#i would love to meet them someday too
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
I just follow back whoever follows me so they can also feel the comfort of seeing that purple "mutuals" tag on top whenever I appreciate their existence!
#i love my moots#moots#i would love to know all of my moots by heart#random talks#i would love to have 2 Am talks with my moots#i would love to meet them someday too#my moots are basically my bsfs!
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
got tickets for the warsaw show :D also i forced my boyfriend to go there with me so this is gonna be funny (he's seen some of their videos and listened to me yap about them a lot so he kinda knows what he's signing up for but still)
#also he watched the wad recording with me but hasn't seen ii yet so i don't think he's prepared for what a complete chaos this is when#they're both on stage#also AHHHHH I'M SO EXCITED!!!!#i saw wad live two times but didn't manage to see neither ii nor tatinof so i'm actually gonna see phil live for the first time evrt#*ever#it's a shame i don't really have a lot of money cause i would love to get m&g too... but just seeing them live on stage is gonna be amazing#that's how i saw wad and had the time of my life#maybe someday i'll actually meet them who knows#ANYWAY i love my boyfriend for agreeing to go with me (he's not ready for how crazy i'm gonna get when we get there)#dnp#dan and phil#the terrible influence tour#terrible influence tour#tit tour ?#dan howell#phil lester#amazingphil
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
(OLD OC SKETCHES) Meet Sunnabelle Von Sunnoviche, final daughter of the Sunnoviche family. Peeking from behind a window, she witnessed a wizards final spell, one that reduced the world to a wasteland. Her noble blood damned her to [HELL], but unwanting to suffer with her family, she made a deal with the devil. She now hunts in his name. The top of her head was taken by the blast on that day. The fires of her spirit have boiled her blood into a super-heated plasma.
#luckys original content#GRAAHH MY OCS OCS IM SORRY MY OCS I NEVER FUCKIN DRAWW YYAALLL#i was cleanin stuff on my pc again n found a buncha stray doodles of her that i made like. 1 or 2 yrs ago. so i cooked em into smth edible#shes a gunslinger rogue i think! mechanically aasimar bc plasma blood#played her once for a very teeny tiny improved oneshot me n some buddies did forever ago#would love to play as her again... someday a cowboy themed game will find me.. n she will live again...#SUNNABELLE VON SUNNOVICHE! the last name was sposed to sound like 'son of a bitch' ehehehe#bc she is ONE HELL ofa son ofa bitch. shes mean shes short tempered she takes NO SHIT#and she loses her mmIIIIND when she meets a delightfully stupid pretty person#i didnt play her for long so her personality hasnt evolved that far. thats the fun thing abt playing characters! u meet them when u play em#SUNNABELLE FUNFACTS: she is the 6th child of 11 siblings. middlest a middle child can be. bc o this she was often overlooked or ignored#she grew up in a family of obnoxiously rich nobles. all the other siblings were trained and focused on to be the best a sunnoviche can be#meanwhile. sunnabelle often stuck to herself. drawing and creating little fantasy worlds. was always a fan of wild wests n cowboys n guns#she was the only one that saw the WIZARD coming. she was peering over a window when the blast went off. taking the top of her head#GUHH IM ACTULY SO PROUDA HER DESIGN SHE LOOKS SO COOL.. LIKE WHATS WITH THE PLASMA HOW DID I DRAW THAT SO WELL. IM SO PROUD.#I lov all the sun symbolism.. its so fun.. what a fun character ive made.. hell yeah.... anyway hope u guys like her too.#if u got questions ive got ANSWERS!!! my askbox is always open. im pretty sure.
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
A List Of My Fanfics, Real And Imagined (because lists give the illusion of productivity)
Posted and complete:
POV: you are Jin Guangshan and you are going to ruin lives
feelbad 5 times fic about Meng Yao and his birthday
Posted and incomplete:
NMJ teaches MY saber cultivation and since it's canon compliant, it goes about as well as you'd expect
MY joins Qishan Wen in exchange for a comprehensive family healthcare plan provided by a disapproving WQ
Exists in fragments on Microsoft Word and/or in notebooks:
QS sees JGY's wedding night facial expression and responds accordingly
A-Qing and NHS become Vengeance Buddies
NHS and LXC are stuck in a timeloop together and NHS makes it everybody's problem (but mostly MY's)
JGY didn't do infanticide, but he also didn't NOT do infanticide, ft. narrator XY
CONCEPT: MS is an actual person with her own wants and needs
epistolary character study nonsense
ace rep but the kind nobody wants
Exists in my imagination in detail:
NMJ is in his feelings soooo bad after Sunshot and he is Not coping
Madam Jin--also an actual person with her own wants and needs--fixes everything by being tsundere about MS
What Is Going On With Sisi Anyway
QS is MY's conduit for passing information during Sunshot
Xuanli Alcestis AU
assorted and sundry JYL/someone else scenarios
JGS drops dead and Zixuan abruptly has to have a job
#this was a lot longer than I thought this inventory was gonna be!#great concepts. would love to meet them someday.#lol the degree to which I do not care about what the main couple have going on........ effervescent#JC is also absent here bc I find him extremely compelling but don't have any intense hardwired feelings/opinions beyond 'LOVE!'#which is PERFECT for reading fic about him! bc it means I'm much less picky about characterization#for JGY there are MANY perfectly valid characterizations that I can't vibe with reading bc my interpretations are too hard-wired
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
big bob is very interesting to me (YES i know he's in a total of two and a half episodes. let me have this) bcuz earlier in the show they definitely intended to protray him as an abusive alcoholic father who never cared about bob and always treated him horribly. and that's true to a certain extent
i think when they figured out everything w/ lily they leaned more into big bob being emotionally unavaliable and depressed/greiving and not really knowing how to be a good dad in a really traumatic situation + raising his son in the only way he knew how. not saying big bob was NEVER abusive or that he was a good dad but they definitely reconsidered how he was protrayed in later episodes. he's not cruel he's just a very Mentally ill fucked up old man who had no idea what he was doing raising a child in the 1970s and 80s as a single dad and restaurant owner
weirdly enough there are parallels between jimmy pesto and big bob vs bob and jimmy junior. and on that note do you think when jimmy jr is older they'll be called Big Jimmy and jimmy
#i dont think jimmy pesto OR big bob are good dads tbh#big bob is a better grandparent than parent bcuz the expectations are much lower on an emotional level#(and yet gloria STILL somehow fails to meet them)#jimmy pesto is..... jimmy pesto#would love if they did an episode someday focused on the parallels between bob and jimmy jr bcuz their interactions are always great#but h jon benjiman just voicing with himself for an entire episode couldnt be too fun for him#txt#bob's burgers
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
hm this is a bit interesting to say the least. I'm not really iffy about time travel in general and parallel universes could be interesting if done right.. just a lot to think about
Link to article
https://www.eurogamer.net/naoki-yoshida-on-dawntrail-criticism-community-feedback-and-the-future-of-final-fantasy-14
#tbh im open to whatever so its not like im gonna be heavily critical here#the only thing im reallllly looking out for is character writing done in a way that makes the characters feel like their own people and#so forth#I just don't want a bigger picture with minimal character writing.. I guess I mean I want shb/ew/hw(to some extent) lvls of character#writing#while dt had some character writing I liked it focused a little too much on the overall bigger picture than focusing on pre-existing#characters which I didn't like because why are they even there to begin with then ya know?#eh he does go into how its hard to focus on everyone individually in that sense and said that the development team will proceed to only#(maybe) take a select few of scions/pre-existing characters with us from now on since some of them really do not need to be there all the#time for real#Idk I still have hope for whatever comes next so ^_^ yay#I didn't hate dt by any means but I have looked it over and can say krile and erenville should've taken the lead by the second half way mor#overall though I liked dt just not as much as ew/shb/hw#I do have to say though stormblood did have some(very minimal) character stuff I really did like though#I do not like the whole concept of stormblood though with how they structured it. I think that was done pretty poorly#only super big issue I had with hw was ysayle dying#that was just dumb as hell like damn#she would've been such a good character moving forward but. oh well ig#zero is really good too im glad she's still alive :> can't wait for more zero story in the future and I hope she meets Cyella & ryne/gaia#Idk even much abt Cyella since I haven't unlocked those quests for her since I don't wanna lvl tank or healer but I really do love her#design and by the looks of it she's a cool character so. I would love for her to be in the msq someday (meaning soon lol) I have no idea ho#they'd do that though since she's tied to side quest hell#*more#gah I just want more character moments for reaaal#I said though so many times here ignore that 😭#*how
1 note
·
View note
Text
Y'all- I'm so jealous of all the people who were lucky enough to meet Ranboo and Aimsey at VidCon. LIKE IT'S INSANE. I REALLY wish I didn't live literally all the way across the country from there-
#they seem so sweet and thoughtful#talking to each of them for even a few minutes would honestly solve all my problems i think#also they look like they give really nice hugs too#i love them both so much<3#i also find it really endearing how both Ranboo's and Aimsey's faces absolutely LIGHT UP when they each meet a fan#like seriously thats adorable#maybe ill get to meet them someday hopefully#ranboolive#aimseytv#also have you seen what the two of them are wearing#they are fashion icons frfr
0 notes
Text
Stiles always assumed that when Derek finally kissed him - because it has always felt inevitable - that it would be a boiling over of their anger. That Derek would throw Stiles into a wall or yell at Stiles after a monster fight and the kiss would be provoked by outrage. That it would be a violent meeting of tongues and teeth and groping, squeezing hands on every part of each other that they could reach.
