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luna-andra · 9 months ago

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The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 7: Candlelight

Summary: Ghost spends the night

Author's note: Before I do anything more, a special thank you to @onomatobooyah for mentioning my fic to someone else! When I got the notification that I was tagged in a comment I thought "Oh boy another p*rn bot" and cried for a good 5 minutes when I realized what it was 😭

word count: 4.4k

If this is the first time you're seeing this, Chapter 1 is here. You can find the rest on my masterlist!

Next chapter is here!

Content Warning: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+, fluff, mentions of mental health, mild violence

Ghost stood under the stream of lukewarm water coming from the showerhead above his tilted head. Anymore cold and he might as well stand outside beneath the endless rain. He could hear a staccato cadence of footsteps climbing the stairs while he peeled off his rain-drenched clothes that clung to his skin, followed by the thud of a door closing. He felt confined in a house that provided ample distance and space for the both of them and her furry companion. Still, being able to hear her movements on the second floor made him feel like he was still too close.

-----

Andra came out of her own shower shivering. She had read that ice-cold shock baths help regulate the nervous system and, in some cases, improve a person’s anxiety levels. Well, she didn’t have a tub of ice to submerge herself in, so a shower on the coldest setting she could handle would have to do.

Still, the crewneck two sizes too big felt too tight against her skin, her sweatpants stuck to her legs and her toes felt numb from the cold. She sat at the edge of her bed for a few minutes while she warmed up and towel dried her hair. The swipe of Sammy’s tongue against Andra’s hand startled her out of her frazzled thoughts, and she gave Sammy a loving rub to the underside of her maw.

“Crap.” Andra realized Ghost’s jacket was leaving a damp spot on her duvet to the right of her. She got up, abandoning the towel on her chaise lounge and decided to take it downstairs to let it dry on the coat rack by the front door.

The stairs creaked with two different patterns of feet as she walked down in a pair of fuzzy, black socks, just in time to catch Ghost walking out of the bathroom.

There’s no way it went unnoticed with how her eyes practically did a pat down like she was airport security. He had more tattoos on his right leg, a sight only possible due to his basketball shorts. His gray PT shirt with the name ‘RILEY’ across his shoulder blades was just as tight on him as the sopping wet shirt he had on beforehand, all accompanied with his trademark skull balaclava.

Say something, for the love of all gods. “Was the water pressure okay?” Andra was ready for lightning to take her out. If a god exists, it’ll strike me down now.

His eyes squinted from a grin. “Solid.” Ghost reached out for the jacket draped over her arm. “I can take that for you.”

Andra looked down at it before handing it over. “I was going to hang it up so it could dry. Oh, did you happen to put your wet clothes in the wash? It’s behind the sliding door in the bathroom.” She was rambling at this point to diffuse the nerves knotting her stomach.

Ghost looked to the darkened bathroom. “No, I’ll go ahead and do that.”

“I’ll warm up some water on the kettle and grab us some food.” Andra walked past him and headed for the kitchen, Sammy in tow. Ghost’s heavy footsteps made his announcement, joining her in the kitchen. “Do you have any dietary restrictions? I have leftover pot roast from yesterday with some white rice.”

“No, I’ll have what you’re havin’.” Ghost opened the refrigerator door. “Is it this container?” He pointed to the big plastic Tupperware container on the second shelf.

Andra glanced over. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about it, you can sit down and give your feet a rest.”

“Let me do something, doll.” Ghost shut the fridge door and started searching cabinets. There he goes again calling her that; a heat simmered in her lower belly from the way he said it. Andra crouched down to the cabinet in front of her and pulled out a pot. “Here, you can reheat it in here.”

The two of them prepared the leftover meal together, working in tandem as Ghost explores the layout of the kitchen. He opened a cupboard and let out a breathy chuckle. “You have every kind of tea imaginable in here.”

“I like having variety.” Andra reaches for the box labeled with the flavor honey vanilla chamomile. “Take your pick.”

With the kettle boiling, Andra retrieves two mugs, plopping her tea bag in one of them with the string hanging off the side. Ghost reaches for the kettle before she can and pours for both of them.

He was close enough for Andra to detect the scent of his bodywash. The kitchen had never felt smaller before.

“Storm’s bad enough out there to cause a power outage.” Ghost broke the palpable silence as he peered out the window above the kitchen sink. There was still a lightning show going on out there.

Andra started pulling out bowls and utensils for the food. “If it does, I have plenty of candles in the hallway closet.” She brought over the servings of pot roast to the little dinette set in the nook beside the kitchen. They sat down together across from one another, the sound of torrential rain waterfalling on the farmhouse overtaking the silence. It was enough to create its own background noise, like a sleep soundtrack Andra sometimes listens to.

At the same time, the two of them stretched out their legs beneath the table, and upon feeling one another, Ghost jolted back in retreat as if she was a bolt of lightning. They exchanged glances, their eyes communicating a non-verbal apology.

Andra shamefully watched Ghost fist the fabric of his balaclava at his neck and bring it up over his mouth, stopping at the tip of his nose. She had caught a glimpse of his face earlier in the day, but now she was taking in the features that have always been hidden from her.

Wholly chiseled jawline, batman… Andra dipped her head in an attempt to focus on the food in front of her, but her eyes flicked back up while he started to dig in. The parts of his face she could see had a five o-clock shadow of stubble ready to grow, will most likely be there by the morning, his chin was dimpled – gods, save her – and a white scar slashed through the right side of his mouth. There was another scar on the side of his left cheek that disappeared underneath the fabric of his mask.

Andra was no better than a Victorian-age man peeping his first ankle. No one’s facial movements and features have been so interesting before until now. She had to memorize what she could see in fear that it would be the first and last time she’d ever see any part of him again.

“Did you learn how to cook on your own?” Ghost asked, seemingly oblivious to Andra’s ogling eyes.

His timbre voice made Andra drop her spoon in her bowl with a clang as she looked away. The first instinct screamed at her to ask about his scars, but she was thankful for the opportunity to veer her thoughts away from anything other than his marble-carved jawline. “My grandmother when she was still alive, and my dad, and whatever recipes I find online.” Her jittery fingers recovered her fork from the bowl. “Do you cook?”

