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decojellyfish · 3 months

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New Friend!

Hi, this is my first post! So please be nice, and if you have any constructive criticism, please comment! I hope you like it :)

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Hybrid AU! TF141 Fancy Kitty! Reader x Rescue Dog! Ghost and Rescue Dog! Soap (Feat. a tiny bit of x Owner! Price) Reader acts fem but is only addressed with “you”

SFW ~ Fluff (Tiny bit of angst, if you squint) Warnings: Mentions of death (though, not directly)

───♡───────────── Beginning Your life was everything you could ask for. Always brushed, fed the finest cuisine a kitty could ask for, and wearing the finest items your owner got you. Your favorite was a collar that looked like a pearl necklace, similar to the one your owner wore daily. Your fur smelled like her too, vintage perfume (her favorite from when she was a teenager, though she always talked about how it was hard to come by now in the modern day), and those little strawberry bonbons she always kept in her purse. And you would always have a pretty pink bow tied around the base of your fluffy tail. Resting your head in her lap, her aged hands petting your white fluffy ears or brushing them with this one brush. A beautiful golden brush, with an ivory plaque on the back that had roses, tulips, and violets painted. It was her favorite from when she was a little girl. Life is good, life is paradise.

Until one day, she didn’t get out of bed. You were still curled up in your pink fluffy cat bed, waiting to hear her sweet voice call out your name whilst serving up your borderline gourmet breakfast. After about an hour, your confusion pushed you out of bed and made you go to your owner’s room. She was still sleeping? Maybe she had a rough time sleeping last night and just felt like sleeping in. Yeah, that was it! She was pretty old after all, why wouldn’t she want to sleep in once in a while? So you curled up atop the floral bedsheets, nice and close to your owner, and waited for her to wake up. You knew she would love to wake up to her pretty little kitty all snuggled up because you missed her so much! So you waited. And waited.

And waited.

A few days passed. Wow, this must’ve been the sleepiest old woman you’d have ever seen! She even had visitors and she didn’t even wake up. It was kind of strange though. They were crying as if they were watching one of those sad movies your owner would watch, with you curled up beside her. The day your world came crashing down would be the day these strange people came to your owner’s house. One of them guided you down to the kitchen, proceeding to feed you some random wet food they found on the counter. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were while you were waiting for your owner to wake up. You hadn’t even noticed the other people carrying your owner’s body out of the house while this one person was playing with you. Jingling your favorite bell toy, calling you a “precious little kitty, so beautiful, yes you are!” the whole time.

That’s when he came into the picture. He came in an hour after these people arrived, it was John Price. Your owner’s son. He had come to visit her a few times, you enjoyed his presence when he was visiting. Price approached you and began to pet your silky, fluffy white hair and fur. “Hey there, pretty thing. How’ve you been holding up?” You didn’t know what he meant by that, but your purrs were all he needed to hear to not fret over you. He figured you were okay and ready to go with him. When he began to guide you out to his car, that was when you realized that he was taking you somewhere! He reassured you that your owner wouldn’t mind having you go on a little trip. You didn’t know you were headed to Price’s own house, all of your belongings in his trunk unbeknownst to you. You, in the present, wouldn’t be mad at Price for taking you home with him and becoming your new owner. No, you wouldn’t mind that at all, John Price was a lovely person! Like his mother. What made you pissed at him was the fact that he never mentioned the two dog hybrids he also had ownership of. That also lived in the house.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price had told Ghost and Soap, his two rescue dogs, about the new arrival of a new addition to the family. That of which is a cat. Ghost wasn’t excited about the thought of a cat being in the house all day, every day. It annoyed him, he never really liked cats. Soap, on the other hand, was very excited to meet the new kitty. He had been waiting, impatiently, by the door ever since Price had gone off to retrieve the cat hybrid. Once Price had finally returned, Soap was ecstatic. He pounced on the first being that entered the doorway, licking their face all over. That first being was you. You screeched and hissed at the seemingly rabid dog that was coating you in slobber. He was mucking up your hair, too! Once Soap realized that it wasn’t Price, but, the new kitty that Price had brought home, he grew even more elated. Before he could continue any further with his slobber, Price had pulled Soap away from you, giving you time to breathe. Your tail was beyond fluffy now, you were terrified. Your claws were out and almost gripping the welcome mat by the front door. Soap was confused, Ghost’s guard was up, and Price knew in the back of his head that something like this would happen.

It took you a while to settle in, you were still frightened by the dogs and would try to maintain a distance from them. Ghost would happily oblige, avoiding you whenever you were around. Soap, not so much. He ruined his first impression meeting you! He scared you, and that is not what a good dog does. So, he spent all day and night all over you. He would tell you about his day, and ask you about yours, only for you to stay quiet, and then he would continue talking to you. Soap LOVED being around you. Why wouldn’t he? You’re such a pretty kitty, you smelled good, and your fur was so soft and silky! He loved pawing at the little bell attached to your pink ribbon collar. It was so cute! You looked like royalty with it. Ghost, on the other hand, would mumble about how uppity you seemed. Spoiled, bratty. I mean, at some points you did act like that. Whenever Price didn’t get the right food for you, whenever the sun wasn’t shining in the right spot for you to bask in it, or how loud and annoying the boys’ squeaky toys were. You and Ghost would often avoid each other. Whenever you would accidentally brush up against each other in the halls, it would result in you hissing and him growling loudly, baring his teeth. Price would have to step in and separate you two, telling you both to quit it. But back to Soap, who is an absolute lovebug when it comes to you. He would come by and curl up right next to you whenever you were curled up and lying in the sunlight. At first, you would get up and leave to a new spot. But eventually, you gave up and let him curl up as close to you as he wanted to. Through Soap’s constant yapping, you find out that both he and Ghost were survivors of illegal underground dog fighting. They were from different parts of the UK, but they both ended up at the same shelter. That’s how they met Price. Soap would point out all of his scars, telling their backstories, and talking about all the other injuries he went through. He would also compliment you, as well as attempt to pamper you. You had to give him instructions on how your owner used to do it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It smelled of overwhelming masculinity in the house. It was such a drastic change from the old lady perfume and flowers that your old home smelled like. It took you a bit to get adjusted to the lack of floral prints that your new home had. One day, you were especially homesick. Even though you were in your new, permanent, home, you still missed your old home. It was foggy out that day, the weather not helping your mood at all. You were curled up on the couch as you looked out the window with sad eyes, your fluffy tail flicking around as you were deep in thought. You hadn’t even noticed Soap and Ghost staring at you, they could smell the sadness radiating off of you. It was a slightly pungent smell compared to your usual scent that smelled of fresh flowers. It made Soap whine and quickly approach you. He curled up close to you, trying to soothe you, bring you out of your sad thoughts, with his warmth. It did help, it brought you out of your deep thoughts. But you still smelled of sadness. You would curl up against him, letting out a tiny sigh.

Then Ghost curled up next to you.

That was a first. He had always avoided you, per your request. But you didn’t mind this sudden act of affection. It was nice, you got a better chance to identify the keynotes of his scent. With Soap being around you so much, you had no choice but the memorize what he smelled like. Musk, timber wood, vanilla, and tiny hints of coconut. Part of that was because of the shampoo that Price would wash him in during bath nights. You had always kind of known what Price smelled like, what with him visiting your old owner every so often. Dirt, but not in a dirty way, an earthy way, smokey, toffee, and sandalwood. Cozy. You eventually came around and stopped being so mad at him for not telling you about his dog hybrids. Especially since you started to like them now. Kind of. Ghost, he always kind of smelled smokey. But not like Price. Price smelled smokey in a round way. Ghost smelled smokey in a sharper way. Kind of a difference between cigars and pungent cigarettes. But now that he was sitting so close to you, to wipe that sad look off your face, you could get a more clear reading of his scent. Smokey, yet bitter, musk, cedar wood, and lavender. That also must have been because of the shampoo. But they must have two separate shampoos that they picked individually. You had your own that Price had brought from your old home. It smelled of cherry blossoms.

Fast forward a few minutes, now Soap is teaching Ghost how you like your hair brushed with your favorite brush. And you’re crying and venting about how much you miss your owner and your old home.

This caused Soap to have a lightbulb moment.

A few days later, you’re napping in your cat bed when you suddenly start to wake up to a familiar scent. Rose petals, peonies, orchids, and lotuses. Flowers. You wondered if you had suddenly returned back to her old home. You open your eyes. Nope, you’re still at Price’s. But the scent is coming from a little candle, in an ivory candle holder (a favorite of your old owner), sitting on the dining room table. Price noticed you as he finished serving breakfast for you and the boys. He explained that he “found it at the shop and thought you would like it.” Actually, Soap had begged him to find a way to cheer you up because it hurt him so badly to see you cry like that! Ghost was standing by Soap, not moving a single bit. But Price could see in his eyes that he was silently agreeing. He didn’t want to admit it, but he cared for the little cat hybrid. So Price had gone out and looked for his mother’s favorite candle. He knew the one. Now, back to the present, you’re looking at the candle with wide eyes. You’re looking at Price, then the boys, then the candle, then Price again. You feel your eyes start to sting. Tears abruptly well up in your eyes. All of the men are now worried. Did they mess up? Did Price pick the wrong candle? But he was sure of it! Soap quickly got up and hugged you tightly, asking why you were crying. Ghost even got up and walked over to you, just as worried but he wouldn’t show it. You eventually explain to them through tears and hiccups, that you love all they’ve done to make this new place feel like your old home. It makes you so happy that they want to see you happy and comfortable. They’re all relieved, Price gently wiping away your tears with a handkerchief his mother gifted to him when he first went into the military, petting your fluffy ears and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

These men all love you, they would do anything to not see you in pain. And you love them just as much, knowing that they would do anything to protect you. :3

───♡───────────── End

Again, if you have any constructive criticism, please comment below!

Thank you for reading :)

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sinkovia · 3 months

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Yes, Lieutenant: I

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Violence, suggestive themes.

Yes, Lieutenant Masterlist

Under the scorching sun, the team gathered in a huddle as Price provided the final briefing for the mission in Al Mazrah. Intelligence had pinpointed the location of Iván Espiga, Valeria's new right-hand man.

The stakes were high – capturing him was crucial for extracting any information about Valeria's potential hideout following her escape from Alejandro's prison.

As you move swiftly through the labyrinthine streets of Al Mazrah, your eyes flicker over to Alejandro, engaged in small talk with a local vendor.

Vigilant, you keep a watchful eye on his back, prepared for any indication of trouble. The urgency to find Ivan before he slips away from the city fuels every step.

Navigating through the bustling market, you seamlessly blend in with the local populace, your senses attuned to the surroundings. The air is thick with the scents of spices and the murmur of haggling voices.

Alejandro and you find a momentary refuge under an overpass, your eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of Ivan's presence. Amid the ambient sounds, your radio crackles to life, interrupting the tension.

"Bravo 1-1, this is Echo 3-1, how copy?" Alex's voice crackles over the comms, and you glance at Alejandro, your silent communication understanding the urgency in the situation.

"Alex, talk to me. You pick anything up?" Alejandro queries.

"Affirmative. You see that big tower with the bell. It's south, about half a click away from our entry point." you and Alejandro began to move.

"I see it. We are down the street from it. Two minutes. How far are you and Farah?"

"About five minutes. Do not engage, wait for Ghost and Soap to rendezvous."

"Copy, out."

As you approached Ivan's supposed safe house, the atmosphere grew tense. Guards were everywhere, and infiltrating without being seen would be a challenge. Taking cover behind crumbling walls and rusty vehicles on the side of the safe house, you instinctively took the safety off your weapon, ready for any unexpected confrontation.

In the distance, a faint whistle caught your attention, and you saw Soap with Ghost following closely behind, both crouched behind some barrels. Glancing around the perimeter, you signaled to them that it was safe to cross over and join you.

Soap approached your side, speaking softly. "Aye there, lass. Are Alex and Farah here yet?"

You turned to Soap and nodded your head. "They mentioned they were slightly behind the rest of us. They're probably still making their way over," you replied, noticing Ghost crouched behind you, his gaze fixed upon you.

Despite his hunched position, his dominating presence was evident, his towering figure, broad shoulders, and muscular frame drawing your attention. As you held Ghost's gaze, his brown eyes burned a hole through you. Even in the midst of tension, he exuded a calm demeanor that caught you off guard.

A deafening explosion rocked the air, ripping you from your thoughts. Peering over the wall, you witnessed the front gate of the safehouse blown up, and men in civilian clothing rushing through the debris. The chaotic scene sparked questions – was the safe house under attack by a rival gang?

Gunfire erupted from every direction as bullets whizzed past, kicking up dust and debris. The team ran for better cover behind the safe house, adrenaline surging through your veins. Ghost turned around, and all attention focused on him.

"This is our only chance to infiltrate while we still can before Ivan catches wind and leaves. Soap, I want you to breach the back door so we have a way in. Alejandro and I will clear the first floor, Y/N and Soap will find the stairs and clear the second."

Soap quickly planted and detonated the door, the team moving in unison. Bullets found their marks, dropping cartel members one by one. With the path clear, you and Soap advanced towards the stairs, leaving Ghost and Alejandro to handle their assignments.

Slowly ascending the stairs, you and Soap took out a few enemies, clearing each room systematically. As you opened another door, a man lunged from behind, slicing your arm. Reacting quickly, you slammed the door against him, sending him sprawling back into the room. Soap entered from the room across, pointing his gun at Ivan.

"It's over, Ivan, we have you like a cornered rat," Soap's Scottish accent cut through the tense atmosphere.

While Soap remained oblivious, you noticed Ivan's hand slowly reaching for something next to him. Your eyes zeroed in on a small pocket knife, just inches from his grasp.

Acting swiftly, you grabbed a throwing knife and aimed for his hand. The knife went through his hand and embedded itself in the floorboard below, incapacitating him from reaching the weapon. Ivan screamed in pain, unleashing a string of curses.

"Ahora sabes cómo se siente, perra. Mira lo que le hiciste a mi brazo" (Now you know how it feels, bitch. Look at what you did to my arm). You turned your arm to show him the small cut he had inflicted, and he sneered through the pain.

"Eso no es nada comparado con mi maldita mano. Te voy a matar, perra" (That's nothing compared to my fucking hand. I'll fucking kill you, bitch). You laughed as you retrieved handcuffs from your vest and secured them on his wrists. Rendezvousing with Ghost and Alejandro downstairs, Ghost noticed your arm.

"You alright sergeant?" you look at him a bit confused before you realize he's talking about your arm.

"Oh yeah, it's just a graze L.t I'm good" You hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before breaking away to walk outside through the back door you breached. You all made it back safely to the exfil where Price was waiting.

The mission in Las Almas spanned three days, and you are eagerly anticipating a much-needed shower. After checking your weapons back in, you make your way to your room to get a change of clothes and your shower bag. You head towards your personal shower, turning the knob you wait for it to warm up. However, after running cold water for about five minutes, you curse to yourself.

"The hot water probably isn't working on this side of the base"

For fucks sake. With a sigh, you collect your belongings and navigate your way toward the communal showers. It's 3 am, so fortunately, the area is pretty empty with everyone else heading to bed or watching the interrogation with Ivan. As you turn on the water, you shed your clothes, allowing the warm cascade to envelop your body. The sensation of scrubbing and lathering your hair fills your senses, the fragrance of your shampoo adding a refreshing touch.

Lost in your own thoughts, your peace is abruptly interrupted by the sound of someone entering the shower area. The walls dividing each shower stall aren't particularly tall, granting you a clear view over the top. Curiosity piques, and you cautiously peek your head over the wall, spotting the familiar sight of a Ghost mask.

"Im guessing your shower was cold too huh?" you remark, turning back around to rinse the shampoo from your head.

"Shit was colder than the motherland" he states in his brooding voice, eliciting a laugh from you. Ghost's rare sense of humor always brought a welcome respite from his typically solemn demeanor.

"How's the arm?"

"It was nothing, won't even leave a scar" he hums in response. Both of you shower in silence, and as you turn off the water, Ghost does the same. Reaching out to grab your towel, you realize with a mental curse that you left it behind in your bathroom.

Frustrated, you turn to Ghost, "Hey, Ghost, could you do me a favor? I left my towel in my bathroom. Would you mind getting one for me from the cabinet?"

He steps out of his shower stall, only in a towel that dangerously hangs low around his waist. The alluring sight of water droplets cascading down his chiseled chest captures the soft glow of ambient light. Each droplet follows its own path, delicately tracing the contours of his well-defined muscles, only to vanish upon reaching the edge of the towel.

You watch the subtle movement of his muscles beneath his skin as he reaches into the cabinet to grab a towel. Before you can register the intensity of your gaze fixed on his exposed torso, he stands in front of your shower stall, towel in hand.

"And here I thought I was the one with a staring problem," he teases, a blush heating your face as you hastily take the towel without uttering a word.

Oh god, what the fuck is wrong with you. Ghost just caught you staring at him like some hungry ass dog. You mentally let out a string of curses as you begin to dry yourself off. Quickly changing into the fresh clothes you brought; a pair of black sweatpants and a short-sleeved black shirt.

Slipping on your slippers, you step out from the shower stall. You make your way towards the counter adorned with a small mirror. Ghost emerges from his own shower stall, now dressed in a combination of sweatpants and a form-fitting short-sleeved t-shirt.

"I'm sorry for staring earlier, it was rude and I shouldn't have done it" He halts his approach towards the door, diverting his path to stand directly in front of you, his imposing figure towering over your smaller frame. A sense of vulnerability washes over you as you instinctively try to retreat, only to find yourself trapped by the counter.

"Why were you staring?" he asks, taking another step towards you, his hands firmly planted on either side of the counter, effectively caging you. Caught off guard by his question, you struggle to find the right words.

"I, um, I-I don't..." you stumble over your words, flustered by how close he is and the intensity in his gaze as his head tilts slightly to the side, his eyes land on your lips.

"Come on, Sergeant, use your words," he urges, his tone laced with a hint of teasing, igniting a rush of heat to your face. You find yourself at a loss for words, paralyzed by the way Ghost is addressing you.

"I don't know what to say, Lieutenant," you finally exhale, almost in a whisper, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes that meet yours with unwavering intensity.

In a daring move, he raises his hand, his fingertips brushing against your jawline, trailing down to your chin. With gentle yet deliberate force, he cups your chin, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip.

"Should I help you then sergeant?" he mutters, causing your heart to race within your chest, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you.

"Yes," you breathe out, releasing a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Yes, what, Sergeant?" Ghost's grip on your chin tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to assert his dominance in the moment.

"Yes, Lieutenant," you mutter, your cheeks growing warmer at the closeness between the two of you, acutely aware that anyone could enter the showers and catch you in this compromising position.

"Good girl," he utters, his free hand lifting his baklava to rest atop his nose. Before you can fully absorb his features, his lips press against yours. On instinct, your hands rise, one resting on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck to let you deepen the kiss. Bodies entwined in a heated exchange, you both press closer, driven by a ravenous desire for one another.

His hand trails down from your jaw to your throat, giving a gentle pressure that elicits a breathy moan of pleasure. With a sense of urgency, he hoists you up and settles you on the edge of the counter, stepping into the space between your legs, you felt him press against you.

Whose horse is that?

The friction between you causes a low moan to escape your lips as desire courses through your veins. You've never had sex with anyone before but you know if this is where it's heading, you would let ghost be your first. Your tongues melt together in a frenzied embrace, exchanging kisses that leave you both breathless, gasping for air.

