#very last on the list of Simon And tags

[coffin-hopping]

rlly not tryna be a hater or anything but I honestly do hate when all people can say about their favorite character is that they’re hot

I feel like this is kind of in the same vain as the “mommy step on me” and “girlboss yes queen” thing people do with female characters

I’m not saying stop thirsting over your fav I’m just asking if we could get a little more whimsy in the chat, I honestly just wanna see y’all interact with media in different ways yk?

yeah they’re attractive that’s awesome , what do you think they do for fun? at what point do you think it all went wrong for them? what’s their favorite song? were they doomed from the start? what part of the day do they like most? who failed failed them the hardest? who did they fail the hardest? tell me a reason you hate them just a little bit, now tell me why you love them.

this isn’t me having a problem with someone wanting to fuck a character they like, but more about that being the ONLY thing they have to say about that character, effectively boiling them down to how attractive they are. idk that jst irks me but whatever I’m not everybody

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Thirteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Nurse!reader. Domestic slice of life. Feelings of fear, self loathing, anxiety, dread. Complicated emotions. Verbal depiction of domestic violence. Non sexual intimacy. Scars from cigarette burns. Very brief daddy kink. Sick character (not reader). Comfort. Confessions.

The park is quiet.

You hoped it would be- middle of the day, in the middle of a work week, in the middle of the city. There are a few people around, walking, running, lingering. Enjoying themselves, the warmth of the sun on their face, a bright spot amid a typically grey winter.

It makes it easier. To look.

To watch.

To wait.

And you do. You wait, and you wait. You sit steady on the park bench, pretending to be remotely interested in the rough paperback cradled in your lap, spine already cracked flimsy by Simon’s grip. It’s Stephen King. Carrie, if you’re precise. A story of stolen girlhood and rage.

You swallow the shards of glass and acid the pages bring forth.

Deep breath. 

The breeze gusts, and your shoulders nearly shake. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve sat out in the open like this.

Easy prey.

You may have always been easy prey. Easy and young and stupid, easy, and naïve and manipulated. You fell for every trick in the book. You didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

Still, you watch. You wait.

You considered, for a while, that if Philip was around, if he was in the city, looking for you- he’d arrive here. Like magic. Like a classic villain, materializing in a plume of smoke.

And while it’s not exactly comfort you feel as each minute ticks by and he fails to appear, there’s relief in your soul for certain.

It’s a risk, to sit here. A question. With an answer, for now.

Will he? Won’t he? 

Today, the answer is he won’t.

Your phone vibrates, and you don’t need to look at it to know, guilt worming its way into the depths of your heart, anxiety piquing as you imagine both Simon and Johnny at their house, their home, worried.

Don’t fool yourself. Don’t give yourself too much credit. Don’t get carried away. 

Someone clears their throat over the back of the bench, and you whirl.

“Hey, sorry.” Your pulse slows from a gallop to something slower, and you shake your head.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that.” The man shrugs his second apology, legs spreading into the spot next to you. You’re practiced at this, familiar. Knowledgeable enough to keep your hands from shaking, even though the tremor builds through your bones.

“Been waitin’ for you to call.”

“I’ve been busy.” You eye the black bag in his hands, a small black fabric pouch, gold zipper glinting in the sun. “That everything?” He nods.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

“Just seems strange, is all. Pretty, polished thing like you, needin’ all this. Most of my clients are more… rough around the edges.” Your teeth dig into your tongue. Already, this guy is less discreet and more obnoxious than your last purveyor. You wish you had hidden your face.

Like Simon. 

“We’re solid, then?” You unzip the pouch, cursory eye roaming over the collection inside, checking off a mental list. Usually, you would feel relief at this point, but today, it sours and rots. Liberation burns into a roaring wave of uncertainty, and your fingers tighten over the zipper.

“We’re good.” He stands, giving you one last long look, and then his mouth shifts into a half smile. “Good luck.” Your polite nod is strained and forced. A nonverbal fuck off.

He takes the cue, and slinks away, disappearing around a corner and out of sight.

The bag weighs heavily in your hands. A terrible reminder of the truth.

You’ll never have a life. You’ll never have a family. You’ll always be alone. 

You’ll never be pretty or polished or perfect. 

You’ll always be this. 

Scarred. Sectioned off. Scared. 

Desperation wells, and you close your eyes. You see Johnny, and Simon. Their faces. Sunlight in bleak darkness.

Love and family and strength.

The ache in your chest widens. You want to be home, with them. Curled up, with them. Sitting at the table and eating dinner, with them. All these things, these domestic, familiar things that once seemed so unattainable, now within arm’s reach.

But still so far away. 

Your shoulders relax a fraction, dipping lower, the strain on your injury zinging through your muscles as you roll them, and you shove the little bag into the backpack, above the clothes you pulled from your apartment.

Deep breath. 

Johnny’s the first you see after locking the front door. He’s in the kitchen, half leaning on his crutch, fishing something out of a pot, a noodle of some kind, and he freezes, eyes heavy with relief, when you come around the corner.

“Bunny.” His good arm reaches, fingers brushing together, cold against warm. He coos. “Ye’re freezin’.”

“It’s cold.” You agree, unzipping the front of your jacket. He slides cautious and slow touch around your waist beneath it, and you go with him, face burrowing into his chest, just below his collarbone. Your nose is nearly smashed, but you can still breath him in, feel him, be in this moment with him.

His hold tightens. “What is it?”

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s alright, was jus’ worried is all. Text us back next time.” You nod, but stay silent, still taking gulps of air, nosing against the collar of his shirt to find his skin. “Pretty girl,” his hand strokes over the back of your head, warm breath on your cheek. “Ye alright?” You breathe through the threat of tears, though they sting and threaten to sink you.

“Ye-yeah.” You choke, and he tries to pull back, grip steady on your upper arm, but you follow him, still trying to crawl inside and hide, wrap yourself up in him and disappear.

“Hey now,” he clucks his tongue, trying to re-focus you, trying to get your attention, nimble fingers cradling your jaw, “what is it?”

There are no words to explain it, these feelings. The fear. The dread. The bile rioting in your stomach, the anxiety churning like a turbulent sea. It’s like no matter what you do, it all comes back, no matter how deep you bury it or how much you try to change the tide.

It’s easier to lie.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, and he rubs your back.

“Did ye eat?” No.

“Yes. I got something at the hospital.”

“Paperwork all in order so ye can hang out wit’ us until ye’re better?” His smile is infectious, a mirror blooming across your own face, and he dots your nose with his lips. “There’s our girl.” Your toes curl. He tugs the backpack into his grip, and you let him, let him push you up into the counter, drop your bag to the floor, slip his tongue between his teeth. You let it all go to your head, let yourself get lost in him, twist your fingers in his hair, nipples pebbling stiff as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of your neck.

He takes it all away. Every time. 

“Johnny.”

“I’ve got ye.” He finds an opening, a soft spot between your jeans and your shirt, hands roaming upward and over, everywhere. He’s everywhere, effortlessly, and you’re along for the ride, clinging so tight like you’re afraid you’ll fall.

And then-

It stops.

He’s holding your face, blue gaze unwavering, focused. “Bun, talk to me.” Your throat throbs, words sticking like taffy, clawing their way up in a jumbled mess until the only thing intelligible is what spills out.  

“Is this real?” You’re a child. Small and scared, desperate for some sort of reassurance, some semblance of security.

“Is what real?” His fingers close over yours, lifting them to his lips. “This? Us?”

“Everything. All of it… I- I-“

“It’s real. It’s been real since ye held my hand the first time. Or at least, it’s been real for me… since then. Thought ye were an angel. An answer to a prayer.” He cracks a smile, thumb rubbing across the slope of your cheek. “An’ I’m not the praying type.”

“There’s… you don’t know me, Johnny. There’s so much… you don’t know.” Your chest heaves, anxiety stuttering inside your lungs, air turning thin in your mouth.

“I know, shhh. I know.” You press your face back into his chest, words slowing to a stop, a trickle. “Ye remind me of him, ye know. A lot prettier though.”

“Who?”

“Si.” He kisses your temple, your forehead, peeling away to peer at your face. “Guarded… but scared under it all. Ye dinnae even know how life can be, too busy runnin’ away.”

“Johnny-“

“Ye’ve got secrets, I know. But it’s the same thing I used to tell him. Eventually you’ve got to let go, let me in. Let us in, Bun. We’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not afraid. Let us prove it.” Your lower lip trembles, eyes burning with the brunt of tears. “Shhh, dinnae cry. Ye’re alright, everything’s going to be okay. I swear it.” You do nothing, nothing except stand there, half folded into him, breath and touch agonizingly slow, steady in his hold.

The two of you stay there, in the silence, until the agonized sear of distress starts to fade, and you begin to balance, ship righting itself after a long night in rocky seas.

Penny’s bedroom door is open.

The soft glow of a nightlight floats into the hall, and you peer past, finding Simon with his arms full, reclined in the rocking chair, a nearly asleep Penny gap mouthed in his arms. You wave.

“Hi,” he whispers, “get everything you needed?”

“Yeah, all set.” You nod to the baby. “She’s knocked.”

“Bath time was rough.” He traces her cheek, twirling a finger in her hair. A soft, faultless picture, his features delicately framed by shadow, thick arms the perfect place for a baby, an easy cradle.

It’s an intimate moment, and inside it, you feel out of place.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” You shift away, motioning, and he hums.

“In a few.”

Everything is slow with them in the evenings, you’ve realized.

They move leisurely, dancing around one another, Simon constantly watching and waiting, for both you and Johnny, anticipating. It’s a natural role, one that seems more permanent over necessary considering the circumstances, Johnny falling into an unhurried pace, languishing on the couch after dinner and dishes are done, fingers mindlessly stroking into the soft spot beneath your ear. Simon leans over, kissing Johnny and then settling at your side, an arm stretching around your back. “Should we watch something?” Johnny brightens.

“A movie?”

“If you’d like. Bun, any suggestions?” You blink. It’s a surprise, one that’s never occurred to you, the ability to simply choose a movie.

“Umm… no?”

“What’s yer favorite?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is fine. What do you guys like?”

“We know what we like. We want to know what you like.” What do you like? Comedies, you suppose. Something light and funny, something to distract the never-ending stream of thoughts cycling through your head.

“Uh, have you guys ever seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall?” Johnny chuckles.

“It’s been a while.” He flicks through the icons on the screen, thumbing over to where he starts to type it in. What if they don’t like it? What if they’re humoring you? What if you picked wrong? “Or, if you don’t like that, we can do something else. Anything. I’m not picky. It doesn’t have to be-“

“Hey,” Simon murmurs, warm palm resting on your knee, “that’s perfect. We both like that one.”

“Dracula musical.” Johnny smiles, finding it easily and clicking play. Your breath catches at the ease of it all, of picking a movie and that being that, no anxiety about a reaction or something triggering popping up on screen.

You can just… enjoy it.

The light in their bathroom is a little too bright.

Your toes stretch across the tile, nerves thrashing in the pit of your stomach as you stare in the mirror.

You don’t know who it is looking back at you.

You don’t recognize the girl getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth, wearing a pair of pajama pants and Simon’s shirt.

There’s a disconnect, some semblance of wires crossing, some phantom of someone else, living in your skin.

Because it can’t be you, getting ready to crawl into bed between them. It can’t be you, who fell asleep with her head on Simon’s stomach during the movie, can’t be you who stole a kiss from Johnny as Simon propped his leg up on the stack of pillows.

You’re playing house. Playing a game. 

It won’t last. 

It can’t.

You wrap a finger up in the hem of Simon’s shirt, frayed and torn edges pulling apart below the seam. It’s an old one, something he tugged out of a drawer and tossed on the bed, faded graphic turned from white to grey against a rusted black backdrop. It’s soft, and worn, and comfortable, an article of clothing well loved, and you wonder if Johnny’s worn it too. If it’s been passed around, washed, and dried a hundred times.

“Everything alright?” Simon leans into the bathroom, Johnny in view just past his shoulder. He’s not wearing a shirt, just soft, flannel pants, and you stare at the scars dotting his torso before dragging your gaze away.

“Yeah, sorry… I got distracted.” You turn the tap, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it by itself on the edge of the sink, out of place next to the cup holding theirs, and Penny’s.

You blink slow, allowing your eyes to close for a fraction of second.

“Ready for bed?” Johnny beams at you, lush and sleepy, hand outstretched, reaching.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Simon’s bedside lamp is still on, barely illuminating the dark. It’s quiet, and warm, and you bask in the space between their bodies, fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt.

When Johnny’s fingers graze the skin under the fabric, your chest tightens. He strokes back and forth, over your navel, blazing heat from his palm tingling into your skin. You’re being torn in two, swallowed by the ocean, tugged in different directions.

You struggle to regulate your breathing, small draws coming in quicker, and Simon covers Johnny’s hand with his own, stopping the movement.

“Will you show us?” He murmurs.

“Sh-show you?”

“The scars.” Oh.

Will you? 

Even though Simon’s already seen them, this feels different. This feels like a choice. Like you’re peeling something back, baring yourself.

You close your eyes and pull the bottom of your shirt to the top of your ribcage, cool air ghosting over your exposed skin. Johnny makes a sound, a twisted whisper of something pained, and you shiver.

A thumb slides over the raised skin on the left side of your belly. “These are from cigarettes?”

“Yes.” You almost want to look, want to see, but can’t bring yourself to do it, to witness their disgust, their shock. You’re hollow. Drifting. Falling away from them. Someone shifts, the bed moves, jostles slightly, but you block it out. Every muscle in your body is taut, jaw locked, and fists clenched.

This morning was intimate but this… this is something else. Something more. 

“Can ye feel them, still? Do they hurt?” Two hands roam, rubbing gently, skimming.

“No but… they’re hideous.”

“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.” Your heart cracks, and the light touch of fingertips disappears, replaced with a swath of breath and then-

Lips. 

He’s kissing them. 

It stops your heart, dries your mouth. Robs you of your breath, your head spinning into an enormous vortex of disbelief. Simon’s mouth travels, dotting your skin between each ugly, raised bump, carefully pressing a kiss to each one, gradually. He takes his time, and with your eyes closed, you can feel his body hovering above you, holding steady just over your frame. Johnny’s forehead rests against yours, and he cups your face, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek, sweet and slow.

“Will ye tell us… about how you got them? Who gave them to ye?” Simon cradles your hips, firm pressure folding into your skin, the curve there, and he squeezes, prompting you, expecting. You don’t know how he does it, how he’s so easily able to guide you, and Johnny. It’s seamless.

“I…” You don’t know what to say, if you were to say anything at all. How to answer. How to begin to explain. How to confirm what you know they already suspect, how to start this story. This nightmare.

Are you really doing this? Could you really do this? 

There’s a sliver of sun, begging. Pleading. It rails against the cracks in your heart, desperate.

So, you spit out the only thing you know for sure.

“He liked to hurt me.”

“Who?” Simon’s question is immediate, and your ribs expand with a long breath.

“My… ex.” Stop talking. Stop this, stop it, stop- “He’s a monster.”

“The healed breaks on your x-rays…” He trails off, and you reach blindly, searching for an anchor. Johnny gives it to you, clutching your hand in his, thumb soothing over your knuckles.

“Yes.”

“And more.” Simon whispers, and Johnny draws a sharp breath. You nod.

“And more.”

“Your neck, and shoulder?” There’s a long silence, as you sit atop the wall. As you wait and try to decide if you want to jump off or continue to sit here… trapped at the top, teetering on the edge while they wait below.

You’re in their life now. You said you’d try. They should know. 

You trust them. 

Don’t you? 

“He found me.” You confess, cracked and bleeding and hung out to dry. Three words barely scratching the surface of the truth, saying almost nothing at all and still so much. You stumble, and panic, fear bubbling up to the surface. “I’m sorry, I told you before- I said-“

“And we told ye; nothing is going to get ye while ye’re with us. Ye’re safe, bunny.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about!” you blurt, a near snap, and Johnny freezes. “It’s you guys, and Penny, and your friends, you- you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do, o-or where I go-” You’re rambling, nearly hyperventilating, and slipping away, succumbing to the rolling black clouds overtaking your mouth and mind, stuttering and falling, drowning in an endless darkness.

They don’t know. They don’t understand. They can’t. 

You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re nothing. 

You’re a child again. A lost girl. Alone and scared. Trapped in the dark.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” You shake your head, and Simon catches it between his palms, holding you still. You can fight and flail and run, but he’s still there. Strong and safe and beautiful in every way, a foundation of love, of trust. “It’s just us, we’re here. With you. Look.” Johnny tightens his hold, and your bones rattle inside your skin, aching and splintering, shredding you from the inside out.

“I can’t.” You hiss, trying to curl away. You can’t face them, or this. The reality. The truth.

It’s easier to run. Who were you kidding? You can’t do this. You should have already been gone. 

But they won’t let you go. Not now. Not when they have you so close to the light. So close to the sun. 

And maybe it’s time to accept it.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Johnny murmurs. “Ye can do it.” The pull of his voice drags you closer, comforts you, and you long for him, long to see his blue eyes, overgrown mohawk and gorgeous smile. You long to relax into him, to hear the thump of his heart, steady and strong. He’s a lighthouse in the pitch-black night, a guiding light. It’s enough to lessen pressure building in the back of your skull, and you slowly blink, both of their concerned faces coming into view.

The three of you linger silence, holding each other, decompressing from your confession, your fear that feels too much sometimes. It all fades, night turning long, and eventually you yawn, blinking away the sleepy stars in your eyes.

“There’s our bunny.” Simon kisses your cheek. “My good girl.” My good girl. Turning it over in your mind makes you squirm, allowing it ricochet back and forth with his accent, and you wish you could latch onto it, memorize it, hear it every day. Johnny gives you a bemused smile.

“Ye liked that?” He raises an eyebrow at Simon, and then presses his lips to your ear, whispering. “Ye want to be a good girl for daddy, little bunny?” Daddy. You choke. You anticipate disgust, revulsion, but none of it comes.

