#cod Ghost

[void-my-warranty]

𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝒮𝑜 𝐵𝒶𝒹 (18+)

Written for February writing challenge, to fill the prompt "Ghoap x Reader body heat trope" CW: Somno

You’re not sure when it started.

The fatigue had set in long before you crawled into bed, and you’d barely had the energy to plug in your phone before cuddling into Simon’s arms and promptly drifting off. 

You knew you’d probably get woken up a little later when he shifted to sleeping on his stomach, but it was worth it for warm skin against yours for a few minutes. Getting lulled into sleep with the peaceful cadence of his breathing behind you. Soft biceps, cotton shirt pressed to your bare shoulders. Totally worth it. 

So it’s impossible to tell exactly how much time has passed, when something tugs your mind back to consciousness some time later. It could have been a few hours, could have just been a half-lucid ten minutes. All you know is that when you wake up in the dark bedroom, you’re being touched. 

Somehow, it doesn’t confuse you. Something about the context - your body tucked under the familiar blanket, head propped on a pillow of warm muscle, the unhurried motions of fingers stimulating you - none of it makes your heart jump. You’ve always been safe in this bed, with this man. It makes sense to your sleep-clouded mind that his hands are for your pleasure, fingertips fondling your nipple so gently that it probably wasn’t ever intended to wake you. 

That’s got to be why you’re aching between your legs. You’ve always particularly sensitive when you’re sleepy and can’t outthink your physical response. But then your mind sluggishly expands its scope of awareness, and you locate that extra layer of sensation that was there all along — a soft, warm mouth, lingering kisses on the side of your neck. 

Arousal curls through your belly, settling heavily between your legs with the continued attention. He’s moving carefully to protect you from the sandpaper texture of his chin, but the occasional tease of it feels heavenly – tactile and rough, another pleasure point to distract you. Your mind unfocuses, letting each sensory input swirl together and become one blanket of sensation across your body. 

But you’re sticky between your legs. The longer you lay there, the more you realize it, realize with each dip in your pelvis, exactly how turned on you actually are.

It has you making a confused croak, shuffling your thighs in discomfort. 

“Go back to sleep,” breathes the mouth on your neck, and your nipple gets a slow, delicious tug. 

“‘M... ‘M wet, baby,” you mumble.

The hand abandons your breast, drifts down your stomach to slide straight into your underwear with a familiarity that makes you wonder—

“Don’t worry about that, just go back to sleep.”

Fingers slide slowly through your folds, spreading your wetness around in soft little up-and-downs until he finds your clit. 

You let out a needy noise, too sleepy to be self conscious as you flex your leg up to give him better access. From behind you, Simon wedges his own knee between yours to give you something to rest on, pauses touching you to run his palm down your thigh and position it where he wants. 

It’s just enough room to give him an opening for his hand. You welcome him back with a little grind of your clit on his fingers, a playful roll of your ass against his crotch. You don’t need to say it to communicate the obvious – you’re not going back to sleep. Simon makes the prettiest sound behind you, a low, contented rumble as his mouth finds your neck again. 

Time passes in a sticky, sleepy haze. The way he’s touching you is so steady and relaxed, you wonder at times if you’ve been drifting off again. One moment you’ll barely remember that there’s a finger rolling against your clit, and the next moment you’ll be suddenly aware of the heat licking down your thighs, the simmering arousal you can’t escape. 

It’s just enough sensation to take the edge off, but not enough to let you cum. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” you mumble finally, when you swear he slows down even further, and your thighs flex in disappointment. You’re so wet. You’re making a mess in your underwear, your insides grinding together in an unconscious plea for friction.

“Mmmm…. playing.”

You laugh in confusion, trying to wake your brain up enough to negotiate an orgasm for yourself. “Is… Johnny going to be home soon?”

“Should be.” Your clit gets a soft pet, almost like an apology. “Bit pissed at me at the moment. May have signed him up for this course. Good for his career.”

You reach down and press his hand tighter to your pussy, grinding against it. “Poor Johnny.”

“Mhmm.”

The unexpected feeling of a hot, wet tongue sliding across your throat makes you gasp. “Are you going to fuck me?” 

“No, you’re for Johnny.”

Incredulous, you blink into the darkness a few times before you decide he means exactly what you think he means. He’s not trying to make you cum, he’s trying to get you worked up so Johnny can come home to a wet pussy. 

“You’re a fucking jerk.”

He catches on before you can wriggle away from him, wrapping his arm around your chest to cage you in, and smoothly curling two large fingers into your pussy. 

Your mind instantly whites out, your limbs turning into pudding at the blissful massage against your g-spot. It melts everything inside you, has you choking on one horny noise after another while you shove your legs right back where they were before. 

“I think you have me confused for someone else,” comes the voice from behind you. A cascade of tingles run across your skin as he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

Distantly, you hear the front door open, the clink of keys, and the sound of slow footsteps. It’s difficult to concentrate on it though, because Simon’s working his fingers deep inside you in a way that makes your eyes flutter closed in surrender.

The bedroom door was left half open, so you can both clearly hear when Johnny’s footsteps shuffle nearer and stop by your room in indecision.

“Come on, then,” Simon calls to him, pulling his fingers out to run them along your clit again.  

Johnny huffs, apparently still peeved, but nonetheless you hear him drop his bag to the carpet in the corner. 

You need him. You can practically feel his proximity, ears perked for every footstep, every sound he makes on his way over to the bed. He’s taking too long, but finally there’s that sag of the mattress in front of you, shifting slightly while he unlaces his boots. 

In the darkness, Simon takes full advantage of the time it takes Johnny to undress, sliding his fingers faster and making you shudder with his mouth on your ear. The fear that Johnny will be weirded out by all of this slowly evaporates, as your clit gets secretly fondled, and your need to cum steals more and more of your valuable brain cells. 

“You know how fucking cold it is out there?” Johnny gripes in a whisper, as if he’s not sure if you’re awake as well. 

“It’s warm in here,” the bastard behind you returns, hand wedged between your legs.

“Yeah, fuck off.”

Finally you feel the blanket move, hear Johnny’s weary sigh when he stretches out just a few inches in front of you. He smells like outside, cold air and pines and a little bit of gun oil. 

You’re the one who peels Simon’s hand off your pussy. If you wait any longer you’re going to combust, so you abandon him to slither over to the other body in the bed, and then gasp when your skin contacts his frozen limbs.

“Ahh, fuck,” Johnny breathes, experiencing the opposite temperature exchange, with your warmth bleeding into his chilled skin everywhere you’re connected. Straight away you wrap yourself around him, threading your legs between his popsicle knees and hugging him tightly to yourself. 

“Steamin’ Jesus you feel good.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the way your sleeping clothes are shifted around haphazardly thanks to Simon’s explorations, he just buries his face in your neck and hauls you on top of him. You both shiver as your temperatures intertwine. 

“Tired?” you whisper. 

“Fucking loused.” His cold hands slide up your back, under your shirt where you’re the warmest. 

