mirage-aera

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Late night calls || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ANGEL - Toby Mai

Jack Hughes x Reader

Synopsis: Days when you're apart are always tough. They get lonely without your other half. Nightly calls make those days slightly better. Especially when he falls asleep after a tiring day.

Word count: 822

Masterlist

Your phone starts ringing. Jack’s contact name shows up on your phone. You answer the call and the familiar sound of the call getting connected chimes. “Hi, baby.” Jack’s tired voice rings out through your phone. You get comfortable in bed before replying. “Hey. You looked great today. How are you feeling?” You ask softly after praising him. He lets out a low chuckle. “It’s a win, so I feel great. You were watching? I thought you said you were going to be busy.” You hum in response. “I was.” You pause, a cheeky grin forming on your face. “But I happened to be watching when you scored.” You can already tell he’s rolling his eyes at your remark. “I’m glad you were watching for a few seconds.” He retorts. You laugh, “come on. I might be busy, but I’ll always be watching you play when I can.” He huffs. Unbeknownst to you, he smiles behind the phone. He’s immensely grateful that you always manage to watch him play, whether that’s on the TV or laptop, or when you show up at the home or away games sporting your devils’ jersey with the number 86 and the name Hughes.

He yawns quietly. “Thank you for watching. Wish you were here though.” He says softly. “Want to switch to video call? I want to see your pretty face.” He adds. You chuckle but press the camera button, requesting to change the call to video. He instantly accepts. His face fills your screen. He shifts in bed before propping his phone up on an extra pillow. He smiles when he sees you wearing his shirt to bed. “Are you tired?” You ask quietly, concern laced in your voice. He blinks a few times, trying to blink the sleep away. “A little. I’m fine though, I’m not falling asleep on you.” You raise an eyebrow. Knowing him, he’ll be doing the exact opposite. “Alright, if you say so. If you’re tired you don’t have to stay on call with me. We can talk some more in the morning.” You offer him. He immediately shakes his head. “I want to talk to you. I miss you.” He says stubbornly. Your heart swells at his last comment. You miss him too, a lot. You’re not apart from each other often. You’re usually by his side whenever he goes away on his roadies. However, this time you had some affairs that you needed to deal with. Hence why you didn’t go with him.

You talk for a while as the night becomes darker by the hour. You can see that he’s starting to fall asleep. “You’re tired. Go to sleep.” You try convincing him. He hums, “in a little bit.” He says stubbornly yet again. A couple of minutes pass while you’re talking about your day. You realize it’s getting quieter and quieter on his side. The occasional hums and shuffling from him turn to pure silence. You look at him through the screen. Only to see his eyes closed, arms tucked into him, and his mouth slightly agape. He’s sleeping. He actually fell asleep on you. Even though he so stubbornly told you he wasn’t going to. He did end up doing the opposite. You don’t hang up on him and you certainly don’t wake him up. He had a long day, so it’s no surprise he fell asleep. It’s oddly peaceful having him sleep on the other side.

You continue scrolling through social media on your phone. Having the video call minimized in the corner of your screen. Eventually, you feel yourself growing more tired. Sometimes you hear the occasional snore coming from him while he sleeps. You close the app and return to the video call. “Good night. I love you.” You mumble quietly, to not wake him up. He lets out a murmur but stays asleep. You cover your mouth to minimize noise as you let out a chuckle. You leave the call and place your phone on the dresser. You close your eyes. Before you know it, you’re asleep yourself.

The next morning you’re greeted by a flurry of texts from him. You smile to yourself and shake your head. You hope this boy never changes. He’s the reason you wake up with a wide smile.

I fell asleep

Sorry baby didn’t mean to

Did you sleep well at least?

I’m going off to morning skate in a bit

Remember to eat well since I know you like to skip it even though it’s not good for you

I’ll call you later

I love you

You put your phone down after replying to him. You get up and start getting ready. You should get started on your day. He’s returning home in a few days. You can’t wait for that day. You have so much to tell him that a phone call won’t do justice, and you’re sure he feels the same way.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Sick days || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Love Lost - Mac Miller, The Temper Trap

Synopsis: Sick days usually aren’t fun. Especially for Jack. He hates them. But you somehow always make it better.

Word count: 1.401

Masterlist

Am I watching the canucks game while writing this? Yes, and stressing over it

When they said that men are always the most dramatic when they catch the common cold, you didn’t believe them. You thought it was an exaggeration. But the way Jack has been acting the past three days? Yeah, it’s not an exaggeration. You’re both curing his cold while nursing your own headache. One that’s been a product of his whining. This man is acting as if he’s on his deathbed, a damsel in distress, a whiny little-. You love him, but you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of sedating him for a day so that you could get some peace and quiet. You would like to know how Ellen handled him whenever he got sick. It’s almost unbearable.

“Babyyy?”

“Am I dying? It feels like I’m dying.”

“Everything hurts…”

“More medicine? I don’t need it. It’s disgusting.”

“Can you please get me a painkiller? I do need it…”

The need to hit him with a pan to knock him out for a few hours is concerningly high. You’re trying to be patient with him. He’s not feeling well, and not being active, those are things that he hates and you know that. You’re really trying to be patient with him. However, he makes it very hard to when he’s whining every other minute.

You hide yourself in the kitchen to make sure Jack will leave you alone for a minute. You absentmindedly stir canned chicken soup in a small pan. When it starts smoking you take it off the heat and grab a bowl. You pour the soup into the bowl and grab a spoon. You carefully walk to your bedroom with the bowl, a bottle of water, and a pill. You open the door a little wider and walk up to him. He sniffles but manages to crack out a small smile. “There you are. I missed you.” He says softly, making your heart melt. Sick as ever and he still manages to make butterflies flutter. “I was only gone for a minute.” You say gently as you place the bottle and pill on his nightstand. You hold out the bowl of soup. He grimaces at the sight of it. You give him a stern look. “You need to eat something. Otherwise, you won’t get better. And make sure you take a pill after or while you eat.” You can’t help but fuss over him a bit.

He groans in response but takes the bowl from you. He starts eating at a slow pace. You sit by his bedside and watch him eat. Pale, sweaty face, hair pointing in all sorts of directions, and yet he still is so handsome to you. He notices that you’re staring and glances at you. He lets out a raspy chuckle. “There’s nothing noteworthy to stare at right now.” You smile and move his hair out of his face. It’s starting to become a little long again. “There’s plenty to stare at. You’ll always be pretty in my eyes.” His eyes shine at your comment. “Pretty?” He asks with amusement in his voice. You roll your eyes but can’t help but let a grin creep up your face. “Sorry. Handsome.” He smiles triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

He soon finishes his bowl of soup. You take it from him and set it aside. You hand him the bottle of water and the small white pill. He takes it from you. You notice how clammy his hands are. You frown as you watch him down the pill followed by big gulps of water. You place the back of your hand against his forehead. Your frown deepens when you feel how warm he still is. He knows better than to fight you back so he lets you do your thing. “Your fever is not letting up. You should get some more rest. That might help.” You say softly. He nods and slides underneath the blankets. He pulls it up to his chin. You gently run a hand through his hair. “I’ll be in the living room. Just holler if you need me.” You say softly. Although, you’re secretly hoping he’ll sleep for a couple of hours. For both of your sakes. “Alright.” He croaks before shutting his eyes. You watch over him until you’re sure he’s fallen asleep. You get up carefully and make your way to the living room.

***

Time passes by quickly when you’re finally able to relax. You check the time on your phone only to realize Jack has been sleeping for a while now. You get up from the couch and quietly walk back towards your bedroom. You peek your head in only to see Jack snoring away without a care in the world. You smile at the sight, happy that he’s getting some rest. You realize that the blanket has slipped down a little. You carefully walk up to him and tuck him back in. You tuck the sides underneath him. Tightly wrapping him up in the blanket. He looks like a burrito. A 5’11 burrito.

You step back and take in the sight. You let out a quiet snicker. You pull out your phone and take a picture. Saving that for later. You look at him one more time before leaving the room and going back to the couch. You throw yourself down onto the couch and look at the picture you’ve taken. You snort. Jack’s going to kill you for sure once he finds out. You send it to the Hughes brothers group chat that Jack has ever so kindly thrown you into.

Another hour passes as you’re peacefully watching something on the television. You laugh at the conversation going on in the group chat. You hear some rustling from the bedroom. You’re about to get up when you hear a hoarse holler. “Baby!” You chuckle, “yeah bub?” He lets out a loud groan. “You did not send that picture in the group chat!” You let out a laugh and make your way towards him. You snicker when you see his phone in his hand. The group chat is still open. “I did. It was way too hilarious to pass up. You were like a burrito. Or should I say a Jackrito? One of a kind.” He pouts at you. “Really? A Jackrito? Was that necessary?” He asks, almost offended by your shenanigans. You snicker. “Yes. It’s funny.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “I don’t find you very amusing right now.” He retorts before he gets into a coughing fit. You pat his back, helping him through it. “You’ll find it amusing when you get better.” He glares at you and shakes his head. He stops coughing. “You’re still in trouble. Don’t forget that, because I certainly won’t.” You let out a snort. “Whatever you say bub.” You look at him affectionately. You suddenly get a great idea. “I should send the picture to your mom.” His eyes widen at what you said. “No!” He exclaims. You burst out into laughter. He huffs and pulls the blanket over him. “I’m glad you are having fun while I’m dying.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re being dramatic again. For the millionth time, you are not dying Jack. You simply have the common cold.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. He lifts the blanket slightly and pulls you into him. He covers you both with the blanket. “It feels like I’m dying, especially when you aren’t around.” You can’t help but smile at that, despite his theatrics. You can feel yourself getting tired. Even though it isn’t that late yet. The warmth he’s emitting is so comforting. You let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

***

A week later he’s back on his feet. But he transferred his germs to you. You’re as sick as a dog. He walks into your bedroom with a bowl of soup in his hands. “This will make you feel better.” You glare at him. He laughs, “are you still mad at me for getting you sick?” You nod, “what do you think?” He snickers and sets the bowl aside. He sits by your side and rubs your arm tenderly. “I said sorry baby. But…” he trails off. He shows you a cheeky grin. “It’s only the common cold. Don’t be so dramatic. You still want to hit him with a pan. “I hate you.” He rolls his eyes before planting a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too. Get better soon, okay?”

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Cookie monster || NH13

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : we can’t be friends (wait for your love - Ariana Grande

Nico Hischier x Reader

Synopsis: At the end of a get-together, your cookie jar always ends up empty. You hatch out a plan to catch whoever is eating all of the cookies. Not once, did it cross your mind that they might be your Swiss neighbor friend from across the hall.

Word count: 1.615

Masterlist

I’m a sucker for neighbor au’s. Anyway, not too happy with this one and it probably doesn’t make much sense. But it’s late, and it’ll do for now.

