#the very last one about simon though made me think about like

[zeltqz]

PICS & VIDEOS — caleb

✈︎ content warning | references hidden waves memory (sick caleb), phone sex, i made tara a freak cuz why not, simone hates caleb lol, suggestive texts, lingerie photos, caleb sends a dp, reader sends her wet fingers lol, no actual sex yet, just phone sex, sexually frustrated reader, caleb whimpers cuz i want him to, colonel caleb era, caleb abuses emoticons lol i love him ✈︎ synopsis | you are getting sick and tired of caleb always pulling away from potential kisses. frustrated, you take it up with your friends who give you advice on how to get him to fold. send him pics.

“I’m telling you Tara, he literally won’t make the first move. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Tara rubbed her chin. “Hm. And you’re sure he likes you?”

Beside you, Simone scoffed. “Unfortunately yes. It’s obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to address her one-sided beef with Caleb. “Yes, Tara.”

“How is it obvious? I only met him once.”

“And you couldn’t see how obvious it was?” Simone added, genuinely surprised Tara missed the obvious clues. “He wouldn’t stop staring at her like all day. The whole time we ate, he was just staring at her. Not even subtle too. I would’ve thought you two kissed by now, or at the very least fucked.” Simone looked at you now. “Seriously, why don’t you just make the first move?”

“I dunno?! It’s weird…and as much as I dream about just grabbing his face and kissing him, in the moment I just chicken out…”

Tara hummed, stroking her chin again. “I see. I see. And you know for certain he likes you? Besides the staring, and all.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You looked down at the table, at the fries sitting on your tray, reminiscing about the last time you were in Skyhaven. 

Caleb had caught a cold from standing in the rain for too long, and the two of you were on awkward terms after an argument. He didn’t want you to see him while sick but eventually relented and let you inside his room. You checked his temperature and he was burning up, so you didn’t want to take your hands off his face, caressing his red cheeks, embracing his warmth. You sang for him, and he leaned in, and you just knew it’d finally be the moment you kissed. You even closed your eyes shut, waiting to feel his lips against yours, but he pulled himself away and turned to the side. Obviously you were frustrated, no denying that, and you were about to just leave his room before he pulled you in for a hug. Though you didn’t kiss, the hug was more intimate than you’d imagined. Every time Caleb was sick, even in the past, he rarely let you see him in that state. To see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to stop coughing, his red cheeks and ears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

You were unaware of how long you were just staring off into space as you recalled the memory from a few weeks ago. Tara and Simone share a look with each other. 

“Um, hello?” Simone waved in front of your face. You blinked yourself back to reality and looked between the both of them. Simone got a good look at your face and clicked her tongue. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not!”

Tara cheered. “Wait, were you thinking about him?!” She questioned, and your face flushed even harder. You looked away, and she cheered even louder. “Tell me what you were thinking about!”

Simone, who’d rather die than admit she was curious, rested her elbow on the table, cheek in palm as she turned to look at you, waiting for the explanation.

You sighed and told them the story in extreme detail about your last encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven. Though it started on bad terms, the two of you had been even closer than before. You text every single day whenever he can respond, and when he’s unable to come to the phone, you always spam him with funny videos, and emojis. And he responds to every single one of them. You two fall asleep on the phone almost every night, if he doesn’t come home too late from work, and wake up to see either him still dead asleep, or the call being cut, but he always follows it up with:

Sorry for hanging up, i had to head to work ;-; ill text you as soon as i come back :D 

You hadn’t spoken to him in the last few days though, as he was leading a team to explore the Deepspace Tunnel and would be out of service for at least 5 days. It’s only day 3 and you’ve been missing him so much, it’s crazy. He’s what you think of when you fall asleep, and wake up. You’re not even safe from him in your dreams.

“I’ve got a question,” Tara says, raising her hand up.

“Proceed.” You gesture for her to continue.

She leaned in across the table, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Can I be the maid of honour at your wedding?”

“TARA!” you exclaim. Simone nearly snorts her milkshake up her nose at your reaction. The two of them start laughing and you chuckle a bit yourself. They continue talking and you whip out your phone to open your messages with Caleb, eying the message you sent him this morning.

08:44 I just woke upppp. I’m heading to lunch with some friends today!!! I’ll send you some photos you can salvate over once u get back

You swipe to the camera and snap a photo of your half eaten burger with fries, sending it in chat with a yummy emoji.

13:33 Bet u wish this was u huhhhhhhhhhhh

You throw the fact he has to be on a strict diet in his face, adding a few random emojis before turning off your phone. 

“She was texting him just now,” Simone’s voice startled you. 

“No I wasn’t.”

“Look at that grin on your face.”

You quickly drop the smile you didn’t know existed off your face. “I’m not grinning!”

“You so are!” Simone cackled, leaning into your personal space, eyeing your phone. “Show me what you said.”

“It’s not much,” you say, turning your phone back on. “Just send him a picture of my food.”

Simone looked at the one sided replies, how you’ve been spamming him with messages for the last three days and he hasn’t been online since. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, is he ghosting you?”

“What? No.” You take your phone back and hand it to Tara who was struggling to see from the other side of the table. “He’s just on a mission right now. Five days long. I always spam him with he’s unavailable. He says I can tell him whatever is on my mind.”

“Mm-hm,” Simone hummed.

“You know what would be so crazy?” Tara said, scrolling through your messages. 

“What?” you and Simone say in unison.

“If you sent him nudes.”

You nearly choked on air, Simone’s eyes widening at the words coming out of Tara’s mouth. 

“It’s always the innocent looking ones, huh.”

Tara giggled. Meanwhile you were still in a state of shock. 

“Um??? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Well, no,” Tara defended. “Think about it. You two are basically dating already, just haven’t made it official. And you said you want him to make the first move right? How will he know if its okay to do or not if he doesn’t know you are just as into him as he’s into you? And since you don’t wanna kiss him first, show him you’re into him at least with a few picturesssssss.”

On the surface she wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t deny that. Growing up, Caleb had seen your body before, it wasn’t unusual. Beach days where you were mainly in bikinis, heatwaves where you were wearing mainly shorts and crop tops. He’d even walked in on you changing a few times, and vice versa. It wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t vaguely seen before. But the thought of actually doing it make a knot form in your stomach. But it also made arousal pool between your legs at the thought of him seeing you in a different light.

Maybe this would be the transition you both needed to take your relationship to a different level.

You finally spoke after a while of contemplation. “I mean, sure. But I’ve never taken any before. I don’t even own sexy clothes.”

Simone waved you off. “It’s not that hard. Men are so easy to please. I got you.” She finished her milkshake in a few sucks and set the empty cup down on the table. “Come on, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” you questioned.

Tara squealed. “Shopping, yes!” She quickly got up from her seat and dragged you out of yours. 

Tara and Simone led you out of the food court  and into Victoria’s Secret a few floors down. The three of you spent the next two hours picking different outfits, ranging from two piece sets, to one pieces, bralettes and panties. You ended up spending more than you thought you would’ve but it was all worth it. 

You took them back to your house and the photoshoot began. Was it awkward at first? Yes. You barely wore tight fitted, revealing outfits, especially ones as sexual as this. But after a few test photos, your body loosened up and you gradually became more confident. 

“Press your boobs together,” Tara shouted from behind the camera. You were laying flat on your back, your head hanging off the bed as you stared into the camera. 

“This position looks silly,” you comment. 

“You look smoking hot though!!”

Simone moves behind Tara and bends down to peek at the camera. She wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It looks a bit silly.”

You sat up, sighing. “Thank you.”

“Okay wait, what about sucking a finger into your mouth? Would Caleb be into that? Ooh! Or arching your back on the bed?” The longer you spent with Tara today, you realised she’s not as innocent as she looks. She really is the mastermind behind the operation. From picking out each lingerie set, to looking up seductive posts on Pinterest to make you copy. 

“Are the ones we took now not enough?” you asked, muscles and back aching from bending over and twisting your body in such unnecessary positions. 

“If you’re this tired after some nudes, how are you gonna get the stamina to get fucked hard by Caleb?” Tara retorted. 

“I—”

Simone grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the photos. She picked out one she really liked and turned the phone to you. “This is the one you should send.”

It wasn’t any of the over the top poses Tara suggested. It was plain and simple but it got the job done. You were laying flat on the bed, holding the camera up in the form of a selfie, and biting your fingernail. The camera covered everything from your lips, down to your mid thigh, covered in fishnets from the lingerie.  

“This one? Really?” you asked as you examined the photo. You weren’t denying you looked hot in it, but doubts were starting to fill your mind. What if he thinks you’re being desperate? Or if he thinks it’s distasteful to expose yourself like this for no reason. Though you know Caleb would never think of you that way, your brain can’t help but convince you otherwise. 

“Or or maybe I should just delete them,” you request in a panic as Tara and Simone go through all the photos to see if there’s any better ones. 

Upon hearing your request, Tara nearly breaks her neck with how quickly she looked up. “ExCUZE ME?! Delete them?! For what???! Why!”

“Because! What if he doesn’t like them? Or thinks I’m…desperate?” You scratch your arm, looking down at your thighs. 

Simone’s nose twitched. “Then I’ll beat his ass.”

Tara added. “Well, it’ll suck if he does. But with how you described him, I don’t think he’d look at you that way. And if he does, you can always just say “oops meant to send to someone else” to save face. OH! We can even do the prank where we dress up as a boy and take photos to make him jealous!”

Hearing that, Simone smirked. “I’ll happily do that for you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No you’re right. Caleb wouldn’t do that. He’s never as much belittled me or even insulted me before in my life. I genuinely cant think of a negative think he’s said to me.”

“Soooooooo what’s the holdup?” Tara commented. 

You shrugged. “I’ll send it. I just need time to process before I do it.” They both deadpanned you and you continued, feeling the urge to defend yourself. “You guys won’t understand! I’ve known him for over a decade! Almost 14 years! This kinda stuff you don’t send to someone like that without at least thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” they both hesitantly agreed. 

You don’t end up sending Caleb the picture that night. Or the night after that. The day he’s supposed to return from his mission, you’re in bed, scrolling back through your messages. With no fault of yours, you had gone months without contact with him, assuming he was dead and all, but now you can barely even handle a few days. 

His profile displayed a green dot beside his name and you sat up quickly, eyes darting all over your messages and seeing the “Read” Message pop up on each one. 

He responds to each of them one by one, and your smile can’t stop growing as you see him reach the final message, the one about the burger. 

Now you’re just showing off >:( 

Anyway I’m back safe and sound from my mission did ya miss me ;)

yes so much

You responded without missing more than a second. 

Oh didn’t expect you respond that quickly you MUSTVE missed me that bad huh

How much did u miss me? 

You could tell him straight up. Tell him about how you read his messages everyday, thought about him almost every second for the last five days. Or you could just show him. 

You opened your camera roll and picked out the photo. Your thumb trembled over the send button before finally pressing down on it. Your stomach dropped as you saw it send in chat officially. It was too late now. 

Caleb read it and stayed quiet. Thirty seconds passed and he didn’t respond and you felt like you wanted to throw up. Your thumbs were already typing out Tara’s excuse: oh sorry! I meant to send that to someone else 

And before you could press send, Caleb responded. 

Is that for me?

You swallowed. If you said yes, and he hated it, then your excuse wouldn’t work anymore. You decided to risk it all and simply respond truthfully. 

Yes. Is it…bad?

Caleb takes longer to respond than usual and less than thirty seconds later a picture sends in chat. His cock stands tall in frame, precum leaking out from the tip. His hand has a firm grin around the base off it, the tip a reddish hue in comparison to its natural pink colour.

Your breathing stopped as you stared at it. This was Caleb’s dick. You were fucking staring at his dick. 

You swiped out of the picture and sent a 😧😯😮😲 combination. The two of you often communicated through emojis and you weren’t sure how to respond with words. 

Caleb sent crying emojis. 

Did you like it?

Yes? You’ve been hiding that the whole time? 

Says you. I knew your body was gorgeous but fuck. 

You fought the urge to kick your feet together, curling into a ball on your side as you tried to not let his words get to you. Clearing your throat, you refocus yourself and send another message. 

Sooooo what now 🧍‍♀️

I dunno 🧍

You get ready to type a response before he double texts. 

Do you wanna call?

You never thought you’d see the day you’d actually be nervous answering a call from Caleb before. 

Yes

You barely had time to let the message marinate before Caleb started calling. Readying yourself, you pressed the phone up to your ear and swiped. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he responded, taking a deep breath. “Is it just me or is this sorta awkward now.”

“No it’s definitely awkward,” you joked, laughing under your breath. 

“I mean, I can always blame you for it.”

“What?” You almost shrieked and broke your back with how quick you sat up from your bed. “How is this my fault?!”

“Nobody asked you to send me that sexy photo out of nowhere,” he joked, tone light despite his words. You didn’t take anything to heart however. 

“Yeah, well be grateful. Otherwise you would’ve died without seeing a girl in lingerie before.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen that before?”

“Because I know you, Caleb.” You said each word slowly. “Or at least I hope you haven’t.” You paused, voice softening ever so slightly. “Have you?”

“I was joking around. Of course I hadn’t. I am assuming though you’d never seen another guys dick before?”

“Well obviously I have. Like in movies and stuff. But not in person.”

“What kind of movies were you watching?” he questioned, suspiciously. 

“You know! Just movies! Shut up,” you whined, ignoring his obnoxious laughter. “Anyway, dudes sent me unsolicited pics in college all the time. I’ve seen dicks before. They weren’t like yours though.” The words spilled from your mouth without even realising you said it. 

“Oh? What’s the difference between mine and theirs?”

You didn’t realise the interest in his tone with how distracted you were, eyes closed and picturing the sight of Caleb’s dick in the black fog of your mind. You could always go back and look at the photo, but you wanted to burn the sight in your memory first. 

“Yours was bigger. And for once, looking at a dick didn’t make me wanna throw up. Theirs were so…ew. Like it was never hard, which is so fucking offensive. If you’re gonna send me that shit unsolicited by the way, at least sprout a hard on or something. Fucking hell.”

Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen how quick your picture got me hard. It’s not normal.” His voice dropped a little and you inhaled sharply. 

“R—really?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding slightly out of breath, his breathing ragged. 

“What did you like about it?” you questioned, shifting down onto your back on the bed. 

“Everything. Fuck. You—why are you so hot?” His voice betrayed him at that moment. He let out a soft moan and you could hear wet sounds in the background if you listened close enough. 

Your hand trailed down your stomach, entering your panties and softly rubbing your clit. “W—what else?” 

“Your skin. Looks so soft—mm—and your lips around your finger? Holy fuck.” His filter was long gone now, freely speaking his mind about your body. Your thighs clenched together. 

“Do you wish they were wrapped around something else?”

“God yes,” he sounded so whiny, his hand moving faster up and down his aching cock. “You don’t know how much I love your lips.” He says your name and for a moment you freeze up. 

It’s not often he says your name, and you’ve been so used to just hearing him address you as Pipsqueak. Hearing your name roll off his tongue so easily, and with how whiny he sounds right now, you couldn’t help but insert a finger into yourself. 

Your legs twitched as you began pumping your finger in and out, back arching off the bed and an involuntary moan left your throat. “Caleb—”

“Yes, princess? What is it?”

“I wanna see you so bad right now—mm—fuck.” You gasped as you curled your fingers inside you, shoving them as deep as you could. “I need you.”

“I need you more. Shit. I’m gonna cum soon,” he announced, squeezing the tip of his cock whenever his hand reached it. 

“It’s hard to make myself come,”  you whined. You were never able to successfully have an orgasm on your own and it was frustrating. You wanted nothing more than to experience it first hand right now with Caleb. 

“I’ll help you. Shit. I can teach you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Next time I see you, I promise.”

“Please,” your voice barely reached the mic. 

“Fuck!” he let out a loud moan as he came, heavy pants slowly turning to whimpers as his cock milked him dry. He couldn’t control his breathing for at least thirty seconds and you just listened to him pant until he caught himself. 

Letting out one more shaky exhale, he tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “Fuck my throat hurts.”

You laughed and pulled your fingers out. Unable to reach an orgasm, you frowned. But the promise he left earlier gave you hope. 

“Go drink some water dummy.” You looked down at your fingers, glistening with your slick and contemplated. “Wait Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Check chat.”

You put the phone on speaker and opened the chat camera, taking a photo of your wet index and middle finger, a string of slick connecting them both. You captioned it:

Drink me instead

Feeling more bold, you sent it without even batting an eye. You could hear the exact moment Caleb processed your message with his sharp inhale.  You heard the sound of screenshots being taken, once, twice, then three times. 

“Okay okay damn chill out,” you said while laughing, Caleb joining in. 

“What does it taste like?” he asked, utterly curious. 

“Come find out,” you responded, voice just as sultry as your words. 

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll come over right now.”

“Wait now?” You glanced at the clock, the time reading almost 2 am. “You have work in the morning don’t you?”

“So what? I have bigger priorities right now.”

On one hand it would be so wrong for the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel to miss work over some pussy, but on the other hand, you hated the goddamn fleet. 

“Well what are you waiting for?”

authors note: can i just say i literally love this man with everything in me like WTF???? HES SO CUTE AND HOT AND I JUST WANNA SQQUEEZE HIS FACE

he brought me out of my writers slump😩��🏽‍♀️

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Shaving him

The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. Simon sat on a chair in the bathroom, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, watching every movement you made. He was shirtless, wearing just his dark cargo pants. The scars that traced across his chest told their own stories - each one a mark of battles fought and won.

His mask was folded neatly on the dresser. You didn’t get many moments with Simon like this, raw and bare, without the layers he used to keep the world at bay. It made the air feel heavier, charged with the weight of unspoken things.

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him, the shaving cream and razor in hand. He didn’t say a word, just looked up at you with a mixture of amusement and challenge.

“You sure you trust me with this?” you asked, arching a brow as you scooped a bit of the cream onto your fingers.

He tilted his head slightly. “I trust you. But play with the blade near my throat, and I might start getting ideas.”

You smirked. “No pressure, then.”

Spreading the cream across his jaw, you took your time. The rough stubble beneath your fingers was such a contrast to the softness of the moment. You worked slowly, enjoying the way his eyes stayed locked on you. Simon never broke eye contact unless he absolutely had to. It was his way of reading people - and you were the one person he couldn’t seem to look away from.

“Careful,” he murmured, his hands resting loosely on your waist. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Oh, I definitely am,” you teased, dragging your thumb along his jaw. “You rarely let me get this close.”

“Close, huh?” His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk. “I’d say we’re more than close.”

You picked up the razor and leaned in, your face just inches from his. “Stay still, Simon.”

His hands flexed on your hips. “You’re the one making that difficult.”

You started with slow, deliberate strokes, sliding the blade along his jaw. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch - though you could feel the tension humming through him. He was always so controlled, so steady. But something about the way you took your time, the intimacy of the moment, made him feel like a coiled spring.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said softly, rinsing the razor before starting again.

“Trying not to scare you,” he said, deadpan. “One twitch and I’m the bloke with half a face.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Sitting on my lap.” His hands slid a fraction higher on your waist. “Do you have any idea how distracting you are?”

“Distracting?” You tilted your head, brushing your lips over his ear. “I thought I was being very professional.”

“Professional’s not the word I’d use,” he muttered, his voice a little rougher.

You finished the last stroke and set the razor aside. Your fingers trailed over his freshly shaved skin, savoring the warmth and smoothness. “Done.”

Simon leaned back slightly, his gaze still burning into yours. “Are you now?”

“I am.” You grinned. “But you’re looking a little tense.”

“Because you’ve been teasing me for the past ten minutes.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing over the corner of his mouth. “And what are you going to do about it?”

The playful challenge in your voice was all it took. Simon’s hands tightened on your hips, and in a single, fluid motion, he stood, taking you with him. You gasped as your back hit the edge of the bed, but his mouth was already on yours, cutting off anything else you might have said.

The kiss was deep, slow, and thorough - Simon’s way of showing exactly who was in control now. His hands roamed, exploring the curves he knew so well, while your fingers tangled in his hair. He didn’t need words. The way he kissed you, the way he held you, said everything.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with want. “You think I’ll let you tease me and just walk away?”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart pounding. “I was counting on it.”

Simon chuckled - a low, dangerous sound. “Then you’re in trouble.”

And from the look in his eyes, you knew the rest of the morning was far from over.

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 12)

You woke up feeling uncomfortably warm. Not that it bothered you too much—it was the kind of warmth that made you feel too comfortable to move. Wrapped tightly in a cocoon of blankets, you realized you were stuck in someone’s arms.

And when you blinked your eyes open, all you saw was darkness.

The darkness of someone’s shirt.

You shifted slightly, trying to free yourself a little, but the grip was way too strong. You literally couldn't move, the blankets wrapped too tightly around your body. It made you squirm a bit to try and get free, but still, nothing. "Mhm..."

"Kyle, Johnny, let her go." Simon's low voice sounded muffled somewhere behind you, his heavy hand patting your covered body lightly. "I don't think humans enjoy nesting immobile like this."