How do you ask for this? It's not as simple as, ‘Hey, want to fuck?’ because he’s tired, and you’re incapacitated with horniness, and it’s hardly fair to thrust that expectation on him after such a long day. 

“...Are you tired?” Johnny asks in return, sliding his hands back down to the top of your hips, and dipping his fingers under the band of your shorts in a decidedly testing-the-waters sort of way.

“Wet,” you admit quietly.

“Wet?” Knuckles trail up your side, pressing the cool backs of his fingers against your neck, and then your hot cheek. “Why are you wet, sweetheart?”

It’s not at all an inquisitive tone. It’s a slow rumble of happiness, an invitation.

“Because I was waiting for you.”

Johnny sucks in a deep lungful of air and lets it back out again, readjusting his hips beneath you. You curl your fingers along the smooth skin of his shoulders, relieved at his apparent willingness. 

Your clothes come off first. They’re horrible things at this point, that only serve the purpose of preventing you from getting fucked properly. It’s a glorious feeling when your bare breasts press to Johnny’s furry chest, and his mostly-warm fingers curve around your backside to sink into the softness of it, teasing and exploring where you’re wet. 

You’re certain you’ve made a damp spot on his boxers by the time he shucks them off, hard and ready for you. He rolls you under him like it’s nothing, murmuring desperate little, “ahh, fuck,”s into your neck and rutting himself against your stomach, and then—

Both of you make the same noise when he slides inside, the same anguished groan. Your hand flies straight down to your clit, because you’ve waited long enough. You’re going to cum, he feels so good, and you’re going to finally cum. 

A hand that’s not Johnny’s finds your jaw, turns your face to press lips to yours. Johnny’s mouth is on your neck now, Simon’s tongue sliding against yours, your hand on your clit, someone tugging at your nipple. 

Johnny helps you cum on him like that, sucking a mark onto your neck with long, slow drags, and little flutters of his tongue. Your teeth clack against Simon’s when you spasm with it, panting into his mouth and losing yourself to the ripples of pleasure flooding your body. 

“Johnny.” Simon reaches across for Johnny’s face, bringing their lips together in the darkness somewhere above you. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, alright,” Johnny mumbles between kisses, entwining his fingers with yours to hold your hand to the bed. 

He cums kissing Simon. You run your free hand up his side while his cock jumps and throbs inside you, and you must have accidentally hit a ticklish spot because he huffs and twitches away from the sensation, the sound of sloppy kisses overhead pausing. 

You relax your knees to the bed and smile, doing it again. 

“Yer woman’s tryin’ to torture me,” Johnny tattles, imprisoning your rogue hand with his.

“Wager she needs some attention.”

There’s more kissing, while Johnny works the last little bit of his erection into you, squishing all that cum that’s starting to leak out.

“Did that feel good, Johnny?” comes Simon’s soft tone, along with an appreciative male noise. 

“Don’t be pressin’ your luck, LT. You’re still on my list.”

“Mmm. We’ll work on that.”

Before you know it, you’re getting messily cleaned off with a towel, and then pinned to the mattress again, facedown this time, with Simon’s rumbly voice in your ear. 

“You do need something, don’t you?”

You make a happy noise when he enters you, doing his usual, measured in-and-outs to make sure you’re comfortable before he gets fully seated. “Half a mind to keep you under me all night.”

You let out a shaky laugh into the blanket. “That’s your dick talking, baby. You’re going to feel different after you cum.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He snakes his hand down between you and the bed, finding that little thing he was torturing for so long a little bit ago. “Not my fault you feel like this.”

He does, in fact, keep you under him for quite some time. He coaxes two more orgasms out of you, with your hair fisted tight in his hand, and his fingers relentlessly rubbing you between your legs. 

He knows exactly what to say to make you feel like a slut right before you cum, and a precious lover right after. That velvet, “Take it," turns into, “Ahh, that’s my girl," at exactly the right time, and you enjoy every bit of it. 

Afterwards Johnny falls asleep first, using your palm as a pillow and Simon’s arm as a blanket. You trace your fingers up and down that forearm that’s draped over Johnny, silently communicating with Simon until you drift off.

It’s not so bad here.

[pythonmoth]

cw: suicidal and homicidal thoughts. johnny is jealous and inconsistent. brief infantilization by tf141. reader is angry and pissed. author is projecting their own likes, sorry. pretty chill update. johnny is a simp loser.

primary simon x f!reader. poly tf141.

First | Last | Next

He wants the world to eat him alive, to swallow him and to forever keep him down underground so he never makes a single mistake in front of you ever again. To see you running away in panic because of him is something he will probably never recover from. He barely has the time to grimace when he hears you rushing away, someone right behind you; he just assumes it's Simon.

Johnny decides to just take a moment to clean up before going after you as well, when he hears someone getting into the kitchen. He looks up, expecting the Capt'n to be here to scold him, but when he sees Simon instead, he raises an eyebrow.

"Ah, it's you. I tripped" Johnny grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You hurt yourself".

"Just a tiny cut, 's nothing. Where did she go?" Johnny questions, bringing his thumb to his mouth, licking the drop of blood clean.

"I don't know. Practically bolted when you dropped the plate".

Johnny stares at him with slowly growing irritation. "And what are you doing here? I must've scared her" he sighs, standing up. "Where to?"

"Garrick already went after her".

"So?"

"They're getting along. A lot".

Johnny blinks again.

Smack.

"What the fuck? What was that for now?" Simon growls out, rubbing his head. Johnny shakes his head, still expecting an answer. Simon sighs. "Over there. Come on".

Simon guides him, their feet barely making any noise, used to being quiet and, also, because they don't want to spook you any longer. When Johnny sees, however, you're… being taken care of, he curses quietly. Gaz is cupping your cheeks, kissing you. And he feels like he just died inside a little bit.

When the Lieutenant doesn't move, seemingly not breathing, he grips his arm, whispering to him to move. They can't just invade your privacy like this, especially not when it's clear they aren't needed.

At least, Johnny knows so now.

He can't manage to take Simon with him so he walks away alone, his eye twitching in annoyance. Really, he doesn't mind you're with Gaz; they all know what's happening between the whole team, and it's not a secret they've very little boundaries. It was gonna happen one way or another, so that's really not the problem. Sure, he's pissed and a little jealous, but the problem is that he is not there.

He can't hold you in his arms and protect you from the panic if he's the reason for it, if Simon is the reason for it. He's aware of that, he's just fucking pissed. Pissed at himself, pissed at the Capt'n, pissed at the bastard who framed you and fucking pissed at the higher ups. If he could, if he's given a single opportunity, he won't hesitate to grab his rifle and smack them with the heel so hard that their noses cave in so he can watch them choke in their own blood.

For now, though, he goes sit in the living room, watching as the Capt'n snores, the movie still rolling in the back, his mind a goddamn mess. He can't stop his mind from going back to you crying in Gaz arms and him kissing you like that. Again, he's jealous for so many reasons. It's just… odd.

