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lucid-loves · 9 months ago

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First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: Ghost travels to the small country of Stuoca to meet the person assigned to guard for the next month. When you lay your eyes on him, you can’t help but feel scared, yet also curious. He feels the same when encountering such a precious, fragile thing like you.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7

The porcelain teacup felt warm in your hands, holding your favorite blend of tea flavored to your preference. The grandfather clock in the room ticked by, filling the silence. While you normally liked to play some music to fill the space with sound, your parents told you that you must be quiet. That you had to sit pretty and be patient until you were allowed to do so.

You stared into your cup, slowly losing your appetite for teatime as the pit in your stomach grew bigger. You felt like there was something wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Normally, your parents were eager to show you off to any guest that was coming to the palace. Right now, it is different. You were locked away in one of the many palace studies. There was your butler with you who watched your worries grow. There were a couple of guards outside the closed doors, stopping anyone from entering unless the king or queen allowed it.

Looking out the arched window and overlooking the lush palace garden, you wished you could enjoy your teatime outside like you normally did. Feeling the fresh air, hearing the birds chirp in the distance, enjoying the subtle aroma of flowers flowing with the wind. It was really the only time you were allowed to be outside.

Even though you were a grown woman, your parents have always seen you as their little princess.

While you sat silently in the study, the king and queen of Stuoca was meeting the man that would guard you with his life. It was jarring being in a place like this. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was crafted with exquisite, polished stone. Anything made of wood was a rich cherry. On marble pedestals along the halls held works of art behind glass. Jewelry, crowns, busts. Golden chandeliers with crystals reflecting the light hung from the ceilings that were painted with angels.

Everything in the palace was worth billions upon billions of dollars. Standing in the middle of it all was Ghost, a man that once was just scraping by in his younger days. He still stood out like a sore thumb among it all. The skull balaclava secured over his head, tattoos revealed on his forearm, the black t-shirt that clung tight to his muscles. It was like death himself walked the bright palace halls.

“Pardon me, Lieutenant Ghost, but you don’t have to wear that mask here, do you?” The queen, your mother, nervously addressed from her red velvet seat. The mask was making her scared. That was how people normally reacted when they saw him for the first time.

“Yes I do, your majesty.” He curtly responded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Ghost was just as uncomfortable as your parents were. When he heard that he was being deployed to guard a princess, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. But now, here he was being served tea and cookies with the king and queen of Stuoca. As much as being on base was a pain in the ass at times, he missed it.

The king cleared his throat before taking another sip of tea from his teacup. When they reached out to the United States for a bodyguard, they weren’t expecting someone so. . . rough to be sent out. But, if this was the right man for the job, then so be it. As long as his princess was safe. “Thank you for traveling so far away from home in order to help us with our problem. Being a country so small, we weren’t even sure if your country would even bat an eye at us.”

Ghost shifted on the balls of his feet, growing more uncomfortable with the sudden gratitude. He just wanted to start the job already. The sooner he starts, the sooner he can end it. “You said that you’ve received threats. Anything else happened while I was busy traveling here?”

With a snap of the king’s fingers, a maid came over and presented an opened envelope. Ghost quirked a brow under his mask as he took it. Opening it revealed the original letter that was reported to Laswell. The one that he’s already seen with his 141 team. Handwritten, black ink, very articulated. The letter detailed how the royal family would burn down along with their palace. That the princess will be kidnapped and tortured if they didn’t get what they wanted, which was power to control the country.

Ghost sighed, feeling like he got the short end of the stick on this mission. The entire 141 was working on this case. However, Ghost was the one stuck with babysitting duty while the rest of the guys got to experience all of the action. They were off investigating while he was sitting on a velvet couch in the grandest office he has ever seen.

“That’s all we have for now to physically show you. The only other concern is the graffiti that has been popping up around the city.” The king explained calmly as a different maid brought over a manilla folder full of pictures. Pictures depicted a graffiti crow on various different buildings. They weren’t murals, but the symbols were prominent enough to be noticed.

“A crow is a symbol of misfortune and death. A bad omen, wouldn’t you agree?” The queen spoke up, taking a slow sip of her tea as she tried to read the lieutenant’s reaction. It was impossible to do so with his mask.

“Where is the princess right now?” He inquired. It seemed odd that you didn’t come in with your parents. He figured that they would want you right by their side at all times if they were really concerned about the threats.

The king and queen stood as if on a cue. The king gestured for Ghost to do the same. “Our daughter is in one of the studies waiting to meet you. For her sake, please refrain from bringing up the letter and graffiti. We don’t want to startle her more than what has already been done.”

Ghost gave a curt nod before following your parents to the study where you stayed. The way they spoke about you, you seemed more like a caged bird rather than their beloved daughter. It unsettled the lieutenant, but perhaps it was just the consequence of formality. They wouldn’t have reached out to the United States for help if they didn’t care after all.

Once they approached the door, the guards saluted and opened it up. Beyond the doors was the most ornate office Ghost has ever seen. Once his eyes settled on you, you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Every hair on your head was in place with the help of maids. There were no wrinkles in your dress and no stains in sight. Your makeup was light and only flattered your features. The gems on your necklace complimented your bright eyes. Ghost was almost at a loss for words. When you stood up and curtsied to greet them, he could feel his heart beat against his ribs.

“Good evening.” You simply greeted, your tone polite as ever as a princess should be.

“Sweetheart, this is going to be your personal bodyguard from now on. He’s going to keep you safe, no matter where you go. Isn’t that wonderful?” Your mother gave a sickly sweet smile, her efforts to meet the status quo seeming a little more forced as she interacted with you.

You definitely knew that something was wrong now. You may have been a confined princess, but you weren’t stupid. However, you decided to refrain from asking what the trouble was. It wasn’t appropriate. Not with your parents watching you.

For now, you focused on the news that you were now going to have a bodyguard. Your eyes shifted towards the large man. Muscles clearly defined under his shirt, posture straight and strong, mask hiding his identity. Compared to him, you were much smaller and much weaker. It intimidated you a bit. It made you hesitant to accept him. However, there were expectations to meet, regardless of how you truly felt.

“Princess Y/n. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You softly spoke as you gave another sweet curtsy towards him.

He quirked a brow. You were taking this awfully well. A part of him expected some more push-back. He honestly expected you to be a spoiled brat. Yet, here you were, taking everything in stride for now. You knew how to compose yourself better than he expected. “Lieutenant Ghost. I’ll be keeping you safe. For me to do that, there’s going to be some changes.”

You looked to your parents, looking for the explanation for this change. There was not even a bat of the eye as they faked their smiles. “You will still complete your studies as a princess should. Attend the parties as needed to keep up appearances as well.”

Ghost shook his head, authority taking over his baritone voice. “Negative. The princess will not be attending any more parties. Doing so could risk her safety.”

Something was definitely wrong. Your eyes widened at the news. A part of you, though, was celebrating. No more parties? Would your parents really accept this? The sudden shock on their faces morphed into strained smiles, telling you that they weren’t going to accept this so easily. The king cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, it is very important for the princess to still make appearances. It is essential for her.”

Ghost looked at you all of a sudden, wondering how you felt about this change compared to your parents’ obvious protest. You tried to remain unreadable, not wanting to set either party off with your personal opinion. If you had the choice, though, you would sacrifice the parties. They were more for your parents than they were for you anyway.

Ghost sighed in slight frustration. Normally, he was excellent at reading people. He did it all the time with new recruits, enemies, and his team. Their poker faces were nothing compared to yours. “One party if absolutely necessary. No longer than an hour. Just to keep up appearances.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back your disappointment. Well, at least you weren’t expected to be present during the entirety of your parents’ showing off. “Understood, Lieutenant Ghost.”

At least your parents seemed happier with the compromise. Your mother grinned brightly. “Wonderful! Give him the princess’s schedule!”

Your butler hurried over and gave Ghost your schedule. He nearly stumbled back with how packed it was. Piano lessons, dance lessons, tea times, dress fittings, and independent study went on and on for pages and pages. Did you have any time to yourself besides sleep?

“The show must go on! If you have any questions or procedures to discuss, don’t hesitate to reach out to us. We hope that you two get along well.” The queen concluded, eager to leave the room so that she could go on with her own daily life. The king followed close behind as they left the room, leaving you and your bodyguard to get to know each other.

You didn’t mind being civil, but you doubted that he would try to get to know you. He simply didn’t seem like the type to stray away from his responsibilities for anything. For now, you silently went back to your seat to finish up tea time. Ghost stood awkwardly for a moment before finding his own place to settle. Leaning against the stone wall, he examined you further.

The way you held your teacup was gentle. Your dress draped against your legs like a smooth waterfall. The way you looked out the window was melancholic. After a few minutes, you spoke up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Why are you my new bodyguard, Lieutenant Ghost?”

Ghost didn’t expect your question. He hardly even knew what you meant when you asked it. Still, he kept his cool as he dug further. It wasn’t like there was any malice in your tone. In fact, your tone was nothing but innocent. “What do you mean? Are you asking me why I took the job?”

You shook your head, staring into your teacup once again as you got a little shy. Lieutenant Ghost wouldn’t report your conversations to your parents, would he? But, you had to know. “Is my life in serious danger?”

Behind the mask, Ghost’s mouth was partially opened with shock. His body grew tense as he realized what was really going on. “They haven’t told you, have they?”

“My parents can be. . . protective. Their priority to maintain normalcy can cause them to make certain judgments in regards to my life.” You subtly worded, fearing that the guards outside were listening to what you were saying. Hopefully, Ghost would understand what you meant.

Thankfully, he did. Now more than before, you really did seem like a caged bird. You deserve the truth. “Your parents received a threatening letter from a terrorist organization. They seem to be after your life in order to manipulate your parents. I serve under Task Force 141 that specializes in missions like this. The rest of my team is investigating the organization while I am to protect you personally.”

Your grip around your teacup tightened slightly as you learned the truth. It seemed that your intuition was correct. This was a serious problem. You swallowed your new fears down hard before proceeding as normal. “Thank you for your honesty, Lieutenant.”

Ghost sympathized with you as he finally saw a shred of how you really felt about this entire situation. His perception of who he was protecting was completely wrong. You were no brat or clueless royalty with too much time and money on your precious princess hands. You were sharp. You were polite. You were obedient. It made him want to know the real you.

He knew that he shouldn’t get closer than what was necessary. Yet, the anxious look in your beautiful eyes as you stared out the window made him want to provide you with some comfort. Some way to break the ice while also doing his job. He opted for a simple conversation about your daily schedule. “What’s independent study for you?”

“It’s my time to study what I wish within reason. Any subject that I may find interesting as long as it is appropriate for a princess.” You delicately explained, putting everything as nice as possible.

All Ghost heard was that you were restricted from real knowledge. However, it wasn’t his place to make a comment on it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t find it fair. You were a princess and you obviously took your responsibilities, fair or not, seriously. He gave a simple hum in acknowledgment for the time being on that matter. “What are you studying?”

You looked at Ghost curiously, wondering how much of this was just workplace conversation and how much of this was genuine attempts at knowing you. The way Ghost looked at you with such resolute, cold eyes made you shiver. Something told you that this was his usual look. “I’m studying many things at the moment that would be proper for me to know.”

It seemed like subtle and vague answers were the only things he was going to get out of you, but he already picked up on the fact that you didn’t do this to be cold towards him. The tone you carried was careful. Gentle. You didn’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble. Simon knew what that was like.

The conversation was dropped for the time being. It seemed like your physical being wasn’t the only thing he had to protect. Your social reputation was at stake as well. Respecting that, he focused back on guarding you. Not without noticing every little thing about you though.

You stole glances at him every so often as well as you sipped your tea. The more you looked at him, the more he intrigued you. You’ve never had a guard that had his build. You’ve never even seen someone with tattoos in person before. He stood out against the pristine white around the palace. A shadow in the light. You were curious about what he looked like under the mask.

The rest of the night proceeded as normal save for your new shadow. You were ushered by your butler to your routine lessons, Ghost always close behind. He stayed silent throughout it all, but observant. You did feel like he was watching your every move. While you were used to being heavily monitored, having Ghost be the one observing you made you more nervous than normal. Music lessons, dance lessons, and studying didn’t go as smoothly as you made more mistakes under the pressure. For some reason, you wanted to impress him like you were one of his newest soldiers.

Ghost thought nothing of it as you did what you had to do. In reality, he found your abilities to be quite impressive, mistakes or not. He did chalk it up to him being an intimidating presence. Despite it, he could tell that you were skilled.

When bedtime rolled around, he followed into your room. A grand room with a king, white canopy bed, cherry-wood antique furniture, and large, arched windows leading to a balcony. The windows were the second problem that Ghost needed to address if he wanted to keep you safe. “You can’t sleep in here. It would be too easy to-”

Meeting your eyes made him pause. You waited patiently for him to finish as he was going to say, prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that the next change would be as smooth as possible. Looking at you, though, Ghost saw a pretty woman that he needed to be more gentle towards. Less explicit in language. You were already afraid for your life. He didn’t want to make that anxiety worse for you.

“Is there another room in the palace that has less open windows?” He asked cautiously, minding his words this time.

You appreciated his careful consideration, feeling more and more safe with him as he made decisions to protect you. “I believe there is. I can sleep there tonight.”

He followed you to another room in the palace that was away from any windows. He nearly sighed in relief as the new bedroom was windowless, smaller, and much more comfortable to be in. The bed was still massive and the antique furniture was polished, but the warmer palette of the decor made the room feel less like a museum display.

You felt better too as you looked around the cozy room. The windows in your usual bedroom just reminded you of what you couldn’t have. Though, your anxiety grew as you realized that Ghost was still within the room. Your cheeks grew a subtle pink as you chose your words with precision. “I would like to get ready for bed. Is it necessary for you to be here while I do?”

“Well. . .” Ghost thought carefully, trying to make the best decision here. After a few seconds, he determined that you needed your privacy. He was already invading it enough by being your personal bodyguard. With an accepting, silent nod, he stepped out of the room while you changed into pajamas. A few maid staff passed by, gawking at the lieutenant. A glare was enough to have them scurry on their way.

While you changed, you thought about Ghost. About his real personality, his job, his friends. What kind of work does he normally do? Has he ever killed someone? It certainly seemed like he’s gotten into his fair share of fights from the scars you have seen on his arms. Was he dreading this job? At times, you thought that you could see him get antsy while waiting for you. You probably wouldn’t like waiting on a princess either if you were in his shoes.

Once you were changed into your silky pajamas, you knocked on the door. “Lieutenant? I’m all dressed. You could come in now.”

Swiftly, he came in. For a second, he admired the way you looked in your pajamas. You looked so much more comfortable. The way you were letting down your hair in front of the vanity had him gulp too. “I won’t be watching you sleep all night. Just until you fall asleep, and then I’ll wait outside the door.”

“What about your sleep?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. The way his arms were crossed over his broad chest made you shrink within yourself a bit.

