’d been less afraid, what life would be like now.

“I'm by no means regretful, because I got to have my two perfect sons, but you had to pay for my mistakes too, and for that I’m yet to forgive myself. I’m supposed to give you a good life, but I didn't. The least I can do now is not hold you back.

Her hands clasped over his. “So live for me, Si. Don't worry about me. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will always be your mum. I can’t stop loving you even if I tried. I just need to see you happy, that’s all I need from you.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m not good enough for her,” he muttered.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“Isn't it too late?”

“Never.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“You make it sound harder than it is.” She cupped his cheek. “It won’t be painless, but if she’s the one, it will be worth it.”

Against his mum’s shoulder, he wished his tears would stop flowing, but with the way she rubbed his back, Simon was once more just a little blond boy with the scraped knee.

From the front porch in the chill night, it was shameless how he called you at that hour, when he didn’t even say goodbye when he left. It was shameless how even after you rejected his calls, he still called for the 5th time, or 10th – he’d lost count. But at last, the line connected.

“Luv,” he said breathlessly, palm pressing against his eyes that had barely dried.

“Please stop calling me.”

“No, wait. Please, listen. Don’t-”

“You’ve made up your mind. Begging only reduces me to nothing, so I didn’t try to change it. I owe you nothing, Simon.”

And the line clicked off.

Still sat on the steps, he blinked at the phone in his hand, deciding if he was going to worsen the situation if he called again. It was shameless that he did anyway, but it went straight to voicemail.

Simon might not have had plenty of dating experience, it was shameless really, but he knew he still had a chance if you were mad.

You’d listen when he showed up at your door, still hauling his backpack.

“Luv, please. Please, listen.”

He thought his heart was about to explode when your footsteps approached. The door opened halfway.

“Hi,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he was near to tears. Despite his resolve, he couldn’t get the words out.

“I've thought about it. You're right. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but it was always so hard to see you leave, and I realised it’s only going to get harder.”

No, no, no...

“Thank you for being honest and saving us from further heartache. I know I didn’t have to block you, but I hope you understand my decision to not be in contact anymore.”

“Luv, no. I wanted- I want to try. I don’t care how hard it gets.“

“I care. I want stability, maybe even a family, and I see now we’re not heading in the same direction.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pained smile. “I wish you all the wonderful things, Simon. Truly, I'm so thankful I got to know you.”

He barely made out the words tumbling out of your lips, wishing he was hallucinating.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you whispered as you closed the door.

Even then, you didn’t give him a foul look for his audacity to show his face after biting the hand that fed him. It was the last time you were going to see him, why did you still have to treat him with respect?

He wished you’d have said something mean, even sick. You should have called him names, tell him he was the most ungrateful man there was, that he was just like his dad, so he had something to hate, so the fire could flare up high once more and he’d be safe behind it like he always was.

But it was you. You could stab him in the chest, and he wasn’t sure it would have been enough to hate you. To overwrite how wonderful you’d been to the wounded stray.

His gaze cast down, unmoving at your door. He did this to himself. It was his fault for dropping his cold stare, for smiling, for looking when you weren’t, cracking his jokes, touching your hand and kissing you, for lying down and baring his belly. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t want him anymore after what he’d done.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the vivid curve of your lips, your soft laugh, the caress of your fingers. The ache for you morphed into an itch that made him want to claw at his skin, to replace the sweetness with bright, searing pain.

Would you please do the humane thing and shoot him so he didn’t have to drown in the storm that brewed in him?

It was for the best, he told himself. It was what he wanted after all, to keep his problems away from you, to keep you happy, even when he wasn’t in the picture. Leaving you was his repayment for being a thankless beast.

“Just because I go, doesn’t mean my heart follows,” he whispered.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 5

2.9k | fluff, night terrors, being held at knifepoint Whose fault is it when the stray you feed won’t leave? (part 1) (part 6)

“You got a girlfriend now, Riley? You know you don’t have to keep coming back to base, especially not at this hour,” a lieutenant from another unit teased as Simon passed him in the hall. “Don’t forget our training is coming up.”

He kept his head down as he unlocked his door. It was inevitable for suspicions to arise after doing this for months now, but thinking of the eventual teasing he was getting in the dining hall made him groan.

Earlier that night, he’d left his hoodie at yours. If he couldn’t have yours with him anymore, maybe you’d appreciate having his.

You took the bait, a selfie of you in it already waiting on his phone when he lay in bed. He shouldn’t have left your flat - your bed was infinitely better than the one he was in anyway. Perhaps he could find an excuse to keep one of your shirts with him instead.

Simon came over almost every night and the banter only got worse when his peers started noticing how he was only gone a few hours each evening.

“Don’t you get tired from all the driving?” you asked as you poured him another glass of water at dinner. “It’s not a short drive at all.”

He looked up from his plate. “Do I bother you?” he asked carefully.

“No, no! I meant, why don’t you… Your flat’s right down the hall.”

Of course the drive was beyond tedious, but it was the lesser of two evils than to be caught having one of his bloody nightmares again.

When he had his first back home, fresh after deployment, his mum said his piercing scream woke the whole house up. He swung the bedside lamp around in a daze as he heaved, yelling at nothing. She said it shattered her heart to see her baby so.

“Why not stay there if you don’t want to be here?”

You thought he didn’t want to be with you?! Where did you get such an outrageous theory? He didn’t want to leave your bed if he was allowed to.

“It’s not that.” He put his fork down, weighing how to put it. “I dream sometimes. I’ve been told it can be really difficult to watch.”

They hadn’t been anywhere as vivid the past few months, but he knew the demons hadn’t left. They lurked around the corner, ready to strike at the earliest convenience.

He usually got them in the field or fresh after a mission, but shooting up into the still darkness was no shame among his sergeants as they shared understanding glances, a silent promise to keep it amongst the unit. Each of them carried the same weight after all.

You nodded, giving him one of those kind smiles again.

Why couldn’t he hold his tongue around you? The lame jokes, the embarrassing bet he lost and now this. What were you doing to him?

“And we have training this week. I’d prefer sleeping a little later than having to wake earlier to drive.” He averted his gaze. “I’m in the top third of the regiment. One of us is getting promoted to captain.”

For years, he looked forward to each promotion, excited about being and doing more, but that evening as the words formed in his mouth, they tasted… underwhelming. It dawned on him that it would be another reason he wasn’t enough for you, not someone you deserved. It caught him off guard that the title was not as shiny now up close.

“That’s wonderful. Captain Simon Riley does have a lovely ring to it.” You reached across the table and rested your hand on his. ”When do you get to know?”

Did the joy in your eyes ever lie? Was he allowed to imagine a world where the possibility to be apart longer wasn’t a problem for you, even when she couldn’t handle the mere thought of him being SAS?

His hand clasped over yours. “We’ll be deployed next month for a bit, but after that. So in two, three months.”

“Rest up then. You don’t have to come over. We can call meanwhile.”

Would you let him? That he only took without giving? He was supposed to provide, to be endlessly needed, but never need.

But you did. The rest of the week he was battered from training, but your soothing voice surrounded him as he lay in bed, melting the tension of his aching muscles away. It was far better than when he was deployed, but it wasn’t the same if he couldn’t hold and kiss you. He had to feel you pressed against him, to be constantly reminded that you were real.

By Friday, he was dead tired, but he couldn’t stay away from you anymore.

It’s raining hard. I don’t want you to have to drive so far again after a short visit. We can meet for breakfast tomorrow instead?

Nah

You opened your door to Simon with his hood pulled up, wet with rain splotches. He didn’t wait any longer before pulling you in for a kiss.

“Good thing you left the black one here.” You helped take his wet hoodie off, and the shirt under pulled with it before you smoothed it down. As you hung the black fabric on the back of the chair, you chuckled. ”Do you even have any in another colour?”

He shrugged, smiling, thinking of the secret matching one he got. “Maybe.”

You sipped your Ceylon tea as yet the same panda advertisement interrupted the episode of the Great British Bake Off.

“You’re making that face again, Simon.” You placed your cup back on the table and snuggled back against him.

He turned to you with a sheepish grin, his arm wrapping around you. “Am I that obvious?”

“Shoot. Don’t be shy.”

“Shoot,” he repeated, barely able to contain his own laughter. “What’s the scariest tree?”

“What?”

“Bam-boo!”

You giggled into the crook of his neck while he cackled at his own joke. He could have sworn you were mostly laughing at the way he laughed, but he liked it. He liked making you smile.

When you led him to bed, he noticed the nightstand on his side was cleared. You’d removed the night lamp and the colourful candles you liked to light at night. He let out a small sigh, thinking of you looking up ways to help. You didn’t have to be so thoughtful or he was never going to stop spilling his secrets.

Your fingers brushed along his black and blue arm making him shiver.

“Do you need anything for these?”

“They look far worse than they are.”

“How many people did you beat this week?”

He chuckled. “Enough.”

Simon was not one to avoid stare downs, but when your soft gaze lifted to his face, he couldn’t hold it for long anymore. He didn’t want you looking back at him, not like that with those gorgeous eyes. The façade he loved to intimidate people with had grown to be an insecurity. You were supposed to be with someone as beautiful as yourself.

“Love the shape of your nose.” You pecked the tip of his crooked nose – another proof of the terrible things he’d done.

He rolled you off him, climbing over you. Under his shirt, your hands explored the expanse of his muscled back as he kissed and kissed. He wondered if you could tell how many raised scars there were, the way his body couldn’t bury the memories properly anymore.

You pulled his shirt off and your hand trailed down his chest, littered with more cuts and scrapes. He wished it looked better for you. When he leaned back down, you kissed down his neck and collarbones.

“There’s nothing not beautiful about you, Si,” you breathed against his shoulder. “It’s too easy to love you.”

This huge, blemished, strange dog might have kept coming back to your door, but at this point, maybe it was a bit of your fault too if you kept inviting it in and feeding it. It was too good to be true, like it was all a dream to have come across you, to end up at your dining table, to be here in your arms.

How did you expect to say something like that without making him want to cry, without giving you his soul?

“Simon?” you whispered against his knuckles you were just kissing.

He hummed drowsily against your exposed shoulder, his bare chest against your back.

“What’s blue and not heavy?”

