#and somehow is still able to knock riley up

[whateveriwant]

Ok I lied. Here’s some more Simon fucking himself stupid because apparently he has a chokehold on me. (prev: part 1, part 2)

You’d think a man that regularly fucks his own brains mushy would have a poor performance in the bedroom, right? For a normal man, perhaps, but this is Simon Riley we’re talking about; ‘vigor’ is his middle name.

So even after going for multiple rounds, cycling through multiple positions, and getting covered in multiple fluids, your boyfriend is as ready to go as ever… physically speaking, that is. Because as far as mentally goes, he dropped out a long time ago, somewhere between taking you on your back and then on your knees.

Now you’ve reached the part of the night you like to call your ‘wind down phase’, where you’re just looking for one last, easy release before you throw in the towel. But where you’re tired, sensitive as hell, and already feeling tomorrow’s soreness starting to creep in, Simon’s still pinching and pawing at you like he can’t get enough.

As you lazily ride him, fingers curled over his thick shoulders, Simon’s own hands are pressed hungrily into the meat of your hips. From where he’s sat against the headboard, his lower back propped up by a pillow or two, he’s in the perfect position to guide you back and forth in his lap.

It’s as you feel the slow approach of your final climax that you begin to pick up the pace a little, only to slow right back down again as a sudden noise has you distracted. It takes you a second to place the sound, but once you recognize it, you’re immediately grinding your movements to a halt.

Simon’s phone only rings when it’s you or his work calling. And seeing the current situation you find yourselves in, you know it’s not the former.

The phone rings and rings, neither one of you bothering to move for it. The call gets sent to voicemail, and for a moment you think that’s all it’s going to be, but as the phone promptly begins to trill again, you know something else is up.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach over to the nightstand to grab the device. “It’s John,” you tell your boyfriend, seeing his Captain’s contact flash across the screen. You turn the phone around to show Simon, but it seems he has little interest in it, his grip on your waist unwavering as his phone buzzes away in your hand.

“Should you answer? Could be important,” you say. The boss making back to back calls speaks of urgency, if not emergency. But Simon’s focus lies solely on where your two bodies are connected, a sex-fueled tunnel vision if you ever saw one.

Though one look at Simon’s face tells you he’s in no place to have a meaningful conversation right now, as the phone darkens again, only to then light up for a third time in a row, you know this is serious. So despite the haziness in his eyes and the limpness of his jaw, you decide to answer the phone, putting it on speaker.

There’s silence on the other end for a moment before you hear the deep baritone of Price’s voice calling out. “Simon?” He waits a beat. “Simon, hello?” He tries again when he hears nothing in response.

While Price is kept in limbo, you’re busy trying to rouse your boyfriend back from brain death. “Simon, it’s John,” you whisper to him, hoping to not be heard by the other man on the phone. Unfortunately, Simon gives zero indication he’s heard you, his bleary gaze looking right past you.

“You there, Simon?” Price’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Bringing your hand up, you lightly tap Simon on the cheek. “Baby, it’s John. Your boss,” you whisper again, slightly louder this time.

Again, he offers you no response, just a slow blink, an even slower trickle of drool starting to form at the corner of his mouth.

As you hear another gruff, “Simon?”, being spoken over the phone, your taps become a little more insistent, a little more forceful.

“It’s Price, Si. Price. Captain Price,” you hiss, urgently patting him against the cheek.

Somehow, whether by miracle or sheer force, you’re able to knock Simon’s last two brain cells together and coax forth a vaguely human-sounding reaction from him.

“Priiizzzzze,” Simon rumbles out, a garbled approximation of his Captain’s surname.

The line goes quiet for a beat, and you can almost imagine the man on the other side blinking in confusion. Then, “You alright, Simon?” he asks earnestly. “Now’s not a bad time, is it?”

Thankfully, Simon seems to have regained the smallest hint of his bearings again, and he manages to hum a solid, “Mmmf.”

Price takes a moment to consider what he means by such an ambiguous response, and deciding it translates to ‘Speak freely’, he does just that. “Well, I’m callin’ because we’ve just received word of some new developments comin’ out of Hong Kong. Laswell’ll want to give a full briefing tomorrow mornin’, but essentially–”

And that’s about as far as Simon gets before he checks out again.

As Price continues to lay down the basics for him, Simon’s focus shifts back to what he really desires: the person he’s currently buried to the hilt inside.

His Captain’s droning acts as little more than background noise as Simon reaches up and begins toying with one of your nipples. The action is unexpected (not to mention ill-timed given the circumstances), and you try batting his hand away, even as a pleasurable tweak has you choking back a moan.

However, unfazed, Simon drags his fingers down, down, downwards, slowly tracing the midline of your body until he reaches your throbbing sex. His fingers are warm and slightly rough as he begins to stroke you, applying just the barest of touches, but it’s enough to light your nerves on fire.

This time, it’s harder to stop your moans from spilling forth, and you’re forced to mash your lips together lest you reveal your presence to the Captain still chirping on and on. Your free hand darts down to grab Simon’s wrist, meaning to tug it away, but instead, you find yourself pausing, holding onto him as a shudder wracks up your spine.

You know you should push him away – or, at the very least, tell him to ease up a little – but it just feels so fucking good that you can’t bring yourself to do either.

Besides, even if you were to speak up, would Simon be cognizant enough to heed your words? A quick peek at his expression tells you all you need to know. The lights may be on upstairs, but there is no one home right now to answer the phone.

You can feel the hand between your legs grow wetter and wetter as you start to leak droplets of your arousal. The slippery fluid makes Simon’s fingers glide that much smoother, that much slicker as he rubs you.

Even the way he’s touching you now – the way he’s expertly taking you apart – isn’t the result of conscious decision making by Simon. His movements, however deft, aren’t directed by any true rhyme or reason; they’re pure muscle memory at this point.

Simon’s other hand on your hip starts to rock you against him, and you find it’s getting harder to keep yourself under control. Try as you might to tamp your voice down, your ecstasy soon gets the better of you, and before you can stop it, you’re muttering a less than subtle, “Fuck.”

Immediately, you realize what you’ve done, and you slap a hand over your mouth at your mistake. As Price’s side of the call goes similarly quiet, you squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to kick yourself for your carelessness.

Just as you think the jig is up, however, you catch a lucky break, as not a second later, Price resumes, “–boots on the ground to confirm what these sat images have been pickin’ up.”

The feeling of relief that floods you is almost akin to euphoria, and you exhale deeply (but not loud enough to be picked up over the receiver) as you bring your hand back down.

That was close; way too close for comfort, honestly. And yet, despite how close you just came to exposing yourself, Simon is totally, completely oblivious to it all.

This time when you reach for the wrist between your legs, you successfully tug it away. You feel like you’ve tempted fate enough for one night.

Though Simon puts up zero fight as you remove his hand from your sex, that’s only because he then reaches up and quickly stuffs his slickened fingers into his mouth. His eyes fall shut as he savors the salty taste of your arousal, a sort of blissful wave washing over him as he sucks his fingers clean.

Somehow, though you’re not sure how it’s possible, you swear you can feel him grow even harder where he’s buried inside you. The sensation makes you squirm, wanting to bear down on the fullness within you, but you force yourself to resist the urge to tilt your hips back and forth.

This is almost torture at this point, like you’re caught in some kind of kinky Saw trap. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more of this you can take. But thankfully, it appears you won’t have to endure it for much longer.

“All that’s to say, it looks like our timetable’s been moved up. We’ll be shippin’ out earlier than expected,” Price starts to wind the one-sided conversation down.

Though Simon has been relatively mute this entire time, for some reason, at this moment, he takes the opportunity to let out a long, “Mmmmmm.”

While you know the noise isn’t much more than an appreciative moan at your taste, Price is unaware of that fact, and so he asks, “That’s not a problem, is it, Lieutenant?”

You both wait a few beats for Simon to respond, but with less than a handful of working neurons left in his brain, you figure that’s unlikely to happen. Knowing Price is still expecting an answer and your boyfriend is unable to offer him one, you realize you have to take matters into your own hands once more.

So puffing out your chest and straightening up your spine, you muster up your best Simon impression as you expel a deep, gravelly, “Hmm.” The several seconds that follow find you holding your breath in anticipation, praying to whatever god will listen that Price buys your impersonation.

It’s after he eventually says, “Alright, well, I’ll expect you at 0800 for tomorrow’s brief,” that you breathe again, feeling nearly on the verge of passing out.

Frankly, this whole ordeal has left you exhausted. From having to hide from Price to having to pull one over on him, you feel like your heart is liable to give out any moment now.

If only Simon had been more of a conscious participant in this conversation maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. You and him could have quietly laughed and swore together in your shared misery. Instead, he’s too preoccupied with squeezing your nipple again between his wet fingers to notice anything’s the matter.

You don’t even bother pushing his hand away this time as you can sense the call is mercifully coming to a close.

“Have a good rest of your night, Simon,” Price says through the speaker.

If you weren’t so wrecked right now, you could almost leap with joy from how utterly relieved you feel. From the moment you answered this call, you thought you’d undoubtedly be found out. Truth be told, you’re not sure how you managed to make it through the past several minutes unheard and undiscovered. All you know is that you did and you’re beyond grateful for that.

But before you can hang up the phone to celebrate, Price has one last thing to say. Just as you’re about to press the end call button, just as you’re about to fling the phone to the far side of the room, just as you’re about to collapse into a boneless heap because you’re finally, finally, finally in the clear, Price gives one last farewell that makes your stomach fall out of your ass.

“And you too, (Y/N).”

The call dies, and you wish you died with it.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A bout of insomnia keeps you awake, so you decide to go for a midnight walk. To your surprise you find that you aren't the only one still up as the sound of the shower running in the communal bathroom catches your attention. Who is it and what are they doing in there? Why does it sound like your lieutenant and why is he moaning your name?

Word Count: 5.6 k

Warnings:

Hot water from the shower runs in snaking pathways over the bulky muscles of the lieutenant’s back as he leans himself against the wall, his forehead resting on the bit of his forearm that is propping his body up while his engorged cock is tightly locked in his clenched fist. Furiously he strokes the length with eyes closed and mouth agape, grunting deep and guttural the tighter he squeezes around that throbbing appendage as he desperately works to ease the ache that has kept him from getting sleep yet another night in a row. 

The military base is hunkered down for the evening, most of the personnel fast asleep as he should have already been, but his mind is too full of thoughts…thoughts if you… that sleep is unattainable at this point unless he does something about them. He knows the risk he’s taking doing this in a communal space, but he hopes that it’s late enough that no one will be around to disturb him until he’s done.

It’s been another long, rough day of having to watch you from afar but not touch, follow you with his dark, hungry eyes while knowing he will never get a chance to taste your sweetness, and he needs a release before he does something foolish. Never has another gotten under his skin the way you have, never has he struggled so hard to keep his desire from consuming him whole like he has to every single time you are near, and lately it is becoming near impossible. 

There's only so much that even a trained professional can take before all that self-discipline goes right out the window and he is reaching his limit with each passing week. If this keeps up he is bound to slip up somehow, you will notice, and he cannot let that happen. He can’t do another desperate sleepless night and be sane enough to face you again the next day, so here he finds himself. 

Behind closed eyes he recalls the images from earlier during training of you sparring with one of the other recruits. The way your body moved and contorted as you took down your opponent, the sweat that glistened and rolled in large drops down your chest and into the top of your shirt, the look of cocky determination in your eyes, and the heavy breaths you took through parted lips was enough to set him off something bad. His hands had to be firmly crossed over his crotch even after you had finished and walked off to hide the stiffy he was suddenly sporting so it wouldn't draw attention from any wandering eyes. 

God, the way he wishes it had been him that was pinned beneath you on that mat instead of the recruit that you took down and makes him stroke even more furiously. Why can't it be your sweet, soft pussy he is thrusting into instead of his rough palm? He’d sell his soul to Satan himself just for a moment spent in your bliss.

Lt. Riley braces his feet wider in the shower to steady himself as a wave of pleasure surges through his limbs and nearly knocks him over as he continues stroking. There is so much sloppiness in his rhythm now; he’s getting closer and soon he’ll be able to think more clearly… at least for a little while. 

“The things I'd do to ya, sweetheart,” he mutters to the vision of you in his mind’s eye, the need overwhelming every sense until he can’t see straight. “Fuck, I just want tha chance ta make ya come. I’d make bloody sure ya would only ‘ave eyes for me from then on.”

His teeth clench behind his parted lips as a bit of salty precum dribbles out of the tip of his cock only to quickly get washed away by the water raining down over him. Fucking hell, this is a problem that doesn’t seem to have an end in sight; this isn’t the first time he’s had to jack off to get a moment of peace and he knows that this will only be a temporary fix. There’s only one thing that can satisfy him for good, but it is the one thing he isn’t allowed to have.

At least he tells himself over and over that you’d never give him the time of day and so he keeps his agonizing distance. So, as the rest of the world around him slumbers, he has to do what he must to get by…and even though he thinks himself the only one awake and trying to work out demons under the cover of night, he couldn’t be more wrong.

At the other side of the barracks, you stare up at the dark ceiling of your room just as you’ve done for the past hour now. You have tried to relax your limbs, clear your mind, close your eyes, but no matter how hard you push yourself, sleep keeps evading your grasp. Why? You know the answer plainly even if you don’t really want to accept it. 

His eyes had been on you again today, Lt. Riley’s. That intense dark brown gaze that always makes your pulse race each time you catch it lingering had been plastered on you even before you stepped up to your sparring partner during training earlier. It was as if he was trying to bore a hole through your body the way he wouldn’t look away. The ache that settled itself in your core at his undivided attention nearly distracted you enough that you about lost the fight and now that you are lying in the dark with nothing to keep you occupied it’s all your desperate mind can focus on.

Does the lieutenant even know what his attention does to you? Would he care even if he did?

What would he think if he knew that just his gaze alone makes your body burn, how you can’t ever seem to get enough of the way you can so easily capture his focus, how it fuels all of your fantasies and daydreams until it’s impossible to be in his presence without your breath quickening and feeling that familiar ache between your legs? Goddammit, if you had your way you would have those eyes glued to yours as he thrusts inside and makes you his for the first time, but you know that’s not a possibility.  

No, it’s got to be pure coincidence, something entirely innocuous, a superior surveying the progress of one of his soldiers. He is the unofficial second in command around here, of course he would need to take account of those that are under him. You’d have to be a fool to think it’s anything more than that, that someone as experienced and weathered as him would ever go for an underling like you, but it doesn’t change how it makes you desperately want to get closer to the serious and intimidating officer.  

Why does the one thing you want have to be so fucking far out of reach?