“I’m used to not sleeping. I don’t usually sleep well either. Don’t worry about me, princess.” He responded bluntly, putting some more personal distance between the two of you. He would be lying if your concern over his own time didn’t make him melt a little though.

“I see. My apologies, but I am unsure that I will be able to fall asleep quickly tonight. You might be waiting for a while.” You honestly admitted, feeling the anxious pit in your stomach begin to swallow you like a blackhole. You already felt enough like a burden to the maids and butlers with how strictly your parents had them wait on you.

Ghost shook his head, noticing how lightly you scrunch your brows in concern. How you nervously bit a tiny part of your bottom lip. Subtle behaviors that no one would notice if they weren’t truly paying attention. You were so different from what he was expecting when he was first told that he would be guarding a princess. “It’s fine. This is my job.”

You turned away from your reflection in the mirror to look at Ghost. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed how blue his eyes were. Such a deep, oceanic blue that held so many secrets. He stared right back at you, noticing how your worries couldn’t be quelled with just two simple sentences. Finally, he was able to read you.

“If it will help, you can talk to me until you fall asleep. Anything you want. I promise that I won’t tell the king and queen.” He offered, taking a seat on the Victorian-styled couch that was at the foot of the bed.

His offer came as a complete surprise to you. You didn’t expect him to be so kind. You have learned long ago that there was a difference between being civil and genuinely kind. Ghost was being nice, which felt like a rarity given his outward personality. Quickly, you finished getting ready for bed. Once you were cozy underneath the cotton covers, Ghost turned off the main light. The small lamp on your nightstand stayed on, allowing a comfortable dim to illuminate the otherwise dark room.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you tried to think about what to talk about. There was still a fear in you that he would tell your parents, but Ghost didn’t seem like the type to break his promises. Besides that, you never really talked about yourself before. No one has ever been interested in what you liked and disliked. Not that you had a lot of experiences with how your parents kept you in the palace and filtered what you could learn. However, that wasn’t to say that you were curious enough to find a way to learn anyways. At the very least, you had plenty of questions about the outside.

“For my independent study, I am focusing on classicism art. At least. . . that is what my parents think. I. . . I have been studying other things in secret. My handmaiden sneaks new books into the library for me sometimes if she can.” You confessed, feeling a weight of your chest as you admitted your truth. You didn’t like lying and sneaking around in secret. While you loved new knowledge, you still carried that weight with you.

Ghost listened carefully to your confession. His back was turned towards you, a comfortable thing for you since you weren’t keen on the idea of someone watching you fall asleep. It was enough for him to just sit at the foot of your bed.

“What new books have you read?” He inquired, wondering what sorts of books a princess could possibly want to read in secret.

You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks flush as you admitted more of your secrets. Without interruption, he let you speak. He listened to your voice that lowered into a pleasant whisper when you told him about all the books you were reading and wanted to read. A couple of times, he couldn’t help but crack a smirk at some of your opinions that were refreshingly assertive.

It didn’t take long for him to hear you start dozing. It started with quieter words morphing into sweet slurs. As soon as he heard your steady, deep breaths, he silently got up and left the room. Standing guard in front of the door, he contacted his team by phone to give an update.

“Lieutenant, how is she?” Captain Price cut to the chase, his voice low as he investigated matters on his side.

“She’s. . .” Ghost began before trailing off. He had to think about the right words to use.

“She's a spoiled rotten princess?” Another voice came through. The chuckle was no doubt Soap.

“Honestly, no. She’s a princess, but she’s anything but rotten.” He finally admitted, keeping his voice quiet since the halls seemed to echo.

There was another laugh before the captain cleared his throat, regaining authority. “I’m glad that she is much more pleasant to deal with than what was expected. Just be careful not to get too personal. I know you will be around each other a lot, but the mission is our priority.”

“Of course, Captain.” Ghost promised, wondering if this particular promise would be easy to keep or not.

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chaosandmarigolds · 5 months ago

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cztery 🤍 of EMS Au thingy!! (I seriously need a name)

summary: Simon Riley is finding himself utterly in love with the newest paramedic on base, unfortunately he had the social skills of a five year old. fem reader!

Mary pats your shoulder as you stand in the briefing room, sure you had to give speeches and pathetic ice breaker introductions but this felt so…odd. Wearing what you assumed would be your new uniform, your home country patch on your arm along with the Star of Life proudly above it. Your blue EMS pants traded in for black tactical pants- not all that different, but much heavier. Beside you Mary stood, wearing a set of scrubs that looked oh so comfortable.

“And that’s Captain Price, he…well they’re all your boss but you can boss them around- it’s great.” She whispered in your ear with a little laugh.

The meeting you had with the Captain had been brief, short but you assumed he was kind. However that may be a flaw within yourself, as you always thought everyone was kind until proven not. So you nods, “Is he kind?”

Mary shrugs, “As long he’s gotten his cup of joe and a cigar.”

“that’s awful for him.”

“You can fight him if you want, waste of time and breath though-“ her words faltered off as he motioned for you to come forward and she gives you a little shove.

Your steps were calculated, slow, the boots they had given you were a half a size big and they weighed about the same as your EMS ones- as they were military grade, however at the least those fit. The reason you chose this profession is that you didn’t freeze, you didn’t get scared, but in that moment you felt everything in your crawling. By the time you were able to adjust you were already up front and apparently the captain had already given his whole spew on how amazing of a medic you were, all eyes were on you.

His eyes were on you.

And what the fuck was he-

if your face blinking suddenly to the man who rightfully looked terrifying wasn’t a good message that you were confused, you’re stammered response to the captain asking if you had anything to say would. “Uh, yeah, um, l-like,” you couldn’t tare your eyes away, it was like a weeping angel, look away and it would ruin you, however with a shuddered breath you go on, “like the captain said, I’ve been in this profession since I was 18 and I am immensely grateful for the opportunity to aid you.” —

Mary spun around in the chair, looking over the charts, watching you as you laid face down on one of the cots. “Gonna suffocate, Stitch.”

With a sniffle you turn your face to look at Mary, “I made a fool of myself, I ought to suffocate- death is kinder.”

“ought?” Mary laughs and then stands, grabbing your wrists to stand, “Jesus go back to bridgerton you drama queen, cmon, up she goes.”

A snarky remark was on the tip of your tongue when the door opened, the commotion of the hangar was hidden behind the steel doors, so as they opened the roaring noise came inside, and only for a moment behind they slid back shut. However you wished they hadn’t opened in the first place, because there stood the monstrous thing that caused your humiliation. Black gear, towering above any normal human and there sat on his face was a skull mask, as if it were some holiday.

Mary, however, seemed unfazed, “Jesus Christ, knock first! We coulda been indecent.”

The thing made a grunting noise in response walking forward and lightly nudging her to the side until it was just you and him, he was human. You assumed. As he did have eyes, eyes that looked like they were tearing you apart.

“Didn’t have the chance to have a proper meeting, Lieutenant Simon Riley,” he took your hand, forcibly at that- as you as it squeezing your wrist (bad habit, you would check your pulse when stressed), “At your service.”

If you could see Mary’s face it would be utterly flabbergasted and shock.

“Lieutenant….Riley?” You echo the name again, not bothering to pull your hand away because A- you didn’t think he would let you. That thing was the awkward man you had picked up last night? “Oh! I am so sorry, I um…” you let out a breath, “I didn’t recognize-“

“ T’s normal. Have a Good day.” Just as quickly as he left he had spun on his heel and left, leaving you standing perfectly still and Mary in some shock.

She lets out a laugh and looks to you, “Maybe we are in Bridgerton.”

You give her a look, a frown evident on your face.

(annnd that’s it :) )

#simon ghost x reader #coco's chaos <3 #cod x you #simon riley x you #cod fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader

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sinkovia · 8 months ago

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Black Market: V

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Fluff, violence, mention of roofie, mention of sex trafficking.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

You and Simon sit at the dining room table, a deck of cards between you. The soft glow of the overhead light casts shadows on the cards as you shuffle and deal. Simon frowns as he studies his hand, clearly not thrilled with his cards.

After a few rounds, you lay down your winning hand, a triumphant grin on your face. "Looks like that's four wins for me, Simon."

Simon eyes you suspiciously. "You've got to be cheating. There's no way you're winning this much by luck."

You laugh, gathering the cards. "Maybe you're just not as good at this game as you thought."

Simon rolls his eyes, his competitive streak showing. "I highly doubt that. You're probably just a cheater."

You lean back in your chair, smirking. "Well, if you want, I can teach you a thing or two about the game. But I don't think you have what it takes to beat me."

Simon scoffs, "We'll see about that."

The banter continued as you shuffled the cards for another round, Simon making snarky remarks the entire time you played. Despite the teasing, there was an underlying comfort in each other's company that had grown over time. You played your winning hand down again and Simon threw his cards on the table and leaned back shaking his head.

“Just admit you’re cheating love.”

You laughed and went on a rant about how he doesn't know how to play the right cards and the two of you started bickering again. You never realized how much you enjoyed having Simon around, his presence had become a source of comfort and joy in your life.

As you sit across from each other at the dinner table, the clinking of cutlery against plates fills the air. Simon's question catches you off guard, “Ever been to the Bahamas?" genuine curiosity in his voice.

You pause, swirling your fork through the food on your plate before responding. "No, I haven't really traveled much since... you know, everything happened."

Simon nods, understanding evident in his expression. "I'm not surprised,"

You take a deep breath, "I never wanted to risk getting seen. Traveling is the number one way people get sex trafficked, and I couldn't take that chance."

"Makes sense,"

After a moment of silence, Simon speaks up again, his tone thoughtful. "You know, since you have your own little personal bodyguard," he gestures towards himself with a small smirk, "maybe it's time for the two of us to take some much-needed vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of surprise crossing your features. "Vacation?"

Simon nods, "Yeah, why not? We both deserve a break from all this madness. And besides," he adds with a playful grin, "I promise to keep you safe."

You can't help but smile at his offer, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought of spending time outside on the beach. "Where would we even go?"

Simon's smile widens as he leans back in his chair. "The Bahamas of course”

You lean back in the chair and think for a moment, "I don't even have any clothes for the Bahamas,"

"We can swing by your place and pick up whatever you need.” You hum and nod slowly, “Sounds like a plan then.”

The plane gently touched down on the runway, signaling the start of your much needed vacation. Soon enough, you found yourselves checked into your hotel room, ready to unwind after the flight. But as you stepped into the room and surveyed your surroundings, a frown creased your brow.

There was only one bed.

Turning to Simon, you raised an eyebrow in silent confusion. His muttered curse confirmed your suspicion. "Fucking hell, I asked for a double queen room," frustration evident in his voice.

While Simon dialed the reception you took the opportunity to explore the room. Opening the curtains, your eyes widened at the breathtaking view outside the window. The sight of pristine beaches and blue waters stretched out before you.

Moments later, Simon's exasperated tone broke the tranquil silence. "Bloody no good fuck," he muttered, hanging up the phone.

"They're fully booked, so they can't switch our room,"

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask any disappointment. "That's okay," you replied, forcing a casual tone. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

Simon's response caught you off guard. "What couch?" he questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion. Glancing around the room, you realized he was right. There was no couch in sight, only a couple of single chairs scattered about.

With a resigned sigh, you turned back to Simon, a wry smile tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess we'll just have to get cozy in the bed then," you suggested with a hint of amusement. He quirked his brow, his lips in a tight unamused line.

“I'm joking Simon” you laugh and shake your head, “we will figure something out later, I want to go to the beach and get some drinks.

You opened your suitcase and grabbed your swimsuit and cover-up, eager to enjoy the day ahead. After changing in the restroom, you slipped on your sandals and stepped out, only to freeze at the sight of Simon, shirtless, standing in shorts with his back turned to you.

Your eyes immediately drifted to the tattoo adorning his back, a large Medusa inked with intricate detail, reminiscent of your own.

Turning to face you, Simon casually adjusts his sunglasses atop his head. "You ready?" he asks, his voice breaking the momentary silence.

"Yeah, just need to grab my bag," you reply, still slightly taken aback by the coincidence of your tattoos. You glance down and notice Simon wearing a fanny pack, a sight that surprises you. Unable to contain your amusement, you offer a playful smile, "I didn't peg you as the type to wear fanny packs."

Simon's response catches you off guard as he casually reaches into the fanny pack and pulls out a small silenced pistol. Your eyes widen in surprise. "Got to keep us safe," he says matter-of-factly, his expression serious yet nonchalant.

Together, you head towards the elevator. Just as the doors slide open, two girls enter. You instinctively step back, allowing them space. However, it's Simon they seem to notice, their eyes lingering on his bare chest and his inked arm. Their flirtatious demeanor doesn't escape your notice, and a twinge of irritation pricks at you.

They smiled coyly, tucking their hair behind their ears as they leaned in closer to him, but Simon remained unaffected, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat, drawing Simon's attention to you. "Getting sick?" he asks, his concern genuine.

"No, just thirsty,"

"The walk isn't too far,"

The girls continued to eye fuck him, their jealousy evident as they shot glances in your direction. As the elevator descended, one of the girls spoke up with a tone dripping with disgust, "Are you guys together?" Simon quirked an eyebrow, his gaze briefly flickering down to them before he replied bluntly, "Yes."

The chime of the elevator interrupted the moment as you reached the lobby floor. The girls scoffed and one of them rolled her eyes at you before they hastily exited the elevator. You furrowed your brows, as you turned to Simon, walking side by side with him.

“I think they were asking if we were a couple. They seemed interested in you,”

Simon quirked his brow as he looked down at you, “Interested in me? Thought they meant if we came together,” You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. “Do you not have many interactions with women?” you teased lightly.

“Only the ones I need to kill,” Simon replied, his gaze lingering on your smile for a few seconds before tearing them away to open the lobby door. You laughed again, appreciating his dry humor as he held the door open for you.

You both settled into the beach chairs, the sun casting a warm glow over the sand. With a relaxed sigh, you slip off your sheer covering, feeling the gentle breeze against your skin.

“You want me to grab us some food while you save our chairs?”

Simon nods, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He hands you his black card “Just don't go too far,” his tone casual but with a hint of concern.

You return his smile reassuringly, pointing towards the small bar just a few feet away. “I won't be far,” you assure him, before turning to walk towards the bar. As you go, you notice his eyes following you, a silent watchfulness ensuring your safety. When your back is turned, his gaze lingers on your medusa tattoo, mirroring his own, etched across your skin with shared significance.

Something stirs within him as he watches you, a strange mixture of familiarity and connection tugging at his chest. His attention is abruptly diverted when a girl suddenly steps into his line of sight, obstructing his view of you as she settles into your vacant chair. He quickly looks past her, making sure you're still within sight, even though his gaze was only momentarily blocked.

You stand a few feet away, discreetly observing Simon engaged in conversation with another girl while you wait for your drink at the bar. As you watch them interact, a subtle tightness grips your chest, a feeling you can't quite place. Is it jealousy? No, it couldn't be, right? You remind yourself that you don't have any romantic feelings for him, at least not consciously.

