#Riley POV

[excessive-vampires]

Chapter 14: Frightened Wild Animal Part 1: Riley

Masterlist with CW

Taglist: @demyxdancer @softvampirewhump @d-cs

The house was probably the most upscale property Riley had ever been to, if the porch was anything to go by. Even the miles of woods separating the house from the rest of the neighborhood seemed fancy somehow. They wouldn’t be surprised if they found a spiral staircase inside. Riley was trying very hard not to think about what else might be lurking inside this practical mansion.

It was Mike who made sure the house was clear and opened the door, which meant Riley’s team was the last to go inside. 

The first thing everyone saw was three dead bodies laid out by the front door. One had its throat sliced open, another had a gaping burnt hole in its chest, and the third’s head was caved in. 

Someone in front of Riley swore. Riley grabbed their amulet as their head started spinning and their breath got shallow. Their stomach turned and they had to work not to vomit at the brutality of it. 

“Charlie Team, search this floor,” The head caster from Alpha team ordered. “We’ll take upstairs and Beta Team, find the basement.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Sil and Charlie Team’s head caster said at the same time, and the nine of them split up. Each other team had two casters and an artificer, leaving Riley’s team understaffed. But they had to be there in case they found anything relevant to Mason’s plan. Anything that could help identify what the rune from the cabin was for. The agents were supposed to be able to tell if there was anyone in the house before going in, but Riley seriously doubted Mike would have given the all clear if he had seen the bodies. And if Cliff could mess with the Bureau’s scrying artifacts then there could be literally anything in this house. Riley almost froze with fear but made themself keep moving their feet. 

“Riley, go wait in the car,” Mike ordered. 

“No,” Sil contradicted. “They'll be in more danger alone. Agent Bishop stays with us.” 

Riley fought to keep their breath from quickening as they nodded their assent. But they couldn’t stop their eyes from darting back and forth to every shadow like it was a tiger waiting to pounce, and couldn't stop their mind from picturing Cliff behind every corner.

Once the team found the door to the basement Sil went down the stairs first followed by Riley and then Mike. Just as they got to the bottom, muffled screaming came from upstairs. Mike immediately turned around to go back up. 

“Agent Green!”

“Don’t cite protocol at me, Sil, people are getting hurt.”

Riley would have said something, but they were shocked into silence. 

“Mike! Look at what’s in front of you!” Sil ordered. 

“Yeah, I don’t think you want to go back up there.” Avi’s voice caught Mike’s attention and he turned back around. 

Seven unconscious humans, seven demons. 

Mike rushed towards Clara Bolton. Riley and Avi both yelled “Stop!” at the same time. 

“The runes have them in suspended animation,” Riley explained. “Moving her could hurt her or you.” 

Mike looked at the rune. “This is inlaid into the floor, it’ll take hours to break safely.” 

“Please tell me there’s fifty more of you guys upstairs,” Avi said. 

“There’s six,” Riley answered as they walked over to Avi. 

“Fuck,” Avi swore. “You need to get out of here. Fast.” 

“We can’t just leave everyone!” Mike protested. 

There’s nothing you can do right now! None of us can leave!… Except…” 

“Except who?” Riley asked. 

“She’s human, she could leave this part of the rune…” 

Riley suddenly realized who the demon was talking about. 

“Listen, I have to protect her, it’s part of our deal. So I need you to take her and get out of here, leave the rest of us behind or you’re all going to die. Do you understand?”

“Avi—”

“Do you understand!” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” Then they closed their eyes and Riley wasn’t sure who they were talking to. Maybe them, maybe the person they were possessing, maybe both. “This is the only way. You can figure out how to stop him, you can save me and everyone else. I believe in you.” They opened their eyes and stared into Riley’s. “Take care of her.” 

Riley thought about how they were planning to treat Avi like an unpleasant stranger. Well that plan was out the window. Seeing Avi trapped and helpless like this… They didn’t want that. They couldn’t make themself want that. Not after seeing how scared Avi looked. But at least they could justify it as just wanting to help an innocent woman. 

“I will.” 

“Thank you.” 

Then Avi began to glow, and what looked like molten gold began to flow out of their skin and pool on the floor. Riley caught a glimpse of deep blue eyes before the body passed out and started to fall out of the rune. Riley caught her. The mass of glowing gold on the floor coalesced into a short and fat humanoid with pearlescent scales for skin and gold horns framing slicked back golden hair. Their simple clothes were gold too. As they finished forming they spoke in a familiar voice.

“Go!”

Mike rushed over to help Riley with the woman. As they climbed the stairs they heard Avi and another demon talking. 

“Avi, are you okay?” 

“Yes. I-I think so.” Their voice cracked. “As long as they get her out of here safe I’ll be fine.” 

Riley and Mike each had one of the woman’s arms slung over their shoulders. It was rough going. Riley had to hunch over because of how short she was, and she wasn’t exactly light either. Still, they got within sight of the front door before Mason saw them. 

Sil acted fast, throwing out both her hands in opposite directions and activating two of the runes she had drawn in preparation of the mission. Two things happened at once. 

First, a small explosion erupted from Sil’s hand, with all it’s concussive force and heat directed towards Mason. He had a shield up, of course, but the surprise blow to that shield still knocked him back and off of his feet. 

Second, an invisible wall of force hit Riley, Mike, and the woman, pushing them forward until they all but crashed into the front door. 

Riley got the door open and Sil ran to catch up with the others as they moved as fast as they could towards their car. When they got there Sil slid into the driver’s seat while Mike and Riley hauled the woman into the back. Riley got in back next to her and Mike took the passenger seat. 

“Drive!” Mike yelled at Sil, and she put the gas pedal to the floor. 

Riley held onto their amulet and looked out the window until Mason’s house was out of sight. Then they turned to the woman on the seat next to them. Her face was expressionless in unconsciousness and that made her look somehow different from Avi, who always wore big expressions, whether they were genuine or not. 