Which, yeah, had some truth to it, considering you were still squirming a little, unconfortable with being stuck in place so firmly.

"It's for protection..." Johnny whined—mostly playfully—as he gave you one last squeeze before loosening his hold, pulling you up slightly so you could now see the rest of the room. The blanket that was wrapped around you not so constricting anymore. "Well, good morning, pup! Slept well?"

You blinked slowly, still feeling too sluggish to answer properly. Instead, you rubbed your eyes and face slowly with both hands, trying to wake up a bit. That didn’t stop Johnny, though, who immediately reached out to feel your forehead, checking your temperature. "Ah think it went down..." The Werewolf muttered, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. It was harder for him to gauge your temperature when he ran much hotter than humans.

"Let me."

Gaz stepped in, leaning closer to feel your forehead, his feathers twitching slightly even when his body was otherwise totally still.

"You feel much better, fledgling." He announced, a small, gentle smile on his face.

"Great! This means we can play, right, pup?"

You glanced up at Johnny’s face nervously. He looked so eager, but you weren’t quite sure if you were ready to play yet... he was still way too big and scary to consider fighting with him.

“Johnny.” Simon reprimanded in his low voice as he stood from the nest. “What did we talk about before?”

"And ya think ah'll hurt her or somethin'? Ya don't knae human limits either, do ya?" Johnny didn’t yell, but his naturally loud tone rose slightly, and your body tensed instinctively between the soft blankets.

Were they fighting? Were they going to argue because of you?

"Humans are more delicate." Gaz chimed in with a neutral tone, stretching his wings as he stood up from the nest, still addressing Johnny. "Especially her, weak as she is after the flu...."

"I knaw ya worried, Ky. I knae, but I'm very careful. Ya knae that." Johnny replied, his voice softening as he moved up to hug Gaz's side gently, one hand smoothing down the feathers on his wing. "Besides, ya have to help me convince Ghostie—he’s such a hardass."

"Har har." Simon deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he bent down to lift you out of the nest. His heavy hands patted your pajamas gently to both fix your clothes and wake you up a bit.

Johnny grinned smugly, amused by Simon’s reaction, his wolf ears pressing down as he let go of Kyle to approach you.

"Ay, pup, do ya wanna see how hybrids spar?" Johnny asked with a mischievous grin as he looked down at you, stepping closer to Simon.

"Huh...?" You murmured, blinking up at him, caught off guard.

"Johnny—" Simon hissed, the raspy, airy sound of a Wraith’s warning making you jump back in surprise.

Only to be interrupted by Johnny tackling him down back into the nest, the Werewolf growling back as they tumbled on top of the blankets and pillows.

You gasped weakly in surprise, eyes wide as you watched them both fall to their knees, Johnny's bicep trying to get a hold of Simon's neck as he tried to push the bigger man down. Simon was clearly stronger though, as he held back the Werewolf's arm and pulled it off of him.

Gaz chuckled sharpily at his two mates' antics, shaking his head softly as he walked past you to go to the bathroom. The soft feathers of his wing brushed against your back reassuringly as he went.

You noticed Simon’s sclera starting to darken, and he let out a low hiss before tackling Johnny's side roughly, pinning him to the nest this time. Johnny growled back, his nails digging into Simon’s arms, in his compression shirt, which somehow resisted tearing under the sharp claws.

You could see both of their muscles bulging with how much strengh they were fighting eachother with.

“You two muppets, stop that.” Price’s voice came from the doorway. He entered the room, shaking his head in mild amusement at the scene. “You’re scaring the kid.”

Johnny took advantage of Simon’s brief distraction to push him off, immediately crawling over to you with a panting grin.

"See? Isnae it fun??" He asked, leaning on the edge of the nest with his arms crossed and his head resting on them. "Course ah'd go easy on ya, pup. Let you mess me up, aye?"

"Who called, Price?" Simon asked, straightening up and casually scratching his arm where Soap had sinked his nails in.

"Nikolai. He was with Kate and Rya." Price replied with a small, affectionate smile, a tinge of affection on his gruffy voice.

"Are they...?" Simon started to ask, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Price, trying to be subtle to avoid worring you in case he was wrong.

"Yes, they are paying us a visit soon." Price confirmed, his tone careful as he gauged your reaction.

"Who...?" You asked quietly, already feeling anxiety creep in at the mention of three new people.

"Bonnie lassie, it's okay, aye? It's just our pack!" Johnny said quickly, trying to reassure you as he got up to his knees to manage to look you better in the eye. "Our pack is very nice, aye? Nice people, very gentle! Ya'll love them!"

"Well, Rya, sure, but Nik and Kate...." Gaz emerged from the bathroom, looking refreshed and wearing a small, amused smile.

"Gaz."

"Kyle."

Both Ghost and Price immediatly scolded the Harpy in unison, their tones sharp but familiar. Gaz just laughed it off, shaking his head lightly.

"Kidding, kidding~"

"They are very nice people, I swear it, doll." John said quickly, his small smile softened by the warmth in his voice, though partially hidden by his beard. "I'll show you pictures after, okay?"

You hesitated, still feeling uncertain. Nervousness tightened your chest, but you nodded slowly. It wasn’t like refusing was an actual option. This wasn’t truly your house. Maybe the best you could do was what you'd done in some foster homes before that had frequent visitors: hide away from sight until they were gone.

Like a cat.

"Let's have breakfast, hun. And you need to take one more dose of medicine. Maybe some warm tea too, hm?" Kyle smiled, his wing brushing your back gently to nudge you toward the door.

You were still getting used to the mornings in their house. They were clearly early risers, with none of them showing the slightest hesitation about starting the day even if they just woke up. The ease with which they interacted, did chores, and moved around impressed you. It was a stark contrast to your usual sluggish mornings.

Not that you were grumpy in the mornings—just… slow. Sluggish. You often zoned out while sitting at the table, barely able to keep up with the energetic chatter and movement around you. They talked continuously, laughing loudly, getting up and sitting back down, picking up dishes, and cleaning as they went.

Truly impressive. You could never.

After taking a warm shower, brushing your teeth, and getting dressed in warm clothes, you found a new problem, though. Johnny was trailing you like a persistent puppy. His wide grin practically begged you to join him in whatever he had in mind.

"If you're going to play with her, take her downstairs to the gym." Simon suggested, clearly offering no help in discouraging Johnny's enthusiasm.

The small, betrayed look you shot Simon only made him chuckle softly as Johnny gently took your hand, leading you toward their indoor gym.

The gym was much bigger than you'd expected, equipped with far more gear than some gyms you'd seen before. The bright white lighting and clean concrete floors created a spacious and organized feel. Each piece of heavy equipment was well-spaced, making it seem as though every detail had been carefully planned.

You scanned the area, taking it all in, until Johnny tugged you toward a section lined with thick, black padded mats on the ground.

"I... don't know how to... fight...." You murmured, your brows knitting together in confusion as you looked up at Soap. It was almost a silent plea for clarification.

"I knae, lassie, don't ya worry! We're just playing!" He beamed at you, guiding you to the edge of the mats. "Here, take off your shoes, bonnie."

Both of you stepped onto the mats. You wore the new socks John had gotten for you—purple with white stars—that carefully protected your small feet, while Johnny went barefoot. His feet were large, with sharp toenails and thick fur along the tops, really what you would expect from a Werewolf.

"What... do you wanna play...?" You asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper in the otherwise quiet gym. "Play fight...?"

"Ah like some wressling like anybody, mah kids also love it too! Ah'm sure we'll have some fun, wee lass!"

He smiled confidently, dropping to his knees. He had an eager and wolfish grin on his face, energy pratically radiating from him.

"Let's see what ya got!"

Part 11 / Part 13

[majinbangus]

was tempted to write more of this idea of simon x single mom!reader. ty to @weemansoap for the meet cute idea. mention of past abuse/domestic violence in one paragraph, nothing graphic.

-> more here

There's a young lad that can't be more than five or six years of age crouched behind the overgrown bush near the entryway that leads to his flat complex. A strange sight to come home to after months away on deployment. One he's not sure what to make of yet, but Simon approaches, coming up on the kid's blindspot. He doesn't see any parents around. Best find out what this kid is up to.

"Oi, what're you doin' out 'ere, lad?"

The kid startles comedically, nearly falling on his rump, but he manages to catch himself before looking up at Simon, a toothy, mischievous grin on his face. "I'm gonna scare Mama!"

Simon raises an eyebrow. "Your mum doesn't know you're here?"

"No." The boy giggles. "I ran ahead while she was putting on her shoes."

"You shouldn't do that," Simon says, though not quite admonishing him. "You probably scared your mum enough pulling that stunt."

The lad frowns. "I only ran away. What's so scary about that?"

A lot of things. Simon remembers his own mother frantically calling out his name once upon a time. The fear in her eyes. The trembling grip when she finally found him again. The sobbing. The apologies. The promises to be a better mother. The pain she experienced when his father blamed her for losing track of a son he didn't care about. Pain that was Simon's fault. Pain that his father later inflicted on him.

Lots of things are scary when a child runs away. But this lad doesn't need to know the extent.

"Your mum loves you, yeah?" He waits until the kid nods, continuing, "Then it'll always scare her when you runaway. Not knowing where you are. Thinking she lost you. Would it scare you if you lost her?"

"Oh..." The kid looks at the ground, penitent. "I didn't think of it that way."

Simon grunts, studying the lad, debating with himself before deciding fuck it. He clicks his tongue twice and the lad looks up. "Which floor you live on, mate? I'll bring you back to your mum."

"3C."

Simon hums thoughtfully. That one was previously vacant last time he was here. "Right next to me."

The lad perks up. "Really?"

He nods, gesturing towards the building, ready to guide the kid back home, but a voice suddenly rings out like a shock of ice water running down his back.

"Simon, you stay right there, young man!"

For a brief- very brief- second, Simon tenses up. He hasn't heard that angry motherly tone stemmed from fear directed at him since he was a boy. Part of him feels reprimanded, as if he needs to bow his head and meekly apologize for upsetting his mother, fleeting memories of his mum scolding him flashing through his brain. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he sees you, frazzled and anxious, running towards him like an unstoppable force that reminds him of the ocean wind.

It's a stunning sight, Simon notes absently; however, he doesn't take any longer to admire the view you make running towards him. Or, well, the boy. Rather than looking at Simon, you're looking at the lad he's been talking to, a wild, worried look in your eyes the closer you get, glancing at Simon quickly, warily, then back at the boy, the look of a mother bear ready to defend her cub gracing your features, and that's when it clicks.

Ah. Simon.

Your boy's name is Simon.

Funny, that. It almost makes him snort.

The lad in question doesn't seem to register your near feral state, but Simon steps away from your wayward son as to not aggravate you any further.

"Mama, I made a friend!" Your son announces proudly once you rush up to them. "He lives next to us! In, um..."

"3A," Simon interjects when the kid falters. You glance at him in acknowledgment before turning back to your child.

"Oh? How sweet." You smile tightly at the lad, giving him a subtle once over for anything out of place, and reach out to gently tug him further away from Simon, crouching to pick him up. "It's good to make friends with the neighbors, honey, but you can't go running off like that. I was worried when you took off without warning."

The boy in your arms looks properly contrite, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around your neck, voice muffled as he apologizes, "I know. I'm sorry, Mama. I won't runaway ever again. Promise. The nice man told me you would be upset."

"Did he?" You look at Simon, gaze still guarded but there's a hint of something grateful in your eyes. "Well, he was right. I was upset, but as long as you keep your promise, you're forgiven."

His little name twin perks up, giggling and hugging you tighter. "I will! I love you, Mama."

"I love you, too, hon." You give your son a tender look, pressing a kiss to his temple, but it drops once you look at Simon, studying him with a cautious look. You hesitate for a second longer before adjusting your hold on your boy then hold a hand out, giving him your name and your gratitude. "3A? Are you new? I haven't seen you around... Regardless, thank you for keeping an eye on this one. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble."

"I travel for work." He grips your hand and gives it a squeeze, "And he didn't. Your boy's a good lad. I'm Simon."

Your eyebrows lift, mouth dropping slightly agape and hand lingering in his perhaps a tad too long before you recover, letting go, and smile sweetly at your boy who stares up at him with wide, awed eyes. "My name is Simon, too!"

You don't make a sound, but Simon can see you shake with silent laughter, your eyes sparkling for the child in your arms. He catches your eye, and you tilt your head with a hopeful, doe-eyed look for him to indulge your boy a little longer.

Ah, what the hell.

"Really?" Simon raises a disbelieving brow. "Since when?"

"Since I was born!" The boy laughs and you shoot Simon a genuine smile. "You're funny, Simon."

Oh, Johnny could tell your boy just how funny he could really be. He can already hear the groan his sergeant would give.

Don't put the poor lad through that, LT.

He's not hearing any complaints, Johnny. The lad seems to appreciates his humor. And you do too from the looks of it.

"It's a fine name, innit?"

"Uh-huh! Mama named me!"

He switches to look at you. "That right?"

Your smile turns a hint shy under his attention, but you nod with a noncommittal hum, adding nothing more to the conversation. Instead, you start your own. An abrupt, obvious dismissal. "Well, sorry to hold you up, Simon, but we should get going. This Simon needs to go school supply shopping."

Your son pouts, but otherwise doesn't complain. Good lad.

"Say goodbye to," your eyes wash over him, darting up and down, properly taking him in, "Big Simon, Simon."

A rush of amusement passes through him. That's a new one. Not the worst thing he's ever heard, but certainly accurate. He might even like it.

Big Simon tilts his head, raising a brow, and immediately you fluster at the nickname you've given him, eyes widening and head ducking down so you don't have to look him in the eyes, but it's too late to take it back. Little Simon is already waving goodbye at him.

"Bye, Simon, it was nice to meet you!"

There's a flash, and for a moment, Simon sees another young lad waving at him in another mother's arms, another Riley's voice echoing in his ear, asking him when he's gonna settle down, but then they're gone in a blink and he's looking at you and Little Simon again.

It almost makes him pause, but Simon forces them out of his mind and focuses on you and the boy in your arms.

"Nice to meet you too, kid." He gestures to you next. "Be good for your mum. She's a lovely lady, and lovely ladies deserve the best, yeah?"

Your son agrees with an enthusiastic nod, but while he remains oblivious to your flustered state, Simon feels an unfamiliar sort of satisfaction when you stutter out your own goodbyes, leaving him to ponder on things he hasn't thought of in years.

Settle down, huh? That's not for him, but looking at you and your lad...

Simon can almost see the appeal in a domestic life.

-

wrote this kinda sleepy, idk how I feel about it hope its alright tho

[jamesmcalover]

we did not die that night

Simon Kalivoda x afab!reader

Warnings: (maybe slight angst???) fluff, oral sex

Summary: Reader walks in on Simon wanking in the bathroom that night.

3.7k words - not proofread!

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" I yelled, my hands quickly shielding my eyes from the very naked body of my friend. Not only was he naked, he was clearly enjoying himself before I burst into the boys' bathroom. I was definitely not expecting someone wanking in there, to be fair. Feeling my cheeks flush, I walked back outside, shutting the door and waited until it was safe for me to go in again. A shaky breath escaped my lungs and I found myself pacing a few steps in front of the bathroom. That was weird, I thought, such an interesting time to wank. Was he turned on by that weird chick that tried to murder him with a razor blade? He said she was hot...

I looked into the empty and dark hallway of the school. It made me sick and uncomfortable standing in it all alone. Before I could panick, Simon was shouting for me.

"You can come in now!" His voice sounded muffled through the heavy door. As I pushed it open again – much slower this time – his eyes found mine. He looked embarrassed, which was weird. Simon was never embarrassed about anything. That boy was an open book.

"I'm really sorry," I said, "I should've knocked." He was wearing a blue knitted cardigan now, it probably smelled a bit musty from laying in the lost-and-found box for such a long time, but it looked pretty on him. Much better than the sweaty shirt he was wearing two days in a row that had Sam's blood on it and almost got him killed.

"It's alright. I didn't really pick the best place," he replied with a small grin. There he was again.

"I'd tell you that I haven't seen anything but I kinda did... see everything." My voice became smaller, much quieter, saying the last words. I had embarrassed him again, his big blue eyes were filled with guilt and I was desperate to loosen the uncomfortable tension in the room.

"But we might die tonight, so... you won't have to worry about that," I said. He laughed.

We did not die that night.

Sam died – for a few minutes at least – but she came back to life and all of us were questioned by the police. They didn't believe us, but they never do, do they?

A few days passed before we returned to school, back to the place where we'd tried to kill those monsters. Almost no trace of that night remained. The floors were spotless, no sign of Sam's blood, and the classroom door destroyed by the axe had already been replaced. Only the girls' bathroom was still barricaded. I didn't even want to imagine what it looked like on the inside.

Walking by the bathrooms, I wondered if Simon still thought about me bursting in on him mid-masturbation sometimes. Because I did. I tried forgetting, but the images didn't seem to fade. Everytime I closed my eyes, I saw his hand gripping his thick cock, moving up and down frantically. His head thrown back, his blonde locks slightly bouncing, mouth hanging open, panting.

I wouldn't admit it, but I had caught myself fantasising about it from time to time. I had thought about his cock in class once, it wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either. It was thick, though, and I wondered how it would feel in my hand, or my mouth even, my tongue dancing on his tip until he came on it. I wondered how his cum would taste like, what sounds me might make when he came.

When I snapped back into reality, I was praying to God no one near me was secretly able to read my mind – I wasn't even religious but I shouldn't think like that, Simon is my friend, nothing more.

I hadn't really seen him the past week. He came back to school a few days later because of an a stab wound to his stomach he'd suffered in the store that night, so I hadn't had the chance – or maybe the courage – to talk to him about what happened. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to. Of if he did.

At lunch, I quickly spotted him talking to Deena as they got their food. A band-aid covered the cut on his neck, and his lip was still a bit swollen from when he hit the ground. He probably felt badass walking down the school corridors looking like that, telling people he'd almost been brutally stabbed but managed to escape and survive.

Deena was barely hurt that night, which was unfair given she'd dragged us all into this mess. Maybe it was harsh of me to say, but if it weren't for her, I wouldn’t have been there, nearly sliced in half, all because she crashed that Sunnyvaler's car.

And to top it off, she still managed to pull Sam. I had been avoiding her, though I doubted she'd noticed. It felt as if I was made of air.

I saw Simon looking around, scanning the cafeteria, but his eyes never found mine.

A loud thud from the locker beside me made me jump, my heart leaping into my throat. It didn't take much to scare me anymore – I startled at every little noise. I turned to see Simon grinning, his usual cocky self.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, shit face" I said, now relieved it was only him.

"Sorry." He said, though he wasn't. He loved scaring me. His grin widened. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Not really." I hugged the book tighter, trying not to meet his gaze.

"You sure about that?" His tone was teasing, but there was something else there, just under the surface. When I finally met his eyes, images from that night in the bathroom started flooding my mind again. face went hot, and I was pretty sure my cheeks turned slightly red. I hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Yeah, I've just been... processing?" It sounded more like a question than a real answer.

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Processing what?" I frowned. What did he think I was trying to process?

"You know... almost getting murdered. Watching my friends almost get murdered. All that stuff."

His grin faded, replaced by something softer. For a moment he seemed like he wanted to say something serious, but instead, he leaned against the locker and shurgged. "I guess we didn't die, though."

I let out a small chuckle at his reference to what I said after I caught him. "Guess not." I said. "Do you still think about it?"

I didn't know if I meant the blood and slaughter or me seeing him wank. I was probably thinking about the latter more at this point.

"I try not to but... y'know. It's all in my head." He said. I hummed, not sure which question he gave me an answer to.

Later that night, I tossed around in my bed. It was too early to sleep, but I hated being awake. Sleep was the only escape from reality I had left – everything else made me think about what happened.

After thirty minutes of failed attempts to fall asleep, I gave up. I got up, dressed again, and brushed my hair, which had become tangled from all the tossing and turning. It was just after six, and my parents weren’t even home yet. Simon must still be at work, too, I thought.

Grabbing my keys, I stepped out of the house and wandered slowly along the streets toward the grocery store he worked at. Being alone in the streets still scared me sometimes, but it wasn’t a long walk.

The store also showed no signs of undead zombie killers. It was as if nothing had ever happened there.

As i rounded a corner into the isle, where sam had been lying dead, I came face-to-face with Simon, who looked at me in surprise.

"Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here!" He exclaimed, his voice enthusiastic but slightly higher-pitched than usual.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, my voice sounding flatter than I insisted. "Thought I'd come bother you instead."

Simon smirked, leaning on the cart he'd been pushing. "I'm always down to be bothered." But his eyes showed concern. "Are you okay though?"

I shrugged, running my fingers over the keys in my pocket. "Are any of us?"

He didn't answer right away, and for a second, the hum of fluorescent lights above us felt too loud. Finally, he said, "I get off in half an hour. Do you want me to walk you home?"

I smiled up at him. I never realised how pretty his eyes were and how cute his slightly crooked teeth made him look. "Sure. Thank you," I said.

