hiii :), I hope you're doing great, I just wanted to ask about "He Knows", I see you haven't posted anything for a while, and I was wondering if you plan on continuing the story (which is one of my favorites by the way), I LOVE that one story and I can't wait for you to continue. I hope you see this. š
Take your time anyway ā£, I hope I don't bother š
Hi there thank you so much for the support!! I have started part 20 and will have the story wrapped up with about 24-26 chapters. I recently started a new job and am wrapping up my degree so my life has gotten very chaotic recently and Iāve neglected my hobbies. I may not be able to post for another month or so, but will have the entire story finished for the end of July!
Iāve had so much fun with this project and it means a lot to me that people continue to read and enjoy it! Your support and patience means more to me than I can properly express!!
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I just wanted to let you know I ate He Knows up in the span of a couple hours! Youāre doing so well with it and Iām in love with how you portray Ghost!!!
Keep up the great work, I look forward to seeing what you put out next!!! And take all the time in the world you need to make part 19, donāt over work yourself!! -š»
Thank you for the kind words!! Part 19 is up!
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I just finished your anton chigurh series in one day and oh my god it was so good, I love the way you write
Thanks for writing to me, I had so much fun creating that series and I'm glad you liked it!
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GOTTA SAY, I'M GOING BONKERS OVER "He Knows". BEST GODDAMN FANFIC I'VE READ IN A WHILE AND I'M FERAL OVER HOW YOU WRITE, ESPECIALLY THE EMOTIONS, BODY LANGUAGES, AND TENSE SITUATIONS. YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD WRITER AND I HOPE YOU KEEP DOING THIS.
ALSO IT IS PAST 2:30 AM I SHOULD SLEEP
Thank you!! Part 19 is up!!! get some sleep ;)
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Hii, I absolutely love the ones about James keene but I can't find part 6. Btw I adore your writingšš
Hi there, thanks for reading my story! I deleted part six because it was not up to my standards of writing. Thanks for understanding :)
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He Knows - Simon āGhostā Riley Pt. 19
An: Thanks for your patience, I am so excited about this part!! SMUT WARNING, it gets spicy!
Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.
Summary: Youāre held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.
Word count: 6100 (way too long!)
Pairing: Simon āGhostā Riley x Reader
Warnings: SMUT, 18+, minors dni, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.
Photo credit to @ave661
Ghost towers over me, his dark shadow cast upon my cowering frame. Fearful eyes drag over the predator in front of me. How he analyzes my every move. How his black shirt clings to the thick muscle around his shoulders and arms as his chest eagerly heaves with excitement. How his gloved hands clench and release, ready to wrap themselves around me and tear me apart. This is what he was made for. This is the chase that sets him on fire, makes him feel alive.
āNow whatāre you going to do?ā his voice sounds like it could cut. After his initial attempt, I quickly cornered myself between the wall and the dresser. Now Ghost fills the entire walkway between the dresser and bed, leaving me with nowhere to go. Everything about his posture tells me heās only seconds away from trying again. I spare a glance at the weapon in my hands and my grip tightens around it. āYour trapped, y/n, whatās your next move?ā What the hell kind of training is this?
But I donāt get much time to think. The ambiguous soldier in front of me slowly stalks forward. Thereās a vertical slit in his eyes like those of a wild cat who has just identified its next prey.
Ā āIf I wanted to kill you right now, how would you stop me?ā he inches closer. My mind falters: the knife. The knife. But I canāt use it. I donāt know how. What if I end up hurting him? I feel my head start to shake, the word ānoā at the tip of my tongue. He sees the fear finally catch up. āUse it, y/n,ā Ghost urges me.
āI donāt want to hurt you,ā the words are quiet on my lips. Tension fills my body.
āYou wonāt hurt me,ā his words are immediate and almost cocky. The corners of his eyes crinkle from a cruel smile. Have I forgotten who he is? Donāt I know his reputation? He didnāt take his vest ā his main source of protection off for no reason - Iām the furthest thing from a threat to him.
Ghost is done taking his time with me. He lunges forward with his arms outstretched. I make a last-ditch attempt at escaping by leaping toward the bed, but just as my foot touches the mattress a thick arm wraps around my waist and roughly pulls me flush against his chest. His other hand wrestles the knife from my grasp and as soon as the metal is gone from my hand, I feel the strangely familiar pressure of it against my throat.
āYouāre not holding the knife properly,ā he reprimands. Ghostās chest pushes into me from behind and I can feel his arms flex as they constrict even tighter.
āIs this your idea of training me?ā I bite back. Fear turns to frustration. How is it so easy for him to manhandle me like this?
āCome on, I know you can take it rough,ā Ghostās coarse voice brushes against my ear. āIf you let the enemy touch you like this, youāre dead.ā
āThen I guess Iām lucky itās you,ā thick sarcasm coats my tongue. I feel the hem of my shirt start to rise above my stomach as the electric heat from his body transfers through my skin. Then, just as fast as it happened, he lets go.
āHere,ā he wraps my fingers around the handle in the proper position. āYouāre not about to win a knife fight against a member of the task force. Your only goal is to create an opportunity to escape,ā thereās a newfound seriousness to his voice. I turn around to meet his eyes. For a moment, I almost know what heās thinking. If the Ultranationalist tries anything the next time he visits, Ghost wonāt be there to protect me. Iāll be all on my own. This, and the wiretaps, are the best he can do.
āOkay,ā I resign. āHow?ā
āYou have to draw blood. Lots of it,ā his lower lids squint as he gauges my reaction. How capable am I of violence? He hasnāt had the opportunity to witness that yet. If Iām being honest, neither have I. Iāve never been put in a position where Iāve had to hurt someone before. I donāt really know what Iām capable of. Itās a daunting possibility.
āShow me,ā I force a nervous swallow as he closes the space between us. I feel my heart rate start to pick up.
āThere are only two vulnerable spots thatāll slow him down when heās wearing a vest,ā Ghost starts to circle me. I donāt hear when he stops behind me. But I feel his large hand slowly snake around my hips, stopping on my stomach. His bicep flexes as he pulls me against his chest again. The back of my head is just level with his shoulders and I feel him bow down as the soft balaclava brushes against my hair. āHis neck or his gut. Arms and legs wonāt work, theyāre not painful enough,ā a shiver runs down my spine from his chilling words.
āThey sound pretty painful,ā
āNot enough. You need to do real damage,ā the low vibrations of his voice against my skin makes the hair stand on the back of my neck. Ghost presses his fingers into the soft flesh between my hips and moves his hand back and forth in a straight line, tracing the vulnerable area. I canāt help the involuntary gasp that escapes my lips. āThis is where youāll aim. Drive the knife deep into his stomach and drag it across as far as you can. If he tries anything, I want you to spill his fucking intestines,ā Ghostās breathing deepens as he imagines the scene. His fingers press harder into my skin and some twisted part of me wants him to leave bruises, but not with his hands.
āIs that what youād do?ā the words are light on my tongue. Every part of my body he touches feels as though itās about to combust.
āI will do so much fucking worse, y/n. When this is over and I get my hands on him, his own mother wonāt recognize him. Theyāll have to use his fucking teeth to identify him,ā he growls. The pictures that flash through my mind are horrific. But some part of me likes it ā knowing the extent that he is willing to go to for me.
Thereās a palatable tension in the air. I can taste it: metallic and salty like iron. Like the desire for violence. Like the static before lightning strikes. I feel it radiating off him in waves that wash down between my shoulder blades. I believe every word from his mouth.