Only… intrigue. Warmth.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Simon interrupts gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. For trusting us. I know it’s hard.” You turn into Johnny, and Simon rolls to flick out the light, pulling up tight behind you, sliding an arm under the pillows. You burrow deeper into the blankets, snuggling between them to find the warmest spots, and sigh.

“You both… make it easier. You make it easy.”

The world from yesterday is forgotten the next day when Penny wakes up with a fever.

The house is thrown into confined, regulated chaos, but chaos all the same. She wails almost the entirety of the morning, miserable, and you ache for both her, and her dads, who are unmoored and anxious. You don’t even balk when Simon asks you to hold her, explaining he has to call her pediatrician.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You coo, rubbing her back. She’s warm to the touch, but not scorching, and it gives you some comfort, even with what little you know about peds. You rock her, pacing, as Johnny watches uneasily from the couch, typing unending questions into a web search about babies and fevers. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel good.”

“It’s 38.1… that’s fine, right? As long as it’s under 39?”

“I think so.” You try to reassure him. “I’m not a little human nurse though, so I can’t be sure. But it hasn’t been that long, Johnny. We don’t need to worry until at least twenty-four hours.” He nods, lips quirking into a small smile. “What?”

“Ye said we.”

“Well… yeah…” you trail off, and he shakes his head.

“Jus’ like the sound of it, is all. Like how ye look, holdin’ our baby.” You give him a look, half exasperated, half doe eyed, as always, because you can’t help but feel a little lovestruck or dazed whenever you glance his way, always taken by him, no matter the moment.

Simon steps back inside from the patio, swooping to rub his nose in Johnny’s hair and squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “The pediatrician says if she gets worse, or doesn’t improve by tomorrow, to bring her in.”

“Good.” You bounce her, propping her up on your shoulder. “That’s good.” She gurgles, croaking through her miserable fever. “Poor baby girl, I’m sorry.” You pat her again, trying to help settle her-

She coughs, and something warm runs down your back.

“Shite.” Johnny curses, Simon immediately trying to pull her from your arms, but you shake your head.

“There’s no sense in her throwing up on you too.” You explain.

“I’ll go grab a towel, and some clothes. Do you want to change your shirt?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You keep your hand steady on her back. You’ll both need a thorough wipe down now, maybe even a shower.

“Sorry, bun.” Johnny frowns, but you reassure him, still rocking Penny in your arms. 

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been through way worse with bodily fluids, trust me.” The bottom stair creaks, in the way that it only does for Simon, his mass too much for one of the wooden slats.

When you look up, you realize he’s not moving, only standing shock still, clothes and towel and a baby blanket in one hand,

and the contents of the little black bag in the other.

You left it on the dresser. You left it out in the open, unzipped, on the dresser. 

Your blood freezes. Johnny frowns, looking between his partner and you, trying to desperately draw a conclusion that doesn’t come.

Simon holds the little navy-blue book up, the one with your picture in it, but with a name they won’t recognize. A person they wouldn’t know.

A person you don’t even know, yet. A new life. A new identity.

“What’s that?” Johnny’s quizzical, intrigued.

“Bunny.” Simon breathes, and you shake your head. It’s all you can do, just shake your head back and forth until your brain is rattling around in your skull.

You can’t stop it.

They’ll never love you. They won’t accept you. They won’t understand. 

“It’s- it’s j-just in case,” you stammer, panicked and tongue tied. “you… you don’t understand, I have to have it… just in case.”

“What is it?” Johnny demands, and Simon flips the front of the booklet around-

revealing the cover of a brand-new American passport.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Cod Scenarios

I had thoughts on these racked up in my brain about CoD characters having kids and what type of parents they'd be in a scenario or drabble manner.

Tag list: @puff0o0, @simp4konig, @blingblong55, @azereus, @rustic-guitar-notes, @shadofireshinobi, @anonymuslydumb, @skeletalgoats, @icarustypicalfall, @ghosts-cyphera,@connorsui is at it again, making me blush over her words, AHHHHH I LOVE HER. Did I tag almost everyone I know here? Yes, yes I did 😭

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

(Implied?? Wife!Reader, Parent!Reader. Not really specified, so gender neutral!Reader)

❥ Dad!John Price is the type of dad who'd fondly tell your kids about how you met, tell them stories about his time in the army, his experiences with their uncles and aunts from 141. Enjoying how their little faces express something great, admiring how cool their dad was for being so brave to constantly and willingly put his life on the line in the means of saving people. They tried telling him that they want to follow in his footsteps but that is a big no no. The last thing he wants is them willingly throwing themselves in danger and the risk was far too much.

❥ Dad!Johnny MacTavish is the type of dad to make his kids laugh by blowing raspberries on whatever body part his kids are ticklish on, he enjoys hearing their laughter and giggles. Definitely is the man who grew up with quite a big family so he'd love to have a full house if you were up to having it with him. He's such a family man to the bone, knows how things work around and mostly knows what to say and do when it comes to the kids.

❥ Dad!Kyle Garrick is the type of dad to dance with his kids, letting them have their little feet on top of his, letting them pick the music and guiding the little one. Having them smile and look up at him, his little one thinking it was just the best thing in the world to spend quality time with their dad. Swaying them around while they call him giggling, letting out squeals after he spins them. (I NEED GIRL DAD!GAZ 🥺😭)

❥ Dad!Simon Riley is the type of dad who absolutely HATES it when his kids cry, always doing his best to console them, depending on what made them upset. Being the one to patch them up when it's because of a "boo-boo", god forbid it's because of another person, he'd either make that kid piss themselves or that adult will NEVER see the light of day again. Because of that, the little one always finds themselves looking for their dad's comfort.

❥ Dad!Gary Sanderson who is the type of dad who finds so many ways to make his kid feel appreciated, whether that'd be through letting them help out and make them feel needed, thanking them and returning the favor for handmade gifts on days like Father's day or Valentine's day. The little one is always so eagerly awaiting for their dad to come home, knowing he'd be bearing so meaningful gift that goes in the memory box.

❥ Dad!Alejandro Vargas who is the type of dad who's strict but also not at the same time. Safe to say he did not have fun when Soap taught his kid to curse in Spanish when he first met the kid, that was probably Alejandro's fault for teaching Soap Spanish curses anyway. That kid is going to be loved I tell you, Alejandro has taken them to work just so they can see what he does and safe to say they loved being around everyone that Alejandro works with. (More likely that they still do this together however Alejandro is VERY strict since it's dangerous for the kid to even be out there)

❥ Dad!Rodolfo Parra who is the type of dad whose domestic, he has many memorabilias and scrapbooks of his kid's milestones, even kept the teeth that fell out. Always finding ways to spend time with the kids, whether it'd be through something as simple but meaningful as teaching them Spanish or taking them out to eat. His kids love and adore him, finding that the best time they spend with him is when he lets them talk about their day, listening in and validating their thoughts.

❥ Dad!König who is the type of dad who finds himself absolutely terrified that he's responsible for such a tiny thing. He's extremely protective of them, seeing his little kid whimper and point at something that caused them pain (even if it was by their own accord), König finds himself comforting the little one by soothing their crying and kicking whatever inanimate object it was just to make them feel better. He already hurt himself once or twice doing that and it did make his kid laugh, anything that makes them happy right?

❥ Dad!Kim Hong-Jin who is the type of dad whose a bit irresponsible at times, he tends to roughhouse with his kid a lot. There's definitely a lot of physical and playful activities with him in the means of spending time. He doesn't mean anything by it, just quality time, his kid is one of the reasons behind him stopping his gambling addiction. He wanted to set an example for them. The last thing he wants is for his kid to remember him by something negative so he does his best to spend time with them a lot despite him getting deployed.

Sidenote: I wrote this at 1 am and it was fun but my eyes hurt now, I have plans to go out tomorrow with a friend. Now regarding your guys' requests, ISTG I'm not ignoring you guys, I'm just not in the right headspace to write them except for a few I'm currently working on.

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [7]

pet!au part 7 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

imitation of flesh

cw: non-con, smut, unrealistic anal, fingering, degradation, cum eating, dark content, dead dove: do not eat

The only scrap of clothing you have clinging to your body as you lay on Simon and Johnny’s bed is your collar. 

Somehow, you feel more naked with it on than you ever did with it off. It’s an embarrassing reminder that your body no longer belongs to you — a proof of ownership to a man who can hardly seem to stand your mere existence. Your fingers ghost over the leather and you feel it bob with your throat as you swallow. The urge to rip it off is strong. Tear through that leather and rid yourself of the incessant reminder that you’re trapped. It’s so easy for you to undo the clasp and toss it into some forgotten corner where you’ll never have to worry or think about it again — but you don’t. No, there is very little you can do besides lay there when you have two hulking figures between your open legs. 

At least you’re not the only one who’s naked, though that only gives you nominal reprieve. Johnny’s clothes were ripped from his body with the same urgency as yours were, and you feel your stomach flutter at the sight of his hardened cock. His leaky, puffy tip bounces as it throbs, begging for something soft to bury itself in. You’ve seen it plenty of times before, but it never gets easier. Simon sits behind him on his haunches, fully clothed, bored eyes flickering back and forth between the side of his face and your exposed body. 

Scenarios begin to tear through your mind, making your stomach flutter and drop through the floor. Johnny has had his fun with you plenty of times over the last few weeks, but it’s never been anything as… formal as this. Every time he’s put his hands on you, it’s always been a spur of the moment. Something he does when he can no longer hold himself back. Tearing you apart like a sacrifice. It’s never been anything like this, and the darkness in Simon’s eyes doesn’t offer you any comfort. 

“She’s so pretty,” Johnny says with a shudder. 

Simon’s hands trace along Johnny’s waist where they slide to the front of his stomach and then dip down to the thick, dark patch of hair at the base of his cock. For hands as large, brutish, and scarred as his, his touch looks light. Delicate, even. Johnny jumps in excitement as he wraps a fist around him and begins to lazily tug at him, purposefully ignoring his needy red tip. 

“That so?” he challenges. His lips brush against Johnny’s ear, and you watch as those deep blue eyes roll slightly into the back of his head, eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings. You squirm at the sight as a deep shame eats at your chest — you are a product, a show to be enjoyed — but you know better than to move too much around sight-based hunters. “Like havin’ a soft toy to play with? Somethin’ to sink your cock into? Bet you wanna fuck ‘er right now, yeah?” 

Johnny’s eyes stay glued to your body as he nods his head. “Aye, I really do.”

“Yeah, needy fuckin’ mutt. Go on. Play with ‘er a bit, but keep this fuckin’ cock dry, yeah? Get yourself nice and worked up f’me,” Simon orders. 

Ardent eyes blink down at you as Simon frees Johnny’s cock from his hand, and the man descends upon you like a ravenous plague. A squeak leaves you without permission when his lips crash against yours with enough force to knock your teeth out, and your whole body jumps as he paws at your chest. Your tits are so sore from weeks of abuse that you can’t help but whimper into his mouth as his fingers contract and relax over and over again, rolling the soft flesh between his hands. There’s no escape. You are surrounded, both by a stranger and his prison-like bed. 

This is nothing new. Johnny’s always been easily… excitable. All you have to do is grit your teeth and take it until he dry humps you long enough to get off or gets bored and abuses your mouth. You often think of your old job bar-tending while he has his fun. Anything to get you away from the present. How to make an old fashioned? How many seconds does it take to fill a pint? You try to recall the acrid taste of the air, and the way condensation glistens on the bar top. Usually it works well enough to keep yourself distracted.

It doesn’t work tonight, though. Not with those dark eyes peering from behind Johnny, murky and menacing. As Johnny gets to work giving love bites to the underside of your jaw, you make the terrible mistake of glancing at Simon. He’s got one hand on the small of Johnny’s back like it’s the only way he can keep the man leashed, and the other is pawing at his cock through the thick fabric of his jeans. You can make out the clear, meaty outline of it, and you find yourself silently praying that his eyes don’t wander too far from Johnny. You’re certain Simon would break you if he decided to fuck you himself. 

“Ow!”

Your yelp is sudden and piercing as pain blossoms in your left nipple. It ebbs and flows with your pulse, as if the sting is supposed to be a reminder that you’re still alive. Johnny leans back in astonishment, as if he can’t piece together why him pinching and yanking on your nipple would ever rouse such a reaction from you, but then he does it again, this time to the right. You squeal once more, and your hands move to cup your breasts, hoping to deter him from antagonizing you further. 

“Johnny!” you whine.

“Do that again,” he says, pupils blown wide. 

You squeeze your chest more, as if you can fold your body in on itself and vanish completely if you try hard enough. You blink a few times as you attempt to process his request, but all you can muster is a puzzled look. 

“Say my name again,” he clarifies, voice darker and more husky than you’ve ever heard it before. 

Humiliation courses through your body, forcing your bottom lip to tremble as you writhe under his gaze. It’s easier when you don’t have to participate. When you can just lay there and take it and pretend it doesn’t exist. There’s a special kind of hurt to be found in the way he’s trying to torture you now. Simon’s eyes meet yours from over Johnny’s shoulder, and you try your best to keep your composure lest he get upset at you for keeping his adored pet waiting. 

“Johnny…” you mumble once more. 

For a moment, you fear that your performance is too forced. Something so faux that even Johnny’s slow, horny brain can see through. It’s not satisfying enough. Instead, he groans as he descends on you again, tongue lavishing over your breasts and chest bone as he pushes back against Simon, ass against his clothed cock, going lower and lower along your abdomen. 

“Goddamn angel. Sound so sweet sayin’ my name. You’re perfect. So perfect, Bonnie,” he groans against your skin. “I’ll fuck you good ‘n proper one of these days. As soon as Simon lets me, I promise. For now… just… let me have this.” 

Whatever question you have bubbling up in your throat gets smothered with a gasp as Johnny’s mouth lands on your cunt. A hot, wet tongue laps at you, sliding all the way from your clenching hole to your clit. It doesn’t feel good. It feels messy, and disgusting, yet he laments at the taste of you. His lips and tongue work in tandem, not for your pleasure, but for his. Muted sensations rumble between your legs, but nothing’s connecting. All the wires are cut, but Johnny’s still trying to send signals through anyway. 

Everything he does to you — suck on your clit, hold your hips with a bruising grip — all feels searing. It’s torching your skin, melting you into mush, because if you cannot feel pleasure, then you can certainly feel pain. Things only get worse when you realize Simon’s grunts are sounding in terrible cacophony with Johnny’s. Once more you make the mistake of glancing at him, and you realize he’s got his own cock in his hand now, lazily pumping that monster. It’s incredibly thick and terrifying; something that fits the brutish and colossal nature of your captor. You glance away, turning your head to the side with a look of disgust you attempt to drown out with a forced moan. 

Just pretend, just pretend, just pretend…

Suddenly, it all ceases. Simon pulls Johnny back by his collar, forcing his mouth off of your cunt with a wet pop, before he’s pushing him into your chest. Lips wet from spit and what minimal amount of arousal he was able to rip from you smears against your tits as the poor dog pants.

“Plan on eatin’ her alive, Johnny?” Simon goads. 

He chuckles against your skin as he nuzzles your chest as if he’s trying to get underneath your skin. There’s something about his laughter that almost makes him seem more human than the dog Simon tries to force him to be. Whatever it is, it makes your heart lurch, but it doesn’t tug on it enough for you to forgive him. You bite into your lip as your arms wrap around his neck, searching for a stability you don’t think you’re going to find, yet so desperately crave. 

“Oh, I’d like to,” he coos. 

All Simon does is hum in response as he reaches around Johnny. You jolt when his hand brushes against your thigh, and he shoots you a glare in warning before pushing your thigh back. Trepidation hangs so thick in the air you nearly choke on it as you helplessly feel his fingers brush against your sex. Soon, it’s no longer a gentle brush, but a forceful intrusion as he dips them into your cunt. 

Johnny’s spit allows him to enter you with little protest, but it does nothing to ease the burn that ails you as Simon’s thick fingers split you open. Your eyes screw shut in discomfort as you do your best to hold back a sob. Instead of pumping in and out of you, his fingers dance as if looking for something inside of you, all but tearing you apart in the process. They churn, and scrape and claw. He does not care to draw out moans or other sounds from you — he cares only to aid himself. The heat of the burn that ravages your cunt forces your skin to perspire and your vision begins to tunnel. 

Your only saving grace is that Simon finally seems to have found what he was looking for, and he yanks his fingers out of you with little concern for your body. Tense muscles flutter as you try to force yourself to relax, to calm your tendons before they snap free from bone. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, you can make out the wet, gooey sheen on his fingers as he turns his attention to Johnny. He whimpers into your skin as Simon wipes the sloppy mess around the tight ring of his ass, not stopping until there’s proper lubrication. Strong arms snake underneath your back where needy fingers hold onto your shoulders, as if you’re the only thing grounding Johnny at this moment. 

All you can do is close your eyes and pray it’s quick. 

“Been a long while since I last fucked you, yeah?” Simon teases, fingers still taunting Johnny’s needy hole. “Look atch’ya, puckerin’ around nothin’ like a dirty fuckin’ mutt. Gonna be a good boy and beg? C’mon, you used to beg for this cock all the time. Go on. Beg.” 

Johnny’s body trembles with want, and it rings throughout your body, numbing your senses and rendering you useless. His nose nuzzles into your breast bone before he turns and rests the side of his head just above your heart. You’re certain he can hear the muscle trying to tear itself apart with how fast it’s beating. 

“Please, Simon. I’ve been a good boy,” Johnny whines, following Simon’s orders to a tee. “I need it, need it so bad. Missed you so goddamn much, I just… f-fuck, yes, fuckin’ christ, thank you, thank you.” 

As Simon presses into Johnny, the weight on your chest grows heavier to the point of suffocation. Desperate fingers claw at your shoulders, and you force yourself to stay quiet and take it. Whimpers sear into your skin as Simon keeps going, and going, and going until he bottoms out, and for once Johnny seems content. Praises and gratitude continue to fall from his lips as his body rocks against yours like a poorly tethered boat against a dock. There is little remorse for Johnny as he’s split apart, but he seems to enjoy the burn more than you ever could. 