"Wanna help me stock shelves until i'm off? It's mind-numbing, but at least you won't think about... you know." He handed me one of the cereal boxes from his cart. I hesitated but nodded. Mind-numbing sounded exactly like what I needed.

We quickly went from stocking the shelves in silence to goofing around and avoiding work until his shit ended. For a little while, it felt like things were back to normal—no awkwardness, no heaviness hanging over us. I realized how much I’d missed that.

The walk home was quieter again, but not uncomfortably so. I laughed at his bad jokes and half-hearted attempts to cheer me up.

"Thanks for walking me home," I said as we reached my door. The empty driveway implied that my parents were still at work. They worked late shifts almost every day, so the house would be dark and silent, as always.

Simon smiled. "No problem. It’s what I'm here for, right? Keeping you out of trouble."

I laughed softly, my hand lingering on the doorknob. The thought of going inside alone suddenly felt unbearable.

"Hey," I said before I could second-guess myself. "Do you want to come in? Just for a bit?"

He raised an eyebrow teasingly. "You sure? I thought your whole thing was avoiding me."

I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't avoiding you." His grin told me he didn't believe me, but I pressed on. "Anyway, my parents won't be home for a while, and I'm not ready to sit in there by myself yet."

His expression softened, and he nodded. "Alright. Lead the way, then."

As I pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet house, I realized how much I needed the company.

I led him into my bedroom and sat on my bed, as he stood awkwardly in the middle of my room, unsure of where to sit.

I let out a snort. "You can sit on my bed, Simon. You won't get cooties," I teased as I scooted further back until my back rested against the wall. Simon smirked and plopped down at the foot of my bed, sitting crisscrossed and facing me.

"Aren't you mad?" I finally asked after a few seconds of silence between us. Simon looked at me confused. "At Deena, I mean."

"Not really. Why? Are you?" He asked me and I took a deep breath, not knowing how to answer.

"Yeah."

Simon's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn't say anything right away. He just watched me, waiting for me to explain.

"I mean… none of this would've happened if it weren't for her," I said, my voice low. "She's the one who crashed the car. She's the one who dragged us into all of this. And now…" I trailed off, struggling to put the tangled mess of my feelings into words. "I can’t stop thinking about what happened. What could've happened."

Simon nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I get that," he said. "But… I don't know. Deena didn't exactly want this to happen, you know? She was just trying to help Sam. I guess if I'm mad at anyone, it's… those things. The witch."

"Yeah, well, you can't yell at undead monsters," I muttered.

Simon gave me a small, lopsided smile. "True. But you can yell at me if it helps."

I couldn’t help but laugh, even as my chest tightened. "I won’t."

"Okay, but seriously," he said, his tone softening. "You've got every right to be mad, but don’t let it eat you up. You survived, Y/N. That’s what matters, right?"

"You're right," I said, picking at the dry skin on my fingers until it peeled off. "I just don't understand why everyone pretends like nothing ever happened."

"People rather forget than face their trauma," Simon replied softly.

I hummed in response and lay down, the side of my face pressing against the cool pillow. Simon stayed seated at the foot of the bed, watching me.

"Can I ask you something?" I heard myself mumble. "You don't have to answer." He nodded.

"Why did you... wank? Why in the middle of all that mess?"

Simon’s eyes locked onto mine, his gaze intense. He didn’t look embarrassed about it anymore. He paused for a moment before speaking.

"I guess it was the adrenaline? I don't know, I think I was trying to feel normal. Everything was so messed up, and I just wanted one thing that made sense, you know?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. I hadn't actually expected him to explain, let alone like this.

"I don't know if that makes sense," he added, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"It does," I said softly.

I patted the empty space next to me, inviting him to lie down beside me. The bed slightly bounced as his back hit the soft mattress. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes darting restlessly as though they were trying to take in everything at once, never still. His hair was falling from his face, soft blonde curls pooling on on my pillow.

I reached my hand out in his direction slowly until it was in his hair. He closed his eyes as I twisted his strands around my fingers. "What are you thinking about?" I asked after a long silence.

Simon’s lips quirked up in a small smile. "Nothing and everything," he said.

His body shifted, turning to face mine. I felt his breath on my face, only inches between us now. My hand was still in his hair, but it didn't move anymore, just rested there. His Eyes roamed across my face, studying me like he was memorizing every little detail.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on my lips before flicking back to meet my eyes. "Looking," he said quietly. "You're hard to read, you know that?"

I swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the way my heart pounded in my chest. "What are you trying to read?"

Simon's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Everything you’re not saying."

I slowly leaned forward, my heart pounding in my chest, until I felt his shaky breath on my lips. I hesitated for a second, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

Closing the small gap between us, my lips brushed against his in a gentle kiss. It was soft, and over before I had the chance to overthink it.

When I pulled back, his eyes fluttered open, searching mine. The corners of his mouth twitched into a big smile before he leaned over to kiss me again. I felt his hand brushing away a strand of hair, then rest on my cheek. He pushed me on my back, slightly hovering over me now. My hands found his neck, buried in his hair once again. The second kiss was heated, fast and left me breathless.

"Fuck," I breathed when Simon pulled away for a second, only to cover my neck in kisses now. I inhaled sharply, as I had not expected that, but I wasn't irritated.

"Simon," I murmured, my voice a mix of surprise and something I couldn't quite name.

His lips paused against my skin, and he lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze. For a second, the intensity in his eyes made it hard to breathe.

"Is this okay?" He asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

I nodded, my hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. "Yeah," I whispered.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before his lips found mine again, in a short, sweet kiss, before they returned to my neck. His hands were roaming over hips, my stomach and my breasts, leaving a squeeze from time to time.

My hands slid down to his torso, gripping him as I pulled him closer. He shifted, his weight pressing against me until he was fully on top, and I could feel his boner on my hip through his pants. The images of him with his cock exposed came back and suddenly, I was hungry.

I pushed him off of my body and climbed on his, kissing him hard while I fiddled with his belt.

"Is this okay?" I asked him in between kisses and he looked at me with his big blue eyes.

"Fuck, yes," he replied. I quickly unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off of him. It was only covered by the thin fabric of his unterwear now. I ignored the urge to touch him for a second, as I pushed his shirt up and motioning for him to take it off. He was now only wearing his socks and underwear, and I was still fully clothed. Simon pulled at the hem of my shirt, so I let him take it off, his eyes found my chest immediately. I was wearing a white bra with tiny cherries on it and usually, I would've been embarrassed, but it was different with Simon. I didn't have to be embarrassed by anything with him.

I let my hands roam over his chest briefly, before they disappeared in his briefs. He threw his head back into the pillows immediately and let out a quiet moan.

He looked like I had remembered, only laying down this time, and with my hand on his dick, instead of his own.

I moved the briefs down a little, pulling him out. His cock looked even better up close, the veins decorating it made my mouth water. I leaned my head down and thickly licked the underside of his shaft. Simon's head basically shot up to look at me.

"Fuck," he whispered, his thumb was rubbing my cheek slightly, before he buried his hand in my hair. I could feel his grip tighten with every up and down, his breath became shorter and shorter, moans and groans louder.

"Fuck, Y/N, I-" He came in my mouth, the thick and salty substance felt weird on my tongue, but not unpleasant. I quickly swallowed it and licked his tip clean before pulling of. Drool was running down my chin. I wiped it on the back of my hand. Simon's breathing was quick, his eyes heavy as he looked at me. He took my hand into his and pulled me forward so I'd lie on him, and planted a short kiss on my lips.

"That was fucking hot," he said and I let out a chuckle at that.

"I'm glad you liked it," I said with a smirk. He put a strand of hair behind my ear gently, looking at me with tender eyes, before pushing me down to lie on the mattress. I looked at the ceiling as I felt his lips and tongue explore my body, his hands gripping everything they possibly could.

He opened my pants and I lifted my hips to help him pull them off together with my panties. I quickly got rid of my bra in that process as well. Simon paused. He looked at my body, taking in every tiny detail, as if he was scared he would forget what I had looked like. I felt pretty under his gaze. His hands found my boobs again, brushing over my hard nipples. They wandered down, his left hand stopping at my hips, his right going further down, stopping at my public bone. He looked up to me, seeing me nod, before scooting his body further down between my legs to be at eye-level with my most private part of my body.

I felt him let out a short breath, as his finger moved between my folds, feeling how wet I was because of him. "Fuck," I heard him whisper. I let my head fall into my pillows. They smelled like his hair now and I tried to inhale that smell while his tongue met my clit and I let out a shaky moan.

"Oh God," I said, his tongue dancing around in the wetness of my cunt. My hands were in his hair – probably their favourite place to be in – pulling his locks, trying to get him closer as I was coming with a loud whine.

The orgasm hit me so intensely that my vision went blurry for a second, and I had to regulate my breathing.

"Was that good?" Simon asked me, now lying next to me with his hands found in my hair, stroking it slightly. I looked at him like he was crazy. My juices still glistened on his chin.

"That was probably the best orgasm I've ever had," I told him truthfully as I wiped his chin with the corner of my blanked that was now covering our naked bodies. Simon grinned proudly at me.

"I'm glad we didn't die that night," I said after a moment of silence. He smiled at me and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"And I'm glad you caught me masturbating." I let out a loud laugh, slightly shoving his shoulder.

"Idiot."

Simon grinned big at me an laid his head on my chest. "I think we should start going out." He said while his fingers fiddled with a loose thread on my blanket.

I smiled softly. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Not yet, I want to take you on a date first."

"I'd like that," I said, gently caressing his back with one hand and stroking his head with the other.

[bluelizard100]

Short continuation of my poly!141 yummy

First punishment 💔

Warnings: Kidnapping, obsession I think, spanking, forced cuddling

John held you firmly over his thighs, his palm coming down sharply against your bare ass.

Simon caught you escaping on your third day with them, and the boys were not happy at all.

Kyle had to take Johnny to another room. He was livid, but seeing you cry from your punishment would’ve broken his heart worse than the fact that you tried to leave.

John tugged your jeans and your panties down, scolding at you to hush when you shouted at him to stop. It doesn’t mater that you’re shy, that you don’t want them to see these parts of you; they’d see soon enough anyway, and bad girls need to learn somehow.

John was firm and unsympathetic as he spanked you, ignoring your pleas for mercy. You did this to yourself, darling. Breakin’ our hearts trying to leave us… need a proper lesson.

Simon, the bulky, terrifying brute whose face you haven’t even seen, sat crouched in front of yours, wiping the snot and tears from your face with tissues and petting your hair. He was the last person you’d expect to be comforted by, but there he was, drying your tears and cooing at you.

I know, sweetheart. ‘S a lot, I know. Shhh, I know it hurts… I know you’re scared, know y’r not a bad girl. ‘S okay, doll, me n’ the team’ll take care o’ ya.

John’s palm came down over and over, turning your backside red and hot. He wasn’t gentle, didn’t try to go easy on you even though it was your first offense. He was firm, blocking out your sobs because he knew if he heard your pleas, his resolve would crumble. By the time he decided you had enough, he had you limp over his lap and bawling, unable to control your tears.

“There now,” John hummed, “took your punishment like a good girl. Gonna try that again? Hm?”

A weak shake of your head was all he needed.

They didn’t let you up yet. John held you over his lap so he could soothe the sting while Simon went to retrieve aloe (and the sergeants).

Kyle was very disappointed in you for trying to escape, and he made that clear to you before. Johnny was furious, feeling so betrayed. How could you leave them? It had only been three days, yeah, but they were so good to you those three days. Why would you even want to leave?

Now, though, seeing you laying over John’s thighs like a wet noodle had them softening. Your ass was bright red, and they could make out a few welts raised on your skin.

They could all share a bit of empathy, Johnny specifically; after his brain injury, he’d have these… spells. Nothing made sense, everything was foggy, and he just couldn’t think. He never told anyone about it, just let his anger build up each time, until one day Simon bent him over the arm of their couch and belted him until he was forced to spill his guts, unable to keep to himself anymore.

Johnny couldn’t be mad anymore, not when you looked so worn out and sad.

Kyle wasn’t that upset… you learned your lesson, after all. No reason to beat a dead horse.

Johnny peppered kisses over your tear-streaked face while Simon massaged the cool aloe gel into your burning skin. John rubbed your lower back, traced your spine with the tips of his fingers. Kyle, when he could manage to get Johnny off you, gave you little sips of water and promised you everything would be okay, reassured you they weren’t mad anymore.

Finally, after John had pulled your pants back up and Simon helped you stand up from over John’s knees, the four men watched pityingly as you scurried away to find a place to hide; a scolded puppy with her tail tucked between her legs.

Simon, John, and Kyle all knew you were just embarrassed and needed some time. Johnny, though, couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t try to escape again.

He followed you, found you squished between the bed and the wall in his room. He had given up his room so you’d have your own space until you got used to living with them, and was bunking with Kyle in the meantime.

“C’mere” was all he had said before he dragged you out from your hiding spot, not even acknowledging your frantic kicking and wailing.

He didn’t care that you were scared, didn’t care that you were embarrassed. You were their girl now, their sweet angel, and he couldn’t let you get away from them.

It didn’t matter to him right now that you thought he was trying to hurt you. He’ll show you he’s safe, that they’re all safe.

“Need a good cuddle, aye?”

And then you were squished between the mattress and him. He laid on top of you, used your chest as his pillow.

“I ken it’s embarrassin’, bonnie. Dinnae worry yer pretty head, alright? We know what ya need, and we’ll make sure you get it.”

You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be comforting or not. After just being fucking spanked like a child, it sounded more like a threat than anything.

He was heavy on top of you, kept you from squirming away but made sure you could still breathe. At first it was panic inducing, being trapped underneath one of your kidnappers. Once it was clear he wasn’t going to try anything, though, once you realized you could still take full breaths, he had the same effect as a weighted blanket.

He fell asleep on top of you, and while you tried to fight sleep, you were truly exhausted. For the first time in the three days you had been here, you felt safe enough to get real sleep.

You couldn’t really trust that you wouldn’t be harmed, but Johnny’s weight and body heat comforted the reptilian part of your brain, assured your primordial survival instincts that you were tucked away somewhere safe, hidden from predators.

Exhaustion overtook your body and your eyelids grew too heavy to hold open.

Safe for now.

[decaffeinatedcandycane]

Continuation.... (stalkers!taskforce 141 x reader)

Incorrect quotes.... Let's goo!!!!

Warning: It does get NSFW

*loud arguing from inside the walls*

Y/N yelling from the couch: Can I get a waffle?

*silence*

Y/N: Can I please get a waffle?

*silence*

Y/N: That's what I though.... Suckers.

.................

Y/N: Helloooo

Ghost: It's 4am. Shut the fuck up or we are shutting down the WiFi.

*silence*

Ghost: Finally.

*le several minutes later*

Y/N leaning close to Ghost's ear: Herroooo

Ghost falling of the bed: Fucking 'ell!! It's illegal for you to be this QUIET!!!!

Soap rushing in the room: Simon wh- Y/N!!! How did you get in here? This fortress.. is impenetrable?

Y/N: Door was unlocked

Ghost: Son of a bitch

..............

Price: Okay kid.... I'm gonna put this bag over your head, now. Don't struggle.

Y/N: Why?

Price: So you don't see where we are taking you.

Y/N: is it.... somewhere....in my own house?

Price: Well-

Y/N: In the same house I constantly bust you in?

Price:

Y/N: This house?

Price, impatient: Yes, this house. Now, put this on.

Y/N: Can't.

Price, irritated: Why not.

Y/N, quietly: Tied up.

Price: Right.

Y/N: It's not gonna last you know.... It's not that big of a house. I will find you again.

Soap: Shouldn't WE say that.

Gaz: I feel threatened.

Ghost: We made renovations.

Price: Don't tell her that.

Y/N: So you made extra space.

Price: Maybe...

Y/N: ....And didn't fix the leaking roof.

*silence*

Soap chiming in: I dug holes under the house for the water.

Y/N: You did WHAT?!

Price: Shit. Don't trash around... My duck tape!!!

.........

Price fixing the holes from under the house: Kid, listen. I am sorry for my sergent.

Y/N: Man with your cake shouldn't call me "kid".

Price: My what?

Y/N: I have too many spicy thoughts to consider you a father figure.

Price: Not sure I want to understand that.

Y/N: I unfrathered you soon after our first meeting.

Price: Please, stop.

*silence*

*Price reaching toward his shirt*

Y/N: No, keep your shirt off.

Price:

Y/N: Yeah...Flex them muscles.

Price, frantically looking around: What? Where are you?

Y/N: Don't worry about it.

Price spotting a small camera: Did you put surveillance on us.

Y/N: Shhh.... Keep working bby girl. Do your thing.

Price: Don't call me that!

.......

Y/N: It's a crime I am being stalked but nothing more.

*silence*

Y/N: I said-

Ghost: We heard what you said. We can hear everything you are saying.

Y/N: So?

Ghost: What do you want more? Torture?

Y/N, mischievously: I will send you some clips.

Ghost: Our network is secured. You can't just-

*ding*

Ghost: Okay... Not happy about that.

*ding* *ding*

Ghost: I got it.

*ding* *ding* *ding* *ding*

Ghost: Captain!

Price: Yeah. I got it. Opening now.

Price: Oh my-

Ghost: We are NOT doing that!!!

Gaz: This is deranged.

Soap, stripping: Guess I will take one for the team.

Soap, yelling: Hey lass. If I do that, ya need to put on a helmet.

Price: Don't even think about it!

...........

Soap: It's a very quiet evening.

*silence*

Soap: I will fix the roof in the morning.

*silence*

Soap: Will you just talk to me?

*silence*

Soap, activating his puppy eyes: Your silence is killing me.

*silence*

Soap, angrily: Fine. Be like that. I don't care!

*from another room*

Ghost: Should we tell him, he is talking to a decoy doll for the past 20 minutes?

Price: Nah, let him be. Where is Y/N anyway?

Ghost: Shop? I think.

Price: You think?

Ghost: That's what I've heard.

Price, suspicious: Didn't Kyle say he was going shopping?

Ghost: Yeah.

Price:

Ghost:

Price: Fuck.

..........

*Gaz leisurely stretching on the couch*

Y/N: One down! Three more to go!

*on the other side of the house*

Ghost: Captain! The sergent is down.

Price: Shit. Y/N you will pay for this.

*Gaz laughing cause he can hear them through his ear piece*

Soap, stripping: I will avenge you.

Price: Mactavish! I said no!

...........

*in bed*

Y/N: Wasn't that bad, huh.

Price taking a deep drag from his cigar: Never said it was, doll.

Y/N, scrabbling something in a notebook and whispering: One more to go!

Price: Why one more?

Y/N: Mactavish ambushed me as soon as you feel asleep.

Price, laughing: God dammit.

Price wrapping his arms tightly around Y/N: Now we are never gonna leave... You know that, right? *planting a little kiss on Y/N forehead*

Y/N: I am counting on that.

.........

Y/N, dramatically: You are the last one left. Surrender.

Ghost, tryng not to laugh: Never.

Y/N: There is nowhere to go, Simon.

Ghost: You sure about that?

Y/N: Surrender! Or else.

Ghost: Alright. *drops pants*

Y/N: Shit- How? What do you eat?

Ghost, stretching his arms out: Come 'ere sweetheart.

Y/N, walking backwards toward the door: I think I forgot the bathroom oven opened.

Ghost, walking towards her: No, no. Come 'ere and take what you bargained for.

..........

That's it!

[starsofang]

AN ANGEL WEEPS

guardian angel!simon x reader word count: 5k tw: NSFW, MDNI, death, bits of gore, religious themes, violence, heavy angst summary: simon would destroy the heavens and earth in order to be with you. heavily requested oneshot from this drabble!

Simon wasn’t partial to humans. You’d think with him being a guardian angel to many over the centuries, he would grow to like them. Really, it wasn’t that he disliked them, but more so couldn’t empathize with them like other angels could. Some were weak, some were selfish, some were burdening. All of them, though, were on borrowed time, and that was exactly where he came in.

There wasn’t ever a human life that Simon did not keep protected. All of his subordinates, as he called them, lived long enough to see their hair turn gray and their skin mold into wrinkles and age lines. Not once had a human died young under his watch, and he planned to keep it that way.

It seemed the gods held his professionalism to their advantage. Now that his previous subject had passed of old age, he was tasked with a new one. A more challenging one.

You, a high risk. Normally, people of your kind that had a doomed fate from birth were paired with angels who specialized in that. While Simon was practically one and the same with the others, he typically requested humans that wouldn’t be a pain in his ass.

You were different, though. Something about you compelled Simon to take on the task of being your guardian angel, and he was curious to find out what it was. You didn’t seem like you’d give him trouble at all. You were simply unfortunate in the hand of life, and he was determined to turn it in your favor.

On his first day of being your protector, he watched. Observed. He took the time to jot mental notes down of your routine. You weren’t a busy gal, that much he realized, but you were simple. He liked simple. It meant he wouldn’t have to chase you around like a loose pig escaping its pen.