Yet, despite your rationalization, you can't shake off the discomfort that settles within you. You find yourself analyzing every gesture, every smile she flashes at him, unable to ignore the nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach. You take a deep breath, trying to quell the unease that threatens to consume you.

Finally, your drink arrives, providing a welcomed distraction. You force a smile as you thank the bartender, but your attention is still drawn back to Simon and the girl. You silently berate yourself for feeling this way, for allowing something as trivial as a conversation to affect you so deeply. But deep down, you can't deny the undeniable pull of something stirring within you, something you're not quite ready to confront.

You dip your finger into your drink, watching intently as you wait to see if your nail polish changes color. It's a precaution you always take, ever since you started using a special nail polish that detects the presence of roofies in drinks. Being cautious of any drink you didn't prepare yourself has become second nature to you.

After downing your fruity drink, your sliders are ready, and you startle when you hear Simon's voice beside you. Looking up, you furrow your brows in confusion. "Thought you were saving the chairs?" you question.

Simon lets out a sigh and leans on the counter. "Some girl was yappin' my bloody ear off," he explains, annoyance evident in his tone. "She asked for my number, and I gave her Johnny’s. They'd be perfect for each other." You laugh and grab the sliders off the counter.

As you both walk back to your chairs and start eating the sliders, time seems to pass effortlessly. You engage in easy conversation, enjoying each other's company amidst the beautiful view and weather.

As the sun begins to set, you both take seats at the bar and order drinks. Simon observes as you dip your finger into your drink, prompting his curiosity. "Why’d you do that?" he asks.

"My nail polish checks for roofies. Want me to check yours?" you tease, offering to inspect his drink. Simon playfully pushes his drink towards you. "Contaminate my drink with your dirty fingers, love," he jokes, a smirk playing on his lips.

You stick your pinky into his cup, and both of you watch as the polish changes color. Your heart sinks as the realization sets in, and you exchange a worried glance with Simon.

Simon's gaze shifts to the bartender, who's watching him intently, as if waiting for Simon to take a sip of the drink. Without hesitation, Simon places a hand on the small of your back, swiftly pulling out his gun from his fanny pack and firing a silenced round directly at the bartender's crotch.

He screams out and simon ushers you away quickly, his hand still firmly on your back as you speed-walk back to the hotel. Once inside your room, you lock the door behind you, adding an extra safety lock you brought along. Simon moves around the room with his gun drawn, ensuring it's clear.

"Why the fuck was he trying to roofie you?" You demand, your voice laced with anger an fear as you close the curtains ensuring your safety.

"To have easier access to you," he replies after taking a breath and your heart sinks knowing the weight of your past catching up to you.

"You think it's the contract?" you ask, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Simon nods solemnly, his expression mirroring your concern. Feeling overwhelmed, you sit down on the edge of the bed, tears welling up in your eyes. Fear grips your heart, weighing heavily on your shoulders as you curse softly under your breath.

Simon approaches you slowly, his first time witnessing you in such a vulnerable state. As he sits beside you on the bed, his eyes soften with empathy, taking in your tear-streaked face. You look up at him, feeling a mixture of despair and desperation, and you sniffle softly.

“I can’t go back there, Simon. I can't go back to those people, I can’t go back to him,” you admit, your voice trembling with fear and anguish. Seeing you in distress tugs at something deep within him, a desire to protect and reassure you.

Simon instinctively grabs his jacket and wraps it around you, offering what little comfort he can. As tears stream down your cheeks, Simon watches helplessly, unsure of how to comfort you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, silently conveying his support.

“I promise, Y/n, you’re safe. As long as you are with me, they won’t get to you,” Simon reassures you, his voice firm but gentle. But you shake your head, unable to shake off the fear that grips you.

"They already targeted you once. If I hadn't checked your drink, they would have had both of us. Who knows what they would have done to you..." Your voice falters as Simon cuts you off by wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

You initially resist, feeling conflicted and overwhelmed, but as his arms envelop you, a sense of safety washes over you. “Just trust me, Y/n,” he murmurs softly, his words a gentle plea for you to find solace in his presence.

Your protests die on your lips as you lean into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held by him. In that moment, surrounded by his comforting presence, you find solace in the warmth of his embrace, feeling protected and cared for despite the turmoil swirling around you.

After a few moments, you gently wipe your wet eyes with the sleeve of Simon's jacket, the comforting scent of his cologne enveloping you. Gathering yourself, you stand up and make your way to the bathroom, exchanging your swimsuit for pajamas. You wrap Simon's jacket around you once more, finding solace in its warmth as you lie down on the bed.

“I’m going to stay up and watch the door, just in case they have something planned. At least one of us will catch it. I’ll look for the earliest flight we can take back home,” Simon informs you, his voice laced with determination.

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of relief knowing that he's taking proactive measures to keep you both safe. With a heavy sigh, you rest your head on the pillow, exhaustion weighing heavily on you as sleep quickly overtakes you.

As Simon searches for flights on his laptop, his gaze occasionally drifts up to your sleeping form. He watches as your body rises and falls with each gentle breath, your features softened in the glow of the room. His eyes linger on your slightly puffy eyes from earlier.

He can't help but question his own actions, his unexpected urge to comfort you. Physical touch has always been something he avoided, a boundary he rarely allowed others to cross, even hating when Johnny would pat him on the back. Yet, in that vulnerable moment, he found himself reaching out to you without a second thought. Was it because you were crying? Because he wanted to offer you solace?

The internal conflict rages within him as he wrestles with his emotions. After all, you were just his doctor, someone he needed to keep safe for his own benefit. But as he watches you sleep, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs within him, a growing awareness that perhaps his feelings towards you run deeper than he cares to admit.

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tacticaldiary · 1 year ago

Note

I just recently found your blog and am in love with everything about it You are a very talented writer and I look forward to your post so I was wondering what you think it would be like sharing a bed with ghost

I Swear I Asked For Two

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; The Classic 'One-Bed' Trope

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in.

Masterlist

"Don't hurt me." Raises her hands in surrender, taking an exaggerated step away from him as the door to their room clicks shut behind them. "I swear I asked for two."

Ghost, bloody and dirty and exhausted, runs a hand down his balaclava-covered face, dropping his bag somewhere near the wall behind him. "Better than the floor." Is all he manages.

Once she's sure she's not in any mortal danger, she shoves back her bag next to him and kneels down, rifling through it. "Wash up first, L.T. I'll go after." There's no response but he must agree because he goes off wordlessly, a testament to how he must be just as exhausted as she was.

12 days. 12 days they had been trekking through this rural town trying to track down a target. The man had infiltrated their chain of command and had been feeding crucial information to the enemy for over a month, information that had led to quite a few of their operations being compromised. Needless to say, once he was found out he had ran in the middle of the night.

A slippery bastard.

Long stretches of land, a lot of camping out and surveying the area. Days and days of hunting this man until he was finally caught. Secured with the unit that had been traveling with them, they'd relinquished their target and been ordered to wait for exfil the next day.

Until then...well, this shady motel would have to do for the night.

They're lucky they were near a town and not in one of the long stretches between them, that much she's grateful for. Even if she didn't completely trust the room's ceiling to cave in while they were sleeping.

Stains on the walls she doesn't want to think about, cracks in the ceiling, and of course, the one queen sized bed pushed back to the far wall.

The bed.

Truthfully she doesn't know how she managed to keep her voice steady before. Her stomach was rolling at the thought of having to share a bed with him. With Ghost. With Simon.

He was...well, she thought he was extraordinary. Capable, brave, and funny in his own way. It hadn't taken long for her to develop some sort of a crush on him.

And now she was supposed to bunk down for a night with him? On that bed? Alone?

She shakes her head, focusing on rifling through her pack to find a spare set of clothes. They'd slept in worse conditions before, this was no big deal.

No big deal at all.

She curses as she finds her other pair of clothes filthy, mud staining the fabric. She'd forgotten about how she had to use them already after an unsavoury encounter with one of the locals.

"Something wrong?" She jumps at the deep voice, head snapping up to see him.

His hands are stripped of his gloves, his tactical vest off and away. A soft t-shirt takes its place, along with sweatpants that she has to make a conscious effort to tear her gaze away from.

This simply wasn't fair. It's like he's making this whole situation ten times harder for her on purpose.

"Negative." She says instead, standing up. "I'll have to make do with these clothes, forgot my spares were filthy." He studies her in that silent way for a beat, before he leans down and rummages through his pack.

Leaving him to do whatever, she pushes open the bathroom door while wondering how quickly her clothes would dry if she ran them under the tap-

"Here."

Ghost holds out a spare shirt to her. Plain black.

His.

"What?" It takes a second for her mind to catch up.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You're filthy. I'd rather not sleep next to someone who smells like shit."

The insult draws an indignant bark of a laugh from her, "I don't stink." She exclaims, snatching the shirt from his grip. "Not as bad as you do."

"Tell yourself that." He deadpans, but she swears she can see a hint of an amused smirk beneath his mask when she slams the door in his face.

Muttering to herself, she cleans up before slipping the shirt on. It's obviously large on her, just skimming the bottom of her thighs. It smells like him, something so distinct and familiar it makes her relax on instinct.

It's a wonder what good a hot shower can do for you.

Ghost is already stretched out on the mattress when she emerges from the room. He spares her a glance, and she visibly sees something like muted interest snap into his eyes even despite his lack of words.

She'd be lying if something in her doesn't preen at the way his eyes subtly follow her across the room.

Neither of them exchange a word as she slips into the covers next to him. Both of them barely fit on the mattress, but neither having the energy to complain. They don't brush against each other but if she shifted they'd definitely touch.

The room was secure, they'd done a thorough sweep and checked the doors and window, all the locks and for cameras. Nothing of interest, so they allowed themselves to let their guard down.

"Sharp 05:00 tomorrow, Sergeant." He says into the dark.

"Copy." She stifles a yawn and they fall into silence.

His heat is unbearable. She can't push the thought out of his mind, the knowledge that he's right there, a fingertip's distance away. She can hear his steady, quiet breath, almost taunting her.

Despite her exhaustion, she stays awake, turning onto her side away from him hoping that the movement would dislodge the thought from her mind. She needed sleep, needed to relax but isn't that impossible with how all she needs to do is lean back a little to touch him-

She huffs silently, turns onto her back again, rustling the sheets.

No, this was bad. Her body's tired but her mind and heart are racing. Traitors.

She shifts onto her side again-

"Fucking hell, will you stay still?" He rumbles, startling her. The gravelly, tired voice shoots straight to her head and if she were standing she's sure she'd have to grab onto something to stay upright.

She mumbles out an apology. "Can't sleep. Little chilly, isn't it?" She bluffs.

When he stays silent, she thinks he may have just accepted the answer. Letting out a shaky exhale, she turns again-

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in. Her body stiffens when she hears her own voice, and she's ready to spring up and apologise, tell him she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, ready to banish herself to sleep on the floor.

But then Ghost hums.

His hand starts to drift. She swallows as he traces a slow path down to where his shirt's hem is, toying with the fabric between his fingers.

Dream, this must be a dream-

He tugs her backward into him, into his warmth and his soothing scent and something about it has her going completely boneless. It felt...comforting. Felt nice to be held. Ghost takes to tracing small circles into her skin, soothing and repetitive. "Relax." He orders, albeit with less of a push.

A shiver runs down her spine as she feels his breath fan over the back of his neck. The bastard notices too, if for the way his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

There's no way Ghost doesn't feel her heart pounding against him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the dark that makes the both of them so bold, but she takes in a shaky breath and reaches for his hand, stilling it in place with her own. They stay like that for a moment, and suddenly the silence isn't as unbearable.

Eventually, her breathing evens out, her eyes become heavy and she finds the tension draining out of her. Nothing would happen to her here, she didn't have to worry about anything right now. Just sleep. Just sleep and the warmth that enveloped her, and why the hell was he so warm and why does she want more of it?

Right before she lets the lull of sleep pull her under, she mumbles a whisper of thanks to him.

She doesn't think she imagines the content sound he lets out in response.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(2/09/2023)

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karlachismylife · 1 month ago

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Flutter Into the Skies

CW: fem!reader, girly reader (dresses, makeup, all that jazz), flirty banter, mentions of alcohol, Ghost is a menace as always, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from "Butterfly, Butterly" by a-ha)

You're excited.

That bubbly feeling of sincere happiness for someone else is filling your chest with lightweight foam, rising as if you're the most perfect, airy meringue that has ever graced anyone's kitchen - and it's soft too, not choking or overwhelming like any strong sensations tend to be.

You're literally beaming on someone else's wedding day. It's good.

Even Ghost and his ever so heavy, even unintentionally, presence seem to have nothing on you and your metaphorical butterfly wings of a flowing dress, fluttering behind you as you're running around to finish getting ready to head out. He considers himself already good to go, a sharp suit matching colour with your dress, grown out hair styled neatly, keeping the subtle waves it naturally has whenever he lets it go. You even got him a half-face mask that matches his tie and pocket square, no black allowed to your sweet friend's celebration. He's wearing it already, getting used to the feeling of unfamilar fabric on his face, as he stands in the hallway, leaning on the wall in a lazy manner, hooded eyes watching you with a deep satisfaction and a crooked smirk of a predator in its den lurking somewhere behind the satin mask.

You hear a distinct chuckle as you zoom past him in your festive frenzy, looking for a particular eyeshadow palette in your impressive collection - so, naturally, you turn on your heels and give Simon a mockingly stern look.

"What's so funny, huh?" You demand, pointng your eyeshadow brush at him, right between his dark, magnetic eyes. Sparkly glitter smeared on the soft hairs makes it look like you're about to zap him with some pixie dust magic. "I wanna look good, it's her special day, can't ruin it by being a mess! You could put some effort in too, Mr Riley."

That's when you get him - light eyebrows sliding upwards in a quizzical look, eyes dipping down to give himself a quick one-over before coming back up to stare at you. Daring you to tell him he doesn't look exquisitely and magnificently. He would go meet the Queen of England herself looking like this, not to mention a friend of his own little queen.

"Your tie, dummy," you giggle and put your formiddable weapon of artistry and glitter on the nearest surface, dancing up to Simon and gripping his unevenly tied accessory.

"Could've fixed it meself before headin' out," he grumbles in response, standing upright for you to adjust the tie into a straight line and tighen it up just the right way. Sure, he could, but that's what he gets for being a menace and teasing you for fussing over every detail of your appearance today.

You lift your gaze to retort with some smartass quip, but Ghost is already two steps ahead, staring at you with a heavy, sultry look he knows you can't resist - eyelids half-closed and lazy, white lashes fluttering slightly as he assesses your expression, notices the way your half-done makeup blends together into a colourful picture, bright, sparkly, not subtle at all and screaming "this is a happy day for me too!"

You must be a fairy or some other mythical creature to posess this wonderous ability to dissolve seamlessly into other people when they need your support and then emerge unscathed; complete, full and whole on our own - and yet always there to be a part of a bigger thing.