You don’t dare to peek over him. All you can do is screw your eyes shut tight as you bury your face into the overgrown strands of his mohawk. 

“Such a tight fuckin’ arse. You really are a pathetic mutt, aren’cha?” Simon shames. Despite his harsh words and tone, Johnny whines in confirmation. “Gonna be a good boy ‘n take it then, yeah? Go on. Tell your precious Bonnie how good this cock is makin’ you feel.” 

And he does, like the obedient animal he is, but you don’t hear any of it. You feel the rocking of your body as Simon’s speed picks up, and the slick sweat that builds between your bodies, but you’re too far away for his words to reach your ears. Right now, you’re back in that old bar you used to work in, wiping down grimy tables and filling hoppy drinks. The sourness of the alcohol and the acidity of the cleaner assaults your nose even in your daydreams, and you feel your stomach twist at the scent. Dull music thrums somewhere on your left, and someone’s waving at you so they can pay out their tab. 

That bar had been nothing but a prison to you before, but now you can’t help but hate it even more. Would you have ended up here, underneath two brutish men, had you gotten that office job you interviewed for? Was the outcome always destined to be the same? Teeth ache in your mouth as your jaw clenches at the memory of your attempt at escaping that life. So smart, but not smart enough — always one step behind what everyone else is asking from you; the docile little lamb. 

Sharp nails rake across your skin, and you’re pulled out of your daydream as Johnny is ripped from your arms. Angry streaks and broken skin are left behind in his wake, and you try your best not to cry out. Tears blur your vision as you finally open your eyes, and you see Simon yanking Johnny back against him by his collar. Desperate hands claw at the leather as the sounds of pain and pleasure mix together in his throat as Simon tugs at Johnny’s cock with vicious strokes. You can do nothing but lay there and watch in abject horror as Johnny’s cum spurts from the tip of his cock and coats the length of your stomach and chest. It’s a warm, sticky mess that has you grimacing as it mixes with the lingering sweat on your skin, yet you know better than to voice your discontent. 

“There he is,” Simon grunts. “Makin’ a goddamn mess all over my hand. A mess of your favorite toy too, hmm?”

Despite the fact that Johnny is obviously spent, Simon doesn’t let up. His hips continue to slam into his ass with no disregard for the slight whining that emanates from his favorite pup, who can do nothing but mindlessly babble. 

“What? You thought just because you were done that I was done with ya? C’mon, Johnny, you know better than that. Now, be a good boy and fuckin’ take it.” 

Vibrant blue eyes find you in the darkness of the bedroom before they roll into the back of Johnny’s head. His cum begins to cool and thicken on your body as Simon continues to have his way with him, and their combined grunting becomes near deafening. Even though you and Johnny are the ones wearing the collars, Simon sounds the most animalistic out of the three of you. Grunting and panting and growling. You hold your breath, as if that monster of a man will pounce and attack any moment. 

When Simon finishes, he does so with another feral grunt and a final thrust into Johnny where he continues to hold himself against the man. A cacophony of appreciative remarks fall from Johnny like a strained prayer to a deaf god as he’s pumped full of all of his would-be lover’s spend. He enjoys every moment of it, and you’re not sure if you should be comforted by the fact this man can be so attached to someone so purely evil. It isn’t until Simon’s given him every last drop that he finally pulls out, leaving him deserted and empty. 

There is slight reprieve to be found in the fact that they’re finally finished consuming one another. It’s not enough to cleanse you of the sullied sensation that torments your skin, but you’re at least able to wipe the stray tears from your eyes. 

“Filthy thing. Spoiled rotten, you are,” Simon growls as Johnny begins to gag. “Completely spent and still wantin’ more.” 

You venture a glance from behind the backs of your hands, and you look up to see Simon shoving his cum-coated fingers down Johnny’s throat. Stomach-churning gagging sounds from him as he devours it like dessert. His devotion to a beast such as Simon is infuriating in a complicated way. It sends a tingle up your spine. Something bone chilling — it only gets worse when Simon’s gaze lands on you. 

He doesn’t speak a word as he yanks his fingers out of Johnny’s mouth and pushes his face toward your body. A flinch echoes throughout the chords of your muscles, preparing to be bitten by the brainwashed mutt, yet no such pain blossoms on your skin. 

“We’re done playin’ for now. Clean up your fuckin’ toy,” Simon demands. 

Obedient. Eager. Johnny’s tongue lulls out of his mouth without a second thought before he licks a line along your abdomen. It’s just as warm and wet as it was when he was lapping at your cunt, and still it makes you squirm. He laughs at the way you tremble under him, and it sounds more like a pant as he washes away the remainder of his cum, consuming it without complaint. 

Licking quickly turns into kissing once he’s finished, and he starts to nibble on your neck as he settles his body weight onto you. A still needy and half hard cock presses against your thigh as he nuzzles you, legs wrapped around your body, keeping you attached to him with vice-like strength. Sticky warmth seeps through the pores of your skin, and you are so painfully trapped in that moment with a spinning head and an achy cunt. 

Simon had barked at Johnny to clean you up, but you feel the complete opposite of clean — disgusting, undignified, desecrated. Those feelings only rouse and fester when Simon begins to shove himself back into his pants with his umber gaze trained on you. You are not human. You have never been human. You’re an imitation of flesh, a bird with clipped wings, a song with no melody — you have become everything you ever feared of being:

A catalyst. Food for the greedy. 

A trophy of bone. 

“What’re you crying for, angel?” 

Johnny’s lips are on you again, smothering away each fat tear that rolls down your cheeks. He fakes his concern for you so well, it can almost be confused for love.

“I know, you’ll get your turn too. I promise, Bonnie. I always keep my promises, you’ll see,” Johnny assures you as he licks the salt off of his lips. 

That’s what I’m afraid of.

But there is no room for fear. Not as Johnny settles against your back, tucking you into him like a prized possession. Not as Simon turns off the bedside lamp and plunges the room into darkness. There is only one thought that consumes your mind as both men begin to snore — survive. One day, something will save you; be it yourself, or anyone else; be it death.

For now, you’ll just have to get used to being devoured whole.

[marshmallowdarling]

Retired Knight! Simon is the last person to come around to the thought of you (surprise surprise). Because like these are his boys, who are you to come in and try and steal them away? 

Very much jealous and possessive and the other men eat that shit up! Wrapping his arm around his captains waist when you come into the room, throwing an arm around Johnny’s shoulder while he makes you all breakfast (because everyone needs to eat including you and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you he doesn’t hate you), pressing himself into Kyle’s back while Kyle washes the dishes. Just little things that silently say ‘he’s mine’. 

But again, he doesn’t hate you as much as he loathes the king throwing you into their home and in a way he pity’s you. Having to be a ‘spouse’ for their general who already has three boys at his side, a loveless marriage and having to be the ‘other person’. 

He watches you, at first he didn’t mean to. Habits from the army were hard to break and patrolling their home was a way to soothe his nerves and drain his energy so he wasn’t itching to do something, and he sees you trying to tend to the few animals John got as a present. Key word is ‘trying’ because bless your heart you have never really taken care of barn animals, seen then yes and touched one once or twice but actually tended to one? You thought you had an idea on how to take care of them but that gets thrown out of the window when you try but you don’t want to ask the boys because how hard is it? And you really want to prove you can be useful… 

So, he watches and watches. Watches as you try to haul some hay over to the horse and almost throw out your back. He watches as you try to carry a bucket that seems manageable, but you can barely even lift it an inch from the ground, waddling with it swinging everywhere and needing to set it on the ground for a few seconds after a few feet before trying again and then stopping and then trying again and then stopping and then trying-

And he watched with a raised brow from under his mask when he sees you happily feed the cows some melon, patting their short fur… until another cow’s big wet tongue laves over your hands, and another cows large tongue curls around your shirt- and by the end you’re a wet, sticky mess. 

After watching you for a while he decides he should try to help, not because he likes you but because everyone needs to start somewhere right? And watching you every day failing was painful but you did surprise him when each time you would get back up and dust yourself off…. Even when sometimes you had a little cry or swear before you got up, but you still got up and every time a hint of respect flashed in him. 

He gets to the small barn before you do, knowing your routine from watching you almost every day for a month. When you get there and are rightfully confused he doesn’t say anything for a bit before picking up one of the two buckets on the floor next to your feet, the one with most amount of stuff, before wordlessly showing you how to hold it properly and feed the cows. He doesn’t even ask you to do anything, just letting you stay near the second bucket and after a few minutes when you do get the hint he just gives you a little nod. 

Each day after starts like that, until Kyle realises what’s happening and comes around with a nice cuppa for the both of you while you work in the early mornings. 

But Simon still doesn’t like you, he just tolerates your presents. It’s what he says anyways when Kyle teases him about it while under him, but Simon just grunts and buries his feeling while putting the brat under him in his place. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ HOW DO WE LIKE?!?! I'm sorry for dropping but my family is going THROUGH it right now but here's a little peaky peak into my brain lmao

Tag List (omg mom look I made it); @sheep-from-rad , @aldis-nuts , @reap3erslov3 , @pasanau4

[bellarkeselection]

His Compass of Harrenhal - part 2

Part 1

part 3

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

Tossing the covers off of my body as quickly as I could I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. Daemon had a strong arm draped over my waist until I shoved his arms off of me. Stumbling out of the bed I flew to the chamber pot puking whatever was in my stomach from the dinner we ate the night before. “Y/n, what’s made you ill?” Daemon had awoken from his sleep running over to hold my hair out of my face..

“I’m not quite sure.” I croaked out once I had finally emptied the contents of my stomach and sat with my back against his chest.

Daemon rested his chin on top of my head, keeping his arms wrapped around my waist. “I’ll go find a Maester right away-“

“I’ll come with you. If this is some illness I don’t wish to pass out onto the floor while you’re away.” I snatched his wrist, halting him from going further. Together we made our way through the castle until the closest person we came upon was none other than Alice Rivers.

“You’re new wife becomes sick this morning I hear.”

Daemon grumbled still not trusting the woman before us. “I don’t have time for your words, witch. Just tell me what is wrong with my wife. You are apparently this haunted castle’s only maester.”

“Lay her on the table.” She rushed quickly clearing off her workspace before Daemon laid me down on my back and she rubbed her hand all over my stomach and lifted up my nightgown before asking me. “When did you last bleed, lady fish?”

Running a hand through my hair I couldn’t exactly recall the last time. “I don’t entirely know. Possibly two moons ago. Why?”

“If you haven’t bled recently then you’re pregnant with his wee bear growing inside your belly.” Alice points her hand at Daemon who tried to show no emotion around her.

Rolling over onto my side I grinned back at the dragon prince. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

Daemon crossed the room not saying anything before he grabbed my face and kissed me deeply until we needed air. “You will be a very excellent mother to our little dragon.” I wrapped my arms around his neck drawing him back in for another kiss until someone interrupted the kiss.

“Your grace, oh - uh forgive me.” The caretaker of the castle named Simon came into the room seeing us sharing a moment.

Daemon didn’t look at the man when he grumbled his next words. “What is it?”

“The lord of Riverrun has arrived.”

I jumped down from the table running as fast as my legs could carry me, not bothering to wait on the men behind me. I hadn’t seen a member of my family since my father had shipped me off to this place so long ago. Pushing the doors open I expected to see my very ill father but I was greeted by a young boy with curly brown hair standing in front of the large round table. “Who might you be?”

“My name is Oscar. My grandsire is Grover Tully. Praise the gods Aunt Y/n is that you?” Oscar began formally speaking until he recognized the eyes staring back at him.

I let out a half chuckle crossing the room moving closer to the boy. “Ha! So my father did mention me after he shipped me off. Anyhow, Oscar look how big you’ve grown. I remember how small you were on your first nameday. Can I get a hug, little nephew?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to meet you.” He flung his arms around my neck and I wrapped my arms around his neck bringing him in closer with us both laughing in enjoyment. “I’ve heard tales of the Tully daughter who decided to wield a sword despite what everyone else thinks about it.”

“Well isn’t this a happy family reunion?” Daemon sent me a smile resting one hand on the handle of his sword that he carried on his hip.

“My - my - my prince. Uh my grace - your grace.” Oscar nervously tried to address him once we had broken our hug seeing Daemon and Simon Strong enter the room.

Daemon glanced back at the Strong man. “Lord Grover is looking more hair than healthy than I expected.”

“This is Oscar Tully. Grandson to Grover Tully. He is heir to Riverun and the future Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. His grace, the king concoct Daemon Targaryen and his Lady Wife I suppose Y/n of - um forgive me my lady.”

I sent the older man a gentle smile. “He’s my nephew, Simon Strong. I’m formerly of House Tully.”

“It is an honor, your grace.” Oscar said watching the dragon remove his sword, laying it on the table and sitting down before him and only then did the nervous lad sit down too.

Daemon nodded his head in my direction. “Indeed. Lady wife, come sit with us.”

“Oh okay.” I sat beside Daemon in the next chair over.

Daemon turned his attention to the young lad. “How fair’s your grandsire?”

“Sadly he remains incapacitated. He lies in a kind of waking sleep. Unable to do much more than eat or take a drink. It is barely enough to sustain him.”

Daemon tapped his fingers on the table. “So he’s alive?”

“Yes, gods be good.” Oscar brightly smiled.

Daemon leaned forward closer to the young boys face whispering a sentence that caught us both off guard for certain. “Well my time here is short and I’m in need of an army. Perhaps you place a feather pillow over his face and speed along your inheritance - fuck Y/n!”

“What the hell is the matter with you. You’re asking him to kill a member of my family when he’s only the age of ten and five.” I smacked my husband upside the back of the head sharply.

Daemon rubbed the back of his head glancing over at me. “If he’s an old man. Why let him suffer in pain. A quick death would be better for him and his grandson.”

“I - I love my grandsire. Like a father. My own Lord father died himself a young man. Lord Grover raised me in his stead.” Young Oscar explained nervously not thinking this conversation would resort to violence.

Daemon lowered his hand from the sore backside of his head bringing the topic of war back to the table. I knew he didn't like having to wait on anything, especially when it came to fighting battles. “All very touching are you here to speak with your grandsire's voice of House Tully in the Riverlands?”

“While he still lives?” Oscar raised a brow offended at the idea. “That is not our way.”

Daemon growled in the boy's face, picking up his sword and leaving the room. “Then you're of no use to me. I can see why the Blackwoods and Brackens did not fear to start a war beneath the nose of their ledge lords. House Tully is a fish with no head.”

“Daemon.” I called his name while getting up from my chair.

He placed his sword back onto his hip only sparing me a glance before he left the room. “Summon the Blackwoods here. I require men of action to lead my host of Rivermen.”

“Daemon! Daemon, wait a minute.” I chased after the prince grabbing the back of his tunic yanking hi, backwards before he could get any further from me. “I know you don’t like to hear that you’ll have to wait but-“

He spun around on his feet getting in my face. “I hate waiting. When you’re fighting a war there’s rarely time to wait for anyone else’s help.”

“Let me get my words out before you bite my head off. Like I was saying, give my lord Father time to pass on his own time and then you might have an edge of me talking with my nephew so that he and his bannermen will follow your queen Rhaenyra. Can you do that for me hmm. Can you take a pause before you run when something doesn’t go your way?”

He grabbed my face in his hands resting his forehead down against mine releasing a breath I didn’t know he was holding in. “I suppose I’ll have to wait for our little dragon to come into the world. So this should be no different.”

“Thank you, Daemon.” Draping my arms around his neck we embraced the other in a long hug.

[mistyresolve]

| Hostage - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Word count - 1.9K

Summary - When y/n is taken hostage because she is their combat analyst and knows a significant amount of information in regards to the 141, Ghost goes ballistic. Driven by fear and anger he locates you and is able to rescue you but the fear lingers and he struggles to wrestle his feelings back down.  

Warnings/Tags - Violence and blood, allusions to a brief panic attack  

A/N - I’m thinking of doing an epilogue to this but I’m really on the fence  

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Ghost feared very little. Knew that very little could actually kill him, and even fewer people could do the same. He knew he wasn’t invincible, and someday his luck would run out. Someday his heart would stop, and his blood would run cold. He couldn’t run from the inevitable; thus, he welcomed death with open arms like one would an old friend. He didn’t have a death wish though. He was merely passive towards it. Sometimes he liked the thrill a brush with death gave him. It reminded him he was alive, that his heart did indeed beat like everyone else’s. 

When it came to you, it was an entirely different story. The very idea of you being hurt, and dying, scared the shit out of him. The thought of you leaving him behind plagued him. Even in his sleep, nightmares of you taking your last breaths in his arms would force him from sleep. He’d spend the rest of the night watching you sleep, watching your chest rise and fall, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. He feared for the day he wasn’t able to protect you. 

A day like today. 

“Ghost,” Price spoke slowly and low like he was talking to a wide animal. Which wasn’t that far off, “We’ll get them back, we just need more information. We can’t run in there blind and deaf.” 

Price might as well have been talking to a brick wall because all Ghost could hear was ringing. An incessant, grating sound that shrouded him from all sense and reason. He remained utterly silent, seeth in his own wrath. The wrath he was sure to bring down on everyone and anyone who stood in his way. The 141 was well aware of this and stood aside as Ghost stalked to the door, his shoulders rolled and taut ready for a fight. He had turned so wholly maniacal that even Soap was disturbed by the look in his eye and backed down. Ghost went AWOL, but the 141 provided as much support as they could. They were able to give him updates and new information over the radio, but they were never able to catch up with his unrelenting pace. Instead, they only stumbled over his messes. Their own anxiety and unease about the meaning behind it all grew. It was as if humanity abandoned him as he tracked—No. As he hunted down the men who took you, smelling their blood in the air and following the scent. Ghost spared no one. If someone wasn't giving him the information he’d slay them and move to the next. If the next person wasn’t giving him information fast enough they were executed.   

When he finally located you, you were in a warehouse, he communicated back into the radio for the first time to tell the rest of the 141. 

