#it really feels like new Simon is trying very hard to not be that guy anymore

[redrobin-detective]

I think one underrated tragedy of Ice King's scars is that he probably took away Simon's sense of levity.

Like in his very limited appearances before Simon is consumed by the crown we see he's kind of a silly dude. In his introduction video, he only put on the crown in order to playfully tease his fiancee. Plus watching him make light of the loneliness and general misery for a young girl in a broken world. He was a dedicated man, who was generous and loved with his whole heart and threw himself one hundred percent into everything he did. He was also a fun lil guy.

But after almost a millennia of being a mad man, the brunt of every joke, someone who only existed as a broken caricature of himself and couldn't be counted on to take anything seriously, I imagine he was done with it. Now he wants to focus back on his academic endeavors, on his role as a father figure in Marcy's life, on being a proper adult. Any attempts to be silly could easily remind everyone - including himself- of Ice King, something he's eager to avoid.

So his jokes and jibes and general lightheartedness turned to sarcasm and self deprecating comments.

[bejeweledblondie]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 8

Previous/Next Chapters Here

Poker Night

CW: non-consensual drugging, date rape drugs, non-con, dub-con, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, homophobia, slut-shaming, food control, fat-shaming, vomit.

-

He pops the tab on the soda can, the sound of aluminum grating against your frayed nerves. You sit at the table, hands tucked under your thighs because all you want to do is wrap them around yourself, hold yourself, feel a comforting touch, even if it’s only your own. He brings the soda over and sets it gently on the table in front of you.

It is Saturday morning. 

“I know last week wasn’t fair to you,” your boyfriend says, planting both hands on the table, the picture of rationality. “I don’t like keeping secrets from you. I’d like to think we’re past that point in our relationship. Don’t you?” 

You nod, teeth clenched tight around a scream. 

“So from now on—” he holds up a pill for you to see, then slips it through the open soda tab into the drink. He slides the drink forward toward you at the table. “No more slipping things in your drink without you knowing. From now on, you get to make the choice. Don’t misunderstand me. It’s going to happen either way. The sooner you get used to that, the better. What you get to control is whether you have a good time…or a bad time. So what’s it going to be honey? Good or bad?” 

You hesitate for a long moment. Your fingers are numb when you untuck them from beneath your thighs, trembling as you reach out for the soda—

—and tip it over onto its side, a sign of defiance. 

His placid mouth stretches into a wide grin. Soda drips off the edge of the table and onto the floor. Drip, drip drip. 

“Now,” he says cheerfully. “Why was I hoping you’d choose that?” 

-

It is Saturday morning.

He pops the tab open on a can of your favorite soda, pulled chilled from the refrigerator. Warm is best; it helps the pill dissolve faster, more thoroughly. But when the drink is icy cold, you are less likely to taste the bitterness on your tongue. If you try hard, you can pretend that it is your very first Saturday, that you have just been handed a drink by your boyfriend, that you have no idea what is in it. 

“We’ve got extra guests tonight,” he says, sliding the soda can to you. “I want you on your best behavior.” 

“I always am,” you mutter. 

“That’s just not true. Don’t bullshit me, baby. When you bullshit me, you bullshit the best.” He slides the drink toward you a little more, eyes dark and curious, wondering if you will drink this concoction that makes you relaxed and pliable, this drink that makes you enjoy the terrible things that are done to you. 

But Simon and Johnny will be there tonight. You glare up at your boyfriend and slide the soda back across the table. “You wouldn’t. Not in front of the new guys. I’m not stupid.” 

“Baby. You’re dumber than you look if you think I won’t do whatever I want in front of whomever I want,” he says with a laugh. He slides the drink back. “Next time you push that away, I’m dumping it down the sink. Make good choices.”

You almost do it for him. You really do. A part of you is sure that he’s bluffing; it just makes no sense. Why would he put himself at risk this way? But there’s a small frightened part of you that is always ready to be surprised, always ready to be taken to a new low, dragged to a fresher hell by these hands which were meant to love you. Maybe he would do it.

And is it worth it to defy him? You remember that one miserable Saturday after you had dumped the drink over. It had been one of the most painful, humiliating experiences of your life. Your Fridays afterward were often spent agonizing over the decision to come: was it worse to give in and drink? Did it make you wrong to not fight back, to even sometimes find moments of begrudging pleasure in your own rape? Did it make you weak? 

The thought of being like that in front of Johnny and Simon—soft and slurred and slutty—makes you feel…strange. You don’t want to think about it. The other side of the sword is just as sharp: if you don’t drink, you will be painfully aware of everything that happens to you, aware of Johnny and Simon’s participation—or their impending disgust. 

What is worse? 

Reaching out, you take the can with a shaking hand and go to tip it over—then change your mind at the last moment. You drink it down in its entirety, letting it fill your hollow, aching belly, even if the sugar makes you nauseous. 

Your boyfriend pulls a face, like you have pleasantly surprised him. He reaches out and takes the empty can from you and says, “Good girl.” 

You want to be sick.

-

“You’re in a good mood,” Simon says while making breakfast. He was up early this morning, well before Johnny awoke. Usually when Simon wakes first, he’ll take care of whatever business woke him and then lay in bed with Johnny until the other man wakes, but this morning when Johnny’s eyes blearily opened against the sunlight streaming in through the balcony doors, the bed was empty. Trust, he thinks. Simon’s beginning to trust him to be on his own more often 

“Could say the same fer you,” says Johnny with a grin, tapping the fingers of his hand against the table as he waits for his plate. His voice pitches lower when he asks: “Did yeh wake up on the right side of the bed, or are yeh just excited about what day it is?” 

Simon scowls. “Nothing to be excited about, Johnny. It’s not a recreational event.” 

“I don’t know,” Johnny says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m looking forward to it. 

“You can’t kill him.” 

“Heard that line before. Rehearse a few new ones.” 

“I mean it,” says Simon, bringing Johnny’s plate to the table and setting it in front of him. Classic English breakfast. Fuck, Johnny’s stomach does a flip, he’s so goddamn hungry. It’s cut into bite sized pieces, but Johnny can overlook that. It’s a necessary evil for now, until his coordination is a little better—which it is, every day. Next comes Johnny’s orange juice, but just as Johnny reaches for the glass, Simon holds it up out of his reach, a frown in place. “Promise me that this is just reconnaissance. You won’t try to kill him—no matter what may happen.” 

It’s Johnny’s turn to scowl. He lets out an irritated breath through his nose. 

“Gonna starve me if I refuse?” 

“Yes.” 

“Bastard.” 

“I don’t hear any promises.” 

“I promise, I promise. Gimme that.” Johnny takes the orange juice. Simon lets it go, sighing. Though Johnny has told him what he wants to hear, he doesn’t seem comforted by it, Johnny thinks as he tucks in to his breakfast. 

Maybe he can tell that Johnny’s lying. 

-

“How do I look?” Johnny asks. He has buttoned his shirt on his own—a feat which only took him five minutes of careful coordination and deep breathing. Give me a fucking medal, he thinks to himself as Simon comes over to help him button his jeans (which are still too difficult to manage, depending on the pair he pulls on). Simon’s hands so close to his cock have Johnny humming, close to a purr in the back of his throat. 

They still have not fucked since the accident, but Johnny thinks soon. 

“You look like you need a haircut,” Simon says, voice rumbling against Johnny’s back where they are pressed together. One of Simon’s hands brushes through the lengthening fringe of Johnny’s mohawk, and Johnny lets himself shut his eyes at the touch, feeling a satisfied, sleepy urge come over him. Simon presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, and warmth blooms in the pit of Johnny’s stomach. Simon’s been like this all day: affectionate, borderline clingy. Doting. 

It’s a far cry from the way they had treated each other all week prior, and Johnny finds himself grateful for the change of pace. 

But he can’t let himself be distracted now. Not when so much is on the line. Poker begins in less than an hour, and Johnny has promised Simon that he will be on his best behavior. It’s not a promise he looks forward to breaking—but what promise ever is? Johnny plans to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open, taking in intelligence and making plans. 

But if an opportunity presents itself—if Johnny can find a single moment alone with your boyfriend—Johnny won’t hesitate. What a terrible accident it will be, he thinks gleefully. 

He turns in Simon’s arms and must turn too quickly. He stumbles, nearly falling. Simon braces him, helping to hold him upright. He sees the strange look in Simon’s eyes and frowns. 

“What is it?” 

“I need to ask you something.” 

“Alright.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Aye,” says Johnny promptly, grateful for an easy question. “With my life. Yeh know I do.” 

“Do you trust me with her life?” Simon asks. 

Johnny sighs a little. Simon has been so obliging today, Johnny should have suspected that he was waiting until the last minute to try to talk him out of any hairbrained schemes. Still, he says: “Yes. Not much I wouldn’t trust yeh with, Si.” 

Simon hesitates. 

“What is it?” Johnny prompts, reaching up with his hand to cup Simon’s cheek. He isn’t used to cupping this cheek, and it feels odd under his palm, almost like touching a stranger. “Go on, get it out.” 

“Will you forgive me?” Simon asks. 

“For our fight? Aye. Water under the bridge.” Johnny leans forward and places a kiss on Simon’s mouth. Now that is familiar: the curve of his lips, the way their noses brush, the scent of him. 

Johnny is nearly out of the room, heading for his shoes (and his crutch, considering how unsteady he is on his feet) when Simon speaks again: “Not for that.” 

Johnny stops and turns. The room turns with him. Simon stands with his back to Johnny, his huge shoulders hunched, hands hanging loosely at his sides. Johnny wishes that he would turn around and look at him, let him see the look on his face—except when he does, there is something oddly recognizable there, an eerie familiarity that he can’t put his finger on but which makes Johnny’s heart pound. 

“For what, then?” Johnny wonders.

“For putting that Oxy in your orange juice.” 

Goosebumps prickle all along Johnny’s arms and thighs. He stumbles again, and Simon is right there to catch him. Johnny is always unsteady on his feet when he’s been taking his pain meds. He stares at his lover blankly, struggling to piece together the what, the how, the why. 

“Need you to be safe,” Simon whispers. “I can’t have you there Johnny. I need you to be safe.” 

“Y’ drugged me?” 

“Just need you to get some sleep. I’ll be back by the time you wake up, and when you do, I’ll tell you everything,” he says, helping Johnny towards the bed. Johnny collapses back against the pillows, weak not from the Oxy but from his own horror and shock. Simon says: “I promise.” 

“Fuck yer promises,” Johnny slurs, eyes misty. Simon sits by him on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair until he begins to snore. 

-

It’s all compartmentalized, his feelings packaged into neat boxes and put away in the safest recesses of his mind. It’s remarkably like being on an op, when he would have to triage his own emotions: cannot face that one yet—push it back and come back to it later (or never, if more convenient). He practically feels the mask slipping into place, down over his eyes and nose and mouth. No more Simon, just Ghost. Ghost on a mission. Ghost preparing himself to do and witness terrible things. 

He’s numb to it all. His hand doesn’t even shake when he knocks on the door to 7C. Your boyfriend answers, brows raised with mild, surprised politeness, as if he didn’t truly expect that Simon would show (and Simon didn’t show, Ghost thinks darkly, but this idiot has no idea of that). Ghost holds up the case of beer he bought from the 7/11 down the street and the other man’s mouth stretches into a grin. 

“I’ll take that from you—come on in. Make yourself at home,” he says, slipping the beer from Ghost’s hand. “Where’s your other half?” 

“Sick.” 

“Shame.” 

“He’s no good at poker anyway. Doesn’t have the face for it,” Ghost says. He doesn’t even consider asking about you, isn’t willing to compromise his own position by revealing any favoritism toward you. Moving inward, he comes to stand in the living room. It’s eerie being here, this strange reflection of his own apartment. There are differences: the kitchen and dining room are separate, only one bedroom here as opposed to the two at 5C. It is very clean, rather impersonal, without any pictures on the walls or framed photos on the end tables. 

There are hints of you: your shoes in the rack by the door, your name badge resting by your keys on the table in the foyer. But you are nowhere in sight. 

Two other men are already in the apartment, seated around a square dining room table, dividing out poker chips. Ghost runs an analytical eye over them even as he nods his head coolly in a greeting. They are relatively fit, though neither particularly tall. Likely low risk, though he would be a fool to underestimate them when they have the numbers in their favor. 

Before Ghost can even take a seat, there is another knock on the door and a third one enters. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Leah wanted my help putting the girls down for their naps.” 

“I hear a little whiskey goes a long way,” your boyfriend suggests, shutting the door behind the final straggler. Everyone laughs except for Ghost who merely raises his eyebrows in amusement. 

“You know Leah. She thinks there’s an essential oil for everything; alcohol ain’t it,” the man says. He points to Ghost. “Who’s this?” 

Your boyfriend comes to rest a hand on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost takes notice of the height difference between them with distant, dim pleasure. “Fellas, this is Simon. He’s in the apartment next door. Let’s all pretend we’re gentlemen so as to not scare him off.” 

More laughs. Everyone takes a seat around the table. Beers are cracked open, and Simon feigns sipping at his as cards are dealt. He is pinned between your boyfriend and the straggler, but his back is to the wall which gives him a sense of security. His knife sits heavy where it is holstered against his lower back, keeping him from fully resting against the chair. 

He wishes that he’d brought a fucking gun. 

“So, Simon,” someone asks. “Are you married?” 

“No.” 

“Simon’s gay,” your boyfriend tells the room, though where he has gotten this idea from, Simon couldn’t say. Is that what you believed? Did you tell him as such?

The straggler beside him visibly shifts away after this news. One of the other ones pulls a face like he has sucked on a lemon. 

Simon has never put labels on himself—finds them constricting as opposed to comforting—but he’s been attracted to people of all genders at one point or another.  It’s good though, for him to be misunderstood. Let their misconceptions about gay men color their representation of him, let them think him weak or soft or whatever the fuck their homophobia believes. It rolls off of Simon like water off a duck.

“Problem with that?” Simon asks the straggler, picking up his cards. 

“No,” the man lies. Coward.

“Maybe your wife has an essential oil that will cure me,” Simon suggests. The table laughs at their friend’s expense, even the one who had pulled a face. 

A round passes; Simon lets himself lose. He listens to the conversations with one ear and to the rest of the apartment with another, straining for any sign of life from you. He hears nothing. 

Until: “So where’s the fiancé?”

When all eyes turn to your boyfriend, Simon realizes that you must be engaged. You don’t wear a ring, and you’ve only ever referred to him as your ‘boyfriend’. Maybe it is a new development—or a development that you don’t agree with. He feels a dim stirring of satisfaction at the thought, dampened beneath his persona. 

Your boyfriend gives a coy smile. “She’s around. You know how she gets around strangers. Shy.” 

“Does that mean no…?” They all share pointed glances. It’s clear that there is something they don’t wish to say around Simon. Ghost leans forward, elbows on the table, waiting for one of them to break and give him a hint. Beneath the table, someone kicks the shin of the one speaking. 

“Think I could use another beer,” one of them says, standing. The others agree hastily. “Simon? You good?” 

“I’m good.” 

The man disappears into the kitchen, but is only gone for a moment before returning. “There’s a goddamn lock on your refrigerator.” 