The more he got to study you like a lab rat, the more he wondered what made you a high risk. You didn’t drink, nor did you do drugs. You didn’t spend the wee hours of the night partying. Hell, you didn’t even have a boyfriend to occupy your time. Even now, as he watched, you entered a bookstore, prancing around from shelf to shelf to read each book cover with keen interest, tucking your desired favorites under an arm.

Just from the first day alone, Simon came to think of you as soft and kind. You were the girl who helped the elderly cross the street, or the type that fed the stray cats in the alley, even if you used your last dollar to make it happen. You were a being with a heart of gold, and it was rare for Simon to see somebody so pure.

You were the type of person many took advantage of. He’d seen it plenty of times before – men and women of all kinds, using your big heart to get what they want, just to leave it shattered in pieces on the ground with no way of repairing it. Simon wouldn’t allow that to happen. He’d seen what he needed to see, and that was enough for him to become your permanent guard dog for the rest of your days, which he swore to himself would be bountiful.

There was one problem, though.

You could see him. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but when his little journey of following you around the city became abundantly clear, you confronted him about it, no bark, no bite. 

“Why are you following me?” you asked. Simon was fully expecting a tone of anger, a weak attempt at trying to be intimidating towards a brooding angel like him, but none of that came. In fact, despite your clear discomfort, you remained soft-spoken. Your voice was sweet as honey, smooth in the way it rolled off your tongue.

“Are you talkin’ to me?” Simon gruffed, eyes narrowing at you. You blinked at him dumbly, glancing around the bookstore before focusing back on him.

“Of course,” you confirmed in confusion.

He wasn’t sure what to do. This had never happened before, and it was wrong. Very, very wrong. Humans still partaking in the act of life weren’t able to see angels, let alone speak to them. It was against the very act of being angels. Silent protectors. Invisible.

Something was terribly off. Perhaps you were a fluke. Or perhaps you were far closer to death than he thought.

Simon was completely stumped. His very existence was the greatest kept secret in all of Earth’s lifespan. Not a single breathing soul knew of the actuality of angels. Sure, many believed in them – it wasn’t a secret in teachings, but that’s all it was. A belief. A strike of faith.

“Sir?” you called out. It successfully snapped him out of his spell-like hypnosis, realizing he was staring at you with a guise of puzzlement. He cleared his throat, standing a bit taller, eyes darting around the room.

“This isn’t how this is supposed to go,” he muttered to himself. You made a noise of perplexity.

“Pardon?” you questioned. Simon silently cursed (lord forgive him).

“This,” he repeated, gesturing between the two of you with a hand. “You’re not supposed to see me. Something must be truly wrong.”

Your expression morphed into lines of confusion and concern, eyes widening into fearful saucers. You looked scarcely similar to a lost puppy, one who had just been told bad dog. Simon felt a twinge of sympathy in your favor. How confusing it must be to have been followed around by a man who was sorrowfully unaware that you knew of his presence.

“Are you a ghost?” you asked, causing a crack of a smile to threaten on Simon’s lips.

“Somethin’ like that,” he mused. “Perhaps this might be easier if we talk somewhere privately.”

At first, you looked hesitant, and he didn’t blame you. He knew how weary humans were of strangers, after all, but Simon was no stranger – at least, he wouldn’t be in his eyes. He would know you the longer he silently protected you as your guardian, while you remained blissfully oblivious to his existence. It seemed that part wasn’t in the cards this time around.

Somehow, you agreed, following him out of the bookstore and on to the bustling streets, walking side by side with him. It was silent at first, Simon keeping his eyes trained forward, alert to any dangers nearby. It was in his blood to sniff out misfortunes from a mile away, and considering your state of high risk, you attracted them like flies.

“Suppose I’ll give it to you straight,” he began, garnering your attention almost immediately. Your eyes were pooled with dread, most likely expecting horrible news. Or wondering why you had followed a strange man with so much blinded trust. “Do you believe in angels?”

“Angels?” you gawked, the words unexpected. It was the last thing you imagined he’d say, and it took you for a complete whirlwind. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you?” he repeated. He turned his head to look at you, noting the gears turning in that brain of yours. It was subtle, but you were an easy read.

“Yes, I guess I do. There’s no proof of them not existing, so I can’t exactly say they’re not real, right?” you claimed, and the warmth in your tone made Simon smile.

He quite liked your character so far. Easygoing with incredible wit and enthrall. It was a breath of fresh air from some of the other people he’d been subjected to. There wasn’t a hint of malice in your aura, no storm clouds that hovered over you in the form of looming threat, no black smoke billowing around you in a polluted smother.

In fact, it was nothing short of bright. Hues of yellow emanating beaming rays. A burst of sunlight, down to the bone.

“Smart girl,” Simon hummed softly, returning his gaze forward as the two of you walked. “This is your first time talkin’ to one, I presume.”

For a moment, you were silent. He could feel your eyes studying the side of his face, desperately attempting to pry open his mind and see inside for yourself. He allowed you the complexity of wishful thinking.

“What do you mean by that?” you dared to ask, curiosity getting the better of yourself. You didn’t feel like the smart girl he claimed you to be at all. Matter of fact, you were perhaps a very stupid girl for following an unfamiliar man and listening to him speak of a higher power. You were even stupider for blossoming an interest.

It was a difficult conversation to have, one Simon wasn’t prepared for at all. He had to explain it in blunt terms, introducing himself as your guardian angel while you stared at him like a dead fish.

Yet somehow, despite receiving such complex information, you accepted it, giving him a smile and your name that he already had mapped in the back of his memory. You didn’t shy away from him. He didn’t understand. He knew humans were complicated, but he had never met one so trusting of his word.

Simon fully expected a breakdown, or a freak out. Perhaps even a fuck off with you going about your day. Earthlings didn’t know that angels existed, so to meet your very own, one so tall and brooding, intimidating and unapproachable with large, white wings that tucked into the comfort of his back, hidden, it was a damning thing. But you accepted, so easily, too.

It was strange. You were strange. Not in a cruel way like he had previously thought of humans, but in a warm way that left him confused. Perplexed. Such a sweet thing like you, so free of judgment and malice, only to end up with a terrible fate such as yours.. Now that was cruel.

Simon took a liking to you after your official meeting. He tried to deny it, reminding himself of his purpose, but it was hard not to form a friendship with you when you wouldn’t allow him otherwise. He stuck to you like glue, never letting you stray out of sight, waiting in the dark hours of the night for you to wake, watching silently while you’d read a book every night.

Where you went, he went. When you slept, he watched over you longingly. When you wept, he ached.

You became of utmost importance to him. You were his priority before, but now, it was set in stone that Simon would strive to give you the longest life, filled with nothing short of love and worship. When he formed this goal in mind, a second problem arose – saddened over the fact that it wouldn’t be him sharing it with you.

“Simon?” you asked him one night. Book in your lap, long forgotten as you stared up at him with an innocent curiosity. You were a nosy one, something he found out rather quickly, but instead of being met with his own annoyance, he grew quite fond of your wonder. “Does everybody have a guardian angel?”

He never got tired of your questions. In fact, he encouraged them. Conversation with you came easy, whether it was in the bright rise of the morning, or the wee hours of midnight. Simon wasn’t much of a talker until you came around, but sharing endless moments when it was just the two of you conversing as people became his favorite routine.

Simon perked up to look at you, eyebrows furrowing at your question. “No. Not everybody,” he answered honestly. You tilted your head at him, curious.

“Then how come I have you?” you questioned.

Simon stared at you, mulling over your inquisition. A pang of guilt tightened his chest. He knew the truth, yet you didn’t. You were blissfully unaware of what was at stake, why the heavens decided to gift you with him as your protector. You didn’t know how weak your own lifeline was, how you risked slipping in the depths of death every ticking second of the day.

He knew what was waiting for you at the end of the line. When you’d reach it, though, was the question. And he wished he had the answer.

“You’re just a special case, dove,” he explained, trying his best to be comforting. The last thing he wanted was for you to worry, to find out the real reason why he was assigned to you. “Nothin’ to stress about. Some people just get them early.”

“Special case?” you repeated to yourself, finger pressing to your chin in thought, face pulling into confusion.

Simon remained silent, eyes shifting away from you to allow you the time to think. He knew you had a hyperactive mind, one that may have been the very thing to cause your future downfall, but he didn’t have the heart to stop it. Perhaps he was a selfish angel, for he loved hearing your voice, loved hearing the cluttered mess of your thoughts.

He was becoming dangerously devoted to you.

Angels and humans were not meant to form bonds. Simon was already being greedy by allowing it to happen rather than cutting it off from the root. He was your protector, your guardian, yet he excused the blossoming growth of your relationship as playing his role. The closer he got to you, the higher of a chance he had in saving you.

“Simon?” you called out once again, garnering his attention. He heard the hesitation in your own tone, as if you didn’t want to speak your mind. “I’m not going to die, am I?”

If Simon had a working heart, it would have shattered right there. If he had a living, human soul, it would’ve lost its glowing light, fading into aching darkness.

“No, dove,” he lied, flashing you an assuring smile. “M’just here to keep you safe, that’s all.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, and Simon felt that nauseating guilt crawl its way back under his skin. It pricked him with unease. He hated lying to you, providing empty promises that your life was under no threat.

He never worried about humans. He did as he was meant to do, and that was the extent of it. Yet with you, he worried that if he didn’t go above and beyond his normal procedures, your blood would be on his hands. He didn’t know if he could live with himself for the upcoming centuries if he failed to keep his promise.

A world where your laughter drifted away with the wind, rather than fill the air of his presence, was a world unworthy. A world without you would be unfair.

As Simon watched you return to your book, your curious mind put on temporary pause, he vowed to keep the Earth spinning with you on it, alive and well, safe and sound – just as he’s meant to do, without the baggage of complex emotions he shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

The longing for you never became easier. In fact, the progression of the harbored affection only grew tenfold. Iit was increasingly difficult to continue with his duty as your protector without coming to the admission.

Simon, an angel, was falling for a human he was meant to keep safe, keep alive. Two beings, divided by separate worlds, yet he resided in yours as if he belonged there. The more time he spent in your orbit, the more the desire blossomed.

He was a smart angel, one that had developed a keen sense for human emotion over the centuries spent silently observing them. Simon knew that his feelings weren’t unreciprocated, and it was what terrified him greatly. Fear and love, mixing in the absence of his own humanity, taking control of his motherboard and turning on autopilot.

He suppressed these feelings as much as he could. The hierarchs he reported to could have no hint of these befuddling emotions that were causing warmth to run through his bloodstream, as if he were slowly becoming human himself. He could not allow them, or himself, get in the way of his original mission.

That’s what he tried to do, at least.

It wasn’t until a normal night, pent up in your apartment with a warm mug of tea, a book nuzzled in your other hand and a blanket thrown across you to form a picture of pure sweetness, that his resolve began to crack.

You, innocent and curious you, always asking questions about him and never making the conversation selfishly about you, had requested to see his wings. The white, feathered beauties, tucked away in the dip of his shoulder blades, hidden and protected. You were considerate in the way you asked, giving him an opt out if he wasn’t comfortable. No human had ever seen his wings, let alone him, and he found denying you much more difficult than he thought it would be.

So he did as you asked – unfurled his wings, allowing the slow stretch to showcase them. The feathers ruffled with his movement, but they glowed radiantly with the picture-perfect white. Once they were untucked and on display, Simon realized how vulnerable all of this was. He was bearing himself to you with no obstacles standing in the way. He was showing the real part of himself, and you were watching in patient admiration, taking in every tuft of feather.

The wrongfulness of his action was smothered over with the look in your eyes. You gazed at him as if he were the most beautiful thing that God had created, setting aside your book and tea in order to step up to him fully. You were silent, taking him in, taking your time. When you carefully reached out a hand with an itch to feel the soft wings, he didn’t stop you. He should’ve, but he couldn’t.

“You’re wonderful,” you breathed, speaking of him so highly that it made the organ in his chest clench with an ache. Your touch was gentle, nimble fingers smoothing over the tuft feathers. The pads of your fingers were soft, and it caused him to relax, releasing a breath he was unaware of holding.

“Please do not say that to me,” he whispered, voice tight. He took a shaky breath in, shutting his eyes so he didn’t have to look into your own. “Please.”

Your eyes flickered across his face, taking in how reluctant he was. He was holding back, this you knew, and while you understood, a part of you wished he would open himself up. For months, you had walked a thin line, but it had quickly shifted into something more dangerous. Feelings, ones that matched his own.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized softly, beginning to take your hand off of his wing. Before you could remove it, his own hand caught yours, warm fingers wrapping around your smaller ones. He dared to open his eyes, nearly collapsing under the sparkling gaze you had so graciously reserved for him.

Slowly, he brought your hand up to his mouth, releasing a trembling breath before placing his lips to your soft skin. You watched silently, but made no move to pull away. “What are you doin’ to me, dove?” he asked, flustered. “This is… this is not right.”

His eyes bore into yours, sinking into your lovely irises, growing lost in them. There was an unfamiliar pounding in his chest, a foreign swarm of fluttering butterflies in his stomach, things only humans felt for one another. Angels were not meant to feel this way for a human, and humans were not supposed to know they existed.

Yet, he couldn’t deny the pure fondness he held towards you. How he sought you out in every given moment, how his body longed for you every morning and every night. His mind felt that this was right, that it was meant to be, while the voice in the back of his head told him this would end in misery.

With the way you were looking at him as if he had captured the sun and stars just for you, he found himself moving without thought. Lips pressing to yours, his hand gripping your own in a vice, as if scared you may crumble to ash if he let go. You reciprocated, and that was your mistake – there was no going back, and Simon wasn’t sure if he’d want to.

Humans performed things in the heat of the moment. It was something Simon had come to learn over his many years of study, yet him kissing you so suddenly had made him feel like one. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating all at once. To feel alive, to feel real.

He performed the ultimate act of sin with you. He was clumsy and awkward, inexperienced in the way he had you melting on his tongue, arching your back off of the sofa he took you on. Everything you offered would have him sent into an early grave if he were a living being. Ironic, considering it was you on that path, something he had forgotten about in between your shared intimacy.

Simon never knew how wonderful it felt to be connected with a mortal in a physical sense. Inside of you, engulfed in your warmth that clenched around him so deliciously, writhing beneath him like a fever was coursing through your veins. You looked lovely, even with a scorching warmth to your skin and a sheen of sweat lining your forehead.

His wings cocooned around you both as he lost himself in you, swallowing your beautiful whines that resembled heaven’s choir. Your hand caressed the soft feathers of his wings while the other held on to his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, grounding yourself.

Everything about this act was pure sin. It was a test of the devil himself, and he had strayed off of the path of forgiveness and had ventured to a land of lustful desire. Yet, he continued on the path, moving on his own free will further and further the more your body took him in. Your pleasure was his newfound call, his new purpose.

As your body succumbed to its own heated climax, he watched in awe at the way your mouth fell open, eyes lidded halfway, clouding over with a lovely husk of satisfaction. You were more beautiful than any heaven he had seen, and if Simon could die, he’d seek you as his afterlife.

He should’ve regretted it. It was in his blood to find purity, to hold value in the sentiment of God. But as he laid there, your body spent and exhausted, soft breaths leaving your lips, he felt no such thing. He wrapped his wings around you, smothering you in a security blanket, using the purest part of him to keep you sound.

Simon should’ve known that the moment he fell in love with you, things would never go the way he wanted. He should’ve reminded himself of why he was your guardian in the first place, yet he had been nothing but selfish. He involved himself in you far too much, ignoring the angel on his right shoulder in order to listen to the devil on his left.

When he had been told you were a high risk, he never would’ve imagined that he would be the reason.

Everything happened far too quickly for Simon to comprehend. He wasn’t paying attention, he wasn’t protecting you. It seemed almost instant that your body had been struck in the middle of the street, the night sky making everything much foggier to the eye. It started out as such a simple night, with Simon following along behind you while you made a stop at a crosswalk to pass the street.

Distracted by the flowers displayed in the window of a pretty flower shop, he was consumed by thoughts of wanting to surprise you with them. Though he was a mere angel and could get you flowers from mother Earth herself, he knew humans had different sentiments, flowers being one of them. While pondering which flower you might prefer, the entire world had stopped in the midst.

Dreadful sounds of tires screeching, a loud explosion of crashing noises that made his ears prick, and you – silent. Not a single peep. It made his blood run cold, because you weren’t silent. You were curious, talkative, always letting it slip what was on your mind.

Simon stared at your unmoving body on the road, battered and bloodied, tainted with impurity. It was the complete opposite of what you had been. It was something you should’ve never been in the first place.

His legs moved before he could tell them to, and he found himself crumbling to the ground, taking hold of your body in his arms. Blood seeped from your head, painting your skin an ugly crimson. It was thick and vile. It didn’t belong. Not on you.

He became frantic. He didn’t have to listen to know your heart was no longer beating, because he just knew. You were the tattered version of yourself. A corpse, no longer able to smile at him, or ask your silly questions, or tell him you loved him. You were dead, just as your prophecy had predicted, and Simon had failed.

Weeping over your body did nothing to change fate. For the first time in all of Simon’s life span, he cried, ugly tears and snot, babbling nonsense from his mouth as he begged for you to wake up. He shook you in desperation, before holding you close to his chest and securing his wings around the two of you, unable to bear the thought that he had lost you.

The heavens were in havoc. One of their beloved angels, falling for a mortal? Completing acts of sin? It was true blasphemy, a desecration to their name. The world as they knew it was falling apart, and it was all because Simon was selfish and unholy.

Tossing him out was done without question. Sent to the burning pits of hell, white feathers falling from his wings only to be replaced with raven, black and nightmarish. He was one of hell’s fallen angels, while you remained at the top, separated and alone. Simon was one of God’s failed creations, and no amount of redemption or prayer would have him fluttering back up to his pearly gates. Home was no more, though he was sure that at some point, heaven was forgotten and you had replaced that title before he lost you.

Being apart from you was torturous. It felt as if he was missing half of his body, half of his soul. Apart of different worlds once again, not meant to be. Unfated. Simon couldn’t allow that to happen.

Even if it took him years to return to his beloved, he would do it. Even if it meant trudging through the depths of hell in order to crawl to the top, he’d complete the journey without pause.

Heaven may be strong, but his love for you was stronger.

War broke out between the heavens and hell. Colliding forces, shedding blood of the pure, and venom of the demented. It was a battlefield that Simon had been the cause for, vision red with rage. He saw nothing but the fueling desire to be reunited with you, and it wouldn’t simmer until that occurred.

Far too much time passed since he had seen you. Years, even, though he wasn’t sure – everything felt like a lifetime without you by his side. He had lost count of how many sins he had committed, how many angels he had slain in order to become one step closer to seeking your soul. The lovely angel Simon had once been was murdered and buried, filled with angry vengeance that poked through the eyes of a devil.

He wondered if you would forgive him, if you would still love him. After all, he was a blackened version of himself, no longer the image of purity. He was a beast unleashed.

All of those worries melted away into a yearning ache when all war had ceased. You had been expecting him, it seems, waiting for him. Your soul was still as radiant as ever, yet he was now a dark void in comparison.

“Simon,” you greeted, and oh, how he missed your sweet melody. Your voice alone, saying his name, had put out the raging fire in his bones.

“Dove,” he responded back, breathless. His heart was in his throat as he waited for your reaction, to see how you felt about him. His wings no longer white, his soul no longer sacred.

Time had taken a pause as the two of you stared at one another from your place in heaven. He was back in the place he originated from, yet it felt cold and desolate. It was a grueling task to make it this far, and he prayed it wasn’t in vain.

“Your wings,” you commented, eyes fluttering down to take in the raven feathers. He sucked in a breath, prepared to hear your disappointment, but it never came. “They’re wonderful.”

It was the exact words you had used to describe him as an angel. Your love for him hadn’t changed, even though he did.

Simon smiled at you, full of light and warmth. You smiled back, and he was a done-for man. That smile was the reason for the heavens falling apart, yet it was still the most beautiful thing he’d come across. He never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ve come all this way for you, dove,” he murmured softly, taking a step forward. He reached out for your hand, holding it so tenderly in his. He lifted it, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “Please, come back with me. Come home.”

To hell. To madness.

None of that mattered. Simon wouldn’t make the same mistake that he did when you were alive. This time, you would not be met with a foul end, and he would not live a life of regret.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands before looking back up at him, meeting his eyes. Your own were just as fond as before, lit up with the undying love that had never left.

“Take me home, Simon,” you assured, and the church bells sang.

i had many people asking for a full fic of guardian angel simon, so i am here to deliver. this concept's been on my mind for a while, and i finally pushed thru and wrote it fully, so i pray that it lives up to the standards everybody wanted <3

[sterifels-blog]

Last night I had a thought about Simon but I'm not creative enough to come up with a good scenario, so I'll just skip ahead.

