octopiys

[octopiys]

Daughters with Soft Underbellies; masterlist

john price x fem!reader | outlaw/cowboy and preachers daughter | read on ao3 | pinterest board

All your life, you have known nothing but the Word of God and your father's short temper. Every day, you are forced to turn the other cheek for each minor mistake you make within your father's gaze; the old wounds hardly have time to heal before he gives you new ones. Yet, as a devout follower to God and your father, you have no one else to turn to. When the owner of the saloon tells you about some strangers lurking around town, you decide to take your chances with these wayward men in the hopes that they'll save you. But they are dangerous, conniving bandits; a fact you learn a little too late. You should have known that sheep who stray too far from the flock are at the mercy of the wolves. Better sharpen those teeth of yours, little lamb.

a/n: please heed the warnings on each chapter; overall; religious trauma; domestic abuse; reader is christian; western!au;

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten

extras:

moodboard made by @syoddeye

updated: 2/25/25 follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

[octopiys]

Ghost Gaz, mission gone wrong. Aka I torture the baby Kyle.

Tw fire building collapse injuries.

Gaz coughed, pulling his sleeve over his mouth to block out the smoke, his eyes burning and ears ringing.

He had no clue how the mission had gone to shit so fast, it was going well and they'd already have been back at base.

But instead he was in a heavily bombed and on fire building, barely able to see or breath. He didn't know the way out, and his earpiece was crackling and probably going to die soon.

“Fuck… Ghost you copy?” He choked out, hoping the mic even still worked.

He heard a dry cough on the other end before the response came through. “I copy Garrick, you need to get out of there now, the building is going to come down”

Well that was fucking great.

Gaz coughed again, pressing his sleeve further against his mouth, trying to limit his smoke inhalation.

“Well aware of that Ghost” he cut himself off with a loud cough. “Unfortunately can't fucking see shit, I don't know where the hell the exits are and everything is on fire.”

Ghost sighed though the line “Just fucking try, the building could fall any second. Making my way to your location.”

“Copy sir”Gaz spun around trying to find any indication of where the way out might be.

But he was getting dizzy from the smoke and his ears were ringing.

He couldn't see and there was fire everywhere.Upon hearing footsteps behind him, he spun round aiming his gun at the noise.

Ghosts hulking figure appeared through the smoke “Stand down, sergeant”

Gaz's shoulders slumped slightly. It was just Ghost thank god. “Sorry sir.”

Ghost nodded, glancing up as the ceiling creaked. “Come on, we need to get out of here double time.”

Gaz nodded ignoring the clawing dizziness and followed his lieutenant, glad that at least Ghost knew the way out. Jesus, he couldn't wait to get back to base and probably sleep for like 3 days straight. This was all total shit.

Suddenly Ghost grabbed his arm. “Stop, hang on” Gaz paused immediately, subconsciously holding his breath.Ghost glanced up at the ceiling as it gave a loud groan. “Shitttt, it's caving”

Gaz barely had time to process what was happening as Ghost grabbed his arm pulling him. Ghost reached out and grabbed Gaz's upper body, hauling him down and pressing him against the ground. The impact was jarring, and Gaz felt the weight of Ghost pressing on top of him as the building caved in around them.

Gaz's heart raced as he collided with the ground, his body sinking into the dirt and debris, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He found himself suddenly pinned under Ghost, the weight of the larger man pressing him down.

The adrenaline and the sheer panic coursing through Gaz's system made it difficult to think straight.

In the chaos of the moment, it took a few seconds for it to even register that Ghost had positioned himself as a shield above him, his massive frame shielding Gaz's body.

Ghost was pushed up on his elbows to not squash Gaz, but his whole body was covering his sergeant as he took the brunt of the falling building. As the air got thicker and harder to breathe, gaz’s panic increased.

He was on the verge of passing out, and they were gonna fucking die here. Gaz barely managed to choke out “Ghost…”

The hulking man above him grunted in response before speaking “You're okay sergeant… it's okay.”

Somehow even as Gaz slipped into unconsciousness, Ghost's words were a comfort. His brain relaxed slightly even as the flaming building collapsed around them. He trusted Ghost’s word.

The final thing he registered was one of his lieutenants hands in his hair before he passed out fully.

As Gaz slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he felt was the agonizing pang in his lower back. And head... and frankly everywhere .

The pain was sharp and insistent, a constant reminder of the building's collapse. He winced as he came to his senses, the memories of the ordeal flooding back to him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he realized that there was someone lying on top of him.