āLetās try again,ā I suggest, changing the topic.
Sweat rolls down my skin as we practise again and again for hours. Ghost lays out several different scenarios, from trapping me against the dresser to pinning me against the bed. He is relentless. But with every touch, every grab and push and shove and pull of hair, every time he presses himself against my hot skin, the desire to feel him in me grows even stronger. Sometimes I think heās doing it on purpose. Because I know how much he likes to see his hands wrapped around my throat. And I know how he was filled with a jealous type of rage after that man had a knife pressed against the same spot. Every time Ghostās hands pull me closer, it feels like Iām being reclaimed.
My heart pounds in my ears after so long without a break. When he pulls away after another round I finally collapse onto the floor, just for a moment, just to catch my breath. Ghost looks even taller from this spot as he watches me with his arms crossed.
āGet up,ā he huffs, not nearly as out of breath as I am.
āIn a moment,ā even my voice sounds exhausted. My face is hot and Iām sure itās flushed.
āI donāt want you lying on the floor,ā Ghost grumbles. I feel the corner of my lips twitch at the thought that pops into my head.
āNo?ā I feign innocence. āHow do you want me?ā
āWatch your mouth y/n,ā he snaps. Ghost steps around me to pace the room, but I donāt miss how he takes the opportunity to adjust his pants when he thinks I canāt see. A warm sense of pride blooms in my chest. He feels the same tension. The same desire as the night in the cabin. Maybe even stronger this time.
āI need to rest for a moment,ā I lie my head on the floor while keeping eye contact with him. I can just see the edge of the black paint around his eyes, peeking out from under his mask.
āSweetheart, youāve got more in you than that,ā there it is again. Sweetheart. I canāt even hide the effect it has on me. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from outright smiling. And it works. He has me up on my feet embarrassingly fast.
āFine. Letās go, Iāll win this time,ā thereās fresh determination behind my words, but even I know theyāre not true. I can tell heās smirking by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. Ghost is enjoying this way too much. But I canāt lie, so do I. He knows.
Ghost comes at me fast. I know heās holding back and yet his power is terrifying. He grabs me by the shoulders and whips me around toward the dresser. One of his hands tries to snatch away the knife, but I hold it just out of his grasp. Then he goes for my neck again as my back presses into the hard edge of the wooden dresser. Ghost is careful about the force he uses. He knows how easy it would be to seriously hurt me right now. His hands lightly hold my throat, just enough to immobilize me, but I know if this were any other man, Iād be in serious trouble right now.
With both hands occupied I take my chance and swing the knife toward his stomach. His eyes flicker down to watch the move. He still has time to stop me, yet his hands remain where they are. I let the tip of the knife gently drag across his shirt.
āYou let me win,ā
āItās not āletting you win,ā itās training you to take an opportunity when you have it,ā Ghostās eyes are back on mine, his hands still wrapped around my throat. He couldāve let go almost a minute ago and yet I feel his thumb gently rubbing up and down the tender skin just below my ear. āBesides, I was thinking about something elseā¦ā he trails off, a smug smile evident in his voice.
āAnd whatās that?ā
āPlaces better than the floor,ā Ghost keeps eye contact with me as he says this. I feel my stomach drop and that familiar ball of desire starts to form again.
āBetter than the floor for what?ā I furrow my brows in feigned confusion, but when he glances down my bottom lip is already drawn between my teeth. He knows he has me. Thereās electricity in the air between us. Something magnetic simultaneously pulling us together, yet preventing us from connecting. I feel his hands twitch against my throat.
A low hum stems from his chest. āWe could do this all night, sweetheart,ā Ghostās eyes darken. Weāre close enough that I can see his pupils dilating and my reflection staring back at me in his eyes. I wonder what he sees as he looks at me.
āYeah?ā I murmur. āBut we donāt have all night, do we? So, tell me what you want Simon,ā my voice is low and seductive. Two can play this game. He pulls me closer. Our foreheads are almost touching as my hands find their place on the sides of his ribcage. The knife is still wrapped between my fingers.
āYou already know what I want,ā his voice deepens as his volume drops to a whisper. His scent wraps around me and reels me in. The metallic musk is warm and inviting. The scent of gunpowder no longer so alarming, but simply rather a part of him. But thereās something new about him too, something sweet and spicy that I can almost taste, that makes me want to wrap my lips around him and savour every part.
āI want you to show me,ā
āI want to,ā he barely whispers. āI donāt want to hurt you,ā his grip tightens enough that I can start to feel the effects of his hands. My cheeks are flushed and my head feels lighter than before.
āI trust you. Then and now,ā I run my hands up his strong arms before tracing the tip of the knife against the mask and along the outline of his lips. Ghost takes the blade from my hand and places it on the dresser behind me. A warm sensation spreads throughout my body as his hands travel down the side of my abdomen, past my hips and thighs, before wrapping around the back of them and heaving me up onto the sturdy surface.
āAre you sure about that?ā Ghost asks as he rolls the bottom of his mask up and tucks it out of the way at his nose. My lower stomach turns to static as my eyes latch onto his lips. His tongue darts out across his bottom lip. I think about how soft theyād be as they glide across my own.
Ghost rubs the outside of my thighs as he presses himself between my legs. Thereās that unmistakable twinge of desire from the soft pressure. Itās like every time I look at him, the sensation grows and clouds my better judgment. This is dangerous. Everything about him is dangerous. And yet heās so alluring. When I stare into those dark eyes it feels like someone is draping a velvet curtain around me, completely blacking out the rest of the world. The only thing left, is him.
āYes, sir,ā I donāt hide the teasing smile that crosses my lips. I know how crazy it drives him to hear those words drip from my tongue. My hands travel across his broad chest as Ghost loops his arms around my back. His lips brush against mine tantalizingly slowly. I dwell on the sensation of his warm, damp skin moulding against my own. A fuzzy feeling encases me everywhere until I feel the familiar sharpness of his teeth skirting my bottom lip, revealing what he really wants.
Heās like a dog with a taste for blood. Once Ghost took my flesh between his teeth for the first time, he knew there was no going back. I feel that same hunger now as his sharp canines move from my lips to my neck. The serrated sensation is startling as he attaches his lips to the tender patch of skin just under my ear.
āSimon,ā his name escapes as a breathy gasp. My mind starts to slip, but I canāt let him mark up my neck. āNot there.ā
He hums against my throat, sending pleasurable sensations through every nerve. I want him to keep going so damn bad. But he canāt.
āHeāll see,ā I can barely make out the words.
āGood,ā Ghost mumbles against my skin.
āThat canāt happen,ā
āI know sweetheart,ā he croons, slipping his hands under my shirt. āBut youāve no idea how much I want him to,ā
āWhat?ā I lift my arms as he slides the shirt over my head and drops it to the floor.
āWhen I think of those dirty fuckerās hands on you all I see is red. I want to bash his fucking head in until his skull is dust,ā Ghost presses a delicate kiss to my collarbone with those vile lips. His hands gently caress my shoulder blades and run down my back, stopping at my bra strap. āIf they knew you were mine, no man would dare touch you,ā my lungs freeze from his words.
āYours?ā I ask and his head rises. Ghostās hand leaves my back to cup my face. His charcoal eyes meet my own with an indescribable intensity. Theyāre incredibly dark and thrilling and full of desire. And thereās nothing like them - nothing like Ghost. The feeling he stirs within me is so unique, so completely irreplicable, that no other person will ever compare.
āMy asset,ā he rasps. āMine,ā his thumb brushes against my lips.