Imagine that Simon and Reader had a thing for 1 or 2 months but they never ended up dating, and then Simon disappears and doesn't respond to Reader's messages. A while later Johnny takes Simon and Kylie to spend the week at his house after a mission and there Simon discovers that Reader is Johnny's younger sister, and that the 1 year and 7 month old boy who is very attached to her is actually his son. As if Reader looks a lot like Johnny but her son is identical to Simon.

Feel free to ignore this 👀 Any language errors are Google Translate's fault. Either way I'll spend days thinking about this 🤸‍♀️

this is definitely not a prompt i'd usually cover, but i'll attempt it nonetheless. i had such a hard time trying to conceptualize what an appropriate reaction to this sort of situation would be, but there are so many different ways to validate a reaction. this is the best take i can offer you! ⤵️

A mess of things to fix.

Simon had never imagined that he would be standing in Johnny’s kitchen, staring at a child. A child that he couldn’t fathom, whose heartbeat was unmistakably his own, though he'd never had the chance to know him. The sticky summer heat of a mission’s aftermath still clung to him, sticking to his body in cloying sheets of sweat and travel-worn leather. Simon was a contradiction in flesh: battle-hardened, skin soaked in salt and iron, and yet standing awkwardly in the glow of the kitchen’s overhead light, as if someone had poured an entire century's worth of regret down his throat.

And there you were— you— who had once been just the woman who had made his bones hum beneath the skin. A weekend, a couple of months… something like that. Something forgotten by time, but carved into the ether between you both like graffiti in an alley only the broken remembered.

You were Johnny's younger sister. Johnny, the one who'd so effortlessly pulled him into this twisted little family. But now? Now everything was mangled and unspooled.

His son.

He tried not to blink too hard when he first saw the boy. You were holding him, cradling him in your arms. The little thing was bundled in too many blankets, chubby cheeks peeking from under his small beanie, his large eyes a mirror of someone Simon had never really been sure he wanted to meet. But there they were, those eyes—those identical, goddamn eyes.

Simon didn't remember this. He didn’t even remember the night. But here, in Johnny’s kitchen, surrounded by mugs and heavy laughter that seemed too far off to touch, everything started to settle in his chest like lead.

You didn’t know how to look at him either. There was the hesitation—splayed, unsaid—heavy between you both. The moment when his presence meant more than just the passing shadow of the past. The truth had settled and clung to your face like old makeup. You didn’t want him to see, but you knew. He knew. He knew because his blood had turned to ice, and in his veins, a cold panic spread.

You had a child. His child.

Johnny, ever the oblivious one, smiled as if he didn’t see the earthquake unfolding. “She looks just like me, right? Gave her my best traits. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”

But it was clear, wasn’t it? Your son. He looked like him, even if the years had stolen what could have been.

“What’s his name?” Simon’s voice was gravel, rough with an unfamiliar edge. He felt nauseous with the knowledge. He couldn’t escape it. The knowledge of a past he’d left behind, unspoken, unresolved, and now here it was—too real to ignore. His son.

You swallowed thickly, keeping the boy close to your side. You told him the name, and Simon didn’t even register the syllables. The truth was louder than any name could be.

"Charlie."

Johnny clapped Simon on the back, misinterpreting the silence. “Oi, mate, just don’t look too long at her kid. He’s already on a first-name basis with trouble, trust me. I’ve seen the future, and it’s got a lot of broken windows in it.”

Simon forced a smile. A bitter curve of his lips. “..Right.” The awkwardness slithered around the table like some beast with too many eyes. Conversation flitted, fragile and half-formed, until dinner had ended and the quiet remained, stretching longer than it should have. The little boy yawned, and it was cemented in the moment it was time for bed. Simon barely heard the clinking of silverware, until Johnny was cooing a cheeky goodnight to his nephew- re-stating that his "favorite uncle" would be there to see him in the morning.

You stood, giving him no choice but to follow. The weight of the moment anchored his feet to the floor like gravity had decided it needed a joke at his expense. As you ascended the staircase with the boy in your arms, Simon’s boots followed behind in a trance. There was something haunting in the way you moved, like a shadow threading through space, one that should’ve been broken long before this— one that felt like a single thread was holding it together.

He hovered by the doorframe of the child’s room as you placed him gently into the crib. The boy squirmed for a moment, settling into the warmth of his sheets, but his little fingers gripped at your sleeve, unwilling to release. Simon watched, his throat tightening like an iron clasp.

You turned to look- and for the first time that night, you made eye contact. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. The weight of the silence between you both felt like it had grown too heavy, and there, in the doorway, he lingered, as if you had just invited the storm into the room.

You couldn’t escape it any longer— the elephant sitting in the room had too many sharp edges. The question hovered between you, thick and suffocating. He was trying to push it back, but it was there, in his eyes, tangled with guilt and regret. Until, finally, he broke the silence.

"..Love. Can I… can I see him?" Simon’s voice cracked the air, raw and desperate, as if he had the right to ask something like that after all this time.

The words felt like they had shattered the air between you. There was an edge to them—like a plea wrapped in anger. He was furious, but at what? Himself? You? The situation? The fact that he was asking this, now—it made everything too complicated, too impossible.

It made your blood boil. Made your chest tight with a heat you couldn't contain. How dare he? How could he stand there and ask, knowing nothing? Knowing how many nights you’d spent alone, how many times you had to bite back tears, pretending you weren’t breaking under the weight of it all? You didn’t even tell him. You couldn’t. You hadn’t. And now, after all this time, after all the silence, he had the gall to ask for what was his—when he hadn’t been there to help raise him.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, but you didn’t snap at him. You couldn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it— the hurt, the fury, the helplessness. He didn’t know. And you hadn’t given him the chance to.

You swallowed hard, biting your lip to keep your voice from shaking. "Yeah," you muttered, cold as ice, before stepping aside. The words stung like salt on an open wound, but they slipped from you, like a wave crashing over the rocks. You didn’t know if you could even trust yourself to speak. "Yeah.. Just— don't hurt him.."

Simon’s eyes softened— too late— and he stepped toward the crib slowly, uncertain, like the boy wasn’t his own flesh and blood. Like he had no right. But he was there. He was looking, and you couldn’t stop it.

You stood by the door, back against the frame, arms crossed, watching as he hesitated, before reaching down to lift Charlie, awkwardly at first, as if he were holding something breakable. It was almost a joke— the way Simon held him like he was a piece of glass, fragile and unworthy of the comfort the child had never known he needed from his father.

And then, like a dam breaking, Simon’s face crumpled, his shoulders shaking, and you saw it. The first tremor of realization, of loss, of guilt— flooding over him in waves too powerful to stop. His hands shook, the child still clutched tightly in his arms, and he cried. A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, each one a crack in the wall he’d built around himself, and your heart twisted.

The bitter taste of resentment clawed at your throat, but it was drowned out by the ache you’d been carrying for so long. For so, so long. Watching him finally hold Charlie— the son he’d never known— made something snap inside you, something raw and real. And though you were furious— though a part of you wanted to hate him, to blame him for everything that had been missing, you couldn’t. Not entirely.

The tears fell freely now, down his stubbled chin, mixing with the slow, shuddering breath that escaped his lips. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even apologize in the right way, but you saw the regret in his eyes, and it twisted the knife a little deeper. He was sorry— more than he could ever express— but it was too late.

"You should’ve been here," you whispered, but Simon couldn’t hear you. He was lost in the weight of it all, too consumed by the moment, holding onto your son like he was the only thing left to hold onto in this shattered mess. He didn’t know how to fix it. Neither did you.

But you couldn’t take him back. Not like this. Not now.

And so, you let him hold him. And Simon wept.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Secret Lovers

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. a/n:this was originally started because of a snippet @thebeesatemyknees had written, thank you so much for letting me turn this into a full fic! I hope I was able to do it proper justice warnings:none, just tons of fluff Part 2

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. Johnny had badgered him from day one if he had a partner, going on and on about how much he loved his girlfriend. SImon wasn’t going to tell him anything, no matter what he’d keep his lips sealed.

Kyle was the next one to ask, though it was more in passing rather than a true and genuine question when he cornered the older man. They had been discussing mission details when the topic arose, did he have a next of kin? And if so, who would be the one to inform them if Ghost were to be KIA’d? He never asked Simon after that day, instead going on to different topics whether they had to do with the mission or what they wanted to eat. Kyle treated him like a friend, it was nice.