You've never been interested in Gaz, as far as he knows, and Simon looked so surprised that it's obvious you didn't tell him anything either. You're supposed to talk about those things! He can't blame you, he obviously understands why this connection is happening right now, but—

He barely registers Simon's grabbing his shoulder and pushing him out of your house until he's inside of the car, his mind locking away his own fear of scaring you now that he's out of your space, and allows himself to be pissed at the whole situation with Gaz.

Hell, if you talked to Simon about him, why couldn't you do the same thing with them?

Simon drives them away, clearly needing a moment. Johnny's hand is shaking over his knee, and only when Simon stops the car in a random parking lot, does he say anything.

"I'm gonna kill him" he says, not really meaning it. He does want to punch him, though.

"No, you won't".

"So what? We say nothing? We can't even fucking look at her and she's—"

"That's none of our business now" Simon snaps, getting out of the car. Johnny follows right away, both of the doors snapping shut harshly enough to echo in the parking lot.

"You can't possibly be okay with that" Johnny groans, tugging on his hair as he starts pacing next to the car. "Fuck that!"

Simon sighs, lifting his mask just enough to rub on his face. "Like hell I am, Johnny. We don't have the face to call them out on it. We've no right to be jealous".

"And why the hell not? She's ours, not his. Like hell I'm sitting here doing nothing".

That makes Simon's eye twitch, but he fights hard to ignore it. "She's not, Johnny" he reminds him, crossing his arms. "Not anymore. She was clear about it".

His heart pounding in his chest, denial burning deep in his core, Johnny marches up in front of Simon with a snarl, gripping the Lieutenant’s collar. "We made a huge mistake, aye. But I thought we were okay now. We've been talking, she's been great. Why she suddenly freaked out is what I just can't understand".

He remembers, just like Simon, falling asleep to your breathing, to your snoring, to your shuffling in the bed. Even if it was through the phone, it had meant something. Why is it that now—

Simon smacks his hand away. "Stop that. Maybe it was easier on the phone. You saw how she reacted when you dropped the plate".

"Ah. So it's my fault then? It started ever since she saw your fucking mask" Johnny snaps. Immediately, he regrets it. He knows it's not fair. Not fair on him, not fair on Simon and definitely not fair on you. It's like he just can't think about what he's saying.

"Calm the fuck down, Johnny. It's our fault she's like that. We've enough shame and guilt to share so don't come and dump it all on me" Simon states, firm. His tone might shake a little, and Johnny wants to cry, but his mind is spinning with so much guilt that he can't focus. "We went through this with Price. We knew it'd take time".

"Aye! I know that! But why him? And why are you so awfully calm about this?" Johnny snaps at him, gripping his collar again. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're giving up on it. On us".

Simon's shoulders slump, looking at him in a terrible, heavy silence. There's no need for words. Simon doesn't stop him as Johnny grips his tshirt and pins him against the car, looking like he's only bracing himself for an angry punch or a beat up.

"You can't be serious" Johnny snaps again, his hands shaking where he's holding Simon, his own eyes burning with unshed tears, his throat closing up. "Where does that leave us?"

"That leaves us wherever she wants us to be" Simon mumbles, a hand coming up to rest on his nape, gripping him tight, seemingly uncaring of how aggressive Johnny feels. "You get that, don't you? We hurt her, Johnny. We're lucky she wants to talk to us at all".

That does it for him.

Unable to control it, he lets the regret, the pain, and his heartbreak take over, and finally bursts into tears, head falling against Simon's chest as his body breaks, sobbing. He knows he's being unfair, he knows he should be just wanting you to be happy and to enjoy yourself, even if it isn't with them. He knows. He's just… so hurt. He feels like he's being thrown away like an unfitting piece in the puzzle you're slowly building again, along with Simon. He's scared they won't be accepted back, afraid they’ll no longer be necessary in your life.

He doesn't want to be the only one, at all, he just wants to be there for you, too.

A while later, his body finally goes slack after crying so much, and Johnny wipes his face clean, looking up at Simon. Wordlessly, the Lieutenant presses a comforting, deep kiss to his lips before he slips his mask on again, sighing. "Well. Let's take a little drive before going back".

"This fucking sucks" Johnny mumbles, absolutely defeated. He can't keep on denying the situation, and he just… has to accept that this is what it is.

"Very much so".

"I still wanna punch him".

"I know".

Johnny hesitates, but he doesn't hold it back. "I'm also kinda jealous".

"I know" Simon grumbles quietly, his eye twitching behind the mask. Johnny can truly understand the feeling.

"We should drive off a cliff and die".

"Noted".

In the end, they just sit inside of the car for a while, both of them silently going through the whole situation. Johnny's mind is silent for once, as if he had needed a good sobbing session to ease himself into no longer denying the consequences.

The drive back to your home is quiet, but it feels... peaceful. Johnny's shoulders are relaxed, even if he feels himself snarling slightly as he thinks of Gaz. It's just great, but… he's got no right to question you.

So when they're back, Gaz’ lips split in a bright grin as you place gummy bears all over Price's face, they both can't help but smile at them, hearts full.

You seem happy.

You look up at them, your eyes wide. This time, however, you're not afraid. You raise a hand and motion them to be quiet and come over, Gaz handing them the whipped cream.

This is enough, Johnny thinks. He gets to see you smile, enjoy yourself, even if he isn't allowed to be there with you like Gaz is.

Deep down, he can't be upset.

After the Capt'n uses you as his personal napkin for being a brat, your high pitched screeches of delight making his heart pound, you invite them to sleep over. And you're really serious about it. He doesn't even mind it when you hand them those stupid pink pajamas you bought them for your 5th anniversary with the team; they “forgot” about them every time they came over, so they've never truly left your house. Now, however, Johnny will personally skin alive anyone who dares denying you this little thing. Fortunately, they just sigh and change.

Blankets over the carpet, over the couch, bodies a lot closer than before, the pink of the pajamas actually look pretty good when illuminated only by the movie. Johnny doesn't even know why you chose them. They're… ponies. One has wings. Why do they have such crazy blowouts and why does the rainbow one look like a lesbian?

Of course, they want you to feel comfortable, so when it comes down to choosing the movie, they all turn to you, but Johnny isn't sure he likes that grin.

Sure enough, more ponies.

“That's a mustang, and he's a great horse so mind your manners” you scold him when he complains, handing him the popcorn. He wouldn't mind watching ten hours of paint drying if you're willing to talk to him, even if it's to call him an idiot.

As the movie slowly comes to the end, Johnny sees the Capt'n wiping his tears in silence, even Simon's eyes are a little shiny, and cheeky, annoying-as-hell Gaz? He's sobbing, muffling his mouth with a hand. You're no better, your bottom lip trembling as fat tears stream down your cheeks.

“It's just a movie” Johnny sighs, crossing his arms.

The rest do not hold back their retorts at all, calling him hypocritical and heartless. Even Simon doesn't back him up, pointing at his face.

“We can see the tear streaks. You ain't fooling anybody”.

“It's the allergies!” Johnny yells over their loud voices, shamelessly reaching up to wipe his face.

That gets a loud laugh from you, and that's enough for him. Johnny doesn't mind being the target of their teasing, as long as you're part of it.