The weight above him was familiar, and as Gaz's vision cleared, he realized it was Ghost. The hulking man was lying on top of him, his large frame pinning him down. The sight of blood soaking through multiple bits of Ghost's uniform and seeping through the mask was alarming.

It was a stark reminder of the gravity of their situation. Gaz's eyes widened as he saw the wounds, his heart skipping a beat as the sight of his lieutenant in such a state. "Ghost," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're bleeding…”

The man on-top of him didn't even stir and Gaz forced his aching body upright, desperately trying to find Ghost's pulse on his neck, uncaring of the warm blood that coated his hand.

Warm. That was a good sign.

As his fingers finally landed on Ghost’s neck in the right place to feel the rhythm of the heart against his hand.

Ghost was alive. It soothed his worry slightly. Atleast Ghost wasn't dead, but he certainly wasn't conscious. He tapped Ghost's mask. “Come on Lieutenant, wake up.”

When his superior didn't react at all, panic began to set in. “Come on. Ghost! Wake up damn it! Come On! For fucks sake open your eyes!” He shook the man but Ghost stayed limp.

“Please, please lieutenant. You can't just fucking die. Come on. Wake up, we need to get out of here! We are still in hostile territory!”Gaz took a shuddering breath, willing himself to calm down. Yelling and crying wasn't going to help.

He slowly controlled his breathing, keeping a hand on Ghost's pulse point to remind himself Ghost was alive.

He tapped his comms. “Price. Price?... Oh fuck it's dead. Fucks sake”

Why the fuck couldn't Ghost be awake? Ghost would never have let his comms die, it was- Gaz paused.

That was it, Ghost wouldn't have let his comms die! Therefore there was a working set of comms.Although it felt weird to pull them from Ghost's unconscious body.

“Sorry Ghost, just trying not to die” he murmured as he pulled the comms out of Ghost's helmet and put them on.

“Price? Come in, price?”He heard the mild confusion on the other end. “Garrick? Where's Ghost, why do you have his comms?”

Gaz sighed, shakey and still slightly tearful “Building came down sir. I'm mostly uninjured… uhm.. Ghost shielded me… he is alive but unconscious. We are currently still on enemy territory. There's no way we can make it to evac…given I'll be carrying him.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Ah shitt”

Gaz huffed a humorless laugh “You can say that again sir. Ghost is not stirring”

Price swore, before sighing and Gaz could hear quick typing on the other end for a few minutes before Price spoke again. “Okay … closest safe location we can get you, 2km east. Can you make it Garrick?”

2km? Heaving the great brick wall of muscle that was Ghost? He grimaced, his muscles would hate him more than usual.

He suddenly remembered he did have to answer his captain “Guess I'll have to Price. You owe me a fucking…. Beer or coke or some shit… I'll get back to you.”

Price huffed another laugh “Hearing you loud and clear Garrick. Get Ghost there safely and patch his wounds, I'll treat you��� Oh yeah key for the safe house is in the garden gnome.”

Gaz paused. A fucking garden gnome? “What, you sending us to a pretty little cottage, cap?” He murmured, grabbing Ghost and hoisting him up with a grunt.

Price chuckled slightly. “Yes actually, much more off the radar, and with Ghosts injuries you might be there a little while, so I figured it's nice.”

Gaz nodded, although Price couldn't see “Appreciate it sir.” He steadied himself with Ghost on his back, and slowly started off, careful not to step on any unstable rocks or fall.

“Jesus Lieutenant you weigh a fucking tonne and a half” He murmers to himself, despite the fact that Ghost is not awake.

He eventually reaches the safe house, and Price wasn't kidding. It really was a little cottage. Vines up the sides of a soft coloured old brick house. A lovely garden, stained glass windows. It looked like it was out of a story book, and he was about to drag a bleeding unconscious man into it.

Gaz dumped Ghost on the doorstep as he picked up the cat themed garden gnome by the front door, letting the key fall into his waiting hand.

Once he finally placed Ghost on the couch he took a moment to breathe, even more sweaty and exhausted then he had been.He glanced up, hearing a loud groan from across the room, seeing his lieutenant stirring.

He moved to Ghost’s side, just out of reach, in case he was out of it and going to attack. However he just laid there, so Gaz moved closer. “Sir? How are you feeling?”