The captors had yet to start drawing blood, but only because they were trying a psychological approach. It had already been three hours. Three very long hours. You were a combat analyst, you weren’t a trained soldier like the 141. And you sure as hell wasn’t prepared for something like this. He didn’t let himself think too hard about the possibilities. He didn’t let himself think about the probability of finding you dead inside the warehouse. You had crucial information on the 141 that they wanted, and he could only hope that information was keeping you alive. 

He slaughtered his way into the building, leaving nothing but carnage behind him. When he got visuals on you, alive, he nearly collapsed. Not completely unharmed though.

You were soaked from waterboarding. They had used ice-cold water, and somehow it was colder still. The big industrial fans hanging from the roof blew cool air, but it was only amplified tenfold for you. He could hear your shivering, see how your lips had turned a scary shade of blue. Your hair stuck to your face in wet clumps. Your hands were bound to a chair, your fingers curling into your palms in search of any warmth. Your eyes burned holes into whoever stood in front of you.     

“Where. Are. The 141. Hiding?” Your captor asked again, the same question he’s been asking from the very beginning. He forced your head back, getting ready to place the towel. He hadn’t gotten anything out of you yet, but he could tell you were breaking. 

You bit out a smile, although it was more of an act of you baring your teeth at him, “Go to hell,” Your teeth chattered, despite your best efforts. Before the captor could place to sopping towel back over your face he emerges. 

It’s almost as if Ghost was made from the shadows themselves with the way he seems to materialize out of them. The way they clung to him. He couldn’t remember losing his handgun, but at some point, he’d resorted to knives. 

You knew he wasn’t here for your blood but alarms and warnings went off in your very bones. They screamed, Danger! Danger!       

Ghost was every bit his reputation at this moment. His eyes were wide and unseeing. His movements were swift and snappy like elastics were snapping in his limbs. He’d taken his time when he dragged the blade across the man's throat, wanting to keep him alive to feel every ounce of agony at his life quite literally drained from him. 

The speed at which he moved in front of you almost made you think him inhuman. He uncuffed you and pulled you into his arms, squeezing you hard enough that you thought he was going to break bones. He was panting, almost unable to catch his breath. You could almost smell his fear; that and the blood that was surely hiding among the black dye of his clothes.  

You repeatedly murmured, “I’m okay. I’m okay,”  into his shoulder. Not sure if you were comforting him, or yourself. Both, you very quickly realized. As whatever came over him in those few hours of your life in danger, ebbed from his veins, he finally, finally returned to his body. Before it had felt like he was watching himself from outside his body, watching himself from someone else perceptive. Someone may have thought he wasn’t a mundane soldier, but a vessel for whatever god wished to experience true unchecked rage. 

But he was human.

He felt true terror today, and his body was starting to feel the effects of it. He kept repeating, “I’m sorry,” like they were the only words he could remember. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, and his skin felt too tight and itchy. You let him hold you, let him feel your heartbeat against his.   

The 141 arrived with a medic. Simon immediately stepped aside, allowing the professional to assess you. She’d immediately announced hypothermia and called for a medevac. She’d wrapped a reflective blanket around your shoulders and removed her own jacket and put it on top.  

Once Simon was completely and utterly sure you were in good hands, he’d stumbled to the wall, choosing a spot where he was obscured from your view. Everyone’s view. He’d fallen to his knees then, his strength leaving him. They cracked against the concrete, but he welcomed the sharp pain. He’d lifted his mask and thrown up. 

It had been a long, long while since he’d had a reaction like this. Where panic and hysteria claimed him. Guilt and self-loathing suffocated him. Filled his chest, and bubbled up into his throat.  

He let this happen. He wasn’t careful enough. He got too comfortable. 

And this was the result. 

It was his fault. 

His fault. His fault. His fault.   

He clenched his jaw, fighting back hot tears. He leaned his back against the wall, rested his arms on his knees, and let his head hang between his legs. If circumstances were different he would have crawled into the safety of your arms and begged you to make this feeling stop. To make it go away. It was a selfish thought, he knew that. Knew that you were one who needed comfort and reassurance right now. Knew that you needed him just as much, but he didn’t want you to see this. For if you looked into his eyes, you’d be faced with the reality that he truly had had no idea what to do. He came looking with no plan and hardly any direction. He’d once again gotten lucky by following breadcrumbs and whispers to find you.  

He almost lost you.  

You were alive, yes, but what if he’d come an hour later? A minute?  

The 141 knew where he was. Had watched him as he melted back into the shadows, but respected Simon’s silent request for solitary. They understood that he needed to wade through these emotions on his own and that no matter what they said or did wasn’t going to fix it. 

When he heard the familiar sound of a chopper overhead he forced himself to collect himself. Allowing himself 10 more seconds before remasking, and finding you. The medic and Price were escorting you to the front doors. 

“Simon,” Soap appeared at his side, Ghost jerked his attention to him, “There is nothing you could have done differently.” 

He didn’t say anything, but his silence was enough for Soap to understand that he disagreed. With that, he made his way over to you taking Price’s place at your side. 

You were still shaking but you held your head high with your shoulders squared. Simon could have cried at the sight. To see you were defiant in the face of it all was enough to ease the tiniest bit of worry from his shoulders. He knew you weren’t totally unaffected and it was going to take you years to repair the damages, but here you were walking out of this building on your own two feet. 

The medic tried to tell him he couldn’t come with but he downright refused to leave you, “Try and tell me no.”, and she must have known immediately she wasn’t going to win because she let him in anyway. 

He held your hand in his the entire flight to the nearest hospital, eyes darting about. He stayed at your side the entire time you were in the hospital too. He slept in the chair beside your bed, or at least pretended to until you drifted off into sleep, but was wide awake and alert for the rest of the night. Only leaving when Soap came for a visit the next day with clothes for him, telling him he’d take the next shift. Simon changed and came right back to the room. Only this time when he sat in the chair with the hood of his sweater pulled over his head, did he sleep. Finding some solace in knowing Soap was here too.  

Tomorrow he was going to have a meeting with Price about his insubordination. And about the ramage he went on. Tomorrow he was going to have to tell Price about how he’d completely lost himself, didn’t even remember half of it.   

Epilogue

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A/N - Price isn’t mad, he’s worried 

[syoddeye]

sy's reading recs

hi. i read a lot of fanfiction for COD and i love spreadsheets. i try to track my reads, and thought i'd make two reading rec lists. you are currently viewing the non-darkfic list. i've included blurbs from yours truly. the blurbs are short because there are a LOT of recs below the cut. now then.

beyond the read more, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated where applicable, although these may change or may not be established yet.

similarly fic ratings may change! again, it's your responsibility to read tags and warnings.

i've checked all the links, but if they're broken, i blame tumblr. there's enough info to find the fic if need be.

do not harass authors with "next part when" bullshit. it's tacky and i hate you.

previous lists: one, two | banner by @/cafekitsune

gaz x reader

Lavender Skies by @yeyinde

Late to the party but gd if you haven't read this, put it at the top of your list. Kebabs, back-up shoes, the feeling of someone knowing you, the pain and sublimity of being in your late 20s...Chef's kiss.

childfree!reader thoughts by @pfhwrittes

Tooth-rottingly sweet bit about finding someone with the same priorities and not being made to feel bad about it. Love it when the boys match-make a lil bit.

The Gym by @secretsynthetic

Very cute piece about meeting trainer!Gaz at a workout class. Kudos to Reader for making it through the class because I would've had to bail if Gaz perceived me for half a second. Love how observant and sweet he is in this.

Pluto by @groguspicklejar

Late to yet another party, but I got sucked in by the premise: 'vampire!Gaz is smitten with a girl who has no desire to be around his kind'. I love how the relationship progresses, the later chapters had me gigglin'. Except for that last chap. I got GOT.

ghost x reader

child free @391780

I tag it from time to time but one of my favorite things to see in fanfic is the love and intimacy of caring for someone. And that's what this is. Among my favorite oneshots I've seen shared in this fandom.

Roommate Simon by @tacticalgirlboss

Roommate Simon could go in so many directions, but I love this particular take. The slow evolution of the relationship from roommate to something else. Made me feel mushy as hell by the end.

Through Me (The Flood) by @peachesofteal

Another drop everything to read fic. Seeing Simon embrace a role he was not expecting to ever fulfill is both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Me with every installment.

soap x reader

mic work by @glossysoap

I have four words for you: Erotic audio artist Soap. Soap's hard at work (🥁), imagining best friend!Reader as the subject of his latest scripts. He is COMMITTED to his job. submissive Soap by @doeidawn

Dizzying. Schedule time to take a lap after reader. Something about that man begging. It needs to be studied and somehow distilled. Into what? I don't know, don't ask me, I can't think straight after re-reading this. bad reservation by @the-californicationist

I think I summed up my reaction to this in my tags: "reader's getting that michelin star dick". A prompt filled by Cali that made me giggle furiously for a smooth ten minutes after reading.

price x reader

Storm Chaser by @/the-californicationist

Save me, biker!Price...save me... Caution: You may need to lie down after reading. Truthfully, I'm terrified of motorcycles. But I would reconsider for this Price.

A Case of You by @alittleposhtoad

One of my favorite new series. A zombie apocalypse where you're hiding out on a remote island in Canada, and who finds you? Just my favorite man. Really enjoy the pieces of worldbuilding and seeing Price interact with what's left of Reader's community.

Words Like Violence by @deadbranch

BodyguardxBodyguard. Two professionals wanting one another and their jobs kind of getting in the way. Suits. Gear. Gloves. Pure catnip. An appearance from Simon that made me laugh, re-read, then rub my hands together like a raccoon.

141 x reader and other pairings

GhostGaz Week by @dragonnarrative-writes - gaz x ghost

Dragon knocked it out of the park on GhostGaz week. I love all of them, but 'afraid of the dark' and 'sweet talk' are two of my favorites.

An Offer You Won't Refuse by @lovifie - gaz x price

You know that clip of Kylo Ren screaming more? That's me, because this makes me want more GazPrice in my life. Delectable. Mean!Price and Gaz calling in a victory.

SCP!141 by @ghouljams - gen tf 141

Incredibly fun and freaky AU that I think has half of my lil circle of friends on here willing to overlook their personal safety to get at SCP-141....I may or may not be among them.

Fancy by @swordsandholly - 141 x reader

Subtle delicious morsels of worldbuilding and bleak, dystopian vibes with vampires. That should be enough to get you started. Had me at the Reba reference.

Tradie 141 by @/pfhwrittes - mix

The way I would be quickly banned from any worksite if they were real. The Tradie!verse is very, very important to me and I eat up every piece that comes out of P's big brain.

Autumn Embers by @/dragonnarrative-writes - 141 x reader

One of the most nuanced takes on the omegaverse paired with some of the hottest smut. The meta is a good place to start, imho, as it underpins the fic and bolsters the plot.

Mission Shenanigans by @kyletogaz - gazsoap x reader

Here's a taste: “You’ve got your tongue shoved in my pussy and you expect for me to be quiet?” Got it? Scurry on over for the oneshot that made me bluescreen at the end.

Service Dog Johnny by @void-my-warranty - ghoap x reader

Interesting spin on Ghoap x Reader that shows a level of intimacy between Simon x Reader (and by extension, Ghoap x Reader), that goes beyond the sex. Yes, the smut is fantastic, but the relationship dynamic hooked me.

Cool Girl x @/peachesofteal - ghoap x reader

As a former 'Cool Girl', reading this is both therapeutic and painful, and fuck me if I don't run to read every update. You will cry, laugh, tear your hair out, and enjoy it.

Fuck-ass mohawk by @sentientcave - ghoap x reader

Reader finally saying what I'm thinking. Fuck-ass mohawk. Hilarious piece. I definitely didn't finish this and think "oh dang I want Reader to be mean to ME". 👀

"romance" in the age of technology by @/pfhwrittes - soap x gaz

Let it be known that Johnny MacTavish is a giver. A good friend. So thoughtful of others. So while Gaz recovers from top surgery, obviously our Scottish saint takes it upon himself (literally?) to cheer him up. Funny and WHEW.

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 13)

A/N: YOU GUYS ARE UNHINGED this tag list is endless!!!! also i recieved my first tips and full on cried for like 3 hours!!! you guys are absolutely amazing!! here's more spicy shit

Warnings: 18+ MINORS GO AWAY? SPICEY SHIT ADULT CONTENT SEX (f!reader) talk of abuse, death

You woke up wrapped in sheets and you  recognized them perfectly. You were sore. You looked around the room. The perfect room. Your room. You sighed. It promised something you were slightly scared of. You wanted to close your eyes but the sound that had woken you up brought you back to reality. 

Simon yelling. 

You threw away the covers, standing up. Perhaps trying to stand up was a better definition of your action. Your shaky legs made you sit back on the bed, taking a few seconds before finally standing. Once up you stretched a bit. You looked into your mirror noticing the little bruises and bites on your body, flashbacks of the night clouding your mind. 

You shook your head a bit, the yelling from downstairs making your anxiousness spike. You grabbed a baggy shirt and some panties. You noticed you had been cleaned, the idea making you blush. But you blushed even more, noticing that even cleaned up, you were still wet, probably a mix of you and him. You got dressed before going straight for the door. 

When you opened it the sound grew louder. You glanced back at your clock, 7 am before darting down the hallway towards the stairs. You walked down slowly, your legs warning you not to tempt anything too crazy. The voice got clearer each step. 

"SERGENT YOU HAD ONE MISSION AND YOU DELIBERATELY FAILED IT." 

Fuck. He was angry. And the boys were catching the fire you started. 

"Lieutenant-" 

"I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU PERSONALLY KONIG." 

No! You hurried the last few stairs, jumping a bit through the hallway, finally stepping into the living room. 

Everyone was silent as they turned to you. The boys stood on guard in front of Ghost who had his mask on and was wearing his usual training gear. You guessed he had gone off to run or train and came back still furious. You crossed your arms over your chest looking at him angrily too. 

"Shit.. now they're both angry…" soap mumbled, with what he thought was a voice low enough not to be heard. 

He was greeted with a death glare from Ghost. You had to do something before he kept tearing into them. 

"Boys." They looked at you as if on command. "Please leave us." 

The boys hurried out Ghost looking even more furious but this time at you. Konig slowed down as he passed by you and you threw him a sorry look. To your surprise his eyes wrinkled with a smile.

Once the boys were finally out, the front door closed and you looked at him. 

"You are commanding my men now?" He questioned walking his way to the kitchen. 

"Good morning. I slept well. I'm feeling good, albeit a bit sore but I'm sure you understand why-" 

"Stop." 

His tone was cold. You sighed. 

"Simon…" 

He kept his back turned to you. 

"Simon. If you don't look at me. If we are not having this conversation. I'm leaving you to eat your brain out." You warned. 

He turned slowly, head towards the ceiling before chuckling. The sound brought back even more memories that made you shiver. 

"That's a low threat bunny." His voice was raspy, laced with something you were familiar with yet estranged from. 

You slowly walked towards him as he did as well, step met step. 

"It's not their fault. I went to find you." 

"They're trained soldiers. Konig tricked me into letting you in." 

"He made you open the door. You. Let me in." You smirked.

"Don't make me take that confidence off of your pretty face." 

"Is that a promise… lieutenant ?" You questioned, hands behind your back, feigning innocence.

"You shouldn't have been there. It shouldn't have happened." 

That. Hurt a bit. It must have seen it in your face because he closed the space in very few steps. 

"This. Was not the first time you deserved. Me fucking you senseless like a fucking animal." 

You blushed. 

"Repeatedly fucking into you in my bed…" he got closer, the anger and desire mixing together. "In front of my mirror." His arms wrapped around your waist pulling flushed against him. "Against my door for my men to hear you scream that you were going to cum for me." 

"S-simon.." 

"No." 

You closed your eyes. He had not fully come out of his high. You guessed his anger didn't help.

"Ghost. Nothing that happened yesterday was your fault. I came.." 

He groaned at that, making you giggle. 

"No pun intended but fact shared. Willingly. We had a safeword. I knew what we were getting into. And I'm fine. Please." 

He took a few deep breaths before you finally felt his thumbs drawing circles on your lower back. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked. 

You giggles, getting on your tiptoes to drop a kiss on his clothed lips. 

"I'm fine! It was intense… but amazing." 

You bit your lip, one of his hands lifting up his mask to kiss you deeply. You moaned against his lips, warmth spreading through you. 

"S-simon…" 

You tried in between kisses. He groaned in response. 

"Are you… still?" 

He hummed in agreement. You felt his cock twitch through his pants. You separated, eyes drowning in his. 

"It's… still a bit there. But much less. I can… control it now." 

You smiled at him. 

"Good. I… have to go to the pharmacy…" 

You blushed looking away. 

"What? Are you? Did I hurt you? Fuck-" 

"No no! It's..no. Simon." 

He was fully alert, attention glued to your every word as your cheeks felt warm. 

"We… there was… no condoms…" 

He blinked once. Twice. Before he finally understood. 

"Shit… I remember… fuck. You tried to warn me and I.." 

He closed his eyes in frustration and you felt your inner brat awaken. 

"And you… fucked it right back into me…" his eyes flashed open as you slowly got closer to his lips "you even made sure… to cum again… deep insi-" 

He captured your lips again, tongue twisting with yours. He pulled you up, sitting you on the living room table. You grind into him, trapping him in between his legs. Your mind kept screaming to go to the fucking pharmacy, I mean… What was wrong with the both of you?

"Hey! Not in the living room!!!" Soap's voice echoed.

"And not on the table guys!" Gaz added. 

You separated, turning your head, watching the three boys, mostly two as Konig tried to hide, looking through the window. 

You were embarrassed by the situation but thankful things stopped there. 

"Get ready for training!" Ghost called to them as they scurried off. 

You smiled at him, pulling his mask down. 

"I'll go to the pharmacy… I need the morning pill and I'll grab… a box of condoms." You ended up sending a wink his way as you pushed past him to walk away. He grabbed your arm making you look at him. 

"Two." 

Your eyes widened as he chuckled walking past you.

You took a deep breath as he disappeared in the hallway, the sound of the front door closing a few seconds later. You decided to eat breakfast before getting ready to go out. At least you didn't need babysitters anymore.