Your heartbeat is starting to race again and your fingers are too sore to go another round down below, so you give up with a sigh of defeat and get up out of bed; if sleep isn't coming then there's no point in lying here to only get more frustrated that you can’t let those salacious fantasies go. 

Maybe a walk will tucker you out enough that sleep will stop avoiding you, at least it’s worth a try. Better than lying in the dark trying to stroke out the overwhelming thoughts, trying to imagine the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress as his cock stretches you out. No, staying here is only going to do more damage. Slipping on some shorts with your tank top and grabbing your shoes, you head out of your room and begin your trek through the barracks headed towards the outside. 

You pass by the quiet rooms of your sleeping teammates, nothing but silence filling the halls that causes each soft step you take to sound louder than it should. Room after room passes by the same as the last as you make your way through the long stretches of hallway. All that's left is the showers coming up on your left, then the doors to the outside and you’ll be free to mosey about in the cool air while the music of the night gives you something else to focus on. 

But it isn’t the crickets, frogs, and other nocturnal animals outside that you hear now, nor is it those of the nightwatch making their rounds. It’s something else that grabs your attention.

The closer you get to the communal bathrooms, the more your ears pick up noise out of the stillness. At first it is only the distinct sound of running water hitting off the titles that cover the floors, but soon you catch the muted echo of a voice reverberating inside. Whoever is in there it sounds like they are in distress and curiosity gets the better of you. It's probably nothing, but it's best to check just to be sure. You'll pop your head in, make certain everything is alright, and then quietly leave without anyone knowing. 

Silently you creep up to the door and slowly creak it open so that the hinges won’t squeak and give you away just in case your worries turn out to be unfounded. The ambiguous noises become more clear and you realize it is the heavy masculine grunting of someone in the shower. It takes you a second to place why that sound is so familiar, but after a few seconds it finally clicks and you become embarrassed to have stumbled upon this private, intimate moment.

You move back from the door and almost let it fall closed when you catch the person inside saying something unexpected. Under the sound of the shower head running and heavy panting you swear that you hear the voice moan your name and instantly you are frozen in your tracks, unable to leave as planned.

You know that particular voice. 

Shit, you've heard it so many times over the course of your stay here that it is permanently burned into your psyche. The voice repeats the same and now you are sure that it is your name being moaned and a shiver runs up your spine. There is no mistaking it now that you detect that recognizable thick British accent. 

It's your lieutenant, that masked enigma himself, Simon Riley.

Instantly your cheeks feel like they are on fire as he repeats it again this time in more of a whimper. Is he really…? This has to be your overstimulated mind playing tricks on you. And yet there it is again, his deep voice grunting your name with more urgency as if he is intoxicated by the way that it rolls off his tongue and suddenly your head is spinning so that you aren’t immediately aware of what you’re doing.

Stop, you hear your inner thoughts swirl around the chaos inside your skull. What the hell are you thinking? Why are you going inside?

Even as you internally ask the questions, you can’t stop your feet that seem to have a mind of their own now and force you further inside the empty bathroom and over to the source of all those delicious sounds. The countless restless nights, the endless cravings for his presence that leave you desperate, the infinite amount of times you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him…your body needs this and it isn’t going to let you walk away until you see for yourself if this is real. 

If there is a chance…

The grunts come faster now as the lieutenant is about to blow when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. There is a shadow on the other side of the curtain that hadn’t been there before, a dark mass of a figure standing stock still just outside the thin plastic veil hiding him from the rest of the room. His blood runs cold, anger taking hold as he is forced to stop and confront whoever it is that has decided to disturb him with their presence. 

Who the fuck could be up at this time at night anyway and why now when he was nearly finished? He pulls back the curtain in one swift, irritated motion just enough to poke his head out and confront the bastard, but to his surprise who should be standing there then the one person he doesn’t need to come face to face with in this intimate moment. You stare back at him with wide eyes brightly shimmering in the fluorescent lighting overhead. 

“The fuck ya think you’re doin’?” he barks harshly, flustered by the awkward position you've found him in. “Do ya know what fuckin’ time it is? Ya should be down for tha night instead a skulkin’ about. I suggest ya get out and head back where you're supposed ta be.”

You hear the jarring response: should move, leave, follow his order, but you can't. The sight of the water glinting off his husky chest, beads of condensation sparkling through the light brown hair covering his sternum and down his abdomen, is too delicious a sight for you to pull your eyes from. You always knew that the lieutenant was a mass of muscle, it’s clear even through his bulky tactical gear, but to see it all in the flesh is another story. How are you meant to walk away from all that tantalizing, slick, heated skin?

Without even thinking, you step in closer. “I …don’t want to go.” 

“What?” The question comes out as a surprise.

You swallow. “I said I don’t want to go,” you reiterate.

You wrestle with yourself on what to do now that you’ve gotten here as he stares back at you in confusion, sensing how the air has suddenly seemed to shift all at once. Do you reveal the truth and tell him everything, including that you heard his desperate pleas? Will that be enough? Or do you do something else entirely? What if he rejects any advances just to save face? 

“What're ya…?” he starts to ask, only to lose the end of his sentence as you move in until the thin plastic curtain is the only thing keeping you apart. 

Screw it, you’ve come this far and that throbbing ache between your legs is ruling your actions now. This is a terrible idea, but that is the only type available at this time of night. Your heartbeat is in your ears as your gaze locks to his and your fingertips grab at the hem of your tank top to slowly drag it up over your torso and pull it off the top of your head. The skimpy bit of fabric hangs idly from your hand almost sweeping the floor as you stand there bare chested staring back at him. 

If this doesn’t make your intentions clear, then nothing will, and hopefully the temptation is enough to sway his actions.

Simon tries to inhale, but the wind has been knocked from his lungs and he can’t seem to get it back. Composure is his calling card and yet right now being in control isn’t an option anymore, not with the way you look like the most perfect treat he’s ever laid eyes on. He releases a shuddered breath that he didn’t know he was holding onto. There is a heat in his chest and it’s spreading through his limbs like a wildfire, ready to consume all the common sense he has left. Watching that hardened man break gives you new found confidence and you find your voice amidst the dibilitating rise in your blood pressure.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you manage to say without faltering. “Not after what I just heard.”

Fuck, he really has been found out.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t take your eyes off of me, sir?” you continue, the truth spilling out like the water from the shower. “You might think yourself slick because of the mask, but I swear whenever we’re near each other I can feel your gaze lingering on me. It’s not the same one you give the others, this one is different… and do you know the worst part?”

You let the question hang in the air for a moment even though Lt. Riley doesn’t even try to answer it; he can’t, he’s too overwhelmed. “The worst part is that I can’t get enough of it.”

The lieutenant’s vision is tunneled in on your sweet lips as he listens to your words, the desire to grab you and drag you to him spreading throughout his limbs at your confession. A few stray droplets of water drip down from the cropped tips of his dirty blond hair and hit the top of your shoes as he struggles to speak.

“This is a bad idea, luv,” he says as his final attempt to give you an out. “Ya should go ‘fore ya do somethin’ ya regret.”

You shake your head. “The only thing I’m going to regret is leaving. I can’t take another sleepless night. And it sounds like you can’t either.”

As you speak, you quietly slip your feet out of your shoes and toss your shirt haphazardly away and it crumples to a heap on the ground. “I need you… so bad. I can’t take it anymore. Please, don’t send me away.”

That’s it, all sense is completely gone as Simon Riley is no longer in control of his actions, not after hearing you plead for him to take you. Ripping open the curtain all the way, he silently pulls you into the shower and shoves you back into the tiled wall. Your big doe eyes peer up at him as the water mists from the showerhead above you and trickles off your eyelashes. 

He watches the droplets collect and sparkle like diamonds as they fall onto your delicate cheek, his bare chest heaving up and down laboriously with each panted breath as he takes in all he can now that he has the chance. His large hands glide over your arms as he truly contemplates the consequences of his actions, but there is no reprimand, no amount of punishment in this moment that can make him fight off the brunt of his attraction.

You stand in his presence only able to look on, mesmerized by finally being able to take in the enigma you’ve only rarely ever seen in bits and pieces and never this up close. Goddammit he’s handsome. All those stark, chiseled features, the light covering of brown stubble along his jaw, those brilliant eyes that are even more gorgeous now that they aren’t shadowed in his mask steal your breath away. Old, faded scars are speckled across his visage and trail down the length of his body, but even those take nothing away from his looks. 

Husky, bulked out muscles from years of hard physical labor, outline and glistening with water meet your gaze the further your eyes travel. The sheer girth of his body is enough to make your mouth salivate as you wait in anticipation for it to be molded into you, dwarfing yours in comparison. 

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long, luv,” he breathes as his sight drifts down to the beautiful pair of naked breasts nearly pressing into his chest, bringing you back from your supor as you admire. “I need to hear ya say it, that I can ‘ave my way with ya.”

Anything, you’ll say anything to break that short, agonizing distance between you. “Fuck me,” you say, lips left parted as you wait for him to take the lead and break the tension.  

There is a ringing in his ears as if the entire world has suddenly fallen silent as the brunt of his suppressed desire floods immediately to the surface, overwhelming everything in a blink. Without a word he urgently cups both of his palms around either side of your head just behind your ears, thumbs resting along your jaw so that he can draw your face to him as he leans down into your face. He has to kiss you now; the need is suddenly so strong it’s like he is choking on it. You barely have a second to take a breath before he crashes his lips on your own.

He captures those soft bits of skin over and over again in desperately feverish waves, stealing the balmy air from your mouth to sustain the connection so that he doesn’t have to break it just yet. The last thing he wants to do is destroy this overwhelming magnetism that draws you both together and by your way you grab onto the meat of his hips to pull him tighter to you, he knows you feel it too.

Has anything ever felt more euphoric than the way your full, soft pout feels? Has anyone ever tasted as sweet, has he ever been more instantly hooked on the sensation of someone else’s mouth pressed to his? He can’t remember anymore. There is nothing else outside of you in this desperate moment. 

Releasing your face, his rough fingertips follow the curve of your spine down to roundness of your ass where he grabs handfuls to massage. So absorbed in your taste, the feeling of your lips, the heat of your breath, that it takes minutes for him to realize that there is still a barrier between your bodies: the shorts now damp from the shower still hopelessly clinging to your hips. They have to go as they are very shortly going to get in the way.

“Wanna get these fuckin’ things off,” he murmurs against your lips as he pulls the fabric down, miserably removing his mouth from your own so that he can help you step out of them. They are quickly tossed past the shower curtain and before they even can hit the ground he is harshly pressed back against you once again to steal your mouth and devour your kiss. 

Your moistened bodies slip across each other as the pressure builds and the movements become more desperate, him pushing his hardened cock into your pelvis as he grinds against you and shoving a thick thigh between your parted legs to give you something to hump. He fills your mouth with a muffled groan as the silky lips of your pussy connect with the skin; it’s better than he could have ever imagined it feeling and he cannot wait to get inside and be constricted by your walls squeezing around him, but there’s a little more he has to explore first.

Patience, he’s going savor this moment like it’s the only one he’ll ever get.

“Tha’s it,” he encourages in a short burst, trailing his lips down to your jaw towards your throat as you roll your hips hard to catch your clit on the muscle. “Fuck, ya do need it bad, don’t ya? I wanna hear it, tell me how bad you’ve needed it, luv.” 

Those hungry lips reach the side of your neck and start to suck, puckering the skin into his mouth and you struggle to remember how to talk through the sensitivity hazing your thoughts. “Everytime I have to see you… f-fuck…  can’t sleep. Have to keep … uuughh… t- touching myself for relief.”

His mouth continues to trail lower and lower down the contours of your body, leaving warm, moist kisses along the skin of your collarbone and over the side of your chest. “Keep going,” he orders.  

You gulp down another moan as his burning lips lock to your breast, suctioning to the areola while that agile tongue flicks over the very tip of your nipple until it’s stiff. God, your tits are like heaven, so soft and juicy as they fill his mouth.  His hand palms over the other breast and begins to play; he won’t leave that one to not receive any attention.

“Can’t…focus,” you stammer, “can’t think of anything except you. Begging into the dark for you…to take me…to make me yours.”

“Think ‘a my cock a lot, luv?” he asks amused as he switches sides and takes the other breast into his hungry mouth.

The heat in your face makes your cheeks feel swollen. “I…do,” you admit as if you both aren’t already naked and humping each other. 

“Wonderin’ what it would feel like?”

“Wanting it inside me,” you add.

His hand leaves your chest and moves between your bodies to grab yours and bring it down to wrap around the girth of his shaft. “It don’t ‘ave to be a mystery anymore, sweetheart.” 

Goddammit, he’s big. You’d barely had time to register the look of it before his mouth was plastered to yours and though you can feel it grinding into you, now that it is in your fist it makes your breath hitch. “F-fuck…” you moan as your hand slides up and down the length.

Simon’s cock twitches as if in response to the ache in your voice and you can feel its heartbeat. The thrill to know you have a strong grip on such a man as the lieutenant, that it is you he wants, it’s you he needs, that his cock is hard just for you makes you grind against him with eyes closed trying to make yourself come.  

“Gonna stuff ya full,” he groans from the pressure you apply as you continue to work him. “Stretch out your sweet pussy.”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

The steam billows around your conjoined bodies, condensation enfolding you in a layer of mist as if you’re stuck in a dream when he finally emerges hastily from your chest with lips puffy and red from the suction. He rips your hand from around him as the pressure has almost reached the point of no return and aggressively he picks you up as if you weigh nothing; he’s stronger than you realized to be able to lift you almost effortlessly. 

“Put your legs ‘round me. Now,” he barks sharply and you do as you’re told. He braces your back up against the wall for leverage as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and his sight drifts down between your bodies. 

“Ready for me?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. 

A nod is all he is going to get, the inside of your mouth tasting like copper as you bite your cheek to keep quiet as his swollen tip slips through your petals to find the opening, rubbing up against your swollen clit. Your slick coats his cock, a clear sign that he’s good to go. It takes him only a moment with a slight adjustment of his hips to align with his target.

“Deep breath, sweet girl,” he says as he raises his gaze to peer back into your eyes and with a thrust the fat tip pushes through the threshold of your aching, throbbing core, stretching it wide as it takes him in.

Instantly you choke on the moan that stuffs your mouth full and you have to clamp your lips shut to keep it from escaping. The lieutenant does the same, but you can feel the bass vibrate through his chest as his steel-like grip digs harshly into your waist.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says breathily through a lustful chuckle, fighting off the urge to blow his load before he’s even gotten all the way in, “but ya can take more, can’t ya?”