He only received a soft groan in response. “Ghost? You… conscious orrr? Because if you aren't conscious or are unable to talk that is much more concerning”

The larger man groaned again but actually spoke this time. “Solid Kyle.”

Gaz sighed in relief, while grabbing the med-kit. “I'll treat most of your wounds, I mean I'll leave your mask on, the wound there doesn't seem dangerous so we can leave it for now.”

In all honesty Gaz really didn't want to leave the wound, but it wouldn't be fatal, and he knew how important Ghosts mask was to him. Besides, Ghost would probably be up to stitching it up himself later.

Ghost sighed, yanking the mask off, making gaz's heart stop. “ T’s fine. …I trust you and I'd rather not have blood all over my face."

Gaz's brain had entirely stopped working, he was actually fairly certain he wasn't breathing either, because Ghost trusted him? Enough to take off the mask? He was fairly sure Johnny hadn't even seen his face!

And also he was so so fucking pretty.

His first thought was about the scars. They mapped Simon’s face in jagged lines and uneven grooves, the most striking being the Glasgow smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth, giving the impression of a permanent sneer.

The marks were brutal, the kind that carried stories most people would never hear. They should’ve been jarring, Gaz thought absently, but somehow they weren’t.

Then there was the hair. Christ, his hair. It was blond, so pale it was almost white in the dim light, curling around his ears in soft, unruly strands that looked almost too delicate for the man they belonged to.

It caught the light, gleaming faintly, and Gaz felt his chest tighten uncomfortably as he realized just how pretty it was.

And his eyes—God, his eyes. Gaz had always known they were blue, but without the mask, they seemed impossibly bright, piercing enough to pin him in place. But what hit him harder was how expressive they were, every flicker of thought or emotion laid bare in the subtlest shifts.

It struck Gaz like a bolt of lightning. Simon wore his emotions on his face, his every thought reflected in a way that would’ve been impossible to miss. It made sense now why he wore the mask. If Gaz had a face that gave away every little thing, he might’ve hidden it too.

He was staring. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth had fallen open, and he couldn’t seem to make it work again, caught between too many competing thoughts.

He’s hot as fuck was the loudest one, overwhelming everything else.

Of course, Gaz had suspected Simon would be attractive. You didn’t carry yourself the way Ghost did and end up anything less than devastatingly handsome.

But seeing him now, his hair curling softly around his face, the tension in his features softened by the warmth of the shower, was something entirely different.

And then there was the other, quieter realization that stole the breath from his lungs. Ghost is pretty. Gaz had never thought that word would apply to Ghost of all people, but there it was, refusing to be ignored. Scars and all, Simon Riley was beautiful in a way that made Gaz's chest ache.

“Uhm… right.. thanks Lieutenant.. I'll deal with your head first..Just stay still.”

And so Gaz ended up sitting cross legged on the couch in the little cottage, carefully wiping the blood and dirt off every inch of his superior, and stitching him up.

And Ghost?

Ghost was fucking drifting to sleep Against him, even as he was stitched up. Curling up against him, with a soft sigh, completely trusting Gaz.

Gaz, oddly, almost bemoaned finishing the stitches. He was still so, so riled up, he didn't want to be in his head. The stitches were methodical and a pattern, calming his frayed nerves.

He still wanted to cry, if Ghost hadn't sheltered him he would have died. If one thing had gone wrong, Ghost would be dead.

His hands absent mindlessly found their way into the blond curls, detangling, and watching as the largest man's head in his lap, turned slightly, pressing into the touch.

It was purely instinct that made him begin to braid the hair. Used to when he had hair in his hands he was braiding it.

His brain was nicely quiet as he finished the last braid, slowly drifting to sleep Against the couch, his lieutenants head in his lap.

[octopiys]

Gaz who gets caught in a building during it falling on an operation.

Ghost who pushes him to the ground sheltering gaz's whole body with his huge frame.

Gaz who comes too with a bleeding unconscious Ghost on-top of him, and has to struggle to carry him to the safe house.

Ghost who allows Gaz to take the mask off to treat his wounds.

Gaz who realises just how pretty Ghost is, and is trying not to flush pink while stitching him up.

Ghost who falls asleep on Gaz feeling comfortable enough to do so.

Gaz who absently braids his lieutenants hair.

The rough idea of something I'm writing.