The woman whimpered and curled in on herself a bit, Riley thought maybe she was waking up but no, her eyes remained shut and breaths even. Her hand was stretched out towards Riley, they held it. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Riley whispered to her, because that’s what they wanted someone to say to them right now.

They really hoped Mason wouldn’t make them into a liar. 

[authorangelita]

The old-school wall clock across the room ticked away the seconds with increasingly frustrating noises.  Riley wanted to rip it off the wall and smash it to bits, but she thought the hospital would frown on that.  It was probably best if she didn't bring attention to them anyway since they weren't in the US.

She looked up when she heard limping footsteps heading her way.  It was Mac, carrying two cups of coffee and a small brown bag.  He looked like shit, pale-faced beneath the bruises and jaw set against the pain.  He'd refused analgesics except for Tylenol, and she was worried.

"You doing okay?" she asked as he eased himself onto the chair beside hers.  Setting her computer aside, she took one of the coffees from him.

"I'm fine."

She scoffed and opened her mouth to protest the obvious lie, but he spoke before she could.

"I'm sore, and my headache has its own headache, but I've had way worse."  He held the bag out to her.  "Cinnamon roll or danish?"

Read more at AO3

@macgyvercairo

[sigh-tofm]

if you wear glasses …

… price

- makes sure you always feel beautiful, especially if you’re just starting out or feel insecure with them on. kisses the bridge of your nose and your forehead. wears his own reading glasses when he’s working on reports or just puttering around the house. sits with you on the veranda, hand in hand, reading quietly while the sun sets. both of you wearing your glasses.

… kyle

- forgets you wear them and sometimes kisses you so fervently that your combined breath fog them up. you giggle as he picks them off your nose and neatly deposits them on a free surface. you continue kissing him and to make it fair, kyle turns off the lights so he too needs to rely mostly on touch the rest of the evening. turns out touch is all either of you need.

… johnny

- has broken them on more than one occasion. he’s cracked the glass and bent the frame, and it has happened both during playful wrestling matches and, uh, intimate wrestling matches. visiting the optician to pick out a new pair becomes a bi-annual afternoon date for you two. johnny always pays and isn’t even ashamed to admit out loud what he’s done while your cheeks heat and you look anywhere but at the optician.

… ghost

- always makes sure they’re clean. once you take them off to sleep, shower or just rub your eyes, he steals them away (sometimes right from your fingers or even nose if you’ve managed to get something on the glass while cooking). first uses an alcohol wipe and then dries them off with a soft linen cloth bought especially for that purpose. does not let you clean them yourself. likes to make your life easier when he can.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited)³ retired simon has nowhere to go, so you offer. { his pov } [ one, two, three]

she’s like a breath of fresh air. bright and cold. a gust so frigid that it sends goosebumps to shroud his skin. like the first fall of snow. was it december now? how long has it been since he’d left? how long has he wandered? adrift like a buoy at sea. but strangely stuck, straying in place. like some sort of ghost. trapped and terrified.

he thinks she’s naive. strange, even. like a child left outside without supervision. prone to being up to no good. she’s insistent in her little fiat car. her hands are covered in a pair of creme wool gloves. and when he looks close enough he notices that they’re fraying at the seam. worn. loved.

she says her name. it’s pretty, her name. it fits. she’s expectant, waiting for him to speak. give her something, anything he’s sure. she seems like a good girl. too good, too much for him, not enough for her. he hardly even knew her. but she wants to know you. she’s being nice. nothing more. simon. that’s what he tells her and it rolls off her tongue faultlessly. “well, we’re not strangers anymore, simon.” is what she says. he finds her amusing.

it’s her eyes. that’s what makes him slide into the passenger seat. they're wide. warm. nervous— despite her being the one to offer him a ride. it’s endearing, if not a bit entertaining. and the cold has already frozen his body. he can hardly feel his feet. but he deserves this. this life that he’s been subjected to.

she’s an anxious thing. her gloved hands drum lightly against the steering wheel. she’s shit at making small talk. and from the reflection of the car window, he can see the way she works her bottom lip into her mouth. he’s tempted to thumb it from within the wet heat. he doesn't.

“could be a killer.” she smiles. her eyes brighten. it’s small but he finds himself forgetting to breathe. in and out. in and out. she smells temptingly like honey and spices, all tangy and sweet. fuck. he holds his breath. “are you?” he doesn't respond. after all the killing. the blood that stains his hands. his skin. won't come off no matter how hard he scrubs. he’s a murderer. yes, i am. she’s too trusting. he wouldn't hurt her. never.

small. is how he would describe the apartment. small but homey. filled with greenery, color, and a tiny christmas tree. it’s tucked away. surrounded by lights at its base. it smells like chocolate, milk to be specific. but her as well. honeyed spices and dried fruits, tangy and sweet. the radio that he hears plays quietly. silent night in instrumental. his heart tightens in his chest.

he’s not sure how he ended up here. surrounded by her four walls. she suggests sweetly. eyes wide and sad at his destination. he declines. she isn't the type to take no for an answer. her brows are knitted. hands tightening. he’s enamored. he shouldn't stay. he should tuck and roll out the car while he has the chance. run. like he’s used to doing. too late the two pull in. she’s pleased with herself. he grins faintly beneath his mask. cute.

the couch is a bed. it pulls out into one anyway. she busies herself. shuffling to get sheets and a comforter. it’s a faded baby blue, printed with delicate flowers. and she looks proud. smiling at the cozy couch. her lips are coated in a sheen. from the lip balm she’d put on a second ago. and he adverts his eyes when she looks toward him. couldn't meet those wide eyes. sweet and nervous. he stares instead at the makeshift bed. she speaks. grins awkwardly.

