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boolger · 3 months ago

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A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

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It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

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The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John.

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

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They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

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deebris · 8 months ago

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Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of his irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod modern warfare #call of duty #imagine #x reader #simon ghost riley #mom reader #mother reader #task force 141 #angst #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mw2

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ragingbookdragon · 2 years ago

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She waltzed into the meeting room, mile wide grin on her face, a large back in her hand. “Ghost, I am about to make you a happy man.”

The man didn’t look up from the coffee he was drinking. “I’m assuming my definition of a happy man isn’t what you’re talking about.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Huh? But I brought you something? Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

Price coughed, choking on the breakfast he was eating, while Soap and Gaz descended into snickers; Ghost sighed. “Never mind. What’d you bring me?”

She set the back in front of him. “You like Kentucky, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Behold!” she beamed, dumping the bag’s contents out. “Kentucky souvenirs!”

Shirts, magnets, shot glasses, postcards, and more fell out of the bag, scattering across the table. Gaz and Soap, of course, immediately started digging through them, grabbing shirts and shot glasses. Ghost didn’t even blink, staring at the souvenirs.

“Got ‘em all when I visited last weekend!” she seemed so happy. “I kept trying to find things you’d like but once I started picking stuff up, I couldn’t stop.” Grabbing something, she showed it to him. “Look! I even found a key-chain with your name on it!”

Sure enough, she held a small metal key-chain, shaped in the form of the state of Kentucky, with his name branded into the side. “Thanks,” he said, taking it from her.

Her lips tugged down in a frown. “You don’t like it do you?”

“What? No, I do,” he quickly recovered. “I’m just…thankful, that you thought of me.”

“It’s okay, Simon,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to make me feel better.”

Now he felt like an ass, and everyone’s eyes were on him, glaring at him for upsetting her; he started to open his mouth when she asked, “Can I give you one more thing?”

Simon shut his mouth and nodded. Reaching behind her, she pulled out a long black sleeve, setting it down in front of him; she nodded at it, and he gently pulled the string, grabbing the narrow glass inside before he pulled it out of the sleeve, eyes widening at the sight of the amber liquid in the glass bottle.

“I know I’m kind of a ditz,” she murmured with a smile. “But I’m not that dumb.”

He huffed a laugh and looked up at her. “That was mean, love. Made me think I hurt your feelings.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “But now you know better than to think of me as just a fool.” She reached over and flipped the metal plate dangling from the bottle. “Read it.”

His eyes scanned over the bottle, humor in his tone as he read, “Ghost’s Personal Kentucky Bourbon Straight From Kentucky.” He looked up at her. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges in a way that made Simon’s heart flip-flop in his chest. “Gotta promise me that on the fiftieth reunion of the One-Four-One, that you and me crack this open.”

She stuck out her pinky and Simon sighed internally as he linked his with hers. “I promise.”

“Good. Can’t break pinky promise, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He watched her leave, hand still wrapped around the bottle, pinky tingling from where it had held hers; he sit there, basking in the warmth of her person before it was ruined by Soap saying, “It’s like watching two vultures flying around a dying animal.”

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stupidr3dpanda · 7 months ago

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I'm thinking of... BAKER!SIMON RILEY WITH A SMALL BAKERY/COFFEE SHOP!!

Who lives upstairs of the shop because it's more convenient and better than having to drive to the shop. Who wakes up every day at 5am to start the day with a warm cup of his favorite tea and heads downstairs to start preparing the ingredients, warming up the ovens and prepping doughs for that day.

From measuring ingredients, preparing his work station and organizing the tables and chairs in the shop to decorating cookies and small cakes! After 4 long hours of preparing everythig he gets ready to open the shop around 9am!

It's never too busy and never too slow, just enough for him to keep himself occupied, hes always good at memorizing his regulars orders after the first two times they come in.

Like the sweet old lady that always comes in every day at 11am sharp for a cup of earl grey and two Eclairs, always sits to enjoy the morning sun outside the shop and admire the overgrown climbing roses bushes that are starting to take over the right wall of the shop and half of the display window on the same side, she always recommends him a gardener that could help trim it down enough to make the shop look prettier at a good price, but he always forgets to call.

Or the always tired looking mom that comes in all Fridays around 2pm with her two little kids, always orders a double expresso for her and one strawberry smoothie with a banana muffin for each of the two boys, boys that normally would make a scene on every shop they go, except for Simons shop. She doesnt have to know that the reason they behave during their visit to the shop is because of a little conversation that simon had with the two kids when she wanted to use the bathroom ok their first visit. He's not having two little rascals ruin the quiet and peaceful atmosphere of his shop! Nope! Not on his watch!

And then, there's you, the quiet girl that comes in every business day at 5pm an hour before closing time, when the shop is always empty, always orders a simple latte and a slice of strawberry shortcake with a low and timid voice, who always avoids eye contact at all cost, and who always sits in the farder corner of the shop to eat quietly with a note book open on the table and a pen in hand.

He wonders what is it that you write so much about, is it the taste of the latte? The taste of the cake? Is the frosting too sweet today? Is the latte too bitter? Too sweet? Are you one of those girls that monitor everything they eat throughout the day? He's always trying to convince himself that he doesn't care! He shouldn't care! Who cares what you think! He doesn't what do you mean? He couldn't care a flying pig about you!!...

He does care, he wants to go up to you and ask what you think of the cake, did you enjoy your latte? Do you come here after work? What are you writing about? He feels like a teenager, a pathetic teenager with a stupid crush, he's dying to talk to you but. You're always turning down every attempt he makes of conversation, always keeping your answers short and simple. He supposes it's because you are timid or probably because you already have a boyfriend and are just trying to turn off any ideas he might have in his head. So he's just happy to admire you from afar, just a mere spectator to your life.

At 5:45pm he watches as you stand up from your table and starts walking to the exit, his heart sinking knowing the shop would be closed the next two days and he won't be able to see you. But he suppose he can wait.

At 6pm the "OPEN" sign on the front door of the shop is turned to "CLOSED" and the doors get locked up, he cleans the tables and chairs, heads to the kitchen to start cleaning and putting away equipment and any left over pastries and ingredients.

After everything is back under control at around 9pm with a tired sigh he heads back upstairs to start prepping dinner for himself, with a filled stomach and what's left of a beer in hand he sits on the couch while a crappy TV show is playing.

Once exhaustion starts taking over his body he turns off the TV and pets Riley's head on his way to the bathroom for a quick shower, after he's done he heads to his bedroom and changes into some comfortable pajamas, goes to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water to take his vitamins and finally heads back to his bedroom to lay in bed making sure his glasses are beside him on the little nightstand at the other side of his bed, turning off the light in the same nightstand he pulls the covers over his body and slowly drifts to a deep sleep with the image of you lulling him to sleep.

You give thanks to whoever God it may correspond for remembering to change his vitamins for sleeping pills, cause if not he would have been immediately woken up by the weird sound that comes out of your mouth after hitting your head on the window while trying to get in. You know you should be an expert at this point but that stupid window seems to have some kind of bef with you since day one!

As you make yourself inside the all familiar living room you crunch down to pat Riley on the head and give the dog one of those sweet dog treats from inside your bag. Hearing her make what you assume is a content sound while eating the treat you stand up and lay down on his couch and hug one of the decorative pillows on your side, his couch is comfy, but his bed is so much more comfortable.

You stay there for a few moments before standing up and walking down the hall to his bedroom, as you slowly open the door you see him gently snoring on his bed, so deep in slumber that he doesn't feel nor hears the noises your shoes make when you head towards his bathroom that's located in the same room, you look for his laundry basket and a small smile is painted on your face when you see it in the same spot behind the closet of the bathroom, you take out the hoodie he was wearing that same day and bring it to your nose taking a deep inhale of his essence, the sweat and cologne mixing itself in the said hoodie leave a sweet smell that makes your cunt clench round nothing, it's so intoxicating you can't help but bring your fingers down to the inside of your panties and make small circles around your poor clit.

Thinking what it would feel like if it were his fingers going in and out of your wet cunt, you think of what he would do if he were to catch you right now. Yell at you for being a creep? Call the police? Be disgusted you are satisfying yourself with his dirty clothes? Or perhaps, he would like. Tell you how dirty and pathetic you are, bend you over his knees with your ass and cunt exposed to the cold air of his room while he spanks the living hell out of you. Maybe finger you while he's at it? Always bringing you to the edge and never letting you cum, dirty sluts don't deserve to cum. Or maybe he would be understanding, oh you poor girl, if you wanted him to fuck you you could have just asked him to! No need to hide away and get off his dirty laundry and your little fingers when he's right here to give you the real thing!

Just that thought brings you to your sweet and needed release. You take your fingers out of you and for a moment you think of just washing your hands but another thought stops you and brings a smile to your face.

Once his hoodie is back in the basket you make your way to his bed, where he's sleeping like a newborn, innocently and unaware of the crime that just happened in his bathroom with his hoodie being the poor victim.

There's enough space in the bed for you to lay day beside him and the pills are strong enough to not have him wake up when your weight sinks in the mattress. His pillowcases smell like sweat and the pine spice of his shampoo, probably because he always goes to bed with his hair wet, his covers smell like old laundry and sweat too, they're already in need of a wash, last time he washed his bed linen was a month ago.

You scoop over until you're face to face with him and your eyes trace his all too familiar face, you bring your fingers to his lips and gently stroke his lower lip, remembering how soft his lips feel when you gently place your lips yo his. Your hand moves and the back of your fingers start to move slow circles on his right cheek, after that you just stay still watching him sleep peacefully until you yourself start to get tired that's always your cue to leave, not without giving him a last pick on his lips and standing up to leave.

As you make your way out you give one more treat to Riley and gentle pat on the head before looking around making sure everything is in its place like it was before and you leave through the same window you came in making sure not to hit your head again and to close it like it was.

In the afternoon of the next day when Simon is half way of doing chores around the house and while he's doing his laundry he finds his hoodie with some strange looking stains that weren't there the day before when he took his shower. Maybe he accidentally stained it while making dinner, perhaps when he was working decorating the cakes with the frosting? Yeah that's probably it, given that the strange looking stains smell a little strange almost sweetly. He just shrugs and throws it in the washer, he still has chores to finish and he's not about to play detective for a simple frosting stain.

Ughf! This thing has been invading my mind and I had to share the thought! I love pathetic and obsessed reader 👉👈

Let me know what you think! I hope you're having a good day/night and please remember to take care of yourself!!

#🐻ottie #🔥smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley smut #im pathetic for this men :(

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icyblogs · 8 months ago

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god bless u for the 141/fallout post i’ve been going feral thinking about a fallout au where simon is a pre-war ghoul who fought in the great war and still wears his power armor to hide that fact 🙏🙏 better yet even simon/reader fallout au where they were married before the bombs fell, and being a military wife she was lucky enough to get a space in a vault but ended up in cryo-freeze while he became a ghoul and they meet again 200 years later

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader WC: 1.2K words Note: Hi anon! I had to do a little research about how exactly ghouls and cryo-freeze functioned, sorry for getting back to you so late! (does it still functionally make sense no but shh its fine) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (:

Ghost who was already in the process of becoming a ghoul before the Great War! Already a renowned soldier; one of which was elected for a new experimental drug. For the sake of humanity he was told, after all, doing this will guarantee a spot in the vaults for him and his precious little wife! Doesn’t he want you to be safe? Though he might not have necessarily agreed with the means, don’t the rewards outweigh the consequences? Doesn’t he want to live out the rest of his days in peace with you? For a good vault- wanting the best for you.