As they slowly settle down, munching on crisps and some baking goods you made a few days ago, the Capt'n asks what everyone's been dreading to mention. The Question.

Johnny almost throws a pillow his way, but he swallows thickly and discreetly places a hand over Simon's tense thigh, all of them waiting.

“Will you be changing teams?” the Capt'n questions, his shoulders forcefully relaxed, his mouth stuffed with a creamy tart. Johnny can see how hard he's trying to be calm, not wanting to force an answer out of you. “I can… well, recommend a few other teams. Or I can show you a few options, I just need a few days to go over the files”.

You wave a dismissive hand, shaking your head. Everyone's heads whip in your direction, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Listen, I know… I know what I said, but I already know how we all work, and I'm already comfortable with you. Starting over, with the weight of the reason why I would be changing teams… I don't want that”.

“What did your therapist say?” Simon asks directly, his eyes firm on yours. “Did you discuss it with them?”

“I did. She advised me against it, but… I think I can handle it. Maybe it's gonna take a little while, but—”

“What if it's too much? Trust is very important, and we… we can't blame you for not trusting us. Look, maybe you should reconsider it” Johnny interrupts you, his chest tight. He doesn't want you to leave, but if you get hurt because you can't trust them and accidentally do something to put you in danger… he'd rather avoid that. “It's an important decision”.

“I understand that” you insist, your left eye twitching a little. “I'm aware it could be difficult if I panic again. That's why I'm in therapy, after all, so I can–”

“Therapy can only help so much, anyway. We can train together, and then see if you're feeling up for it. If not, I can always check the files” the Capt'n interrupts you, mostly talking to himself, his lips pursed in thought.

“Besides, the higher ups probably won't want anybody talking about this. Maybe they won't even let you change teams at all” Gaz adds, rubbing his cheek.

“That's why I'm trying to–”

“If they don't let her change teams, we could always call them out on their bullshit” Simon huffs, crossing his arms, now focused on the rest of the men. “What are they gonna do? Kill us, send us away? People will talk”.

“Aye. We can always do it ourselves after all”.

"Good idea. We could—"

“Enough!” you snap, making them all turn to you at your outburst. "I've been with you idiots for nine years! Do you seriously want me to leave?”

“No!” Johnny shrieks, alarmed. The rest shake their heads, Simon's hand halfway to rest on your arm, as if wanting to sooth you, but you pull your arm away.

“Then stop questioning me, goddamn it! I'm not a child, alright?” your voice raises, your eye still twitching. "And I'm not dumb, you big, stupid idiots".

For a moment, everyone's silent.

"You're right" the Capt'n says first, his cheeks a little bright for being yelled at. He's probably not used to that, not by those who aren't his superiors. Right now, he's not just the Capt'n, but also John, anyway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to question your decisions, I'm just... worried".

"And I appreciate that" you grunt, rubbing your forehead roughly. "I just... stop trying to make this decision for me".

With your words now deep in their hearts, they all go quiet for a long moment, awkwardly looking anywhere but in your direction.

Johnny is incredibly happy about it.

He knows it's selfish and awful of him to be happy you want to stay with them, but he also knows it will probably be difficult at first, especially when you see them with their uniforms again. He wants to help, to be there.

Eventually, they all fall in a comfortable conversation again, Johnny pressed against the armrest of the couch, you squeezed between him and Simon —much to his surprise and contentment—. Gaz and the Capt'n are bickering over something Johnny doesn't really catch as they sit on the blankets in front of them. He's just so aware of you being next to him, willingly, that nothing else matters for now.

At some point, he sees you yawning.

It doesn't take long for you to excuse yourself, leaving them to get comfortable in the guest room. Johnny decides not to focus on Gaz and you being in this room just a few hours ago. With a little look in Gaz’ direction, you give them your goodnights and walk up the stairs.

They're sharing the bed, since it's easier and better than to sleep on the floor. Still wearing those ridiculous pink pajamas —they are very comfortable, if you ask him—, they set their bags filled with clean clothes on the side and start getting ready to sleep. Of course, that doesn't happen right away.

The Capt'n scrolls down his phone, resting against the headboard, and when Johnny and Simon get lost in their conversation, they both notice Gaz discreetly leaves the room. Simon throws a little look his way, and Johnny can only nod slightly. Reaching out to grab the man's hand, he just keeps on talking, distracting both of them.

Despite looking fully focused on his phone, Johnny can tell the Capt'n is listening and very much alert, because everytime they both complain about anything, and everytime Simon hums instead of giving him a real answer, the Capt'n's lips curl in a very subtle smile.

The door to your room gently creaks open, two dark eyes staring at you. You grin from your bathroom, your face white and soapy as you wash it with your fingertips, foam up to your hairline and down your throat.

“Come on in. I’m almost done” you say, leaning down to rinse your face. With closed eyes, you hear as Gaz’ moves over to your bed, laying down on it with a low groan, his back cracking.

As you go on with your skincare, carefully massaging your skin, Gaz lays there, watching the video that’s playing on your tv, even if you know he doesn’t understand a single word. You take your time, content to just let him hang out with you. His eyes leave the screen when you get closer, opening his arms for you, like all those months back in the clinic.

With a mischievous grin, you drop all your body weight on him with the intention of making him groan, but he only wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your neck, nearly flipping you onto your back, mumbling something about how nice you smell. Gaz pulls back just enough to cup your cheeks, smelling the watermelon lip balm on your lips, studying how the creams you used just now make your face look shiny. He doesn’t tell you, but your eyebrows are also a little funny looking, brushed in many directions, but Gaz does reach up and uses his thumb to brush them back in place.

With no need for words, he just curls around you, his nose buried deep in your neck as he stretches, an arm comfortably sneaking under the pillow. That’s when he pulls back and raises an eyebrow at you, lifting the pillow under his head.

“What—” he grunts, incredibly amused, as he looks down at the knife that’s not-so-safely hidden.

With a grin, you shift and reach down between the headboard and the mattress, showing him another big knife that’s hidden there. You aren’t allowed guns until the psychologist says it is okay, so knives it is. Gaz only rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around you again. “Fair, I suppose” he mumbles, burying himself in your neck again.

You just let him, caressing his arms and enjoying the closeness until he falls asleep. He looks peaceful and content, and you really, really want to sleep next to him, but your mind is working a little too much, so you slowly get up the bed, quietly walking around the room, hoping it will tire you again.

It’s something that often happens to you. You’re tired and sleepy, until you’re in bed and then you can’t sleep for hours and hours on end.

You stare at the paintings you’ve gotten, the ones you painted yourself. Looking a little to the left, you can see the music albums you got when you were in your early twenties, now mostly a good memory, and something nice to listen to when you’re feeling low. As you get closer to your bookshelf, you pick a random book, vaguely remembering how many times you’ve read it in the past.

Lost in thoughts you can’t even begin to understand and organize, you turn to the guitar in the corner of the room. It’s been there for over ten years, and you never learned how to play it. With a soft huff of amusement, you walk over to your desk, looking down at the pictures you have there. Your parents, your siblings, the team, and the girls… you didn’t even say goodbye. You hope they aren’t so mad they weren’t invited today. You make a mental note to contact them after the guys leave.

