#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)

[bunny-jpeg]

"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

[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 inexperienced- 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

[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.

[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.

[ghostmoon1]

Dusted Rivalries - Chapter Seven

Chapter Six | Master List | Chapter Eight

Call of Duty Fic - Task Force 141 - Cowboy AU

Summary: You tried so hard, but somehow your hardest wasn't enough. Your distraught, but the boys are still proud of you.

Paring: You'll find out soon :3

Words: 2,628

Warnings: Reader is upset, lil depressed, overthinking slightly

A/N: This ones more of a filler chapter, but I really like it :3 I think we're gonna dive into it a lil more after this one!

“How long has she been in there?”

Johnny’s hands tapped against the kitchen table, slightly slumped over and face creased with worry. The third-place ribbon sat in the middle of the table, bright red contrasting against the dusty and scratched wood. His brows knit together in worry, his non-stop tapping on the table the only sound in the room.

“Since we got back from the dog show… I don't think she’s handling it well. She wanted to win, for the farm. Third place prize isn’t much,” Kyle replies. He sat adjacent to Johnny, watching his fingers tap against the wood with a defeated expression. He was by no means disappointed in you, he was disappointed at the judges. In his opinion, you did the best out of everyone at that dog show. Considering Dolly was an older dog, and you both had only trained for about a week. He was proud, but they all knew no matter how much they tried to convince you, you’d only fall deeper into the hole you were digging for yourself right now.

“She shouldn’t beat herself up over it, she did well!” Johnny exclaims, sighing and resting his head in his palm. He felt horrible that you were beating yourself up over this, he almost felt as if they should be blaming it on themselves. They were the ones with money problems and now you're trying to help them.

In a way it was their fault, if you agreed or not.

Kyle and Johnny remained slumped over at the table as John walked in, holding his mug to his lips. His brows knit together, obviously feeling the aftermath of the dog show as well. “Have you heard from her?”

Both men shake their heads, Johnny lifting his gaze to meet John’s. “She hasn’t left her room,” he mutters, tracing his fingers against the wood grain of the table with a sigh.

“What do we do? She’d probably want time alone, but she’s a mess. I don’t want to leave her like this, we don’t know how she might get when she’s depressed like this,” Kyle sighs. His gaze stays locked onto the table as he speaks, his mind silently drifting off to things he didn’t want to think about. 

They were overthinking and they knew it, but they couldn’t help but think of the bad things that could happen. In the drive home, you were distraught, sobbing apologies without barely breathing at all. No one knew what to do or how to help. Johnny has become your pillow the whole way, his shirt stained with your tears. He didn’t know what to say, all he could do was keep his arm tightly around your side and let you cry. That’s all he knew what to do.

“She hasn’t eaten since she got home as well. She had a shit breakfast because of the rush we were in,” Johnny adds, watching John practically wince at the information.

“I don’t want to drag her out of her room, but…”

The room goes silent as they count their options. Dragging you out seemed a bit excessive, but if you needed to eat they wanted to make sure you did. Meanwhile, if they left you in there by yourself, they didn't know if you would come out to eat at all and that scared them.

The silence is broken by the front door, the loud racket making them snap their head towards the door and watch as Simon trudges inside, throwing off his rain-soaked coat and peeling away his shoes that were leaking over the floor.

“How’s the old girl?” Johnny asks, studying how he was soaked from the rain. His mask was clinging to his face, it had to be making it hard to breathe.

“Bit cold, gave her her coat. She’ll stay warmer in the stables, so I let her in there. She’s covered in mud, couldn’t bring her inside,” he mutters in response as he turns and locks the door before walking into the kitchen. He made a beeline for the kettle, flicking it on and taking a mug out of the cupboard. “She seems fine… not exhausted or anything,” he continues almost reluctantly.

“Better than lass, she’s a mess,” Johnny mutters and returns his attention to tracing the wood grains. Simon stares at him for a moment, his brows furrowing as he watches the concern pasted on everyone's face. 

“What's up with her?” he mutters as he takes a seat at the table with his cup of tea in hand, slowly sipping at it.

“She got third place in the dog show, you would’ve known if you came,” Johnny explains, eyeing him with a raised brow as if he was questioning him why he didn’t come. He gestures to the red ribbon on the table and then continues. “She’s beating herself up over it. Absolute wreck.”