āJust your asset?ā I already know his answer, but I want to hear the hushed words fall from his mouth.
āSo much fucking more than an asset,ā Ghost presses his lips against mine. Iāve witnessed the violence heās capable of, so to feel him handle me with such a level of tenderness is all the more significant.
āShow me,ā I whisper against his mouth. I feel the sharp breath he draws in and the accompanying hunger.
Ghostās hands return to the back of my bra and skillfully release the clasp. I let the fabric slide off my shoulders, before dropping it to the ground. Itās almost as if I can physically feel his eyes rake down my body and take in the sight before him.
Ghost hands press against my back, arching me towards him as he bends over to attach his lips to my sensitive skin. I slide a hand up the back of his neck and under his balaclava and wind my fingers through his thick hair. The heat of his wet tongue glides around my nipple and goosebumps rise across my chest. Then I feel that familiar sharpness that causes my breath to hitch and I know heās about to leave bruises. If anyone ever sees below the hem of my shirt, they will immediately know Iāve been marked - no, branded as his.
He revisits the faded hickeys from the night at the cabin while also adding to the growing collection. The large bruises from all those weeks ago have faded from my torso and legs. So, he paints over them with his own.
As Ghost works his way lower and lower, I reach for the neckline of his long-sleeve shirt and tug it upward.
āUse your words,ā his cool breath fans against my hips.
āPlease?ā without answering me, Ghost pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, baring himself all to me. Last time the only light I had to see was from the glow of the fire. Now, every inch of ink, every freckle, and scratch and scar littering his upper body are exposed. Not a single mark diminishes his magnificence. And while his beauty is altered from war, he is more stunning than any man Iāve crossed paths with before. The power he holds is almost beyond comprehension. Time and time again he leaves me in utter awe.
My eyes drag across the artwork painfully etched into his skin as his lips tease even lower on my hips. The throbbing between my legs intensifies with anticipation. The pictures tattooed on him are a brutal reflection of the horrors heās witnessed and committed - of the people heās lost. Like some part of him was afraid of forgetting and this was the only he could ensure heād remember. My hand is cold against his warm skin as I run it up his arm.
At the same time, he reaches for the button of my pants, unhooking it with just one finger. Careful eyes glance up for permission before sliding them down my legs. Then, he quickly loops a thumb around my underwear and pulls them down immediately after. Ghost rests on his knees as his arms wrap around my thighs and pull me to the edge of the dresser.
The warmth of his lips lightly brushes over the faded bruises on my inner thighs and just when I think heās about to add more, I feel the heat move up between my legs and press hard against my clit. The mask and black paint frame his eyes as he peers up through my legs with a half-drunken gaze.
āSo fucking wet already,ā his deep voice vibrates against the sensitive bundle of nerves. āIs that all for me, Sweetheart?ā
āYes sir,ā the words escape as a whimper. He has me wrapped entirely around his finger. In this moment I would do anything for him. Anything just to feel him touch me, to feel him pulse inside me with as much need as I have for him.
āAtta girl,ā Ghost hums and then presses his tongue against my clit in wavelike motions. The pleasure from his movements consumes me as my head is thrown back and I gasp for air. āLook at me, sweetheart. Iāll stop if you donāt look,ā and when I do, every feeling intensifies even more.
Ghost traces a wet finger around my entrance before slipping it in as his tongue continues to work in circles. He gently teases another finger before adding it as well, slowly stretching me even more. Simon worries about all the ways he could hurt me; thinks of all the reasons he shouldnāt be trusted and yet Iāve never had someone take the care he does to make me feel so damn good.
The waves of pleasure coursing through my body intensify as he picks up pace.
āSimon,ā I plead. āI-Iām close,ā the words feel like prayers on my tongue and only one god can answer them.
My knuckles whiten as my hands desperately grip the edges of the dresser. He curls his fingers and hits that perfect spot. Tremors travel through my legs and I feel myself climbing closer and closer.
Simon presses his other hand onto my stomach and adds to the thrilling sensation even more. His starving eyes never leave mine. The vibrations of his soft groans against my very core are almost enough to send me over the edge.
The waves of pleasure grow stronger and the only things I can focus on are those reflective pools of desire. The rest of the world blurs and all that matters is him.
Simonās fingers curl against me again and every muscle in my body tightens all at once before simultaneously releasing. Yet he doesnāt stop. Even when my legs latch around him and cage him in as I ride my high, he doesnāt stop.
My heart races and with every breath I take, the air feels cleaner, purer. My head feels lighter and a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And as my body relaxes, Simon stands from his knees. His forearm brushes against my bare chest as his hand wraps around the back of my head and his lips press into mine. I can taste myself dripping from his mouth.
āYouāre mine,ā Simon murmurs against my skin. The addictive spice of his cologne fills the air. It lingers closer to the nape of his neck and mixes with the heat of his skin.
āYours,ā I confirm. As he pulls away, thereās something different about his eyes, something undeniably possessive. Ā
Simon wraps his arms under my thighs and lifts me up with ease as my legs wrap around his back. My hands rest between his neck and shoulders. I let my gaze drop to the section of his tattoo that covers his shoulder and half his chest. Thereās a collage of objects and events, a line of barbed wire seemingly wrapped around a man in a field. The sudden feeling of falling overtakes my senses and my entire body tenses as my back lands against the mattress.
His hands are still wrapped around my legs as he towers over the bed.
āFucking hell,ā Simon muses to himself. āYouāre so goddamn beautiful.ā
I feel that familiar pit in my stomach as he reaches for his belt. The quiet, clinking sound of metal fills the room and my heart rate starts to pick up. The tension in my lower stomach grows again as he moves to undo his pants and smoothly steps out of them.
I never thought I would enjoy allowing someone to have so much control over me. But as he stands over me and climbs onto the bed with a definitive goal in mind, I am willing to submit to whatever he wants.
The heat of his legs spreads to my sides as he straddles my waist. Simon has all the power in the world over me. And I wouldnāt have it any other way.
Soft hands rest against his thick thighs as he considers the expression on my face. Wild hair frames my flushed cheeks. My lips are chapped as I draw them between my teeth at the sight of him. As his eyes continue down my frame, they proudly skirt across the marks garnishing my chest, past my hips, until he finally lingers on my hands gently rubbing circles into his meaty flesh.
āDo you have any idea what you do to me?ā Simonās head tilts as he asks this. He grabs the tops of my hands and leads them up his thighs.
āIāve a few ideas,ā my voice cracks as I speak. I almost feel nervous again. As we reach the hem of his underwear, he slows but doesnāt stop.
āEvery day,ā his adamās apple bobs as he swallows. āAfter every meeting with you, every time you grab my arm or whisper my name or look at me with those fucking eyes, this is what you do to me y/n,ā he places my hands over the large bulge in his underwear.
I feel him throb under my hands as he strains against the fabric, aching to be freed.
āEvery day I wrap my hand around my cock and imagine itās yours,ā Simon holds my hands in place as his hips subconsciously grind against the friction. āI think about what you felt like wrapped around me that night,ā his voice is thick with desire. I feel myself gripping tighter as I long for his touch against my feverish skin. āNo oneās ever done that to me before, y/n.ā
āSimon,ā my voice is unsteady. His eyes flicker up from our hands. āI need you.ā
He leans down and cages me in with both arms, yet my hand never leaves his pulsing length. Simonās breathing deepens as I stroke him above his boxers. He pauses, searching my eyes for something Iāll never understand. When our swollen lips meet and his tongue brushes against mine, I slip my fingers just past the band of his underwear. A low growl vibrates through his chest as my hand inches closer and finally grasps him.