Another nod, more enthusiastic this time and again he thrusts past the tip down his veiny shaft and reaches the base. You can’t hold it in anymore, the way his cock fills you so full makes you lose yourself. Eye closed, you can’t stop the loud moan that you let out and the sound reverberates off the walls of the cramped space until it is amplified. To think you were ever going to satisfy yourself with only your fingers when all of this was waiting for you to discover seems almost comical now.  

The lieutenant’s large hand rushes to cover over your mouth. “Gotta be quiet for me. Don’t need anyone comin’ in and ruinin’ this. I’m not done with ya yet, luv; gotta make ya come for me first.”

The shine in your glazed-over eyes gives him your answer and he removes his hand with a nod as he knows an even better solution to keep you quiet. He leans back in and his lips pull yours into their secure embrace before he risks slipping in his tongue to wrestle with yours; can’t make much noise with your mouth so full.  

There’s no way he is going to calm down enough now to stave off his orgasm for much longer and so with your mouths connected he starts to thrust, dragging himself nearly out of your core before slamming back up into you. Every thrust strikes up into your pussy shoving him in as deep as he can get, your body shaking from the force as your back is dragged up and down along the wall. The moisture on the walls keeps the friction low so you can move easily with his percussive hits into your body.

So fucking wet, so goddamn tight, how is he meant to not fall apart? Simon can’t help rutting into all that goodness like an animal hell bent on capturing every bit of pleasure he can. Lost in the feeling his rhythm wavers, but breaking from your mouth and taking a few deep breaths he gets himself right back on track. As he bucks wildly up into you your arms hold on tightly around the back of his neck and you notice how the muscles tense with each of his strong thrusts. 

“Need ya ta come for me… need it so goddamn bad…” 

There is no hiding the desperation in his words. He has to know that your body belongs to him now, that after tonight you won’t ever even think of straying from him. You’re his, his, and after all the agony he’s endured before getting here, he has to make sure of it. 

That burn deep in the muscle starts to shoot through his thighs, but he doesn’t slow and the more he works the more that warmth gathers in the pit of your stomach. You’ve dreamed of moments like this for so long it becomes overwhelming: the feeling of his skin against yours, his cock buried deep inside you, his honeyed words conveying everything you’ve wanted to hear; it’s euphoric.

You whimper and quickly breathe it out. “Fuck, gonna come.” 

“Tha’s it, sweetheart. Almost there,” he coaxes, secretly knowing that at any moment he is going to come too. “Jus’ let go and come for me. Let me feel it, pretty girl.” 

It’s there, it’s so close. That sweet release is within reach. “A-ah…fuck… almost there…”

“My good girl,” he grunts, “come on my fuckin’ cock.” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest as the pleasure builds until all at once, like the flick of a switch, your core contracts and all of that intensity explodes in a blast of warmth that flows through your limbs. Leaning forward, you bury your face in his shoulder and whimper as you ride out that wave of ecstasy.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans behind clenched teeth at the feeling as your core constricts around him, sending him over the edge. 

Wrenching his cock out as fast as he can, he angles it up between your bodies. You regain some composure, enough to instinctively reach for it to stroke him the rest of the way through. His hot, milky cum dribbles onto your stomach in short bursts while his upper body twitches as you work out all you can. Finally, he falls in against you and places his hand on top of yours to force you to stop.

The sound of the running water conceals the sound of your combined breathing as you both come back down from that high and he can set you back on your feet carefully. Back on solid ground you both just stand there quietly taking in the moment and all that just happened until the lieutenant breaks the silence.

“Think you’ll be able ta sleep now?” he asks as his fingertips caress over the heat in your cheeks.

You nod with a smile spread across your lips. “But I’m not sure about tomorrow night,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Might be up again.”

Biting his lip he tilts his head away as he tries not to show how much it excites him to hear you say that, rubbing his hand over his head to slick back his short hair. “Well, we can’t have that,” he says. “Right now, though, I got a mess ta clean up.”

There is one last, deep kiss waiting for you before he gently pulls you under the showerhead to wash away the evidence of what happened here tonight. As he watches the water run down off your delicious curves and flow down the drain, he realizes that this is going to become an even bigger problem than he had before… but fuck is he ready for it.

[2kiran]

ftm!simon getting frustrated because m!reader only fucks his ass as a punishment for simon distracting him during a meeting 🙏🙏

also, his hand is pushed away every time simon tries to rub his clit or finger himself because he can't take being neglected for so long

“ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 ”

◜ᐢ..ᐢ◝ ᶻz ➜ he’s a huge distraction that needs to be taught a lesson.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖤐 pairing ☆ ftm!simon “ghost” riley x dom!m!reader ˖ ࣪ ˖ cw ıllı mean!reader. flashback. brat taming. anal sex. orgasm delay. ⪩⭔⪨

“Fuck— just, baby, please!”

Simon grasped the sheets tightly, uncontrollable groans seeping from his throat like a faucet. The smirk he wore wasn’t present, far from it. His pussy fluttered around nothing as your cock bullies into his other hole. It was his fault.

“Any questions?”

It was around 2200 hours, if you remember correctly. An unusual hour for a meeting. Your eyelids were heavy and your muscles screamed. Back aching from exhaustion. You barely had a wink of sleep, ripped from your grasp when Simon knocked on your door to rise you for the current debrief. Surely, Price could have asked for this the next day, but he insisted to have it now. “No, sir.” Your reply rasped out of your throat, hand coming around your neck to rub away the tension.

That brain of yours was silent, ears muffling out the words that were being spoken. Somehow, Gaz and Soap still had energy. They teased you a little bit for your lack of focus, but they were cut short by your captain. Your eyes were quickly drooping, so quick to fall asleep, any moment now.

Not until you felt a hand on your thigh.

You tense, glancing only to see that it belonged to Simon.

He wasn’t looking at you. Like it wasn’t intentional. You knew that it wasn’t the case, he knew what he was doing. It’s probably just his way to make you pay attention, right?

No. It was far from that.

His intentions were made clear when it slowly, oh so slowly, crept up. Fingers on the inner side, close to your crotch. “Ghost,” You hiss, sending him a glare. He was beside you, skull-patterned glove hidden beneath the table. The grip he had on your thigh tightened, squeezing the flesh.

The quietest, similar to a whisper, of a hum resonated from his chest. It was an acknowledgement. You knew he wouldn’t listen.

Now here he was, forced to just take it. This was a different form of pleasure. Not enough. “More, need more,” you scoff, dragging your hips back. “More?” mockingly, you slammed back in, “You need more, don’t you? So fuckin’ greedy.” he yelps, tears flooding his eyes but he blinks them back. Still somewhat stubborn. “I’m sorry.” he whispers, so softly, like he didn’t mean it. In spite of his apology, his hand snakes down to rub at his clit.

Harshly, the back of your hand meets his palm. Pushing it away. “What was that?” you thrust, uncaringly. Reveling in the surprised gasp he gifts you. “I’m sor—” he cuts himself off with a yelp when you harshly thrust into him again, “I’m sorry!”

“Uh, uh.” you take both of his wrists and pin them above his head, “You’re sorry? For what?” he whimpers, the brattiness in him melting into desperation. “I’m sorry...nggh! f-for distracting you. Please, baby. I can’t.” Good answer, but you can’t simply give in. Yet. “You can,” a kiss was pressed to his cheek. “Just a little more, yeah?”

He shouldn’t be as wet as he is from that.

A nod was all you received, and all that you needed. With every movement forward, his clit caught onto the fabric below. If he angled himself just right, he’d be able to—

Your hand wrapped around his thigh, moving him in order for him to lay on his side. His leg was in the air, cock still pounding into his hole. In this position, he couldn’t experience the pleasure he yearned for. He didn’t need you there. A frustrated whimper left him, frowning when he attempted to rock into nothing. You were close, but he wasn’t. “Love,” he called, a moan following. “Shit, ‘m close.” you warn, that wasn’t the response he was looking for. It only caused him to try to escape your hold on his wrists, yet to no avail. He wanted you in his greedy cunt, not there. It wasn’t fair, he only wished for your attention.

Simon garbled in between a loud gasp and a choked moan when he felt your fingers plunge into him without any resistance, given to he was soaking. “That what you wanted?” your hips was flush against his, halting as your cock leaks of cum into his gaping hole.

“Y-yeah— oh, yes, fuck!” He clamped around you — both on your cock and fingers. You pull out along with your digits, leaving him oozing with cum and on the brink of a climax. He let out a cry, head moving towards you to ask why, he was right there.

“Keep that in, ‘kay? I have somethin’ to finish.”

Deity, he hates how you’re so effortlessly infuriating.

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[tacticaldiary]

To Hate A Heart That Beats For You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Jealousy, Tension

"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.

Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above? She always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.

Masterlist

There are not many things that shake the foundation of control Ghost keeps a tight grip on.

Throw him in the middle of a gunfight, a brawl or a series of rough drills and he's normally the first one to make it out. All his life he's been the kind of person to keep to himself, to deal with problems as efficiently and effectively as possible.

She was the exception.

Standing in front of him after two years, with the same pride lining her shoulders, the defiance in her eyes.

"You remember the Lieutenant, don't you?" Laswell stands between them, an unknowing mediator.

"We're...acquainted." She says dryly, locking eyes with Ghost himself. Her voice is the same as well. Everything about her is a shock to his system so part of him is glad that she's the one who spoke up.

Two years. Two years since they'd been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant together and gone their separate ways. He'd joined the 141 and she had taken fancy to some tactical intel gathering specialist group.

Laswell pauses, looking up from her file at the clear snap of tension in the air.

"No need for introductions then." She shuts the folder, giving them both her full attention. "She'll be joining your team for today, talking to your recruits about the intel gathering division she's a part of. Sergeant Gaz is already doing vice versa. I expect you to play nice for today, I don't want any... incidents, copy?"

"Copy." She says, watching Ghost nod.

And then suddenly they're alone, with only the thump of distant footsteps from the recruits to punctuate the silence hanging between them.

"As friendly as ever I see."

"I'm as friendly as you are pleasant." Ghost responds.

"I'm plenty pleasant. It's you that's never been able to get that stick out of your ass."

"Careful." He narrows his eyes, pushing himself off the wall. "We know how the last time you picked a fight ended."

"That's cute." She smiles. "I seem to remember you getting put on desk duty for two weeks."

"After I choked you out on the training mat."

"I'm sure you've been dreaming of doing that again." Her self-satisfied smile widens when he doesn't respond for a moment, taken aback. With a shake of her head, she directs her gaze back onto the field where the soldiers are slowly finishing their last lap. "I feel sorry for them. Having to see your ugly mug in the morning with that mask can't make their breakfast settle very well."

An arm brushes against hers, and before he pushes past her, Ghost leans down right next to her ear. "You were yelling quite the opposite the last time you saw it." He whispers with a slightly thicker accent than usual, letting the satisfaction of seeing that smug expression falter for a moment settle deep into him as he knocks past her roughly.

They had a...messy history to say the least.

Two forces as headstrong as them were bound to butt heads. Her earliest memory is arguing with him. The both of them have always had a competitive streak, whether that be on the mat or running timed drills.

That tension had to blow up in their faces sometime, and that time just happened to be the day after they both got promoted...

Her eyes follow his form as he orders the recruits over, telling them to split into small groups, informing them of why she was there.

Red creeps up her neck her mind flashes back to that night. They had been taunting each other in passing all day, silently arguing who the better candidate had been, which one of them deserved it more. It doesn't sound like Ghost at all but they'd always had something more fiery than what they were like by themselves.

One too many jabs had led to a small tussle, which had led to a moment of weakness and...well, now's not the time to remember the frantic touches and calloused hands. The first time she'd seen his maskless...

He certainly had been anything but ugly and that makes her so fucking mad.

Shaking it off, she composes herself and decides to take the reigns.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It's been an hour of standing around, supervising the talk, and Ghost is ready to tear into something. Or someone, more preferably.

His jaw clenches, watching how she floats from soldier to soldier, group to group. The effect on them is instantaneous with the way they straighten up, surprised at being addressed before melting into smiles that are a tad bit too wide and eager, and eyes that wander farther than appropriate.

Her hand lingers on some of their shoulders, elbows nudge and compliments flow out of her mouth.

Maybe he's finally going insane?

A few times their eyes meet, and neither of them look away, too stubborn to be the first to fold. Every time, the corner of her mouth quirks up when she turns to keep doing what she was.

A sick, ugly feeling rears its head inside him at the sight.

What gave those pathetic recruits the right to look at her that way? And why are his fingers twitching for the knives strapped along the expanse of his body?

Why the fuck does he care?

"...Ghost? You with us?" She raises an eyebrow when his glare snaps to her instead. She's wandered over to him, leaving the recruits to talk amongst themselves for a break.

"What?" He says coldly.

"Someone piss in your breakfast?" God, he'd throttle her first, then move on to those other men-

"Same person who pissed in yours." The retort gets him a raise of an eyebrow but nothing more.

"Sure. I'm done here, so you can go back to terrorising the poor kids." It's a receptive group, more than a couple of them had shown interest in what she was saying. A few of the more promising ones she had taken a personal note of, intending to pass their names forward to Laswell to consider.

"Until we have the misfortune of meeting again." She says, and maybe it's a throwaway act of trying to remain civil in such a public setting, but she extends a hand towards him.

He eyes it for a second, eyes narrowing.

"If you're afraid I'll throw you over my shoulder like last time-"

She grins smugly when he takes her hands, squeezing it through the brief handshake a little harder than necessary.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This is a terrible idea.

Somehow, because whoever's up there seems to have a personal vendetta against him, Ghost finds himself standing in front of her office door, a file on all the recruit's scores and past experiences Laswell had ordered him to pass onto her clutched loosely in his arm.

It was 11 at night, but the army notoriously never slept.

Because he's not a fucking animal, he knocks, waiting to hear her call out an okay before pushing the door open.

It's as sparsely decorated as his own office. There's not much to keep the value of sentiment in with lives as busy as theirs, but the things that catch his focus are the small picture frames set on her desk.

After her, of course.

Changed into something more casual, his eyes trace the dips and curves that are so utterly her.

"Did you need something?" She asks, the friendly edge to her voice flittering away when she sees it's him.

"No, but you do." Moving closer, he tosses the file onto her desk. Staring at it for a moment, she clicks her tongue whilst flipping through the pages.

"I'd like to snag a couple of these for my team in a few years." She mutters to herself, pausing over a few of the reports. Ghost's hands twitch with the urge to curl them inwards when he remembers the events of this morning.

She's studying him, he realises. With a quiet, titled expression, she's taking him in head to toe and it's the first time in a while Ghost has felt so stripped to the core.