Ghost wipes his mouth with a napkin, muffling a laugh. “Hardly. I cook simple meals just to meet macros and protein intake, so it’s nice tasting something with flavor for once.”

Andra thought of something else as she swallowed her last bite. “You spent a lot of time in the chow hall, I’m assuming, when you were active duty?”

He sat up straight with a head tilt as his gaze focused elsewhere, recalling years and years of memories. “When I first joined the Royal Air Force, yeah. Then I trained to join the SAS boys, and when I was assigned to task forces, we would take turns cooking meals every evening. Soap - Johnny can’t cook for shit,” Andra smiled like she already knew that, “Gaz was the better one out of all of us.”

Her eyebrow twitched at the name; she heard Johnny talk about Gaz before, but it wasn’t coming to her. “Do you keep in touch with anyone else other than Johnny?”

“Yeah, a few of us catch up a few times outta the year when our schedules align.” His relaxed posture had Andra softly smiling. His legs had stretched out once more, accepting the gentle brush against her foot, then her leg.

She was doing something right today, and it was chasing away her own butterflies and the anxiety the storm had initially created. The thunder wasn’t as frequent, but the rain continued to trickle down the nearest window Andra could see.

Sammy was laying right beside Ghost’s chair, resting her empty head on her paws in a peaceful snooze.

The moment the both of them got up to start cleaning up, she got up as well and wagged her tail in hopes that she would be getting scraps. Ghost looked to Andra, mask concealing him once more, and reached out for her bowl. “I’m cleanin’ up.”

Ghost said it like a declaration that she was not going to change, so she bashfully handed her dish over. “Alright, baby, there’s a little bit left for you.” She scraped the bottom of the pot into Sammy’s dog bowl, her tail smacking Andra’s foot with rapid speed as she sat patiently. “Go ahead.”

Sammy helped herself while Andra brought the last dirty dish to the sink where Ghost was scrubbing at the bowls and tea mugs. The evening was still young; Andra racked her mind for an idea of what they should do with the rest of their time before going to sleep.

After cleaning up, they all relocated to the living room. Ghost paced leisurely around the walkways of the room. He was observing the Halloween decorations adorning the walls, the shelves, and the coffee table. “You’re ready for the holiday, I see.”

“Where people decorate for Christmas right at the beginning of November, I decorate for Halloween on August first.” It was Andra’s tradition, one that she never had the pleasure of showing to others since there weren’t opportunities for hosting at her house. “I hit the costume stores as soon as they open every year, and whatever I find is added to my obscene amount of Halloween decorations I have.”

Ghost picked up the skull-shaped amethyst crystal on one of the shelves, weighing it in his palm. “You could take someone out with this, Christ.” Ghost gently placed it back down and walked back to where he left his bag sitting beside the couch. He picked it up and started rummaging through it. “I threw our books in here before running inside.

Andra’s eyes lit up and accepted the book Ghost chose from his warm hands. “I’m glad you did! I wanted to start reading it tonight.” In truth, she couldn’t think of anything better than buddy reading with Ghost. Yeah, her weekend evenings were a riot.

Ghost sat on one end of the couch, Sammy sat beside him and did two twirls before plopping down. Andra took up the opposite side, curling her legs beneath her and placed a torch light she pulled out of a utility drawer from the kitchen in case the lights did happen to go out. She opened the book up to the author’s note page.

Changes were made to the text in order to protect the work of a unit which continues to play a key role in the fight against terrorism.

“Oh shit.” Andra whispered to herself. Ghost picked an anecdotal story. She looked at the front cover once more to see the author’s name to keep it in the forefront of her thoughts while she reads.

Ghost shifted on the couch cushions, making himself comfortable as he held the book in one hand, his thumb splaying the pages apart. The fabric of his mask made it difficult for Andra to get a peek at his expression, but from what she could tell he was settling into the read as much as she was about to.

They read for what felt like a few hours. Andra shifted every now and then to try and find a new position to get comfortable, as all readers do. Ghost was as still as a statue, the only movement from him was the flip of a page every few minutes. Andra tried peering over to see where he was in the story, only catching a glimpse of the page number if she squinted ever so. A furry German Shepherd was keeping her from getting any closer. Sammy even had the audacity to perch her head on Ghost’s thigh.

Girl, if you only knew how lucky you are.

It’s like her canine companion knew her thoughts; her tail started to tickle Andra’s arm with its little flutters.

With Ghost’s free hand, he rubbed Sammy’s coat along her side before resting his arm on the back of the couch, his hand sitting right behind Andra’s head.

She rolled her lips between her teeth and inhaled through her nose. What were the last three paragraphs about? She retained nothing, even though she swore she read the same sentence three times over.

VRRT-VRRT. Andra’s phone vibrated against the wooden top of the coffee table. Her face immediately heated when she saw who the message was from. On a social media messenger no less since anyone overseas could only communicate with her that way.

Isabella: Andrew made bail, we don’t need your help.

Andra couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough. Her eyes traveled to the time in the upper lefthand corner of the screen. “Hey, it’s already eight.” She turned her head to look at Ghost, and Sammy crawled off the couch with a big stretch. “I usually go to bed in the next thirty minutes, want me to set up the pullout couch for you?”

Ghost was about to dog ear the page he left off on, but Andra quickly handed him one of her bookmarks that sat on her coffee table for instances like these. She knew this would come in handy. He slid the bookmark between the pages and set the book on top of hers. “Sure, I’ll move the table aside.”

Andra got up and shuffled to the hallway closet to retrieve the spare pillow and blanket for her guests. She could hear the scuffing movement of the coffee table being moved across the floor. As she was closing the door, Ghost came to retrieve the items in her hands when the lights began to flicker. Then completely went out.

A flash of lightning lit up the entire house for half a second.

The shatter of breaking glass was loud in her ears.

It had both of them dropping to the floor, a hand muffled the scream Andra let out. Sammy barked in a panic, rushing to Andra and Ghost. She breathed heavily from her nose, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. The onset of hyperventilation.