And John, well he knew all about Simon’s personal and very private life.

~~~

You were a new addition to the team, a medic that could stitch up a wound within a minute and get you back on the field within five. They were thankful to have you come around with them, helping stitch up a wound on Johnny’s arm, or cleaning up a gash on Kyle’s head. The only person who seemed to be a little wary around you was Simon, which both Johnny and Kyle felt odd. You fit in their group like the puzzle piece that was missing, and yet Simon acted as if he wanted nothing to do with you. Surely he’d warm up to you a little more, they were all sure of it.

“Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice. We’ve got word that an arms dealer is hosting a gala and we need to get more intel before we can swoop in.” Kate was a woman who took no shit and left no prisoners, she wasn’t going to risk this.

“Who do we want to send?” John was nervous, his men were trained for this, but putting them into a situation where they’d have to become someone else entirely? Nerve wracking.

“I was discussing it with Shepherd last night, and we’ve decided that Simon and Y/N will be going on this mission while the rest of you stake out the building.” All eyes suddenly shifted to Simon who looked calm as ever.

He’d forgone the mask for this mission briefing, knowing that only his teammates and Kate would be in the room with him. Knowing that you were going to be there made things a little more tense, could he handle something that dire?

“If you think that’s what’s best, I fully support the decision.” John wasn’t going to argue, Simon could be suave and charm the pants off of anyone if needed.

“Thank you, we’ll be heading out tomorrow and meeting up at the hotel. Promise me you’ll behave so no one suspects you, please.” Kate knew how much of a troublemaker that Johnny and Kyle could be, given the opportunity of course.

“I’ll make sure of it myself if need be, don’t you worry.” John smiled up at her, leaving Kate to wonder how much trouble there would be.

They would need to debrief you on the plane ride over, given that you weren’t even in the room with everyone. Having something like that just dumped on you with no time to prepare was the worst, how could they manage? Simon would just have John give you the rundown so he could worry about more important things, like how he’d have to act like the two of you were so desperately in love.

You would have an entire day to get comfortable in the hotel room, there would be a few people lingering so you’d get used to being stared at. Simon knew they’d mainly be staring at you, you were downright gorgeous. And with the clothes that had been picked out? A deep navy blue tux, with a pitch black button up and black silk tie. It perfectly matched the dress they’d picked out for you, a deep V down the front that left just enough to the imagination. The color matched his tux almost identically, the only difference was your dress was silk. 

“They’ve packed everything for you to do your own hair and makeup, we don’t want you to stand out too much, better to blend in.” It was the smartest idea, if you or Simon were to attract too much attention things would end badly.

“Yeah, Kate told me as much as she could, I made sure to pack my best heels.” You were nervous, it’d been so long since you’d been able to go out to something fancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” John knew you were smart and quick witted, but something about this mission unnerved him.

“I’m positive, Simon and I will get the intel and get out before anyone even notices we’re missing.” You were confident everything would go smoothly, Simon could be silent if needed.

John nodded at you, settling back into his seat as the plan began to descend down onto the tarmac below. Simon was staring at you from across the way, palms sweating slightly as the time drew closer to getting inside the hotel. Johnny was going to see how nervous he was and make comments, he was sure of it. The sound of tires squealing brought everyone’s attention to high alert. It was time to grab your things and head to the cars, you were driving over with Simon, leaving the other three to their own car.

It was mainly to not raise any suspicion, if you were seen driving with any man that wasn’t your husband word would spread before you managed to make it to the party. You were absentmindedly playing with your ring, twirling the obnoxiously large diamond with your other fingers. It was a habit you picked up whenever you tended to wear jewelry, though it was much better than picking at your cuticles.

“You feeling alright hun?” Simon glanced over at you, though his own nerves were shot, he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances.” You kept twirling the ring, glancing between Simon and the road ahead of you.

Simon took a quick breath and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together without skipping a beat or taking his eyes off the road. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you had been waiting to see how long it took before he finally felt comfortable around you. You’d need to practice around everyone else if you were going to look natural around a bunch of strangers. Everything was going to be just fine, you were sure of it.

John had set up everything in the hotel room, along with hanging up your dress and Simon’s tux to help steam out any wrinkles if needed. So far there was nothing to worry about, save for Soap acting like a little shit and pranking Simon and Kyle for the most part. You’d all settled in, changing into comfortable clothes and ordering food so that you wouldn’t have to leave. Simon was cleaning up the kitchen so he could sit down and enjoy dinner with you.

“Do you need any help?” You walked over to him, pressing your hand against his lower back.

“Nah, just need to finish cleaning this plate and we can eat.” Simon smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you say.” You patted his back gently, heading over to the small kitchen table.

Johnny raised a brow at how you and Simon seemed to naturally work with one another, he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Kyle on the other hand was ignoring him entirely, digging into his own meal and scrolling through his phone. Simon had finally finished, grabbing his plate of food and heading over to sit with you. He could faintly hear that you were both discussing the mission and going over your alias’ one last time.

“Simon, you need to wear your ring.” You’d gotten on his case the entire day, he kept taking it off complaining that it felt weird to wear it.

“I’ll wear it during the mission tomorrow.” Simon brough the fork to his mouth, focusing on his plate rather than your raised brow.

“You say that now, but when we end up leaving you’re going to forget it and then we’re going to have to drive all the way back because you won’t wear your ring.” You had put yours on right away, mainly because you were forgetful and didn’t want to end up forgetting it.

“Are you really going to make me wear the ring all night?” Simon’s expression would normally terrify a recruit, but you’d gotten used to it.

“If I want to make sure you have your ring on? Yes, I’m going to make you wear your ring until we get back on that plane and go back home.” You’d glue it on if need be, but Simon knew better than to disobey orders.

John chuckled to himself watching the two of you, it was a dynamic he hadn’t seen in quite a while and it was pretty funny to witness. Johnny on the other hand was now even more flabbergasted at the way you worked together. Why did you seem so comfortable arguing with a man who’d killed for less? This was something sinister and it unnerved him to no end, he’d get to the bottom of this.

You’d offered to clean up everyone’s dinner dishes, carefully cleaning any knives before laying them on a towel to be dried by Simon. He walked over to where you were, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your bodies flush together. Johnny’s jaw dropped open as he slapped Kyle’s arm to get his attention. The playful bickering was one thing, but watching Simon the Ghost Riley be so affectionate? 

“Damn, he’s a good actor.” Kyle watched the way you and Simon began to sway gently, giggling at something he’d whispered into your ear.

“Scarily good, didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Johnny shook his head, turning back towards the computer in front of him.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone kissing caught their attention once more. Simon had dipped you, lips pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. Johnny’s jaw dropped wide open, well if you weren’t together already that was surely going to change. You pressed your hands against Simon’s chest, laughing happily as you stared up at him.

“Cap, do ya think Lt and the medic are gonna get together after all this?” Johnny had high hopes, no one gets kissed the way Simon kissed you and simply part ways.

“What’re you talking about?” John barely lifted his gaze from the screen, typing up the pre mission notes to help catch up on them before.

“Simon’s practically tonguing the medic! He’s gonna woo her.” He waggled his brows at the older man, cackling when John rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah that’s not gonna happen.” John’s attention focused back on the task at hand.

Johnny’s laughing abruptly halted, what the hell had he meant that Simon wasn’t going to woo the medic, it was obvious! Clearly John had no idea what he was talking about, Johnny could see the little twinkle in your eye from across the room.

“Gaz, am I wrong or do ye think Ghost and medic are gonna end up together?” He was determined to get someone to agree with him.

“Oh, if they don’t I’m asking for her number for him.” Kyle may have had a slight crush on you, not that he’d ever admit it.

John sat upright in his chair, focusing on Johnny and Kyle who thought they were being more subtle than they actually were.

“Have you ever looked at their name tag by chance?” John wanted to see if the other two would finally catch on.

Both Johnny and Kyle shook their heads, neither of them had a reason to over analyze your name tag when they had injuries to be taken care of. He sighed softly to himself before glancing over to you and Simon. You were laughing at some bad joke Simon had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Her last name is Riley.” John watched as realization dawned on their faces.

You’d been married this entire time and no one, besides Price, was none the wiser. How the hell had you managed to keep it hidden from everyone? Then again Simon wasn’t the most overly friendly or affectionate when it came to anyone. You were his wife though, that was different! Surely you could bring out a different side of him, something that no one usually got to…of course.

“Would’ve been nice to know at least.” Johnny shrugged off his disappointment, this was a big thing to keep hidden away.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, just remember that.” John wanted to respect your privacy, it was the least he could do considering your line of work.

Johnny and Kyle understood why Price hadn’t admitted to questions about your relationship, but knowing the truth? It felt good. They watched the way you and Simon danced to the music playing from your phone. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away. It was a side of their teammate they’d never thought to see, and no one outside of this hotel room would ever get to see it.

At least, not until after the mission of course.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

[lennadanvers]

His Home

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Ace!Reader

A/N: I'm a day late to Ace Week, but I really wanted to post this. I'd love to see more ace representation in fanfiction, so I'm doing my part. Plus, this kind of relationship has always been my favorite- there's something about undefined love that makes it perfect. I really like this one, so much that I wrote it while studying for my History exam. I hope you love it too, happy belated Ace Week!

Ghost is the first one to ask about it.

About you.

It’s late, you went to bed an hour ago, and Johnny offered him a beer. They’re looking at the empty front yard, a normal street in a normal neighborhood- a rare sight for soldiers of their kind. The food you and Soap made for the occasion sits warm in their bellies. The air smells of quiet and night.

Simon has known Johnny for a long time- and he has known him well. He didn’t know about this, though. He heard about you, of course. The first time Soap wasn’t sure if he’d make it back home, it was your name he mumbled. Instructions were clear: his dog tags were for you to receive. Along with everything else in his barracks. Ae dinnae care aboot all the rules. Ye gotta take me home tae ‘er.

Ghost knew you weren’t married- he would have seen it in his sergeant’s paperwork. He decided you were his girlfriend, then.

Until someone flirted with Johnny at a bar, and he happily told them he was single. Single. It didn’t lead anywhere, anyway; he came back to base with the rest of the team that night. Maybe he didn’t have a bird at home anymore, thought Simon.

But then there was the roommate. Soap was always talking about the roommate, how she would always leave hairs in the shower, how the laundry detergent smelled like flowers back home. It was said with fondness, the kind of affectionate jab one develops with family or very close friends. Ghost supposed you might be a childhood friend, then. Someone who had always been in Johnny’s life.

Come the end of their last mission, he had nowhere to stay at. His apartment was waiting for him, of course, but it was as empty and cold as any hotel room. His sergeant invited him home- tae meet ma girl. His girl. That was not a relationship status- no friend, no sister or girlfriend. Just girl, his girl.

He had to say yes.

Then there were you. Johnny’s age, bright eyes full of affection when you saw him. Small, soft hands ruffling the mohawk, saying it was getting out of hand. Nodding when he asked for another trim, bonnie, aye?

You hugged him around the neck, face under his chin. Ghost feared you would suffocate his sergeant. But Johnny’s face was pink, relaxed for the first time since before the mission. His arms were at your back, hands rounding your waist- they were used to that place. His nose deep in your hair- Simon felt like he was overstepping, like he wasn’t meant to see that. No one was.

Until you gave a step back- soft smile, soft eyes, soft Johnny- and welcomed him to your home. You called him L.T., like you knew him. Simon suspected you did. You didn’t try to shake his hand or- God forbid- hug him hello. You didn’t even risk a step into his personal space. He didn’t think it was out of fear- you didn’t blink twice at the black surgical mask. You just smiled and gave him a tour of the house.

That was another thing, the house. Tiny and tidy, cozy. Ghost didn’t have much experience with homes, but that’s what it looked like to him. A place lived in, well loved. A place with a past. Even more intriguing, a place with a future. By the way you talked, he gathered you weren’t renting. This place was owned. Something for the long run.

When you got to the hallway, though, you pointed to the last door. That’s my room! You can knock if you need anything, I’m a pretty light sleeper. Then to the one before that: That’s Johnny’s. Then the guest bedroom and the bathroom.

So you don’t sleep together.

Which would have been an answer to his curiosity, if it weren’t for the kitchen. After he left his stuff- a half-empty duffel bag- in the guest room, Simon went back to the small but charming space that is- all in one- your kitchen, living room and dining room. He was still in his soldier headspace, which means his steps were quiet. When he stepped into the kitchen, neither you nor Soap noticed him there.

You were laughing, hand on his bicep, eyes closed. Johnny was smiling. His shoulders down, his face soft. He grabbed your hand and brought you closer in a weird hug. You swayed together, and Simon almost heard the music you were dancing to. It went on for a while. Johnny went to grab a knife and you’d already placed the cutting board in front of him. You grabbed the oven mitt and he opened the oven.

You two are the perfect machine, always knowing where the other is going next. The smiles never falter. For the first time in years, Simon feels like he’s in a home. It’s confusing and startling. How come Soap has this waiting for him? How is he even able to go on deployment, knowing he might not have the chance to dance around you in the kitchen again?

The thought sparks memories. Soap’s sketchbook, a gleaming eye peeking from the page. His tactical jacket, jasmine perfume as they march through a field. A hair tie in the keychain. Gunpowder hands buying a bracelet in a faraway country. Making flower crowns while waiting for the target to show up. Dodging bullets with blue fevered eyes. Take me home tae ‘er.

He cleared his throat, and you handled him the plates to set on the table.

After dinner, you said goodnight. Johnny kissed your cheek; I left some beers in the fridge. Another kiss on the forehead. You waved at Simon, sweet and tired. Soap’s eyes followed you through the hallway.

Out in the cool night air, Simon asks.

“Tha’ ‘er?”

Soap flinches in his seat. The bottle in his hand twinkles under the stars. Doesn’t seem willing to reply. Maybe he doesn’t know how.

“The one from yer drawings?”

The nod is soft.

“Aye.”

Interrogation is an art. Ghost knows many ways to get information out of people. None of them work better on his sergeant than silence. The man has a need to fill empty spaces.

So he waits until Johnny takes the bait.

“A’v always known her.”

Another silence. Simon doesn’t need to ask the question out loud.

“We arenae datin. She isnae ma girlfriend. Or wife,” Jhonny’s voice is warm and liquid. “She's the love o ma life.”

Curiosity bubbles again. How does this life fit with the man out in the field? How come a cozy little house is home to a demolition expert?

“How’s tha’ work?”

Soap’s shoulders tighten, preparing for a defensive stance.

“She doesnae want sex.”

That’s not quite an answer, so Simon waits. Johnny’s back relaxes slowly, as if relieved by the lack of a reaction.

“But ‘a dinnae care aboot all that stuff. She's here whan ‘a come home, an she takes care o’ me. A tak care o’ her. Thare's nothin more than that.”

Nothing more he could ask for. Nothing more he’d ever want. His eyes glow blue, melting ice in the night. Ghost wonders, surprised, how he never saw it. How he didn’t realize.

After that, he doesn’t ask any more questions. There’s nothing else he’d need to know, really. When the bottles are empty and the air a little too cold, they retreat to their rooms.

The next morning, Simon stays in bed a little longer than usual. He listens to your soft steps in the hallway, the little knock on the door and Johnny’s raspy laugh. He hears the sheets and the whispers, the way he tells you stories about their last deployement- some true (only the lighter ones), the rest made up, with a handsome, Scottish hero. He pictures you tucked in Johnny’s side, his hand in your hair, easy smiles lighting up the room. And he understands. Once again, his sergeant’s words sound in his head.

A dinnae care aboot the rules. She’s ma girl, L.T.

[constantmourning]

Confidence

[Price/Fem!Reader] [Gaz/Fem!Reader] [Soap/Fem!Reader] [Simon/Fem!Reader] [Poly!TF 141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: You haven't been feeling too confident lately. Your friends convince you to dress up to feel good, and you send them a picture of the end result. Except, you sent the pictures to the wrong group chat...

Word count: 6.9k (hehe)

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!! No use of Y/N, Thigh slapping, finger sucking, p in v, lack of protection, creampie (x2), oral (male and female receiving), face sitting, praise, pet names. Let me know if i forgot something please, I'll be happy to tag it if i did!

A/N: Reader is written As PLUS SIZE! There are mentions of fat/stretch marks/self esteem issues and the likes! This got very long I'm sorry but also I hope you enjoy!! Also, half of this is Beta'd, the other half... well, we die like men...

Your confidence had been at an all time low as of late. You weren’t sure what it was, but ever since joining Captain Price and not having your friends there to tell you just how great you looked every day, you really were down in the dumps.

Babes, I’m terribly upset

You text in your group chat with your friends. You waited for their answer. It felt like a century before someone responded.

Dear, what's wrong?

Finally, one of them had answered. You sighed and took a moment to respond.

I’ve been feeling like utter shit lately. Everyone around me is so… not built like me… I think it’s silly, but I don’t always feel beautiful.

You sent in the chat and immediately got a speech bubble.

Babe… I’m gonna tell you what helps me. Dress up all pretty. Do something to make you feel good. I promise it’ll help

You scrunched your face up.

I’ll try it. But if it doesn’t work I’m going to torment you forever

No response. You groaned and sat up. You decided it’d be best to try that. You looked through your things and found a cute underwear set and walked to your bathroom. Momentarily battling about putting on makeup, you decided to try it.

You sat in your bathroom for a good twenty minutes just doing your makeup. You then took another twenty minutes doing your hair. Everything was going to be undone, but if it was going to help you feel better, why not try it? You slipped into the cute underwear, black and lacy. You examined yourself in the mirror and smiled.

Remember, briefing tomorrow morning

-Captain Price

You remembered, and made a mental note to respond to his text a little later. You, instead of responding, began to take pictures of yourself in different positions. Once you were satisfied with some of them. You decided to throw a few into your group chat with your friends.

Validate me babes <3

You set your phone after you sent the pictures and just looked at yourself. You inhaled and placed a hand on your stomach. You pinched the fat there and sighed. Your phone went off, and then went off again. And again.

HUH?

-Gaz

oh fuck

-Soap

Wrong number?

-Ghost

You felt your heart stop. You wanted to vomit and run away and never be seen again by your teammates. Truly thinking about not responding and running away into the night, you scraped your nails through your hair. You grabbed your robe from the door and screamed into it. As loudly as possible without alerting anyone.

You grabbed your phone up and thought about being a grownup. Briefly.

WRONG GROUP CHAT

You then sent a barrage of different sad emojis and hoped the pictures would leave their minds.

There were no responses for the rest of the night. You went to bed just as you were; hair, makeup- You did put on comfortable pajamas though. You lied down and knew- just knew you would be getting an earful in the morning.

You grabbed your phone one last time and sent a group message to your girls, checking this time if it was really them.

Goodbye, I just wanted to say that. Since I will be simply passing away right now.

Immediate response.

What did you do???

I sent pictures to the wrong group chat. To the work group chat…

Your friends both, at the same time, asked what the pictures were. You sent the pictures and said nothing else. The chat erupted. Your friends were spamming you, different emojis, swears, memes. Anything. If they could send it, it was sent.

You lied on your back, looking up at the ceiling and you sighed. You were going to have to be an adult and face the men you really didn’t want to in the morning. You made that a problem for you in the future, and decided that sleep was the best option. You turned your phone off and slowly fell asleep. A pit in your stomach the whole time you waited for unconsciousness to overtake.

You woke up with the exact same pit in your stomach. You threw on your uniform and walked as fast as you could to the room you were meeting at. You wanted to miss Soap, Ghost, or Gaz. You did not want to run into them.

You opened the door to the room and realized you’d be facing Price alone. That was until you saw everyone was already in the room. You looked at your watch. You were early… If you were early, what time did they get there? You did not want to think about it…

No one would look you in the eyes. Their demeanor had changed completely. But no one mentioned the photos. You stood, uncomfortably, away from everyone. You couldn’t take in any information that Price was giving you. You were hyper aware of everyone around you; their body language…

You watched as Soap balled and unballed his fist a couple times. His knuckles white.

Gaz’s chest was rising and lowering a little quicker than usual. You could tell through the gear. His eyes were trained ahead, looking directly at Captain Price.

Speaking of Price, his eyes would look right over you. You weren’t the best at eye contact anyway, but Price was not bad at it. You knew he was trying to be professional.

Your eyes moved to Ghost and they locked onto his. You, immediately looking away, noticed him shift. His eyes didn’t falter though. He seemed to be the only one looking at you.

You shifted your weight, swallowing hard. Gulping down air like your life depended on it. The tension in the room was too much. You wanted to explode. Instead of exploding, you did (in your mind) the second worst thing. You opened your mouth, and words actually came out.

“I’m sorry!”

Everyone went quiet. Price stopped speaking and all eyes were on you. You gulped again and took a step back, distancing yourself even more. Price was the first to speak up. His brow cocked and you waited for his response. “For what?” He did sound genuinely confused, so you didn’t take it as him pretending to be stupid.

“Uh-” Your eyes scanned the room. You did the thing you were best at, word vomit. “Well, I’m sorry for sending those pictures! It was unprofessional and I didn’t check the group I was in- I was just- I meant to send it to-” You stopped yourself.

“To who?” Ghost asked, deadpan. But, you could almost see the smirk under his mask.

You, not knowing how to stop, kept going. “My friends. I wasn’t feeling good last night- Or the past couple o’ weeks really… My friends said, um, doing what I did would help me feel better! I mean, she did not tell me to send the picture in the work chat!” You put your hands up, no one stopping you from continuing. “I just wanted to feel cute… I guess…”

The room went silent. You made a face and held yourself back from stomping your foot or throwing a tantrum. You decided to be an adult, and wait for a response, one that felt like it was never coming. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost all looked at each other before all staring at you. You pouted.

“What?”

“Do friends normally send pictures like that to each other?” Ghost cocked his head at you.

You wanted to throttle him. “Whatever. If this is done, can I leave?”

Price nodded, he knew you had retained nothing, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Free to go.”

You walked out of the room and began to walk towards your room. You felt tears prick your eyes and tried to hold yourself together, at least until you got to the comfort and loneliness of your room. You were seething. You didn’t know why, but you were mad. Mad at how they had acted, mad at how you had acted, and mad that the pictures were sent to them in the first place. You got to your room, slammed your door, and threw yourself down on your bed.

You curled up and decided it was best to skip lunch that day.

A knock came from the other side of your day and you held back the urge to tell whoever it was to go away. You threw yourself out of bed and walked towards the door. Forgetting that you had puffy eyes from crying, you opened the door. Price stood there.

“Hey, you weren’t in the mess hall-” He stopped when you wiped your eyes. “Are you crying?”

You pouted harder. Price sighed. You groaned and moved to the side, motioning for Price to come in. You did not want everyone to see you looking like a mess. Price walked in and you shut the door. You placed your back against it and looked at him.

“Are you alright?” He gave you a concerned look.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Terribly.

Price’s head dropped slightly. “You had said this morning you weren’t feeling-”

“Captain,” You sighed. “I’ll be fine. Just horribly embarrassed. It’ll go back to normal once no one looks at me differently.”

Price’s brows furrowed. “If they don’t?”

You blinked at him. Why would he say that? You felt tears forming again. “Captain-”

“I know you don’t want to hear it from me-” Price started, “And would obviously prefer it from your friends,” He smiled at you softly, and got closer to you, “but, you are stunning. You should not feel the need to be validated, but you should know you are beautiful.”

Something hit you; whether it was the eye contact, what he said, or how he said it, you weren’t sure, but whatever it was sent you into a frenzy. You, without thinking, grabbed Price’s face and kissed him. Hard. Your lips hit his and you realized what you were doing. The kiss was over as fast as it started. You threw yourself back and began to profusely apologize. 

“Holy shit!” You were stunned at your actions, “That was so inappropriate, I’m so sorry.”

Price was as stunned as you. You watched him with wide eyes and he processed everything that had just happened. Nothing was being said. It was a deafening silence. Price watched you closely, his eyes dropping from your to your lips. His hands cupped your cheeks and he brought you into another kiss.

You eagerly kissed back, pressing against him. He pushed forward, your back pressing against the door. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you slowly opened your mouth for him. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and nothing was stopping either of you.

Until your stomach growled.

Price pulled away and looked down at you. “Look, you need to eat and I’m not sure we should do this-”

“I want this…” Your voice was barely audible, just loud enough for Price to hear.

“How about…” He paused, “you go eat. And think about this-”

“I’m not going to lie now, Captain Price,” You bit the inside of your lip, “I’ve been thinking about you, and the others for a while now.”

“Me and who?” He questioned you, brows knitting together.

“Um, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost… I think about you four all the time. Um, too much actually.” You stop yourself before going further. “Sorry, that's too much truth.”

Price laughs, “Okay… Go eat. Think on this. Text me when you’ve eaten.”

You nodded. “Yes sir,” You did a little salute. Price moved and let you out from your spot. You opened the door and both of you walked out of your room. You, pretending like Price did not just have his tongue in your mouth, walked off for lunch. As you were leaving, Soap walked up. He looked at Price in confusion.

“Why were ya in her room?”