You weren't exactly fond of waking up early. You had passed at the pharmacy, taken the pill immediately with some water and bought the boxes of condoms. It had been embarrassing to ask the pharmacist for… 'bigger' condoms. The look he gave you, or especially your chest made you frustrated before you realized he was looking at the dog tags around your neck. He visibly paled before asking you if you needed anything, that you could ask for his help at any time. 

It made you smile. Even his dog tags created fear in people. You had decided to go shopping afterwards, it was something that made you relax, plastic therapy. Your phone had rang around 11, Melissa calling you to invite you to lunch with her and Amy and you had happily agreed. 

You had met at a restaurant, the little girl jumping into your arms as soon as she saw you. 

"Hey honey!" 

She giggled as you planted a kiss on her cheek. You looked at Melissa as she smiled at you. You could feel something off. 

"Hey darling, are you ok?" 

She nodded, looking at Amy. You understood immediately that it wasn't something she wanted to talk about in front of the child. You nodded back, grabbing her hand and squeezing softly. 

"Whatever it is, get it out of your mind for now. I'm right here." You told her. 

She smiled looking at you like you had just relieved her of the world's weight. 

You walked inside sitting at one of the tables. Your phone buzzed, Simon texting you. 

You good?

Yes, I'm lunching with Melissa and Amy 😜

Lucky you, be careful, text me if you need anything.

Yes lieutenant

Good girl.

You smiled before getting your attention back to your friend. She smiled at you, a sad look on her face. You frowned.

"You're coming home with me after lunch. You'll spend the afternoon with us." 

She opened her mouth to protest but you cut her off. 

"No.. don't worry. Amy will love playing with the boys." 

You smiled at her as she relaxed a bit.

"Let's order! Lunch is on me!" 

After lunch Melissa asked you to keep Amy as she needed to pass by base before heading to your house. You had accepted, telling her you'd text Price as he was on base and would bring her home. She had firstly refused but eventually gave up under your insistence. You had called Price who had agreed without a  blink. 

You had let her go to her occupation as you walked to Simon's car. He had let you take it today as he went to work with the rest of the squad. You were lucky to have it as the car seat was still in the back. You sat the little girl in the car seat. She was oddly quiet. 

"Y/n?" She asked. 

"Yes darling ?" You said with a smile. 

"Who Ewic?" 

You froze. You looked at the little girl trying to figure out why she was speaking this name. 

"Hum… honey. Where did you hear that name?" 

The little child fidgeted with her plushie. 

"Hey hey… it's alright. You're ok baby. I'm not mad at you. I'm just curious." You tried with the softest voice and tone possible, passing a thumb over her cheek..

"Mommy was tawlkin on the phone with somwone. She said Ewic was out. Is it a puppy?" 

Her eyes lit up with a light that made your heart ache. You knew exactly who it was. And you fully understood Melissa's anxiousness now. 

"Listen monkey. Eric is not a nice person. But. Now that you told me, I'm going to make sure he's not coming near you or mommy ever." You answered with a wink. 

"Promise?"

"I promise my Love." 

You buckled her up, your mind running wild. You had to call Laswell as soon as possible but obviously not with Amy around. The little mouse seemed to enjoy eavesdropping. 

"Ready to go see your boys?" 

"YES!" 

You smiled buckling up yourself before turning the key, the engine roaring. 

Parking in front of the garage you sighed. Amy had fallen asleep in the car and you didn't want to wake her up. You got out of the car walking around it to open her door. You freed her trying to remain as quiet as possible. When you picked her up you amazed yourself at how deep in her sleep she was. It made you smile. You walked to the front door, trying to open the door with your free hand. When it finally opened you were greeted by many loud voices. You closed your eyes mentally cursing them. 

You put her head to make sure one of her ears was blocked by your shoulder and the other by your hand as you held her head. You closed the door with your feet and walked to the living room to the men. As soon as they saw you, you shushed them, now pointing at the sleeping child. The room immediately went silent, Simon walking to you. 

"She fell asleep in the car…" you whispered with a smile. 

"Let's lay her down on the couch.. I'll keep the volume down." 

You nodded with another smile. You walked further into the room heading for the couch, the boys surrounding you when you reached it. You very slowly and softly put the child on the couch, taking off the shoes and her coat. You thought she might wake up for a second. You heard the men literally stop breathing and then release their breath when she went back to her dreams. You wanted to laugh. You bit your lip to avoid it. Gaz had brought a blanket and soap handed you her little plushie. 

You covered her and placed her little teddy next to her. Everyone was fixating on the child, whispering how adorable and cute she looked. You looked at Ghost who stood, arms crossed behind the couch, eyeing his men. You smiled walking around the couch to him. He glanced at you and you put your hand on his bicep. 

"Simon… relax. She's a sound sleeper, they won't wake her up." 

He looked around before nodding. He visibly relaxed as you headed for the kitchen. You dropped your coat on the chair softly. You put the kettle on, dying for some warm tea. Simon followed you, leaning against the counter behind you. 

"Any news on the cartel?" You asked in a low voice. 

"We have some Intel, yes. Thanks to your help we might have a few clues but we need more info." He explained. 

You nodded. 

"How are you feeling?" You asked. 

"Better. It's out of my system." He paused for a second. "Thank you for helping…" 

You smirked, stepping closer to him only inches from his face.

"Thank you for my mind wrecking orgasms…" you whispered. 

You actually saw his pupils widen. You bit you lip. 

"Any fucking time. I'd kill to hear you moan my rank or my name again…" he wrapped his arms around you. 

"You don't have to kill, just ask silly" you chuckled, trying to keep your voice low. 

You kissed him through the mask as his eyes softened. 

"So precious… fuck I'm so lucky." 

You blushed, hiding your face in his chest. 

"I'm the lucky one…" you mumbled. 

"Let's agree to disagree on that…" 

You wanted to talk back on that but the front door opened and Melissa and Price's voices were heard. You winked at Simon as you separated from him. Melissa walked in with Price.

"Well it's aw-" 

"SHUUUU" 

You wanted to laugh at the men's reaction. Price looked very confused so you pointed at the couch. Melissa and Price walked to it and their smiles grew. 

"Oh… sorry." He whispered. 

"You know, she's quite a sound sleeper. I vacuum during her nap, you guys can talk normally." Melissa said with a laugh in a perfectly normal voice. Everyone smiled but kept the volume to a minimum. Even the TV remained pretty quiet compared to the usual. You had made tea for you and Ghost and coffee for Price and Melissa and sat at the table with them. Ghost and Price engaged in small talk about the mission, nothing new or too important. Melissa was fidgeting with her fingers, something that Amy had gotten from her mother. 

"Melissa. You ok?" You asked. 

She took a deep breath. She grabbed the folder she had with her. You frowned as you only noticed it now. She must have picked it up at the base. She opened it, grabbing a few pieces of paper held together by a staple. She handed it to you and you noticed her hand shaking a bit. The full action caught Price's and Ghost's attention. You took it in your hand and looked down, reading it. Your blood ran cold as you read the title. 

CHILD GUARDIAN CONSENT FORM

You looked at her, your eyes already burning with tears. She smiled at you as she started to tear up too. 

"No… no. Don't do this to me…" 

You felt your heart break. Yes. You were extremely honored that she would ask this of you. But you knew why she was asking it. She was preparing for the possibility that she might not be there for her daughter anymore. That she won't be there to see her grow up. You let the papers drop to the table as you hid your face in your hands now fully on crying. 

"Oh no.. no sweetheart… I am so sorry…" you heard. 

Her voice was laced with her own crying as she stood to hug you. You dropped your hands now leaning against her as she hugged you tightly. Ghost had grabbed the papers, a worried look on his face. His face melted into something you didn't fully understand.

"Hey. Hey. Please." 

You looked at her. Both crying. 

"I need you to sign these. I'm begging you. You're the only one I would ever trust with my child if I died." 

"Don't fucking say that, damn Melissa…" 

You wanted to cry even more. You know this. You knew this situation and this feeling too well. The flashbacks of you, alone in an empty apartment, haunted by memories and voices of lost ones, made your throat ache. 

"I know… I know you've lost so much… and I'm so sorry I have to ask you this. But… this is a reality we can't ignore." 

You looked away. The worried looks of Soap, gaz and Konig met yours. They stood frozen, alert. It hit you that you had just burst into tears in the middle of the living room. You looked at Price, who now had the papers in hand. He sent you a sad, understanding look. 

You wiped your tears turning back to the woman in front of you. Smiling at Melissa. 

"I'll sign it. You know I will. But please. You have to tell me what's going on with Eric." 

She visibly paled again but nodded. She sat down again, next to you this time. 

"Do you want us to be alone?" You asked. 

She looked at the men around. 

"It's… fine. At this point." She chuckled sourly.

The boys got nearer now surrounding the table. 

"Eric… has been given permission out of jail." 

You grabbed her hand in yours. 

"Who's Eric?" Soap asked in a serious tone. 

You looked at her, squeezing her hand to remind her you were there. 

"Eric was… my ex-husband and Amy's father." She started. "We separated because… he was…" 

"An asshole." You added. 

They all seemed to understand the underlined evidence. You saw Soap's jaw clench and the rest of the team tense up. 

"After.. quite a rough episode, he was sentenced to jail.. he was more than violent towards me.. he was violent towards everyone. He ended up killing someone in a bar fight." She explained. 

You already knew this story. It still made you absolutely furious. 

"Melissa. I won't let him come near you. You know that." You said seriously.

She smiled at you brightly. 

"I know I know. But it brought many scenarios to my mind and… i realized that even if he was still locked up, my job is already dangerous enough. I could never have him keep her if I d-... Hum… if something happened." 

You sighed. 

"Don't worry. We'll keep you both safe." Konig said. 

"Yeah, no worries." Gaz added with a smile. 

"And if it puts your mind at peace. If anything ever happened to you. Your little girl is safe with us." Price added. 

You nodded. She teared up again, this time you got up to hug her, holding her close to your chest. 

"Thank you… really…" 

You held her tight. 

It took a little moment for her to calm down. Once she did you sat down again, grabbing the papers. You took a deep breath and the pen Soap was handing you and you filled the form, dropping your signature at the bottom of the pages. 

Melissa looked at you with eyes full of appreciation. 

"You are having dinner with us. No questions." You finally said. 

"And we'll bring you home." Price added. 

She tried to say something but you hushed her. She smiled, finally nodding. 

"Let's lighten up the mood!" Soap said. 

"Yes! Come on, let's play cards." 

The evening went by calmly. Amy had woken up from her nap and was absolutely thrilled to be with her men. She had a particular affection for her grandpa today, much to Ghost's dismay. 

"Guys guys guys!" Soap called after dinner. 

"There's a bar club that opened at the base. We should check it out!" 

You smirked, looking at Melissa. 

"That sounds amazing no?" 

"Ah ah ah… I have a daughter… I can't." She argued. 

"I can keep the young princess. She'll stay with her grandpa." Price offered. 

Amy squealed in happiness, Price now fully embracing his new rank. 

"Come on. You need to relax too." You tried again. 

"Y/N… i don't even have anything to wear…" 

"Yes you do! Come on, I'll lend you something." You said hugging her. 

You let go as she laughed. You looked at Ghost. 

"Shall we?" 

He sighed, but nodded. 

You jumped, so happy to find a moment of peace in this very wild life of yours.

"Come on darling, let's go!" 

You grabbed her hand passing by Amy as you both hugged and kissed her cheek even though she was in deep explanation of why Mr Fred Lego is the best tiger tamer of the many Legos lying on the floor. Price glued to her every word. 

You walked up the stairs with Melissa getting into your room. 

"I'm sure we can find something for you to wear!" You said with a big smile. 

You took a long 30 minutes to enjoy going over the pieces of clothing and chatting. You could feel you were both trying to erase the odd feeling that remained. The pain and sadness that was laced with every laugh or little joke. 

You ended up choosing a one piece jumpsuit styled like a business woman. It hugged her mommy curves perfectly and it made you whistle at her just to make her blush. 

She had chosen a pair of black ripped jean shorts, a black tank top sweatshirt and some black combat boots. You had mentioned you looked like an angsty teenager while she looked like a professional queen. She had laughed at that. You had a pair of tights because it was fresh outside. Once both were ready you had skipped downstairs, happily looking at the boy's new clothing. 

Soap was dressed in dark blue and black with jeans, a t-shirt and a bomber. Gaz had gone full out with his clothes, black button up shirt and  classy pants. Konig was in black cargo pants, a black sweatshirt. He had a black beanie. He looked like a teenager too. Simon… 

Simon caught your breath. He was wearing black jeans and combat boots. Black sweatshirt with a leather jacket. He was wearing his usual skull mask and skeleton gloves. You skipped over to him, biting your lip. 

"Hey…" you winked at him. 

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" He teased. 

"Absolutely." You smirked. 

"Good." He winked back, wrapping an arm around your waist. "I got a little surprise for you." 

You tilted your head to the side, suddenly curious. 

"Let's go!" Soap chimed. 

You all waved at Price and Amy, who's eyes were looking heavier by the minute but kept stubbornly trying to focus on the book Price was reading. 

You headed towards the garage, Soap gaz Konig and Melissa getting into a car while Simon walked you a bit further. They left leaving you with Simon as you finally noticed 'his surprise'. 

"You.. have a bike?!" You jumped happily. 

He chuckled. 

"I do. I can see you like it." 

You nodded frantically. 

"Since when?? I never saw it before!" 

"It was in storage in another base. They shipped it here. It arrived this afternoon." He explained.

He grabbed a bag, handing it over to you. You dropped your hand inside pulling out the object. You gasped, a huge smile on your lips. 

"You bought me a helmet?! WITH FLUFFY BUNNY EARS?!" 

You looked at the black helmet, white fluffy plush ears falling on either side. They will probably fly in the wind. You jumped in his arms catching him off guard. 

"Thank you!!!" 

He wrapped his arms tightly around you. You dropped a kiss on his cheek, noticing how his eyes didn't leave your lips. You kissed him through the mask teasing him. 

"Lift it up." 

You shook your head no. 

"Bunny. Want to feel your lips." 

You melted, lifting up his mask. He immediately caught your lips, kissing you deeply. You sighed, feeling like the world vanished. His tongue asked for access that you were not in position to deny. The kiss deepened, making your head spin a little. 

"Shit…" he cursed. 

You wanted to laugh. The way it was so easy to work him up. 

"Simon…" you tried in between kisses. 

He groaned at your call. 

"We… have… to go." You giggled. 

He finally freed your lips but not your waist. 

"We could stay… I'll take good care of you…" 

The promise was thrilling. But you also wanted to spend time with Melissa. 

"How about… we make a deal." 

He frowned under the mask. 

"We go out… I rile you up. If you can manage to wait to be home to fuck me… you can do whatever you want to me…" 

He held you tighter, you could feel his cock twitch in his pants. 

"If you can't… I get to do whatever I want with you…" you smirked at him. 

"Oh bunny…" he chuckled, the dark vibe of it back. "That's a win win…" 

"Never said it wasn't… let's just see… if you can handle it." You winked. 

He shook his head, his eyes clearly showing a smirk under his mask. 

"Alright then. Helmet on. You hop on behind me bunny." 

He let go of you and you hurried to obey him. You put your helmet on, as he took place on the bike. You climbed up behind him as he turned on the bike. It roared loudly, the echo of the garage making it even more exciting. He brought your hands to his waist but you decided to tease him and bring them back to your knees. He shook his, rearing up the bike. You fell backwards, quickly wrapping your arms around his waist. You saw his head move in a 'thought so' movement that not only made you want to fuck him right on the spot but also curse him out. 

The garage door opened as he drove out slowly. Once on the road he made sure to squeeze your hands, warning you to hold on tight. He sped up, one of his hands reaching back to hold your tight. Fuck was it hot. Suddenly your little challenge felt complicated, even for you. 

Once you reached the bar, you were almost out of breath. The adrenaline had made your heart beat much faster than it should. 

You hopped off the bike, meeting up the rest of the group. Melissa was watching you with wide eyes and a mouth agape. You took off your helmet, smiling at her. 

"Shit! You're so lucky!!!" She smiled. 

"I know!!!" You yelled. 

"Are those bunny ears on your helmet?" Soap asked. 

You smiled jumping up and down looking back at Simon. He shook his head again but you knew he was probably smiling under the mask. You left it in Soap's car and headed inside the bar with everyone, Simon not leaving your side. 

The music and talking was loud. Two pool tables were placed at the back of the bar. Some people were dancing, others played darts. Tables with seats were available as well. You all walked to a table, a bit more secluded trapped in between seats. You all sat down as Gaz and Soap decided to go to the bar to get everyone's drinks. They ordered before coming back to sit down. 

Everyone indulged themselves in a nice chatter. Ghost was sitting next to you, arms around your shoulders on the seat. You had leaned against him. He had reached for your neck to take out his tags from underneath your clothes so they were visible. You had rolled your eyes before meeting Melissa's gaze as wiggled her eyebrows.

You were so happy to spend time with her. You got to chat and joke with her. It was exactly what you both needed to forget the sad conversation of the evening. She was now talking to Gaz and Konig, debating about some military thing that you weren't really familiar with. You smiled to yourself. She was happy, and that made you happy.

You decided to start playing around. Your hand traveled to Simon's thigh as he was talking with soap. He tensed under your touch but kept talking. You let your hand travel up and down, caressing it. The more you did the closer you got to his crotch. Soap had turned his attention to Gaz for a minute. Simon lowered his head to whisper in your ear. 

"You're playing with fire, little one…"

"Am I?" You asked with an innocent look. 

Your hand cupped his cock through his pants. He closed his eyesbrows furrowing. Your plan was working and you were proud of it. You wondered how he'll react once you'll be home together. He opened his eyes, staring right into you.

"Give me a reason not to fuck you in the bathroom right now…" 

You almost choked in your own spit. You bit your lip. 

"You'll lose our game…" 

He cocked his head to the side as you pumped him through his pants. 

"Shit… you're right. Can't wait to do everything I want with you bunny…" 

A shiver ran down your spine making you swallow hard. 