He knows, because you've seeped under his skin every time his own shell crumbled, and held the fortress for him, mending every crack with your pink pixie dust and golden unicorn fur. They are still there, still visible, still hurting - but not threatening to collapse on top of him, crushing whatever soft and alive still is kept inside.

If there is a pang of guilt prickling him for never supplying you with something this good to melt into, sharing happiness instead of a deadly burden, it disappears too quickly once Simon sees the simmering adoration in your glitter-eyeliner emphasized eyes.

Sliding the knot of his tie up and adjusting it around his collar, you don't let go of it immediately, instead opting to tug on it - an indication of your intent clear enough, you think. But of course, the mountain that is Ghost, doesn't move.

"Come on, I wanna kiss you," you murmur, yet to realize that Simon didn't misread your gesture as a part of fixing his tie.

The bastard ignored it on purpose.

"Oh, I can tell," his smugness rains down on you through the slyly narrowed eyes of his and the undeniably satisfied smirk unable to be contained discreetly with the mask alone.

It takes you a few seconds to go from charmed and adoring to scandalized and outraged.

"Fuck you, Simon Riley," in sincere wrath, you jerk your fist up, choking him with the tie, and yank the asshole's face towards you, pressing a loud, mocking smooch directly over the light fabric of his mask. It's his fault he didn't want to remove it and give you a proper kiss.

"We'll be late if ya do," unfased by the silky hanging noose around his neck, Ghost hammers in the last nail.

You're pouting at him the whole way to your friend's wedding, his poorly muffled chuckles only digging his grave deeper as you glare at him, no threat in your butterfly princess appearance whatsoever. The only thing that keeps you from elbowing the self-assured dog or telling him what a bastard he is, is the sweet revenge you're gonna get once everyone at the wedding sees him with a stupid, bright-pink, sparkly kiss print on his mask that he still hasn't noticed is there.

That's what he gets for being an ass: mighty image completely ruined, reputation of a scary, battle-worn beast shattered. Everyone will see just how wrapped around your finger and domesticated he is (as if it wasn't obvious already - or as if he didn't have you wrapped around his himself).

It's only at the afterparty, when everyone's letting loose and your cheeks are definitely tingling from the sweet alcohol you drank in the name of your friend's union with her sweetheart, when you suddenly get jumped by Ghost on your way to the bathroom. He's just leaving it himself, and you know from the look in his eyes that he finally had a chance to look in the mirror and see what a pretty sight he had been the whole day.

"Were ya even planning to tell me, ya little minx?" Somehow he growls right into your ear, already caging you against the wall. Good thing he does - your head is spinning, you're tipsy, charged with the best mood, buzzing from hearing good music at the dancefloor, full of sugar and sweet, sweet aftertaste of someone else's love wafting through the air.

"Took you long enough," you giggle, resting your palms on his shoulders - even through the blurriness of your lightweight happiness you clearly see that he's smiling, little lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes and warmth in his voice as he nuzzles into your temple. "Not so sharp-eyed anymore, Lieutenant?"

"Jus' didn't expect blatant betrayal in me own home." You roll your eyes and that's enough to miss him sliding his marked mask down. "Ya will pay for this, lovie."

"I'm shaking in my- mmph!"

Whatever you were shaking in, gets cut off by a whole tornado of smooches, light alcohol taste on Ghost's lips and tongue too. Should've known he'll get like this after a couple of glasses.

But then again, do you really mind?

#juju's love is illegal celebration #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #oneshot #fluff #cod fluff

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danibee33 · 7 months ago

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The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 5: Leap

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

cw: dark themes, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, *read at your own discretion* take care of yourselves & know that the world is better to have you in it🫶🏻

word count: 3.6k

[<<<chapter 4]

It’s quiet, when you step out onto your balcony. Peaceful. Finally.

The days had come and gone, three, to be exact- after Johnny and Simon had become privy to the king’s violence towards you. And, much to your chagrin, they didn’t seem to believe when you told them you would be fine, that these things happen, and you are not naive enough to believe that they would have never happened to you at some point.

It is a woman’s place in the world, after all, to serve her father, her lords, her husband, her king. Even a queen does not see any favor in this regard, at least not in a way that matters, no, not to you-

”Do you pity me, Ser Simon?”

Your question stumps him for a moment, as he watches you closely, following three paces behind you- no more, no less. He’s watched you stroll through the stables like this, nodding your head so politely, greeting the hands and lords, alike, with a kind smile.

And ever so often, you’ll peek over your shoulder- though, he doesn’t imagine a world where you could possibly think he wouldn’t be there when you cast your fleeting glances.

But pity you? No.. he only pities the king isn’t here right now, so that he could show the man how it feels to have a much stronger hand wrapped around his puny neck-

The thought brings a sneer to his face, one he’s glad you cannot see.

“No, My Queen.”

You stop in front of Johnny’s horse, a tall, leggy beast; his color such a deep chestnut, it almost looks red in the sunlight, save for a perfect white blaze that runs from his forelock to his muzzle-

“I suppose I should be grateful.” You hum with amusement, though your expression is anything but, “Some of us get a taste on our wedding night, hm.. At least I got a few years of peace. If you can call it that-”

He reaches forward without thought, a large, black clad hand coming down tenderly to rest on your forearm,

“Don’t say that-”

A quiet clatter from just outside reminds him of how unduly this might look, how familiar he’s let himself get with you. Simon’s never been one for physical touch, but the small, terribly chaste moments have only grown in abundance. A graze of your hand here, or a brushing of your shoulder there.

He just can’t seem to be close enough to you, and he loathes himself for it-

You watch him step back to a respectable distance before he continues speaking lowly, close enough for you to hear, but far enough to excuse if anyone were to see; you think about how sweetly the tickle of his breath might feel against your skin, and his next words do nothing to chase those thoughts,

“No one deserves that, least of all, you, My Queen.” It’s so hard to keep your eyes forward, your hands feel too idle, your body far too wired, too aware of his proximity, “When a man touches a woman, it should never be out of anger, it should never be to cause pain, or inspire fear.”

His tone dips into a growl at the end, one that causes a deep shiver to creep up your spine and your hair to raise on end,

“No.. Do not be grateful for that- a man’s touch should be kind and gentle, it is a man’s duty to protect and reassure, to give comfort, and pleasure.”

That same shiver turns impossibly hot now, your skin prickling with such a deep-seated desire to know exactly what he means, to know the implications that were implied. But, you could not know, and you know he couldn’t give that to you, try as he might. You wouldn’t let him.

His words ring in your head now, just as loud as they did hours ago. Painfully clear and repetitive, the feelings they brought with it wrapping you in a shroud, one that you can’t quite decide if you like or not- because you can’t tell if it brings you a sense of caring, or if it just reminds you how alone you are in this situation.

But when every direction you look in feels wrong, like a dead end, how else are you suppose to feel? What else can you do?

The winds pick up for a moment as you stare out over the gardens, bringing with it a thick wave of petrichor; the storm moving close enough to scent the air and fill the sky with brilliant flashes of lightning in the distance.

How fitting..

This is good, no one will be out, and the rain will come soon enough to wash you clean of your sins-

Maybe a part of you will stay here with the gardens. You did always enjoy when your mother’s maids would tell their enthralling tales of ghastly apparitions, of the souls who either chose not, or could not, move on to the afterlife- so they stay behind to haunt amongst the living.

The gardens were your solace in life, so perhaps you could find peace in them again- if you could not move on. Or perhaps, your soul might find its way home, where you can watch over your sweet Johnny, see your family grow old.

Poor Johnny.. He’ll be so heartbroken..

Sharp nails dig into the skin of your palms as you scolding your own traitorous thoughts. That’s not what you needed right now, not when you must be resolute and sure. Yes, he will be heartbroken, but he will be alive, he will live out his days just as you made him promise.

And he had promised to go home today, promised to settle the matter of his inheritance and speak with his father- though, it was surely not a one-sided promise. Johnny had only, reluctantly, mounted his horse after you also promised to come visit in two weeks time, just long enough for you to make preparations.

You hated lying to him, you really did, every second of it made you feel ill to your stomach- but, he’s gone, on his way home, safe.

But Simon..

He is standing his post right now, right there. Exactly where he should be. You could go to him, you could demand he take off his helmet so that you may finally, finally see his face, so that he could be the last thing you see before you go-

No, you could never demand something like that of him. What ever reasons he has for hiding his face are his own.. and what would you do if he did remove it, anyway?

Would you ask for a kiss? Or, just that he hold you, truly hold you, just one time-

You can’t help but to smile at your own innocent foolishness; a kiss? To be held? What silly whims..

You did write him a letter, too. And it was difficult, trying to articulate the feelings you have for him, for this man you’ve never seen, this man who by every right, you should not feel anything for- but, you wanted to try.

Because you hope, maybe, that your words will give him some comfort. You don’t want him to feel guilty, or like it might have been his fault- and you have a feeling not many people have expressed such things to a Ghost..

A quiet laugh erupts from your chest then, followed by a choked sort of sound, wet and syrupy and thick in your throat at the terrible, awful idea that one day you might be ghosts together. Right back in the gardens, walking among the fragrant flowers and tall hedges, you might find each other again-

With that thought, and a deep, shaky breath, you lift the skirt of your nightgown and step up onto the lower stone surrounding, lifting your legs up and over the intricate railing one at a time. A hearty gust of wind whips your hair back and forth, and you gasp as you truly take in just how high off the ground you are, your hands gripping the iron beneath them with every bit of strength you have to muster.

But, you don’t feel scared.

You feel an odd rush of excitement, no, that’s not right- it’s far more nuanced than that. And perhaps, it’s just that this is undoubtedly the most reckless and thrilling thing you’ve ever done. The small taste of freedom intoxicating, having rarely, if ever, made a single decision for yourself that was selfish in every facet.

It is a shame, you think, that it took so long. And what if, you don’t do this? Will this confidence still be here tomorrow? Or days from now? Months, when your king is back-

No, no.. don’t do that.

You feel the softest splash of a raindrop on your cheek, then another, more after that. It’s still unseasonably warm out, making the cool liquid feel refreshing against your feverish skin, and the stormy breeze a reprieve.

But, if it all feels so wonderful, like a child again, simply playing in the rain, why do you feel the salty heat of tears mixing with the raindrops?

And why can’t you tell if they’re out of sadness, or relief, or some horrific mixture of the two?

“My Queen.”

At the sound of his voice, the droplets no longer feel good or refreshing, and the wind does not help the burning in your skin because the heat has been replaced with an icy dread. He was not suppose to be here, he shouldn’t have left his post, there couldn’t have been a good reason to, and you told him, you made it very clear that you were not to be disturbed tonight-

“My Queen, don’t move. Let me-”

“No.”

You still haven’t turned to look at him, you can’t, not if you wish to keep the resolve you’ve forged. Because you know, one look at those damned eyes and you would crumble at his feet.

“Go back to your post, Ser Simon.”

He steps closer as you speak, the sound his movements muffled by your voice, and the now howling winds that blow wildly around you. This is something he never imagined to see, not now, and certainly not when you had left him outside your chambers door.

He knew you were grieving seeing Johnny go- no matter the forced smiles, he knew your expressions, he could read you like a book. But, this..

Once again he finds himself internally cursing his own ineptitudes because how could he make the same mistake again? How could he not see that he let a monster into your room and locked you in with it.

“Come down, and I will.”

You bark out a laugh, your fingers growing fatigued and your legs beginning to tremble as you hold on,

“Do not forget your place, good Ser.. You do not command me, and I have no patience for your bargaining.”

The words feel like the most bitter of poisons on your tongue, but you ground them out anyway. If you could just push him away, if you could make him go- then you can finish this. You can save him, save him from yourself, and the stain you would leave on his name, his very life.

“You’re right.. I’m sorry, My Queen. But, please-”

Simon can feel the edges of his nerves fraying in every direction as he speaks that one helpless plea, his knees feel weaker than ever before, his fingers twitch and clench together, longing desperately to reach for you- to pull you away from danger, pull you into his arms, and never let you go because he cannot lose you. Not when he’s only just found you. And certainly not like this.

He would drop to his knees and vow all over again, vow on his life, that he will make you see how worthy you are to be in this world, and that it is the world that is not worthy of you. But, he’s also seen this before, seen good soldiers lose battles that are quiet, invisible to everyone around them. Hells, he’s been to the depths of his own mind, and it nearly saw the end of him-

“No, Simon.” Your voice is surprisingly confident and steeled as you squint against the rain, your nightgown clinging to your goose pimpled skin and your hair stuck in thick strands across your face, “I do not want you to be here. I relieve you of this responsibility- and please know, that this is of no fault of your own. You are good, and kind, and you have been-”

A small sob wracks through you, knowing that you are just prolonging the inevitable, knowing that all you are doing now is subjecting him to your own unguided anguish.

So, so selfish.. He will be better without you-

“Look at me,” He calls out your name, and you almost give in, almost.

“No. NO. I cannot do that, and you know I can’t. I can’t live like this, but if I stay, or if I run, people I love will be hurt- and I cannot see that happen. I cannot live my life in fear of my husband’s hand. I do not want to be his plaything, or his broodmare, but I have nothing else! This is all I was ever meant to be- it’s all I’ve never known, but you can’t possibly understand.”

Slowly, you pry one hand open, and that thrilling rush of terror and anticipation floods you again, the ground below doesn’t look so far away now, and the gardens are right there, a pretty view-

”I’m so sorry.”

“No! LOOK. AT. ME!”

Something in his voice, in the unwavering, undeniable authority and desperation makes your head turn without permission. Through the mist and shadows, you see his familiar armor glinting in the sparse, pale rays of moonlight that have fought their way through the clouds. But, that’s not what makes your eyes widen, and your jaw to go slack.

It’s his helmet hanging loosely from the tips of his fingers, his face- his face- bared to you, dark hair matting to his forehead under the weight of the water, amber eyes intense and focused,

“Simon..”

You blink in surprise when he thrusts the helm towards you suddenly, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he all but glares back at you, and gods, you wish you could just see him better- see the soft angle of his nose in proper lighting, and the dark scar that runs across the bridge of it,

“Take it. It is yours now.” He demands, stepping close enough for you to reach for it if you choose, “I swore my life to you, and I meant it, every word. To defend you from harm or threat.”

One more step.

“To obey your commands. To defend your honor and your name. To counsel if requested, and remain silent and steadfast at your side otherwise. To never wed, take no land, and father no children.”

Again, he pushes it closer, looking down at it with anger and fondness before looking back up to you; and the most errant thought crosses your mind of how many people he’s ever actually had to cast his eyes upward for,

“My life is yours, My Queen. I.. am yours.”

No. No. You can’t, and you shouldn’t- and yet, your hand reaches forward, your fingers shaking, and your cheeks so covered with tears that you don’t know where they stop and the rain begins.

