#knitting simon au

[lxvvie]

Your relationship with Simon is... shocking to say the least. Well, it is to others. Not to you.

Your dynamic suits you both.

When folks meet the Missus™, no one expects a chainsmoking, tattoo-having, mountain of a man who looks through people more than he does at them and doesn't speak unless he absolutely has to.

He knows how to sew? "Yes, he does," is what you answer, pride in your voice. He learned that and so much more from his girls in the knitting group. In fact, he's on his way there right now.

He made your lunch? "Yeah, he did," is what you say mid-chew, "want some?"

He keeps house? "...Uh... yes?" you answer as if your coworkers asked the dumbest question you've ever heard. And what a damn fine job he does. It's not like you're incapable of it but Simon's homemaking skills are to be commended. Credits his mum.

They don't see what you see, though. They don't see the teddy bear under all that armor, how he makes you laugh, how you make him laugh, and how you hold and love each other as if it were the very first time.

But it's okay, they don't have to understand your relationship.

You and Simon do and that's all that matters.

[tojisun]

Poor poor hockey! Simon :(

he lost and now the only thing to make him feel better is a good bj

this made me twitch so here u are my love !!!

!! comfort/smut - minors dni; hockey au; praises (in a tender way and but also in a kink way); D/s-ish; some semblance of plot ig // 2.4k words (LMAO)

the horn blows, marking the end of the game and, with that, the end of spec gru’s season.

it was heartbreaking to watch the way the boys' bodies slump, their loss descending onto them like heavy rain. the arena shakes, screams from the opposing team's fans piercing your ears, but you can't blame them, really—they won on home ice, against the leviathan of the league. it is a tremendous win for them, and a devastating loss for your side.

you feel your hand getting squeezed and you turn, looking at johnny's fiancee, seeing the way her own face is crumpled in her sadness.

"i guess that's that, huh?" she says, comforting, her voice a quiet whisper that was almost devoured by the loud cheers.

sometimes you forget that she's an athlete too; that she feels things a lot more intense than you do because she understands the grapple. the desperation. the way how everything you give and everything you put out is, at the end, not enough.

you sniffle, holding her hand tighter.

"i'm so proud of 'em," you say wetly, unable to compartmentalize your grief.

she laughs, the sound of it so empty of any humour but not any less kind.

“i am too.”

you both turn your gazes back to the rink and watch the teams shake hands with each other, the players finally amiable like they hadn’t just been tussling on ice, all sparked by the sharp tension that buzzed throughout their play.

you watch as simon takes a lap, patting the backs of his team members with his lips pursed, but otherwise he is put together. and yet here you are, shaking, lips wobbling, nose twitching because you are trying your best not to cry. it isn’t like you were the one who lost so you wonder why your heart twinges with so much pain; why is it that you are the one holding back the tears?

simon turns to the crowd, roving his eyes past bodies, until they finally lock on you. his lips twitch into a smile; you give him what you hope is a big one—the type of smile that will let him know how in awe you are of him, win or not.

they skate away and you all shuffle out, preparing for the flight back home.

.

it was expected for the players to fly back home together—a semblance of normalcy even amidst the staggering defeat. it was their last attempt at showing sportsmanship; at showing the hounding media that despite the abrupt end of their season, they remained close-knit. 

simon understands it, of course. it was a media play, one that contends with the politics of the league, but it was difficult to act impartially, especially when they were making their way back, empty-handed, from the home ice of the team that had defeated them. it was difficult to not show the turmoil in their hearts, but they all managed to hold their heads up high during the exit and that was that.

they didn’t talk about it much, avoiding that last game as best as they could until the briefing, but hunger thrums in their jowls—no one was satisfied with being the second best. 

the promise of a better next season hung above them, but it is still so unreachable.

simon feels angrier than usual, unable to stop himself from taking this loss personally. like what costed them their win were only his shortcomings; like this defeat was his sole failure because he did promise to lead his team on ice, with price unable to stand as their official captain during the games. he had promised to score the most, after all, and had promised to keep the opposing puck out of price’s net, but he failed in both and, well, here they are.

back home, anguished. defeated.

he–

simon's phone rings, a quiet trill that echoes in the empty locker room. 

he shoots awake from the swirl of his thoughts, sluggish as he pulls it out of his bag. he expected it to be laswell or keller, or maybe their coach, but simon feels his world tilt when he sees your name flashing on his screen. and just like that, like he wasn’t even drowning in his self-doubt and self-hatred, simon feels like he can breathe again. 

he feels lighter, his anguish seeping out of his pores, leaving him with nothing but his flesh and his heart and his love. 

simon picks up the call, hears your voice, then he is up and running back home. 

.

there is a sense of urgency in the way he finds you, his cold body folding into the warm touch of your own. you gasped out his name, surprised at how fast you have him back in your arms after a whole season of flying and leaving and pursuing his chance at the cup—

“i’m home, petal,” simon murmurs, his voice deep and beautiful and longing, and you giggle, your eyes watering, before you nuzzle into his chest.

he breathes you in, the faint smell of ozone and rain and something distinctly flowery fills his nose, and somehow this is what grounds him, his blood spiking as desire and need fill him up instead.

and it trickles into him like wafting smoke—soft, gentle, cascading like a warm kiss. it is still intense, hungry, but it is tender. quiet. like everything about simon’s buzzed energy had transformed into this careful folding. the anger, the desperation, all of it snuffed out for a vulnerable moment.

“baby,” you begin, voice muffled from where your head is still pressed on his chest. “love, you did so well.”

he shakes, his words failing him now. 

you pull back just enough and he sees the glazed look in your eyes as you stare up at him, your lips curled in your smile. “i’m so proud of you, si.” 

his heart stutters inside the cages of his ribs, jumping, before it lodges itself in his throat. 

you giggle at his wordless tremors and press close again, your body melting onto his again, before you tip your head back to his chest but this time, instead of a nuzzle, you greet his beating heart with a kiss. one that is so light he barely feels it from his shirt, but simon feels so shaken. 

he feels so raw. 

you are holding him like he is the best thing in this world. like all his bulk and his size and his anger is still worth this softness.

“i need you,” he croaks out, unable to stop the way his feelings bloat and rage in the pit of his stomach. 

“you have all of me,” you reply, breathless, your eyes still blown open, wide and full of wonder. then they shift, turning sharper, gaining edge; still careful, coaxing, but overwhelming. “tell me, my love. tell me how you need me.”

“fuck,” simon rasps out, feeling like he’s running out of air. his fingers twitch, digging deep into your skin, feeling it mould under his touch.

he’s missed this, alright. he’s—

“mouth,” he finally manages to bite out. “wan’ feel your mouth, love.”

“okay,” you croon, kissing his pec again. “sit f’me?”

simon doesn’t even have it in him to feel embarrassed about the way he falls to his ass on the plush mattress, bouncing a little bit because of the force, before he spreads his legs open, so, so desperate. 

you have your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, canines dimpling the flesh, and simon feels like he is burning from the inside; doused with the fires of need, spark untamable, licking up, up, up.

“come on, firelily,” he rumbles, needy. “c’mere an’ kiss me.”

you huff, fond, and fall to your knees, scooting close to him. 

it was silent as you fumble with his sweats, tugging at the drawstring and grumbling when the hem gets snugged on his hips. simon chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face before he juts up just enough to give you room to slide his sweats and his boxers down.

the cool air makes him tremble and you murmur something. it was so faint that he doesn’t get to catch what it was, but his curiosity sizzles at the sight of you licking your palm, shyly with how you refuse to meet his eyes. he almost teases you, his cheeks round with giddiness, but then you wrapped your fist around his half-chub, and his sanity is razed. 

simon hisses, eyes fluttering close at the warm curl of pleasure.

jesus. he’s missed the feeling of this; your hand is softer, more supple, around his cock. it was so different from when it was his own fist rubbing himself, beating at his angrily flushed cock with desperation only for his peak to tip over mutedly, and not enough to truly satiate his hunger.

but this? fuck. 

simon doesn’t even realize he’s whimpering, his head thrown back at the curious pace of your hand, not really jerking him off but mapping along his veins almost in quiet awe. 

“‘m not gon’ last long if you–” he gasps at a particular twist. “if you keep doing that.”

“oh, no we can’t have that,” you tease, chuckling, and simon’s reply builds on the tip of his tongue, cheeky, but then you’re already moving, your back folding, your breath hitting his sensitive head.

his thighs tense in his anticipation, his stomach locking. you flit your eyes up at him, pupils blown wide in your own ragged need, before he jerks at the feeling of your tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, licking up, and teasing his leaking slit.

simon moans, guttural, his voice caught on the back of his throat. he drops his hands to his sides, fisting at the sheets as you keep licking, teasing his slit and tracing his veins, lapping at his cock so messily. 

if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re inexperienced; all sloppy and curious, like you’re attempting things you’ve probably seen in porn, but then you close the ring of your mouth around the bulbed head, suckling like it’s a goddamn loli, while your hands drop to squeeze his balls, and simon’s gone. 

“shit-!” he gasps out, battling air like he’s back on ice. 

he bucks his hips forward, unable to help himself, and only stops at the warbled sound of your surprise.

“fuck,” he hisses, hand coming up to swipe the hair from your sweaty face. “i’m sorry, darlin’. didn’t mean t’force it down. s’just that y’r so good.”

he keeps petting your cheek, overtaken by his desires and no longer able to stop the string of words trickling from his heart. “missed you lots, swee’art. missed you so much—take me deeper?”

your cheeks hollow as you hum, so obedient for him.

“yeah, jus’ like that,” simon trills, his chest rising as he breathes in deeply. his stomach flexes at the feeling of you swallowing more of him, taking his thickness past your gummy cheeks and into the wet vice of your throat. “shit, baby. christ. y’feel so fuckin’ good ‘round me. so perfect an’ wet.” he giggles, drunken in his bliss. “such a messy baby y’are. so sloppy. y’wanted my cock that much, din’ya? so hungry f’r it.”

there’s a wet slurp when he hits the deepest you could allow him, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. you choke, your body lurching in protest, but simon is at the throes of his pleasure and his rational thoughts are devoured by his gluttonous need, and simon knows it is wrong to ask but—

“hold it in? can you do that f’r me, love?” he croons, his voice curling in his euphoria.

he knows this is playing dirty; to use your weakness—the deep rumble of his voice and the gentle beckoning—to make you weak, malleable. to make you just as desperate for him because he knows all you want to do is to be good for him even when it has you straining, your eyes filling up with tears. he knows it is wrong, but he can’t help it. he wants you this way.

and you want him like this too—his desires sharpening, shaping him to be mean and dangerous. his thickness fills you up, pressing at the roof of your mouth and trapping your tongue underneath the weight of his flesh. your larynx is stretched out, stuffed, but simon is looking at you so adoringly, his own ecstasy so dizzying, so addicting.

you nod, sniffling, finally replying to his question because you want him to feel good. because you want him to lose his restraints when it comes to you.

because you want him to use you until he’s truly relaxed, his body exhausted with something beyond his heartbreak. with something beyond his loss.

simon’s lips wobble like he knows what it is you are thinking of. 

he fucks your throat that way, gentle and sometimes slipping into something so mean it makes you squirm on your knees, the muted throb of your strained legs finally turning into staticky numbness, but you don’t complain, your jaw relaxed as you let simon use you.

he growls out his praises, his words chewed on in his peaking euphoria—nose flaring, cheeks flushed red—or lilting as he teases you—pulling his cock out enough that all that is left is the head, and you whine because you want him in, please simon. wan’ more please—

“gonna cum, sweetheart. gonna cum—fuck!—gonna—”

simon throws his head back, a blinding white filling his eyes and his ears ringing. his body trembles at the intensity of his orgasm, immense pleasure overtaking every synapses in his body until all that he feels is the feverish wrap of your mouth on him.

he flicks his eyes down, panting, and twitches at the sight you make—jaw slack, eyes faraway, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat. 

you look, fuck, you look angelic like this.

simon cups your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your teary eye. you focus back to him slowly, blinking owlishly. 

“shh,” he croons, gentle. “i’ve got you, darlin’. i’ve got you.”

a whine builds from the back of your throat and simon hums, responding to your wordless babble, trying to ease you back down from the fog. he continues to hold you even amidst his oversensitivity, waiting so patiently so he can take care of you now.

yeah, he thinks to himself as he continues to return your unblinking stare. i’m glad to be back home. 

hope this was good :'33 once again pls dont judge me for my blatant self-indulgence hhHHHHH oki oki mwah!!

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nineteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

The cool paste feels tingly on your skin as you rub it against your bruised stomach, wincing. Christ. Maybe Ghost was right to think he might break you. Beneath the mottled patchwork, another kind of pain stirs— your muscles are growing. Firm and tight. The only soft parts of you left are your breasts and your ass. Gently applying the paste to a nasty purple one on your left cheek, you curiously pinch the sore flesh between your fingers. Scratch that. Even your ass is firming up. 

Arnica has healing properties. Yesterday, you found a patch of it with Blue and created a salve with some water. You already applied some last night before bed. Whether or not it’s helping probably doesn't mean much when new ones are about to be added; still, the placebo effect brings some comfort.

You're still massaging your backside when the bathroom door groans beneath a heavy fist. 

"Hurry up. Grab your bow."

“Shit.” You startle, almost dropping the salve. "Uh, coming.”

Chucking on a clean shirt and your old pair of jeans, you pad out of the bathroom, ignoring the cry of your joints. Ghost is outside waiting for you. Wait— bow? Confusion delivers an uptick to your pulse; you never bring your bow to train.

“What’s going on?”

"The air," he replies in a flat tone.

The stale smell offers enough explanation. You cringe. "Should we split up?"