Ghost’s soft shushes got through to her, his hand moved from her mouth and brushed her hair. “Stay here.”

Andra could feel an absence in front of her; Ghost wasn’t there anymore, but Sammy was beside her, licking her to calm both of them down.

She could hear the sound of a zipper being pulled, the rustle of Ghost removing something from his bag. A weapon? A gun? It made the most sense in her mind. Another flash of lightning went off, long enough for her to see Ghost crouched in front of the couch, a pistol in one hand and a torch crossed over in the other. A soldier – no, a warrior - taking stance like he’s never forgotten his days and nights in service.

A wave of security washed over her. She was coming down from the fear and anxiety, her mind beginning to rationalize that she was safe from whatever had happened.

Was there something out there? No, it was just the force of lightning that broke the window, wasn’t it? She was in the safety of her farmhouse, where no one could possibly get to them. The road was obstructed by a fallen tree.

The light of Ghost’s torch startled her. His pistol was pointed downwards to the ground, finger away from the trigger. “A rock broke through your kitchen window.”

A rock? Andra got up onto her feet, the closer she got to Ghost the clearer she could see him. His shirt was a darker shade of gray, as if it got wet. He went outside. Shit… she didn’t even hear his movements, or the door opening.

“How big of a rock are we talking about?” Ghost led her to the kitchen. It had to be pretty fucking big for it to have –

Wholly shit.

It was about as big as half of a brick. The kind of rock that people throw into windows with notes attached to them to let them know they were on someone’s list. Her eyes bugged wide.

“The storm picked that up?” Andra was trying to rationalize it in her head. Or maybe a strike of lighting hit the ground and sent it flying into her window…

Ghost shook his head. “There’s no way. It’s got weight to it.” He stepped around the broken glass and kicked it, sending it sliding across the tiled floor. It hit the wall beside the back door a little harder than she expected.

She let out a nervous scoff. “No one would be crazy enough to be out in this storm just to be pulling pranks, especially all the way out here. Even so, the road’s blocked.”

His silence brought her no reassurance. He started to look for something to patch up the window, the torch sitting on the table facing up to light up the room. He pulled out one of her kitchen trash bags and used a pocketknife to cut down its seams. “That won’t stop someone from getting out here.”

Andra wished he had just stayed quiet instead. “What are you trying to say?” Her heart was racing in her chest, and her fingertips tingled.

“Let’s get this covered first.” Ghost avoided her question and held the cut out bag up to the window. “We need to tape this.”

“Okay.” Andra pulled the roll of duct tape out of the utility drawer and started to unravel piece after piece. Once the makeshift cover was secured over the broken window, Andra started sweeping up the broken glass. It was a miracle none of the shards punctured her socks, still, to play it safe she discarded the pair into the bin with the dustpan of broken glass.

Andra lit a few candles in the living room to give them some light. Ghost sat there with his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes reflecting a storm as ravenous as the one outside.

“Why do you think someone threw a rock into my window?” Andra sat on the edge of the coffee table.

He finally looked to her. “That day we went into the woods, I spotted a group’s worth of footprints off the beaten path we were on.”

She waited for him to continue his explanation, but it didn’t stop her from theorizing scenarios.

Ghost’s hands clenched into fists. “And lately, a car with stolen license plates have been driving down the road several times in the past few months.”

Her insides went cold, she was glad she was already sitting down. “Wait, you knew about this for months and now you’ve decided to tell me?”

His eyes softened with guilt. “I had every intention of telling you about the first incident at a later time, I just never got the chance –“

“Because you cut me off.”

The silence was so loud, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “Yeah.”

Anger and something like betrayal was churning in her chest. It had her gnawing on the inside of her cheeks. She didn’t want to be angry with him, not after she just got him back. Her tongue swiped her lower lip to get rid of the dryness bothering her. “Do you suspect someone is after me? Or you?” She failed to hold back the implicating tone in her voice.

Andra was afraid to look away from Ghost’s stare, afraid that he was going to detect her fear. He was good, and it didn’t surprise her. Ghost straightened himself and rolled his shoulders, giving him an intimidating appearance. “Are you worried that someone might be after you?”

Fuck. Her mouth opened then closed once more before answering. “There were people who had beef with me, but they wouldn’t go out of their way to track me down.”

Andra felt like throwing up. It wasn’t a lie, she wouldn’t lie to Ghost. But what about him? He wasn’t being very forthcoming with her, either. In fact, he evaded her question and turned it back around on her. “I asked if you think someone was after you, and you didn’t answer.”

Now it was his turn to freeze up on her. His shoulders became tense. “I don’t know.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You don’t know?”

“No.”

Andra flinched. Regret glazed his eyes for how bitter that answer came out. Ghost sighed, bowing his head to avoid her wounded gaze. It wasn’t the first time she’s heard him shut down the conversation before, the first time being about his family. There was a wall between them when it came to his past, but his was far thicker and higher than hers.

She had no right pushing him for answers while she concealed her own secrets as well.

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

Her heart ached. No, not again. He was distancing himself, but this time it was from pre-conceived notions that the both of them had no clue was true. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond. Her words were stuck in her throat. So, she swallowed with a head nod and went upstairs.

-----

Andra snoozed her alarm twice. Sleep evaded her for majority of the night, and when she thought it finally came, the power came back on around three in the morning. With a disgruntled groan, she turned the lights off and laid in the dark of her room.

Now she was struggling to get out of bed with hardly any rest. She had to get ready; Johnny already sent his usual ‘on the way’ message, so he was going to be met with the obstacle of the fallen tree. She had thrown on a black and white flannel and an unwashed pair of jeans, brushed her teeth and threw her hair up in a tie.

The living room was empty by the time she came downstairs. The foldout couch was put away, the blanket folded neatly with the pillow sitting on top. She checked to see if the makeshift cover on the kitchen window held up through the night, and it did. She made a mental note to herself to call her insurance. Should she make a police report as well? It was probably a good idea to see if there were any signs of a person being out there first.

Ghost stuck to his word and was out of the house first thing.