Your boyfriend laughs. He reaches into his pocket and works free a small silver key, handing it over. “Yeah—keeps the cows out of the pasture, if you know what I mean.” 

The table laughs—Ghost does not. 

“I don’t get it,” he says, sliding his cards toward himself across the oak table and examining them with mild interest. The others fall silent as Ghost makes this moment purposefully awkward. 

“Don’t worry about it,” your boyfriend says with a laugh in his voice. “Just a little inside joke we have around here.” 

Ghost hums. 

Another round passes. The guys share stories about their work, their wives or girlfriends. Some of them have children. Do they know what their friend does to you? Ghost wonders. Could they possibly not know? They occasionally make an effort to bring him into the conversation, but his answers are terse at best, and eventually they stop trying. 

More rounds, chips changing hands. The empty beer bottles begin to stand like silent sentinels around the tabletop. Ghost puts little effort into winning, preferring to perform average at best so as to not attract attention. He keeps a close eye on the clock, a fraction of his energy always thinking of Johnny at home. Johnny who is hopefully sleeping peacefully. 

The next hand has just started when the door to the bedroom bursts open so abruptly that the handle knocks against the outer wall. You stand in the doorway, your face twisted in some expression too complex for Ghost to begin to unravel. 

The table loses it. Shouts of your name, whistles, joyful perverse greetings—a half dozen hands reaching out toward you, like you are the final member of this party and they have only been waiting for you to arrive. Your shoulders are nearly by your ears, you're so tense, eyes flickering around the room from face to face, sticking on Ghost for a fraction longer than the others. 

One of the men manages to brush against your wrist with his fingers and you wrench your hand away as if burned. The knife at Simon’s back itches; he wants it in his hand.

Your boyfriend sighs, laying his cards down on the table. “What is it?” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

“It can wait.”

“It can’t.”

The two of you communicate silently for a moment: sheer stubbornness on your end with mounting frustration on his.  

At last, he stands with a roll of his eyes. “Excuse me guys. You all know how she gets.” 

The two of them disappear into the kitchen. Sensing his chance, Ghost pushes away from the table. “Think I need that beer after all.”

The others pay him no attention, ducking their heads together and talking under their breath to each other like a group of teenagers.  It lets him slip away from the table and linger outside the kitchen doorway, silent as his namesake. He holds his breath, listening, knowing that this is the moment he and Johnny have been waiting for: concrete proof that your boyfriend is mistreating you.

“—isn’t working. I didn’t cheek it, I swear. Give me another, please,” you’re saying quietly, voice thick with tears.

“Not gonna happen.” 

“Please! I don’t wanna—”

“Not gonna happen because there wasn’t anything in that soda, you stupid slut,” your boyfriend whispers softly. The words echo around in Ghost's brain, bouncing off the walls of his skull. Mission successful. “I just wanted to see if you’d drink it. Now go back to the bedroom and stay there until everyone has left. Understood?” 

There is no response. Footsteps are heard—

Ghost has enough time to duck into the bathroom and avoid him—but he doesn’t. He lets himself get caught by your boyfriend, both of them staring at each other, eyes hard and knowing. There’s no reason to keep up the charade anymore, not after what he just heard. 

“Need something, Simon?” 

“That’s no way to talk to a woman,” Ghost says, soft and dangerous. 

Your boyfriend rubs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “If I were you, I’d mind the business that pays me.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“Are you—threatening me?” he asks, head tilting in a manner of mild surprise. There’s something in his eyes that Ghost can’t identify, something that looks a lot less like the fear he would hope to see and looks instead like delight. 

“I don’t like that word,” he says. “Leaves behind a certain degree of uncertainty. If I ever hear you say something like that to her again—”

His words are cut off as from the kitchen comes a scream, a wordless shriek of rage followed by the ear-splitting shatter of a ceramic plate. Even Ghost jerks, eyes flickering to the kitchen doorway, but there is no sight of you. A plate careens into his line of sight in the doorway, shattering to bits on the floor where you have thrown it. 

“What the fuck,” your boyfriend mutters. Another dish shatters. He raises his voice, calm but booming: “Alright: everyone out. Poker night’s over.”

-

Simon returns to his apartment with heavy steps, feet nearly leaden with dread at what he is going home to, at what he has done. He opens the door to quiet darkness, steps inside, and lingers there just inside the door, listening for Johnny’s quiet snores. 

He hears quiet sniffles instead. Stomach clenching painfully, he follows the sound to the bedroom and finds Soap on the floor. He has rolled himself off the bed, likely awoken out of sheer willpower and tried to follow after Simon. Johnny looks up at him, pupils blown wide, eyes red and swollen from crying. 

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispers fiercely, kneeling down beside him. “I’m so sorry Johnny. I had to do it. You know I did.” 

“I hate you,” Johnny whispers back, tongue thick. All of the sudden, his face pales and he leans forward, vomiting on the floor between them. 

It is the least that Simon deserves.

[lingering-42-long]

141 + extra Mother’s Day head cannons

A short little Head cannons for all of our favorite boys expressing their love to there girls who are mothers.

COD x Female Character

Warnings: none, fluff, adorable daddies.

Captain John Price

• he wakes you up with a kiss on the forehead and a coffee in hand.

• The little ones are still asleep and he just wants to spend time with the mother of his children.

• when your daughters and son decide that it’s time to get up, they are running around handing you flowers and cards and balloons with the words “Happy Mother’s Day” written on them.

• John is making you breakfast with the girls attempting to help and your son sitting on the counter coloring.

• every year he plans to take you out to a nice restaurant and you to go to watch a play at the local theater

• He gives you lots of kisses and tells you how amazing a mother you are.

• He gives you a spa treatment to use whenever you need and puts a crap ton of money on it as well as also giving you a Starbucks gift card with $100 on it knowing your coffee obsession.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

• you’re a mother to be and about eight months pregnant with your first born son.

• because of the trauma Simon had to go through all those years ago he never really understood what Mother’s Day was and so didn’t think much of it when it was coming around.

• after hearing what some of his friends were doing for their wives he thought it would be best to do some thing for you in a similar fashion.

• he doesn’t necessarily want to go out and do anything too extravagant. He doesn’t see the need to.

• but he understands that you are carrying his child his first born, his son so he feels very obligated and very protective of you.

• he buys you your favorite flowers and does a huge amount of online shopping for things for you and for the baby.

• One might think that just because he has no clue about Mother’s Day that he would be a horrible gift giver when that is simply not true. Simon is trained to study all the little details in life and so he knows exactly what your favorite things are right down to the exact color shade and style.

• this man has read so many parent books he knows exactly what his child needs well before the due date and advise you whatever you could possibly need to make your pregnancy as smooth as possible.

• he will take you to your favorite place at the park where you two can have a quiet lunch together.

• it may not be much but it’s the thought that counts. He’s not a emotionally opened person but for you he is trying so hard to make sure that you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

• your son was the first one to wake you both up as he was screaming on the top of his lungs saying happy Mother’s Day.

• Johnny just laughs and gives you a kiss, wishing you also a happy Mother’s Day before getting jumped on by his son desperately trying to wake up his parents so he could have breakfast, and show you his artwork that he had been working on for you.

• he bought you a really pretty and expensive pair of earrings and matching necklace. Don’t ask him how much it was.

• Johnny asks his parents if they could watch his son for the day as he takes you out for a couples massage and goes thrift shopping with you.

• this is a fun hobby that you guys have and enjoy doing.

• sometime during dinner at a simple bistro that you guys like to go to, he whispers into your ear about growing the family.

• let’s just say baby number two is on its way

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• he is very new at being a father only having two months with his newborn daughter.

• like Simon, he doesn’t know what to do for you for Mother’s Day so he calls his mom for help.

• She suggests that he do some thing for you or give something to you to make her feel special.

• he decides that he would watch the baby for the day while you go get your hair done your fingernails done and get a massage as well as give you some money to go buy some clothes and to hang out with your girlfriends.

• he’s not the best cook so he decides to order takeout for you both at one of your favorite pizza restaurants.

• when you get back home he sets the table up real nicely and make sure to get you some really pretty flowers and your favorite chocolate from the store.

• he also orders your favorite wine.

• Once your baby girl has fallen asleep, you both decide to watch a cheesy Romcom.

• it’s really simple but it’s the perfect Mother’s Day gift you could ever ask for.

Commander Alejandro Vargas

• this man is already making you breakfast for the day. His two older children have gone to hang out at one of their friends places while the youngest, a three-year-old, was in her highchair eating breakfast.

• he brings the food to you as you’re just waking up.

• Like Johnny, he bought you a beautiful set of earrings and necklace that the kids helped picked out.

• he’s going to take you out to a really nice restaurant and later dancing so he make sure to get you a nice dress that he knows that you would like.

• he buys every single rose from every single flower shop in Las Almes

• giving you neck kisses from behind as you’re getting ready.

•Asked his single brother to watch the baby while the other kids are having a sleep over at their cousins house.

• he spent the whole night pampering you and telling you how much he loves you and thanking you for his children.

• Spent the rest of the night having spicy time on the couch and bedroom.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

• because your two year-old son has a severe infection and is in the hospital, you both decide not to do some thing extravagant since most of your money is going towards taking care of the little one.

• with that being said, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t going to try for you.

• he is a simple man but he does what he can for you to make you happy.

• for some odd reason all of the roses in Las Almes are all sold out, so he buys a really nice mixed bouquet that he knows that you like.

• he also gives you a simple gift card to your favorite coffee shop with a cute card to go with it.

• you order takeout and have it delivered to the hospital, where you guys are at making sure that your son is ok.

• even though it’s not the Best Mother’s Day, you too are just happy to be together with your son.

König

• he always thinks really hard about what you would like for Mother’s Day.

• he’s not a social butterfly but he’ll make an exception for you. So if you want to go out to a restaurant he will do that for you.

• this man is just happy that he was able to find someone that loves him, and has given him two beautiful twin girls and one sweet boy.

• you too decide to do some thing super easy with the kids and take them to a park in his hometown in Austria.

• he looks like he’s on the verge of tears because of how happy you have made him.

• he gets overwhelmed easily with emotion.

• after going to the park he cooks you all a really good meal and the girls help him.

•After dinner, the both of you Play board games with the girls as your son is asleep in his bassinet.

• makes some hot chocolate for everyone.

• when the girls go to sleep, he pulls out a book that he wants to read with you.

• you two fall asleep in each others arms.

Alex Keller

• this dude is a Golden retriever when it comes to love. He gets so excited when he gets to spend Mother’s Day with you and his newborn son.

• since you just had the baby you’re still in the hospital, and he makes sure to take care of all your needs while you get pampered by him. He buys you a really cute t-shirt with the words ‘mamma bear’ on it.

• he gets you sushi from your favorite Japanese restaurant.

• plays card games with you and lets you win.

• watches TV with you in the hospital room while holding your hand and telling you how proud he is and he hopes to grow the family more in the future.

Philip Graves

• is a southern boy so his mama always taught him how to treat a lady.

• Think 1940s gentleman

• most people think he would have a son but he has a little girl instead.

• is a super proud daddy of his baby girl and even more proud of his wife.

• unfortunately for this Mother’s Day, he’s away with the shadow company in Mexico so he’s unable to spend Mother’s Day with you.

• he does send you a text letting you know how much he misses you and to have a amazing Mother’s Day.

• he sends you $1000 to go spend on whatever you want for your day since he knows that he won’t be able to splurge on you like he usually does.

• he cannot wait to get back home to you and his little girl.

[erinfern0]

contrasts of intimacy.

simon "ghost" riley x inexperienced!afab!gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, afab anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you're not very experienced, but you want to try something new, changing things in the bedroom feels like a good idea. All those fantasies of yours, Simon turning rougher, turn you on more and more until he finally agrees.

warnings: inexperienced reader, talk of safe words, use of safe word, manhandling, slight spanking, discomfort, possible sub drop, etc.

a/n: based on this lovely request! I've been away for a while, but I'm so glad to be back here with you, guys!!

Convincing him was difficult, not only were you a little embarrassed to ask for such a lewd thing, but also — he's such a stubborn man. The idea itself was tempting, Simon got so hard just listening to you explaining what you wanted. Shifting his hips on the couch, adjusting his sweats as he just nodded his head.

Pure torture and such a betrayal of your innocent, inexperienced nature to ask for something like this. Not that it was wrong or immoral, as Simon made it clear that he's more than happy to try new things with you. But God did he adore to watch you squirm in your seat, trying to get some coherent sentences out.

His mind was slowly coming back to his senses when you mentioned that you'd like him to do anything seemingly painful, like pulling your hair or spanking you. He just couldn't imagine himself doing something like that to you, immediately thinking about actually hurting you.

You thought he's going to deny you, turning your offer down and never thinking about this again, but he surprised you, holding your hands in his and slowly rubbing your palms with his thumbs.

“We'll have a safe word.” he assured, a smug smirk on his face before he looked up at you. “You'll let me know when's too much, yeah?” his hand slowly rubbed your thigh as he waited for your answer.

“Of course!” you said happily with a stutter, almost falling into his embrace as you tried to hug him. Simon's muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you on his lap, your cunt pleasingly pressing against his crotch. “We can just go with the traffic lights.”

Simon started prepping kisses to your lips the way he always used to, sweetly and slowly before he sped up, easing his hot tongue into your mouth, devouring every little gasp that left your throat.

The contrast of his harsh, sloppy kisses and his hands groping all over your body make you dizzy, mindlessly reaching down to untie the little knot of his sweatpants. Your other hand pulls his hair, grazing your nails over his scalp.

He groaned, pulling on your lower lip while pulling you closer, his hot breath mixing with yours as you ease your way under his pants and boxers, wrapping your fingers around his twitching cock.

You were not really experienced, but Simon made sure to teach you exactly how to make him feel good, so that's exactly what you did. Slow strokes down his shaft, combined with your thumb teasingly rubbing on his slit, made him grow harder in your hold.

Your actions caused his usually soft touches to turn into him sinking his fingers into your hips, guiding you to rub yourself over his clothed thigh and bulge. His kisses followed a path down your neck right before he flipped you, laying your body on the couch, your back and neck pressed into soft pillows.

“Take 'em off.” he demanded, looking down at your shorts before he suckled another hickey into your shoulder. The dark rasp of his voice, hoarse with desire, made your stomach turn in arousal.

You obeyed, pulling your shorts and panties down your legs to throw them on the floor, looking up at him to meet his dark eyes, looking completely black in the light of your living room.

You felt like prey, just waiting to be hunted down and devoured, but that's exactly what you asked from him. That's exactly what you wanted, needed, even.

Simon pushed your legs apart, pulling them closer to your chest so he could watch the way your glistening pussy kept clenching around nothing. His eyelids felt heavy as he played with your folds, pulling them apart just to chuckle at your little squirms and pants.

“This really gets my angel wet, huh?” he asked more to himself as he kept your legs up with one hand. The other left a gentle spank to your pussy, watching your legs shake from the stimulation with a choked-back moan of his name.

He always loved your sounds, not only your voice but also the way your skin rubbed against his, how your hair nuzzled into the bedsheets, and how your juices squealed under his fingers.

But the thing that kept him going the most was the way you kept chanting his name as your nails dug into his forearms. Your soft pleas for him to finally fuck you and not just make sweet love as usual.

