#my beloved ghost and me

[si1verghosts]

my beloved ghost and me | ch. 0

post-di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 1.8k

18+ | cw: major character death

read on ao3

a/n: hi! this is something i've been working on since april - i intended to wait until the story was complete to begin posting it but i impulsively decided to share this on ao3 last night sooo...

as things stand, i have about 40k written for this already, but most of the chapters are incomplete due to my inability to write sequentially. so updates will come, i just can't say for certain when... sorry!! i'll likely add an unnecessarily lengthy introduction at some point explaining the inspiration for this but for now all i will say is that this is a love story. and i hope you will join me on the journey through it :-)

not beta read - all mistakes my own or done purposely due to my general disrespect for the grammatical conventions of the english language.

please do not use my work to train any sort of Al chat bot and/or writing generator. thank you.

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The official theme of this poem is

The official theme of all my poems which is

You get in love and then you die!

- Hera Lindsay Bird, "Having Already Walked Out On Everyone I Ever Said I Loved." (x)

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May 19th, 2026

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The sun is high and sparkling when Leon leaves in a whirlwind, collecting holsters and guns and papers and keys. The window is thrown open, the fresh cut grass floating in on a breeze - you will suffer for it later, but you love the way Leon wears the smell; his warmth softening the sharp edges of the scent.

The door is ajar, his car idling in the drive when he finally slows, lingers; hands at your waist and nose in your neck.

"Stop," you whine, palms against his chest; condensation building on your glass of orange juice on the counter. "I haven't showered."

"Don't care," he mutters into your skin; sniffing obnoxiously, disgustingly.

You squirm under his touch as he drags his nose up your throat, peppers kisses along your cheek, fingers pulling you closer and closer.

Jack grumbles at your feet - your gallant protector in his fluffy brown coat of armor. Leon detaches himself from you to crouch down and scratch behind his ears; levels his gaze, voice serious, "You take care of our girl, okay?"

It's the same song and dance every time Leon leaves. Like clockwork, Jack's tongue lolls out of his mouth - of course, always.

Satisfied, Leon stands to full height once again, tan skin radiant and highlighted hair shimmering under the brilliance of the forenoon rays. Blue eyes holding your gaze, he nods down to Jack, "This is my most trusted associate - you'll be safe with him."

You roll your eyes, tugging on his collar, "Shut up and kiss me, hotshot."

And he does, hands falling back to your hips as yours find their way to his neck, capturing the strands at his nape between your fingers. He wanders under your rumpled shirt, calloused skin contradictorily soft, soothing, gentle.

His minty coffee morning taste replaces the staleness of sleep still resting on your tongue, clearing the residual lethargy from your mind. You long to slam the door closed, lock the windows, pull him back to bed and keep him there - fuck the country, fuck the world; he was yours to have and to hold.

You retreat before you can act on your selfish thoughts, voice a whisper against his mouth, "Duty calls, Agent Kennedy."

He hums, eyes still closed; presses his lips against yours once, twice, three times more. He pulls back, hesitating - stay, stay, stay, you silently beg - but it only lasts a moment before he shakes his head, clears his throat, laces your fingers together.

He takes you with him over the threshold and out into the building heat of the late Virginia spring; as far as you're able to go. Jack darts out from behind you and into the yard, redirecting to run laps around Leon's car when he opens the driver's door; your husband chuckles at the Bernese before leaning in to kiss you again.

You've said the same goodbye a hundred and one times but it still aches, burns; worry swelling in your throat as you force yourself to smile when he steps back. "I'll leave the light on," you promise, as you always do.

"No need - it's just Raleigh," Leon allays while he slips behind the wheel, hand still in your own. "I should be home before dinner if Hunnigan is feeling generous and lets me file the report tomorrow."

"I'll give her a call," you grin, letting him pull you into his chest. "Let her know she's welcome to use excessive force to get you to complete your paperwork, if need be."

He throws himself back against the headrest with a groan, silky hair fluttering with the movement. "You two are so mean to me," he grumbles. "I never should've let you be friends."

You laugh, a single snort that gets his eyes glittering, "Hilarious."

Releasing your hand, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head towards him and capturing your mouth one last time. He sucks on your bottom lip in a way that assures his intent to seek retribution. You get lost in it for a moment, stomach clenching; dizzy with the desire to slip inside him, join him on his journeys into the darkness, tucked away safely next to his heart.

He separates the kiss when he notices you've nearly crawled inside the car with him; smirking at your glazed expression. Smug bastard.

The air moves, cooling the spit on your lip, sending a shiver through you. He swipes his thumb along your pout, immediately returning the warmth to the skin.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," he drawls, still managing to make you weak in the knees after all these years. "I love you."