“thank you.” he means it. it’s stiff. his voice hoarse from the cold but, he means it— no matter how gruff it comes out. her hands. no longer swathed by wool gloves, slide down denim-clad thighs. lips press. and her head nods. she says his name again, but scurries before he can reply, and maybe it’s for the best. he can barely speak.

click.

he shouldn't. but he finds himself amused. good girl. he was still a stranger after all. a strange man she has willingly invited into her home. he wondered briefly if she was right in the head. right to slow for him. to smile at him. she couldn't be. unsure. he can’t get comfortable. just lays there and listens to her faint voice. walls thin. voice muffled. but words clear. “die tonight.”— “…love you.” he ponders.

he doesn't remember a ring. friend? mom? boyfriend? his heart aches. he doesn't know her. he has no right to feel anything. she was nice, too good. he was the opposite, with nowhere to go. nothing to offer. why was he here? he should leave. but sleep weighs heavy on his eyes. bing crosby lulls him to sleep. he’d be gone before she woke.

i've always thought simon to have very choppy thoughts. and always being very in his head. very observant. so yeah. listened to christmas music making this! hehehe

[robiinurheart33]

I’m obsessed with ghost being obsessed with soap.

The way he knows tidbits and fun facts about soap is just unparalleled to everyone despite ghost seeming unbothered. They go on missions together more than anyone else in the task force or god forbid, any other military they’re working with. As much as military life would like you to believe, there’s just as much waiting and planning than there is executing.

Soap is notoriously not patient. Ghost is, but only when it comes to work. Anything else he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Unless it comes to Johnny. But no one will ever know that except for Ghost himself. But back to the point, they’re mainly on missions together and they stakeout together, they hide in itchy bushes for hours together, they stay in each other’s space, no matter if they want the other to or not. Soap cannot keep his yapper shut for the life of him and he’ll go stir crazy if he has to stay still for 2 whole hours. So he talks. Whispers, really so as to not give their position away. Ghost is a professional after all, he can split his concentration between the mission and Johnny. It’s endurance training. (Or whatever he tells himself anyways.)

Soap doesn’t mind the mindless talking if it helps him concentrate, and if Ghost doesn’t seem to be bothered then it’s all good. He knows that he isn’t actually actively listening, which is okay. He’s not offended, per se, but he feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest whenever he looks back at Ghost as if it were an actual conversation to be met with nothing. Soap is a professional and damn good at his job at that, so he doesn’t let that bother him. (He doesn’t.)

One hazy night, Soap and Ghost (Ghost and Soap) are staking out a warehouse across the street, a bone-deep exhaustion hangs in the air as they both slump in their seats near the open windows. Cicadas make themselves known and the humidity doesn’t let down even in the night. Soap’s eyes are hazy, blinking ever so slowly and almost slipping shut for good a few times before he jolts himself awake.

“Go to sleep, Sargent.” Sargent. Ghost’s rough but tired voice cuts through his mind as he slides open his eyes again, not knowing they were closed in the first place. He rolls his head over to Ghost, where he’s sitting rigidly upright. To anyone, it would seem like he’s the picture of alertness, eyes trained out the window, posture perfect. But to Johnny, he can see that his fists are clenched too tight, his gun is still strapped to his side, and he hasn’t even taken a shower yet, when Johnny already has.

Guilt pangs softly in his chest, and he purses his lips in thought. Ghost wouldn’t take a shower now seeing that Soap was so tired. He would probably stay up the whole night staring out the window, sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back but still endure it for the opportunity for Soap to rest. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s something between them that they can’t name, a connection that isn’t quite friends, but crosses the line of professionalism. Whether Ghost knows that or not is still up in the air for grabs. He pushes himself off the chair with a soft groan, sliding his bare feet over the wooden floors to the bathroom. He splashes cooling water on his face and rubs his eyes, blinking harshly. He stares at Soap in the mirror, and Johnny bristles a bit. He looks like pure shit. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, eye bags threatening to pull his eyelids closed, and he hasn’t shaved in quite a few days. Definitely not up to military regulation. He doesn’t bother to clock in the rest of himself now, wanting to focus more on Ghost than himself.

He walks back out to the shared living room, which is also their bedroom and kitchen, and behind Ghost’s chair. He bends down to swiftly unclip his vest off.

“Wha’ are you doing?” He doesn’t even sound annoyed, just tired.

“Gettin’ all this shite offa’ ya.” Soap doesn’t need to look to know that Ghost is probably even more tired than him. His Lieutenant with all the responsibilities under the sky, and no one to share that burden with.

The vest falls with a heavy thump on the ground and Johnny continues to clatter the remaining knives and guns onto the table, right beside their haphazardly placed maps for future ambushes. He pulls a knife from the sole of his boot, and Ghost huffs in amusement.

“Didn’t know you knew about that one, Johnny.” He’s Johnny now.

“I know everything about you.” It scares him a bit how it slips out that easily, but it scares him even more that he doesn’t take it back.

Ghost’s eyes bore into the side of his skull as he throws the rest of the equipment onto the table, keeping a gun in the pocket of his cotton pants. Johnny juts his chin towards the bathroom, arms akimbo.

“Go shower.” he doesn’t bother with a jab now, God knows they’re both off the table for that. It’s come to a point in the night where jokes lay to rest and honestly is the only thing left to say.

Ghost doesn’t look like he’s going to move and Johnny won’t blame him. He knows how hard it is to leave your post, how you scream at your body to move but nothing works. Nothing happens. Johnny’s eyes eventually hone in on Ghost’s eyes, trying to get a grip of what he’s feeling at the moment. Brown. It’s stupid, but Soap’s never been good with all the metaphorical side of describing things. Ghost’s eyes are brown. It’s brown. And it looks soft around the edges, calm and present, moving ever so slightly as he looks back at him. And they look at each other. And Johnny melts. He wants to melt and be safe in Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing wrong now, there can never be anything wrong. How could it when the stars and the moon crafted them to orbit around each other so perfectly and intimately? And how could anything go wrong when this is the most right Johnny has ever felt in his life?