“She didn’t win anything but a ribbon?”

“She won one grand cash… but she thinks it ain’t enough.”

John hums and frowns, setting his mug on the table. “That’s plenty, that helps us. That can buy the horse feed, lets us put more money towards our debt?”

“She wanted first, we all hoped for it. The first was a whopping ten grand, which would’ve helped a lot. But one grand still helps, if she thinks it does or not,” Johnny continues with a sigh.

“She can’t stay in that room, she needs to take her mind off it,” Kyle says with a sigh as he pushes himself up from the table. He fixes his jacket as he takes a few steps back, mentally preparing himself for the mess he’ll probably find you in.

“Want us to come with?” Johnny mutters, sitting up further so he’s ready to leap up if needed.

Kyle pauses for a moment. He knew you’d like to see them all, but what if all of them coming into your room would overwhelm you? He didn’t want to take that risk when you were already in such a fragile state. “I’ll go in and ask, don’t want to overwhelm her, huh?”

The boys all nod in understanding, letting Kyle walk up the hallway to your room. He pauses outside the wooden door, the white paint covered in scratches and dints over years of this house being lived in. He reaches out to knock, but his body pauses as he hears a muffled sound coming from inside. He hesitates, holding his breath and he leans in further to get a better idea of what that sound was. 

There it is again.

His heart wrenches as he realises what that sound is, you were crying. He hated that sound, he wanted to barge inside and wrap you up in his arms, whisper to you it was okay and that they were all proud of you regardless of the results. He gains the courage and gently knocks on your door, listening to your sniffles pause and you clear your throat. 

“Come in,” your voice cracks slightly as you call out.

He gently pushes the door open, his eyes widening slightly as he witnesses you cuddled underneath your sheets, eyes red and puffy with tear stains running down your face still. Your nose is red from blowing it so much, still sniffling lightly. His heart breaks as he sees you in such an upset state. 

His eyes trail down, noticing how the bed sheets are mostly tangled and the pile of used tissues in a small bin next to the bed. His eyes dart around the room for a moment. The whole bedroom was shrouded in darkness, the thick curtains not letting any light pass. The few posters and small items you placed around the room to make it more homey, so you feel more comfortable in here. You had just randomly started living here, considering the boys were so kind to you and you felt like you just clicked in instantly. It was better than the shitty flat you had tried to afford, although it was a struggle in today's economy. It was infinitely better than staying at your dad's ranch, there wasn’t any yelling nor being lectured that ‘you were an equestrian, you have to know how to do dressage! That's what the whole ranch is dedicated to!’. 

You sniffled again as Kyle stepped further into the room, his brows furrowing with worry as his eyes darted over your form. “Oh love, this isn’t good for you,” he murmurs as he sits down on the edge of the bed with you, watching the tears glisten in your eyes. 

“I didn’t win… I let everyone down…” you murmur, stuffing a tissue into your face again to clear the tears that had started to fall again.

“You didn’t let anyone down, you did us all proud, love. That one grand you won? That still helps. That keeps our horses fed, so we can still look after the cattle. Trust me, it helps.”

He reaches out to place his hand on your shoulder, trying to offer comfort without overstepping boundaries. His fingers gripped your shoulder gently, trying to bring you back to earth and out of your mind. He could tell it was a dark place right now. He didn’t want you to fight this alone.

“But-”

“No buts, love,” he murmurs, lifting his hand and placing his thumb over your lips. Your heart flutters at the touch, feeling the warmth of his thumb against your lips as he traces them gently. “You did us all proud. We are so proud of you. You came third place out of how many people? Like… thirty? That's amazing love. You did well, stop beating yourself up over it.”

He watches your lips tremble and turn into a pout, his heart thumping at his chest and screaming at him to just pick you up into his arms. His fingers twitched against your shoulder. You almost didn’t realise until he squeezed just a little tighter.

You let out a sigh in defeat, you knew that you wouldn't be able to keep this up with him and the rest of them would be feeling the same. You wouldn't win against all of them. You weren’t sure about Simon though, he might not care at all for all you know. 