"Bye," you retreat slowly, sorrowfully; swaying on the blacktop as you push his door shut. "I love you too - more than anything."

"More than anything," he repeats, holding his pinky out through the window. You knot your littlest fingers together for half a breath, stepping back as he reverses out of the drive.

Jack nudges your thigh as Leon drives away, off to save the world again - just another Tuesday.

-

You type away until the early evening - working, just barely. It was always difficult to do anything when Leon was away, especially write emails answering the same questions three times over. But you needed some way to distract yourself, to keep you from the news - Leon had made you swear not to watch it. "If there's something you need to know, you'll be told," he promised, smoothing down your hair, kissing your forehead.

A knock pulls you from your computer and your office, moving towards the foyer, Jack's nails clicking against the hardwood as he follows along. Feet planted in the same spot where Leon had kissed you goodbye a few hours ago, you pull open the door to find Ingrid.

Years ago, sometime between when hooking up turned into having dinner, Leon had sat you down, told you his job was unconventional. "It's very likely that one of these days I won't come home," he had said, blue eyes pinning you in place at his kitchen table. "I'm not telling you this to scare you; I just can't… You deserve to know. I understand if you want to leave; don't want to deal-"

You had laughed, cutting him short. It had been three months - maybe four - but you couldn't fathom the idea of walking away, of leaving him - at least not voluntarily.

Your chuckles had melted down into concern, confusion. "If you don't want to be with me Leon, just say that - I'll understand. You don't have to make up stories-"

It was his turn to interrupt you, but he had done it kinder, gentler; falling to a knee in front of you. "No. No, that's not… I can't explain, can't give details but I mean it. I want you," he had sighed, head falling forward, fringe following. "But tomorrow, next week, a year from now - I could be gone. I just need you to know that."

It was cryptic and disquieting, you should've pushed for clarification, should've gotten up and left - but he said I want you. Those three words had echoed around your skull and bounced around your heart. I want you I want you I want you.

Anyone who had ever met you wouldn't say sanity was something you possessed in spades - you leaned in, took his face between your hands and kissed him.

In the years since, you believed you had prepared yourself for the worst, for the inevitable. You had even had a few false alarms; training runs - the three weeks he had dropped off the face of the earth, unreachable in the European wilderness; the bullet through his femoral artery, resulting in near total blood loss; the tubes down his throat after a six-hour surgery to repair his punctured lung.

Leon had warned you and you had made your choice.

But Ingrid's presence on your doorstep throws you - if something happened, you should've been called. That's how these things work; your phone rings, providing you with what little information they can.

Instead, she steps over the threshold, "Have you watched the news?"

"No," you frown. "Leon doesn't… Why are you here?"

Ingrid falls forward, you embrace her on instinct, feel her choke on a sob; feel the blood freeze in your veins, stop cold. "I'm sorry."

You aren't stupid, you know what she means. You understand it, had internalized the expectation of it. Still, you don't comprehend her words. "Sorry?"

She steps back, holding your hands, someone's hands - you can't be sure they are yours, can't find them. "I'm," she shakes her head, "So sorry."

"For what?"

You don't recognize her as she frowns, almost whimpers - can't force out the words.

"I need you to say it," you urge.

She braces herself, closes her eyes, "Leon's dead."

"How?" You feel vile for torturing her, but you can't help it - you have to hear it.

She swallows, shudders. "A bomb - it wiped out the entire block. He was clear, but," she stops to heave. "He went back in, apparently."

"I," she stutters, straightens her spine. "I lost his signal. The last transmission I was able to hear, he said there were still civilians inside. So he must've went back in… He always… He always had to go back in.

"They're searching still but," she heaves again. You should really offer her a seat, a drink, a tissue - you're being a terrible host. "The building witnesses said he… He ran into - it's almost like it was vaporized; there's hardly even any rubble left. There's nothing to search."

"Okay," you nod. "Thank you - for letting me know."

You step back, make for the kitchen, "Can I get you anything?"

She looks shocked, understandably. She's had a rough day. "I… No, thank you."

"Alright - I'm going to put on some tea, you're welcome to stay."

She closes the distance between you, grabs your elbows, shakes you ever so slightly. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, there was a bomb; you guys think he's dead," you nod at her again, slower this time. "Leon has been blown up before - more times than I can count, but I'm sure you have the records. Give the search crews a few more hours, he's probably just having a nap under a steel beam or something. You know-"

"No," she interjects."I'm sorry - but no." She's crying now, you notice; tears cutting tracks through her foundation as she squeezes your elbows again. "I need you to understand; I'm telling you, he's dead."