Besides, Simon, Johnny and Gaz aren’t your friends. Not really, at least. And Price is basically like your dad when you’re around him, even if he’s fun to talk to, and reliable.

You reach out to take one of the pictures in your hands. A simple black frame, Johnny and Simon on either side of you, all of you wearing your uniforms, Simon’s mask in place. The sight of the mask makes your eye twitch, but it’s nothing too bad.

Setting the frame down, your thoughts become a little more overwhelming, memories of the whole team chatting by the mess hall, munching down on stale bread and days-old tea that made Simon scowl. You grin as you remember Johnny sprinting after you when you took his clothes from the showers a couple years ago, giving the soldiers a whole show by running entirely naked, only to slip and end face first against a wall. He had thrown you into the showers with your uniform, messing with your already rusty hair. Really, you had it coming. You couldn’t even be mad.

Your shoulders slumping, you turn to Gaz.

Your feelings for him have been changing for a while now. The first kiss was innocent, calm, and now, you couldn’t lie to yourself. It isn’t in your plans to deny yourself a true connection, but you had been a little hesitant, because of Johnny, because of… Simon.

You miss him. Dearly. Sometimes it feels like your heart can’t take it, like you’re dying every time you aren’t in his arms, but the panic hasn’t left. The fear is small, less… destructive and loud, but still there, regardless. You’re aware they will never hurt you again, not like that, not after everything, not with the knowledge that they were manipulated once. You know they will forever doubt the higher ups, even Price. That doesn’t mean your fear is irrational.

That doesn’t mean it makes them less guilty.

For months, you’ve wished it’s all over. It wasn’t entirely difficult for you to understand and, in your heart, you’ve already forgiven them, but… forget? That will never be possible, and you’re aware. Perhaps hugging Simon will never feel the same, but you also haven’t given yourself the time to savour it again.

Lost in thought, who knows for how long, you accidentally hit the chair with your toes, hissing loud enough that it startles Gaz awake. He sits up in alarm, but when he realizes you’re physically okay, he stretches and calmly walks over to you, smiling when you give him an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry I woke you up” you hum quietly, placing your hands on his shoulders when he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Hm, ‘s alright. Shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I’ll get going” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It makes your heart tremble with contentment.

After he leaves, the exhaustion hits you like a truck, as if your mind was no longer in alert. You barely manage to turn the lights off, before you curl into your bed, body melting into your bedsheets, Gaz’ scent all over the pillow.

Just a little while after Gaz comes back, Simon turns onto his side, his back using his arm as support, and starts snoring pretty quickly.

Johnny always teases him about it. He falls asleep like a dad. He’s out not even two minutes in.

He wasn’t sleepy yet, and fortunately Gaz wasn’t either. They talk in low mumbles so they don’t wake Simon nor the Capt’n up.

Gaz is still pretty flustered because he was called out on dating the Capt’n, but Johnny doesn’t understand why. Did he really think nobody knew? Everyone with eyes —and, much unfortunate, good hearing—, could tell.

“She was in a pretty bad shape” Gaz mumbles quietly, his breath brushing over Johnny’s lips. “I think she snapped out of the panic because I hugged her. Dunno, maybe compression helps?”

Johnny makes a mental note to get you a weighted blanket. He would take his phone out to do it right now, but Gaz is still talking, and doesn’t want to interrupt.

“I kinda fell asleep on her bed, so we didn’t really talk” Gaz admits, scrunching his nose up. Johnny’s eyes are immediately fixed on the movement. “But she looked a little better”.

“I’m happy she can rely on you, Gaz. You can actually help right now, and she… she needs that” Johnny hums lowly, his lips pursing slightly as his eyes burn. He’s too embarrassed to reach up to wipe the single tear away, but Gaz beats him to it.

“C’mere” he huffs.

A little surprised, but fully willing, Johnny accepts the hug. He holds Gaz’ head against his chest, both of them groaning quietly at the instant warmth between them. Johnny is hyper aware of Gaz’ heartbeat against his own, but they remain in silence, comforting each other. It’s not the first time they’ve cuddled to sleep, but… to Johnny, it feels different. He can only hope it isn’t in his mind only.

Next to Gaz’, Price’s shoulders relax very subtly, lips curling up as he also lets himself fall asleep.

The next morning, Johnny wakes up earlier than everyone else, feeling energized and content. Who knew he actually needed a good cuddling session with Gaz to fix his problems.

Wearing only those pink pajama pants, he makes his way to the kitchen, carrying one of his backpacks to take his headphones out, not wanting to disturb anybody. As silently as possible, he brews coffee and some tea, washing his hands as he starts preparing a few ingredients to cook breakfast. Head in the fridge, music echoing in his brain, he has no idea someone is sneaking up behind him.

He jumps off his skin when he feels a cold hand on his bare back. Johnny hisses as he hits his head with the fridge, rubbing it as he straightens up, turning so he can snarl at whoever startled him.

All he sees is a messy head, pillow-marked cheeks, and a bright smile. Your eyes are twinkling as you look up at him.

Johnny forgets it all about being embarrassed.

You join him so easily, stealing some of the coffee as you help him cook. It is your kitchen, after all. He lets you take his headphones, watching as you shake your shoulders to his music, his eyes filled with hope as he tries not to end up cutting his finger off because he can’t stop staring. It’s more than enough for him to see you humming the song very quietly, sipping your coffee.

It’s domestic. Warm. It feels like he’s finally home. He doesn’t even care if you haven’t really said a word, because the way you trust your back to him tells him enough.

At some point, he catches Gaz getting out of the guest room, his eyes still very misty with sleep. You’re facing somewhere else so you don’t see him, but Gaz realizes it’s just the two of you and grins at Johnny, quietly shuffling back into the room, leaving them alone. He’s very thankful for that, because right away, you turn to him, taking your headphones off.

“It’s done. Let’s eat!”

Much to his contentment, you two end up having breakfast alone, even if it’s obvious to him the rest are already awake and starving, but he enjoys this little moment, your soft voice and your happy humming as you eat. Johnny tries not to be too creepy by staring at you so intently, but he loves the way you sip on the coffee he made, the way you munch on the salted veggies he made for you.

The door of the guest room quietly opens after half an hour, maybe, and Simon’s face stares at him from behind it. Johnny gives him a grin.

Not even twenty seconds later, they’re all filling your kitchen.

It’s so perfectly domestic that Johnny can only grin. He watches you talking to Gaz and the Capt'n while Simon is a little busy cooking for the rest. Sometimes you flinch when Simon moves a little too fast, but you relax almost instantly, even if your eyes follow his hands for a few seconds.

This is his family, he realizes —not for the first time—.

Maybe it’s a little complicated, but it is his.

And that's enough.

I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm glad bc it took me like eight days to finish the outline. it's been a tough week, you guys.