Price smiled at him. “We may be doing a team bonding exercise later.”

“What does that mean?” Soap was quick to ask. Price was quick to ignore. He started to walk off, away from Soap, agitating him. “C’mon! You can’t say that and then not elaborate!”

Your mind was racing the whole time you ate. You could only focus on one damn thing; your earlier actions. And Price's words. Heat prickled across your cheeks as you ate and you made up your mind.

You wanted to do whatever it was Price had been thinking about.

You finished up your food and began to head back to your room. You just had to get a hold of Price, you had to tell him what you had thought about. But not before coming face to face with Soap.

"What happened earlier?" His brows were furrowed and his lips were turned down. "Wait, have you been crying?"

You groaned. "Fuck, it's still noticeable?" You looked back at Soap, "Where's the Captain?"

It was his turn to groan, "I'll take you to him."

You smiled widely and thanked him. He began to lead you to the barracks, the men's barracks. Your stomach flipped and you felt butterflies instantly. You kept your eyes trained ahead, on the back of Soap. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were burning.

"Did Price get to you first?" Soap turned to ask.

You blinked at him, shocked. "Huh?"

He shook his head, mumbling 'nothing' before leading you Price's door. He knocked and there was silence for a minute, before the door opened. Price's eyes fell from Soap and back to you. Price smiled and motioned for you to come in.

Soap began to leave and you grabbed his hand. "Can he come in too?" Your words caught Soap's attention. He froze and looked back at Price.

Price's smile turned into a toothy grin. "Of course."

You pulled Soap in behind you and Price shut the door. You held Soap's hand like a lifeline, a nervousness taking over that only hand holding could help. Soap didn't seem to mind. You looked at Price with a curious expression and finally asked, "What now?"

"Well, we have to lay down some ground rules, and let Soap in on what's going on."

"Please fucking do! What's going on?"

Price looked at you, for you to tell him. Your stomach turned. You swallowed hard and looked at Soap, letting go of his hand. "Um, I talked with Price this afternoon, before I ate. I told him about-" your eyes cut from Soap to Price, who gave you an encouraging nod, "-about liking the four of you. I thought about it, like you asked," you looked to Price again, "and I'm up for-"

"A team bonding exercise?" Soap asked.

You nodded. "If you wanna call it that."

Soap very much so wanted to call it that. He wanted to bond with his men over you. You were unaware- oblivious to the fact that all of them seemed to want that. But, now, the opportunity had presented itself so perfectly. Soap wanted nothing more than to launch himself at you. But he waited.

"Go get Gaz and Ghost." Price looked at Soap before his eyes hit you. Your heart fluttered and you looked at Soap, who was ready to protest.

"Why do I have to go get them? Call them!" Soap's hand snaked around your waist.

"Soap…" Price's eyes narrowed. "I'll take care of her, go get them." Price pulled you from Soap's grasp and Soap groaned. He mumbled a 'whatever' under his breath and left the room.

You watched Soap refrain from slamming the door and moved your gaze to your Captain. You bit the inside of your lip and your arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, hugging yourself.

"C'mere." Price motioned you over. Your feet were heavy and your eyes were wide. You couldn’t move. You inhaled sharply and your hands dropped to your sides. Price watched you like a hawk, “You still up or this? You can back out at any time.” You only nodded. “We’ll set ground rules as soon as Soap gets back with the boys.”

“Until then?” You asked, head cocking to the side.

“We can do whatever you want.”

You nodded again. Anxiety crept in, and even though you knew you could do what you wanted, you needed to ask. “Can I kiss you?” You whispered. Price nodded. You were on him in an instant. Your lips were on his, arms wrapped around his neck. He smiled into the kiss. This time, you traced your tongue over his bottom lip. He eagerly opened his mouth for you, and your tongue slipped in.

Price’s teeth ever so slightly bit down, gently scraping your tongue. You moaned. Price smiled again. His hands rested on your hips and he pulled you closer to him. He began to back up and he soon reached his bed. He sat down on the edge of it and you froze. Suddenly, you were aware, very much so, of him and yourself. You looked at Price, he looked up at you through his lashes.

Without saying a word, he placed his hand on his upper thigh, and patted. Everything in you screamed for you to sit down, but you were stuck standing in front of him. Price’s lips turned downward and his brows furrowed. You shifted your weight and looked at him with an apologetic expression.

“Love,” Price reached his hand out for you, “what’s wrong?”

You grabbed his hand and sighed, “I don’t wanna sit on your lap because, what if-” You stopped yourself. Price’s brows furrowed and he asked for you to continue. You refused.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You threw your head back and whined, “I don’t wanna be too heavy.” You didn’t want to say it too loud. You felt silly enough already. But it was a real fear, being rejected because of your weight.

Price gave you a soft smile, “Don’t even think that way, I promise it’ll be fine.” Price motioned for you, once again, to sit on his lap. So, you did. You didn’t place all of your weight immediately, and he could tell you obviously didn’t want to. So he would coax you. You were sitting on one of his thighs, uncomfortably if you were being honest. Until Price took matters into his own hands.

Price’s heel rose from the floor, catching you off guard. Your back arched and you grabbed his shoulders. “What are you-” His foot dropped, taking all of you with it. All of your weight pressed down on his thigh now, and as soon as his foot hit the floor his hands were on your hips. You instinctively grinded into him and let out an embarrassing whimper.

The door of the room opened and you looked back, unmoving. Soap and Gaz walked into the room, and your heart jumped into your throat when Ghost walked in right behind them. He closed the door and everyone was staring at you. You wanted to hide your face but there was nowhere to hide. Your whole body was hot and you couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of their eyes on you and how good Price’s thigh felt against you. Price lifted his heel again, and before you could prepare yourself, it hit the ground. You moaned.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled.

“Sorry, love,” Price smiled, “I had to show them your reaction.” Price gripped your hip before releasing it and looking at the guys. “There are some things we need to go over before we get down to business.” Soap, Ghost, and Gaz all nodded, listening closely. “We need a safe word.”

They all looked at you. You were confused momentarily. “Uh, red? Like y’know, green, yellow and red? If I’m good I’ll tell you green, if I’m iffy I’ll tell you yellow, and red is just hard stop.”

They all nodded in agreement with you. Soap was the first to speak up, “What first?” You shrugged, feeling very shy all the sudden. Price gripped your hip before releasing it, and you looked at him for reassurance.

“You decide, darling.” Price looked back at the guys and then at you, “Who first?”

You said the first thing that came to your mind. “Gaz.” You looked back at him and watched him ball his fists, before relaxing. He smirked at you and Price stood you up. “You’re feelings aren’t hurt right?” You looked around the room.

“Bonnie,” Soap smiled at you, “we’ll all get a chance, no hard feelings.”

“You’re just saying that,” Gaz elbowed him, “You wanted to be first.” He then promptly ignored Soap’s angry stare and approached you. Price stood up from his bed and he, Ghost, and Soap watched you closely. Your body was set ablaze and you just focused on Gaz.

“Please, kiss me?” Your voice was soft, your arms behind your back. Eyes cutting through your lashes as you looked at Gaz. You did not have to ask again. He was on you instantly and his hands were cupping your face.

He backed you towards the bed and you fell down. You scooted up the bed and Gaz was on you again. This time, he was kissing your neck. Your mewls filled the room. You had no clue what to do with your hands. You were pulling at the sheets and then started to pull at Gaz’s shirt. He eagerly pulled it off.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He asked, so politely, how could you deny him?

“I don’t know…” You answered. Suddenly, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. You were staring at the ceiling and playing with the cover beneath you.

“You don’t have to,” Gaz nuzzled your neck, nipping the sensitive skin. “We can work towards that.”

You nodded, “Okay,” a breathy whisper escaped you. Gaz worked wonder with his hands, he grabbed at your hips and his fingers ran up your side, just under your shirt, causing you to gasp. Goosebumps rose on your skin. With eyes shut tight, you spoke up, “You can take my shirt off.”

Gaz smiled into your neck and pushed himself up. You sat up and helped Gaz help you out of your shirt. You sat there in your bra and the cool air made you realize what you had just done. Your hands went to cover your abdomen and Gaz frowned. He placed a hand on yours but did not dare move your hands away from you.

“You’re beautiful… I-” He stopped himself, “We can show you that if we need to.”

You bit the inside of your lip, “I’m gonna be honest. I’ve never felt comfortable in these situations… Well, actually, I’ve never been in this situation, with multiple men… I never even felt comfortable with just one.”

The energy in the room shifted immediately. Before, it was just horny, then it quickly changed to something more serious. Gaz nodded, understanding. “We can stop if you get too uncomfortable. Where are you right now?”

“Green.” You grew more comfortable, even if it was just with him at that moment. You moved your hands from your stomach and placed them, palms down on the cover, beside you. Gaz gave you a soft smile and nodded. “You can continue.” You reassured him. He did just that.

You leaned back on the bed and let Gaz take over again. His hands ran up your sides and towards your bra. You arched your back and let him unclasp it. You shimmied out of it and he threw it to the side. You laid back on the mattress and looked up at Gaz, who was staring at you as if you were a gift from whatever God was listening to him when he prayed.

One of his hands moved for your chest and you gasped. His hands were warm and calloused and something about his touch was so calming. He massaged your breast and lowered himself to your neck again. Your back arched harder and your hips bucked upwards slightly, causing Gaz to groan into your neck.

You had almost forgotten other men were in the room. Almost. "Ugh" Soap groaned, "could you go any slower, Gaz?" You laughed at his remark. Genuine and loud. Gaz grumbled into your neck and pushed himself up.

"I'm going to ignore him now," Gaz looked dead at you, you were the only one in the room according to him. You smiled at him and nodded. Gaz kissed your jawline, down your throat and headed for your chest. He briefly paused at your nipples, a hand playing with one while the other got sucked on. You moaned and whined at him, the sound of the other men shuffling around the room not even detering you.

Gaz's hands moved towards your belt and you tensed. You said nothing though. But Gaz still noticed you tense. He froze and looked up at you, one of his brows cocking. "Green," you whispered, still focusing only on him. He gave a nod and made quick work of your belt. It was pulled off of you in no time. You kicked off your shoes and Gaz began to pull down your pants. You lifted your hips to make it easier, and soon enough you were just laying there in your panties.

You were nearly completely exposed to them. Your thighs, stomach, stretch marks, all of it on display. Part of you didn't care, but part of you was terrified. Gaz's fingers gently traced your stretch marks and you froze up.

"Yellow." You blurted out, without really thinking.

Gaz was off of you in an instant. "You okay, love?" Price and Gaz asked at the same time.

"Uh, sorry," You sat up, resting on your forearms, "not used to this attention. I was a little uncomfortable." They all looked at you, attentively. "We can continue."

"How would you feel…" Gaz trailed off, thinking hard, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs again. "Sitting on my face?"

Your heart jumped into your throat. How were you going to survive? Your eyes widened and you pulled yourself up, trying to comfort yourself. "What if… what if it's too much?"

"What?" Gaz, seemingly genuinely confused, cocked his head. "What if what's too much?"

You gave him a deadpan expression as if he should know. "I don't wanna crush you with my thighs!"

"What an honorable and lovely way to go, though!" Gaz gave you a goofy grin.

You thought for a moment, "Okay, but can we do it my way?" You played with the sheets beneath you. Gaz hummed, asking what your way was. "Uh, you lay on the floor and I'll sit on your face." Your face was suddenly burning as you said the rest of your thought, "So I can I suck one of their dicks." Your words ran together and you tried to hide your face.

"Hey, no need to be shy now!" Gaz comforted you. "Anyway, I'm sure I know one of them is absolutely dying for you to suck his dick." Gaz whispered to you. You laughed, causing the others to wonder what was being said.

Gaz moved off of you and got on the floor. He laid down and patted his chin, waiting for you to get up and take a seat on his face. The others looked at you with confusion. They couldn't help but wonder what you had planned. You stood up and wondered how to not awkwardly take your panties off. You decided it didn't have to be awkward, you were with four men who were ready to throw themselves at you (well, Ghost hadn't yet…), you didn't need to feel so self conscious.

Yet, there you were, being self conscious. "Do you have to watch me while I take off my panties?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to watch, love?" Ghost adjusted himself, causing a pit to form in your stomach.

You grumbled a 'fine', and slid off your panties. You made your way to Gaz, who was more than ready to devour you. You got on your knees, one on each side of his head and looked at the other guys. Gaz placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer down to him.

"Don't be afraid to sit all the way down." He smiled against your thigh, causing you to melt.

"Soap," You had said his name with a lust in your voice you weren't sure you were capable of. He perked up. "C'mere." You motioned for him to come over. He was on you as soon as possible.

"May I?" You grabbed up at his belt. Gaz kissed up your thigh, closing in on your pussy. Your thighs clenched around him without you meaning to and you immediately apologized.

"Fuck," Soap groaned, "You're so gorgeous…" That caused you to look back up at him through your lashes. Soap was promptly pulling his belt off for you. He unbuttoned and unzipped them so fast you were unable to process his movements.

Gaz licked a stripe up your pussy and you gasped. “Fuck…” Your voice was soft and weak. You focused back on Soap and looked up at him. Your hands moved to his waistband and you bit your bottom lip. You pulled at his underwear and you were immediately at eye level with his cock. Your hand wrapped around it and you began to softly pump it, the head already dripping precum. You slid his dick into your mouth.

Everything was going on at once. You were trying to focus on Gaz absolutely going to town on you, you were trying to focus on sucking Soap’s soul straight from his body, while also trying to focus on looking okay for Ghost and Price. Which, in all honesty, you didn’t need to try to do that at all. In their minds you were already perfect.

Soap’s cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You couldn't help it. Soap's hands tangled in your hair and he held you steady, which you were thankful for. Gaz was putting his mouth to good use and you needed all the help you could get. If you weren't so concerned with Gaz and Soap you would have heard Ghost and Price groaning and grunting on the other side of the room.

You looked up at Soap, tears pricking your eyes, and he pulled your hair, guiding you up and down his cock. "Good girl," he grunted, causing you to have a reaction.

Gaz was going to town under you. His tongue lapping you up as quickly as possible. His hands gripped your hips tight, holding you down while his fingers dug into the skin. You lost it. You settled completely on Gaz's face and moaned onto Soap's cock. Gaz's nose rubbed against your clit and you were sent over the edge immediately. You gripped Soap's outer thigh and tried your best to keep going as your first orgasm hit you. Soap saw you struggling and pulled away, leaving you a mess.

"Kyle!" You moaned out. Gaz did not slow. In fact, you saying his name only caused him to go harder. Your hands hit the floor and your nails dug into the wood. You started to grind onto Gaz's face, a whining and whimpering mess. No words were forming. At least not properly. "Please- Fuck, I-"

Gaz slowed and his grip loosened on you. You pushed yourself up, or tried, Gaz helped you move off his mouth and you were left sitting on your knees, hunched over and reeling.

"Holy shit."

"You still good?" Ghost asked from across the room. You nodded. "Wonderful, because we're just getting started."

You looked up and noticed Ghost was still in uniform. He had obviously been masturbating, but he was fully clothed. Price however, was not. He stood naked, his hand pumping away at his cock. You wanted him. He caught your glance and immediately stopped jacking off. You sat up straight but your eyes cut away from him.

"Mind if I join, dear?" He smirked at you. Words were still not forming. You motioned for him to walk over and made his way towards you. He easily pulled you up and walked you over to the bed. He set you down and you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked up at Price, and sighed.

"I forgot to mention," you finally formed a sentence, "I'm on birth control." Price smiled at this. It was your way of saying 'Please rawdog me right now' and he understood instantly. He lowered himself to your level, lips pressing to your ear.

"Wanna be on top?" Price whispered, chills running up your spine.

"I don't know…"

"Whatever you want to do is fine, love, but I'd love to watch you ride my cock-"

"Okay." You are hooked instantly. His tone, his accent? He did not have to repeat himself. Before you knew it, he was laying on the bed and you were positioned over him. You grabbed his cock and started to gently rub up and down it, before lowering yourself onto him. You whimpered, Price steadying you. He watched you closely. 

“Good girl, that’s it,” He grunted. His hands rested on your thighs. You were still so sensitive. You had a feeling you were going to be sensitive for the rest of the day.

“Captain…” You moaned out, not entirely sure where it came from. But it did something to Price. His hips bucked up immediately. You gasped. You were bouncing up and down, slowly at first. Your hands rested on Price’s chest to steady yourself, your legs still wobbly from the earlier interaction with Gaz.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room. Your whimpers and all of their groans and grunts filled the barracks, most likely. Your pace picked up and Price slapped his hand against your thigh, the smack ringing in your ears. The sting only turned you on more. “Fuck,” Price’s teeth were gritted, “love, you’re taking me so well.”

Your eyes shut tight and your mouth fell agape. One of your hands grabbed his, the one that rested on your thigh, and you were coming undone again. “John-” You stuttered out his name, “John, I’m gonna-”

Your movements slowed, but Price kept bucking his hips, causing your second orgasm to hit faster than you thought. A string of curses left your lips and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. Your stomach was in knots as you clenched around Price.

“Love, I’m-” He was so close… “Where?”

“Inside.” It was so clear and coherent. Price did not argue.

His hips bucked up a couple more times and suddenly he was cumming as well. You leaned down and your whole body tensed. The feeling of his cum spilling out and rolling down your thighs was all you could think about. Price pushed himself up and kissed you, catching you off guard. You were kissing until one of the guys stopped groaning and spoke up.

“My turn.”

You pulled away from Price and looked over your shoulder. Ghost. You blinked at him a few times and Price moved you off of him. He stood up and let Ghost approach you. Ghost looked at Soap and motioned for him to get behind you on the bed.

“This okay?” Soap asked.

“Yeah-” You started. Ghost clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh. Green.”

“Atta girl,” The tone in Ghost’s voice caught you off guard. You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, love,” He began to pull his pants down, “but I’m not letting you on top. And the mask isn’t coming off.”

You nodded. Soap was behind you holding you. You began to wonder if Soap and Ghost had done something like this before… You, however, did not wonder for long. Ghost was on you quick, his mask pulled up slightly to kiss you. His hand was placed under your chin, keeping you in place. He pulled away from you and looked down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

Ghost’s fingers slipped down to your dripping pussy and he slid two fingers into you. He kept eye contact with you as he fingered you. You shut your eyes as he hit a spot you had never had someone reach with just their fingers and he clicked his tongue again.

“Look at me.” Ghost’s voice was gruff. Your eyes snapped back open and your chest heaved. “Good girl.” You were stuck trying to form a sentence again, and the word Ghost slid from your lips, but nothing else was intelligible. “Simon,” He leaned down to your ear, “You can call me Simon.”

You were sent into a frenzy. Your hips bucked up and as he dragged his fingers out of you, your hips tried to follow. You were putty in his hands. You were a blubbering mess once again. Another orgasm hit and you cried out for Simon. Your eyes screwed shut and you gripped onto Soap, who was still right behind you.

Simon pulled his fingers from you and slid them into your open mouth. “Suck.” He demanded. You looked at him through half shut eyes and shut your mouth, sucking on his fingers. Simon smiled under his mask, you could see him smirking under it as you eagerly sucked his fingers. He removed them from your mouth with a ‘pop’ and you watched him, waiting for his next move. Waiting to see what was next.

Simon grabbed your chin and made sure you stayed looking at him. “I’m going to fuck you, is that alright?” You nodded and he continued, “Soap is going to be here for moral support.” He patted your thigh. Soap’s hands rested on your hips, and as Simon said that, he gripped you tighter and placed a kiss on your shoulder.

‘Fuck,’ You thought, reeling from everything going on, ‘I’m going to need fucking support?’ You prepared yourself for what was to come. Simon told you to position yourself, and Soap, seeming to know the drill, helped you while Simon took his clothes off. Simon was completely naked except for his mask, and you were staring. Staring, and staring. Your head was resting on Soap’s stomach, and Soap was leaning back against the headboard of the bed. Simon crawled onto the bed and leaned over you, angling himself at your entrance. His eyes cut to Soap and moved back to you.

“Green,” You were eager for him to continue. So he did. Simon’s hips thrusted into yours, his pace slow and steady. Your legs were quick to wrap around his waist and Soap rubbed your shoulders. He whispered how good you were, how amazing you had been, and how hot you looked taking Simon’s cock.

Your cries grew louder, and you begged and pleaded for Simon to go faster. Simon grunted as he did so. His pace picked up and you were being plowed into within seconds of asking. Your head rocked back and you looked at Soap.

“Johnny-” You whined, tears pricked your eyes, “Fuck-” You reached up for Soap, who was hard again, you could feel it, and you touched his face. Soap mumbled some swears but was quick to encourage you some more. “I can’t- Uhn-” Your legs tightened around Simon’s waist and you cried for him. His name ripped from your lips and you said it over and over. Moaning for more. Simon did not stop.

“You can-” Your words caught in your throat, “You can cum inside-”

Simon wasn’t far off from you. You were laying there, whining and mewling as he continued to wreck you. His thrusts began to pick up speed once more, until he finally came as well. His hips slowed slightly, and he placed his face in your neck. He moaned out your name and your stomach flipped.

Soap placed and a kiss on your forehead. “We can take a break if you need to?” You couldn’t answer. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Simon pulled out of you and you lied there in Soap’s arms for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Come on,” Price walked over to the bed, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You didn’t move. Your legs felt wobbly and your brain was foggy. Your eyes cut over towards Price and you saw Gaz grow concerned. “You good?” He asked. You finally processed his words and gave a lazy thumbs up. This elicited a laugh from Simon.

After a couple minutes and Soap trying to get up, you stopped him. Your hand grabbed his bicep, “Wait,” Your voice was slightly hoarse from all the noises you had been making, “is this-” You froze momentarily, “Is this a one time thing?”

You could see them all look at each other and then back at you. They all started talking at the same time, “No!” “Of course not!” and “Do you want it to be?”

You sighed in contentment , “I think I could go for the occasional team bonding… If you guys are up for it of course!”

“Absolutely,” Simon leaned over you, “Now we really need to get this mess cleaned up.”

You smiled, agreeing, and let them help you. You had felt more confident than before, and while you knew you didn’t need to rely on others to make you feel that way, you hoped that whatever happened could continue.

[redtsundere-writes]

Date 4. Running

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soldier!Reader

Beginning. 🡨 Previous | Next 🡪

Summary: You just want to help Ghost to stop harming himself… These aren't dates, okay?

Word Count: 3756 words.

TW: MDNI. +18. Self-harm. Smut. Possessiveness and Jealousy.

“Holy shit,” you huffed, dropping the weights after a deadlift. Out of all the exercises, you hated lifting weights. It was always an uncomfortable experience not being one of the strongest on the team, but you still had to include it in your training. More than strength, it improved your grip, which is sometimes all it takes to save a life.

Your headphones played your favorite song as you massaged your finger joints in a short break. The gym was packed with soldiers, but you could still spot Soap approaching you with his typical contagious energy. Even though he had given you a bad feeling when you met him a year ago, you now considered him a good coworker. You paused the music as you realized he wanted to talk to you as usual.

“Are you done with your routine?” Soap asked you with that suggestive tone that characterized him, you no longer knew if it was on purpose or if he really talks like that.

“I’m done after some reps, why?”

“I was just thinking about you… And me… Some cardio.” Soap raised an eyebrow, emphasizing the last word.

“In your bed or mine?” You played along, already used to his attempts to sleep with you.

“Mine. I don’t want to bother LT.” Soap answered with a mischievous smile, humping the air and making bed sounds. You rolled your eyes and pushed him to shut up.

“Wait for me outside,” you said with a smile.

Soap laughed, but he listened to you. This was already part of your daily routine. You would train separately and then go out for a run around the base as a final cardio. You shook your head at his attempt at flirting as you took the bandages off your hands. Even though you had already rejected him on several occasions, the guy was still trying to win you over. You thought that was kind of adorable.

Ghost had watched the entire interaction like a curious hawk from across the gym, where he was doing backstroke on one of the machines. He tightened his grip on the rope that connected to the weights as he watched you fix your hair in front of the mirror before following his coworker. Why did you care about your appearance out of nowhere? Did you even like Soap? He knew how the saying went: Behind every joke there is some true. Price, who was nearby, saw how the lieutenant stopped in the middle of the exercise to focus on you. Today he was in the mood to tease the lieutenant.

“I’m glad those two are getting along now,” Price commented, bringing Ghost out of his thoughts.

“Ah… Yes,” he replied dryly, clearing his throat. “Interesting answer,” the captain thought.

“They work very well together, too,” Price pressed on the wound.

Ghost remained silent. You really could work with anyone, as you were excellent at teamwork. Even though you weren't as strong as the rest of the men on the 141, you had great reflexes and worked better under pressure. In your time on the task force, you had gotten into the swing of things pretty well. However, that didn't mean he'd like to see you flirt so blatantly with MacTavish.

“You like her, don't you?” Price concluded at his silence.

Ghost's eyes widened as he realized his own feelings. After spending the whole year together as your supervisor, the fact that you cared about him, that he felt at peace when you were alone, or that he loved the way you made tea, wasn't because of something platonic. It was because of something more. From that to him admitting it, that was a different story.

“Nothing to see, Captain,” Ghost replied reluctantly, leaving the machine to go to the weight area he had recently abandoned.

Price couldn’t help but giggle as soon as he left. He had seen this a thousand times in the military. Two lovebirds ignoring their feelings in the name of “professionalism.” Price knew the consequences of having accepted you into the 141st. He knew his men, many looked at you with interested eyes as you were one of the few women on the base, but Ghost’s eyes shone more. If he didn’t do something soon, this was going to get interesting.

Ghost moved his foot anxiously. He tried to fall asleep, but his knuckles itched to be destroyed again. It had been almost a month since he had last taken out his resentment on a punching bag. His foot moved harder, to the point that it shook the bunk a little.

“Psst.”

Ghost opened his eyes and saw your head peeking out of the bunk bed like a little bat hanging from a tree branch.