It would be a battle for dominance, a mess of conflicting emotions. Uncontrolled and undiscussed. That it would burn like a forest fire and either leave them both with nothing but ashes or ignite something that would consume them.
He always assumed that a kiss from Derek would not be given, would not be shared. It would be wrenched from his tightly controlled fists and Stiles would have to fight for his right to keep it.
But when it happens it’s nothing like that at all. When Derek finally kisses Stiles for the first time, it’s with laughter, rather than rage, in the space between them.
When it happens - it’s with consent.
Because Derek asks. Because of course he does.
They’re on Derek’s couch, an empty pizza box on the coffee table. Derek, relaxed and comfortable, is sitting sideways with one knee bent between them. Stiles is sitting criss-cross with his socked feet tucked up under his knees. He’s just finished a story about one of the deputies trying to arrest Mrs. Riechton for shoplifting and getting beat up by the eighty-three year old woman and her giant purse. Her purse that was heavy with the five books of fairie porn she’d just stolen from the local Barnes & Noble.
Derek is almost doubled over with laughter and Stiles has one hand across his stomach because it hurts from laughing. And suddenly it’s like the last puzzle piece has clicked into place. The last Lego in the build. The last push pin in a mind map.
“Can I kiss you?”
It’s soft and filled with something like hope. Something like wonder. Like Derek can’t possibly believe that they made it this far. That they’ve somehow made it to a place where the answer might be yes.
And it is.
It really fucking is.
Because Stiles has been in something with Derek since he was sixteen. In sexual crisis. In confused lust. In determined lust. In awkward friendship. In love. In all the stages of mutual respect. In love.
So yes. Yes, please. Yes a million times in a million ways.
Just. Yes.
It’s not a soft and gentle kiss. It’s not bordering on aggressive like he’d always thought it would be. No, it’s somewhere in between. It’s sure and happy and hopeful - so hopeful. Just warm, soft lips at first but then tongues, too. Then one of them leans forward and one of them leans back and it’s everything.
They sink into the couch and into each other and the rest of the world fades into the background. Like everything from the last six years has been leading up to this moment. Every loss, every victory, every bullet wound and demonic possession, every step into danger and every step away from each other has still somehow brought them together.
To this.
To kissing with intention.
“I think I always knew,” Derek says when they’re curled into each other's warmth later.
“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, not asking for clarification because he always knew, too.
Some things are meant to be.
Edit: You can now find this on Ao3 here. There might be more someday, It's happened before.
#sterek#stiles stilinski#derek hale#teen wolf#ficlet#first kiss#enemies to lovers#some things are meant to be even if we have to write them ourselves
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Logan with a softie that he's trying to win over after the events of deadpool and wolverine pleaseee. Maybe she was someone really important to him back in his world but not in her world, thankyouuuu💖
oh 🥺💖 this is so sweet, I love this! this turned into a soft little thing about logan being your seat partner on your morning commute? (because wade made him get a job and there’s no way they can afford a car) - I hope you like it!
— right beside me
logan howlett x f!reader | 600 words | fluff
On the crowded bus, he meets your eyes. He knows you - met you at the apartment a couple days ago. A friend of Wade’s, a mutant like him. Works downtown, near the factory he picks up shifts at - just enough to cover some of the rent.
Knew you from before, too. The curve of your smile had hit him like a ton of bricks - a perfect, mirror image.
It still startles him now, even as his feet take him down the aisle. Folding himself in, when you pat the spot next to you.
Would prefer to walk, if he could.
But the city is too loud - too crowded. Sets his teeth on edge, and at least this early the bus is usually quiet. Easy enough to get on, slip off early and finish the last few blocks on foot.
“Work, huh?” You beam - rearranging your things, as he fills the seat next to you, “Guess some things are the same for all of us, aren’t they?”
Some things are.
And when you’re there again, two days later, it gives him something to look forward to. Likes the way your face changes - brightening - when you see him. The way you leave a spot for him each time.
And as the days pass, Logan starts getting off at right stop - instead of before. The extra fifteen minutes with you is worth it - your voice layers with the hum of the bus. Calming.
Gets restless on the days he doesn’t see you, though he pretends it doesn’t.
He tells you, some days after. Feels wrong not to. Something hushed and halted, in-between stops. A little gasp when you realize that Other-You knows him. Soaking in the stripped-down details like flowers in rain.
“I knew there was something.” You smile, your shoulder bumping his. It arcs through him like lightning, even through the worn flannel, “You just have a feeling when you meet someone, you know?”
He does.
You tell him things too, as the days pass. Filling the minutes as the city zips by around them and the sun fully rises.
Little things. Gossip from your job - catching him up on stories about people he’ll never meet. How you’re looking forward to autumn, all the frilly drinks you want to try. Vacations you’d like to take, someday.
He answers your questions his job. Others about Wade, when you pick up that he’s slow to answer ones about himself. Something bristling until he catches the way you listen - that soft focus, hanging on his every word.
The beast settles, then.
He gets you one of those drinks, the day that summer fades into fall. The spice prickles at his nose, sweet and cloying as it melds with the sugary foam.
It’s worth it, to see the way you light up. At him, and it sends something twisting in his chest. The gasp, when he passes the cup over - his name scrawled across the lid.
“You remembered!” You beam, taking it from him. A happy sigh, as you take a sip, “Thank you, Logan. You didn’t have to do that.”
He hums, brushing off your praise. Letting it settle beneath his skin, soft and glowing.
Something meaningful in the way your shoulder fully presses against his, now. The soft glances from under your eyelashes, when you think he’s not looking.
Maybe he’ll tell you someday. When he’s ready.