“What?”

“Light blue.”

The last thing he remembered was snorting softly as he smiled before he slipped into slumber.

And so the stray lingered longer and longer after each weeknight dinner and stayed at yours every Friday and Saturday. You didn’t seem to mind. Meanwhile, after weeks of back and forth between his mum and her lawyer, his dad was finally served.

Simon decided the occasion deserved a celebration. He tried the steakhouse again, telling himself he was going to take matters into his own hands if the place screwed up his reservation again. They didn’t, fortunately for them, and he was even given complimentary onion rings ‘for the mix up the other day’. Apparently it was hard to forget the huge man with the intense stare.

You kept surprising him how you even remembered his lame jokes when you retold them to his mum. He always loved seeing you both interact, how gentle you were. Most of all with him, the way you grabbed his rough hand under the table, stroking with your thumb. It was impossible to not love you.

But the best part of each evening was that he got to kiss you at the end of it, unlike before, when the thought of holding your hand almost made heat rise to his cheeks. But first, he needed to get cleaned up before he could climb in bed with you.

“Mum, you need to stop giving me that look,” he grumbled, tossing his keys onto the entryway table.

“What look?” She turned to him feigning innocence, but the amused smile she’d been wearing all night betrayed her.

“That one!”

She laughed, swatting his arm. “Oh, Si. You’ve been happy. It looks good on you.”

He blinked.

“There’s nothing a mum wants more for her son. Take care of her. She’s a sweet one.”

You were, indeed, especially in bed, all cosy in one of his shirts. You smiled before giving him your back – an invitation for him to come up behind you. He nuzzled your neck, arm wrapping around your waist.

“Wait, you’ve got a non-black hoodie!” You turned to him, fingers tracing over the pie patch on his chest. “Just like the one you got me.”

He smiled.

Acknowledging the tingles you gave him was weird, that his mum knew, and that his door wasn’t far enough from yours, especially when she wouldn’t stop shooting him those looks. It didn’t matter he was a grown man - he felt like a teen all over again, getting teased for having a crush.

It doesn’t hurt anymore to think about the past, about being left behind. You made him feel like he wasn’t just another unsalvageable, daft soldier, but someone worth having, caring for.

And so he willed himself to not ruin the time he had with you by getting ahead of himself. There were other great lieutenants too - he might not even get the promotion this year, and this wouldn’t have to change one bit.

With the divorce finally happening, things were falling into place. Breathing didn’t feel as heavy, and having you in his arms was the cherry on top. If being with you was home, he was never sure he even had one before this.

Simon was deployed the following week.

The night prior, he engulfed you in a hug at your door, nose buried in your neck as he inhaled. You made him promise to get home soon and safe as he kissed you. The more time you spent with him, the harder it was to see him leave.

You knew what you were getting into from the start, but you couldn’t lie the distance and risk he put himself in made you uneasy. Knowing how devoted he was to his job, you wanted nothing more than for him to climb further up the ranks, but you knew it also meant an uphill battle of balancing a normal relationship amidst his commitments. Even when there was almost no day without hearing from him, the hours in between were unbearable sometimes.

Your dad was supportive, as far as not blatantly voicing his opinion counted anyway, but knowing him, it was still a more positive reaction than to some of the men you saw. You were his precious one after all.

You thought he could see it too, that Simon was quickly becoming more than just a man you were seeing. But you didn’t miss the looks he gave - like you were making a huge mistake - apprehensive if the lieutenant was even a good man, if he could give you a proper relationship like what you deserved, if he was only going to break your heart. You reassured him he was a gentle soul despite his living, that he overflowed with selflessness.

“You’ll see when you meet him,” you promised.

On the first Saturday of the month, it was your turn again to volunteer at the soup kitchen. It was nice when Simon could help with the lifting and the ride, but this time you had to resort to a taxi like you always did. He insisted you use his car while he was away, but you rejected the kind offer.

Ben helped as much as he could, but you didn’t have the heart to see him strain and groan. He had history of a bad back anyway, which was why he stopped doing the majority of the baking those years ago.

“Don’t have to pay today, luv. Simon covered it before he left.”

“He did?”

“Yes. Go.” His hand wrapped around yours, curling it over the notes you held out to him.

“Thank you, Ben.”

“Thank you.”

Some of your friends asked if the ‘tall bloke’ didn’t come with that evening. You smiled. ‘Maybe next month when he’s in town,’ you said.

The shift ended little later than last time, Simon was far more of help than you realised. The chill wind hit as you walked home, and you slowed to tighten your scarf.

The next thing you knew, you were pulled into a dark alley. Nails dug onto your arm through your jacket as a man shoved you back against the rough and damp brick wall, making you yelp. He flicked out a knife from his back pocket.

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned in, reeking of alcohol, his stare and smirk deranged. You realised… You realised you’d seen him before - the younger, healthier version of him at least.

“Hiya, little birdie. No Simon this time, huh? You’ll listen then…”

Tears pricked your eyes. “D- don’t hurt me, please. You can have everything. There’s an ATM-“

“No, no… I don’t want your money… Tell Mel to – hic – call off the proceedings.“ His grip loosened as his words slowed. “I haven’t been good to her… If she leaves, I’ll have no more chance to… make things right.” The knife clanked onto the ground as he hiccuped.

With it, you kicked his shin as hard as you could, making him fall with a shriek. You sprinted away, looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t following before rushing into the closest corner shop, your knees pressed to your chest in the furthest corner.

Your hands shook as you tapped your phone, wiping your tears away as the line connected.

“M- Melanie?”

Every once in a while, while looking through the folder he’d made of the photos you sent - his favourite pastime as he waited for sleep after returning your texts, Simon would involuntarily come across that photo. He chuckled.

He stood in your small kitchen wearing the silly apron, a post-pie mess on the counter. He couldn’t hide his concern about the ugly pastry, thinking it wasn’t going to turn out. But it was the very first pie he’d made. Were his tainted hands allowed to create something so wonderful, with you? He wished he’d asked you to be in the picture too.

The way you made him feel, he realised it might be more than an infatuation, more than a fleeting crush. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how you said he was easy to love, but you were not one to lie. Being loveable to you to any degree was enough for him.

I’ll tell you when I’m back. He sighed as he stared at one of your selfies.

His phone dinged. Si, call me when you can

He sat up, dialling straight away. “Mum?”

“Your dad’s back. This time he went after her.”

“What?” His hand formed into a fist. That bloody bastard.

“She’s okay. Shaken, but alright now, sleeping in your bed.” She sighed. “I can’t keep running from my problems, Si. Look how I’m bothering you, even dragged her into all of this.”

“I’ll serve him the bloody papers, mum,” he said through his teeth. “And he’ll regret not signing them the first time around.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @astraluminaaa @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @lyenera

[cumikering]

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 4

2.4k | fluff Simon liked the way you looked at him (part 1) (part 5)

“Why was the strawberry crying?” Simon asked, casually buttering his toast that Saturday morning.

“Why?”

“’cause it was in a jam.” He looked too proud of himself as he took a bite of his toast.

You laughed, looking up from the near empty jar you were trying to clean out with your butter knife.

He loved seeing your bright smile as you sat there across the small table. Even that this was his first breakfast with you, it was better than dinner. In the gentle sun, your eyes were even lovelier, wisps of hair around your face like a halo. The building was far quieter at the hour and you felt closer, like you were all his in this quiet corner of the world.

“Luv, I was wondering if you could teach me how to bake? If you don’t mind.”

“But I’m not a very good baker.”

“Bollocks. Your pie was mint.”

You chuckled. “Okay, that one I can.”

After breakfast, you laid ingredients on the counter next to the recipe - your handwriting distinct, pleasant. Were you ever going to write something for him? A little note would be more than enough, but if he could ask, he’d prefer a letter, maybe, for when he’s away thinking of you.

“Would you like an apron?” You held yours up, with a cat print peeking out of the pocket.

He chuckled, looking over as he washed his hands. Would you like him more in one? “If you reckon I need it.”

You tied it around his waist and let out a small giggle at the sight. “So you want to cut the butter into smaller pieces,” you said, working the butter into the flour with the back of a fork before handing it over to him.

Simon pressed the fork onto the butter, but the sheer force of it made flour fly out of the mixing bowl.

“Shite,” he said under his breath.

“Gently.” You placed your hand over his, pushing it down. “This way.”

He took a breath as he watched how you did so easily, but most of all, revelled in your touch. You’d already held hands, but this was something else. He wished you didn’t let go. And you didn’t, instead wrapping an arm around his waist, watching, as he proceeded with the job you assigned.

He peered at you and you nodded approvingly.

“Now tip that out and fold the dough over itself until it comes together - no dry flour left.”

He dumped the lumpy, powdery mess onto the board and brought it together with his large, awkward hands. But a few folds in, the dough started to transform into a cohesive ball. His brows rose in amusement.

“Look at that, you’re a natural!”

He chuckled to himself as you beamed at him proudly.

Next came the filling. You placed the peeler in his palm - the very same one from last week - his fucking nemesis. He picked up one of the apples, dwarfed by his hand, hoping he had better luck with rounded objects.

He didn’t. He was taking off chunks off the pitiful fruit. He should have come prepared and asked his mum how to peel apples without looking like he was about to stab someone. They certainly didn’t teach you how to use a peeler at the butcher.

“I like to do it this way.” You lightly took the tool from him and demonstrated with another apple. “Hold it here and pull away, like this. Even pressure for the thinnest peel.”

Thanks for not calling me daft.

Following your advice, the assignment didn’t turn out to be that hard. You put on some music as he cored and cut up the apples. At least he was far better with traditional knives.

“Quality control,” you said, popping a piece in your mouth.

Simon chuckled, placing the knife down as he turned to you. “Any good?”

“Mhm. Sweet, but tart enough.” You reached for the mixing bowl again, but he caught your wrist, making you look up at him.

“Would you please let me kiss you?”

You blinked and his heart stalled in those few silent seconds, but you stepped towards him, clutching the front of his black shirt. He sighed as he leaned in, arm around your waist, finally tasting your lips - perfect just like he’d always imagined them to be. The apples were indeed sweet.