The steel is cold and wet, and you hardly feel the weight of it at all as you stare down at the angular cutouts for his eyes, wide and sharp; the raised crest that runs vertically from the peak of his face shield to the very back. You’ve always thought his armor to be such a beautiful amalgamation of elegant lines and aggressive angles, which seeing his face now, you can see how it matches him so perfectly-

A very unladylike shriek parts your lips the moment your fingers find purchase, Simon using your hold on his helmet to jerk you forward, and in the blink of an eye, a strong arm loops around your waist as he pulls you up and over the railing,

“Simon! No!”

But, it’s too late, and his hold on you is too strong. It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t feel angry, or out of spite- quite the opposite, in fact. While his arms are unmovable, he has you clutched to his chest with an arm around your torso and one supporting your legs as he carries you into the dry warmth of your rooms, helmet long forgotten on the cold stone outside.

“You can’t-”

He sets you on your feet, but his hands don’t stray far- and now that you’ve lost your height advantage you’re left in awe at how large he looms over you, holding your arms before he’s yanking the soaked gloves off between his teeth,

“I can.” Simon growls, placing a wide palm on either side of your face, calloused thumbs gently wiping the rain and tears away, “Go on, little queen, tell me what I can’t do, and I’ll show you exactly what I will.”

Your lip quivers pathetically as you look up at him, “He will kill us for this..”

You have no doubts of this, it is one of the many reasons why you wanted to leap from that balcony, so that you did not have to live this insidious façade anymore- because you couldn’t, you couldn’t have Simon at your side and not have these thoughts, these feelings, insatiable and unquenchable. And to know he could possibly feel the same-

“The king’s head would fall before he ever laid another hand on you.”

The air around you itself seems to grow hot and heady at his words, at the minuscule distance between his lips and yours; lips that are scarred and flushed a deep pink, so beautifully offset from his pale skin,

“You’re a mad man.” You whisper.

And, oh, the way those lips pull into a smile you have longed to see- his eyes crinkling around the edges. It is not a handsome smile, no. It is willful and amused, and broad, and wonderful, as a laugh rumbles through him,

“Now that, My Queen, I am..”

But maybe it is you who are the mad one, or it could still be the adrenaline pumping through your system, hazing your mind and your inhibitions, or that now prevailing desire to simply make decisions for yourself- to be selfish.

Either way, you’re the one who leans forward, wrapping your arms around his neck in order to pull yourself up enough to crush your lips against his. To finally feel everything you’ve dreamt of, the wonders you’ve fantasized, all of them centered around your guard, your dark knight. And here he is, right at your fingertips, his mouth moving so naturally, so perfectly in sync with yours.

Kissing Simon is unlike anything you ever felt with your King, it is reverent and gradual, like he wants to learn you, to know you intrinsically, intimately, to worship you first and foremost- the way his hands hold you so tenderly, his fingers tangling in your mess of wet hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss slowly and thoroughly.

But, too soon, he pulls away; sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as if to savor just the taste of you, his eyes darker than you think you’ve ever seen, and your name spoken like a quiet prayer, begging you to relent, pleading for you to keep him a honorable man- as honorable as a man like him can be.

“Please, My Queen..”

You look up at him again, his hands still holding your face as you lean away, letting your own hands slide over the sleek surface of his spaulders all the way down to hold his wrists, feeling his skin hot and damp under yours,

“You’ve felt the same things?” You ask meekly, ashamed of your own lack of self-esteem.

Simon tilts his head to the side, eyes darting back and forth with not only disbelief, but concern and wonder, another smile tugging up the left corner of his mouth. It’s softer this time, one that only serves to make you melt further into him as he speaks,

“Yeah, sweet girl, I have. I hadn’t felt anything for a long, long time before I met you. Got to know you from afar, got to see the way you treat those around you even when they don’t deserve it-”

He leans down to press his forehead to yours,

“You called me good, and kind, but I couldn’t disagree more. Because it’s only for you. You showed me what humanity can be, you gave me hope in what I’ve fought for my whole life, since I was old enough to wield a sword. I’ve won wars for old wretches, and young bastards, who’ve never even seen the soil on a battlefield..”

You hang on to his every word, relishing in his thick accent, memorizing every sound to his voice because you don’t think he’s ever spoken so much in one sitting,

“But you.. little queen, have given me a hope I thought was long lost. A hope for somethin’ more, a reason for the atrocities committed at my hand.”

He kisses you this time, it’s quick and soft, but somehow even better than the first one, somehow you feel more behind it, you feel so much of him that it steals the breath from your lungs,

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”

thank you for being here 🥹

[chapter 6>>>]

#fic: the queens guard #medieval au #cod mw2 #but make it medieval #i swoon for them #this one’s dark #call of duty #simon x reader #knight!ghost #im down horrendously bad for this man #simon ghost riley #i can just hear the way he says my queen and it ruins me every time #simon riley x reader #reader is the queen #and i love her #also on ao3

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prettygrltatum · 9 months ago

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A Pretty Necklace for Pretty Lady

Simon ' Ghost' Riley x hyperfem!reader

a/n: I saw this super cute gif(the one at the end, credits to for this!) and I just want to make a story for me and my man :33

when you and simon first met, they both of you were at a gym. you were on the mats, stretching and moving you limbs with some weights in your hands. you were so different from him. always showing up in natural make-up. always in soft colors, wednesday were for pink only. such cute outfits for such a cute girl. meanwhile he was blasting rock and metal songs and wearing all black with his black surgical mask as he benches.

one day, you were passing by when you saw his phone playing Sonne by Rammstein. you tapped his shoulder and asked him about his music. and the rest was history. he took you out on the best and amazing dates, treating you like a queen.

and now with a pink, shiny rock on your finger you couldn't wish for anymore. but yet simon seems to only give you more. as the husband he is, he takes you on his bi-weekly dates. right now, your in the most fanciest restaurant. his hand holding yours. ever since he met you, he's been wearing his mask less often. he still wears it but he's less afraid of what people think when your around him.

"babe, you don't have to take me out every week! I don't want to hurt your pockets." you cooed as you rubbed the veins on his hands. simon chuckled as he raised your long manicured nails, covered in pink charms and jewels, kissing your soft skin. "please doll, I've nothin' better to spend my money on. only you." his chuckles on your hand.

you giggled as you blushed hard. "but I can never do anything for you! you never let me!" you whined playfully at him. it's true. why give so much to me when your presence is already enough? that's what simon thought about every time you tried to please or show him any affection in the terms of gift giving. he's basically made you a trophy wife by accident. making enough money in S.A.S to support you and your feature children.

simon knew you loved every color, but if there's one color you loved the most? wore the most? adored the most? it was pink. your always covered in pink in some way, somehow. Pink heels, pink shirt, pink pants.

pink car, pink ring, pink everything. you were his living barbie doll. you were his everything. so to show you his love, he has your second favorite thing. Jewels. You were always covered in shiny rocks. from earlobes to fingers. even your piercings.

"so, I found somethin' you'd love." simon started off. you chuckled, swaying your head side to side. "again? you give me so many things simmy! I can't keep up!" you laughed. simon smiled, his lip scar lifting up and crinkling. "why not?"

"because! I never know how to pay you back!" you whined. "well, I've got you somethin' you might like!" simon pulls out a red velvet case and pulls it out in front of you. "oh my god-simon..."

he opens it, showing a silver necklace with a beautiful hand-crafted gem shaped into a heart, guarded by the sliver.

you audible gasp as you carefully reached for it. simon could feel your warmth, radiating from your smile and cooes. "oh my god!! I love it!" you squealed. you clamped your necklace around you neck.

simon adored your smile and squeals, loving every single emotion that you're feeling right now. that he does the things he do. to get this reaction. not only does it make you happy and important, but the fuzzy feeling he gets. knowing that his girl, his wife is happy and pleased.

"do you like it?" simon asked, knowing by your reaction that you adored the gem. "of course I do! it's beautiful.." you cooed. you kissed his cheek and rubbed his veiny hand.

"anything for you darling. anything."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ellie speaks!!#simon riley x reader #ellie dreams!✎ೃ⁀➷#help im addicted to making cute stories now #I can'#ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #ghost #simon riley cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley #cod ghost #ghost call of duty

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the-californicationist · 11 days ago

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Cali's Kinktober: Day 18

Kinktober Masterlist dis manibus - "for the ghost" Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader Kinks > possessive, dub con, ghosts?? Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

In your little town of Sleepy Hollow, it’s usually not hard to make the news. But, when the headlines start bringing up ghosts from the past, and your fellow residents make claims that a ghoulish biker is attacking drivers on Route 330, you start to regret being the lone journalist in town. Legend has it that the masked rider is on the hunt for the most perfect sacrifice, and he won’t stop his reign of terror until he finds it.

Warning: actual ghosts, possession, dub con?, general spookiness

Yellowed teeth and a dangling cigarette, the stench of sweat and cheap tobacco, shaky hands and disordered movements, plus a wardrobe of ill-fitting, oil-stained jorts with a crooked-cropped Bud Light tee shirt completed Brandi Reddman’s signature look. Mrs. Reddman was standing in her usual spot outside of a dilapidated Pilot truck stop on the corner of Hatchet and Simmons. But, the leather-skinned, bleached-blonde, trailer park queen didn’t go by her late husband’s surname anymore. She preferred to be called by her well-earned title: Beaumont Brandi.

“And don’t you go putin’ no damn Reddman on my fuckin’ report,” she glared at you from her perch on the bright red bollard just outside her favorite Pilot truck stop, “Don’t even know what I’m gettin’ a goddamn ticket for. Two consentin’ adults can do whatever the hell they like, cain’t they? Ain’t this still America?”

“Ms. Brandi,” you sighed, “I’m not a cop. I’m a reporter. And I’m not sure what you want me to do when Mr. Brunson calls me down here to tell me about you tearing up his dumpsters again. You know there's a whole town full of people upset about the destruction of property here.”

Your stomach turned just thinking about writing this ridiculous article. What would the title even be? The Trash Takes Itself Out: a Sleepy Hollow tale. Or, Lot Lizard Strikes Again! With a full cover spread? No. This could not be your life. You tried to control the look of disdain on your face.

“It wasn’t even me! That asshole is crazy!” Brandi protested, the cigarette in her mouth holding onto her dry, cracking lip with nothing more than God’s will at this point.

“He said he saw you and a certain truck driver come out of the alcove just a few hours ago,” you reiterated.

“Hell, no. I ain’t gonna fuck no John in no smelly-ass dumpster. I’m a high class lady,” Brandi gestured to her ensemble, “And I’m tellin’ you, that lock was busted before I even stepped over here this mornin’. It’s that damn haint is what it is.”

The Haint of Sleepy Hollow. The Hollow’s Hell Rider. The Ghoul of 330. He went by many names, or sometimes, he was just called The Ghost.

Back in the late seventies when everyone was doing a little too much of everything, your town earned a bit of a reputation. There had been a string of disappearances off of the local highway, Route 330, and locals claimed to have seen a masked soldier on a motorbike, fresh home from Saigon, carrying his M16 slung across his back and wearing a skull mask over his face. He was riding an Indian 900, blacked out with no headlight and no plate.

Of course the truckers had been the first ones to sound the alarm, and there was a city-wide manhunt for any bikers matching that description. But back then, no one had cameras in their hands as readily as they did now, so it was all just a bunch of hearsay and over-exaggerated stories about the boogeyman.

But, that’s all it was. Just stories. There was no masked rider.

“Hey, you got another one of those?” Brandi pointed to the pack of smokes in your pocket that you’d brought along to bribe her with.

You sighed, lighting one for her and then for you. You told yourself you needed it to get through the rest of this conversation.

As she took a long drag, her timbre changed. She became quieted by her own voice, it seemed.

“I seent him, though. He was there. Parked under the bridge.”

She pointed to the overpass, her wrinkled finger trembling a bit as she guestered to the black shadows under the highway. You followed her line of sight, trying to imagine a dark rider in a skull mask, parked in the umber and looking for vengeance in the most boring town in New England.

“Did he do anything?” You asked, trying your best to scrounge up something more interesting than sex work in gas station parking lots for this write up.

Beaumont Brandi stared into the darkness with you, remembering… or maybe she was just fucking with you. But, it didn’t seem like it. She took another puff of smoke into her mouth, hissing it out through her stained teeth,

“No, but it felt like he was looking for somethin’. Felt… lonely. I dunno.”

Shaking you from the eerie moment Brandi had crafted between you both, a big, rumbling Mack truck pulled into the back lot, turning your gaze away from the bridge. Your interviewee hurried to smoke one more pull from her pilfered cigarette and gathered up her glittery, denim purse.

“That’s my ride. See you around,” she said, her voice still distant and restrained, lacking all of the ruffled animosity she’d presented to you earlier.

You stayed there, watching her scamper across the wide, drab concrete field, dodging pot holes and puddles, heading for the blue semi that had just parked in the trucker wash station. You watched her until she knocked on the door, standing on her tiptoes to reach the wide passenger window, shuffling around until the latch popped open and she disappeared inside.

The dark hollow of the highway’s bridge caught your gaze as you turned away from Brandi and her “ride”, and a cold chill shot down your spine. As you peered into the shadowy underpass, a lone biker, all in black, was sitting on his Indian motorcycle, staring right at you. His body was enormous. Even though the bike he rode was large, he was simply unfathomably tall and broad. When he leaned forward on the handlebars, idling there, his shoulders bulged in his leathers, threatening to break free. He was wearing a full-face helmet, but you could feel his eyes burning into your skin.

The problem was, you had no idea how he got there. You hadn’t heard his engine rev, and you knew you would’ve been able to listen to the roar echo through the underside of the highway, it’s enclosure making an accidental amplifier.

You stared back at him, but you reached into your pocket and clutched your car keys. Everything in your body was telling you to run. So, you quickly turned away, needing to force yourself to break your gaze, making yourself walk briskly back to your beat-up Miata.

Get in, and drive away, you told yourself. Get in. Drive away. Get in…

You were trying to calm yourself down, your mind feeding you a million excuses as to why you hadn’t heard him approach, or telling yourself it was just a guy on a bike and not a ghost, but you could still feel your heart in your throat, pounding away like a fist inside your veins.

Popping open the door to your car, you climbed in and immediately shut it behind you. Luckily, the soft canvas top of your ratty old convertible was already pulled up, but the sooner you got back to your apartment, the better you would feel. You cranked the engine, threw it in reverse, and sped off out of the gas station parking lot, sending your work bag spilling out across the floor.

As you pulled onto Hatchet, you headed east, avoiding 330. You tried to tell yourself it was because you enjoyed the senic route instead of the shorter path, but you knew that was a lie.

Behind you, you heard the roar of a bike.

You looked in your rearview mirror, but you didn’t see any headlights. Then, as you checked the side mirror, you saw him. It was the blacked out biker from the bridge. He was riding close to your back wheel, sitting in your blindspot, staring hard at you.