These tests, these experiments.. would end up taking a toll eventually. Too late for you to ever see of course. Well, by the time the great war actually starts, it’s far too late to see the effects of it at all. The experiments required him to stay on base- very seldom ever actually seeing you. “Just a few more weeks.” You were constantly told, and of course full heartedly you’d believe him. Why would he have any reason to lie? So when the first bomb drops.. And then the next. It was no surprise when you were forced to go into a vault without your husband, so scared. All alone without him. ):

The experiments therefore spiraled, the results becoming null, nothing necessarily coming from them- too many variables being added. And with the radiation from all the bombs well.. He was no longer a ghost but a ghoul.

He’d be similar to ‘The Ghoul’ in the show in my opinion! Fighting his way through the wasteland, killing, maiming- adapting. Becoming the monster that was always sort of lingering beneath the skin, going back to baser instincts. Everything he did was for his vows. For you. See, I'd imagine that he would wear a power-suit at first, especially when his skin starts to sort of stretch and shrivel, like a burn— eye sockets sinking, nose concaving. If he had found you, he didn’t want you to see what he was becoming; his humanity unraveling faster than he could keep the spool pulled taut.

Though.. the first year passes. Then the first decade. A century. Two.

Eventually time slows to a lull; without direction nor guidance. Always sort of be bordering on turning feral, one mishap away from just totally snapping. Enough for life itself to become a constant loop of just sort of.. apathy. Life wasn’t kind enough to people like him, never allowing anything good to stay in their lives. So why would it in this hellscape as well? Going through this so-called life like it was nothing more than a hindrance. Traveling through the land, taking on dead man’s jobs; not caring for the consequences at this point. Because what really was the point without you by his side? Never forming attachments, after all, why bother? He’d outlive them anyway.

Throughout the years, settlements pop up left and right- factions forming, most dying out faster than he could blink. These days, vaults come to the surface- trying to rebuild, kind to any poor soul or raider that they come across, like sheep walking right into the maws of a wolf. Then.. a new community sprouts up.

Groups of thousands coming up to the surface, building a town- starting a new life. It really wasn’t anything new; Ghost had seen it and experienced it before. Would be a year or two at most of having a bed, having a steady access to food and drink- the meals always tasted like ash, if he thinks hard enough he might’ve remembered how your cooking tasted. He could blink and he was back in his home, watching you sway to some music on the radio, donned in a frilly apron, and you’d turn around and he could swear he could smell what you had in your hands. His imagination always ended up the same way; his eyes would eventually lead up to where your face was; blurry and being forgotten- he’d startle back to the reality at hand, mood darkening.

So this new community. It wasn’t really a question of whether he was to make his way there, if not to stay for a brief moment of peace then to swindle them out of some supplies. Because at the end of the day they were vaulters. Nothing in the grand scheme of things: would probably die to some raiders anyway. They were always so eager to please, to see the good in people, and they were just so welcoming and hospitable.

And then he saw.. you.

The dreams, his imagination- the fog seemed to clear the moment he saw you again; even from a distance.. It was just how he had remembered you- his wife. You look like you haven't aged a day, donned in a blue clad jumpsuit. Simon watches with a dry mouth as you provide a kind smile to one of the people next to you, nodding your head as the pair of you attempt to cultivate the soil. He sees the way you jolt when the man’s hand brushes over your own as if he had shocked you- and his own eyes narrow at the sight, staring unblinkingly as if he might miss something.

A mirage, it was easy to think. A trick of the light even- the radiation boiling his brain enough to fuck with his head, to give him some twisted hope about something that should not be possible. You.. should be dead. Long gone and yet- why were you in front of him? A phantom? Another way to mock him?

The more he looked he knew it was not the case. He could hear your voice- the cadence, all sounding just as how he's remembered it for the last eon. It made him wonder however- why were you smiling? Why.. were you laughing? He wasn’t with you- so why did you seem so happy then?

There was something about a corpse yearning for someone full of life even still; for someone who was unburdened by centuries of an unforgiving and cruel world. He felt like Icarus, wanting to get closer; to see if he would melt if he got too close to the warmth. He’d be willing to burn if it meant that you were within reach again. His left hand felt heavy as he flexed it to try and release some tension, gold band digging into his skin. And with how sweet you looked, it only made his teeth ache and fingers twitch over the handle of his gun, longing to be with only you. Would your skin be as soft as he remembered? His throat felt dry, taking a step forward, aching to herd you back to where you belonged. Would your body still sing for him, even as your husband has turned into a monster, even as the stench of death and rot seems to follow him everywhere he goes?

Would you still remember him? ..Did that matter at this point? He’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After all, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #Fallout!AU #Ghoul!Ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #dark fic #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #x reader

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witchlingcirce · 4 months ago

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HELLO? did you see what cc said about tec coming out after twp 😭 what do you thing warrants that?????? if she kills clary i’m done

AHHH yes I saw and good question!!

I think the most prominent theory I’ve seen is that it’s because one of the TMI characters die. I AM a believer that none of them will die in TWP! Call me delusional but I have valid reasons!!

Clary —> Cassandra Clare’s baby girl

Simon —> Cassandra’s self insert of her husband (his last name, lewis is literally Cassandra’s married name… I’m onto u Judith)

Magnus & Alec —> people will literally burn her house down

Jace —> without him = no Clace, Cassandra sad.

Izzy —> uhm I don’t rlly have a valid reason for her, only that she doesn’t rlly have an relationship with any of the TWP for her death in this series to be impactful.

So yes I am a believer that no tmi cast mates are dying!! Stop this nonsense! No one jump me, but Cassandra never kills off REALLY main characters. Max, didn’t rlly get anything of him. Kit?? Ehhh kind of, but again, not a lot of page time for him. LIVVY is where things start to shift- but again- not a main character. And Nate & Benedict died in TID like who even cared

Okay but onto what I think it could mean. I don’t have a prominent theory with evidence or anything if such BUT I don’t think it has something to do with hell in particular. The last TEC book we got was also set in hell for a bit, and was a main focus. And we also know TMI gang LOVE hell in general (yeah… I know what you did in that cave.) and since we know in TWP Lucifer is meant to be a main villain of such —> we can deduce that something will happen in hell during twp.

The TMI cast is like the avengers of the shadowhunter universe. We know if anything bad happens there on it. So yeah, I do think whatever she’s implying it’s because there going to hell!! Bit because of any deaths <3333

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naughtyneganjdm · 8 months ago

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Good Luck Charm - Chapter 29

Summary: Negan deals with the overwhelming emotional effects of what happened to Y/N altering his life and he's not handling it well.

Characters: Negan, Y/N/reader (OC), Evie, Nathan, Simon, etc.

Warnings: Swearing, Severe Angst, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39423063/chapters/139486027

Notes: I know I said that I would put up the priest Negan fic next, but this one has been done and edited for a while. I just forgot about it. But I promise that one is next. Thanks to anyone that still reads this story!

“You’re being lazy,” Negan felt the warmth of an arm wrapping around his waist from behind, holding him close. It made a smile tug at Negan’s lips when he cuddled his head in closer to the pillow that he was laying on. A faint kiss was pressed over the back of his neck and it had his lips parting. “You need to wake up. It’s a busy day.”

“Every day is a busy day,” Negan frowned, turning in the bed with his tired eyes fluttering to an open. “You know that Y/N.”

Seeing her smile made his heart skip a beat. Maybe he got used to seeing her sad for so long that whenever she smiled it honestly took his breath away. Hooking his fingers with hers, Negan brought her hand to him to place a kiss over the back of it.

“There is nowhere I’d rather be than in bed with you,” Negan informed her with a hesitant smile, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against hers. There was no better feeling in the world than waking up knowing that you weren’t alone. That there was someone with you to share your life with. “I’d rather take the day just to be with you.”

“Why are you still here Negan?” Y/N whispered causing his breath to get caught in his throat. Tipping his head back, he felt his body tensing up and he didn’t know what she meant. That wasn’t exactly the response that he was looking for.

“In bed? Because I’m comfortable with you,” Negan responded with a frown. The warmth he felt waking up was suddenly cold and uneasy. She looked unhappy with him and he didn’t know what to say. “I don’t care about the rest of the world right now. The children are sleeping. We’re together. That’s all that matters.”

“I mean at The Sanctuary,” she countered causing his lips to part. Trying to lean forward to kiss her, Negan felt her fingers pressing in over his lips to keep him from doing so. “I asked you to take the children to the farm and you’re still living here Negan.”

“What do you…?” Negan began with a faint whisper, stopping when he realized where this conversation was headed.

“I asked you and you promised me. You swore you were going to take the children to the farm Negan. Let them live a normal life. You swore,” her voice got angrier as she sat up in the bed. The tension in her body only further proved that. It made Negan’s heart begin to race and he felt like he was starting to panic. Pressing up onto his palms, Negan braced his body weight on them as he stared out at her on the bed. “It was my dying wish Negan. You promised me and you still haven’t done it. Why haven’t you kept your promise?”

With a gasp, Negan’s eyes snapped open with his heart hammering inside of his chest. Lifting his head, Negan saw that it was still nighttime with the small amount of light from the moon filtering into his room at The Sanctuary. Gazing to the bed beside him, Negan made sure that Nathan and Evie were still there. When he knew that they were safe, he was able to calm down somewhat before attempting to gather himself.

Lowering his head into his palms, Negan groaned out and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was experiencing. The nightmares returned. They were gone for a short while, but now every time he closed his eyes he had some kind of bad dream that revolved around Y/N. Either that moment on the hill repeated in his dreams or she was in them angry. He had a few dreams that included Lucille as well. She was angry with him too in them for what went down. There was no escaping the way he was feeling. Not awake. Not sleeping.

Sliding in closer to his children, Negan pulled both Nathan and Evie in closer to his body. It had been weeks since the day Negan had left Y/N in that small town. For the first two weeks Negan went out every day searching for her body. He had most of The Saviors searching for her too. They all knew what she looked like and what she was wearing. It had almost been a month with no prevail. But he kept looking. He wasn’t ready to give up.

What Y/N had said to him in his dreams echoed throughout his mind. He did promise her that he would take the children to the farm, but his number one priority was finding her body. More than anything, he needed that closure. The children needed that closure. They needed to bury Y/N in order for them to have a grave to go to. That meant he had to stay at The Sanctuary and use all the resources he could in order to try to find her.

In his arms, Negan felt Evie cuddling in closer to him and it made his chest ache. Since they hadn’t found Y/N, Evie was convinced during the first few weeks that her mother was still alive, but the longer time passed the more it became obvious that Evie was coming to terms with the thought that her mother was really gone. Especially since Y/N would have made it back to them if she was alive. There was no way that she wouldn’t have made it back. Not with having Nathan and Evie with Negan.

It was hard for both him and Evie. Negan was suffering greatly from depression. He was doing his best to hold it together but losing Y/N had hit him hard. Nathan really didn’t understand it, he was too young. He would ask for her, but he didn’t understand that she was gone. Negan wished it wasn’t like this, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

Because Negan was having a hard time he picked up on the fact that Evie was doing her best not to have meltdowns, but some days she was like him and she would break down. But most of the time it felt like she was taking care of him. Evie knew that he was broken especially after finding him that day having a meltdown at the farm. It was a job that she shouldn’t have had to carry the weight of, but she was doing her best for the both of them. It should have been the opposite, but no matter what Negan did he couldn’t pull himself out of the darkness that he was feeling.

Pressing a kiss over the top of Evie’s head, Negan cuddled his chin in closer to her to hold her close. Nathan was lying beside Evie on the other end and Negan made sure he was close too before trying to get comfortable. Sleeping became hard for Negan again. He had a hard time staying asleep. Exhaustion would often catch up to him and he would pass out, but it never lasted long.