You wouldn’t say you have a ton of friends. You simply have a select few close ones. They range from being high school friends that you’ve known for years and kept in touch with, to friends you’ve made at work, to your hockey-loving neighbor. Truth be told, you’re not that big of a hockey fan. So it’s a miracle how you became such close friends in a short time. Nico likes to say that it’s nice to have a friend who barely knows anything about the hockey world. He likes the fact that he has a clueless friend in his life for when he wants to relax after a few tough games. Of course, he’s also glad to celebrate with you when he does have some smooth-sailing games. Even though you might not know what’s going on half of the time, you’re always genuinely happy about his achievements. This he appreciates a lot. He might even love you for that, but he won’t admit that to you.

Every time you hold a get-together at your apartment. You’ve noticed something peculiar. The jar of cookies you’ve set out for your friends to eat if they decide to come over is always empty after they visit. Now, you aren’t mad about this relegation. You are just curious about who is eating all of your cookies. You’re glad someone is enjoying your homemade cookies, but you'd like to know who this cookie monster is. It’s a small jar that can only hold a few cookies. So you don’t mind it that much. If anything, you think it’s quite funny.

You’re hosting another get-together after your last one, which was a few weeks ago. You’re determined to catch your cookie eater. You’re going to try to keep an eye on your jar while mingling with friends. You put some of the newest batch of cookies in the cookie jar and set it on your kitchen counter. Free for them to take. Shortly after the silence in the apartment gets interrupted by knocking at your front door. You wipe your hands while walking over. You open your door. A smile instantly spreads across your face. “Nico! It’s good to see you again!” You say happily as you usher him inside. He chuckles softly, sending a tingle through your body. Are you crushing on your Swiss neighbor? Definitely. You can’t deny that. But will you tell him? Absolutely. Not. You’d do anything for him. “It’s good to see you too. How have you been?” He asks and sits down on the couch. You shrug, “it’s been okay. Been busy recently, it’s great to have some free time on my hands again.” He nods. He’s about to say something before he gets interrupted by another knock on the door. You offer him a small smile. “Sorry about that.” He waves it off. “It’s fine. Go ahead.” Without needing to say more you let more friends in. With a quick hug and a quick exchange, everyone is sitting in your living room and conversing with one another.

You come out from the kitchen with drinks and some snacks on a platter and set it on the coffee table. You hop onto the couch next to Nico and join in on the conversation. Time flies by quickly, and before you know it you and Nico are the only ones left in your apartment. Nico looks at the time on his phone. “I think I should get going. I need to take care of some stuff.” He says and gets up from the couch. You follow suit. “Alright. You should come over sometime soon again. It’s been fun.” He nods and smiles. “Oh yeah, for sure. We’ll talk about it. You should come over to mine next time.” You nod. “We’ll talk about it.” You say your goodbyes and he leaves. You watch him enter the apartment across from yours. He gives you a small wave before he closes his door.

You shut your door and head to the kitchen. You didn’t pay attention to the cookie jar like you said you would. You lay your eyes upon the jar, only to find it empty again. You sigh and grab the jar. You put it in the sink and clean it before storing it away again. So much for catching your cookie monster.

***

You’re holding once again another meet-up. You’re baking another batch of cookies to fill your jar. This time you have a solid plan. Some would say it’s foolproof. One by one your friends start piling in and welcoming themselves on your couch. Nico is the last to arrive this time. He apologises but you shrug it off. It's not a big deal to you. You’re just glad he was able to come. Everyone converses with each other again. You and Nico mainly talk with each other. The others don’t mind they encourage it. They know you have a thing for the 6 ft 1 Swiss hockey player. It’s as if it’s obvious to everyone but Nico. You stand up, “I’m going to the bathroom for a second. I’ll be back in a minute.” You tell him. He nods. “Alright. Go ahead.” You take that as your sign to set your plan in motion. You’re not going to the bathroom. You’re going to hide in the hallway, it has the perfect view of the kitchen. If you wait here long enough you’ll know who’s leaving your cookie jar empty.

Sure enough. A wandering Nico enters the kitchen. He sees your cookie jar. Some cookies have already been eaten by your friends. He grabs one and eats it. He smiles happily as he munches on them. He quickly eats one by one. They’re all gone in five minutes. He wipes his mouth to get rid of the crumbs and heads back to the living room. You’ve finally caught your cookie monster. It was oddly cute how he was scarfing down your cookies. You shake your head but can’t help but let out a small chuckle. You’re pleasantly surprised that Nico has been liking your cookies so much. You make a mental note to make another batch for him so that you can give him those the next time you go to his place.

You enter the living room. From a supposed bathroom break. You have a knowing grin on your face. Nico chuckles, “What’s that grin for?” He asks curiously. You shake your head, “nothing. I just came to a realization.” He doesn’t believe you, you can see that on his face. But he doesn’t pry you further. “Whatever you say, Schatz.” He has been calling you that a lot lately. You don’t have a clue what it means, and every time you bring it up he says it’s something they say back in Switzerland. He likes calling you that, and he has been doing that ever since he first slipped up.

Soon enough everyone leaves again. Before Nico leaves he turns to you. “Come over this weekend if you’re free. I’m going to be free. I won’t mind your company.” He says with a small smile. You let out a chuckle. “Sure I’ll come over. I’ll see you then. Is Saturday good?” He nods. “Perfect. See you then.”

***

Saturday comes quicker than you thought it would. You’re making another batch of cookies, this time it’s solely for Nico. Now that you know he has been eating them you work hard to make them perfect. You put dollops of cookie dough on the baking sheet and flatten them. You shove the cookies into the oven and set a timer of ten minutes. You clean up in the meantime. The timer goes off and starts beeping. You take the cookies out and let them cool for another ten minutes. After they cooled you put them in the jar again.

When it’s time to hop over to his place, you make sure to grab the jar and lock the door behind you. You cross the hallway and knock on his door. He opens and his eyes flicker down to the jar of cookies in your hands. He motions for you to come inside. He leads you to his living room and offers you to sit. You place the jar on his table. He looks at it and smiles at you. “It’s only us two tonight. You didn’t have to make them.” You give him a knowing grin. “I was starting to wonder where all my cookies went. I think it’s safe to say I found my cookie monster.” He stumbles over his words before you interrupt him with a laugh. “It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. I find it rather endearing.” You point to the full cookie jar. “These are all for you. Just return the jar to me when you finish them.” He visibly relaxes and lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Although you didn’t have to.” You let out a small chuckle. “I don’t mind baking you more cookies if you like them.” He smiles. “If it isn’t too much trouble. I wouldn’t mind it.” He says softly. You nod determinedly. “Then more cookies are coming up for Nico Hischier.” You tease him a little. He lets out a boisterous laugh. He winks at you. “I’ll be waiting for them.”

You can’t help but feel like you’ve gotten closer, despite him being your cookie monster. And who knows? Perhaps tonight will be the extra push you need. One thing is for certain. Your feelings for the Swiss in front of you are blooming strongly into something more than just a silly crush.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Pool noodles || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Latch - Disclosure, Sam Smith

Jack Hughes x Reader

Synopsis: A trip to the local grocery store to stock up on food and other necessities, turns into a play fight with foam sticks.

Word count: 1.002

Masterlist

A little different from my usual fandoms that I write in. But I wanted to dabble a little in here since I wanted to write a little for my favourite hockey boys :)

You and Jack are on a mission. It’s off-season, meaning it’s time to relax and recharge during the long summer and spend some good quality time together. In previous years you would always go to the family’s lake house, to spend some time with family and friends. This year it won’t be any different. Except this time, you’ll be there together with Jack a lot earlier than the others. They’ll be arriving a few weeks later. This means you get Hughes Michigan’s summer home for yourselves. At first, it seems like a great thing. You get to spend time alone with Jack, without any nosy brothers or friends to tease you both. That was until you looked in the fridge, almost completely empty. Clearly whoever’s been here last hasn’t refilled the fridge, or other necessities for that matter. Which leaves that task to the two of you, much to Jack’s dismay.

You find yourself at the local grocery store. Jack’s pushing the cart like the gentleman he is. Except, he’s slouched over as he pushes it. “Are we done yet?” You don’t even know how many times you’ve heard him utter that in the past 15 minutes. You sigh as you look at the grocery list you’ve made on your phone. “Jack. I love you, but please. You’re worse than a cranky hormonal teenager.” You retort. He looks at you, almost as if he’s offended by what you said. “I’m not a cranky hormonal teenager.” He mutters under his breath. You bite back a laugh. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say hon.” You quip while you put the last of the fruits and vegetables in the shopping cart. He opens his mouth, probably to say something full of sass back. You shush him by placing your finger over his lips. “Come on. We’re done here.” He huffs in response. “Finally.” He mumbles. You give him a pointed look before moving on to the next part of your shopping list. You walk over to the meats and fish. Jack trails behind you, begrudgingly pushing the cart.

You glance over the various fish and meats they have. “What do you want to eat for the time being?” He points to the steak, chicken, and salmon. You nod, pick a few that look good, and toss them into the cart. He groans when he sees it messes up the organized cart. “Baby, please. Everything has a place in the cart. You know this.” He scolds lightly while fixing the mess you made. You grin sheepishly. “Sorry sorry, won’t do it again.” He shakes his head but smiles. You both know this won’t be the last time, not by a long shot.

You cross off meat and fish on the list and make your way to the dairy products. While you grab a carton of milk, Jack grabs some yogurt and puts it neatly in the cart. He takes the carton of milk from you and puts it next to the yogurt. You grab some eggs that lie nearby and move on to get the rest of the list.

You stock up on some toilet paper and other necessities. You also remember to grab some pretzels for him, knowing he likes to snack on them. Jack’s still trailing behind you with the cart that’s gradually getting fuller. As you walk around like a busy bee, you walk past some pool noodles. You look at them for a solid minute. Jack raises an eyebrow. “Do you want them?” He asks curiously. You think about it for a moment. You grab one and look it up and down. You glance over at Jack. Without warning, you smack his arm with it. It doesn’t hurt, it’s made out of foam. He flinches and rubs his arm. “What was that for?” He asks. You shrug and smirk. “Just wanted to test it out.” He scoffs and laughs. “Really? Just wanted to test it out?” He repeats. He grabs one as well and hits you back. He smirks, “it does work well. Don’t you think?” He teases you. You roll your eyes but smile. You swing to hit him again. He blocks it with his own noodle. You’re locked into a stare-down with him. “Noodle fight?” You challenge him. “Noodle fight.” He takes the bait. You look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you both. When you see no one’s looking at you, all hell breaks loose.