He remembers everything about you.
thanks for reading! 💖
#I was feeling like - soft forced proximity?? as the vibe 💖#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#requests#anons#eupheme answers
906 notes
·
View notes
Text
tags: neighbour!nanami x fem!reader, fluff-ish, crack, reader is in mid 20s and nanami is mid 30s, readers obsessed with nanami w.c: 800
you peek through the blinds in your living room, squinting for a better view of your neighbour. a frown crosses your face as you notice a gathering of children and mothers around his front door, which is beautifully decorated for halloween. you watch as the mothers twirl their hair and giggle in unison, but you still can’t see what your neighbour is wearing. you feel like a creep, lurking behind the blinds just to catch a glimpse of the new guy.
your heart races when you finally spot nanami. damn, he looks incredible in his costume—a vampire. you’ve heard whispers about the mysterious man who just moved in, and even the married women have been known to stand outside early in the morning just to greet him.
“do i seriously have to dress up?” you retreat from the window as you hear your nephew whine while entering the living room. you burst into laughter at the sight of him squeezing into the ghostbusters costume he wore a few years ago- the sleeves barely reach his wrists.
“well, yes!” you reply, snapping photos of him as he glares with frustration. in one picture, he slightly raises his middle finger, and you gasp, realizing he’s picking up on your habits. oops.
“i’m too old for trick ‘r treating! i don’t even wanna stay here,” he grumbles, his temper flaring as you giggle at the photos and send them to your sister, his mom, just as he threatens to rip off the costume.
“can you just behave? i’m trying to meet the love of my life,” you say, putting your phone away to prevent him from ruining your plans.
“he doesn’t even know you exist, dummy.” your jaw drops at his bluntness, and he starts pointing at you, laughing like a little brat.
“tch, you’re laughing a bit too much for someone who lost his girlfriend to a stuffed animal,” you retort, laughter spilling from your lips as he shoots you a ‘really’ look.
“at least i was in a relationship! dunno about you, hag,” he fires back, leaving you choking on a laugh. seriously, who’s teaching this kid all this at twelve years old?
you don’t say anything as you pull him toward the front door, making him put on his shoes and grab his trick or treat bag before stepping outside. your gaze is fixed on nanami’s house, now swarming with kids and mothers.
i know why you mothers are here…
“ow, let go!” your nephew winces, pushing your hand away from his shoulder as you realize you’ve been gripping him too tightly. you both end up in a long line in front of his house because these mothers won’t leave! impatience gnaws at you- you just want a chance to see him.
finally, you reach the front of the line, and you scold your nephew to behave before giving him a gentle push toward the door.
“trick or treat.” he says in an unenthusiastic tone, while you stand behind him, practically buzzing with excitement. nanami steps outside with a fresh batch of candy, smiling at your nephew’s costume. when his hazel eyes shift to yours, your breath hitches.
he definitely wants me.
“your son is so adorable,” he says.
what?
oh hell no.
“son? n-no, he’s my nephew! he was dying to come to your house,” you stammer, and he chuckles, revealing his fake fangs.
“what? you forced me—” your nephew starts, but you quickly cover his mouth to prevent him from ruining everything, sharing a warm chuckle with nanami as you stand awkwardly on his doorstep.
“d-do you have any kids?” you ask, hoping he says no. your heart would shatter if he did.
“ahh, no, i don’t—though i do wish to have a family of my own someday,” he admits, and you nod, intrigued by his almost wistful tone.
“yeaaa, i want a family with you—of my own too!” you blurt out, instantly regretting your words as his smirk widens, and your eyes practically sparkle with embarrassment.
“she stalks you everyday,” your annoying nephew pipes up, and you feel your face heat up as you wish you could disappear. nanami quirks his brows in surprise, bursting into laughter, while you stand frozen, your eyes twitching. seriously, someone needs to watch for this kid.
“heh, she’s not the only one,” he replies, and you swear you must be dreaming. nanami quickly grabs something from inside his house, scribbles on a notepad, and attaches it to your nephew’s bag of candy before handing the candy directly to you.
you’re so starstruck you can’t move as your nephew tugs on your arm, dragging you away while the interaction feels surreal. you walk past the mothers, who scoff at you, and hear him wish the two of you a happy halloween.
you glance down at the notepad he gave you:
I’ll be waiting for your call, stalker
nanami kento
you gasp, noticing his phone number written beneath it. you just bagged the hottest man alive and these mothers didn’t.
“you two are a buncha freaks,” your nephew comments as he pulls you back toward your house. honestly, you don’t care—you’re just so thrilled that you’re the one he chose.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento#nanami fluff#nanami x reader#nanami kento x you#jjk fluff#jjk crack#kento nanami#divider from @enchanthings
414 notes
·
View notes
Text
Imagine ex-husband Geto watching the new assistant the school hired being completely awestruck by you.
Naturally, before this meeting, Suguru had to disclose to the new assistant that you two were once a married couple. The details of your divorce, Suguru chose not to get into. Unfortunately, this information, considering how much the newbie admired him, only served to make you even more fascinating. After all, who could possibly be worthy enough to marry - and eventually separate from - Suguru Geto?
"--or so the Inspector General says." Suguru catches the tail end of your explanation regarding an unusual amount of cursed spirits in a concentrated area. He may or may not have spaced out for the last minute of you talking, but at least the assistant, though lacking subtlety, has been taking diligent notes.
The assistant, a young man a few years younger than you and Suguru, somewhere in his mid-twenties, looks up at you in awe.
"The Inspector General speaks to you directly?" he asks. "You must be amazing at your job."
The Jujutsu Inspector General. The high commander of all jujutsu society, the highest of the higher ups. Yes, he spoke with you often.
Suguru fights the urge to roll his eyes when you preen. You're no stranger to praise whatsoever, but you did love basking in everyone's admiration.
"Flatterer," you respond.
"No, I mean it!" the assistant insists. "The report you sent us was so detailed! It was flawless! You're really talented."
"Aw, thank you! Was my report up to your standards, Suguru?" You turn to your ex-husband.
"Sure," Suguru scoffs.
The meeting continues on without much more incident. You've only just given them the supplemental documents when you check the time.
"Looks like that's all the time I have for now. Feel free to contact me if you need anything else." You stand and incline your head to them both, a gesture they return.
"Nice to meet you," you tell the newbie. To your ex-husband, you say, "Bye, Suguru!" and blow him a kiss. Suguru makes a gesture like he's swatting away a mosquito.
As they leave, the assistant nearly runs into the door frame in his eagerness to keep fawning over you, and Suguru feels like his soul's trying to climb out of his body.
Then again, that is the effect you tended to have on people. There were times when you were married when the both of you went to an event, your lethal face cards alone could get people to drop their drinks.
You smile and the assistant blushes. "Someday, we'll all meet for a nice lunch. I wish I could today, but I have a meeting with my father," you tell them with a wave, wiggling your fingers and the poor thing looks like he's about to devote himself to your every desire.
Suguru, however, has been there, done that. "Let's go." He grabs the assistant by the collar and tries to drag him out as fast as possible. If he could teleport out of here like Satoru, he would.
"Geto, sir," the assistant says, eyes never leaving your office door. "You were married to that woman? Isn't she just stunning? She's incredible! How could you ever have let her go?"
To each statement: Yes. Yes. I know. You'd be surprised.
"It's much more complicated than that," Suguru grumbles.
Suguru throws open the door to the hallway just to run into two men in suits. Behind them is their employer whom Suguru knows all too well, and behind him, another set of bodyguards.
"Suguru," the man greets lowly.
"Inspector General, sir." Suguru bows respectfully while the assistant nearly bashes his head on the floor in his haste.
"If you'll excuse me, I have business with my daughter," the Inspector General says. The two move right out of the way and watch as the entourage heads into your office.
It takes the assistant a moment to compute, but by the choked sound he eventually makes, it's clear that he's begun to comprehend just how complicated your marriage was.