"Got something to say?" His voice comes out rougher than intended. Making no move to speak, the corner of her lips quirk up slightly. Huffing quietly, she spins her chair back around to face her desk, picking up the pen she'd discarded when he first walked through her doors.

It's quiet. The scratching of pen on paper. Something about it jarrs him, ignites a twinge of irritation because why the hell is she so quiet now after he's asked her a question? Normally she sparsely shuts up enough for his heart to cool down from its quickened pace.

He'd say later on that he weighed the decision he made, that he really thought it through but frankly, the only thing on his mind is her, and it's cloudy with enough anger and an emotion he's not willing to admit right now that he acts without thinking. Completely on instinct.

Ghost spins the chair around so he's facing her and looking down. "Ignoring me now?" He says into the sharp silence. "Never thought I'd see the day you shut your mouth."

"Is that the way you talk to someone you spent the night with?" She answers. He grunts in surprise at her hand curling around the back of his beck, yanking him further down until they're face to face. "That's why you're still here, aren't you? Still bothered from this morning?" The smug look on her face only makes Ghost more irritated because she's right. He could have easily left after dropping the file off. He had no apparent reason to stay. "Couldn't stand the thought of sharing something you've already had a bite out of?"

It dawns on him with her tone right there and then.

She'd been doing it on purpose. The glances to him as she made her rounds, the way she lingered over the recruits only when she could feel his eyes burning into her from behind.

Ghost is met with that teasing, smug grin that fixes him into place a little too effectively because when she hooks an ankle around the bend of his knee and pulls, he goes down onto his knees without much of a fight. He's tall enough so they're actually face to face now, eyes level.

"Finally caught on?" The smooth lilt to has his stomach twisting and his mind reeling, though he stays as composed on the outside as always. Waiting. Watching. Urging himself to keep his hands to himself.

"Fuckin' hell." He breathes out. "You little minx."

"Affirmative."

Heated eyes take in the being that is her. Sharp smiles, dirty tactics, and that attitude that made him want to do things that would get him discharged if he were to ever voice them.

All of her was a deadly beautiful.

It checks out that Ghost is lover of deadly.

Calloused, rough hands, trails up her legs and settle around her hips. His eyes flicker down to her mouth and for a moment, neither of them speak. Then she leans closer and for a moment Ghost braces himself.

"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.

Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above?

He swallows past the bitter taste in his throat. Weighs his options.

"Please."

He mumbles it because she always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.

A smirk curves her mouth. "What was that?" She whispers. "Couldn't quite hear you..." Her hands move from his collar up to the edge of his balaclava, toying with the edge. Ghost makes no move to stop her when she slowly, so achingly slowly, starts rolling the fabric up.

"I fuckin' hate you." He growls, actions and words at war.

"You're showing me a lot of love for someone who claims so." Is all she says, movements halting as the fabric bunches over his nose, laying bare the bottom half of his face. "Would you let anyone touch you like this, hmm?" Skimming her fingers over the scar on his chin, his own hands tighten around her hips at the gentle feeling. She ends up cupping his cheeks. "Because I'll tell you this, Simon-"

It's a physical reaction, the way she says his name. He straightens up instinctively and takes in a muted, sharp inhale. She leans closer, and if he only tilted his head up a fraction they'd brush lips.

"It's been a long time since I've let anyone touch me like you are."

It snaps something in him, maybe his patience or perhaps his resolve.

One hand slides up to the back of her neck, the other one yanks her out of her chair and to the floor. He crashes their mouths together in a kiss that brings an instant sort of relief. It's not sweet by any means, all clicking teeth and pulling at each other. Hands roaming and breaths shared.

Neither of them knows who pulls away first, but eventually they're left to catch their breath, their foreheads pressed together.

Then she laughs, a light, soft breeze. "You should've seen yourself back then. Looked like you wanted to flay those kids alive." She snickers.

"I did." There's no use denying it, not when this, when she, makes something curl up and settle down deep within him. As much as she riles him up, she also brings him a kind of peace that he can't describe.

Goddamn, he's so far gone. Maybe he should book in a psych eval soon...

"Never thought I'd see the day you were like this." She hums, "Wish I'd taken a video of it."

"It won't happen again, love." He shakes his head, trying and failing to push down the slightest bit of amusement. "That you can count on."

"Wanna bet?" She says cheekily, scratching at the nape of his neck with her nails gently. It makes a shiver run down his spine, the curl of her lips widens as she feels it.

"You drive me fuckin' insane, you know that?" He mumbles against her lips.

"You love it." Is all she manages to get out before he pulls her in again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(27/07/2023)

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Stay high

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Habits (Stay High) - Tove Lo

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

pt 1. - pt 2

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

Word count: 2.263

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

I get home, I got the munchies

Binge on all my Twinkies

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

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

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

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

And I drank up all my money

Dazed and kinda lonely

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

To keep you off my mind

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

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

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you, babe, I fall back down

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

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

Pick up daddies at the playground

How I spend my daytime

Loosen up the frown, make them feel alive

I make it fast and greasy

I'm numb, and way too easy

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

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

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

Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun ain't got no end, oh

Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain, oh

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

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

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time to keep you off my mind

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

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

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

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

[angelasscribbles]

What Happened in Vegas

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Riley x Liam x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes I guess

Word Count: 1,796

A/N: Credit/blame goes to @aussiegurl1234 for putting this in my head with the simple statement that the Vegas fling should have been a threesome. To be clear: There is no smut here, this isn't set in Vegas, but rather the aftermath and results of what happened.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam's head guard entered the council chambers to whisper in the king's ear. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Duchess of Valtoria is asking to see you. She says it's important."

Riley was on the short list of people that had unrestricted access to him at all times. "Thank you, Alec." He nodded to dismiss the guard, then turned back to the council members. "Are we about done here?"

"Well, there was one last item—" The Earl of Dunwick pointed to the line item on the agenda about a proposed construction project and a lake full of some protected fish.

"Anything that can't wait until next week?"

"Well…. The project management company has been waiting for an answer for six months already…"

"So, what's one more week?" Liam grinned. "Meeting adjourned!"

The king of Cordonia damn near skipped through the halls to the private sitting room where the woman who made his heart beat was waiting.

His smile faltered when he found Drake waiting with her.

He had hoped Riley was there to spend some quality time with him. He didn't see her near as often as he would have preferred. Ever since the advent of her marriage to his best friend, their trysts had diminished. Not ended mind you, but it wasn't like it had been during the social season when they had been sneaking off every chance they got to the hedge maze, the rooftop, or an empty guest room.

Then the coronation debacle had happened and everything had gone sidewise.

He had hoped to be able to repair their relationship during the engagement tour and he had, to some extent.

Riley had told him up front when she started sleeping with Drake, but somehow, every time she reminded him of her new relationship, the two of them ended up in bed together. "I'm with Drake now, remember?" Always ended with her screaming his name.

Pushing his disappointment aside, he embraced and kissed her on the lips before turning to acknowledge Drake's presence. Greetings were exchanged, then he directed his attention back to Riley. "Not that I'm complaining, in any way, I am always happy to see you, but why are you here?"

Riley cut straight to the chase. "I think I'm pregnant. My period is late, and I can't remember if I had it last month or not." Life had been busy since assuming the mantle of Duchess and starting married life with Drake.

Liam did some quick backward math. His eyebrows shot up as he looked from her to Drake and back again. "Vegas?"

"Vegas," she nodded.

"So…whose is it?"

Riley threw her arms up in the air. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Of course it fucking matters, Riley!"

"Not to me it doesn't," Drake broke in. He moved closer so he could wrap both arms around his wife. Nuzzling into the side of her neck, he told her, "I love you either way."

"I didn't say I wouldn't still love her!" Liam exploded. "Don't put words in my mouth!"

"Oh, calm down," Riley admonished. "I don't even know if I'm pregnant yet. I thought you should both be here when I take the test, given that there's no way to know which one of you knocked me up."

Liam took a deep breath and tugged at his tie as mentally collected himself. An out of wedlock heir to the throne would be a scandal of epic proportions, but the thought was not entirely unwelcomed. "Right. Thank you for that. If this child is mine, I want to be involved every step of the way."

Riley gave him an affectionate smile. "See? I knew that, and that's why we're here, Right, babe?"

"Right." Drake released her and stepped back. "Are we sure it happened in Vegas? Because if it happened on our wedding night or during the honeymoon—"

"Or in the weeks leading up to the wedding?" Liam interjected. He had spent quite a bit of time helping the new duchess settle into her role. He had also helped her out of her clothes more often than not after a long day of diplomatic lessons.

Riley waved him off. "I had a period just before Vegas, that I remember. So if the baby is yours, it almost had to have happened in Vegas. After all, you were both inside me that night. When you weren't inside each other, that is." Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Drake's eyes met Liam's over the top of her head. Both men froze for a second as both faces flushed red, then both sets of eyes dropped quickly to the floor.

The night in Vegas had been wild, but they had never discussed it after the fact. Liam was out as bisexual, but it had been Drake's first and only experience with a man.

Drake was well aware of his wife's extracurricular activities with his best friend. He had no issues with it. In fact, images of Liam and Riley together fueled more of his fantasies than he liked to admit.

"Okay, I'm going to pee on this stick now!" She brandished it in front of them like a kid with a magic wand before disappearing into the attached bathroom.

The men made awkward small talk as they waited, both of them breathing out a sigh of relief when she returned, alleviating the danger of them having to address the elephant in the room, at least for the moment.

"Now we wait," she chirped. "Could one of you set a timer for two minutes?"

Liam had his phone out first. "Done!"

It was the longest two minutes of his life. He paced the floor, deep in thought as Riley and Drake sat on the settee, making plans for the weekend, laughing and touching each other frequently.

The timer dinged and all three heads snapped up. Three sets of eyes flitted from one person to the other to the bathroom door.

Riley stood and went to retrieve the answer to their question. She returned from the bathroom to both men's gazes locked on her with anticipation.

"The moment of truth…" she glanced down at the stick in her hand, feeling disappointment wash through her in place of the relief she had expected to feel. "It's negative. I'm not pregnant."

Drake's brows furrowed as he moved closer to her. "Are you okay? I thought that's the result you wanted, but you look sad."

Liam backed away from them. "I… just need a moment to process…"

He resumed his pacing as he grappled with an onslaught of mixed emotions.

No scandal, no awkward questions, no figuring out how to juggle schedules between three adults and two homes… but also no heir, no biological tie to the woman he loved, and no relief from the unrelenting pressure to marry and produce offspring. He stopped pacing and spun to face Drake. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"What did I say earlier?"

"That you didn't care whose baby it was."

"Right. Yeah…." Drake's eyes tracked from Liam to Riley and back again. "Why? There is no baby—"

"What if there were?"

Drake blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…." He crossed the room quickly and took Riley's hands in his. "Have a baby with me, Riley! On purpose!"

Giddiness bubbled up inside of her at the prospect. But he couldn't be serious, could he? "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Do you want to see me married to someone else?"

Riley's gaze slid to Drake as she considered if her answer would hurt him. But they had promised each other unrelenting honesty, no matter what. She returned her attention to Liam and shook her head.

"Then give me an heir so I don't have to marry…. Anyone, ever!"

"Is that even a thing that we can do?"

"Yes! It's not totally without precedence. I simply have to acknowledge the child and publicly legitimize him or her. Which I will!" He dropped down on one knee. "I know you're already married, but consider this an official proposal to be my royal consort. Openly. Move back to the palace. Take your rightful place by my side!"

Drake's throat cleared. "Um… hello? What are you doing?"

"Sorry!" Liam scrambled to his feet. "I may have gotten carried away there, but I'm serious. Do you honestly like living in Valtoria?"

"Not really," Drake admitted, "But I'd live in Antarctica if that's where my wife was."

"Then you're open to moving back home?"

A spark of jealousy flared through him, followed almost immediately by a pang of longing.

There was no doubt that he was in love with his wife. Helplessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with her. But the night in Vegas had opened a door he had been avoiding peaking behind for his entire life, leaving him questioning the nature of his feelings for his best friend.

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "I… what exactly are you proposing? That my wife shacks up with you? Where does that leave me?"

"I'm sorry if I wasn't clear. I meant both of you."

Drake's entire body stilled as his mind raced to interpret Liam's meaning. "Both of us…. what?”

Liam shrugged. "Whatever you want, whatever you'll allow. I want you both to move in. We've already agreed to this situation we find ourselves in with Riley. We can continue as we are, with her splitting time between our bedrooms or…"

"Or?" Drake struggled to keep the note of hopefulness out of his voice, sure that everyone in the room could hear the pounding of his heart.

With a smirk, Liam moved closer to him. "Or you and I can continue what we started in Vegas and see where it goes."

Blood rushed to his face, heating his cheeks as he nodded, then looked away.

"Great!" Liam turned back to Riley. "You don't have to answer right now if you're not ready. Take your time and—"

"Yes! I'll do it! We'll move in, I'll be your consort, we can have a baby! As long as Drake is okay with all of it, that is."

"I'm okay with it."

Liam felt a rush of happiness crash over him. "Can you stay tonight? I'd like to start working on that baby right away."

"Oh, I don't know if—"

"It's okay," Drake assured her. "If you want to stay, I can go pack some of our clothes and—"

"Actually," Liam interrupted, "I was hoping you could join us."

Drake's eyes widened, slid down Liam's body, then closed as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

The trajectory of his life was about to change. And he couldn't wait to see where it would take him.

[firsttimewriter92]

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 1 ; Part 3; Part 4

Description: After your first encounter, your helpful neighbour lends you a hand and spends the evening with you

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, pining and longing getting stronger, a little smidge of angst

Word count: 2.708

A/N: Hi everyone <3 Here´s part two. Somehow I feel like this is going to be a multi chapter story with a really, really slow burn.

Would you be interessted in that or do you want me to hurry it up? :D

Please enjoy <3

„Come on, you bag of dog shite” you yelled at the wall as you tried to drill the hole for the dowel. Frustrated and sweat beading at your hairline you set down the power drill and took a deep breath. How on earth were you supposed to get this floating shelf up on the wall? You´ve never done something like this and although you´ve got all the tools and watched countless of videos on how to do it, it all turned out to be much more difficult than everyone else had lead you to believe by watching YouTube.

Checking the holes you´d already drilled you nodded to yourself. “Come on, just one more” you said to yourself and lifted the drill again. Three distinct knocks came down on your door and your movements halted immediately. Shit, you thought. There it was. The fist neighbour to tell you to fucking keep it down. You rolled your eyes as you made your way over to your door. Before your hand reached the handle however, a flash of dark hazel eyes and blond hair invaded your inner eye. Here´s to hoping, you thought as you opened the door with a defiant look on your face. Just in case it was someone else.