You decided to stop completely, his eyes confused. You got up from the table, excusing yourself to go get another drink. You made sure to sway your hips for him, because you just knew, he was staring at you. You reached the bar, ordering another cocktail. You were patiently waiting for your drink when a voice interrupted. 

"Hey there pretty girl." 

You rolled your eyes. You glanced at the man to your left. You made sure to make the dog tags visible.

"What's a sexy girl like you doing at the bar?" He asked with a wink. 

"I'm out with some friends and my boyfriend." You tried. You wanted to remain civil. But also wanted him to back off. 

"Ooohh… you got someone?" 

You nodded, turning back to the bar, now hoping the bartender would hurry. 

"I don't see him though… he left you all alone?" 

"No. I just wanted another drink." You were getting annoyed now. 

"Who's that boyfriend of yours?" 

You wanted to answer when another voice interrupted. 

"Me." 

The guy turned around as you bit your lip not to laugh. 

"Hi. I'm the fucking boyfriend." 

You quickly realized that the situation was much more tense than you had expected. He was mad. Angry. 

The guy asked, stumbling over his words, trying to apologize. You watched as Simon clenched his fists. You hoped over to him, putting your hands over his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around you. 

"Simon… it's alright…" you whispered to him. 

The guy was still trying to stutter something. 

"Fuck off." He ordered. 

The poor boy ran right off, not waiting for another order. 

"Simon.. You ok?" 

He was furious. You could feel it. He still nodded. Soap and the group joined you two. You realized the whole bar was staring, though trying not to be obvious. You had to be honest. Seeing him angry, possessive like this turned you on more than you'd ever admit it out loud.

"Perhaps we should head home?" Soap said with an obvious amused smile. 

Simon turned to him. 

"Don't make me smack you in front of all these people." He warned. 

Soap lost his smile, but Gaz laughed out loud. 

"Let's go." You asked, looking at Simon. 

He nodded. Soap and Gaz decided to pay, and followed you out. 

The fresh air felt good against your warm skin. While you grabbed your helmet in the car, Simon was already on the bike. Melissa winked at you, as she got in the car. You put the helmet on, taking place behind him on the engine. 

"Hold tight." He warned. 

Shit… 

He sped out of the parking lot. You had to hold on really tight to remain there. He had grabbed your thigh again, making sure you felt safe. You knew what he needed. He needed to blow some steam off. You might be risking a lot, but you decided to tempt him. Your hands grabbed at his thighs, he tensed under your touch. He picked up speed. You squeezed his hardening cock through his pants. The hand on your thigh caressed up and down. 

He turned a sharp left, definitely not in the direction of the house. You finally stopped in an empty location in the middle of the base, hidden in between warehouses. 

"Hop off!" He ordered. 

You obeyed immediately, taking off your helmet. He killed the engine, grabbing you immediately. 

"That was dangerous bunny." 

Shit… you had managed to make him even more angry. 

"I'm… sorry… i just wanted to-" 

"No." 

What? He grabbed your helmet and placed it on the bike. He lifted his mask, capturing your lips. The heat rose very fast, your back hitting a metallic wall. He picked you up like you were nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"Fuck… you drive me insane…" he cursed. 

Your heart skipped a beat. He decided that your neck needed more decoration, sucking and licking there, making sure to leave pretty little marks behind. You moaned, the pain mixing with pleasure. He grinded his hips against yours, his obvious erection rubbing against your clit through the clothes. 

"S-simon…" you whined. 

He put you down again, making sure you stood on your feet. He opened your shorts, dropping them down. 

"Simon! What… if someone sees us?" You worried. 

"I'll fucking kill them." 

You gasped. He ripped through the tights. Fuck this man was impatient. 

"I'll take you shopping." He said as if he heard your thoughts. 

He definitely will, you'll make sure of it. 

He dropped to his knees, your panties following your shorts. With his mask still lifted he kissed your folds. You moaned, anticipation coursing through you. 

"Such a pretty pussy… mine.." he growled. 

His tongue licked through your folds, the wave of pleasure making you grab onto his shoulders. 

"Ooohh.. fuck" you moaned. 

His tongue slowly loved your clit, the pleasure making your blood heat up. 

You were getting wetter and wetter but fuck, he kept eating you out like a starved man. Your legs shook. He sucked on your clit making you whine. He was building your orgasm like bob the fucking builder and he knew it. The eye contact was a nice 'i know you like what my tongue is doing to you'. 

"Simon… I.. I want to cum…" 

He groaned against your cunt, the vibration only helping the knot in your stomach tightening. He slipped his arms under your thighs making you legs rest on his shoulders. You yelped as your feet lifted up the ground. Your hips were firmly secured in his hands. It would forever amuse and amaze you how this man could lift you up like you weighed absolutely nothing. 

You could relax now, and your orgasm was peeking around. 

"S-simon.. I'm gon-na… fuuuuuck…" 

He had the talent to leave you a stuttering mess. His tongue flattened, pushing on your clit and circling. You let your head fall back, your orgasm crashing over you. You were loud, moaning his name. He let you ride your orgasm on his tongue. Once you were finally stable he put you on the ground again. He rose, chin dripping, making you blush. He wiped his mouth with his clothes, eyes never leaving yours. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, the shear sound of it making you clench around nothing. 

He freed himself, his thick cock already leaking. He reached for your hips listing you up so you could wrap your legs around him. You held on tights to his shoulders as he walked over to his bike, sitting you on it. His Tim's pressed against your entrance as he eyed you, asking for permission. You instantly nodded as you bit your lip. You felt him buck his hips slowly, the tip slipping in. 

"Fuuuck… so tight…" he moaned. 

And you remembered. 

"S-imooon…" you tried, the name getting lost in a moan. 

He kept inching more and more into your heat, getting lost in the feeling of your walls around him. 

"Simon!" 

He stopped. Awaiting for orders. 

"We.. don't have a condom!" You whined. 

What was it with you two? Were you that irresponsible? You watched his pupils widen. 

"Shit…" he cursed. 

His hips bucked, his cock burying itself even more. 

You threw your head back, a long moan escaping your lips. 

"We.. should stop." He said. 

You nodded. Your eyes begging for something entirely different. He inched himself deeper. 

"We.." deeper. "Really" deeper. "Should." Incredibly deeper. "Stop." He bottomed out. 

You felt so full, your wall pulsating around him already. He refused to move. He was panting, trying to hold himself back from fucking you senseless. 

Your body moved on his own grinding against him to feel some kind of friction. He grunted, his hips slowly meeting yours. 

"This.. is… a stupid, thing… to do." He warned. 

"Pull… out… then." 

His hips thrusted more and more, a pace quickly creating itself. It felt primal, like your minds were screaming for this to stop, that it was wrong… forbidden. Your reasons only building up the excitement. His hands met your hips, keeping you steady as he was now fully pounding you on his bike. You were moaning, his name and curses a prayer your lips were getting addicted to. 

His eyes were the most sinful thing you ever laid eyes on. The deep dark orbs worshiping you as he fucked you in a forbidden pace. 

You were damned. You must be. Because your mind and body were only kneeling for him. He had full power, full control over you. If this man worshiped you, you were merely his shadow. 

You chanted his name again and again, your high building again. His own pace became rough, the bike shaking. You could feel he was close too. 

"Ah…fuck! Si-" you choked on his name as he made sure to pound your G-spot. 

"You.. should… FUCK. Pull out…" you tried. 

You were dripping. His balls slammed against your ass while you tried to maintain a bit of moral compass in this. To your dismay, the knot breaking deep inside you washed over your moral and consciousness like a tidal wave. 

"Yes.. i… Should.." he growled, quickening his pace.

You were lost in your high when you were caught by surprise by another orgasm rolling through you. Your mind barely processing it. 

"Gonna cum baby…" he grunted, panting and moaning. 

He should pull out. Fuck he should. But your legs wrapped around him tight, your orgasm controlling you. He didn't seem like he wanted to fight it either. His cock twitched inside you, two deep thrusts making it spill deep inside you. Your clenching walls milking him. 

You remained like that as you tried to catch your respective breaths. 

"Fuck.." he cursed. 

"Fuck.. indeed…" you added. 

"What's fucking wrong with me.." he scolded himself. 

"You?... What's fucking wrong with us!" You scolded too. 

He pulled out of you, watching his cum drip down on his bike and the ground. You watched it too, the sight sending shivers down you spine. You saw his cock twitch again. 

"Simon!" You scolded. 

He cursed loudly before shoving his cock back in his boxers and pants. He helped slip your shorts on again. 

"We need condoms on us all the time." He said. 

"Perhaps we should stop fucking everywhere and anywhere?" You proposed, not believing it one second yourself. 

He chuckled. 

"Don't laugh Simon!" You tried, your lips betraying yourself. 

"Let's go home. Everyone's waiting." He said. 

"Yeah… I'll go to the doctor tomorrow to see if maybe I can take the pill… you seem to love… filling me up." You announced. 

"Fucking hell…" he cursed.

You could see in his eyes that your words were turning him on again. You placed the tip of your boot on his chest. 

"No! Simon!" 

He looked at your feet, eyes smirking. This man was fucking feral. He wrapped his wrist around your ankle lowering it. He grabbed your helmet from the ground, dusting it off and handing it to you. 

"Let's go home. I need to fuck you again." 

[nsharks]

white bandages (the process of healing) | simon "ghost" riley

part 2 to this fic. I will very likely have a part 3 to wrap things up. —tags: tw blood, ghost + therapy, mild angst, fluff too —running out of pictures to use of this man so this is an edit by @ave661

Fluorescent light falls over an unmasked face. It highlights every ridge of every scar, his shorn stubble, his pale skin. When was the last time Simon Riley took a good look in the mirror? He can't remember— there are many things he works hard to avoid, and his own name is scribbled at the top of the list.

That first night without you, he finds himself in front of the mirror and half expects to see a ghost staring back at him. A corpse, maybe.

But, instead, he sees a man who lives and breathes. A man whose need for sleep is evident in the grey blotches under his eyes. A man whose eyes are anything but empty.

I feel nothing.

No—a ghost feels nothing. A ghost would've been able to forget how you looked at him, your eyes wide with the same fear he used to stare at his old man in. But Simon is not a ghost, and he remembers the fresh images with a pain that starts in his ribs and works its way to the pit of his stomach. Burning. It is a pain so unfamiliar that he doesn't know what to do with it—

—so he seeks a pain that he does know.

Pain that bursts in his hand the moment it meets the mirror. Pain accompanied by the splintering of glass as he hits the mirror over and over, and not once does he make a sound or cry or anything of the sort. He just breathes heavily and, once the mirror is not much of a mirror anymore, he looks at his hand and sees the bits of glass and the blood, and - fucking hell - it does nothing to mask what he feels in his chest.

"Jesus Christ."

He sighs.

His breathing slowly begins to settle.

And then he gets out the medical kit he keeps in the cabinet, sits with it on his bed, and carefully picks out the glass from his hand.

He knows how to take care of this wound. Knows exactly what to do to fix it.

But there are some things Ghost— Simon— doesn't know how to fix; wounds that are far too deep for him to reach. And as he wraps his hand up with some gauze, he remembers what you'd said to him earlier that day, so damn caring and gentle, even in your desire to get away from him:

I think you need help. You deserve it, Simon.

------

You loved the snow.

One time, you made Simon build a snowman with you. Well— it was more like you building the snowman while he watched and critiqued it. Your snowman looks like he's seen some rough shit, pet. Jesus, where is his smile? You had pouted through your laughter, nudging his shoulder. You can't judge him for not smiling, Si. Just like I don't judge you for it.

Of course, you ended up with a handful of snow in your hair for that one.

Quite the mouth on you today, huh?

And then he was rolling his eyes and lifting up his mask to kiss you as your hands combed out the ice from your hair, and you swore you felt him smiling against your lips— but you could never know for sure.

You loved that snowy day with him.

But now—

Now you're not sure if you're so happy about the snow you wake up to.

It's been a week of space. Work has been your main distraction, and you know you need to get the fallen snow off your windshield before you can make it there today.

But when you walk out into the white morning with a coat slipped over your pajamas, you find that your car is already being cleared off by a familiar silhouette with broad shoulders and a black, winter coat.

The cold squeezes your chest. Your heartbeat is swallowed up.

Seven days ago, you had begged him for space. Seven days ago, you left his place with defeat thick in your veins.

Today, you're not sure what you feel as you simply stand there for a moment. Your cheeks bitten to pink by the air and your arms crossed over your body. You watch him draw the brush over the hood, so easily, with one hand stuffed in his pocket, but then his eyes are drifting up— up until they land on where you stand a few meters away, and your fingertips dig into the palms of your hands.

He's the first one to speak. A man of few words who leans the brush against your car and utters a simple:

"Hey."

"Hey," you clear your throat, "Um, why are you doing this?”

He takes a step closer to you, but only one. A tentative step that keeps a good gap between your bodies, where faint flakes of snow fill the space.

“I know we are havin’ space right now," he murmurs. Gentle, murky eyes hold your stare. He slips the hidden hand out from his pocket, only for a short moment, to brush off the snow from his other hand, and you spot the flash of white bandages before it disappears into his coat again.

"But I also know you're workin' today so I thought I'd just... make your morning easier.”

"Thanks," your eyes drift to the ground. "But I don't know— I'm not sure if I'm ready..."

"S'okay," he says, gruff yet incredibly careful, a tiptoe over what lays damaged. "I'm not askin' anything of you, alright?"

“Alright,” you say quietly before your eyes drift to his pocket. “What happened to your hand?”

You’re not sure why you are asking him, and you doubt if the truth will even leave his lips. Wounds— over a year with him, and you’d witnessed plenty. Wounds that you only ever found out about when your fingers would graze under his shirt as he fucked you, and you’d carefully ask what happened as you both lay there breathless. Nothin’ worth telling you about, was his usual answer.

But today, with a peppering of snow on his mask and a sigh pooling from his breath, he tells you earnestly, “Broke my bloody mirror, is what happened.”

“What?”

“Look— it’s not important, yeah? There’s somethin’ else… somethin' else I wanted to tell you before you go to work, and I don’t expect anythin’ from you, but I just thought I should tell you.”

“I— okay,” you blink rapidly, still hung up on the mirror part. But you nod your head and shift your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to listen to what he wants to tell you because maybe your heart is beginning to thump firm, expectant beats against your ribs, and maybe there are flakes of hope peppering the defeat in your chest, just like the snow that dusts Simon’s shoulders.

But what Simon has to tell you feels like pebbles in his mouth. He’s not good with words; his failure with them seven days ago is a testament to that. These pebbles sit behind his teeth for a lingering moment, before he finds the strength to push them out between the cracks.

(Perhaps, it’s all your patience and care for even the darkest parts of him that has finally given him this strength.)

“I talked to someone yesterday,” he tells you.

He exhales immediately.

You’re not sure if you’ve heard him correctly at first - there is no way? - but the words hang in the cold air as he stares at you with lowered brows, studying the expression on your face, and your lips part open like a bloody koi fish because this is not at all what you expected him to say.

“Really?” you finally breathe, a lilt of relief catching at the end. “You did?”

“Get it free through the military,” he mumbles with a nod, clearing his throat. “Thought a lot about what you said, yeah?”

Numbly, you sputter again, “You did?” But then you shake your head and rub your arms, “Sorry, I mean— that’s so good to hear, Simon. That’s just… How was it?”

“Bloody difficult,” he admits in a mumble, and only you, the person closest to him these days, are able to detect the minor tremor in his voice. “But - fuck - I’m gonna keep doin’ it.”

“Maybe it’ll get easier,” you tell him, drawing an arm over your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m… really proud of you.”

You’re not even fully aware of your crying— no, you’re too focused on the sudden warmth that floods your chest because it is now you realize that if there is no worse feeling than watching someone you care for refuse to help themselves, then there is also no better feeling than hearing that help is something they are finally seeking.

And you care about Simon.

You have for so long, even when the agreement was just sex. Even when you'd flinched away. Even when you spent a week distracting yourself from thoughts of him.

This agreement you shared had turned into care. And you care, you care, you care. You care so much that you forget about the space you'd begged him for in this moment that you rush over to him, closing the cold and hesitant gap as your arms wrap around his neck and your forehead presses into his coat.

But the body against you is stiff and unmoving.

Your smile of relief turns into something apologetic and confused when two strong hands gently push you away.

You peer up at him.

"Don't think that's a good idea, pet."

"What?" you exhale, frowning.

He puts his hands back into his pockets. "I've hurt you, yeah?"

"I know, but—"

"I never want to do that again," he murmurs firmly. "Need some more time before I can make that promise to you."

Your heart sinks and floats and tries to swim through everything you feel. You can't discern all the feelings— there's so much. A flood. He's looking down at you as if you are the most fragile thing and as if, even by just getting too close, he might frighten you again.

"More space, then?" you whisper, stepping back.

Where you'd been the one to start it, now you are the one disappointed by it.

The short nod he gives is confirmation, but before you can get too down about it, he allows this: his good hand reaching out to grab yours. He kisses your knuckles with warm, masked lips.

"I care about you," he murmurs against your hand. "So goddamn much."

"I care about you, too."

"I know," and he lowers your hand, carefully rubbing the back of it. "Wanna be the kind of man you deserve. But I need to—" and his bandaged hand lifts up to tap a finger against his temple, "Need to sort through all the shit in here, yeah?"

"Okay," you whisper, nod, and sniffle. "They'll help you with it. You just have to let them in, Simon."

But he doesn't have anything to say to that— his source of words is a bit depleted. This week has drained him in every way possible, visible to you in the bags under his eyes. A squeeze of your hand is the last thing he has to offer before he lets it go, and then he is off to finish clearing your car.

(Although, you already know you will have a hard time getting to work on time this morning.)

[ofsappho]

Summertime Sadness (part 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Later’s better than never… right?

Ten years ago, Simon and you met at the same therapeutic boarding school. You fought, he said some shit, he left. He thought he’d never see you again.

Until one day, a hospital calls and informs him that you’ve listed him as your emergency contact.