I promise I haven't abandoned Sen and his family! I just wanted a little break/practice in Geto x Nepo Baby!MC and the much pettier divorce where I have free reign for them to be more problematic towards each other without having to worry about how horrible it would be for their child to have to witness it
[Masterlist] | Tag for this AU is #geto's nepo ex
#geto's nepo ex#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru
538 notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆ ˚。⋆ ✩ ˚ ROSBERG AND ROSBUG
nico rosberg x wife! reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughters
featuring: just a whole lot of domestic fluff with nico and nico adoring his babies
faceclaim: assorted
୨��� the lack of fanfic for this man… oooh boy, pisses me off so bad i can’t even… so just have this short and sweet domestic fluff! reader can be of any profession in this fic to be honest, but i imagine them both to now be retired! fellow nico rosberg fans… eat up <3 some of the images don’t have two kids but pretend they do and some don’t really match the ages but i imagine little rabbit to be around 5 - 7 years old and little ladybug to be newborn - 2 years old throughout the posts
୨୧ related hc available here, here and here
reading music recommendations: to all of you by syd matters - youth by daughter - hey lover by daughters of eve
nicorosberg: i think yn likes being pregnant because she gets to use her baby bump as a table… hm 🤔 oh yes! yn is pregnant again!
nicoynforever: EXCUSE ME?
> nicoynforever: WHAT?
oldf1lvr: what a way to announce it 😭
sebastianvettel ✔️: you did not tell me? - sebastian
> jensonbutton ✔️: nor me 💔
> markwebber ✔️: me neither!
> nicorosberg ✔️: sorry mates, you know how me and yn are!
❤️ liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and markwebber
> oldf1lvr: not the ex-drivers now dilfs being kept in the dark for so long too…
iluvf1: yep! she’s pretty pregnant! lmao 😭
loveunico: this is so them, i love it actually
f1lover: she’s such a comfy chill mom… i want this someday but only if the man is like nico
> ynrosbergln ✔️: word of advice: don’t settle for anyone who isn’t at least a little like nico 💘
❤️ liked by nicorosberg
nicorosberg: welcome the newest member of the rosberg family! my little ladybug or my little rosbug should i say 🤔 little ( or not so little anymore 😢 ) rabbit loves her new sibling so much already 🐰 🐞
oldf1lvr: rosbug… for his little ladybug… 🥹
> iluvf1: oh my god this is so cute i’m gonna go scream into a pillow real quick
jensonbutton ✔️: little rabbit has gotten so big! i’ll have to come visit you lot soon to meet the new addition, congratulations mate
❤️ liked by nicorosberg and ynrosbergln
> nicorosberg ✔️: yes! i feel it was only yesterday when she fit in the palm of my hand… but it feels great to relive those moments now with our new little ladybug ❤️
❤️ liked by jensonbutton
nicoynforever: first it was little rabbit for their first baby and for their second it’s little ladybug 🥹
> new2f1: have they ever explained the nicknames?
> nicoynforever: well we don’t know the story behind little ladybug yet but little rabbit is because according to yn, she had a twitchy nose ever since she was a baby
> ynrosbergln ✔️: little ladybug is because she has two identical beauty marks on opposite sides of her back! so she looks like a little ladybug
❤️ liked by nicorosberg
> nicoynforever: okay… i’m so calm about all of this… so calm about how cute that is… so calm about yn replying to my comment… so calm
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg
> nicoynforever: THEYRE TRYING TO KILL ME 😭 THIS IS AN ATTEMPT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK
sebastianvettel ✔️: congratulations nico and yn! i’ll have to come visit with the girls someday - sebastian
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg
> oldf1lvr: YES, GO SEE THEM SEB 😭
> iluvf1: would be nice if someone else paid him a visit… hmph…
> oldf1lvr: 🫢
nicorosberg uploaded to his story!
nicorosberg and ynrosbergln: little rabbit finally has her own rabbit 🐇 🐰 welcome to the family britney
nicoynforever: BRITNEY?
> oldf1lvr: THEY DID NOT…
> iluvf1: THEY DID 😭
jensonbutton ✔️: looks like a britney to me! almost like someone else i know 🤔
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg
> nicorosberg ✔️: oh? really? wonder who that could be…
❤️ liked by jensonbutton
nicontop: little rabbit with her own little rabbit 🥹 this is so cute
oldf1lvr: he seems so at peace now… good for him ❤️
iluvf1: no one could ever make me hate you nico rosberg…
> lovemyf1dilfs: yes! he’s just living his best life with his girls, he’s always been the best boy 🥹
nicorosberg: had a great time this week! thanks for the love everyone showed me, but truth be told, i can’t wait to go home to my girls ❤️ 🐰 🐞
nicoynforever: he just wants to go home to his girls already 🥹
> nicontop: he loves his girls so much 😭
nicontop: he’s still so hot to me 🫣
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln
ynrosbergln ✔️: we miss you ❤️ have a safe flight back, the girls send kisses
> nicorosberg ✔️: yes liebe, miss you too, many kisses back to my girls ❤️
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln
jensonbutton ✔️: always nice seeing you again mate!
> nicorosberg ✔️: of course, you too jenson 🙂
oldf1lvr: nico rosberg, the dilf that you are…
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln
> oldf1lvr: and yn ln, the milf that you are…
❤️ liked by nicorosberg
nicorosberg and ynrosbergln: this is the life 🍋 🐰 🌻
iluvf1: i want to live their life…
nicoynforever: NICO AND YN DO YOU NEED A THIRD CHILD?
nicoynforever: OR HOUSE ENTERTAINMENT?
nicoynforever: OR EVEN A PET?
oldf1lvr: their life looks so peaceful and happy 🥹
> iluvf1: yeah, i understand why he retired to live a life like this, just living life in the countryside with his girls
jensonbutton ✔️: they’ve gotten bigger! i’ll have to come visit again soon ❤️
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg
> ynrosbergln ✔️: definitely do! little ladybug missed her favourite uncle ❤️
❤️ liked by nicorosberg and jensonbutton
> markwebber ✔️: excuse me? 🤔
> nicorosberg ✔️: what yn meant was, her favourite british uncle!
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln, markwebber and jensonbutton
nicontop: little rabbit picking lemons and little ladybug picking flowers… i can’t 💔
loveuyn: that picture of nico taking a picture of little rabbit… so cute
> nicoynforever: literally… i bet they have SO many photo albums already 😭
> nicontop: he’s such a proud dad 💔
nicoynforever: the pictures of nico and yn 🥹 they’re still so in love, love to see it
> oldf1lvr: literally… look at how she’s looking at him in the 7th picture
lovemyf1dilfs: nico rosberg, born to be a girl dad
❤️ liked by ynrosbergln and nicorosberg
⋆ ˚。⋆ ୨୧ ˚ NEW ADDED BONUS ˚ ୨୧ ⋆。˚ ⋆
love you forever nico <3
668 notes
·
View notes
Text
Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Someday
Synopsis: The day of the Knight's Festival has come, and as it comes, secrets are revealed. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess (not so) Secret Relationship, Princess and Aemond thinking of their future, Fluff, PREVIOUS PART A/N: I'm baaack!
“Seriously, Aemond… you must be more cheerful! You’re acting as if we are welcoming just mere nobles instead of your family, who you had not seen for moons— surely you miss them, do you not?” You sighed as you could feel the quiet contempt in your knight as you two stood by the castle gates waiting for the wheelhouse of House Targaryen. “Now you’re making me wonder if you would react so coldly if you did not see me for a long period of time,” You muttered and straightened your stance as you saw horses in the distance. “I will have no chance to miss you— I’m always by your side.”