As you part, gazing up at Ghost through hazy eyes, he looks down at you, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, down to your body, and back up again.

Something changes in his expression, his lustful look morphing into the cold, distant gaze he always carries. He releases his hold on you and abruptly pushes himself away from you, turning and leaving the showers without explanation, disappearing into the unknown, and leaving you alone.

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lilywastaken · 1 year

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⇝ resolution .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART FIVE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: A letter in the mail changes everything.

WARNINGS: Mentions of canon typical violence, gore, blood, death; angst, fighting, slight NSFW, a really big rollercoaster of emotions, I'm sorry.

A/N: AFTER ALMOST THREE WEEKS!! I AM SO SORRY IT'S HERE IT'S HERE SOUND THE BELLS!!! Please don't froget to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, it helps so fucking much!!

WORD COUNT: 8.4k

MASTERLIST.

If you want to be tagged in future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account - @lilynottaken !

Also on Ao3!

“You know you can just go to bed, right?”

“Mmm...” You yawned, leaning your head on the cool porcelain of the bathtub’s edge as you watched Tommy try to grab at one of the toys you’d placed in the water for him, leaning over to push it towards him. “...’m fine.”

“You haven’t slept properly for a few days.” Simon tried again, arms crossed over his chest as he tried his best to not just grab you and shove you into bed and finish Tommy’s bath on his own.

“Noted…” You said, voice groggy and throat sore but still with enough energy to snap at him. “Just go…”

Go where? He wanted to snap back, but kept himself quiet, looking away from your body slumped on the floor to your bed, letting out a frustrated sigh.

It’d been a few days since he’d come back from the mission that had ended with him and the task force in your home, and despite the warm farewell you’d both shared, when he came back, you’d seemed to have grown colder towards him for no apparent reason, and God, did he hate how much it reminded him of the first few months of whatever this was, insisting to do everything by yourself and leaving no room for discussion, taking up almost all of Tommy’s time with yourself.

Which was fine, you were his mother, after all, but it just felt a bit like… You were pushing him away, keeping him from your son all over again.

He didn’t like it.

“I got some curry, go eat and let me finish him up.” He took a few steps towards you, leaning down and placing a hand on your back, immediately being taken aback as you jumped away from his touch, arm placed protectively over yourself as if he’d just tried to attack you.

“No!” You all but screamed, staring up at him in shock before seemingly realising what you’d just done. “No. I- I said it’s fine, Simon. Go eat, I’ll finish.”

He furrowed his eyebrows beneath the mask, clenching his fists at his sides as he watched you turn around again to call out softly at Tommy, who turned his head to you with a bright smile, unaware of the tension filling up the room between his parents.

“Fine.” He said gruffly, not missing the way your shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice.

He really didn’t fucking understand what had happened between you two, what could’ve occurred in the span of the few days he’d been gone to change the way you acted towards him completely…

It was worrying, the whole scenario that was playing out making him sick to his stomach as he took out the food he’d bought, making you a plate before his and pouring you a drink, simply staring at his own food while listening to you whisper to Tommy through the walls, suddenly having lost all his appetite.

You hadn’t even gotten to talk like he’d promised when he came back, you’d dismissed any and every attempt to start a conversation, keeping it to short words and sentences, seemingly not wanting anything to do with him apart from the things you were basically obligated to talk to him about.

And god, did he fucking hate it.

“Let me feed him.” He spoke as you walked out of your bedroom with Tommy in your arms, his hair damp and curly from the water, chubby hands clinging onto one of his toys.

“I can-”

“I’m going to feed him.” Simon snapped, walking over to you and reaching for his son, his towering figure and the fire in his eyes immediately shutting you up as you didn’t put on more of a fight, letting him take the small boy. “And you’re going to eat and then go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Tommy was placed in his chair, a plate of rice in front of him. “You need rest.”

“Maybe I don’t want to rest.” You retorted, voice almost gone, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away from him, yet still keeping a watchful eye on him and Tommy, once again insinuating further that you didn’t trust him anymore anywhere near your son.

Keep it calm. Not around Tommy.

You saw it by the way he clenched his hand around the fork in his hand, he was trying his best to not snap with your son present, not wanting to subject the small boy to that kind of spectacle.

And yes, you didn’t either, but you couldn’t just act like everything was normal around him, you knew how you were acting now was just a trauma response to what had happened in the time he’d been gone, that it would all hopefully be better if you told him about it, but the mere thought of the files you’d received in the mail that were currently sitting in one of the cupboards’ drawers made you feel nauseated.

You just… couldn’t see him the same.

Yeah, you were once a kid with unlimited access to the internet, yes you accidentally saw some gore shit online, you’d heard some disgusting things thanks to your grandfather that had served in the military, you’d seen all the mess and blood after you’d given birth, you weren’t fully desensitised to gore or blood, but you’d seen it across the years.

But those pictures, fuck. It wasn’t any surprise that you’d immediately thrown up after opening them, having expected maybe some letters about rent or something, not- whatever that was.

What you’d been able to discern after flipping through them a few times was that they were not the original military’s file but copies, which by the way the ink was smudged on a few of them and the lettering was off, seemed to have been made under a lot of pressure and on a time limit.

You didn’t understand at first, why they had been sent to you, too in shock and terrified of the images amongst them to even connect it to Simon until you saw his callsign. And as you started to read through them more carefully, you realised that it was everywhere.

And fuck, you’d never been more terrified in your life.

Of course, you were aware of what a man in his position did, but you’d never explicitly asked him about it, never wanted to actually be exposed to whatever things he and the task force did to protect your country.

But seeing it written down, all the specifics along with the pictures, it was traumatising.

You hadn’t even realised how much time you’d spent staring at them until Tommy alerted you with a cry, snapping you out of it and forcing you to put the files down (although putting them down anywhere in your house made you feel sick), body shaking and bile rising into your throat once again.

Obviously, there was no name on the envelope and of course, no return address, so the person who sent the files to you remained a mystery, but it didn’t take a genius to deduce that it was someone who’d been close to everything that had been depicted in them, someone who’d figured out who you were and what relationship you had to the SAS Lieutenant, and either wanted to send some type of message that you were to shook up to decipher or to simply toy with your emotions, all you knew was that somehow, they’d figured out Ghost’s oh-so secretive double life out.

How, you had no idea. But you did know what that meant.

You and Tommy were in danger.

And you didn't know how you were supposed to react.

Seriously, how?

Everything was too much at once, the files, the pictures, the fear, Tommy, Ghost, you-

And then he came back.

Acting like he’d never done anything of what you’d seen, holding your face in those warm hands and being so sweet towards you and your son, conflicting you even more.

You didn't feel safe anymore, not just around Simon, but in general. And seeing him lean down to pick up Tommy with those hands, those hands that had caused what you’d seen, you just jumped into action, scooping Tommy up before he could reach him and insisting he would need to have a shower before touching him.

You just couldn’t fathom how a man like that could treat you both with such kindness, how his hands could go from doing that to someone and then holding you softly at night, it was confusing and sickening and all you wanted to do was get rid of everything, go back to before where you had no idea of what happened while he was gone and you could indulge yourself in his touch without that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

How were you supposed to bring up a topic like that to him? How were you supposed to look him in the eyes after that information, hand him the files and receive confirmation that they were in fact real and true? And what would you do? Force him to explain himself like a wife confronting her husband over an affair? This wasn’t anything like that, this was his job, something he’d been doing for ages and needed no explanation, especially to you. What, would you force him to apologise to all the people he’d hurt?

Of course not.

But still, you couldn’t just act normal.

Even if you felt slightly bad.

Even if he looked at you like that, the way he’d done at the beginning of your relationship.

You… Couldn’t…

You didn’t even process the tears running down your cheeks until he shot up from his spot and his warm hands came into contact with your cheeks, pulling your head up to look at you properly, making you stumble as the exhaustion and overwhelm finally caught up to you.

He called your name with such confusion and care, despite how mean you’d treated him these past few days, your hands coming up to grab at his arms for stability as he asked you what was wrong, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“Hey, listen t’me, come-”

“I can’t- I’m sorry, I can’t-” You sobbed out, your breathing erratic as you tried your best to stop yourself from crying, but once the dam had been broken, there was no way of fixing it. “Simon-”

“Come ‘ere.” He let go of your face, arms falling to your body and wrapping around you, pulling you into a hug and letting you grab at his shirt, despite that repulsive feeling stirring deep within your chest once again at his touch. “Fuck, lovie…”

“Don’t…” You murmured into his shirt as soon as the pet name had slipped out of his lips, squeezing your eyes closed.

“What?”

“Don't” You repeated, pushing yourself away from him and taking a few unsure steps back. “I- I can’t I-” You shook your hands as if there were muck on them, confused and anxious as you tried to breathe, spiralling further and further into a panic attack.

You weren’t really there for what happened next, Simon could tell as he held you almost limp in his arms, trying his best to calm you down from whatever was happening. Panic attacks for the both of you weren’t unnormal, he knew that, you’d both been subject to anxiety for a long time, so this wasn’t completely new, but you fainting from the exhaustion and him having to bring you to bed was.

And because you were asleep, he had no way of figuring out what had happened, what the cause of this whole mess was and how he could help you through it.

He’d placed Tommy in the crib you'd brought into your room a few days ago, letting you both take a well-deserved nap while he cleaned up the abandoned food outside. And well, after that, he picked a beer out of the fridge, convinced that he was deserving of one too after everything. But of course, the bottle opener was nowhere to be found, so he was forced to look through all the different drawers in the kitchen and living room until he found it.

But… He didn’t. Instead, he was greeted with a file envelope messily shoved into one of the cupboards beneath a few pictures of Tommy you’d put up, blank and very much looking like some of the files that they kept back at base.

He pulled it out, looking down at the drawer that was filled with little trinkets, stones and incense, definitely not the drawer where you’d stick something like this.

Maybe he should have put it back, but he finally decided against it, pulling the contents out and spilling them across the wooden top of the small cupboard, fear immediately being stricken within him as he laid eyes upon the papers.

What the actual fuck.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, some of these he’d written him fucking self, all the reports for recent missions where he’d been the one to finish off most of the enemy’s team.

He recognised each and every picture that came along with the textual description, remembered the face and the voice of the person who had been unfortunate enough to meet him during a mission.

He knew them, he’d had them in his hands at one point, that didn’t fucking explain why you had them.

A thousand scenarios rushed through his brain as he stared down at them, hands gripping at the edges of the wooden piece of furniture in order to keep himself from breaking his hands from the force he was clenching his fists with, a shaky sigh leaving his lips as his mind went down the deepest rabbit holes to explain why you had this.

Had you been using him to get inf-

No.

Was this all a game to y-

No!

No, you weren’t… You weren’t a fucking enemy. You weren’t his enemy. You weren’t that type of person. You wouldn’t just fucking babytrap him to get information.

No one was sick enough for that.

…right?

“Fuck!” He roared, slamming his hands down onto the wood and staring deep into the picture of the soulless eyes of one of his victims, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

No. He wasn’t going to think of you like that. You loved Tommy too much for it all to be an act. He loved y-

Simon raised his hands up to his face to press them into his eyes until he saw flashing lights, trying to calm himself down.

He turned around as soon as he heard the squeak of the floorboards, furious eyes landing on your dishevelled figure as you clung to the doorframe, staring at him like a deer caught in headlight as you saw what he’d been looking at.

“Sim-”

“Why do you have this?” A shiver ran throughout your body at the sound of his voice, calm and calculated, like he hadn’t just woken you up with a shout loud enough to shake the building.

“Si-”

“Answer.” Ghost replied, eyes focused solely on you as you looked down at your feet, a pressure building in your chest as you tried to speak.

“They were sent to me.” You finally choked out, flinching back as Simon made a move to pick them up, unknowing of the connotations that answer could have.

Silence.

“Do you really think I’d go out of my way to find those? Do you think I wanted to see you like that- like Ghost?” You started, voice wavering. “Fuck, Simon, those- I couldn’t even look at them a second time, I feel sick just fucking thinking of them!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me!?” He shouted, turning around in a flash and taking a few jarring steps towards you, files all bunched up in his shaking hands. “Why didn’t you think to mention that you were being sent shit like this!?”

“Because I was fucking scared, Simon! I was fucking terrified that this meant that they know who I was, who Tommy is, who he’s related to! That they know about us and therefore can use us as leverage against you! Unlike you, I’m not that fucking desensitised to pain, to whatever you do, to the fear of getting hurt so that they can get to you! I’m not part of the fucking military, I’m just a fucking civillian who is clearly very much in danger thanks to a fucking mistake she made with you!” You screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks and blurring your vision as you shoved a finger into his chest. “So I’m sorry, okay!’ I’m fucking sorry that I was too afraid to bring this up! To bring up the fact I can’t see you the same, that I’m scared Tommy’s going to be hurt and I won’t be able to do anything about it, I’m fucking sorry!”

You let out another sob as you finished, your voice sore and throat dry from letting all of that out.

“‘M not like you, Simon.”

Fuck.

Everything came crashing down onto him, guilt the only thing weighing Simon down.

“I’m… scared.”

“Of me?” He finally breathed out, raising his free hand to cup your cheek, relief flooding his body as you didn’t move away but immediately being crushed as he saw the fearful look on your face.

“...I don’t know…”

A beat.

“...Should I be?”

Maybe.

“...I’d never hurt you. I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. You and Tommy are my family, and I’m going to protect you both no matter what. I won't let anyone ever lay a hand on you. You need to know that. The man I’m out there isn’t the same as the one I’m here. But neither of us would hesitate to rip apart whatever bastard is making you feel like this.”

He let the files fall, cupping your face with both hands, shaking you slightly so you got the message to look up at him.

“I know I can’t undo this, what you’ve seen, what I’ve done, but I want to be here for you. You know I’ll always be here for you.” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You said, voice breaking. You couldn’t fully express what you were feeling right then, you… you didn’t hate him, it would be impossible to truly hate Simon, after everything he’d done for you; you just needed time and space. His view of you might’ve not changed in the whole time he’d been with you but yours definitely had, and that was normal, considering everything he did. You just couldn’t act like everything was normal after what you’d seen.

“...go back to bed. We’ll talk this out once you’re rested.” He let you go, watching you walk back into your room with a guilty look on your face before turning to his now still beer, the appetite he’d had for one having vanished.

“...Simon?” You whispered before closing the door, hand clinging onto the wood.

“Yeah?” He replied, a bit gruffly.

“...Tommy’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” He repeated, giving you a reassuring look, one he hoped you caught despite the mask. “‘Course he is.”

He watched you hesitate at the door for a split second, almost like you were deciding whether or not to say anything to further the conversation, but seemingly decided against it, closing the door after a quick nod and leaving him in silence.

Silence.

Something he used to enjoy before, when he was alone at home or at base with only himself for company, letting him unwind and think about whatever he wanted to. Now, it was overwhelming.

It felt like every single thought rushing through his brain was out to catch him or hurt him, showing him the most horrific scenarios and ideas of what could happen thanks to whatever fucker had decided to play some sick joke on you.

Was it even a joke? It could be hundreds of things, a joke, a message, a threat…

Or just a form of psychological warfare, a way of messing with you and no doubt hoping to distance you from him, to leave him weak and defenceless like the enemy anticipated. That was the more credible reason, even if the mere thought of someone sending you shit like this in hopes of breaking you drove him insane to the point of wanting to catch and dispose of that abstard with his own two hands, ironic considering that those acts of anger and violence had been the whole reason for your dispute.

It pissed him off to no end.

But, even though a lot of people would’ve acted on the current emotions rushing through him if they were in his place, Simon knew that focusing solely on finding the bastard wasn’t the most important subject at hand. As much as he wanted this threat on your happiness and safety disposed of, he couldn’t just fuck off and leave you here to deal with the damage and Tommy all on your own.

He’d repeated it to himself countless times before going on a mission, he was a protector, he was your protector, even if in the future you decided you hated his guts or something happened between you two, you’d always be safe and secure with him, no matter what.

And so, he swallowed that horrible need for retaliation and picked up his phone, dialling in his captain’s number.

“What’d you do with them?”

“Burnt them.” Simon grunted, wiping away the mess Tommy had made around his mouth. “Best way of disposing shit like that.”

You hummed, clearly out of it, staring at the news playing out on the tv.

“I told Laswell about it. ‘Said she’d do her best to find out who was the one who made the copies.”

“Right…” You drummed your fingers against your mug with feigned disinterest, truly not knowing what to say back.

“And, until whoever it is is caught, I’m not going anywhere.”

That caught your attention. You turned to him with an inquisitive look, confused. “What?”

“Asked her to stop givin’ me missions until they’re sure you’re not in danger.” He clarified, picking Tommy up from his high chair and straddling him to his side. “So I’m here in case anything happens.”

Tommy was carefully handed to you, Simon’s body plopping down onto the sofa next to you a few seats away, his feet coming up to rest on the coffee table as he picked up his own tea.

“‘That okay? Figured you’d feel better if it was me and not some random guy sent by the SAS. Though Gaz was pretty up for it when asked…” He mumbled the last part, showing you did indeed have an option if you truly didn’t feel safe with him around anymore (his heart stung a bit at the thought of it, but it was what it was), but you soon shut it down with a simple shrug, pulling Tommy closer to you so he could rest his head on your chest, rubbing his back with your free hand.

“It’s… okay. I’m just going to need some time.”

You were a bit ashamed of how you’d reacted last night when he’d confronted you about the files, but you still stood by everything you said, even if you’d said it a bit too harshly, it didn’t matter. You weren’t like him, after all, you were still afraid of things happening to you and of course, your son, and just needed some time to process what you hadn’t in all the months of knowing Simon: that whether you liked it or not, you would always be tied back to him, even if the mere thought of being hurt just because of who you’d randomly decided to go back home with one night.

“You said something last night.” He began, outstretching a hand towards you both so Tommy could grab at one of his fingers.

“I said a lot of things last night.” You tried to humour, but stayed quiet as the expression in his eyes didn’t change.

“You said that you were in danger because of a mistake you made.”

You flinched at the words, biting down on your lower lip as you recalled back to the outburst you’d subjected Simon to last night, that particular part having slipped out in the heat of the moment.

“...did you really mean that?”

“Fuck! Of course not!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to disturb Tommy any more than you both already had in the last few days, shaking your head to further your point. “No- Fuck, tat- that was so disgusting of me to say. It might’ve been a mistake back then when it first happened-” You saw his shoulders slump slightly, so you moved to grab at the arm he’d put out, catching his attention. “-but I’d never change it. Not for anything in the world. If that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have Tommy, and he- God, Simon, he’s my son, of course he isn’t a mistake, he’s my everything…”

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding along with your words as you both looked down at Tommy, curious big eyes switching between you two as if able to understand the conversation that had just transcurred, giving you a toothless smile.

Well, not really toothless, since he had been crying for almost a month now due to the pain of his teeth coming in, so there were a few flashes of white across the smile.

“Yeah, you’re my everything too.”

“Huh?”

You’d expected him to immediately backtrack on his answer and say he was talking to Tommy, but he simply shrugged again, eyes darting from you to Tommy with a fond look reflecting in them as he did everything but take back what he said. “Both of you. Might be corny, but it’s true. I told you.”

His everything.

Simon’s everything.

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did.

Everything was going to be okay.

Yeah, it would take some time for you to adjust like you’d told him, but he was okay with that. He’d wait for you.

"Come on, please, wake up."