ANYWAY, so progress 😌 why did they have bags w clean clothes if they didn't know reader would invite them over? they were hopeful. little soap went skipping to the car to grab the bags btw

› buy me a coffee ♡

we've officially reached this part... I cannot add more people to the taglist in a single post. man, I love you guys sm ♡

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @rayrayyio @diseasedclitoris @alex1011sdzfgh @thebumbqueen @hyunjaebaby @jillvalentinesrealwife @sodavrr @kneelforloki @vioxsoo @l4vstrr @leon-thot-kennedy @t3a-bag @dotmistbird @littlezarp @eclipsedcherry @codeseven @babydoll-143 @viennakarma @exitingmusic @lockofspades

[eleu22]

[codnasties]

HEAR A GAY MAN OUT... simon got cheated on his girl, but instead — simon fucked the person his girl cheated with. Simon sent a video of him and the guy (m!reader) pounding him roughly, whining, whimpering and stuff

OH YES GOD I'VE BEEN WANTING TO USE THIS VIDEO FOR SOME TIME AND IT'S JUST SO FITTNG

ghost's revenge on his cheater gf 👻 (🌽 link) - male reader -

it takes ghost a lot of time to trust someone, to oppen himself up to any kind of love and afection. but his girlfriend made the hard walls of his heart slowly crumble. only to fucking stab him in the heart in the worst way possible.

she didn't even have the guts to tell him she had cheated, a third person being the source of information - with a video and everything -. but if there's something his girlfriend should have known is that he's an unforgiving asshole.

if his gf cheats on him, he's just going to cheat back on her. with the same man she cheated with. oh, and he will definitely record a lovely video for her to see what she's missing out and how easily he could sweep the man she thought was going to become her new boyfriend off or at least sneaky link off his feet.

bending him over the edge of you shared bed and roughly pounding his ass, thusting deeply. his hips slapping against the guys ass every time he pushed himself deep down into his plucked hole. until he turns into a whiny and moaning mess

and what a nice guy that he offered to hold the camera for ghost :)

[finemadeline]

Knight!ghost x maid!reader

Warnings: Light gore, heavy smut, 18+

@readgoods wonderful artwork of Ghost in armor with a codpiece changed my brain chemistry

The kingdom should have Ghosts head for this.

Let his head loll to the ground after the blade sliced through flesh and bone, and stab it on a stake to parade around the kingdom — a message to those who think of disobeying the crown. To those who wish to commit high treason among the monarchy.

But greed is hungry. It consumes, and it takes. It makes his senses dull and his eyes linger when you walk by, tracing your features out of the corner of his eye. Makes a deep ravenous ache deep in his gut, that coils around his ribs and tightens around his heart.

It makes him weak, and soft. Forces his hand, and makes him seek you out in the dead of night to the servant quarters to hear you chatter on about your day, or sneak decadent treats from the ballroom to the room you’ve been assigned to see you smile.

The kingdom should strip him of his titles for this.

Take away his power, his roles, his possessions. Leave him bare and banish him to the wastelands, leaving him to fend for himself in the woods. Let the wolves finish him off and turn his bones into peat.

Ghost should be outside the princess's door. Waiting for her to call his name sickeningly sweet — her eyes filled with mirth and her makeup garish. He should be there, at her beck and call, protecting the Princess. Serving the crown, rotten or not.

That is his duty. That is his honor.

But his hands followed his eyes when they wandered. His brain strayed along, lagging behind his heart. He let temptation consume him and leave his duty behind. Let his fingers graze yours in passing — let himself follow you when you slinked into the servant quarters to busy yourself with duties.

He could no longer think of the consequences. Not when his hands pulled you into the nearest closet, pushing up your dress as his mouth clamped onto your neck, your soft whimpers making his ears fill with cotton as the curve of your thighs made his body pulse with need.

“You are a temptress.” He hisses, grabbing your hips and pulling you to grind against his codpiece. Ghosts hips rush to meet yours, pushing against you to catch your cunt against the cold metal. When he reaches to pull the hood of your clit as he grinds the codpiece closer, your thighs shake with need.

He relishes in your moans, nibbling onto your ear as two fingers tap your lips. “Open,” he rasps, pulling his fingers from your thigh to instead rest on your cheek, squeezing them together. When you open your mouth, his tongue hurries to meet yours.

It’s filthy in the way its teeth and tongue, his tongue pushing deeper into your mouth to hear you keen for him, only pulling away when you squirm — your glassy eyes and bated breath almost making his eyes roll into his head.

His lips move to your neck, tonguing at the salty sweat made. He threatens to bite, to crack your bones open and sink into your marrow to make a home there — and you do nothing but tilt your head away to give him more access.

He’d much rather kneel to you. Lower his head to kiss your hand — ignoring the chipped nails and gnarled skin, or the ratty clothes and dirt stains— and watch you night and day, waiting for you to call for him. No longer serving the rotten, but something much sweeter. Much softer.

Your whines of his name break him out of his fervor, hips canting faster as you approach your peak. He should punish you, he thinks. Pull his hips away and watch your release slip from your grasp for bringing him to his knees so easily. For weakening his heart so greatly.

But he relishes in the way your body squirms as you come, hips twitching as you bite your bottom lip to silence your moans. When you lean back onto him, reaching up for a kiss, he then knows he can deny you nothing.

He will give you everything.

He deserves to serve something more sweeter. More softer.

Link to photo reference! : https://www.tumblr.com/readgoods/778351895707287552/knight-ghost

[hellomissella]

another submissive!simon riley ficlet because apparently that's who i am now:

your shared bedroom is dim.

he finds it a little silly that you never use the overhead lights. "the lights are too harsh," you tell him each time. the warm lights are much more inviting, much more atmospheric. those same lights are infinitely more flattering as they surround simon, who stands in front of you, standing at ease.

his eyes never leave yours as his regulates his breath, but his heart nonetheless pounds hard and heavy like a war drum just by the way you look at him.

god, he adores you.

your voice is always even and steady and you give him permission to use one hand to undo his belt. unzip his jeans. he's already painfully hard, and you haven't even touched him.

he doesn't look away once.

"show me how you stroke your cock when i'm not with you," you tell him. "when you think of me."

he starts off slow, his wrist twisting while his hand moves up and down fully, paying careful attention to his tip. his breathing gets heavier. his eyes start to close. his jaw slacks and he tries to fight off moaning too loud, too quickly—

"eyes on me, puppy."

his lidded eyes snap back to you as he nods.

"yes, my love."

he watches as you, sitting on the foot of the bed, as you lean back with a playful smile on your face, like you're looking at a work of art.

soon, he's panting. he begins to tremble as his orgasm grows close, and his brows furrow in both focus and desperation. he can't stop the breathy moans now; his hips begin to snap forward, trying to fuck his own hand as he watches you watch him.

"please," he sputters, "may i cum?"

your gorgeous smile — the one that doesn't just light up your face, but your whole being — doesn't fade. "no," you tell him.

he nods, accepting your decision without question. he continues to stroke his cock for you but his moans are now being accompanied with whines and whimpers. he can't help it; he wants to be good but you're just sitting there and he wants to make love to you; he wants to make you cry out in pleasure and wants to hear your praises and words of adoration.