“Si, please, please…” you mewled, watching as he pulled his sweats down, his cock pressing right between your folds. Simon slammed his tip over your clit, quiet curses slipped off his tongue as your thighs twitched.

He complied, gently pushing his cockhead into you, working you open to stretch around in such a familiar, breathtaking manner he had to grip the underside of your thighs. Pushing you down just to feel you all over him, your gasps making goosebumps appear all over his back, just where your nails tried to reach.

His fingers deepened their hold on your skin, probably leaving bruises, making you shiver in such a pleasurable sting of his nails making their way through the thin layer of your plush skin.

“Desperate thing.” he groaned, his leaking tip finally reaching your cervix, so deep you felt as if it was pushing right against your brain, making you all dizzy and hazed with pleasure.

Everything was just as you imagined, starting with deep, slow thrusts, pushing all the nice spots that made you see stars, but then Simon quickened his moves. His hands kept your thighs up, knees as close to your chest as possible as he rammed in and out of your slick, clenching hole.

You two lost yourself completely in the feeling of each other's bodies, so different from your usual sex. You've turned into a shaking, panting mess under his form, towering above you, fucking you with such force the whole couch shuddered under you.

As much as you loved it, loved him, your perfect little fantasy became too much. It was perfect until you couldn't breathe as clearly as before. Legs pressed against your chest too much for you to appreciate his filthy words or the mess between your bodies, noises of both pleasure and slick spread around the room.

The pain in your thighs became unmissable, and even when he asked, you tried to stay strong. You were the one to ask him for this, you didn't want him to feel bad for possibly hurting you, just as bad as you didn't want him to stop. So you kept your cool, tears pooling on your eyes that were closed shut, and moans turned more performative than ever.

Simon couldn't miss the changes, though. The way you clenched around his cock made it harder for him to slip back in every time he pulled out. Your grip on his forearms has become harder, leaving marks all over his skin as he slowed his moves again.

“Look at me, love. I need you to look at me.” he murmured under his breath, hand pulling away from your thigh to cup your chin, thumb caressing your dry lips, bringing your attention to him. ”You're okay?”

You shivered, both palms now resting against the couch, too tired to touch him again. You swallowed harshly, nodding your head almost mindlessly, thighs already shivering from how exhausted you got after just a couple of minutes. They hurt, a strange sting running all over your legs caused by being held up for too long,

Breathing deeply, you allowed him to slowly pull out, his palms running calming shapes over your skin, waiting for you to gather your thoughts. His thumb caressed your face, letting you focus on his touch rather than the pain.

Tears started running down your cheeks despite your desperate attempts to stop them. Sobbing underneath him, you closed your eyes, trying to cover your face with your hands, but Simon pulled them away with quiet 'shhs' spilled off his tongue.

“Just say it, it's okay.” he mumbled, the dark browns of his eyes locked on yours, his gaze softening. His hair was messy, slightly over his forehead as he leaned forward, waiting for you.

“Red.” you gasped out, embarrassment filling your voice as you shivered. He kissed your knee right before he helped you relax your legs, placing them flat on the couch for you.

“That's it, sweet thing. Just rest for me, yeah?” he cooed as he stood up, collecting your clothes off the floor and slowly slipping your underwear on your body. Your body melted perfectly the way he wanted, allowing him to pull his bigger shirt over your head, covering you with an addition of a blanket.

Simon kneeled beside the sofa, his fingers pushing stray hairs away from your face. “Too much?” he questioned, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder.

Nodding your head, you smiled weakly, words of an apology coming out of your mouth before you even thought about them. He just looked at you, his jaw clenching. “Nothing to be sorry about. You were so perfect, sweetie. Stopping when you don't feel good anymore shouldn't make you apologize, ever.”

Slowly, you accepted his hand reaching under the blanket to interlock your fingers with his, the reassurance you needed was right there. Sleep tried to take over your body as he hummed into your exposed neck, leaving gentle kisses on the fading marks he had left there before.

“I'll get us something to eat and some tea when you wake up, don't worry about anything.” he added before he sat on the couch right beside your head, pulling it over his sweatpants-covered lap, massaging your scalp just the way you loved the most, letting you rest.

masterlist | request info

[bluejukebox]

somewhat damaged - ghost x reader ˚₊⊹

The 141 Task Force gets their own special combat medic, one who catches the attention of Simon "Ghost" Riley. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW !! MDNI !! afab reader, blood, stitches, unsafe sex, p in v, vaginal fingering, some dirty talk ☆

They were all huddled in Captain Price’s office when he proudly uttered the words : “We’ll be expecting a new addition to the 141”. Ghost couldn’t exactly say he was happy. He especially couldn’t when the captain was being extremely vague about this ‘new addition’. It wasn’t a secret that Ghost was absolutely horrible with new people, the walls he’s built for himself standing strong and high. Maybe it was a territory thing or maybe a textbook case of trust issues, he wasn’t sure. All he knows for sure is that his ‘distrusting of people’ habit gave him a not so positive reputation around base. His intimidating figure, mannerisms and appearance scared people off, which he definitely prided himself on. He knew that the other members, specifically Gaz and Soap, would try and force information out of Price by continuously whining, so Ghost decided to sit back and observe, per usual. 

“C’mon cap, ya can give us a lil’ bit more than that can’t ya?” Soap immediately perked up from his chair.

Price shut his eyes out of annoyance. “MacTavish, don’t start.", with a deep sigh he continued “If I had more crucial information about her I would’ve already given it, don’t you think?”

“Her?” Gaz and Soap both astoundedly said. Even this little detail caught the Lieutenants attention. He’s worked with numerous women before, to him the sex of a person isn’t a problem as long as they keep to protocol and know what they’re doing. The Task Force 141 would occasionally team up with other ‘groups’, like the Shadow Company, but new members being assigned was rare. 

With yet another deep sigh the captain continued speaking. “Yes, her. She’s a very reputable combat medic. As you all know there’s been some staff shortages in the medical area around here”, he said while cutting the tip of yet another cigar. “- and trust me I know how stubborn some of you guys get about getting your injuries checked out, don’t even try to deny it. In my professional opinion I think she’ll be a valuable asset to our Task Force, you’re all dismissed”. He waved his cigar clad hand towards the boys to signal them to get out. 

Not even a second after Ghost leaves the office he hears the scot rambling on, “Ya hear that LT? A lady, I wonder what the lass is like”.

Ghost frowned beneath the mask, he had expected Soap to be more concerned with the girl’s gender and less her combat abilities and medical skills, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. All he gave in reply was a grunt while he strided back to the ‘dormitory wing’. 

As he left the area he heard the loud discussion between the members about the new mystery combat medic, but it wouldn’t be until a couple weeks later that you’d arrive. 

And god, Ghost was troubled, These complicated, strong feelings all started the second you stepped foot in the base… 

The contrast between you and him was astonishing, you were so vastly different from him. The bubbly personality, and the cute shy way you had introduced yourself to the Task Force really caught his attention. You’re a proper pretty woman, with a very nice physique that was obviously trained hard for. Safe to say he was interested, though he’d never admit this outloud. The man isn’t known for being in touch with his feelings and definitely isn’t known for accepting intimacy, but that’s somehow exactly what you got him to do.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was a rough mission, bad intel all around, your ears still ringing from all the shooting, explosives, the deafening sound of jet fighters flying close to the ground and projectiles. But the numerous injuries needed tending, the severity of them varying was your responsibility, you needed to focus. You needed to mend their wounds and nurse them back to health. 

It was a close call but you all got to safety, hiding out in a little safe house far enough from where all the chaos was unfolding. You immediately got to work, readying your supplies and putting on some gloves to maintain the little hygiene you could. Firstly you treated the wounds that called for the most attention, which thankfully weren’t life threatening if they get proper treatment back at base. After the emergency operations on numerous bullet grazes, scrapes, cuts and bruises the group was finally able to rest their eyes for a moment. 

They all scattered off, sounding grunts and hisses of pain. That’s when you realized there was one person you hadn’t mended to, Ghost. Your eyes lifting to find his, you found him looking at you with his brown eyes, his masked head quickly turning back to observe the treeline outside the window. 

“Someone’s gotta keep watch, you can go take a break” He heavily grunted, exhaustion evident in his gruff voice. “Are you okay? I-I’m here to help, I want to help you”, You frowned, disappointment unmasked in your response. Ghost could feel his heart skip a beat, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone spoke to him the way you did, the feelings you gave him were clouding his judgement. “I’m fine love, go rest up”

That nickname always got the blood rushing to your face, time and time again. You already were a shy person, the guest free and welcoming nature of the members of 141 didn’t change how intimidating they all were to you. But hearing the endearing nickname come out of his mouth, with his extremely attractive accent and voice, it was a no-brainer that you started developing feelings (and fantasies) for the man.  You thought you hid it pretty well, the way you’d become bashful when he spoke to you, the way you’d stutter your replies back. Obviously you didn’t, the others caught on pretty fast. It quickly became a huge trend in the 141 to tease you about your schoolgirl crush. Soap calling you ‘Mrs Ghost’ when you were alone or the looks they’d send your way when the lieutenant would lift the hem of his shirt to tap away the sweat droplets at the juncture of his neck during training. Even Captain Price joined in, it positively mortified you.

It was hard not to be intrigued by the skull mask, the skull sewn onto a balaclava, white paint replacing the place where the mandible would’ve been. There was obviously a lot of thought put into it, maybe love you wondered. Ghost wasn’t one of the youngest men in the military, it was safe to assume he had a partner and family waiting at home. That's why the late night fantasizing about the lieutenant made you feel guilty and gross, and the innocent crushing foolish.

“Alright, the offer still stands. Would it be okay if I stay here, with you?” The grunt you got in response was enough affirmation for you, quickly finding a spot to settle down and silently thanking the gods for the blankets that were still stored in the safehouse. Slowly you dozed off, exhaustion from the day weighing down on you and pulling you down into a light slumber. 

You were awoken by muffled hisses of pain, lifting your head from your makeshift pillow and trying to locate the sound which you quickly found. There was Ghost, stripped from his usual heavy gear, instead sporting a grey t-shirt, awkwardly stitching up what looks like a very deep bullet graze on his left bicep. Your shifting must’ve alerted him because his head shot to where you were resting. He knew he was caught.

“Oh, Ghost.." you sighed “You could’ve told me atleast, it’s my job you know” 

“Didn’t wanna burden ya”, he muttered after a pregnant pause looking properly defeated. He dropped the needle and thread. Slowly you got up from your prone position, standing up to stretch your legs. Cautiously you sauntered over to where he was sitting. “Well you can’t possibly burden me, and definitely not when you’re hurt and in need of assistance” You smiled, your presence truly calmed him. But the way you cared, the way you talked awakened something deeply buried in him, you were so confusing to him, a mystery. 

As you got closer to him, you settled down against a nearby chair. “Can I help you now?”, to which he only nodded. Carefully you placed your hands on his forearm, your touch making him jump.

“Sorry, my hands are pretty cold”, you bashfully said. 

That’s not why he jumped, he couldn’t even feel the temperature of your hands. Calling him touch-starved would be an understatement, the simple feel of your softer hands touching his tainted skin so gently made his blood rush down south. He felt so perverted, he was getting hard from you simply doing what you were assigned to do. 

You simply took over for him, disinfecting and stitching up his wound for him. In the amount of times he’d come to you for help you both felt the tension. It was undeniable, and this time it was the exact same. Even though the safehouse was chilly, even though you could see every exhale you felt flushed. Warmth spreading over your entire body, and pooling in your lower belly. You could barely sit still while tending to him.

“I’m almost finished” You whispered, your tone coming out more breathy than you had anticipated. The arm you were tending to tensed up, in fact his whole body tensed up. Suddenly the air around you both seemed to get heavier. He couldn’t help letting his thoughts transition over to a more inappropriate side of his brain. It wasn’t the first time his mind went there (certainly not the last). On lonely nights he’d have the image of you splayed in different positions, situations, outfits-  He was sure he looked a mess; clammy hands, a tense body sporting a semi. Praying to god his hard-on isn’t as visible as it feels, he wasn’t small by any means, nothing about him was. You both sat in silence waiting for you to finish up, noticeably your movements got more jittery and shaky. He saw the way you crossed your legs over one another in the corner of his eye. How your legs were squeezing together for some form of relief. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not, there could absolutely be no chance you were interested in him, no chance he was the reason you’re getting turned on. One of his specialties is observing people, there’s no way he never noticed the signs.. Now he was staring intently at your face, his body fighting against the urge to kiss you, mark you, push you to your knees- 

“All done” your cheery voice cut through his lewd train of thought. When your eyes met his, your body was uncontrollable, your hand that was patching him up slowly drifting over his bicep, over to the place where his shoulder met his neck. That was the last straw for Ghost. Gripping your waist and pulling you towards him, faces inches apart. He could feel you breathing, eyes shifting down to your plump lips, chapped from the cold. 

Suddenly your face showed uncertainty, which immediately made Ghost drop his hands from your body.

“Do you have somebody waiting for you at home? Please be honest with me”

“Oh love, I don’t, I promise I don’t”

You’ve never heard his voice sound so desperate, so warm and needy. With the vulnerability he’s showing to you right now there’s no way he’s lying. All you could do was give him your signature infectious smile, that was his queue to touch you again. When he started lifting up his mask, placing the hem of it on the bridge of his nose, you were absolutely mesmerized. His strong jaw with a slight stubble and plump lips were on display, all and only for you. 

Your hands sneaked from the juncture of his neck to his jaw, eyes flicking down to his lips and then back to his eyes. Faces inching closer, lips slightly touching but neither of you giving in.  Before your lips finally met, he grabbed a hold of the sides of your face and ground his lips on yours. He grunted into your lips which made you whine back into his. The kiss became more and more needy, hints of nips and licks. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he’s become insatiable. He doesn’t even want to imagine never feeling your lips on his again, you were intoxicating. The position you both were in wasn’t comfortable anymore, he manhandled you and made you sit on his left knee, your back to his chest and his knee resting comfortably between your legs. His lips now working his way down the right side of your neck, hands moving from your hips to your thighs. His touch was light, hands moving from your outer thigh to your inner, before gripping lightly and spreading them for you. Your thighs felt so sensitive, his touch made your body light aflame, nobody has ever had this effect on you.  

“Is this okay darlin’?” He spoke against your neck, if his accent didn’t make you crazy before, it definitely made you crazy now. 

“Yes, please don’t stop” you whispered, unfortunately you weren’t alone in the safehouse and you definitely weren’t hidden. All you got in response was a chuckle. His hands kept teasing you, noticing how sensitive you got when he caressed the insides of your thighs, when he got closer to where you needed him most. Slowly his hand inched towards your tactical belt. But you beat him to it, desperately unbuckling and removing it. Ghost could only watch in amusement.

He helped you with the button on your pants, he couldn’t wait to feel what a mess he turned you into. He’s been dreaming about this for weeks now, the way you feel, your taste, the sounds you’d make, all of it. His brain already working overtime to tuck the memories of your warmth, the sound of your voice and the taste of your lips safely tucked away in his brain. It’s something only for him. 