He feels his hand rise like silk, cupping Ghost’s cheek, like he’s done it so many times before. He hasn’t. Johnny’s not so sure what makes tonight different, or what changed, but he doesn’t want to question it. He’s not jinxing or screwing anything up this time. The cheekbone of the plastic skull digs into the palm of his hand and Ghost’s eyes droop. His thumb drags up and down, up and down right under his eye, not breaking the eye contact he has with Simon. He watches in real time as his eyes dilate and flutter, his head tipping forward, as if he could feel his touch over the plastic and the balaclava. Before Simon’s head could fall forward, eyes finally closing, Johnny grasps his face with both hands, murmuring.

“Hey, big guy. Not yet.” Simon’s eyes open again, looking up at him and Johnny wants to cry at how desperately he wants him to just relax right now, but he knows that if he isn’t completely safe and comfortable he’s be screaming awake 2 hours later.

“Shower.” He whispers. Ghost seems to snap back into reality slightly, standing up straight and towering over Johnny once more. Like this, his eyes seem black in the shadows, and things are jagged and sharp again. He grunts once, stepping out of their safe bubble and sliding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door with a click.

Johnny sighs softly as he sits down on Ghost’s seat, the wood still warm as he looks out the window. The gun burns where it’s pressed against his thigh, but maybe that’s just the absurd heat at the moment. His eyes are trained on the warehouse, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his mind drift off for a bit. There’s no one in the warehouse at the moment, and any movement would be extremely obvious in the dead of night so he figured it would be okay.

Johnny thought of his family. He thought of the soft yearning he felt whenever he wanted to be small and tucked in his mother’s arms again. he thought of how accepted he felt if one of his older sisters threw an arm around his shoulder. He thought of his home back in Scotland, an empty living room with an aging woman who would spend the rest of her life waiting for children that were not guaranteed to come back. The sadness plagued his mind whenever he was alone, wishing he could come back as soon as possible to his home. To what? Put on the obnoxious military persona and acting as if he were immortal to not worry his family? He knows better than that. He knows he’s soft and pliable, that no matter how many muscles he builds, his body will always cave to a bullet. He knows his family will always worry and he can’t do anything about it.

Ghost steps out of the shower and Soap’s thoughts dissipate, head tilting in his direction. He’s swapped his hard skull mask for a clean balaclava, traditional hoodie and sweatpants. He looks…domestic, in a way. A too big man standing in a too small hallway, hunched over and fatigue evident. Love, Johnny realises, comes in many shapes and forms, but it all takes root in the same place.

Simon lumbers over to stand behind his chair, eyes boring down to meet his. Their positions have swapped now, Simon looking down while Johnny reaches up to meet his. Love is a gentle thing. Soap realises with a calmness that shouldn’t be there that he couldn’t pick between his family and Simon. His family meant the whole world to him, but Simon was his sunlight and his saviour. They floated in a nice limbo between everything, Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon. Love is a gentle thing.

“Go to sleep, Johnny. you’re tired.”

“You don’t kno’ that.” He’s slurring.

“I know everything about you.” The line is thrown back into his face, and Johnny’s eyes widen. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach, twisting in an exhilarating way. He swallows and watches Simon stare at his Adam’s apple bob up and down, eyes crinkling. Johnny’s a bit speechless, partly due to overwhelming fondness and partly due to his body screaming for a rest. Simon cares. He cares for Johnny. He thinks about him. He cares. He cares. He cares.

Love is a gentle thing.

“Aye.” John whispers.

All is right in the world, because Simon cares and his mother is at home waiting for him, and he is loved. Johnny is told to sleep, and so he will.

[slut4-haydenchristensen]

price, about soap: honestly ghost, i think he has potential

ghost: potential to be a fucking problem?

[mindie-arts]

A rough mission got him all peckish in the middle of the night 😩✨

And then he got caught-

[reds-skull]

Anatomy is one of the biggest thing I need to work on, so why not do it while drawing these two fuckers.

Tried to focus just on the sketch/lineart, so no shading on this one...

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Ghost and grabbing you by your arm pits. Thighs shoved under the back of yours before he picks you up, making you sleep on his lap because you passed out at the bar and he doesn't trust anyone else there.

[excessive-vampires]

Dealing with Demons Chapter 9: A Tempting Offer Part 1: Riley

Masterlist with CW

Taglist: @demyxdancer @softvampirewhump @d-cs

Avi was laughing when Riley approached them.

"What's funny?"

Avi put away their phone. "Oh, just something my friend said."

"Would this friend happen to be CosmicCat on Spotify?"

Avi's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Why?"

"No reason, just curious. Let's get on with the mission." Riley moved to open the car door.

"Actually," Avi leaned back against the door to close it. "If it's just going to be the two of us I'd rather teleport. It'll be faster."

"Oh, uh, okay."

"Now, what's the closest address?"

Riley told them.

"Okay. First, I'm going to need you to get rid of that amulet."

Riley grabbed said amulet protectively. "What? Why?"

"Silver doesn't teleport very well."

"I've never heard that. And I've seen teleportation runes made of silver."

"Well, I don't use runes. It works differently."

"Where am I supposed to put it?"

"Car's glove box?"

"It's not my car!"

"But you have the keys, right? So no one else will be able to take it while we're gone."

Riley paused for a moment.

"If you don't want to come with me—"

"No. I'm going with you. But do we have to teleport?"

"Do you want this to take all day?"

Riley deliberated for a moment before they took off the amulet and stashed it in the car. They instantly felt like they had gotten onto a rollercoaster with no safety bars.