But there he stood. Tall, impossibly broad and still with the mask across his face. You started to wonder if he had some kind of medical condition.

You schooled your features to look as indignant as possible but you felt the corner of your mouth tick as your eyes fell onto him again. You couldn’t read the look in his eyes so you raised your eyebrows in question and spoke. “Yes?” you asked him.

“Not to be nosy, Miss, but do you need some help with that drill by any chance?” Again he managed to ask a simple question without making it seem like he was doubting your abilities. You winced a little and looked up at him with a slightly guilty look in your eyes. “I´ve been taking my sweet time with it, haven’t I?”

Again your ears were blessed with a deep chuckle before he shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Maybe a bit” he drawled. His attentive eyes momentarily jumped over your head to look into your apartment. “I know the walls are solid brick” he said and looked into your eyes again. “Fuckin´ pain to get a nail in…lest be it a dowel.” You hung your head and snickered. “You´re right” you said with a deep sigh. “My shoulders are killing me. And so is this darn wall.”

His eyes narrowed again with a smile and he straightened up. “Well then, how about we get this over with so Mrs. Danbury upstairs can enjoy her daily dose of `Midsomer murders´?” Your knees almost buckled when you saw him wink at you slightly. “She´s been on my case ever since I brought home the Lady. Don´t want the same thing happenin´ to you.”

Two things happened at once. You laughed at the tone he was using when describing your elderly neighbour that always took way too much interest in anything that was going on, and your heart sinking into your stomach when the endorphins his presence invoked died on the spot. ´The Lady´. Girlfriend. Of course he had one. You mentally slapped yourself.

Something must have shown on your face. Your neighbour looked at you curiously before you collected yourself again. “Right” you said hastily and stood aside for him to enter. “Please don’t mind the mess. I haven’t been able to unpack fully yet. Work and all…” He didn’t seem to mind however. You closed your door and observed how his massive body manoeuvred itself around your furniture and moving boxes. You couldn’t help but notice how tactical his movements were. There wasn´t a step wasted before he reached the power drill and picked it up. Looking at the wall and the holes you already drilled, he nodded to himself.

It took him no longer than a minute to drill the last hole. From your vantage point from the kitchen you let your eyes rake over his movements. How his arms flexed underneath a lose fitting t-shirt that would probably fit you like a tent. The slight bend in his knees and the way his incredible thighs strained against his sweat pants. Steamin´ Jesus. That man must spend all of his free time in the gym to maintain those muscles. Almost ashamed you averted your eyes from his body. Ogling a man that wasn’t yours and was in a relationship felt insanely wrong. And yes, there was a difference between appreciating and ogling.

He sat down the drill and looked around for a second. “This one?” he pointed at the shelf. “Oh, you don´t have to hang it, I can manage from here” you said hastily and walked over. He looked at you with raised eyebrows. Did his shoulders sag just a tiny bit? “It´s no big deal, really” he said slowly while still penetrating you with his soulful dark eyes. Don´t swoon, don’t swoon, don’t swoon.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be” he continued very quietly, inclining his head a little more downward towards you. Your throat constricted as you realised how his implication made you feel. You steeled your whole body and he noticed immediately, standing up straight again. His eyes took on a slightly bewildered and dejected look. “I´m sure your girlfriend wants her daily cuddles on the couch so you can go. I´ll hang the thing myself. Thanks for your help.” You tried to sound thankful but the ice in your voice made it difficult.

God, how you hated men that couldn’t just be cocky for the fun of it. Of course they had to be absolute fucking asshats as well, flirting like their life depended on it, thirsting after every woman that came across their path and the one by their side just being the most favourite one.

This time the narrow of his eyes wasn’t created by a smile. You could clearly see the irritation in them not just by the way he bunched his eyebrows but in the immediate change of body language.

“Wait here” he said coldly as he began to move. He stepped around you, shoulders squared and mumbling something before he opened your door. Without any effort he pulled over the huge pot containing your yucca palm and used it to stop the door from falling shut.

Completely confused about what he was trying to do you heard him call out to someone before appearing in your doorway again. He almost took over the whole frame with his massive torso. His head yet again inclined he looked sheepishly at you this time.

“Sometimes I´m not good with words” he said as he stepped towards you again. “I´m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression of me.” Your heart kickstarting with hope again you tilted your head to the side a little with a questioning look which made him rumble his ridiculously attractive chuckle again.

He turned his head towards your still open door and gave one sharp whistle before looking at you again, his voice friendly. “This is Riley,-” he said as a long and high pitched noise came from you and you immediately leaned down as the big German Sheperd trotted in to stand next to your neighbour. The animal sat down and eyed you with curious eyes, not moving from the mans side however. “And she´s the only girl in my life right now” you heard him say.

Prying your eyes from the dog you looked up at him and yet again felt your face grow impossibly hot. The look he was giving you was difficult to read. Careful and pondering your reaction to his statement but somehow also cheeky. Almost naughty.

In an apologetic tone you answered and shook your head slightly. Your chest feeling like it was inflated by a balloon, excitement yet again running through your veins. “I jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have been so…bitchy.” A sigh escaped him and he lifted one of his hands to rake it through his blond mass of hair, ruffling it a little. “Nah, you were right to do that. I should have made it more clear. I´m not…like that. I don´t flirt much so…”

Your head snapped up so quickly you winced for a second as your muscles tensed. “Y-You were?” you asked, almost not daring to. “Flirting?”

He gave you a very direct look before answering. “Yes” he simply said and you learned something new about him at that moment. No bullshit kind of man.

“Oh” you breathed, your brain suddenly void of anything witty to say. “Okey.”

He somehow seemed satisfied with your reaction, you could see his cheeks lifting in a smile.

“Can I hang your shelf now?” he asked and you huffed out a laugh, nodding. Humming, he passed you and got to work. You nose tingled as you got your first real whiff of him. Damn, he smelled good. Not good. Great. Unique and calming. Manly and somehow fruity. What the heck was in his body wash?

A cold nose bumped your hand and happily you sat down on your sturdy wooden coffee table to scratch the dogs ears. “What a pretty thing you are” you said gleefully to the animal which had begun wagging its tail furiously. “Yes you are, yes you are.”

“You a dog person then?” you heard the deep rumbly voice ask. You looked up at him with a grin. “I´m an animal person in general but there is something about the fierce love you get from a dog…” you shrugged before petting Riley again. He hummed again. Contently stroking the soft fur of Riley you observed her owner closely while he hung up your shelf. A sweet notion of domesticity hung in the air and it was kind of strange how quickly you felt it washing over you.

When he was done, he packed up the drill and walked over to you. “What do you think?” he asked in a chipper tone. He came to a stop next to you and lowered himself on his haunches to look at the shelf from your hight. “Is it level?”

You turned your head slightly to the right and pursed your lips dramatically. “Uh-huh” you said and nodded, turning your head and looking at him with a smirk. “You did a good job.”

He didn’t move his head but his eye glanced at you, the delicate lines around it appearing yet again.

“Why are you wearing that?” you asked suddenly and very quietly. His head turned fully towards you without answering. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” he asked just as quietly. You shook your head softly at that. “Do you mind me wearing it?” Again you shook your head like in trance. The dim light in your room reflected in his dark eyes that suddenly didn’t seem to be that dark. The deep hazel colour was underlined with some flecks of light brown, almost gold. The colour perfectly accentuating the feathery blond lashes framing his big almond shaped eyes.

“Then will you let me keep it on?” you almost didn’t hear him the way he muttered his question into the cloth.

“It´s hardly my decision” you answered breezily and tried not to let your eyes wander to where you supposed his lips were. “I just wanted to know why you were wearing it.” He nodded and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Right then, Riley decided that your petting wasn’t enough and excitedly squeezed herself in between her owners legs, effectively knocking him on his behind. “Fuckin´ ell” he sputtered out with a laugh and began wrapping his massive arms around the dog, play wrestling with it for a second.

You felt the moment hover over you and then disappearing into every nook and cranny in your apartment. Seeing him play with his dog however gave you a completely different moment to enjoy and remember. You giggled and got up from your coffee table. “Want a drink?” you asked over your shoulder. Your voice sounded uncomfortably loud even though you used your normal inside volume.

“Actually” he said as he got up from the floor and followed you. When you turned around he was already in front of you. His scent flowing over you it was a herculean task not to close your eyes and burry your nose in his shirt. “I wanted to ask if you´re free this Saturday.” Again he didn’t beat around the bush and you absolutely loved it. “I am, yes” you said trying not to bounce up and down right then and there.

“Great” he said without hesitation. “I´ll pick you up at 8. No need for fancy clothes.” A man with a plan, is this for real? How long has he thought about asking you out? When you raised your eyebrows he doubled down a little. “Unless you like fancy. We can do fancy as well, of course. I can do fancy.” You giggled when you heard his slightly wavering voice.

“No, I don´t need fancy. I can do casual.” He seemed to like that very much and stared down at you for another moment. “Great” he repeated softly. “Need anything else hung or assembled tonight?” he asked cheekily as his gaze drifted over your living room. You rolled your eyes at him playfully before shaking your head. “I´m good for now, thanks. If I need another handy man before Saturday I´ll come knocking.” A slight ´hehe´ left his mouth and he stemmed his hands on his hips, turning his head to his dog.

“Come on, girl. Let´s get you some food and let the Lady enjoy her evening.” You followed them to your door where he pushed the heavy plant back in its original place with his foot before turning around one last time. “See you Saturday” he said with a smile in his voice.

“See you Saturday” you said giddily but then your eyes went comically wide realising…and then laughing out loud.

“What? What?” he asked with a bewildered chuckle.

“Before I go on a date with you,” you gasped and lightly touched your stomach. “I´d really like to know your name.”

He too looked dumbstruck for a second, his eyes going wide before closing them and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Simon” he said with an incredulous voice.

“Call me Simon.” He sighed deeply before looking into your eyes again with mirth. “I can´t believe I forgot to introduce myself.” You waved your hand in front of your face dismissively before holding it out to him nervously.

“I´m ___, by the way.”

He only hesitated for a moment before engulfing your hand with his and squeezed it. You felt callouses, warmth and incredible strength. Seeing how the palm of his hand almost completely swallowed your hand, a shiver ran down your neck and spine. Tingling at the small of your back and spreading to your front. Liquid adrenalin was pooling in your stomach, made your legs grow heavy and your nether regions tremble.

You were only holding his hand and you felt ready to pounce. Reign it in, damn it.

“___”. Your name left his lips and that pouncing thought jumped back into the forefront of your mind until he let go of your hand.

“Goodnight,___” he said lowly and by the way he looked at you, you knew exactly that your body language had told him much more than you wanted him to know.

“´Night, Simon.”

You closed the door gently and it took everything in you to walk over to your couch and not collapse against the door. Your legs were still heavy and jelly like, something still tingling like crazy in your panties. “Oh, hell” you said to yourself as you crossed your legs to try and relieve some of the pressure.

It wasn´t working.

So, when you got to bed half an hour later you got comfortable and retrieved your trusty toy from its box. There was no way you would be able to sleep without getting all these feelings out. The longing for his scent, voice and his touch.

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

______________________________________________________

Again, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it <3

Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

Tags:

@xheera @fruitymoonbeams-blog @euuuuuuun @oranoyaora

[aroaceweirdos101]

Since everyone's been showing off their Hello Puppets! OCs lately, I might aswell show mine!

"Nick's friendly feline! Angel is a sassy but curious cat, mostly seen in Nick's arts studio. Ironically she's bestfriends with Riley's good boy, Rosco."

In the show:

She was a stray kitten Nick found in an alleyway near his local supermarket, he ended up adopting the feline when she suddenly climbed onto his leg and wouldnt let go.

Outside of the show:

She was one of Jake's 2 pet cats, one day he brought them to work after a vet visit because he couldnt find a cat sitter(and also because Owen was very strict with the work schedule). Somehow she escaped her carrier and endep up walking onto the set, while they were filming! Luckily, Jake was able to improvise the whole scene, saving the crew alot of time. The feline even played along, acting as if she was always planned to be there.

Owen was not happy with the sudden intervention, but after hearing some feedback from the fans, he decided to let the incident slide and eventually added Angel to the show.

Relationship with the Handeemen(Show counterparts):

- Rosco: As said before, she is best friends with the good boi! They're always seen playing or even cuddling with eachother.

The writing team thought it would be pretty ironic for the main cat and dog of the show to not act like cats and dogs(its also so they contrast their owners), another reason was because she was the only cat who wasnt afraid of the Rosco suit, infact, she was fond of it.

- Nick: She is very fond of him(considering he adopted her and all), however she can get abit annoyed at his dramaticness(on some episodes she's his meow of reason).

Nick sees her as his sassy daughter, he likes to dress her up and put her on mini fashion shows(Angel doesnt mind, as long as she gets a treat later). He also taught her how to paw paint ever since she had showned an interest in it(with pet safe paint of course).

- Riley: She's pretty neutral with the scientist, tho she does dislike the loud fights she and Nick would cause. Sometimes, both her and Rosco would try to break them up, and in some cases, they would succeed(only for them to start arguing again a few minutes later).

The feeling is mostly mutual, with Riley having a slight dislike towards the feline. The reason being how Angel(like every other cat), would purposely knock over random stuff off of high places, which annoys the scientist greatly.

This behavior led to a small(and thankfully harmless) explosion to happen, which also led to the feline getting banned from the Ruckus Lab™

- Daisy: While she can get abit uncomfortable with the baker's constant smothering, she enjoys spending time with her(mostly because she knows Daisy wont hesitate to give her free treats).

Daisy absolutely adores Angel and would often make homemade treats for her(the feline reminds her alot of an old family cat Daisy used to have when she was still living in the country side), however she does wish that Angel would shed less she would also knit sweaters for her and help make cat clothes for Nick's mini fashion show.

- Mortimer: Angel is pretty friendly with the old man, she's usually seen sitting on his lap while he's drinking tea or reading a book(sometimes he'll even read one to her).

Its the same with Mortimer, he considers the feline as a great practice audience for his magic shows and storytelling.

More Info about her:

- The B stands for Beatrice(which was named after Nick's dead mother).

- Her real name is actually Cookie(Owen thought it wasn't a name Nick would pick, so he changed it to Angel), her brother's name was Cream(he was a a turkish van cat with heterochromia).

- Sometimes her brother would make a cameo in the show as a backrgound character, tho they couldnt make him Nick's second cat. Mostly because, unlike his sister, Cream was terrified of the puppets(especially Mortimer).

Feel free to ask some questions about her!