-----

Something was off with Andra, Johnny could detect it in the way she forced a smile every time she talked to a customer. It faded once no one was around. She was quiet with him and shook her head with an unsatisfied sound coming from her when she checked her phone.

“You’re off today, lass.” Johnny started. “I figured after the evening you had with company, you would be a wee bit chipper.”

“I guess Ghost didn’t tell you what happened.” She slipped her phone in her back pocket and sat in her foldout chair.

Johnny leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “No.”

She was avoiding his eyes. “The day at Lyme Park was really good. Everything was super nice until a rock went and shattered my window in the kitchen.”

His head tipped up and his eyes shut for a moment. “And he panicked, I’m assuming.”

“Well, we both did.” Andra explained. “It was kind of weird how the power went out and then the rock came through the window. But he texted me just now to let me know he called up someone to go repair it and he foot the bill for me.”

Johnny nodded his head. “Typical Simon.”

Andra rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Now I feel like he’s trying to push me away again because he thinks someone did it rather than some freak accident-“

“Wait, he told you that?” Johnny stood up straight, his hands falling to his sides.

“In so many words, yeah. Then he told me that someone has been through the woods of my property, and there’s been a vehicle with mismatched plates driving down our road.”

Johnny turned away from her and pretended to prep paper bags. “That’s a new one…”

There was a beat of silence before Andra grabbed his arm to turn him back to her. “You knew about the first incident?” Oh shit, she wasn’t happy about that.

He grimaced. “Sorry, lass. He did tell me to keep a lookout when I am there and when I’m with you at the market.”

She threw her hands up in disbelief, this time she gave him her back. “Unbelievable, you men.”

“Simon didn’t want you scared about something that might not be an issue,” Johnny tried to justify. “His PTSD tends to send him into overdrive at things like this.”

“Now there’s been a new incident to add onto the list, though.” Andra started to pack up her stall now that it was noon.

Johnny grabbed the chair in her hand to make her take pause to look at him. “These coincidences aren’t incidents, we have no proof of someone bothering either you or Simon. Don’t let his anxiety get to you, it’s gonna be fine.”

Her sad eyes locked onto him, telling him that she was just as shaken up as Simon probably is. And he wanted to know what has haunted her for her to remain that way.

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And that is the end of Act 1! Thank you to everyone that has stuck around with me so far, and thank you to my new readers that took a chance on my fic as well! I'm going to be taking a brief break from writing to avoid burning myself out again, it won't be as long as the last time. I do intend on posting a filler chapter like I was contemplating, but I do want to give myself some time away from the keyboard and enjoy other things.

I'll be seeing y'all again soon <3

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #mwii #retired au #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x oc #simon riley #cod fanfiction #cod fanfiction fluff #cod fanfic #slow burn

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vacantgodling · 2 years ago

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a distraction

wip: vampires don’t take road trips (sorta; this won’t appear in the actual narrative bc it’s first person pov and darren would have no way of knowing — nor does he need to know — his uncle’s sex life 💀)

character(s): laurent rouzet-blanc (darren’s uncle, younger brother of liz but still 200+), raymond cromwell (laurent’s best friend) ; mentions of antoinette rouzet-blanc (laurent’s daughter with his deceased human wife emìlie “emily” shingle so a half-bloodling), carlotta sinclaire, viktor sinclaire, and erasmus sinclaire (carlotta & viktor’s father)

some minor spoilers to plot related things surprisingly. also grief and second chances at love & all of that. tagging as suggestive bc handsy making out. read at your own digression etc etc

The tick of the grandfather clock was on time to the click of brown leather dress shoes on the dark oak wood floor of the drawing room. Laurent looked up from the magazine draped elegantly over the gray-clad suit pants of his lap up at one Raymond Cromwell, arriving quite unannounced. His dark suspenders were strapped tight, a habit from his far off youth, and his brown coat was clutched tightly between his side and arm, like a lifeline he was loathe to release. A pipe was tightly clutched in his other palm, his entire stance and body language stiff and rigid and Laurent folded the magazine; gingerly laying it on his drawing room table.

“To what honor do I owe this visit?” Laurent asked plainly, not questioning how he got in, nor necessarily why. It was a disguised question, a verbal bait and switch for words that Laurent dared not ask, but their meaning felt. Raymond took a steadying breath, and Laurent sat at further attention.

“Smoke first.” Raymond decided after a heavy beat.

In a fluid motion his coat was tossed over a nearby floral chair, and his ever present newsboy cap followed. Wavy, thick, salt and chocolate tresses revealed themselves from underneath, stuck up and on end from their previous enclosure. Raymond ripped a hand through this unruly mop, only succeeding in making it messier. He sat down on the chaise immediately behind the one Laurent lounged on with a loud sigh and stuck the pipe in his mouth. He leant his head back until it was brushing against Laurent’s shoulder, exposing the smooth column of his neck.

“Do you have a light?” He drawled. Laurent nodded and reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket for his book of matches he always kept close for this purpose. “Upright.” Laurent chided, jostling him. Raymond complied and sat up straight, leaning into Laurent’s space enough so the other man could cup a hand around the black, worn bowl. He brought the delicate flame to the herbs within, illuminating just how bloodshot the sclera around Raymond’s deep crimson eyes were. But still, he didn’t prod. He leaned back when the pipe was lit, shaking out the match and tucking it into a different pocket in his coat to dispose of later. As he did so, he felt the shuddering inhale of Raymond’s lungs, turning his head to witness it all billow out of his friend’s nose and mouth, not entirely dissimilar to a dragon, milky and white.

It was another moment before Raymond finally said, with a noticeable lack of forewarning, “She’s dead, Laur.”

Laurent felt his shoulders tense, but when he turned to glance at Raymond out of the corner of his eyes, his expression was oh, so, carefully neutral.

“… Carlotta?” He asked, carefully. Raymond let out another shuddering breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not gripping his pipe. Laurent heard the pipe cracking between his friend’s distraught fingers. “That bastard fucking killed her.”

“Viktor?” Laurent hesitated to ask but Raymond immediately sucked his teeth.