“Now c’mon love, let's get some food and water into you,” he murmurs, gently pulling your shoulder to get you out of bed. You reluctantly follow, knowing you won’t be able to get out of this no matter how hard to fight. You let him untangle your feet from the bed sheets. His hands were caring and gentle, soft skin brushing against your own.

With a groan you push yourself up, letting the soft blankets fall off your shoulders. You notice his eyes linger for a moment before he pulls you up, smiling warmly as he helps you up onto wobbly feet. You hold onto him as he leads you back into the hallway, the sunlight filtering in through the windows momentarily blinding you. You watch your feet as you walk for a moment, padding against the hard wooden floor before the sound of hushed voices from the kitchen catches your attention.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, the light tries to blind you once again. Once your eyes adjust, you’re met with faces etched with worry and concern. Johnny’s worry was the most obvious, his brows furrowed and his body rigid. His lips were pressed together, almost pouting as he watched you walk in, and he was quick to question. “How are yer feelin’ lass?”

“Yeah… I’m okay,” you reply softly, your voice a croaky mess from not talking for a while and the non-stop crying. Your reply earns you a glare and a raised eyebrow from Kyle as if he was challenging what you said. He knew you weren’t really okay.

“We just need to get her to eat,” Kyle speaks for you, removing his hand from your shoulder and resting it at his side. Your shoulders slump slightly from the loss of contact, but you didn’t dare to mention it.

John sits up at the mention of food. “I’ll cook us some lunch,” he murmurs before he busies himself in the kitchen. The soft clatter of pots and pans follows as he begins to cook.

Kyle leads you to a seat next to Johnny who instantly sits up as you plunk yourself down with a huff. “Yer know we’re proud of yer lass, right? You did us all proud out there,” Johnny murmurs, leaning down slightly so he can look you in the eyes as he tries to convince you. 

You hum in response, still not fully believing it but knowing better than to argue back about it. Your fingers trace the grains of wood on the table, studying the way it wraps around each knot in the wood. Johnny sighs softly and stands, moving behind you for a moment. ”Just know we’re proud, yeah?” he says softly before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Heat pools in your stomach at the unexpected show of affection,  your fingers curling into your fist. “Yeah…” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. He smiles and pats your shoulder before leaving the room.

Kyle grins at the interaction, squeezing your shoulder before following Johnny. You hear their voices slowly quieten, saying something about Dolly as they head out the back door.

Your chest squeezes as you notice you're now left in the room, alone.

With Simon.

His gaze has remained hard the whole time, not leaving you. You don’t know if you're supposed to say something, stand up against him. Yell at him that you're not scared, or just run out of the room and find Johnny and Kyle again. You’d rather deal with Johnny’s bold moves and overly friendly nature than Simon’s stoic one.

His eyes harden slightly as he studies you for a moment longer, his arms crossed in front of his chest. You feel your stomach flutter in anxiety, your palms already starting to sweat under his intense gaze. 

You feel your whole body break out in a cold sweat as he pushes himself off the cabinet he was leaning on, slowly stepping towards the table before taking a seat. The chair creaks slightly under his weight, but you could swear you could snap under the weight of his gaze.

“You did well, y’know”

You jump upright at his statement, confusion clouding your brain. He said what? You knew he hated the idea of the dog show, but you had gone against his wishes to do it. You would’ve thought you’d come home if you had won or not and would’ve gotten your ear torn off by him. But he just… complimented you? Was this actually Simon, or maybe you were sleeping. Maybe all of this was a dream. 

You stutter slightly as you make yourself reply. “Sorry?”

He grunts softly but repeats. “You did well. Y’know, in the dog show.”

Your face heats up as the realisation of what he said hits you. He thinks you’ve done well. Your heart flutters slightly as you feel your mouth become dry. 

He notices your stuttering and how you struggled to speak, then continues. “You taught Dolly well, she looked like she had fun,” he mutters almost reluctantly. You open your mouth to question but he beats you to it. “I watched it online.” He pauses for a moment, running over his words in his mind. His fingers gripped the table as he struggled to find his words. “I should’ve come… I…” he pauses again, physically struggling to get the words out. You sit and watch in silence, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “I’m sorry.”