Another thing Negan knew is that he wasn’t taking care of himself physically either. Before all of this happened, he would always keep himself looking super clean and pristine. Now he was letting his hair grow out and it was often messy. It had been a long time since he had shaved. And he wasn’t showering like he could have been. Right now those things just didn’t matter to him.

He was making sure that the children were fed and taken care of, but all he cared about was finding Y/N. It didn’t make sense to him that she was completely missing. Then again, there was a thought that entered his mind. If Y/N did turn, they were right by the water. He didn’t want to think it, but there was that chance that she ended up in the water and that’s why they were never finding her. Maybe her corpse was beneath the water and they would never find her.

That thought was horrifying to him and it was one that he was going to have to live with for a long time. He hoped that he was wrong and there was something that him and his Saviors were missing. It didn’t make sense that they weren’t finding her body. Negan personally went through the entire town that they were in when he left her. Multiple times. He searched for some kind of sign as to where she went and he found nothing. There was nothing there. It was like she just completely vanished.

Clearing his throat, Negan thought about how Y/N asked Negan to give Evie her wedding band that Negan gave her. That was something he didn’t follow through with either. Instead it was still on the necklace that he wore. In his mind, she was his wife so he was never going to take it off. It kept a piece of her with him always.

Right now, he still saw her in his sleep every night. It was often a nightmare, but at least he still saw Y/N. He was worried about how long it might be before he stopped dreaming of her. Until he stopped remembering what her voice sounded like. They got so far only for their dreams to be ripped out from beneath them. It wasn’t fair. That’s how he still viewed this whole situation. It was wrong on so many levels and it wasn’t fair.

Trying to force his eyes closed, Negan knew that he wasn’t likely going to fall asleep. And if he did? It would take hours. So he just cherished the warmth of his children near him. Glad that they were at least sleeping.

Unfortunately he was right. Negan was awake long enough for the sun to start to rise and by the time he finally did fall asleep, he didn’t stay asleep for long before one of his people at The Sanctuary brought in breakfast for them. Lifting his head, Negan groaned out when he saw that Evie and Nathan were already up sitting at the table. Clutching tightly to the pillow that was in his arms, Negan grumbled and lowered his head back down.

“Breakfast daddy,” Evie called out to Negan who rolled onto his stomach before pulling the pillow in over his head. With a sigh, Evie got up from the bed and reached for Negan’s white t-shirt to tug at it. “You have to eat. You didn’t eat lunch or dinner yesterday.”

“I’m not hungry,” Negan grumbled with his voice being muffled against the bedsheets. Another firm tug was felt at his shirt when Evie managed to get him up and seated on the edge of the bed. There were dark circles under Negan’s eyes and his hair was a mess. Frowning, Evie stepped forward to brush her fingers through her father’s messy hair. “You don’t have to take care of me Evie.”

“I do,” she insisted reaching for Negan’s hands to squeeze tightly at them. Getting Negan finally to his feet, she led him over toward the chair that he would often sit at and got him to lower down. Sliding his plate of breakfast before him, she handed him over the silverware before taking her seat. Nathan was already at his chair, kicking his feet while he picked at his breakfast. Evie was doing her best to eat too, but Negan hated this part of things. They still had the fourth chair there. Having it empty felt wrong, but taking it away felt worse. So his meals would often lead to him having a breakdown that led him to tears thinking about Y/N. “Daddy?”

“Yeah baby?” Negan’s tired expression met Evie’s when she pointed down to the plate. “I’m trying honey. I’m sorry.”

“Hi daddy,” Nathan smiled brightly when Negan looked him over. It drew attention to his dimples and Negan feigned a smile. God, this was so fucking hard and he knew that he had to start stepping it up. He was the only parent these two had left and he felt like he was failing them. He felt like he was failing Y/N.

“Good morning handsome,” Negan got up from his chair enough to press a kiss over Nathan’s forehead. Brushing his fingers through Nathan’s hair, Negan carefully lowered back down into his seat and sighed loudly. Watching Nathan pick at his food, Negan slid his chair in closer and reached for the silverware. Cutting up his food, Negan lifted it up on a spoon making Nathan’s smile expand. With a hum Nathan swallowed down on the food and bobbed his head about like nothing was wrong. “Does that taste good buddy?”

“Yeah,” Nathan responded eager for another bite when Negan brought up a spoonful again. Evie’s eyes were locked on them together while Negan attempted to make silly faces to get Nathan to giggle. What she also noticed was that Negan never took a bite of his food. “Yum.”

“Yum is right. You’re gonna grow up and be a strong little boy, aren’t you?” Negan heard the sound of a chair moving, but he kept his attention on Nathan. Suddenly the sound of Evie making train sounds were heard and a spoon was placed in front of his mouth. Arching his eyebrow, Negan��s head slowly turned and Evie nodded toward the spoon.

“Eat,” she demanded of Negan who let out a long exhale. “Do I have to make silly faces too?”

Replicating almost the same faces as Negan was doing previously with Nathan had Nathan in a round of giggles before Negan opened his mouth to accept the bite, “Now if you want to feed Nathan, I’ll feed you. Swallow it down.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan swallowed down hard knowing that she was just doing her best to get him to eat. Evie kept up with what she was doing until Nathan was done with his breakfast. Raising his hand up, Negan nodded his head about and sighed. “I can feed myself the rest of the time.”

“Okay,” she lowered the silverware and gave him a stern expression. Usually Evie took on a majority of his genes, but that look right there. That look was something he had seen from Y/N so many times in the past. “You better.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan smirked, whistling when Evie went to walk away. Wiggling his fingers, Negan motioned her to him again. Curling his arm around her waist, he hugged her close to him. He knew that he wasn’t being the best father he could be right now, but the depression was hitting him hard. Having Evie here with him definitely made things better, but he knew he should have been the one taking care of her. Not the other way around. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, burying her head against the side of his neck to squeeze harder at him for the hug.

A knock was heard making them both look back to see that the door was slowly pushing open. Once Simon was revealed to be behind it, Negan cleared his throat and felt a sense of discomfort, “Hey boss man. Can we talk?”

“Not until he’s done with his breakfast,” Evie answered for Negan and it made Negan’s thick eyebrows bounce up in amusement. Simon’s head tipped to the side with him looking to Negan for a response.

“You heard the little lady, she’s in charge,” Negan pointed to Evie who gave a faint smile when her father listened to her instead of going straight to work like he normally would. “She’s the boss. So let me finish this and I will be right out.”

“It’s kind of important,” Simon stressed to Negan, his hands resting at his hips when Evie reached out to place her hand in over her father’s shoulder almost to stress dominance in this moment.

“And so is him eating. He doesn’t have much left, he hasn’t eaten much in days so please let him eat. You can wait outside,” Evie waved her hand about in the air before returning to her seat. A snort fell from Negan’s lips at her response. Shrugging his shoulders, Negan nodded in the direction of Evie showing Simon that he was going to be listening to his daughter. “He’ll be out when he’s done. You can wait outside.”

With a grunt, Simon gave Negan a glare before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Faintly clapping his hands together, Negan knew that Evie was proud of herself, “Good job baby girl. I can’t even get him to listen to me.”

“It’s time someone did,” she finished with her breakfast while he did the same. After he finished, he got up from his seat and got the dishes together. Then he gave both Nathan and Evie a kiss on the head before starting to go for the door. “Are you going to be gone today?”

“No honey, I’m just gonna go speak to Simon and then I will be right back,” Negan assured her with a firm nod of his head. Giving her a wink, he headed out of the room and saw that Simon was resting against the wall with anger flooding his features. “What is it?”

Once the door was shut behind Negan, Simon stepped forward and threw his hands up in the air, “When are we going to stop this Negan? It’s been weeks and you still have The Saviors out looking for Y/N. I think we both know we’re not going to find anything.”

“We stop when we find her,” Negan responded with a shake of his head. This was something Simon kept bringing up and by this point it was starting to really infuriate Negan. There was a flood of rage rushing through his veins and Negan knew he had to try to keep a level head about this. “I’m not going to give up until we find her.”

“Then you’re never going to be safe Negan,” Simon retorted with an angered breath. “Rick’s crew is likely planning their attack on the fucking place while you’re wasting all of our resources and our men on some bitch that is likely dead at the bottom of the water.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Negan roared, stepping forward to firmly shove his hands into the center of Simon’s chest. The swiftness of it had Simon stumbling backwards, a grunt falling from his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare call my wife a bitch. I will fucking destroy you.”

“Like you’re destroying The Saviors and The Sanctuary?” Simon snarled hearing Negan’s breathing growing louder, his hazel eyes narrowing in frustration. “Ever since Y/N and those kids showed up, you’ve been letting this place nosedive into the ground. You are meant to be the leader. We are in the middle of a war with Rick and his people. What are you doing though? You’re in your bedroom every day sobbing into your pillows. And if you’re not doing that you are out all day long looking for a woman that you know is dead. We both know you’re never going to find her Negan.”

“I don’t give a shit what you think Simon. I’m going to keep looking for her because I love her and…” Negan paused when the sound of Simon laughing interrupted him. Biting at his bottom lip, Negan felt his rage increasing with Simon rolling his eyes.

“You loved her?” Simon mocked Negan, emphasizing his words in an antagonizing way. Simon’s jaw was clenching and he made it clear he was furious with the way Negan was acting. “She was one of your wives Negan. Not the only one. Just one of them.”

“Watch where you are headed with this,” Negan warned his number two, his fingers curling into a tighter fist at his side.

“You know, I never really agreed with your actions here, but I went along with it because for the most part, it got things done,” Simon began, his eyes locking with Negan’s trying to express some sense of power over Negan in this moment. “Then Rick shows up and proves to you that your way of doing things isn’t going to work. But you keep toying with the guy and you are letting them build up an offense against us. Then your family shows up and suddenly you don’t care anymore. All you care about is your family and a woman that you didn’t even care for when the world was normal Negan. Why the hell is she so important now? Because she certainly wasn’t when you were married to Lucille.”

Closing his eyes, Negan tried to count to himself knowing that he was fully prepared to attack Simon at this moment, “Now you’re letting a ten-year-old control your life and it’s fucking pathetic.”

Grunting out, Simon stumbled back after the force of Negan punching him collided with the side of his face. It had Simon grabbing the railing, his fingers curling tightly around the metal when his other hand reached up to caress where Negan had hit him. Lifting his head, Simon noticed the way that Negan’s eyes were locked on him, with Negan’s chest heaving.

Standing up straight, Simon’s blood was rushing through his veins when he stepped before Negan fully prepared to fight him back when Negan shoved into him again, “What are you gonna do Simon? Huh? You wanna fight? I fucking dare you. I will destroy you.”

“Daddy?” Evie’s voice was heard in a faint whisper. Both men gazed over at her with Simon backing down when he saw Negan’s younger daughter staring out at them with big eyes. Worry filled her young features and Simon scoffed, before rubbing at his face again. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine baby,” Negan’s posture changed completely when he spotted Evie, lowering down on his knees to reach out to cup her face in his rough hands. “You go back in there and watch your brother for me. Daddy just needs to talk to Simon, okay?”

By her expression, Negan could tell that Evie wasn’t comfortable with leaving him, but she was going to listen to him just because he asked her to. Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, Negan slowly stood and waited for the door to be closed before turning on his heel, “You ever say something negative about my wife or my daughter again and I will fucking kill you. You understand me?”

“Crystal clear,” Simon’s shoulders slouched, his breathing loud enough for Negan to hear. In a sense, Simon was lucky because Negan wasn’t sure what he was capable of if Evie hadn’t come out. “At least I know when this place falls, it wasn’t my fault. It was yours.”