You pulled away and bit down your smile, eyeing him from under your lashes before looking away. He too couldn’t stop the grin that crept up his face, nor the thumping of his chest. He picked up the knife and continued the task at hand while you stood next to him measuring out the rest of the ingredients.

On the occasions he looked over to make sure he was following your directions correctly, your gazes met and you turned away, hiding your face behind your cup of jasmine tea. He found it endearing.

The crust he rolled out looked mangled but you reassured no one would be able to decipher the patchwork when it was all done. As he brushed the top of the pie with egg wash, he nodded when you asked if you could take a photo of him.

You gave him a little peck when he finally closed the oven door, just like you had each time he finished a step. He felt like a dog, getting a treat for every good behaviour. The pie felt like a chore now. Could he not dive into all his treats already?

You sat on the couch as the pie baked.

“I’ve always wondered how far your sleeve goes. Does it extend to your chest?”

“Just a sleeve.” He pulled his shirtsleeve up revealing the entirety of his monochrome tattoo.

Your lips pursed. Did he look that good that it flustered you? You were adorable. He liked the way you were looking. Could you never look away again?

“Would you believe me if I told you I had a nipple ring?”

You laughed, tearing your gaze away from his arm. “No way.”

“It was a stupid bet I lost shortly after I enlisted.”

“What was it?”

“It’s too embarrassing. Maybe next time.”

Simon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him as he leaned back. With your hand on his chest, you closed the gap and he just wanted to melt into a puddle against your soft lips. Your breath hitched as his fingers ran down your spine.

You lay on top of him, and his wary fingers toyed with the ends of your hair. The both of you remained silent in each other’s embrace, kissing occasionally, until the timer on the oven went off.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Simon took another bite of his pie that he had to admit tasted far better than he expected it to, perhaps even as good as yours if he was generous (if he closed his eyes anyway). No soggy bottom, at least. Merry Berry would be proud.

“I’m going to the soup kitchen, so I’ll get something nearby after.”

How could he forget? It was the first Saturday of the month.

“You need to pick up loaves from the bakery, yeah? Need me to drive you?”

You smiled. “I’d really like that if you don’t mind, actually. Oh, I need to text Ben, in case he forgets.”

“Ben?”

“Your mums’ boss. We pickup leftover bread there at a discount.”

As you buckled up in his SUV, he realised he never got to hand you your gift last night. He reached for the bag in the backseat.

“For you.”

You pulled out the grey fabric and that beautiful smile bloomed across your lips again.

“Oh, Simon, that’s lovely.” Your fingers traced over the little patch on the left side of the chest. A slice of apple pie. You looked up at him. “Thank you so much.”

It was impossible for his heart to not skip at such a sight.

As you settled the payments with Ben, Simon helped you haul the crates of bread into his car. He was glad he was around this time to help you out otherwise you’d have to take a taxi all by yourself like you always did.

“Ben, mate?” As Simon carried the last of the crates, he stopped at the door which the older gentleman was holding open. “You reckon you’ve got anything to do with how the bastard found out my mum works here?”

He shook his head. “I don’t even know him.”

“Did you contact the coppas? Ran a background check on her perhaps?”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Oh, I had no idea-“

Mr. Riley must have played the worried husband and reported her missing back home to have been notified.

He sighed. “No worries, Ben. It’s not your fault.”

“R- really?”

He felt bad about how the old man gripped the door, still looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m just glad you were there with her. Oh-“ He fished out a wad of cash from his back pocket and handed it to Ben. “To cover the discount. See you around, mate.”

Still in disbelief, he flinched at the pat on his arm.

At the facility centre, the lieutenant effortlessly carried the load into the kitchen, but he lingered at the building’s entrance.

“You reckon there’s anything else I can help with inside?”

You smiled. “Always.”

Perhaps Simon should have asked what the menu was before offering a hand, but he was glad it was the humble garlic bread and that his slicing and buttering skills were decent. You introduced him as a friend to the other volunteers, who were polite (or scared) enough not to question how close he stood by you. But was it bad if he wanted more, if he wanted them to ask who he really was to you?

At 6, people started pouring into the hall. Some knew you by name, greeting you with a grin that faltered when they laid eyes on the stony lieutenant next to you. It must have been comical how the both of you looked behind the small table handing out garlic bread, his frown a stark contrast to your bright self.

But he was having a grand time simply being close to you, seeing you and your friends making people smile. His pinky trailed down your hand.

You looked up at him, shoulder bumping his arm. “You keep our country safe. That’s why we get to have nights like this.”

He smiled when you held his hand. He supposed he was a tiny, tiny bit responsible for this. Your reassurance gave him a new sense of pride, that he was doing something.

After a late dinner you insisted Simon pick, the both of you headed home. When he made it to your flat in the baggiest shirt he owned, you were on the couch, freshly showered just as he was.

You should be kicking him out for bothering you even at this hour, so why did you take him by the hand and lead him to your bed instead? He didn’t resist when you lay next to him, your hand propping your head up.

His heart raced with you this close, watching your soft eyes travel over his face that he didn’t feel deserved to be mere inches away from your beautiful one.

“Simon Riley,” you said quietly, your thumb tracing his lower lip.

“Hm?”

“You’ve got a pretty name.”

Even my last name?

Your gaze flicked up. “Your eyes are really pretty too.”

His eyes fluttered close as he let out an uneven breath.

“You’re beautiful.” Your fingers trailed down his scruffy jaw.

He was certain now his chest was about to explode. Were you high? What did you see in him?

He’d never been touched so carefully before, gazed at so softly. Not even by his first and last love, his childhood sweetheart, whom the thought was the one before duty got in the way. It had been so long ago that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have a bit of peace, to just be - if things were ever this pleasant.

Each ‘a little more’ of you carried him further and further, and he’d floated a little too far from shore - the shore which had thinned into a distant line in the horizon, foreign from where he was as he threaded.

Wasn’t this only going to end one way? He was playing with fire, going down a slippery slope, to be in involved with you as this mess of a man. He did terrible things for a living. He wasn’t good enough for you, couldn’t you see? Or were you too compassionate to understand? It was all the more why he shouldn’t be here with you, in your bed, under your touch, even when he didn’t ever want to leave this flat of yours.

But you let him stay anyway, even after the shameful admittance of his past. Could it be that it didn’t matter to you, that for the first time he was alright as he was, despite his shortcomings? Perfectly loveable, as you were in his eyes?

Hope glimmered in him. I want to be good enough for you.

“Why are you so… nice?”

You took a moment to reply. “It’s easy to be. Being nice is free.”

It was not. Nothing was, but who was he to break your heart?

“Have you not been hurt from that?”

Your lips quirked into a resigned smile. “Unfortunately so, but sometimes it’s worth it.”

He pulled you in, his fingers tangled in your hair as you let out a soft giggle against his lips. When he eventually let you out of his grasp, a little breathless, you flicked the bedside lamp off.

You yawned. “If you’re heading back, please slide the key under the door.”

He didn’t want to. He scooted behind you, a heavy arm around your waist.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what. The bet was that Arsenal was going to lose to Man U. Well, they didn’t, but my left nipple did.”

Your body shook with laughter. “Of course it was a football bet.”

He smiled into your hair. “Goodnight, luv.”

“Night, Simon,” you mumbled.

Pressed up against you in your soft bed, so cosy with your scent surrounding him, his eyelids soon grew heavy.

His worst demons could visit in his dreams again, but nothing was going to take him out of your bed that night. Maybe, this time, things really could be alright for once, and not only in his favourite flat in Hereford.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @astraluminaaa @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @nocturnalreader106 @sparrowgalaxy @lyenera

[cumikering]

Bootleg CK

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 3

2.9k | fluff To him, nothing existed outside the walls of his favourite flat (part 1) (part 4)

When was the last time Simon was this on edge about meeting someone? Probably when he first met his captain when he joined the SAS, about to take the CQB test.

What was he even nervous about this time? This was no first impression - he already scared you the first time you met. He was lucky you still wanted to talk to him after. If he were you, he probably would avoid the huge, grim-faced bloke with the horrible dad jokes.

That Sunday evening, wearing a crisp button down, he knocked on your door and waited. He had his sleeves rolled up his forearms, trimmed his scruff that morning, even put on some cologne, but as he stood there he realised he never explicitly stated this was a date.

Did he need to? He wanted it to be without having to say it. He knew assumptions were the leading cause of misunderstandings, but would you still want to go if it was?

You emerged from your flat with a sweet smile, wearing a cute dress and pretty heels, all dolled up for the evening. You looked like you were ready for a date. Was this a date?!

He blinked, the fabric of his shirt strained slightly across his chest as he breathed in. “You look lovely.”

Your smile widened. “Thanks. You look nice yourself.” Your gaze lingered, but he hoped not because you thought he was trying too hard.

In front of his car, he silently offered you his arm. He wasn’t even looking at you, but he heard your faint chuckle when you took it to walk up to the restaurant.

“I’ve got a reservation for 2 under Simon Riley,” he answered the young host.

“Mr. Riley…” He repeated as he went through the tablet. “I’m sorry, perhaps a different name?”

Simon pulled out his email confirmation.

The host squinted at the phone and upon realisation widened his eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. There must be a mistake on our end. Your name isn’t on the list.” He blinked. “We’re uh- we’re fully booked tonight.”

“Can you please check again? Or is there a way you can squeeze us in?”

The host winced, and at this point he reckoned it was more from scrutiny of his stare rather than the unfortunate error.

“I’m terribly sorry, but we’re booked solid, sir.” He swallowed. “May I let you know if something opens up?”

No, no, no. His first night out with you wasn’t going to be ruined. Did he have to intimidate someone into giving up their table? He knew he could.

“It’s okay, Simon, we can go elsewhere,” you reassured, your hand still on the crook of his arm.

No, he didn’t want to go anywhere else! He wanted this. You wanted this.

You thanked the host and led the defeated soldier out, rubbing his inked forearm. On the pavement, absolutely gutted, he turned to you, shoulders sagging.

“Hey, isn’t that famous taco shop nearby? Just down the street, I think?” You looked up at him. “Been meaning to try it. Do you like Mexican?”

It didn’t matter what he liked. “We can get anything you want.”

Your warm hand remained on him the short walk to the place. Unfortunately, it was packed, leaving no table left so you got the meal to-go. He felt terrible - you got all dolled up for his plans to go sideways, only ending up with tacos in the car.