[ Tag List: @sleep101 , @jooba , @daydreamsareallineed ]

[snurtsnurtcreations]

The Fisherwoman Pt 2

Call of duty pirate au outline part 2 (links: part 1, part 3, part 4)

Pirate captain Soap x Former navy officer now pirate first mate Ghost x fisherwoman reader

Welcome to my most recent brainworm :D Enjoy!

Warnings: torture scene, slightly suggestive scene

One day, the boys tell you not to wait up for them, they’ll have a meeting with their crew members at a nearby pub. You encourage them to have a little fun and enjoy themselves. They promise to be home before morrow. They leave with a tender kiss on the cheek at the door. You deny yourself a flush, and squash the flutter in your stomach. You have to busy yourself with something before you remind gets away from you with worries, fantasies, anxieties.

So you settle into a rhythm with the neighbor girl, teaching her how to sew and mend clothing. The whole neighborhood is a tight knit community, so of course everyone knew when two strangers made their appearance in the fisherwoman’s home. Some had even guessed as to the legality of their being here, but after Simon had jumped in the sea to save a child and Johnny had charmed the elderly by helping them home whilst carrying their loaded baskets, everyone in the community had welcomed them and quickly become protective of them

Nobody told Graves about the two residing (and, the old wives gossiped mischievously, possibly in a relationship with) the young fisherwoman.

A knock at the door interrupts the sewing lesson. You tell the young girl to keep at it while you check who’s at the door.

When you swing it open and Graves’ smug face meets you, pistol at the ready, you are only quick enough to shout “Run!” before you’re pistol whipped into unconsciousness.

The neighbor girl makes it out of the house  safely and absolutely books it to the pub she heard Simon and Johnny would be at. She bursts into the pub sobbing and blubbering. Simon catches her and tries to calm her down. Johnny offers her some water. She chugs eagerly, and as soon as she’s downed it, gasps for breath and blurts out “They’ve got her! The bad shadow men, they got her! They broke into her house!”

The two are already out the door, passing the crying girl to a crewman to take care of.

During the time it takes the girl to get to the city oub and the boys to get back, the shadow pirates have done a fair bit of damage. Cuts carved up and down all over your body, not enough to make you bleed out, but enough to hurt badly. And likely even scar.

Graves had asked a few questions at the beginning, but soon handed you off to a man called Trent and left, telling his group he’d be back later.

Now Trent was doing all the talking.

“Look, miss, we already know the two were here. We know you’ve been harboring criminals. This would all be much easier on you if you’d simply tell us what we want to know.”

You blink up blearily from where they’ve got you tied to a chair, maintaining a glare as best as you can as you watch one of the men scour through your kitchen cabinets. Rage sparks in your chest when he swipes all your dishes out and steals some of the candies Simon had brought you from the city.

You grit your teeth to ward off a yelp when Trent yanks your head up by the hair, stroking the delicate skin of your throat with a dagger.

Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. I’ll ask one more time.” he tilts the dagger just so, just barely slicing into your skin. “Where’re Soap and Ghost?”

“Closer than ye’d expect.” Johnny’s voice, low with anger, cuts through the air, right along with a bullet to the head of the man guarding the door.

Johnny slips through the window, easily taking out two more men, while Ghost gets through the now unguarded door, shooting Trent in the shoulder. Complete chaos breaks out.

Seeing the pirates dropping like flies, Trent resorts to his last hope and yanks you up out of the chair with a dagger pressed up against your throat.

“Let’s not do anything too rash now, hm gentleman?” Trent says, backing up a little away from the two men that were positively steaming with anger atm. You stumble a bit as he moves, one hand grasping nervously at his wrist, and the other settles on the counter in an attempt to stabilize your balance.

“Let. Her. Go.” Simon commands, pistol poised and ready.

“No, no I don’t think I will. Not until you both drop those guns, yeah?” The dagger bites into your skin and you can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Your hand on the counter clenches into a fist, and you flinch doubly at the sharp pain in your hand.

You had touched the broken glass that used to be your plates.

Johnny glares at Trent, but sets his pistol on the table. Simon’s jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth, scowl making it clear he’d rip Trent’s head off the first chance he got, but still he lowered his gun.

“Nah, all the way, Ghost. Right on the ground.”

Simon crouched, eyes digging venomously into Trent’s skull as he set his pistol down.