The zipper of your pants being pulled down sent your brain into overdrive. You were so horny, your clit throbbing, positively drenching your underwear. Without thinking you shifted your hips backwards, your butt being driven into Ghost’s arousal as well as your clit making contact with the surface of his thigh. Bunching the fabric of his pants up in your hands while barely being able to contain your whine. What you both were doing was taboo, him being your superior and all. If anybody found out there could be drastic consequences for the both of you, but he obviously couldn’t care less about that now, and honestly neither could you. 

“Take what you need love, god- you’re so beautiful, I can feel you through my pants”

Slowly you started rocking your hips back and forth, the friction and pressure just enough to relieve you even a little bit. Breath hitching at every pleasurable rock against him, he started helping you thrust your hips by guiding you with his hands on your hips. You swear you could cum from this, you were so sensitive. All the pent up energy and all the fantasies you’ve had about him weren’t helping. 

“I-I’m close”, you whimpered, fisting his pants even harder than before, positively stretching the material out. 

"Already? You’ll be a good girl and cum for me, won’t ya?” Your brain was clouded by lust. You couldn’t even detect the humorous mocking in his voice. Him praising you is what set you off, hips starting to rock in a frenzied rhythm trying to reach the climax heavily burning in your core. Ghost started rocking his hips into your ass, simultaneously pleasuring you even more, his mouth so close to your ear, licking and biting on the lobe. His heavenly moans, grunts and heavy breathing pushed you impossibly closer to the edge. 

The fire in your core burned brighter with every thrust of your hips against his thigh. Letting go of your hold on his jeans you stabilised yourself against his hands holding your hips. Your body tensed, you threw your head back against his shoulder and moaned a lot louder than you should’ve when the pressure finally released, the pleasure kept building and building in intensity, every muscle in your lower region tightening in a delicious rhythm. “Good girl,” he breathed out, you were moaning so prettily, he wanted to save every octave and tone you were making in his brain so he’ll never be able to forget. The slow grinding of your throbbing clit against him brought you back to earth from the best orgasm you’ve had in your life. When he saw you came down he started to rub your arms soothingly up and down. He started pulling you even closer to him, the pressure and warmth of his body on yours helped you come back to your senses.

“I-I’ve- nobody has ever done that to me”, you giggled, turning to look at him. Who would’ve thought his touch would be like magic. Your body felt like jelly, but somehow you still wanted more. “You’re so beautiful when you cum”, He said while brushing loose strands away from your face, his eyes staring into yours. It was so incredibly intimate, his touch so tender it was making you melt. His hand yet again wandering to your core, brushing over your shirt clad breasts and travelling down to your open zipper. His fingers found their way inside your pants, he could feel the warmth radiating off of you. The way his fingers immediately felt wet simply just touching you outside of the fabric of your underwear, you had to be dripping. Even the insides of your thighs were a little slick.

“God, doll, you’re so fucking wet”, he groaned out. All you gave back in response was a high pitched ‘mhm’ muffled by your lips. His cock throbbing at this discovery, the fact you were affected by him so badly was making him feel so self-assured, his ego positively growing. Everything about you was perfect to him. 

After caressing you for a while through your underwear he finally decided to put his hand in your underwear, the uncensored feeling of his skin on your sensitive flesh was better than you could’ve imagined. With no fabric in the way it felt twice as good as it did before, you felt him spread your labia with his fore- and middle finger, making you clench, another drop of wetness dripping out of you. His now lubricated fingers moved upwards and circled your clit, you whined and moaned at his actions.

“I want to fuck you so badly but I need to get you ready for me love, fuck- I’ll take care of you”

That’s all he said before his middle and ring finger dipped down to your opening, making sure they were covered plenty in your slick before sliding inside you. You were tight due to your recent orgasm. He stopped halfway, his hands being huge compared to yours, he knew you’d need some time to recover. 

You’ve never felt so desperate for somebody, it was consuming you. Every fiber of your being needed him, you needed him to go faster, to go deeper. You wanted him to mark you, for him to be yours, and you his. 

Your hands grabbed onto the arm that was busy pleasuring you, one palm slipping from his forearm to his hand, trying to push him deeper inside you. He hadn’t even touched you for 2 minutes and you were already close. He was going to be the death of you.

“Ghost- fffuck, go deeper, I need you”, you were shamelessly moaning now, the thought of the other members being inside the building pushed out of your brain by the mind blowing pleasure Ghost was gifting your body. 

“Call me Simon, love”

You chanted his name, feeling yourself yet again get closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach unraveling faster than you ever anticipated. You were gradually getting tighter and tighter around his fingers, it felt even better. The rhythmic rocking sent you into yet another overwhelming orgasm. 

Ghost felt you gush around him, the sound of your slick with every thrust was deafening. He had to do everything in his power not to cum in his pants. You were truly a dream come true to him. 

When you calmed down and he felt your walls around his fingers relax, they slipped out of you. Strings of wetness tied his index finger to his middle, even his palm was wet. He started working on getting you both undressed, quickly pulling off his hoodie and shirt. Seeing him strip had put you into action as well, quickly ridding yourself of your shirt. As you sat there, tits clad with a very tight and uncomfortable sports bra, you gawked at his physique. He was crafted by the gods, muscles so defined and sharp. The broadness of his shoulders were twice, maybe even triple, the size of yours. 

Reaching up to caress his gorgeous chest your hand accidentally slid over his nipple, making him let out a muffled moan. You wanted to make him moan like that more, you’d do anything to hear it again. Hands drifting to the line of hair that disappeared into his cargo pants, slipping even lower and caressing his bulge through the thick fabric. Your pupils dilated at the reactions he gave at every touch you gave him. He looked like a god so you wanted to worship him like one. 

Standing up with shaky legs you pushed your pants that were hanging low on your hips down to your feet. Now standing only in your undergarments in front of him. He wasted no time in ridding himself of his own pants. Relieving some of the pressure on his hard, throbbing cock. 

He was sporting a tent in his boxers, which was now very visible with the fabric of his thick pants gone. You just stared at it, you’ve been with men before but it’s been a while. He certainly was above average, a fact that matched the rest of his physique. You caressed your hands down his sculpted body, ghosting over his pecs down to the hem of his boxers. Wasting no more time you gently pulled the boxers down. He was uncut and leaking onto the fabric of his underpants, which made your mouth water. Everything about him was just painfully attractive, the sight of him sweating, legs spread with his cock out and head thrown slightly back to gaze at you was something you’d never forget. 

“We have to be quick love, it’s already dawn”, Ghost said. His left hand gripping the base of his cock and the other gliding from your waist to your ass, gripping and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. Both of his hands were now working on pulling your underwear down your legs with desperation. You knew he needed you on him, around his cock as much as you needed him. 

You wasted no more time and sat on his thighs, the air between you two heavy. Ghost gripped the base of his cock and rubbed the tip of him on your clit, before finally positioning it near the opening of your hole. His mouth was open, the man breathing heavily in anticipation.

“Love, ffffuck I need you. You still want me right?”, the arousal was dripping off of his words.

“Mhm, yes-yes please put it in me, I can’t wait any longer”,

His tip slid in slowly, you felt the muscles of your pussy accommodate him. The stretch brought a slight sting with it, you’re not used to fucking men with cocks as girthy and big as Simons. You moved your hips closer to Ghost’s, you felt the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be as close and connected with him as humanly possible. At your motions he let out a symphony of grunts and moans while squeezing your hips to contain his excitement, trying to hold himself back. 

“Please don’t hold back, I need you to fuck me dumb- Simon please”, and the second your words processed in Simons brain he broke. Pulling you completely on his cock until he was balls deep inside you, hips angling upwards so that you’d somehow feel even fuller than before. Gripping his shoulder and nape you started your movements with him, hips moving in sync. 

“Doll, you’re fucking made for me. Born to be my fuck toy, how -fuuckkk is it possible for you to feel this good?”, Ghost said with a strained voice. Hearing his words made your pussy clench even tighter around him, “Hah- you like that? Being mine?”, all you could do was whimper and moan pathetically in response. 

Both of you wouldn’t last long, Simon was already nearing his climax after not even being 2 minutes inside of you. His masked face was pushed into your neck, making you feel the vibrations of his moans and his heavy breathing. Suddenly he let go of your hips and slid his hands under your sports bra you were still wearing, pulling the bra up to expose your chest. He positively groaned when he saw your perfect tits. Bouncing in sync with the rhythm, the cold air hardens your nipples even more. 

“Ahhh- I can’t last any longer love, where do you want me?”, 

“Don’t pull out- don’t stop”,

Your cockdrunk response triggered his orgasm, his thrusts getting slower and deeper to ensure you’re fucked full with his load. Feeling him throb so deeply inside you was fueling your own oncoming climax. You started riding him fast and deep in desperation. You grabbed his hand and started using his fingers to rub your clit, he loved seeing you get off with everything he had to offer. 

Your hips got wilder and wilder, until finally your body shuddered. Gasping and moaning was all you could do, the orgasm seemingly never ending. The soothing motions of Simon caressing your back and him still circling your clit in slow circles helped you come back down to earth. 

Now the only noises in the room were the heavy breathing of you both recovering. Your head falling down on Simon’s shoulders while he soothingly pet your hair, his softening cock still inside you. He kissed you long and soft, you felt him still breathing heavily out of his nose. Finally departing from the sweet kiss, he pulled you close. His face was in your hair. Giving you kisses on top of your head. “Thank you, love. I really needed this”, he whispered.

“I- it was my pleasure, Simon”, you said bashfully.

“My cock is inside you and you’re still this shy?”, Simon laughed. You couldn’t help but join in, all the chaos that took place only a couple hours before momentarily forgotten. 

Simon felt truly at peace. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, nevermind this mind-numbingly powerful. After having a taste of you and all that you’ve made his cold heart feel, he wasn’t going to let you go easily. Not that you wanted him to anyways.. <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

this is my first fanfic! i'm european so i'm very sorry about my possible grammar mistakes :')) i also posted this on AO3 !

[londonspirit]

Was there ever any doubt that Our Flag Means Death Season 2 wouldn't end in thrilling fashion after taking all of us on a rollercoaster of emotions? Probably not, but show creator David Jenkins and writer John Mahone, who teamed up on the script for the finale episode, seemed distinctly driven to squeeze as many tears out of us watching as possible. With the dynamic between Stede (Rhys Darby) and Ed (Taika Waititi) seemingly fractured as of the season's penultimate installment, it was unclear how — or if — the two men might eventually reconcile, but a new threat to the Republic of Pirates, alongside Ed's realization that maybe he isn't meant to be a fisherman after all, sends the two back into each other's arms, literally.

While some characters are afforded something resembling a happy ending, with Stede and Ed deciding to try their hand at being innkeepers as they watch the Revenge sail off into the sunset under Frenchie's (Joel Fry) command, not every single crew member emerges from the finale battle unscathed, chief among them Ed's first mate and formerly ruthless right-hand Izzy Hands (Con O'Neill), whose parting words to Ed may be the very thing that the former Blackbeard needs to hear in order to fully come to terms with accepting the man inside him all along.

Ahead of the Season 2 finale premiering on Max, Collider had the opportunity to reconnect with Jenkins to discuss some of the episode's biggest moments. Over the course of the interview, which you can read below, Jenkins explains why Izzy's speech is both a eulogy for the character and a statement about the show itself, how the Season 2 premiere and finale bookend each other with those beach scenes, and why he wanted to use that Nina Simone needle drop in particular. He also discusses why the season concludes with a wedding at sea, what the finale sets up for Season 3, and more.

COLLIDER: I feel like my first question, in a completely non-serious way, is: how dare you, and my immediate follow-up is: what gives you the right?

DAVID JENKINS: I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Also, I am God to these creatures! But it was hard. It was a hard decision.

The episode kicks off with a somewhat more lighthearted moment, which is Ed realizing he's not cut out for the fishing life after all. On the heels of Stede and Ed’s big fight in the episode prior, why did it feel important to have Ed humorously have the revelation of, “This isn't what I really want after all?”

JENKINS: Well, I like the idea that Season 1 is about Stede’s midlife crisis, and Season 2 is about Ed's midlife crisis. I like that he had a little prima donna moment where he thought he could go and be a simple man, and then it's revealed that he really isn't a simple man; he’s a complicated, fussy, moody guy. No, he's not gonna be able to catch fish for a living. For him to be told that, “At your heart, you're a pirate. You have to go back and do it,” he doesn't want that to be true, but it was true.

Speaking of characters that have a revelation about themselves, Izzy's speech about piracy, about belonging to something and finding family, feels like the thesis statement of this show. Was that the intention behind it?

JENKINS: When I wrote that, I wanted to give Izzy a proper eulogy for himself. He gives a eulogy for himself, but it felt true writing it. Yeah, this is how he sees piracy, and also that's not how he would have viewed piracy in the first season. He would have viewed it as, “I'm here to dominate you, so you work for the boss.” By the end of his journey in the second season, he sees that they built him a unicorn leg, he learned to whittle, and he mentored Stede. He's learned that, actually, a pirate crew works differently than what he thought and that they are all in it together, and they do this for each other. So it felt right for Izzy’s arc, and it is kind of an overall statement about the show.

It's interesting that you call it a eulogy, because, by the time we get to the scene where we know Izzy's not going to make it, it feels like he's using his last moments for Ed more than himself. He has those final words to Ed of, “They love you for who you are. Just be Ed.” Is that the kind of the thing that Ed needs to hear in the moment — even as he's losing, arguably, someone he's known even longer than Stede and is just as close to on an emotional level?

JENKINS: Well, I like that Izzy gives that to him, and then Izzy also apologizes to him because he says that he fed his darkness and that they were both Blackbeard together — that Blackbeard wasn't just Ed, that they did it together. In a way, it's very much for Ed, that speech. The “we were Blackbeard” is claiming that he is also Blackbeard, that Blackbeard is not just Ed’s creation, and I like that for him, too, because he's worked so hard for that — and then just to say, “You can give it up.” There can never be a Blackbeard again as far as Izzy’s concerned because he's dying, and they did that together.

I wanted to ask you about the Stede/Ed reunion. We get Ed finding Stede's love letter that was written all the way at the beginning, and then also the beach fight/reunion. It's definitely a callback to the dream, but was that always the way that you wanted to bookend the season? Here's the dream and the fantasy, and then this is the real moment that we get to have?

JENKINS: It was nice. I knew that I wanted to have the Republic of Pirates at the beginning and end up with the Republic of Pirates. I think the reunion of it was a nice surprise, but it felt right. And finding the letter in a bottle — if you have a letter in a bottle, it's thrown out somewhere, it has to pop up somewhere, you have to see one of them at some point. But yeah, there's a circular nature to it, and that's why I thought it would be good to use Nina Simone at the beginning and at the end as a callback. This dream in this way did come true, and they made it come true.

When I talked to you at the beginning of the season, you mentioned the Nina Simone needle drop, but couldn't say anything about the significance of it at the time. I talked to [music supervisor] Maggie [Phillips], as well, about the needle drops throughout Season 2, and she said you always had a very clear vision for what song you wanted there. A lot of people know the original, but why did you pick Nina's cover? It strikes a different tone; there's a hopefulness to it in a lot of ways.

JENKINS: Yeah, it's wistful. There's a lovely part that sounds like church bells, which is great for the wedding part of it, and then it's just moving. I love her interpretation of it. It’s wistful, positive, and it felt like the end of the show to me. There's a size to it that, up against these images, I just was like, "Yeah, this would be really good. I want this to be in the show."