You nudged him with your elbow. “Don’t look so sad, Simon. We can pretend this is round two, the late-night snack because the fancy dinner wasn’t filling enough.”

He glanced at you, your smile bright as you looked up the sky, your hair danced to your steps. He smiled to himself. At least the weather was nice, and most importantly, you were there. His for the evening.

“Oh, those are humongous!” you gasped, steps coming to an abrupt stop.

He followed your line of sight to the bright display of a tucked away cookie shop. You tugged on his hand as you made your way there. He chuckled lightly as you revelled in the selection, leaving with four hefty cookies roughly the size of his palm (which you fought him to pay for).

You beamed up at him when he took your hand which fitted perfectly in his. He wished the walk to the car was further so you didn’t have to let go so soon.

While dinner delighted you, Simon was trying his best to pretend the coriander in his mouth didn’t taste like soap. His eyes closed as he breathed in deeply.

“Simon, you should have told me you don’t like tacos.” You grimaced.

“At least you’re enjoying yours.”

“I am, but it’s no fun if you don’t! You eat each in two bites, and chew like you’re trying not to throw up.

“’m fine.” He’d had far worse in the field.

“You need to tell me if you don’t like something next time, okay?”

He hoped there would be a next time.

“Should we get you something else? You can’t tell me you’re full.”

He sighed and gave you a sheepish smile. “Maybe Chinese near the flat?”

You laughed. “You’ve got good taste.

While Simon got the takeaway, you headed to your flat. He figured he might as well get changed into more comfortable clothes to enjoy his dinner in, still annoyed by how the evening turned into another mediocre night in.

His mum popped out of his kitchen with a mug of steaming hot tea, grinning. “Si, the cookies are mint. You should have taken me there!”

Oh? You’d raved about them, but the two you saved were for his mum? Why did you have to be this kind? So generous, even after the lame evening.

When he made his way to yours, you’d left your door unlocked. You lounged on the couch, your hair still damp, watching a baking show.

“What’s this?” He sat next to you.

“Great British Bake Off. Have you seen?”

He shook his head. “Don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“The cookies put me in such a baking mood.”

He scarfed his meal down in silence, simply grateful this round didn’t taste funny.  When he was done, he brushed against your arm as he placed the empty takeaway box on the coffee table. He casually stretched his arm along the back of the couch, and you scooted closer, pressing against his muscled thigh. The couch didn’t feel so small anymore, but he needed it to be even smaller.

The steak dinner might have failed, but this wasn’t bad at all - staying in, enjoying your quiet company like this. Maybe you didn’t mind his presence after all.

While this sort of show was not his first pick at all, to his surprise, the calmness mesmerised him. Despite the tense nature of a competition, the show was serene and kindly. You were right - it was quite inspiring. Although he couldn’t help but laugh when the sweet Merry Berry earnestly said ‘soggy bottom’ when judging the contestants’ pies.

Simon peered at you. He’d never learnt to cook beyond turning things edible, let alone bake anything, but watching deft hands peeling, slicing, rolling and braiding was hypnotising to say the least. He wondered when you we’re going to bake again because he’d love to watch you and your delicate hands again.

Should he get the apples? Would you knock on his door with another pie if he did? If he could do it all again, he’d have leant in to kiss you instead of leaning against the doorframe to scare you.

When the episode came to an end, he excused himself for the night. It was later than the time he usually left, but losing a little sleep over your company was worth it.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask where you got your hoodies. They look so thick and comfortable.”

“They’re from this shop near the base. Would you like one?”

“I’d love that! Could you take one of mine for size reference?”

He nodded and you went to retrieve your hoodie from your room.

“Please don’t judge! It’s my favourite.”

With a small smile, he took the old and faded hoodie from you, knowing it had the most soul. “They’re the best when they’re worn, yeah?”

Back at base, Simon placed your possession carefully in his wardrobe. It felt oddly intimate to be trusted with your clothing, especially your favourite, like it didn’t belong in his cold and dark room. But as he lay in bed, he wondered why he didn’t kiss you on the cheek, or anywhere you allowed him, really.

He turned to his wardrobe. You wouldn’t mind terribly if he kept your hoodie on his bed, would you? He stifled a smile when he laid it next to his pillow. He thought of the movies you watched wearing said hoodie, the teas you sipped. He wondered if you’ve danced in it alone in your kitchen, and to which songs, and what you were cooking.

That night, in the silence he didn’t want to break, he sighed softly. Things could be alright after all.

While Simon had been busy that week, he could leave base on time that Friday and arranged dinner with you (and his mum too, of course). He even had some time to drop by the hoodie shop to get you one (you didn’t need to know he got the exact same one for himself), although he was a little gutted that he didn’t have an excuse to have your hoodie with him anymore.

He picked you up from work before driving to his mum. He was excited to present you the gift which sat in his backseat, but he figured he’d do it later at the end of the night at yours. You patted his forearm when you got in the car, and he just couldn’t look away from your smile. Your hands lay idle on your thighs during the drive and he itched to grab one. He prayed for a moment, an excuse, an opportunity.

But when he pulled up at the bakery, from the large window, his eyes narrowed at the scene in the usually peaceful shop. His mum stood behind the counter, hands clenched over her chest, next to an elderly man who was shouting at another man in front of the counter.

Rage flared in the lieutenant. He slammed his door shut and stormed into the shop, throwing the door against the wall.

The man in question turned at the interruption. It was the devil of Simon’s nightmares, Mr. Riley, eyes wide as he registered the sight of the livid 6ft 4 soldier. Simon strode across the room and took a huff of breath before pulling his fist back. The blow knocked his dad straight onto the floor.

“Simon!” his mum gasped.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he spat at his dad who cowered from him.

“I’m- I’m just trying to apologise. I know I was wrong for what I did.” He held his skinny hands up, as if they could protect him against his son’s wrath. “I’m a changed man, Simon.”

A changed man? Yeah, right.

“What you’ve done is unforgivable, and the least you can do is leave her alone,” he said through gritted teeth. He pulled his fist back again, and his dad closed his eyes in resignation.

“Si, no. He’s made enough of a scene.” His mum pulled him by the shoulder. “Come on, Si. Don’t get yourself in trouble for him.”

He heaved, pausing, but his fist didn’t relent. Still pulled back, like the string of a bow more than ready to snap, the tension in his arm aching. But he remembered you were there, witnessing everything, how the illusion that he was an ordinary man crumbled.

It was a rude awakening that even when the pain in his life was out of sight, he was still the Simon with all his baggage. That day, the disgrace clawed its way out of the ground like the undead. Because this, his history, was never dead to begin with. He was cursed with the shame of being related to such a man.

“You don’t want to find out what I’m going to do if I see your face again.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave her alone.” He held his trembling hand up, scooting backwards before scrambling out the door, bumping into you as you watched in stunned silence.

“Melanie, you can go,” the elderly man behind the counter said.

She let out a shaky breath and disappeared to the back before emerging back with her belongings.

The room was tense, and with a tight smile, you only nodded at who he assumed to be the owner of the bakery. You went to his mum, rubbing her arm as you led her out. Simon hadn’t said a word since, his fists in his pockets, telling himself to not run after his dad and bash his face in once and for all.

Though on the outside it looked business as usual with Simon, always quiet with an icy stare, he was seething at dinner. The meal didn’t taste any better than MRE as his fork stabbed the pieces of whatever-it-was on his plate.

His mum seemed unaffected too, chatting and laughing with you, patting your forearm. As if she’d expected it, like her husband was a sentence that haunted wherever she went, waiting to strike. Thankfully, you were nice enough to not ask anything about the incident, preventing the evening from being even more shameful.

While you went to your flat to settle in, Simon and his mum went to his.

“What did he do to you?” he asked as soon as the door closed.

She sighed softly. “He was grovelling, asking me to come back.”

“How did he even know you work there?”

“I’ve got no idea, Si. But he always finds a way to get what he wants.”

He stared at her, wondering what that meant - if she was folding. He looked away before letting out a deep breath, running his fingers through his overgrown blond hair.

“I’ve been thinking about it. I’m arranging a meeting with a divorce lawyer.”

His lips quirked into the tiniest smile. It was about time.

After a shower, Simon knocked on your door. You didn’t seem to lock it anymore when you were expecting him. From the couch, you looked over your shoulder with a smile.

“I figured it was an Earl Grey kind of night.”

You had the kettle on the table, next to two mugs – one empty.

His eyes flicked to you, standing by the couch. “You must be wondering what the fuck that was.”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell-“

“That was my dad. My mum came here to get away from him.”

You gave him a sympathetic nod, patting the seat next to you.

He dropped himself onto the couch. “He hasn’t been nice to my mum to say the least. Hasn’t been to any of us in fact.”

“Must have taken a lot of courage to walk away, leaving everything she’s ever known.”

He turned to you, brows raised. “She told you?”

“No, but it’s not hard to see. She’s got no one here except you. Something must have happened back home.” You paused. “I know it’s just… difficult to do two people’s work.”

His gaze stayed on you, watching how yours cast down. He didn’t know what possessed him, but he asked, “How do you deal with guilt?”

“Accept that sometimes it’s not your fault.” You scooted closer, your hand on his. “That sometimes there’s nothing you can do even when you desperately want to. That you’re not always the good guy in everyone’s story.”

He leaned into your shoulder, his nose brushing against the smooth skin of your neck as he let out a long sigh.

You wrapped your arms around him. “I told you I’ve only got my dad now. He kept forgiving my mum, but it just didn’t work when your heart’s not there. It might have not been my fault things fell apart, but I wanted to have a hand in rebuilding what’s left. I like to think we’ve been having a pretty good time.”

Simon could tell you were smiling from the climb of your voice.

“You’ve still got your mum. There are still nice things to be had.”

His thick arms slipped around your waist. The TV droned on as the last half of your tea went cold, but you didn’t let go, fingers running through the hair above the nape of his neck.

His shoulders were still heavy. His dad wasn’t out of their lives yet, but with you like this, it was easy to forget it all. That anything else existed outside your quiet flat – his favourite flat.