Simon's hands were shaking, gripping at your lifeless body as if you were the only thing that mattered in the midst of this living nightmare, his mask growing wet as tears formed in the corner of his eyes, his breathing growing erratic as your body slumped in his grasp.

He called your name desperately, your body shaking in his hold from the way his own hands were trembling and in a feeble attempt at getting you to wake up, to open your eyes, to say his name in that fucking beautiful voice of yours, anything.

His gloved hands came up to cradle your paling face, running it over your features to rub off the dust and ashes that had stuck to the now drying blood, dropping your body in horror as instead of the grime he wanted to wipe off, he was left with nothing, his hand growing warm as the blood from your now horrifying carcass started to flow.

He was drowning, he was choking, he couldn't fucking breathe, he couldn't think, you were dead, you were gone, his fucking life didn't have meaning anym-

Simon jolted up as the pressure that had been building in his chest finally exploded, the dam that had been working so hard to keep his fears at bay breaking, letting the tears that Simon always tried his best to contain out.

Fuck, it felt like he'd really lived it, like he had held your dying body in his hands as you slowly slipped away from him, like his the recurring fears of him causing your end had come true.

He felt pathetic, like the broken man he really was, lying on the fucking sofa like always trembling like a little kid, the tears a constant stream down his cheeks, all the emotions and stress from the past few months finally catching up to him.

His breathing was raspy and uneven, reflecting the anxiety rushing through his veins at that very same moment.

He felt awful, he was awful, an awful, destroyed, broken man who had been tipped over the edge by a stupid fucking dream.

Someone undeserving of everything you’d given to him.

He was sure his heart was going to break through his chest with how quickly it was beating against his ribcage, one of his hands coming up to clench at the material of his creased shirt.

He felt like he was about to pass out.

His eyesight was blurry, his limbs shaky and his mouth dry, clear indications of the oh-so familiar panic attacks he’d been prone to every since he was a young boy, hat he’d grown enough to know how to control, but he knew that right now, he did not have enough willpower to keep himself from spiralling down into his own thoughts.

He blindly got up, staggering around the living room as the blanket that had been draped over him pooling onto the floor. He pushed open your door, breaths staggering as his teary eyes made contact with your sleeping body, darting towards the crib right next to your bed where Tommy slept peacefully, making sure to stay quiet as he entered the bathroom.

He didn’t want to wake you up, to annoy you even more than you already were with him after everything that had happened, despite almost a month having gone by after it all, you deserved rest, you deserved fucking better than h-

His hands gripped the porcelain sink as he stumbled into the room, staring at his uncovered reflection in the mirror, his cheeks red and blotchy from having cried mere moments ago, a few stray tears continuing their pathway down his face.

He felt ridiculous.

He was supposed to be some hard willed strong Lieutenant, not the pathetic man who cried at a mere nightmare he really was.

"...Simon?"

The sound of shuffling sheets reached his ears, your muffled voice coming from beneath the covers as you stirred, his panicked footsteps and the light shining through the crack of the bathroom door enough to wake you from your slumber.

"'S that you?"

Who else would it be? He wanted to joke, but stayed quiet, hoping you would just go back to sleep.

But clearly, you weren't satisfied with no answer.

He watched the door open behind him from the mirror, freezing like a deer in headlights as you walked in sporting one of his dirty shirts he'd told you once you could wear, hiding the fact he wanted to see you in his clothes behind the pretence that it would be easier to do laundry, sweatpants (his, as well) tied at your waist so they wouldn't slip down your legs.

"Simon." You mumbled, eyes barely open and vision blurry as you held onto the door frame for stability, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you yawned. "What's wrong?"

You knew something was off as soon as you'd heard him creep into the bathroom, already knowing from experience that Simon never got up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, fearing that he'd wake you up like he’d done just now-

“Nuffin’, lovie. Go back to bed.”

You frowned, squinting at him through swollen eyes, the bright lights from the bathroom and the sleep in them not helping your vision in the slightest, moving your head to rest against the cool wood of the doorframe. “It’s not, though, is it?”

A beat.

“Simon…” You said, mid-yawn, outstretching a hand to blindly grab at his sleep shirt, tugging at the material. “Tell me.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to not break down like he knew he wanted to, his grip on the sink slowly growing stronger as you stumbled towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing the side of your face to his warm back, giving him a comforting squeeze.

"I said it's fine." He whispered, hand coming up to yours and attempting to peel it from his body, giving up once it immediately snapped back.

Part of him wanted you to stay like that, but the other, more reasonable part knew that it would be best if he didn't burden you with his nightmares and if you just went to bed.

"You wouldn't be crying if it was." You murmured, unlinking your hands and running them over his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath his shirt.

"'Not crying, lovie."

"You have to stop lying to me, Simon. It isn't healthy." You mumbled angrily, pulling yourself away and looking up at him, feeling the blood leave your face as you realised you were staring at the back of his actual head instead of the black material of his balaclava like you'd gotten used to.

Simon had never explicitly told you that he was uncomfortable with you seeing his face, but you could only assume after all the time he spent with his face obstructed, even with Tommy.

So you looked down at your feet, making sure to not peek at the mirror like you knew you really wanted to, not wanting to upset him by breaking his trust.

"...I know." He sighed, turning on the tap and splashing his face with some of the water, finding it a bit humorous that he did it with you still clinging onto him, placing a damp hand over one of yours and giving it a squeeze.

"Come on…" you sighed, letting go of him reluctantly and turning your body towards the door, flipping the light switch off before blindly outstretching an arm out to him, letting out an amused huff as you immediately met his own hand, pulling him out of the small bathroom and back into the comfort of your room. "Stay?"

"...'course." He breathed out, following you mindlessly as you returned back into your spot in the bed, almost like routine now after all the times you'd brought him to bed with the same comforting hold on his hands, kneeling on the mattress and all but collapsing onto the soft covers, running his hands over them until they met your warm body, running his fingertips over the patch of skin that had been revealed by the rise of your shirt, letting out a shaky breath as your own hands came up to run over his arms.

He fluttered his eyes shut, closing the distance between you to and letting his body fold into your touch, snuggling his face into the valley of your breasts (he thanked whatever god was up there that his shirt was big enough to expose your cleavage, a very welcoming sight), and grasping at your thighs for stability.

Your arms came to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer into you until he'd grabbed at your legs to wrap around his waist, fingers running through his coarse hair, stopping at the top of his head every few seconds to scratch at his scalp, and if Simon was a cat, he knew damn well he'd be purring right then.

"It's okay to cry, you know that, right?" You whispered, voice muffled by his hair as you let out a breath, his short hair tickling your cheek from how you'd pressed your face against it. "Better out than in."

"You sound like my mom." He grumbled, pulling a snort out of you as you ran your nails down his nape. "'Always said shit like that."

You stayed quiet, ignoring the nagging feeling in your chest that wanted you to continue on with the conversation, curious for learning more about his mysterious family.

"'Said'?" You whispered, almost nervous, scared you'd overstepped.

He stayed silent, only furthering your fear that you'd insulted him until he let out an elongated sigh, hands pulling you impossibly closer as his warm breath hit your skin, face flushing at the reminder that if was his actual face pressing against your cleavage, not the rough material of the painted balaclava.

"Don' see her as much. Not in the best condition to have a chat. Tommy takes care of her mostly."

"Tommy?" You said in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes darted over to your son's crib, the glow-in-the-dark stars you'd stuck to the sides of it illuminating it enough to reflect your sleeping son's cute little face.

He froze in your arms as if he'd said something wrong. "My… my brother."

"Your brother's called Tommy?!" You almost shouted, peeling yourself off of him to look down at him (ignoring the slight whine that formed in his throat at the feeling of your body being torn away from his), despite not even being able to see him.

"Yeah…" he grumbled, trying to pull you back into his arms, frowning as you slapped at his shoulders to catch his attention.

"That's - Why you reacted like that, right?" You mumbled, thinking back to the night he'd met Tommy for the first time, the way his eyes had gone blank like you'd just reminded him of some painful memory.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

You hadn't thought much about it at the time, since by then, you had more important things to worry about, but now that he'd revealed his brother's name, his shock made sense.

"Yeah…Was kind of… Tragically funny, lovie." He sighed, running your hands over your waist as you finally pulled him back into your hold.

"Yeah… I didn't know."

"How could've you? I left before I could even give you my last name." He huffed, rubbing the side of his cheek on your chest.

Silence filled the room once again, only being broken by the shuffling sounds of the sheets over you or Tommy's occasional whines, continuing your brushing of his hair with your fingers.

You didn't want to pry further into the topic that had been at hand before you'd interrupted, squeezing your eyes closed as you inhaled his shampoo, shivering beneath his touch as he ran his fingers around your belly button.

"She's in a home. Near where I grew up. Nice one. I only talk to her on the holidays." He started, running them up to the space below your breasts. "It's better that way. Tommy's the nicer one of us."

"Didn't he used to terrorise you?" You teased, trying to lighten the mood, letting out a cry as he licked a stripe up your clavicle, no doubt grinning into the darkness as you slapped his head.

"Going to stop telling you things from now on if you insist on using them against me in the future, lovie." He murmured, pressing a kiss to where he'd just licked as an apology, ignoring the way your skin grew warmer beneath his touch. "But… he's cleaned his act up. Not as much as a cunt. Probably afraid I could rip him in two, now."

You snorted, hesitantly pushing his bangs back to press a kiss to his forehead, almost giggling at the pleased hum that left his lips. "Si… you, uh… want to talk about why you were crying?"

Simon noticeably tensed beneath your touch as you brought up the whole reason as to why he was in your bed, another breath hitting your skin.

He thought about lying to you once again, but finally decided against it, throwing a glance at his son over his shoulder as if the boy would understand the next words that would come out of his mouth.

"Just… a stupid nightmare. You… I jus’ wanted to make sure you were safe. I didn't mean to wake you, really." He let out all in a string pulled together by one breath, hands coming down to grab at your thighs and rub at them through the material of your bottoms, letting out a shaky sigh as you moved them to wrap around his body. "Fuckin' stupid, isn't it?"

"It's not stupid if it affected you this much, Si…" You tried, not wanting to pry further into the contents of the nightmare, but still not wanting to drop the subject all together. “Even the strongest people need a shoulder to cry on.”

You cupped his face, bringing it off your chest, looking down at what you could only assume to be his face.

“Let me be yours.”

You didn’t move as he shuffled closer to you, running your thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned closer into you, feeling his warm breath hit your face.

“Mine?” He mumbled, your hair standing on edge as you felt his lips brush against yours ever so slightly.

“Mhm… Yours.” You breathed out, nodding as if he could see you.

Heat rushed to your face as soon as his lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan you let out as his hands moved beneath your shirt, tightening at your waist.

And God, did it feel right.

Nothing had ever felt as right as this did right then, the feeling of his lips slotted against yours and his hands seemingly everywhere on your body, causing you to go near dizzy and drunk on his touch.

“Fuck, love.” He said between kisses, moving you onto your back so he was hovering over you properly, leaning down to catch your lips back into a passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to breathe or let out your own moans, immediately swallowing up each and any sound you made.

His hands came down to your thighs, helping you wrap them around his waist before he moved away to press pecks along your jawline, moving further down until he was leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all over your upper chest, his stubble tickling your skin.

“S-Sim-”

He shushed you, sucking on the pressure point of your neck, pressing closer to you as you let out another breathless whine, his eyelashes brushing against your skin from the way he's snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was trying to have you impossibly close to him.

He stayed there for a few minutes, covering your neck in kisses and love bites, answering with a “markin’ my territory” and a chuckle when you asked why he was so adamant on kissing you everywhere but where you needed it the most, his hands doing wonders as they went over your shirt to cup one of your breasts, immediately surprising you both my the loud moan that left you.

“I-”

“Christ, lovie. That fuckin’ sensitive? Barely even touched you and you’re moaning like that?” He huffed out in amusement, leaning upwards in hopes of laying his eyes on the mess he’d left across your skin only to be met with darkness, grunting as he raised a hand to run over the marks, feeling the indents from his teeth around your neck.

“It’s- It’s been a while, Si-” You mumbled out of embarrassment, thankful for the darkness since it was the only thing keeping you from fully breaking down from the shame of being so sensitive after a single touch, but you couldn’t really be blamed.

It’d been almost a year and a half since you’d last indulged in any type of self-pleasure, the last time ironically being the night you’d spent with Simon before his mission, it was no wonder a simple brush of his warm hand to your breast had you writhing and moaning like a bitch in heat, you basically were.

“Hm…” He grunted, leaning down to press some kisses along your flushed cheeks, still purposefully avoiding your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he thought of what to do next. “...I want to see you.”

What?

“Properly.”

You felt his lips brush against yours slightly, knowing full well how titillating he was being.

“Wh-”

“Turn the light on.”

You froze.

You were staring up at the darkness of your ceiling, letting out soft breathless sounds as he leaned back down to continue kissing your neck, letting the words he’d just spoken sink in, letting out a chuckle against your ear after a minute or so passed.

“Go.”

You acted on instinct only, stretching your body over to the lamp on your bedside table with the little space he had given you, the man still insisting on having his hands all over your body, your mind and thoughts reeling.

It would’ve been different if he had his mask on, the small request would have been just for him to see the marks he’d left on you, to continue whatever you’d started in the light so you’d both be able to see your body’s reactions properly, but this was oh so much more than that.

He didn’t seem to want to make a move to go get his mask or to cover his face, he was actually telling you to turn on the light so you could see him, see his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips, Simon

As soon as your shaking hand found the switch and had pressed it, your eyes closed in time for the room to be filled with light, a nervous sound leaving your lips as Simon pulled you back into place, his calloused fingers running over the length of your nose before poking at the middle of your furrowed brows.

“Y’can open them.” He whispered, his own voice sounding slightly terrified. “Please.”

“What if you’re ugly?” You blurted out as a joke, trying to lighten the mood, immediately slapping yourself mentally the moment he didn't laugh, opening your mouth to apologise only for him to poke you again.

“Jus’ open them.”

The first thing your eyes landed on was the smile pulling at his lips, leading them from the scar that adorned the left corner of his mouth past his crooked nose and up to those beautiful eyes of his, his blond eyelashes framing them perfectly like always.

And fuck… He was beautiful.

The stubble covering the lower part of his face, the scars littering his face telling stories and tales of all his time on duty, his cracked lips and scarred nose only complementing his beauty even more.

It was everything and nothing like you’d expected, it was just… him.

You didn't know what to say, what were you supposed to? But by the way his smile grew bigger at the sight of your dumbfounded face, you were sure that your expression told him everything he needed to know.

Now, Simon knew that he wasn’t the worst looking person, but the way you were staring at him like he was a god incarnates, like Aphrodite herself had given him a piece of her beauty, it didn’t fail to tint his cheek a soft pink, quickly leaning into you to meet you in another kiss in hopes of hiding how flustered he was from you.

“Mhf-” You tried speaking as soon as you had regained consciousness through his kisses, a giggle leaving your lips as he gave you no time to speak. “You’re- Mm- S- so pretty, Si-”

Pretty? He thought to himself as he continued his kissing assault, the adjective a very foreign concept, never having been referred to in that way in his life. But, it did feel nice when you said it, the way you were looking at him with that sultry gaze as the compliment oozed out of your mouth like honey, it had him grabbing at your thighs for stability, wrapping them around his waist and letting you make contact with the product of your make-out session and cute words.

“F-fuck!” You mewled, grabbing at the back of his head for stability, tugging at the roots of his dirty blond hair, shivering underneath him as he let out a breathy groan, the sound sending pleasurable shocks down to where you both were connected, despite the amount of clothes that separated you both. “W-Wait- Hng!”

He stopped as soon as the word left your mouth, pulling back and moving his hands to hold your waist, giving you some time to regain your breath before asking.

“‘vrything okay?” He said breathlessly, looking down at your equally dishevelled state, your lips red and sore from all his kissing and body littered with all the marks he’d left, taking a few seconds to admire his handiwork and how truly fucking perfect you looked covered in his claims before going back to waiting on you.

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, breathing and heart pulse erratic, coming down from the sudden pleasure. “I- I’m sorry, I just don’t know if I want to continue- Sor-”

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you, grabbing your thighs and pulling them away from their spot around his waist, pushing them together and placing them away from him, placing a comforting hand on the one that was still pressed next to his. “We don’t have to. Whatever y’want, love. ‘S been a long time, I get it.”

You nodded, sending him a small smile that he returned in an instant, leaning up to press a final kiss to his lips, thankful that he’d understood your fears so quickly.

“You’ll stay, right?” You mumbled against his lips after pulling away slightly, looking at his through half-closed eyes, his deep beautiful pools staring back at you.

“Always.”

His arms wrapped around you from behind once you situated yourself back in the bed, arms pressed tight and securely against our stomach as his thumb rubbed over the skin, a constant reminder that he was there and that you were safe like he’d promised, soft kisses being pressed against your nape from behind, a sweet contrast to the bites that now littered your front.

“‘You going to wear the mask again?” You spoke drowsily, turning your head slightly so his lips pressed against your cheek, his breath tickling your ear.

“Not unless you want me to.” He mumbled back, half-asleep.

“Rather you did… Can’t focus with that ugly mug of yours…” You teased, letting out a high pitched yell as he bit down onto the space between your neck and shoulder, immediately soothing the pain with a kiss and a chuckle.

“Only mug you’ll se ‘round here, lovie, better get used to it.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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madelynraemunson · 16 days

Text

CASUAL part 2

see part one here.

modern!incel!asshole! eddie x fem!reader

It’s 7 in the morning. Eddie is seen doom-pacing in the halls of Hawkins High.

a/n: i promised y’all part 2 so here ya go. let’s make him pay. 💋 also shout out to @love-anonymous-writer for bringing this universe to life. a little angst here and there is good for the soul <3

who got the last laugh?

[WC: 1.1k words]

“Please respond…please respond…please respond…”

The soles of Eddie’s shoes slam against the tiles of Hawkins High as he rushes to your locker. Meanwhile his entire soul has left his body.

You didn’t answer any of his phone calls. All the texts he sent you were left on read. Having been so accustomed to your instant replies, Eddie essentially catapulted himself into a full-blown panic last night when he saw the ominous text you sent him...and the nothingness from you that followed soon after.

The crickets of Forrest Hills that taunted his eardrums later that night served as a vengeful metaphor of the brick wall you built between you and him. The girl who once gave him everything has now started giving him nothing. You’re nowhere, but everywhere. It’s like you’ve become a ghost.

When he sees you, color drains from Eddie’s guilty face. You look so beautiful today, hair curled down to the small of your back, a nice simple dress and some slippers, with makeup ever so gracefully applied. A class act, even when plagued with the utmost disrespect.

“Hi," he says to you as he approaches.

“Hi.”

As far as Munson knows, he no longer exists to you. He's a shadow now, a carapace of a boy you used to love 'cuz now — after hearing what you heard in his trailer — you know he's not the same boy that made you feel all the butterflies. That boy is long gone. You even start to wonder if that version of Eddie even existed.

“C-can we talk, please?” he requests.

“What’s to talk about?” you challenge him, stoically. “Don’t wanna annoy you with my rambling.”

“You never annoy me…” he attempts as you mindlessly comb through your locker for your homeroom notebook.

“Mm.”

You were casual about it. Too casual about it.

“You… uh…” he clears his throat. “You made me cookies yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I was at your door for quite a while so you must’ve been busy. Cookies were taken care of though.”