He followed you for miles. You doubled back, avoiding red lights, trying to make circles so he would get tired of tailing you, but he never did. If anything, he was getting braver and braver, moving his bike up and down the length of your car. Getting in your way, toying with you just to get a reaction.

You tried to speed up, but your junker was no match for his machine. So, you turned into a neighborhood, trying to lose him in the curvy, bumpy side streets.

He followed, and you felt your breath catch in your chest. With every turn, he would drive up next to your window to peer inside, staring straight into your eyes. You almost hit the curb, and when you finally exited the neighborhood, you took a right, trying to race him on a wider road.

It was one lane, but he didn’t seem to care. He reached out and planted his gloved hand on the glass of your driver’s side window as if he was trying to touch you through it, and you screamed at him through the glass, illogically,

“Leave me alone!”

He threw his head back, and you knew he was jeering at you. If a masked, faceless being could laugh, that’s what it would look like.

You had no idea what else to do, so you got aggressive. You swerved, trying to sideswipe him, desperate to get rid of your masked tormentor.

He dodged, nimbly moving himself out of your way. Then, he was right behind you, so you slammed on the brakes.

There was no way for him to stop in time. No way.

But, it didn’t matter. You watched in horror in your mirror as his bike and his body dematerialized, and he faded into a black mist, filling the interior of your tiny car, and reconstituting itself in your passenger seat. Your nose filled up with the smell of stale cigarettes and something undeniably masculine. His body filled in next to you in inky layers, pouring from a gas to a solid like smoke into a bottle, and what was supposedly impossible was becoming very, very real in your car.

You screamed, pressing the brakes even harder, coming to a full, screeching stop in the middle of the road. No one was behind you yet, but you wished there would be. You prayed for someone - anyone - to turn down your street and find you stopped in the middle of it.

The ghost - because what else could he be? - was staring straight at you, as if he was waiting for something.

“Leave me alone,” you begged, your voice feeling so small and strained.

You were staring into your own eyes, seeing your face as it was warped and contorted in the gleaming black shine of his helmet visor. Suddenly, you felt your car lurch forward, and it was moving on its own. You tried to turn the wheel, and your foot was glued down onto the brake, but nothing you did mattered. The car was driving itself.

You yanked at your seatbelt and pulled on the door handle, trying to throw yourself from the car, but it wouldn’t budge. You ripped at the handle even harder, trying to slam your shoulder into the door, ignoring the pain. In a last-ditch effort, you reached into the steering column and pulled the keys from the car, hoping to kill the engine. But, it didn’t. Your vehicle was taking you wherever your ghost wanted to go, and there was nothing you could do about it.

With your keys held tightly in your fist, you lashed out at the biker, using the metal shards to rake across his mask, scratching the visor.

The speed with which he reacted startled you, and as his hand wrapped itself around your wrist, he tilted his head to the side as if to study you, curious about you and your choices.

You felt your throat burn with despair, and tears ran from your eyes.

“Please don’t kill me,” you sobbed, trying to pull your wrist away.

He yanked your arm to his chest, tugging your body closer to his, forcing you into his space and taking you almost out of your seat, if it wasn’t for your belt.

You were face to helmet with him, and you could smell the menthols that inexplicably clung to his clothes. He could touch you, and you could touch him. He felt so real, so warm. And yet…

Slowly, he reached out to you with his other hand to touch your face, caressing your cheek and wiping away a stray tear. The feel of his leather glove was so gentle against your skin, it made your head spin. His earlier aggression was still fresh in your mind, and you sobbed from the fear.

Out of nowhere, a pickup truck swerved around your stopped car, blaring its horn at you, kicking up dirt from the side of the road, obviously upset at the stopped Miata in the middle of a street.

In the few seconds your attention was snatched from the ghost in front of you, he disappeared. Your passenger seat was immediately empty, and you were alone once more. Your car was dead since your keys were in your hand, and the clicking of a warm engine cooling down was the only noise you heard.

Another car was honking behind you, less aggressively than the pickup, but it moved around you and you turned back in your seat.

As you drove home, you were numb. You couldn’t reconcile anything that happened to you, and you had no words to even describe it. You thought about driving to the police, or to your office so that your phantom biker wouldn’t know where you lived, but something in you laughed at your naivety. Why would that matter? He was a ghost. He could reach you no matter where you were. You might as well leave your front door wide open for how much good it would do you.

When you finally crawled into bed, you left every light in the house on, but it didn’t help.

It was 0417 when you jerked out of your restless sleep, opening your eyes in your unusually bright room. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself down, and the horrors of the night before felt more like a bad dream than a true memory.

You looked around, trying to determine whether you could manage to go back to sleep or not, when a faint noise pricked your ears. It was coming from outside your apartment window, down in the parking lot below your balcony.

You sprang out of bed and pulled your curtain. There, parked and sitting on the side of his bike, was your ghost. He was looking up at your window, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was waiting for you. Waiting for you to say something, to do something. But, you didn’t know what.

Grabbing your keys, you flew out of your door and rushed down the stairs, hurrying to see if you could catch him. But, he was gone. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him, but you needed to know the truth. Your instincts as a reporter were driving you forward. You craved answers, needed them.

You turned back around and headed for your car, starting it up and driving out of your complex, back onto the street. You headed for the highway, and he was waiting for you, parked on the shoulder. He took off, and you followed him, swerving in and out of early morning commuters, pushing your crappy Miata to its limit.

He took the exit toward the old part of town, turning on the road to Ichabod Farm, cutting his speed and letting you catch up to him. Then, as he got further and further away from civilization, the farms turned into forests, and the roads went from pavement to dirt. Just as the sun was staining the clouds with its pink dawn, he stopped, sticking his leg out as a kickstand, and turned around to look at you.

You waited, sitting in your car, but after a while, nothing changed. He was still just sitting there, staring back at you. So, you killed the engine, and you climbed out of your car.

“Who are you?” You called to him, willing your voice to carry in the quiet morning.

As if he was tired of your questioning, he turned forward. He swung his leg over the body of the bike, and stood beside it, still waiting for you.

You started walking around to the front of your car, beginning to feel like you were a rabbit being led into its own trap, a lamb to its slaughter, and your skin tightened, the hair prickling on the back of your neck.

He put his hand out, gesturing toward the bike.

“Do you want me to go with you somewhere?”

He seemed impatient. He stalked forward, marching in black leathers and boots, and grabbed your wrist just like he did in the car.

“Wait! Hey! Wait, no!” You tried to fight him, but he held you fast, dragging you over to the bike.

He lifted you without struggle and sat you on the back of his seat, and he climbed in front of you, bringing the bike back to a loud roar. He took off, nearly toppling you over, and in your shock, you wrapped both of your hands around his middle, holding on for dear life.

To your shock, he turned off of the road and into the trees. The leaves made his tires slip and the roots of the tall yews made the ride bumpy and wild. You gripped him tighter and tighter, trying to remember which direction you were going, sure that he was taking you straight to your death, but just in case you escaped, you wanted to be able to try and make it out of the woods.

Suddenly, you came to a clearing. In the middle of it stood a huge, dead tree. The trunk had been struck by lightning, and the branches hung low, dipping towards the ground. Its roots were gnarled and popping like broken bones out of the dark earth, and it gave you a sense of immediate dread.

He stopped the bike, throwing down the kickstand and climbing off. Then, he held out his hand to you.

You looked at his helmet for a moment, trying to determine what he wanted, and then you realized he was trying to help you down. You placed your hand in his and felt him support you as you climbed off of the old motorcycle.

He released you, and he stood beside you, looking up at the tree.

You waited for a moment, again unsure about what he was trying to show you, but then you stepped forward. Something compelled you to touch the tree’s wide, twisting trunk.

You were suddenly aware of the state of your dress. You were in socks, sleep shorts, and a tattered old tee shirt, shivering from fear and from the chilly morning. But, still, you stepped forward, moving with your hand out towards the tree, trying to ignore the pinch of stray rocks and sticks beneath your feet.

Right before you touched the bark, you looked over your shoulder at the biker, and he was still standing there, waiting for you.

So, you pushed forward, laying your palm against it, and you were instantly overwhelmed with flashes of images and sounds, memories which were not yours. You saw him. It was your ghost. He was fighting in a war with muskets and swords, and then he was in a trench with grenades. You watched him crawl on his belly through a wet, dense jungle. Then, you felt the heat and the sting of desert sands, and watched him dragging the bodies of his friends from the rubble of a bombed building.

As quickly as they had begun, the visions stopped. You looked back at the masked rider, and he stepped toward you. His hands went to the neck of his jacket, and he raked the zipper down, revealing his bare chest and belly. He was riddled with scars, but he looked very much like a real man. The jacket fell with a thud on the forest floor, and he moved to shuck off his helmet.

You watched the reveal with wide eyes and an open mouth. Black, inky smoke surrounded his face. He didn’t have a head. It was only a skull mask, cracked and broken around the edges, perched on him where his face should have been. It was just a swirling darkness, nothing else. His head was gone.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“What… happened….” You managed to ask, your voice lower than a whisper.

The helmet clattered to the ground, rolling until it rested against a thick root.

He walked toward you, and you were staring into two black pits where there should have been soft brown eyes. You’d seen him in the vision. You knew what he should look like. And yet, all you were left with was this ghastly form.

His body was warm. You could feel it as he towered over you, mere inches away from your face. You reached up to touch his cheek like he had touched yours in the car, and he let you. As your hand swiped across his jaw, you saw flesh appear where there was none before. More and more, you touched him, painting his face back on with your hands. You moved over his eyes and nose and mouth, feeling the softness of his lips and watching in awe as he became a man again.

“Oh, my God.” You gaped, watching his face twist into an unknown expression, “You’re…”

“You made me real,” he spoke, his words sounded hellish; the noise was a terrible smear of shadow and violence. It was as if a million of voices were speaking at once.

“I…” You were trying to talk, but he wasn’t interested.

He leaned forward and slanted his mouth against yours, kissing you with a smoky musk on his tongue, forcing you to open and take his writhing muscle inside of your cheeks. He was breathing just as raggedly as you were, pushing himself onto you, dragging you to the leaf-covered ground.

He repeated his mantra, gasping it, his timbre full of disbelief,

“You… made me… real…”

His mouth was on you again, the top half of his face still hidden by the skull mask. He kissed your neck, and you felt his gloved hands grabbing at your clothes, shoving down your shorts.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

“You.” His voice reverberated through you like a snarl of thunder. You could feel the sound move through your bones, “You can bring me back to this place.”

The air was cold as it billowed across your skin when he pulled away your shirt. The leather of his gloves was such a rough contrast to the smooth, furry expanse of his chest and belly, and he crushed himself against you, pressing you with all of his weight into the forest floor.

Your mind was in a haze. All of the magic and memories from the tree were whirling around you. His many lives, all stacked together, repeated like the rings of its trunk, year after year, his wars, his scars. All of them now real and raised to the touch.

His mouth moved over you, hungry and wanting. You weren’t ready to be taken so roughly, with so little regard, in the dirty, dank mud of this clearing. But, you wanted to be. You found yourself completely captivated by his movements, his hands, and the way he consumed you, making you feel like you were the key to his entire existence.

You spread your legs for him, and he had the audacity to laugh softly in his ghostly throat, rolling his hips between your legs to fit himself there, spreading you further with his wide body.

You felt the button of his leather pants loose and dangling, flapping open against your thighs which meant…

His cock lolled across your mons and belly, warm and hard. He humped himself against you, rutting along the curve of your tummy and teasing you with a preview of his strength. You reached down very slowly, stroking him carefully, barely touching his velvety foreskin, feeling the slip of it as he moved against your hand.

He let out a long, heated moan, his breath warm as it surrounded your neck, and he whispered to you in his million voices,

“Give yourself to me,” he chanted, “Bring me back.”

No sooner could you whisper back your consent than he grabbed you by your jaw and forced you to look into his black, soulless eyes. He notched his cock at your trembling hole, letting it dip into the wetness he had crafted there. Then, he pushed forward, stretching your walls around him, making you take his drooling head, raking himself in and out so that he could go deeper and deeper with each thrust.

You cried out, grasping your hands around his shoulders, and he squeezed your face in his huge paw, making you feel like he might break your jaw if he held you any tighter.

Once he was fully sheathed within the hollow of your body, he moved with a powerful, pistoned thrust, slamming himself through you and making your core heat from his friction. You felt yourself being broken by him, the parts of you that were holding together your sanity were slowly slipping away with each punishing movement, and the deeper you allowed him to fuck you, the further away from reality your thoughts were. You were back in his memories, imagining his life before, his warfare, ancient and modern, and all you could think about was why he would want to be back here. What did he want? Was it you?

His hand slipped between your lips, and he pressed into your throat, rubbing your tongue and making your jaw ache from his pressure and invasion. You tried to suckle from him, taking his fingers past your teeth, licking and slurping up your own spit from his glove.

“Such a good girl. Perfect for me. A new vessel.”

Vessel? What were you holding?

You whined, trying to understand, and he silenced you with a growl, low and deep. He was fucking you at a pace full of fire and fury, and your whole body felt like it was being pounded into submission. You could hear the wet, gushing slapping noises that his cock was making as it churned inside of you. Your legs felt weak, and you couldn’t help but leave them hanging open, allowing him to fill you as deep as he could go.

Your mouth burned from his fingers, and your pussy was begging to come, clenching and shaking with need. He felt you, and he pushed through your shuddering quim harder and harder, using you to bring himself to his own crescendo, joining you on the edge.

“You’re mine…” He hissed, moving himself right against your most pliant spot, massaging you up to a tumbling explosion of feeling and fervent want.

As you came, you screamed, but it was muffled by his invasive hand. He came with you, filling you as you tightened around him, dumping his thick load into your hole, smearing it all over your lips with each covetous thrust.

Then, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was melting into you, his body turning back into mist, covering your skin and seeping into your flesh. You felt him inside of you, curling and twisting around all of the parts that made you who you were, turning them for his own benefit, staining your soul with his own.

You gasped, searching for air, watching helplessly as the last thing you saw before he disappeared completely was the black sockets of his skull mask, and it felt like he was smiling.

You lay there, alone, and yet full of him. He was feeling and sensing and thinking right alongside you. And he was… playing with you. You could feel him moving his cock deep within you even though, when you looked down, there was nothing there.

“Please…” You begged, closing your legs together, trying to stop the sensation from happening.

“Pretty thing,” the Ghost chuckled, “We’re just getting started.”

#cali’s kinktober #kinktober 2024 #cod kinktober #call of duty kinktober #graviora manent #by the californicationist #x female reader #x fem!reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #actual ghosts #like ghost is a ghost #idek how to tag this #just forget it

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lolahauri · 9 months ago

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✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Requests are always open, and you can send as many as you want, as detailed as you want! I just get to them whenever i can/feel like it.