"my love..." simon whines, almost a whisper. "i'm so close."

you raise an eyebrow. you're not going to carelessly throw permission around. he needs to earn that orgasm.

"please, love, may i cum?"

"no."

oh, you could laugh at how loud he whimpers, his abdomen stuttering as he breathes loudly through his nose. he's trembling now and he tries to readjust his footing, as if it'll help him prevent cumming without your permission.

"darling, please—"

"no."

it almost burns as he strokes over his tip and he doesn't bother holding back any of the sinful noises coming out of his mouth anymore. all of it belongs to you, anyway. he groans, curses, cries. all futile attempts to keep his orgasm at bay.

"simon," you then coo, your smile all too playful for his liking right now. "i love you. you look so good for me right now..."

"please..." he whispers. "don't, or i'm gonna cum."

"aww," you chuckle. he doesn't miss the condescension in your voice. "such a good puppy, listening to me. i love hearing you. i love watching you. i love it when you feel good—"

"love!" he groans between his teeth. "please..."

he knows what you're doing, you cheeky minx: trying to get him to cum before you even give him permission to finish. his breath quivers and he pleads again for you to let him cum.

"i can't..." he whines, his voice higher pitched. "love, please... i'm gonna cum. i can't stop. please, can i—"

you shake your head and simon could cry.

"don't you wanna make me proud?" you tease. "i know you're a good boy, puppy. i know you can prove it to me."

"fuck, i can't— i'm gonna cum..."

simon groans as he cums, thick ropes splattering onto the hardwood floor as he closes his eyes and curses profusely, his hips thrusting to chase his hand. by the time he's coming down from his high, his chest heaves and his heart beats wildly like it's trying to break out and run to you.

when he finally looks up, he sees you shaking your head in playful disapproval.

"i'm sorry," he pants. "i'm sorry."

you just smile.

"get on your knees," you instruct, and he does so immediately. "clean up the mess you've made. then we can start on your punishment for breaking the rules."

simon nods, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he positions himself on his hands and knees. his eyes lock with yours. and with his tongue, he begins to clean up the mess he made all over the floor.

"yes, my love."

[pippynsworld]

[void-my-warranty]

He’s large.

He doesn’t try to hunch himself smaller, because at work he’s large on purpose, and he’s just not interested in appearing small while off duty.

He’s not interested in being perceived at all.

Because getting stared at means a loss of control, a loss of choice. He decides when he wants to appear powerful, so he fades into the background. Skips out early, stays in the farthest corner of the booth, limits his words. He becomes a backdrop that people have a tendency to forget about.

He listens.

He won’t quit cigarettes because that’s when overhears the best conversations. That’s his entertainment, the lives of others. It’s safer that way. If he tries to shape his own life into something whole and complete, that means a commitment. It means there’s right and wrong, healthy and toxic, and he has to actively choose which to follow. He’s not ready to make those choices, he needs the control a little longer. Safety in the known.

So he watches, and listens. Hunkered down, waiting for something to rock his boat.

Maybe it’ll come to him. Maybe that’s the safest thing, getting the choice to accept or reject. He’ll reject, of course, because he needs the control a little longer.

At least, he hopes it’ll come to him. That’s what he can calculate, predict and manipulate into something comfortable. If he has to come to it, if he has to put his own neck on the block, that’s the terrifying one. That’s the powerlessness, the leap of faith. If he has the choice to tell himself no, then he has the choice to tell himself yes, and he’s so afraid of telling himself yes.

Come to me, he projects, one silence after another. Come to me so I can tell you no.

It’ll hurt to tell himself yes. He doesn’t like that kind of pain.

Yes, yes yes.

It doesn’t feel like pain yet. He rolls the concept around in his head over and over, visualizing the best possible outcomes for the first time in his life. Maybe he’s old, maybe some hope stuck to the bottom of his shoe at some point.

It feels strange, childish. Maybe he should’ve brought it out and exercised it a little more before now, because he doesn’t know what to do with something so juvenile.

Slowly his projection shifts. That silent come to me, changes, becomes words. Hellos and how are yous and playful fuck offs. Exercise.

Fuck this one for making him come to them. It hurts. Every step forward is a choice he can’t help but make. Every step is a commitment. By the time he’s closed the distance, he’ll have handed them all of the power. His hard-earned power, that he’s never voluntarily given to anyone.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Maybe it’ll be too late. They’d come to him if they wanted him, so they must not be interested. Even now, he knows that if they came to him he’d reject them. He needs them to not do that.

Let me come to you. Be patient. Let me come to you.

Just one more step.

[another-mortal]

A small but precious gift

You hum quietly as you play with the necklace in your hand.

"I wonder if he'll like it?" you think. You've never seen Simon wear a necklace before, so you're skeptical about whether he'll like it or not. But you really want to give it to him.

The sound of footsteps on the floor interrupts your thoughts. You look in the direction of the sound only to see your fiance looking at you with his brown eyes curiously, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"What are you doing, my dear?"

His deep, raspy voice reaches your ears, which are currently getting red from his bare chest. Simon has just finished showering and is only wearing pants.

You quickly shift your gaze from his chest to his eyes.

"Uh... nothing... I just wanted... to give you a gift..." you say, deciding to give it to him.

"A gift? What is it?" He asks as he walks over to you and sits on the couch next to you, placing his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing the bare skin.

"Uh... Well..." You handed him the necklace.

Simon's eyes widened slightly for a moment as he took it and examined it. No one had ever given him a necklace before. You could tell he really liked it from the way his fingers felt the cold metal before he placed it around his neck.

"I like it..."

"Does it fit?"

"Very..." You say, staring at his chest again, at how the small skull rests in the middle of his muscular chest.

Simon chuckles softly and leans in to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"No one's ever given me a necklace before, you know...?"

"Really??" you ask.

"Yes" he answers, touching the necklace again before looking at you with a soft, warm smile.

"Thanks, I'll make sure to wear it all the time..." Simon says.

And since then he never took off the necklace, even during intimate times with you. You couldn't help but admire how the cold lieutenant cherished such a small thing..

[dimlylittorch]

hi !! i hope you don’t mind that i used this for a Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader scenario :)

My Masterlist🌱

Weak. That’s all you had been told you were for most of your life. Too small, too slow, too much of a liability. Your pack kept you, but you knew it was begrudgingly. You stayed because you were blood, not because you were valued. It was hard- knowing you were always the last to finish the race. And no one offered you comfort or reassurance for it. Simply hushed whispers of ‘You won’t last very long’ and ‘Are you even trying?’

Meanwhile Simon was on the other side of things. Too big, too fast, too noticeable. He barely fit into the burrows other rabbits made, constantly making him a target for predators. He could always out run them, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the bunnies that would get attacked in his trail, naturally being called to follow his lead but unable to keep up with him. The other bunnies pitied him, really. Soft whispers of ‘I know you didn’t mean to get stuck- it’s alright’ and ‘I don’t know if a mate could survive you.’