“I see…” Eddie mutters as the pieces all start coming together.

He thinks about how he always leaves his windows cracked open. His uncle would whoop his ass if he hot-boxed the trailer again, so it became a habit. But the trailer park is small, and on certain afternoon, if someone from a nearby unit had dropped a pin, Eddie would hear it. Suddenly, fear arises in him.

Surely, you didn't hear everything he and The Boys™️ said. He had his headphones on and he couldn't have possibly been that loud, could he? Unless technology failed him again.

The warning bell sounds throughout the halls and you excuse yourself from the narrative. Eddie tags after you like a lost puppy, nearly tripping on his shoelaces along the way.

"W-wait!"

The first class of the morning is homeroom. A class you unfortunately shared with Eddie, Grant, and Harmony.

You didn't want to see any of their faces. Eddie's face would serve as a reminder of how fake and construed the fucker is. Grant's would remind you of how insignificant you were to the guys (despite how welcomed they made you feel at the start). And Harmony. Harmony's beautiful face — with a body far too developed for a girl in her grade to match — would only remind you of the fact that the girl didn't inherently do anything to you... other than be beautiful and get caught in the crossfire of horny, greasy teenage boys.

It’s a fucking mess.

You swallow hard and keep your chin up regardless. Because what other choice do you have? You either feign your confidence or let irrelevant boys crush it.

You continue strutting over to your seat as Eddie trails behind at a measurable distance. Along the way, you inevitably run into the Junior Queen of Hawkins High herself, Harmony Heathers.

Harmony issues you a sweet smile. You smile back at her in return. And you didn't even need to turn your back to know that Eddie most likely did a double-take when sliding past her.

The late bell rings, indicating the start of class.

“Okay,” your homeroom teacher Mrs. Helleck exhales as she clasps her hands together. “Good morning everybody. For Red Ribbon Week this week, we’re gonna be doing a group project. Worth 20-percent of your grade.”

The class erupts in agonistic groans while Mrs. Helleck attempts to calm them down. You feel Eddie’s gaze burn into you, indicative to the fact that he was looking forward to using you again like he always seems to do. This time around it would be for a grade instead of a two-pump fuck. But you had something else in mind.

“You will be doing a presentation,” Helleck continues. “With a partner of your choice. Your job is to create a slogan along with a list of reasons why you should stay away from drugs.”

“Drugs Instead of Hugs,” Grant mutters to Eddie.

The general vicinity collectively praises his lukewarm wannabe 4-Chan edged joke.

You roll your eyes while your poor homeroom teacher tries to proceed with her instructions, despite the immature snickers.

“You will be presenting with your partner on Friday. Do not wait until last minute to do this assignment please. Deadlines catch up to you fast.”

Mrs. Helleck makes her way over to you.

Like Dungeons and Dragons, everyone in the class is assigned a “classroom role”. You’re the leader of the pack, the ‘foreman’, to which you never understood because up until today you never had the confidence to call the shots. The alphabet has never been on your side anyways.

“Now dear,” your teacher smiles down at you. “Since your last name starts with an A, you get first choice. Who would you like to work with?”

Eddie’s gaze is extra fixated on you now. It gives you a greater deal of satisfaction than tossing those cookies ever did. It was you who had the reigns now, instead of those woman-patronizing incels.

You start to smile connivingly, to which the guys start to gulp over. You can tell they’re putting two and two together, their two brain cells collectively working over time to discover that you had a delicious upper-cut up your sleeve.

It’s the very least they can do. If they wanted to taint your name to smithereens in your absence, you’re sure as hell going to give them something else to lose their minds about in Math 3.

And when all eyes are fixated on you, you tilt your chin up to project your voice. You want to make sure everyone, especially Grant and Eddie, hear you loud and clear when you sinisterly announce,

“I pick Harmony.”

tag list: @damp4eddie @eddiesguitarskills @babygirl229 @love-anonymous-writer @ziggeddie @socially-awkward-eliza @shesahellfirebabe @ali-r3n @yourdailymemedelivery @mincloud @jupitersnights @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @whisperingtales @fearlessreid @emma-munson

divider by: @benkeibear

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson mini series #requests #maddy’s requests 🍸#part 2 #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you

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notthefirstfallenangel · 8 months

Text

Memories I

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mention of injury, amnesia

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: I've had this story in the works for some time now, but only recently got around to finishing and publishing it. In that timeframe, I've seen some wonderful stories from other authors that share some similarities with mine. If you're one of those authors, please know I'm not trying to steal your ideas🤍 I hope you guys enjoy this piece and that it provides a unique perspective despite the possible similarities!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The room was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves blowing through the windows to a slow rhythm, a song of the wind. It was not melodious or gentle. It was a dirge heralding the beginning of the storm.

The hospital room was clean but bare. There was no furniture, books, or colourful pillows, nothing to ease the quiet. All that was in here was a narrowed hospital bed, a small table beside it, and a chair.

The air was dried and sterile; it smelled of chemicals and a hint of decay that a hospital was always haunted by.

Simon leaned against the doorframe, his powerful frame illuminated by a shaft of light from the hallway. He wore a tight black hoodie, dark blue jeans that hugged his thighs like a second skin, and black shoes.

Simon’s voice was low, velvet-like, and he looked directly into your eyes as he spoke, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You sat up in bed, wearing a hospital gown, no makeup, no jewellery. The only thing that popped out on you was the PICC on your left arm, a tape holding it in place with a trickle of blood that had soaked through.

Your face was washed in the hospital’s flickering fluorescent light, and your eyes were cold and calculating, like an owl on the hunt. You didn’t say anything — you just watched Simon.

“How are you feeling?” his voice was a low rumble; his words were slow and measured.

The chair cracked as he sat, the wood groaning in protest to hold his weight.

“Your wounds? Any pain?”

You blinked slowly but didn’t answer. Instead, you gazed at the ceiling, letting your eyes wander around the room. Your face was passive, your thoughts hidden.

Simon sighed. “I know you don’t want to talk.”

He waited for a reply, his breath holding as he stared into your eyes. The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly until he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “But...can you remember anything yet?”

He held his breath once more, almost afraid of the answer.

His tone was quiet, but his eyes were like deep pools of emotion, begging for understanding even as he kept his expression neutral. The slight twitch of his cheek indicated a level of tension as if he was holding back an outpouring of feelings that had been brewing inside him for days.

It was something that he asked every day, with the same inflexion and the same intonation. As the two-week mark approached, you grow accustomed to the sound of Simon’s voice, the feel of his presence. For those brief moments each day he spends with you, it is just the two of you. But despite his daily visits, you didn’t recall a single thing beyond your name and childhood.

Your eyes trailed over his face, trying to make sense of it, wondering if it should ring any bells — but there was nothing... No memory, no feeling, no recognition, no nothing. It was as if a faceless, empty void was talking to you.

He watched your lips press together, forming a thin line and heard the resigned sigh that escaped you.

“I've told you: I’ll tell you if I remember something.”

The corners of his mouth twitched with a weak attempt at a smile.

“Right. Okay.”

Simon stayed still for what felt like an eternity, his weariness apparent as he stared at your face. He had been doing this for two weeks – visiting every day – and yet nothing changed.

A long quiet stretched between the two of you. He slouched in his seat, exhausted and angry. Days had passed since you emerged from the coma—and yet, you still couldn’t remember a thing.

“This must get dull,” he said after a moment. “Me coming here like this every day, asking the same questions over and over.”

You looked at him sadly, your hands fidgeting in your lap. His gaze was intense as he spoke, his words soft and full of longing.

“We met in Moscow on a cold winter evening. I remember it like it was yesterday. You had just come out of the Bolshoi Theatre; you were undercover as a baroness.”

Simon took your hand; the touch was warm and reassuring against your own, no matter how cold and distant you were towards him. He peeled back your sleeve to reveal the scar running down the length of your arm. “You got this wound that night, right here. You were caught in a crossfire.”

He waited for an answer, but all you could do was shake your head in sorrow.

With a disappointed sigh, you murmured, “No...I don’t remember.”

He spoke softly but sternly like he was disciplining a child. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly. His voice held just the right amount of disappointment and hint of authority — something you had become accustomed to over the past few weeks.

His words made your face instantly stern; your eyebrows knit together in a frown, and your nostrils flared.

“I told you, I don’t remember!” you barked at him. A strange combination of rage and grief welled up in your chest and spilt over into your voice as you shouted out the following words, “What am I supposed to do? I’m trying here!”

Your skin was flushed with emotion.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. The more he tried to explain himself, the angrier you became.

“I’m sorry...” he murmured. “I just want you to remember what we had,” he spoke softly, “all those moments we shared. I know you’re doing your best...but it’s hard for both of us. Please, let me help.”

There was a faint look of hurt but also resignation in Simon’s eyes.

“You come here every day, asking me to remember, and it doesn’t help!” you said, your voice full of frustration and anger. “Do you think I like this? Do you think I like having forgotten years of my life?”

Your whole body was rigid with stress and tension. You were tired of the constant questioning as if you could simply choose to remember by the snap of a finger.

Simon flinched, the sharp rebuke a painful reminder that he can’t control the situation, and he can’t fix what he can’t understand.

You glared at each other, icy daggers slicing through the air. Your fury was palpable, and his sorrow so heavy it weighed on his shoulders like an invisible cloak. The air between you sizzled with tension, and both were waiting for the inevitable explosion that was about to come.

But then Simon took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You were a stranger to yourself. A stranger to your fiancé, your life, everything you once knew.

You used to look at him the way he would look at you, with pure and limitless love. But in that moment, you saw only fear and confusion in yourself. You looked at him and saw a stranger, a man you once loved but could not recognize.

He uttered your name in a whisper, almost afraid of what you would say. He reached out his hand, but as soon as his fingers grazed your arm, he felt you tense and recoil away. You had the same eyes as before, but it was like looking through a window into someone else’s life. Your eyes were wide with fear, your expression blank and unreadable—the only emotion present was anxiety. You grasped the sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white as you held onto them for dear life. He could sense that you were about to yell at him in frustration again.

The door opened, and a petite nurse in her forties stepped inside, alarmed by all the fuss. Her gaze was stern and commanding as she surveyed the room and all its medical equipment. As she drew near the bedside, her gaze softened. She placed one hand on your forehead in a soothing gesture. “Calm down, dear. You mustn’t upset yourself now,” she murmured. Then she turned to Simon, her gaze hardening once more. “Visiting time is over for you. It’s time to go now.”

” Just-,” he protested, trying to think of something to say that might convince the nurse to let him stay for a little while longer.

The nurse’s face was a mask of stern disapproval as she glared at him. Carefully consulting the chart, she stated in a tone that indicated this would not be questioned: “It is imperative for her health that she remain at rest and undisturbed.”

He reluctantly stood up, feeling as though he had been dismissed like an unwanted schoolboy sent home for misbehaving. He wanted to stay, to be there for you in whatever capacity he could, but he knew he had no choice but to obey the nurse’s command.

You looked away, your cheeks burning with shame. You felt the weight of your mistake as you tried to make sense of the situation.

He stayed still and silent for a moment before his lips brushed your forehead. “It’s okay,” he whispered, the warmth from his breath sending a chill down your spine. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He walks out slowly, his head down and his shoulders heavy. His thoughts were consumed with apologies he could never voice.

As Simon’s footsteps faded away, you were surrounded by an oppressive silence. The beeping of the heart monitor seemed to get louder and louder. You wondered what time it was, how long until you could run from the room and the nurse, the needles and artificial lights and their cold. Your eyes darted around the cold, sterile room, taking in the harsh glare of fluorescent lighting and the unyielding machines with their wires and tubes that seemed to take up most of the space.

The muscles in your neck and shoulders tightened with anger as you realized how quickly your temper had gotten away from you, pushing away the one person who wanted to help you regain your memories. But it soon subsided, leaving you with nothing but a profound feeling of emptiness and helplessness. You let out a shaky breath, hating how small and powerless you felt.

“I wish I remembered,” you whispered.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #task force 141 #captain price #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod

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ghostlywhiskey · 8 months

Text

Simon Riley (Priest AU) - Forgive me, Father.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,203

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ☆ Sacrilege, priest, mentions of prayer and common language used in confessionals - overall religious content that may upset some. Abuse of power. Mentions of being used and somnophilia. Cussing. Masturbation (Simon & reader).

Summary: After having improper thoughts weighing guilt on your mind, you decide to resort to confession. Simon has methods of how you can be forgiven.

Notes: Um, well, yeah. I’m not sure what to say. Writing this whole thing was a 'damn, Catholicism ingrained in me fr' moment from how I literally closed my eyes to remember how I would walk into church & what would be said in confession. Ha. Anyway. Minimal proofreading, I felt too dirty to re-read.

find my masterlist here

You weren't a frequent churchgoer. After years of Catholic school, it all became tiring and felt almost forced at this rate, but you went for the holidays like Easter & Christmas - at your grandparents request to be fair.

But, old habits die hard and one day you find yourself pulling into the parking lot of the church. Maybe it was the Catholic guilt ingrained in you that drew you to go today.

The large wood doors creaked as you opened them and walked into the church. Every Catholic church looked the same to you - the stained glass, the architecture, the same old wooden pews either their original wood or coated in layers of white paint refreshed over the years. And every church you had ever been to was always so cold - why?

Every single move was like muscle memory. Your fingers dipped into the font that contained the holy water, quietly whispering as you did the sign of the cross and genuflected.

Your eyes scanned the church, noting the layout as you located the confessional. Once you entered and sat down, you rang the tiny bell to indicate your presence. Heavy footsteps outside getting closer as you heard the priest enter the other side of the confessional, the divider sliding open so you can only make out the figure through the tiny holes.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." The words are spoken in unison. His voice is clearer to you now as he only speaks now, "May God who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His mercy." In response, you quietly whisper 'amen' in return.

Clearing your throat and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you prepare to speak. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was 5 years ago. These are my sins.." The list of sins are far more minimal in nature such as disrespecting your parents, gossiping, lying and so forth.

Then, you finally get to what has been weighing on your mind like a ton of bricks. "And impure thoughts.." Your words trailing off, the sound of the priest shifting on the other side noticeable from the close proximity despite the divider separating you both. "In order to truly know the severity, what do these impure thoughts include, my child?" He asks, your body tensing as the question catches you off guard. "Ah, regarding premarital sex acts, Father." You respond, fingers fidgeting with the rings on your hands. "Explain." This is all he says before the silence lingers in the small space before you speak again. "This is only to help your absolution." His voice urges you to continue, the words trying to ease you to come clean. “Well," Swallowing the lump in your throat, your cheeks burning from embarrassment despite your identity being unknown to him. "The thoughts consist of being used at will by a man. To be degraded and fucked until I'm begging for him to stop, but my whines only encourage him to continue. I don't want him to stop.” Your voice is strained, as if you're scared to admit it out loud. And truthfully, this was the first time you had admitted the thoughts out loud. Your thighs squeeze together as your brain digs deeper into the thoughts you’ve been suppressing for a few months now.

The sound of the priest clearing his throat pulls your attention back. “Surely that isn’t all, my child.” He says, and you shake your head in response even if he can’t see. “N-No. That isn’t all.” Rings spinning around your fingers as you continue to fidget from nerves. “Please remember, I need to know everything to offer you absolution.” Nodding, you swish spit in your mouth to coat the dryness to some extent and swallow.

“I-I think about being woken up in the night, the man already buried deep in me. My body doesn’t resist the feeling and clenching around him as my consciousness regains from sleep.” The heat between your thighs grows as you now shift in the seat, one leg moves to cross over the other in an effort to control the sensation.

The sound of a zipper coming undone is undeniable as your ears pick up on it, your lips parting slightly from shock as you process what’s happening on the other side of the confessional. “Father?” Your voice barely whispers, wondering if you acknowledge it, then he would stop. “Are these thoughts about anyone specific?” He mutters, his hand palming himself through his boxers. “No, just general desires, Father.”

He inhales a breath and exhales before he speaks. “Have you acted on these thoughts?” No, but you fucking wish. “No, Father.” And maybe it was your own thoughts warping, but you could have sworn you heard him mumble the words, ‘Forgive me, Father’.

On the other side of the confessional, unbeknown to you, the priest had now pulled his cock free from the constraints of his briefs. Biting back a groan, his hand comes up to his mouth as he quietly spits into his palm before he wraps it around himself. “For your penance, you must do exactly as I say, understood?” He speaks, his voice sounds low, demanding in a way.

“Understood, Father.” You reply, your chest rising and falling slowly as you anticipate what he is going to say next. “We must rid you of these thoughts. You need to release them.” He murmurs, his hand slowly pumping up and then down. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Oh my God. Like actually, oh my God. Your brain rings in your head, doing as you're told and spreading your legs. Hearing the movement, he continues to speak. “My child, what are you wearing?” The question is simple, your hand already sliding down to the exposed panties your dress reveals once your legs are spread. “Knee length sundress.” You respond, your head leaning back against the wood of the confessional as your fingers rub the fabric covering your already wet cunt. “Hmm, and I suppose that length is useless as your legs are spread. Exposing yourself like a good girl, but such a slut.” The word slut drips from his mouth like venom, the tone of his voice sending excitement through your body. “Slide the panties off.” He orders, and you obey as you reach for the waistband and slide them down to your ankles, shaking them off to the floor of the confessional. “They’re off, Father.” You whisper, glancing at the divider. Never in your life did you want to be seen more than in this moment. “Father Simon.” He corrects. “Call me Father Simon.”

“Father Simon.” You repeat the name he asked you to call him. A quiet groan travels to your side of the confessional and you can’t help but move your fingers to rub between your folds. The fact he was groaning to you just saying his title was causing your stomach to tie into knots. “What do I need to do, Father Simon?” You beg, wanting him to continue directing you. “Such an eager girl to be forgiven. You wouldn’t need forgiveness if you weren’t such a slut.” He hissed. “But you come into this confessional and speak of how you wish to be used. To be degraded. Do you think you can be forgiven?”

“I-I want to be forgiven.” Your fingers build up your excitement, teasing your folds as your fingers move to give your clit some attention as you rub it gently. “I’m sorry, Father Simon. I’m sorry.” You choke out, almost forgetting to breathe amidst the pleasure. “Just because you’re sorry does not guarantee forgiveness.” Simon’s own hand continues to pump his cock, his thumb brushes over the head as some pre-cum oozes out. “You sound stupid saying sorry. Saying sorry while I can hear your hand moving as you touch yourself. Take those fingers and fuck yourself with three of them.” The order coming out of his mouth leaves you breathing shakily.

“F-Father, three?” You ask in order to clarify his demand. “R-Right away?” You needed time to adjust, even with your own slender fingers it took time before you could even have two. “You heard me.” He responds, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t disappoint me, sweetheart.” Simon’s hand starts to pump his cock faster, his free hand moves to massage his balls.

While you’re already wet, just to be sure you take your index, middle and ring finger to your lips. Your mouth wrapping around the fingers, sucking and swirling your tongue to coat them in saliva. Pulling them away, you carefully position them, teasing your entrance before you push into yourself. Your free hand covers your mouth as you feel them stretching you slightly. A moan muffled by your hand is the additional sound mixed with your fingers starting to pump in and out of you, the wet stickiness filling the confessional. “Oh, sweetheart. You must look so beautiful spread out fucking yourself with your fingers.” Simon coos through the divider, his breaths shallow. “I wish I could bury my cock into that wet, tight cunt. Let me hear you pray to God for that.”