Anon's: 🌹-🕯️-🍁-❤️-🎴-

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahaurisfw @chowderpop @lolaloa777

AO3: Here

Get To Know Me: Here

Boundaries: Flirting, nicknames, tmi, spam are all okay.😛Just don't copy or repost my stuff. Translations or taking inspo is fine w cred. <3

-> MASTERLIST <- -> EVENT MASTERLIST <-

DNI: MAP, ZOO, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Minors!!!, Discourse Blogs. ❤️🖤🤍💚

Things I Won't Write: ❌

Sex Crimes of Any Kind, Super Violent/Xtreme Kinks, Inflation, Feederism, Abuse, Puke, Shit, DDLG, Age Play, Raceplay, Wound Fucking, Gore, Vore, Misgendering/Detrans, CBT, Sounding, Fisting, Gunplay, Drugging, Stepcest etc...

Things I Will Write: ✔️

Genderbent Characters, Mild Yandere, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Cheating, Mild BDSM, CNC, Dubcon, Monsters, Hybrids, Sex Pollen, Legal Age Gap, Power Imbalance (Prof/Student, Boss/Employee), Feet, Armpits, Piss, Breeding, Mild Blood/Knifeplay, Cock Warming, Dry Humping, Voyeur, Public Sex, Orgy, 3somes, Sex Toys, Overstim, Edging, etc... etc... :P

Trans Reader, Tall/Short Reader, Chubby/Curvy/Fat/Buff Reader, Other Specific Characteristics. ✔️

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / OC x Reader / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request other characters from these fandoms, but it might take me longer!)

Adventure Time/Fiona & Cake: PB, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona.

Attack On Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin, Ymir.

Avatar: Jake, Neytiri.

Batman Begins Triology: Batman, Catwoman, Bane, Joker, Scarecrow.

Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast.

BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Penny, Amy.

Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite.

BNA: Michiru, Shirou.

Bob’s Burgers: Bob, Linda.

Breaking Bad: Jesse, Skylar.

Call of Duty: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria, Farah.

Creepypasta: Jeff, Jane, Ben, Toby, EJ, LJ, Slenderman, Splendorman, Clockwork, Kate, Masky, Hoodie,

Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabi, Edie, Lynette, Carlos, John.

Dirty Dancing: Johnny, Baby.

Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Zeebo, Wiploc, Valerie.

Elemental: Wade, Ember.

Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta.

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve.

Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.

Futurama: Leela, Fry, Amy, Bender.

Gravity Falls: Ford, Stan, Soos, Melody, Giffany, Bill.

Jane The Virgin: Jane, Michael, Petra, Luisa, Rose, Rogelio, Xiomara.

Jurassic Park (1993): Ian Malcolm, Ellie Sattler.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna.

King of the Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luane, Nancy, Dale, Khan, Min, John Redcorn.

Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy.

Little Mermaid (2022): Ariel, Eric.

MHA: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa.

Moon Knight: Moon System, Layla, Khonshu.

Mulan: Mulan, Li Shang.

National Treasure: Benjamin, Riley.

Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Bowser, Waluigi.

Norbit: Rasputia, Norbit.

Princess & The Frog: Tiana, Lottie, Naveen, Shadow Man.

Ratatouille: Colette, Linguini.

Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson.

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Carlos Oiliveria, Lady Dimitrescu.

Rick and Morty: Rick, Jerry, Beth, Doofus Rick.

Riverdale: FP Jones, Hiram.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Kim, Ramona, Gideon, Wallace.

Scream 5: Amber, Tara, Sam.

Serial Mom: Chip, Beverly.

Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Shallow Hal: Rosemary, Hal.

Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V.

SheRa (2018): All Adults.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock, John Watson.

Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Huntress, Trapper, Wraith, Trickster, Pearl, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Patrick Bateman, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven, The Artist, Amanda Young.

Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew.

Spongebob: Dennis, Man Ray.

Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo.

Steven Universe: Garnet, Amethyst, Peridot, Lapis, Jasper, Blue Diamond, Rose, Greg.

Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans (Except George & Evelyn)

Stranger Things: Robin, Billy Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper.

Supernatural: Sam, Dean, Castiel.

Super Store: Amy, Jonah, Dina, Garrett, Cheyenne.

Tangled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell.

The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler.

The Breakfast Club: John Bender, Allison Reynolds.

The Nanny: C.C, Fran, Maxwell.

Total Drama Island: S1 Contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley.

Triple Frontier: Frankie, Santiago.

Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee.

Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie.

YOU: Beck, Joe, Peach, Love.

Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie.

Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)

Astarion (Baulder’s Gate 3)

Babbo Natale (Violent Night)

Barbie (Barbie 2023)

Basil Stitt (Lightning Face)

Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs)

Bruce (Beyond Therapy)

Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Praire)

Charlie Dompler (Smiling Friends)

Chel (Road to El Dorado)

Dale Kobble (Longlegs)

Dan Conner (Rosanne)

David Levinson (Independence Day)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Doug Remer (Baseketball)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)

Fezzik (Princess Bride)

Francine (American Dad)

Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia)

Jack Harrison (Translyvania 6-5000)

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield 2024)

John Doe (John Doe Game)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

John Wick (John Wick 4)

King Baldwin (Kingdom of Heaven)

Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto)

Laurent LeClaire (In Secret)

Linda Gunderson (Rio)

Llewyn Davis (Inside Lleywn Davis)

Master Chief (Halo)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops)

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch)

Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)

Outcome-3 (The Bourne Legacy)

Orestes (Agora)

Paul Blart (Paul Blart: Mall Cop)

Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River)

Peggy Bundy (Married With Children)

Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby)

Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Prince John (Robin Hood 2010)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Shiv (Pu-239)

Stanley Ipkiss (The Mask)

Star-Lord (Gaurdians of the Galaxy)

Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House)

The Janitor (Willy’s Wonderland)

Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980)

William Tell (The Card Counter)

#x reader #self ship #shipping #ao3 writer #fandom #minors dni #intro post #pinned post

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janasrdhr · 7 months ago

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Hiraeth - Simon “Ghost” Riley

(n.) A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

──────────────────────

Warning(s): Major Character Death, Angst

──────────────────────

The morning holds a gentle crispness as you hold Beth's hand, her small fingers curled trustingly in yours. Today is a special day, though the weight in your heart makes each step heavier than the last.

“Mama, Dada see?” Beth's voice is a mix of hopeful babbles and coos, her eyes wide with the innocence of a child who still believes in the magic of presence.

You smile down at her, the familiar pang of sorrow tightening around your heart. “Yes, sweetheart, we're going to see Daddy.”

As you walk through the quiet streets of your neighborhood, memories cascade around you like leaves in the wind. Here is the playground where Simon, your beloved Simon, once spun Beth around until both of their laughter filled the air. You remember how he'd hoist her onto his shoulders, declaring her the queen of the park.

“He made you fly so high, didn't he?” you whisper, more to yourself than to Beth.

She nods, her curls bouncing with each step, her small voice attempting to mimic your tone, “Dada fwy high!”

So high. The phrase echoes in your mind as you approach the quaint little café where Simon would get his morning coffee—black, no sugar, but always with a tiny cookie for Beth, because “a little sweetness makes every day better,” he'd say.

You don't stop for coffee today. Instead, you continue on, each landmark a testament to Simon's love, each corner a memory of laughter and love.

Finally, you arrive at the place you've been both longing for and dreading. It's peaceful here, a small hill overlooking the town, the grass whispering secrets to the wind. You guide Beth to a particular spot, one that overlooks a small pond, the surface shimmering like a mirror.

“Wai hewe, Mama?” Beth's question is a gentle tug on your sleeve, her words still a jumble of sounds that barely form a coherent sentence.

You kneel down, helping her to sit on the soft grass. “This is a special place, Beth. A place where we can feel close to Daddy.”

Beth looks around, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Dada hide?” she asks, her voice a mix of curiosity and misunderstanding.

Your heart clenches, and you pull her close, enveloping her small body in your arms. “No, baby. Daddy...Daddy's always with us, but we can't see him anymore. He's here,” you say, placing your hand over her heart, “and here,” you touch her head, “in every memory and every laugh.”

Beth is quiet, her eyes searching yours for understanding. She reaches out, touching your cheek, clinging to your larger frame as she crawls into your folded lap; the soft afternoon wind gently sweeps across the hill, playing with Beth's curls. Each delicate strand dances lightly, caressed by the breeze, framing her curious, orbs, a striking mirror of Simon's, capturing the same intense and vivid hue that once defined him as she looks around.

Deep pools of resilience and warmth, reflecting a spirit much like his—fearless and kind. In her gaze, there's a spark of mischief and the boundless curiosity that Simon carried with him always, making it feel as though a part of him continues to look out at the world, through her. Something you wordlessly promised yourself to forever cherish the moment those eyes were opened to defy him.

The wind, almost tender in its touch, seems to whisper secrets of the past, bringing a sense of closeness to the father she adores.

“Dada?”

“Dada.” you repeat, agreeing. Voice thick with unshed tears.

You spend the afternoon there, under the vast sky, telling Beth stories of Simon. How he was a hero, not just to many, but especially to you and her. How his laughter could light up the darkest room, and how his bravery was as vast as the ocean.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the yard, you stand up, brushing the grass from your jeans. You look back at the simple stone that marks Simon's resting place. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the words you'd always say to him before he left the house: “Come back to me.”

“Come back to me,” you whisper with a gentle smile, echoing the promise of your daily farewell.

You kiss your hand, feeling the warmth of your lips tingle on your skin, and then gently press your fingers against the cool stone. “I love you, Simon. Always.”

Beth, watching your actions, attempts to mimic you. She presses her tiny hand to her lips, then onto the stone, her babbling attempt at “Luw, Dada!” filling the quiet air with the purest form of love.

As Beth's tender voice whispers into the tranquil air, the surrounding nature seems to hold its breath, absorbing the purity of her love. The gentle breeze, which had been playfully teasing her curls, now carries a deeper warmth, as if Simon himself is responding through the whisper of the wind.

The leaves of the nearby trees sway softly, creating a hushed rustling that sounds almost like a comforting sigh, acknowledging her words. Above, a single ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds, casting a golden glow around Beth, enveloping her in a celestial embrace.

It's as if the very essence of Simon, intertwined with the spirit of the natural world, is affirming his everlasting presence and love, echoing back to her in every gentle touch of the wind and warm beam of light.

Watching this serene communion, you feel a profound sense of peace wash over you. The spiritual connection between Beth and the essence of Simon, manifesting through the elements of nature, touches something deep within your soul. Tears of mixed emotions well up in your eyes—sorrow for the loss, gratitude for the memories, and awe at the palpable sense of Simon's presence.

A moment of profound beauty and comfort, a silent reassurance that though Simon is no longer physically with you, his spirit continues to watch over and connect with you both in the most tender and ethereal ways.

This spiritual embrace from nature, responding to Beth's innocent love, strengthens your faith in the unseen bonds that tie your little family together.

And with that, you take Beth's hand once more, and together, you start the walk back home, your hearts full of love and memories, carrying Simon with you in every gentle whisper of the wind; forever intertwined with the rhythm of the natural world around you.

His world.

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masterlist - cod masterlist

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amazingori · 10 months ago

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King Simon Riley x Reader

This is my first story so please bear with me on this, but the idea is in my head I'm just not good at words.

Summary: Y/n is in a loveless marriage, married to a man who refuses to love her. Will Simon give in to his desires? Or will he shut you out like everyone else?

Part 1: I hate you

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Ever since you were a child, you dreamt of the fairytale wedding, A nobleman who loves you so much it hurts to breathe. Running around with the children while he manages the kingdom. You were 18 when you learned about what is real and fiction. Soon finding yourself in a loveless marriage with a cruel king. Simon was a man of little words and when he did speak to you it was hateful. "You shouldn't be wandering around the castle by yourself, It's idiotic." His voice echoed in your ears. He never yelled he just.... projected his voice. "I got bored of waiting for your meeting to be over, so we can go to bed." Simon scoffed rolling his eyes "You shouldn't have waited on me, love" You nodded frowning to yourself at the message. His boots hit the floor thundering on the ground hard. You pass around a little bit more before retiring for the night walking in the room. Seeing a sleeping figure in your bed. Smiling to yourself you cuddle up next to him and fall asleep.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, No sight of Simon other than the lingering smell of his cologne. After getting dressed you head to breakfast seeing Simon waiting for you " I wish you wouldn't leave so early in the morning." you smile at him from across the table he looks at you before going back to his breakfast ignoring your comment. Later in the day, you decide to go riding. Saddling up before taking off. The ride was peaceful, the summertime at the palace was a wonder. Ponds glistened in the morning light. The sound of deer prancing through the woods. It was a sight to see and you intended to take it all in. No Simon, no demanding servants, just you and nature. Until everything went black.

Waking up with a splitting headache wasn't what you were expecting. two men stand in front of you. seemingly waiting for you to wake up.

"Shouldn't have went riding by yourself, My Queen, Dangers lurk in these woods"

#simon riley x reader angst #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod

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daisygirlwrites · 2 years ago

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Car Rides

Summary: An old memory of Simon’s resurfaces during a car ride to Crash’s house.

Warnings: none

Pairing(s): Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1,025

Note: No uses of (Y/N), some angst but it’s barely there.

a/n: hello hello! back with another fic :) ngl this one made me kind of sad but still enjoyable to write. I have a set of headcanons that I wrote along with this fic but i decided that I’ll put it into the next post instead :0c !! anyways, i hope y’all like it and would love to hear feedback!

“Keys.” He demanded.

Quickly, you pull your hand back, the other coming up to shield it. The man in front of you narrows his eyes but puts his hands back into his hoodie pocket. You open your hand, revealing a set of keys, along with a lego Darth Vader keychain. Flipping over the key fob, your black Jeep Wrangler makes the distinct sound of itself unlocking. “After you, LT.”

He opens the back passenger seat to set down his duffle bag before moving to the front. While he does that, you get yourself onto the driver's seat and start the vehicle. You check your surroundings before backing out of the parking spot and after a series of turns, you two are on the road, exiting the airport.

“Apologies about earlier, Simon,” you say, after a couple minutes of silence. “I know you want to drive but love this car way too much. Don’t want to crash it, ya know.” He glares at you as you let out an airy chuckle.

“And what do you mean by that, Sergeant?”

“Remember Las Almas? How you slammed on the breaks so fuckin’ hard that I almost went through the window, for the second time? Or that time in Moscow, where you proceeded to hit every curb you saw and we got pulled over?” You glance at him. He stares back at you, offended. And even with a facemask, it’s evident that he’s scowling at you.

Looking back at the road, you lightly elbow his arm. “Don’t worry, LT. You’re great at a lot of things.” You pause, weighing out the option of whether or not to push his buttons more before saying, “Just not driving. Or piloting. Like last month, with the helico-”

“That’ll do!” Simon raises his voice.

Palms on the steering wheel, you open your hands as a signal of surrender. “I’m just jesting, Simon.” You give him a half-hearted smile. He sinks down into his seat, with his arms crossed.

45 minutes passed and the only sound you hear are the cars on the road. Simon looks out of the window, taking sight of the buildings rushing by. In the distance, he can see the large mountain range.