"Excellent. Now, take my hand." Avi held out their hand and Riley gingerly grabbed onto it. "You're going to want to hold your breath."

Riley did so.

And then everything went black. And silent. And numb. For a terrifying moment Riley thought they were dead, but then the world came back all at once. Riley fell to their knees as their mind tried to process their surroundings.

Avi grabbed their shoulders and hauled them to their feet.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to that."

"Great."

They were in an apartment. It looked like an average middle-class home except for the lack of life. Dust had long since settled over the surfaces, even law enforcement hadn't been here in a while.

"Well, did they summon a demon?"

Avi inhaled deeply. "Not within the last week."

"That's all you can tell?"

"Unfortunately. The rest will require some old fashioned manual searching." Avi put on gloves and tossed a pair to Riley.

"But the initial investigations have already cleared out anything occult."

"Evidence that someone has summoned a demon isn't always obviously occult. Look for cleaning products they could have used to get rid of the blood rune. Look in the fridge for apples or pomegranates, anything that's symbolically connected to demons or the soul."

"Right." Riley started looking.

The ritual used to summon spirits was unusual, half normal ritual and half symbolism ritual. A person had to put a lot of themself into it, including an offering--consumed by the ritual--they thought would entice the demon or angel they were summoning. The offering could be almost anything, as long as the summoner believed it would work and that it in some way represented what they wanted to achieve. Riley pretty much had no idea what to look for, but soon Avi sauntered over carrying a fistful of pure white feathers.

"Found this under the mattress. Dove feathers, they probably went out and collected them by hand. I bet they thought it'd get them an angel."

"Does the offering determine what type of spirit you get?"

"No, but some people try to guide things in a certain direction. Sometimes it looks like it works, but the ritual always summons a spirit based on what deal you want, not what you do."

"Huh. I always thought it was based on what kind of spirit you were looking for." Riley quickly got out their notepad and wrote the new information down

Avi threw the feathers over their shoulder and held out their hand. "Come on, we'd better get going to the next address."

Riley's stomach lurched. "Right. Let's get this over with."

They found evidence of rituals at the next three houses, but it wasn't until the last house that Avi could actually catch the scent of a recent summoning.

"Six days ago. Demon of arrogance." 

"Huh, that's at least three diffent types of demons in total."

"Hmm." Then Avi's eyes went wide. "Seven total victims, each having summoned a different type of demon... I think I know who's doing this, and if I'm right it's bad."

"What? How?"

"I'll explain to you and Coleman when we get back, come on."

Riley took a deep breath and grabbed Avi's outstretched hand. This time they managed to stay on their feet when they appeared outside the base.

"I'll go get Coleman. Mike and Sil too, they'll want to hear this."

"Wait, Riley!"

"What?"

"Your amulet."

"Oh, thanks." Riley unlocked the car and grabbed the now cold silver.

"No problem, I have a feeling we'll all need all the protection we can get."

Riley's stomach dropped as the weight of the amulet settled against their chest. They ran inside the building.

......

Once Riley had rounded up everyone who needed to hear what Avi had to say they all gathered just outside of the base.

"Okay. A while ago I was summoned by someone who wanted to make a deal with me. His name was Cliff Mason. I refused him because he was vague about what he wanted from me and only offered an unspecified amount and type of power in return. But before I did he told me he needed one of each type of demon for what he was planning. I think he also needs someone who's made a deal with each of the seven."

"But then why would he take Clara Bolton? If you refused him wouldn't he have found another demon of avarice?" Riley asked.

"He was insistent that he needed me specifically. I don't entirely know why. I think he's going to try to force me to cooperate with whatever it is he's planning and he's confident he can succeed." Avi sighed and looked down. "I'm in danger."

For a moment everyone was silent. There was an incredibly powerful monster standing before them, and this Cliff Mason was dangerous enough to make them feel unsafe. Riley felt cold sweat at the back of their neck.

"Don't worry," Sil said. "You're part of the team now, we'll keep you safe."

Riley looked at her in surprise and saw Mike doing the same.

"What? If I only protected the coworkers I actually liked then Mike would have been dead years ago."

"Thank you, Agent Silverman," Avi said with sincerity. "That means a lot."

"I'll get someone to look up Mason's home address, criminal record, employment history, the works," Coleman said. "Be ready to go out and start trying to track him down in the morning. You," she pointed at Avi. "Don't try to investigate alone."

"Director, I wouldn't dream of it."

Demons could lie, as long as they hadn't given you their word, but Riley saw the fear in Avi's eyes and believed they were telling the truth.

[erubo]

Number 1 tiktok babygirl.

(I'm cringing)

[w3r3theli0nshunt]

POV: you’re at a festival with your bf!Simon Riley

Simon can’t stop grabbing your hand all the time, fearing that the huge crowd of people would pull you away from him. Sometimes when the crowd gets tighter, he’d pull you into him, hugging your waist tightly until the crowd gets more spaced. You don’t complain tho, you just simply give in to him. But at the very few occasions that you actually get pulled away from him in the crowd, he starts panicking and screaming your name out loud not giving a damn about all of the stares he receives. You actually have to find a bench or something that lets you stand tall as you’re waving hands and calling out to him. Simon then runs to you, pushing away all the people that’s getting in his way before he scoops you up and carries you through the folk mass.

Whenever he sees you eyeing something you really want, then walk away, he ends up secretly buying it to surprise you later at home. He’s desperate for that genuine smile from you and the aggressive pecks you shower all over his face while thanking him repeatedly.

You always wants to go on the roller coasters, that after some nagging he agrees joining you on. But more for the part when you hug him tightly, burying your face in his chest as you’re screaming in both excitement and fear. You can hear the vibrations of his deep chuckles on his chest, making you smile.