Closing your eyes as he speaks, you imagine the priest grabbing your hips and forcing himself into you, despite having no idea of his appearance. Your head against the wood of the confessional again as you try to hold your moans in even with your hand over your mouth, scared if anyone else were to enter the church they would hear you both behind these curtains. “I don’t hear you.” Simon growls, glancing at the divider to barely see the movements of your hand as your body moves in response. “G-God, please. I want Father Simon’s cock.” He hears you whimper quietly, a grin forming on his face. “Oh..such a good, good girl.” Simon’s voice acknowledging your compliance. Your fingers curl inside as he praises you, allowing yourself the small reward. “Father Simon, I-I’m so wet.”

“Mmph..those pretty little fingers must be slick with your juices.” Simon’s own head leaning against the wood of the confessional now, eyes closed as he pumps his cock faster and pushes down hard. The image of his cock disappearing in between your folds making his thoughts spin. “Keep pumping those fingers. We need to make you cum. Release the thoughts that are rotting your brain.” Simon’s teeth grit together, a soft hissing sound coming out as his pump down puts pressure on him.

Not trusting yourself, your hand is back on your mouth. The sound of your wet cunt getting pumped with your fingers fills both your ears and Simon’s, the squishing sounds push him closer to his own release. And for you, the thought of his cock instead of your fingers pulling you closer to the edge before you jump off and release. Whimpering into your palm, you clench around your fingers and pump a few more times before releasing around them. Your thighs immediately squeezing shut as you try to control your shaking. “S-Simon.” You cry softly, lips parted as you pant softly. “F-Fuck.” He groans, the hand not pumping his now cum covered cock fists and hits the confessional wall. The release that had been building up in him for months now.

“In addition, you leave your panties behind. Along with that, I expect you to recite twenty Hail Mary’s and twenty Our Father’s after your release. Make an act of contrition.” His voice strained from his recent climax. Dazed from your own climax as well, the words come out of your mouth without hesitation, “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good…” Pausing for a brief moment, you swallow a lump in your throat. “I have sinned against You, whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His Name, my God, have mercy. Amen.” After the words leave your lips, you catch your breath again.

The sound of Simon readjusting and zipping himself up is the only sound you hear in response. “F-Father?” You say softly, awaiting for him to absolve you. “My child…” Simon’s voice sounds like it did when you first sat in the confessional. “God cannot give you pardon and peace as of today. Therefore, I cannot absolve you of your sins. Come back in five days after I’ve had some time to rest and ask God for a final answer.”

And with that, the sound of footsteps fill the church once more, followed by the door to the sacristy opening and closing indicating he would not be seen by you when you left. The response leaves you stunned for a few moments, before your legs get the strength to stand up and exit the confessional. The hand you didn’t use to finger yourself gently dips into the font as you leave, the sign of the cross spoken softly as you walk out.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley au #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley au #priest au #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley oneshot #simon riley oneshot

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mistydeyes · 11 months

Text

opposite occupations

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summary: all the 141 boys have different plans while on leave, each having their own idea of how to spend the time. but when they run into a lovely civilian, they realize that all the long hours, deployments, and trainings worth it.

pairing: 141 x civvie!fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, all fluff :)

a/n: I love me a good little meet cute

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - florist

Everyone knew that the minute Price went home, he would be making the trek to his favorite cigar shop. It had been one he frequented for years, the familiar sign welcoming him home. Most shops on the street stayed the same. He liked the constancy, the familiarity.

As he rounded the street corner, he noticed a new shop had filled the unoccupied next door. The pale pink awning and rose-tinted glass were a new sight to see. "Sentiments of Carnations" he read as he walked past. He could see through the window that the shop had not yet been opened, noting the smell of fresh paint and empty displays. He wondered what grandma had put their retirement money into this florist shop.

He continued, opening the cigar shops store and smelling the musk of smoke and tobacco. "Ah John, I have your regulars set aside," the old shop owner said with a smile. "Back again for long?" he asked upon his return with a dark oak box. "Just waiting for another phone call from his majesty," he joked and slid over the usual bank notes. "I'll be seeing you," Price said as he opened the door and exited with the familiar chime of the bell.

As he embraced the warmth of the summer England weather, he pulled out one of his fresh purchases, excellently wrapped and balanced. He flipped open his lighter from his pocket and sat down to have his first smoke at home. He closed his eyes and savored the notes of espresso and hickory. As he sat in his small nirvana, he heard the florist's doors open.

He turned as he saw you, a flower behind your ear and a pink apron that perfectly matched the outside of the shop. You were not the grandma he had expected and instead were beautiful, the sun catching your lovely features. You had placed an antique table outside, along with a bucket of a colorful array of flowers adorned with a handwritten tag. You hung a small sign on the table that read, "Take one for a friend, family member, or loved one." You smiled at yourself, proud of the little display. You turned your head and noticed the mature man enjoying his smoke only a meter away from you. You picked out a scarlet carnation and walked over to the man, handing it to him.

"Here, you go," you said as his calloused fingers held the flower delicately. "A flower to brighten someone's day," you said with a smile. "Thank you, although I am not a man for flowers," he replied and extinguished his cigar. "Well, flowers can be for a variety of reasons, a friendly gesture, a gift for someone you fancy, or even something to brighten up your flat."

You ended with a sweet smile and he could feel himself melt on the spot. Something about the floral aroma emanating from the flower behind your ear along with your soft voice and pleasantries added to his current state of nirvana. You were so radiant in this light and he appreciated the kind gesture, especially upon his return home.

"No one to give a romantic gesture to, but thank you," he replied. "Well if that ever changes, my shop opens later this week! The shop's number is on the tag" you said before giving him a small wave and wink. He could hear the shop's door close as you began to set up your display and paint a mural on one of the walls. As he twisted the carnation in his hand, he knew he would be adding your shop to his routine becoming your most frequent customer.

soap - tattoo artist

Soap looked at his phone, making sure he was in the right place. His favorite tattoo shop near his Scottish home had closed and he was taking a recommendation from Ghost.

"She's got an attitude but her work is amazing," Ghost had said before Soap's deployment. He couldn't deny the craftsmanship of her work on Ghost's arm. He marveled at the attention to detail as Ghost proudly shoved off his ornate sleeve.

Soap had an appointment for today, previously approving of the artist's rendition of his vision. A black-and-white thistle, a charm his mother had said. It was commonly known to keep its owner away from danger and bad acquaintances. Something Soap needed on the battlefield.

He pushed the maroon door open, admiring the many gold frames with what he assumed were some of the artists' work. He let out a light chuckle as he noticed a framed sketch of Ghost's sleeve. He was just about to snap a picture when a voice called out, "Hey Mohawk, this isn't a museum."

He turned around to see a woman, a gorgeous one at that. You were wearing a tank top that showed off a collage of various tattoos in different styles. You had been taking a break and relaxed, sitting behind a desk, feet propped up.

"Actually, lass, I'm here with an appointment," he said, walking over to you. "Name's John MacTavish." he finished with a cheeky smile.

"Ah MacTavish, one of Riley's military boys I'm guessing. How's that masterpiece of mine doing?" you joked, Soap didn't know what to say. Were you and Ghost a thing?

You laughed at his pause, "My tattoo, Mohawk. There's no way I'd be shagging his Halloween-looking-arse." Soap appreciated the heads up about your attitude and knew this was gonna be a fun session.

"Looks gorgeous, Sweetheart. Just like yourself," he poked back and you let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. "Don't flatter yourself, you can go make yourself comfortable in my station over there. Looks like you're only getting a bicep tat, so I better not see your shirtless arse back there."

Soap made his way to where you motioned, sitting down in the black velvet chair. You came in a few minutes later with your sketch and supplies. You closed the scarlet curtains behind you before walking over to prep his arm.

As you sat in relative silence, Soap asked, "So what do the tattoos mean, Lass?" You finished your prep work and were working on the correct tattoo placement. "Travels from around the world. I took it upon myself to get a tattoo in every new country."

With that, you offered him a mirror so he could approve of the sketch and placement. The tattoo rested on his right bicep and he made sure to look at it at every angle and made sure to flex for your enjoyment.

"Alright, muscle man, this should only take a few hours as long as you don't pass out on me," you said and began to tattoo your next masterpiece. During the next two hours, you made conversation about the tattoos meaning, his life in Scotland, and you even shared more intimate details about your travels.

The hours flew by like minutes to Soap as you let him know you were finished. He admired the detailed flower and you handed him some care instructions with some cream. "And your buddy paid for you ahead of time, so you're all set, Mohawk" you replied and Soap got off of the chair.

"See you around, my world-class woman," he joked as he exited the door. You slightly cringed, wondering if writing your number on the tube of aftercare cream was a good idea or not.

gaz - primary school teacher

Gaz looked at himself in his flat's mirror. He brushed a hand over his freshly cut hair and evened out his dress shirt. "Just a favor for a friend," he said to himself as he walked to catch the next tram. Two days ago, an old colleague during his days working with the metro police force had reached out to him. They called in a favor, "Kyle c'mon it's just a couple of primary students, all you need to do is give a little talk about stranger danger." Knowing he had nothing else better to do, Gaz agreed.

As he signaled the tram to stop, Gaz looked at the brown brick building reminding him of his younger days. Gaz walked in, checking in with the receptionist who directed him to the classroom where he'd be giving his talk. He was early, the school had not yet opened but he was asked to have the presentation at the beginning of class before the children's lessons. He admired the walls filled with the artwork of the students, silly attempts at drawing their families. He finally reached your classroom, noting the smiling sunflower on your opened door. He knocked softly and he saw you lift your head to greet him. If he had known you would be so beautiful, he would have not needed his friend's encouragement.

"Ah you must be Sgt. Garrick," you said, beginning to get up from your desk to greet him. You smoothed out your skirt and placed your glasses down. "It's just Kyle," he said and returned your friendly smile and warm handshake.

"Well Kyle, the children should be arriving in a few minutes. I'll get them settled and introduce you for your small talk today," you said with a grateful nod. You motioned for him to sit at your desk as you stood at your door to greet your excited second-year students. Gaz played on his phone and smiled as he heard you return the children's happy good mornings with a similar high-energy one. The students began to file in, placing their bags in their cubbies, and sitting with their friends. You heard small whispers from the children, wondering what you were doing at their teacher's desk. He let out a chuckle when he heard one boy whisper, "Is that Miss Y/N's husband? He's sitting in her chair."

Finally, with all the children in their seats, you walked to the front of the classroom and greeted your students warmly. "Good morning everyone, today we have a very special guest with us. This is our friend, Kyle, and he's here today to tell you all a little something before we start our lessons."

Kyle knew this was his cue, he rose from your desk and swapped places with you at the front of the room. "Hi everyone, today I'm going to teach you smart kids about something called 'Stranger Danger'." The children oohed in response as Kyle waved his hands in a fake menacing manner. You smiled as he was a natural. The children were attentive, writing down the information as he spoke and working together with their classmates to fill out the worksheet answers. Kyle ended his talk and asked if anyone had any questions. One child raised her hand and Kyle called on her. "Is Miss Y/N a stranger? I'm confused."

"I'm your teacher, Amelia. Teachers that you know aren't strangers," you responded and Kyle nodded in agreement. Another kid raised their hand and asked, "But you aren't Kyle's teacher, so you're a stranger to him."

Before either one of you could respond, his friend boasted, "It's because they're married, your Mum and Dad aren't strangers to each other." Both you and Kyle shared a look and he saw the soft blush rise to your face. "Ah we're just friends," he said and saved you the embarrassment.

Little did Kyle know, his email would chime that night with a thankful message from you along with your number at the bottom asking him to breakfast that weekend.

ghost - veterinarian

Unlike most people, Ghost loved the quiet ambiance of London's rainfall. The streets were empty and peaceful as people were cozying up in their homes with a blanket. Enjoying the evening air and cold, he walked with an umbrella in one hand and a warm cup in the other. His boots resounded on the cobblestone street as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His chest was warm from the bold citrus and bergamot liquid. This was, in his opinion, an ideal leave well spent.

The rhythmic rain fell and his walking was interrupted by a soft mewing. Simon hurried down the street to find the source of the noise. In front of a grocer's, he noticed a small cardboard box being drenched by the unrelenting rain. He placed his cup down and gently lifted the box. Underneath was a small grey cat, cuddled into a ball to experience some semblance of warmth. Simon placed his umbrella to shield the box and lifted the tiny meowing animal into his hands.

As he cradled the cat to his chest, he heard a click of heeled boots behind him. He turned his now-drenched head to notice you walking up with a bright orange umbrella adorned with cat paws. "Excuse me, Sir, but is he yours?" you asked gesturing to the ball of grey that laid meowing in his arms. "Uh he's not, I found this little fella underneath this box here."

"Ah a Good Samaritan, I see. Well, I own the veterinarian shop down the way, I can take him off your hands if you'd like and make sure this little lad gets the care he needs," you said and offered a hand to hold the kitten. You noticed his slight hesitation and said, "If you'd like, I'll give you my card so you can take the little one home when he's all better."

"That would be nice," he smiled underneath his black face mask. Simon loved animals, never being permitted to have one as a child. As you held the kitten in your arm, you handed him your umbrella. He initially tried to refuse but you insisted saying, "You're soaked, I'll be alright." You ended with a small giggle which made Ghost warmer than his now cold cup of tea.

"The least I can do is walk you back to your shop," he replied a little too quickly. He instantly realized the surprising force he had said that with and followed up with, "You know, just so you and Earl Grey can make it there in this weather.

"Earl Grey, I like that. That's my favorite order, especially on days like this." Simon moved slightly behind you, holding the umbrella to shield the three of you on your walk. The air was filled with the familiar scent of rain and the notes of your floral perfume. "I'm Dr. L/N by the way, but most people just call me, Y/N," you said as you continued on your way. "I'm Simon, a pleasure to meet you doc."

Three weeks later Simon's house was filled with all the necessities for a new cat father. As he grabbed his coat, he pulled out a water-stained business card with the vet's office address and your number written on the back. He smiled to himself as he traced his fingers over the small handwriting saying, "To Earl Grey's owner, fancy a cup of tea with me?"

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starzshopoflove · 8 months

Text

Simon "ghost" Riley x Reader

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates, age gap but not to crazy, sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader sorry

no thoughts just ghost meeting cute little civvie reader in a shop when he's just trying to get his shopping done after coming back from a mission just wanting to fill his fridge with enough beer and groceries that vaguely resemble food

Simon watching you struggle to reach the flour from a set high shelf in the aisle, grumbling to yourself about "who fucking needs flour anyway" still trying to reach it and he just pluck it off the shelf and drops it in your cart before making his way to another aisle and your just left looking stupid watching this giant trudge away with a little blue tesco basket in tow

Simon who notices you at the same book shop he frequents, but your perched behind the counter doing god knows what ( vaguely resembles inventory but hey do what you will) calculator in hand as he peeks from behind a bookshelf trying to remember where he's seen you before.

Civvie reader who passes her days working quietly in a book shop and living in a simple one room flat indulging her romantic needs in fiction too nervous to actually talk to men, fictional ones satisfying her needs better. That is until you see some books on the counter sliding over to scan them.

"Your total's 23.55" you mumble looking at the screen "Cash or Card?" you add before lifting your head to meet the brick wall of a muscle man. Oh OH, no thoughts as you just stare at his pecs in your line of sight thanking whatever god you believe in for the sight before you, better then anything your little brain could muster up even with the detailed descriptions authors would spit out onto the pages you read

You violently peel your eyes away from the most beautiful pair of man tits you've ever seen to see what man was the owner, and by god do you wish you werent so bad around men. I mean the wind practically got knocked out of your lungs as you let out a barely audible squeak watching this man fish in his pockets for his wallet

Messy blonde hair that was in that weird phase of curly but not really, a nose that looks like its seen a good fight, deep set brown eyes, and a few healed scars settled on the skin. Aged but like wine, a really really fine wine

"Right, cash" His hands fiddling through the wallet to pull out the bank notes, while you prayed you didnt look like a hunger dog staring at his hands as they placed the cash on the counter.

Simon who watches the little bookshop employee look like she just got punched in the gut and was trying not groan as she quickly rang him up, Do i smell? he thinks to himself

Simon who watches your smaller hands shuffle the cash into the register, noting how they're free of calluses, nailed neat and slightly grown, soft.

Simon who leaves the bookstore thinking of a excuse to go again tomorrow, not to see the bookshop girl or anything, he has his reasons!! he just hasn't thought of it yet!!

You start looking up from your notes for your class when the shop bell jingles hoping to see the mystery man whos built exactly like your favorite webcomic character but with the gruff and mature aura of that mc from the game your friend made you play that you cant quite remember. Only disappointed when its just another customer , until later in the day the man returns again.

But its much later in the day and you've switched on the shops warm lights, turning off the ac letting the place warm up as you hear the door jingle again, mystery man making his way to the counter your eyes following his every step, meaty thighs

You who perks up when his forearms settle at the counter suddenly eyes locking onto yours and suddenly very glad you tidied up a bit today, tinted chapstick, perfume, cleaner turtle neck, lashes, lipgloss, earrings ahm

"Tesco" he grumbles out unmoving

"what" well thats not what you were expecting to hear

"You were the girl , couldnt reach the flour yeah?" oh that was him

"Oh, that was you? thank you?" oh what the fuck were you supposed to say?? oh thank you freakishly tall man who watched me struggle?? let me take your whole cock in my mouth while you call me a good pet feeding your meaty length down my throat??

"Yeah" Simon didnt think to much on what to do now, gaze getting awkward now that hes got his confirmation

"Did you need anything" you finally broke the silence, god its fuckin tense in here and hes so close, you wanna just get a sniff but thats hardly workplace behavior doesn't matter if its your dads shop or not.

"Mhm, ye got any cook books?"

"yeah, section 12, shelf 9" whos he cooking for? his wife? i dont see a ring? maybe a long time girlfriend?? who wouldnt snatch up this actual beefcake

"Thanks, tryna cook something new for myself. Flats been quiet" He mumbled like speaking too much would give him a headache

SImon purchased his books same stare at the girls hand like last time as she took his money. God do something you look like a creep staring at this poor girls hands.

"Got a notepad luv?" again that same punched face returned, is she alright? he thought to himself

Oh he just called me luv oh fuck dont wheeze dont wheeze just hand him the pen and paper like a good employee, come on. Oh god dont stare at his arms, are those tattoos oh my god

Sliding back the notepad simon made pace of grabbing his cook book a slipping out the shop just as quick as he went in

You who looked at the notepad almost slipping back out of your chair

"Simon 44 xxx xxx xxx"

Children were singing, the angels sang their songs, the trees regrew in that parking lot down the street, healthcare in america was just made free, and you just got the phone number of a man built like a double door fridge that you have every intention of climbing

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #ghost call of duty #sorry i just love civilian reader x ghost #reader def has a tumblr acc #reader most likely survived middle school with a undertale phase #reader is literally just as fictional man hungry as us

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kagakuoniryu · 2 months

Text

Part 2 of the alastor x reader I written when I wasn't feeling well at all

Summary : a new guest you knew from your past life arrive at the hotel, she was that one person who bullied you throigh high school, but she mooks too angelic to be guilty

Code : E/n (ennemy/name)

Tags : fem reader, etablished relationship, angst for the most part, there will maybe be a part 2, mentions of bullying, reader is TRAUMATIZED, english is not my first language, may have some inaccuracy about the show since I'm just projecting, and of course probably ooc characters

After that talk in alastor's room, you hardly left yours limiting contact with everyone...