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side Stories

Story VII: Roba | Void’s Child

[Konchar] [Graves] [Gaz] [Price] [Novikov] [Farah] [AO3]

This one is pretty short, because spoilers but Simon does kill Roba in less than a minute so he didn't time to think about it really :/

There's one more story (that I might even post today because it's so short), and from then on I'll be working on the comic only for part two! Started up uni again so I won't even try to predict when that's gonna be finished lol

English disappointed him.

It was a shame, since Manuel could see how much potential the kid had. Stronger body and mind than his now broken superiors, somehow able to withstand months of torture. It was curious, how it seemed the more the Corporal’s situation seems hopeless, the more he resisted.

That is not to say the rest of his team was better. His fellow Sergeant died about two weeks in, to an infection. The Captain, shot after trying to escape. That would’ve impressed him, if the man got any further than the hallway outside his cell.

So while yes, Riley did last remarkably long, he was disappointing. Such men are no use to Manuel, if they do not learn to obey.

He ordered two of his men to dispose of him, put him alongside Vernon. No need to waste time digging another grave, after all.

There are still a few prisoners left for him to toy with. None as riveting as Riley, of course, some Mexican Special Forces soldiers who started crying for their mother not two hours into their first session. Manuel sighs, letting out a stream of cigar smoke from his lips.

He wonders, briefly, if perhaps killing Riley here would’ve been more beneficial. They’ve all heard tales of revenants, and Reapers, of how certain men will simply refuse to die.

How would he kill him then? Suffocation, while easy, would’ve likely brought on a boring result.

Immolation seemed far more fascinating, but as far as Manuel knows, it would’ve just made the man fire-proof. Nothing you can’t do with extra gear.

No, truly powerful revenants must die in battle, where only supernatural strengths could save them. Ah, if he had a revenant of that capability… one revenant like that equals a hundred men. Then again, he’d need to have a short leash on a revenant like that.

And English proved time and time again, no one is able to leash him.

What a waste.

 A knock on his office door pulls him away from his ruminations, and he watches the men he sent to deal with the subject of his introspection enter the room.

“I assume he’s been dealt with?” Manuel drags his eyes down to the men’s arms, which are covered in dirt.

They nod, “yes, sir. But…”

“What is it?”

“English woke up on transport.”

Oh? He was awake for it?

Manuel waves his hand, dismissing them, “no matter. I’m sure he won’t stay awake for long, if you’ve done your jobs right.”

The men leave, not fast enough for Manuel to miss the glint of fear in their eyes. It mellows out the frustration built up over thinking about the Corporal.

Buried alive… what kind of revenant would that bring? Well, Manuel supposes it is similar enough to suffocation.

He really should consider acquiring some revenants. If not to employ, to at least interrogate. To borrow into the mind of those who have seen death and returned alive… what kind of things could Manuel extract from them?

The possibilities are endless.

For now, he’ll make do with the prisoners he does have. Manuel extinguishes the cigar and places it back in its case, locking the drawer and the door as he leaves the office. His steps are accompanied by sounds of screams and agony. If the soldiers are already reacting like this from the ‘warm-up’ his men are giving them, Manuel truly doesn’t expect they’ll last until next week.

A guard opens the door to the first torture room, where he finds a bleeding man stare up at him with wide eyes full of horror. It takes Manuel back to one of the last sessions he had with Riley.

His hand hurts from the force of the slap, but it is worth just to see the way Riley’s head snaps to the side, his face swollen from hours of beating.

Manuel takes hold of a fistful of dirty blond hair and makes English look at him in the eye.

“Look at you. You don’t even fight back anymore, do you? Just a sickly little dog under my boot. I wonder, would your father even recognized you if I sent him your body?” Manuel goads, a sharp grin on his lips as he asks him with mock concern.

He waits for the spitting, or the tears, even complete apathy is expected at this point, but English doesn’t do any of that.

No, he stares at Manuel for a long moment, something lighting in his eyes for the first time in weeks, and he opens his bloody mouth to laugh.

It takes Manual by surprise, so much so that he doesn’t react for a while, watching Riley choke on his own laughter, the sound turning to wheezing as it finally dies down. Riley smiles somewhat maniacally, and with a croaky voice says, “should I give you his address? Make it easier for the both of us.”

Manuel opens his mouth to ask what the fuck is wrong with him, but English continues, “heard of Agecroft Cemetery and Crematorium? Nice place. Made sure to buy the plot nearest to the dumpster on the other side of the fence for him. It smells like he did when he was alive”

It’s odd, how this is the most he’s heard Riley talk since he got him in this chair. Perhaps he’s finally cracking, god knows it took him far longer than any other soldier he’s worked on before.

“Good to see you still got a sense of humor, English.” Manuel lets go of Riley’s hair, and his head falls, “seeing you’re in a good mood, might be time to start listening to me, eh?”

Riley’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh, and he raises his head to give him a joyless grin, his teeth stained red, “think you didn’t understand last time I told ya mate - Fuck. You. Want that in Spanish? Vete a la mierda, cabrón”

Manuel feels a surge of anger rush forth, and he kicks English in the chest, making the man groan in pain and erasing that fucking smile. He wraps his hands around Riley’s throat, feeling his heartbeat spike.

“You think you’re getting out of this alive, fucker?! Think is anyone coming to save you?!!!”

Riley gasps, his torso contorting as he tries to get away, as if he’s not tied to the steel chair. “N-no.” He chokes out.

“Then why are you still fucking resisting?! You know it will do nothing!!!”

The skin under his fingertips starts to bruise, English’s eyes bulging out when he snarls, “makes… you… m-mad… don’t it?”

Manuel tightens his hold, and English loses consciousness, his eyes rolling up into his skull. He huffs out, anger still simmering within him.

“Marcus!” he calls to the guard beyond the room’s door, “get English to the pit, fucker needs to learn a lesson.”

The guard enters, wordlessly untying Riley and dragging his body out. Manuel’s hand itches for a cigar, maybe something he can sink his teeth into and tear apart. Something that would look at him with fear, the light in its eyes broken, knowing they’re truly doomed.

Not unbridled mirth.

Riley is broken, that much is clear. But he’s not broken the way Manuel intended, not broken in a way he can use.

And things he has no use for? They get discarded, as they should.

Their little dance is coming to an end.

Manuel leaves the room with bloodied fists and an unsatisfied smile. Such pathetic excuses of soldiers don’t deserve a shred of his attention or time, and yet they keep falling into his hands.

If only English… no, best not to think of another failure.

He wipes his hands on a scratchy towel, throwing it at a passing guard with barks of orders. He really needs that fucking cigar.

The office door shuts violently behind him, the hinges creaking. Manuel lets out a loud sigh as he drops to his chair, and after a few moments of simply breathing, he pulls out a cigar and his lighter.

The metal lid is flipped open, and it lights on the third attempt. Manuel brings it closer to the cigar, only for the flame to be extinguished by a sudden gust of wind. He frowns and turns around, has he left the window behind him open?

No, the window is closed. How odd. Manuel turns back.

… Why is it that he still feels cold?

A far off scream makes Manuel’s hand drop the lighter and reach for the pistol at his hip. His mind fires off explanations one by one, as the screaming gets closer, and closer…

Have they been compromised? Are the special forces finally getting revenge on their fallen soldiers? A rival cartel, perhaps?

He doesn’t reach an answer, in the seconds before it all goes dark.

Somewhere in his brain, Manuel can feel none of them were correct.

It hits the office like a wave, drags him into an empty world. Lightless, lifeless, barring a single man.

Uncaring for the howling men at his feet, his guards and prisoners alike succumbing to a dark, inky matter, a man stands. He is encircled by white light, his eyes glow as they unnervingly stare at him.

That… thing is staring at… him.

“ROBA…..”

The voice is distorted, like a hand took claws to the thing’s throat, but Manuel would recognize that voice in any condition.

When it is tinted with rage. When it is bloody and bruised. When it is full of mirth.

His hands shake, their grip on the pistol slipping, his heart beating hard enough that he thinks anything left alive in this realm can hear it.

“E-English?”

Riley, or whatever’s left of him, doesn’t answer. He raises his arm, the fingernails torn like he clawed his way out of that grave, and points to Manuel.

The men on the ground stop squirming. As one, they turn their head to Riley, their gaze following the pointed finger, until their gaze meets him. Their eyes, soulless.

It hits him, then. Riley’s a fucking revenant.

“KILL HIM.”

Hundreds of hands scrape a bottomless void, teeth black and yearning for untainted flesh, feet tugging at darkness materialized, they all rush towards Manuel.

At that moment, he is no longer disappointed. He sees now, that English surpassed anything he could have ever molded him into. 

As the void overcomes him, Manuel Roba feels content.

He was right. He should’ve killed Riley himself.

Manuel laughs at the face of death, not with mirth but with utter horror, tears pulled from his eyes only to freeze, and the last thing he truly sees is a brilliant light, of a man not even death could force to kneel.

What a wonderful monster has he created.

He’s dead.

Simon blinks, and Limbo recedes. He feels… cold. Like the realm never left. It is not uncomfortable, not after the grave.

He tilts his head skyward, his breath fogging up in the Mexican night air, stars twinkling their greetings to him. Everything is finally, blessedly, quiet. He can’t even feel his wounds.

He can’t feel much of anything, anymore. Simon looks down, at his hands. Bloody, dirty, months of torture scarring them beyond recognition.

Are those really his hands?

He’s dead. There’s nothing he can do to him now, locked forever in his Limbo. It will protect him. It will never allow anything to hurt him again.

…What now?

Simon looks to the horizon, no signs of civilization in any direction. He must’ve memorised a map of the area at one point, known where the nearest city was, before that information was replaced by unending hunger and bloodshed.

With nothing but the stars to guide him, Simon chooses to walk in the opposite direction of Roba’s complex. Nothing will stop him now, since he’s dead, and the faster he can rid himself of the sight of that wretched place, the better.

It’s alright, though. Because he is dead.

He is dead.

He…

Simon collapses to the ground, his shoulders shaking, not with sobs, but with muted laughter. He is dead.

Simon is dead. Roba can’t hurt him anymore, death can’t touch him anymore. You cannot kill what has already been slain.

You cannot kill a ghost.

[cuntendipity]

STRANGERS - C.S.

Summery: Rachel is a new up and coming youtuber. Once she gets invited to the birthday of a youtuber who's bigger than her she finally feels as if she made it. At the party, she meets The Sturniolo Triplets and her whole life changes. She just doesn't know if it's for the better or worse.

disclaimer: unedited <3

PART ONE

Growing up a very outgoing and rhombus child everyone always told Rachel she’d be someone important one day. She was always the first to dance the night away or be telling a really loud story in front of an audience of people. 

Unfortunately, life does what it does best and dulled her shine , it took away the only part of her that made her feel special and different from others she knew. Before she was out of high school, she was quiet and introverted. She didn’t go to parties, go out with friends very often, and she certainly didn’t steal the floor at family gatherings to tell a story that was otherwise boring but in an entertaining way. 

Of course people noticed but what could they do? Her mom always encouraged her to continue being the way she was but Rachel didn’t budge. She had been knocked down too many times for being herself that the last time it happened she just stayed down. 

Once she graduated high school, she met Danielle Hayes. Danielle Hayes is a local girl who is a youtuber. She introduced Rachel to youtube throughout their friendship but she also started to bring the old Rachel back. She was starting to feel more confident in who she was again and was willing to be in Danielle’s videos sometimes, which led to her making her own channel. 

Starting youtube was hard and she knew it would be but she didn’t think about how hard it would be to grow or make something out of it. She only focused on how she would get to be herself and put it out there, giving people the option to watch or not. She knew her personality wasn’t for everyone, school had taught her that, but she knew that eventually it would be for at least one person.

It didn’t take long for her youtube channel to take off, with the help of Danielle in a way. She was growing faster than she could keep up but she loved every second of it. She wasn’t in it for the numbers or the following she’d gain, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She would post vlogs, challenges, tutorials, brand deal videos, and sometimes just talking videos. She was a jack of all trades on her channel. People ate it up everytime and before she knew it, after a year and a half of working on her channel, she had reached 2.5 million subscribers. Her and Danielle cried together of happiness when they realized how far Rachel had come. 

Not only was she making a new for herself on youtube, she was also slowly becoming her old self again around people who aren’t Danielle. It was worth celebrating.

Rachel knew her next video needed to be the 2.5 million celebration video so she had been filming all day. The video was due to go up in three days and she still had to edit it. She finished filming the outro finally and once the camera was off she was able to finally relax. She took the camera to her computer and put the SD card into the computer. 

While waiting for the videos to upload so she could edit them, she decided to scroll through her various social media apps. After liking a couple tiktok edits of her and answering a few tweets from her followers, she was going to get off and get to editing so she didn’t get sucked into the inevitable doom scroll. As soon as she went to close her apps, she got a notification she never thought she’d see on her own phone.

Tarayummy followed you back! 

She would never admit it, or show it, but she was really excited by this. Tara was one of the only youtuber she frequently watched so for Rachel to see with her own eyes that Tara somehow knew who she was, filled her with a sense of excitement she’d otherwise lost. Before she could full process it, another notification came through,

New Message from: Ms. Yummy

Hey girl! I see that you recently hit 2.5 mill! That’s so rad. You deserve it so bad. I wanted to let you know that I’m having a birthday party on August 3rd. If you want the details definitely let me know, i’d love for you to come! 

Rachel read the message probably 10 times, making sure it said what it said before freaking out. She knew that her youtube career was really taking off recently and things like this would happen but for Tara to be the first one to message her was giving her brain overload.  

“Oh my gosh Tara thank you! I’d love to come to your party just let me know the details and I’ll be there!” 

Even though she was past the point that most youtubers would have packed up and moved across the country to L.A. by now, Rachel did not. She stayed in New York. She didn’t see a reason to move to L.A. honestly, and she loved living in New York. She was roommates with Danielle but Danielle’s parents paid for an apartment in L.A. for her to make up for something that Danielle has never told her. So she’s often out of town so it’s like she lives alone at the cost of only half the rent. She wasn’t complaining.

Tara messaged her the details and she read over them again and again, making sure to memorize them in case a tragedy happened and she didn’t have access to them anymore. She immediately dialed Danielle’s number as Danielle was currently out shopping. 

“Hey Rach, what’s up?” Danielle answered after the first ring,

“You’ll never guess whose birthday party I just got invited to!” She was trying to hide the squealing she was feeling but she didn’t do a very good job. 

“Oh my gosh, did you get invited to Tara’s party too?” She sounded ecstatic. 

“Yes yes! You’re invited too? We can totally go together!” Her mind was already reeling with planning this trip. 

“Oh, this is going to be so fun!” Danielle said, you could hear the smile in her voice. 