With feather-light touches over the counter, you carefully, carefully found the largest piece of glass you could.

Johnny looked ready to pounce on the man, eyes bouncing back and forth between your face, your throat, and Trent.

You clench the piece of glass in your fist, ignoring the slice of pain that shot up your arm.

Ghost straightened back up.

“Good, good.” Trent smirked, easing up the dagger’s pressure. “Now-”

You yanked his wrist out and away from yourself, getting the dagger just far enough away to maneuver the shard of glass in your first and stab it into Trent’s side.

Simultaneously, Johnny snatched the pistol right back up off the table and shot Trent as soon as you’d made some distance between you two. The dagger fell to the ground and Trent’s body followed soon after, gurgling around the wound in his neck.

You stumbled away from the body, collapsing onto your knees as you clutched your neck, your arms, trying so hard to hold yourself together.

Simon was quick to reach you, remorseful eyes darting over your form, hitching on every wound. You curl into him, allowing your tears to escape once you’re secure in his embrace.

You gasp and tremble with each sob that rips out of you.

“Hurts, Si. It hurts.” You warble

“I know. I know, love. I’m so sorry.”

Johnny had gone around to the other rooms and more sure the place was secure, checked that each body was really dead, before he allowed himself to kneel down next to you two.

A hand on Simon’s shoulder, to ground him, and the gentlest of brushes with the back of his fingers over your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch and letting out a shaky breath.

“S’alright noow, luv, we’ve gotcha. Yoo’re safe. We’ve gotcha.”

They patch you up best they can on their own, and then Simon goes to get the nearby doctor to check on you just in case. Johnny stays with you, even though by then you’re unconscious. The doctor, a well known figure in the neighborhood, is outraged to hear what has happened to you, and soon many folks of the neighborhood had rallied together to help dispose of the criminals who dared hurt the sweet fisherwoman.

The burial of the bodies had little reverence to it, with many a spat curse word. Some teenage boys help scrub and clean away and trace of blood in your house. The women who are notorious gossipers put their heads and hands togethers and make you a great big quilt (“we know she’s going ot hate resting so might as well make it as difficult as possible for her to get out of bed!”). The elderly folks put together a food basket to keep you well fed while you’re recovering (“and don’t let her take a single step towards work, y’hear?”)

Simon and Johnny are nearly overwhelmed by the fierce loyalty of the community, but they’re glad you’ve got such a widespread support system

The road to recovery for you is long and arduous. You wake the morning after, stumbling out of bed on shaky legs, nearly feverish as you claim you need to get work done. SImon tigs you back to bed with gentle words and gentler hands, reminds you that you need to rest, that your wounds need to heal.

You sit on the edge of the bed, look down at the bandages crisscrossed up and down your arms and abdomen. “...oh.”

Your fist clenches in the sheets as your breath hitches. And then you just. Sit there. Staring blearily at the bandages.

Simon settles beside you, lightly wrapping an arm around your shoulder. After a moment, you lean into him. His heart breaks as he feels tears soak into his shirt, silent, silent tears. He can’t help but feel guilty for what happened to you. He’d never wanted something like this to happen, for you to suffer for his crimes. Perhaps this whole thing had been a bad idea. Perhaps you’d have been safer if you’d never met them. He rests his cheek atop your head and squeezes you closer.

A shuffle behind the two alerts you both to Johnny waking up. He presses a kiss to your cheek and rifles a hadn through Simon’s hair.

“Come back t’ bed, luv.” He says, voice raspy. “Let’s rest a lil longer, aye?”

You nod hesitantly, brushing a kiss to Simon’s cheek with a whispered thank you as you start to turn.

He catches your face with his hands, thumbs gently wiping the tear tracks away, then brings you in for a soft kiss. The moment draws out a little. He helps you crawl back under the covers, into Johnny’s waiting arms, then shuffles in himself, chest pressed to your back.

Johnny tighten his arms around you, careful of your wounds. Here, enclosed within their loving arms, you’re safe, safe and secure and loved

As the days go by, you become more and more determined to get up and out and do something. Johnny and Simon are more and more determined to keep you in bed and let you rest and recuperate properly. You become antsy and irritated the longer you’re made to sit and do nothing as the two go about cooking meals and doing chores for you.