āFuck, y/n,ā he groans as I pump his cock in my hand. The needy sounds escaping from his chest make me want him even more. As I trace my thumb around the head of his cock he starts to grind against my hand. āy/n.ā
Simon grabs himself and slides his length along my entrance. I revel in the feeling of being trapped under him.
āPlease Simon,ā I whine as he teases me back and forth. The need to feel him is overwhelming. Fuck, heās all I can think about.
āLook at me sweetheart,ā Simon mumbles and as our eyes meet, I feel him push his throbbing tip in. āDoes that feel good?ā he whispers.
Thereās a distinct tightness as he stretches me out perfectly around himself. Already I feel my walls clenching around him and he hasnāt even started thrusting. Simon slowly adds more length. He bites his bottom lip as he watches my expressions. He revels in knowing how feral he makes me.
āOh, fuck,ā the breathless words graze my lips. So damn good. Every small movement sends jolts of pleasure through my core.
Simon grabs my waist with his hands and starts to pick up speed. Each thrust feels like heās reaching deeper within. And every time he hits that tiny bundle of nerves and I clench even tighter around him I feel like we grow even closer.
The muscles in his back flex as I wrap my legs around the vast space and pull him closer. My hands grasp his forearms cemented into the bed beside my head. My fingers and knuckles turn white from holding onto him so tight as his thrusts grow harder and harder. Fuck is he thrusting hard. Each stroke is so damn powerful that I canāt help the whines and whimpers that echo throughout the room.
As his intensity grows, so does the volume of my cries. Until a large hand wraps itself around my mouth and stifles the sounds. āShh, canāt have anyone hear how good I make you feel,ā Simonās hot breath brushes against my ear.
His quiet grunts fill my ears as he picks up his pace even faster and he bows his head to the crook of my neck.
Every nerve in my body is overwhelmed with pleasure. His compelling scent fills my lungs. His desperate sounds reverberate through my ears. The pressure and friction of his body against mine are all too much.
I already feel another high coming.
Simonās fiery lips latch onto my collarbones. As his head is bowed, I slip my hand behind the mask and feel his thick hair between my fingers. It's every small detail about him that drives me over the edge. His heavy breathing. How his hand presses hard against my mouth to stifle my moans. How hot his skin is against my own. Beneath my fingers, he feels so real.
Every thrust strokes that perfect spot so deep within me. I slip a hand between my legs and circle my clit. Behind my eyelids, stars explode with pleasure. I try and tell him how close I am, but the words donāt make it past his hand.
āSuch a good fucking girl,ā he moans into my ear. āI know youāre close,ā Simonās lips press against my ear. His sharp teeth gently tug at my lobe. Despite his hand, my moans grow even louder. He maintains a steady, powerful pace that rocks the bedframe and stirs my soul.
My hand circles around myself even faster to keep up with him. Every muscle in my body grows tenser and tenser. Inching closer and closer to a complete release.
I so badly want to close my eyes, but I know if I look away from him now, heāll stop. I feel them well wet with tears from how fucking intense he makes me feel. The rest of his room, the base, and the world all disappear. All that matters is him. All I need is him. Simon. Fucking hell, Simon. My vision blurs and my walls tense harder than ever before.
Stars explode behind my vision as I stare into his eyes and I feel like I can reach out and touch his soul. White light blinds my vision and I feel my entire body freeze like Iāve been possessed by something otherworldly. Everything releases all at once and I ride the waves of pleasure that course through my bones. Simon replaces his hand with his swollen lips.
āYou did so good sweetheart,ā he rasps. But I know his mind is elsewhere right now. I sense how rock-hard he is in me. How his cock throbs with every thrust. I know he needs this as much as I did. How desperate heās feeling right now.
āDonāt hold back, Simon,ā I whisper into his ear. He pulls his head back to look me in the eyes. Being intimate with him has taught me just how much he values eye contact. This is how he connects. Itās not about sex, itās about vulnerability. And this is a state he doesnāt let others see him in. Whether heāll admit it or not, he trusts me.
I stroke his jaw and lock my legs around his waist as he quickens his pace. His breathing deepens and his hands tighten around my waist as he uses me as leverage to thrust even faster.
His lips part as quiet grunts and moans work their way through his chest. The soft sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. My walls clench around him. After my second, high every part of my body is even more sensitive. Feeling him inside me is borderline painful, but watching the look in his eyes is all that matters.
Simonās thrusts begin to falter. His chest brushes against my breasts as he leans down and brings himself closer. His hands move to cup my face as his eyes bore into my heart. One last desperate moan escapes his lips as he presses his forehead into mine. He pulls out and finishes on the duvet before collapsing directly on top of me.
āFucking hell, y/nā he mumbles into my neck. My hands wrap around his broad back and rest there as we both catch our breath. āYouāre something else.ā
A comfortable silence settles over us in the moments afterward. Simon gives me a Henley to wear and slips on his pants before settling back on the bed. His hands gently wind themselves through my hair as I lean against his chest.
I expect him to pull the balaclava back down almost immediately like he did last time. But he doesnāt. Simon leaves the fabric rolled up and his jaw exposed. As he rests his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling, I gently trace my fingers along the sharp feature and down his neck.
My mind drifts to all the possible reasons why he wears it all the time. Why none of his soldiers know what he looks like. Why even after being so vulnerable with me, he choses to keep it on. But I wonāt ask. I know if Iām ever going to find out itāll be because he feels the time is right. But I donāt think Iāll ever find out. Because I donāt think Iāll know him long enough.
The time on his watch reads 17:04. Thereās just under an hour before I have to be back in my room.
The soothing motion of his hand brushing along my hair is almost enough for me to dose off. His breathing is slow and even. His heart thunders strong and healthy behind his ribcage. Thereās something so sure about him. Something safe.
āSimon?ā
āHmm?ā
āWill you read to me?ā I think of his copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn that I skimmed across the other day. About the story of a boy who escapes an abusive childhood. Who finds freedom. And I wonder if he sees himself in the story. If he feels like he escaped.
āWould you like me to?ā his low voice almost sounds tired.
āI would.ā
He sighs as he reaches for the old beat-up book. Simon flips the worn pages open to a dogeared spot just over halfway through. He clears his voice and then pulls me further up his chest so his arms can wrap around my waist and hold the novel at the same time.
Simonās voice is quiet and thick and comforting as he starts at the top of the page. I donāt know what events led here, but the characters sound troubled. My entire body relaxes and wishes we could stay like this forever. The looming threat of returning to my own room hangs over my shoulders, yet I try my best to push it away. Instead, I focus on the feeling of his warm skin against my cheek. Of the strength of his heart. I allow it to lull me almost, but not quite asleep.
āI couldnāt bear to think about it; and yet, somehow, I couldnāt think about nothing else. It got darker and darker, and it was a beautiful time to give the crowd the slip; but that big husky had me by the wrist,ā Simon slowly reads the pages, leaving himself time to picture the scene.
My head moves with his chest as he breathes deeply. Heās like an anchor, holding me here, keeping me safe as the storm wages on around us.
His words fade and the room gets darker and darker.
When I wake up, I recognize my quarters.
And I recognize the looming shadow. His husky hand wraps around my wrist and demands my attention.
But this time, Iām expecting him.
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Thanks for including my story, these are some great reads!