He shakes his head and nods towards the direction the gentle breeze is rolling in. "No need. It's coming from this way."

In the violet wash of morning, you trail beside him over tall grasses and scattered groundhog burrows as the air leads the way, luring you opposite the clearing where you train. There haven't been any Greys since the one you burned together. For the past few weeks, you'd almost forgotten about their existence— a pleasant naivety for once. 

Neither of you bothers with much small talk. He asks if you're sore, probably noticing how stiff you are, and you answer honestly. That's it.

You keep your attention strictly on the wood bow molded into your palm and the slight rustling of leaves all around you, scanning for signs of anything astray. You don't look at Ghost, even when you feel his eyes flicker to the side of your head. Staring at him for even a second longer than necessary rouses something in your gut that was once easy to label as fear; now you don't know what to call it.

He is wearing thicker clothes today, the intimidating vest stocked with ammo glued to his chest. You'd gotten used to his more casual wardrobe of gym shorts and hoodies. They make him look... softer, almost. A little less like a death omen. Though, you sincerely doubt there are any soft parts of Ghost left under all that gear, given the rigid planes you felt beneath your hands when you—

"There."

You snap your gaze in the direction Ghost is pointing at.

At first, you don't see anything.

Then, squinting, you make out a red color far too metallic to naturally sprout among the conifers. 

An arrow is urgently slotted on the bowstring as the two of you head towards it, your brows tightly knitted. You've been this way a few times and never saw a— is that a red car?— before. Closing in, your suspicions are confirmed when a stroke of sunlight bounces off the metal bumper. The patchy sedan is tucked within a bush, tail-end sticking out, with half-flat tires resting on corroded rims. Shadows of movement dance behind the tinted windows, too disjointed to be natural.

"What the fuck?" you mutter under your breath, boots scuffing over a long-faded gravel pathway that is now shrouded in weeds. The car must've been following it before winding up in the bush— the occupants no longer human enough to drive.

"They... they must have just turned while they were driving," you think aloud. "When did this even get here?"

"Maybe during the night," Ghost mutters.

He paces forward and swings open the passenger door. A string of moans is released as a Grey lurches within the confinements of the seatbelt, but he quickly silences it with a bullet to the forehead, causing it to flop sideways out of the car. Maybe just a day ago, it was a young man. His hair is fully intact and he's wearing a blue shirt with the Chelsea Football Club logo on the back.

"I wonder why they were driving this way to begin with," you say quietly, stomach rolling.

In the driver's seat is the slumped-over corpse of an older man, having died from so many bite wounds before the infection could take hold. The early stages of decomposition smell almost worse than the infection and you have to breathe through your mouth as you head for the back door. 

"There's another here I think."

You're ready to shoot and put whoever it once was out of their misery when you pry open the door, but the sight of a small body wriggling around makes you freeze. Curled up against the faded leather is an infected boy, no older than eight or nine. His eyes are all white except for the outer rim where a few vessels are still filled with red blood. Your fingertips dig fiercely into the frame of the door as you stare down at him; his soft brown hair, his small hands, his Minecraft shirt. He whimpers and tries to claw at you, mouth hung open in mindless hunger.

The feeling that washes over you is hot and cold at the same time. It's not the first or last time you've seen an infected child, so you don't know why the sight traps you for a few heartbeats.

A voice emerges beside you. "It's not a kid anymore."

You almost forgot Ghost was there. Your teeth clench. "Yeah, I know."

You feel his eyes burning into you. Your fingers tighten and untighten around the arrow's stem as you aim. 

"Hone it, Twix— the anger."

The tension in your jaw releases at the same time as your arrow snaps forward, cutting through the boy's skull and driving his limp body down to the car floor.

“You good?”

You forcefully swallow and look away, giving Ghost a short nod. "Guess that's all of them."

He slowly nods in agreement, studying you, but all he says is, "For now."

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Seen stranger things over the years,” he says. “It seems like they were headed somewhere, maybe needed a new place to settle, and one of them got bit. Infected the others.”

You nod, thinking it over. “What about the car?"

"No fuel left, so it's pretty useless." Rifle still in his grip, he moves around to the hood and props it open. "Might have some parts I can use, though."

While he scavenges for gears that aren't rusted beyond functionality, you take a look at their belongings. There is an empty bottle of whiskey in the cupholder. In the boy's lap is a stuffed tiger that you assume was once white, but now it's a worn of grey. You carefully shift his corpse and take it.

"I have a friend who might be able to care of this for you."

In the trunk, at least, you find some tripwire. 

Dragging the two adult bodies back to the trench for burning is your 'strength' training for the day. Since they haven't decomposed much yet, they're heavy; you go back and forth, taking one at a time. Ghost carries the small one over his shoulder. After the flames snuff out the smell of rot, he relieves you, claiming he has other shit to take care of—more traps to set with the newfound tripwire.

"Hey. Would you like this?" you ask Blue when she's up, handing her the tiger. 

"I'm kinda too old for dolls, Twix." She must see the expression on your face because she shakes her head and disappears into her room for a minute before coming out with a teddy bear. "My mom gave me this one when I was a baby and it just sits on my bed by itself, but now it can have a friend."

You smile and nod. "Yeah, okay."

The day is spent playing board games with her. When she notices how sore you are, she offers an exclusive massage from Grim, who hops over your back and legs as you relax face-down on the couch. However, even with the honorary treatment, the aching lingers. 

"Auntie, I'm over here!"

In a violet-tinted field, you search for the voice.

It's barren and hazy, with no hard edges or places for a little boy to hide; so why is it so hard to find him? You call his name. You wander around, aimless, until you catch a familiar whiff of baked cinnamon and fresh laundry. This way. He's this way. You start running fervently. When a small hand tugs at yours, you whip around and try to grab him, but the soft touch dissolves through your fingers like ash. 

When you wake up, there's a hand on your back and blood on your tongue, evidence that you'd bitten through it during your sleep. The taste is quickly replaced with bile as you launch up, grabbing the sleeve of someone's shirt.

"Oh no, you don't."

The hand moves to your hair, wrapping it around in a fistful before forcing your head to tilt down. A bucket is tucked beneath your chin. You vomit into it, the cool metal rim hissing against your fingertips. Again and again. When it's all out, your throat feels like sandpaper. 

"Done?"

The dark room surrounds you; the perfect place to hide what you know must be a ghastly look on your face. Awareness creeps in, and you're not thrilled by the fact that you've thrown up in front of him twice now. Without looking up at the white skull you know is there, you nod.

Wordlessly, he takes out a cigarette and lighter. You hear a deep inhale. See the dull glow of the flame. Then, he passes it to you and leaves.

"You look like shit today."

You can't even be offended, fully aware of the purple painted beneath your eyes. One look at you quirks his brow up in that annoying mannerism of his.

You offer a tight-lipped simper, mumbling. "At least I can always count on you for brutal honesty."

"Good trait to look for in an ally." He throws the gauze at you and you begin wrapping up. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact you nearly ruined another shirt of mine last night."

You tie off the gauze and glance up. "Look, I'm s—" you stop yourself, "I mean, I'm not sorry, because you wanted my box open so now it's open. You already knew the potential consequences."

"Try opening it without emptying your stomach next time."

You flash him a look. "I think I miss when you pretended I didn't exist."

"And I miss getting a full night of sleep."

"Can we just get started? I'm ready."

Ghost keeps his eyes on you as he motions a fisted hand. "As you wish."

When the familiar dance begins, and adrenaline ripples up your spine, you realize that you missed this yesterday. The rest felt good, but this— the thrill of seeing Ghost start to get as worked up as you, the sweat stains on his shirt matching your own... it is something you itch for these days. 

You get a few hits in that have your ego swelling. But then— the rough night catches up with you after half an hour of wordless sparring. Your breathing grows labored, while his is barely winded.

"Tired yet?" he asks.

"No," you say, but he calls you out immediately.

"You're a terrible liar," he reminds you. A few more swings have your lungs burning as you dodge until one finally catches up with you, and whatever healing your homemade salve has done is erased by a fresh layer of pain. 

As you clutch your side, he changes the subject. "Are you going to tell me what it was about then?"

"What what was about?"

"Whatever was making you whimper in your sleep."

Your face twists. "I wasn't 'whimpering'."

"Fine, then. Crying," he corrects plainly.

You sigh through your nose, averting your gaze only for a moment, then focusing back on him before he can strike you again. His words hang in the air, ignored, as you jab an elbow toward his ribs. He grabs you by the knob of it and pulls you unnecessarily close to his chest. When you try to wriggle free by placing a hand on his chest, he fists your hair, which has slipped out of a bun into a haphazard ponytail, and tugs hard enough to force your eyes up to his.

His gaze is demanding but his voice is light— a mere breath over your forehead. "Tell me why someone who has seen plenty of infected kids by now seemed so bothered by the one she saw yesterday. He reminded you of someone, didn't he?"

The mention of it makes you snap. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Trying to act like you know anything about me."

"I know enough. You are easy to read."

So that feeling you get when he looks at you isn't just in your head; he truly can see through. Your nails dig into your palm. "There's no need to read me. We're not friends. We're just... allies, or whatever."

"Or whatever," he repeats thoughtfully, tasting the words. "You talk like a teenager."

"Compared to you I might as well be," you retort.

"Jesus." He chuffs out an exhale, eyes flickering down for a moment before returning up to yours, narrowing. "Let's not change the subject here." 

"Fine. Take this stupid Halloween mask off," you lift the hand on his chest up to the hem of his balaclava, feeling how weighted the fabric is with sweat. "And I will tell you all about it."

His jaw flexes before he gently guides your hand away. "Tempting offer, but I'll pass."

You refuse to acknowledge the tinge of embarrassment at his dismissal and inch back as far as the hand on your hair will allow. The close proximity, or harsh sun, is making it hard to breathe. "Well, it's not fair for you to ask me shit about my life when you don't even let me see your face."

"I never claimed to be fair." 

"I promise I won't vomit no matter how ugly you are. I've seen worse things out here."

His hand tightens. "I think I miss when you were scared of me. Less mouthy back then."

"Well, I'm not anymore."

"No?" He flips you around so your back is against him, one hand settling on the toned curve of your hip. His voice lowers to your ear. "Maybe I need to fix that."

An unwelcomed shiver courses through you. He lets go. A wristbone nudges against your spine, shoving you forward. Irritation simmers in your veins when his remark finally registers, and you whirl around, readying your stance. 

"If you even think about threatening me after I explicitly asked you not to, then I would suggest sleeping with a knife tonight."

"Who's threatening who, Twix?" He gives a low chuckle. "Relax. I'm sure I could handle you in my sleep, anyway."

He's egging you on; you know it. And yet, you stubbornly take the bait. His knee— the right one. That's where you got him last time that made him falter. Maybe an old injury. But when you swing a boot at it, he expects your attempt, knocking you away by the ankle. 

"Ah. Eager to get me beneath you again?"

Pink sears your cheeks as you wipe a trickle of sweat from your forehead. "I'm eager to humble you for once."

"Might need to keep your dinner down to do that."

You grit your teeth. So maybe he did allow it last time. The realization darts your eyes to his wide stance, searching for an idea. Without second-guessing yourself, you kick at the other knee. He must find your second attempt amusing because he easily predicts it, but before he can catch your leg, you snap it back and drop yourself to the ground.

The brief distraction allows the second of time needed to fit yourself between his legs. You're slim enough to push through, kicking at the inside of both knees once you're on the other side. His legs buckle, and you reach up to pull his arm, finishing the job.

Once he's down, you scramble to get on top, not caring if your boot kicks his face in the process. You grab both of his wrists and bring them above his head, but it's impossible to wrap your fingers all the way around them. Instead, you lace them through his fingers, breathing hard in his face as your breasts meld against the solid heat of him.

"Did you allow that?" 

His voice is rougher than you've ever heard it. "No."

Your lips furl. "Good."

A dark gleam passes through his dilated pupils that makes your head fuzzy. You let go of his hands. Immediately, they gravitate to your hips again, thumbs fiercely pressing into the sliver of skin exposed from where your shirt rides up. You don't move even an inch, frozen in place as you stare down at where he grips you against him. That feeling in your gut deepens and spreads. It is hard to pinpoint—so insane and foreign yet familiar at the same time—but one thing is certain: it begins and ends where his rough skin touches yours.

Before you can figure anything else out, a scream shatters the air, and Ghost rips you off of him in one swift movement. 

[bluegiragi]

I'm not sure how I found your account but I have loved all of your creations. They have fueled my hyper-fixation for Call of Duty.

When it comes to your Monster au, are there any characteristics from the team that you see them having that you haven't been able to draw out in a storyline?

that's such a good question omg...it'd probably be all the ways that the 141 grew up.

(warning - lots of reading under the cut)

Price is a dragon hybrid, which means that historically his kind has not had amazing relationships with humans or each other. Close-knit dragon communities are still really rare, since instinctively they're extremely territorial and require space to themselves and a way to assert their own strength and hoard. But, sort of by government mandate, dragons need to keep within designated areas in case they accidentally torch a human city y'know. So he did grow up in a colony, but all the families there tended to keep to themselves, exempting mating season and the occasional territory fight. He left to join the military when he was pretty young, all things considered, and I think he did it mainly out of boredom. They were happy to have him of course - dragons are massive powerhouses with long lifespans, and very rare in their ranks (they dislike being ordered around). Price would like to think he's destined for a quiet life, but his job really let him wreak havoc and he took pleasure in indulging that primal urge of his. He grew out of that destructive phase though - nowadays, his priorities consist of taking care of his team.