You turned to your sworn protector, who finally spoke after he had held back his tongue the past few days as he had grown quite annoyed with your insistence on inviting his family. He knew you came from a place of love— that you only wished for him to be surrounded by his kin as he was to receive such a great honor, so he held back his words as he did not want to unjustly pour out his grievances on you.
“Able to speak again, now are we?” You questioned with a raise of your brow as you had practically been speaking to a brick wall days prior. You did not take it to heart as Aemond stayed silent in your presence— he did not ignore you, nor was he indifferent. You understood that he was just reigning in his frustration at your insistence on inviting his family to court. “Look… I’m sorry if I had pestered you with this matter and did not truly take your reluctance to do it seriously. But I just fear that if you do not invite them, you’ll regret it and…” You trailed, not wanting to list your second reason, but Aemond’s lilac eye implored you. “And what, princess?” He questioned as he slyly stepped closer to you.
“And because I wish to know your family— more about you… I wish to know more about the man I love.” You whispered, and Aemond felt his heartbeat in his ears. Gods, he wanted to kiss you. To pull you flush against him and feel your lips dance their familiar dance. But as you two were exposed to the prying eyes of the court, Aemond could do nothing. He only took a mental note that when you two were once again in the privacy of your chambers, he would need to kiss you and show how much he loved you as well. Aemond took in a deep breath, restraining himself from doing something untoward, settling for the fact that it was him that you loved. Replaying the words you uttered in his mind to sedate himself.
You placed a pleasing and welcoming smile on your lips as House Targaryen’s wheelhouse came into view, a bit nervous as you would meet Aemond’s family. You waited silently as squires brought out a platform, and the wheelhouse doors opened, revealing a man dressed in fine green fabric with an embroidered gold dragon on his chest. “Brother!” Aemond’s sibling yelled, his words almost in a drunken slur, but as he drew closer to your side and went to embrace Aemond, the smell of wine was prominent enough. “Let go, Aegon,” Aemond gritted as his drunken brother hugged him tightly. “Still resisting affection, I see— though I’m glad you have not changed,” He laughed as you stood by the side, chewing on your inner cheeks to hinder your amused smile.
Aemond held a look of contempt, but from the side of his eye, he saw you trying to hold back your amused smile. “Princess, my brother, Lord Aegon Targaryen.” Aemond introduced his brother, who only now seemed to realize you were there. His violet eyes widened, and a smirk rose to his lips, a smirk that Aemond knew all too well and was not at all pleased about. “Your Highness,” he bowed and took your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Aemond resisted the urge to pounce on his brother as he had the gull to touch your skin. “Tales of your beauty are not at all lies— now I understand why my brother is so insistent on never leaving his post to pay us a visit,” He smiled, and Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened. You glanced over your knight, unaware that he was requested home and had been using his post as a reason not to leave. You could only smile at his brother as you could not think of a reply.
Thankfully, the others that housed the carriage came into view. Your eyes first landed upon a woman with auburn hair that was wholly different from Aemond’s and his brother's. “Mother,” Aemond greeted, and you were shocked to find out that a lady who looked so young and with such different features was the woman who birthed Aemond. Aemond was not given a reply, his mother only cupping his cheek. “It’s good to finally see you,” She said quietly and slowly removed her hand from her son’s scarred cheek. You averted your eyes; in truth, you expected Aemond’s mother to show him a touch more affection, but you suppose each person had a different expression to show their love. Surely, you should have known that well by now.
“Helaena,” Aemond then uttered, a ghost of a smile on his lips that only you could detect. You turned to the last person to exit the carriage, a girl a few years older than yourself with the same features as Aemond and their brother. There was a constant look of sadness in her eyes even though a slight smile was placed on her lips. You smiled as her violet eyes landed upon you, a slight nod of your head as an acknowledgment. “Princess, my mother, Lady Alicent Targaryen, and my only sister, Lady Helaena.” Aemond introduced as the two of them curtsied before you. “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” You smiled charmingly, and you hid your excitement as they returned it. “I’m well certain that you’re all weary from travel; if you’d like, I can escort you to your chambers,” You offered as you glanced towards the squires who unloaded their trunks. “It’s fine, princess; one of the maids could assist them,” Aemond said coldly as he passed his judging gaze towards his brother, who unshamelessly eyed you.
“Nonsense! These are your most esteemed guests; we shall at least escort them to their chambers,” You say and lift partly the skirt of your dress to turn towards the castle, Aemond, and his kin quickly following behind.
Aemond looked over you from behind as you walked with his mother and sister, touring them around the castle and introducing them to the other nobilities you passed. He forwent his usual place by your side so he could walk and watch over his drunken brother. “I must say, brother, you made quite a name for yourself even if you had only left home barely a year ago.” Aegon hummed as he followed the gaze of his brother, who was consistently close to the princess. “Could you believe it? A mere second son, set to inherit nothing— threw away the comforts of his life to become an impoverished knight and less than a year later is to be bestowed the highest possible recognition for a knight of the kingdom! My, my, brother… how is that even possible?”
“If you don’t simply just sit on your ass and drink your weight in wine, anything is possible, brother— even if you are just a second son.” Aemond gritted as you glanced behind and smiled at him, as always. He could never understand how you did that— how, with just your smile, you could make him forget the anger and rage that was always constant in his veins. You had a possibility to calm his mind and body while barely moving— how is that? Aemond breathed out and bit his cheeks; maybe he shouldn’t wonder why and seek the question… perhaps he should just be grateful.
“I am quite fond of your sister,” you suddenly said as it was only the two of you roaming the halls, having just left his kin to rest in their chambers. “Hm, Helaena is the kindest and most gentle of us… though her shyness does prevent other people from knowing her more,” You nodded and threaded closer to your knight, earnestly trying to dissolve the damned gap. “You’re kin is very much quiet… “ You observed and Aemond felt a smile twitch to his lips. “And I am well certain that that would not be a problem for you… you have a gift for making even the most stubborn and tight-lipped individuals speak— I should know.” You bit your lip and smiled widely at him.
You and your knight were to proceed to your chambers, but as your name rang out through the halls, Aemond had a remembrance that that scene had happened before. You turned behind you, and your wide smile turned wider if it were possible, quickly holding onto your skirt and running to leap into your half-brother’s arms. Aemond stayed rooted in his spot as you were spun around while in the arms of your half-brother. Resisting the urge to grow jealous as he held you close, reminding himself that he was your brother. “You need to stop coming unannounced! We have not prepared your chambers!” You exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm, a cross look on your face. “I’m fine anywhere, cousin. You could place me by the stable for all I care.” He smiled, and you shook your head, glancing behind only to realize your brother had yet to be introduced to your knight.
“Cousin, this is Ser Aemond— he is to receive the Medal of Valor tomorrow.” You smiled and guided him closer to your knight, who bowed. “I know… everyone has heard of your heroicness in protecting the princess. Congratulations, Ser Aemond.” Your brother smiled, and you turned to Aemond, who looked like he was having difficulty returning it. You widened your eyes and implored him to remember decorum and that his coldness was certainly most unwarranted. “Thank you, my pr— my lor— I mean— thank you, my lord.” You bit your cheeks as your brother raised his brow as Aemond slipped with the deepest secret of your family. “Yes, well… I should find the king. I did promise to meet him the moment I arrived, but I knew you’d prefer to be the first to know that I am here.” You smiled further as your brother placed a chaste kiss on your temple before going about his way, leaving you and Ser Aemond.
“I really thought you could keep a secret,” You sighed as you two continued on your way back to your chambers. “I can! I—I…” He stuttered and pursed your lips as if you had never witnessed him this flustered. “I got confused! I just noticed how similar he looks like the prince and how you have the same eyebrows,” He defended as he opened the door of your chambers for you. You breathed out a laugh and turned to him, flushing your body as you circled your arms around his neck, him taking the initiative to seal the gap between your lips.