(title from the song by Lana Del Rey)

-

Tags: mental illness, abuse, addiction, self harm, suicidality/suicidal ideation/suicide attempts, angsty shit in general, Ghost being very mean as a fucked up 17 year old boy

There’s an old battered flip phone he hides in the back of his locker wherever he’s deployed. Ghost doesn’t turn it on all that often. Everyone who knows the number is dead.

But sometimes he does, just to stare at the contacts and click through the photos and remember what it was like to talk to them.

Today is one of those days.

He can only take so much talk from his team about families, friends, dogs waiting back home, and pretty girls before feeling the urge to break things.

So he excuses himself to hide in the bathroom like a fucking pussy and takes the phone with him. Simon can pretend he’s waiting for his own phone call from people who love him for a few minutes. Then he promises himself that he’ll put it away and not touch it for another six months.

It takes forever to power on. It’s still janky from the last time Ghost threw it at a wall, it seems.

One (1) missed call.

…What?

They left a voicemail.

His fingers shake as he listens to it.

There’s a long, tinny beep. “Hi, Mr. Riley, I’m…” A woman says in a rushed, businesslike manner. “I’m one of the nurses at-“ Ghost hears a bustle of background noise; faint murmurs, emergency sirens, doors sliding open and shut. “…Hospital. I’m calling because a friend of yours,” The nurse says your name. A name he hasn’t thought about in years. “…Put you down as her emergency contact when we admitted her to our psychiatric inpatient ward. Unfortunately, she did not provide us with anyone else. Please give me a call back at this number if you’d like to speak with her.” Click.

Ghost starts packing an overnight bag before he even realizes it.

Then he’s on a plane.

-

TEN YEARS AGO

“I hate you.”

You’re crying as you run after him in the forest. He speeds up, trying to lose you in the trees. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Simon. I’ll never bring it up again.” Snot covers your upper lip and your eyes are bright with tears.

He hates this fucking place. He hates this fucking school, the kilometers of wilderness separating him from his life because the fucking shrinks think he’s crazy. He hates you for trying to keep him here.

And just when Simon was about to fly the coop, you spilled the beans. “Leave me the fuck alone. Never, ever, ever talk to me again,” He barks, stopping abruptly and turning to loom over you.

When you reach for his hand, he slaps you away. “But you promised you wouldn’t leave-“ You end up on the ground, the pine needles biting into your bare knees as if Simon shoved you.

That makes him angrier. You’re too soft for a world like this. You’re practically begging for someone to hurt you again, someone like him, with your vulnerability and open, bleeding heart. Well, he’ll fucking oblige. You’re not strong like you think you are. You’re the weakest person he knows, and weakness is something Simon could never respect.

“I lied. I fucking lied, you dumb bitch. Didn’t you realize it?” Simon snarls, wishing desperately he’d never let you befriend him on his first day at this therapeutic program.

You're sunshine and innocence and friendship bracelets, the kind of girl who will always be a victim because this world devours little girls like you. Simon is nothing like you. Simon is a survivor. A warrior. Simon is steel where you are china.

Your American accent is almost as unbearable as your pathetic weeping. “…What?” Your bottom lip wobbles.

Hopefully this will teach you a lesson about tattling. Nobody likes a snitch. “Forever doesn’t fucking exist. You were the only tolerable person in this shithole, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to be friends forever. What are you, a fucking infant? God, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass.” If anything, Simon is letting you off easy. You told the counselor things Simon told you in confidence about his dad because you were ‘afraid for his safety.’

But you just don’t get it. Simon can’t spend another day here. And the longer he stays, the angrier his dad will get. You just earned him another week of shit and black eyes.

“Newsflash. People lie. Everyone’s been lying to you. Nobody likes you, not even your mum. And I can’t stand you. You were useful, but I don’t need you anymore. I’m better,” Simon hisses as cruelly as he can, using every blade in his arsenal to cut at the sensitive parts of you where he knows you’ll bleed. Just like you did when you told.

You’re only stuck in this place because your mum left you here. You don’t have anyone, not like he does. He has Tommy and his mum. He has a future. You’ve got absolutely fucking nothing.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I’m getting out of here. I don’t need your help. I’d tell you to keep it, but it wouldn’t even help you.” Simon pauses. You’ve stopped crying. Good. A crying fox is easy prey for the hunting dogs. “They won't believe you. And you wanna know why?” It feels good to be the hunter instead of the fox for once. You make excellent prey.

“‘Cause I told them the truth. That you’re an obsessed freak who’s hyper fixated on me and you’d do anything to keep me here. That you’re a sick, compulsive liar and that you’re the one who’s a danger to herself, not me.”

You fall silent. Finally, blessed silence. You look up at Simon with glazed eyes and a still tongue. He feels better. Good, even.

“Goodbye. I hope I never see you again,” Simon says flatly.

-

TODAY

You picked a good place to get yourself locked up in. This is one of the nicest hospitals Ghost has been in recently. Shiny floors, no dirt caking the walls. New York City puts Kabul and Moscow to shame.

He’s wearing a plain black balaclava. Nothing identifying or particularly memorable. This is going to be a short visit. Ghost will see what you want and then leave. That’s it.

You look tired, exhausted to the very bone.

None of the shiny pinkness that drew Ghost to you in the beginning when you were fifteen and he was seventeen. None of the glow, the round cheeks, the wide doe eyes.

There’s dark circles chiseled into your face, so dark he almost thinks they’re bruises. A couple of IV bags run through a drip hidden under bandages covering your arms from wrist to elbow. Your eyes are as quiet as you are. A couple of marbles would be more lively. You look almost like a doll forgotten in a corner.

The nurse gave Ghost the run-down as she guided him to your bed. Police picked you up on a bridge trying to off yourself. Your fifth time this year. Unless you show some real improvement, the doctors will recommend an indefinite hospitalization.

You’ve been busy in the decade of his absence. Multiple addictions, more attempts than he can count, and some small stints in jail. A list of disorders he wouldn’t know how to pronounce. And nobody left to call.

Is this his fault?

When Ghost rounds the corner, you smile like he should be proud of you. “You came,” You say.

I have absolutely no business starting a new fic. Absolutely none. Idk. I have brainrot. No clue when this will be updated. But here, have it.

[ellaa-writes]

Good Dog

author note: Part 3 yay!! Series list found here. I actually edited this one, I know! Probably still mistakes lol, I love writing this type of Simon but mean Simon is still my favourite. Reader and Simon parts are going on at different times, weeks apart, just in case of any confusion of time line. Enjoy!

summary: His favourite words include; down boy, good dog, heel, fetch and his most favourite, get 'em. Well trained, and listens good. Loyal through and through. Always striving to be the absolute best. Ready to attack at all times, always on guard. Loves discipline, either giving or receiving. Working for a criminal mastermind, lurking in the shadows. You both trying not to be seen or noticed but after one unlucky night, all you both can see are the ghosts. He invades your life, if you both like it or not.

tags: Alternative Universe. Female reader. A/B/O dynamics. Alpha Simon, Beta Reader, Bad Scottish lingo (I tried). Very tame and a chapter filler.

You hadn't seen Simon in a few weeks, must have gotten bored you thought, eventually everyone leaves so why wouldn't he. Things felt different with him, like timed slowed down and life finally had a meaning.

You stopped in front of a news stand, big bold letters. OMEGA POPLUATION HITS AN ALL TIME LOW; leading scientists may have found a solution. You snatched the paper and handed the worker $5 telling him to keep the rest as you rushed back home paper in hand. The title wasn't what caught your attention, it was a few paragraphs down the words doctor and experimental procedure. Tossing your belongings on the dining table soon as you entered your grungy apartment.

Reading the article fully, then once more. Doctors have developed a experimental drug that could alter a Beta women's chemistry. Tricking the body into thinking its an Omega, a few experiments have been conducted and results have so far been proven successful. But they are searching for more Beta women to submit themselves into the program.

Those words playing over and over in your head, becoming an Omega, and having a loyal and supportive Alpha. Not having to worry about all the small things, not having to work and struggle to make ends meet. You could leave your pathetic life behind.

All Simon did was follow orders, being the good dog, he is. A successful mission out of the way, the Boss left before he did. Having to hurry back cause of his Omega. Simon used to have dreams about settling down, but that was before he became ghost. Stupid child aspirations, but mostly because he felt like he didn't deserve one. And who would want him as an Alpha, all teeth, and hard edges. It would be a punishment to be stuck with him until death, and death would be the reward.

You jotted the number down on a piece of paper and stuck it to your fridge. You didn't have to decide now, but you were tempted to.

Dealing with Makarov was easier than expected most of these men act tough on the outside but soon as you start pulling out their insides, they change their tune. He wasn't in too much of a hurry to get home, it's been two weeks since he last saw her, he's been keeping his distance, not wanting to poison her cause that's what he was poison.

It was very late into the night when he finally arrived in the city, driving down the desolate neighborhoods till he found himself parked in front of his apartment. Not the one across from hers but the one he bought himself soon as he had enough money too. The only thing that remained from his previous life. Cutting the engine and walking inside.

He still had a landline, hard wired into the wall next to the thermostat. He's never used it and has never had anyone call it. Not like many people have the number anyways, emergency he told himself when he bought and installed it all those years ago. Having the number updated in his file, but now it hangs there mockingly. Much to his surprise when he walked into his quiet home, a little red dot glowing from the device.

He ignored it at first, taking his clothes off to take a quick shower. To wash away the memories that still plague him, the water never being hot enough. He stood there in nothing but a towel around his waist. Staring at that glowing red light, missed call.

He should just delete it, but he decided to play the message. A voice came through the small speaker, one that he thought he'd never hear again. John Price.

"Oi Simon, it's John. Ain't sure if this dog and bone's still on the go. Tried your mobile, but it's saying it's disconnected. Anyways, thought I'd drop you a bell 'cause we're gonna be in the city for a bit. Fancy a chinwag, like the old days, yeah? So, give me a call, same digits as ever. It'd be proper nice to catch up, Simon."

It was silent for a while afterwards, only Simon's heaving breathing filling up the space. Not once did they call him while he was locked up doing time, not once did they reach out and say they cared. They were family once, at least he thought they were. Stupid.

All the rage simmering up inside of him finally boiled over the edge. Simon grabbed the stupid phone and slammed it into the wall as hard as he could, again and again until there was nothing left but broken pieces of plastic, wiring and now a hole in his wall.

It only took you three hours of pacing back and forth in your tiny apartment, the small piece of paper stuck to your fridge door taunting you. As the line rang you debated on hang up, forgetting any of this happened but it was to late. The reception answered your call, redirecting you to the head of the project. Giving a little info over the phone they scheduled you in for the same day if you could make it. It was on the other side of town, the side you hardly went to cause there was no need. Unless you wanted to make yourself feel even more shitty about your life.

He debated if he should call, be the bigger person the little voice in his head called out. They had their reasoning for abandoning him, for treating him like the plague, they had to, right?

You were on the bus, watching as the fading sun descended and the moon turned brighter. The glow of city coming to life, some many people out and about. You barely had enough money to and back, getting off at the stop further away. Walking the rest to save a bit of cash and take in the scenery. The air was crisp, it never got too cold during the winter season. Also, long as the wind stayed away it was a mild year so far.

To say this was awkward was an understatement. Simon sat across from the beta Scottsman, not much has changed he thought. The group of men still joking around like nothing happened like good ol' times, they kept trying to get him in on it. Simon soon realised that this was a mistake, all of it. Calling Price and picking out this bar. They weren't his pack anymore, they ditched him soon as things went south.

Simon's grip on his glass of bourbon tightened when Johnny yelled "Right Lt." the group getting quiet afterwards, Johnny knew he fucked up. Simon got up abruptly, taking a big gulp of the burning liquid amber, polishing off his drink before slamming it back down.

"Goin’ for a smoke." as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. Marching towards the front door. He could hear Kyle's faint call of his name, the beta man always playing mediator, Price holding Johnny back like an Alpha would a misbehaving puppy as Simon made his way outside.

"Bunch of fuckin' pricks." it was a whisper to himself, digging out his pack of smokes and shoving one into his mouth. Lighting it with ease as he sucked in a big lung full. The door to the bar opened and closed, fully expecting to smell the cigar-soaked Alpha but instead it was Johnny tail between his legs.

"I ken ye dinnae wanna gab about it." he tried but Simon cut him right off. "I don't." blowing a huge cloud in the betas face. "Weel, someone's gotta." he just wanted some fucking peace and quiet. "The start talkin’ or shut the fuck up." dropping his finished cigarette to the ground, giving it a good stomp before putting another to his lips.

"Things have changed, ye've changed. Ah ken everything's aw fucked up right now. We tried-" Simon huffed out a stiff laugh, not believing a thing the Scott was saying. He could see his lips still moving but he couldn’t hear what he was saying as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Before Simon could think a small body collided with Soaps as he stepped out towards the curb with a hand to the back of his neck. "Ah, fuck, sorry ‘bout that, lass." Simon watched in slow motion as you got knocked off balance. Johnny reaching out to help the poor thing but before, he could feel the growl coming from his chest and throat. Pushing the Beta to the side as he took a hold of you, bring you to his chest.

He could hear your lower whimper, there was something different about you. Your scent was sweeter, it was pulling him in like a bee to a flower. "Simon?" letting out in a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?" you looked up into his eyes. Your hands resting against his chest, the hard muscle underneath flexing, a low rumble coming from within. You’ve never seen him like this, so casual but also feral, eyes blown and panting.

"Am I interrupting ye in the midst of somethin'?" Johnny didn't know what the hell was going on. Looking at the Omega flushed against the old Alpha, he was just happy that after everything that happened it was nice to see his old lieutenant finally settling down with such a sweet thing. Simon finally broke his gaze from you, settling it on the Beta. “It was a nice chat, gotta go.”

"Come, I'll drive you home." he stated, gripping your upper arm as he moved you towards his car. The more you stood outside surround by people the more Simon got irritated. He couldn't put his finger on it, the changes within you. He'd been away from a couple of weeks; it was hard staying away but he had a responsibility and a job to do. "I can take the bus." you tried moving around Simon, spotting the other man who was now gawking. "Like hell." Simon held onto you firm, walking you to his car.

"See you around." the Scott yelled from somewhere behind. He couldn't wait to tell the other two men of what he witnessed. The grumpy old Alpha had found himself a sweet Omega.

The drive home was in silence, not even the radio to help ease the awkward tension building up in the car. When Simon pulled onto your street you gathered your belongings. "Wait." you snapped your head to the driver's side.

"What were you doing out so late?" he was trying to interrogate you "I had an appointment." you held your hands in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "Hmm" Simon grunted out, the whole way back to your apartment he had to stop himself from pulling the car over and pouncing on you.

Something wasn't right and he didn't like it or maybe he did. It confused him nonetheless and he wanted answers.

"You want to come up?" you don't know why you asked, why those words spilled out of your mouth. Simon was surprised too, cocking his head to side. "Sure." he cut the engine.

Once inside your apartment you didn't bother asking him if he wanted anything to drink. Unless he's into expired milk or tap water. The hulking man walked around your small place, picking things up and putting them down. Take in his surroundings, he already didn’t like you living in this area. He’s scoped out your apartment, the front door was a piece of shit, with a little bit of a jiggle and it popped open.

Walking towards your dingy couch he noticed the paper on the table, picking it up he scanned the words. You didn't.... His eyes found your form, busying yourself around your small kitchen. Shoving dirty dished into the sink to be forgotten about till later. Simon sniffed the air again, there was that familiar scent again. The smell of an Omega, the similar one that clung to his Boss, that filled every space of his home.

Omega.

He felt is heart quicken, his blood run thin. He's only had this feeling a few times, he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time. You noticed his completion pale, worrying you, grabbing a glass and filling it with your last bottle of water. Rushing to his side and calling his name.

Simon was so far away; he was in the middle of the raging ocean. The waves crashing over him, pulling him deeper under every unforgiving wave. Lungs full of burning salt water, gasping with arms stretched to the sky.

You could do the only thing you could think of you climbed into his lap. Curling yourself around him, rubbing your scent glad over his nose and mouth.

[sheyfu]

sun and moon ☽｡⋆

𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 a waltz takes place beneath the sun and moon.

feat. kamisato ayato (f!reader)

cw. none :)) js enjoy some tooth-rotting fluff (HELP I HOPE I DIDNT FLOP ERMMMM IM SO BAD AT WRITING ITS NOT EVFEN FUNNY ANYMORE 😓😓) (omg does 'kinda proofread' count as a cw ERMMM HASUDHUSADHA)

note. GRAHHHHHH MS SAIGON RELAPSE (i wasnt able to watch it live when they did the ph leg D: but my cousin sent the clips he took and now i cant stop watching them (especially sun and moon and the last night of the world [and the finale 😈😈😈] so you can expect [kinda] ms saigon related works HUAHDUASHDUH (gang im still tryna expand my vocab when it comes to very flowery words so HAUDHAUDH my works will [probably] get better from here trust) + this was written with miss saigon's sun and moon (specifically lea salonga and simon bowman's version) playing in the bg on repeat so yeah HWHAHAHA wc. 504

“may i have this dance with you?”

the moon casts its gentle gaze upon the beings of chinju forest — a symphony of frogs sing with the breeze as a troupe of bake-danuki accompany the piece with their dance.

in the midst of all these, a hand is offered.

"quite the romantic you are, mr. commissioner,” you show him a grin as you take his hand, slotting your bodies to form a cocoon of melody and warmth.

“only for you, milady,” the commissioner, kamisato ayato, returns your grin — his warmth radiating off your body as you fall into a steady waltz under the bed of stars.

the pair dance under the moon’s watchful gaze; the string of harmony and rhythm from the beings reduce to a gentle diminuendo as the pair lock eyes with each other.