--

Soap is a werewolf, which is a monster that subscribes to the 'it-takes-a-village' kind of mentality for raising a child. The Mactavishes are an average werewolf pack, with Soap, his parents, his grandparents, and his two sisters (one older, and one younger). Wolves are social creatures, but the older generation likes to stay within their own kind, if only for safety reasons. Soap's always been a go-getter though, so joining the military for a chance to see more of the world just made sense to him. Full-blooded werewolves are pretty sought after in the ranks, but they're a relatively newblood kind of monster. Superiors will often do their best to tame wolves and bring them to heel, with differing levels of success. If you win their loyalty, they're yours for life, but do them wrong and the pack will turn on you. Because of that danger of mutiny, officials will tend to keep it to one werewolf a team, despite them being stronger together.

--

Harpies are typically solitary and aren't very present parents, since they'll raise their children until they're 16 then dump them somewhere and tell them to survive. It sounds ruthless to most, but it's just how their culture is and it's how Gaz grew up. He's a resourceful type, and joined the military as soon as he could. Harpies are actually one of the more common monsters used in the forces, since their eyesight and wings make for pretty amazing scouting forces/snipers. In saying that though, there's no automatic comradery to be found between two harpies on the same team - in fact, they'll usually be combative at worst and cold/distant at best. Historically, harpies have found pride in their own independence, so being forced to interact/work together can be seen as an insult. Gaz himself is pretty charismatic and cool-headed, but even he'd get irritated if he was forced to share space with another harpy. He was shipped around between teams a lot as a lead sniper before he got promoted and met Price.

--

Simon is a wraith, but before that he was a normal human, if a bit freakishly strong. His time in the military was an escape from his home life, and after he became a wraith, that distance between himself and the human world only grew. Not a lot is known about wraiths, because the only way you'd be able to study one is if they let you and wraiths are inherently extremely private creatures with a tendency for extreme bursts of violence. They're also almost impossible to catch/imprison, so Simon's an asset the military is determined to hold onto.

[metalatias5]

AU Summary for my Memory Restoration AU (MR AU)

This is MRSimon (Memory Restoration) aka SantaSimon

His head is inhabited by all the wearers of the crown: Simon, Santa, Sveinn and Gunther.

How did this happen, you wonder?

While trying to find a way to fix her Simon, this world's Magic Betty came upon a spell that supposedly restored any locked away memories.

When she cast the spell on him while he wore his crown though she didn't just unlock Simon's memories, she unknowingly tore down the labyrinth inside the crown, releasing all the past wearers into Ice King's head.

The sudden influx of memories of not only the past 1000 years, but also four separate lifetimes and personalities was overwhelming and incredibly difficult to adjust to, both for MRSimon and for his Magic Betty.

But with time and lots of patience, they eventually managed to find some semblance of normalcy and happiness.

Sure, MRSimon's new condition's still far from perfect and he totally needs therapy, but he finally remembers Betty and can be with her.

And thanks to Santa and Sveinn he's found new distractions in knitting, baking and woodworking.

They're pretty much the happiest a couple suffering from Magic, Madness and Sadness can be.

[mystsee]

sweet encounter ✦ simon ghost riley

✦ content: nsfw, make out, dry humping, clit rubbing, hand jobs, cum play, touch starved, hand kink, bicep adoration, biker!simon, civilian au, no mentions of y/n, tension, a lot of bike content lol, rave.

✦ about: on halloween night, you and your best friend kill time at a local car and bike meet before heading to a rave later. he’s caught up in his car obsession, but for you — it’s all about the bikes.

your attention is drawn to a mysterious man in a skull balaclava, standing over his own bike—one of your favorites. somehow, you end up talking with him, and you…you invite him to a halloween rave with u!

and he - he’ll join you, with you— on his bike.

because he’s not letting a pretty little thing like you, go away.

✦ ✦ ✦

it was halloween tonight, meaning rave night. you and jason, your best friend, absolutely loved that, but what you also both liked? car meets, and tonight, they were both. the good thing is you both knew the later you arrived to the rave, the better. and what better way to kill time than admiring some cars?

well him— for you, it was all about the bikes. they were your absolute obsession for almost a year now. that’s why you always accompanied him to them, you knew there were going to be bikes in here for you to lay your heart full eyes on.

thing is, you admired them, been on them before, but have one? no. the money was the tough part. you dreamed of having one, but the savings don’t get to the goal that fast :(, so for now, admiring them was enough for you.

that’s why you where now perched up on the hood of a car, next to jason, close to the bikes, pretending to be hearing their conversations, but your eyes where focused on the bikes, loving the sounds when they revved the motor, that sound so loud, so commanding, you loved it. you were almost straining your neck for how hard you were looking at the bikes.

your eyes started to wander over the other row of bikes, when suddenly you saw a man, with a mask, a skull mask to be more precise, his huge biceps on the gas tank of the bike, talking to one of his friends, you supposed. he was wearing a black shirt, a simple black t-shirt, making you wonder how the fuck was he not freezing off?

it was just october but the weather has been dropping low very very fast, you loved the cold though, so not that you were complaining, but you were very sensitive to it, hence why you were dressed a bit more covered than him. you were wearing a black knitted short dress with long sleeves that accentuated your waist very nice because it was very tight, over your black warm leggings/tights with fluffy boots.

the dress was not that revealing but you could admit you loved the shape it gave you, it stopped right over the middle of your ass, giving a small glimpse of it, enough to be sexy though. and you made it yourself, especially for when it was cold, because you knew it would keep you warm. you were also wearing a small black scarf because the wind was very chilly and you hated when your face started getting red because of the air.

even though you were wearing all this, you were slightly shivering, yet the mysterious skull mask guy was as if it was summer! you weren’t complaining though, you could see his huge biceps over the tshirt, making you almost drool. they were huge and defined, flexing with the slightest of movement, creating deep lines of muscle.

but then, you realized again where his biceps were over, with his arms crossed over the gas tank of the bike, it was big, the gas tank, snapping you out of your drooling stare of this hot ass man, even though you have not seen his face. you started looking all over his bike, admiring every single detail. it was black, completely black with a matte finish, making it appear almost velvety. the dark chrome accents on the wheels and the bike's fairings were smooth and sculpted, with sharp lines that created a very aggressive dark aesthetic.

the front of the bike had a tall, tinted windscreen, giving it a menacing and intimidating look, just like his owner. it was after all your admiring, you realized…

it was one of your dream bikes. a yamaha r1. making your breath halt for a second. you couldn’t contain the excitement you started feeling, it was the first time you ever saw one in real life! it was so gorgeous, so menacing, so intimidating, you loved it. you were so deep into your adoration, you didn’t realize a certain someone was staring at you as well.

simon was talking to his friends, johnny and keegan. they were bikers like him, making his night rides more enjoying, they were a bit more loose than him though, more social, but he didn’t mind, he liked the feeling of being there.

so when johnny told him there would be a bike meet today on halloween night, and that they would definitely go, he knew he had no saying in it. besides, it was his chance to use his skull balaclava he always used under his helmet in public, with no weird stares on him. it was halloween night after all.

“c’mon lass, pretty girls are probably going to be dressed up tonight there, and you know, the bikes are like a moth to a flame to them” johnny said laughing. “you mean us, johnny” simon was no naive, he knew some women liked the bikers, not the bike itself. not that it bothered him, but he just never reacted to the attention. johnny on the other side, he was more than happy for that, and keegan, well, he was a natural flirt.

that’s why when he felt a certain heated gaze on him, he actually turned his face to find it. why? he didn’t know, his body reacted on his own, and it found you. a mesmerizing sight that captivated him instantly. your features were soft and enchanting, framed by the dim light of the meet, casually sitting your cute ass on top of the hood of a very expensive car. you were lost in thought, eyes roaming over his bike with an intensity that hinted your passion for it.

as you chewed your lower lip in concentration, he felt a heat rising within him, why was he fixated on your lips, so inviting and alluring? it was as if you were completely unaware of his presence, caught up in the beauty of the machine before you, stirring something primal inside him.

and he. couldn’t. look. away.

you kept admiring every single detail of the bike, your heart racing with euphoria at the sight of your dream bike—so close, yet just out of reach. each line, every curve of the bike drew you in deeper, as if nothing else mattered. you took a deep breath, feeling the thrill of the moment, and then, almost instinctively, your gaze shifted upward.

you saw him again —the mysterious man in the skull mask, and you froze. his eyes were already on you, locked in with a focus that sent a wave of heat through your body. there was something about the way he was looking at you—intense, unwavering, as if he was seeing right through you.

his gaze was dark, drawing you in without a word. it wasn’t the car he was admiring—it was you. the depth in his eyes made the air between you crackle with tension, and for a moment, it was as if the world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. you maintained the stare as well, feeling an unexpected thrill building inside you. there was something intoxicating about the silent exchange, and without thinking, you gave him a small, teasing smile—just a subtle curve of your lips.

but the intensity of his gaze was too much for your already racing heart, the heat of it almost overwhelming. after a few seconds of seeing he didn’t react, just stared at your lips, you turned your head away, trying to steady yourself, his eyes still burning into you long after you looked away.

it had been way too long since you'd had any real contact with the opposite gender, making every small interaction feel like something more to your hopeful heart. that’s why you turned back to your friends, taking deep breaths to calm the sudden rush of nerves.

who was this mysterious, sexy-as-hell man, and why did just one look from him have you feeling so undone?

simon kept staring at you, his gaze lingering long after you turned away. and you—you could feel it. his stare burned into your back, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. your heart raced faster, and suddenly, it felt impossibly hot, like the air around you had thickened. since when did it get so hot in here?

“you okay there?” jason asked suddenly, startling you. your mind had drifted to a whole different place after locking eyes with the mysterious man. huh? “what?” you replied, breathless as you turned your head towards him.

“are you okay? your face went red all of a sudden” he teased, laughing under his breath. did he see you?

jason knew all about your obsession with bikes. hell, he was the one who helped fuel it, always taking you to these meets just so you could get close to the machines you loved. sometimes, he even went out of his way to talk to bikers, setting up moments for you to check out their bikes—or better yet, go on them. for that, you were always thankful.

although, he knew you too well. he knew how touch-starved you were, how long you’ve been without loving affection. he’d even spent hours hugging you, just to fill the void you never talked about, all in a friendly way of course, but that didn’t make him any less annoying when someone caught your attention.

“yeah, i’m okay” you said, frowning at jason. he just laughed again, ruffling your hair. what is he on about? was your face really red? you thought the scarf would help with the cold (although you knew it was because of the skull-masked man, and how just a glance from him had made you feel hot and bothered)

your mind drifted back to him again. you decided not to look back—god knew how crazy obsessed you could get with a small crush, and the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of jason and his friends. one of jason’s buddies sat down next to you and started talking.

“pretty cool, right?” he said. you turned to him, confused as to what he meant. he caught the look in your eyes and chuckled softly. “this, my car” he added, gesturing to where you were sitting. oh. you decided to be playful. “yeah, pretty comfortable” you said with a teasing smile.

he laughed—maybe a bit too much—and shook his head. “ever been on a Lambo?” he asked. you hadn’t, but the truth was, you didn’t really care. cars didn’t do much for you, not like they did for jason. “no, i prefer bikes” you said with a small laugh. his eyebrows shot up. “oh, a biker girl!” he grinned.

that made you exhale a soft breath. “not exactly” you replied, breaking eye contact and glancing around the lot. he nodded, but then from the corner of your eye, you noticed him scoot a little closer, arms crossed. they were almost as big as the skull-masked man’s, but they didn’t compare. not even close.

“hm, a girl like you—pretty and all—must have a boyfriend, right?” he asked, his tone casual but his intent obvious. the subtle question caught you off guard, making you uncomfortable. you didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered a little too long, like he was trying to poke your interest.

you shifted in your seat, not liking where the conversation was headed. “no, i’m not really looking for one” you replied quickly, offering a polite but forced smile. it wasn’t that jason’s friends were bad guys, but you had no interest in getting tangled up in one of his friendships. besides , your thoughts were elsewhere—back with the man in the skull mask, who was still on your mind far more than he should’ve been.

he didn’t give up easily, though. the guy leaned in closer, his arm brushing yours, and you instinctively moved to the left, putting more space between you. but it wasn’t just you feeling the shift—simon noticed, oh, he noticed. his gaze hadn’t left you, and he could see the subtle way you edged away, your discomfort clear as the guy inched closer.

simon’s eyes darkened. was he jealous? maybe. he didn’t stop to think about it. his arms uncrossed, and he reached down to the revving area of his bike, his fingers gripping the throttle. without hesitation, he revved the engine—loud, fierce, and sudden. the roar of the bike was deafening, cutting through the chatter and making everyone around nearly jump out of their skin.

the guy next to you flinched, startled by the noise, and quickly pulled back. you couldn’t help but glance at the mysterious skull masked man again, whose eyes were locked now onto you, the rumble of his bike still echoing in the air. you felt your heart race again, but this time, it wasn’t just because of the noise.

he had removed his mask, revealing his god-like face to the world just like that, and damn if it didn’t make your cheeks burn all over again. he was ridiculously handsome—his sharp features, soft blonde hair falling over his eyebrows, and a face that was both dangerously menacing and painfully perfect. gorgeous wasn’t enough of a word for him.

your eyes drifted down to where his hand rested—right over the throttle of his bike. you caught the intense way his gaze flicked toward the guy sitting next to you, did he see all of that? did he purposely rev his bike in that moment? was this some kind of divine timing?

your heart raced, wondering if he had just stepped in to claim his space without a word, and somehow, that only made your pulse quicken more. you were probably being delusional, thinking he revved the engine for you. but then your brain proved you right when his gaze shifted back to you. he noticed you taking in his face, your eyes lingering on every sharp line and feature. and then he smirked—a small, teasing curve of his lips that sent your heart into a frenzy.