“You know, you are granted the days off during the feast; why are you still here?” You questioned as you two parted for air, Aemond’s eye still on your lips that had a nice hue of pink and was quick to grow slightly swollen. “Are you complaining?” He questioned as his arms around your waist pulled you closer as if it were still possible. “No, but I do wish you would rest.” You sighed, lowering your gaze as you toyed with the buttons of his armor. “I don’t need rest— I’d rather be with you,” You breathed out a laugh again, he always knew what to say to make your heart still and your knees weak. You smiled and rose to the tip of your toes to place a kiss on his cheek before parting from his arms, but he was quick to pull you back and kiss you again.
Aemond could go on forever— could spend all of his days with you in his arms and his lips against yours. In fact, he intended on it. However, there was always something that pulled him out of his fantasy, this time, it was the knock on your door. You quickly parted your lips and ran to your sitting area. You took a book into your hands and opened it to a random page, pretending as if you were reading, and Aemond shook his head at how quick you were to act. “Come in,” you say distractedly as the second knock sounded out.
“Ser Aemond… might you excuse us for a moment?” Your brother asked as he opened the door, your half-brother behind him, waiting for the knight’s response. Aemond glanced towards you, who gave him a nod as you straightened your back. “Of course, my prince,” He bowed, and your brother replaced his presence inside your chambers. Ameond stood closely stood by the door, eavesdropping on the conversation taht was to take place between you and your brother.
“I hear you’ve been telling secrets,” The prince smirked as he stood before you. “I have not!” You quickly defended, looking in between your brothers. But they only raised a brow at you, a family trait, it would seem. “Fine! But it was only Ser Aemond! And we can trust him… he has been sworn to secrecy!” You defended. “Are your lips swollen?” Your other brother suddenly asked, forgetting the matter at hand. “What?” You felt your heart drop to your stomach. “Your lips… they’re bigger than usual.” He said, but luckily, your other brother intervened. “But why did you need to tell him?”
You sighed and traced the embroidery of your dress. “He thought brother was a suitor, and it concerned him how all of you just let him walk me back to my chambers without an escort… I had to explain to him the situation and that nothing untoward was afoot,” you reasoned but the prince only shook his head. “Then say that he is our cousin!”
“Even so! Cousins get married, I had to tell him that he was our brother… and I do not like lying…” you pouted. Your brother sighed and pinched his nose, “You must make sure that no one else knows, and Ser Aemond would not slip up again,” He warned, and you nodded your head fervently.
You let out a breath as the matter came to a close, but you quickly felt anxious once more as your brother eyed you in question. “Your lips are swollen,” The prince observed, and your fingers consciously covered them. They felt warmer and plumper than usual. “Did you eat anything that does not agree with you?” He asked in concern, turning to your other brother, who had been studying to be a maester in the citadel. “Perhaps, maybe the cooks accidentally added shellfish to my soup,” you fibbed, already contradicting your earlier statement as you lied to your brothers.
“But do you not usually break into a rash when you consume shellfish, sister? That does not explain your swollen lips,” Your other brother remarked, going closer to you, and you traced the embroidery of your dress in nervousness once more. “I—I don’t know, perhaps it has taken into different effects,” You reasoned, and the prince shook his head, “I shall call the maester,” he muttered and moved towards the exit. “What? No!” You protested, not wanting to make a big fuss.
“Sister, the last time you consumed shellfish, you were itching for a week! Your throat almost closed up— we cannot risk it. Especially when we have the feast later this week, I shall return quickly.” The prince said and quickly left, you only saw a quick glance of Ser Aemond waiting by the door as your brother left before it was closed once again.
“You’re lying,” Your other brother suddenly remarked as it was only now the two of you. “W-what?” You asked in clear anxiousness. “Why would I lie about such a thing?” You questioned him, trying to be rid of the tone of guilt in your voice. He breathed out heavily and took a seat next to you. “Because you’re hiding something— look, sister, I have been studying the human body for years now, and I have seen all the ailments there are— the swelling of your lips is not at all an ailment.” He remarked, and you had no word of reply or defense as you were on the brink of being found out.
Your brother sighed at your silence, glancing towards the closed door. “How long?” He questioned, and you took a moment to think about his words. “How long what?” You asked quietly. “Do not even try to deny it, sister… I’ve noticed it ever since the ball— I must say, he is quick to get jealous… which explains why you had to tell him our family secret.” You fisted the fabric of your dress at the knowing tone in your brother’s voice.
“Tell me, how long?” He questioned again. You debated if you should tell him or deny the allegations. You knew the threat that would come if you told the truth, but at the same time, you were dying to be free of this secret, even if only one person knew. And it would seem it was only fair for your brother to know since you had told Ser Aemond about his own secret. “The day after father’s name day…” you whispered and lowered your head, fearing for his reaction. You hear him sigh. You could not even look at him; there was shame looming inside you, for you had been reduced to sneaking around and stealing kisses with your sworn protector.
“I will not tell a soul… you have my word, sister.” Your brother then said, making you look up. “Really?” You asked, searching his eyes for any falsehood. He smiled, “You two can trust me— as I trust you both to keep my secret as well,” he said, taking hold of your cold, clammed hands. You let out a breath and embraced your brother tightly. “Thank you, brother. And I truly am sorry for revealing to him your secret,” He shook his head, “It’s fine, sister. But I must warn you to be cautious— overly cautious, in fact. If any of the courtiers came to know… gods forbid, your mother, you’ll be married to the closest lord she sets her eyes on!” You nodded fervently, already knowing the risks if ever you and Ser Aemond were found out. “I know, brother… and we are!” You say, but he only looked at you unconvinced as it was quick for him to realize what was happening between you and your knight.
“You caught us on a bad day— but I swear, we are extremely cautious.” You defended. “I must say, you do surprise me. I wouldn’t think you would think him agreeable… certainly not enough to win your favor. Overly quiet and cold, and didn’t you say before that the man you wished to marry would have brown, curly hair and warm, kind eyes?” He mused, and you shook your head. “I was a child, brother; outward appearance does not matter much to me anymore, and he only appears as such, but once you get to know him… he’s kind, good-humored, and I…” You trialed. “You love him.” He finished your thought for you. You nodded, “I do.” You confirmed. “It’s easy to see, though it does concern me how easily I have realized it, but the court seems blind to the obvious… especially brother and father— which I suppose works in your favor.” He hummed, and you smiled. At least now you know someone will be on your side when the truth comes out.
You stood by the right hand of your father as the ceremony began. Knights across the realm line up in order of seniority. Kneeling before your father as he knighted them with their new titles and bestowed them the Medal of Valor. Aemond was at the back of the line, those before him had served the realm for years, yet he had barely a year of service. All clamored before this fact, and you could plainly see the ladies of the realm eyeing your knight, with Ser Aemond being the youngest and, in your opinion, the most comely of all. You felt a persistent twinge of jealousy in you, but you had to disregard it and place a pleasing smile on your lips as it could not be obvious that you and your sworn protector had a deeper understanding, and you did not want to dampen the mood of this joyous day. Your legs were starting to grow tired as you waited for Aemond’s turn, and when there was only one knight between you and him, you straightened your stance and discreetly met his eye.
As Aemond walked down the aisle, knowing at the end line you were waiting for him, he could not help but fantasize that it could be your nuptials. Even though you two stood at the opposite of the traditional way of a wedding, he disregarded that. He knew in himself that one day, it did not matter how— may it be a grand wedding with the whole kingdom’s eyes upon you two, or may it be a secret ceremony; he would marry you one way or another. He intended upon it, in fact. Everyone be damned, it did not matter that you were the princess and he was only your knight. One day, you two would be man and wife. But, of course, he’d have to wait. He’d wait all his life just as long at the end of it you would be his.