“No. Erasmus.” That wasn’t who Laurent was expecting to hear. He turned again, draping his arm over the other chaise to look at Raymond fully but the man wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he stared out of the large bay window before him, unseeing.

“How do you wager that, old friend?” In a rare show of physical contact, Laurent bumped Raymond’s elbow with his own and it finally made Raymond shift. His eyes slid back to Laurent’s.

“I’ve been watching that miserable piece of shit for a long time. I just know.”

Laurent studied Raymond’s face and not finding a trace of insincerity he closed his eyes, trying not to heave a sigh himself.

“I believe you.”

“She’s gone.” Raymond’s voice cracked a bit on the second word, but he didn’t have to say it for Laurent knew. He knew what he was feeling. What he never got to say. Two moths that were dancing around a mutual flame and it was suddenly, without warning, extinguished. Even if losing Emìlie wasn’t the same, Laurent knew. He knew.

“How long does it hurt, Laur?” Raymond asked, already scanning his thoughts. “It’s been nearly a century.” Laurent said quietly. “And I still feel her absence like the day I buried her.” From his peripheral, he saw Raymond bob his head, until it was tucked against his chest.

Silence fell.

Eventually Laurent grasped Raymond’s arm.

“She knew you loved her.” Was all he said. Raymond didn’t move still, the pipe nearly half fallen out of his lips. Laurent was almost worried that in his grief, Raymond simply passed out, but suddenly his friend jolted to his feet. The pipe still did fall, and Laurent reached out, grasping it before it clattered to the ground.

“Raymond?” It wasn’t often Laurent said his name. But at it, Raymond looked. Tears had finally begun to streak down his dark, chiseled face, and Laurent was up on his feet until Raymond was in front of him, pushing him back down into the chaise. Laurent wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Raymond dropping onto his lap, knees bracketing his hips wasn’t one of the myriad of scenarios flipping through his mind.

Raymond crowded in close, until their noses were brushing, and Laurent draped his arms around his friend’s waist, studying him—waiting for his next move.

“I need a smoke.” Raymond’s whisper was husky and rasp, then dark lips were pressing into Laurent’s easier than breathing.

He didn’t push him away.

Laurent stroked long fingers against the bunched material of Raymond’s shirt tucked into his dress pants, and let his friend work his mouth open with long, languid drags of his tongue. Laurent’s eyes, half lidded and not fully closed, studied the half furrow of Raymond’s brows. If it was stress, or relief, pain or pleasure, he couldn’t tell. But he licked back against Raymond’s tongue as it started to retreat, coaxing him back to him after a scant parting for breath.

Raymond’s hands slid into Laurent’s long loose tresses of ink and silver, tugging until he let out an involuntary small gasp. It was then that the first rock of Raymond’s hips startled Laurent into this sudden reality. The reality that Carlotta was dead, and his beloved wife was long gone; where his best friend was kissing him and was perched on his lap. The reality that perhaps the two of them had always been this close to this cliff’s edge. The reality that this was all it took for them to finally tumble over it. Laurent’s hands gripped Raymond’s hips, holding him fast and steady, encouraging his hips to move again and they did with a dark, rumble of a moan in tandem against Laurent’s chest.

Raymond pulled back. He wiped a hand across his lips, perhaps to hide the wry, delighted grin that was tracing across his face.

“Damn.” He said. Laurent didn’t say anything. With their eyes still locked, Raymond rolled his hips once more. Testing. Prodding. Laurent hissed when they caught against his growing arousal.

“That thing you do with your eyebrows when you feel pleasure is quite… interesting.” His friend’s voice dropped to a inquisitive murmur, making Laurent scoff.

“My eyebrows aren’t doing anything.” However, Raymond paid him no mind, instead skating his fingers against Laurent’s jaw, then leant down to follow the trail with his lips.

“Laur…” Raymond’s voice was a heady rumble and Laurent just barely managed to stave off the urge to shiver. “Let me guess,” He reached up to card a hand through Raymond’s tousled hair. “You’ve wanted this for awhile.” Raymond huffed out a laugh. “Oh since we met, old friend. You’ve always been easy on the eyes.” Raymond pulled back only slightly to peek at Laurent’s raised eyebrow. Something warm stirred within him when it caused his friend to laugh. “Trust me. There’s only one reason I’ve ever fallen into Saph’s chambers—and it wasn’t for him.” Laurent couldn’t help his laugh if he tried, though as always, it bubbled as a low, dark chuckle. “So then were you jealous?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Of Em and I?”

“No.” That answer did give Laurent pause and he regarded him. The grief was still there, ever present in his eyes. But there was some spark of life beginning to return to them; a dollop of rich, bright hazel intermingling like a dance in his crimson eyes. Curiously, Laurent found himself lifting a hand to trail it thoughtfully against his friend’s dark cheek. Unless it were his imagination, Raymond lent into it.

“I was happy you found someone who made you less miserable. I still am.” Raymond’s smile was soft and pliable. “And you know Emily was a dear friend of mine. I felt partially responsible for your meeting.” Raymond chuckled, but finally leaned in once more, back into Laurent’s space. The heat, the arousal, it was all still there, and Raymond’s head fell to his neck. He pressed an exploring kiss there, then another one more searing when Laurent tilted his head to let him continue. “And before you worry your head about it, this doesn’t have to change anything between us.” Raymond’s voice was a hoarse rasp, circling the shell of his ear like a thick smoke. “I just need—“ Laurent pushed his hips up and Raymond’s words caught in his throat, clipped on a gasp. “A distraction.” Laurent finished for him. Yet, this felt like more than that. It was as if the strength of the revelation 100 years ago with Emìlie reached forward in time to strike him again, with interest—their history. Laurent wouldn’t pretend he’d looked at Raymond like this before, but he’d never looked at anyone, never thought himself capable of the emotions. Yet, he’d married, had a child, grieved—still grieved—and now his best friend’s comfortable weight on his lap felt just as right now as Emily’s did then. He couldn’t change the past, neither of them. They couldn’t restore what either of them lost. But their companionship, a distraction, an inquest into something more… Perhaps that was in order.