“Fuck you,” Negan snarled under his breath, standing his ground before Simon. With a roll of his eyes, Simon shook his head before giving Negan a final glare. Instead of saying anything more, Simon walked off leaving Negan to himself. Negan let out a tense sound, his heart hammering in his chest with a fire burning in his fist from where he had punched Simon. He was furious with the way that Simon responded to him searching for Y/N. If it came between dealing with Rick and finding Y/N, he wanted to find Y/N. That would be his choice every time. Shaking his head, Negan stepped back toward the door to his bedroom and stopped when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eyes. Immediately, his stomach sank, his heart hammering in his chest when he saw Y/N standing at the end of the hallway. “Y/N?”

Calling out, Negan started to move away from the door of the bedroom that his children was in. Once he seemed to notice her there, she took off in the other direction and he quickened his movements. It seemed like she was pushing through the group of people that were on the second level to get away from Negan when he called out to her again. She got a head start down the stairs and he took off after her.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Negan called out and it drew her to look back over her shoulder at Negan when she got to the bottom of the stairs. When their eyes connected, Negan could feel a chill run down his spine. “Wait.”

His pleas were heard on deaf ears as she continued to run away from him and he felt a rush of panic flooding his veins. Trying his best to keep up with her, Negan cussed out to himself when he reached the bottom of the stairs and didn’t see her. Looking both ways, he noticed that an exit door was closing and he quickly headed that way.

Once he reached the outside, he came to a stumbling stop to look around. He could barely breathe when he took a look around in hopes of finding her. Everything was weighing heavy on him, but mostly confusion. How’d she get back here and why was she running away? And how was she alive?

Finally, his eyes locked onto Y/N when he saw that she was standing by the gate where they had all of the walkers attached to it to keep people from trying to enter The Sanctuary.

“Y/N!” Negan called out her name once more, fear overtaking him when he saw her getting close to the fence. With him approaching, it had the growling sounds from the walkers growling and they seemed to get more animated with him there. Coming to a stop drew her eyes away for a minute to gaze over at him and Negan threw his hands up in the air. His pulse was pounding inside of his head, his breathing uneven when he approached her. “Y/N? What are you doing? How’d you get here? You’re alive.”

Smirking, she gave Negan a weird expression before going back to observing the walker. When she leaned a little too close in for his comfort, he threw his hand up to stop her, “Hey! Be careful. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Calm down,” she breathed out with a wrinkle of her nose. She seemed to be taking in the features of the walker that was before her. Without any fear, she stepped closer to it and it had Negan stepping forward. “It’s not like I’m going to get bit or anything. Well…again.”

“That’s not funny,” Negan grunted under his breath drawing Y/N to smile, tipping her head from side to side. Reaching out she poked at the abdomen of the walker before her and Negan didn’t know how to react to the way she was acting. “I don’t understand what’s going on right now. You’ve been gone for weeks. You make it back to The Sanctuary, you’re perfectly okay and the first thing you decide to do is run away from me so you can get close and personal with the walkers?”

Again, she didn’t respond to him as she poked at a different spot on the walker which made the growling sounds grow louder, “Hey! I’m talking to you. After everything that happened the last time I saw you, this is what you decide to do? Not go to your children? And you’re making jokes about being bitten?”

“You’re being too sensitive,” she stammered, finally giving her full attention to Negan resting her hands on her hips. “Maybe I’m just taking more after you. Making light of a dark situation. You’re the one with the dark humor here. Take the stick out of your ass Negan.”

“I…what?” Negan responded in disbelief when she snickered to herself and started walking the length of the fence again. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

Brushing his fingers through his messy hair, Negan’s body was trembling and more than anything he wanted to wrap his arms around her to hug her, but she was acting so strange. Clearing his throat, a warmth flooded his face when he threw his hand up in the air.

“I imagine you’re really mad at me right now for leaving,” Negan suggested finally getting her attention when she looked back over her shoulder at him. “I heard that gun go off. I was certain that you killed yourself and I made a promise to you. I left and if I would have ever known that you were alive I promise I would have never left you. I told you that the mark on your arm didn’t exactly look like a bite.”

It seemed like she was thinking things over before turning on her heel to approach him, still saying nothing.

“You have no idea the hell that I’ve been through since that day. I thought you were dead. Evie thought you were dead,” Negan informed her with a broken sound, his hand hovering in over his chest and shaking when she let out a long exhale. “We need to take you to her. Come with me.”

Extending his hand out, Negan expected her to take it, but instead she just looked down at his hand and frowned, “Please.”

“Boss?” a voice surprised Negan causing him to jump. Looking back over his shoulder, he noticed that Laura was approaching him and all the color was drained from her face. The expression over her features almost made him uncomfortable the closer she got to him. “Who are you talking to?”

“What do you mean who am I talking to?” Negan was disgusted with Laura even asking him that question. Pointing toward Y/N had her eyebrows bouncing up. Laura looked in the direction he pointed before looking back to Negan again. “I think it’s kind of fucking obvious who I’m talking to.”

“You’re talking to…” Laura looked to the gate of walkers and cleared her throat uneasily. “The walkers?”

“What the fuck are you…” Negan let out an uneasy breath when a smirk tugged at Y/N’s features. If anything Laura looked concerned for Negan right now. Gazing between Y/N and Laura, Negan felt a chill running down his spine when he let out a hesitant sound. “This isn’t funny. She’s literally right here.”

“Who is?” Laura took a moment to ask after she looked around the area surrounding them. There was genuine concern in her eyes with Negan letting out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I don’t know what this is,” Negan announced nervously gazing between both women. Waving his hand about in Y/N’s direction had Laura’s lips parting and it looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t. “She’s right here. I don’t know if the two of you are doing this to get one over on me for letting this happen, but…”

“Negan,” Laura held her hand up in the air trying to get Negan to focus. Stepping forward, she grabbed a hold of Negan’s shoulders and he felt tense with her holding onto him like this. “Who am I supposed to be seeing right now?”

“Y/N. She’s right there and she’s…” Negan answered her, his voice breaking when Laura slowly released him. There was worry in her eyes with Laura looking Negan over. “I saw her in the hallways walking and then…how do you not see her she’s standing right there? This isn’t a funny joke.”

“Negan, no one is joking. I see no one. All I see is you talking to the air. It’s just you and the walkers,” Laura explained to Negan with a shake of her head. Reaching out, she curled her fingers around Negan’s wrist and nodded her head toward The Sanctuary. “Maybe I should get you to the doctor. What do you think?”

“I’m not crazy,” Negan suggested with a hesitant laugh looking down to Laura’s fingers curled around his wrist.

“Okay, you’re not crazy,” Laura held her hands up when Negan yanked his wrist from her. “You’re probably just tired. You’ve been out constantly looking for Y/N. Maybe you’re just exhausted and not getting enough sleep. How about I walk back with you to your room?”

“Fucking hell,” Negan lowered his head, pinching at the bridge of his nose. Cussing under his breath, Negan tried to gather himself. Looking again, he saw that Y/N was still standing there and she waved. “I have to be dreaming again.”

“Negan, you’re right here. You’re not sleeping,” Laura insisted, squeezing at Negan’s arm to try to comfort him. Nothing was making sense right now. It felt like the world was spinning around him and like he could throw up. “Do I need to get the doctor here to help you?”

“No. No,” Negan shook his head over and over again starting to realize what was happening here. God, he was going fucking crazy and seeing things. It felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack with the way his chest was tightening. With everything that he had just said in front of Laura, he knew that she also was going to think he was insane. Standing up straight, he dragged his hand down over the side of his face and feigned a smile. “I was actually just joking with you. That’s what this was.”

“A joke?” she repeated and Negan eagerly nodded his head. An awkward expression filled her features when Laura looked over Negan. Laura thought he was crazy. Hell, he thought he was crazy too. “Are you sure? Do you need me to stay with you?”

“No, I just need some space,” Negan assured her with a shrug of his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets. Not fighting with him, Laura turned on her heel before Negan called out to her. “Laura? Could you please not tell anyone about this today?”

“Of course,” Laura muttered before heading back toward what she was doing near The Sanctuary. Hopefully she would keep her word or else it would get back to Simon and somehow he would convince everyone that he was not mentally fit to be the leader. Which meant he would lose the help that he needed to actually find Y/N.

“Do you think I look like this one right now?” Y/N’s voice spoke up and it made every muscle in Negan’s body clench. Turning to face her again, Negan could see that she was observing one of the walkers that was on the fence more thoroughly. “I figure after all the rot and body decay, this has to be what I look like right now, right?”

“Stop,” Negan demanded when she chomped her teeth together almost mimicking the walker that was before her.

“Do you think I’ve killed someone? All that blood and rot coming out of my mouth,” Y/N pointed out toward the mouth of the walker again and Negan felt his heart racing inside of his chest. A muscle in his jaw flexed with his stare becoming more serious. “Aw. Negan. Loosen up. It’s not like I’m dead or anything.”

“You’re not really here,” Negan whispered to himself, turning on his heel as he headed back toward The Sanctuary. An overwhelming sense of guilt and agony filled him again almost like the first time he lost her. More than anything he was trying to keep it together when he headed back so people didn’t see him losing it again.

“Hey. Why are you running off?” Y/N’s voice beckoned him from behind. A long, overwhelmed sound escaped his lips. When he reached for the door, he stopped when he felt her fingers wrapping around his wrist to stop him. It felt so real and a tremoring breath fell from him. “You’re leaving me again?”

Swallowing down, Negan tried to avoid looking at Y/N as he walked back into The Sanctuary. The sound of her footsteps following him were heard again, but he tried to block it out, “Typical Negan. When things get hard he runs. Abandons me. Like he always did. Just like you did that night. Leaving me in that small town all alone.”

“Shut up!” Negan finally erupted, turning on his heel and it had everyone in the hallway jumping. Everyone looked around trying to figure out who he was talking to, but they just likely assumed that they were making too much noise so they all went silent. A smirk tugged at Y/N’s features when he swiftly started making it back up the stairs. When he almost reached the bedroom, he came to a stop when he noticed Y/N was still following him. Making sure he was alone, Negan surveyed the hallway before turning to look at her. “I need whatever this is to stop. I’m about to go be with our children and I can’t be having a mental break in front of them. Please. Leave me alone.”

“So now you want to get rid of me?” she was offended when Negan reached for the door again and pushed into it. An annoyed breath fell from Negan’s throat when she pushed through with him. Sitting at the center of the bed was Evie and Nathan staring up at him with big eyes. Closing the door, Negan stood before his children and felt like his entire body was on fire.

“I need to take a shower,” Negan announced, his voice raspier than normal. “Maybe after we do that, the three of us can go for a walk around outside before I go out looking again tonight.”

“That’d be nice,” Evie nodded her head, but she seemed worried with the way that Negan looked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Negan assured her, looking back toward the door to see that Y/N was leaning back against it. Heading for the bathroom, Negan stopped and swallowed down loudly. Everything felt so surreal right now. Negan didn’t know if he hadn’t had enough sleep or if something weird was actually going on. He really felt like he was having a mental breakdown. Especially since he could see Y/N standing there like she was perfectly okay, yet no one else could. “Evie? Do you see your mother?”

“What do you mean?” Evie replied back, unsure how to answer. Holding his finger up toward the door, Negan noticed that he was shaking an incredibly large amount when Y/N looked over toward their children that were sitting down on the bed together. Evie gazed over at the area that Negan was pointing at and worry began to flood her young features, “Are you asking me if I see her there? I don’t see anything daddy.”