Well, mostly everyone, nifty still passed by everyday to clean up a bit and chase the boug, you were thankful for it, she didn't treated you differently, she was the same sadistic, boys driven, bug hater lady you met, and you could talk her ears off

"Niff ? What do you think about E/n ?" You started warily, you never openly talked to her about it surprisinly until now

"Oh I hate her !"

Shocked you asked her to go on ; E/n, hated ? The E/n you knew...Well...she presented to others ?!

"Why is that ? Did something went wrong ? Did she hurt you ?!"

"She always interrupt my dead roack show ! She says it's weird and disgusting ! She even killed a roach before I could and that is an heinous crime"

You gulped, noting mentally that to stay in nifty's good side, you better let her kill the roaches herself

"But...isn't it weird how everyone like her ? And how they think she's genuinely nice ? Even alastor likes her !"

"And everyone likes alastor until they he shows his nature !" With that nifty finally stabbed that roach she was after

"You...have a good point...she's showing them what they want to gain what she wants...but...what does she wants...?"

"I don't know ! I have a lot of cleaning to do ! Goodbye !"

"Wait nifty !"

And the door was closed, you sighed, well...it was good for as long as it lasted you guessed...you needed a plan, but you couldn't think clearly in this hotel...you couldn't go to Rosie too...she ADORED E/n and they had their regular tea party...crashing to your friends place weren't use at all, one they adored her, two, it was still the hotel and three, since your words with angel you kinda ghosted them all, thinking they couldn't hurt yiu if you ghosted them before that ; your fiancee radio station maybe ? No, too obvious, and he spend all his goddamn time up there...and he isn't the exact definition of "privacy"...you thought for a second about mimzy, but that girl hated your guts for no reason...or well...maybe because alastor humiliated her last time...

Finally, a bell rang in your head ; alastor ! That's your solution ! He gave you a spare key of his actual house outside of the hotel, and he barely goes there since he is in his tower during the day and at the hotel at night !

Picking minimal stuff, just a few clothes, a notepad and a pencil, even leaving your proposal ring behind, not wznting to be distracted by alastor himself you rushed outside, surprising everyone in the lobby until you came crashing down into alastor

"My, my, my dear, someone here is in a rush"

"Uh yeah...I needed fresh air, you know, the old stuff, figured I could go camping ?"

Alastor's gaze darkened as he looked at your ring finger, well, lack of ring on your ring finger

"And does camping prevent you from wearing you ring ? Or perhaps you youngster has a different definitiln of camping that back in my day, because decades ago, men could hunt even with they wedding ring, and yet you can't sleep with it on ?"

"I just wanted some alone time, calm down al' if anything, send a shadow my way kf you don't trust me, I know you don't anyway for a few weeks now"

Without letting him finish you left the hotel, you almost feel pity to charlie, she'll have a very pissy alastor in her hands until you come back

Arriving at alastor's home you let yourself in, now you needed to brainstorm !

One hour...

Two hours...

Three hours...

Three hours and about 3 cups of tea in...you have little next to nothing for an idea...how the hell are you gonna show this pest real face ?! You needed a real confrontation with her, but she'll never gave it to you, and if she did, she would have a backup plan, just like when you were alive...alive...

That's it !

One of your imps friend that owe you one could go to the living world ! He could retrieve your phone and you could prove your point !

Getting everything ready, and after many days, the phone in your hands, you plugged it in for it to charge and once at 100 % your rushed to the hotel

"Guys ! I got my phone back I-"

Entering the hotel, they were all playing a board game together, not caring about where you went...but you've been gone for at least a good week or two now...did you mattered so little ?

"O-oh...Y/n...you're here ! We...uh...were playing monopoly ! You...wanna join us ?"

Charlie tried akwardly, chukling nervously at your empty expression

"No, I was happy to prove my point, but I guess it's no use, she is better than me anyway, charlie, I guess you can take an other sinner in...I quit the hotel..."

You missed the way her eyes showed her heartbreak at this sight of you, giving up, she really failed you this time ; as you went upstair to make your bags, the boarding game night was ruined, and alastor teleported right into your room

"Hello ma chère (my dear), may I know where you're planning on going ?"

"I don't know al, far ? You all won it, always pushing me to the side, y'all fucking won it"

"I believe such swearing isn't proper in a ladie's mout-"

"Well for once I'll fucking swear if I'll fucking please al ! Because none of you wwants to believes in me ! You knew me long her and you choose her ! Just...go and date her ! It's her speciality to just date whoever has been with me before anyway..."

"What do you mean...? Y/n...?"

No terms of endearment there, that was rare for alastor, even before you both started dating he was affectionnate and using pet names, he always does with women, just a way to make them feel appreciated

"What do you mean 'what do I mean' you didn't knew how my ex boyfriend cheated on me with her and that's why we stopped being friends ?!"

"No, actually...she told us the other way around, that she found her perfect someone...and that you tried to seduce him and flirt with him and when he exposed you you bullied her"

"Bullied her ?! She made my life hell before getting down here ! After I blocked her everywhere she used our common friend she turned against me or even her sister's social media to stalk me down !"

"Well, my dear, I do want to believes you, you know I love you, but I can't without proper proof"

Taking your phone's out of your pocket, and guiding alastor because of his obvious lack of modern technology skills, you showed him your call journal from that time, the recording, the screenshots, everything that proved you were in your right mind

"Well...my beloved, it seems I owe you an apology, with her honey words it seems I lowered my guard and lacked dicernment, could you forgive me ?"

Alastor put in hand gently on your cheek, lifting your face, you nuzzled against his hand before hugging him tight

"Apology accepted...and thank you...thank you so much for listening, even if it costed you to use modern technology"

"As long as you delete that picture I took by accident"

"I'll make it my wallpaper~"

"I'll rip this thing piece by piece"

Going downstairs with alastor was a relief, like a gentleman he offered his arms for you to hold onto as charlie jumped on you

"I'm SOOOO sorry to have neglected your feeling Y/n please !! I didn't mean to ! You were a good friend of all of us and would all feel awful if you were to really leave !!" She started, before being interrupted by alastor

"Well, my dear charlie, it seems someone is still leaving, but not our dear Y/n, someone who's suprisingly not that keen on getting redeemed it seems"

You saw E/n visibly tense as alastor grabs her rather forcefully

"Could you PLEASE tell all the others persons present here what happened between you and my lovely Y/n over here back when you were alive"

"I...I already told you didn't I...? She bullied me ! Y/n is just a mean bully and I always felt uneasy around her" E/n tried to defend herself, nervously sweating

"Really, care to explain this ? My dear best friend" you showed one of the most incriminating piece you had on your phone to the others, making their eyes go wide, and all fell into pieces, E/n wasn't trying to redeem, she was trying to ruin your life, all over again

She felt that for some reasons, many years ago, you were better than her, and that she needed what you had, by any mean and any ways, instead of finding her own hapiness she wanted to steal yours

Vaggie and alastor both kicked her out, charlie tried to say maybe she could be redeemed, but when alastor said that if he saw that girl put a foot near the hotel again he would turn her into jambalaya for everyone to eat...she was feeling rather discouraged

But that was okay, one bad sinners couldn't stray her from her dream ! Everyone in the hotel also apologized in their own way for not believing you and putting back through all your traumas all over again, and of course you forgave them

Alastor also made you a special contract this night, you could pet his ears, all night long, if the next day you didn't told the others about it

And of course you took the deal

~THE END~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I don't know if this one was longer or shorter than the previous part, I went along with the random imp going back on earth as an easter egg of helluva boss and also because I was stuck in my story !

It's nice to have a catharsis like this to be honest, I don't know if I'll write request or just silly story in one or multiple parts for hazbin hotel you can still send some in if yoj feel like it, just know that I'd be delighted to write for alastor again, he's my all time fav of the show

I hope you enjoyed it !!!

#writing #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor angst #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #angst #x reader

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nexysworld · 8 months

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Chapter Summary: You finally make a decision on your relationship. Unfortunately for you it will lead to untold horrors you couldn't have imagined. Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

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You continued staring up at the ceiling recovering from the self-induced orgasm. Aftershocks made your legs twitch and tense, you wiggled them about to try and ease the sensation. Finally having the energy to roll over, your view changed from the ceiling to the wall, lined with your stuffed animals.

Childish maybe, but you always had a fond spot for them, never having been able to throw them away. Some were old, made of patchwork with faded colors – a reminder of your childhood. Others were newer, like the overstuffed pumpkin that Derek had won you for Halloween one year, or the small teddy bear Leon had given you, a present from one of his work trips.

Your eyes lingered on the squishy pumpkin, the memory of Derek giving it to you rushed to the forefront of your memory. It had been one of your favorite dates together, spontaneously deciding to stop by the boardwalk after dinner one evening. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy overpowered the smell of the ocean as you walked along the clackity wooden path. Halloween décor was tacked on to everything in sight, even the prizes were ghosts, pumpkins, and black cats.

“You look good like that.” He said, flashing a smile. You tugged on the brim of the cheap witch’s hat, trying to ensure the paper thin material wasn’t going to fly off in the wind. “You calling me a witch?” You gasped in mock offense. “‘Course not baby, I would never.“ He’d doubled over in laughter, spilling the soda on his favorite

band t-shirt. “Oh shit.” He shook the black fabric with one hand trying to get some of the excess liquid off. Slapping his arm playfully, you kissed his cheek. “That’s what you get for being a jerk.” “But I’m your jerk, right?” He raised a brow leaning down to return your affection for a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, you’re my jerk.”

As the two of you made your way down more of the game booths something caught your eye – a huge fat pumpkin with a little spider attached to it. The thing was easily the size of your entire body, and you really wanted it. Coming to a dead stop, you tugged on Derek’s sleeve before pointing at it. “Make it up to me, win me that!” He froze for a second, a nervous laugh exiting his mouth. “I mean I can definitely try…”

The game runner ate it up, goading Derek to play. He explained it was simple, just toss it at an angle, get the ball into the bucket and boom – prize!

The first ball bounced off the plastic basket almost hitting a child in the face. The second ball followed the course of the first one. The third one impressively flew even farther, and Derek had to run to go get it. “Again.” He said determined, though the next round didn’t fare much better. By the fourth round, you weren’t able to contain your laughter anymore, which only served to egg him on. “Come on baby, I was only kidding. I don’t need it.” “I’m going to win it, just you watch.” “If you say so.” You leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “I still believe in you, the millionth time’s the charm.”

You weren’t sure how many losses he’d suffered but you knew he’d coughed up nearly $200 and had nothing to show for it. It made your heart soar a little knowing he was willing and determined to get this for you.

Lo and behold the last time was the charm, he’d still missed the first two shots, but the third one landed in the basket and stayed there. The smallest of the three bells rang out indicating a win and the game runner clapped behind the counter. “Congratulations!” He shouted with an exaggerated tone before taking his long hooked stick out to yank a prize down.

It wasn’t the gigantic pumpkin, but it was just perfect in its own right. Medium sized and plump, you squished it to your chest in a hug before capturing Derek’s lips with your own. “It's perfect.”

“Mm, no you’re perfect.” He replied smoothly, wrapping an arm around you from behind as the pair of you made your way further down towards the rides. It had been getting later into the evening, things were dying down a bit. The Ferris wheel was still running and you decided to end the night on the ride together.

The city was beautiful, sparkling likes juxtaposed against the dark buildings and streets, stars twinkling above. You could see your apartment building, and the coffee shop Derek worked at down the way. Unconsciously you snuggled closer to him in your seat, leaning your head against his shoulder. The words had slipped out of his mouth so casually you’d almost missed it, so relaxed into the moment. “What was that?” You asked softly. “I said I love you.” He replied, petting your hair. It caused your heartbeat to speed up as you registered what he’d said. The air hung heavy with the confession.

“I love you too.”

A hollow and guilty feeling erupted in your chest and made its way down to your stomach at the memory. Post nut clarity was a wild thing – and now that your head was clear everything was starting to make sense.

Derek had been right, about everything. What did it say about you that hours ago you’d fought with him about your attachment to Leon, and now here you were getting yourself off to the very guy he was worried about. ‘I’m such an asshole.’

You squeezed the pumpkin close to yourself, taking in the still faded but lingering scent of Derek’s cologne. The urge to cry caused you to curl in on yourself for a moment, but you managed to suppress the tears behind a few sniffles. A soft breath escaped you, and you placed the pumpkin back on the shelf.

Before you rolled back over you glanced next to the pumpkin at the small teddy bear Leon had gifted you. It was black, about the size of your hand. He said he’d brought it back from Spain on his last work trip – something you had been meaning to ask him about more in depth but never got the chance. It was cute, and it meant a lot to you at the time, but now it made your heart ache. ‘Should I get rid of it maybe? It’s not like Leon would know.’

You reached over to grab the small stuffed animal, looking it over, running your fingers against the soft fur. Something caught your eye, a red light in the left eye. It was a faded light, and you could only see it at certain angles. ‘What the –?’ You inspected it more closely, but nothing else was obviously amiss.

‘Maybe the eyes were supposed to light up or something.’ You shrugged, putting the tiny bear back where it belonged, deciding you didn’t have the heart to toss it, hoping Derek just wouldn’t notice its existence.

Guilty and resolved to making things right, you mulled over what you’d say to Leon, to Derek. You didn’t want to abandon your friendship, but if that’s what it would take, you weren’t going to throw your relationship away – and maybe it would be better for your friendship if you weren’t so close.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Nervousness caused you to be jittery, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you stood outside his door. ‘You got this. Leon’s a good guy, he’ll understand. He’ll understand.’ You let out a deep sigh, hyping yourself up before knocking on his door.

The second your eyes met the endless blue of his, regret washed over you from head to toe. The way he leaned against the doorframe, you’d caught him after a workout again, shirtless a sheen of sweat coating his muscles. It was the first time you’d seen him completely shirtless and it was making your brain go haywire a bit.

Suddenly a palm was in your face, waving. “Hello, Earth to Ms. 306, you there?”

You were snapped back to the moment. “Sorry, I was spacing out for a moment.” “You don’t say.” He laughed, standing up straight. “Well you’re the one who knocked on my door. What’s up?” “About that. The other night with Derek I uh….” How exactly were you going to explain this? “I think it’s best if maybe you and I saw less of each other.”

Hurt washed over his features. “What? Did I do something wrong?” “No, it’s nothing like that.” “I’m just confused, the guy left you at the theater and –” “I know and that was shitty of him. He just seems to think you and I are too close, and I mean I get it. I can’t say I would be comfortable if he spent as much time with another girl as I do with you.” Averting your eyes, you stared down at your feet. “I’m sorry Leon. It’s just, I do love him and I want to try and work on things ya know? Like you’re a super awesome friend and if it were up to me I’d keep things the way they are but it makes him uncomfortable…so….”

“Of course. I understand completely.”

You swore there was a slightly strained sound to his voice, you didn’t push it though, happy that he was accepting of things. “Thank you Lee.” Like a coward, you scurried off the moment the conversation concluded.

Luckily Derek had been willing to talk things out and once you had mentioned breaking things off with Leon – if you could even call it that – his mood changed entirely. It melted your heart to see the way his face lit up, to feel his arms around you. It affirmed in the moment you had made the right decision.

Things fell back into place like nothing had been wrong – except this time around everything was so much more smooth, a love rekindled. You found yourself talking for hours every night before bed time, laughing at dumb stories, falling asleep before the call ended.

Date nights were becoming a regular occurrence again too, walks in the park, midnight movies.

All in all things were great, but there was something you just couldn’t shake from the back of your mind. Every moment with Derek, every touch, kiss, conversation – it managed to abate your guilt for him, but all you could do was linger on the fact that something was just missing.

Obviously you knew the culprit – Leon.

Somehow, despite everything, you couldn’t shake him from your mind. You missed him terribly and he managed to invade your thoughts at the worst possible moments. Kissing Derek, you’d close your eyes and wonder what it would feel like if Leon had been on the other end.

Walking through the hallway of the battered building felt lonely without the conversations you would have and the laughter that entailed. Helping Mrs. Wilson hurt the most, having to tread to the pharmacy by foot made you miss Leon’s Jeep and the moments spent together. The few times you actually did bump into Leon or catch a glimpse of him, it hurt.

“This is ridiculous.” You said to yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, sitting on your bed. Derek had just dropped you back home after a date, and again the only person on your mind wasn’t the one it should be. “He’s just my neighbor, a friend.”

Letting out a sigh, you thought about the evening with Derek. He’d actually suggested moving in together now that things were getting better between the two of you. Of course you were hesitant at first, this apartment had a lot of sentimental value and leaving it behind meant taking on a new chapter of your life – it was scary. Thinking back on everything though, you were beginning to think it was a good idea.

Everything here was reminding you of someone you can’t – shouldn’t have. Leon had been too meshed within your daily routine, and you figured a change of scenery could help with that. You could still check in with Mrs. Wilson, but not have to be reminded of him every single day.

Resolved to your decision, you texted Derek to let him know. Not knowing why, you had the urge to tell Leon. You didn’t technically have to, and you knew that it wasn’t like you owed him an explanation – it just felt like the right thing to do.

Still too much of a coward to face him or call, you opted to text him instead.

‘Long time no talk. Hope ur well. :) ’

Locking the screen, you set the phone down on the nightstand, surprised when less than a minute later it buzzed with a reply.

‘Just dandy! :) U doin ok?’

‘Yeah!’

‘U sure? not like u to txt out of nowhere.’

‘just had some news i dunno.’

‘news? hope its good lol’

‘i think so… Derek asked me to move in with him.’

The three bubbles to indicate he was typing popped up for a mysteriously long amount of time, making you anxious. Finally they stopped, and you waited – nothing. Thirty minutes passed by before you finally received a response.

‘thats awesome! 👍’

Not sure how to reply, you simply didn’t. The expectation of relief after breaking the news didn’t come, but you pushed it aside. ‘Things are changing. You’ll be just fine once you’re out of here.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time you saw Derek was about three days later – the two of you had a camping trip date planned for the weekend. With your duffel bag packed, you took the opportunity to walk to his apartment, wanting to surprise him that morning.

The weather was perfectly temperate and it felt nice to have fresh air and sun on your skin, without freezing to death or sweating bullets. The sounds of the city set you at ease, familiar shops and people passing you by as you made your way.

The only odd thing was Derek hadn’t replied to your text. It was just a simple ‘Good Morning’ but it wasn’t like him to not respond. Thinking he was likely just busy getting ready or slept in late, you shrugged it off. This trip was the start of something new – plans to move upon returning – and you weren’t about to let anything stop you from making it positive. Even any thought of Leon was temporarily pushed to the back of your mind.

His apartment building was a lot nicer, and in a better part of the city. The ivory building came into view and you all but ran from the outside staircase up to the second floor where his home was. Sliding the spare key into the knob, you knew something was wrong immediately – the lights were off and the whole place just felt stale.

“Der?” You called out, flipping the living room light on. “You here?” No response came, you looked out the window to the parking lot and sure enough his car was there – no camping gear on top though.

Making your way further inside the apartment, you looked around for any sign of him. His keys were tossed on the stained coffee table where they always were. His shoes were by the front door. There was no immediate sign of exit or entry.

His bedroom door was closed though, something you knew was unusual – he always left it open even at bed time.