when your eyes met his again, he nodded at you. it was subtle but unmistakable. your breath hitched. was he really nodding at you? was this happening? you didn’t respond, too caught up in the shock of the moment. he let go of the throttle, resuming his relaxed stance over the gas tank, but then—casually, confidently—he motioned for you to come over.

it was so effortless, so damn sexy, like he knew exactly the effect he had on you. your face felt like it was on fire, and your heart? it was ready to stop altogether. you froze, completely unsure of what to do. to prove to yourself that he was actually acknowledging you, you raised your finger toward yourself, shaking lightly. you couldn’t help it, this was the most attention you’d had from someone you were possibly attracted to in a long time!

your eyes stayed locked on him when you raised your finger, and he just he nodded again, just as effortlessly as before. you could feel your heart pounding so hard it hurt, a rush of heat rising to your cheeks. what the hell was happening?

as you turned to your best friend, you caught his gaze—his lips curling into a small, teasing smile. “uh, I’ll be right back?” you mumbled, frowning at him, but jason just laughed again, smirking. “yeah! take your time” rolling your eyes, you stood up from the car, walking past him, playfully hitting his arm. “idiot” you muttered, hearing his laughter trail off behind you.

you made your way around the car, and as soon as you did, you locked eyes with the skull man once more. his gaze was still fixed on you, as intense as ever. was he trying to kill you from a heart attack? he knew exactly what he was doing, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you, fully aware of how nervous it was making you.

though he might've thought he was being sleek and mysterious, he wasn’t as subtle as he believed. his friend, keegan, leaned in with a smirk, noticing his behavior “finally something caught your eye, huh?” keegan teased, amusement in his voice. simon, as expected, ignored him, eyes still locked on you.

you walked towards him, your hips swaying with each step. the black knitted dress hugged your waist perfectly, the tight fit emphasizing every curve. the long sleeves and short hemline contrasted beautifully against the black leggings you wore underneath, each step you took seemed to draw simon, your fluffy boots that made your legs look even sexier, making his gaze trailing over you create a heat that made your skin tingle.

you tried to walk faster, but his stare was so intense it felt like it was making your knees weak, and the last thing you needed was to stumble right in front of him. as you got closer, he stood up too, and for the first time, you realized just how tall he was, towering over me for sure you thought. he casually placed his hands on the seat of his bike, waiting for you to reach him. once you were face-to-face, the bike in between you both, the heat between you felt undeniable, and your mind scrambled for something to say. so, you went with the first thing that came to mind, your voice soft and shy, “hi”

the mysterious man grunted softly, his eyes lingering on you just long enough to make your blush deepen before shifting his gaze to the guy who was talking to you before "was he bothering you?" his deep, musky voice hit you like a wave, momentarily distracting you from the situation. but then, a slow, playful smile crept onto your face.

"oh" you said now with a soft smirk on your face "so you did that on purpose" your tone teasing as you shifted your weight, crossing your leg slightly in front of the other. yes, he had definitely done it on purpose, and he wasn't about to deny it.

"had to keep an eye on who was practically eye-fucking my bike" he replied, his deep voice sending warmth coursing through you. damn, that voice was just as hot as the man himself.

seeing that you weren't going to immediately answer, simon tilted his head toward his bike and asked "you like it?" you wanted to scream "i love it!!!” but instead, you played it cool. "it’s nice, very nice, mhm" you nodded, downplaying the fact that it was your number-one dream bike.

but he saw right through you, he could see the glint in your eyes, how bright they were shining while seeing his bike in front of you, it was like a treasure was in front of you, making him feel something in his chest. “yamaha R1” your whispered softly to yourself, pulling him out of his trance. the sound of it caught him off guard, so soft and pretty, and for a moment, it distracted him, were you a biker? his curiosity got the better of him “you have one?”

“what?” you asked, slightly dazed, still captivated by the sight of the bike. “if you have a bike” his deep, soothing voice repeated. “oh! no” you said shaking your head maintaining eye contact. the intensity of his gaze made your heart race, but you kept your cool.

“ever been on one?” he asked.

you nodded, though you’d never been on your dream bike. or actually ride a bike. but he could tell—there was something in your eyes that told him you hadn’t experienced the thrill of a yamaha R1 yet.

“ever been on this one?” his voice was tentative, slow, as if he was carefully gauging your reaction. was he inviting you to go on his bike? “no” you breathed, feeling the weight of the moment.

then you saw him stand up to his full height again, towering over you, looking around briefly before walking to another bike. you watched him pick up a helmet, and your heart nearly stopped oh god you thought internally, as you saw him coming back toward you with it in hand.

he walked back to you, helmet in hand, his eyes still locked on yours. he held it closer to him, the weight of the moment thick between you both.

“wanna take a ride?” his deep, raspy voice was laced with something more—making your pulse quicken. your breath hitched in your throat, and you could feel the tension building. the cool night air suddenly felt warmer as you took in his towering presence, the helmet in his hand, the way his eyes seemed to undress every layer of your hesitation.

just as you were about to nod, feeling your heart race in anticipation, a pair of hands suddenly landed on your shoulders, interrupting the moment. you turned around, eyes wide, and saw jason smiling at him, the masked guy who had captivated your attention. “sorry to interrupt your moment, but we have to get going” jason said, his gaze shifting back to you.

you could feel the moment slipping away. his eyes were still locked on you, his expression unreadable, but that intense gaze was setting your pulse racing again. you could practically feel the heat radiating off him, and something inside of you refused to let this end so abruptly.

you heart pounded, forcing yourself to act, you took a deep breath, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out:

“do you want to go to a rave?”

simon blinked, clearly not expecting that. “a rave?” you bit your lip, eyes flicking between his and the bike as the tension built between you. his gaze felt like a challenge, but you weren’t going to back down. “yeah” you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “we were killing time here before it starts, it’s halloween themed”

jason chimed in, cutting through the tension, “you could bring your homies too” he said, grinning at simon. it was then you noticed two other guys standing nearby, their gazes locked onto simon with knowing smiles. you glanced at them quickly, feeling the heat of the moment, and turned back to him, your heart racing faster than ever. “yes!” you added, nodding enthusiastically to him, trying to keep your cool but also desperate for him to agree.

his friends exchanged glances, smirking like they knew something you didn’t. him, however, remained silent for a few moments longer, his eyes still fixed on you. you swore you saw the tiniest smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

finally, he straightened up, giving a slow, deliberate nod. “alright” he said, his voice low and smooth, like he was deciding on more than just a party. “let’s go” you couldn't contain the smile that stretched across your face when his next words came out in that deep, sexy tone, “on my bike.”

you heart practically exploded in your chest as you crossed your arms over yourself, trying to keep it together but feeling giddy inside. “we’ll follow you” you said, turning back to jason, who was watching the whole interaction with an amused look on his face.

jason grinned, raising an eyebrow. "alright, alright," he said, giving you a playful nudge "it’s your lucky day" he whispered to you, and you playfully smacked jason in the arm as he walked toward what you assumed were his friends. but just as you were about to turn away, a sudden realization hit you—you didn’t know his name.

you quickly turned back to him, only to find his eyes already on you, watching, waiting. your heart skipped again. “what’s your name?” his lips twitched slightly into that teasing smirk you were beginning to recognize. “simon” he replied, his voice deep, low.

your repeated his name softly, almost testing how it felt on your tongue, making something stir deep inside him. what the hell was this feeling? he glanced over his shoulder at johnny and keegan, who were now laughing loudly with jason, clearly up to something ridiculous.

“do you think they’d like to come to the rave?” you asked, your smile warm. he chuckled this time, his arm leaning lazily on the gas tank of his bike “i’d tell you they weren’t them if they said no right now.” his voice was smooth, teasing, and just a little wicked.

"hmmm" you responded softly, laughing under your breath. simon noticed how your eyes drifted towards the helmet sitting on the seat, a flicker of curiosity in your gaze. "you’ll be using mine" simon said, not breaking eye contact with your for even a second. a playful smile crept onto your face.

"johnny usually takes people on rides around here when he comes, so he usually brings and extra helmet with him, i don't usually do that..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. you couldn’t help but smile, the thought that this moment was something rare for him. “so you’re saying i get to wear the 'special' helmet?” you teased, your heart fluttering at the thought.

you caught a glimpse of the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "mhm" he replied, the tension between you thickening 1000x higher.

“ok!” you replied, smiling as a gust of wind swept by, causing you to shiver and instinctively cross your arms. simon grabbed his gloves and mask, and your gaze fixated on the bone design on his gloves. “what’s your costume?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“a ghost” he replied, his deep voice sending a thrill through you. “nice” you said, nodding, “what’s your’s?” he asked “you’ll see when we get there” you said smiling, but your attention was drawn away from him as you watched him put on his gloves. the way his fingers slid into the fabric was mesmerizing; the veins on his hands were pronounced, running along his forearms…

as he tightened the straps around his wrists, the muscles in his forearms flexed slightly, drawing your attention to how sexy he looked. you could almost imagine those hands gripping the handlebars of the bike, controlling the machine with an ease that sent shivers down your spine.

you were pulled from your daydream by your best friend’s voice. “i’ll see you on the curb, so you can follow me,” he called, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he walked away.

you blinked, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of simon as you turned your attention back to him. he was putting on his mask, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him preparing to ride. the way his jawline was defined beneath the mask only heightened your attraction, making you wonder just how intense he would look when he revved up that powerful bike.

you glanced at the bike, then back at simon, you blinked, shaking off your wandering thoughts as he finished adjusting his mask. his gaze locked onto yours, sending a wave of heat through your body. he didn’t say much—he didn’t need to.

“so, you ready to ride?” his deep voice cut through the cool night air, the words dripping with a casual confidence that made your heart skip a beat, feeling the weight of his stare. “yeah” you managed to say, your voice a little shakier than you intended. “think you can handle me?”

he tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips beneath the mask, he then laughed softly and said “c’mon” he murmured, his voice low and smooth signaling you with his head to go near him, making your heart flutter.

you were about to ride your dream bike with a hot ass hell man.

truth is, you’ve been on bikes, yet never actually ride one, so you were scared that perhaps you could crush his ribs while hanging on to him. simon glanced up at you and gave a subtle nod, his eyes never leaving yours. he reached for his helmet resting on the bike and held it in his large hands, the gesture simple but somehow sexy. you felt your stomach flutter as he motioned for you to come closer, offering to help you put it on.

you stepped forward, heart pounding as the space between you closed. his hands were steady, but you could sense the tension in the air as he lifted the helmet. his eyes flicked up to yours again, holding your gaze, your doe eyes staring up at him, and in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. the intensity of his stare, so focused, so penetrating, made your breath catch.

without a word, simon brought the helmet over your head, his fingers grazing your hair as he gently pulled it down. the warmth of his hands against your neck sent shivers through you. his touch lingered a second longer than necessary, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

you looked up through the space that was between the visor, meeting his eyes once more. his face was still masked, but the heat of his gaze was undeniable. his fingers lingered near your chin as he fastened the strap, and for a second, you wondered if he could feel the way your pulse raced beneath his touch.

"comfortable?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

you nodded, barely able to speak, your mind spinning from the proximity and the tension that hung between you. simon gave a satisfied grunt, his fingers brushing your cheek before pulling away. he then proceeded to grab a black hoodie that was draped over his seat and put it on. the air felt heavy, electric, as he stood back and mounted the bike, waiting for you to join him.

as you reached out to take his hand, your other hand found its way to his broad shoulder, fingertips brushing the back of his neck in the subtlest caress. that sent a shiver through him, and it made you smile inwardly, knowing that you had affected him in some way.

you swung your leg over the bike, still holding his hand, your fingers continued to trace along the line of his neck, trying to grab onto his shoulder. once you were seated, you released his hand and instinctively placed your other hand on his right shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palm. the warmth of his body was intoxicating, and your touch lingered just a bit too long, feeling the curve of his shoulder.

simon suddenly grabbed both of your hands with surprising swiftness. his large hands were firm but gentle as he pulled your arms around his waist, securing you tightly against him. the move was so unexpected that your breath hitched, and your heart raced as you realized just how close you were now.

you could feel his abs through the fabric of his hoodie, firm and defined beneath your fingertips as they rested against his toned stomach. the contact sent a warm, electric sensation through your body. the intensity of being this close to him, feeling every muscle ripple beneath your hands, was overwhelming.