“I meant,” Negan whimpered, licking his lips when he shakily lowered his hand. He didn’t even know why he asked her that. He knew that Y/N wasn’t really there. That was when his eyes started burning over. He broke. He finally broke. Something was seriously wrong with him because he was seeing someone that wasn’t there. “I meant in your sleep.”

“Oh, yeah. Sometimes,” Evie didn’t know how to answer when she reached for a toy that Nathan was outstretching his hand out to grab. Helping him, she played with Nathan in attempts to keep him calm. “Daddy, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Negan lied reaching up to wipe at his face when he started crying. At this point, he couldn’t hold back on his emotions. They were just coming whether he wanted them to or not. Taking in a deep breath, he pointed toward the bathroom again and nodded. “I’m going to shower.”

Making a quick escape, Negan stumbled into the bathroom and kicked out of his boots. Heading for the shower, he turned the water on and dropped his head forward. Counting to himself, he tried to get himself to calm down when he started crying again. Stealing another look back, Negan could see that Y/N was still there and she was in the bathroom with him. It felt like the air was being stolen from his lungs and the room was spinning.

“You can’t just block me out Negan,” she declared drawing him to lower down onto the ground. Pulling himself into the shower, he remained fully clothed when he started breaking down again. The water was freezing and it hurt like hell with it pouring down in over his flesh, but he was punishing himself. Rocking back and forth, Negan covered his head when he heard her sigh. “Negan?”

Covering his ears, Negan slammed his eyes shut in hopes that he would be able to pull himself from this because this was only hurting him more. God knows how long he was in there before he felt hands pressing in over his shoulders. Lifting his head up, he saw that Evie was knelt down in front of him. When she felt how cold he was, she scrambled for the shower to turn it off.

“What are you doing?” Negan questioned watching Evie scramble to grab a towel to wrap it around him. “Evie?”

“I heard you crying,” Evie informed him with worry in her eyes. Trying to tug on his hands, she was eager to get him out of the shower, but he wouldn’t budge. “Daddy, I need you to get up. You’re freezing. You need to change and…”

Even though he knew he was doing everything wrong, Negan was locked inside himself. Everything hurt and he felt like he was dying. Reality was really starting to sink in for him and he hated everything right now. He was broken and it was a broken that you couldn’t fix.

“Daddy please,” Evie begged, struggling to get Negan up, but he wouldn’t budge. “Daddy get up.”

With a final unsuccessful tug, Evie fell back onto her bottom and let out a defeated sound. Tears swelled up in her eyes seeing her father having a complete and total breakdown in front of her, “You’re not the only one that lost her!”

A whimper fell from Negan’s throat when she threw her hands up in the air, Evie’s cries filling the bathroom when she stared out at him with pain in her eyes, “We lost mom. And if you keep up with the way you are acting we are going to lose you too. You’re not the only one that lost her dad. You only just got her back. She was with us the whole time. And she was a good mom. So please. Please. You have to stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan’s voice was broken when he shakily got up to his knees and threw his hands up in the air. There was an ache that would likely never go away. He was heartbroken and he didn’t know how to stop it. “I’m so sorry. I just…I don’t know what to do. I hurt. It hurts so much and…”

Dropping his head down, Negan’s hands braced on the ground when his sobs started to fill the air again. Getting up, Evie slid forward to wrap her arms around Negan while he cried. Shakily, he lifted his arms to wrap her up in a hug. Hell, he couldn’t explain to her what was going on right now, but he knew he needed to start faking it for the children. She was right. He was all they had and he had to figure things out. If not for himself, he needed to do it for them.

----

It had been another rough few weeks. Anyone who saw Negan likely knew that he was a fucking disaster right now. It was rare that he made a public appearance in The Sanctuary lately. Instead he had other people running things for him. He was unkept. Still broken and depressed. His hair was messy and longer than normal. His beard was longer and he just wore whatever the hell was comfortable. Every day he still went out searching for Y/N, but he found nothing. By this point he had pretty much given up completely. There was no sense in searching for someone who was so obviously gone. And someday soon he knew that he was going to have to stop it all together.

One of the only positives was that when he was here, he was spending all of his time with Evie and Nathan. He imagined that was something that Y/N would have liked about this. Then again, she probably wouldn’t have liked it all that much since he promised her that he would be going to the farm with the children and he hadn’t done that yet.

Lifting his eyes from where he was seated on the bed with Nathan, Negan could see that Evie was still working on whatever it was that she had been for a while now. Since Evie found Negan in the shower like she had, things had been awkward between them. Negan knew that she saw the broken pieces of him. It made things uncomfortable. Truthfully? They were both so fucked up over losing Y/N. They were both broken and there was no fixing it. The only thing that could fix it was Y/N and they were both coming to terms with the fact that she was never coming back. Well, in the physical sense for Negan at least.

He kept it to himself, but Negan was still seeing Y/N. Daily. Thankfully, right now she was nowhere to be found and that made him happy. Every time she showed up, he had a meltdown and he knew it. It was something he couldn’t explain to Evie, so he likely came off snappy whenever she’d ask him about it. Negan felt like a freak and there was nothing he could do to change that. If this was the normal world, he could get help, but the world wasn’t what it used to be. He couldn’t get help. If he went to the doctor here, it was just a doctor. Not a psychiatrist. And if he did ask for help, somehow it would get out to Simon or someone else that didn’t have faith in him and he would lose everything. He couldn’t lose everything right now. Not when he still needed the resources.

“Do you know what this is?” Negan pointed toward the image in the book that he was reading to Nathan. Every day he was trying to help Nathan become more comfortable with talking and learning things. He knew that Y/N insisted that he was smart, but he didn’t want people to think that there was something wrong with Nathan, so he was working with him.

“A dog,” Nathan was excited to answer, lifting his head up to get praise from Negan who nodded slowly. “A brown one.”

“Yes it is,” Negan watched Nathan flipping the next page while he stroked his fingers through Nathan’s hair. Nathan was cuddled up beside him while they worked together. It was something Negan honestly tried to do every day. He had someone working with both Nathan and Evie, but he was putting a lot of work into helping Nathan. “And what about this?”

“A bed!” Nathan’s voice was high pitched, but it made Negan happy that he started to get Nathan talking more.

“What about the color?” Negan tapped on the page and it was one where Nathan had to think about things. “You got this.”

“Red?” Nathan’s eyebrows furrowed, his facial expression showing that he was unsure. Nodding slowly had Nathan giggling when he looked to the book again.

“Good boy,” Negan praised Nathan on getting something right again. The sound of Evie moving her chair caught their attention when they finished with the book, but Negan was still eager to get Nathan talking again. Setting the book aside, Negan tapped at Nathan’s nose and it had Nathan rocking back with laughter. “What’s this?”

“My nose daddy,” Nathan pushed Negan’s hand aside with a big belly giggle when Negan started tickling at Nathan’s stomach. The uncontrollable laughter fell from Nathan’s throat with the way that Negan was playing with him and it had Negan smiling. Probably for the first time in a long time. “Stop!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Negan lowered down to pepper kisses against Nathan’s face. It had happy sounds filling the air which lightened the mood of everything. It made Negan happy in some way that Nathan was too young to understand that Y/N was gone. Between Negan and Evie there was so much sadness, but with Nathan there was still a sense of purity and innocence. He was happy still and Negan needed that right now. Finally stopping, Negan saw the happy tears at the corner of Nathan’s eyes when Negan rest back on his elbow. “Okay, what about your name?”

“Hey daddy,” Evie called out with an excited breath trying to get Negan’s attention, but he held his finger up motioning her to wait. Arching his eyebrow up, Negan was looking to Nathan expectantly while Nathan grabbed a hold of his toes. “Daddy?”

“Hold on Evie,” Negan requested, his attention locked on Nathan. When Nathan didn’t answer, Negan reached out to playfully stroke his fingers through his son’s hair to mess it. Having Negan ignoring her had the smile fading from her face while Negan played with Nathan. “I know you know this answer. Don’t try to fool your daddy.”

“It will just be a second,” Evie spoke up once more with uncertainty in her tone. Looking to what she had been working on, she pushed it out toward the center of the table in hopes that she could catch Negan’s attention. “Daddy?”

“Nathan,” Nathan finally answered, his pronunciation of the word a bit broken since it was still a little hard for him.

“And how old are you?” Negan pushed after clapping his hands together. The lines in his forehead grew with his dimples becoming more prominent while he watched his son closely. “How old?”

“I’m three!” Nathan responded and Negan inhaled deeply before shaking his head. “No?”

“Not yet. Almost though!” Negan reasoned with his son, grabbing a hold of Nathan’s hands to wiggle his arms. “You’re still two!”

“Oh!” Nathan’s mouth made a big circle shape and it had Negan snickering.

“What’s this?” Negan reached for Nathan’s toes, bringing Nathan’s foot up so he could blow raspberries at the bottom of his son’s foot. It had Nathan hollering out in laughter which had Negan laughing too.

“Mine,” Nathan pulled his foot back away from Negan making Negan feel some sense of joy with how enthusiastic Nathan was being. “Toes.”

“Good boy,” Negan cheered on his son before pointing toward his own chest. “Who am I?”

“My daddy,” Nathan almost squeaked out in enthusiasm reaching out to sink his fingers into Negan’s hair. Pulling Negan close, Nathan kissed at Negan’s cheek before Negan started to return the gesture. Peppering kisses over Nathan’s face, Negan tickled at his son’s abdomen while they laughed together.

“Daddy?” Evie called out again after allowing Negan some time with Nathan, but this time Negan didn’t even give her a response when he pointed at Nathan’s chest again.

“So how old are you again?” Negan wanted to get Nathan to say it right this time.

“Two,” Nathan had the right answer this time and Negan threw his hands up in the air to cheer on his son.

“That’s right!” Negan gave a proud nod and he was being dramatic with the way that he was saying things hoping to get Nathan excited to learn. Reaching for Nathan, Negan pulled him in close to give him a big hug, making silly noises when they played together.

“Hey daddy, can I just…” Evie began trying to get her father’s attention if only for a moment.

“Evie!” Negan snapped when he heard Evie calling out to him again, his eyebrows furrowed showing that he was angry with her trying to get his attention as he lifted his head up to stare out at her. “I asked you to give me a goddamn minute. Fuck! When I’m ready for you, I will let you know. You don’t have to keep saying my name. I heard you the first fucking time.”

After he said that, Negan immediately regretted it when he saw her face turn a light shade of red. The expression she gave showed that he hurt her feelings before she dropped her head down. Sitting up, Negan went to say something, but he didn’t know what to say with her face growing a deeper shade of red. Nathan crawled into Negan’s lap in attempts to continue to try to play with him. Clearing his throat, Negan looked to Nathan who was playing with Negan’s fingers and Negan could feel a lump growing in his throat with Evie’s reaction to him yelling at her.

Dropping her pencil, Evie pushed the paper that she was working on even further out away from her in an unhurried movement. By her expression, Negan could tell that she was doing everything she could to hold back on crying with her head lowered.

“What do you want, Evie?” Negan finally spoke, adjusting Nathan in his lap noticing the way that her fingers curled around the edge of the table. There was a single tear that slid down her face and it made Negan feel guilty. “Evie?”

“Never mind. It’s not important anyways. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry,” she sniffled, pushing her chair further away from the table. Lifting her hand, she wiped at her face with the back of it and Negan knew he should have been saying something, but he didn’t. “Can I please go to the bathroom?”

“Evie,” Negan frowned lifting one of his hands to bury his head into his palm realizing that he just upset his daughter.

“Please,” she begged still keeping her head tipped away from him because she didn’t want him to see her upset.