You start relentlessly swinging. He blocks most of your ‘attacks’, even if they hit, he doesn’t feel a thing. The aisle gets filled with your combined laughter and the faint sound of foam being smacked around.

He gets a few good hits on you. Your face scrunches up every time he lands one on you. His heart melts at the sight of you. You could be doing the most mundane tasks together, yet you’ll still find a way to bring a smile to his face. You know how to make doing chores fun. Maybe he’s just completely in love with you. Whenever people make fun of him for being completely whipped for you, he would usually give them sass back. But if someone were to do it right now, he would most likely agree with them. Nothing is certain, especially in his life. However, there is one thing for certain. He wants to marry you one day, he simply doesn’t see a future without you and your signature laugh in his life.

You let out a boisterous laugh when you smack him across the face with the piece of foam. He can’t help but let out a laugh himself. Yeah, this is the girl he wants to marry and have a future with. And he doesn’t want it any other way. The velvet box is already sitting underneath all of his old hockey gear. Waiting to be presented to you. All he has to do is plan the perfect proposal for you. He simply can’t wait to make you his, until death do you part.

[mirage-aera]

New Jersey Devils

nhl masterlist

Nico Hischier

Cookie monster - 25/4/24

Alexander Holtz

Timo Meier

Dawson Mercer

Jack Hughes

Pool noodles - 21/4/24

Sick days - 27/4/24

Late night calls - 29/4/24

Luke Hughes

[mirage-aera]

NHL_

Toronto Maple Leafs_

New Jersey Devils_

Seattle Kraken_

Vancouver Canucks_

[mirage-aera]

i love your fics so much 🫶, keep it up 🔥🔥

Aww thank you I appreciate that a lot 🩵

[mirage-aera]

can we please get more angst? 🙏

like what if reader decides to unalive herself? cant take the grief anymore and knowing that drinking and binge eating will not do anything but just burn money and delay the inevitable. and simon is too late to save her. cue simon grieving in return and drowning in guilt and self hatred for putting her in that situation.

•°. *࿐ Drowned

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Let Me Down Slowly - Alec Benjamin

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2

Synopsis: By the time Simon returns to your shared home, it's already too late for you. You've hit rock bottom in the rabbit hole, and Simon is ready to jump into that same hole.

Word count: 2.606

Masterlist

First of all I’d like to apologise for my two month(?) absence. I got overwhelmed with school work that I needed to focus on and some personal problems happened. For anyone who has stuck around, this is the long waited part 2 that I promised a while ago. I haven’t written anything in my long break so bear with me. Second of all you guys really want more angst from me. I was planning on doing a happy ending but this will do.

TW!! Suicide, alcoholism

For the people that wanted to be tagged: @somehopeatlast @yyiikes

It’s too much. Everything is too much. Everyone has been telling you that healing takes time. When in reality, all that you feel is despair. Instead of the wound gradually closing, all that’s really happening is your heart getting ripped out day by day. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this charade up. You’re throwing people fake smiles left and right, and ‘I’m fine’ has left your mouth more times than you could actually care for. It’s as if you’re living life as a mindless zombie. Barely doing the bare minimum to sustain yourself. Every time someone checks up on you, you tell them you’re doing okay, could be better but you’re fine. At least, that’s what you want them to think. You’re just a shell of the person you were when Simon was still here and alive. You’re blowing through your money like no tomorrow. But can you get yourself to care enough to do anything about it? No, and not for the foreseeable future. You spend your days drinking away, either at home or in bars. You’ve tried moving on, but the only thing you’re able to see in them is Simon. You chicken out before anything can get serious. Your bingeing habits haven't changed a bit, you’re on the same routine.

It's been months and you can’t get out of this rabbit hole you’ve dug yourself. Months.

It’s crazy to think about the chokehold Simon has on you, even when he isn’t physically here himself.

You’ve had enough. You’re not living life as is. You’re practically a dead person walking, a mindless being. All you’re doing is blowing money when you could be doing anything else but that. You’ve contemplated long and hard about this decision, and to be frank. You see no negatives to this option. Taking the way out seems like a way better alternative for you than continuing to waste the air around you with useless breaths.

The hooded figure that you sometimes see outside your window has started showing up less and less. You’ve made eye contact before, but before you can even mutter a word out the shadow has vanished. As if he never existed and is a figment of your imagination. You could’ve sworn that those were the eyes of Simon. His sharp brown eyes are unmistakable. You can recognize them from anywhere. But, he is dead. The possibility of it being him is simply impossible. You stare solemnly out the window. You want to see whether the shadow really is a figment of your imagination, or if it’s actually a person. But they never show up. If the shadow had shown up, would you have gone through with your plan? Probably not. As insane as it might sound, you feel a sort of pull for the shadow. As if it’s calling out for you.

When all you can see is the dark starry night. You sigh and shut the blinds. No one needs to see what you’re going to commit. You head upstairs to your once-shared bedroom. You walk absentmindedly to Simon’s bedside drawer. Revealing a small handgun. He always keeps weapons on him, or around him. To keep both you and him safe in case anyone ever dares to try anything in your own home. You pick up the piece of iron. Simon has taught you how to use it, in case there’s an emergency and he isn’t there to protect you. Back then it felt like a light piece of metal. Now, it sits heavy in the palm of your hand.

You slowly sit on the floor. Your back against the side of the bed. You expected to feel afraid. But to your surprise, you don’t feel anything at all. As if everything is numb. For that part you are a little thankful for, it’ll make this so much easier for you to do. You turn the gun in your hands. Inspecting your executioner. Minutes pass, and you’re still sitting idly on the floor. You’re waiting for the right moment. Deep down, you’re hoping that Simon will walk through the door. Wrap you up in his arms and tell you how everything is okay now. That it was simply a mission gone wrong, which made it so he couldn’t come home at the promised time frame. But as the silence of the house engulfs the house in an eerie peace. You close your eyes. This is the right moment. Simon won’t show, and he won’t show. You need to get that in your thick skull.

You look around your shared bedroom for the last time. Picture frames litter your dressers. His clothes are still hanging in his section of your closet. You put the gun away and back into his nightstand. You can’t do this, not here at least. Not at the serenity that belongs in your bedroom.

You scramble up from the floor. You pick up the crinkled piece of paper sitting on Simon’s desk. You go downstairs and pin it on the fridge with a magnet. Visible for anyone who comes looking for you. You rush outside, not bothering to bring a jacket with you. You’re not going to need it anyway. You run outside, not noticing the shadow blending in the night watching you. He wants to follow you, like he usually does, wanting to make sure you don’t do anything stupid or that you’ll regret. But this time, he can’t bring his feet to move. He simply watches you run off to whatever destination you have in mind.

You run off to the bridge you frequent with Simon. Not a lot of people go across it during the day. No one ever comes through at midnight. Giving you time alone to think and reminisce. You lean on the metal railing. Images of the various late-night dates Simon would take you on during his off days flash through your mind. You crack a small smile at that, embracing the pleasant memories once again. Your smile drops. Memories, that’s all they’ll ever be. You won’t be able to recreate them or make new ones anymore, not with Simon or anyone else. You brush away stray tears and let out a soft sniffle. You climb over the railing. You stand on the other side, peering down at the frigid cold water below. You look behind you, making sure no one is there. You suck in a deep breath, close your eyes, and let yourself slowly tip over the edge. One to two seconds feel like minutes. You feel the wind rushing past your face. Soon the cold water greets you. Despite the freezing temperature, it feels like a warm embrace. As if it’s welcoming you. You let yourself sink, letting more memories of you and Simon flash through your mind. Soon enough, everything goes black. You’ve lost this battle. Was it worth it? Some would say not, but to you? It was. You were miserable day after day. This was a peaceful alternative.

***

The shadow gets worried when hours pass by and you don’t return home yet. A bad feeling settles in the depths of his stomach. A nauseating feeling overwhelms him. He emerges from the shadows of the night. His mask was illuminated by the moonlight. He wants to know where you’ve gone. He shoves a flowerpot on your front porch aside with his foot, revealing a spare key. He grabs it and unlocks the door. It opens slowly. He steps inside, he takes off his worn boots. Not wanting to have anything traced back to him, anything that’ll show someone has been in the comfort of your own home. He looks around with confusion. He spots your phone and keys on the dining table. That’s weird. You never leave without those items, something Simon has drilled into your mind. He frowns behind his mask. He looks around everywhere. Eventually, he finds himself in the kitchen. At first glance, nothing seems out of the ordinary. He squints his eyes at the fridge. A note is pinned on the piece of metal. He takes big strides towards the fridge and reads the note. His heart sinks to his stomach. The urge to throw up is getting to him.

To anyone who finds this note. It’ll most likely be you, Price. I’m sorry. I know I’ve said that I’m fine, that I’m getting better. But I think you know this as well, that I’m not. If anything, I’m getting worse by the day. I’ll keep it short. I have nothing much to say anyway. Not that anyone would care. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll be long dead by the time you find this note. I don’t even know where I am. I might be in my bedroom, bathroom, in a ditch somewhere, or even floating in a river. On the bright side, I’m happy. Happier than ever. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. I have Simon to keep me company.

I love you Simon, I’ll see you soon.

He rips the note off the fridge. He rereads it over and over. Hoping, no, praying that his eyes are deceiving him. That this is just some sick joke being played on him. You’ve done your fair share of pranks on him, but they’ve never been this extreme. He crumples up the note and shoves it in his pocket. He rips his mask off and throws it on the table near your phone and keys. He lets out a snarl. He slams his palms on the wooden table. “Fuck!” He exclaims. He pulls out his burner phone. He dials a number. They immediately pick up on the third ring. “Simon.” A low voice comes through. “Price.” He replies. He clearly doesn’t sound happy. He can’t let out tears, not now. He doesn’t deserve to. “Did you find something?” This sets something ablaze in Simon. He lets out a dry chuckle. “I’ve found something alright.” He sneers. He can’t help but convert the feeling of anguish to anger, and frustration. Anything but sadness. A low hum follows. “What did you find?” He takes a deep breath in. “I’ve found a suicide note in my own home.” He spits out. A painful silence ensues. “What?” He glares at the wall, lined with your pictures together. “You’ve fucking heard me. Want to explain that to me? You said she was doing fine!” A sorrowful sigh could be heard through the fun. “That’s what she said. I-” Simon interrupts him. “And you believed her?! How didn’t you see what was going on?! I told you, I fucking told you to keep an eye on her while I am gone!” He snaps. Something he probably shouldn’t do to Price, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. Another sigh could be heard. “Simon, listen. The mission-” He scoffs. “I don’t give a damn about the mission right now. My girl is dead for fucks sake!” He shouts. He continues. “I wasn’t happy with this mission. I already told you, I’d only agree to do this if you keep a close eye on her. I trusted you, Price. Now look at what happens. I faked my death, and now she’s dead!” He takes another deep breath to calm himself. “After this mission, I’m done. I’m pulling out. It’s about time I retire from this shithole anyway.” He sneers and hangs up. He throws the phone down on the table as well. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

He takes a seat at the table. He runs his hands down his face. A million thoughts run through his head. How did it end up like this? Multiple what-ifs pop up in his mind. What if he showed himself to you on the first day he came back to see you, would you still be alive? He lets out a low growl and slams his fist down on the table. Silent tears stream down his face. How does he always fuck up whatever good comes in his life? At this point, he’s just cursed. He can’t have happiness without something ruining it.