"No," you laugh, trembling all over with the force of it. "No - he wouldn't… I'm telling you, he's ju-"

"Listen," she shakes you, words sharp, certain. "He's gone."

Tomorrow, next week, a year from now - I could be gone. I just need you to know that.

The room tilts as his words reverberate around your skull, "He's gone?"

"Yes," she sobs. You wonder if you're crying too. "He's gone."

You open your mouth to respond, but can't figure out how to form the words. You sink to your knees and scream.

[dancefloors]

Funny how people thought this would be a breakup album and it’s really not except for so long london that is probs the most straight up break up song and it’s def one of if not the best song out of all 31

the "break up" songs (so long london, the black dog, how did it end) are among the strongest. I know she hates to hear it but her break up anthem pen is kinda unmatched...

[meandmypagancrew]

Getting ready for moving day ):

[skyrigel]

Simon who just can't say no to you.

It has been like this from the moment his eyes met yours, a very terrible Monday morning if he hadn't met you but now that you remembered, it's the most beautiful day of both of your lives.

“Is that seat taken ?” Simon looked up at the small morning roused and still sleep laden voice, you were as knackered as you sounded, probably runnin’ on black coffee and cuppa noodles.

“Yeah.” He wasn't even aware how quickly he said it, “Yes, ofcourse miss.”

He scooted his big thighs together, trying to make as much space as possible for you and as if some divine thought struck him, he looked up — cheeks tinting with red.

“Would ya’ like window ?”

“No, But thankyou for asking.” You answered, sitting next to him and making sure to leave some space because those legs were thick and definitely his big cock needed some room.

Fuck, look away —

“Ghost...” Another man climbed inside bus, his eyes trained on you and your partner who's apparently Ghost ?!?!

“Wot ?” He said roughly, his shoulders pressed against yours

“Nothin’ old man.” The other man smirked and sat next to a Grandma who knitted half a sweater.

“Your friend?” You asked.

“ A little...Simon.” He said, “Simon Riley.”

“Oh.” You smiled, feeling blush creep up your neck and cheeks.“I like Ghost better.” you would've booed if you weren't feeling so tingly and nervy.

“You would like Simon more.”

“I would like that.” You couldn't believe you were flirting on a Monday morning.

One month later

“Ghost...” John horribly snorted, sprawling on couch as Simon paid him no attention.

“Wot ?” He asked, giving you his pinky as you painted the last letter ‘Y’ over hot pink nail polish, completing your H-E-L-L-O K-I-T-T-Y nail art, every letter on each nail.

“Nothin’ old man.” John smirked as you clicked your tongue, beaming up at Simon.

“Done !” You blew air and flashed a grin as Simon brought his hand up to examine your work.

“Done Luvie.” He smiled, bumping your nose with ‘I’ on his nail.

And you also liked Simon better.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

Navigation

[bluegiragi]

group huddle!

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

[frootertooter]

We do not choose our parents, or the circumstance into which we are born -> late night Hollow Knight sibling sketches

[stargirlrchive]

himbo!simon who only thinks with his pretty dick. only thinks about stuffing your pussy with his thick meaty shaft because that’s all he can think about.

the way your gummy and wet walls are gonna stretch to take him, the way you’re gonna tighten around him like a vice as he whines and whimpers when he pumps into you.

his balls heavy and full as he grunts about wanting to fill you to the brim. his vision goes a little spotty when you encourage him to cum.

oh god and if you ride him? he’s babbling stupidly about how good you feel, about how he can’t take it because it feels so so good.

he cums so much, like an ungodly amount. his hips stuttering, cock sensitive and angry as he cums into you.

he’s barely finished shooting his load into you before his lips are wrapping around your tits to suck and lick at your breast when he’s mumbling, “again, w’nna fuck you again baby.”

[justaishy]

[frudoo]

I need the 141 as a group of slashers. Their shared wife gets harassed at the store and tells them when she gets home?

Might send more asks for slasher 141 if that's okay

You can ALWAYS send me slasher!141 ideas are you joking?!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment (NOT by the 141), typical mentions of weapons and violence. Fem!Reader.

It’s pouring down freezing rain, the cold seemingly nudging past your skin and settling itself into your bones. Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, letting out a defeated wail when you miss the lock for the fifth fucking time. Throwing your keys in your purse, you settle for knocking, then calling out that it’s just you. You’d rather not have one of your lovers answering the door with a machete to your throat. They always have had a flair for the dramatic. 