“Of course honey, you don’t have to ask me that,” Negan tried speaking softly to her since he knew he fucked up with the way he yelled at her. Swiftly she stood up from the table and was quick to run into the bathroom. The sound of the fan turning on was heard and he knew that she did that to likely hide from him that she was crying from what he had done. With a frown, Negan curled his arm tightly around Nathan to pull him close. Standing up, Negan brought Nathan with him when he headed over toward the table to look at what Evie obviously had been calling him over for. Grabbing what he realized was a drawing, he pulled it up to see that it was him playing with Nathan on the bed that she had drew. “Fuck.”

For a ten-year-old, it was actually incredibly well done. There was no questioning that Evie had a real talent for art. Even this early on it was obvious. He remembered when she was little how she was drawing all the time. He thought he got her started on that since he always used to doodle and draw. But this was beyond anything he had seen her do in the past.

Letting out a hiss, he looked back over his shoulder at the bathroom door wishing he would have never snapped at her like that. She was just excited to show him something that she had done and it was probably something that she was proud of.

“Good job,” Y/N’s voice was heard from the other side of the room. Looking toward the couch, Negan felt a pain at the center of his chest and he huffed when he saw her sitting there. So much for having a day without seeing her. “You’re really working on getting father of the year. Aren’t you?”

“Please, not now,” Negan begged, lifting his free hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose in hopes of getting this to stop. “I can’t take this right now.”

“Well excuse me,” she breathed out, throwing her hands up dramatically when she leaned back against the couch as if to get comfortable. Why Negan was seeing her truly drove him mad, but he was hoping that he would stop having these visions, not that she would keep coming back. “You make our daughter cry and I’m just supposed to keep my mouth shut? You’re really dropping the ball with Evie, Negan. You’re her favorite and you’re ruining her relationship with you.”

“I’m not,” Negan reasoned with her, noticing that Nathan was looking up at him confused since Negan was ultimately talking to thin air. Hopefully Nathan thought he was talking to himself instead of picking up on his weird habits. “I snapped at her one time. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that,” she put her feet up on the coffee table when Negan headed for the bed to sit down with Nathan. He wanted to keep working with Nathan, hoping to block out Y/N. “So you’re just going to let her cry in the bathroom?”

“I have two children. When she’s ready for me to talk to her, she will come out,” Negan reasoned handing over one of the toys that he had gotten with Y/N from that store from the night everything happened to Nathan. “I can’t stop paying attention to Nathan just because she’s crying. I also need to allow her the right to her privacy. She’s in the bathroom, she doesn’t want me in there with her.”

“She’s starting to think that Nathan is your favorite,” Y/N spoke up having Negan grumbling under his breath. “You’re barely talking to her and interacting with her. You’re spending all of your free time with Nathan. And when you are with her, she’s taking care of you. You’re not acting like her father, Negan. Being a father was the thing you did best and you’re failing.”

“No, I’m a good father,” Negan corrected, his eyes lifting up angrily from where he was seated on the bed with Nathan. “I’ve been spending all of my time with both of them. I’m being a good father. I’m looking for their mother and I’m doing my best.”

Hearing the sound of the bathroom door opening, Negan watched as Evie walked beyond the table instead of going back to her drawing. Sadness flooded his body when he saw her drop down on the opposite couch that he had been seeing Y/N on. Evie turned and faced the back of the couch after grabbing a pillow to hold onto it.

“You’re not going to go back and finish working on what you were doing?” Negan inquired, speaking loud enough to let Evie know that he was talking to her.

“It’s crap anyways,” Evie retorted with a sigh, squeezing the pillow tightly in her arms.

“I can’t imagine anything you do is crap,” Negan didn’t know if he should tell her that he looked at the drawing or not since she had run off after everything. “Do you want to show me what you were working on?”

“You don’t want to see it,” Evie replied back and Negan could tell that he had upset her. “Just keep playing with Nathan.”

“I’m sure Nathan and I would love to see what you were working on,” Negan suggested feigning a smile in hopes that she would look at him, but she wasn’t. Brushing his fingers through Nathan’s hair, Negan could see that Nathan was preoccupied with the toy Negan gave him and Negan stood up from the bed. Heading over to Evie, Negan knelt down and caressed his fingers over her shoulder. “Hey…listen…”

A long exhale fell from his throat when he tried to get Evie to look at him, but he could hear her crying still which meant she was fighting looking at him, “I didn’t mean to yell at you Evie, I was just…”

The sound of a knock on the door was heard and it made Negan huff out loudly. The person at the other end didn’t wait as the door pushed open, “What?”

“Gregory is going to be stopping by in about an hour,” Simon informed Negan, grasping tightly to the door while he stared out at Negan from across the room. “Apparently he has information about something that is going on with Rick and the rest of the crew. It’s life and death according to him. So I suggest you clean up and get ready because you are going to be at that meeting.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Negan declared with a frown hating to hear that he was being demanded of something when he was about to make up with his daughter. Well, at least try to. “It can wait.”

“No Negan, it can’t,” Simon snarled at Negan, moving further into the room when he threw his hands up in the air. “He said life or death. So I suggest you take it seriously because that means it could effect the lives of everyone here. Including your children. So if you care about your children, you will get up, get ready and be prepared for that fucking meeting in an hour.”

“Got it,” Negan grumbled under his breath. For once, this did actually seem like a big deal. Once Simon left, Negan looked back to Evie who was still facing the back of the couch. “Evie?”

“Don’t worry about it dad,” she whispered quietly, but he still managed to hear her. “You have more important things to deal with right now. Go do whatever you have to do.”

“Baby,” Negan frowned realizing that Simon coming in and telling him what he did wasn’t going to fix anything when it came to Evie. They should have been having a discussion where he apologized and she had his full attention. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she was still hurt and Negan knew that.

“Listen. Daddy is gonna go get cleaned up for this meeting. After it’s over, how about while Nathan is taking his nap you and I watch a movie together? Maybe we can set this area up, get someone to make some popcorn for us. Get some snacks. What do you say?” Negan caressed over Evie’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” she breathed out with Negan leaning forward to press a kiss over her temple. He wished she would have said more, but he hurt her. There was no denying that.

Even though he didn’t have any passion in what was happening, Negan took a shower. Cut his hair. Trimmed his beard. Put on the leather jacket, slicked back his hair and pretended. He feigned that smile and that arrogance. He went down to that meeting and did what he had to do. He put on his show. That’s what he always did. But when Rick showed up? Well that’s when everything changed.

At this point in his life he had dropped things with Rick in the name of finding Y/N. But when he was shot in the leg and they shot out the windows of The Sanctuary. That’s when this became personal. That’s when he knew that he had to start focusing on finishing this war. Rick and his crew put his children in danger and Negan didn’t even know if they were okay.

Pacing to the side of the small trailer that he was trapped in, Negan felt the overwhelming heat surrounding him. Trying to look through the small cracks of the boarded-up windows of the trailer, he found himself in a sense of panic. He didn’t even know if his children were okay. And the last thing he did was hurt his daughter’s feelings. More than anything he was scared. Scared if he would make it back to his children. And he was left wondering if they were all right. Now, Negan was going to have to end this war once and for all before he could make the world right for his children. Because Rick made this personal when he involved his children in the danger he was bringing down on Negan and The Sanctuary. And he wasn’t okay with that.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @felicity291 @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @neganswoman @ravenrose18

#Negan #Negan x reader #Negan fanfiction #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #Negan Smith

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karlachismylife · 11 days ago

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Johnny's dead on the ground.

Correction: Johnny's dying on the ground. Time warps and stretches out, his last seconds dragging for ages long enough for galaxies to be born and die in blindingly white sparkles before his wide open eyes. His limbs grow cold and stiff, akin to pork legs hanging down in smelly rows inside a butcher's freezer - meat that went through a slaughterhouse, his temple stil throbbing after a bolt gun aimed at the fine cattle.

Slaughtered in a blink of an eye, no higher aim or meaning. Simple as that, just a young lamb down.

It burns, this spot, fevereshly hot, something steamy and moist leaking down his cheek and jawline. Feels like a branding iron stuck to his skin, warmth spreading around it through otherwise cooling off body. White pain so bad that hot and cold start to mix up, creating a stagnant, sickly burial shroud of warmth around him - it hovers, but doesn't touch him.

Leaves him without his last consolation.

His chest is compressed, barely able to move for another wheezing breath. A considerable weight pressing down on him, preventing from filling his lungs properly for what may be his last time - steel hoops stacked flush to each other tighten around his ribs. The fire that was burning through his temple finally eats through his flesh to his eyes.

His lashes flutter and he loses sight, stinging white finally replaced with a comfortable black.

Johnny's dead on the ground.

The weight on top of him shifts, relieving some of itself from his chest, and a blow of cool air hits the damp side of his face that was branded by that scorching heat, immediately making his skin prickle. Uncomfortable, Soap scrunches his nose and unwillingly opens his eyes.

There are two yellow feline eyes staring right back at him in front of his mug, and the moment they spot him move, a Cheshire cat smile spreads on the handsome face above, sharp fangs flashing. Something whips at his freezing knee.

"Hey, soldier," coos Karlach in a hushed tone, brushing the tip of her nose along his. "Got ya, eh? You're dead."

"Aye. KIA, bonnie. Ye'll havtae tell mah Mam."

With a sigh, now that the whole mass of a beefy tiefling isn't crushing his ribs, Soap wipes the temple she kissed and left the wetness of her breath on, and drops his wide spread arms in a dramatic gesture - or preparation to make a snow angel. The legs will probably be all fucked up after he got ambushed by Karlach and tumbled into the thick winter crystal blanket with her in a wrestling embrace.

"You'll tell her yourself. Come on, get up, it's your turn!" Karlach snorts, wrinkling her nose in an adorable snicker, and Johnny blinks at her as she rises to her feet with a grunt. There are rogue snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes, and they fracture the light in a way that creates a holy rainbow halo around her devilish horns.

"Hm... nae, Ah'm comfy 'ere." He grins and immediately gets rammed into his side, rolling over with a pained "oomf!" - the push Karlach gives him is softened by the thick winter attire, so Johnny needs to play up the ache. "Och! Did na yin teach ye nae tae kick who's already doon?"

"Get yer arse up, Johnny. Don't want ya freezing yer bollocks off, eh? Gonna need 'em later." Snow seems to forget it's crunchy and squeaky under heavy boots when it's Ghost walking up to them. Before Simon can scruff him, Johnny's already up and shaking wet white chunks off his ass with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"I'm not waiting for you, mate. You're it!" - is all they hear before Karlach turns into a bright red smudge on a snowy slope, her heavy footsteps sinking into the pliant cover on the ground.

"Well?" Simon raises an eyebrow and nods in the direction of the fleeing tiefling. "Your bird's flyin' away."

Good thing he's almost finished with his ciggy, because in the glossy blue eyes Johnny squints against the reflective brightness of the snow reads clear as day - Ghost is getting tagged next.

#i guess i should honour the anniversary of NOTHING HAPPENING #soap cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod #karlach #bg3 karlach #karlach x soap #call of duty #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #maybe also #ghoap x karlach #and #ghoap #ghost x soap #if you squint #oneshot

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crystallizedday · 1 year ago

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So I have no idea if anyone else has made a post like this already, but at this point, I’m gonna EXPLODE if I don’t get this out of my system.

This has been haunting my brain for WEEKS & I am NOT having it.

Ice Marcy.

Lil angel.

DEFINITELY a result of Marceline dying at some point.

I mean, we have the Winter King telling Simon he can ALWAYS make an Ice Betty if Simon misses her so much, & while he SAYS that he’s joking & states how such a thing is clearly unethical…

Let’s be honest…

Bro’s a fuckin hypocrite saying that.