After he collects himself he gets up, but he still has work to do. And as much as he wants to drown himself in guilt and self-hatred. He understands that he still needs to finish his mission. He narrows his eyes as he walks out of your house. The people at the other end of his wrath need to watch their backs. Simon will make anything and anyone suffer, to make them feel the same pain he’s feeling. Deep down, he knows nothing will compare to it.

***

A fucked mission later, a hell of debriefing, he comes back home as a retired soldier. A home that has turned into a cold, haunting, and uninviting. Everything that made this house a home was you, you were his home. You aren’t here anymore. And it’s all his fault. If only he went against orders, let you know what was happening. You would still be here. If only he came to check on you more often, he could’ve seen the signs and stopped you. If only he could’ve shown any sign he’s still alive, you would probably still be here. Alive, breathing, at home, doing whatever you love to keep yourself busy while he’s gone. But no. He fucked up, and he’s paying the price for it.

For days on end, he will feel the remorse, the regret, the guilt. He would fall into the same rabbit hole you dug. Instead of you going down it. You’re already rock bottom, he’s simply joining you. He spends his time drinking. That’s what he knows helps best in this situation. Whenever he’s not drinking he’s spending time in his home gym.

A thought crosses his mind. The same one that has yours at one point. He lays in bed, your pillow still has your smell and it haunts him. He reaches over to his nightstand and opens his drawer. What he sees breaks his heart all over again. His gun. It has been moved. He’s certain this wasn’t how he left his gun before he left. He always made sure that the grip was facing him so he could grab it quickly in a time of emergency. It isn’t lying in that position anymore. He sits up with the gun in his hand. He plays around with the piece of iron in his hand. Unloads and loads the bullets over and over. Pushing the safety back and forth. Anything to distract him from the void he’s feeling in the pit of his stomach. Your note that you’ve left on the fridge rests on his nightstand. You said you were going to be okay. That you’ll have Simon to keep you company. Well, he isn’t fucking there, is he? He wants to join you so desperately. But he’s afraid, not of death. But even if there is an afterlife, would you accept him? He lied to you. A lie that cost you your life. He doesn’t know if he could endure that on top of the grief he’s feeling. But even seeing you one last time would be better than this.

So he sits there, in the darkness of your shared bedroom. Contemplating if he should join you. Something you were doing a few nights prior. If only he didn't accept the damn mission. He wouldn’t be drowning in his grief and self-hatred if he let the mission go. You would be here, in his arms. And that thought would forever haunt him until he does opt for the other route.

I’m sorry lovie, for everything.

[mirage-aera]

Don't worry I was just worried a bit

Aww I appreciate it, thanks for checking in on me!

[mirage-aera]

Hey where are you:((

Ah whoops. I’ve been a bit busy recently, hence my small disappearance. But, I should have some more free time soon so I’ll be pumping out works then. Please have some patience for me, I’ll be back before you know it! :)

[mirage-aera]

If the reader from stay high just completely decided to end it do you think ghost would reveal himself? I’m actually so obsessed w it I love angst

Well why don’t you find out in pt. 2? It’s in the works right now 👀. Another anon sent something similar so I guess you’re in luck. I was planning on making it a happy ending but you guys want more angst from me, so that’s what you shall receive.

We all secretly love angst.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Stay high

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Habits (Stay High) - Tove Lo

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

pt 1. - pt 2

Synopsis: You lose yourself in your grief. You do various things that you never did, or occasionally did. As much as you know it’s wrong, you can’t get yourself to stop. You need to keep him off your mind somehow.

Word count: 2.263

Masterlist

TW!! Mention of character death, eating disorder, alcoholism.

Please don’t read this, read my other work instead if this triggers you. This time it’s pretty heavy on the latter two topics. Stay safe lovelies.

Simon has been officially declared MIA on a mission gone bad. Or so, that’s what you’ve been told. It’s been months and you’ve been spiraling ever since the news broke out. You’re clinging onto the smallest of hopes that he’s still out there. Alone, injured, but alive. It’s scary how you can go from being completely independent to being dependent on someone, only for it to be ripped away from you in seconds, being left alone to figure out how to be fully independent again. You’ve gone from being able to sleep in your bed alone like a baby, to being not able to sleep at all. Tossing and turning, wondering if Simon is still out there kicking, or if he already has kicked the bucket. His body lying in a ditch somewhere or in some organization’s basement. You don’t know, no one knows what happened to him. All that is known is that he was on a solo mission, observing a high-value target. Only for it to be an ambush and get surrounded by tangos. From there on out it was radio silence.

You lay on the couch. Eyes swollen and red from continuous crying. The TV is playing some show that you can’t be bothered to care about on repeat. It’s been months, and you’re still as miserable as the day they came to your door and sent you their condolences. They promised to let you know if there are any updates about him, even if they end up finding his body. They promised they’d tell you. You don’t know if the lack of updates is a good thing or the exact opposite.

I get home, I got the munchies

Binge on all my Twinkies

Throw up in the 'tub, then I go to sleep

You haven’t eaten all day. You either don’t eat for days on end, or eat an unhealthy amount of junk food to keep you going. You know it’s not healthy. You know it’s not what Simon would want you to do. But you can’t help it. You need something, someone to numb the pain. A knock sounds at the door. You rush off the couch to open the door. You hope that it’s Simon at the door. You stumble toward the door and fling it open. Your heart sinks to your stomach when you spot two military officers at the door. They look at you grimly and hold out Simon’s dog tags, bloodied balaclava, and a small wooden box with his personal effects. Your entire world crumbles at that moment. The sight of his dog tags and bloodied balaclava sends bile to your throat. You reach out with shaky hands for the items. You put the wooden box down. You clutch the piece of cloth and metal tightly in your hands. One of the officers speaks up. “Mrs. Riley, we regret to inform you that Simon Riley has been declared KIA,” they take off their hats and bow their heads, “our condolences.” A sob escapes your throat. You nod meekly, wish them a good night, and shut the door. Once the door is closed, it’s only you in the lonesome cold house. You slide down the door and sit on the floor. Cries leave your body. He’s gone, he’s really gone, and he’s not coming back.

You get up shakily and walk to the kitchen. You raid the kitchen cabinets for whatever junk food you can reach for. You grab several candy bars, cookies, cakes. Whatever you still have left, whatever you haven’t touched. You glance at the fridge. All of the food stored is starting to expire. You know you should eat healthier if you’re going to eat at all. But it isn’t appetizing to you anymore. More tears fall from your eyes. You trudge over to the couch. You slump over and start eating. You binge on whatever you grabbed until it’s all or mostly gone. Not even a minute later you feel yourself growing nauseous. You send yourself to the bathroom to throw up. You don’t make it to the toilet bowl. Instead, you empty all of your stomach’s contents into the bathtub. After you finish throwing everything back up. You slump over the side of the bathtub. You rest your head on your arms. Sobs racked through your body. Binging on junk food made you temporarily forget about Simon. Giving you short bliss. Now you’re back into that rabbit hole and you can’t climb out. Eventually, you fall asleep on the cold, hard bathroom floor. Having been tired out by sobbing your sorrows out.

The following morning you wake up with a sore and scratchy throat. Your head is pounding. And the thoughts of Simon are flooding your mind. All of the past memories you’ve made together are looping in your mind like a movie. All of his sweet nothings are playing in your head like a broken record. It’s as if he’s haunting you in your own house. A house you used to share with him. You begrudgingly get up from the bathroom tiles. You walk towards the living room, wanting to go back to sulking on the couch and feeling miserable for yourself. For how far you’ve fallen. Then you eye the liquor cabinet. You aren’t much of a drinker, you never were. But you’d sometimes join Simon in the activity, as he’s fond of dabbling into the occasional night spent with whisky in one hand, the other entangled with yours. You swing open the liquor cabinet. Grabbing the first thing you see. Whisky. Great. Another thing to remind you of him. You walk towards the dining table. A table you’ve always kept neat, a table that is now littered with all sorts of things. You haven’t cleaned the house in ages, not having the energy to do so.

And I drank up all my money

Dazed and kinda lonely

You're gone, and I gotta stay high all the time

To keep you off my mind

You sit down and crack open the bottle of whisky. You don’t bother pouring it into a glass. You take a huge gulp and swallow. Your throat burns as the liquid traverses from your throat to your stomach. You grimace. You never got used to the burning sensation, perhaps you will later. You keep drinking until you feel yourself getting sick.

The same pattern repeats in the following days. You’d binge eat junk food, throw it up, and pass out. The next morning you’d drink yourself stupid and sick. After you run out of alcohol, you’d buy more. You run out of junk food, you order a huge amount of takeout. You burn through your money without a care in the world.

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you, babe, I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life to forget I'm missing you

All of this has one goal, to keep Simon off your mind for as long as possible. Even if it’s only temporary. You’d rather forget about him temporarily than torment yourself with all sorts of trinkets around the house that remind you of him. The picture frames on the wall. His closet. His favorite drink, alcoholic and non alcoholic. Even his toothbrush will torment you till the day you die. Every time you try to pick your life back up. When you try to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart that he has left behind. You’d regress and fall further down that hole. You’ve gone from being an occasional drinker to someone who can’t function without getting drunk at least every other day. To someone who eats healthy and promotes it, to someone who doesn’t bother anymore and eats a very unhealthy amount of junk food. From someone who seldom goes to bars, to someone who frequents them often.

Pick up daddies at the playground

How I spend my daytime

Loosen up the frown, make them feel alive

I make it fast and greasy

I'm numb, and way too easy

You find yourself in another bar. You’ve been hopping in between bars for the last couple of months. People are always telling you that with time grief will get easier. Oh how wrong they are. You feel the same amount of grief, if not more. The bartender recognizes you the instant you make yourself known. He already hands you your preferred drink. You’re a paying customer after all, even if you look like you went through hell and back. As you down shot after shot. You see a man walk up to you and take a seat next to you. You ignore him. Wanting to drown yourself in your sorrows in solitude. But the man is persistent and orders you another shot when you finish yours. You glance at him. “You didn’t need to do that.” You say indifferently. The man shrugs before grinning. “You look like you’ve had a rough couple of days. You could use a treat.” You scowl at the shot on the counter. You down it quickly. The man orders another for you. “Make that a couple of months.” You retort bitterly. He looks at you surprised before he gives you an understanding nod. The bartender gives you another shot. You down that one just as quickly as you did the other couple of shots. “If you need a distraction I’d be willing to give you one.” You arch an eyebrow. He’s offering you to hook up with him. You dwell on his offer. You can’t believe you’re even considering it. It must be the alcohol talking. Before you even realise it you blurt out your answer. “Sure.”