“careful now, ayato. wouldn’t want the shuumatsuban catching their lord tripping and stepping on his lady’s feet now, do we?” a chuckle escapes from your lips as you sway to the tempo of your hearts. 

ayato brings his forehead to yours as he pulls you closer, “hm? is that so? well, lucky for me”, he abruptly turns you to face the scenery of chinju forest — his hands lay on your hips as the ghost of his breath cascades down the shell of your ear, sending chills upon its caress — your gentle waltz coming to a momentary halt. “i have a great dance teacher who coincidentally has the same name of my lady. and for all i care, those ninjas shouldn’t be intruding on their masters’ alone time. hmph.” 

laughter bubbles up in your throat as you hear the rustles of nearby bushes around you. “oh? is that right? well, care to tell me about the oh so wonderful dance teacher you have?” turning to your lover once more, you catch him in an embrace as you resume the gentle sway of your bodies. 

“we’ll be here until dawn then, my dear.” ayato sends you a gentle smile; his hand leads your head to his beating heart, gentle pats landing on it as he does the same to your shoulder. 

“if that’s the case, then i am most honoured to share this night with you.” you feel the rumble of his chest as he entertains your idea.

“well then. should we start with the part when said teacher confessed her undying love for me, her student?” a playful lilt touches upon his words as he spins you around.

"hey now. that sounds like i did something... nefarious." a small pout forms on your lips as your husband chortles at you.

as the night joins with day, their waltz continued without a misstep — the string of harmony and rhythm continue to accompany the lovers as they get lost in their own world of tell and tale.

and with the gazes of both sun and moon, they continue to sway to their own beat — holding each other tight as if it was the last night of the world.

tagging: @ayrastv

🐈‍⬛️: genshin has been added to the list of options for my taglist! please access the gform below if you'd like to be added to my taglist <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ a sick baby Headcanons and Imagines list

Am I back with the Dad!Ghost content? You know damn well I am, also yes the render I used is courtesy of our beloved @ave661 who's most definitely annoyed by my existence by now for constantly tagging her.

Will I ever stop writing Dad!Ghost? Fuck no, why? Daddy issues and baby fever, if you want anyone to blame, it's those two. And yes, I will be upset if this doesn't do well. (AHEM, MY SOAP POST)

Taglist of who I this would enjoy this and requested: @puff0o0, @blingblong55, @cutenote, @wise-owl and @connorsui. This last creator by far has given me the best fucking commentary on my work and I have more works on and coming about Dad!Ghost, genuinely thank you so freaking much, you made me cry 😭.

I'M BACK! Let's start, shall we?

❥ Dad!Simon who's a very nervous first time father, well there's a first for everything and so is the first time your guys' baby got sick.

❥ Dad!Simon who immediately got them a check up, it was a common flu. Naturally medication and antibiotics were prescripted.

❥ Dad!Simon whose heart melts once he hears the soft whimpers of discomfort of the little on as they stir in the crib. The soft raspy cries and flushed chubby cheeks and warm, almost burning temperature.

❥ Dad!Simon who is trying his hardest not to look back the car seat when you were on your way to the clinic, to check on the baby whose little cheeks are bouncing a bit while being entertained by their pacifier, the little cooling patch on their head making their forehead crinkle a bit.

❥ Dad!Simon who was amused by how talkative the little one still is despite being so drowsy and in pain. Babbling their little heart out while sniffling.

"Dada!" the little on calls for Simon, almost in a screaming manner if it wasn't for the poor little thing's scratchy and sore throat.

They let out incoherent babbles to Simon as if trying to tell him something, as if they're chatting like they used to, the only adjustments being the constant sniffles and coughs. Them being reduced to their clogged nose while trying so hard to communicate. (Here's your visual)

Simon took the warm baby bottle from your hands to feed the little one.

"Bee, slow down.." A new nickname picked up by Simon to give to your little one, bumblebee, trying to tell them to slow down from chugging.

❥ Dad!Simon who never thought the baby wouldn't get any more clingy, at least not until they got sick. Constantly asking for "dada" and "mama" while he goes on about his day trying to help his wife, you, to keep up with the chores around the house.

❥ Dad!Simon who feels a bit guilty because he loves the comfort he's able to provide the baby, especially that they're not comfortable and less than happy with the sickness. Having the baby on his chest, patting their fragile back gently with a hand that's almost bigger than their body as their dad's heartbeat lulls them to sleep despite being irritable the whole day.

❥ Dad!Simon who slightly chuckles when the baby's breathing starts picking up, their lips trembling into a pout, little doe eyes starting to get glassy from the tears forming with a pitched whimper, only to be silenced by a kiss from both you and Simon. The toll of the sickness only ever being reduced with yours and his affection.

❥ Dad!Simon who joins in when the baby entertains themselves while playing with the various rattles and teething toys.

Bumblebee shaking the tiny rattle, a bit in frustration, knocking their self back. Luckily Simon had intense reflexes and managed to slip his hand in time between the cushioned but still quite hard floor and the baby's tiny head.

Simon let out a breath of relief, "You sure know how to scare me, don't you bee?"

The baby let out a strained giggle as their dad guided them to sit back up by their head and back.

❥ Dad!Simon who tries his best to make the baby take the prescripted medicine, that baby did NOT like the taste of it and he had to resort to sneaking it in their food to hide the taste of the bitter syrup.

"Come on pumpkin, copy dada okay?" Simon whispers while exhaling loudly out his nose, careful with the baby's sensitive ears.

❥ Dad!Simon who makes the little one blow their tiny nose.

The sleepy eyes of the little one trailing on him, trying to observe and copy, blowing their nose on the soft wipes Simon held against their nose.

After wiping it, Simon noticed how their nose now unclogged helped they sleep far more easier and with less frustration from them.

Shout out to a very consistent person who has been liking all the things I post despite them not being actual content @poohkie90 <3

Also I had no idea @simp4konig and I were mutuals, I'M FANGIRLING SO HARD WHEN I SAW THE LIKED POST NOTIF.

Sidenote: I'm sick rn y'all, like it just kept on coming. First was my period, then next thing I knew my nose is clogged and I'm sniffling, then the next I'm coughing and sneezing. There's so much blood rn I can't even. I don't feel good at all but I'm pushing through. Apologies if this was shorter than most if you expected from me, I wanted to elaborate on this prompt however I don't have much ideas so I'm sorry to disappoint.

[ghostybaby000]

Sessions | Part 4

Part 1

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: You were breathing hard, the sweat stinging your eyes, the room was darker than before- or was it? You didn’t have time to take notes. Focus. This is supposed to be life or death.

Part one above!

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Fighting, SA, cursing, future smut, fluff, panic symptoms, intense stress

Tag list: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla

I’m here dove

The screen turned black as you watched his text disappear, glancing to the clock you see he’s right on time, 6pm. 

Gathering your things, you push in your desk chair and wave to a few others who were scattered around the building as you made your way downstairs. You rounded the final corner to see Simon sitting in a lounge chair, today he was pretending to read a magazine. He looks over the top of the magazine to see you, shutting it to stand and walk over to meet you in the middle of the lounge room. 

‘Ready?’ You nodded as you interlocked your arm to his and made your way out into the evening. You stopped by the house on the way to the gym to change into some different clothes and fill both your and Simon’s water bottles. The gym was more busy than usual, it was hours earlier in the evening than last time, yet no one was in the room you both used to practice. 

Simon wrapped your hands again, leaving a kiss to them both before pacing away and turning out the lights. 

Immediately your senses heighten, sweat already forming on your neck. You had originally suggested that someone else should coach you, you didn’t want to hit Simon. You didn’t want to feel you had to keep him away from you or prevent him from touching you, but you quickly learned that he was a far better teacher than anyone else. 

From behind you Simon gripped a hand over your mouth, his other arm wrapping strongly around your midsection. You pushed and tried to free yourself, to no avail. You leaned your head back to his chest, your eyes looking up to him. He looked strict at first, eventually loosening his grip just barely, he would never hurt you. 

When you had gotten home from that night, Simon tried to get you to explain what had happened, desperate to get his hands on someone. In between fits of sobbing and trying to catch your breath you were able to tell Simon enough. He stayed with you that night and the next morning, you weren’t going to work like this. Looking in your reflection, a bruise had taken over your cheekbone and the tissue around it, scratches on your palms from when you fell stung as you cleaned them.  

Waking a few hours later to the door opening, you slowly make your way out of the bedroom. Simon dropped his keys in the dish next to the door, walking over to cup your face tenderly. Tears began to form in your eyes as he slowly brought you into his warm chest. 

‘Everything’s been handled love. I promise you, you’ll never have to see him again.’ You pulled back from Simons chest, new fear finding its way into your mind. You looked to his hands and his clothes, there was no blood from him or anyone else that you could see. He refused to talk any more about it after that, instead insisting on getting a cold pack to your cheek. 

 Your eyes blinked up to Simon, his frame blocking out the light above, even if this was supposed to be a fight or flight practice- you couldn’t help but assure yourself you couldn’t be safer than where you were now. You felt him breathe, his chest rising and falling as his hand fell from your mouth. 

‘Are you alright?’ His voice was low, almost a whisper. 

‘Mmhmm’ Your lips pressed together, you lean harder into his frame.

His hand slides down around your throat, just resting over your skin. 

‘We just got ere’ don’t you want to practice?’ His voice was still low, you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke towards your ear. His length prodded you through his pants, clearly he wasn’t very focused on practice either. 

‘You don’t like my tactics?’ You smiled up to Simon, slowly pulling your body to face him, his arm loosening to let you.  As soon as both hands were up to his chest, you pushed hard to propel yourself backwards and out of his reach. Simons face was shock at first, soon letting out an echoey laugh as he strolled back over to you. 

‘Your tactics are alright…’ He was still an arms reach away when he moved. So fast you didn’t know what was happening or where you were falling. The lights of the gym were blinding as you were whisked back, his foot behind yours leading your fall backwards. His arm tucked under your back stopped your fall just before you hit the floor. His frame now over yours blocking the light, his movements were effortless. He laid you down to the mat fully taking his legs over yours, you were pinned. 

‘But my tactics are better.’ His smile was pure arrogance, you let out a laugh as he sat up over you, being sure to not put too much pressure on your lower half. Smiles took over both of your faces as you let yourself breathe against the floor. Your hands found his knees and travelled towards his crotch. 

His hands grabbed yours as he looked back towards the door that led into the larger gym. Looking back to you, he raised his eyebrows slowly dropping your hands. He was far stronger than you and had never used it against you. He would glare daggers at those whose eyes lingered a little too long, and always had you at his side when going to a get together or to meet with collogues.

Your hands again found their way to his length, you wanted him and your body did too. You squeezed through his thick pants, pulling a groan from his throat, his eyes shutting gently. The next thing you knew, you were being pulled up to sitting on top of him, swapping your places. Your hands splayed over his chest, you could feel him through both of your pants. Slowly you began to rock over him, his head resting on the floor as another groan came from his throat. His hands found their way over your waist and eventually under your shirt to cup your breasts. 

Again he moved faster than you were able to process, he had gotten off the floor with you and was moving towards a shape in the dark. It had looked like a block without light but turned out to be mats for other classes stacked together. 

He picked you up and placed you on top, his hands racing to pull your shirt over your head. He was swift with every movement, stripping you down to under garments and socks, his own clothes following suit. While you could hardly decipher what he was doing, the dark was no issue for him. He brought you to the edge of the mats and just off the edge, you felt his length tease your entrance through your panties, it was almost painful how badly you wanted him.

‘Please, Simon please.’

He pulled your panties to the side as he pushed his way inside of you, his rhythm picking up quickly, chasing his high along with yours. You tried to keep quiet as he punished your walls although it wasn’t much help as he continued to stretch you, shrieks and moans echoed into the almost empty room. Tears began to fill your eyes as your stomach grew tighter and tighter with every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Leaning over you, his own grunts telling you that he was getting to his breaking point just as you were. The back of your head pushed into the mat as the heat in your stomach finally overflowed and burst into a tearful orgasm that collided with Simons. 

Panting and hot, Simons voice found your ears.

‘So much for training huh love?’ Letting out a small laugh he made his way off of the mats, he pulled you down and gathered your clothes for you as you both dressed.  

His voice was the only one you’d ever wanted in your ears, the only one you wanted to touch you and make you feel so very good. He would make sure that he was the only one to ever have those privileges even if it meant killing a man himself, or in his case, calling in a favor to some old colleagues.  

[southernbluebellereader]

MASTERLIST

Who I write for: Call of Duty (Preferably MW2 and MW3); Star Trek (everything up to Enterprise + Strange New Worlds); Slashers (Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers); Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson); SIX (coming soon)

REQUESTS: Closed | INBOX: Open | TAG LIST: Click Here | (*) = WIP

Last Update: December 29, 2023

{JACK REACHER}

| JACK REACHER (Alan Ritchson) |

General Headcanons

General Headcanons Part 2

X Fem! Southern Waitress

Peach Pie and Cream

{CALL OF DUTY}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS/REQUESTS |

Imagine Dancing with Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Imagine Dancing with John Price, Ghost, and Soap

Do They Know How to Take a Bra Off? (COD 141 + Alejandro, Rudy, & König)

Routines (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Routines Part 2 (Taskforce 141 x Southern Hairdresser Reader (PLATONIC))

Tenderheart Bear (141 x People Pleaser F! Field Medic (PLATONIC))

How would the 141 react to you getting your nails done? (COD MW2) (Task Force 141 - Semi-NSFW)

(18) Request: Imagine Ghost & König with an anal vibrator

Request: 141 x Reader w/ Psoriasis & Vitiligo (SFW & Platonic)

Request: Taskforce 141 x Reader with rumors of being a slut

(18+) Request: Kvinlig Demon (141 x F! Reader w/ Womb Tattoo)

| CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE |

Requests

(18+) NSFW Price x Younger S/O & he is wrapped around your finger ;)

(18+) NSFW Daddy Price x Wife (this a little *spicy*)

Family Day (x Wife Reader; y'all and the 141 go to Disney World as a family)

Personal Nurse (x Nurse F! Reader)

Leg Warmers (x Reader w/ misaligned knee caps)

*Price begging - collar - sub!Price

X Female Escort Reader

[PART 1] Don’t Look At Me Like That (FLUFF/LITTLE ANGST)

[PART 2] Excitement in Patience (18+ MATURE)

[PART 3] Cup of Coffee (Kinda of a prequel)

X Female Wife Reader

Gray Hairs (FLUFF)

X Young Reader with Facial Scars

[PART 1] Bruised Apple (Platonic, Angst, Facial Scars, Mention of Violence)

[PART 2] Apple Slices (DITTO [Mention of Violence & Trauma])

[PART 3] Apple Pie (Platonic, going on slightly romantic, Angst, Fluffity Fluff)

X MILF Single Mom

Forbidden (Fluff, Innuendos, Brief mention of violence)

| LIEUTENANT SIMON “GHOST” RILEY |

Requests

Drake (x AFAB Teammate w/ Tattoo; Simon seeing their tattoo for the first time)

Turquesa (x AFAB Latinx Nurse Reader)

Midnight Dining (x AFAB Civilian Reader (leather jacket Ghost))

Emergency Snack Run (x AFAB Gas Station Clerk)

Personal Mechanic (Mechanic Ghost x AFAB Reader)

X Female Southern Cook

[PART 1] Midnight Snack (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 2] Tomato, Tom-ah-to (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 3] Bag of Peas (FLUFF & PLATONIC)

[PART 4] Hash Browns (FLUFF & MOSTLY PLATONIC)

[PART 5] Prickly Pear (FLUFF & DEF NOT PLATONIC ANYMORE)

[PART 6] Peaches and Cream (FLUFF, ANGST, LOVEY DOVEY)

[PART 7] Chicken and Dumplings (VERY ANGST, A LITTLE VIOLENCE)

[PART 8] Hot Links (FLUFFITY FLUFF FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY)

X Female Reader

(18+) Hot For Teacher (Simon's S/O gets a teacher costume for Halloween)

Being Chosen…By A Baby (Single Mom Reader)

| COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS |

X Female Wife Reader

Forehead Kisses (FLUFF)

Alejandro and His Big Ol' Forehead - One, Two, Three, Four

| SERGEANT KEEGAN P. RUSS (COD GHOSTS) |

Fun and Games (x F! reader) (PLATONIC) - His name is said in a funny accent

| SERGEANT KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK |

Requests

A little nosy, aren't we? (x F! Reader gets caught looking at his social media)

(18+) Car Shenanigans (x F! Reader giving head/getting fingered)

Post-Mission Angst (x AFAB Reader)

X Female Signaler/Radiowoman Reader

Guardian Angel (bubbling relationship)

| KÖNIG |

How he likes to show affection by holding you close (xGN Reader)

| COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES |

X Pregnant Wife Reader

First Time Husband (first-time pregnancy; little angst, fluff)

| SERGEANT LOGAN WALKER (COD GHOSTS) |

Requests

Headcanons (Both SFW and NSFW)

What would Logan be like as a Father? (fuffity fluff fluff)

Headcanons Part 2 (Both SFW and NSFW)

| SOBIESŁAW "GROMSKO" KOŚCIUSZKO |

General Headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Supportive Soft Friend (SFW Fluff)

| KATE LASWELL |

x Wife Reader

My Wife (fluffity fluff fluff)

| ALEX KELLER |

x F! New Yorker Medic Reader

Polar Opposites (Golden Retriever Alex, Black Cat Reader; Fluff)

| SERGEANT JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH |

Requests

*Dilf! Johnny x Babysitter

x F! Reader

Calling Him "Stud"

{STAR TREK}

| IMAGINES/HEADCANONS |

Kirk, Spock, & Bones x Southern Reader (SFW)

Do They Know How to Take Bra Off? (Kirk, Bones, Spock, Scotty, Chekov)

| DOCTOR LEONARD “BONES” MCCOY |

X Female Nurse Practitioner

Medical Couple (FLUFF LOVEY DOVEY; TOS/REBOOT MOVIES)

| FIRST COMMANDER SPOCK |

Requests

Pop of Color (x F! Betazoid Quartermaster/Seamstress; STRANGE NEW WORLDS)

{SLASHERS}

| JASON VOORHEES |

X Female Camp Counselor

Instinct (stalking)

{SIX}

| JOE "BEAR" GRAVES |

Requests

Request: Joe Graves X Younger Wife/GF Headcanons