"it’s safer like this” he said, his voice deeper-so much deeper-or was it just you? the timbre of it sent a shiver down your spine, and you could swear you heard the subtle strain in his voice.

it been a long time since anyone had touched him like this, and the sensation of your arms wrapped around his waist, your fingers brushing against his abs, was driving him wild inside. his mind raced, the heat between you two intensifying the longer your hands stayed on him, the feeling of your breath on his back, the softness of your touch-it all made him feel as temperature had suddenly skyrocketed.

with a slight pause, simon untangled one of his hands from yours and grabbed johnny’s helmet from the bike. he slid it over his head, the completely black helmet fitting perfectly. although it was identical to his, minus a few stickers, there was something about the way he wore it that made your pulse quicken.

as he adjusted it in place, you couldn't help but think how damn good he looked in it. simon lowered his visor, the tinted glass sliding down with a soft click. the darkened shield made him look even more mysterious and, somehow, more attractive. his gaze through the visor felt even more intense, and your heart raced, caught up in this moment.

he glanced back at you briefly, his deep voice cutting through the soft rumble of the bike “better lower yours too, unless you want the wind to freeze your eyelashes off.” a playful smile tugged at your lips, and with a quick nod, you reached up and lowered your visor, feeling the protective shield settle into place.

simon then turned his attention back to the bike, and with one swift motion, he hit the ignition. the engine roared to life beneath you, sending vibrations through the seat and up your legs, making your pulse quicken. then he revved the engine, and the sound was absolutely intoxicating. the growl of the yamaha was almost primal, echoing through the chilly night air and sending a thrill straight to your core.

it was music to your ears, and the power you could feel humming beneath you only added to the excitement. simon gave the throttle another squeeze, and the bike purred in response. simon reached back, his gloved hand covering yours gently, a solid and reassuring touch. he turned his head just slightly, his voice coming through the helmet, muffled but clear “hold tight” he said, letting you know he was about to take off.

you nodded, giving his waist a gentle squeeze in response, your fingers curling a bit more around him. simon felt the subtle increase in pressure, and unexpectedly, a flutter ran through him—a sensation he hadn’t felt in ages. he swallowed, trying to brush off the feeling, but the warmth of your hands on him was impossible to ignore.

your heart was racing in anticipation, and you couldn’t help but press closer, feeling the toned muscle of his abdomen beneath your hands. and with that, he gave a final rev of the engine, the sound rumbling around you both like a heartbeat, before smoothly taking off to the highway.

a minute later you saw johnny and keegan beside you both. once in a while johnny would veer just slightly to the side, pulling off a daring wheelie before smoothly dropping back down. you couldn’t help but laugh at the show of it, the rush in your chest from excitement, the thrill of being part of this group.

simon must have heard you because he briefly reached a hand back, giving your hands a quick squeeze over his waist. that had you feeling butterflies, sending a warmth through you that even the cool night air couldn’t shake. his hand felt strong and solid.

a few minutes later, he turned his head slightly, and over the hum of the bike and the wind, you could just make out his voice. “you alright back there?” he asked, his tone deeper and smooth, carrying a hint of a grin. you nodded eagerly, tightening your grip around his waist, and you heard a low chuckle in response. “you want to go a little faster?” he asked, and you could hear the excitement in his voice, like he wanted to share that extra thrill with you. you nodded again excitedly.

he revved the engine, the sound a low, powerful growl, and with a twist of the throttle, you shot forward, the speed building as the world blurred around you. the lights on the road became a streak, and the wind was relentless against you, pushing with each mile.

but you loved it—loved the exhilarating, almost overwhelming sensation of it all, as though every sense was heightened. the rush filled your body, and you pressed even closer to simon, feeling the heat radiate from him and the solid line of his back beneath your hands.

simon kept one hand on the throttle but every so often he’d shift just slightly, his hand finding yours, his fingers brushing softly over your gloves as he gave you another gentle squeeze. you knew he was keeping an eye on you even when you couldn’t see his face.

the bike leaned and curved as simon navigated with precision, each tilt bringing you even closer. when he turned his head slightly to ask “how’re you holding up?” you didn’t trust your voice to answer, so you only nodded, cheeks flushed beneath the helmet. he chuckled again, that low sound vibrating through him.

every second on that bike was filled with excitement and tension, your hands gripping his waist as he maneuvered through the night. the rumble of the engine pulsed under you, making you feel every vibration as the world blurred around you in streaks of light and shadow.

you were pressed close to him, feeling the strength in his back, the warmth of him right there, steady and in control. every shift of his weight, every curve he leaned into, had you tightening your hold, getting lost in the ride and in him.

so lost in the moment, you didn’t even realize you’d arrived until he began to slow down. you blinked, taking in the familiar surroundings, wondering how he’d even spotted jason. he glanced back, his voice amused, “looks like the party has started”

he could tell immediately—the ground seemed to hum beneath them with the heavy bass thumping from below. the rave was hidden underground, somewhere beneath this abandoned lot, it was dark and slightly eerie, with shadows cast by only a few scattered lights, but there was an allure to it all, an edge.

the muffled beat of hard techno echoed up from underfoot, sending vibrations through the air, powerful and alive. as you looked around, you felt that pulse within you. with a lingering squeeze, you slowly let your fingers slip from his waist, moving them up to rest on his shoulders as you carefully swung one leg over the bike. once on solid ground, you turned back to face him, lifting the visor with a small gesture, silently asking for his help to remove the helmet. simon’s hands came up, fingers brushing lightly along your neck as he gently lifted the helmet off.

“thank you” you said, still catching your breath. extending your hand to him, you added with a playful look, “ready for the party?” “i’m still waiting to see your costume” he teased.

you reached into your bag and pulled out a mask—it has a cute pink nose, two black crosses over the eyes, and two pink heart shapes near the top, the smile is wide and creepy, it looks like a creepy clown mask, eerie enough to match the underground vibe of the rave.

his eyebrows lifted in surprise as you held it up with a mischievous smile. you slipped the mask over your face, grinning under the cover. “think i make a good match for a ghost?” you asked playfully. simon smirked, tilting his head slightly as he looked you over. “a cute clown, huh?” he leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “just wait till i get that mask off you.”

you felt a thrill at his words, a teasing smile spreading across your lips. “oh, is that so?” you replied, leaning in just a bit closer, “you’ll have to catch me first before you can get my mask off.” you turned on your heel, the sound of the party’s pulsing bass echoing behind you, leaving him with the challenge of following you into the rave. you thought you were quick, but before you knew it, simon was right beside you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back against him.

the heat radiating from his body sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling exhilarated by his touch. what he didn’t see was the mischievous grin spreading across your face as you quickly grabbed the fake knife from your backpack. in a swift motion, you turned around, bashing it playfully against his neck. “careful ghost” you exclaimed, your heart racing with excitement.

he raised an eyebrow underneath his balaclava, “is that how you treat a ghost, huh?” he challenged, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, you could tell he was enjoying this little game as much as you were. you kept the knife pressed lightly against his neck, “just making sure you know who’s in charge” you teased, your voice low and playful as you stepped back, releasing him from your grip.

simon chuckled, clearly entertained, his eyes sparkling with challenge. “yes ma’am” he replied, stepping closer again, his intense gaze never leaving yours. with a mischievous grin, you turned on your heel, leading him toward the entrance of the underground rave. the heavy bass vibrated through the ground, you bounded down the stairs, your heart racing with anticipation, glancing back to make sure simon was following. he fell into step beside you, the energy between you palpable as you joined your best friend, jason, at the bottom of the stairs.

the rave unfolded before you. the strobe lights danced wildly against the dark walls, the sound of hard techno filled the air, thumping in time with your heartbeat. colorful lights flickered against the walls, people wore everything from elaborate fairy wings to ghoulish faces, and your eyes danced over the vibrant outfits, taking in the energy of the night. you caught glimpses of masks—some sparkly, some terrifying—and a few partygoers twirled glow sticks. the atmosphere was charged with excitement, and you felt a surge of adrenaline.

turning back, you spotted simon’s friends, johnny and keegan, near the front of the dance floor, clearly ready to dive into the party. they animatedly discussed something, laughter erupting between them as they adjusted their own masks. you felt simon’s presence behind you, he kept a hand on yours, guiding him through the crowd. you pulled him along, your fingers interlaced with his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. as you reached johnny and keegan, the energy around you intensified. the music shifted into a heavier beat, and without thinking, you started to sway your hips, feeling the rhythm pulse through your body. simon’s hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. you glanced back at him, and the heat in his eyes made your heart race.

“dance with me?” you teased, feeling daring as you leaned into him, your back brushing against his front. he smirked, leaning down slightly so his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and inviting. you could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, the crowded room faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of connection. you turned to face him, the lights flashing, casting shadows over his balaclava.

as you danced, you leaned into him more, feeling the hard planes of his body pressed against you, every twist and turn bringing you closer. the atmosphere thickened with anticipation, and you felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance. you leaned in, letting your breasts brush against him, sending sparks of electricity crackling through the air. simon pulled you even closer when he felt your soft breasts on his chest, he wanted to lick them, kiss them, bite your nipples, he was feeling as nasty as you.

the music pulsed around you, and as you swayed closer to simon, you felt him pull you even nearer. you could feel his hardness poke your thighs, making you unconsciously rub your thigh over his cock. his fingers dug gently into the fabric of your dress, sending a thrill through you. "is it getting a hot in here?" simon murmured, his voice low and teasing, laced with a playful laugh.

his breath brushed against your cheek, igniting butterflies in your stomach. you let out a breathy laugh, leaning in slightly as you responded "maybe it's just you, i’m perfectly cool." he smirked, that trademark smirk that made your heart skip. "oh really? because it feels like there's a lot of heat radiating from you." his fingers danced along your side, the touch electric. you shivered at the sensation, your body instinctively leaning closer, almost touching. "what can i say? the music has me feeling a certain way."

as the beat dropped, simon stepped even closer, his body aligning perfectly with yours. his hands roamed your back, pulling you in so that there was no space in between you both, and the space between your lips narrowed, the masks pressing against each other in an intimate embrace.

"simon..." you breathed, a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement coursing through you.

"just trust me" he murmured, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. the temptation to close the distance was overwhelming, every instinct telling you to lean in and feel his kiss, even with the masks in the way. "are you always this forward?" you teased, trying to keep the playful banter alive, even as your heart raced. "only when i’m around someone who drives me crazy" he shot back, his eyes smoldering with intensity.

you smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "well, i’m about to drive you even crazier”

"why?" he asked, his voice low and filled with desire. "i need to go to the bathroom”

“seriously?” he chuckled, clearly amused by your sudden change in mood.

“yeah, but i can’t go alone in this crowd. it’s like a maze in here!” simon smirked, tilting his head slightly. “then i’ll go with you. can’t let a pretty thing like you navigate this place by yourself, can i?”

“mhm” you nodded, your heart fluttering at the thought of being so close to him even on the way to the bathroom. “let’s go then” he replied, his hand finding yours again, fingers intertwining as he led you through the crowd. when you reached the bathroom door, simon pushed it open, revealing a chaotic mix of people coming and going. without hesitation, he pulled you inside, guiding you toward a secluded stall.

the cramped space felt intimate, and you were acutely aware of his presence in front of you. he pressed you against the bathroom door, your bodies close enough that you could almost feel his heartbeat, the sound of the music faded slightly, replaced by the sound of your own racing heart. he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek, but you couldn't wait anymore. "take it off” you said, almost begging, the urgency in your voice palpable. you needed him closer, to feel every inch of him.

without hesitation, he tugged at his mask, pulling it up to his nose, revealing his full lips and that handsome smile that made your heart race, and before you could think, you pushed your own mask up and off your head, letting it fall to the floor. in an instant, his lips were on yours, soft yet very demanding, igniting a fire deep within you. the kiss was hungry, filled with the tension that had been building between you all night. you could taste the sweetness of the moment, the thrill of being hidden away in this small space, lost in each other.

his lips moved against yours with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine. his mouth was warm and inviting, intensifying the moment. as you leaned into him, you felt his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer, making every inch of your bodies connect. there was a sweet urgency, deepening the kiss, letting your own hands wander up to his hair under his balaclava, fingers threading through his soft strands, his own mask joining yours on the floor.

with each gentle tug, he coaxed you to lose yourself in the moment, and you did. you could feel the stubble on his chin brush against your skin, adding a delicious friction that sent waves of desire course through you.

he slipped his tongue out, teasingly tracing your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. the sensation sent a rush of warmth through your entire body. you instinctively responded, your tongue meeting his both tentative and eager. the intoxicating mix of sweet breath and the faint hint of his cologne enveloped you, making you crave more. you could feel him smile against your lips, the thrill of the moment making it all the more intoxicating. your hands slid down to his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingertips. you pulled him even closer, deepening the connection between you, feeling his heartbeat quicken in sync with yours.

as the kiss deepened, simon slid his thigh between your legs, pressing it gently against you. the sensation sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body, igniting every nerve. you gasped softly against his mouth, the unexpected move heightening the moment. you instinctively rolled your hips forward, craving more of that delicious friction. the way he pressed closer, his thigh snug against you, felt intoxicating, as if he knew exactly what he was doing, and you were entirely at his mercy.

you needed him closer, pressing hard against him, rubbing your pussy like a dog over his clothed thigh, this was no longer just a kiss-it was a primal need, the desire to connect with him burning within you. "fuck!" you clung to him tighter, fingers gripping his shoulders as you humped his leg, moaning over his lips “that’s a good girl” that alone made you moan so loud you knew people could make an idea of what was happening inside.

he took the hint and started to trace his hand over your left thigh, edging ever so closely to your most private area. you took the chance and opened your legs even wider for him, and immediately grabbed his hand, guiding it over your leggings, the only thing instructing were your leggings. “eager?” simon’s husky voice whispered over your ear. you could only nod.

it wasn't enough to be this close to him, you craved more; you craved him. without warning, simon dipped his hand inside your leggings, feeling your wetness coat his fingers as you moved to meet his movements.

"holy shit" simon breathed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine, causing goosebumps to appear all over your arms. “couldn’t let a pretty thing like you go away” he practically moaned on your ear. with steady movements, simon began to massage your clit. his other hand remained on the edge of your hips, allowing him control over your positioning. as his grip tightened, so too did his attention shift. suddenly, you were no longer playing a game. "oh my god..." you bit your lip as he began to circle your clit with lightning speed.