One thing leads to another. A sloppy, messy kiss develops into a makeout session. From the living room to the bedroom. Clothes being torn off. When he climbs up onto you, a thought rushes through your slightly sobered-up mind. You promised you’d stay loyal to him. Even if he’s dead. Everything starts rushing to you and you can’t take it. You push him off you, gather your clothes, give him a rushed apology while throwing your clothes on, and storming out of his apartment. You call yourself an Uber to get you back home. You swear to yourself, that this is going to be a night you’re going to forget. Erase from your mind.

You sit in the car, pondering on the actions that you’ve just done. You were ready to give yourself to another man, a stranger no less. You don’t even know his name and he doesn’t know yours. Tears fall from your eyes. That thought scares you. Yes, you want to keep Simon off your mind, but not like this. Anything but this.

Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun ain't got no end, oh

Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain, oh

The next few days you spend your time revisiting old places that you often visited with him. Places he would take you out on dates, places that you begged him to take you to. You’d stay out from morning until late in the night. You’d bring enough that’ll be enough for two people. You and Simon. You’d pretend he’s still here with you, telling you about his day. How his teammates, friends are doing. People who pass you by think you’re insane, and honestly, they might be right. But do you care? No. This is your way to grieve. You keep his death off your mind by pretending he’s still here with you. Your own little play pretend. Because you know when you get home, the harsh reality will sink in and destroy you again. You want to savor these moments as long as you possibly can. Oh, how it hurts. That the one you need to numb the pain is Simon himself, and no one else.

You're gone, and I gotta stay high all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time to keep you off my mind

When you get back home from your adventures. The loneliness, and coldness from the house you once called comforting, and warm, seep into your bones. You go back to your routine. Drown yourself with more junk food or alcohol. Cry yourself to sleep. Wake up. Cry again. Go out until late. Rinse and repeat.

A figure hiding himself in the shadows outside your shared home observes your behavior. His heart breaks when he sees how far you’ve fallen. He watches how his strong independent woman, resorts to bad habits to keep herself afloat, mourning the supposed death of her husband. He wishes he could barge in, and comfort you. But he can’t. At least, not yet. And that fact hurts him tremendously. He just wishes he’ll be able to finish his mission before you fall rock bottom in that rabbit hole you’ve dug up for yourself.

For now, the only comfort he can give himself is watching you in your home. He’ll have to stay in the shadows and watch from afar. Keeping you at arms’ length.

Sometimes you’d see a dark, hooded figure by the window. They wear a mask similar to Simon’s. But it can’t be him. He’s dead and isn’t coming back. So for now you’ll ignore the figure. As long as they don’t come in here and interrupt your peace, you don’t give a damn about them. But you can’t help but have that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. What if it really is him?

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ SIMON!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Loud - The Home Team

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Few of the many times Simon had to come to your rescue.

Word count: 861

Masterlist

“SIMON!!” You scream out in fear. Simon comes running out of his office with a combat knife held up. His heart sank when he heard you scream. All that was running through his mind was that either you got hurt, or that there was an intruder. He slides as he runs towards the living room. He scans the room for any visible threat. When he sees nothing that could hurt you he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and sighs.“Lovie? What’s wrong?” He asks with concern lacing his voice as he stares at your figure standing on the couch. You point shakily at the floor. He squints his eyes to see what you’re pointing at it. It’s a small cockroach. “Kill it, please.” You plead with him. He can feel amusement creep up and shakes his head. He grabs a shoe and smashes it. He grabs a tissue. “Bloody hell, I thought you got hurt.” He says as he cleans up the cockroach with the tissue and throws it into the trash. You look at him with a serious expression. “I could’ve been.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be ridiculous it’s only a cockroach, a small one at that.” You scramble off the couch and walk up to him. “It’s the spawn of the devil.” You defend yourself. He lets out a laugh and pulls you closer. “Mhmm, sure lovie. I’ll kill all of the cockroaches for you. Your pretty little face doesn’t have to worry about them anymore.” He says and rolls his eyes. You grin happily up at him and kiss his cheek. Your cockroach problem is solved.

***

Simon is lounging on the couch, reading a book. He’s enjoying his peace and quiet. You’re cleaning up the bedroom. Changing the sheets, and dusting off the closets, nightstands, and dressers. He has offered to help you but you have politely declined, saying he should enjoy his time relaxing. He went along with it, thinking you’d be fine cleaning up on your own after convincing him. A terrified scream interrupts his peace and quiet. “SIMON!” He slams his book shut, gripping it tightly, and runs up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He holds up the book, ready to use it as a weapon for whatever is threatening you. He barges into the bedroom and looks around. Yet again, there’s nothing there that could harm you. He notices that you’re standing in one corner of the room, staring at the other side with a terrified stare. He sighs, “is it another cockroach?” He asks exasperated. You shake your head frantically. You point at a small black speck on the wall shakily. “It’s a spider!” You squeak out. He walks closer to the speck and it’s indeed a spider. He groans and slams the book on the small spider. He wipes off its remains on the wall and book with a tissue and throws it in the bin. He looks at you and smiles. “It’s gone now, it won’t hurt you.” You shuffle closer to him. He wraps his arms around you. “You need me to stay here while you clean?” He asks with amusement lacing his voice. You nod, “that would be nice.” You say softly. He chuckles, his chest vibrating with laughter. He watches you as you clean. He can’t help but stare at you with fondness while you clean.

***

You’re both peacefully watching a movie on the television. You’re cuddled up to Simon while he runs his hand over your arm repeatedly in a soothing manner. He’s so invested in the movie that he fails to notice the huge moth flying by your faces. But you have. Once you see its humongous self whizzing by, you tense up. As long as it doesn’t get too close you’ll be fine. Simon notices that you are tensed up and looks at you. “What’s wrong, lovie?” He mumbles. You’re about to tell him a moth is flying around but you get interrupted by your own scream and cling onto Simon like a koala bear. He flinches at your scream and looks at you with wide eyes. He holds you close to him and looks around with confusion. He spots the moth resting on the lampshade next to him and sighs. “Seriously, again?” He asks. You nod, “just kill it!” He looks at you like you’re crazy. He smirks. “It’s huge, we should keep it as a pet.” He comments. You glare at him and slap his arm lightly. “Kill it.” You demand. He chuckles and grabs a tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table. “Fine, only because I love you.” He quips. He brings the tissue closer and pinches the moth. Effectively crushing it. He stands up and throws it out and returns to you. He wraps his arm around you again and you continue watching the movie again in peace. This isn’t the first time he had to kill an insect for you, he also knows it won’t be the last. But he doesn’t care. As long are you’re happy he’s willing to kill every insect that even looks in your direction.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ My wife

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Intro (Infected) - Sickick

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Simon’s wife gets taken hostage by enemies. They use you for ransom. Simon is not impressed. He’s willing to cooperate as long as they leave you unharmed. But they don’t, and Simon is out for blood.

Word count: 2.869

Masterlist

Down on my knees for protective Simon… anyway

Simon enjoys the moments when he can return to your open, welcoming arms. Where he can turn the Ghost part of him off and be Simon Riley. The person that you deserve. Every time he comes home he makes sure that Ghost is in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to bring that part of him back home to you. A calculated, ruthless, and cold killer. He refuses to show you that part of him as much as possible. No, he only shows you the softer side of him. The side that’s capable of treating you right, the way that you deserve. He’s driving home from base. He touched down a couple of hours ago and sat through a long boring debriefing. He couldn’t help but be unattentive during the debriefing. All he had in his mind was you, his perfect little wife who was waiting for her husband to come home. He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other is leaning out of the window. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoo sleeve to other drivers who care to look. He taps the wheel on the beat of the music playing quietly in the background. He’s driving over the speed limit but he can’t be bothered. The sooner he gets home to you, the better.

Soon he pulls up into your driveway. He notices that the lights are off both inside and outside the house. He arches an eyebrow. Usually, you’d leave the light outside on. In case he comes home when you’re already asleep. It’s your way of welcoming him home when you can’t do it in person. He thinks nothing of it. Maybe you have forgotten it this time. You’re human after all. He marches his way up the front porch and pulls out his key to open the front door. He immediately notices something is wrong. The front door is slightly ajar. Barely noticeable. He pulls out his combat knife from his vest and holds it up as he opens the door slowly. He stalks his way inside. He stays alert with his eyes peeled. The moonlight illuminates the house just enough that he can traverse his way through the house. But dark enough that he can stay in the shadows, like a ghost. He walks by the living room. Coming to an abrupt stop when he notices a bloody handprint on the doorframe. His heart sinks. He knows it’s yours. He can clearly tell that it’s yours, he doesn’t even need to take a closer look. He checks everywhere for you. The bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, but no sign of you. He grows more restless. He looks for any clues of where you could’ve gone.

He clears the house and sighs in frustration. He takes off his mask and puts it down on the dinner table. He ruffles his hair and runs a hand down his face. He walks towards the kitchen to grab a drink so that he can clear his head. While he walks to the cabinet to grab a glass he notices a note on the kitchen counter. His attention switches to the note and he roughly grabs it off the counter. His heart sinks even further as he reads the note. He tightens his grip on the counter while he reads. They want a ransom out of you. He can feel his anger grow. They’re asking for a hefty sum but he can’t seem to care. He doesn’t care about the money. He cares about the fact that someone took his wife right under his nose. Someone laid their hands on you. His eyes harden. He will make them pay.

He wastes no time. Within an hour he withdraws the money and shoves it into a duffel bag. He slings it over his shoulder and walks over to his car with big strides. He throws it onto the passenger seat and slams the door shut. He walks around to the driver's seat and gets in. He puts the key into the ignition and starts the engine. The car roars to life and not a minute later he speeds off back to the base. He’s not stupid. He won’t go there defenseless. If shit goes down he needs to be able to keep you safe. If it takes a couple of bullets in between several pairs of eyes then so be it. He doesn’t care. They fuck with his family, they’ll feel his wrath. He steps onto the gas. When he gets stuck at red lights he’ll tap the steering wheel impatiently, occasionally slapping it in frustration.