I mean, what he did to PB is fuckin unethical as hell, so if he’s morally fine with THAT, what’s stopping him from coping with the death of a loved one by making a living ice replica of them?

Anyway, a bunch of people already agree with that shit anyway, so that’s not what I’m here to address.

I’m here to talk about the when & how of the situation.

Cause I’ve seen a lot of people assuming Marcy died at a very young age due to her appearance as a child in her ice form & this “flashback” scene from WK’s song.

But that just cannot be the case.

Why?

Marceline’s bass.

Her bass (that in actuality is just a fuckin ax) is a family heirloom that once belonged to Hudson.

She only acquired possession of it to modify it into a bass once she met Hudson AFTER Simon had left her for good in her adolescence(?).

This means she COULDN’T have died during the apocalypse phase of Ooo.

So when could she have died?

Well, while a ton of people speculate it was right before or even right after the Winter King’s transformation into himself, I believe it was sometime AFTER, just not quite right away.

Cause ya gotta remember:

Marcy & Bonnie weren’t talking for HUNDREDS of years after their breakup.

& they only started hanging out again about two decades earlier from where we are in the present, which is still FAIRLY RECENT.

As Simon states in the episode, the Winter King had cursed PB ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

This means she & Marceline were STILL not on speaking terms by the time she got cursed.

HOWEVER

As we see in the very first Adventure Time finale, right before our two favorite lesbians kiss, Marcy admitted she was still TERRIFIED that PB would get hurt WHILE they weren’t talking.

So what does this tell us?

Lemme pitch y’all MY take on how Marcy TRULY died.

The Winter King found a way to project his insanity onto Bubblegum, reshaping himself & his kingdom with his newfound lucidity.

Sometime LATER (either soon after or even decades later), Marceline checks up on the situation after seeing the Candy Kingdom absolutely FUCKED & the Ice Kingdom flourishing, sees what happened to the two rulers, slowly puts two & two together, & interrogates the Winter King on it.

Cause like… while it’s awesome to have “Simon” back, Marceline realistically would NOT stand for it to come at the cost of Bubblegum’s sanity. Even if their relationship was still rocky, she still CARED about Bonnie & her safety.

She demanded the Winter King to undo this, telling him what he was doing was MONSTROUS…

But at some point, whether intentionally or unintentionally…

He did it.

HE killed her.

Either to stop her from reversing the spell herself or to get her to shut up so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that what he did was wrong.

He killed her, & felt such an overwhelming sense of guilt that he decided to cope with what he did…

In probably the most fucked up way possible.

As long as she didn’t know the truth, everything can be fine.

& what’s more oblivious & unquestioning than a small, impressionable child?

Much like how PB intentionally made her citizens stupid to avoid conflict :))))))

Anyway, uh

That is all.

You’re welcome for the heartbreak IWJWOWJWOSKWODK

#winter king #Marceline #princess bubblegum #bonnibel bubblegum #simon and marcy #simon petrikov #adventure time #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #theory crafting #I guess #JWWODKWODWD

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theluckywizard · 3 months ago

Text

Horror Literature Prompt List

I spent some time pulling crunchy quotes from respected horror authors (and a bonus philosopher) to ignite our twisted little minds this spooky season. Please enjoy! Made for @dadrunkwriting

“He couldn't get a grip on his sudden fear: it slipped through the safety bars of his mind and threaded—wormed—into the shadowy pockets where nightmares grew.” ― Nick Cutter, The Troop

"Pick a sin we can both live with, is what I ask." ― Joe Hill, Horns

“There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

“Do you think she can see us, talking to one another now? Do you think the dead come back and watch the living?” ― Daphne Du Maurier, Rebecca

“If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

“Am I walking away from something I should be running away from?” — Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

“The air out here was ghostly, craving something of her. Something she would never let herself give.” ― Alma Katsu, The Deep

“Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer.” ― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

“Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we’re open, we’re red.” ― Clive Barker, Books of Blood

“What looked like morning was the beginning of an endless night.” ― William Peter Blatty, The Exorcist

“There hasn’t been a time that we weren’t dying slow. The world just learned how to make it happen faster. While we weren’t looking,” ― Kristi DeMeester

Madness is when all your nightmares have come true and you just don’t care anymore. - Simon R. Greene, For Heaven’s Eyes Only

“Stare at the dark too long and you will eventually see what isn’t there.” ― Cameron Jace, Snow White Sorrow

“The words thumped deep and low, rhythmically, like a little drum in a wooden box, beaten by unseen hands in a black room that opened doors onto another place you could not see the end of.” ― Adam Nevill, No One Gets Out Alive

“But they are only the faces of the dead. Coming into detail as we hurtle toward them. They see us, too. Fingers scratching at the ice’s rough underside, desperate to be the first to pull us down.” ― Andrew Pyper, The Damned

"Do not call up any that you cannot put down." ― H.P. Lovecraft, The case of Charles Dexter Ward

“There were always stories; people had to talk. Even if they were dying. Maybe the tongue was the last to go.” ― Kathe Koja, Bad Brains

“The light in the gallery changed subtly and he whirled and saw someone approaching him from between the exhibit cases. The individual moved with alarming speed, bent low to the floor, but straightening as he or she drew nearer. Unfolding…” ― Laird Barron, The Croning

“I think it’s good to be afraid. It means that I’m alive.” ― Paul Tremblay, A Head Full of Ghosts

“The cool breeze that ruffled her hair felt like something more than wind.” ― Bentley Little, The Influence

#writing prompts #writing prompt list #spooky prompts #horror prompts #unsettling prompts #DADWC #prompt list #writing prompt

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lethalchiralium · 1 year ago

Note

a domestic happiness ask because the amount of times i’ve read missus dying is offensive !!

completely domestic it hurts tbh

it’s the morning, simon just arrived back home the night before and the babies don’t know

missus and simon have some fluff in the kitchen - making tea, listening heart 70s radio (some swaying to the radio?🙏🏻), reading books in comfortable silence, best banter known to man

maybe winnie comes down and sees simon but has to be quiet to not wake her siblings😭 and then the 3 go and wake up mellie & baby together

just cuteness overload

#happinessislifefr

ugh this makes me so happy

happiness au! (again not decided on the sex of the baby yet)

The cigarette on his lips felt heavy as he sat on the front porch of his home. Knowing you were inside, asleep in your large bed, it made Ghost feel comforted. The family he’s protecting is quiet, eyes fluttering as they sleep and are oblivious to his return - yet he hasn’t stepped through the front door.

One last cigarette and he could go inside, peel off the mask and hold you until his little hellions woke up.

He stubbed the filter into the concrete before picking it up, shoving it in his pocket to throw away later and taking out the singular silver house key beside the keys to his truck. He opened his front door, noting the house was quiet - yet he still heard footsteps in the kitchen. He toed off his boots, closing the door and locking it behind him before he pulled off his coat, then shoved it into the closet so you didn’t smell the cigarette smoke on it.

He could hear something being poured, shuffling around in the kitchen - he knew the sound of your footsteps well enough to know it was you.

You knew the sound of his coat and the heaviness of his footsteps, so you weren’t scared out of your skin when your husband kissed your cheek - your cold hands pouring hot tea into his favorite cup. You didn’t mean to wake up this early, Nathan having kept you up a few hours longer than you intended. You placed the pot down, turning your head to look up at your husband - only to be met by the porcelain colored skull plate.

“Bad?” You whispered, the first word you had spoken that morning. It wasn’t often that he came in with the mask, Simon never liked you interacting with his protective shell, Ghost.

He didn’t move his head, his body stayed still yet his eyes flickered down. You frowned, your hand coming to settle on where his cheekbone was - your palm touching the dirt dusted plastic of his mask. You didn’t need to ask him what happened, he wouldn’t utter a word. You may have not been married for more than two years but that doesn’t excuse the way you knew him. Like he was sculpted from the same block of clay, the way soulmates are always intertwined.

Your fingernails tapped against the plastic, his cold brown eyes flickered to meet yours. You turned fully, the thin t-shirt you wore pressed against his taut stomach and rough belt. His large hand settled on your hip, gloved fingertips begging to feel your warm skin as he felt as cold as ice.

“The boy?”

“Givin’ me Hell in Riley fashion.”

He hummed a little chuckle, his free hand coming to rest right on your chest - right above your heart. His index and middle fingers pressed a little into your skin, trying to feel your heart through his glove.

“He’ll be happy to see you.”

“He’s only six weeks old.”

“He knows who his dad is.”

Simon wasn’t prepared for a son before, but now that he had held Nathan, he knew that he was more than ready. How did he know? Because as soon as he looked in the face of a little Simon Riley, he only felt love. He didn’t feel the despair he thought he would.

“The girls have missed you so much.”

“It’s been two weeks.”

“A long time for them to go without you, honey.” You watched his eyes as they memorized your face, a sleepy smirk tugged at your lips. “Mellie’s been trying to draw you pictures, she’s playing more and more.”

“That’s good.”

“She’s not trying to hide Winnie as often. Or me. Or Missy.”

“She’s too little to be having problems.”

You knew the look in his eye was clear self-deprecation - he thought his daughter having anxiety was exclusively his fault. “Honey.” Your fingertips grazed across the bottom of his mask, the hand on your chest moved to yours as a warning. You understood, keeping your hands on his chest with your nails scratching the old balaclava. “I know you think it’s your fault, but it isn’t. I’ve talked with the doctor, her herding and hiding her family makes her feel safe.”

“She doesn’t feel safe because I’m not here.”

“Simon-“

There was a creak from the staircase, Ghost’s head whipped up to gaze at the doorway - you looked too, only to see your seven year old as she creeped into the kitchen. Her eyes lit up as she saw her father, her arms instantly out as tears burst from her eyes. He let go of you instantly, striding over to scoop his daughter into his arms.

He desperately needed to smell that lavender shampoo you always used, needed to feel her curls against his face - his body was too hot, his face felt like it was on fire and he needed his mask off. All he could smell was the ichor of the battlefield, all he could taste was the metal in his blood.

“Mum was gonna help me get my mask off. Can you help me?”

The girl in orange pajamas nodded a little, a yawn came from her lips as her little hands ungraciously grabbed the top of his mask - including some hair underneath - and pulled. Without a wince, Simon let his oldest child tear off his mask, revealing the black paint around his deep brown eyes. His Winter Grace smiled, hands settled on his cheeks as she whispered, “Good morning, Daddy.”

Your hand settled on his lower back, he didn’t flinch like he would have with his skull plate over his face - his breathing slowed as he pressed his lips to Winnie’s curly hair. “Hello, my little love.”

Your hand gently squeezed your daughter’s foot, she slightly squealed as you whispered, “What are you doing up, baby?”

“Didn’t sleep good.”

“Didn’t sleep good?” Simon’s voice became as light as a feather, his hand cradling her head as he whispered, “I’m sorry. Do you want Mummy to tuck you back in?”

She shook her head, her warm hands tapping a little melody into his skin. “No. Wanna go to bed with you and Mummy.”

You gently shook her leg, your head resting on Simon’s shoulder. “Don’t forget that baby Nathan’s in Mommy’s room, you have to be extra quiet.”

She nodded before she wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck, her round face gazing at you with a smile before she whispered, “Daddy’s home.”

“I know, my love.” You whispered back, seeing Simon’s smile grow in your peripheral vision. “Do you think Melsie and Nate are gonna be happy too?” She nodded vigorously, you gently laughed before you kissed her nose. You looked up to your husband, your smile wide. “Let’s go.”

Simon’s mug of tea grew cold as you spent the early hours of the morning cuddling your children beside your husband.