“it’s only normal for me” he pinched your clit “to return the favor to who was eye-fucking my bike” he rubbed even faster now your pussy. you nodded, moaning at the same time “did you like riding my bike?” simon said to you, getting off on the idea of you and his bike, you tried to respond but you couldn't due to the amount of moaning. “shhh” simon put his hand over your lips “i know you loved it, pretty girl” he was now lowering your leggings to your thighs

“but that’s for me to know only baby” your moans were so pretty for random people hearing them so freely, he wanted to be the only one hearing them. your bare pussy was now for his eyes to admire “let me make you feel good yes?

his right hand reached your breast, you weren’t wearing a bra, just a top to cover your chest, so the moment his hand met your nipple, you almost orgasmed on the spot. it had been so long since someone touched you like this :(

soon he was rubbing it back and forth, your eyes closed as you succumbed to the sensation of his touch, you felt as though your entire being were coming alive. at the same time you saw him lower his sweats to his thighs like you, even the boxers, so immediately you caught his cock springing free, and it was so erect it looked like it hurt. you started to rub his cock with such delicatessen, simon could feel his orgasm approaching. "it feels like forever since i’ve done anything like this" he said.

your heavy breaths gave away your state of excitement. he released your nipple and used both hands to continue massaging you “you’re not the only one” he moved his head closer, leaning forward to begin licking and nibbling at your neck, biting on your shoulders "give me your hand" he spoke, asking you permission to go even further.

you didn't hesitate in handing your right hand over to him; you released his cock slowly, your thumb rubbing his tip making him almost double over from the pleasure “fuck” simon moaned sweetly over your ears. you let out a soft moan as he grasped your wrist, placing it over your very aroused pussy, he gathered all your juices in your hand and raised to his lips.

he tasted your sweet nectar, moaning from the taste, he literally was kissing your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. he then proceeded to guide your hand over his cock again, you felt all the veins throbbing, its thickness feeling incredible in your palm. you coated all your juices over his cock.

his other hand returned to work on your clit, circling it again, holding you open, you felt his other hand open your pussy up to him, all spread out, and you were completely vulnerable to him.. you could feel his fingertips touching your opening, looking at him with your big doe eyes begging him for release. his fingers slide past your labia, filling the entire space, and he looks directly into your eyes as he pinched your clit with his other hand.

the need to satisfy your desires overwhelms your mind, clouding everything else. you whisper quietly into his ear "please", as if answering your plea, he released your clit, his other hand keeping your pussy opened up for him. he proceeded to take your hand grabbing his cock, softly lowering it to his fingers on your pussy “keep yourself open f’me, yes?” he said huskily to you, and like a good girl, you did just that.

you saw him grab his cock, looking so big and erect, and brought it closer to your pussy, and like heaven, the tip of his cock reached your clit. he slid the head of his cock, once, twice, keeping his hand on the base. the length of his cock made contact with your soaked folds, sliding along every inch of your slit. you couldn't contain the sounds escaping your mouth. it was too much, every time he slid it, he reached your opening, almost sliding inside you, but always stopping short of going in.

one deep thrust after another. each glide brings your ever-increasing need for him closer and closer. he moved his cock again to your clit, holding it over it “feels good?” he said while thrusting his hips to yours, making the head of his cock rub your clit deliciously.

you answered him by grinding onto his cock like there was no tomorrow, matching his rhythm perfectly, you leaned forward to press your lips against his. you wrapped your arms tightly around him, refusing to let go until you came with a sense of desperation that built up from nowhere, he responded, holding you close and kissing you back fiercely. you moaned into his mouth at the feel of his hard cock pressed between your legs, sliding effortlessly against your dripping wet pussy.

the overwhelming feelings broke loose. your breathing became ragged as your climax overtook you, your body shuddering violently from the intense waves of pleasure that coursed through you.

at the same time, you could feel his hand gripping your thigh tighter as his movements became more erratic. you knew what that meant. he pulled himself away from your body, his dick twitching wildly as he came all over your thighs. his face contorted in bliss as his orgasm swept through him, finally releasing the pent-up tension.

the two of you remained still for a moment, basking in the aftermath of what just happened. only when he regained some composure did he look down to notice the mess he'd created, his load spreading across your skin like sticky paint. "oops" he said sheepishly. despite the thoughtless action, you couldn't help but smile

you brought your fingers to your slit, feeling all his semen over you, and slowly gathered it on your fingers. you kept your eyes on simon as you brought them to your lips, and licked it, one by one. the act wasn't lost on simon, seeing your beautiful, slutty actions, drove him wild with desire. you smiled at him knowing exactly what you were doing.

once you finished cleaning his load on your fingers, simon immediately went for your mouth, his tongue all over yours, tasting himself on you, you moaned over the kiss and grabbed his shoulders, steadying yourself.

his hand ran through your hair, playing with the tangles, before wrapping itself around the back of your head. once he had control of your head, he tilted it slightly, revealing the tender skin of your neck. he whispered something hot in your ear, his voice barely audible over the music, "this isn’t over, yet"

you smiled sweetly at him and shaked your head breathless and warm, as his fingers brushed softly along your neck. with a playful tug, he pulled your leggings up, his touch gentle yet firm, sending a shiver down your spine.

looking into his eyes, you whispered, "good, because i don’t want this to be over." he smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and leaned in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. his hand caressed your waist softly, lingering there as if he never wanted to let go. you knew this was just the beginning,

after all, the best things often happen unexpectedly.

—————————————————————————————

✦ a.n: phew, i’m ovulating as you can tell….

anyways, quite late to the halloween party but i finally finished the fic 😋

did i write this fic, because i, in real life i have a hot as hell neighbor (whom i haven’t seen his face yet) that rides a bike and has stalked my house thrice because i smiled at him once and is probably joe goldberg 2.0, but everytime he passes my house he revs his bike so beautifully?

yes, yes i did, sue me 😩

may this fic manifest him for me 💖 (i’m delusional bye love you all, see you in a year LMAOO)

[glossysoap]

saudade ; preview

saudade : (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”.

featuring; future poly ghoap x reader!!!!, american! reader referred to as “you”, childhood best friends to lovers, penpal au!, lanyard references at the bottom.

OBVIOUSLY NO MATURE CONTENT UNTIL THEY REUNITE WELL INTO ADULTHOOD (nearing the game timeline). don’t be weird with my AU.

notes: pls note that all of my “preview” stuff are ramblings!! and the actual fic will always be longer, more detailed, and so on! this is just a little treat! 🫶🏻

ok so i know it’s a stretch but imagine that you had 2 penpals when you were a kid and they ended up being kid Simon and kid Johnny?

You tried hard to befriend the two boys, asking them what their favorite colors were, what kinds of food they liked, what did they want to be when they grew up.

When Johnny told you his favorite colors were blue and green, you knit him his own little lanyard and sent it to him with the next letter! Johnny’s little blue eyes lit up when he pulled the blue and green lanyard out of the envelope, immediately running to show his Ma what his new friend made him.

Simon told you that his favorite colors were black and red, and when he carefully pulled out a black and red lanyard from the next letter he received, the corners of his lips pulled up into a rare grin. He treasured that small handmade gift from his best friend, making sure to hide it from his father. Making sure to keep it safe.

You had shared American traditions with the two boys, telling stories about road-trips you went on and your favorite foods. When you went on road-trips to your state capital, your mom had bought you two postcards for you to send to Simon and Johnny.

In your letter to the boys, you included polaroids from the road-trip. From sunsets with hues of orange and purple that you knew Simon would find peace in, to photos you snapped of national parks that you knew Johnny would enjoy.

“I think you would enjoy it here, Simon!” “You would have fun here, Johnny!” You had written in near perfect cursive on the postcards to the boys. You had signed the postcards with a smiley face.

When Simon received your letter for that week, he nearly tore the envelope to shreds trying to open it, he was so excited. He also noticed that the envelope was thicker than usual, like it held something more than just the typical letter. When he opened it, he saw that along with your letter, you had sent a couple of polaroids and a postcard! Simon felt warmth flood his chest as he stared at the pictures that you sent.

One polaroid that stood out to him was the sunset. Somehow you just knew that the warmth of the sunset and the gradient from purple to orange would bring him joy. Maybe you figured that since his home was already so dark, literally and figuratively, that any bit of color would feel nice. His lips quirked up at the gesture.

Johnny was so excited to read your letter, he nearly tripped over his own feet running to his mailbox. Once he opened the envelope, he rifled through the content of it before landing on a few polaroids. You had snapped a few shots of a lush, green forest. Another one was a photo of a vibrant blue lake. You knew that he loved hiking in forests with his large family, taking in the nature and wildlife. You also knew that he loved swimming in lakes as well as fishing. You remembered what he enjoyed so you went out of your way to photograph those same things. His face split into a grin at that realization.

When you received their letters back, you were excited to read that they loved the polaroids you sent them, as well as the postcards. Simon told you that he enjoyed the serenity of the sunset and that he hopes to share it with you one day. Johnny wrote that he was touched you’d remembered those small details of his life, let alone that you would capture photos to honor those hobbies of his. He wrote to you that he hopes to hike the trails of Scotland with you someday, when both of you are grown up.

Over the next few years, you kept in touch with the boys as best you could — still sending letters twice a month with the occasional picture, postcard or trinket.

The three of you had moved up in grades. Simon and Johnny had progressed to year 13, their version of senior year in high school. You on the other hand, had progressed faster than the boys. You had progressed traditionally to sophomore year, before skipping junior year due to your great grades, and landing in senior year.

When graduation approached, you decided to send a picture of yourself to the boys in one of your letters. You wanted them to have something to remember you by, just in case you lost touch with them after graduation. Especially after finding out their plans to enlist in their respective militaries.

Little did you know that across the world, Simon and Johnny were blushing as they admired that polaroid of you. They couldn’t believe that their penpal looked like this, this good, this whole time?

Their crushes for you only blossomed over time. Unfortunately though, just before you started med school, you were mugged in the busy city you had moved to, losing your phone and number along with it. It was years until they heard from you again.

As you pursued your career as a surgeon, attending med school and working impossible hours, they were attending basic training.

Years later, you were now a decorated surgeon with (specialty of your choice) at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital in Seattle, Washington. You had garnered awards for medical miracles and articles written in your honor.

Simon was now a Lieutenant with loads more trauma than he had as a child, with a skull mask to match. Only Simon didn’t get to keep his lanyard that you made him, as his dad had found it one day and burned it.

Johnny was now a Sergeant, still doodling in his notebook and carrying around the blue and green lanyard that you made him.

Your fellow surgeon, Dr. Hunt, was a decorated trauma surgeon with a past as military surgeon. He had mentioned you in passing to an old friend of his, Captain John Price. Not too soon later, your phone was buzzing with calls from both Price and Laswell with proposals to become 141’s new surgeon. With promises of good money and living conditions on their own base.

You couldn’t help but accept, especially looking at all those zeroes on that contract.

Once you arrived on base, Price and Laswell thought it was necessary to introduce you to the team.

They all lined up in the conference room, waiting for Price and Laswell to arrive.

Simon and Johnny’s eyes instantly gravitated to you once you set foot in the conference room. You looked so familiar to their childhood friend —even if you seemed older, they just couldn’t shake it. The way you smiled shyly under all of the attention was so reminiscent of that polaroid you sent them all of those years ago.

“Boys, this is Doctor (First Name/Last Name), they will be our new surgeon. Effective immediately.” Price introduced.

Simon and Johnny’s eyes couldn’t have widened more.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

lanyard example:

[bunnys-kisses]

"the bounties & death au" (a modern gods au)

a/n: 'sunlight' by hozier is burned into my brain

god of death!simon has been locked away for centuries, not able to return to the surface of the earth after being casted away into the shadows of the underworld. but once he finds himself free, in the countryside of england.

the world feels and looks different than what he remembered. it even smelled different. but the familiar grey sky of england loomed in a familiar way. the only thing in the distance was a small stone cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. his legs felt weak, but he managed to make it to the cottage. it had been so long since he walked, after being chained on his knees. to walk again felt like being a newborn deer.

who was he to see on the other side of the door, was none other than you. you looked scared and quickly closed the door. you squeaked, "no one's home! please leave."

simon was a bit confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he knocked once more. he said in his low voice, "i know yer in there. please, let me in."

"are you going to kill me?" "no." "are you sure?" "i need help, i have no interest in killing ya." he lit up when he saw you open the door and look up at him.

you took him in but told him that he had to sit at the chair in the kitchen and not move. you knew it was a risk but, there was something familiar about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. (you'd later recall when you felt close to death after the death of your previous boyfriend).

but simon is kind, you find it comforting to speak to him. he was calm and didn't move from the chair. when he moved as he ate, his movements were slow as to not scare you. simon thought of you like a rabbit. small and delicate, easily nervous.

the first act of kindness he had received in a long time was you sharing a meal with him. the gods didn't need to eat, but the warmth of the stew you made had him feeling warm.

you were an author who had stayed out in the country for some time in order to get a break from the weight of being in the city. you remarked that london was beautiful, and while simon had no way of imagining a city that big, he knew it was nowhere as beautiful as you.

he wouldn't make a move until your last night in the cottage before you headed back to the city. you said you'd drive him wherever he needed to be, but he said he had no home.

you asked him why and he said, "the place i came from. i cannot go back to." and while he hunched his shoulders, you reached up to him and allowed him to stay with you. you had grown to feel affection towards the man, even if you had many more questions about him than answers.

but that night, you shared wine together. you were all over him, your smaller body up against him. when he held onto your ass so you wouldn't fall over, you moaned. you giggled and told him you hadn't been held like that in a long time.

and for the first time in eternity, as simon thrusted into you, he would worship you rather than people worshiping him. as he held your hands onto the bed while you made love, he wondered if it was possible to build a shrine to you. to allow others to worship you the way he wished to do to you.

"you make me feel alive." you whispered in his ear.

an exhale left simon's lips, he then kissed you deeply once more. as you moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist, all simon could think about was that he understood why humans were so desperate to get into the heavens. because if it felt anywhere close to how he felt next to you, he would scramble to get through the gates.

his little human, his little fruitful bounty <3

[devil-in-hiding]

Okay but the fantasy arranged marriage au, Ghost having to cut down fighting and other straining tasks while pregnant. And really getting into knitting and sewing. So baby clothes for first three years are sewn before the kid even arrives.