ā šš¢š¦šØš§ šš”šØš¬š šš¢š„šš² ššš šš¢š¬š ā
this blurb <3 - @yjhariani
this concept! - @simonrileyscockring
the little things - @halfmoth-halfman
wrath - @darklordofthesimp
this concept ! - @circe69
tattoos - @vcnillazelda
this blurb <3 - @erosology
little treasures, life's pleasures - @/halfmoth-halfman
lighthouse for a lost comrade - @toshidou
secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought - @wttcsms
can't you trust me? - @saharadesertaj
caught in the spiderās web - @catharsisfire
just practice - @nsharks
delirium - @/darklordofthesimp
one cot - @sunonyoreface
things simon finds attractive about you - @clairdelunelove
no promises - @ charnelhouse
soft around the edges - @/nsharks
this blurb <3 - @helios-sol
under your skin - @bubble-dream-inc
blind date - @inkinflux
this blurb <3 - @h0rnyauth0r
this blurb <3 - @bakgoktski
leading score - @opluffys
ghost can't control himself sometimes - @starphasedd
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Hope youāre doing well! Just wanted to say how obsessed I am with He Knows, itās one of my favorite ongoing fics and I think about it constantly!
Thank you for the kind words!! Part 18 is out!
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i just DEVOURED your whole Simon Riley x reader - i dont know when you post or when the next part will be but OAUAHSHAH YOUR WORK IS AMAZING.
Hi there! Next part is out!! thanks for your support!
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He Knows - Simon āGhostā Riley Pt. 18
An: Thanks for your patience, March is a really busy month for me! The tension is building and I can't wait for the next part (19 is looking steamy).
Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.
Summary: Youāre held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.
Word count: 2800
Pairing: Simon āGhostā Riley x Reader
Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.
I think of all the phone calls Iāve made throughout my life. The hundreds of hours Iāve spent talking to friends and family. Sharing the exciting news of getting into college with my childhood best friend who moved away in elementary school. Gossiping with my favourite coworker about an awful shift when she didnāt open with me in the morning. Listening closer to hear the whispers of shared secrets between the few people I really care about. Talking late into the night about that one person I couldnāt scrub from my mind. The conversation slowly dying down but neither of us ready to hang up. Neither of us ready for the silence after the line goes dead.Ā The relief of hearing their voice after days or weeks of nothing. All those conversations flicker through my mind as I stare at the landline sitting on Captain Priceās desk. Itās a clunky, faded, black thing with a rubber coil attaching the receiver to the phone and the numbers on the keys have long since rubbed off.
Iām not prepared to hear his voice. After learning all I know about him, I donāt think itāll sound the same. Thereās no way the man Iām about to speak to is the one Iāve known my whole life.
Soap was supposed to be here. Then five minutes ago, he was called out to demolitions by another sergeant who said it was āurgentā. I wasnāt sure what his specialty was until recently and after getting to know him better, it makes perfect sense. He spends almost every waking moment out there, yet wonāt tell me what theyāre doing. Whenever I ask, he sits up straighter and has to suppress his smile, but I donāt miss the excitement in his eyes when he says itās classified.
Right now Iād rather be there with Soap than sat in front of Price and Ghost and some scrawny man with equipment hooked to that damn phone. Iād rather be almost anywhere than here.
The script crinkles in my hand. The Captain already gave the go-ahead. Now itās all on me. I feel Ghostās eyes on me. I want to find some comfort in them, but just canāt. After he left, he told Price about the mole. He had to, I get it, but I also canāt help the feeling that nothing I say will stay between us.
I wish I was back in his room, lying on top of the covers and reading his copy of Huckleberry Finn knowing that no one could get to me. Only Simon.
And then the phone is in my hand, pressed against my ear: ringing once, twice. And then it stops. Shuffling sounds fill the other line. Then, I hear his voice. That voice that softens when it speaks to me. That has always been so understanding. That ordered those men to mercilessly take the lives of innocent civilians praying for salvation.
āY/n?ā he asks, almost unsure ā like the possibility of talking to me might just be too good to be true.
āHi,ā the word dad almost slips from my lips, but I know if it does, I wonāt be able to keep it together. My hands donāt feel attached to my body. Like somewhere in the numb space of my forearms, they were simply disconnected. My mouth is dry and I eye the script, but canāt get the words to come into focus.
āAre you okay? Have they hurt you? Are you eating?ā thereās just something to his voice, that I canāt quite pin down. Something disingenuous. Like heās only playing the role of a concerned parent. When I meet Ghostās eyes, I know he hears it too. He nods, urging me to speak.
āIām fine,ā my voice is strangely even. āThey said I could see you again. That theyād make a trade,ā the rest of my body disconnects from my mind and suddenly Iām standing beside Ghost watching myself talk on the phone. The hope in my voice is real. The girl on the phone is going to go home safely to her dad. And it sounds like she genuinely believes every word sheās saying.
āOh my sweet girl,ā he croons. āI want nothing more. Your mother and I have been worried sick.ā
āMom?ā I latch onto the hopeful word. āIs she there with you?ā
āNo, but sheās somewhere safe, being guarded by some of our best. Youāll get to see her soon,ā he purposely leaves out her location, unknowing of 141ās extensive intel.
āDad, I-I,ā just like in the script, Price audibly warns me weāre short on time. An intentional move to add more pressure to our conversation. My father will have heard him in the background. āThey said I canāt talk much longer,ā my tone is rushed and worried. I see a small smile tug on the corner of Priceās mouth. Iām convincing.
āHey,ā he says. āSoon enough weāll have all the time in the world,ā the ultranationalist who snuck into my room said he was displeased that I leaked the ambush info, but youād never pick up on that while listening to him on the phone. He hides his cruelty so well. Even knowing what heās capable of now, the man Iām speaking to just doesnāt sound like the type. āBut y/n, Iām going to need to know what they want from us first. Okay?ā
āOkay,ā I mumble like a scared child. I smooth out the script across my thighs and read off their demands. I recite the names of five men. Two of their leaders and three of 141ās soldiers who were taken prisoner at one point or another. Neither my father nor my uncles are on the list. Thereās no way theyād trade one of themselves for me. Even I know that.
āThose are the men they want?ā I hear a newfound tension in his voice as he shifts in his seat.
āThatās what they told me to say,ā my eyes are glued to the paper. If I look at Ghost or Price now, Iāll lose my concentration.
He sighs deeply, āIāll need a few days little bird, those are some top dogs. But Iām going to get you out, donāt you worry.ā
I sniffle as though this is too much. Like hearing his voice made me realize how much I miss him and now I might cry. āLove you,ā my voice cracks.
āLove you too darling,ā the line goes silent for just a moment. āIāll be in touch,ā with these words, his voice significantly deepens. Heāll be in touch. He has his ways of contacting me despite 141ās precautions. I should expect a shadowy visitor very soon.
Then he hangs up. I place the phone back on the mount. Horror creeps its way up my shoulders and I know Iām back in my own body.
āWell done,ā Price congratulates me. Heās surprised I did so well. I donāt come off as the type of person to perform well under pressure ā I normally donāt ā yet the phone call was almost flawless.
āThank you,ā I attempt a small smile, but inside, I feel awful. Dirty. Blindsided. I canāt believe that is the same man Iāve known my entire life. Sinking betrayal anchors my bones to the depths of the Mariana Trench. The immense pressure makes my head feel as though itās about to implode upon itself. But along with the shame I now carry because of our kinship, thereās also molten anger stirring within my core, threatening to erupt.