Whenever you complain that you can’t see the stage, he lifts you up and lets you sit on his shoulders. He chuckles when he hears you singing along with the artist on stage. He feels that extra warmth and love blooming in his heart, he couldn’t love you any more than he already did otherwise his heart would explode.

While you’re having a picnic on the grass, Simon always insist that you sit in his lap and let him feed you. He don’t give a fuck about the people side eyeing you two and he doesn’t listen when you tell him to stop and that you can use your own hands. Because he just can’t, you’re overloading him with love and it makes him explode with affection. Just let him feed you, dammit!

Simon can’t stop kissing you and pulling you into tight embraces. He can’t also help but to sniff the shampoo in your hair and the perfume you spray on your collarbone. He just has to, he can’t help it, but you don’t mind. If anything there’s nothing you’d like more.

When you tell him that you’re going to buy some food for the both of you and tell him wait, it only takes five minutes before you feel the familiar warmth and smell of cologne and big arms wrapping around your waist pulling you back against a thick wall of muscles and fat. Yes, he keeps his arms around your waist even if it’s your turn to order and he moves along with you, glued to you. You’re so used to people’s “what the fuck” facial expressions now that you don’t even bother begging Simon to back away.

Every food, snack or drink you buy, you share with Simon. When you’ve bought cotton candy, you’re both tugging at the same time on it like bunnies hihi. When you’ve bought a water to quench your thirst, Simon asks if he can get some, which leads to him draining the bottle dry in one gulp and you lightly scolding him afterwards. You split chocolate bars in half, sandwiches in half, hamburgers in half and even shared a bowl of pasta bolognese using one fork that you two even shared.

When you get cold, Simon wastes no time taking his jacket off and wrapping it around you. The jacket is almost drowning you, but Simon’s warmth keeps you comfortable enough to wear it, even if it is wayyyyyy too big for you.

When you have to go the toilets, Simon stands right outside to make sure that no random bloke gets inside and if they get one metre near the toilet, he’d knock the guy out. All to keep you safe and the other lucky women inside.

While Simon’s off to buy drinks, a drunk man approaches you and urges you to give him your number which you try to politely decline. But the man keeps pushing and starts to touch you inappropriately. Simon sees this and he rushes back to you in anger, giving the man a good hard punch, putting the drunk man to sleeeeppp. Your knight in shining armour then puts his arm around your waist to pull you closer and to show everyone that you’re already taken, by him.

“You didn’t have to knock him out!”

“Would you have preferred it if I killed him instead?”

Simon is insane, but insane for you. Because he loves you so, so much that it almost hurts him.

[abl-ink]

Note: I can't find an English translation that correctly explains the Chinese term "黑心上司", so I choose not to translate it.

It means "a boss who treats you badly and badly in every way". Of course, in this picture, it is just the taste of the couple, please don't over-interpret it.

注释：我没有找到能够正确解释“黑心上司”这个中文词的英文翻译，它的意思是“一个在各个方面对你很不好很烂的上司”，当然在这张图里只是小情侣的情趣罢了，请不要过度解读。

[robiinurheart33]

Soap likes it when they’re alone.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s fun when 141 are all together, the four of them kicking ass on a mission. But when it’s just two of them on a mission, it just feels.. different. Like he has Ghost all to himself. They work wonderfully together as a duo, which is probably why Price never separates them. Also probably because Gaz is his favourite, that prick. (He misses them.)

They’re currently on a stakeout, and Soap was supposed to be asleep 2 hours ago.

He’s sitting across from Ghost, dressed in his sleepwear which was a sweater and old sleeping shorts he used to wear back in secondary school. Ghost was wearing a large hoodie, some sweatpants and the mandatory balaclava. They were both sitting in front of two windows next to each other, the wooden blinds pushed open and moonlight illuminating them both. The cooling air seeps into the room, and soap breathes in deeply. He glances down towards his journal, a finger stuck between the pages, the other hand twirling the pen around. It’s quiet.

His journal is far from neat, pages sticking out waywardly and the leather ripping off from one side of the cover. Soap resists the urge to pick at it. It’s filled with notes from missions, sketches of his loved ones. Mostly sceneries of places he’s stationed at.

He looks up at Ghost staring out of the window. Soap turns his head back out the window, wondering what Ghost was specifically looking at, what he was thinking at the moment, whether he would scold soap if he said he wanted to slip out to buy some supper because he’s hungry. Soap flips back open his journal, and can feel ghost attuned to his actions, even if he wasn’t currently looking at him. Soap likes him for that. He pays attention. Soap wants to return the favour. He wants to know his ins and outs, wants to pay attention. He’s always been an attention-seeking child, which meant that most adults and classmates would ignore him. Endless nights of young dumb teenage John Mactavish sobbing into his pillow about insecurities, his future and the people around him. The things he used to do for attention, each one more drastic than the last. He can’t count the amount of times his Ma had to bail him out, the amount of stress he caused her, his dear Ma.

He likes the natural attention the army brings him, big brute having the green light to legally kill people for a living. It was liberating for a while, but eventually that too died out. At the not-so ripe age of 30-whatever, Soap learns to savour the portions of attention and praise he’s delivered, especially when he joined 141. Maybe in another universe he would be just a little easier to love, little easier to endure. It’s not something he really dwells on nowadays (lie), but he would have preferred somebody be actually interested, not just for the sake of taming him.

Soap looks back on the half-filled page of his journal, clicking open his ballpoint pen, and starts to sketch Ghost. He’s a pretty good subject, not really needing to focus a lot on anatomy since most of his face is covered anyways. He’s familiar with the strokes. He eventually gets lost in it, thoughts fading away and autopilot coming to take over the wheel, the skktch of pen on paper is repetitive and soothing to his ears. It’s the only sound between them now, the crickets and wind opting to stay out of their safe little bubble.