Aemond smiled to himself as he realized his thoughts. Never had he thought he would act as such. To be so… sappy and sentimental, especially when it came to a girl. But here he was, in less than a year, you had changed him. And he must admit, though it was first an unwelcomed change, he was now quite fond of it. Because if it weren’t for you, he would never know such profound love.
When it was Aemond’s turn, he bowed before the king and kneeled. You waited for your father to say the words and bestow him his new title and the medal of valor, but his silence made you reluctantly turn away from your knight. “I think it best you do it, my darling… he is your knight, after all,” The king smiled, and your eyes widened at the suddenness of his decision. You glanced towards the hall, expecting gazes planted upon you as your father tried to hand you the sword. “I—I don’t know the words,” You reasoned, still not memorizing the phrases he had repeated the whole afternoon. Your father smiled at you fondly, “It’s fine, I shall recite it once more.” He said, and you hesitantly took the sword and took your father’s place in the middle. Ser Aemond now kneeling before you.
You felt your stomach twist as you could not help but fantasize that this was him kneeling before you as he asked for your hand. Your hand held the hilt of the sword tighter. It was a fantasy that you could only hope and pray that would become your reality. One day. You swore to yourself. One day, I’ll be his, and he’d be mine completely… no more pretense.
You lifted the sword as your father began to recite the words, but the world faded as you locked with Aemond’s lilac gaze. You tried to tone down your smile as he smirked at you, a devilish smirk that only you knew the reason and meaning of.
Aemond stood straight as he was knighted with his new title. He watched keenly as the sword in your hand was exchanged for the medal. Aemond’s eye never left your frame as you walked towards him and pinned the medal on his armor. Aemond cursed that this was the only acceptable moment for you two to be so close with the eyes of the realm upon you both. But he let go of any frustrations and decided to savor the ever-so-quick moment.
As you stepped back, the hall erupted in cheers, but you two were deaf as you both were too consumed with the vision that one day, their cheers would be because of your union. Someday. You both swore.
#aemond fanfiction#house of the dragon#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond modern au#prince aemond#prince aemond x reader#prince aemond fic#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond x you#hotd fandom#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#house of the dragon fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#knight x princess#aemond the kinslayer#ewan nation#hotd season 2#knight aemond
306 notes
·
View notes
Text
Drive to survive. Leah Williamson x F1!reader
Who is going to replace Lewis Hamilton? This question has taken the f1 media by storm for a whole season. Some believed it would be Andrea Kimi Antonelli, while others hoped for Max Verstappen, or Carlos sainz. However none of them expected you. A woman would join F1 in one of the most decorated cars in recent years. A woman would take the seat of the legendary Lewis Hamilton.
The support was significant but the pushback was overwhelming. Many people applauded you for entering a male dominated field. They went on saying how much of a role model you were to young women, how you would change the f1 world forever, bring in new fans , and make f1 a more equal place in real life not just on paper. The other drivers welcomed you with open arms in their interaction with you or in the way they talked about you most importantly lewis.
As a result of your new found fame you were asked to join events and panels talking about women's sport or women in sports. Throughout your pre-season you were fully booked from training to preseason testing to the media event.
The only time you ever thought about something other than how radical what you are doing is or what you were going to do next was when you saw a particularly stunning person.
A tall blonde woman with a great mind you took a glimpse through when she answered the questions she was asked in the BBC panel you were on. She was educated, beautiful, well mannered, beautiful, very good with her words, and very very beautiful.
You answered your questions to the best of your ability, took some pictures and headed towards the green room. When you came in you looked at the table and saw snacks and one lone mini chocolate bar. As you extended your hand to grab, you were met by another one going for it too. You extracted your hand quickly and looked at the eventual winner of the mini chocolate bar. It was her, the blond beauty that goes by Leah Williamson.
“ Uhmm sorry. Here, take it.” Said the smiling young woman.
“ No it's fine, you go ahead, I shouldn't anyway. It's pre-season.” You responded.
“ We can split it then. I am sure half of a mini bar isn't going to hurt.” She added.
You two then split the bar. “ I am Leah Williamson.” She said as she extended her hand. You told her your name and shook her hand.
“ You were very good there. Very good answers.” You complimented Leah.
“ You too.” She said shyly.
“ Do you want to get out of here?” You ask.
“ Does that line work on everyone you meet?”
You laugh nervously. “ No. I don't use it much. Uhmm, I am hungry and I want a buddy to go get food with.”
“ I am sorry, I have to go to another press conference. But maybe someday soon.”
You hand her your phone so that she can save her number in. When you look at the name she saved her number as “ arsenal's number 6.” Which gave you a glimpse of her sense of humor.
Your season started a short while after you two started to date. You clicked instantly and one might say it was love at first sight since it only took 6 dates over 2 weeks for you to reveal that you two loved each other.
You both understood that your careers were busy, her with arsenal's and the lionesses and you with traveling around the world and driving your fast car.
The start of your season was expectedly slow. You were decent throughout the qualifiers. You started at p6 in Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Australia, all the way through china. You were a little overwhelmed by all the media attention and scrutiny. But by round 8 you scored your first p4 which you interchanged by p5.
You were very excited for your home race on Silverstone. You were excited by the presence of your friends and family, and most importantly your girlfriend. While other lionesses were invited in my McLaren you insisted on Leah being in the Mercedes garage with you.
Knowing your girlfriend was going to watch you for the first time, knowing she was there for you and only you, gave you more motivation than you ever hoped for. You got in your car for qualifying ready to impress. As soon as you left the garage, you pushed the car to the limit which gave you your first ever pole position in F1. You were ecstatic and the team was happy for you too.
Race day was crazy, you couldn't see your girlfriend because you had to prepare yourself for what probably was going to be a rainy race.
The track was dry and empty in front of you. You were in pole, you just had to keep your position. As soon as the light turned green you pushed as fast as you could. Your team informed you of a few crashes behind you and an angry Max Verstappen in a red bull. The red bull team expressed their concerns about foul play in my result in qualifiers which led max to have an alleged grudge. You didn't think much of it, you just focused on staying in p1.
“ Careful Max is being reckless trying to overtake you “ said one of your guys on the radio. You couldn't let fear creep in after all your girlfriend was watching. She to whom you promised the win.
You went on denying him every opportunity to overtake and in time the race was just about you and Max going head to head with all the others being a full lap behind. You kept thinking of Leah and the sex you two would have after the win and how proud she would be of you. That was what gave you the edge over him .
You two changed tires at the same time. While Mercedes was faster, Red Bull was fast too. You speeded out of the box, felt a shock wave throughout the entire car. You didn't register what happened quickly. Your brain went silent then you said some words to yourself.
“ Silverstone, Leah, pole, win, box, max.” You thought. The car was getting hot, and you were getting light headed. You heard a voice through your ear but you couldn't register what they said.
A few seconds passed before you saw an ambulance, you heard sirens and saw white foamy gas. The kind of gas they used for fires.
“ Fires, I crashed, the car is on fire.” You thought again and quickly tried to get out of the car.
You wanted to get up but couldn't. You were dizzy. You were going to die.
#woso#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso request#woso smut#leah williamson fanfic#leah williamson fluff#leah williamson imagine#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson x you
698 notes
·
View notes
Text
what would you do
eddie munson x rick's ex!fem!reader
[series masterlist] [e.m. masterlist]
➠ summary: expanding on this post, you ask eddie a question he wasn't expecting when he's balls deep inside you: "what would you do if he walked in?"