I did want to ask you about the wedding because on the heels of Izzy's death, it's bittersweet, but also, it's a sign this crew has become a family, and they can still find happy moments and reasons to celebrate. We’ve seen Black Pete and Lucius reconnect, but also reconcile and navigate through Lucius's problems and have their own, almost parallel trajectory journey as a couple alongside Stede and Ed in a way. Was that something that you always wanted to close the season on, the two of them getting hitched?

JENKINS: Yeah. We knew we wanted a matelotage in the season, which is the real term they had for marrying crew members. And yeah, they've always been in relief to Stede and Ed, and they're a little bit ahead of Stede and Ed in how much they can talk about things. So to have a bunch of family things in the season, like a funeral and a wedding, and have the parents kind of watch the kids sail away, felt right, and all of those things seem to work well together and build on each other.

Speaking of Ed and Stede watching everybody sail off, that was an outcome that was somewhat surprising, I think because where they are, you think maybe they're going to end up sailing off with everybody else.” But no, instead, it's just this sweet, lovely note of them getting to play house for a little while. What inspired that turn for them?

JENKINS: I think that they've come to the point in the relationship where they say, “Yeah, we're gonna give this a try,” and that's where the story really gets interesting. That will-they-or-won't-they is interesting to a point, but the real meat of it is always like, “Can they make the relationship, and can they do better than Anne and Mary?” That's the question that we all ask ourselves when we end up in a serious relationship is: can we make this work, and can we get through the hard times? Then they're both very damaged, and it's gonna be a challenge for them, and that's where the story gets interesting.

I'm not sure you can really tease much for a Season 3, but we talked before about how you have your vision for where you want to take this, and based on what we see at the end of Season 2, the implication is that we're going to have Stede and Ed off together, but is the plan to also continue with the other characters as well in their own places?

JENKINS: Yeah. Frenchie’s in charge of the Revenge, and I think Frenchie's Revenge would be an interesting place to work and an interesting ship to be raided by. Then I think that the Revenge means a lot to Stede, and it would be very hard for him to give it up, and he hasn't had a great track record of that. So I think the odds of them all finding each other again are quite high.

All episodes of Our Flag Means Death Season 2 are available to stream on Max.

[fictionalslvr]

Part one. Part two.

SYNOPSIS: "Ghost" is your new neighbor in your apartment complex, everyone is afraid of him, but not you. He can't understand why you're so kind to him, and thinks he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't have no one to celebrate Christmas.

PAIRING: Neighbor¡Simon x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.045k

WARNINGS: fluffy, angst, mentions of blood, war, s.a (not directly) ect.

NOTES: This is the last part of this mini serie, sobs sobs. I hope you guys enjoyed until now 🫶🩵 (for some reason my tumblr bugs and won't let me make some phrases bold, ignore that.)

And again, tell me if there's something wrong, english is not my first language.

PREVIOUS PART

❝How can you miss someone you've never met?❞

Simon is a stubborn man. He is used to believing that maintaining distance would keep people safe from him, and this is not very polite of him. Sometimes, he would even be rough without noticing, making someone he cares for upset. It could or not, be his choice to do so. He did this a lot to his team, thinking that this would keep them safe, away from him, like killing two birds with one stone., keeping his past hidden, and not losing anyone as well. It’s hard not to get attached to someone, he can’t really control that, and when he realizes, he’s suddenly more cold than before, afraid that he will lose everything once more. Only he would understand the pain he felt, the knot on his guts when he saw his family vanishing from his hands, everything he fought for in years, going away in a blink of an eye, he surely doesn’t want to feel those sensations again. Guilty, vulnerable and useless, he really felt like this back then, trying even to make some therapy wouldn’t help, he found it nonsense, would only make his anger issues harder. As for now, he’s not that melancholic about it, trying to live his life after years of that, it already happened, he can’t change this. Even killing the one who did this to his family wouldn’t be one hundred percent enough, but for a long while, kept his mind thinking that he did justice with his own hands, and this was good for a moment. When Simon left only for himself, Ghost appeared, embracing his old identity for a new living he would start. It was very spontaneous, he suddenly took charge of his life for his own good, and Simon let it be like a second identity. They’re actually the same, but he likes to think that Ghost is a better version of himself, that is stronger and braver. He took all his fears and used them as a strength, became a new one, that he would only let it slip alone or outside the job. For a moment, he thought he would lose himself that way, until he found a in between line of being Ghost and Simon, he would live happily on that tightrope, finding some balance on top of it, slipping his feet sometimes, but never falling completely.

He takes a lot of pain for himself, and crying is something he never thought of doing. He passed through a lot, a lot that took his ability to cry. He would feel his heart ache, his lips drying and his heartbeat increasing…for not even a single drop of tear left his eyes. It was like he had no emotions at all, but from inside, he was cracked up, like a porcelain vase being glued all together again and again, for years. Usually, when he’s sad, he would stare at the wall or the ceiling, forgetting everything around him to think too much, alone, for himself only. Or, he would just stare, blankly, not a single thought on his mind. That’s when he got the habit of smoking, feeling the smoke filling his lungs would keep him distracted from the bad feelings. When he takes shots of whiskey, he’s very bad, and needs something stronger to bury his soul. He’s actually afraid on the back of his mind, afraid that he would end up addicted, so he truly drinks only a few times, but making sure he would knock out and wake up regurgitating all the liquid, the emptiness on his stomach would start to ache, and the hangover was a reminder that he wouldn’t forget everything so easily.

If there's one thing he didn’t like were commemorative dates, especially Christmas. In those days, he would try his best to not leave his home, but either way, he couldn’t escape the families nearby, all laughing and enjoying moments together. Those damn nights, he would sit on his table, a glass of whiskey in hands, all alone, and looking at the windows gave him the sight of a big family, around the table celebrating the food or kids opening gifts. Once, he tried to close the windows, like a grumpy older man that doesn't like to see happy people. That didn’t help a single bit, living in an apartment complex and those thin walls…he could hear some chatter anyways. The problem was not them, nor was the date itself, it was him. He knows that this way, he would look like Grinch himself, hating Christmas. He doesn't truly hate, he just didn’t like how it reminded him of the past, how a great time turned to a tragedy in his life. And hearing the little kids opening the gifts would make his face melt in sorrow, he always had a soft spot for children, ever since he had a nephew, he stills remember how happy the kid was with his gift.

—"Uncle, you really gave me the scooter that I asked for?” — The little boy giggled. Excited for the unwrapped gift in his hands, Simon nodded with his head, in silence, but with a big grin on his face.

—”Now, now. What do we say to him?” — His lovely mother caressed his back, reminding him to be grateful for the gift.

—”Thanks uncle Simon! You’re the best!”

He never used it. Never had the time to play with his new gift. His voice is still so fresh in Simon's memories, that each time the Christmas is close, he can hear his voice in his mind. The little boy's eyes would sparkle up, the fireplace making everything nice and comfy. When he blinks his eyes, he can see where he is now, a cold place, all alone.

It’s been a long time, and he’s avoiding you. The head nods turned into his eyes turning away from yours, the soft chuckles once in a while turned into silence, and not even the hand wave would be present. Of course, you would keep your life, going to work, coming back, having the little cat nearby and her purrs calming you down, drinking coffee in the mornings and reminding of…him. Simon’s stubborn, you told him that being cold won’t make you leave, but he suddenly became more distant than before, and this was a pain you would have to carry. He’s not an easy person to deal with, that’s obvious, the closer you get, the more he pushes you away. That would cause you shame, shame for being ignored in the hallways, shame for being stupid for a friendship that never quite existed. At first, you thought it was your imagination, that he was only in a bad mood. But when you knock on his door and he doesn’t open, even if you heard his footsteps, then you’re sure he’s ignoring you. His mind is playing with his sanity, he can’t keep seeing you and not getting even more attached, so the only option he had was to ignore you, and pretend that they never met. Simon felt awful doing that, you were the only one with the courage to speak to him, and that’s how he returns the good act? He is always that ignorant.

As Christmas gets close, he wonders if your family is coming to your house, and this year, he would listen to you, giggling with your family on a full table, decorations all over the place, and the mix of red and green starts to bother him. When the day finally comes…silence at the apartment above, that’s weird, he surely saw the pictures you had with your family. The curiosity is eating him alive, trying the best to disguise it. It’s hard to see your excited figure wave at him, and ignores completely. On the night of Christmas Eve, he was walking on the hallways, making his way back to his home after a meeting for job, and luckily or not, he ends up on the same elevator as you, the tense atmosphere when his hand is in between the metal, almost losing it, he enters it quickly, now giving the chance to the heavy doors close. When Simon lays his back against the cold metal, he sees you, winter clothes and a scarf, it’s so cold that you’re nuzzling your nose to the fabric, in an attempt to warm you up. The silence is weird, you don’t even look at his face, and there’s nothing on your hands, making clear that you’re not putting decorations for today. Simon clears his throat, he wants you to talk to him, how ironic after all these weeks ignoring you. Weirdly putting his hands on his pockets.

—”So…no preparations for today?” — His cold voice suddenly rings your attention. You shake your head slightly and lift your chin to meet his eyes, his face, as you’re used to being hidden by that balaclava. It’s weird to see him starting a dialogue after all this time being ignored, you lift an eyebrow before answering.

—”Just me. As always.” — For the first time, your voice sounds painful. He wants to ask why, but doesn’t deserve an answer after being a jerk with you. —”M’sorry for…avoiding you.”

He just asked for an apology? Seems like he had a big time thinking after weeks alone, and the past caught him by the feet, dragging him to that pit of regret. Simon looks away, not wanting to see your eyes after doing something so weird like apologizing.

—”That’s okay.” — No more words were needed, his face turned to see yours, and when your lips curled up in a smile, his shoulders felt a lot more light. The metal door creaks open, interrupting Simon to say more with that loud rusty noise.

—”Do you…want a coffee?”

—”Of course.”

Being here is all he needed after this long and sufferable week. The cozy air in your home would bring him immeasurable peace.Simon watches as you take off the scarf around your neck and pulls a chair for him.

—”Feel comfortable.” — You mumbled with a soft grin. He sits there immediately, watching the surroundings of your home once more, like he’s remembering how it was the last time he was here. But nothing changed. No artificial trees or Christmas stocking, nor fairy lights. Not even a single detail about this special date.

—”You don’t celebrate?” — He asked weirdly, while your back was turned to him, taking the pot of coffee, as you turned your body to face him, a confused expression meet him.

—”What? Christmas?”

—”Yeah. Is it…religion?”

—”Oh no, i just don’t have anyone to celebrate with.” — Simon nods, not daring to ask a single question more.

You lift up the sleeve of your shirt, pouring the coffee in the cups, and he keeps an eye on you, finally noticing a big burn scar all over your arm. Behind that mask, his lips parted, surprised with something about you he never saw before. Someone happy as you, had lost your family too.

—”How did you…” — He points to the burn scar, not directly mentioning it. You chuckles softly at his description on that matter.

—”I survived an accident. Was just me and my sister.”

—”So why isn’t she here now?”

—”She lives in another state, can’t come to celebrate it.” — As the steam flows out of the cups, Simon gets himself in a chokehold. He sure doesn't have a lot of manners, but the way you treated an accident was way different from his. You sit on the chair beside him, putting the pout of coffee down on the table.

—”My condolences for your family.”

—”There’s no need for that, I'm sure they’re resting now. It’s been a long time since it happened.”

—”Can i…touch your scar?”

—”Sure.” — This new discovery took all of his attention, he didn’t care about the coffee anymore. You offer him your arm, lifting up the sleeve to your shoulders.

Simon was completely mesmerized by it, such a big scar that starts on your fingertips, to your shoulders. His thumb gently presses it, with such tenderness that you looked like it could break at any moment. Slowly, his thumb moves along your hand, traveling to your arm and feeling the texture of it, that gentle movement along your arm, feeling every fiber of you as a new thing. He never asked for this before, and having him so focused on you it’s great. His eyes follow his trails, going all the way to your shoulders and making you shiver gently. This scar, just as the many that he has, was an act of bravery of yours, a sign that you’re still here, in this mediocre world. He always looked at his scars with disgust, thought that would make him feel ugly, but seeing yours…he felt connected to you. He was understanding himself with your story, your life on the press of his thumbs.

—”They look painful.”

—”It was. Had a lot of trouble taking care of it alone.”

—”That’s…so admirable.” — You knew how lucky you were to be alive from that accident, the doctors told you that you managed to escape from the toxic smoke, being burned and are still alive. But you never thought that he would find something like this admirable.

—”You really think so?”

—”Yeah, I'm being honest, it’s pretty…” — His hands move along your arm one last time, before letting you go. Letting that sensation go away.

—”Well, thanks then.”

—”Just telling the truth. I have a lot of scars as well, I understand you.” — For the first time, he shares something about himself, without you asking for it. That lights up all your face as you pull your sleeve back down.

—”Really? How many?”

—”I don’t know…I never count them. Have you ever counted how many moles you have?”

—”Course not, it’s too many.”

—”That’s why I never count my scars.” — His words make your breath hitch for a moment, you sigh heavily before looking away. The coffee in the cups is starting to cool down.

—”Where are your scars?”

—”All over it, almost. Face, chest, abdomen…ribs.” — He takes his own moment on the last word, like it's something that really matters for him.

—”I can’t imagine what you passed through.”

—”Don’t even try, you won’t guess correctly.” — Simon exhales deeply, looking down to the now cold coffee. The silence creeps once more, and you just have to ask.

—”I’ve been wanting to ask…why have you ignored me all these weeks?”

—”I was scared.”

—”Scared?”

—”Yeah, I have fears as well.” — He shrugs and that makes you chuckle softly

—”I know this. I’m asking...fear of what?” — Simon stays silent for a while, reluctantly answering —”Fear that you came to stay.”

His words are confused, sometimes look like he’s talking to himself. That makes you tilt your head a little, looking at his almond shaped eyes running from yours.

—”I’m not used to people like you. That doesn’t run away from me, or leave at the first talk.”

—”Well…?”

—”I realized that I can't run away from you anymore.” — These words, is like he’s been feeling what you felt as well, since you first encountered him, the way that he had an amount of power over you, that made you become more and more curious about him. Seems like he is finally opening up about his feelings.

—”I want you to know…to know me properly.”

—”So…no more ignoring?”

—”No more ignoring. Just the real Simon.” — His eyes meet yours, and even behind the mask, you can sense a smile out of him, from the way his eyes squint. —”But promise me something.”

—”What is it?”

—”That you won’t leave me after knowing the truth.” — Your face brightens, and you nod with your head at him.

—”Okay, I promise you, Simon.”

—”Thank you, [name].” — With that, Simon hands wander over his mask, and he takes it off completely, giving you the vision of…his face.

He’s just as handsome as you thought. Bushy eyebrows now visible, his short blond hair a bit messy, that jawline making his face more than memorable. And besides all of that, scars. One big one at the side of his lips, another one on his eyes. He looks away like a flustered little child, scratching the back of his neck and your eyes almost close for smiling too much. You giggle softly with the sight, a giggle that tells him ‘is okay’, that makes him feel safe again to look you in the eyes. He becomes lost in that sight, your face melting with smiles, so happy to finally know him truly, that he’s finally opening up for you, that he smiles too, a soft little smile. Only he knows how much he wanted this, to be real with you, to show himself, and that you would continue to look at him with that grin on your face.