Before the topic could be breached or Laurent could make his thoughts known, the door to the study swung open to reveal a familiar tidy head of ginger hair; Antoinette’s darker, but still as vibrant as her mother’s.

“Father?” She called softly, her voice always comparable to a mouse. And well, Laurent knew wouldn’t take long for her eyes to find the two of them, entangled as they were. Raymond made no move to pull away, but he did pause his exploration towards Laurent’s jugular. Laurent tilted his head so he could meet his daughter’s eyes.

Her face blossomed red before he could say a word, and she quickly spun around and hurried back into the connecting corridor, without another word.

Against his neck, Raymond chuckled. “Poor Nettie. She wasn’t expecting to see her da like this I’m sure.” Laurent scoffed in reply, tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling. He’d talk to Antoinette later, if she would see him. It was no different than the first time she’d stumbled upon him and her mother, though that was ages ago. She hadn’t looked him in the eyes for a week. He really wasn’t sure where her demureness came from.

“I didn’t say stop.” Laurent murmured instead. Raymond’s laugh and grip on his shoulders, tight and sure, as he got back to business made something warm and comfortable coil in Laurent’s gut.

They’d have more time to discover it later.

#s: darren and co #suggestive #ren writing #i’m only tagging suggestive bc there’s no penetration or nakedness just making out and getting hands #anyway #spoilers ig

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ophelia-jones · 1 year ago

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Miss Lena's bedtime stories

Chapter 2 Sheriff Grimes

Lena was standing on the back stoop, facing out into the empty field. She was enjoying a cigarette in the peace of the evening. It wasn't quite dusk yet, but the sunset was fading fast. Twilight was her favorite time of day; the girls were inside getting ready for another night of drinking and dancing with lonely men, and Charlie was warming up on the piano. The soft sounds from the field mixed in with the piano and the women moving about inside and it was a symphony to her ears.

She'd become aware of the man long before he revealed himself from around the corner of the saloon next door. How long he had been back there, working up his courage or trying to talk himself out of it she couldn't say. She suspected he'd been out there longer than she had.

"Was there something I can do for you, Sheriff? Because if not, I have to ask you to move somewhere that you won't scare the clientele away," She said when Rick did not immediately speak. She smiled coyly at him as she said it, and Rick cast his eyes to the ground with a sheepish grin.

"I've uh, I've never frequented a place like… that is, a business like yours. See, I was married young, down in Georgia. This wasn't as common a thing back home," he explained, hat in hand.

"But a widower gets lonely in a place like this," Lena concluded. "I know you're new to the territories, Sheriff Grimes, but businesses like mine are the only way a great many men ever know the company of the fairer sex. You don't have to show up with your hat in hand and a bouquet. Although gifts are always accepted," Lena told him with a wry smile. "It's just a business agreement. We provide you with a service, whether that service is a dance and a smile or the sort of needs a wife would normally handle."

Sadness darkened Rick's eyes for a minute at the thought of Lori. Their marriage had been filled with fights and difficulties, but they had also shared love at one time, and two beautiful children. He didn't want to dishonor her memory, but the truth was, he was lonely out here. His best friend had come out west with him and the children as soon as Judith was old enough to travel. There were needs that they couldn't fulfill, though. His was the sort of lonely that could only be soothed by a woman's touch.

Lena descended the stairs to stand in front of Rick and search those troubled eyes.

"You don't want to be seen here. Because of your job? Or your family, maybe? I'm not offended, Sheriff. Come on in the backdoor with me. I'll take you up the stairs to my rooms - no need to go through the parlor that way."

Rick smiled again, grateful for her consideration. He nodded to her, once, and she led him to her room.

"Now, Sheriff…" she began, intending on understanding the man's specific needs.

"Call me Rick, please," he drawled. Lena smiled at him. He was handsome, lean, and healthy with some graying stubble on his chin and dark hair that curled tightly near his neck and ears. When he was thinking of what to say, he sucked his lower lip in slightly and there was something quite endearing about it.

"Rick," Lena smiled softly. "Would you like to look at me?" she asked as she began to undress. Rick's eyes slowly looked up from the floor to watch as she slipped out of her skirts and corset, laying them out on her chaise lounge to keep them tidy for later. She then stepped up a few feet closer to Rick and allowed her white linen gown to slide off her shoulders and pool around her feet.

Her nipples immediately grew hard at the exposure to the cool air and Rick's eyes. Rick's manners wanted to look away but his eyes refused. Lena stepped forward again and lifted Rick's hand to cover her breast and it was like flipping a switch. Rick leaned in and claimed Lena's mouth - she didn't stop him; didn't tell him she doesn't do that. It was too personal. She couldn't afford that sort of intimacy.

He took her breath away, the need in his kiss was raw, desperate. His tongue caressing hers and the softness of his lips were intoxicating. It was one of the only pleasures she usually denied herself. She reached her hand around to rest against the back of his neck, her fingers caressing the hair at the nape.

He moaned against her kiss and she felt him surrendering himself to those desires he had tried to ignore for so long. She began unbuttoning his shirt and he pulled back and took over, making quick work of those buttons and tossing his shirt on the dresser near the bed. Lena ran her hands up along his belly and chest, the contrasting sensation of smooth skin over hardened muscle kindling a need of her own. His hands were on her now, gliding over the silky skin everywhere, her back, the curve of her ass, her breasts. He was hypnotized.

Lena opened his pants and slid a manicured hand inside to grasp his arousal. She made a sound of appreciation at the way it filled her hand and Rick rocked his hips against her touch. He sat on the bed to remove his boots and once he had, Lena pushed him onto his back and pulled his pants off, slowly, hovering her face near his swollen cock but not quite touching. Anticipation of touch was sometimes more erotic than the touch itself.

Rick's chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes watching her as if afraid she'd vanish if he looked away. She straddled his legs, giving him something to look at as she caressed her breasts, flicking the nipples until they were as rigid as he was. When she slid one hand down to slip a delicate finger between her folds, Rick couldn't take it anymore. It had been so long since he'd touched a woman.