[octopiys]

YOU GET IT‼️‼️

Okay 09 soapghost as jayvik season 2 i am SICK

[octopiys]

You had never seen him look so utterly human before

Laid up amongst the scratchy, thin sheets of the hospital bed, with only a plain surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face, everything else above Ghost’s shoulders exposed to your eyes for the first time, while his own eyes have been shut for nearly four days straight now

You had never seen your Lieutenant without the signature mask that haunts the dreams of even the deadliest foreign mercenaries, had never seen him look anything less than intimidating, commanding, powerful without so much as even trying to, his presence alone striking fear into those who’ve heard whispers of the fearsome Ghost

Now however, with an IV hooked up to his arm and a nurse that comes to check on his vitals periodically, it’s hard to picture him as such a gruesome soldier, rather than a simple man who bleeds like any other human

In spite of the evident vulnerable position he finds himself in, his pale skin appearing nearly translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, there was no denying that Ghost remained someone to be feared

A particularly nasty blow to the head during a field op gone wrong had knocked the burly soldier out cold, and though doctors were optimistic he would make a full recovery, they couldn’t exactly tell the extent of the damage done until he woke up

You and the men that made up the remainder of the 141 had been taking turns remaining by his side, not wanting for Ghost to wake up alone, whenever that would be exactly

You wonder how he would feel about this, the fact that you are currently the one on shift for the unofficial rotation of visitors who’ve stuck by his bedside throughout his injury

You’re well aware of the fact that the Lieutenant doesn’t like you, has never liked you, and probably never will, though you’ve never been able to get a straight answer as to why

From the moment you’d met him, he’d been cold to you, distant, making no effort to get to know you nor welcome you to the team, opposite to the way the Sergeants and Captain had welcomed you with open arms and hearts

No matter how much you poked and prodded at them for an answer, some sort of inclination as to what you could possible have done wrong to have Ghost dislike you so much, the men always bit their tongues

You saw the way they exchanged knowing glances and sly smirks, believing they were being more cunning than they really were, insisting to you with carefully chosen words that it wasn’t something you should worry about too much, that the LT had a different way of expressing his feelings than most

“So long as he doesn’t wake up and want to ‘express his feelings’ by punching me in the face for being the first thing he opens his eyes to.” You thought to yourself, glancing up from your book at his still sleeping form, shaking your head at your silly thought

No, he’d never been particularly kind to you, but he’d also never gone out of his way to be cruel to you either you supposed

Perhaps he found you to be more of a nuisance than anything else, a pest he couldn’t seem to swat away hard enough, an annoying pimple he couldn’t quite pop

Your eyes scanned over his face once more, cursing whatever Gods might be listening that the man hiding beneath that Ghost facade had to be so … intriguing

You could see old scars running across his face, some of them peeking out from under the surgical mask while others ran across his brow, his crooked nose evident even under the fabric of the mask

He was handsome in his own, rugged way, a fact you were displeased to learn when you first saw him laying here, switching off with Soap who’d been sat at his side earlier

Ghost may not care for you, not that he had given you many reasons or chances to care for him, but you cared about your remaining members of the task force, and knew how important Ghost was to them, and so for the 141, you’d do your duty and care for a Ghost who apparently wanted no such love and tenderness from you

You looked the large man over, brows furrowing when your eyes landed on his neck, noting that the pillow supporting his head was getting a little flat

You stood from your chair, setting your book down, and approched him carefully, almost as though any sudden movements would somehow wake the comatose man from his slumber

As gently as you could, you attempted to adjust the pillow behind him to hopefully be more comfortable, quickly realizing just how heavy he was when he was nothing more than dead weight

You slowly slipped your hands behind his shoulders, pulling him forward as best as you could until you were able to adjust the pillow one handed

Slipping your hands back down his shoulders to ease him back into the bed, your palms naturally ending up sliding onto the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers brushing against the hair at the base of his skull, an involuntary shiver running through you at what you realized too late was a bit of an intimate touch with a man who’d been touch starved for years

It was hard to say who was more stunned at first, with how quickly things transpired, when you suddenly felt a pair of strong hands reaching up to grip your wrists and hold them in place

You hadn’t even realized you had let out a gasp as your eyes flicked down and met none other than Ghost’s own wide open orbs only inches away from you, staring right at you as though he was seeing a ghost

Stunned into silence, worried that you truly were about to end up on the receiving end of Ghost’s anger for having invaded his space like that, you barely had enough time to process that he’d somehow woken from his coma when his grip on your wrists tightened further, and somehow, whether it was a trick of the light or you imagination, his gaze softened before his scratchy, out of use voice said:

“Love.”