You wanted to prove yourself. And Simon wanted to fail. Just once- he wanted to lose a race. And you just wanted to win one. It was simple, really. You decided to go hunting on your own, fixated on being a better wolf. You had to be better. You couldn’t survive without your pack, and they were close to throwing you out all together. Meanwhile Simon sat in an open field surrounded by minimal brush, completely vulnerable. He was tired of surviving.

Wandering along the stream, having learned from the other wolves that every creature had one thing in common. They needed water. There would always be at least one unfortunate animal sitting on the bank of the river, trying to drink quickly before being caught. As you followed along you suddenly turned, hearing a rustle in the clearing next to you. And there sat the biggest rabbit you’d ever seen. A black and white coat, thick and meaty- perfect to prove yourself. And Simon saw you too. But he pretended not to.

As soon as you ran up and pounced on him, you knew something was off. He didn’t run, he showed no fear. He simply sat there. Like a dumb bunny. Pinning him down and growling at him, you bare your teeth with annoyance. “Why the fuck are you still here?” You hissed.

He stared up at you, blinking slowly. He could feel how weak you were for a wolf- hell, he might even be more of a wolf than you. “You got me.” He murmurs as if it’s an obvious answer.

You stare down at him slightly stunned, your growl fading from your throat. “No- no.” You say quietly. “You’re supposed to run. I- I’m supposed to chase you!” You spit out.

He sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those sick wolves that enjoys the killing- not just the eating.”

Your eyes widen a little, your breath fanning against his neck. “I.. I don’t like the killing.” You murmur. “But- I-“ you breathe. “I’m supposed to.”

He looks at you, nodding a little. “Yeah.” He mutters. “And I’m supposed to run.” After a small beat, he speaks again. “I’m tired of these ‘supposed’ to’s.”

You eventually slip off of him, settling in the dirt next to him. “You’re big.” You say softly. “For a bunny.”

Nodding, he sits up. “You’re small.” He murmurs back. “For a wolf.”

—

It didn’t take long for a symbiotic relationship to form. Eventually your pack did move on, leaving you in your den alone. But that actually ended up working out. Simon could never manage to make a burrow big enough, and you suggested he live in your den. It was spacious, comfortable, and covered with wolf’s scent so he wouldn’t be bothered by other predators. He settled on making a nest since he couldn’t really burrow, gathering whatever he could to make himself comfortable. When he noticed how you slept alone on the stone floor, shivering slightly from the cold he didn’t hesitate to invite you into his nest with him.

With his strength he could easily catch up to other prey, and he didn’t mind helping you hunt. Spotting a random bird for you, jumping into the air to catch it and offering it to you so you could eat. And you did the same- sometimes during the night while he slept safely you could go and find anything he could eat, and in the morning he would wake up to different berries next to the nest. It certainly wasn’t a normal arrangement, but as long as it kept the two of you alive, it didn’t seem to matter.

sorry if this was bad!! i don’t usually write for the hybrid!au’s- but i took my adhd meds today so this made me lock in lolll :3

I don't know how to write, but someone please hear me out. yk the bunny and wolf trope? like simon x reader, simon wolf bunny reader? what if the roles are flipped? bunny simon x wolf reader, but reader was always left out of her pack for being the smallest and so she decides to go hunting to prove that she can be just as strong. She comes across bunny simon who was feared by other bunnies around him because of his size. Please. I'm begging. If someone could write this? Forever be in your debt.

[ilostthewar]

So our fridge died and to get the new fridge into our house we have had to: remove the front door, remove the handles from the fridge, remove the French doors of the fridge, remove the pull out freezer door, and we now have to remove the feet to even get it through the archway.

Anyway, imagine calling the 141 trying their damndest to get the fucking fridge into your kitchen. John is repeating to not scratch the walls or the floor and Soap is trying his best not to tell the captain to shut up and tell them where to walk. Gaz has measured the fridge and all the doorways and knows exactly what needs to be done, everyone is ignoring him. Simon has taken 4 smoke breaks it’s only been 30 minutes. And you’re sitting pretty holding exactly 3 screws that they have allowed you to hold. Despite the fact that each of them have their own tool boxes in the car, John was the only one wise enough to wear a toolbelt and they keep having to run back to their trucks/cars.

[codnasties]

GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST GHOST

[streetchicken]

Wondered what would happen if I cross over my current two main fandoms-

I'M BACK!!! Y'all miss me? I can finally post good stuff again. Once I get my energy back. Enjoy this little dual fandom post in the meantime :)

Fried chicken below

[homosexualgirlandbags]

I have this vague idea of incidents that had happened on base so...

Timber incident, in which Simon increasingly replaced all of the furniture in John's quarters quietly with timber. Only to find out that Nik is allergic to that specific type of wood when he walks out with a rash in all the wrong areas.

Poison oak feedback. In which Nik, upon finding out it was Simon's fault, threw poison oak at him. Fucking childish, but it ended up as fair game considering how the both of them ended up in the infirmary.

The creepers haunt. In which a guy on base was sending pictures of 141 working out to the recruits, telling them that this is what they should aim for. Plot twist, it was one of the CIA operators that works alongside Laswell who did it. Which made the whole 'riot and haunting' act the 141 did to find out the creep useless.

'Carlifornia Love'. A joke in which Ghost was seen singing that song, albeit horribly off tune, during a karaoke.

Slip and mud. Johnny falls down in brown liquid. Not I would not elaborate. I would say, however, this happened whilst they were doing wilderness training. (Kyle may or may not have been behind this)

The microwave chronicles. A series of reports on John's desk that grows ever taller each day the microwave in the break room is opened. (No, Johnny, you cannot create plasma using grapes in the microwav- what do you mean it exploded??? What do you mean that it's possible.???) and also the increasing frustration of Price every time they end up with a new guy who ends up short circuiting the microwave because tin foil is 'not made out of metal'

Pillow swap. That one time Kyle got so pissed off with a batch of recruits that he ended up swapping everyone pillows while they were away. This would have been fine if it wasn't for the fact that some of the men had lice or dandruff. By the end of the week, almost everyone in that squad had to shave off their hair.

Janitors closet. Johnny and Simon get freaky in the closet, a recruit vomits and goes to grab a mop. Ends up with an impromptu X rated movie.

Frog chairs. Simon brings in a frog from the local pond to take care of. He goes away on a mission, only to find out that the frog had reproduced and made copies of its own... Who all prefers sitting in the chairs in the auditorium.

Explosions. Johnny, chemicals, festivals. You get the picture.

Coffee and Tea. Kyle mixes them both together, insists that it's the right way, Price looks horrified as Kyle proceeds to microwave his fucking coffee and tea concoction.

Freaky ass shit. Parties, alcohol, impaired judgement, kissing, humping against each other (looking at you Nik), shit in general.

That one time a general went to inspect their base and damn near caught Price almost getting down low for Nik. Gets saved in the last moment by Kyle diverting his attention just enough for him to clean up.

Shenanigans.

[milk-meat03]

Ghost (Crow+Raptor) Furry doodle

Soap 'Dog' / Ghost 'Black panther' furry doodle