He sat back and pulled you to him, an arm around you. You put on another episode of GBBO and lay on his chest. As the both of you stayed wordless, he contemplated if he could let himself stay - the couch or the floor would be fine. He wouldn’t leave if you asked, but you didn’t.

Near midnight, he excused himself to his flat - his first time staying there since his mum came. At the door, he braved himself to kiss you on the cheek.

“See you at breakfast.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @eve-lie @luvecarson @ghostslittlegf @gluttonybiscuits @jaguarthecat @nocturnalreader106 @devils-dares @sparrowgalaxy

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 2

2.1k | fluff You had many dinners with Simon (part 1) (part 3)

Simon Riley white-knuckled the vegetable peeler against the poor carrot in his other hand like it owed him money.

He’d knocked on your door that morning with the full intention of being helpful, but it was painfully difficult to hide the fact that he was beyond clueless as he stood there at the counter. He even dressed for the occasion, wearing a loose black shirt to not dirty his sleeves. It was his first time seeing you in something other than a hoodie, and he caught your momentary gaze on his tattooed arm.

Sure, he kept telling himself each time he came up with an excuse to have you over was for his mum’s company. It made him happy to see the smile on her face as she chatted with you, your laughter filling his otherwise quiet flat. But was it really for her company now, when it was just the two of you as he embarrassed himself?

Regretting what he thought was a brilliant idea, he glanced at you, absolutely horrified of being a hold up and ruining lunch.

You didn’t even look up from the pot you were stirring. “You know, I really don’t like doing the dishes. Would you like to help with that instead?”

A small sigh of relief escaped him as he dropped everything on the cutting board, thankful you spared the sliver of dignity he had left. He did most of the cleaning while he watched you. You said you weren’t the best cook, but your movements were serene, easy. You didn’t look like you were going to chop your fingers off, and to him, that made you far above decent.

Evidently, Melanie complimented the meal generously while Simon simply asked for a third helping. He beat you to the dishes after that, not allowing you to lift a finger after all the cooking you did.

At your door, you turned to him. “In case I don’t see you again before you ship out-“

“You will. I leave Thursday morning.”

“Oh.”

“Can I have your number?”

You handed him your phone and Simon Riley called himself from it.

“I’ll see you around, Simon.” You smiled at him.

Again, he only left when you’d closed your door. When he entered his flat, his mum looked up from wiping down the dining table.

She sighed softly. “How long am staying, Si? It’s been over two weeks now.”

“As long as you want, mum. I’d rather you here.” He walked over to her. “At least I know you’ll be safe.”

“What’s going to happen to your dad?”

“You wouldn’t let me bash his face in, and he’s not my dad. Not sure he ever was,” he said gravely. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I just need to know you’re safe. That’s all I’m asking.”

She turned away, the discomfort evident in her eyes. Simon knew the look to well.

“You need to leave him, mum,” he said under his breath.

“I think I’m going to stay a few more weeks, two months tops,” she finally said. “Until things settle. I’ll look for a job meanwhile.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to feel useful, Si,” she reassured. “You’ve been too kind to me.”

“Never enough.”

When's the latest you can have dinner before it's not called dinner anymore? Simon texted you Monday afternoon.

Is this the premise to a joke?

He tilted his head. On second thought, it did sound like one of his dad jokes.

No, was a genuine question actually.

9, maybe. Why?

I'll be home before 7:30. Would it be okay to wait for me for dinner until then?

Who's cooking?

Takeout chef down the street. You pick who the lucky bloke is

You smiled as he stood at your door with takeout in hand. The way you looked at him made him question his clean shaven look that day. Did he look too much like an adolescent with no scruff?

Simon didn’t like making conversation, let alone with someone as sunny as you, but he was surprised to find that he wanted to put himself in a social situation with you. Still, he wasn’t used to it. He tried saying more, he really did, but the most he managed to tell was that he was an apprentice butcher back in Manchester before he enlisted, and that he was a currently a lieutenant in the SAS.

After dinner, you sat facing each other on your small couch sipping on tea, knees almost touching each other’s.

At this point, he noticed you didn’t look away as much as you did the previous instances. Either you’d got used to his unyielding stare or his attempt to appear less scary succeeded. You didn’t ask further about his job, and he hoped it was because you thought it was mostly confidential, not because you were afraid of him. That was alright though, you were far more interesting than his work anyway. He enjoyed watching the way you lit up talking about your interests.

Perhaps it was patronising how he wondered why you could be so much like sunshine in this bleak world, walking around like no one was going to break your heart. He found your generosity reckless, even foolish. Guilt pricked his heart for having these unsavoury thoughts, yet he was still utterly and shamelessly fascinated by your smile.

Despite him not wanting to leave, he excused himself for the night before it was remotely late.

“The day at the base starts early, yeah?”

He gave you a small smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Good night, luv.”

On his way to the lift, he knocked on the door of his own flat. His mum answered, clutching her cardigan close to her chest.

“Oh, Simon. I wasn’t expecting you.” She stepped aside. “Are you staying the night? I’ll get the bed-”

“No, ’m just dropping by.” He closed the door behind him.

“Did you need something? Have you had dinner yet?”

“I did, yeah.”

A knowing smile tugged on her lips. “Was it with someone I know?”

“Wanted to say good night and make sure everything’s alright.” A blush might have crept up his neck as he stepped in for a one-armed hug.

But the next night, Simon dropped by again before going back to base.

“Why are you here every day now?” Melanie looked at her son with a teasing smile. “I’m not complaining, but I thought you said you were too busy to come home.”

“Can I not want to see my own mum?”

“Sure, Si.” She gave him a playful side eye. “Let me see what ingredient I’m missing, in case you want to run to the shops.”

He groaned. “I’m shipping out Thursday. Wanted to take you somewhere nice for dinner tomorrow. Get yourself an outfit. Use my card.”

“How nice!” She beamed. “Is she coming with?”

He looked away. “I didn’t invite her.”

“Would you like to?” When he gave her an unsure look, she reassured, “I don’t mind at all. She’s sweet and I’m happy you’re meeting new people.”

Of course it didn’t take any convincing for him to invite you to his favourite steakhouse in the city. In fact, he very much looked forward to having another excuse to see you, especially dressed up. Not like you didn’t look nice, but thinking of taking you out made him giddy. He suddenly didn’t dread the med evals, trainings and briefings he usually detested before each deployment.

When he arrived at base, your reply waited.

Thank you so much for the invite. The place sounds lovely, but I don’t want to intrude. Have a nice evening you both!

His shoulders sagged. Can I at least see you after dinner?

Mrs. Riley beamed when Simon picked her up with a rose in hand. He didn’t remember ever seeing her so dressed up, and he was glad to have given her the opportunity to. She gushed over the delicious dinner, the wine and how polite the waiters were that it brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.

He could tell how much the evening meant to her, and it broke his heart that no one had cared for her that much in a very long time. He held her hand as they walked back to his flat.

“You be safe, Simon. I’ll be waiting for you,” she hugged him tight at the door as her voice wavered, her eyes brimming with tears.

He gave her a squeeze, feeling the emotions rubbing off on him. “Will do, mum. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he said into her hair.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before he headed to your flat.

Simon didn’t recall feeling this heavy upon shipping out in recent memory, but as you answered the door in your loose shirt and shorts, his arms ached to wrap around you. Instead, he shoved his hands in his trousers pockets.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I can’t,” he said. Because if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave.

You looked away, seemingly a little embarrassed by his rejection.

“May I ask why you didn’t want to come earlier?”

You stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind you. “I feel your mum would appreciate it more if it’s just the two of you, that’s all.”

“Maybe next time with you then?” he asked hopefully. “Just us?”

You nodded and a smile blossomed on his lips in return. You both lingered a few more seconds in silence.

“I’m wishing you and your unit the very best on your mission. Please take care out there.” You cast your gaze down.

He caught the wobble in your voice and the sincerity was the push he needed. You barely had time to react to him stepping in for a hug. His arms encircled your frame loosely, but tightened as soon as yours wrapped around his waist. He curled over you, inhaling your scent as your breath tickled his neck.

The lack of distance only highlighted how much he towered over you. He was sure you could feel his racing heart under his turtleneck, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to hold you.

“Let me know when you’re back,” you said when he pulled away.

“’course.”

Simon very much looked forward to your texts whenever he had time to himself. While he asked you about your days, he unfortunately couldn’t say much about his. Instead, he sent you photos of the sunrise, or the shit cup of tea he was having. In return, you sent photos of the Hereford sunset and your meals. He said the kind of food he ate would ruin your appetite.

You told him his mum got a job at that bakery you loved – you knew the owner. On some days if her schedule allowed, you could walk back home with her. Simon thanked you for keeping her company, knowing how much she must have appreciated it.

The two weeks seemed to roll by a litter faster than usual. You were the first to know as soon as he was scheduled to fly back. He said he’d probably get home a late, but would love to see you if you had the time.

At his first knock, rapid footsteps came from behind your door which you swung open with a grin on your face. “You’re back!”

“May I come in?”

You made way for him, and when the door closed behind you, he stepped in, arms lifted a little. With a chuckle, you closed the gap, squeezing him tight.

“Are you available for dinner tomorrow?”

You pulled away. “No, going out with friends.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sunday then?”

“That’ll do.” You smiled, walking backwards to the kitchen. “Come, I’ll make us a cuppa. Co-worker gave me some oolong tea.”

His eyes softened. “Sorry, can’t stay long, luv. I’m going back to base.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday. I thought you stay home on weekends.”

“Yeah, but it’s too late now. I don’t want to bother my mum.”

You gestured at the couch with a chuckle. “I’d offer you this, but it’s way too small for you.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bother his mum - he wouldn’t. He could get in and out the place without a sound, nor was your couch a problem. He could sleep on the floor and it would still be better than some of the places he’d had the pleasure to sleep in.

He wasn’t ready yet, especially not when he just got back, with his mind still reeling 1000 miles an hour.

“That’s okay. I can head back.”

Your brow rose at him. He understood how silly it was now, driving all the way to you at this hour to not even stay 15 minutes. It was embarrassing, if he was honest, how much he was transfixed on seeing you that he didn’t even think of the logistics of the visit.