The girls then talked a little about the planning but Danielle said that she’d be home soon so they could continue it then. After hanging up, Rachel got into the editing zone, even with all the excitement going on, she knew she still needed to edit the video so she began working on that while she waited for Danielle to get back, 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Time jump)

The girls are eating lunch out after shopping for clothes for the party. They were flying out in a couple days and Rachel still hadn’t packed or even planned what she was going to wear. She was running out of time. Rachel was eating a parmesan chicken caesar salad and Danielle was eating a cheeseburger and fries. 

“Do you know any more about the guest list?” Rachel asked, Danielle was a bigger deal than Rachel in the youtube world with 7 million subscribers so she knew a lot more of the people than Rachel did so Danielle had been reaching out to her friends to see who was going and who wasn’t. 

“Oh my gosh yes! So obviously Tara’s friend group will be there. Madison Beer is invited but it’s unknown if she’ll be able to go. I hope so though because I feel like you two would get along sooo well. She might even replace me as your best friend.” Danielle joked, causing Rachel to laugh but also shake her head, 

“No one could replace you!” 

“Also, I talked to Nick a little bit, I think he and his two brothers, Chris and Matt, are going but they’re undecided. They don’t really like parties too much.” She shrugged a little, 

“Nick?” Rachel asked, tilting her head to the side, 

“You really need to expand your youtube knowledge.” Danielle mumbled softly, before laughing, “Nick Sturniolo! He’s part of the Sturniolo Triplets. You have no idea who they are?” 

The name sounded familiar but she could not place any faces or have any idea what kind of content they make.

She shrugged, taking a bite of her salad to keep from having to answer. 

“You HAVE to watch their videos. They’re so funny…and I’m not just saying that because I’m friends with Nick.” Danielle laughed towards the end, “I”ll send you a video later to watch. You’ll love it.” 

“Okay yeah, sure.” Rachel said. Even though she was becoming more herself, she wasn’t fully there yet so being outgoing in a video is one thing but being outgoing in real life, towards what would technically be considered her “coworkers” was not on her list of things she’d accomplished yet. That would be why Danielle is really her only youtuber friend. 

Throughout the rest of their meal, Danielle went on to name a few other guests who would be attending but Rachel didn’t know who any of them really were so it was pointless. As long as Danielle knew who they were she knew it’d be fine. 

They finished their meal and continued their shopping trip. They went into three more stores before Rachel found the perfect outfit. A jean mini skirt with pleated trimming that was super cute on her, paired with a cropped spongebob shirt. She knew in her mind that she’d pair it with her black high top converse so she was excited. That was her party outfit. 

Another two stores later and Danielle found her outfit which was a black, very  short romper but looked so good on her it was almost mesmerizing. Rachel was straight but even she knew when to admit her best friend looked hot as hell. 

They completed their trip and decided to go home. Rachel still needed to pack after all and Danielle wanted to help her to make sure she didn’t forget anything. 

Packing and unpacking are two of Rachel’s least favorite things to do so she was thankful for Danielle’s help as it took way less time and she was able to feel confident in the fact she wasn’t forgetting anything important. They were due to leave in 2 days so she didn’t have to worry about the trip again until they were leaving for the airport. 

Rachel was laying in bed when she got a text from Danielle

Here’s the link to one of their youtube videos. Let me know what you think! X 

Rachel clicked on the video and it was titled “Trying and Guessing 21 Different Drinks”. 

She watched the whole video and found herself laughing at all the right parts at how silly the boys were but also how they acted so..brotherly together. She knew they were brothers obviously but the dynamic was so different than what they show on TV it was different..it was better. 

She subscribed to their channel before closing the video and messaging Danielle back 

They’re funny! I’ll have to watch more of their videos.

She fell into a doom scroll on tiktok like she does every night. As she was in the middle of watching a tiktok about fun facts about jellyfish that had her completely captivated, she got a notification that took her attention away from the video.

@christophersturniolo liked your post

But when she clicked on it, nothing loaded. She looked in her notifications and the notification was gone. 

“Why was Nick’s brother, Chris stalking MY instagram?” She asked outloud to herself. 

Weird.

Authors Note: I always struggle with beginnings so i'm so sorry if this is boring. it'll pick up the next couple parts lol. let me know what you think!! I'm excited. it's been years since i've written a fanfiction so I hope that i do this justice. Thank you for reading! <3

[morendodifame]

it was getting cooler, but josh was sure they'd soon be generating enough heat between them. he stopped, looking down into dakota's eyes. he couldn't help but feel like he knew him, like their souls somehow knew one another. josh didn't like people, he used people for the brief high and abandoned them carelessly. he didn't have the heart to admit that he'd knocked on dakota's door that night because he knew if he was able to get into his apartment, that he wouldn't have woken up the next day. dakota was his saving grace, and they made him feel hopeful. how grateful he was now, he was still with riley, he was still with matteo. he had dakota.

" you have no idea how-- " josh sighed, " hoe glad I am to know you, dakota morgan. " he bowed their heads together and then pressed his mouth to theirs. josh didn't hesitate this time, slowly deepening their kiss as his hips rocked against the man's own.

[unlikelyaperson]

Fanfic idea(s) 2

link to part 1,

please follow the small list of guidelines in part 1 (right at the beginning of the post). Thank you

this part is just one fanfic idea (it's a longer one), fanfic idea under the cut

(it's also written in the normal font, I like the chat font for the beginning)

Summary: Reader falls into lake (no death, just being silly/non serious injury if injury at all), open-ended/writer decides

Pairing(s): Medic!Gender Neutral Reader × Simon Ghost Riley

Character(s): Medic!Gender Neutral Reader, Simon Ghost Riley, John Soap MacTavish, Kyle Gaz Garrick

type: fluff, possible sick fic

imagine that the reader is a medic for the 141, and they are on a mission and got grouped with Soap or Soap and Gaz. And on the mission, they somehow get in the river/lake. AKA not their decision to be in the river/lake, and it's cold outside like December/January type cold.

(Listen. I know that lakes/rivers would most likely be frozen over,,,, maybe they break the ice /lh)

(Reader gives off wet cat vibes /lh /hj)

(Reason I say they are on a mission with Soap is because i feel like Soap is the most likely to jokingly or accidentally knock someone into a river/lake /hj)

So they have to go back to whatever is acting as their base. And the Reader gets treated (they dry off and change into dry clothes)

And when Ghost hears about Reader falling into a body of water (especially in the cold)

he is worried you might have hypothermia (you don't, but he still worries),

and his talk with Soap + Gaz is a "they/a medic could have gotten hurt"

And he frames in a way that makes it look like he is frustrated that the team could have lost a medic and in such a preventable way

but it's because he really worries for you that that it was you that could have gotten hurt

(and Soap + Gaz definitely pick up on that)

maybe they get sick

(hush , I know you actually can't get sick from just being cold + wet, for the sake of the fic , you can /lh)

and Ghost is more like "how could you (Soap + Gaz) let this happen"

he definitely frames it in a way that it looks like he is frustrated that they have a medic out of commission but it's definitely because it was you

(and Soap + Gaz definitely pick up on that))

I am not saying he would do nothing if anyone else had been hurt but he is a little more firm in his reprimans/his taking to Soap + Gaz because it was you and he just doesn't know how to show his worries for you to you

And cue Ghost basically hovering around you, maybe not in direct ways but maybe you always end up in the same room most of the time or if you able to still be on the field he is grouped with you if not, he check up on you (more than the others) making sure you are really okay

(For Ghost, it's just him mostly just watching you, not in a creepy way, just trying to read your behavior to make sure you are telling the truth when you say you are fine)

I know this is a really long ask but I don't really have an "ending" for the fic unfortunately

However, I trust and I am sure you'll come up with something great !

thank you for reading and considering my ask/fanfic idea

[thedovahcat]

Gorillas and the Barely Touched Transference of Credits

Finally went over to the student login page to see what on my transcript counted towards GEs. Shockingly or not, only 4 classes out of my whole degree were transferable towards the GE’s.

On one hand I’m not too shocked, and on the other I sort of am. Looking over it again, I’m going to have to ask an advisor about at least one or two of them, any class I can get knocked off will be immensely helpful. What I really am bummed about is my Geometry class not transfering but...For the best really. I’m practicing maths right now so that will take care of that.

I’ll need to schedule that math-English-grammar assessment test thing soon, I took a practice test just to gauge where I’m at right now and I scored 80% so, not bad! Just gotta keep periodically doing it and re-taking it.

AND I got a 100% on my quiz and unit test for math today earlier this morning. Overall the day’s been pretty all right! I just feel overwhelmed at how much is happening so fast and needing to go from 0 to 100 with all these paper signings and preparings and what have you.

Dad asked me again today if I’m sure I don’t want to just put the money I’m spending towards my mental health assessment into college again, but I stood firm on that. I’m still really nervous that I’m going to be brushed off and told I’m as normal as they come. Cuz then it really WILL feel like a waste, but, talking with some mutuals really helps me a lot. They’re able to tell me what they know/offer advice and reassure that I’m not just faking all this for attention. It’s such a hard thing to grasp and now I understand why people struggle so much with it. This is all new territory for me so... yeah. It’s just wild.

FAFSA is kind of a bust this year because I worked two years ago but I expected that unfortunately, and no word on the scholarships yet. Money really frightens me right now but I’m absolutely against loans at the moment. I have enough to swing it but it’s going to hurt. Still, you put in a fair chunk of money going to school in hopes you’ll be able to make it all back and more later on.

I’m really nervous about all the studying that lies ahead. After counting everything I’ll be in CC for at least 2 years just plowing through GE’s, which will be nothing but busy work for me. That much I’m certain of. So...the next two years at minimum are decided for me, generally speaking. I don’t know, I still somehow feel like...a sense of dread about it. Like I’m wasting my time, but I’m absolutely -not!-. Mostly a big fear I have is by the time I get out of school and get into work, the pets are going to start keeling over just like when I graduated college and got my first job. I only got to enjoy a few months of that before everyone started like...dying to disease around here. Tato’s going to be 6 years old this February and I’m glad he’s doing well! Him and Riley are both being taken care of so much more carefully and more prompt..ly.. than the other two were. Not that we didn’t care, but we didn’t know! First time long-time cat owners and all. Now we’ve learned. I hope they’re both around for a long long time and get to see the days when I have a good job and everything is going well!

So there’s that.. Every day that goes by too I’m able to hide less and less in my video games and that’s really scary for me as well. Things are starting to ‘lose their color’ if you would, I’m just...bored. And I don’t want to be bored, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve talked about this kind of thing before. And like I’ve told myself, this is the low point right now, the preparation, the quiet. Once all this is set up and I actually start, things will be on the up again. They always are. I hope me and my friends are all in better places and still alive by that point in time certainly!

In some other minor, brighter news, I just have my new motherboard to recieve in the mail before I can start putting in the new parts into my computer! I’ve been needing to beef this thing up, it’s 7 years old now. And if I’m diving into computers, yeah, that was a necessary and good decision. Need to stop by Best Buy tomorrow. I should probably get a webcam.

So...just gotta wait for Wednesday mental assessment now! And see how I feel after that. I really really want to open commissions and right now I’m expecting to after that’s all taken care of! If I need more time to recover though of course. I’m going to give myself that time. Learning to give myself time away from things and forcing myself to preoccupy my time and attention with more important and usually often IRL things has been a learning experience. I can’t say I’m crazy about it, but... You gotta do what you gotta do.

Anyway! A little status report...a long status report. But, today things are OK. Thank god.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Domestic Destiel #2 (A.K.A. A housewarming gift)

A gift leads to an embarrassing conversation that Castiel excuses himself from with Dean in charge of the gift.

“If you want a bigger bed, I can just make it bigger. You don’t need to go out and buy one. It’s really easy,” Lorelei informed.

“How?” Dean asked, curious.

“Magic, duh,” She explained.

“Wait, now magic—“ Dean began.

“I know. I know, Dean. All magic comes with a price but you know, sometimes that price is easy to pay and not life threatening in the slightest,” She shot back, hands on her hip. Despite Lorelei being nearly a foot shorter than Dean, she had no problem challenging his views of the world especially since she is not only a hunter from a line of hunters but a witch from a powerful and long witch family. How they came together, ask her parents. “Come on, it’s a housewarming gift for you two. It’s rather easy.”

Castiel walked in having heard part of the conversation and grew concerned.

“Hey, Cas. If I work within the bounds of physics, can I make your bed a larger than typical king size bed? It’s a gift.”

Cas gave a small, appreciated smile as he began to speak then raised his brow, almost demandingly, at her, “That’s thoughtful of you. Thank you. How do you plan to do this?”

Dean stood there eyeing at her waiting for her response expecting his husband to say ‘no’.

“Magic,” she stated, matter-of-fact.

Cas thinned his lips as his eyes wandered up and away in thought, then fell back on her mere seconds later and nodded,”Ok.”

“What?” Dean nearly squeaked in disbelief.

Cas looked with a soft, small smile at Dean, “It’s hardly dangerous unless she somehow messes up catastrophically, which I’ve never seen her do in the years we’ve known Lorelei—she is very thorough in her preparations; however, if she did, then we might have an Alice in Wonderland problem with the bed, but as long as she is working within the bounds of physics and universal law, not bending them, I don’t see what the problem is.”

Lorelei smirked at Dean challengingly, “Thank you, Castiel. See?”

Dean raised his brows surprised but understood the lack of concern once his husband explained it. He looked at her, “Why didn’t you say that?”

She rolled her eyes, frustrated at Dean.

Cas turned to leave and noticed she spoke his full name—not his nickname which she did when she ‘won’ her argument—so, he warned her, “Don’t be haughty, Lorelei. I might change my mind.”

Her face fell and pouted her lip, ”Sorry, Cas. Dean. I’ll be more mindful.”

“Thank you, Charmer,” Cas teased.

Lorelei gave him her best bitchface remaining silent.

Dean snickered quietly.

She huffed and turned back to the bed, ”Ok, Dean. How many people your size would you want to be able to fit in the bed?”

“Um, four?”

“That's only slightly bigger than a typical king size bed. I don’t even think I’ll need real supplies for that. Maybe I should give you another gift. That isn’t much.”

“Just make the bed bigger, Lorelei.”

“Fine, fine, but I still think I need to give you another gift,” she complained as she began stripping the bed.

“Want a four post bed? I can alter the bed frame too. I might have some extra wood in my trunk and stuff in my trunk. Could be fun for kinkiness, unless you like suspension and then I’d need to reinforce it with metal and know the actual design to make sure it is all weight-bearing,” she suggested as she thought of how to do that., picking at her lower lip.

“Oh my God, Lorelei,” Dean covered his face with his hand and pulled it down as his cheeks began to pinken at the suggestion. “Just make it bigger.”