āThank you, Sergeant, youāre dismissed,ā Price turns to the man who recorded the call and waits for him to leave. Ghost hasnāt said a word almost this entire time. Yet he closely watches the man leave with his equipment as suspicious as ever. He doesnāt trust a soul. Especially now. āWithin the next few days, your little friend will pay another visit. Weāve installed another camera outside your door and tapped the room. Tell him the truth, just like he asked, we donāt need to aggravate them further, but it is essential he doesnāt think you snitched again,ā Priceās tone has turned serious. He understands the gravity of the situation.
The ultranationalist could decide to kill me if he thinks I snitched again. He would certainly order the execution of my friends back home. While Price doesnāt care about them, he needs me alive. They wonāt have the opportunity to ambush the Ultranationalists without me alive for a supposed exchange.
āAny questions?ā he asks. For once, I have none.
āNo sir.ā
āRight. Ghost, your request is approved. Take the afternoon to complete it. Return her to her quarters before 1800,ā he nods once toward the lieutenant. And then weāre off.
I donāt know why, but I expected him to say something as we navigate the halls. However, like usual, Ghost is completely stoic.
When we first met, I was always silently instructed to walk in front of him. Ghost was suspicious of me. Despite being cleared by intel, part of him still considered the possibility that I could be an Ultranationalist. By walking behind me he eliminated any chance of a surprise attack. His analytical eyes would trail up and down my frame trying to decipher any hidden motives. Heād take note of the length of my stride. How I hold my head, my shoulders. How my hands fidgeted and I picked at my nails and then my cuticles once they were too short.
Something has changed since then. A lot has changed.
Now I walk beside him. Close, but not close enough that our arms brush. Not close enough to attract suspicion. He no longer glares at me like I could turn on him at any moment. Thereās so much more depth to his eyes when they steal small glances my way. Sometimes ā like now as we walk along the sparsely populated halls - I feel him step closer so weāre almost touching, the heat of each otherās body is just noticeable, before he reminds himself that someone could come across us at any moment. Then, after a brief moment of indulgence, he once again shifts away to a more professional distance. I sense the same kind of longing pulses through his veins as mine.
My thoughts are interrupted as we continue to walk past my room.
āArenāt you dropping me off?ā the confusion is evident in my voice as my pace slows. Ghost turns to look at me while keeping his pace.
āNo. Weāre training,ā he says. Training? Is this the request Price mentioned earlier? What kind of training is he referring to? What is Ghost planning?
āWe are?ā
āAffirmative,ā he confirms. His long legs are hard to keep up to as they stride with purpose.
āWhat kind of training?ā I ask.
āYouāll see,ā Ghost says. And if Iām not mistaken, I almost detect a hint of teasing in his voice.
Yet, Ghost doesnāt take me to a gym or shooting range, instead, he leads me right back to his quarters.
āIs this a joke?ā suspicion is evident in my voice. I hesitate as he waits for me to enter first.
āNegative,ā the curt response is typical. He isnāt about to volunteer any additional information.
āWhat could we possibly train for in your room?ā my mind involuntarily wanders to a variety of things, but none that will help with the exchange. As I make eye contact with him, my cheeks flush almost immediately. Ghostās gaze is strong and unwavering. He knows exactly where my thoughts have drifted.
āIāll show you,ā he motions to the door. A small ball of nervous energy forms in my lower stomach. The type that has no place being here right now. The type thatāll get me into trouble. āFirst, I want to know your thoughts on the phone call?ā
āI donāt want to think about the phone call,ā I say as I leave him behind in the hall. Once inside, he takes his vest off and hangs it on the back of the door. Facing away from me, he slips off the skull mask and quickly replaces it with a plain black balaclava. My whole body freezes at the sight. I canāt believe he just took it off in front of me. His hair is darker than I thought itād be. The strands are a stark contrast against his fair eyelashes. He wears it clean cut like most men in the military, short on the sides and more forgiving on top. But itās overall longer than I imagined. My mind drifts to what it would feel like to run my fingers through the delicate strands. To gently trace my nails along his scalp. To roughly grasp him by the hair as heā
āItās not often Price congratulates someone on their performance,ā Ghostās head tilts as he gauges my response. I donāt speak, my mind still stuck on the fact he took his mask off in front of me, even if I couldnāt see his face. āYou were almost as good there as you were during the interrogations,ā he continues. Heat creeps up my neck. I donāt know if itās a feeling of flattery or embarrassment.
āIām not good at it. It feels like Iām not even there,ā like the actions arenāt even my own. Itās a dangerous feeling. How far can a person go when they donāt feel responsible for their actions? How far could I go?
āBut you know you are?ā his tone becomes mildly concerned. Does he think Iām slipping from reality?
āI know I am. Itās just easier to separate myself from what Iām doing,ā I think out loud, my voice slowly fading toward the end of my sentence. Maybe itās my brainās way of protecting myself?
āY/n, if itās too much let me know,ā Ghost says seriously as a gloved hand reaches out and touches my chin. It has been too much since the moment they kidnapped me. But now all I can do now is figure out how to survive until the exchange is over. āFor this too.ā
The second half of his sentence catches my attention.
āAnd what is āthis?āā what does he keep alluding to?
Ghostās delicate hand on my chin leaves as he reaches for something strapped to his belt. The gloved hand unsheathes a steel knife. He flips it around and offers the handle to me. I hesitantly take it from him, all the while closely watching his eyes. Thereās a glint to them. Something troublesome. At this point, his intentions could be anything.
āWhatās your safe word?ā his husky voice is suddenly a lot lower as he takes a step backward and squares his shoulders. Thereās an ambiguous spark in his eyes. One thatās about to catch fire. I can almost smell the damp, smouldering smoke in the air.
āSafe word?ā my breath catches in my throat and I try to force a swallow. I choke back a nervous laugh. Ā Heās joking, right? The knife feels unnatural in my hand.
āThink of one, sweetheart,ā he rasps. Thereās that damn name again. The one that makes it so fucking hard to think. My mind snags on it like a loose thread to a nail, pulling every thought out of order. Only he can mend me.
āUm, I donāt ā Soap, I guess?ā his call sign comes to mind first.
āNot Soap. Something different,ā his head juts to the side with disapproval.
āOkay. Fine. Pizza then,ā Iām still confused as to why he wants me to have a safe word.
āPizza,ā Ghost repeats to himself, burning it to memory. He takes another step back and I almost feel myself relaxing. My shoulders donāt feel so tense. The knife is no longer so heavy. I glance down at the mean little thing in my hand. I wonder how many people have died by this blade?
Ghost doesnāt wait for my eyes to return to his. From the edge of my peripheral, something large lunges at me. Heās incredibly fast. Just a flash of movement in the dim light. Fear hasnāt had the chance to take over yet. Instinct kicks in and I jump back out of the way, just narrowly escaping his first attempt at grabbing me. But thereās nowhere to go. The room is small and heās closer to the door than I am. He wants me to fight. Heās forcing me to.
āThe fuck are you doing?ā I angrily spit at him as I corner myself between the dresser and wall, knife still in hand.
Ghost looks as terrifying as ever as he shifts to face me once more. His intimidating frame takes up the entire walkway between the bed and dresser. Those thick shoulders heave along with his chest as his breathing deepens. His gloved hands stay open at his sides, eager to grab at me again. Ghostās sharp eyes look darker than before. He is completely locked in on me.
There is no escaping what comes next.
Pt 19:
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i just binged He Knows and hhhhhh. this story got me in a Death Grip ;w; s o b s its v good so far, excited to see where it goes!! <33
Thank you! Part 17 is out!!!