“Der?” You called again, gently cracking the door open. The room was dark, curtains drawn and no artificial light to be found. Your eyes had to adjust for a moment before you saw the lump of human form underneath the bed sheets, comforter having been discarded onto the floor. “Baby?” You gently shook him, turning the nightstand light on to the lowest setting. The sheets were moist and sweat soaked, his brows were knitted together in his unconscious state – like a nightmare. It took a few more forceful movements before he finally stirred, shooting up in the bed. “What the fuck!? Oh…oh my god baby I’m sorry. You scared the shit out of me.” He brought his hand over his heart as he caught his breath.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you but when I came in everything seemed off. Are you alright?” “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling well. Guess I slept in.” “You’re soaking with sweat, are you sure you’re ok to go? We can just stay in if you’re not well.” “No baby, I’m fine. I promise.” He gave you a weak smile before kissing your cheek. “Just let me take a quick shower and pack up.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I can start carrying the gear down to the car.” He did not look okay at all. His eyes seemed more sunken than usual, skin pale and clammy. Something beyond that just felt off - but he continued to insist everything was fine.

“Maybe just stop by urgent care real quick. I mean if you are sick maybe they could give you something for it that you can take on the trip?” “Baby, we’re halfway to the campsite. All I need is some fresh air and time with my girlfriend. I told you I feel fine.” “Alright…” You had to admit the campsite he picked was beautiful. This flat plane of grassy area set atop a hill, you could see the entire valley below including the river – the mountains and the sky were along the horizon too. It was beyond breathtaking and you could only imagine the view once the sun set and the stars began to twinkle unimpeded by the city lights. The little area was surrounded by a thick layer of trees, giving you plenty of privacy.

Awestruck by it all, the thought of Derek’s condition nearly dissipated entirely from your thoughts – he seemed to be getting better anyway, easily handling stretching out the tarp, and hammering the stakes into the ground for the tent base.

“At least one of us is useful.” You teased, nearly getting tangled in the plastic and wiring of the tent. Attempting to bend one of the thin metal sticks down to loop into another section, it flung back whipping you in the face instead. “Fuck, ouch.” A nice thin slice of blood trickled down the stinging red mark on your face. You covered that side of your face with your sleeve. “Can you grab me the first aid kit?”

There was no response to your request, heavy silence ringing out into the air. “Babe?” Using your good eye you looked over to where he was working on the base, he stood staring at you. “Derek? Hello?” Something about it unsettled you in a way you couldn’t describe, like a 6th sense. “This isn’t funny.” His eyes seemed darker, and his body movement frozen as he gripped the hammer in his hand, tightly. “You’re starting to scare me!”

Snapping out of it, he shook his head before smiling, posture instantly relaxing. “What are you talking about – oh my god are you okay?” He ran over to inspect you and you noted his skin felt weird and cold against your own, not like the usual wet heat you’d experience with a fever. You weren’t sure what to make of it at all, but concern grew within you. “What was that all about?” “What are you talking about?” He replied, dabbing gently at your face with the alcohol pad. A hiss left your lips at the stinging sensation.

“You just stood there staring at me, totally spaced out.” “I don’t remember that at all.” “Derek, are you sure you’re okay? Like really okay?” “Are you going to keep asking me that this entire trip?” “No, I just….” “Look, let’s finish getting set up for the night, I promise you’ll feel better once we’re settled in.” Another quick kiss and he grabbed the part of the tent you’d been fumbling with to finish putting it together. Not wanting to be near him at the moment, you chose to take his advice, stringing up the solar-fairy lights around the trees and moving to get the campfire spot set up.

“All done?” “All done!” He said giving you a high five. “Looks great babe, the lights are really cute. I can't wait to see them tonight.” “Me either.” You replied, kissing him – the cold clammy feeling still there.

There were still a few hours left in the day before sundown, so you opted to explore along the trail for a while. Derek seemed okay initially, his breaks were paced out in a way that made sense. As the day turned to late afternoon though, his breathing seemed to be more labored, breaks became more and more frequent.

You wanted to say something badly, but knowing he’d blow you off you kept it to yourself hoping it was just a cold or something.

By early evening, he was looking rough, red veins in his eyes accentuated by deep purple bags, shivers running through him despite the air having become more humid. His bouts of spacing out became more frequent too – randomly staring off into space nodding as if he was in agreement with some invisible thing.

The worst was when he’d disappeared for 30 minutes on a piss break. You’d found him face first against the tree, urine on his shoes, cock still in hand. Even the sound of your voice didn’t stir him from the spot – nor did shaking his shoulder.

It was another 5 minutes before he snapped out of it this time, smiling at you? “How’s your eye feeling?” Was all he asked as he zipped himself up.

A fear stitched itself together within you and more and more you were working on ways to get out of here – to get him some help because something was not right and it definitely wasn’t a cold. This was beyond your comprehension or ability to assist with.

As night began to shadow the area, the two of you made it back to your campsite. The lights you'd hung glistened against the backdrop of the dark woods giving you enough light to set up the fire. Insisting on it, you tucked Derek beneath a thick blanket on the camping chair and begged him to rest.

You considered calling 911, but the thought of all the lights and sirens worried you that it might spook the clearly ill man or provoke him. What you really needed at the moment was advice because you frankly didn’t know what to do, but you were scared.

“Here, drink this.” You said handing him the thermos of now heated soup. “Just try to rest for a bit.” You kissed his forehead. He was getting worse now, feeling like he had been dipped in an ice bath, you never knew a human could get so cold. You swear his veins were getting darker too, at least the ones around his neck – but it could’ve just been the low lighting. “I have to go to the little girl’s tree, I’ll be back.” You assured him, walking until you hoped you were out of earshot. Your phone was gripped tightly in your hand as you paced trying to figure out the best course of action. ‘Can 911 even make it out here? Do people really call 911 over a sick person?’

“Fuck, I don’t know what to do.” Unlocking your phone, you squinted, eyes adjusting to the overwhelming brightness of the screen in the dark area. “Who would?” You scrolled through your contacts list at least 5 times – only one name ringing in your head. “I mean he works for the government – not that I know what he does exactly … but maybe?”

The phone rang with a crackling sound indicating the poor connection from the wilderness – relief flooded over you as the other end of the line picked up. “Leon, thank god. I know this is wildly inappropriate given everything but I need –” Before you even finished you realized he couldn’t hear you. The staticky noise picking up, his voice echoing in and out sounding robotic. The line disconnected on it’s own and the top corner read ‘no signal.’ “Fuck!” You kicked the trunk of the tree in front of you.

“Babe?” The sound of Derek’s voice brought you back, it sounded so weak and hoarse. “I’ll be right there.” You yelled back. “Babe?” He called again. “Babe I’m scared.”

The words made you shiver, the hair on your neck raised – it sounded like Derek, but not at the same time. You still forced that feeling aside and marched back to camp, legs feeling like sand bags as you made them move against your own will.

“What’s wrong –”

You stopped just behind the tent, he was standing there facing you, the fire illuminating his skin. “Babe, I’m scared.” He repeated again, though his face held no emotion – completely expressionless. Dark black vein made spiderwebs along his skin, running from his arms up onto his face. His irises looked black, red blood vessels in both eyes popped making him look like a demon. The corners of his mouth had blood dried to them.

He coughed into his hand, more blood coming out. “Help me.” He reached a hand out towards you. Instinctively, you stepped back away from him. “Help me.” He repeated again stepping forward directly into the campfire – unphased by the flames that were licking away at his clothing, his skin. For each step he took forward, you took one back, legs shaking as silent tears spilled. A visceral fear like you’d never experience before sent shockwaves throughout your entire body.

He brought two burning hands to his head, the flames catching at his hair while he continued to stumble forward at an uneven pace. “My head. It’s splitting my head.” His voice became warbled as he spoke, like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. “You’re scaring me….” You managed to squeak out, barely above a whisper.

“IT’S SPLITTING MY HEAD!” He shouted this time, head twisting to the side the sound of his neck cracking. His features began to warp, nose pulling to the left, mouth twisting, eyes swirling as the flesh tore and split apart – the sound of wet tearing making you feel ill.

A small worm-like thing poked out of the top of his head, before it darted out, growing and growing in size. A second later his head finally tore an explosion of tentacles waving around in the air, like purple blood worms dancing above the neck of his burning body. His features, the ones you knew so well were twisted amongst the new flesh.

The now sideways mouth opened into a hiss, long tongue slithering out like a snake. Warm urine trickled down your leg against your will, fear paralyzing any movement or rational thought. There was no comprehension of what was in front of you.

Despite the flames melting the flesh of the body, it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. A tentacle whipped itself forward, slapping against the tree above you, nearly hitting you. The slimy slapping sound was enough to get your legs moving, despite how wobbly they were.

You took off into the dark of the woods, leaves crunching beneath you. Shadows danced around your vision in the moonlight that only casted down between the canopy of the trees. The yellow light behind you mixed with the gargling and fleshy noises told you the creature was behind you in pursuit. Branches and bushes whipped your skin leaving you with cuts and welts you couldn’t feel through the adrenaline – path lost you just went as long as you could.

You saw the opening to the camp parking lot, the low streetlamps like a guiding star. “Help!” You shouted, waving an arm as you ran. “God help me!” You screamed again hoping someone would hear you. In your haze you hadn’t noticed the overgrown root curled out of the ground, it caught your ankle right before you made it to the cement of the parking lot.

Your face hit the yellow barrier of the closest spot, a crunching pop against your nose, iron infecting your sense of smell. When the stars stopped buzzing around your head, you looked down to see your ankle still caught under the root, twisted and purple – bone sticking out through the side.

The hissing sound told you the creature wasn’t far behind, the tips of the tentacles appearing just within your now hazed vision. Coughing on the blood that spilled into the back of your throat via your likely now broken nose, you tried to crawl backwards, but couldn’t the pain in your ankle too great. The creature was right above you now, drool and slime dripping down onto your face as they wriggled around. Closing your eyes to brace a loud explosion sound rung out, all parts of your face and exposed skin suddenly covered in sticky and warm liquid. Cracking an eye open, you saw the body of the creature as it hit the ground.

Looking down at yourself, you were wearing blood and teeth and other viscera that had splattered against you. Your hand shakily reached into your tank top feeling at the squishy thing that landed in your bra.

Bile worked its way out of you upon discovering the eyeball in your hand, tossing it before losing the rest of your stomach contents out onto the open ground. In too much shock and shaking, your vision went black as you slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~

Head reeling you refused to open your eyes, purposefully scrunching them shut against the invading sunlight. You felt like you’d been hit by a bus, every part of you was either sore or stung. As your brain slowly started coming to, the first thing you realized was the smell – out of place but familiar. That spicy and intense cologne – Leon?

‘But why would Leon be in your tent?’ The image of the blonde appeared in your mind making you giggle a moment. Then it occurred to you, you were fully conscious. Confused you opened one eye and then the other, wincing as they adjusted to the light.

It wasn’t your tent. It wasn’t even your apartment. You sat up as quickly as your mangled body would allow, heart rate picking up again. “Hey there, you’re finally awake.” Snapping to the door you saw him there, a look of concern on his face. “Leon?” “In the flesh.” He said softly making his way over to you, sitting on the side of the bed. “Where am I?” “In my apartment. How are you feeling?” “What happened?” “I was hoping you could tell me that. You called me frantic, when I finally found you, you were hurt and completely out of it. Had to pull some connections to make sure the hospital would even let me take you home.” “What? Where’s Derek?” “Who are you talking about sweetheart?” “Derek? My boyfriend, he and I were camping and he had a cold and then he turned into a monster and…and…” “Shhhh.” He soothed, rubbing your back. “Hey, its okay, you’re safe now there’s no monsters. You’re okay, I’m here.” He adjusted himself so he could pull you closer into him encompassing you with his warmth and frame.

The weight of his arms around you and the sound of his voice soothed you frantic mumbling as you sobbed into his chest, wetting the cotton fabric with snot and tears. He paid no mind, not letting up on the affection until it died down into sniffles and hiccups. You clung to him like a koala to a tree, desperate to feel better in some way, so overwhelmed with everything.

Sleep quickly overtook you again, sleeping into dreamless unconsciousness against his form.

As always this is inspired by @explorevenus fic Something Permanent as well as @gigabyte-flare, @girldungeon, and @lipglossanon's work. @elfven-blog was so kind as to help find the banner pics. Love them all, go check out their work.

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maimurariki · 3 months

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totally NOT a cliche

pairing{}exchange student!niki x fem!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ˏ

niki and his other six friends stood in front of this huge school, completely in awe of the amount of fashion sense the other students had. some looked cool, others had nobody to impress and just wanted to go home. Girls gave them looks, some of them whispering to another. They didn’t really care though.

The first bell rang, the seven checked their schedules, smiles fading as they saw that they didn’t have first period together. They all went separate ways, looking for their classes.

The clock ticked, pencils wrote, teachers spoke, fingers tapped. it was all too boring, nothing like the movies. nobody made any jokes in the middle of any classes, not even third period where you’d think everyone would be wide awake. He wasn’t so sure about liking it here. To him it had already became boring. Then, lunch came. The seven friends found eachother, debating on where to sit. as they sat down they began to talk amongst themselves, niki poked at his food, being nearly disgusted at how greasy the schools pizza was.

Sunoo gave him a curious look, wondering why niki was so down in the dumps. “Niki, you okay? You keep poking at the… oddly greasy school food.” He asked, grimacing at the school pizza.

“I’m fine… today just didn’t go how I was expecting”

After a while of talking to Sunoo, he looked around the room, observing people. His eyes stumbled upon you, walking into the cafeteria with your friends. He could’ve sworn he saw a ghost. you were too pretty to even be a real person. His eyes stayed on you. It had almost seemed like his world turned slow, ‘I wanna know what love is by Foreigner’, playing from the schools speakers. You made eye contact with him, giving him a small smile.

boy was he gonna love it here.

Slightly based off of that one scene in spiderman homecoming where Peter sees Liz and immediately falls in love ;3

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celiastjamesoscar · 10 months

Text

Umbrella Paradox

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: When visiting a local cafe shop late one night, you meet the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, but you get off on the wrong foot.

Warnings: murder accusations, mention of drug use, light swearing, slight dark humor (my first time writing something ever)

Word count: 5.5k

Read pt 2 here

The streets of New York City were desolate at this hour: few and far patrons wandered into the small coffee shop. A faint chill was in the air, but not enough to make one wear a jacket. The type of chill someone can breathe in and feel in their bones. The kind of chill that anyone from the Midwest would recognize, the tell-tale signs that a storm was coming. From the way the trees rustled to the smell of the air and even to how the local dogs, who were ordinarily quiet, began to bark and growl, all signs pointed towards that of a storm.

Even though it's known as “The City That Never Sleeps,” the city seemed peaceful to the woman who worked the shop. Today had been one of the busiest days; the order for cappuccinos never ended, and Sam was ready for it to end. For the past hour and a half, however, the coffee shop had been a ghost town, the only souls that haunted the shop were Sam and one of her coworkers who just sat in the back, waiting for their shift to end. Within the four walls of solitude, a quietness quickly disappeared as Sam heard the loud cracks of thunder. As if Mother Nature had flipped a switch, a downpour of rain seemed to swallow the small shop.

As dusk hours dragged on, the little hand on the clock crawled towards 1, and the bell above the door dinged. The words “What can I get for you?” were already leaving her lips before she looked up, but she felt like the world had shifted when she saw the woman before her.

The woman in front of Sam was close to her height; maybe even taller-it was hard for Sam to tell-and she had a scar on her left eye. It went an inch or two above her eyebrow and was three inches below her eye. She wore a black uniform resembling an EMT: buttoned-up collared shirt with two chest pockets, military creases, and tactical pants. As she approached the counter, Sam took in the top of her uniform: she had a small badge on her left collarbone that said ‘emergency medical technician’ with the symbol of Caduceus on it. On her right, read the name ‘Y/N.’ Across her shoulder, she carried a red bag that had a white Caduceus symbol stitched on it. She also had a walkie-talkie hooked onto her belt and held an umbrella.

“Espresso and potato soup.” The woman said as she stood before Sam. She had a dry tone, almost as if she was irritated that Sam had asked her what she wanted.

“Hot or cold?” Sam gently asked as she studied the woman: she had bags under her eyes and wore a stressed expression.

“What?” The woman responded with the same dry tone.

“Your drink. Do you want it hot or cold?” Sam repeated herself, losing the gentle tone and speaking with a slightly irritated one instead.

The woman asked irritatedly, “Why would I want a cold coffee? That defeats the purpose.” Sam had to fight herself not to roll her eyes at the comment and instead added up the total.

“Okay, that will be $8.75,” Sam said as she watched Y/N dig around her pockets for her wallet. Eventually, the woman pulled out her money along with three quarters and paid Sam before walking off to sit in the corner of the shop, taking off her bag and placing her umbrella on the floor. Sam placed the order for the woman and went to count the money but soon found out she was two dollars short.

“Miss, you are short two dollars,” Sam spoke with gentleness in her voice even though she could not understand why but quickly regarded it once the woman mumbled something under her breath and threw the two dollars onto the counter. Sam scoffed at the woman’s actions but began making her coffee.

As Sam finished making the coffee, her coworker brought up the soup and placed it by Sam, sparing a glance at the woman in the corner, “Just think, a little over an hour to go,” they said with a smile as they disappeared quickly into the kitchen. "It’s going to be the longest hour of my life,” Sam thought as she grabbed the soup and coffee and walked toward the woman.

“Here’s your soup and coffee. Enjoy,” Sam said as she placed the items in front of the woman, who said nothing in return. Minutes seemed like hours as the woman ate her soup and drank her coffee, and Sam was bored. The only thing on her mind was the downpour outside and the woman in the corner, though she would never admit that to herself. Y/N had been the only customer in the past–Sam quickly glanced at the clock–two hours. Out of boredom, Sam began wiping down tables, preparing for closing even though the shop closed in thirty minutes.

As if snapping out of a daydream, the woman quickly noted Sam’s action and finished her meal and drink. She got up, placed the bowl on the counter, and discarded her coffee cup. She set three dollars on the counter, spared Sam a smile–if one could call it–grabbed her umbrella, and quickly left the shop. As Y/N left the shop, a small group of teenage girls walked in, all a bit drunk, but Y/N wouldn’t tell on them.

She began walking down the street, holding the umbrella close to her as the rain continued its assault on the city. “It hasn’t rained in a month, and of course, it decides to piss it down the night I work 12 hours.” Y/N mumbler under her breath, walking a quarter of a mile back to the station. As she approached the station, she noticed something was missing. “Fuck me; I left my bag.” She grumbled as she began her saunter back to the coffee shop.

Just as she began her walk, she started thinking about the woman in the cafe. Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t find the woman attractive. She had tan skin that was undoubtedly smooth and beautiful brown eyes that one could get lost in if they weren’t careful, but she also had a guarded nature. She felt terrible for how she treated the woman; Y/N had had a rough day at work, the calls for emergencies never seemed to end, and she let it affect her mood. She was usually delightful, but the long shift had gotten to her, and she seemed to have taken it out on the poor woman. The alluring woman plagued Y/N’s mind; she subconsciously quickened her pace, hoping to make it back in time before closing to apologize to the woman.

After Y/N had left the shop, Sam stopped cleaning the tables and walked over to the counter. She smiled at the tip and happily collected it as the doorbell rang again. “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Sam said as she made eye contact with one of the girls in the group before grabbing the bowl and taking it into the kitchen. As she left, however, she heard the faintest of a whisper, but it was there, “murderer.”