The neighbor girl comes to visit, breaking into tears at the sight of you, apologizing for not staying, for not being fast enough, for letting those men hurt you. You gather the girl up in your arms with a motherly smile and assure her she’d done the right thing, that it was her quick thinking and quick stride that had saved you from a worse fate. “Now I am safe and healing, see? If only someone would let me get out of bed once in a while, then I’d also not be going insane, but that’s neither here nor there”

The girl lights up as she exclaims that’s the other reason she came to visit, everyone knows you’re a workaholic so she brought a basket of yarn so you can keep your hands busy!

Slightly perturbed that the neighborhood knows you so well, but entirely grateful, you thank the girl for the fit and set to work

The two watch the exchange from the doorway, awfully smug at your workaholic tendencies being caught in 4k (and their hearts are close to bursting at the motherly behavior you displayed… but that’s neither here nor there)

A week later and you’re up and going around the house some, even if just to move to your father’s armchair to knit there while the boys waffle about the kitchen.

You’re healing just fine, thank you very much, don’t you dare exchange a worried look when you stumble a bit through the doorway. You’re fine. (Thank god they got rid of the chair you were tortured in, you notice it’s absence immediately) You’re fine. (Your fist clenches anxiously against the cut across your palm when you spot the new dishes. When had they gotten new ones?) You’re fine! (Oh god. Oh god, is that spot a blood stain on the floor. Did that not wash out. Is your home forever going to be sullied by this. Oh god.)

Nightmares become a fairly common occurrence. Usually you gasp awake, waking Simon in turn, light sleeper that he is. He coaxes you back to sleep with whispered assurances and promises of protection. You fall asleep with an ear pressed to his chest, your breaths syncing with his heartbeat. On bad days, you wake up screaming, panicked and desperate to get away. Even Johnny jolts awake at that, sitting up and blearily watching as you scramble off the bed and into the corner of the room, curling up into a ball.

He glances at Simon (and tries hard to ignore the heartbroken look in those eyes) then shuffles out of bed, crouching low beside you. You grip yur arms tightly, face buried in your knees, trembling. He asks lowly if he can touch you. You tremble for a moment longer, breath shuddering through your lungs as you finally jerk your head up and down. Johnny slowly slots himself against your side, carefully running a hand down your back.

“Breath wit’ me, aye?” He leads you through a couple breathes, eyes darting up when Simon quietly shuffles out to make a cup of tea.

Eventually your breathing evens out as you lean heavily into Johnny’s side. You eagerly accept the cup Simon offers, but don’t budge from the floor. Simon grabs the blankets off the bed (and the heavy quilt) and starts fluffing them out in a sort of nest around the two on the ground. You huff out a laugh, and their hearts immediately lift at the sight of your half smile.

“We can’t stay on the floor, Si.” Even as you say so, you make no move to get up.

“Why not?” He quirks an eyebrow teasingly. “Isn’t that much different from your rock of a bed.”

You gasp in mock offense and swear the bed would be far more comfortable, but  you snuggle deeper into Johnny’s hold all the same and scooch a bit to make room for Simon to settle down next to you, a blanket over everyone’s lap.

As the days go on, you heal faster, and soon even the bandages come off. The boys are always nearby as you carefully pick up your work again, and soon ferry on at your usual pace.

The guys start visiting the city every once in a while again to take care of business, but only one at a time, so one is always with you.

More often than not Johnny tags along with you when you row out to go fishing. He naps in the row boat, blissfully peaceful as it rocks to and fro. You tease him for not being much help and he remarks that he simply has faith you know what you’re doing. He always insists on being the one to row back though, and you’re not about to argue when you get to see those prominent back muscles of his get put to work.

Simon goes along with you when you head out to the McMillan residence, the one with the most children in the whole neighborhood. At the insistence of your neighbor, you’d agreed to go try and teach the children how to mend their own clothing, and to spin some tall tales while you’re at it. Essentially: babysitting duty. Simon turns out to be an absolute wonder with the kids, and they listen with rapt attention as he regales a story of sailing during a storm. Then when it’s time to sit still and listen to you teach, they all pay attention because “Mr. Simon said so!”

One sleepless night, you confess your fears that they’d leave you, that all of this is for naught. SImon sucks in a sharp breath and Johnny breaths out a curse word.