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I just binge read your entire He Knows series and Iām SO in lovešš I canāt wait for the next part!!!!! You have such a talent!!ā¤ļø
Thank you so much!! Part 17 is out now!
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He Knows - Simon āGhostā Riley Pt. 17
An: Hello again! Enjoy a sprinkle of fluff (always with some angst of course) Thanks for reading :)
Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.
Summary: Youāre held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.
Word count: 2700
Pairing: Simon āGhostā Riley x Reader
I try and mimic the silence of his footsteps. The smoothness of his movements is almost inhuman. Like he isnāt truly in front of me but is rather a figment of my subconscious. Part of me refuses to believe that he is real. But I feel how the air whirls behind his broad frame. How the metallic scent of gunpowder trails behind him no matter the setting. War follows him. I follow him.
Ghost stops in front of a door at the end of a long hallway. To the West, a red exit sign illuminates the otherwise dim corridor with a red glow. Not another soul is present.
The sound of the lock echoes off the cement walls as Ghost slides the key card back into his pocket, pulls the handle down, and holds the door open, waiting for me to walk ahead. After an almost sleepless night, too much caffeine, and the constant feeling of being watched, even my bones feel skittish.
As I step inside, I realize this room isnāt an office or conference area. Itās not a supply closet or interview space filled with intimidating tools. Like my own, this room is filled with a bed, dresser, and small washroom.
I asked him for somewhere safe to talk and he brought me to his room. Something in my heart clenches. This isnāt a part of him Iād ever expected to see.
I know itās not really his. That it belongs to the task force and isnāt a true reflection of his character. But entering the space ā his space ā feels intimate. This isnāt something others get to see. Ghost doesnāt just invite people back to his room. Bringing me here is intentional. He wants, no, needs me to know that no one can get me here. No one will even know where I am.
āIs this your room?ā I ask as the door locks behind him. Ghost crosses and then uncrosses his arms as he stands at the edge of the room, not sure about the best position to take. His goal isnāt to come off as intimidating, but even with innocent intentions, it somehow just happens.
āIt is,ā he sighs, considering his next words. āY/n if Iām going to help, you have to stop hiding from me.ā
āIām trying,ā although, Iām not sure thatās the truth. I see how closely Ghostās eyes watch me. How his trigger finger twitches at his side when heās stressed. How he clenches and unclenches his hand in a fist to try and get it to stop. I see how much he is holding himself back right now in an effort to make me feel safe.
āWhen did the Ultranationalist make contact?ā Ghost asks quietly, maintaining the stillness of the room.
āLast night.ā
āWas that the first time?ā his dark eyes follow as I start to pace between the twin bed and dresser.
āYes,ā I pause. āSince the prisoner.ā
āIt was just the one?ā
āYeah, but Ghost,ā I feel that all too familiar strain in my throat. āThereās more than one.ā
āHe said that?ā
āHe said āwe are plenty and we are strongā,ā I hear his words ring between my ears. We are plenty and we are strong. How many is plenty? How many of them have infiltrated 141? I see those same questions and more floating around behind the skull mask.
āDid you recognize him?ā urgency creeps its way back into his voice.
āHe was wearing a mask,ā I start.
āBut did you recognize him?ā
āI think so,ā I know so, but telling him could do more harm than good. Not that I have much of a choice.
āWho?ā he urges. Ghostās feet shift closer and his shoulders lean forward. I see the reminder flash behind his eyes to pull back, to restrain the fury boiling under his skin. If I were brave enough to reach out and touch him Iād only scold the tender flesh of my palms.
āDo you remember that day on the van when we were being transported between bases? I sat between you and Soap?ā
āAffirmative,ā his response is immediate.
āThere was a man, I couldnāt see his face, but he was making jokes about me and soap babysitting until you told him to stand down,ā I recall the event in my head and how uncomfortable it was.
āI did.ā
āYesterday the same guy confronted Soap and me in the hall. He said that Friday shouldnāt have gone down like that. Thatās why I ran off and Soap did whatever he did,ā he intently holds my gaze, clinging to every word. āI donāt know his name. But I know it was him.ā
āBennett, that fucking bastard,ā Ghost lowly hisses. He fists his hands as he starts to pace near the door. I watch a variety of horrific torture methods flash through his mind. āIāll fucking kill him,ā his voice is coated with a fatal venom. The kind that burns through its victims' veins. The kind that slowly paralyzes its prey, leaving them to watch themselves be devoured whole in absolute horror.
āDonāt,ā the choked word barely escapes my mouth.
āHe wonāt live to see fucking daylight, y/n,ā
āGhost,ā I try again, but see his thoughts running wild. His chest heaves and his pace quickens. If I donāt step in now, heāll be out the door on a flaming path of vengeance. If I donāt stop him and the Ultranationalists find out that we know who one of their moles is, they will kill even more people.
I take a brave step forward, but itās like he doesnāt even notice. His eyes are focused on a path beyond my sight. I try again, this time stepping directly in his way.
āDamnit, y/n,ā he mutters.
āSimon, you need to listen to me,ā my hand reaches for his arm, landing gently, but firmly on his bicep. Searing heat pours from his skin into my own. Finally, he falters, coming to a stop. āPlease?ā I feel the heat start to disperse as his eyes glance down at the contact. His sleeve is a rough canvas material and I canāt help but long for the smooth texture of his skin gliding against my own.
āHe said that they have men tracking five people I care about back home in New York. That my father provided the information and that if anyone finds out their identity, they will kill them. You canāt hurt him. He canāt even know that you know,ā the pleading is evident in my voice. I have no reason to hide my desperation from him, yet I hate how weak it makes me feel. How Iāve been stripped of any power I had. How the sanctity of my life and so many others lies in the hands of all these different men who canāt even begin to comprehend the value of such a thing.
My own emotions are so heightened it makes it difficult to tell what Ghost is feeling. His arms are tense with anger, but thereās so much more to him. Part of me wonders if he feels the same type of fear that I do, but his emotions donāt control him the same way mine control me. They donāt manifest in the same way. Itās hard to understand his desires and actions when his mind operates so differently than the average personās. But Ghost also isnāt immune to the occasional slip-up. Ringing the alarm right now would be exactly that. Unless in his mind it wouldnāt be. Because Ghost doesnāt value the people in my life the same way I do. His job is to bring an end to the Ultranationalists, not keep my people safe.
And that thought is enough to set me even more on edge. Because ultimately, our goals are not the same.
āWhat do they want you to do?ā his sharp eyes drag down my face and I feel myself squirm under the sensation.
āThey already suspect a trap, theyāre counting on it. And they want me to tell them all the details of how Price plans the exchange,ā my voice is low and urgent as my heart thrums against my ribs.
āSo they can plan another ambush,ā Ghost fills in the blanks.
āHe said heāll stop by my room again,ā I whisper. The confession almost feels shameful.
āWhen?ā Ghostās hands rest on top of my shoulders, his grip stays light but the weight isnāt reassuring.
āI donāt know,ā I say. āBut he has a key card.ā
āThat fucker,ā he mumbles. I step away from Ghost and pace the room once before sitting on the edge of his perfectly made bed. Stormy eyes closely follow my every move. Part of me just wants to be alone. The other part wants to sink into his chest as his strong arms pull me in deeper until I disappear completely. All I want is to disappear.