Your ears were ringing, hardly taking notice of the way a flurry of alarms and bells had gone off as soon as Ghost had woken up, his heart rate soaring through the roof and alerting staff

Medical personnel rushed into the room before you could wrap your mind around any of what was happening, Ghost’s grip on your never loosening until the doctor finally approached you both, sensing the tension in the air

“Lieutenant Riley,” the man said, gently landing a hand in Ghost’s bicep to hopefully help him ease his strong grip on you. “Let her go.”

His grip on you disappeared instantly, as though your skin had suddenly burned him, but his eyes never wavered from your own, even as he began mumbling unintelligibly beneath his medical mask

“What was that?” The doctor asked, trying to bring calm back to the room and ease Ghost into a state where he could be properly examined

“My girl.” The Lieutenant’s gravelly voice echoed throughout the sterile room

“Pardon?”

“My girl.” Ghost repeated, never once breaking eye contact with your now widened eyes

“Do- do you know who this is, Lieutenant?” The doctor posed the question, slowly gesturing towards you with a confusion that was spreading amongst you all

“‘Course I do.” Ghost spoke with certainty. “That’s my love.”

[octopiys]

Peep the new sign in my window

[octopiys]

Im learning mandarin to spite the American governent

[octopiys]

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

[octopiys]

ai truly is a fucking parasite. can’t even look for alligator reference photos without some fuckass wonky false-gator I HATE IT

if you know better reference collections(better than google and pinterest- the bar is in hell) please tell me i’m begging

[octopiys]

New ask game:

Reblog if you want your followers to tell you what your trademark ™️ is. Like, what’s that thing that really identifies you.

[octopiys]

Jayvik Frankenstein AU

[octopiys]

I cannot believe there's absolutely no way to watch free shows and movies anymore, there are too many paid streaming platforms and pirating websites have viruses and ads preventing you from watching it uninterrupted((.)) id rather follow the rules and purchase media moving forward because it is too inconvenient. Seriously, free and no ads or viruses with 1080p streaming is DEAD.

[octopiys]

yk em what if I cried what if this was it

Loose ends

[octopiys]

Some biker ghost for nat and pirate ghoap for Tree! Thanks so much 🏍️☠️

(+ period ghoap for me...)

[octopiys]

aggy youre KILLING me oh my GOD we're so back.

Simon doesn't understand why he lets Johnny drag him out to these kinds of clubs. The music is too loud; a thick, heavy base that rumbles from his overwhelmed ears down to his back molars. The lights are too bright and move in annoying synchronized circles, trying to keep in time with the thumping base that will surly give him a headache for the next millennium. People crowd around them, gyrating against him as he and Johnny search for their friends; Simon knows Gaz, his new girlfriend Agnel, Alex and Farrah are all lost at sea somewhere, drowning in a sea of neon paint and sugary sweet perfume.

it makes his nose itch.

The music gets louder, the green strobe lights blind him as Johnny gently grabs his wrist, two fingers planted firmly on his pulse points to keep him grounded. The shorter of the two, and significantly more excited, gently drags them both over to a small section away from the overpopulated dancefloor. The platform is slightly raised and Simon can't help but chuckle at the idea of drunkards tripping over the step. Tall, black pleather half-circle couches line the back wall, most over crowded with men in various versions of the same suit jeering proudly at the bottle service girl. In the far corner, tucked between the bar and the toilets is their group; Gaz openly snogs his bird, her purple painted hair getting tangled in his hands as he brings her closer. Alex and Farrah have managed to keep themselves somewhat respectable, even though Farrah his happily perched in the formers lap, his hands beginning to wonder.

Alex is the first to notice them.

"Hey! I thoughts yalls got lost in the crowd!" He smiles, moving so Farrah can turn in her seat, now facing the two.

Johnny speaks for them, leading Simon sit next a passionately panting Gaz and Angel. "Couldne find parkin'! Then the line was a mile long!"

Alex nods along like he heard but its clear nothing can be heard over the green strobe lights and teeth rattling base. Simon sighs, longing for a nice cuppa, the fireplace channel and tucking into the next Frieda Mcfadden novel. Soap, Alex, and Farrah all shout between themselves , trying to have a conversation , before they give up and the couple is signaling Simon and Johnny to the dance floor.