“No, no, love, never.” SImon assures hurriedly, “You mean the world to us.”

They admit they would need to leave for a little while, to find out who sent Graves and his men, to make sure they never come for you again, to make sure that when the two come back to stay for good it will be safe and everything will be taken care of.

“The t’ree of us? We’re one noow, always and forever. Where e’er we go you’ll be in our hearts.” Johnny states, no room for argument, “Hell, we’d marry yoo right noow if yoo’d ‘ave us.”

And oh, how very badly you want that to be the case. You breathlessly agree to the proposal (because what else could that have been). There may be no church offcial that would marry the three of you, but that’s not what matters to you. Not when a couple days later Simon comes home from the city and slips a ring on your finger, and you put one on Johnny’s, and Johnny one on Simon’s.

They confess that they’d like to take your surname for themselves once their pirating is over, since Simon Riley is legally a dead man, and the MacTavish name could paint a target on your backs. 

You three spend that night in each other’s arms with passionate love. A confession over and over again that you are one, that even when separated you will spend every day loving each other.

The following morning you wake before Simon for once, and you lie there in pure ecstasy, tracing the scars on Simon’s arm around your waist, grazing your fingertips against the lines of Johnny’s face. Yours, they are all yours. You chuckle briefly, breathlessly.

“What is it, love?” Simon’s sleep laden voice ghosts over the shell of your ear. Hm, maybe he wasn’t as asleep as you’d thought.

“Just… thinking.” You answer lightly, intertwining your fingers with his and peppering feather light kisses over Johnny’s chest, up his neck, over his face.

Johnny huffs once, a half laugh at waking to such ministrations, his eyelashes fluttering as he wakes.

“Mischievous today, are we?” You feel his rough voice rumble through his chest as he sets a hand on your hip.

You lift Simon’s hand to your lips, peppering kisses there, then giggle again.

“What?” The warmth of Simon’s breath prickles your skin.

“It’s just…” You chuckle softly, lining up your arm with his, “we match now.”

And indeed you do, his scar littered arm, all sharp angles and roiling muscle, next to your soft, smooth arm, covered in scars all the same.

When he sees what you’re saying, he melts against your back, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your neck. You shriek with laughter in response to the sudden attack, whine that it tickles.

“Silly hen.” Johnny chuckles next to you, tilting your head up with a finger. “Yeh cannae say things like that ‘nd not expect a reaction.”

Eventually, and of course far too soon for your liking, they get word that the ship repairs are complete and it’s ready for the sea.

You all trade heartfelt goodbyes. The two promise to be back in 3 months time, give or take a week or two. They kiss you adoringly and linger as long as they can. When you depart, you wave them off and watch them go, not leaving until you don’t see the ship over the horizon anymore

[witch-oftheflowers]

Lost Souls

AN: hello enjoy this full story for the monster AU! I love @/bluegiragi au and all this steams back to their universe. I justed wanted to put a twist on it in my way heheh enjoy!

The sun shines down through the heavy clouds. Bright white eyes linger up as the pale woman stared in awe.

She rarely saw the morning sun rise. Not like she used to. When she was alive.

Well... Technically alive?

She tilted her head as she waved her transparent hands through. Sun beam shore through her

Soft mumbles of 'awe' or 'oo' left her lips.

But she was so distracted. She didn't noticed the crunch of leaves behind her. Nor the many crunches of several people approaching her.

Last minute she whipped her head around 360. Her hand still rose. Her hair whispy and floating behind her as she stared

Four men. All monsters. Slowly creeping towards her.

Her white eyes flicker back to her normal brown eyes. She stopped her floating, being transparent. Having a soft glow to her now. Her pale tan skin shined as she seemed 'normal'

Landing on her feet, her long skirt flowing under her as she started to approach towards them.

"Who goes there?"

Her curly hair covered her figure. Hiding parts of her face. She seemed so lost. Her clothes were tatter, faded of color, blood stains litter her attire. It seemed period attire even.

"Just a lad looking for a lass." A deep voice echoed. The scent of cigar? Her eyes adjusted as the fog grew back in.

She stopped as she held her skirt firm in her hands. Getting ready to blow as she noticed the wings.