Ghost crosses the room to the dresser before reaching in and pulling out a small tin that he slips into a pocket on his vest. Then he carefully approaches the bed. His steps are silent across the cement floor like heās gliding across a sheet of ice. His shoulders have sunk a little and his hands are no longer in fists. His trigger finger doesnāt twitch at his side. Heās reeled in those dangerous emotions, contained them for now.
Ghost comes to a stop between my legs. An ungloved hand reaches out to grasp a strand of my hair. He gently rolls it between his fingers. Iāve come to notice how often his fingers wind themselves through my hair. It brings out the softer side of him. One more akin to Simon than Ghost.
My eyes lock onto his and follow them as Simon sinks to his knees in front of me. Here he kneels on the floor, his chest resting between my legs as I sit on the edge of his bed. Now, our eyes are finally even. My stomach flutters from our position. Both of his hands come to rest on the outside of my thighs. His thumbs rub in reassuring circles around the fabric of my pants.
āDid he do anything else?ā his voice is barely audible. Simon wonāt dare say it, but I know where his thoughts have wandered. His eyes are both hard and soft. Thereās an everlasting ambiguity about him. He blames himself for letting this happen.
āNo,ā I match his hushed volume. I think back to the feeling of the knife tracing down my shirt and while the implication was there, ultimately nothing happened.
The comforting heat of his arms seeps into my thighs. Simonās head tilts ever so slightly as he tries to see where my thoughts went to. But he doesnāt push it.
āJust this?ā his hand reaches up to the cut at the base of my neck as the back of his index finger traces the thin line.
āJust this,ā I confirm although my neck will hardly be the only scar I have if I walk away from this nightmare alive.
Simon reaches into one of many pockets and pulls out the tin from earlier. He pops the lid off. Inside looks to be half filled with a type of salve. āThisāll help it heal,ā he scoops up a small amount with his middle finger.
One hand pulls my shirt down to expose more of the cut while the other rests against my collarbone and lightly applies the salve. My mind drifts to all the times heās done the same with his own scars. How many times has he sat in this very spot, gently dabbing the tincture on his wounds? Or does he even care about himself enough to try?
I revel in our closeness. How the sides of his stomach and ribcage brush against my inner thighs. The pressure of his hand resting against my collarbone. How the hand once grasping my shirt now lightly holds my hip as he steadies himself. And how the thumb of that hand gently rubs back and forth along my pliable flesh. Simonās eyes intently watch his middle finger as he dabs the salve on the cut. I want to pull him on top of me, feel his full weight press me further into the mattress.
Even after heās finished applying the salve, Simonās hand lingers. Like he isnāt ready to pull away. Like heāll miss the heat of my skin almost as much as Iāll miss his. Maybe more.
When he finally looks up, I have trouble breathing. Thereās something about his eyes that is just so beautiful. Beautiful and heartbreaking. They pull me into an unbreakable trance. All the white noise, all my troubling thoughts, just disappear. Neither of us dares to speak.
I reach up to grasp his hand and place it on my cheek. There it finds its natural place, cupping my soft skin against his rough callouses. Acting so gently, so tenderly, so against the merciless inclinations that have been beaten into him since birth.
Here is a man whose cruelty has defined his identity. Who has racked up a kill count too high to keep track of. Who the enemy tells ghost stories about to scare their recruits. Who is so notorious, yet so illusive, he is no more real to them than the legends that echo the halls. And here he rests in front of me, on his knees.
I lean into his touch. Warmth spreads throughout my body stemming from his hand. It feels like sunbathing on a Sunday morning. The kind of warmth that makes the bad things disappear for just a little while.
āKeep the salve. Apply some more before bed,ā Simon whispers. And there he goes and ruins it. Because now Iām thinking about my bed and my room and the impending intruder whoās made a promise of returning.
āDonāt make me go back,ā my throat tightens. I know itās no use.
āYou have to be there when he returns,ā his soothing thumb brushes along my cheek.
āLet me stay,ā I murmur.
A deep sigh is pushed from far within his lungs. Itās the kind of sigh that is paired with a fair bit of deliberation. The kind that says heās going to act against his better instincts.
āJust until dinner,ā Simon responds.
āWill you stay?ā I ask.
āNegative,ā and heās already shifting away from me. The warmth slipping away with him. I reach forward and grab both his arms just hard enough to stop him from leaving. His eyes latch onto mine once more. They soften ever so slightly. He wants to stay. God does he want to stay. But heās already been gone too long. People will start to notice.
āThank you, Simon,ā I mean it. So much so that I could say the words one hundred times over and theyād mean no less. But heāll never understand that.
āDonāt,ā his low voice warns. I second-guess how my hands wrap around his forearms for just a second. But I donāt move. Not now. Not after everything.
āNo. I mean it,ā I say. āThank you.ā
He stands and breaks away from my grasp, but doesnāt move away. Two large hands cup both sides of my face and urge me to stand.
āYou canāt say that,ā his voice is dead serious. āNot when this is my fault.ā
āWell Iām going to,ā he tenses when I wrap my arms around him. Iāve gathered heās not used to affection. Not from friends. Not from family. And certainly not out here. But that doesnāt matter. I need to touch him. Feel him. Know that heās real and heās here.
Another deep sigh escapes his chest. And then something unexpected happens.
I feel Simonās lips press a tender kiss to my forehead. I donāt know when he rolled up his mask and I donāt dare break away to look. Instead, I bask in the small, yet significant action. I breathe in his familiar scent and let the moment drag on as long as possible. I take note of how heās shaved since returning from the cabin. How much smoother his skin feels.
His hands move to my hair. His fingers lace through the soft strands and linger there for quite some time. I donāt know how long. But even after he pulls away theyāre still there.
āYou still have that knife I gave you?ā his breath brushes against my face.
āItās under my pillow,ā
āGood,ā Simon says, although I feel him slipping away already. āYouāre going to need it."
PT 18:
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HAPPY VALENTINE DAY!š¹šš
Thank you!!š
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Also feel like I should make a post explaining why I never respond to comments. This is just a side blog and tumblr for some reason only lets me respond from my main (or maybe I just donāt know how to use the app very well haha) but I read all of them!! For those of you who do comment and message me thank you so much! You have no clue how much it means to me!
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Hi:) I just binged He Knows and can I say:
H
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MY HEART CANT TAKE THE FLUFF, THE ANGST, THE SPICE LIKE WHAT THAT WAS INCREDIBLE. There are very few people who write (well) for ghost on here and you are one of them. This storyline is one, smart, interesting, and intriguing; two, absolutely brilliant with using the holy trinity; and three, the way you write everything is just amazing. I feel like this should be published! Just so you know, Twilight was a fan fictionā¦ just changed the names and you have yourself a book. I would buy this book hard cover and all! The way I would annotate āthis is hotā or āI want this.ā In every line of this story would be overwhelming but I would do it! I love my books and this would be the first book I would be willing to annotate because I just need to let out what I was thinking! I canāt wait until there is more and I hope that everything is good and great for you! I hope both sides of your pillow are cold, your room is the perfect lighting for reading and writing, and I hope your laptop stays fully charged for three whole days. Great author and incredible fics! Amazing!!
Thank you so much, my cheeks get red every time I read this haha!! I think it would be really fun to write a book one day, but for now, this is good practice ;) Your message made my day! Pt 16 is out now!
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I missed he knows so much!!! I knew you were catching up on school work but I always wonder āwhat if this is the last time they update?ā Just because of past experiences on here! Thank you for still updating, a lot of us appreciate and enjoy your writing so dearly!!
Thank you! I'll continue to update, it's just going to take a bit longer between posts. Pt 16 is out!
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