First draft of swaddling outfit by Simon.

this is an on going AU in the dm’s and i’m actually crying oh my god

[peachesofteal]

hi peach! as much as i love the dead disco omegaverse au and its angst, im desperately in need for just a gram of fluff with these boys 😔🙏

Ask and ye shall receive ✨

No warnings / no au / pre relationship

Johnny is trying really hard not to move. He’s practically holding his breath, steadying his chest on his exhales to not jostle where your head lays, ear just over his heart, asleep.

You hardly made it a half hour into the movie that won the vote, and now you’re cozied up, legs over Simon’s lap, face half buried in Johnny. You’re warm, and sweet, curled up like a kitten, content and sleepy between them.

He thinks he might explode. He’s glad you can’t actually hear the way his heart is pounding. You, or Simon. He wants to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pull you in closer and hold you. You’ve only been in their lives a short while, but he keeps wanting more and more, can’t stop himself from thinking about the way you look snuggled between them, how Simon’s smile tilts sideways when he watches you. He wants you to stay here, just like this, for as long as you can. Especially with how exhausted you seemed when you had showed up earlier, worn out from a long week of work.

You had practically collapsed on the couch when they suggested watching a film, and Johnny knew within a few minutes that all they’d be doing tonight was this; cuddling. Hanging out. Watching you sleep.

They didn’t mind. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed, and it brought them a lot of pleasure, if he’s being honest, that you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep here.

It’s like everything is starting to come together, starting to become something besides late night texts and pillow talk. It’s like dreams coming true.

Thick fingers trace the shell of his ear, bringing him back to reality.

“Maybe we should put her in bed.” Simon muses, but his voice pitches low enough that you hear it, shifting awake, blinking eyes wide open.

“‘m up.” You grumble, and Johnny rubs your shoulder.

“Want to come to bed?”

“The movie.” You offer a blind protest, still trying get your bearings as you yawn.

“We can watch it later, darling. You’re exhausted.” Simon responds, and you rub your eyes. You’re so fucking cute, Johnny can hardly stand it.

“Okay.” You sigh, and he expects you start moving, but instead you snuggle down further into the couch, and then turn, shifting your ass in Simon’s torso, and draping your arm over Johnny’s waist. “G’night.” You mumble, and Simon chuckles, lobbing one of the knit blankets that they have over your body.

“Need a bigger blanket.” Johnny hums, smoothing a palm over your forehead, and Simon replies with his eyes already closed.

“Or two.”

[lxvvie]

Imagine knitting!Simon finding out that you’re pregnant. You’d knit a pair of little socks and a hat.

“I’ve got something for you, Simon.”, you grin as you give him the present.

“Did you wash them too hot or why are they so sma—…oh.” He’s got tears in his eyes after the realisation hit him.

It came out as an "oh..." but in his mind, Simon was all:

"shite shite shite bloodyfuckinhell—"

He has a kid on the way. Him. A kid.

Simon's gonna be a dad.

And it hits him that his kid'll never know the love of his uncle, aunt, cousin, and, granny.

[siriusleee]

i. hidden caches

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳ SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳ WORD COUNT: 2.2K ↳ TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on. nc-17. ↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the lovely anon who asked for a scene from an apocalypse au, and this idea was born. If you'd like to donate to my Ko-Fi (my bed frame broke this week and a new one was $200 I didn't have), I would appreciate it. ↳ TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

The ending had come quicker than anyone expected. The epidemics and endemics and pandemics of the years past had given false confidence to everyone. We survived the last thing, the news reporters had said, gray building beneath their eyes, and we can survive this. Behind them images of towns being devoured played. 

Bodies can decompose in as little as nine days. The first to go is the soft tissue: the eyes, the tongue, the soft flesh of the cheeks. When bacteria and insects are introduced, the flesh breaks down faster. Bones take longer - sometimes years to fully wear away into the dust that collects underfoot. But these things - whatever turned them kept them covered in a thin layer of adipocere to protect them from the elements. They kept shuffling along long past the time when they should have reverted back to a primordial soup where they lay.

But they still decomposed. The trick was to stay ahead of them, away from the gnashing teeth that transmitted the virus, away from the hands and feet that never seemed to tire. So few people could. Whole towns and cities were decimated, felled beneath the hordes of horror that ambled slowly past, swallowed up by the feet that didn’t stop moving until they wore themselves down to stubs, which were them pulled forward by hands and knees that never tired. 

But yours did. The familiar path towards the north was more overgrown this year than in the past. For a few years, there had been wary companions, eyes that lingered until the snow and frost rolled in to freeze the Biters where they stood. But as the years wanned on the crowd grew smaller and smaller until you only caught hints of others moving north: horse prints, trash left behind, the occasional Biter left decomposing in the bushes. 

This year there was nothing. Either you had moved too early or there was no one left. The latter is too terrifying, so you push it away and think about whatever groups may wander through here after you.

The woods loom tall above you, the snow that fell earlier in the morning just barely dusting the branches above your head. None of it had reached the leaves that are too waterlogged from recent rains to crunch beneath your feet. A blister is rubbing itself raw at your ankle; you know that if you don’t stop to treat it, it will be unbearable tomorrow, but you brush the thought off. You need to reach the marker before nightfall.

The markers had appeared between one trip north and your trip back down. 

West Village - 20km

The first year it had appeared left the group you were with in a tizzy. The group had fractured down the middle. If all of you found each other, how hard was it to think that a larger group had finally banned together? Civilization needed to rebuild eventually.

You didn’t trust the shaky scrawl that printed the words, so you had been with the group that refused to go. The next year there was another marker tacked to the first.

Body snatchers. Beware.

It was amazing to you: how well rumors could start and spread without phones or the internet. For months, every person you and your group came across would give the same warning, and ask you all the same questions. Have you seen the body snatchers? Are you the body snatchers?

Humans turned cannabolids. Farms where people were forced to reproduce. Spits with babies roasting above the fire. You wanted to think that it was the stuff of fiction.

In the third year, there was another argument. The group cleaved in half again when the promise of civilization reared its head. Your group had divided again at the markers, disappearing into the thick woods. 

Almost no one survived the winter that year. You’d held the hands of all the dying and covered them under a thick blanket of snow before dividing their possessions up between the remainder of the group. In the end, there were just three of you. And when the winter rolled away you all broke apart, whatever ties that held you all together broken by the cold. 

The next year you were the only one in your camp. 

The markers had become a sort of prayer to you, that one day you’d meet someone else on the road - some scream and shout that there were others out there even if you were too wary to speak to them.

But it’s been two years - the crude paint of the West Village sign fading, the body snatchers warning falling to the earth unceremoniously. The wood started to rot. 

And you were utterly alone. Around you, the sound of nature getting ready for the winter fills in the ever-present silence that usually surrounds you. It’s been weeks since you’d last seen a person: a lone traveler moving in the opposite direction as you. And you’d hid from them, worried that they were the sort of feral people turned into when they were alone for too long - a body snatcher. Worried that you were that kind of feral. 

You know the markers when you approach them like your body’s memorized the number of steps it takes to reach them. Your chest thumps as you approach the spot where they should be nailed to a tree, growing taller into the air each year. Your boots falter against the wet leaves as you approach the place. 

The markers have been repainted. Or at least the West Village one has. This time it’s nailed to a post in the ground; you bend down to inspect the dirt around the post. It’s packed underneath a thick layer of loam - whoever put it up must have put it up much earlier in the year. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. You wonder if any members of your former group are still there. 

For half a second, you think about following the arrow, but before the thought can fully form in your head, you let your feet carry you forward on the path. Just ahead is the rest area you’ve always used. Your tree, one with branches high enough that the only things who can see you are the birds whose nests you disturb, erupts from the ground ahead of you.

You climb up like you were taught; throwing your rope onto the first branch you can physically reach and lash it to yourself. It’s more difficult to climb the tree with your pack and bow, but you don’t want to risk leaving it behind for anyone who may come through after you. When you reach the point where the rope reaches the tree, you pull yourself onto the branch. The blister on your ankle is screaming, but you don’t pause until your hammock is secure and your harness is wrapped around you. The cool wind cuts through the thin fabric of the hammock, but it’s not too cold as you peel back your socks to reveal an angry raw spot crawling across your ankle.

Too tired to do much more, you slide your other boot off, tying them together and then to your pack. The gentle sway of the trees makes your eyelids heavy, and you let yourself drift off into the first good night's sleep you’ve had in a while. 

The bitter cold wakes you up, the wind moving your hammock back and forth gently. The darkness spins above you, clouds backlit by the moon. Not for the first time you think about how easy it used to be, curled up with another warm body beneath the thick blankets - how easy it was to switch on the percolator in the morning and wrap your hands around a warm cup of coffee, how easy -

You press the heel of your hands into your eyes and try to press away the thoughts that are racing through your brain. Remembering the before drives people crazy; you’ve seen how it can eat people up and you refuse to let it eat at you. So you pull your thermal blanket closer around yourself and try to get some sleep.

But the sun rises earlier than you expected and extra sleep never comes. 

It doesn’t take long for you to pack what little you have back in your pack and descend back down. At the bottom you dig out the little bit of jerky you still have saved from the summer months; it’s disgusting, but it’s enough to push you forward to the next place. 

You walk the entire time with your bow in your hand, waiting for some animal to run out in front of you and meet its mark, but the forest is silent today as you push towards the next stop in your journey north, a small nameless village secluded away from the rest of civilization - just good enough to sleep in for the night. 

The sun has just started to sink below the treeline when the village finally springs into view. The blister on your ankle has popped, and you think you can feel blood rushing into your sock, but you don’t dare stop and check; you don’t want the scent of fresh blood to attract any Biters that may be hidden away for now. Your fingers cramp around the bow and your stomach growls. You’d picked a smooth rock up from the ground hours earlier and popped it into your mouth to try and trick yourself into thinking you were eating something, but it hadn’t worked. If anything it made your hunger worse.

There was salvation coming - on your second year coming through here you’d snuck off from the group and buried a cache. Each year you did your best not to touch it unless it was to refill something inside of it, but this year you knew you’d have to empty it. 

You crunch over tire tracks that crisscross over each other on the main road into the village; they’re dry enough that you know whoever managed to scrape up enough gas to drive in and out was gone, but the thought of someone driving up on you made you nervous, and make your steps quicken. If people were driving through here then you needed to be gone before sunlight tomorrow. 

Weary, you push yourself towards the back half of the village to a little two-story you know well. It had been the same house your group, and then yourself, slept in each year on your way to the north camp; in the back, beneath an overturned chair that was slowly rotting with time, your little cache was stored. 

You shoulder your way through the half-rotted back gate and freeze. The chair is tossed to the side, rusted parts puzzle pieced across the ground. And directly where your cache had been buried is a hole, smoothed over from time and rain. 

You could cry if you had any water left in you to cry. So instead you walk numbly into the house - habit making you click the lock on the door even though it’s long since stopped working. The same thick dust that was here last year is still across the floor, so thick your steps don’t even disturb it. You pass through the living area and up the steps. On the landing, you don’t pause - to the left of you is the nursery that’s always been empty. The first few times you’d stopped here the sight of the broken-down white crib and sage walls made something ache inside of you, and you’d learned not to look. It’s better to just let things alone and try to stifle your imagination.

The attic ladder swings down with ease and you test your weight on the rungs before climbing up - any broken bones and you may as well just shoot yourself where you lay. It creaks ominously beneath you but keeps as you clamber through the hole. You let yourself collapse on the floor beside the ladder after pulling it up, and wrapping a rope around the ladder to keep anyone from pulling it down in the night. All at once, hunger and exhaustion pull you down towards the floor. 

You’ll have to shoot something tomorrow and check the well for fresh water. There are still to many miles before you make it north enough to be safe for the winter, and you won’t make it without water and food. 

You try to distract yourself from the cramping of hunger and how little water is left in your jug by peeling your boots off. As you’d thought, the blister had split and bled, but thankfully your sock had caught most of it. 

You clean up the best you can in the dusty light filtering in from the little window that looks out the back garden and wonder who could have known the cache was there. An old group member who spotted you checking it in the past? Or was it a lucky guess, someone who came through after you and spotted the freshly disturbed dirt and came to the right inference?

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter as you pull your thermal blanket from your pack and lay down, but you can’t quite convince yourself of that lie. 

[sevs-corner]

Quick one shots on: Tf 141: Mafia AU

Link to prev (connected part to this!)

So, last part ended with you and your first date with Price (well at least you hoped so) and this time, take a walk with me as to how it went with Ghost.

Let's make it clear though that he was one of the last people to "fully" accept you within the family under Nonna and Nonno's guidance.

Despite that, he was the fastest to be so down bad.

Man is so experienced- just like the others- but to him, himself

He feels like a man failure

And he tried to make it up to you by getting a plushie...

That he kind of commissioned from one of friends from the knitting group he was in (yes that is his hobby on the side, but he's not gonna let anyone be privy to that information besides the 3- now 4- people he trusts)

He, lowkey, is still shy of showing his own creations- hence, the commission

Of course he also tries hiding this fact from you, but seeing you hold it with so much love and care made him feel more confident and want to create more things with and for you

Not to say you were shocked, but you were…

Shocked.

Gobsmacked?

Befuddled?

Anyways, speechless, from how Ghost had just willingly asked you to come along with him.

“To…” you began hesitatingly, “where…exactly?”

You see him fidget, arms tucked into his hoodie- which you were also surprised by from how casual his fit was. From the jeans, flats, and the plain medical mask on his face- quite a contrast to the fancy suits he’d usually wear while on the job or when visiting the bakery, or whenever you see him really.

You see him mask move but no words come out so you ask if you could repeat it.

He didn’t reply, huffing before tugging you out the door.

“Woa-woah hey!”

Ghost, in all of his bulky self, managed to slip through the ajar door and pull you through it as well with ease.

“Ghost-!” You try and pull to stop him, “Ghost! Wait- I have to change!!”