A dragon?

Then she noticed the others...

A Harpy?

Werewolf?

And...

Her eyes landed to the skull masked man. Feeling her soul tug towards him. She flinched back as she sighs a bit.

"I... I'm no lass?" She said, her voice cracked in broken English. She heard the deep laugh from the dragon. Her eyes widen as she scoffed

"You're a woman yes?"

"Sí."

"You're a lass..." He chuckled as he stopped before her. His cigar illuminated his face as he crossed his large arms. Noticing one wing on him even.

"What do you... Want?" She hesitated as she glared to the others.

Each man keeping a distance. Seeming ready to assist their leader it appeared.

The woman stalked forward as they got a better view of her.

She looked so young...

"I heard a myth of these woods..."

Myth?...

Her eyes soften as she knew what he meant. It was about her...

"A banshee...a crying woman. One that hasn't been able to rest..." The dragon stopped as he guaged her reaction.

She seemed so sad. Her eyes glancing down as she let him continue the myth.

"How long you've been here?"

"...as long I known..." Her voice was somber as she sighs. Her chest heaved as she didn't wanna continue this conversation. Getting herself ready to scream for them to leave.

But the whoosh of black mass covered her mouth before she could try. Her eyes flutter to the skull masked man as she glared. Her eyebrows knit as he returned the same glare.

"Dear.. give me a chance to explain why I'm here." The dragon spoke up as he realized her reluctance towards them.

"My name is John Price..." He said as he inched closer. His one wing flutter as he noticed the fear in her eyes

"Simon! Let her go." Price stated as he shot the large man a stare.

"Sir that wouldn't be wise" He stated back as he met his leaders stare.

"She's scared, it makes sense."

"Sir we need to be careful. The lass could attack-" the Harpy spoke up as he met her gaze

Ximena was getting overwhelmed as they bickered with themselves. Her hair floated up as she started to panic, eyes flickering white as she let out a high pitch screech.

Breaking through Simon's black mass as her vocal range kicked them back. The sound wave broke through the silence as the monsters were flung back.

Well the werewolf and Harpy were. The skull man and Price stood strong. Clinging to their surroundings as they tried to fight back the blast wave.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Her voice roared as she finished off the wave. Her hair a mess as it coated her face. Her breathing was labored as she felt a bit faint. Trying to stand strong as she watched Simon and Price getting back to their feet.

"Come on Lass... Hear us out." Price spoke up as he watched her sway. Her eyes flickering white to brown as she was enraged.

"No! I wanna...be alone." She spoke out as she tried to step back. But as she tried, her body succumbed as she went limp. Hair falling in spills around her as she fell

Price rushed over as he caught the woman. His cigar fell in the process as he cursed under his breath.

"Well we got the package.... Let's hope she'll adjust to whatever comes her way." He voiced as Ghost came behind him. His eyes glaring as he sighs

"What's so special about her anyways?"

"She killed multiple soldiers a month again half a team wiped out. Multiple generals wanted her capture... To test on her or convince her to join."

"What the fuck is wrong with them..."

"You know as much as I do. Everything."

Soap and Gaz huffed as they finally returned. Their eyes sore as they were tossed into the cold river behind the forest. A good few miles away.

"Sir can we leave now?" Gaz asked as his feathers flicker from water.

Soap whined as he shook off his fur. A bit panting as he stared to the woman.

"Wee thing tuckered out... Good for us right?"

"For how long...?"

"Let's hope a while." Ghost spoke up as he scooped the woman into his arm. Tossing her over his shoulder.

Ximena whined as she eased up finally. Her hair covering her face, her dainty hands clung to his shoulders.

Ghost froze as he didn't wanna give away the interaction as they started to trudge back through the misty forest. Well the mist vanished once she was knocked out.

The lads a bit impressed she was able to control so much at once.

She ended up being out for three days. And when she came to. Locked in a glass cell. Her eyes looking around as she missed something. A warmth.

"Hello...?" She called out as she pressed her hands against the glass. Not being able to look out.

But everyone could see in. The fear on her eyes. The way her hair was freaking out, smashing against the glass wanting to let her out.

And eventually. Just mist filled the cell. Blocking out their view in.

Who knew what else was in store for their team with this new element to their team.