When he arrives at the base. He hastily steps out of the car and marches his way through the base. Not giving two shits about the noise he’s making at midnight. He walks by Price’s office and sticks his head out at the commotion going on outside his office door. “Ghost?” He asks in confusion. Simon doesn’t look at him but stops briefly, acknowledging him. “Where are you going?” Simon breathes heavily. He does not need to be interrogated right now. Not when you need him. “They took my wife.” He spits out in anger. He storms off to the gear room. Price in pursuit. “What do you mean they took your wife?” Simon ignores him. He doesn’t have time for this clownery. If anything, he walks faster. Wanting to get back to you as soon as possible. He swings open the door violently. He walks over to his gear and gets ready. He splays out his weapons on the table. He angrily puts his vest on. He reaches for his mask before he growls. He forgot his mask at home, it’s still on the dinner table. He grabs the spare one from his locker and slips it on.

Simon Riley is no more, he’s been replaced by Ghost. Price puts a hand on his shoulder. “Ghost, talk to me.” He says with an authoritative tone. Ghost turns to face him. He has a deadly look in his eyes. One that seeks bloodshed. “They took my wife for ransom.” He explains calmly. Price arches an eyebrow. “What do they want?” He asks. Ghost averts his gaze back to his gear on the table. He blurts out the amount of money they asked, as if it isn’t a big deal to him. Price is astounded. That’s a hefty sum for one man to pay off. Ghost tucks a few hidden knives in his vest and his boot. Holstering his pistol on his leg and concealing it. Price looks at him sternly. “You don’t have the authority to carry this out.” He warns him. Ghost turns to him and glowers at him behind the mask. “Respectively, Captain. I do not give a damn. I’ll do it off the books.” Price narrows his eyes at him. “Simon, think this through.” Ghost scoffs, “Simon won’t save her. Ghost will.” He says coldly. Price sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes. “The money.” He points out. Ghost growls. “I have it.” Price looks at him shocked. “It’s a lot-“ he begins before getting interrupted. “John. Quite frankly. I am not emotional about the money.” He gets closer to Price and glares at him. “But I am emotional about the fact that someone laid their hands on my wife.” He feels the anger coursing through his veins. He slams his palm down on the table. “MY WIFE!” Price doesn’t flinch in response. He expects this kind of outburst from Ghost. He is a man who holds a lot of patience. But that same patience will fly out of the window once his loved ones are involved. Ghost breathes heavily through strained breaths. “I want a pound of flesh.” He mutters coldly. Price nods. He steps away from Ghost. He looks at him sternly. “Off the books.” He gives him a pointed look. Ghost nods and leaves the room quickly. He has wasted enough time already.

He rushes towards his car. He gets in once again and glances at the duffel bag. He doesn’t care. He just hopes they won’t renege on their promise. In exchange for the money, they’ll let you go. He starts the car and speeds off to the warehouse they’re keeping you. His mind races while he drives. The bloody handprint on the doorframe. They hurt you. You bled. Your battered and bruised figure is going through his mind. He growls in anger. He slams his fist onto the steering wheel. “Damn it.” He scowls. The first mistake was coming after you. They’ve laid their hands on his wife. That’s the second mistake. He can only hope that you’re mostly unharmed. For their sake. If not? All hell will break loose.

When he reaches the warehouse he puts the car into park sloppily and grabs the duffel bag. He steps out of the car and slings the bag over his shoulder. He checks his gear once more, checking whether his pistol and knives are still concealed. Once he’s satisfied he stalks his way inside. He pushes the door open. Immediately all guns are pointed at him. He throws one hand up lazily, showing them he won’t harm them. At least, not yet. He slowly shrugs off the duffel bag and puts it down on the floor. He straightens up again and throws both hands up. He analyses all of them. It would be unfortunate if he had to fight through them to get you. There’s quite a lot of them. He lets out a deep breath.

“You have the money. Let her go.” He speaks up warily. He doesn’t trust them with those guns. Especially when they’re all standing very close to you. The burliest man scoffs. He turns to a scrawny-looking guy. He waves the pistol towards the bag. “Check it.” He looks at Ghost and narrows his eyes at him. “Every pound better be in there,” he points the gun at you. “Or I shoot a hole through her for every missing pound.” You whimper in fear when he points the gun at you. He can see out of the corner of his eye that the scrawny guy is counting the money. He keeps his eyes trained on you and the man pointing the gun at you. He glares at him. “Point that gun away from her.” The man smirks. “I don’t think you’re in the position to negotiate here.” He turns to you and trails the gun down your neck. “She won’t get hurt if you have the money.” He says coldly to Ghost. Ghost grits his teeth. “The money is there, I assure you. Point the gun away from my wife.” He snarls out. The man rolls his eyes but lowers his gun from you. Ghost’s posture relaxes slightly. He keeps his eyes on you. He’s trying to reassure you that everything will be fine with his eyes. The guy finishes counting the money and turns towards the man. “Everything is accounted for.” This pleases the man. He pulls out a pocket knife. Holding it in between his index finger and thumb and raising his hand. Showing Ghost he won’t hurt you. He cuts your binds and lifts you by your arm. He throws you in the direction of Ghost. “Now scram.” He orders Ghost. He didn’t need to be told twice. He wants to get you out of here as soon as possible.

While you stumble toward Simon he catches you. He checks you over quickly. He notices various cuts in your arms and legs. Bruises littering your body. He can only imagine what else they’ve done to you that is covered up by your clothes. He stands up wordlessly. He would princess carry you. But he wants to make sure he has at least a hand available to pull out his pistol in case they try anything while he takes you out of here. Instead, he whispers to you to wrap an arm around him and lean on him. Let him carry your weight. You do just that. He quickly gets you out of the warehouse and ushers you into the car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and gently sets you down. When he’s sure that you’ll be alright in the car. He pats your leg comfortingly. “I’ll be right back, lovie.” He says softly. As if he’s talking to a wounded animal. You look at him with worry. You reach a hand out to his gloved one. He laces his fingers with yours. “Where are you going?” You ask quietly. Not wanting for him to leave you. He shushes you, “I’ll be right back. I need to take care of something.” He says vaguely. You know exactly what he means, but you let his hand go. Knowing he won’t be content until he knows that those men have been taken care of. “Be careful.” You tell him. He nods. He rolls up his mask so his mouth is revealed. He plants a kiss on your forehead. “You know I am, princess.” He leans away from you and rolls his mask back down.

He leaves you behind and walks back to the warehouse. He saw the power box at the side of the building before he entered the building. He makes his way to it and cuts the power. The lights immediately get shut off. He sticks to the shadows as the moonlight illuminates his path. When he gets inside, chaos ensues. Multiple shouts could be heard. All centered around one man, Ghost.

“Where is skull face?!”

“Find him!”

“Someone turn the power back on!”

“Spread out!”

He smirks. Big mistake. It makes his job so much easier. He makes quick work of them. Emerging from the shadows. Killing them quickly before stepping back into the cover of darkness. He deals with everyone, except for one man. The one that pointed the gun at you. The man growls, realizing that all of his lackeys got taken out when they stopped answering him. Ghost stalks him. “Goddamnit! Where is that son of a bitch?!” The man yells out in frustration. Ghost points his pistol at the man’s leg and shoots. Pain crashes over the man. He clutches his leg in pain and crumbles to the floor. He looks around in a panic. Ghost has concealed himself again in the shadows. “I’m right here.” He says menacingly. The man hears him and whips his head in his direction and points the gun at him. He was about to shoot before he realized. There’s nothing there. Ghost shoots his arm. Making him drop his gun. The man cries out in agony. Ghost emerges from the shadows once more. Revealing himself to the man. The man scrambles with his other arm for the gun. Ghost steps on his hand and kicks the gun away from him. Ghost leans down towards his face. The moonlight framed his mask. Showing the true terrifying notion of wrath. He glares down at him. “It’s one thing to take my wife. It’s another to use her for ransom. I couldn’t give a damn about the money. But it was a mistake to lay your filthy fucking hands on her.” He snarls at the man. He whimpers in fear. Ghost is livid, rightfully so. Ghost narrows his eyes. “Not talking? That’s alright, I’ll make you beg for your life.” He stands up to his full height. Crushing the man’s hand in the process. He drags the man by the collar and drags him to an isolated room in the warehouse. No one will come to his rescue. No one will know what transpired here. After all, it’s off the books. The man’s screams echo through the warehouse before it eventually dies down. Blood splatters onto Ghost’s mask.

***

A couple of minutes later you see Simon walking towards you. With his mask in his hand, he looks a lot calmer now. He pulls his gloves off his hands and holds them with the other hand. He throws them in the back of the car and gets into the driver’s seat. He sits down and lets out a deep exhale. He starts the car and turns to you. He abruptly pulls you into his embrace. He breathes your scent in. He clutches you tighter. “Bloody hell, lovie. You scared me.” He says softly. He pauses before continuing. “When I came home and saw you weren’t there. My heart sank.” You wrap your arms around his torso, trying to show him you’re alright. If not, only a little shaken up. “You came for me.” You say in a small voice. He pulls away from you. He looks you in your eyes and caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Never doubt that.” You nod. After today, you definitely won’t doubt it ever again. He gives you a small smile and sets the car into gear. “Let’s go home, get you all fixed up yeah?” You smile slightly. “That sounds perfect.” You say softly. He nods and drives off. You have some cleaning up to do but that’s alright. He has you back now and can drop the mask. He can be Simon Riley again.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Ice skating

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Beautiful Things - Benson Boone

Keegan Russ x Reader

Synopsis: Keegan isn’t fond of ice skating. But he’d do anything to see you smile.

Word count: 908

Masterlist

“I can't believe I agreed to this…” Keegan grumbles out as you walk through the entrance of the ice skating rink. You look at him giddily, “come on, Keegs! It’ll be fun.” Keegan lowers his gaze to the floor as you walk up to the ticket booth. “The only fun thing will be watching you fall on your ass.” He quips. You playfully roll your eyes. “I get it. You don’t like skating. But it’s the winter season, we can’t just not go skating.” He’s about to retort before you interrupt him. “Two tickets please.” You tell the receptionist. She nods and hands you two tickets, “that’ll be 8 dollars. Rental skates are up ahead.” She informs you. Keegan swipes his card before you even get to take your card out of your wallet. She smiles at you and wishes you a good time. You move to the rental skates. “You didn’t have to do that, Keegan.” You say. He scoffs, “darling. You won’t have to worry about paying when I’m around. You should know this by now.” You smile, “it doesn’t hurt to try.” You mutter under your breath. He hears it and glances at you but says nothing.