—”It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

The comfort of your voice is all he needed at this moment. The way your voice brings him peace. That ache of his heart finally leaving, knowing that he won’t lose you anytime soon. That you’re here, with him. Both heartbeats increase, silly smiles all over, maybe it’s the Christmas spirit making everything more cozy. Or maybe it’s because one needs another to understand…that not everything can be solved, but that things can stay in the past, not be forgotten.

—”Can we…spend this Christmas together?” — He knows that is safe, that he won’t lose you to those cruel people who killed his family. That for the first time, he can have a normal Christmas. You only nod your head gently, a brief answer that he needs.

To make everything more comfortable, your little cat appears, climbing Simon’s lap and staying there lazily.

—”Sorry for her…”

—”Oh hello little one, we meet again…” — Simon mumbles, looking down at the little feline, his hands caressing her fur gently. Even without the mask, she could recognize him. The view makes your heart flutter.

—”Again?” — You ask in between chuckles. It was indeed, adorable to see this.

—”I met her when you slept on the couch, she was all over me.”

—”She’s a clever little kitten.”

When you say that, a relieved exhale leaves your lips. From now on, you’ll be able to meet the real Simon, and the idea of having him close, it’s not a problem for you.

Tag list (hope i didn't forget anyone):

@linoskitten11

@pepsicolacoochie

@silas-222

@maeplayscello

@ysljoon

@fandomsinthegalaxies

@corvusmorte

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Castle Damon

(Masterlist)

hi guys. this is the second bonus chapter. heavy content warnings on this one, going really into darkfic and body horror territory. its not particularly explicit imo but the suggestion is there. this section will be referenced in the main story but its not a necessary read. proceed at your own risk.

(Content: noncon body modification, human experimentation, body horror, amputation, torture, minor sensory deprivation)

======== 

“Just a day trip. Quit fussing,” The doctor gently elbowed Simon. Simon fussed anyway, pulling away from him. They were standing outside the doors to the fortress, awaiting the guards. Delta stood a little behind them, not speaking. The students and scientists that worked beneath the pair were waiting even further back by the car. Nobody wanted to get closer to the Castle Damian than they had to be. The facility had a violent and twisted shape, its dark turrets scraping against the pale sky.

Simon seemed to be considering something very thoughtfully. He pushed the stack of papers he was holding into Martino’s hands, then turned to face Delta. He pulled him away for some privacy. 

“Here. Wear this,” Simon removed a blindfold from his bag. He tied it snugly around Delta’s eyes, cutting off his vision. Delta frowned. He hated having to rely on somebody else to guide him around; it put him in too vulnerable a position. And Simon knew he hated it.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?” He asked quietly.

“Uh…no. I just think your performance might be addled somewhat by your surroundings,” Simon said hastily.

That didn’t make any sense, but Delta didn’t argue with him. Simon held his wrist, guiding him back in front of the gates. The guards finally arrived and the group entered.

“Welcome!” The head scientist cried loudly, but not necessarily warmly, “It’s such a privilege.”

Fuck yeah it is, Delta thought. He tried hard not to be arrogant, but whenever the subject of psychokinesis came up, he had to try even harder. He was the best student that the Institute had ever produced. Even in the years since it had shut down, all its competitors were still stuck playing catch-up. They’d never manage, of course. The Empire’s psychic dominance was, in a word, unchallenged.

That didn’t mean the other start-ups weren’t doing interesting things, though. They had to be, otherwise their group wouldn’t be here. Sure, they’d never outperform in terms of raw power, but there were innovative ways to take advantage of even small scale psychokinetics.

“Right this way. As we’re going to the chamber, you’ll probably see some of our work through the panels. Feel free to ask any questions, we’re all about open source here,” The scientist talked on and on. The doors creaked noisily as they opened. Simon moved forward, pulling Delta along with him.

There were unmistakable gasps from the group, followed by murmurs. This was too cruel. Delta lifted his head up a little bit, trying to steal a peek through the bottom of the blindfold. Simon immediately shoved it back down, forcing him to look only at the rug. An uneasy silence set in. The students stopped their chattering. As they neared the end, nervous whispers replaced it.

“Here we are,” the scientist said. Delta could tell that he was displeased at the reaction the group had given him. Delta didn’t have long to consider this. Simon had him kneel in the center of the chamber, now undoing the blindfold. He blinked at the sudden rush of light. It looked like the inside of a reactor.

Simon had briefed him beforehand and now briefed him again. He’d been requested for a calibration test - and to experiment with some new technology. He couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. New experiments reminded him of his childhood, before they’d had his abilities down to a science. He glanced briefly at Dr.Martino to see if the doctor shared his enthusiasm. He too had a wistful look on his face. 

The calibration test was supposed to be easy. They needed Delta to provide the input for different power levels. He could consistently produce and maintain levels with a precision to the third decimal place, an astonishing achievement. Most psychics struggled to stay within the same tenth place. It wouldn’t take much effort from him because they weren’t even high power levels. All he’d have to do was concentrate and hold steady. He slowed his breathing as Simon moved to undo the collar.

He blinked as the oblivion washed over him. For some reason, this time the power filled him with a strange heartbreak. Tears rolled down his face. He touched a hand to his eye, confused. Why? 

“Delta?” Simon asked, noticing his expression.

“I’m okay, sir,” He confirmed. His powers could be funny that way, always a bit unpredictable when off leash. He didn’t think much of it. His vision had gone white, picking up the formscape around him. He felt around the room, picking up the hard steel of the machinery. Then, perhaps unwisely, he snuck his feelers out wider, peering into the hall. 

The shapes there did not make sense to him. They were lumpy, amorphous. He sensed life within them, but they were in no shape he knew. He focused in on a certain one and knew it was mostly neural tissue, a brain spread out beneath a glass case. It was alive. It still had its eyes. They moved suddenly, as if sensing his presence. He recoiled in horror, but was unable to stop himself. He’d already expanded and the knowledge came all at once. Here, something strung up by its arms, a web of wires emerging from the torso, eating away at its skin. The next one had no arms, no legs. It had a face, though, and that face was wretched. All of them in a permanent state of dissociative shock. What was this? They were all still alive in there. The machines around them moved indifferently, prodding, puncturing, drawing more blood, more energy, more life from their mutilated bodies. He wanted to scream. 

“The test, please, son,” Simon said impatiently.

Delta nodded. He forced himself calm, producing the desired outputs. He wasn’t even in that room anymore, but he could control what happened inside of it if he focused. They started low, 5.000, 10.000, 25.000. He worked up to 1200.000 without getting throw off. Then he heard it.

I see you.

God no. He didn’t want to hear them, but he didn’t have a choice. They all began to speak at once.

They let you keep your body whole. What did I do wrong? Who are you? I want to look at you. Talk to me. Tell us your name.

No, no, no. Delta began to twitch. 

“Can we stop, please?” He asked quietly.

Stop what? You think you’re too good to talk to us? You’re one of us. They’ll get you too, one day.

He knew there must be hundreds of them locked out throughout the castle. He felt his stomach lurch.

“No,” Dr.Martino said, “Finish up.”

Delta scratched at his own skin to keep from snapping. 

1500.000. 2000.000. 5000.000. 

“That’s perfect,” the head scientist said. Delta felt a chill as he spoke. He felt the others freezing along with him. What on earth had he put them through? Delta felt hatred so real it scared him. He was glad when Simon switched the collar back on. The voices stopped — and he was afraid of what he might do.

Delta recoiled. Simon said they wanted to try the new tech on him. He’d been calm at the time, but now? What were they going to do to him? They wouldn’t sign him away like this, surely? 

“Sir…” He gripped Simon’s arm, hard.

Simon hesitated. He looked back at Dr.Martino, who had no reservations.

“You’re not going to cave to him again, are you?” Dr.Martino sneered. 

“Don’t argue, Delta,” Simon chided him. In a lower voice, he added, “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Delta calmed, just barely. His ears were still ringing from the power discharge. The Damian scientists had wheeled in their materials. There was a device that looked an awful lot like a helmet, but with wires poking out of the sides. 

The scientists didn’t speak to or warn him before strapping it onto his head. He gave a soft whine in protest. The sound would’ve normally embarrassed him, but he was so shaken up, still seeing the awful contours of the things out in the hall. His dignity was the least of his worries. The helmet cut off his vision, which made the images he’d intercepted all the more vibrant in his mind’s eye. He moved his hands to his neck, a way to self-soothe. One of the scientists slapped his hands away, thinking he was trying to touch the helmet. It stung. He placed his hands in his lap.

“Test. Go,” One of them said. Then the shock.

He gasped. For three long seconds, he thought he was dying. All the energy had left him, all sense of self. He blinked, desperately, trying to see or to hear. Nothing. He choked back his own bile.

They removed the helmet. 

“Alright, we’ll let you know how it turns out. Thanks again. You guys want to stay for lunch or anything?” The head scientist asked.

“No. Not really.” Dr.Martino said.

Simon slipped the blindfold back onto Delta’s eyes. Was that it? Delta didn’t even know what just happened. He was not excited to be going back down the hall. He clung to Simon’s arm, trying extra hard not to look at the monstrosities around him. Somewhere down the line, he would feel bad for thinking of them as such. But in the moment, they terrified him. He wanted to be as far away as possible. Luckily, so did everyone else. 

Simon undid the blindfold once they were back in the car. He noticed the far out, haunted look in Delta’s eyes. Delta kept his sights on the snowy hills as they drove, not speaking or blinking.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Simon murmured.

Delta nodded, closing his eyes.

As he laid down to sleep that night, he swore he could still hear the whispers.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit @indigoviolet311 @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @defire

@scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

[captain-mj]

Small Switch

It was a small thing. They were born at different times. Ghost a few years later and Soap a few years earlier.

Soap went through Roba and Ghost had the luck to be the new member of the SAS.

Just a tiny drabble about them if they switched places :)

Simon was... surprised. Not disappointed. Absolutely not. The man in front of him was only 5'10 but built. Tattoos decorated his arms. Simon caught the symbol of their unit on his inner arm.

"You must be Soap?" He looked at the skull mask. White over black fabric. There were doodles and little lines of color all over it like Soap had decorated it.

"Aye."

Simon had not been expecting Scottish, but it sounded nice. Really nice. "Nice to meet you, sir. Sergeant Riley. I was told I'd be under you."

Soap nodded. "Understood." His eyes were a striking blue behind dark fabric and even darker makeup. Deadly as a rushing river. that would slam him against the rocks until he suffocated. "Follow my lead. Don't die, yeah?"

Simon fell into step with them. For a first meeting, it didn't seem to be going well. He wasn't sure if he did something, but he had been prewarned that Soap was a bit prickly. Well, the exact term Price used when telling Simon about his new team was "Stone cold bastard". It was said with a shocking amount of affection, even if he was clearly very serious.

The mission was uneventful. There were long stretches of silence that Simon liked. It was calming. He could sometimes hear Soap's breath over the comms. Nice and even.

"Why is it so easy to shoot a fish in a barrel?" Simon had no clue why he decided to talk, but he did.

There was a long pause, Soap's breathing disappeared. After it had started to get awkward, Soap spoke up. "Why?"

Simon grinned and glanced at him. "It's already in the gun."

Soap didn't laugh. He was secretly looking at Simon's smile. The soft scarring on his lower lip, possibly from a piercing but it was hard to tell. Dimples. His hair was a bleached blond that was just long enough to be out of regulation and it curled around his jaw.

Soap looked away from him and Simon decided he wouldn't make any more jokes.

That part wasn't important. What was important was the way Soap interacted with him. Cold. Detached. It set Simon on edge.

Until he saw him interact with Gaz. It was exactly the same. Gaz treated him like a friend even though Soap barely acknowledged his presence.

Simon observed them closely. They didn't touch. Gaz was a touchy person. He had grabbed Simon's arm when they met and casually punched other soldier's shoulders and even threw his arm around him. But he didn't so much as brush his hands against Soap.

"So." It was the first time Soap had looked at him since they had been introduced. "Why is your name Ghost?"

"First unit just gave it to him. Said it was because I was quiet."

"Yeah, big guy. Doubt you're that quiet." Soap was clearly a little more interested in him. The interest made Simon's chest feel funny. Butterflies filled his stomach.

"Get fucked."

Soap laughed. Gaz whipped around to watch him before trying to play it off as subtly as he could. "Alright. You're good." He nodded to him before leaving exfil.

Gaz signaled to Simon to wait so he did. They were the same rank, but Gaz had been there longer, so Simon trusted him. "How did you manage that?"

"Manage what?"

"Soap likes you."

"That's him liking someone?"

"Yes! It took me six months for him to even speak in full sentences to me."

Simon shrugged. "I don't know. I just... I don't know."

It was two weeks later. They hadn't had a mission so they were stuck helping train recruits and handle a few things around base. Soap had a surprisingly predictable schedule. He woke up sometime really early in the morning. Ghost couldn't quite figure out how early, because no matter when his insomnia became too much and he just rolled out of bed to start his day, Soap would already be awake and dressed. He had done the math once. There was no way Soap got more than about 2 hours a night. Even that was seeming unlikely.

But every morning, he started a pot of coffee. He used his own. It was labeled and everything with a giant "Do Not Touch: Soap's" on it. Definitely smelled way better than what everyone else used. He drank it over the hours from whenever he woke up to 7 am when everyone else was finally up, showered, dressed and ready to start the day.

There were several mornings when Ghost and Soap would be the only people up for a few hours. Just the two of them. Soap never asked what kept him up. Ghost never asked him either.

Simon wanted to tell him. For some reason. That he dreamed of his dad. Or that he worried he'd come home from leave to find his Mum beaten again. But he never broke that silence. He just made a cup of tea for himself and sat next to him.

"You want to try it?" He offered to Soap one morning. Soap had the mask on. Ghost hadn't seen him do more than lift it slightly. And even then, it was only times like these. When no one was around but Simon.

Soap shook his head. "Not a fucking brit. Thanks." He continued drinking his coffee.

"Must get tiring. Being surrounded by us."

Soap was quiet for a minute. The cup of coffee was slightly lowered so Ghost could see the scarring. Deep Glasgow's. A line over his throat, right along where his Adam's apple was when he spoke. "What is the biggest export for Britain?"

Simon tilted his head, a bit confused. "Fuck, I don't know. What?"

"Independence days." Soap didn't laugh. He said it so dead pan, Simon almost didn't realize he was joking. And then he did and he was laughing like an idiot at 4:30 am in a kitchen with a man he was told was the embodiment of death.

Johnny, because Soap was not the one that thought Simon was pretty, felt his breath catch. Simon's cheeks had turned red. His laugh was just like his voice. Deep and rumbly and handsome. It took Simon a minute to compose himself, which gave Johnny plenty of time to take his fill of him and make sure he didn't show a single sign of anything. Slipping his metaphorical mask back on since he still wanted to drink his coffee.

Simon put his hand on his shoulder for just a few seconds as he passed him to sit down and Johnny's whole world melted down into that point of contact. His shoulder felt warm from the touch even through Ghost's gloves and his own clothes.

"Knew you had a sense of humor."