Though he wouldn’t budge, forcing you down your apartment’s stairs and out the front, and straight in the shotgun of his car. Once you got situated in, he buckled you up, patted your thigh and closed the door.

You didn’t know if you quite missed something when you last talked to the guy.

Or… you finally the crossed the line and they were gonna get rid of you—!

No- no, don’t go there.

They’ve already proven as much that they would never ever do that to you. So, benefit of the doubt, maybe it was an emergency.

Well, it is an emergency-- for Simon, that is.

Simon is in a panic.

Why did he have to drag you outside your own room?!

You were going to hate him for sure…

But he’s a committed man, what happened- happened, and he’s going to stick with the schedule for today (to which he forgot to share with you in his anxiousness and just assumed you knew.)

He also thought that you didn't need to change? You were already dressed up as far as he knew (no you weren't by your standards), he was wearing his 'house clothes' himself, you know?

No, you didn't. You would have assumed that he was alike you in the sense that you had clothes distinct for staying at home and going out.

Too bad for you that this man can't tell the difference! ('cause all he's seen you in are your work clothes for the bakery and the type of clothes you wear now when he visits your apartment.)

Once he rounded the car, he shuts those thoughts out and enters the vehicle, hoping to start off fresh--

"g'mornin'."

He grunts out and you looked at him, quite confused at the timeline of events, but greeted him all the same.

"Good morning to you to, I guess?" You watch him hum and nod, switch the stick to drive, and just-- drive off from your apartment.

"So," you ask, "are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

He grunts again, and you think that's his only dialogue option until he talks a couple minutes later, at a moment when you least expect it when you were gazing at the passing buildings.

"To the park," you hear him mumbled, "didn't you read the itinerary?"

"the what?" your turned aghast, "run that by me again-- the itinerary?"

"Did you not get one?" Ghost looked at you for a moment, his face looking quite pale and similar to his moniker.

"Shite, didn't I send you a text last night?" He speaks a bit more quickly, which makes you in turn and panic yourself because you've never seen this man act like this.

So you check quickly, "just your usual good night cat meme message!"

Which makes him more frustrated, "are you serious? not a link to a document or anything?"

"Seriously!"

You then shoved your phone to his peripheral, but not in the way of his driving, but just enough that he can glance at it to check it himself.

Damn did he wanted to sock himself in the face so much right now.

"Oh," you could see his tense shoulders slump, "m' sorry, prolly' forgot to send it to ya' then."

Clearing the confusion took the whole car ride, from him worryingly planning everything to you reassuring that it was fine and you were even excited to go out with him!

Of course you wanted to get to know better this recluse of a man (for your safety but your curiosity needed to be satiated as well) and find out a way to repay him for taking care of you so far.

(As Soap sometimes drunkenly whispers to you how Ghost would go out of his way and be late to their meeting just because he sometimes passes by your apartment to get rid of some drunkards or teens that's hoping to sneak in to your apartment building to party or what not.)

So, you thought of this as the perfect opportunity to do just that!

Once you arrived at the park hand-in-hand, you quickly pulled him towards the pond where some of colorful ducks where at. You always would coo at them whenever you pass by the area and the ducks seemed to squack back in response! Some even swam towards the shoreline, albeit slowly, still wary of your presence.

Ghost, oh dear his poor heart.

From the way you intertwined his clammy hand in yours and just pulled him without much effort and then now to you, acting so cutely with the ducks.

He swear he could burst at any moment.

But then he sees you turn to him, waving him over with a bright smile, the light bouncing off your hair, your eyes reflecting the clear blue waters-- he swore to himself that he never speed-walked that fast in his life.

He kneels besides you, quite awkwardly because he didn't know what to do there really, and watched you pet the duck, cooing at with the duck honking happily on your lap.

Your giggles, they were so light and uplifting, it just felt like cotton in his ears, bouncing in his brain as if they were echoes.

"Simon?"

Your voice snaps him out of his stupor and he looks at you, one eyebrow raised with a hum.

"Would you," you offer your hand to him, "like to pet... Quaker flakes?"

He chuckles, "why the hell is it named 'quaker flakes?'" Despite his quip, he offers his hand to you anyways, with you grabbing it and gently laying it on the duck's back.

"Well, it's yellow and looks crunchy!"

He raises his brows in amusement and he couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips.

"Crunchy?" He asks, "Already hungry?"

He sees your cheeks blossom but immediately misses it when you turn away in a huff.

"Am not!"

"Really now?" He continues to tease, now sitting more comfortably as he got closer to you.

"Yes," you curtly replied, "even though you snatched me away as I was about to eat my breakfast."

This time Ghost pouts at this, throwing an arm around your shoulder so he could use his outstretched hand to swivel your head back to him and he could see your eyes widen by a cinch at how smooth it was.

"Why don't I..." he moves in closer to your ear, "...treat you then?"

His own eyes sparkle at your reaction, squirming and tense- usually he'd take delight in this reactions from the people he tortured but from you... jeez, something was stirring at pit of his stomach.

"For free?"

Yet that look didn't last long with your cheeky grin on your pink chapped lips, and he swore beneath his breath, eyes rolling at how 'you' the response was.

"Yes," he grins, "just this time."

You pout- stop tempting him- and ask, "just a one-time offer?"

He was just inches away from you, one shove from either of you and it would close the distance.

He was hoping, praying, that the would be strong enough to do it because he sure as hell wasn't.

"Just," he bops your nose, "this once." Then pulls away, with him standing up and dusting his legs- hoping you'd miss how dilated his eyes were or how his cheeks and ears felt insanely hot at the moment.

You giggle to yourself, scrambling after him as you both left the pond and duck who honked for you as you left.

Now happy and filled, eating by the bench and the food stand, Ghost decides to hand you a box.

"What's-" you swallow your food quickly, "this for?"

You scrambled to get a napkin, surprised that Ghost- himself- was giving you something out of nowhere.

"A present," he grumbles, "the napkins are here."

With a quick, "thanks," you wiped your hands clean and looked at the box more closely. The wrap was a soft pastel blue with a yellow foil ribbon on top, it just being the size of Simon's palm.

You gazed back at him and you saw the expectance in his eyes so you inhaled and slowly unraveled the wrapper.

Carefully peeling it apart until you opened it, gasping at how cute the crocheted coaster was. It had a flower pattern as the base, colored blue as if it was the water you'd seen earlier, a tiny duck sat at the edge with two small mint green plants besides it, and some tiny flowers around its base.

"I got it made," Ghost explains voice tight, "do...you like it?"

His voice gradually became softer and you had to turn to him, you had to face him when you said--

"I love it, Simon."

Ghost- no, Simon... became a very happy man.

Even more so with your promises to keep it safe, to use it at home when you study, and to take care of it with so much careful consideration because it came from him.

Yeah, you could say that he's definitely downbad now.

Picture of the gift from Ghostie hehe

You can check out more of my works here in this masterlist !

[ghcstao3]

dunno if this is anything but i have in my head a ghostsoap persuasion au just rattling around…

i hope you mean the jane austen persuasion because if not i am so very sorry. here’s a little drabble but i’d love to hear your take

(period-typical homophobia is nonexistent here) (setting is also tweaked a little)

-

John stands frozen, feeling as if a bucket of cold water has just been poured over him as his eyes catch those that have continued to haunt his mind for nearly a decade.

Eight years. Eight years since he had broken off his engagement with Simon; eight years since John has seen the man last. And against all odds, eight years later, here Simon stands at a gathering in the very house where John had called things off after immense pressure from his family to do so.

Simon looks... good. He's always been handsome, but the years have lent him a certain ruggedness that adds to his charm—surely a cause of his time in the navy. Simon had only been enlisted for a short time before things ended between him and John, but John sees now that his uniform indicates he's climbed the ranks to Captain.

He must've recently come home.

John still can't bring himself to move, so it's Simon who ends up approaching him.

"John," Simon greets, and how it stings, "it's been some time, hasn't it?"

"It has." John tries not to wince at the words catching in his throat. "How—how have you been? I—"

"Well enough,” Simon says. Then he ducks his head, lowering his voice so as to not allow others to eavesdrop, “What are you doing here, Johnny?”

John swallows thickly. Though Simon's words are terse, his tone isn't at all resentful like John might've imagined it would be. No, no it's—it's almost... pained.

If John revels in the warmth of their closeness for just a moment, then he should just hope that Simon is none the wiser.

"Was visiting my sister,” John says. “And I was asked to check on the house. My parents, they—“

“They’re renting to my brother and his wife,” Simon finishes. He shrinks back, shoulders relaxing with a mix of relief and realization and... something else. Something John can't quite place.

A terrible silence falls over them, in spite of the low hum of chatter from those all around the gathering.

"...I'm sorry," John blurts. Simon's brows immediately knit together, but he says nothing to dismiss the sudden apology. The slight curve of Simon's frown, the new scars that adorn his skin—they all spur John on to continue. So John's words all tumble out at once: "I'm sorry for how things ended, Si—Simon. I never should have—if you can't forgive me, then I can't blame you."

John braces himself for a scoff, for a response marked by disdain, but it isn't either of these reactions that he receives. Instead, all Simon does is offer a sad, subdued smile.

“I could never fault you,” says Simon. “As much as I’ve missed you. But we’re different people now, Johnny. And—“

“But do we have to be?” John pleads.

Taken aback by the response, Simon wets his lips before pulling them into a thin line. He sighs and glances around, a certain hollowness weighing on his expression that hadn’t existed in all the time John had known him prior.

Ultimately, Simon hangs his head a moment before those dark eyes return to John’s, far too earnest and hurt.

“I’m afraid we do.”

John opens his mouth to argue, but eventually his jaw can only snap shut with nothing to say. Numbly, he nods, and makes no move to stop Simon from returning to a conversation with a group of guests.

And now with no more reason to stay, John takes his leave with his spirits dampened.

[orange-peony]

Thank you for tagging me @monbons and @leithillustration!

I've been working on one of my collabs for the CORBB. Here's a snippet (Simon's POV):

“Snow,” he says, as if in shock. As if my existence on a bus was something surprising. “Baz,” I reply. “Hi. Hello. Ho—how are you doing? Fancy seeing you here.” His eyes are so beautiful from up close. His eyelashes are ridiculously long. They even curl up at the end. “You mean on public transport in general or on this specific bus?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. “No, I-I-I…” I stutter, calling myself an idiot for not thinking about what I should have said should this occasion ever happen. I feel my face catching fire. I watch both of his eyebrows go up. “Do you often take this bus?” he asks, sounding nonchalant. “I—er…” “Every day,” Betty supplies, turning around and smiling at Baz. “He even helps me carry my bags, since we’re heading the same way. Simon is such a nice lad. I am Betty, by the way.” “How do you do, Betty,” Baz says, forever the gentleman (unless he’s talking to me). “I shall return to my knitting and leave you boys to talk,” she says pleasantly. Baz turns around and seems to study me for a long moment. My palms start sweating, and my breathing accelerates. Is he going to say something? Is he going to stop taking this bus?   “You smell like cinnamon,” he says instead. “And freshly baked bread.”

Tags under the cut, but before I cut, please send us prompts for the @carry-on-au-fest !

@pato-roldnart , @bubble-gumhead , @cutestkilla , @thewholelemon , @artsyunderstudy , @iamamythologicalcreature , @mooncello , @hushed-chorus , @larkral , @letraspal , @you-remind-me-of-the-babe , @facewithoutheart , @emeryhall , @imagineacoolusername , @alexalexinii , @fatalfangirl , @wellbelesbian , @shrekgogurt , @skeedelvee , @blackberrysummerblog , @rimeswithpurple and anyone who fancies sharing a WIP of any kind

[mushroomnoodles]

What’s the petrigrof family dynamic like once they return to Ooo and as Morrigan gets older in the WizardBetty Au

after they take the portal back to ooo, simon is welcomed with open arms by marceline, who hes been keeping tabs with using the phone that has service through universes. betty, however, quickly gets overwhelmed and uncomfortable- she hasn't been around this many people in... well, an extremely long time, and it doesn't help that marceline is clearly the little girl she failed to save.

this world is absolutely nothing like the one betty left, either- she's gotten so used to wastelands and being hunted by oozers and wild animals that being completely domestic in a world where she's reasonably safe feels... wrong.

her wizard status is confirmed, and after a few extra tests on her run by pb (due to the fact she fell in the Lich's well) she and simon settle back into the human city with morri.

but even after settling, betty feels the waves of her sadness rise. she's been surviving for so long.. she used to be an extrovert, she used to be so fun loving and free and she was a university student, a budding archeologist.. she's so different now. and she feels alienated doubly by the modern humans. she and simon have a lot of discussions about reopening simon's exhibit in a bigger place; it's good money but they worry for morrigan's safety.

but betty isn't really feeling great. it's her turn to get into a depressive funk.

she gets therapy on simon's suggestion, and it was a lot to get used to, but minerva is helping with her MMS and learning to properly grieve her simon and the world and self she lost.

two years or so after returning to Ooo, simon and betty open up a small museum- a live-in museum house combo dedicated to pre-war humanity, where the front is the museum and the back is the private living space. betty prefers to hang in the back and take care of morri and stuff while simon runs the exhibitation and gives tours- she's still getting used to people, and she's been taking up gardening, knitting, crocheting.. stuff to keep her hands busy.

she also really enjoys trying out new recipes! in the "current" time (where simon is pregnant with baby #2) she's looking forward to growing some actual food that she can cook with this year. she's grown some herbs before but this is the first time she's given veggies a try!

although morri is getting to be a handful.. they're dreadfully curious about everything and betty's really starting to see herself in the little guy.. they're very hands on and intelligent and they surprise her every day with how well articulated and versed they are.