The whole team was given a month of leave after the last mission went up in flames. Literally, burning helicopters and all. While the guys usually went back to the UK, you had invited them to your mountain home in Colorado. Ghost initially declined but after you and Soap begged on your knees, he reluctantly agreed. And now he regrets it after you made fun of his driving skills. But at least it was just you and not the rest of the team. Actually, he’s grateful that they’re flying in tomorrow. Didn’t want to handle three idiots in a car.

“I got a CD folder in the glove box,” You break the silence. “It’s your pick too. Long drives are better with music.”

Simon gives you a nod and begins flipping through the case. He recognizes most of the albums, and taking a closer look, some of the art on them are flaking off.

“Never thought you’d still have CDs this old,” he comments.

“Half of them are my grandpa’s. I’m just adding on to it.”

He hums in response. Spotting a maroon colored disk, he rotates it, reading ‘Queen: Greatest Hits’. Carefully pulling it out of its pocket, he hands it to you. Left hand on the wheel, you stick your finger in the middle and glance at it. Nodding, you slide it into the car player.

“Good choice.”

“Brits have good music.”

“I agree with that.”

Flicking your eyes down to the display screen, you skip the first eight tracks. Without looking, you can tell that Simon is giving you a disapproving look. “We’ll come back to it, promise. Just want to listen to this first.”

He turns his eyes back on the road before him, the first couple notes of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ playing out. They’re in the mountains now, the roads becoming more twisty. Slowly down a bit on the turns, you let the windows down a couple inches. He hears you quietly sing along with the song. Rolling his eyes, Simon leans back on his seat again. Again, looking out the window, enjoying the greenery. It reminds him of the long drives to his aunt's house. Green blurs of evergreen trees passing by. Turning his head to look at you, his heart picks up the pace.

He doesn’t see you. Instead, it was a woman in her early thirties. The driver window slightly opened, leaving her light brown hair flying behind her ears. Hands tapping on the steering wheel on beat with the music. Hazel eyes meeting his. There were bags under them, dark circles hidden by makeup. She smiles at him, little wrinkles appearing on the corner of her eyes, along with two dimples, one of each side of her smile. Just like his. Opening her mouth, she sings along with the song,

“Ooh, you make me live Whenever this world is cruel to me I got you to help me forgive Ooh, you make me live now, honey Ooh, you make me live.”

His mom stops singing. “Simon!” she calls out. “Come on, love. Sing with your ma!”

He’s too stunned to say anything, he just stares at her. “Simon?” Her smile drops, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Simon?” Her voice sounds muffled.

“Simon?!” It’s like echoes now.

“Lieutenant Riley?!” That one snapped him out.

Heart beating like a drum, he opens his eyes, staring at the bottom of his hoodie before looking back up. It’s just you, Crash, his sergeant. Not his mother. But the worried look you give him is identical to hers.

You give him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to wake you up LT.” His eyebrows go up with confusion, he didn’t know he was even sleeping. “We’re here.”

Simon steps out of the jeep, closing the door behind him. Taking a look of his surroundings, he glances up at the towering evergreen trees, just like the ones in his childhood. Just like the ones at home.

#daisygirlwrites #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley

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youngbelieverstrawberry · 1 year ago

Text

Katarina rina

Stella cardo

Zazie skymm

Connie carter

Lena Reif

Queenlin

Chole Taylor

Terry Rubens

Marica Chanelle

River Fox

Ruby temptations

Sophia Traxler

Alice wayne

Julia Boin

Haley Cummings

Michele james

Octavia red

Mila Azul

Kira queen

Hazel moore

Kimberly Simon

Tina Ray

Nene Tanaka

Nikky Dream

Jazlyn ray

Jessica Robbin

Alexa black

Angel princess

Alyx star

Nala brooks

Simon kitty

Stella fox

Zhang yunxi

Lady lyne

Clary

Siyaora

Riley reign

Giselle palmer

Kylie page

Violet Myers

Jazlyn Ray

Rae Lil black

Blair Williams

Aria Taylor

Michele james

Lola sin

Blair Williams

Emily Addison

Brandy renee

Hailey Rose

The gorillagripy

Myla angel

Emily Right

Lauren Philips

Shae summers

Molly jane

Taylee wood

Roxxie sinner

Serena salgot

Jessica starling

Keisha grey

Bella Breeze and

Ariana shine

Lola bredly

Skye blue

Jennifer gold

Faye Reagan

Sensual jane

Anna Blaze

Moerelline moore

Miu Arioka

Honoka Tsujii

Rara Anzai

Maria Nagai

Harmony heart

Laura Dickens(sheril blossom)

Lauren pixie

Ava sinclaire

Ava black

Jasmine wilde

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ghostlychief · 2 years ago

Note

Dude I just loved your Ghost fic with his scary wife, it was so ✨chefs kiss✨

Could you please write a fic about how the MW2 men would react to reader letting loose in the club after a mission? Just the concept of a cold, badass woman who can handle herself in the field and is a total man-eater that has the moves™️ + the men's reactions (mayhaps with a crumb of nsfw👀) is JUST DOBDISHDONDOSHDINSKWE I BEG PLEASE

HELLO!! thank you sm for your request <3 I took some liberties but i really hope you enjoy what i threw together for you!! (and there is a crumb of nsfw, so i hope you enjoy the tiniest of crumb i gave you lmao) ALSO, thank you sm for saying you really like my other Ghost fic, it means so much to hear that <33333 thank you sm for reading!

ENJOY, SWEETIE

Dancing Queen

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol drinking; foreplay? slight fingering; nothing too smutty but MINORS DNI; seriously, if you're a minor pls do not read.

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i'll edit tomorrow, but sorry for any typos!

---

You were pretty revered on task force 141. You were the youngest on the team of burly men but you were one of the most skilled members on the force. And, you took yourself very seriously, almost too seriously some would say.

But who could blame you? You were a woman in a male dominated field. You had to be serious, had to be cold. Especially in the armed forces. This line of work was just as bad if not worse than the financial sector, you know, with all the finance bros. Actually, it was worse, but just by a hair.

So, due to your highly stressful and sometimes misogynistic job, you liked to let loose, have fun on the weekends. It was really the only time where you could fully relax and let yourself go. Alcohol helped of course. You loved going to clubs, bars, restaurants, hell anywhere really. As long as it helped you forget the week you had, helped you soothe the aches and pains that came with the job.

Surprisingly you found that your internal team, therefore task 141, weren’t such pricks after all. You thought they would be all misogynistic pigs, and treat you worse than their male colleagues. No, you were proven wrong. Something that doesn’t happen often. You were smart after all.

Sooner than later, you found yourself growing fonder of your team, and you considered them your closest friends. You know, big shock. You weren’t expecting your closest friends to be your work buddies as well.

You also sprouted a crush for one of your team members. Who could blame you? He was tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious. Always sporting that black balaclava, only leaving his eyes privy to your vision. You have only seen him without his signature mask a few times, most of them being when he was drunk, and out with the team.

But who doesn’t like intrigue?

Fast forward to this Friday. You found that Friday is your favorite day to go out. You realized that you still have all of Saturday to relax, sleep, and recover and then it’s Sunday. The dreadful day in which work starts the next.

So here you were, getting ready to do out tonight with 141. You typically styled your hair your favorite way, did a full glam of make-up, and pre-gamed to make sure you would be a solid drunk by the time you had at least one drink at the bar. This was your time to shine, to have fun for once. You weren’t going to pass it up. Hence, your lovely make-up and outfits that made any jaw drop to the floor.

By the time you were finished getting ready, you felt a slight buzz in your system, and you felt good, felt pretty. You were ready for a night out. Specifically, you were ready for a night out with Ghost.

You found it much, much easier to talk to the intimidating guy when you were slightly buzzed, or better yet, drunk. Was it healthy? Probably not. But who’s perfect, right?

Even though you were a force to be reckon with yourself, the man still intimated you. Maybe it was because of the feelings that started developing in the pits of your stomach. You couldn’t help it when your heart clenched every time you saw him, or every time his blue eyes met your own.

It was getting bad, and you were worried it was going to start to effect your performance at work, which was unacceptable.

So, what do you do to deal with all these feelings? You drink of course!

Hey, you’re still in your twenties, it’s a pass.

You get a text from Soap in the GM that your guys’ uber is at your place. It was decided that you would ride with Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.

You saw the uber in front of your building, so you made your way to the back seat. You figured that Ghost would be in the front, so you open the door and tease, “Gaz, you need to take the middle seat because you’re the shortest out of all of us.”

However, you weren’t met with Gaz’s chocolate eyes when you swung open the door. No, you were met with Ghost’s large frame, and confused expression as you mistakenly talk to him instead of Gaz.

“You want me to sit in the middle?” Ghost points a finger at himself.

You hear Gaz snicker from the front seat. I’ll get him later.

You disguise your embarrassment with a cough, “Oh! No, no, no. I mean, we can’t have the tallest teammate sit in the middle now can we?” You flash Ghost what you’re hoping is your best smile. Dammit why did I drink so much getting ready?

Ghost just grunts in confirmation and gets out of the vehicle.

You clamber your way in only to find Soap with a shit-eating grin, sitting in the back as well.

“Hello, Soap.” Your tone is clipped, which makes his grin widen even more.

Ghost gets in finally, but once he’s finally settled, you find yourself literally squished between Soap and Ghost.

“Can either of you move over or something? I’m being squeezed to death.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it, y/n.”

You really, hope Ghost didn’t just hear what Soap said, but it’s unlikely. You hit him in the shoulder, “First rounds on you, asshole.”

Soap raises his hands in a truce. “Alright, alright. Don’t get mad at me.”

You were only annoyed because Soap was right. You did like being squished up against Ghost. How embarrassing. Stupid feelings. Who even has time for feelings anymore?

You all finally make it to the club, and you make a beeline for the bar. As promised, Soap orders you, as well as Ghost and Gaz a round of drinks. You all cheer’s, then you down your shot. At this point, you’re definitely drunk.

The guys get another drink as you observe the dance floor. They take two more shots, and you take one more.

After your last shot, you let them know that you’re going to go dance. They all toast you, and then you’re off to the dance floor.

You start moving to the beat, letting the music take over your body, letting it carry you away from all your problems.

It’s only a few minutes in when you notice that they’re playing your favorite song. You rush back over to the guys, and excitedly shout, “They’re playing my favorite song! Do any of you want to dance with me?”

Before anyone could really respond, Soap is clapping Ghost on the shoulder, and pushing him towards you, “Ghost would love to.”

If you weren’t so drunk, you would have noticed Ghost send a glare to his friend. But not out of despite, more out of nervousness.

You clap your hands, so excited that someone is joining you, much different than your usually demeanor at work. Then you grasp Ghost’s hand in yours and lead him to the floor, leaving a grinning Soap and Gaz.

Gaz just sighs before saying, “Why do you always have to butt in?”

Soap just shrugs with a knowing smile on his face, “Because, they’d be good for each other, and both of them need a little nudge from someone to get the ball rolling.”

Once you and Ghost make it to the dance floor, you turn around to face him. You have the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your pretty face, and he can’t help but smile back.

You start moving to the music as before, but this time, Ghost wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you in close to him. So close, that your chests are touching. He’s definitely buzzed, borderline drunk.

He leans his head down so his lips are brushing against your ear, “I didn’t know you were quite the dancer.”

His breath tickles, and you let out a laugh, tightening your arms that have found their way around his neck.

“Don’t you know? I’m the dancing queen.” You let out a laugh, and pull him closer.

He laughs as well and you both continue swaying to the beat, that is, until a more up-tempo song starts to play. Before you know it, Ghost has spun you around, so now your back is facing his front.

His large hands make their way to your waist, gripping tightly. But not too tightly in which it hurts. It’s more so a comforting hold. You feel secure, like you would never trip and fall in his embrace.

You lean your head back so it’s resting on Ghost’s chest, and you feel him dip his head to meet yours. The height difference is making you dizzy, making you want more of him.

You feel him kiss down your neck, his lips searing your skin as they map you out. He makes his way back up and nips at your earlobe, which has you letting out a small yelp. But you lean further into him, signaling him to continue on.

Your hands come up to rest on top of his, and you squeeze them. You’ve never felt this exhilarated, and Ghost’s touches leave sparks in their wake, igniting you.

As he continues to kiss down your neck, you take one of your hands that’s grasping his, and start to lead it to the top of your skirt. He seems to get the idea, and continues his hand down until it’s grazing your upper thigh, lifting your skirt ever the slightest.

He subtly brings his fingers under your skirt to graze your underwear. The dance floor is so packed, that no one will notice.

The feeling of his fingers pressing on your bud has your head spinning and you let out a soft whine. It’s just faint enough that only Ghost can hear it. His hand goes further and pushes your underwear to the side. He teases your entrance without entering a finger into you and he brings his thumb up to press down on your clit. Which makes you let out another low pitch whine.

Your hand trails down to find his, as if to ground yourself. From what, you don’t even know. You just need to feel him more. More so than you already are.

All too soon, he removes his hand from your and brings it back up to cup your waist, then he spins you around so you’re facing him. What a fucking tease.

You crane your neck to glance up at him and you don’t know who moved in first. But what you do know is that you’re kissing Ghost. His lips lock with yours and it feels like it was always meant to be.

You trail your hands up so they play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Twirling the hair around the tips of your fingertips. The kiss you share feels infinite, like it was mapping out the very constellations around you.

You never wanted it to end.

All too soon he pulls away, and brings his hands up to cup your face. His forehead is pressed up against yours, and he holds you so gently.

“I just had to do that, at least once.” He sounds breathless, and you fight the urge to pull him down to you again, at his confession.

“Why just once?” You’re just as breathless, if not more as you ask him this.

You don’t want this to end here, you can’t let it end here. You like him too much, too much that your heart hurts at the thought of letting him go.

Ghost peels himself from you, but his hands are still ever so gently cupping your sweet face. His thumbs rub under your eyes, on the apple of your cheeks, as he looks fondly down at you. He’s looking at you as if you created all the planets in the solar system, and hung up the stars as well.

“Because I know you deserve better.”

His admission tugs at your heartstrings, “Bullshit. You don’t get to tell me what’s good for me and what isn’t.”

It was true. You had to decide for yourself.

“Is that so?” A smirk forms on his lips.

You’re glad the air has turned back into something light, something teasing. That’s something you could deal with. Not the heavy shit that was threatening you before.

You bring your hands once again to his and grasp them, “Yes, it is, so you better get used to it.”

Ghost just lets out a laugh and then swiftly pulls you into a bone crushing hug. He rests his head on top of yours. You swear you feel a faint pressure atop your head, almost like a kiss laid upon your hair.

His words get muffled into your hair, but you make them out just the same. “Why don’t we finish what we started, but in a more private place, hm?”

You tighten your hold on him, words stifled into his chest as your answer, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Ghost Masterlist

hope you enjoyed! <3

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