#happiness series #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x f!reader

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lucid-loves · 1 month ago

Text

Black Blood Red Kiss ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley ~ Part 2

Pairing: Ghost x vampire!reader (fem!reader, 141!reader, callsign “Fangs”)

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, biting, teasing, kisses, grinding, dry humping, office sex.

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Being turned into a vampire never stopped you from joining the military. In fact, it only made it easier for you with new strength, stamina, reflexes, and precision. The only challenge you now faced was keeping your true nature a secret. This is incredibly difficult to do when your new teammate, Ghost, smells so delicious. What will happen to your relationship with him once you both get a dangerous taste of each other?

Chapter Synopsis: Hoping that Ghost would forget about the bite, you've been dodging all of his efforts to talk to you. With an acute sense of his scent, it has been easy. Ghost finds a way to corner you, though, and things quickly get heated in more ways than one. (SMUT ALERT)

Part 1 ~ Part 2

Damn it, how much longer was he going to tail you? Ever since you bit him, Ghost has been trying to talk about it with you. You knew based on how he tried to approach you. Purposeful. Urgent. Each step he took said he was a man on a mission.

And you have been doing your best to completely avoid him.

Since the night you tore away on your motorcycle after drinking his blood, your mind has been scrambled. Horny, hungry, and anxious. You didn't mean to bite him. Instinct to satiate your hunger just took over. And now your whole life was in jeopardy if Ghost put the pieces together.

That's probably what he wanted to confirm with you.

Ignoring his sharp gazes, walking off before he could speak, and changing directions once you smelled him has helped you avoid the confrontation. Yeah, the boys thought you hated his guts, but it was better than having to explain that you were secretly a vampire.

Fighting maddening arousal too since you had to leave yourself hanging.

“That's all. Meeting adjourned.” Captain Price dismissed everyone after a rather long, agonizingly boring meeting. General overviews always had you feeling bored out of your mind. Besides the fact that this was a mandatory meeting, Ghost was also driving you nuts by sitting next to you the entire time.

He was sure to catch you this time.

Yet, as soon as Price dismissed the team, you bolted right out of the room. Before anyone even stood up, you were gone. At this point, Ghost was getting pissed. He's been chasing you all week.

When you dined and dashed on him, it left him stunned and unbelievably excited. He was so startled that he didn't stick around with the boys at the bar. All he did was say goodbye and head home. There wasn't a single second where his mind wasn't on you.

Aside from wanting an explanation on what happened that night, he's been dying to get some of your attention again.

But all he got from you was the cold shoulder.

Soap gave a small chuckle to lighten the mood. “You make her angry or something, L.T? It looks like she’s been avoiding you like the plague.”

“Kinda spooky how she knows when he’s coming too. One moment, I’m talking to her. The next, she’s out the door. Then just a second later, Ghost is in her place.” Gaz chimed in, his own nosiness coming through.

All Ghost did was give a curt grunt. He didn’t have a good answer for them. Were you angry at him? No, probably not. How could he explain that you drank his blood though? This was between you and him.

Price, noticing the growing tension, waved Soap and Gaz away to talk to Ghost in private. Like the observant captain that he is, he has realized that you were completely avoiding his lieutenant unless it was mandatory to be with him. At this point, he was concerned that something was splitting his team apart. “You didn’t get into a fight with Fangs, did you?”

Ghost looked away and crossed his arms. “Not exactly.”

“Then what? We are supposed to be a team. I’m not saying that you are at fault here since I don’t have the full context, but that’s exactly what I’m trying to understand. Can you give me anything that could help patch things up between the both of you?” Captain urged, taking this as seriously as a combat zone.

“To be honest, Captain. Even I don’t know the full context. I’m still figuring it out.”

“Well, figure it out soon if you can. We can’t have this strain during a mission.”

With those final orders, Ghost left the conference room with a heavy heart. That was it. He was going to talk to you now, whether you liked it or not.

Jesus, fucking finally! You have been around the entire base hiding from Ghost, and he finally disappeared. You had better speed and stamina as a vampire, but anyone would be exhausted trying to avoid a very stubborn man. You have barely gotten any work done all day since working at your desk was a no-go. You had no choice but to hang out in the ammo closet within the shooting range, laptop in hand to get what you could done. Unless you wanted to play the reverse bloodhound game with him again, it was gunpowder city for you.

After working for several hours to catch up, it was close to midnight when everyone should be done with work, asleep, or heading home. There was no way in hell Ghost should still be looking for you. Any sane person would have called it a night. With this benefit of the doubt, you exited the closet, returned your laptop to your desk, and began gathering your things.

You didn’t even notice him standing within the shadow near the door.

When the door closed, you jumped, startled that he could sneak up on you like this. Damn ammo closet probably clogged your sense of smell with the metallic scent of gunpowder. It didn’t help that Ghost always seemed to vaguely smell of it too. You cursed under your breath and attempted to take your leather jacket off from your desk chair.

A large hand held it down in place. “Talk to me, Fangs. What happened that night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s forget it ever happened.” You tried to brush off, avoiding eye-contact as much as you could.

Ghost wasn’t ready to let up. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all week about it. You’re not avoiding this.”

You scoffed and tugged the jacket out from under his grip. “It’s personal.”

“Yeah, it is fucking personal.” He agreed in his own way, before taking your wrists in his hands. Firm so you couldn’t escape like you always did, but gentle enough not to hurt you. To stop you from pushing and pulling, he stood extremely close to you. With your back against the desk and your chest facing his, you were pinned.

Even now, as irritated as you were, you were still so beautiful. “Tell me, Fangs. That’s an order.”

He had you now. You took your job so seriously that you wouldn’t dare disobey a direct order. Being on your best behavior made people less suspicious of your real identity. This habit still stuck. Clicking your tongue, you prepared to say goodbye to the life you worked hard to build.

“Isn’t it obvious? I drank your blood because I’m a hungry vampire. I hadn’t eaten in a while and you were a meal right in front of me. Anything else, Lieutenant?” You confessed with venom, hoping to somehow hurt him before he could hurt you.

The tension between the two of you was heated. Thick. Ghost had never heard you be so aggressively defensive before. So insulting with your tone. However, he knew you spoke the truth, as much as it sounded hard to believe. If you didn’t bite him that night, he probably wouldn’t have believed you.

Ghost wasn’t done yet. There was another pressing matter he needed to get closure on. The matter that did make all of this really personal. “When you bit me, it didn’t feel painful. Quite the opposite. Why?”

You finally met his eyes and blinked a few times incredulously. Was that really important right now? Was he really asking you why he was hard for you?! Your cheeks rapidly grew red with his blunt questions. The gunpowder stench that lingered on your nose was beginning to fade, allowing that sweet and spicy scent of Ghost to make your heart race.

Fuck, why did he have to smell so fucking good?! Why did his eyes have to be so blue?!

Ghost was feeling the pull too. It happened when he first saw your vulnerable side and it was happening now. His heart beat loudly in his chest as you became flustered. Brows furrowing in both frustration and embarrassment. Cheeks turning a cute rosy hue. Chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried not to lose the cool everyone knew you as.

Without even getting bitten first, Ghost wanted to fuck you right on your desk.

“Bite me.”

“Wh-What?!” You stuttered, unsure if you heard him right.

Ghost leaned forward closer to speak directly into your reddening ears. His voice became husky as he lifted up some balaclava to reveal a smooth neck. “Bite me, Fangs. That’s an order.”

Reacting on a mix of vampire and soldier instinct, you bit into him to taste his delicious blood. Electricity zipped on your tongue as you drank, the energy traveling all throughout your body. Power. Arousal. Fuck, this was good.

With a burst of strength, you broke out of his grasp and put him in yours instead. It was so sudden that Ghost had to brace his hands on the desk, papers and mugs shaking from the force. Sharp nails dug into his skin, tugged at his shirt, pulled him closer. Pressing your bodies together, you moaned, sending vibrations through Ghost that had him hiss from the sudden pleasure.

Of course, he was as hard as a rock. His cock pressed tight against his pants almost painfully. The bite didn’t even hurt with how strong the aphrodisiac effect was. But he was still unaware if you felt it too. To test this, his hands went to your waist to lift you onto the desk. Now in between your legs, he pressed his clothed erection into your covered, dripping cunt. Just for a second.

That second was enough. Your body tensed and you moaned sharply. Dizziness overcame you so bad from your lost breath that you had to stop drinking. Panting hard, you tried to regain some control.

Ghost lost all of his, though.

Without a second thought, he took your hips into his hands and grinded into you some more. You gasped and released a melodic moan that just made Ghost more eager. Damnit, if there weren’t any fucking clothes in the way he would take you now.

For now, he wanted to make you cum just like this. Not that you were going to stop him at this point. You wanted to cum so badly too. Ever since last week you’ve wanted him to make you cum. His grip on you, the lingering taste of him, and bated breaths only heightened the feeling. The teasing. Your panties were hot and soaked for him. A dark, wet spot was starting to spread through the fabric of your pants.

“F-Fuck!” You whimpered, brows furrowing and back arching in hopes to make more pleasurable friction. Legs began to tremble as the pleasure spread. Drool began to drip down the corner of your mouth with how much you were salivating. Fuck, just a little bit more!

You weren’t the only one that was going crazy. Ghost was struggling to not tear your clothes apart with his bare hands. Miraculously, he was close to cumming just from the clothed grinding too. It was like you were a drug. A sexy, beautiful, blood-thirsty one. He couldn’t get enough of the way you cursed within your moans. How you moved your hips in-sync with his for more.

Your toes curled as you teetered right on the edge of orgasm. The feverish friction on your clit, against your folds, all of your wetness spreading around was getting too much. Noticing how close you were, Ghost grinded harder. Even if you squirmed, you weren’t going anywhere. Not again.

Eyes fluttered closed as the feeling overtook you. Before you knew it, you were screaming it all out, pussy tightening around nothing. You wished that his cock was buried deep inside you so badly that it almost hurt. The grip you had on his shirt was sure to stretch the fabric out. Not that Ghost cared. All he could focus on was how fucking hot it was to watch you climax which triggered his own.

You felt the pressure of his hands on you to keep you still. You noticed how he froze and held his breath before choking out a groan. Witnessing how much your lieutenant could fall apart in pleasure turned you on.

But, you were done. The both of you were. For now, at least. As you both tried to catch your breath, sweat dripping down your temples, you got back on the ground to be on your feet. Every nerve in your body felt like jelly, but at least some of the pent-up arousal you’ve been holding in all week was relieved. Not only that, you were recovering faster from the recent meal.

Out of habit, you began to put on your jacket to leave. Yet, Ghost wasn’t ready to let you go. His voice sounded deeper and strained when he spoke. “Wait. We’re not done talking.”

You sighed, exhaustion now a thing of the past for you. “You plan on telling everyone what I really am?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.” He replied resolutely, startling you. There wasn’t a shred of dishonesty in his blues that told you otherwise.

It didn’t make sense on why he would keep this secret for you, but you weren’t going to question it. You didn’t want to give him second thoughts. “Then what? What else needs to be said?”

Ghost felt a sting in his heart from your curtness. Making you cum didn’t seem to soften your edges at all.

He wanted to fix that. Taking your hand gently in his, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m your Lieutenant. Rely on me more.”

Your heart skipped a beat from this gentle and confident side of his. The desire to kiss him passed through you for a moment. You haven’t even seen his face yet, but you knew that Ghost would be your undoing if you weren’t careful.

Pulling your hand back, you headed towards the door. With your back still turned to him, you paused at the doorway. “I’ll let you know when I’m hungry.”

“And I’ll feed you. Promise.”

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