You make it to the rental skates booth. You ask for two skates for both your and his sizes. The man running the booth asks for an ID card from one of you. You hand him yours. He takes it from you and checks it briefly before disappearing in the back. A few minutes pass before he finally emerges and hands you two pairs of skates. “That’ll be 6 dollars.” Keegan immediately pays, not giving you a chance. You shake your head. He grabs both of the skates and thanks the man. You walk side by side to the indoor skating rink. You spot an empty bench where you can put your skates on. You sit down and put on your skates. Keegan makes quick work of it. When he’s done you’re still struggling with the laces. He sighs and crouches down to your skates. He gently moves your hands away and does it quickly. He makes sure it’s tight before patting your ankle gently. “There, all done.” He says softly. You thank him and drag him over to the ice. The scowl on his face gets bigger the closer you bring him to the ice.

“Maybe I can just sit at the sides for now, darling.” He says. You roll your eyes and smile. “You’re getting on the ice whether you like it or not.” He glares at you playfully. You get on the ice albeit a bit wobbly. He gets on like there’s no difference between the ice and the hard floor. Eventually, you get the hang of it and skate around like normal. Keegan skates next to or behind you very casually, with his hands in his pockets. A couple of minutes pass by. You notice that he doesn’t stumble once. You come to a stop at the wall. He stops beside you. He smirks, “tired already?” You scoff, “nope. But I thought you hated skating. How come you’re so good?” He laughs at that. “Just because I hate it, it doesn’t mean I can’t be good at it.” He flicks your forehead gently. You look at him incredulously, “you learned it somehow.” He rolls his eyes, “my family used to go a lot when I was younger. That’s how I learned.” You shake your head, “so you do enjoy it.” He chuckles, “I never said that.” You skate away, leaving him behind. You turn your head to him, “whatever you say, Russ!” You call out to him. He laughs and shakes his head. “Unbelievable.” He mumbles before skating towards you. He quickly catches up to you. You try going faster but he’s too fast. Eventually, he wraps his arms around your waist and spins you around. You shriek in surprise and clutch onto him tightly. Not wanting to fall. He chuckles as he holds onto you tightly. He slows down and puts you down gently.

He laughs as you slap his chest lightly. “You scared the shit out of me.” You say with feigned annoyance. He smirks, “come on, don’t you trust me, sweetheart? I wouldn’t drop you.” You scowl at him before smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.” He shakes his head before planting a chaste kiss on your lips. “I am a lucky man.” He says softly. He chuckles and pinches your cheeks gently. “Are your cheeks turning red because of me or of the cold?” He teases you. You swat his hands away, “the cold.” You say confidently. It’s clear to both of you that you’re lying. It's definitely because of him. He throws his head back and laughs. He looks you in the eyes. His eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Right right. Because of the cold, sure.” He shakes his head, “god you’re cute.” He shifts backward a little bit and holds out a hand. “Come on. You wanted to skate right? Let’s skate.” He says smiling. You grin and take his hand. You both skate around the rink with your hands intertwined.

The way your eyes are crinkling with happiness makes his heart swell with love for you. If he has to skate more often to give you such happiness he would in a heartbeat. Ice skating with you isn’t too bad either. He’d gladly take you ice skating again if you ask.

[mirage-aera]

Hey my lovelies! I wanted to take some time to thank you for 100 followers. It means a lot to me that at least a hundred of you like my writing, so thanks for that!

I will continue bringing out more stuff for you guys to read and I’ll try to be somewhat consistent. I didn’t expect to grow this fast after having disappeared for a couple of months at a time. So really, thank you!

This is also a reminder that requests are open, so if you have any prompts or fic ideas that you want written out (request rules are here) I’ll be happy to to write it out for you.

Remember to take care of yourselves and others around you! And until then, bye bye lovelies! 💙

Have a crappy picture of my lego plants that I got for my birthday as a thank you

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Losing game

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Arcade - Duncan Laurence

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: You and Simon got captured by the enemies. It has been days since the day you got captured, you two were going strong. All you needed was each other to make it through each day. Until they found out you were lovers, then did it take an ugly turn.

Word count: 4.122

Masterlist

TW!! Heavy character death

When a simple stealth recon mission of a base went hot. You and Simon both knew you weren't getting out of here, but you sure as hell were going to try. When you ran out of ammo, you two resorted to knives, when those went blunt you used your bare fists until you eventually got overwhelmed. They surrounded you and ordered you to surrender. They wanted you for interrogation, that’s clear. Simon nods at you, silently telling you to do what they tell you to. One of them hits Simon’s knee from behind with the end of their rifle. Causing his leg to buckle and fall to his knees. The other points their rifle at you, “get down on your knees!” You listen as you slowly sink to your knees. Feeling the cold hard ground beneath you. You look at Simon, who looks at the ground. Soon they roughly place blindfolds over your heads and tie your hands to your front. They pat you down and strip you of all your weapons. All of them get confiscated. One of them has a hand on his radio, “we got them. We’re transporting them now.” You can hear a gruff voice on the other end of the radio. He speaks into the radio again, “yes sir.” He makes a spinning motion with his arm, “let’s go!” The men start bustling around while two grab you and Simon by the rope and throw you into the back of a truck. You can hear Simon grunt before you get thrown on top of him.

You hear the engine start and the truck starts moving. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the truck stops abruptly, causing you two to jerk with the movement. They drag you out of the truck and roughly push you in various directions. Eventually, you find yourself being pushed down on a chair. You hear another grunt from Simon, telling you that they did the same to him. They tie you down with more rope around you and the chair. You hear them doing the same to Simon. They remove the blindfolds. Before you can adjust to the new setting they knock you both out. Your head slumps over as your vision blackens again.

Eventually, you wake up again. You groan as you look ahead of you. Seeing Simon, who has already woken up. He looks at you concerned. “You broken?” He asks. You shake your head, “I’m good.” He nods and lets out a breath of relief. Before he can say something a man walks in, probably the leader of this base. He smirks at the sight of the two of you. “We captured the ones who have been causing us a lot of trouble recently, interesting.” He walks closer to the two of you and leans down over Simon. “You are going to tell me everything I want to know.” He glares down at Simon. He just stays silent. The man chuckles, realizing Simon won’t say anything. He turns to you, “what about you?” He asks coldly. You let out a huff, showing you aren’t going to talk either. The man scoffs, “tough crowd. No matter, I’ll get you to talk eventually.” He straightens up and circles the both of you like a shark would do to its prey. He motions for two guards to come in and narrows his eyes at you. The guards rush in with their guns in hand. They stop behind him and wait for him to speak. The main guy scoffs and turns to them.

“Make them talk. I don’t care how you do it, or with what.” He says coldly and walks out of the room. The two guards glanced at each other before shrugging. One of them speaks up first. He stares at the two of you, “so who volunteers?” You stay silent, Simon as well. You’re testing their patience, you can tell that much. He narrows his eyes at you before snapping his gaze to Simon. “Let’s break skull face first.” They drag him out of the chair and shove him to a different room. You look on subtly with a worried gaze. Simon is strong-willed, he won’t break. But how far will they go before they realize he won’t give them shit?

It’s hard to keep track of time down this shithole. The only sounds you hear are the shouts of the guards, Simon’s grunts, and occasional groans. It sounds like he’s giving them a hard time and vice versa. You’re trained for situations like this, but you haven’t been trained to listen to the pained grunts and groans of your lover. You can only stare at the door they pushed Simon out of and hope he comes back.

***

Another punch finds itself in Simon’s gut. Making him let out a grunt due to the impact. He breathes heavily as he recovers from the relentless beating. One of the men straightens up as he stares at Simon with a pointed look. “Names. I want names, give them to me.” Simon smirks, “the only name you’ll be getting is the one plastered on your grave.” He snarls. Not giving up the names. The man glares at him. “Getting smart with us now, are we?” Simon chuckles, it being muffled behind his mask. He narrows his eyes at them, “it’s a promise.” The men look at him with fury. The other one speaks up, “fine. Be that way.” They aren’t fools. They know that the person behind the mask will be more vulnerable if it’s off. He marches towards Simon. He stands behind him and places a hand on his mask. “Last chance. Before the mask comes off.” Simon’s breath hitches but says nothing. These guys will be too dead to tell the tale anyway. The man, growing impatient. Rips the mask off over his head. Revealing Simon’s face in all its glory.

The guard in front of Simon grins. “There he is. Do you feel like talking now? Or do we have to knock some teeth out?” Simon gives him a death stare. “Fuck off.” He spits out. The man glares at him before throwing a hard punch to his head. His snapping with the movement. His face shows no sign of pain. He simply turns his head back towards the man.

He’ll be here for a couple of hours. He knows that. But he refuses to tell them shit. He just wishes that they’ll get their frustrations out on him so that they won’t be as rough with you later. Deep down, he knows that won’t be the case. But he can surely try to taunt them for as long as he possibly can.

***

You don’t even know how long it’s been. You’re staring at the floor before you hear a commotion outside. You hear a man bark out, “walk!” And someone tripping and stumbling. Your heart sinks, Simon. A few seconds pass and he gets thrown through the door. He falls to the floor ungracefully as he lays there and winces. You see blood on him, both dry and wet. Bruises are covering wherever his shirt and pants don’t cover his body. And his face. They took his mask off. The guards follow suit, they stalk up to Simon and give him one last good kick in the gut. You can hear him let out a grunt at the kick. They glare at him before turning to you. They undo the rope tying you to the chair and drag you up. One of them looks down at you, their breath hitting your neck. “You’re next. Your buddy didn’t talk, this will be hell for you.” He sneers at you. They shove you to the door and past Simon. He looks at you with worry, but also determination. He can only hope that he has tired them out so that they’ll go easier on you. But hearing those words, he doubts that’s the case. What goes unnoticed to both of you is that one of the guards saw his expression of worry for you. One that a lover has for their partner.

They push you roughly to the same room they interrogated Simon in. You get shoved down onto the chair. They strap you in and stare at you, wondering what they should do to you. One of them taps the other on the shoulder and whispers something to him. Something you can’t make out. The other looks surprised at you before smirking. “Oh, this’ll be fun.” He says with a dark tone lacing his voice.

Not too soon after they start giving you the same treatment as they gave Simon. They don’t hold back at all. The more you resist them, the more relentless they become. They try all sorts of things, classic beatings, threatening to take off fingernails, waterboarding. All the basic means of torture. However, just like Simon, you don’t break. You don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing with fear in your eyes. You continue looking at them with a stoic look.

Soon they grow bored of you and decide to call it a day. They have many more days to try and get you to crack, they aren’t worried. They are just wondering how long you both can last under these circumstances. They drag you up and away from the chair and shove you back towards the room where Simon is waiting anxiously for you. They slam the door open as they throw you in, next to Simon. They shut the door after and stand guard at your door. Your hands are still tied together in front of you so all you can really do is shuffle to him and sit next to him.