He grabbed her hips and rolled her into her back, replacing her hand with his own. His calloused fingers against her most sensitive skin made her pussy grow wet quickly. No need for vegetable oil or Vaseline today. He slid two fingers into her and she lifted her hips to press against his hand.

He smiled wryly at this, pleased with the way she seemed to enjoy this as much as he did. Lena's hand found his cock and grasped it, rubbing it slowly up and down until Rick's blue eyes drifted shut. His eyelashes fluttered, his mouth opened slightly, and he groaned at the feeling. Lena cupped his testicles in her other hand and ran the tip of her finger over the sensitive skin behind them. This seemed to surprise him and he bucked reflexively.

He reached down to remove her hand and guided her onto her side, lying down to spoon her, lifting one of her legs to rest on his as he eased into her, sinking easily into her in one smooth thrust. She moaned - and not just for him this time. He rocked his hips and slid smoothly in and nearly out of her, burying his face in her hair. His hand held her breasts firmly as he moved, and she reached her hand down to rub her clit as he fucked her slowly. Rick's eyes opened and he watched the way she touched herself, felt the way she tightened. The sound of his cock in her now soaking pussy, the sucking, wet noises made him tremble

these were the bits you forgot about, the slapping of his skin against her, the messiness of it, these were the touches that made it real and raw and primal. He drew his lips back against his teeth as he held back. As much as he needed release he wasn't ready to finish. He watched the way she touched herself for a moment before replacing her hand with his own - Lena cried out softly and arched her back to allow him to thrust more deeply. When she came, Rick groaned and began to fuck her harder.

"That's it, Rick. Oh, that's it!" she encouraged him in a velvety voice and he pounded into her, the sound of his skin slapping against hers grew louder than his breathing and he groaned loudly as he buried himself and spilled into her, throbbing and pulsing in imitation of her climax. Lena found herself smiling as he buried his face in her hair again and wrapped himself around her tightly. He trembled slightly as he held her close, his softening cock still inside her.

"Better, Sheriff?" Lena purred. She wasn't accustomed to being held afterward, but Rick needed that as much as he had needed release. She rested her hand over his and let him lay there as long as he needed.

"Better," he agreed with a little chuckle, kissing the curve of her neck. She smiled and waited patiently for him to leave when he was ready. She didn't mind being held like this. Hell, she wouldn't even charge for the extra time. She had needs of her own, and they weren't often fulfilled like this. They lay there for nearly an hour entangled and enjoying the peace and the gentle touches they exchanged with no expectation.

"How did you end up out here, living like this, Lena?" Rick asked, his voice soft and relaxed.

"You want the truth, Sheriff? Or a pretty fantasy?" she sighed.

"The truth," Rick replied, intrigued by her. He had never known a woman like her before.

"My family and I were heading for Salt Lake City, this was just after the massacre in Sand Creek. The Sioux were on a rampage for revenge. Our caravan was attacked. I lay down beside my mother and little sister, pretending to be dead as well. I still don't know how they missed me when they went around and claimed scalps. Maybe because they thought I was already dead, They seemed to prefer to scalp people who were still alive enough to scream." Lena had not thought about that night in 16 years.

"My God," Rick breathed, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her with such sincere sympathy in his icy blue eyes that she felt her eyes begin to burn. She sniffed and sat up, wiping at her eyes.

"Well, that was so long ago it feels like it happened to someone else," she lied.

"Lena, you are an incredible woman," Rick told her, holding her down with his gaze. She wanted to stand and dress, to go back downstairs and drink until the memory of those screams faded again.

"No, I'm not, Rick. I didn't do anything but survive," she dismissed his admiration.

"Something none of the others managed to do." Rick leaned in and pressed his forehead to her own. "You have my utmost respect, Lena. You survived and you rose from the ashes."

"I became a whore, Sheriff Grimes, not a saint," she tried to dismiss his praise.

"You are so much more than that," He told her, stroking her cheek. She could not hold the tears back any longer and they spilled over her lashes and ran down her cheeks. Rick wiped them away and then kissed her salty cheeks. He kissed her mouth again then, slowly. As she felt her arousal stir again, she could feel his own pressed against her hip. She moaned against his kiss and surrendered to the moment as he reached down to rub her tender cunt in slow, gentle strokes. Her hips jerked violently when he touched her over-sensitive clit and he moaned, too, burying two fingers in response and making her cry out in pleasure. He continued to stroke in and out of her slickening pussy, adding pressure against her clit with his thumb and drawing a slow but intense orgasm. He licked his lower lip and closed his eyes as he focused on the sounds she made, the waves of release he felt as she squeezed and released his fingers.

When she was able to focus her eyes again, he moved on top of her and propped her legs against his shoulders until she was bent in half and he had the perfect angle to bury himself as deep as possible. She screamed out at the intensity of the pleasure and felt almost as if she could come again from his penetration alone.

Rick moved slowly, his eyes focused on how he stretched her cunt, watching as she grew sloppy with slick arousal as he slid in and out with a slow deliberation that made his arms tremble. It was maddeningly sensual - she didn't want it to end.

The feeling of his cock inside of her like that, filling her again and again brought her so close to another climax - but soon it was too much need and not nearly hard enough.

"Harder," she breathed and Rick smiled crookedly and obliged, moving faster and harder with each thrust until she cried out again.

"Like that, don't stop, Rick, please…oh God, oh oh here it comes," she talked to him until all she could vocalize was a cry of pleasure as she came around him so hard that the feeling of her clenching him tightly in the waves of her release made his whole body shake as he came again, too.

He smiled broadly as he gasped for breath, and she smiled too, at the sight of how pleased he was with himself. She reached up and stroked his cheek tenderly. He kissed her softly enough to nearly bring the tears back to her eyes, but she managed to hide them this time.

This time, when he moved away, he sat on the edge of the bed, catching his breath before beginning to dress. She watched him dress and place her money on the dresser. She would wait until he left to rise from the bed and clean herself up, his cum already spilling out of her and down her thighs. Some men liked the mess, most preferred to leave her to clean up after them on her own. Rick smiled at her, taking his hat in his hand again as he moved to the door.