     It’s John who answers the door. Immediately he takes in your shivering figure and his bushy eyebrows furrow with concern. Scanning the vast land of the farm and finding nothing that could be perceived as a threat, he gently takes the purse from your hands. Strong arms hustle you inside and he kicks the door shut, working quickly to get you out of your sopping wet clothes. 

     “Darlin’, what happened? Why’re you cryin’?” John asks softly, hanging your coat on the rack—he can tell it’s bad by the way you flinch just from the question. 

     Simon, Johnny, and Kyle trail into the living room to greet you, but when they see your state, it’s like you can feel the tension in the air, ready to snap like a weathered rubber band. Simon comes to scoop you up, uncaring of the drenched clothes you still have on, and carries you up the stairs. He jerks his head to signal that everyone else should follow him. 

     While Kyle runs you a bath, John finishes undressing you, tossing your clothing into the hamper with a wet plop. You’re still shivering, tears streaming down your chilly cheeks, and it breaks their hearts. John cups your face in his big, warm hands, crystal blue eyes scanning for injuries or any reason you might be so spooked. 

     “You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? What’s happened?” 

     His voice is soothing, and you lean into the comfort of his touch. He always has been the best at calming you down, rich gravel filling your ears until you remember how cherished you are in his eyes. In all of their eyes. 

     “T-there was a man,” you stutter, head whipping around violently with your fist raised when Johnny wraps an arm around your waist to help you into the bath. “No!”

     “Hey, hey, jus’ me, hen,” Johnny’s eyes widen as he throws his hands up in surrender, backing away to avoid getting hit. 

     “I’m sorry,” you weep, covering your face with your trembling hands as Johnny tries again, this time successful in getting you settled into the warm water. 

     “Wha’ did he do?” Simon’s raspy voice sounds from the corner of the room, eerily calm. “Wha’ did tha’ fucker do?” 

     “The man… I-I was at the store to get groceries, but there was- he… he grabbed my ass and my tits and f-followed me out to the car. I drove away really fast so he couldn’t come after me, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t get the groceries.”

     “Oh, sweetheart,” Kyle frowns, gently reaching out to grab a hold of one of your hands. “The fuckin’ groceries are the least of our concerns.”

     You nod noncommittally, sniffling and just barely squeezing Kyle’s hand to let him know you appreciate the gesture. John’s jaw is clenched tight, and you can practically hear the rage brewing in his brain. Such a sweet thing traumatized by some stupid fuck who wanted his hands full of their soft, perfect girl. He wants—needs—to make him pay. John turns on his heel and just about rushes through the door, but your gentle voice stops him in his tracks.

     “John? Please stay,” you beg so, so prettily, pouty lips still swollen from how hard you’d been crying, and John’s far too weak a man to deny you. 

     Hesitantly, the captain trails back inside the bathroom, giving the other three a curt nod. They understand instantly, and Simon is cracking his knuckles so loud you’re almost sure the city can hear it. 

     “Bring the bastard back alive,” John commands, and faster than you can blink, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny are out the door.

     “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes focused on the ripple of the bathwater when you submerge your hands.

     John shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that you look him in the eye. He leans forward and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, a silent question. When you nod he leans in to kiss you long and slow, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you stop to catch a breath.

     “No need to be sorry, sweet girl. You’ll get a turn on him soon enough.”

[callsign-coolsquirrel]

Ghost Rider Au

[cloudghoul32]

It's you!

Despite everything, it's still you.

[reds-skull]

Christmas comic in October? It's more likely than you think.

Also I would die for young Kyle and Simon

[toomanywordsnllines]

How do I imagine the GRS dynamic🤨? Well quite simply you see *proceeds to give you a 10 hour essay about it*

1º pic is how I love to imagine Ghost and Roach's dynamic, quite clingy to each other

2º pic - Soap and Roach are that duo that cannot be left unsupervised for more than 30 seconds - Ghost is their third wheel ALWAYS

3º pic -It says "Taking your bf on a date. Get fucked xoxo" while Roach looks evily to the camera with a middle finger and Soap is doing a peace sign. Ghost is looking very sadly to his phone.

Roach is the kind of best friend to take Soap on dates and kiss Soap just to spite Ghost

[skyrigel]

Simon who's an attention whore. You cooking? So he's clinging on to your neck, grabbing away that spatula and kissing you giddy. You on work ? So he's leaning against the wall, brooding and whining and mewing. You out with your friends? He's sending that Little scratch he got, captioned with, “need kissies now”, he lowkey wants your fuckin' attention all the damn time and he's so shameless about it.

[sakuraspoke]

a little treat for the terzo lovers ♡

[nyaaamato]

orpheus & eurydice