“Sorry, I’m not a late sleeper. I’m dead tired and always sleep like a log the first night back.” His eyes flicked to your lips as he swallowed. “I’ll pick you up Sunday?”

You smiled. “Where are we going?”

“The same place. I think you’re going to like it.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @fruitymoonbeams-blog @ghostslittlegf @luvecarson @sparrowgalaxy @insert-weird-name @nocturnalreader106

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader

2.6k | fluff, mentions of physical abuse If Simon still had his family (part 2)

Simon Riley just got back to the safe house when he saw it.

Tommy Riley, 2 hours ago, 5 missed calls

It’s mum. Call back.         

His heart thumped as the phone rang. “Mum?” he said as soon as the line connected. ”Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Oh, Simon…” her voice cracked.

His dad had always been an alcoholic ever since he could remember. He and his younger brother Tommy grew up witnessing his antics: stumbling through the door with slurred shouts in the wee hours of the night, often breaking things in the house, taunting them with the exotic animals he brought on occasions, if he even came home at all.

Mrs. Riley turned the other cheek, making excuses for him. As a child, Simon believed her, that people were short sometimes. Because daddy was tired at work, because mummy didn’t cook dinner right, or forgot to buy his favourite beer… Until he grew up and saw the behaviour as what it was.

But she never left, reassuring him his dad would never lay a hand on her. Simon didn’t trust that bastard of a man, but it was her choice to stay and he could only respect that. It was not his decision to make.

At least if he couldn’t bring her the happiness she deserved, he had to do something to distract himself from the hell at home and divert his aggression. That, and he wanted to help make the world a better place. When he left for the military, he firmly warned Tommy to take care of mum and to be there for her if anything was to happen.

Still, Simon spent his adult life painstakingly watching, waiting for the man’s first misstep so he could eliminate that cancer out of everyone’s life once and for all. The day was finally here. His dad had chased his mum about the house with a knife.

“I- I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back. I walked barefoot to Tommy’s,” she said between sobs.

“How long has this-“ He stopped himself. It was not the time. He took a deep breath, his hand in a fist, knuckles white. “You’re catching the next train to Hereford,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You’ll stay at my flat until I’m back and we’ll figure things out. Someone from the base will call and help you out.”

“I don’t want to be a bother, Si. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said sternly. “I only go back home on the weekends, just stay there. I need you to be safe, mum. Please.”

In Hereford, on a chilly Tuesday night as you made your way down the hall to your flat, there stood a lady fumbling with the key to her own. On the floor laid bags overflowing with fresh produce. She turned as your footsteps approached.

“Hiya, sweetheart. Terribly sorry, but could you give me a hand please? I can’t seem to get the door.” She was middle aged, greying short hair, soft spoken with a Manchester accent.

 “’Course.” You smiled at her as she moved aside. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The key only turned halfway before stopping.

“I just got here some days ago.”

You grunted before turning it all the way. “There you go.” You pushed the door open.

“Oh, you’re an angel, luv.“ She thrusted a bag of apples towards you. “It’s not much, but here. Please have these as a thanks.”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. It’s nothing really.”

“Please, I insist.” She put her hand on yours. “And it’s Melanie.”

You smiled. “Welcome to the building, Melanie. I’m at the end of the hall if you need me.”

You spent Saturday morning baking, courtesy of Melanie’s delicious gift. Even that you devoured the apples throughout the days, you didn’t want to risk the rest going bad on you – you could only eat so much. As you let the pie cool, you cleaned up before making your way to her flat.

It didn’t take long for the door to open. Your smile fell as you blinked at the man staring down at you. His stature huge, almost filling the doorframe as he stood unmoving.

You cowered, eyes darting away. “Hi, uh, is Melanie in?”

“Melanie?” he repeated, voice gruff and cautious. He leaned his forearm against the frame, appearing even more intimidating than the situation needed him to be. “What does this concern?”

You took a step back. “Just… wanted to give this to her.” You held out the pie towards him.

“Who is it, Si?” a woman from behind him called.

The man stepped aside to reveal the much shorter Melanie.

Her face lit up. “Oh, hello, luv. What a surprise!”

“Thanks for the apples, Melanie. I made you this.” You trudged the pan towards her, shifting your weight.

“Come in, come in. This is my son, Simon.” She turned to the man, patting his arm. “She’s the bird who helped me with the door the other day.”

Still with the sharp stare, he gave you a curt nod before you followed Melanie in, placing the pie on the dining table.

“Lunch is almost ready. Would you care to stay, luv?” She made her way towards the stove and muttered, “I always cook too much.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, sure. It smells lovely.”

You helped set up the table as she finished up the soup and brought it out. Simon got himself a helping and sat across you with Melanie beside the both of you. The blond was a few years older than you, jaw lined with a light stubble, but those brown eyes. They were icy, calculating as he glared at you.

Even that the soup was tasty, you regretted saying yes to it as you ate under his scrutiny. Instead, you averted your gaze to take in the flat. The layout was similar to yours, but quality pieces furnished it instead. The large, dark couch in the corner of the living room looked particularly comfortable, behind it a tall shelf lined with books. It was sparsely decorated, and too tidy to be recently moved into without boxes about.

“Do you know if they’ve got a farmer’s market nearby, luv?”

“I don’t, sorry. I get by going to Tesco.” You gave her a soft laugh. “But I can help you ask around.”

She beamed. “That’d be very nice.”

“I do know a bakery a few blocks away with wonderful loaves though. I always buy there.”

While the both of you chatted about the area, Simon was wordless. In fact, he almost didn’t make a noise at all, but at least he’d stopped staring which allowed you to finally relax your back you didn’t realise had been tense. You thanked her again for lunch, and she promised to return the pie pan as soon as she could.

Later that evening, the knock on the door took you away from your laptop. You expected Melanie, but were instead greeted by Simon. Standing a respectable distance from the doorway, he didn’t look like he was trying to scare you this time even that his gaze was as stony.

“Thanks for the pie. Was mint.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flat tone, taking the pan from him. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He grunted, averting his gaze. “I wanted to thank you, for how nice you’ve been to my mum.” He looked back up at you. “She’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “I understand. It’s not always easy going somewhere new.”

“If you ever need anything, feel free to drop by.” He gave you a half smile before turning away.

The blond Mancunian was the last person you expected at your door on Wednesday night. You’d just taken your coat off as you arrived back from work.

“I got greedy and bought too much takeaway. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed. “Really? Too much food?”

“I’m not fond of leftovers.” He shrugged, inadvertently emphasising his size.

“Well, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Mon’ then.” He tiled his head towards his flat, his hands now shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“Glad you could join us, luv.” Melanie smiled as she set the table.

“Hard to resist takeaway.” You chuckled as you approached. Takeaway boxes almost covered the entirety of the table. “Wow, this is a whole spread.”

“I said the same thing!”

“What can I say, I’m a hungry man,” he said gruffly behind you.

You turned to him in amusement. He gave you a shrug, but this time his eyes didn’t look as hard. In fact, you thought you saw a whisper of a smile on his lips.

Later that Saturday as you lounged around on the couch, you looked up from your book at the knock on the door. It was once again Simon in his hoodie, his posture impressive as always.

“My mum told me to run to the shops because we’re out of salt. Any chance you’ve got some to spare so I don’t have to?”

“Salt? Of course.” You headed to the kitchen, leaving the door open.

His fingertips brushed against yours as you handed him the ceramic container.

“She’s cooking pasta. Fancy some?” He tilted his head towards his flat.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

You gave him an amused smile. “I’m starting to feel like a freeloader.”

“It’s the least we can offer in return of the salt.”

“It’s just salt.”

“We wouldn’t be eating without your salt, if I’m honest.”

The smile remained as you shook your head.

“Come, she’s waiting.”

At the stove, Melanie thanked you for the ‘life-saving’ salt when you should be the one thanking her for her hospitality. By now, you knew where the tableware was and started setting the table, but this time Simon trailed, grabbing glasses and closing the cabinet doors after you.

“It’s brilliant, really,” you said after the first bite of the tomato pasta. “You’re feeding me too well.”  

She smiled proudly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not a culinary prodigy at all, but please let me return the favour and make the meal next time.”

“Don’t wor-“

“When?” Simon piped up.

“Next weekend sounds good?”

“Can’t do.”

You hummed. “Well, I won’t have enough time to cook anything fancy on weekdays.”

Melanie swatted her hand. “Oh, you really don’t have to, luv.”

“But there’s still tomorrow. How does lunch sound? I’ll do the shopping today.”

“I’ll drive. Need to pick up a few things too.”

You smiled at him and turned to Melanie. “You want to come with?”

She shook her head. “You kids have fun.”

Simon cleaned up while you got ready before leaving in his SUV. In the sun, his eyes were gorgeous glimmers of deep caramel framed by long, blond lashes. He’d pushed his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms – the left one inked.

It flexed as his hand rested atop the steering wheel at the red light. You could see the details from here – skulls and rifles over fire adorned his pale skin. You wondered how far up the monochrome sleeve extended.

He still hadn’t said anything since he picked you up at your door. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was awkward or simply didn’t like to talk. You tried your luck anyway.

“How do you find the building so far?”

“No complaints. Been there over a year.”

“Really? I don’t think I’d seen you before actually.”

“I don’t really live there. Just on the weekends, if any.”

“Didn’t Melanie say she just got here weeks ago?”

“She’s visiting.” He turned to you. “I meant it when I said she likes your company.”

You smiled. “She’s real sweet. I hope she enjoys her stay.”

When you arrived, he beat you to the basket at the entrance.

“I’ll get it. On you, luv.”

You got called ‘luv’ all the time, but the way he said it made you look away. You couldn’t ignore the tickle that ran down your spine.

On the way to the produce section, the offer sign caught your eye as you passed the biscuit aisle. You reached for the goldfish crackers you hadn’t had in a while.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…” he started behind you.

You turned to him, a brow raised.

“One looks at the other and says ‘You know how to drive this thing?’”

Nothing prepared you for a joke from him, the brooding man in oversized hoodies who barely spoke. You cackled embarrassingly loud in the empty aisle. It was your first time seeing him actually smile. He had pretty teeth, and his eyes finally thawed, crinkles by them.

“That’s a good one,” you said after your laughter died down, chucking a bag into the basket.