So when Soap looks back up again and sees Ghost looking back, he physically bristles. They lock into a strange sort of stare-off, Ghost’s eyes upturned slightly in a way Johnny knows that he found it amusing. They look at each other for about a solid ten seconds, enough time for him to memorise his blond eyelashes and his eye shape, clocking in internally on how to draw him even better, tempted to just look down and sketch them as fast as possible, so he wouldn’t forget. Ever.

“…Wha’?” Johnny’s fine with breaking first.

“You’re looking at me.”

“Astute observation, LT. Is it still night time?”

“Wha ‘ave you got for us?”

Soap covers his journal in a sort of bashful kind of way, feeling like a schoolgirl covering her diary.

“Didn’t know you got yourself a little diary.”

Soap tsks. “It’s a journal.”

“Right.” An indignant huff.

“Am’ no lying!” Soap feels heat rush to his cheeks, strangely defensive of his pride in front of his lieutenant.

“Never said you were. Drawin’ me now?” His manc accent was suddenly getting very annoying. Ghost’s eyes skirt down to his hands covering the pages, and suddenly Johnny is very aware of the skin wrapped around the muscles of his hands, down to the bone. He feels the dirt under his fingernails, the ink smudged against his fingertips and palm. He wants to turn his hands in and out, inspecting them himself to see if they’re worthy of being looked at by Ghost. Acutely aware of the sheer pressure, the weight of ghost’s attention on him, his skin gets all prickly and he wants to hide.

Is he doing that on purpose?

“Yer a good subject, never movin like a statue. It’s good for practicing my still life.” Soap’s ring finger twitches, and he knows he’s been given away.

Ghost’s eyes glint in the moonlight. His eyes are almond shaped, bigger than most. His pupils are dilated, dirt brown, like the whisky he likes to choke down. His eyelashes are long, so blonde they’re almost white. they shine so brightly soap wants to reach over and close them, just to calm his poor heart a bit. Soap wants to jab his pen into his eye. Soap knows how many strokes it takes to draw Simon’s eyes.

“…. At least get my good side, Sargent.”

“Full o’ shite, you.” he chuckles, the spell breaking as soap rests his knee up on the table and placing his journal against it. It would be a little harder to sketch ghost now, but it’ll be a cold day in hell if Ghost ever sees what he does with his journal. (Would probably be more inclined to call it a diary, old fuck.) Although, he can’t help but admit that it’s a beautiful night in this particular day. It doesn’t count that Ghost and Soap’s legs are in between each other’s under the table, just short of touching each other. It doesn’t count that Johnny pointedly ignores the way that Ghost is still looking at him from the corner of his eye. It doesn’t count that Simon allows Johnny to draw him out when he would break the neck of anyone even trying to look into his eyes too deeply.

It doesn’t count that here, in their little fake apartment with one bed, sniper gun concealed under the window, two toothbrushes side by side in a cup in the bathroom, that they allow themselves to be Simon and Johnny.

They fall back into comfortable silence, Johnny 2 hours and 30 minutes over his allotted time to sleep.

Ghost’s pov

[paint-the-walls-white]

Sweet Simon Riley

I've been desperate for some good smut lately, then I remembered I have capable hands lol.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Daddy kink, body worship, praise, pet names, overstimulation, breeding kink (lil bit)

After coming home from a long day at work, you dropped your purse and shoes at the door and slumped on the couch. A single encounter with a co-worker had ruined your entire day:

"Oh! Congratulations! Are you excited?"

You looked at her puzzled, "For what?"

"You know!" She gestured at your stomach, "When is the baby coming?"

A sour feeling had made it's way into your gut. "I'm.. I'm not pregnant."

She just awkwardly smiled and waved you off.

'What the hell?'

You grabbed at your soft stomach.. It was true you put on a little weight, but you hade been stressed out!

You sighed, walking into the bathroom where you inspected yourself in the mirror. Your stretch marks had become more prominent.. and you could see some cellulite forming on your thighs..

Tears flooded from your eyes. 'Maybe I should diet.. I've already eaten plenty today..'

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard your husband Simon come through the front door, calling out for you,

"Lovie? y' home?"

"Yeah!" You called back to him, stepping into the bedroom to change into looser fitting clothes.

Simon walked into the bedroom and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

"Hi sweet heart," he brushed his hand over your tear streaked cheek, "What's wrong baby? Why were you crying?"

You sniffed dramatically, "Oh.. nothing just allergies.." You tried to hold his gaze, but the intensity of it made you glance away, giving up your lie.

"What's really wrong love?" Simon cupped your cheeks in your face. you couldn't help but notice how much of your face he was holding, making you sob,

"I-It's so stupid..! It's not something for you to worry about.." You forcefully pushed his hands off your cheeks and walked of to hide in the bathroom.

He tried to follow in behind you, worried and slightly hurt.

"Love. you need t' tell me wha's wrong. Righ' Now."

You quietly said what the issue was, but he didn't hear you. "What baby?"

"I-I feel fat, Ok? and I feel ugly... And your gonna leave me because I'm getting fat!"

You heard nothing on the other side of the door, so you cracked it open to see Simon with complete shock across his face. He regained composure and chuckled lightly.

"Lovie, yer no' fat. Yer thick and gorgeous and M' not gonna leave you because yer body is changin'."

He pulled you in, firmly squeezing your ass before throwing you over his shoulder and headed for the bedroom.

"S-Simon! Put me down-! I'm heavy!"

Simon slapped a heavy hand to your ass, chuckling at the whine what escaped your lips.

"Yer like a sack of flour. I got no problem carrying ya, which is why M' gonna fuck these awful thoughts out yer head."

You squealed as he tossed you onto the bed, enjoying the treatment.

"M' gonna prove to ya yer' beautiful by worshipping every inch of your skin tonight,"

He dragged his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt. He watched as her eyes saddened at the sight of his firm build, dark thoughts clouding her mind once again.