Sam has not been a stranger to the accusations from strangers since the Woodsboro murders. It seems once a week; the shop gets a patron who throws around the word “murderer” while Sam is working. At first, it bothered Sam, she would cry on her breaks and smoke more cigarettes than usual, but after a while, she became immune to it all. She acted like nothing bothered her when she was with Tara, as she didn’t want her baby sister to worry about her. But that’s all Tara did.

Tara noticed the subtle details: Sam would have puffy eyes and smudged mascara, things that would go unnoticed by the average eye but not to Tara. Then more significant things began to happen; Sam’s mood would change on a dime, she started to smell like cigarettes more often, and she had bags under her eyes. Of course, Tara rebelled against her sister, just like any typical freshman in college would do against their parents. Tara only acted out as a way to push Sam away from her. Tara’s entire life, people have left her: her dad, her sister, and her mom, who has been absent most of her life. She wanted to prove she was the problem: Tara was why everyone she loved left her. In her mind, Tara believed she didn’t deserve love and was too much to deal with, so she pushed Sam away.

But once Sam started coming home with her work clothes covered in coffee or cherry coke, Tara began to behave herself. She would order pizza before Sam’s shift would end and have a movie ready to play when she got home. Sometimes, if she felt adventurous and brave enough, she would cook a meal for the two of them. Once, she tried cooking one of Sam’s favorite meals but almost burnt down the apartment. Neither talked about it; instead just laughed over their Chinese takeout about the disaster. Tara never asked Sam about her job, as she figured it would only add to her sister’s guilt: having her little sister worry about her when she was already struggling enough to get over the trauma of Woodsboro. Instead, Tara simply showed her care for Sam through little acts they preferred. Asking each other if they were okay without words was how close they were. Sam might have gone for five years, but their bond will always be everlasting: no amount of time will ever shake their love for each other.

Sam prepared to face the inevitable and walked towards the counter, “what can I get you girls?” she asked with a polite tone and forced smile.

The girls gave Sam an unimpressed look as they pretended to look at the menu. “Let’s see here, ummmm…can I please get a latte? No, actually, how about an americano? Wait! No, I would like a mocha, please!” One of the girls stated as she twirled her hand around her finger, pretending to play dumb just to irritate Sam. Sam knew that this was going to end badly for herself, but the best she could do was force a smile, not like she’s been doing that her whole life.

After getting all their orders—which took a millennium—Sam eventually got to make their coffees. With complaints and loud sighs, the girls sat down at one of the tables Sam had just finished clearing, as the cleaning supplies were still on it. In one single motion, the girl who played dumb backhanded all the supplies off the table, crying out an “oops” as she sat down while the other girls laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up in a minute,” Sam uttered with a clenched jaw. As Sam finished talking, the doorbell chimed, but she didn’t have it in her to turn around, afraid that the girls were stalking her movements and they would see the frustration on her face, knowing they were getting to her.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on worrying about it. I know that you know how to clean up a stain or two,” the Karen Smith wanna-be stated with an all-too-knowing smirk while twirling her hair. “How’d you do it anyway? Get away with all those murders?” She asked as she outstretched her arms when she said ‘All those murders.’

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sam voiced through gritted teeth-she didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now.

“Oh, okay then!” The girl exclaimed with a jeering expression as she bounced around in her seat before speaking more seriously, “I just thought you were that Loomis girl who murdered six of her friends and tried to kill her sister.”

Sam spoke in a tired but hardened tone, “Look, girl, I have no idea what you are trying to get at, but-” “Excuse me, may I get a pot of coffee, please?” A gentle voice interrupted Sam. She had half a mind to give the person a piece of her mind for interrupting her, but when she turned around, and the words died on her tongue. It was the woman from earlier, but this time she wore a radiant expression, and a cheeky smile rested upon her face. She rested her elbows on the countertop, leaning forward a bit.

“Yeah, just a minute,” responded Sam as she brought the coffees over to the girls. When she handed Karen wannabe her coffee, her hand “accidentally” bumped Sam’s, causing the piping hot liquid to land all over Sam, ruining her top. “Omg, I am sorry!” Even though she did not attempt to help, the girl exclaimed, “Please don’t murder Ms. Ghostface; it was seriously an accident!” At this, the girls laughed, and Sam even heard a snicker come from behind her. And sure enough, Y/N had a mischief smirk even though her eyes were choleric.

“I’m getting your cup of coffee now,” Sam sighed as she took off her apron and threw it on the counter.

“A pot of coffee, not a cup,” the woman stated as Sam gave her a puzzled look, “preferably your hottest pot as well.” Sam rolled her eyes at the statement but went and got the fresh pot of coffee her coworker had made for themselves.

Sam returned and handed the woman the pot; she didn’t bother questioning what she needed an entire pot for; as long as Sam was left alone, she didn’t care.

“Thank you-” Y/N glanced at the nametag on the coffee-stained apron, “-Sam.” She gently smiled as she spoke before swiftly approaching the group of girls.

Watching in amusement and pure curiosity, Sam stared with bewilderment as the woman threw the coffee onto the group of girls, their shrieks and screams echoing throughout the cafe. “Omg, I didn’t mean to do that!” Y/N expressed with a cheerful laugh as one of the girls started crying because her ‘perfect hair was ruined!’

“I’m going to sue your ass!” Karen wannabe shouted, standing up to wipe the coffee off her clothing.

“On what grounds? You are trespassing on private property!” Y/N laughed as she pointed towards the clock; it was fifteen past two. “Now leave before I call the cops and say that you’re refusing to leave,” with that, the girls quickly left the shop, but not without Karen wannabe scoffing at Y/N and flipping Sam off.

Y/N had placed the coffee pot on the counter and was preparing to ask Sam a question before Sam interrupted her by laughing. It wasn’t a tiny laugh; no, it was the type of laughter that has one doubled over holding their stomach type. Caught off guard by Sam’s laughter, Y/N quickly joined in.

Consequently, the coworker came up to see what the laughter was about but quickly disregarded it, said goodbye, and left. Drying the tears from her eyes as her laughter died, Sam looked around before speaking, “Thank you for that. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no problem, and besides, I kinda had fun doing it. Is that bad?” Y/N questioned with a worrisome look as she made eye contact with Sam.

“No, it’s not. They deserved it.” Sam joked as she looked around the shop. “I need to close up, but seriously, thank you.”

Y/N nodded as Sam walked off to the supply closet. When she returned, she found that Y/N had already begun cleaning up the mess she had made and the spilled cleaning supplies the girls had knocked over. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not holding you hostage here,” Sam joked as she walked over to the table Y/N was cleaning.

“I know, I just feel bad about this,” Y/N voiced with a sigh and waved her arm around the messy table. “I should have handled it better.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam explained, “those girls were assholes, and they deserved a lot worse,” she finished with a laugh.

Y/N smiled at Sam, “I know. I’m Y/N, by the way,” she said as she extended her hand. Sam smiles as her eyes crinkle and accepts her hand.

“I’m Sam, but you already know that,” she replies as she slides her hand into hers. The sparks that Y/N feels when their palms connect causes her to flinch and take a deep breath momentarily. Y/N notices how Sam’s eyes snap up at hers, telling Y/N that maybe she felt it too. If Sam saw how Y/N’s eyes smiled for her and her palms began to sweat, she didn’t say it. And if Y/N noticed how Sam’s spine got the faintest chill causing her to stand up straighter, Sam was glad she didn’t say anything.

Sam pulled her hand back out of shock, her eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but Y/N’s radiant smile. “Well then,” Sam coughed out, “we should finish up closing.” Y/N nodded in agreement, tapping her foot as she cleaned off the tables.

Occasionally, her eyes drift over to Sam, who was also cleaning tables on the other side of the cafe. It felt as though Sam was trying to put distance between herself and the EMT. It felt like she was suffocating just being near the woman; it drove her mad with anger and happiness simultaneously.

Fifteen minutes had passed before they finally finished cleaning up and preparing to lock the front doors when they realized it was still raining. “It is pissing it down out there,” Y/N stated, looking out the window. She had her umbrella in hand and her long-forgotten medical bag over her shoulder, getting ready to leave the shop before she turned to Sam, “Would you like me to walk you home?” She asked with the gentlest tone Sam had ever heard, and it almost brought a tear to her eyes. A stranger she had just met was willingly being friendly to her after hearing accusations of her being a “murderer.” She had half a mind to run in the other direction; ordinary people were never this nice to her.

“I would like that, if you don’t mind,” Sam uttered, afraid her voice would break if she spoke any louder. She was used to the cruel ways of the world now-she expected the worst but never prayed for the best. Even after all the harsh years she has dealt with, this moment with Y/N seemed to compensate for her torture.

“Let us begin our adventure then.” Y/N proclaimed as she stepped outside the door and opened her umbrella. She held the umbrella over both of them as Sam locked up the front door and pulled Sam into her side, “I don’t want you to get soaked,” Y/N expressed with a cheeky grin and loving eyes. If Sam noticed the red tint on the other woman’s face, she kept it to herself.

Sam informed her that it’s about a half-mile walk. It would take Y/N almost a mile out of her way, but she just nodded and said that’s fine. She didn’t care how long she had to walk, as she couldn’t muster a complaint with Sam by her side.

They walked the first block in complete silence; the only sound they could hear was the rain pelting down on the umbrella before Y/N spoke up, “Why were those girls accusing you of murder?” She felt Sam automatically tense up and suck in a deep breath, and it sent a dagger into her own heart.

“It’s complicated, and I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam sighed, looking down at the ground as she spoke, “Not right now, at least.”

“Okay,” Y/N said with a loving tone; it made Sam want to strangle her. Sam hated how one word made heat creep up her neck and warm her body despite the cold weather. She hated the way one stranger made her feel more loved and appreciated than anyone in her entire life ever had. And above all else, she hated how Y/N smiled at her like she was the only person in the world. Like her life meant something other than being the daughter of a serial killer.

“Why’d you do that?” Sam asked after a few beats of silence.

“Mhm? Do what?” Y/N questioned as she looked at Sam.

“Throw the coffee on those girls.”

“Oh, I did it for the shiggles,” Y/N admitted with a shrug of her shoulders and a cheeky smile.

“‘Shiggles? What does that mean?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh as the question left her lips.

“Shits and giggles, my dear Watson,” Y/N said with the same cheeky grin plastered on her face, and it took everything in Sam to look away for fear of doing something she might come to regret.

“So, were you an asshole to me earlier for the shiggles? Or was that all an act?” Sam asked as she bumped her shoulders into Y/N, slightly causing the woman to fall out from under the umbrella shelter.

“Hey! Watch it, lady! This is a vintage Prada shirt that the devil himself wore when he fought Meryl Streep!” Y/N exclaimed as she wiped the rain off of the left side of her face when she returned under the umbrella. She then wiped her hand off Sam’s clothes, earning herself a small elbow to the side.

Sam laughed at the woman’s words and actions, “have you ever seen that movie?” Sam questioned.

“No, I have not,” Y/N stated with a very serious expression but a playful manner in her eyes. Sam could not believe that this was the same woman she met earlier. “Is it bad that I think she’s kinda hot?”

“Who? Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep, or Emily Blunt?”

“Ummm, yes?” Y/N said with her eyebrow raised like she could not believe Sam had asked her that question.

Sam’s head fell back with laughter at Y/N’s response, and Y/N swore it sounded like angels were singing. “I hate you.” Sam joked with the kindest tone Y/N had ever heard.

“Nothing about my response is funny, Sam!” Y/N exclaimed with a smile followed by frantic hand movements, “Yes to all three women, no matter the context, it's just yes!”

“Hey, I’m not disagreeing with you.”

“Mhmm, you better not be,” Y/N replied as she nudged her shoulder against Sam’s, but not hard enough to knock Sam out from under the umbrella.

“But seriously though, why were you being an asshole earlier?” Sam questioned, hoping to get an actual response out of the woman this time.

“I had a bad day at work. Too many kids shooting fireworks at each other leaving them with not enough fingers,” Y/N said as she brought her hand close to Sam’s face and began wiggling them in front of her. Sam laughed and gently pushed the EMT’s hand down, letting her hand linger for a few seconds too long before she dropped it back down by her side.

“People are still shooting off fireworks? July 4th was a couple of weeks ago,” Sam stated, shaking her head as she hoped it would get rid of warm cheeks.

“Dude, crackheads are crazy. They will blow each other’s fingers off with fireworks until mid-November.” Y/N laughed, “The first call I got today was some dude who was high on PCP, for your information, who had tried to use a firework to launch himself onto the moon!”

Sam couldn’t help but join Y/N’s laughter; she found it somewhat morbid that the woman handled such a scene with mild humor. “How do you find this stuff funny?” Sam questioned with a look of amusement.

“Perks of the job; cool uniforms followed suit by dark humor,” Y/N stated as she sent a wink Sam’s way along with some playful finger guns. If Sam noticed Y/N’s eyes peaking at her lips, she didn’t mention it. “I do want to apologize for the way I treated you earlier. I was being an asshole. Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“Yeah, you kinda were, but you’ve made up for it,” Sam said with a lighthearted smile.

Y/N just smiled at Sam in return but quickly felt her heart flutter at Sam’s smile. She had seen Sam smile their entire walk, but for the first time, Y/N had seen her smile.

It wasn’t like the forced smile she saw when she had first met the woman; no, it was a different smile. Y/N wouldn’t even classify it as a smile if the laws of nature would allow her to; she’d call it something completely different. Something that has no negative aspect, something that has no flaws, something that the evils of man can never touch. The only words that came to mind were ‘unblemished’ and ‘pure,’ but she felt shame and embarrassment as she tried to put a word to Sam’s smile. There are no words in the English language that Y/N could scream to match that smile.

Y/N was going to say something, but all the words slipped her mind. It was as if someone had flashed her with a neuralyzer, and she only remembered the captivating woman in front of her. With what little words she could muster, she simply uttered, “I’m sorry,” followed by an awkward laugh as she rubbed the back of her neck before looking down at the rain-soaked sidewalk.

Caught off guard by the sudden change in mood, Sam tried to look at Y/N’s face, but the woman refused to meet her challenging gaze. So, Sam did what any sane person would do. She slowly brushed her fingers against Y/N’s, praying to all the gods in the world, hoping one would answer her prayer. And to her luck, a God did.

Y/N slowly bumped her hand against Sam’s and gently locked her pinky finger with Sam’s. She waited for Sam to pull back, but Y/N let go of Sam’s finger after a few seconds.

At first, Sam’s heart sank into her stomach; she was getting ready to usher out a plethora of apologies before she felt Y/N’s palm against her own. It felt as if the entire world stopped for both women, but at the same time, everything was moving faster: their breathing, their eyes, their walking pace, and their heart rates. At the same time, as if their minds were on the same wave link and they shared a telepathic ability, they both looked at each other, subtly shifting their bodies to be closer while continuing their walk.

Y/N’s eyes never left Sam’s. All she could do was stare into the woman’s eyes. The kind of eyes that made thieves wonder why they even bothered to steal pieces of art. The type of eyes that Y/N longed to call home.

On the other hand, Sam did everything she could to avoid Y/N’s piercing gaze. She studied how the scar on her eye moved with her facial expressions, noted how the earlier stress lines were gone, and wondered if her lips tasted as good as they looked. She wondered if they were as soft as they looked, if she could get lost in her kisses and forget about everything else. She wondered if they would fit perfectly with her own.

Subconsciously, both women stopped walking and slowly began leaning in. They were so close they could feel each other’s breath on their lips. And if God had decided he hadn't made Sam’s life hard enough, a car flew down the road, driving through a puddle of water, causing it to soak both women. Out of instinct, Y/N dropped the umbrella to her side, causing Sam to send her a murderous glance. Sam cursed under her breath as she stared down the quickly disappearing car while Y/N tried to slow down her heartbeats. Y/N was quick to make a joke out of the situation, hoping it wasn’t too awkward between them, “well, at least your clothes were already ruined.” She said as she quickly closed the umbrella and shook herself off like a dog.

“Umm, what the hell are you doing?” Sam questioned as she gestured towards the closed umbrella.

“What? Our clothes are already soaked; we no longer need to use this thing.” Y/N stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sam huffed at Y/N’s words, mentally slapping herself for agreeing with the woman, then she reached out and linked her arm with Y/N’s. Y/N gave Sam that same gentle smile from earlier and gestured to the sidewalk with her free hand, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Sam laughed, bumping her shoulders against Y/N’s. Neither woman complained about the downpour of rain they were walking through, but when the loud cracks of thunder started again, they dislinked their arms and instead linked their hands together, quickly running through the rain. Between the occasional thunder, the only thing that could be heard were the sounds of laughter and playful banter between the two.

Out of breath but full of life, they quickly reached the apartment complex doors and ran inside. Neither said anything at first, but when they looked at each other, they burst out laughing. “You look like a drowned rat.” Sam joked between laughs.

“Thank you, that is exactly what I was going for this morning,” Y/N said as she lightly pushed Sam. However, when Y/N’s hands touched Sam’s torso, she gently grasped Y/N’s hands and slowly placed them on her waist, moving into Y/N’s personal space. The atmosphere around them quickly changed into one full of desire and longing.

Y/N looked down at Sam’s eye, then her other one, and down at her lips before looking back up at Sam. The only thing she saw in Sam’s eyes was the same burning passion she felt, and she needed to feel something, anything from Sam. Leaning down, Y/N let her lips linger on Sam’s but never kissed her; it was her version of asking if this was okay. Y/N’s grip on Sam’s waist tightened as Sam removed her hands from hers and slowly brought them up to cup Y/N’s face. With a gentle stroke of her thumb against her cheek, Sam finally closed the distance.

The kiss is soft and gentle, unlike anything Sam has ever experienced in her entire life. She softly sighed into the EMT’s lips, releasing tension she didn’t know she had. She felt her whole body react to the kiss as if her soul told her that this was her last first kiss.

Y/N delicately kissed Sam back, worried that if she tried too hard or moved quickly, everything around her would disappear, including Sam. Y/N is so lost in Sam that she can’t even hear the loud thumping of her own heartbeat against her rib cage and ringing throughout her eardrums. The only thing on her mind was the soft stroke of Sam’s thumb against her cheek and the tender lips against her own. Slowly and reluctantly, the two separated but rested their foreheads together.

Out of breath, Y/N whispered against Sam’s lips, “When can I see you again?”

Sam let out a laugh before slightly pulling back, just far enough where she could look Y/N in the eyes and still be in her arms. “You know where I work. Figure it out.” She said as she leaned up to kiss Y/N’s cheek while gently stroking her other cheek before slowly making her way up the stairs to her apartment.

Y/N was so lost in thought that her mind only began to register what had happened when she lost the warmth of Sam. She watched as Sam slowly walked up the first few steps before calling out, “You are really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

Sam smiled as she leaned against the railing, looking down at Y/N, “If I remember correctly, you asked me how you could compensate me for being an asshole.”

Y/N scoffed at Sam’s words but spoke with a smile on her face, “I thought you said I had already made it up to you?”

“Well, I lied. See you at the coffee shop sometime!” Sam called out with a wave of her hand as she quickly walked up the stairs. She didn’t want Y/N to see the giant smile on her place that accompanied a faint blush on her tan skin.

Y/N couldn’t help the grin that overtook her face at Sam’s words. ‘At least she wants to see me again!’ She thought as she practically skipped out of the apartment complex, leaving her umbrella behind.

This is my first time writing anything, so I apologize if this was bad. If anyone has any requests, let me know!

#sam carpenter #melissa barrera #tara carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n

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