Four days later, Simon decided he wanted to show Soap exactly why he got his namesake. He saw him across from Gaz and silently moved closer. Even Gaz and Price, who were facing his general direction, didn't notice him. Both were distracted with other things to give them a little credit, but still.

Simon stopped when he was right behind Soap, standing just so so his shadow didn't fall on him.

"Hey, Johnny."

Soap really, really did not mean to. But as soon as he turned and saw how close Simon was standing, he hit him hard enough in the gut for him to double over and then pinned him face first into the ground.

Soap pressed him down by his head so his cheek pressed to the floor.

Simon's hair was soft. Really soft. It curled around his fingers and Soap realized with a jolt that Price had his arms around Soap, trying to yank him off.

"Jesus, Simon. Why the fuck would you think that was a good idea?" Price snapped at him.

Simon stared at Soap and Johnny felt sick when he saw how scared he looked. It was wrong. He never wanted Simon to be scared of him.

Gaz helped Price yank Soap back, who hadn't actually gotten off of him. "He asked him why his callsign was Ghost a few weeks back and said he didn't believe he was quiet. Were you trying to prove that?"

Simon touched his face. Soap had busted his lip when he had slammed him down. He looked at the blood for a minute.

"It was just an accident. Forgot to make noise."

Soap thought that was odd that Simon's default was silence instead of the other way around. He had a funny feeling Simon was lying about the accident part.

"Won't happen again, Captain. I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I didn't mean to startle you." It was clipped. Perfect professional speech.

Price nodded, clearly not believing him either but if Soap wasn't trying to yank out of his arms to get at Simon, it was okay to let it be. "Go to medical. Make sure you didn't crack a rib."

Simon nodded and quickly stood up. His footsteps didn't make a sound.

Soap swallowed. "Guess he can be quiet..."

No one laughed.

[strange-premonition]

The gray shirt

Exboyfriend!GhostxReader

Hi guys! I wrote this short thing very quickly so sorry if it is bad! This is the first writing I'm posting so it is kind of nerve-wracking! Please tell me what you think of it and if I should continue it! Love you!

The breakup happened nearly a year ago but you still can’t seem to wear any other shirt to sleep but the big gray one with the Deftones logo on the front. The shirt doesn’t smell like him anymore. It hasn’t for a long time but sometimes you can trick your mind that there still is that faint note of musk sticking to the fabric. Seeing yourself in it has become the norm, it just is part of you. So when you see your new fling in your ex's shirt, it ignites something in you.

The irritation is crawling up from your spine to your head, making your hairs stand on end. It takes everything in you to not rip it off of him in that moment. “Uh… I can give you a new shirt maybe? That one is really dirty, I’ve worn it for days.” You try in the most neutral tone you can muster. The man standing in your room just smiled at you, taking the rim of the shirt in his hands and bringing it to his nose, inhaling deeply “It smells like you.”

His words make your heart sink. Did this really mean that every bit of Simon disappeared the day you two decided to break it off? The hurt of that painful day starts rising in your throat like bile and your skin becomes hot. You give the man a smile that is supposed to be sweet but ends up being painfully stiff. You approach him and take the shirt in your hands starting to take it off of him “I insist” Voice slightly threatening and he seems to get the message.

Two days went by since your fling made the comment that made you rethink all your life choices. This revelation threw you into a spiral and you almost sent five messages to Simon. Ultimately you decided to delete them.

What would you say to him anyway ´Hey I miss you ;)´ or ´I can’t stop thinking about you´ or… ´No man has ever been able to make me feel like you have.´ It was all futile

You turned in your bed, frustration rising up, how hard could it be? You didn’t have to be together. It was well established that you could still stay friends after the breakup! So why did the connection just cease to exist the moment you gave each other your goodbyes?

Looking at the ceiling you let the memories of him flood your brain. His smile, the first time you kissed him. It all felt like it happened yesterday but also many years ago. Simons warm and callused hands running up and down your exposed sides as your hand intertwined in his soft hair while your whines and moans filled the room-

The vibration of the phone in your hand pulled you out of your sweet memory. You decided to just ignore it. It was probably the guy from two days ago that you tried to ignore. Pushing that thought away you close your eyes again and saw his eyes looking at you from between your legs with an intensity and sharpness that made your muscles contract. A small moan escaped your lips at the memory of his tongue lapping in between your folds like a starving man.

His words of encouragement echo in your mind ´Good fucking girl.´ ´You’re so good to me. Look at you. So pretty´ the memory alone made you feel needy. With your free hand you quickly find your way down your body and just as you’re about to touch your most sensitive part another buzz comes from your phone.

“Ugh, leave me alone dude!” Jumping up from your bed you almost toss your phone, but not before blocking his annoying ass and- oh.

All of your annoyance leaves you at once and is replaced with something else. The feeling rises from your chest up to your cheeks, and slight panic settles. ´Hey. I saw you typing for a long time there. Is everything alright?`  Simon wrote you.

You nearly jump from the bed. What do you do now? You didn’t think he would see you typing! Was he looking through your messages in that moment? All those questions didn’t seem to matter in the moment. He was waiting for an answer and you knew if you just ignored him he would show up in front of your house anyway. Or would he… Did he really care about you like that anymore?

Pushing those thoughts aside you decided to text him back ´Hi! Yeah, sorry about that :D I’m doing alright! No need to worry!´ Was the best you could muster up. Your heart beats hard in your chest as the three little dots in the corner jump up and down signaling that he is writing back ´Alright, if you need anything you can write me. Have a good evening.´ you feel your pulse rise up, a devious idea pops into your mind and you are too delirious to stop yourself from acting on it.

Taking a deep breath your fingers start shaking as you type away. ´Hey, actually. Would you like to meet up?´ and you stop breathing. He starts typing a moment later and you feel dizzy ´Yes, let us meet up this weekend.´

[skibasyndrome]

hi i just have to say! that i think the writing for wille is perfect this season. kinda annoys me that this is a hot take but! i think it makes SENSE. everyone wants wille to be this perfect boy but he actually doesn’t have the foundation to be that person. he had a sterile and isolated upbringing where he has never had any agency while at the same time having obscene wealth and anything he could ever want except for LOVE. like cmon the only people who have probably ever said no to him were his parents!! and they were absent and loveless! and then he loses the closest person in his life only to find out that he wasn’t who he thought he was and AND that maybe he wouldn’t have accepted him. and for so long wille kept erik’s love close to his chest and used it as a life raft. his parents can’t accept him his classmates can’t accept him the world can’t accept him simon can’t see his side but erik. erik would love me through all of this even if my parents won’t. but that comes crumbling down! and i know i am just rehashing the plot of the series but BE FOR REAL EVERYONE. he was set up to be a cold, selfish, privileged asshole and the fact that he fighting back against this and having this deep internal struggle of just wanting LOVE and wanting to be with the boy he loves but he can’t and no one understands is! brave and really hard! the isolation he must feel!!! and also like!!! HE IS A PRINCE HE IS SURROUNDED BY YES MEN!! ofc he has an attitude. also he’s a teenager hello??? the writing makes sense it’s so goooodddd to me personally and edvin Understands wille and portrays this insane struggle so so well. anyway i felt the need to step in and say my piece bc everyone always gushes about how they love that wille isn’t perfect but when they portray all this internal struggle coming to the surface in unhealthy ways everyone throws a fit and turns on him. justice for wille!!!! yeah he’s an asshole but he is trying!!!!!!!! (sorry this is long no one i know irl watches this show so i have opinions)

don't apologize for this anon, THANK YOU for your great points!!!!

I agree 100% with this. Wille has always been this very flawed, very sheltered character and I LOVE what they did with him in s3 even though it really, really hurt to see it, naturally, because I just want these characters to be happy together (and I still think they will be, after some work and more talking and Wille making some decisions). But yeah, this isn't new for Wille, Wille wasn't "ruined" this season, that's the Wille we know and love and yeah, that makes a bunch of questionable decisions because of the fucked up way he grew up. But I mean that's the beauty, right, he found a guy who can finally show him that that's not something he has to be stuck in, that change is possible, that working on himself and getting better for himself and the people around him is not only important but possible. I mean Wille literally told Simon he learns from him. This id anything but easy and anything but a linear process, but he's there and he's willing to do the work!!!!!

I really try not to get too deep into any of the discussions, especially about character morality, just because we're still one episode short and also because the onslaught of theories and opinions and everything is nerve-wracking as is and I try to guard a last piece of sanity, but seriously THANK YOU for this. You put into words what I haven't been able to 💜

and feel free to come discuss YR with me any time! I know the struggle, so please, let those thoughts out :)

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 12: wait

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: I am German so putting something of my native language in here feels so cool, really need to write more for König (when this series is over)

also I think it's quite funny how I believed that I'd never be able to write a full on fic and now we're here - thank you for sticking with me and story

CW/TW: mentions of loss, death, injuries, petnames, jealousy, guilt, angst, hurt/comfort, violence

wordcount: 2.9k

prev | masterlist | next

The last days felt unbearable for everyone. Shortly after they arrived at the improvised base full of tents, the medics did everything to stabilize your state of condition. Ghost did literally bark at anyone who came too close to you, who didn't look like a specialist in medic care. As soon as your condition got a bit better, they flew you over the hq to initiate the needed surgery. Ghost leashed out as he got told that he wasn't allowed on the transport next to you. He had promised you and himself to not leave your side. But they had to wait to be brought to the base while you were long gone and on your way to the OR. Kyle and Johnny had to do their best to calm him. It was a hard mission, especially when they were on the edge as well.

Simon paced around the room the three men were meant to stay in. He couldn't stand still until he was able to see you again. Some nurse explained him, in a serious and nearly threatening tone, that he wasn't allowed around the infirmary before he didn't get his emotions under control. This was new for him, emotions were never something hard to handle, but you changed that. The guilt, fear, longing, desire, regret, anger, sadness. The list was long, but his nerves couldn't carry them. You made the border between Ghost and Simon melt. It made his hands tremble and his heart ache.

Nobody in this room dared to speak while waiting for news, not even Johnny tried to ease the mood. To occupied with what ifs. You only were part of this team for a short period of time, but it felt different. It felt like you were always a part of them.

Hours passed by without knowing anything. It ate them up. Johnny sat on a chair, watching Simon pace around the room. Not daring to approach him even the furthest. The only thing that was a distraction for a short time was a call with Price. Explaining the situation, they found themselves in. Kyle did the talking, while Johnny and Simon weren't able to. "Yes, sir. You're on speaker now.", he placed the phone on the table. Simon got closer, his feet tapping the ground nonstop, fidgeting with your blue box in his pocket. He didn't dare to let go. Johnny still seated at the table as well as Kyle, letting his leg bounce up and down. Desperately pushing his sweaty palms on his thighs, trying to steady them down. "Boys, listen. Skadi has been through worse. Way worse. She's gonna make it. I know what you're feeling, what you're thinking, but don't. It is no one's fault. You did what had to be done, and she'll be okay. Trust her and the medics.", Price voice was as calm and soft as ever. Johnny's leg stopped bouncing and even Simon lost a bit tension between his shoulder blades. They trusted you, still they were scared.

It took another hour before a young-looking soldier came to knock at their door. Ghost was opening it within seconds, staring at the small Private in front of him. Waiting wasn't something he was good at, not when it came to you. "Speak!", he ordered harshly, no need to mention that the poor guy was scared to bits. Kyle shoved Simon gently to the side, what earned him a deep growl. "Ignore the scary dog.", he exhaled nervous and looked as soft as possible to the young boy, who nodded hesitant. "Here to inform you, that Sergeant Quinn has made it through the surgery without any complications. She's been brought to room 317 for further medical treatment. She’s still unconscious, but visitors are allowed." Johnny nodded. "Thanks, dismissed."

Before Kyle and Johnny could even say something, Ghost started running through the hallways up to the infirmary. Ignoring any glances and shouting around him. His steps were fast and determined. His grip still tight around the blue box. "Lt!" Johnny had problems to keep up with him while Kyle didn't even try. He knew it was pointless. Simon only had one thing on his mind, seeing you. Making sure that he didn't lose you. Just when he stood in front of the door separating him from his desire, he stopped. Fear raising in his stomach, fear of the sight that would expect him inside. Johnny was the one placing a gentle hand on his arm. "C'mon, Lt.", he gently pushed the door open, and the three men entered. It was a casual hospital room. Bright whites around you, a common sickbed every one of them had seen plenty of times. What they didn't expect was the huge figure already seated at your side. Simon fists clenched. The fear replaced with fury. Who dared to take his place next to you? He wanted to yell at him, throw him out of the room. It was supposed to be his seat. The male shortly looked at them, before turning to your unconscious figure. "Your mates are here, Spatzl." [German equivalent to dovie, but with dialect], his voice was calm as he held your hand. "Who are you?", Ghost hissed while his jaw nearly locked in tension. He let go of the box in his pocket, too scared he would break it. He couldn't even focus on you. The stranger looked at them again and they were greeted with a faceless image. The loose mask covering everything besides those clear blue eyes. "Easy, big boy. I'm not your enemy.", he said calm with a chuckle. His eyes shut. Did he smile, did he yawn. Ghost couldn't tell. That's how people must feel approaching himself all the time. It was Johnny who stepped forward, cautious. "Yer the one that saved our bonnie.", Soap exclaimed a bit guarded. He heard his voice before, over the comms and the thick German accent was undeniable. "Gonna leave you to it, for now. See you later, mein Engel."[my angel], his bare and huge hand caressed your cheek before standing up. Johnny did swallow a lump, as he noticed how tall the man in front of them was. Ghost had his fists still clenched, and it got worse with every second. "And to answer your question. I'm König. When you're friends with her, than we should get along. But don't step the line.", he stated softly while slightly tilting his head down. His blue eyes met the dark ones of Ghost. A tension was created, laying thick in the air and everyone could feel it, you could cut it with a knife. They stared down each other. Their brows furrowed before König left the room with a satisfied giggle.

And it only got worse. Anytime Simon would pay you a visit, he would already be there. Seated at your bed, your hand in his. He wanted to shove him out of the room, tear him apart that he finally would stay away from you. He acted like he was someone really special. It made him sick. Even Johnny stopped the teasing and joking comments in Ghost's presence, he knew that Simon was at the edge of his limits. Why did this guy couldn't leave you alone? Johnny had to force Ghost to go to the base's gym with them. To blow off some steam, and anytime he threw his fists against the punchbag, he did image that it would be him. The thorn in his side.

Simon wasn't allowed to stay nonstop in your room while you were still unconscious, he only had a few hours per day to spent them in your presence and those few he had to share with Kyle, Johnny, and damn König. It pissed him off, the way that man was always there and pretending you were his property. Who did he think he is?!