“One of those nights?” You whispered. Ghost just nodded.

You both left the building. It was one of those classic nights in England, cold and full of mystery. The clouds were so heavy that there weren’t any stars in sight. The mist infiltrated the air. You closed your hoodie and put on your hod. Ghost, like a good Brit, was only wearing a gray shirt as if it were a quiet summer night.

“Well, cleaning doesn’t work in the long term and eating out of anxiety isn’t the best option either.” You sighed, disappointed that your first attempts to get Ghost to stop self-harming had partially failed. “I was reading about self-harm and experts say…”

You couldn’t see it, but Ghost was smiling under his balaclava as you explained what you had researched on the subject. It was nice to see you giving your best effort to help him, even if it negatively affected your routine. That smile faded as guilt settled over his chest. You should be asleep under the warmth of your butterfly blanket, not awake in the middle of the cold morning. You didn't deserve to have such an incompetent supervisor like him.

“So I thought: What's the closest thing to destroying your fingers but without causing physical pain? Running. That will tire your body out so you can sleep easily,” you explained proudly, warming up your muscles.

It was worth a try. Ghost just had to find a way for him to avoid self-harm without depending on you and running seemed like a good idea. After stretching, Ghost started jogging and you followed behind him. You sometimes envied his physique. He had everything you didn't, the ideal body of a soldier. Tall, wide, strong, a big butt. He was good at everything too. Spying, interrogation, hand-to-hand combat, use of firearms of all calibers. You shook your head to focus again on following his burly back. You were still a bit tired from running all over the base with Soap earlier that day, but you were sure you could keep up with him if you took it easy.

It had started out well. You both jogged through the empty streets, following the white streetlights. The cold seeped into your lungs. You both quickened your pace once your bodies got used to the activity. Right, left, right, left in a loop. A small drop of water landed on your head. You stopped and held out your hand, sure enough, it was about to start raining. You should have checked the weather forecast before you left.

“Hey, Ghost, I think we should head back,” you said, but it seemed like he didn’t hear you as he kept running. “Ghost?” You called out to him again, confused as you watched him walk away at a faster pace than you were going.

The drops began to fall slowly, a countdown before the deluge. You had nothing to protect you from the rain. If you didn't go back, the chances of getting sick were high. The lieutenant kept running on his own. Something was wrong, you could feel it. You ran after him when your intuition told you to go back to base, but you would never leave a soldier behind. Your legs hurt, but you had to get him back to the dorms.

“Ghost!”

“Simon!” His father shouted at him.

He was barely 12 years old, that age. A complicated stage for anyone. His emotions were on the tightrope, his mind was in chaos, and he wanted to jerk off all day like any teenager. Simon was an ordinary boy with tastes and dreams, only he had a terrible father.

A violent drunk, a stinky smoker and a man stressed after the death of his wife. He was obsessed with his children being strong and big, so he beat them often and forced them to do dangerous challenges like kissing snakes to build their character. Being the oldest, Simon was the one who received the most beatings, but he was also the one who had to beat his father to exhaustion. He would do anything to survive in his own home.

He was 12 years old when his father decided to take him to a concert of the band where he used to play, Bone Lickers. He had blocked out most of that night, but he remembers the multicolored lights, the disgusting smell of alcoholic vomit, and feeling his eardrums about to burst for the first time. He was alone in the middle of the audience. While everyone was dancing like idiots, hitting each other in the mosh pit, or singing the lyrics until their vocal cords were destroyed, Simon was lost in the artistic disaster.

That was when Simon made the worst decision of his life: to look for his father. He opened a door and surprise! His father was fucking a prostitute who was more dead than alive due to an overdose. If a tree falls in the middle of the forest, but no one hears it, did the tree really fall? He still didn't know the answer, but he was sure that the prostitute was real when she fell dead at his feet. The screams of his furious father faded into the background while his mind still tried to understand that he had a corpse in front of him. It took him years to realize that the first death he saw in his life had been caused by his father.

“Simon!” That was the only warning he needed to know he had to escape.

The rain suddenly enveloped him as he left the compound. He ran through the streets, but he had no destination. His father shouted his name over and over again in an attempt to stop him, but he would never stop voluntarily. His breathing was labored, his breath hot against the cold Manchester weather and his steps were wet but fast. His legs were beginning to tire as he ran through the paved streets of his city.

In search of shelter, he entered an unknown street. Terrible mistake. It was a dead end. Before he could change course, his father, drunk and drugged, was already on his way. His heart pumped panic in his veins with each step backward. The man he didn't know every time he drank shouted incoherent threats at him because of the effects of everything he had consumed that night.

“Simon!” His father shouted in anger as he grabbed him by the shirt. Simon closed his eyes as soon as the fist was about to hit his face.

“Ghost!” You screamed when you finally caught him.

Ghost opened his eyes suddenly as he came out of the trance. The heavy rain, the white lanterns of the base, you holding him tightly by the arm and his soaked shirt. Realizing that he had returned to his senses, you pulled him towards the nearest warehouse. It was being remodeled, so it was open. As soon as they crossed the door, you forced him to sit on the floor.

“You are safe. You are at the Task Force 141 base, Lieutenant Simon Riley. You just suffered from a flashback,” you explained as you kneeled in front of him, taking his face to connect eyes to make sure he heard you loud and clear while both of you shivered from the cold.

You had seen this before, you just didn’t know how to face it at the time. Fear, anger, the desire to escape a memory that haunts you all your life. You had already lived this in different ways throughout your life, but this time you knew what to do. You wouldn't allow yourself to lose someone to PTSD again.

“Breathe with me,” you asked him to help him catch his breath, but he had other plans.

Ghost took off his shirt. You froze at the unexpected action. Unlike the fact that you had already seen half a base shirtless at the gym, this was the first time you saw the half-naked lieutenant. His broad shoulders, his perfectly sculpted biceps were bigger than your head and his pecs… for a second you thought they were bigger than yours. Your eyes expanded more and more as you continued to admire the reliefs on his skin from the combat wounds and stretch marks. You came back to reality as Ghost tried to unzip your hoodie.

“Wait, wait! What are you doing?!” You exclaimed as you covered your chest.

“You're going to get sick if you stay in wet clothes,” Ghost replied.

“We can go back to the dorms!” You argued with blushing cheeks.

“The dorms are at least 5 kilometers away. You’re going to get pneumonia before we get back. You’re not used to this weather.” And with that, Ghost unzipped your hoodie.

He knew it was a terrible idea, but it was what he had to do if he wanted to protect you from the cold. After all, it was his fault you were in this situation. Your gray t-shirt clung to your curves like a latex glove. The worst part? Not wearing a bra, your cold nipples felt like they wanted to break through the fabric. “Shit…” he thought. He was about to take off your shirt, but you stopped him.

“Close your eyes,” you whispered with some shyness.

Ghost nodded before pulling you against his body, sitting you on his wide lap. He took your shirt by the edges and closed his eyes. He pulled the wet fabric slowly to prevent his fingers from rubbing against your damp skin, but it was practically impossible. He held his breath to not let out a moan, evidence of his excitement at feeling you in such an intimate way. He hugged you tightly to increase the heat between your bodies. Heat rose to your flushed cheeks at being in this uncomfortable situation with your supervisor.

Simon took advantage of your head being on his neck to take off the balaclava, heavy from all the water it had absorbed. He ran his fingers through his wet hair. He needed a haircut already, but he always forgot to wear the mask. You froze up, but not because of the cold, but because of the discomfort of the situation. You put your arms in front of you in an attempt to put as much distance between you as possible, but if you really needed to warm up, you should be chest to chest. Simon raised his legs so you were as close to him as possible and pressed your back so you would break down the wall between you.

Simon quickly realized that this had been a terrible idea. Both of them half naked, completely alone in the early morning, the rain giving a romantic touch to the whole thing. He soon realized that the blood wasn't just reaching his cheeks. You lifted your head as soon as you felt a lump in your crotch.

“Tell me it’s a gun,” you pleaded, not having the courage to look him in the face.

“I wish that too,” he whispered to you embarrassed.

“Lieutenant…” You groaned.

“Please don't call me that now,” he begged.

“Does it turn you on to be called by your rank?” You mocked with a mischievous smirk.

But the moment you faced him, the smile fell. It was the first time you saw your superior's face. You wanted to make fun of the situation to downplay the fact that your tits were on top of his, but seeing him only made you blush even more. His uncut blonde hair fell unruly over his forehead, his honey eyes were framed by his dark circles, his nose was strong, the short beard didn't look bad on him at all, and his jaw was as sharp as your knives. “Holy shit! He's handsome!” you thought.

“Wow…” you sighed, baffled.

“Don't say shite. It's just a physiological response. I'm a man, leave me alone.” Simon pushed your head back into his neck so you wouldn't look at him. Unconsciously, you settled into his lap to be more comfortable in the new position. He moaned under his breath and grabbed your hips tightly so you wouldn't move anymore. “Stay still, or it'll be worse for both of us.” He growled in your ear.

“Are you threatening me?” You arched a curious eyebrow, moving your hips forward to rebel against his grip.

“If you keep moving, you’re just going to make me cum in my pants. And, trust me, you don’t want that.” Ghost stifled a growl of pleasure.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s just a physiological response.” You used his words against him.

“Cum in my pants is just the beginning. Then I’m going to tease you until we fuck ‘til we’re exhausted. After that we won’t be able to stop until someone catches us because you’ll be screaming my name.” He promised you.

“And the bad part?” You asked with a certain mocking tone.

“I warned you.” Simon pulled you by the neck to face you.

Simon didn't want to waste any more time. He kissed you rough and suddenly, moving his calloused hands over your naked torso. He defined all your healed wounds with the tips of his fingers, reading your history in the military. Smiling when he touched one that reminded him of a mission you had had together. His lips danced slowly but roughly over yours. You tilted your head to one side to deepen the kiss.

If a year ago someone had told you that you would end up making out with your lieutenant in an empty warehouse at 3 in the morning, you would have punched them in the face. You weren't one of those who slept with their coworkers. It was unprofessional, and you knew you wouldn't get far with them. If you wanted to kill the heat, you preferred to masturbate in your bed than get involved with anyone. But Ghost… He was different. He treated you, touched you, talked to you like no one else. You envied his body, his skills, and his mind because he wanted them to be only yours, whether they could realistically be yours was another matter.

Simon growled against your lips every time you moved your hips on his erect cock under his pants. He had imagined the situation many times on those nights where he needed that release, but it was just that, his imagination. This was going far beyond the limits he always had with you, but it was so much better. He held you firmly by the ass to guide you where he wanted you to take him. He leaned you back a little to take one of your tits into his mouth. Slowly, thirstily, he moved his tongue around the areola to tempt you. He sucked on your nipple, taking possession of you and the little noises that escaped your lips.

Simon mentally sang the national anthem. He knew it wouldn't last long after a long hiatus of casual relationships that he only had for fun, since the vast majority of women he knew weren't interested in having a relationship with a guy they would almost never see. Just having you on top of him, he already felt himself cumming. The rhythm of your hips moving against the wet fabric was too addictive to hold out for long. He had held out for too long. If he was like this in this peculiar situation, he didn't want to imagine what it would be like if he had you in his bed, under him, having the whole night to yourself.

“You had it very hidden, lieutenant.” You gently bit his earlobe.

“This is nothing, doll.” He mumbled, almost annoyed at not holding out any longer.

You moaned incoherently and flatteringly in his ear. Your hand was in his wet hair so he wouldn't have the nerve to pull away so soon. Simon kissed, licked, bit every part of your body while his fat cock tempted your crotch, although you knew perfectly well that he wasn't going to give you more because Simon was silent, that meant he was focused, too busy, trying not to cum to hold out one more minute. He looked adorable with his cheeks embarrassed.

“Shit…” Finally, he took a breath as he let the thick, warm liquid spilled over his lap.

“5 minutes, not bad,” you teased him.

The rain had stopped and you had regained your body heat. You carefully separated yourself from him to get dressed again. Simon felt embarrassed, pathetic, not a man. He reached for his balaclava to hide his embarrassment, but was surprised when you snatched it from his hands. You wrung out the fabric like you had done with your shirt and put it on, struggling to place it correctly over your eyes. A smile escaped his lips when he saw you wearing it, it was the closest thing to you putting on his clothes.

“We should go back before everyone wakes up,” you advised him before offering him your hand to help him up.

Ghost was a damn soldier who could do anything he set his mind to, on the other hand, Simon… he only survives as he can. The mask helped him become that man he always wants to be. A giant facade to hide that he was actually smaller than they thought. And there you were, the first to see through his brick wall and still act like nothing happened. Was he terrified that you would know the truth? Of course, but he trusted you. He didn’t know if this experience made you anything more than coworkers or friends, but it seemed time would tell.

Masterlist.

“You’re right, I’m tired.” Finally, he took your hand to go back the way they had come.

Next 🡪

Thanks for reading! <3

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

im thinking about meeting the 141 as young boys at a summer camp. all of these are gonna be separate camps/scenarios because they're all kinda spread out in age.

kyle has always been a social butterfly and always is adopting introverts. at the ripe age of nine, he has a better, more loyal following than most cult leaders. however, he's intrigued by little you, with the bandaids on their knees and a hesitant, toothy smile. shows you around, attached to your hip soon after. follows you around all week, makes sure you're on all his teams for any of the games. overjoyed when you give him an origami pet you made in crafts class. even happier when he learns you're both going to the same school next year. even though you've only been friends for a short five days, he's absolutely enamored by you. on the last day of camp, kyle presses a shy kiss to your lips. smiles when he learns it was your very first one. he can't wait to be all of your firsts (and give you his).

johnny was shy when he saw you on the first day. you were very capable at everything that had been thrown at you so far and he felt so.... inadequate. especially when he lost to you at the archery range. hurt his pride, but he mooned at you from across the table. followed you around like a lost puppy until you'd acknowledge him, gave him a little pat. johnny was elated when you picked him to be on your soccer team! he loved that you had noticed him over all the other options you had. gives you your favorite treat from the dining hall when they ran out before you could get one. johnny works hard to be at your side all week and to be your rival in everything (even if it's not a competition). only lets you call him johnny, anyone else gets a "fuck yew" (im not scottish at all, more of a graves) or a smack on the head. gets your address when it's all over, and you better expect him at your door within the next few days. has to show you how much you mean to him, bonnie.

simon is so so so nervous about the whole summer overnight camp thing. only went because tommy wanted to go, and he couldn't let him go alone. simon's practically shaking when he stands by himself with his tray for that first meal at the dining hall. you, standing behind him, are nearly in the same state, but you still manage to ask if he wants to sit with you. he becomes your shadow. he likes it when you talk, loves to listen and learn more about you. tommy like you too, which is a plus. holds your hand at the firepit circles, only wants you around. you're his little kitten to protect and hold. he makes you both matching bracelets. shakes when he shows you they match and is so happy when you're overenthusiastically jumping about it. simon's cheeks are tinted a light pink when you kiss his cheek in goodbye after those fond days. you're both inseparable after camp ends.

john is a counsellor at a kid's camp for a few bucks over the summer. six grueling weeks with the little squeakers, what has he got himself into. nearly dies with all the sweaty, screaming fuckers everywhere and decides he's not cut out for this shit. he's always so confused but is putty when you step in to kiss a bandaid or hold a hand. he's unable to comprehend how you move so seamlessly through the little bastards. always seeking you out for advice or a helping hand through the weeks you spend together. you both sit on some steps outside one of the cabins after 'light's out' to talk most nights, and its then he realizes how special you are. shows you a scrape on his elbow and nearly dies when you "kiss it better." john tells you he's gonna take you out when the weekend comes and show you a great time somewhere far, far away from these screaming gremlins. by the end of the six weeks, he's made you a ring from a heart shaped rock and two paperclips.

f in the chat for everyone single (me included) and all camp counsellors

[inbarfink]

Okay, so, I know this is kind of a Stupid Thing to Focus on but… I’ve been rewatching ‘Friends Forever’ (still one of my favorite and most complex and most heart-wrenching Ice King episodes) and I’ve been thinking about the bit where Ice King tries to research how to be smart…

We can see him reads from what very much seems to be part of Simon Petrikov's journals. Considering that it details the aftermath of the Mushroom War.

In addition, while the shelves are made of ice, much like the bookshelves Ice King has in his throne room, this is clearly a much... robust archive

which much more resembles Simon Petrikov’s library/research room.

The table IK uses also seems to be a match to the one in the research room. At least in terms of colors

So, it might be a different Room Full of Books that Simon placed in his Castle before he truly 100% lost it, or it might be the same one we see in 'Betty' but with a minor continuity error when it comes to what the shelves are made from. Either way, from the aforementioned journal, we know this library probably contains books Simon had personally written

But considering the Amount, probably not all of them. (Especially if you assume there are two separate library rooms). Maybe he came back to his old house to gather up all the prewar academic books he owned, but that still seems like an Unusually High Amount of Books. I think he probably kept gathering and writing books as he was slowly turning into Ice King. Like, by the time the show started he was basically totally gone - but a couple hundred years ago he’d have brief moments of lucidity and start writing again or searching books that could help him deal with the curse.

Which makes me wonder about this book.

I know that it’s just a silly funny joke, but…

Like, a Big Undertone of ‘Friends Forever’ is Ice King’s insecurities and frustrations with his own stupidity and lack of maturity. And with Simon’s library showing up in the middle of the episode like it did, it’s hard to forget that Simon used to have the intelligence and maturity needed to speak with all of these living furniture on equal terms, but his mental facilities have been eroded by the madness of the Crown and now he can’t and these frustrations manifest even though Ice King isn’t fully aware of that fact.

And this book, I know that the title just playing directly into Ice King’s insecurities is just the Joke but also…

I’m thinking about Ice King/Simon when he was a bit more lucid. Aware that he’s going mad and it's getting harder and harder for him to think clearly and that makes it so much harder to find a solution and expressing a lot of that same anger that Ice King expresses outwards towards the Living Furniture - inwards.

I’m wondering if Simon specifically sought out that book because he felt like he was ‘turning dumb’.

I’m wondering if Simon could’ve written this book. Some sort of last final act of impotent rage against the person he was turning into, frustration at his growing inability to think like he used to, even though he couldn't even remember his own name anymore - only that he was the 'Smarty McBrainypants' part of his old identity.

That would explain why it’s such a worn and rugged book...

[waltricia]

Regardless of whether anyone actually reads this, I need to show appreciation for the writing, blocking, and editing of the last scene of 3x03, “Forces of Nature.”

Recently, I noticed that the LW line “this author is captivated” was very specifically placed over a shot of Colin and I knew it was intentionally done to convey the double meaning of the narration being about her and him.

Since then, I’ve realized that the same thing is happening throughout that entire LW narration. And it is fucking BRILLIANT.

So, first of all, this is the transcript of the narration:

“This author believes that all of man’s greatest inventions are nothing more than a distraction from what is most natural to us. Our instincts. The innate animal impulse that is inside even the most sophisticated of us. For when all is said and done, our nature will always win out. It seems Lord Debling’s instinct has led this man of nature to the most surprising pick of the season in Miss Penelope Featherington. Suffice it to say, this author is captivated. For in the battle between man and nature, it is quite clear that the battle is in fact between man and himself.”

Now I’m going to break it down with captioned stills so that you can see which words line up with which frames and I’ll explain what I believe it all means.

“This author” - When it’s first said, it’s on Pen. The second time it’s on Colin. I think there are several meanings here. Firstly, she’s Whistledown and she’s published. He will be, assuming he publishes his travel journals or whatever. Secondly, I think it highlights how they will be united, in the Whistledown storyline along with everything else. There’s a third meaning, but I’m going to get back to it later, once we get to the second use of “this author.”

This is the Innovations Ball, so on the surface, LW is speaking about man-made technology versus the natural world. But with the introduction of “man,” the shot immediately cuts to Colin, so the second layer of the narration is about him. All of Colin’s invented personality traits are a cover, hiding his true self- his sensitivity and his feelings for Pen. Obviously, this echoes what she wrote about him in 3x01, but it’s different. The context is the same, but this time, she’s not speaking directly about him, and really, she may very well not be thinking about him at all in writing it. After all, she still doesn’t know about his feelings for her. But we know. And the feeling of what she’s saying this time is less jarring; more, fittingly, natural. Because he’s starting to confront all of it as well.

In this shot, Colin has been walking across the room to get to Pen. There were people on his right, obstructing his view of her, but as LW says “natural,” Colin passes those people and, though we cannot yet see Pen, we can tell from Colin’s face that he finally clearly can. She is what is most natural to him.

He comes up to her and says that he has a question for her. The narration starts again. But on this shot, it’s only the one word, “our.” Aside from this just being romantic, I think it highlights that the narration is about both of them. But I also think that it’s not just about them. It feels to me as if, metaphorically, it’s written by both of them. Hence, my emphasis on the importance of “this author.”

We cut to our first close-up of Colin in this particular intimate sequence of close-ups. And we’re really in his perspective now, as he’s struggling to manage his feelings.

Again, he had been masking, trying to be like the other “sophisticated” gentlemen.

But a shift is occurring within him.

And this where I really hope there is at least one other person out there paying attention because all of the elements are coming together to tell us something incredible here. We have our beloved Julie Andrews delivering the line with a profound heaviness. We have Kris Bowers’ “Call Me Simon” coming to a close, sounding like a clock striking midnight. And we have the decisive sentiment of the words themselves. I'm convinced that the words “done” and “win out” being said on Pen speak to the finality of Colin’s feelings. If there was uncertainty before, it is gone now and there is no turning back. He is in love with Pen.

But before Colin can say anything else, Debling steps in and takes Pen away to dance.

Side note: Amazingly, I can back up my theory with this shot and another one of my theories:

I had said, when the trailer came out, that when true red shows up behind Colin, that indicates his love for Pen. This is the first time we see that happen.

But anyway, back to Whistledown…

Debling is the literal “man of nature,” while Colin is the metaphoric “man of nature.” Both have picked Pen.

We’ve finally come to the second “this author” and here’s the third thing I wanted to say about it: Possibly my favorite thing about this sequence, is that it acts as a vehicle for the representation of the Polin role reversal. From one end of the Whistledown narration to the other, Pen and Colin literally and metaphorically switch places, seamlessly. They exchange their physical places in the room. She’s the wallflower, then he’s the wallflower. She’s the author, then he’s the author. In a metaphorical sense, they’re both writing this Whistledown piece. This whole sequence serves to show us how Colin and Pen have really been equal this whole time. They’re just star-crossed. It’s like what Luke has been saying in interviews, Colin and Pen keep missing each other. They have brief moments where they eclipse each other and then they slip right past until the next time they orbit around to each other again.

Ok, here’s the final stretch, and it is a fucking fascinating maneuver:

The battle isn’t between Colin and Debling. In fact, Debling doesn’t signify at all here. I’d say there are actually three other battles being referenced: Colin and himself, Pen and herself, and Colin and Pen. The first “man” of that sentence is said on Colin, while “nature” is said on Pen. So in the battle between Colin and Pen- for there is a battle, as Cressida will mention in 3x04 when she says “Eros and Psyche, battling it out”, and also there will be more blatant battling in part 2- the real battles Colin and Pen are facing are the ones within themselves.

Of course I’ve already written about Colin’s battle with himself.

The reference to Pen’s battle with herself is particularly interesting to me. At first, I didn’t see it and I didn’t understand why that bit of the narration was spoken over the Pen and Debling dance instead of over Colin. Then I realized that the second “man” of that sentence is said directly on top of this shot where, again, it’s not about Debling; it’s her face we’re seeing. Then, Debling spins her and the “himself” is on Pen too. And I know I’m right about this because the shot was in the trailer and I watched it so many times. And I noticed that Sam Phillips is very specifically looking away from the camera in this moment. I figured it was because we had to know that the moment was about her. And I was right.

Pen’s journey is her reconciliation with herself. Colin and Pen really have the same inner battles. They both need to drop their masks. That’s why the mirror scene is going to be so important- it’s about exposing and embracing the bare parts of both of them. They are already equal and united. They just need to see it.

Ok that’s it. I’m done. I got it out. And I literally can’t add any more images to this post. To anyone who will have read this fuckin novel I just wrote, thanks for sticking around. These ballroom sequences are particularly difficult for the cast and crew to do, and there is obviously so much complexity in this one, so I feel like it should all be acknowledged. Someone has to acknowledge it, and if that has to be me, I will gladly continue using up my Friday afternoons to do so.

To the cast and crew, to the captain of the season 3 ship, Jess Brownell, to the director, Andrew Ahn, and writer, Eli Wilson Pelton, to everyone’s favorite choreographer/movement director, Jack Murphy, to Luke, Nic, and Julie fuckin Andrews, I see you and I love you. Please keep doing what you’re doing. It’s all worth it. ♥️