The ghost of a smile remained on his lips as he looked ahead. You took it as a cue to move along. He stood behind you as you moved about and picked ingredients, telling you the reason he couldn’t do next weekend was because he was in the military and would be gone on a mission. You didn’t know it, but his gaze lingered on you the whole time.

Before long, you were ready to check out, grabbing a box of English Breakfast tea on your way there. In the queue, Simon stood a touch closer behind you than he needed to, his arm splayed on the railing next to you. You didn’t make a move against it. Instead you tried to make out the rest of his tattoo, but the way his veins budged under the ink from holding the basket distracted you.

It occurred to you people had joined the line when you heard giggles behind the wall of Simon. You couldn’t help tuning into the rather loud conversation. One of the girls was dared to skydive after losing a round of beer pong, and the instructor was “so fucking hot summer came back to Birmingham”. She very much looked forward to their date the following week.

You bit back a smile. You were oddly proud of the stranger. You go, girl.

Simon tapped your shoulder and leaned into your ear. “Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

You only managed to turn a fraction before coming face to face with him. Your breath hitched, not expecting the proximity.

“Because it scares the shit out of their dogs.”

Your laughter boomed before you slapped a hand over your mouth and turning to him fully. His warm eyes returned with his smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself.

The eye contact remained a touch longer, only broken by the cashier calling for the next customer. You whipped towards the lady, gaze cast down as Simon hoisted the basket onto the counter.

He didn’t give you a chance to pay as he already had his phone ready at the receiver, shrugging off your protests. You didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t even pick up anything for himself.

It wasn’t a lot, but Simon carried all the shopping up to your flat. You gathered the bags from him after you opened the door.

You pulled a box of salt from one of them. “Here’s for your mum.”

He quickly took it and looked away.

“Thanks again for the ride. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nodded, but stood unmoving. His boots only thudded away when you’ve locked the door.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 9 (end)

1.7k | fluff Well, yes, but if a wolf runs around unattended, they’re going to call animal control (part 1)

Keegan made good on his promise that he’d clean up after himself.

With the way he loved to cuddle you as a wolf, even the biggest lint rollers wouldn’t suffice so he compensated by vacuuming your place every day. But not without giving Raider the side eye, because of course he had to help out. Some of the fluff was his too after all.

You really spoilt him, didn’t you? The K9 only watched his handler as he panted among the avalanche of chew toys you got him (his favourite was still the phone one though), and wouldn’t even clean his own dog bed with the lint roller.

Keegan took a two-week leave to take care of Raider who was anticipated to take a few months to recover before he could get back in the field. Fortunately, he was healing fast, already standing the week after and moving about.

Keegan decided to crash at your place meanwhile. ‘It’s closer to the vet hospital,’ he reasoned, but he knew you knew it was more than that. You said you didn’t mind as long as he kept the floof in check.

It felt natural to be around you like this. Driving you to and from work, cooking dinner with you, watching the TV after. It was hard to believe he lived so long without this, believing he was perfectly happy too.

And to think this all started with his curse.

His wolf had never been happier too, being in your space. Head empty, no thoughts, just his peanut as he drifted off to sleep.

You said it was strange the first few times he spooned you in bed as a wolf and suddenly shifted back when he lost his consciousness to sleep. The floof disappeared in a split second, replaced by his heavy arm around your waist which startled you.

Even that he was hesitant at first, he was pleasantly surprised with how welcoming you were to his peculiarity. Like when he approached you with hot cheeks a few days into staying at yours.

“Peanut,” he said in a small voice, eyes not meeting yours. “Would it be okay, if maybe, you can play tug of war with me?”

Your brow rose.

“I mean, it’s totally fine if not! It’s just I need exercise and Raider can’t play yet,” he rambled.

“Of course! We can play fetch too if you want.”

His eyes brightened, thinking of that time when his first instinct was to run after the toy you threw for Raider. “Oh, I’ve never tried that before, but that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“We can have a run at the park too, so we don’t have to go on a hike. If you’ve got an owner, no one’s going to call animal control on you.”

He tilted his head. “I am not going to be leashed.”

“But can you imagine how big of a tranquiliser dart they’re going to use on your wolf otherwise?” You stifled a laugh. “Probably as big as my forearm.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. You knew he wasn’t a fan on needles. “We’ll go hiking when Raider’s better.”

Your laugh always made him happy, like when he pulled the rope toy too hard on purpose to wrestle you on the floor. You never won against the giant wolf no matter how much you tried, and he was glad of it because he loved nuzzling you from above, your giggles filling the room.

He sent his mum pictures of the both of you, some of your cooking too, always thrilled at every opportunity to say you were his. He was to visit her with you when Raider got better, but meanwhile video calls would have to do.

“Aw, look at the both of you! Aren’t you adorable, sweetie?” his mum cooed, the phone a little too close to her face.

“She’s a cheek pincher,” Keegan said. “Here, I’ll do it on her behalf.” He reached over to pinch you lightly.

Mrs. Russ laughed. “I hope you’re feeding him well. He eats like he’s still growing, but can barely cook. Make sure he does the dishes at least!”

You let out a chuckle.

“She does! She makes the best PB sandwiches.” It was true - they were better than his and he didn’t understand why. “When we visit, she’ll make you some.”

His mum was not a werewolf nor was she a fan of PB, but he firmly believed the love for it would transcend all.

Before Ghosts’ next mission, he took you out to meet his teammates for dinner. You were a little bashful from all the attention you got when they tried to get to know you. Especially from Ajax and Kick, who were mostly baffled by how you could spare “the creepy, frowning guy” a second glance.

“I can get you an angel shot,” Ajax said.

“Blink three times if you need help,” Kick whispered.

Regardless the teasing, Keegan grinned at the fact he got to call you his peanut.

However, the closer it was to the 7th full moon, Keegan grew restless, but not because of his urges. With how well and fast you fit into his life, he couldn’t even remember what it was like without you. He was terrified he bond wasn’t going to work and he’d lose everything again.

He didn’t doubt your feelings, even that he had to admit he felt clingy sometimes, wanting you to tell him how much you felt towards him. He was glad you never complained, but was kind regarding his needs, taking care of him.

The night of the full moon, he took you out on a date, somewhere special with a live cello player. At your door, he presented a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He made sure it was bigger than the one Blake sent and that the card didn’t fall off (not like you needed it since he brought it over personally). A little petty, he had to admit, but he had to show you he was cooler than your uni friend and could survive far more than a few punches.

You dressed up, your hair done, smelling wonderful and he couldn’t keep his hands off you. His peanut. Fuck, he still couldn’t believe you were his. Under the clothed table, he squeezed your knee.

The hours rolled past as you enjoyed the haunting performance, his arm along the back of your seat while your hand rested on his thigh. He started bouncing his leg, something he almost never did.

“It’s going to work.” You squeezed his thigh.

“I’m not worried,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes fixated on the cello player.

“You won’t be a wolf. We’ll visit your mum and have her cooking, and you’ll show me your band poster collection, okay?”

He gave you a crooked smile, hand gripping yours.

Outside, the moon beamed bright against the cloudless sky. Fresh out of the shower, you sat in bed next to him, his chest bare, soft from the hot water, lower half under the comforter. The bedside lamp shed enough light to illuminate the way your lips pulled into a thin line. His arms wrapped around you and you let out a shaky breath against him.

“You can tell me to stop any time, and… Just in case.” He reached for his blade on the nightstand, handing it to you. “I love you, okay?”

You nodded and he peeled off the comforter that covered him before shifting. You bared your neck to his wolf, brows furrowed as your eyes closed.

He whimpered, nuzzling your neck. I love you, peanut.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you mumbled.

He puffed out steady breath before positioning his fangs on your neck, feeling you shudder under him. You gripped his mane, yelping when he sank into you. Your blood was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and with your addicting scent filling him, it was too easy to stay put, but he shifted back immediately.

“You did good, peanut.” He kissed the corner of your eyes where tears had pricked. “Now we wait.”

In the dead of night, he jerked awake, breathing heavily. With the movement, you woke too.

“You okay?” You rubbed his chest, fingers ever comforting through the fuzz.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I think. Did you have a dream?”

“We were in the woods, at full moon.”

He held his breath as his heart raced.

“Your wolf and I were walking to the cabin in the distance. I was barefoot-“

“In a white dress,” he said under his breath.

You nodded, beaming.

“It worked.” He chuckled in disbelief, gripping your shoulders. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Your arms wrapped around him. “We’re mates now, Keegan. For life.”

Months later, Raider fully recovered and was back in the field with his handler. You and Keegan got a new place between your old places, somewhere without carpeted floors because he’d grown sick of the vacuuming. Life slipped into a rhythm.

He took you to his home and greeted his mum with a kiss on the cheek. You said her lasagna was as great as he always hyped it up to be. Much to his chagrin, she was swift, and vey excited, to show you his childhood photos. He groaned. The memory of him rocking a bowl cut for the entirety of primary school was humiliating, but with a giggle, you reassured he looked cute with his signature icy stare. He didn’t believe you.

Keegan carried your luggage up the stairs with Raider padding behind, nails clicking against floor. His mum never changed a thing in his bedroom since he left, his emo band posters still almost lined the entirety of the walls. He stared at the one behind the door and contemplated if you’d like him in one of those haircuts. There would be more to pat after all (and it surely wouldn’t be as hideous as a damn bowl cut).

At bedtime, in his cramped bed, you huddled facing each other.

“I guess we should have stayed at a hotel after all.”

He shrugged. “You know, if we were both wolves, we would fit perfectly fine here.”

You smiled, tracing your neck where his bite marks had faded. “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.”

Thank you so much everyone for reading my silly doggo story! I had mad fun writing this and I'm glad you stuck around until the end :D take care x

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @shadowlali @eve-lie @reelovesfictionalmen @writeforfandoms @milkteaarttime

[cumikering]

Werewolf Keegan x reader 8

2.4k | angst How many times can you run from someone before they run from you? (part 1) (part 9/end)

An enemy sniper’s bullet went straight through Raider’s leg.

Keegan performed first aid on the collapsed K9, forcing his hands to not tremble from the dread. The bullet had miraculously missed his bones, but the blood still poured from the open flesh. While everyone had taken their masks off, Keegan kept his on. No one needed to know how many ugly tears he shed in silence as he helplessly held his whimpering best friend for the whole ride. He was losing too much, too soon.