He never said something though. Only throwing him death glares and hoping he would leave after some time. Kyle explained later that he was a colonel of KorTac, and they should better not try to pick a fight with him. Price left a note about it. The 141 and KorTac weren’t actually friends, so they should keep it at bay. That wouldn't end well for no parties. So, Ghost suppressed the urge to smash his head against the wall and tearing that ugly mask down that face. Anytime they were in a room together it was Lieutenant Ghost that stood next to your bed. Cold, distant, work brain on, but as soon as the Austrian left the room - what he gladly did to grant the 141 some peace -  Simon moved to your side. Taking your hands in his gloved ones, not averting his gaze from you. Not even for second. He didn't dare to look away, scared to miss something. A muffled groan, a twitch of your eyes or fingers. Anything that told him you were here with him. He didn't doubt that you weren't strong enough to recover, but Simon hated the waiting. He usually was patient, but not for you to wake up again. Even if the nurses told him that your conditions got better day by day, it wasn't enough for him. He needed you to open your eyes, to look at him again. To see him. To smile at him. He wanted to hear your voice again. Witnessing your laughter because of Johnny's stories. Listening of the joking arguments you and Kyle shared. Hearing you say his name again. God knows how much he wanted to hear that again. He needed it. He craved it. But he would wait, it was worth to wait for it. He knew it.

It was on the fifths day when he snapped. Johnny sat next to you at one side of the bed, while Simon on the other. Kyle next to the Scot, half asleep. Johnny told a story; he already had told you. Maybe he hoped that you'd wake up and scold him for telling the same story over and over again. Simon didn't care. His eyes lingered on you. Your usual stubbornness and strength smoothed out. Replaced with a weakness, a fragile figure he needed to protect at all costs. He stared at your face, your arms. Recognizing and memorizing every scar, dimple, freckle. Everything that made your face unique. He noticed a deep scar at your throat and some burned flesh at your right upper arm, it seemed bigger than the small spot that wasn't covered through the clothes they gave you. He took everything in and burned it in his brain. Scared that he could forget a small detail. You never talked about how you got the scars. That's something both of you wouldn't share. Stories too deep, too painful, but Simon hoped that one day, he could fight the urge to hide it. He wanted to share his story with you, he wanted you to see him as the person he was behind the mask. Behind Ghost. He made a promise to himself, that if you would let him, he wanted to tell you everything. Step by step. One thing at the right time. You already told him so much about yourself, now should be his turn.

Just in that moment the door opened, and the giant walked into the room. Simon immediately switched mentally, and Ghost let go of your hand. Staring at him through the mask. Why did he always had to interrupt your - his - peace. "Hallöchen.", [hi there], he chimed while moving to your side. Johnny stopped his story and looked at you, and then at Ghost. "Don't ya have more important things to do, colonel", he exhaled sharply while his eyes didn't move away from König's statue. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't handle how he regarded everything as a matter of course. "More important than meine Liebe, no I don't think so." [my love], he chuckled while looking down at you. His hands slowly making his way up to yours again. "Bloody ‘ell, stop touching her the whole time.", Ghost hissed. He didn't know in what relationship you two were, but he remembered that you had never mentioned him. You talked a lot about Randy and never ever about some jerk called König. Also, he did remember that one time when he tried to get his hand closer to yours, on the patio during one of your shared smokes, that you immediately pulled back and he retreated. He can't imagine that you would enjoy those hands all over you the whole time.

"Excuse me?", König stopped his movement and looked down at Ghost. "Ya heard me. Stop it." - "I told you don't step a line, big boy." König moved over where Ghost was seated and the later stood up. "Yer invadin' her space, 'nd stop callin' me that.", he snarled back. His accent grew thicker on his tongue as his anger rose. Staring in each other’s eyes while arguing about the situation. Johnny tried to calm both down, trying to talk them out, but the discussion only became more heated. Hissing, snarling at each other, mocking the opposite. Johnny was scared they could start a fist fight any second. "You don't even know her like I do." König's usual smooth tone completely gone and with that statement Ghost's patience was gone. He took a grip on the first thing reachable, his collar. "Enough!", it was Kyle who stood up now. His voice determined and rough. "Skadi needs rest, if you want to scream at each other like little kids do, do that somewhere else!", he looked furious at them and König nodded slowly, looking down at you. Ghost pulled his hands slowly back. "He's right. I'll come back later.", König left the room and let Ghost back who now had an argument with Soap.

Not so heated, no screaming at each other but still serious. Kyle shook his head while sitting down again. "We're their guests, I can't stand him either. Total arsehole. But for her sake, we need to pull ourselves together." - "I know.", Ghost knew all of that, but he couldn't bare it anymore. He couldn't work with that anymore. "Simon. If he hadn't been there...", Johnny's voice snapped him - Simon - back to the reality. It was rare that he used his first name, therefore it had quite an effect on him and the context even more. "Ya do not have to remind me." Simon's voice was calmer again, filled with guilt. His head hung low; his eyes pinned to his hands that nearly started a war. "Could you both shut up!", Kyle exhaled again, not daring to look at the two across form the bed. His eyes were pinned on you. "I can't understand what she's saying!"

With that both of them stopped immediately and turned their whole attention onto you. Your eyes were open only the slightest and your lips moved slowly, but no words escaped them. "Water, get her some water.", Johnny moved to get something to drink and a nurse while you tried the hardest to speak. Simon was too stunned, just starring at you, while Kyle took the word, "Calm down. We're all here. Don't push it too far. We're not going anywhere. " You hardly nodded in response and closed your eyes once more. Everything hurt, but seeing them around you, hearing their voices, it washed away some sorrows. You tried to move but were abruptly stopped by the jolting pain that came from your side. You wanted to take a grip on the wound that hurt, but the thing was, everything hurt. Even breathing sent jolts of pain through your body. Your mind was hazy, and you couldn’t remember a thing.  Simon stared down at you, completely overwhelmed about all the things he felt.

"Take it easy, Sergeant." A medic entered your room and shooed the men out of it.

From this moment, everything became easier. Especially for Simon. You woke up, you looked at him. You were okay. Still, you had a long way ahead, you slept almost all day. Giving your body the rest that was essential, but now that you were conscious, Simon could stay longer in your room. He sat by your side the whole time, not even daring to leave the room in case you needed something. In case you needed him, and oh lord he wished that you to need him. He placed the blue box next to you. In case you woke up and he couldn't be by your side. That you found something familiar next to you. Something that could provide you with some comfort. There were only short periods of time when you were awake, and in those you had to fight the immense pain, before your body was too exhausted and gave in, bringing you to sleep again. You still couldn’t move, speaking was hard. Simon would be by your side, telling you sweet nothings, little praises you couldn't even hear. Your head was still so hazy. But besides all the circumstances it felt like peace. Not even König could interrupt this now. To Simon's luck he was called in for an operation, that way he could spend the whole day at your side. Not Ghost.

taglist: open just lmk

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub @illuminwtesz @killergoddess97 @kaelaiscool @spiritndrain

[depressedsandwhich45]

i LOOVEEEE jealousy fic. But it's almost always ghost being jealous seeing reader with another guy, and never the other way. Can you make a fic where Ghost purposefully trying to make the reader jealous because they are in a fight🤩🤩🤩

OH MY GOD. ANOTHER FELLOW JEALOUSY FIC LOVER!?!?! YES. YES. YES! Thank you for suggesting!

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Ghost yelling at reader. Some tension and fluff.

Pls enjoy!))

~Third person POV

He knew he had taken it too far when the yelling started. They were angry and he knew it too. He knew that he shouldn't have done it. Y\N stood there staring at him. His hand were on their chest and they just glared. Why had he said those things about them. No warmth in their eyes. Just deep cold ice. He fucked up. Badly.

"Get out of my sight." They hissed. Removing his hands from their chest.

"Y\n..."

"Oh! You're talking to me now? I thought you only talked behind my back."

Ghost stared at them. His hands shaking with anger.

"Fine!" He stormed out of the room. Slamming the door behind him. Leaving Y\N alone in their barracks.

--------------

~Ghost's POV

Simon slammed his fist into the wall of his barracks. His knuckles were bleeding. He'd been at this for a while. Usually he was good at controlling his anger. All he had to do was channel it. But now. Oh how he wished he could go back and press undo on the things he'd said. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut. He stopped slamming his hand into the wall and spit out a curse. Opening the door to his barracks when a knock came.

"Hey LT!" It was the new girl.

A small idea begin to from in his head. He walked out of the barracks and closed the door behind him.

"Do you want to go for a drink?" He asked.

--------------------

Y\N's POV

They refused to be jealous. They knew they shouldn't be jealous. Ghost was just hanging out... With a female. In a very close proximity... At the bar. Y\N had simply wanted to detox from the fight they had and here he was. As if saying, "I don't need you." Y\n growled. Taking a shot of vodka to drown the troubles in their head. That was when it happened. Ghost kissed the girl. Through the mask. Y\N couldn't believe their eyes. they slammed their glass down and ran out of the bar. Angry tears springing to their eyes. They ran until they reached their barracks. Slamming their face unto the pillow and crying themselves to sleep.

-----------------------

~Ghost POV

one day later...

He stood there for a long time. Staring at Y\N's door. He had already apologized to the new girl for stringing her into this and now it was time for the hard stuff.

"Y\n... May I come in?" He asked after knocking.

There was no noise. He sighed and pushed the door in. What he saw broke his heart. Y\n laying on the floor. Their arms anchored around a pillow.

"Y\n..?" He gently pushed the blanket off of the solider.

"What do you want!" Y\n spat bitterly.

"I... I wanted to apologize.."

"Good! Because you really hurt my feelings!"

Ghost sighed. He hated feelings for this reason. Then he gently grabbed Y\N's shoulders and pulled them into a hug.

"Please... Forgive me."

"It'll take some time... But okay." They burried their face in his shoulder and hugged him back.

"I don't care how long. No person is like you... And I'm sorry I made you cry."

[tacticalkinky]

Spooky Sexy Halloween

Tags: cosplay, oral mention, femme!reader, cod mw2, ghost

A/N: hi guys im back! I wanna keep most of this one a surprise so if you read past this, buckle up! I hope it makes up for the absence! Also this is gonna be a little shorter because i’m having a bit of writers block.

You look out the car window. It’s not completely dark but it’s getting there, with a violet hued sky that has orange tones making the vibes of the atmosphere more…spooky. You adjust yourself in your passenger seat, grabbing your gas station fountain drink from the cupholder and taking a sip. Simon is driving you to a Halloween party that Chan is hosting. Chan being your lifelong bestie, of course.

You’re sat in a gorgeous red evening gown, sequins adorning the entire fabric. Although your ankles ache, you have gorgeous red pumps on and long purple gloves to complete the costume. The long, red hair on your shoulders frames your dramatic makeup making you none other than a classy, humanized Jessica Rabbit. You adjust your hair and fix your lipstick. Simon watches you do this and tries to hide a silent smirk. You however, are very observant.

“What are you smiling about over there?” You ask, your eyes staying fixed on your passenger side mirror as you drag the lipstick across your lips. Simon rolls his eyes. “You should know by now.” He teases. You raise an eyebrow at the response. “Oh yeah? Well then remind me because I must’ve forgot.” You respond. Simon clears his throat and lays his hand on your thigh while maneuvering the car. “I’m smiling because I have the most breathtaking, most gorgeous, most exciting woman I’ve ever been with sitting in my passenger seat of my car.” Simon dotes, his lips curled into a wider grin. You would normally whine an adoring sound, but you knew that grin better than he did. A moment of happy silence happens, broken by your next words.

“If we had just met, I’d probably believe you. But I don’t. What are you REALLY thinking about?”

Simon laughs really hard, causing you to laugh as well. You both giggle so hard your chests hurt, then keep laughing each time you look at each other until Simon speaks again. “Okay, you got me. I’m actually thinking about taking you out to eat later.” Simon finally admits, his hand creeping up your thigh. You were caught off guard by the apparent mention of food, so you immediately light up with excitement. “Oh! Where? There’s a new Chinese buffet I actually wanted to try if you-“ you excitedly ramble, until you feel a tight squeeze on that soft spot between your thigh and crotch. “O-ohhh…” you moan, gripping his wrist to desperately help yourself control your mini orgasm.

Simon glances at you and notices how hard it is for you to contain your composure when his hand is on that sweet spot, so he retracts his hand and puts both hands on the wheel. Like a responsible driver, obviously. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you out to that buffet too.” Simon adds. You bite down on your hand, trying to stifle some moans and hopefully tame the intense feelings you just had. You look down and notice your lipstick rubbed off on the back of your hand. You then glare at Simon playfully.

“You fucked up my makeup while barely touching me! God damn it!” You exclaim, hurriedly grabbing your lipstick again to fix it. Simon chuckles, then clicks his tongue as he sarcastically chides, “At least you’re not wearing a silly rabbit costume.”

[roguetelepaths]

byron + 1, 2, 5, 24,

Oh fuck yeah I was hoping someone would do this. This is going to be a massive wall of text and I'm sorry but also I'm really not. You have unleashed the infodump dragon and it's not leaving until it's run off some of its zoomies.

Why do you like or dislike this character?

You know a fun fact about me is that I was on Team Byron Disliker when I first started Season 5 just due to what I'd heard through pop culture osmosis. I even made a post to that effect after watching a couple of his episodes (deleted now because I was sick of seeing it in my notes) that got some circulation in the fandom. But the further I got into that arc and the more I thought about him, the less I saw what I expected to see when I started. Instead I saw someone who, though flawed, spent most of the time he was on screen trying to be gentle and compassionate and trying to protect his people in a situation that was hell bent on making it as hard as possible for him to do those things.

I do think he has a manipulative streak, and I do think he's the type to occasionally do very hurtful things because he believes he's doing so for the right reasons (see for example that fucking "doesn't it feel nice to be asked" scene between him and Lyta in The Paragon of Animals, even as a Lyta/Byron shipper that makes me SO ANGRY because that point could be made in LITERALLY any other way that didn't involve demeaning her and shouting at her, I get that you're pissed off at the people who did that to her but taking it out on her isn't gonna help anyone so stop) but those flaws when combined with his genuine good intentions and abundance of care are fascinating.

A big part of why I think people dislike him as a character is because those flaws are presented as an immutable Fact Of Who He Is, which, yeah, I can see why someone would find that insufferable, but I like writing character growth and he deserves some.

Tl;dr, I like him because he's complicated. I dislike the way canon never seemed to want to grapple with those complications.

Favorite canon thing about this character?

That scene with the one guy in Downbelow. You know the one. Letting someone punch you repeatedly because you want to teach them a lesson about how finding a target to beat up on isn't actually going to solve their problems is... genuinely fucking baller and I wish we'd gotten to see more of that side of him.

Also that thing with Lyta in Strange Relations that's basically a mutual "I'm not overextending myself YOU'RE overextending yourself! Please slow down and rest 🥺" is probably what made me ship them as hard as I do. Dipping out of canon and into my fic for a second, but that interaction is so different from their first interaction that I kind of have to wonder if someone talked to him about the way he treated her. (I may have written a missing scene about that but it needs some fine tuning before I feel good about posting it.)

What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

oh my god!!! so many. SO MANY. But uhhhh I can narrow it down to like four?

Runaway by The National as a general theme song

I, Carrion (Icarian) by Hozier as a soft and sad song for him and Lyta

The Deserter's Song by Radical Face as a backstory reveal song

New World Coming (any version but I like the one by Nina Simone best because. Come on. It's Nina fucking Simone how can you top that) because I'm almost certain it was one of the songs JMS pulled from when he was writing That Song For That Scene.

What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

I've been saying this from the very beginning— The Signless from Homestuck. (Yes, I'm a Homestuck enjoyer. Sorry.) I just love my pacifist resistance leaders with feral partners and tragic endings okay.