Simon gives you a look over and his heart drops once he realizes they have really done you in, if not more than him. He shuffles through the aching of his body closer to you. He whispers so that the guards won’t hear him. “How bad?” He asks. He doesn’t even need to ask if you’re okay. He knows you aren’t. You wince slightly as you move to a more comfortable position, “one of the worst ones, that’s for sure.” You answer vaguely. He frowns at your answer. That means it’s pretty bad. He wishes he could wrap his arms around you, that he could hold you, and comfort you. But the rope keeping his hands tied together is stopping him from doing so.

You talk quietly amongst yourselves until the latch opens from the door. Food gets shoved through. You can feel your will giving up as you realize it’s only one bowl, a very small portion. A portion smaller than a child would normally eat. And a small glass of water. They are trying to get one of you to break. Knowing them, that’ll probably be the only ‘meal’ you’ll receive every day for the upcoming days. “Enjoy your meal.” You can hear someone say through the latch as he closes it. You hear them snicker in amusement as they walk away. You’re too tired to be bothered and grab it. You close your eyes as you lean against the wall. You can hear Simon getting up. You crack an eye open and watch him stumble to the tray. He tries to grab it, but he can’t get a proper grip on it with the way his hands are bound. Instead, he opts to slide the tray over to you. He grabs the spoon and shovels some of the slop on it. He directs it to your mouth with shaky hands. You frown and shake your head. “I’m not hungry. You eat.” You say softly. He looks at you sternly, “you need to eat. You’re weak, come on. Just one bite.” He tries to convince you. However, you’re stubborn to a fault. You refuse yet again. He sighs before whispering, “please, lovie. If not for yourself, then do it for me.” He nearly begs you.

You give in and take the mouthful of slop. You chew slowly before swallowing. He gives you a small smile, “atta girl.” He praises you as he gets another spoonful of the food and raises it to your mouth. You shake your head and point at him, “you first. You need to eat too.” He chuckles and shakes his head but does as you tell him to. While he chews he raises another spoonful to your mouth. This goes on until the bowl is empty. He offers the water to you, “drink what you need. I’ll have the rest.” You clasp the glass with both hands and drink a few sips. Not glass not even being half empty. You slide it over to him. He raises an eyebrow at you, “drink at least half.” He says sternly. You sigh but drink half, leaving the rest for him. He quickly chugs it down.

This goes on for the next few days. You’ll both be interrogated, you’ll refuse to tell them anything, and they’ll get tired of you after a while, and give up. Once ‘dinner’ time rolls by, they’ll give you the same slop and glass of water as the first day. You can feel your body growing weaker and weaker by the day. Simon can as well. There’s a limit and you’re riding just on the limit. You honestly don’t know if your bodies can keep up anymore after today.

The next morning, you can tell they’re growing restless. They’re desperate to gain information from both of you. That could mean two things. Either, they’re disposing of the two of you the next day. Seeing as you won’t tell them shit. Or, the Task Force is coming for you, that they’re looking for you. You really hope it’s the latter.

A few hours later, after a few rounds of beatings for the two of you, the leader makes another appearance. He looks pissed off, and frankly, out of patience. He’s holding the grip of his pistol tightly as he enters. The two guards follow him like a lost puppy. He glares at the two of you before smirking. “My men may not have been able to break you. But I will break one of you mentally soon.” He says menacingly. None of you say something in return. He scowls at your silence. He continues, “my men have noticed something peculiar. That the two of you are close. Too close to only be colleagues and friends. Don’t even try to deny it, this room is tapped. So we can listen in if you decide to slip any information without us present. Which you didn’t do, but you did reveal yourselves to us.” You stare at him shocked. You didn’t expect the room to be tapped. Simon glares at him, he didn’t either.

Seeing your reactions, the man laughs. “Now this is where it’s going to get interesting. We’ll play a little game.” The man spins his pistol around his finger. His smile drops and is replaced by a look of hatred. He points the gun at you. You stare down the barrel, not afraid. You refuse to show him fear. Simon growls in anger, “you keep that gun away from her.” He says threateningly. The man smirks and lowers the gun. “Protective, are we? Interesting.” Simon scowls at him. “Time is running out for me. So instead of trying to get information out of you. I’m going to go out with a bang.” He says as he looks at the two of you. “I’ll give you a choice. One of you is leaving this place safe and sound, “ he pauses before continuing, “the other will leave with a bullet through their skull.” Simon’s gaze hardens. You glare at the man. “The thing is, it’s your choice.” He smiles as he says this. He looks at his watch, “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to decide. If by then you haven’t decided. I’ll shoot whoever I want.” He leaves the room with the guards following him.

Simon is already looking at you as you turn your head towards him. He shakes his head, “it’s all a game. It’s all a sick game to him!” He seethes. You don’t say anything. There’s nothing to be said. You won’t let him take the shot for you, not in a million years. As if he can read your mind he narrows his eyes at you. “You’re not doing it. I won’t let you.” He says firmly. You take in a shaky breath, “love-” “do not ‘love’ me.” He interrupts you and shuffles closer to you, “you’re not doing it and that’s final.” You know arguing with Simon can be like trying to convince a brick wall to move. Impossible. He looks at you with intense eyes, “I have done many things. Many bad and some good. Let me do this last good thing, please. For you.” He’s nearly begging you. You look at him sadly, “Simon..” You mutter out quietly. He shakes his head, “please.” He begs. You search his eyes for any regret. You find none, all you can see is intense determination and love for you. You can feel your resolve break.

You nod slowly, “okay.” You say softly as your voice breaks. He gives you a sad smile. “Thank you.” He says wholeheartedly. He tries to give you some comfort by resting his hands on your thigh and rubbing soothing circles on you. You don’t say anything, just enjoying the last moments you’ll have together. You’re embracing each other’s warmth for the last time. No matter how much he’s covered in bruises, scars, and the slight stubble on his chin, he’s still so breathtaking to you. You can’t help but smile at him. He notices and gives you one back. This isn’t Ghost from the 141. No, this is Simon Riley, you’re loving boyfriend that you get to see in private for your eyes only. If he’s letting his guard down then that means he’s accepted his fate, content with it. “I love you, so much lovie.” He says sincerely. Knowing it’ll be one of the last, if not the last time he’ll say it. You can feel a tear running down your face. “I love you too. More than you could ever know.” You say shakily. He smiles as he clumsily lifts his hands to try and wipe your tears away. “Don’t cry. It’ll be fine. The others will take care of you.” You rest your head against his shoulder as you sniffle. “I know they will.” You say softly.

The door slams open making you both scramble up from the floor. The leader walks in with a grin. “I hope you have decided. Otherwise, it’ll be Russian roulette.” He snickers. Simon glares at him, “go on then. Shoot me. Sick bastard.” The man laughs. He tuts at Simon, “so you have decided. Interesting.” He turns to you before giving you a vile grin. “Would you like to do the honors?” You look at him with empty eyes. Would you want to do it instead of letting the bastard do it? Could you even do it? Simon looks at you pleadingly. He would prefer it if it was you instead of the man. It’s a selfish request, he knows it. But he’s allowed to be selfish at least for once in his life, isn’t he? All he has done is serve. Following orders like a mindless robot. Maybe it’ll bring you some peace as well. Knowing you’ll be able to control when you’re ready to let him go. You know what he wants so you nod. The man smiles and slides the gun to you before glaring at you. “You try anything funny, and my men will drop you both. So don’t even try it.” You look around as you notice that there are more guards around you. You nod again, showing that you understand. There are too many of them to take them down within a second.

You bend over and grab the gun. It takes you a couple of times due to the rope still tied around your wrists. You grab and hold it loosely in your hands. The man speaks up impatiently, “come on. I don’t have all day.” You refuse to look at him, wanting to give Simon all of your undivided attention. The gun is only a small pistol, probably one that he was spinning in his hand earlier. Yet it feels so heavy. You point it slowly at Simon. Your hands shaking in the process. He gives you a reassuring smile, “it’s okay.” He says quietly. You hear a gun click behind you. You don’t look back. “Hurry up. Or I’ll do it myself.” You hear someone say coldly. Simon nods at you as if telling you to take the shot. “I love you.” He says one last time. Your time is running out. You close your eyes as tears start falling down your face like a waterfall. “I love you too.” You say softly. Before anyone can react you point the gun upwards to your jaw and shoot.

It’s painfully quiet as the gun drops from your hand and your body slumps to the floor. Everyone looks at you in shock. They did not expect that to happen. The leader chuckles, “she’s a brave one.” As if that pulls Simon out of his trance he stumbles to you and falls to his knees at your body. Blood pools beneath your head. Simon lifts your head gently and sets it down on his lap. He doesn’t care that your blood is staining his pants. The men grab the gun that fell near you and walk out. The leader glances one more time at Simon before leaving the room himself.

Simon looks at you with wide eyes. Tears welled up quickly in his eyes. He can feel his heart being ripped out and stomped on. His hands shake. He can’t even hold you properly because of the rope. He looks at you with anguish. He knows you’re gone. He doesn’t even need to check for a pulse. “What did you do?” He croaks out with a shaky voice. “Why why why?! Why did you do that?!” His voice raises with every word as the tears fall. If he knew that you were going to pull that stunt, he never would’ve pleaded with you silently to do it. He thinks back to the minutes before they barged in. You were oddly calm. That is when it all clicks. It was never your plan to let him take the shot. One way or another you were going to take it. He looks at you sadly. Your blood covers his hands and clothes. He strokes the hair out of your face with shaky hands. “Oh darling… it was never meant to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cries out as he weeps. Everything aches in his body, his heart. His mind is in disarray. He sobs over your body. Every time he tried to speak, no words would come out.

So instead, he sits there with your body on his lap. He doesn’t care how disfigured your jaw is. How red your face is. You’re still beautiful in his eyes. Even at death, you’re the prettiest person he has come across. He mutters out multiple ‘I’m sorry’ as he cries. He hasn’t cried like this in ages. It’s an odd feeling. A feeling he hates. He clutches your shirt, it’s all he can hang on to.

He spends hours weeping. A couple of hours later, it’s the dead of night. He hears lots of commotion outside. Gunfire, breaches, and shouting. He doesn’t react to it. All he can think about is you, and how he failed you. Soon his door slams open. He looks up to see who it is. It’s the Task Force. Their eyes are immediately on you. They look shocked and in disbelief. Simon just stares at them with empty eyes. He speaks out hoarsely, “you’re too late.” They can feel their heart break. They’ve never seen their lieutenant be so vulnerable. Price speaks up, “Ghost-” he starts but gets interrupted by Simon. He shakes his head, “don’t.” Tears drop and soak into your blood-stained shirt. “Don’t even start.” He croaks out. “At least my angel isn’t in pain any longer.” Gaz turns away, not bearing to watch the scene in front of him. Soap lets out a few tears of himself. You three were always close. Price can only stare at the two of you with sad eyes.

“Fly high my angel.” Simon says through sobs.