Back in the city, in the waiting room of the veterinary hospital, his stare burnt onto the unassuming clock which appeared to move slower by the second. He called you from the hospital’s landline, the only thing that could distract him from everything that was going to shit, but you didn’t pick up.

He had been waiting for what felt like hours, his huffs heavy as he paced the empty room. Empty because since he arrived, the other patrons seemed to prefer to wait elsewhere, away from the man with the storm brewing in his eyes who gripped the seats next to him like he was about to fling them across the room.

When Raider made it out of his emergency surgery, Keegan let out his breath as his shoulder sagged in relief. He knelt next to his kennel, petting the K9 as he lay on his side with a loopy stare, his tail swaying weakly.

“I know you miss her, buddy. I’ll get her, okay?” He took his handkerchief out of his back pocket, placing it next to Raider. “Keep this safe for me.”

The sun was setting when Keegan made it to your apartment. Ideally, he’d visit with a bouquet and a rehearsed speech; alas the stars hadn’t aligned at the slightest the past few painstaking hours. In fact, they had been blown out of the fucking sky because when he got out of his SUV, you were in the courtyard heading to your building, a man next to you.

He slammed his door shut and stalked towards you. He had no right to – perhaps it was the remnants of his agitation, but he wanted to punch the dude for standing so close to you, making you smile and laugh like that. He was walking you to your door, were you going to invite him in? When it was just him on your arm weeks ago?

“I need to talk to you,” he declared.

Your eyes widened momentarily before you walked past him. He didn’t relent, following you.

“You blocked my number. I’ve been trying to reach you the past week.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice was cold as you maintained your pace.

“Don’t think she wants you here.” The man stepped in front of him. “Why don’t you leave her alone, mate?”

Who the fuck was this green-eyed dude with the posh English accent telling him what to do? He might have been as tall as Keegan, but he didn’t look like he could survive half a punch.

“I’m not talking to you.” He didn’t spare the man another glance. “Raider got shot. He’s at the vet hospital.”

You stopped and turned to him. “W-what?”

“He made it out okay, but I thought you might want to see him.”

“Oh God,” you whispered. “Yes, I’d love to see him. Blake, I’m so sorry, I need to go.” You placed your hand on the man’s forearm.

“Are you sure?” He gripped your hand, wary eyes wandering to Keegan before going back to you.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll text you, okay?”

Keegan noticed the way you fiddled with your shirt as you rushed to his car. It was his first instinct to wrap his arm around you whenever you did so, but he caught himself before he made the contact.

“Who is he?” he asked as he drove off. “Was he the one who sent the flowers?”

“Why does it matter, Keegan?” you retorted, an edge in your voice.

“Just answer me.”

“Are you lying about Raider?” The venom dripped from your accusation.

“I’m not. Why would I do that?” He glanced at you. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I don’t actually. I don’t know you anymore.”

I’m jealous, okay? I want you all to myself. “Just… Tell me who he is and I won’t ask again,” he softened.

“It’s none of your business. And if you won’t shut up, let me out of the damn car right now because I’d rather walk on my own than hear your voice again.”

He decided it was enough of an answer who the man was.

During the silent drive to grab Raider’s things at his, the lump in his throat wouldn’t stop swelling, but he’d calmed down enough to not want to scream anymore. It didn’t matter if it was your date or your boyfriend. He’d accepted that he’d irrevocably messed up and nothing was going to change that.

You helped collect the K9’s favourite toys from the living room which was still a mess from him leaving in a hurry for his previous deployment. When he emerged from the bedroom, Raider’s blanket folded in hand, you were waiting by the door. As much as he wanted to stay in the delusion that there was still a sliver of hope of mending this, he understood he might never even get the chance to speak to you again with the way you wouldn’t look at him.

“I just… Can you hear me out? I just need 5 minutes. Please.” His fingers clenched around the soft fabric.

You spared him a glance. He took it as his cue to proceed.

“I wish I had the balls to say this sooner because this feels far too late now. I know you hate me, but at this point I’ve got nothing to lose. So I just… want to tell you I’m in love with you.”

Your stare didn’t waver.

“I want to parade you around to my teammates, take you home to meet my family, kiss you goodnight, every single night. I don’t know how you make me so happy, so alive. But I never said anything because…” He exhaled, arms dropping to his sides, fist clenching and releasing. “What happened to me was… You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m a w-”

“Is this a joke?” You scoffed. “I told you I won’t stop you if you wanted to leave, and you did. I only asked you to be honest and you couldn’t even do that. So save your sorry excuse for someone who’d buy it.”

His gaze fell to the floor. “It’s not an excuse,” he said lamely.

“What are you doing this for? Was it not enough that you left me hanging for a whole week? And- and I heard how you rushed out to leave that morning.” You swallowed. “You’re unbelievable. I shouldn’t have gone out with you, shouldn’t have kissed you. Shouldn’t have forgiven you or let you stay the night!”

Your words, like daggers to a bleeding wound, made it hard for him to breathe. His chest felt bound, icy, his fingertips tingled as his heartbeat echoed in his ears.

So he walked past you and left, the only thing he was good at - running away from problems. Because it hurt less than to see the anger, the disappointment in your face, knowing it was his fault.

In the hurry, he took Raider’s blanket with, but his buddy would have to wait. His skin scorched as he drove to the mountains, but this time, the pain didn’t dissolve after his transformation. He ran aimlessly, wailing and howling the pain away in the woods, blinded by the hot, white fire. Having had experienced nothing as agonising, he wished he had a weapon to just end it right there and then.

He didn’t even make it up the mountain when his legs bucked and he collapsed onto his side, heaving, like breathing through shrapnel impaled through his chest. His eyes didn’t stay open much longer, and he succumbed to the burn.

Keegan didn’t know how long he was out when he woke to his own pained scream, tears down his face in his human form. He ran his calloused hands down his body, but discovered no injury. With the ache in his chest, like a hole had been blown through it, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was reality. He got dressed and dragged his unsteady legs to his car, not feeling like he was all there.

It was in the dead of night when Keegan got to the vet hospital, but as Raider’s handler, the staff cleared him to visit anyway. At the clink of the kennel opening, the K9’s eyes flicked open to him, tail swaying twice before slumping to his side again.

He dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, bud,” he whispered, rubbing his head. “I can’t do anything right. I couldn’t even get her to see you without fucking everything up.”

He reached behind the pooch, tucking him under the blanket, but his hand bumped onto something. It was his phone chew toy, the one you were supposed to bring with him.

You’d been there for Raider, despite how much Keegan had hurt you. You still cared even when you didn’t have to. You weren’t allowed to be this kind to someone like him.

Truly realising how much he’d lost, the gravity of it all, he choked out a sob. He didn’t care about having to live the rest of his days as a wolf, but losing you… He couldn’t handle that, yet the situation was the bitter fruit of his cowardice.

The city had long settled when the door to his apartment slammed shut. He didn't care if anyone screamed at his face for the noise at the hour either. He didn’t care about anything, but-

Wait. He smelt you.

You sat up on the couch, rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the florescent lighting. He dove to his knees, arms around your waist.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he choked. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Why can’t you just be honest with me?” You stroked his hair.

“I’m always too scared. Of messing up, of losing you.” His embrace tightened, not caring if he smelt like earth and moss. He didn’t want to let go.

“You keep running away.”

He pulled away, puffy eyes meeting yours. “Can I show you? Do you trust me?”

You nodded. He went to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar before emerging in his wolf form. At the sight, you gasped, frozen in place. He took slow steps towards you, tail between his legs.

“You’re… You’re the wolf from the woods.”

His tail rose. You met him halfway, dropping to your knees to embrace him. He leaned into your hair, accepting that this could very well be the last time he could smell you like this. He pushed you onto your back, standing over you, nuzzling your neck he stained with his tears.

“I want to work things out, but… You keep making me feel like you don’t want me, when you can be kind to me.”

It took a blink of an eye for him to shift above you, now caging you under his body. “I do. I’ve never wanted anything as much. I’m sorry I don’t know how to handle myself and I keep hurting you.”

You cupped his face, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

He closed his eyes. “But I’ll be better. I have to be. For you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, arms around his neck. The weight on his shoulders released, he could breathe again as the bound around his chest loosened. When you smiled against his lips, he pulled away.

“I’m not looking, but are you… Naked?” Your eyes stayed on his as you tried to bite back your laugh.

He gave you a sheepish smile. “I forgot again.”

You scratched the back of his head.

He sighed. He’d missed your smile beyond words. “I like it when you do that.”

“I know. Your tail told me as much.”

In bed, with you in his arms as the sun rose, he told you about the recon duty. How he had no idea what was happening to him for the first few months, how he could run faster and further, and healed from his injuries in no time at all. He recounted how he eventually got the hang of it until he met you.

“You smelt so good, better than peanut butter, but I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was impossible for me to have someone, a mate. Until that morning, I saw your birthmark, just like my scar.”

He explained the concept of mates, voice hushing as he detailed how the bond worked. His grip on you tightened without him meaning to - he wasn’t ready to know you didn’t feel as deeply towards him for the bond to seal. He braced for you to rip yourself off him, a scream, anything, at the ridiculous lore he told.

The air stilled. “Do you believe all this?”

“I don’t want to, but at this point everything feels more than a coincidence.”

“Then we should bond,” you stated. “The 7th full moon is less than two weeks away.”

“How do we know this is the right thing, or what’s going to happen to you?”

“We don’t, but I don’t care as long as it’s with you.”

“I’m not dragging you into this, peanut. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I love you, Keegan,” you mumbled.

Eyes wide, he sat up, gripping your shoulders. “What- what did you just say?”

You averted your gaze, biting down your smile.

“I love you, peanut. So fucking much.”

His heart soared. Your words melted his fears away, like balm on tender flesh. You cradled his face as he leaned into the smile that he wanted to worship every day.

The wolf fixed his mess after all, and all he had to do was be honest to his peanut, and trust that the universe wasn’t out to get him. With his yearning for you in his bones, maybe this time, he thought, it paid off to be a fighter of his own fate.

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