“Fiiiiine,” she pouted.

Castiel chuckled and left, just in time for there to be another knock at the door as their housewarming party began.

Tags: @myloversgone @riley-phoenix

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Welcomed Distraction

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Damon Salvatore x Reader

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Mentions of plotting murder but nothing else?

Author’s note: Welcome to fluff week! And here is how we're gonna start the week off. With a very Anti-Valentines day fic. What other way is there to start this holiday? XD I swear this is the only anti vday fic I have for this week. It is kinda Vday centered, so it's not like ya'll are missing out. Plus I needed this scenario. And I could only picture Damon for this so, here you go!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things

Flires covered the halls with posters for the dance this weekend. The Bitter Ball was meant for all of those that were heartbroken could get together and express how much they hated Valentine's Day. Of course those that celebrated were going to be out on their dates, spending their time with their loved ones.

Y/N wouldn’t be going out on a fancy date. Nor would she be spending her time at the Bitter Ball. It wasn’t like she had recently experienced heartbreak that would make her want to attend the dance. She was just single.

She had tried proving several times that there was nothing wrong with it. But of course her friends had tried setting her up with someone days before, but it didn’t end up working out. And Y/N actually preferred that. Why spend the money to show off how much you love someone on one specific day.

This way she could stay home for the night. It meant she could stay in her pajamas and binge watch whatever was on Netflix that caught her interest. There was no need to get dressed up for anyone and that was how she wanted it. All that was needed was an assortment of junk food and a drink of her choice.

And it was as Y/N was getting ready to plop into her bed and begin watching a serial killer documentary when there was a knock at her door. For a brief moment, she thought of just ignoring it and climbing into bed. But the other part of her believed that if it was anyone had to come find her, it must have been important and left her room to go answer the door.

Her eyebrow raised as she took in Damon Salvatore standing on the opposite side. She could see he had obviously been dressed for the Bitter Ball. The all black outfit had given that away seeing as it was a requirement for it.

“You know, when I was told everyone was heading to the Bitter Ball, I was surprised not to see you there.” Damon said as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m not bitter.” Y/N said as she took a step back to allow him to enter her home. “I’m single. There’s a difference.”

“I doubt everyone that’s there isn’t exactly bitter.” He said as he walked in.

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “Caroline is bitter.” She noted. “You on the other hand, I can't exactly figure out why you’d want to go to the anti-valentines day ball.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “A bitter heart tends to lead to nights of very entertaining activities.” A smirk pulled at his lips, causing her to roll her eyes. “I mostly went because I thought my partner in crime would be there to be miserable with me. But she wasn’t there and when I found her, she’s ready to veg out without so much as giving me an invite.”

Her eyebrow raised. “I never took you for wanting to stay in and just eat junk food while watching serial killer documentaries.”

“Not with just anyone.” He said with a shrug. “But with you, I’d do it.”

Y/N eyed him a moment. For as long as she had known the man standing in front of her, she had never just been content to just sit there and watch documentaries. After a few seconds she nodded her head. “100 says you’ll get bored and start complaining about some of the cases.”

Damon laughed and shook his head. “That’s a bet I’ll take and even win.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” She said with a shake of her head as she began making her way back towards her room with him in tow.

As they both had settled into Y/N’s bed, Damon had every intention of winning the bet. If it meant he could spend some time with Y/N, he was going to do so. At least that was until they got some details wrong about a case that he had personally had a part in and that seemed to irk him.

A smirk had pulled at Y/N’s lips as she watched him from the corner of her eye. She could see the way his face either scrunched up in disbelief at the facts that had been pouring out of the narrator. Or even the way he sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. It was in complete contrast to how laidback and comfortable Y/N had been.

“Just admit it, you’re ready to complain.” Y/N said as she never took her eyes off the tv.

Damon shook his head. “Never. Just really getting into this amazing documentary with all the wrong facts.”

Y/N laughed and stuck out her hand towards him. “That was a complaint. And I’ll take my money now.”

“That was not a complaint.” He said shaking his head as he looked over at her. “That was merely an observation.”

“An observation, my ass.” She chuckled. “That was a complaint on how they have the wrong information.”

“One would say that’s an observation that they gave credit to a serial killer, when in fact it was a Vampire.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“What other observations do you have to voice?” She asked with a raised brow knowing she was about to win the bet.

“For one, they managed to say this guy had over 50 victims when, let’s be honest is more like 10 and was given credit for some that were not in fact his.” Damon continued on with every ‘observation’ he noticed during the first hour of what they’ve seen.

It was as Y/N rolled over on her stomach and propped her head on her fist, and a small smirk pulled at her lips that Damon realized he had gone into a full blown tangent on just how wrong the documentary had been. He had stopped mid sentence and took in her position and shook his head.

“Fine, you win.” He said with a roll of his eyes.

She began laughing away at his reaction and her laughter grew at seeing the slightest pout form on his lips. Damon was the one that usually won bets against a lot of people. But when it came to Y/N, she somehow won them. Even when her odds were against her.

The group used to say that was her supernatural ability. To be able to make bets go in her favor. But Y/N was as ordinary as they came. She wasn’t a relative of anyone special, she wasn’t descended from any kind of witch coven or royalty. She was as human as they came and she preferred that.

The moment the laughter died down, Damon watched her for a moment. “Want to talk about it?” He asked, keeping his attention on her.

His words hadn’t caught her off guard. She had been expecting them from the moment he had shown up at her door. But even then, her face fell and she looked away from him as she thought about it.

She may not have been bitter, but Y/N had gone through a bad heartbreak almost a year ago. One that left her broken in a way she’d never believed she would ever feel. That had been before she met the Salvatores and found out about the world she now lived in. While her friends had known about it, they always tried to get her back on the horse. But she never had been ready to do it.

“I don’t think I am.” She said with a shake of her head. “One day I’ll be able to talk about it without reliving it.” Even as she spoke of it now, she felt an emotion bubbling within her. “That time is just not right now.”

Damon laid back on the bed so that he was leveled with her. “You know I could always make him some serial killer’s next victim.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “I think that would complete your previous offers of compelling, eating him and ripping his heart out.”

He smirked. “Just say the word, point me in the right direction and it’s done. No questions asked.”

“I’m surprised someone hasn’t done it already.” Knowing her friends, she was expecting it. Especially with the way everyone went behind each other’s backs from time to time to make sure they were safe.

“Oh, we’ve been tempted.” He said with a nod. “Okay, mostly me, but that’s because I'm impulsive and usually don’t care what other people say.”

“What stopped you this time?” She asked, curious. As Damon had said, he did things without thinking. And the fact that he had thought about doing so from time to time and not actually doing it had surprised Y/N.

“Because, believe it or not, while I’m impulsive and do things behind the backs of the people I care about, I don’t think I’d be able to handle your reaction afterwards.” He nodded his head. “I can handle everyone else being angry with me, or even hating me for a period of time, but I don’t think I could handle it coming from you.”

Y/n nodded her head as she took in his words. “I don’t think I could hate you, Damon. You could go out there and kill him tonight without me knowing and I still wouldn’t hate you for it. I’d probably thank you in the morning once I found out.”

“Well,” He said with a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone be okay with murder.”

She chuckled as she pointed towards the still playing documentary. “It would be interesting to see what details they’d get wrong when you’re the culprit.”

While she may have been only slightly joking, the whole conversation had distracted her from the hurt that she had been secretly hiding from the others. Planning out a revenge with a vampire was the last thing she had been expecting to do tonight. But the way it happened showed she was getting better.

Because creating a hypothetical murder scene with a vampire is just the next step of the healing process.

Always and Forever Tags:

@taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @mrs-jackson-kenner @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @dumble-daddy @theactressstaringinyourbaddream @maldita-world @nikmikaelsonswife @mikaelson-emma @elijahs-wife @moon-child-writer @xoxo-nikki-xoxo @njeancastro316

[kevindayscrown]

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.

Part 12

Hope

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Head over to the directory to find the previous parts.

To say Eric’s parents were confused when they saw Kevin standing on their porch was an understatement.

Kevin waited impatiently, but he had enough composure to not start fiddling. Instead, he stood almost still, and when the door opened, he fixed his posture and flashed one of his press smiles at the couple.

Jiang Wei and Hien stood at the other side of the door, watching Kevin with a questioning look for a moment before that look turned into a welcoming one.

If he would admit that he’d paid such great attention to detail, he would say that Eric had definitely taken after his mother. The woman gave Kevin a warm smile that matched her son’s and her eyes lit up the same way Eric’s did.

 “Kevin Day, right?” There was a heavy accent lacing her words, but they were still clear enough for Kevin to understand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

That seemed to cause Kevin’s façade to falter for a moment. Judging by the almost affectionate welcome he received so far he could assume that Eric had perhaps spared his parents the uglier details of their former relationship.

“Eric has told us a lot about you,” the man said and Kevin offered yet another small smile.

“All good things I hope.”

His comment was dismissed with a laugh, as a small joke, but Kevin genuinely hoped that Eric hadn’t told his parents about their fight.

If he hadn’t, then had he told them about the sides of Kevin only he had seen?

“Is Eric here?” He eventually wondered when he was invited inside. He was immediately asked whether he wanted something to drink, and despite Eric’s mother's persistence, Kevin settled for a glass of water as he sat down on the couch.

“Thank you, Mrs. Jiang,” he said as he reached for the glass. She smiled warmly at him and shook her head.

“No need to thank me. Make yourself at home. Eric is out with a friend, but I’m sure they won’t be long.”

Kevin ended up spending about an hour getting to know Eric’s parents. They were kind and welcoming, talking to Kevin as if they knew him for years. It was no wonder that Eric had turned out the way he had. Kind, caring and empathetic, somehow easily seeing through Kevin and understanding him like no one else could. 

Without having meant to, Kevin ended up finding out a lot more about Eric than he’d originally planned, though he should have expected that, seeing as he’d come to his childhood home.

He saw photographs of when Eric was younger, skating and looking pretty much unrecognizable; he’d been much smaller and scrawny as a child. He was briefed about his childhood friend Riley, with whom Eric had apparently gone out. He learned about how Eric had always been a quiet kid, but without losing his voice.

Hien said that’s what made him a good leader. Kevin found himself agreeing, having seen Eric coordinate his team on the ice.

Eventually, they heard the door open, and Kevin suddenly felt himself becoming nervous and jittery, clenching his hand to keep himself from fidgeting.

There were words exchanged in a language Kevin couldn’t understand, but he could still recognize Eric’s voice. When he turned his head to the hallway, he spotted Eric, standing beside the person Kevin could assume was Riley.

“D- Kevin?” Eric asked, correcting himself quickly and sounding rather surprised and confused by Kevin’s presence.

Kevin stood up and caught himself thinking back to the day he had gone to Eric’s dorm to talk to him about Ichirou’s plan and to apologize.

The irony was not lost to him.  

“Kevin Day?! Holy-,” Eric’s friend started but when Eric glared their way, they stopped and coughed, though it was obvious they were bubbling with energy.

“Could we get some privacy?” Kevin asked almost sternly. Despite needing to resolve this as quickly as possible, he refused to show any kind of vulnerability or desperation, especially not in front of all these strangers.

“Sure,” Eric said and glanced at his parents for a moment. They only gave him an encouraging smile as Eric and Kevin turned around and headed up the stairs, to where Kevin guessed Eric’s room was.

Of course, the room was covered with posters of famous ice hockey players, some long retired by now, and there was a shelf with trophies on the wall, above a small desk.

Kevin took everything in, every small detail that could tell him more about Eric. There were a few books here and there, but most bookshelves were occupied by comic books.

“Did you come all the way here to admire my collection?” Eric eventually asked as he leaned against the desk, arms crossed in front of his chest. Of course, Kevin was getting nervous all over again, though he had enough self-restraint to keep his composure.

“No. That’s not what I came here for,” he said as he pulled the door close, being paranoid about anyone overhearing their conversation. “You didn’t tell your parents it was a setup.”

It wasn’t a question. It was more of an observation.

“No? Why would I do that? I would have to explain… background stuff. That’s not something for me to share with the world.”

Kevin didn’t fully understand that, so he said, “You could have told them after the winter banquet though. Explain why we-,” he stopped for a moment before saying, “broke up.”

Eric shrugged. “I didn’t think all hope was lost yet.”

Kevin felt a lump forming in his throat that he had to swallow down.

“Neil talked to you.” Another observation.

“That he did.” Eric looked smug at that. “He said that you can be very stubborn. That you need your time.”

Kevin supposed that was right, but he would still have Neil run laps for good measure.

“I thought about it.”

That made Eric tense slightly and stand straighter from where he was slumping against the desk.

“There’s a lot,” he continued, “that I need to sort out.” It was the first time he was probably admitting that aloud to himself. “But I made a mistake.”

That really seemed to surprise Eric. Kevin couldn’t blame him. When was the last time he’d ever admitted to making a mistake? Kevin had made lots of them, but he rarely looked back.

“I tried to- I tried to look past whatever I felt for you.” Somehow, even when confessing his actual feelings, he was still held back, his whole body tense. “I can’t do this anymore. I physically can’t,” he said as he pressed his hand to his own chest. “I’m fucking tired.”

Eric did not respond for a long moment. Kevin was almost worried he’d gotten past the point of no return, that Eric had actually lost hope, but suddenly Eric was coming for him like he had when he’d body checked him on the ice.

But this time, instead of knocking him back against the wall to yell at him, Eric pushed him against the door with a loud thud and pressed his lips hard against Kevin’s.

Kevin was too shocked to respond immediately, but eventually let himself go limp as he kissed him back, his arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer.

This time was different compared to their kiss in the attic. They weren’t lying to themselves with stupid excuses. Kevin felt himself become even lighter as if a hundred knots in his chest loosened.

There was something freeing about being able to make a choice.

“Eric, Kevin?” Hien asked from the other side. “I hope you boys aren’t fighting.”

Kevin and Eric stared at each other for a moment, chests rising and falling. Eric chuckled softly and pressed his forehead against the wall, by Kevin’s head. Kevin closed his eyes for a moment, arms still around Eric.

“No ma. We aren’t fighting. We’ll be downstairs in a moment,” he said. When they heard the sound of footsteps become faint, Eric leaned in again and kissed him again.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you, Day?” He whispered against his lips.

Kevin said nothing and simply pulled him in for another kiss.

There was still a lot they needed to figure out – Kevin specifically. He’d barely scratched the surface of his own emotions; he’d barely started accepting the reality of everything.

Eric wasn’t going to be the solution to his problems, but Kevin was glad he wouldn’t have to do this alone. He had Eric, he had Wymack, and in a way, he had the foxes too.

He wasn’t alone.