"Eyes up 'ere beautiful,"

Simon carefully peeled her shirt over her head and groaned at the sight, "Fuck, yer gorgeous," he pressed a gentle kiss to her neck, caging her with his arms on the mattress.

"So fuckin' pretty Lovie.." He groped at her skin, relishing in her soft moans and whimpers as he kissed down her stomach, gingerly pulling off the rest of her clothes.

"Si-monn.. " she whimpered, gripping his hair tightly as he pressed firm kisses against each stretch mark on her soft stomach. He continued down her naval where he started sucking and biting at her skin.

"Yer so beautiful.. God I could look at you forever.. Fuck I have to taste you.." Simon licked at her clit, groaning at her sweet flavor as he pressed a finger against her entrance, sinking it down to the knuckle.

She arched her back, pressing into his face firmly as his nose swiped at her clit and he shoved his tongue into her. He groaned at her flavor on his tongue and locked eyes with her.

"That's it baby girl.. Eyes on me," He sunk two fingers into her, causing her to moan his name loudly, "Cum on my fingers like a good girl... cum for Daddy,"

She whimpered as the coil in her core rapidly started tightening until it snapped, creaming on his fingers.

Tears of pleasure pricked her eyes as she panted, trying to catch her breath. She watched as he pressed his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them off before he lapped her clean.

"Simon-! Pleasee.. I need it..!" She squeezed her thighs around his head, making him groan into her skin.

"So fuckin' needy.. Beg for it.. Tell me how much you want Daddy's cock.."

He pulled his meaty dick from his boxers, rubbing the head of it on her spent cunt.

"Please..! I need it so bad..!"

"Then admit it.. Admit yer fuckin gorgeous.. Admit how fuckin' beautiful you are beggin' to be fucked like this.."

She whimpered as the head of his cock was pressed in, unmoving. She whined that she was pretty, that she was gorgeous and begged once again,

"Please Daddy.. please put it in..!"

She threw her head back as his girthy cock stretched her wide, feeling every vein and ripple as he pressed into her gummy cervix.

"Fuck.. yer pretty little cunt wraps so fuckin' perfect around me.. Fuckin made for me.."

He pulled out of her slowly, relishing in her sweet whines as he pressed back in, again and again until he was pounding her at a bruising pace.

He lifted a leg over his shoulder and bit into her thigh repeatedly, leaving dark marks in her skin. Simon pressed his chest to hers, making her see stars. He groaned as she squeezed around him tightly, clawing at his back.

"S-Simon-! I'm cumming!"

"Fuck.. I feel it.. yer squeezin me so tight Doll.." He groaned into her shoulder, stuffing her full of his seed as he bit into her neck.

He pulled his half-hard cock from her soaked hole, stuffing his seed back into her with two fingers. Simon lifted her knees to her chest.

"Stay like this.. I don' want you wasting a fuckin' drop.."

She nodded weakly, mewling each time he pressed his seed back into her.

A minute had passed before she was breathing somewhat normally, her mind clear from the fog of pleasure.

It made her entirely to aware of the way her skin was folding in her mid section..

"Hey, stay with me Lovie, I'm not done with you yet. I see that look in yer' eye." He sneered, flipping her onto her knees, pressing her face to the pillows,

"I'm not gonna stop until you can't even think about it.. In fact.." He harshly rubbed her clit, stuffing his cock into her without warning, causing her eyes to widen and a surprised moan to escape, "I'm not gonna stop until you can't think at all,"

She whined and whimpered at the force of his dick pressing against her cervix. It would have been painful if she hadn't been sopping wet from both of their fluids.

"Si-monnn.. pleasee.."

He pressed his cock deep into her, groaning as she squeezed around him tightly, cumming from the intrusion.

"Fuck.. that's it.. cum on my cock beautiful.."

She bit into the pillow, overstimulated and so aroused it almost hurt. But the mind blowing pleasure from him pounding into her from behind and tightly gripping her hips for leverage, made it impossible to focus on anything but what he was doing to her.

Tears flooded from her eyes, drooling on the pillow as he rutted into her, praising her body and kissing her shoulder.

"So fucking gorgeous taking my cock.. Fuck.. Im gonna fill you so fucking much.. Are you ready for it?"

She mumbled incoherently, prompting him to pull her up gently from the pillow by her hair,

"Say that again beautiful?"

"Y-yes...Simonn..pleasee.."

He pressed a kiss to her temple and rubbed her clit harshly.

"Fuck.. take it all.. I'm gonna fuckin breed you.. Show that bitch how fuckin sexy you are pregnant or not.. Fuckk.."

Her eyes rolled into her head as he fucked his load into her, squeezing around his cock as he forced another orgasm from her.

"You're so fuckin beautiful when you cum for me baby girl.. "

He pulled out of her, easing her down on the bed and laying next to her, pulling her close to his chest.

She pressed her cheek against his hot skin as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Th-Thank you.. You didn't have to do that.."

She looked at him, eyes glossed over from the pleasure. He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"Of course I did, you needed to feel beautiful.. And Im gonna make you feel beautiful every hour of every day, over and over again,"

He pinned her down on the mattress, ready to go again. She just smiled contently, happy to have the most perfect man she could ask for.

[ceilidho]

ghost working as security at an upscale wedding while you're one of the caterers responsible for the food.

you catch his eye because he's posted facing the entrance to the kitchen where you keep coming and going from (hustling to make sure everything's perfect and bringing out other dishes as the night goes on) but neither of you can do anything about it except make eyes at each other because you're both on the job.

cut to hours later, well into the early morning when the party's starting to wind down and you're helping with the clean up but the big man looming by the pillar on the other side of the room is gone and you just sigh and try to keep your mind on the task at hand. only for him to step out of nowhere while you're waiting in the front of the reception hall trying to find an uber that doesn't cost half your day's wages and offers to drive you home.