"I'm glad you found me out there, Lena. You are a remarkable woman, don't let anyone tell you otherwise," he said before opening the door and shipping out down the back stairs. Lena lay back on her pillow, still breathless, and she was glad she had found him as well.

#rick grimes smut

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cosysofasandbedsireland · 15 days ago

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How to Choose the Best Small Corner Sofa for Your Space

When it comes to maximizing your living space without sacrificing comfort or style, a small corner sofa is an excellent solution. Corner sofas are both functional and space-saving, making them perfect for compact rooms or apartments. Choosing the best small corner sofa involves considering several factors, from size and material to configuration and style. Here’s a comprehensive guide to help you find the perfect one for your home. And if you’re looking for options, remember there are plenty of small corner sofas for sale online and in stores.

1. Measure Your Space Carefully

Room Dimensions: Before you start shopping, measure your room accurately. Consider both the length and width of the space where you’ll place the sofa. Ensure there’s enough room for other furniture and adequate space to walk around.

Consider Entry Points: Measure doorways, hallways, and staircases to ensure your sofa will fit through these areas.

Proportion Matters: A small corner sofa should match the scale of your room without overwhelming it. Oversized furniture can make a small room feel cramped, so balance is key.

2. Choose the Right Configuration

L-Shaped vs. U-Shaped: L-shaped sofas are popular for small spaces because they can easily fit against two walls, optimizing corner space. U-shaped sofas provide more seating but may take up more room.

Left-Facing vs. Right-Facing Sofas: Some sofas are specifically designed with one side longer than the other, either left- or right-facing. Determine which layout suits your room best.

Modular Options: Modular sofas are flexible and can be rearranged. These are ideal if you may want to reconfigure your space over time or move the sofa to a different room in the future.

3. Consider Your Seating Needs

Number of Seats: Think about how many people will regularly use the sofa. If you entertain guests often, opt for a design that maximizes seating capacity within your space.

Comfort Levels: Choose a sofa with enough depth and firmness that suits your preference for relaxation. Some sofas come with deeper seats for lounging, while others are more upright.

Additional Features: Some small corner sofas for sale come with built-in recliners, footrests, or storage compartments. Consider these features if you have limited space and want added functionality.

4. Pick the Right Material

Fabric Options: For a casual and cozy look, consider fabric upholstery like cotton, linen, or microfiber. These materials are comfortable and available in various colors and patterns.

Leather or Faux Leather: Leather offers a sleek, stylish appearance and is highly durable, making it a great option if you have pets or kids. Faux leather is a budget-friendly alternative that offers a similar aesthetic.

Velvet and Other Textures: Velvet sofas are trendy and give a luxurious feel to a room. However, they may require more maintenance, so weigh the pros and cons if you choose this material.

Maintenance Needs: Think about how easy the fabric is to clean. For high-traffic areas, stain-resistant materials like performance fabrics can make maintenance easier.

5. Color and Style Choices

Neutral Colors: Neutral tones like gray, beige, and white are versatile and timeless. They also make a small room feel more spacious and can match easily with other decor.

Bold Colors and Patterns: If you want the sofa to be a statement piece, consider a bolder color or patterned fabric. However, ensure it complements your overall room color scheme.

Match Your Style: If your decor is modern, opt for clean lines and minimalist designs. For a more traditional look, consider tufted cushions and rounded armrests.

6. Think About Functionality and Additional Features

Built-In Storage: Many small corner sofas for sale offer storage features, such as under-seat compartments or lift-up chaise sections. This is ideal for storing blankets, books, or other items.

Sofa Bed Options: Some small corner sofas double as a sofa bed, which can be highly functional for studio apartments or if you have guests frequently.

Adjustable Headrests or Armrests: Some models come with adjustable parts to increase comfort. Consider these features if you enjoy lounging or reclining.

7. Focus on Build Quality

Frame Material: A high-quality sofa will have a durable frame, ideally made from hardwood or metal, as they provide better stability and longevity.

Spring System: Sofas with good-quality springs will provide better comfort and support. Look for a combination of pocket springs and foam for the best seating experience.

Cushion Fill: High-density foam or memory foam cushions provide a firmer, more supportive seat, while down-filled cushions are softer. Choose based on your comfort preference.

8. Evaluate Comfort and Cushion Firmness

Soft vs. Firm Cushions: Sofas with softer cushions are perfect for lounging, while firmer cushions are more supportive and can hold their shape better over time.

Back Support: Some sofas come with higher backs for additional support, while others have a lower profile, giving a more open and airy feel. Consider which style will be more comfortable for you.

9. Stay Within Budget

Set a Budget Range: Establishing a budget before you start shopping will help you avoid overspending. Corner sofas vary in price, so find one that offers the best balance of quality, comfort, and cost.

Look for Small Corner Sofas for Sale: Many retailers offer discounts on furniture throughout the year, particularly during holiday sales. Shopping during these times can help you find high-quality options at a lower cost.

Assess Long-Term Investment: While it can be tempting to go for the cheapest option, a good-quality sofa can last many years, making it worth the investment.

10. Test for Practicality

Check for Longevity: Choose materials and designs that will endure daily wear and tear, especially if you have children or pets.

Easy to Move and Assemble: Consider a sofa that can be disassembled or is lightweight enough to move around easily. This is especially helpful if you plan on moving homes or reorganizing your furniture.

Floor Protection: Small corner sofas for sale sometimes come with protective feet or pads to prevent scratches on your flooring. Check for this feature if you have hardwood or tile floors.

Final Tips for Buying the Perfect Small Corner Sofa

When shopping for the best small corner sofa, it’s essential to prioritize your comfort and personal style, while keeping functionality in mind. By following the steps above, you can find a sofa that enhances your living space and matches your lifestyle. Remember, with so many small corner sofas for sale, you’ll have plenty of options to explore until you find the right one that fits seamlessly into your home.

Whether you’re drawn to a minimalist aesthetic or prefer a cozier, plush design, a small corner sofa can become the focal point of your room and offer comfort for years to come. With careful planning and thoughtful choices, your small corner sofa can be both a practical and stylish addition to your space.

#small corner sofas for sale

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