➠ warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v, table sex, creampie, imaginary exhibitionism, inspired by bobby and shelly in episode 5 of twin peaks, pls excuse any typos
➠ a/n: not by best work, but eddie and rick's ex!reader have taken over my mind. i have some more ideas for them, so there will be more about these two idiots-in-love!
“What would you do if he walked in right now?”
Eddie isn’t expecting that question, especially when he's balls deep inside you.
“Huh?”
He pushes up from you, peering down to see you spread out on the dining table. Your smile appears as breathless as your voice sounds. “If he walked in. Right now. What would you do?”
There’s no need to specify who “he” is, but that's not what gives him pause. He has thought of how this particular scenario could play out plenty of times before, some situations darker than others. Maybe someday one of them will come true, but for now, he would rather bathe in your attention. Smiley and bright eyed, you're looking at him as if he's some kind of prize. No one looks at him like that, except you.
Taking a deep breath, he pulls out just enough to make your smile falter before he plunges back in. “I’d tell him, ‘Rick! What a surprise, man. Welcome home!’”
The dining table rocks underneath you, his hips shoving the furniture back and forth until the wood whines from the strain.
“I’d tell him – shit, hold on, sweetheart,” He pauses, re-adjusting so he can drape your legs over his shoulder. With a quick kiss to your calf, he looks up at the front door, sporting the biggest shit-eating grin he can muster. There, an imaginary Rick is frozen in shock from the sight of Eddie fucking his girl in his home.
“Listen, this isn’t the welcome home surprise you were hoping for, but look at the bright side! I told you I’d look after your girl. And I know, I know. You doubted that a third time high school senior could do it, but I did. Keep her filled up just for you. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Eddie’s eyes flicker down to you, nudging his chin towards the front door. “Go on, tell Rick how well I look after you.”
You barely lift your head in the direction of the entrance, too unbothered to even acknowledge your shitty, imaginary ex. “So, so good. Keeps me so cockdumb I can’t think of anyone else. Not even you, Ric – fuck, Eddie! Faster, please go faster.”
While you were talking, Eddie dropped his arms to wrap around your upper thighs and squeezed your legs together. With this new pressure, his cock drags against something inside you that makes you writhe at every thrust.
A wickedness falling over him as he slows down his pace, pausing when he is buried inside you for a dizzying moment. Your bottom lip juts in displeasure, but all he can do is give you a smug smile. It's the same smile he'd give you whenever Rick was around, a secret only meant for the two of you.
"I don't think he heard you. Tell him again who makes you feel this good?"
Your eyes meet when you say his name, not once do you look away. “You. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”
His whole body hums, the most perfect high running through his bloodstream as his quick thrusts make the table squeak.
"That's right, sweetheart. Me, only me."
His orgasm is building up inside him again, now with more vigor, and there is nothing he can do to slow its relentless approach. No more make believe. Only fast, sharp strokes that make his hips buck helplessly. He keeps his tight hold on your legs, squeezing harder to mimic the way your pussy clenches around his cock.
But there is still one more thing he needs to know.
“Are you mine, baby?”
Your response tumbles past your lips without a second to spare. “Yours.”
Months ago when you and Eddie first started…whatever this is…he would dismiss these declarations as the sort of sweet lie lovers tell themselves in the heat of the moment. Something that would make his cheeks burn from embarrassment as you both redressed.
But now, after spending months with you, studying your body, piecing apart your mind, learning about the very essence that makes you who you are, he’s starting to think it’s more than just horny rambles. As much as that scares him, it also makes him feel lucky, something he rarely experiences.
Eddie is lucky to have you. He is lucky enough to turn the end of your word into a loud moan and feel your body trembling against his. Lucky enough to see your back arch and experience your release splatter against his front.
“There you go. Good fucking girl. Keep going, sweetheart. Make it messy.”
He abandons rhythm and races towards his own release, pressing every last inch of himself into you so desperately that it slides you back along the table. One, two, three thrusts and he's crying your name as he spills inside you.
His orgasm stamps out any conscious thought. It's only once the post-orgasm haze starts to lift does he realize that he's let go of your legs and is not resting his weight on top of you. And maybe the post-nut clarity hasn't hit yet, or maybe its the way your nails gently rake against his scalp, but whatever it is, it makes him turn to kiss your cooling skin and mutter, "I'm yours, too."
dividers by @/strangergraphics
taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!)
@bl00d-puppy
#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#rick's girl#bbyhellfire
675 notes
·
View notes
Text
Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader
Ao3 Link
Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans
WC: 18k
Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.
Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?
"I don't have one."
"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.
"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.
"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.
"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.
"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.
"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.
"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."
Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.
"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.
"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.
"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.
"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.
"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.
"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.
"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.
"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.
"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.
"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.
"Told you so."
You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"
"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."
"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."
It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.
"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."
"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.
"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"
"Isn't this illegal?"
"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.
"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.
"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.
Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."
"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"
"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."
"What?"
"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."
Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.
"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.
"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.
"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.
"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"
"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.
"Yeah?"
"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.
"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."
A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.
You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.
"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.
"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.
"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"
"I'm not."
"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"
"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.
"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.
"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."
"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"
"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.
The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."
He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."
"Good."
"Simon?"
The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.
"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.
"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.
Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.
"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.
"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."
You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."
"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."
You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."
"And my dad?"
"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.
You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.
You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.
"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.
"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.
The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.
Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.
You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.
Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."
You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."
You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.
"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"
"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."
Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"
"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."
"That's not true."
"I think it is."
Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.
"Of course."
You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.
Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."
"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.
"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."
You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.
You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.
The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.
"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.
"Then lets go."
You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.
"What?"
"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.
When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."
"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."
"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.
You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.
It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.
Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.
It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.
You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."
You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.
Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.
You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.
The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.
It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.
That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.
No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.
The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”
“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.
“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.
“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.
“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.
The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”
The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.
“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”
“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.
“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.
“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.
“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”
The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.
“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”
“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”
“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.
Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.
“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.
You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.
That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.
“I didn’t want to lose.”
“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”
“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?
“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.
“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”
“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.
You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”
“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.
At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.
He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”
“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.
Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.
“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”
“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”
“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”
“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”
“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”
“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.
“They gave him a hard time too.”
“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?
Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.
He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.
“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”
“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.
“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”
Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.
Who are you Ghost?
”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”
You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.
“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.
“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”
”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.
“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.
”What are you? My aunt?”
”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.
”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.
”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.
You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.
Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.
He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.
Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.
You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”
You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.
”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.
”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.
”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”
”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”
”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”
”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”
”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.
Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.
It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.
He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.
You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.
You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.
You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.
You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.
Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.
When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”
”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.
”Need to know.”
”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.
”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”
”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.
”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”
”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”
”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.
”What?”
”Forget about it.”
”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”
”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs
”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.
He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.
Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.
”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.
”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”
”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”
”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”
”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“
”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”
”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.
”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.
That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.
He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.
And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.
Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.
The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.
Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.
The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.
He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.
The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.
You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.
You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”
”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.
“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms
Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.
It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.
He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.
He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.
Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.
When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.
He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.
”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.
You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.
Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.
He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.
”Did I do something wrong?”
“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.
He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.
His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.
”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.
He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.
Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.
“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.
You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.
”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.
It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.
It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.
He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.
He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.
“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.
You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.
”I love you.”
Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”
It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.
”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.
”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.
”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”
”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.
”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.
”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.
Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.
God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.
”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.
You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon
”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.
”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.
”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.
”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.
You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.
He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”
”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”
You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”
”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.
”I love you so much Simon Riley.”
His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#mw2 smut#ghost smut#ghost cod#ghost x reader smut#simon x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley cod
597 notes
·
View notes