"Ye comin'?" Johnny asks, lips pressed into his ear, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the sensation. He doesn't want to. As much as he loves Johnny, clubs, bars, and raves haven't been his thing since he was a teenage dirtbag; and even then he was only there to keep an eye on Tommy.

However.

Simon cant help be caught up in the way Johnny's eye lashes flutter, the areal lighting turning his usually icy blue eyes in a deep, inviting midnight blue. There's a hint of alcohol on his breath from the lodger he finished as Simon was dragged out the door.

"Simon?"

In this lighting he looks like sin and his name on Johnny's lips tastes like a sacred prayer.

"I suppose." He shrugs noncommittally but Johnny knows; he always has a way of catching his tells before Simon realizes he's sending a signal. There's a chaste kiss pressed his ear that sends a ribbon of intrigue down his spine...one he hasn't felt in an embarrassingly long amount of time.

And like a sailor to his siren, pulled with the tide, Simon is brought out to sea.

@snootlestheangel @floatingaimlessly333

[octopiys]

I fear I've become obsessed with the Honey series

Lost and Found

Prev | Next

iv. dinner de novo

(anon I love you thank you so much <3)

Cw: blood mention

You flit throughout the kitchen as Simon watches from the corner, the noisy buzz of the heat lamp filling the silence.

Simon Riley was not scared of many things. He can't risk fear in high stakes settings that he tends to find himself in. He has to stay strong, be a leader, and think fast.

Simon Riley is.... apprehensive. He wanted to offer help, but he knew that if you set your mind to something, you'd get it done. Anyone in your way would probably be smacked with the nearest spatula. He valued his life, thank you very much.

You had come back in with a handful of herbs that he didn't recognize, and with wet socks. Your heart had been racing, and he was damn well sure it wasn't because of the duck. He knew he'd be foolish to think it was because of dinner tonight.

Now was not the time to ask.

He knew, at some point, hed have to find out. Not that he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to press you into admitting something when you're not ready. When he had found you, weeks ago, scratched up, bruised, and bloody, a fogged up look in your eyes, he knew you had been running. He ran once, too. He knew some things were better left buried.

He knew that once you told him, he probably wouldn't stop until he found the bastard that had dared lay hands on you. His little stray that done more than enough for him, innocent, but not helpless.

Dog lumbers over and sits on his lap, yawning. He spares a glance at his bookshelf. Maybe when he got back from his mission, hed take you to a bookstore. He thinks you'd like that. A good girl like you, cooking him and his best mate dinner, you deserve a reward.

You yelp in the kitchen, metal clattering to the floor, and he's up in an instant, at your side even quicker. Blood pearls on your thumb, the thin slice going deeper than appeared. A tomato lay cut in half, the kitchen knife on the floor, the likely culprit.

Tears pool like diamonds in your eyes and he wants to kiss the salt away to make it better. He huffs lowly under his breath, heart spiking in his chest as he pulls a paper towel off the counter and gently, yet firmly, wraps your thumb.

Before you know it, hes chopping the rest of the tomato so you don't have to. His movements are jerky, unskilled, but the attempt warms your heart.

This is how Simon helps, you think.

The rest of dinner preparation goes by smoothly. By smoothly, you mean, you pick up the next ingredient and utensil, and Simon wordlessly puts out his hands, looking at you with his slightly droopy brown eyes, unrelenting. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest, and you hand them to him. The corners of his mouth pulls up, just the slightest bit, and he turns to the stove, or sink, or whatever you need him to do.

He is under your thumb, he is your whim, he is under your mercy, utterly dedicated and devoted to you. Don't wanna stress his best girl out, he thinks, glancing at you nursing your cut thumb with watery eyes and a nervous voice as you tell him what to do.

When the tomatoes are done, you tell him, they go in the ceramic tray with the onions, oil, paprika, and italian seasoning. It had taken a little while to find the paprika. You're not sure what that says about the store, but honestly, you're too far in now to worry about it. You cut the top off a head of garlic and stick it in there while Simon mixes it up. When he realized you were working while so gravely injured, (really, he's being a little dramatic. You've survived much worse.) he shot you a look, until you glared back at him, and he backed down a little bit. He moves to get the pasta ready to boil, and you cover the tray with aluminum foil.

You're humming to yourself softly as you put the tray in the oven, and bake at 200c (or 400f) for an hour. The salted water rolls to a boil, and you ask Simon to put the pasta in-

"Slowly, Si- I said slowly! Slowly, it's gonna-!" You laugh, tugging him backwards as the water boils over the side as he tries to pour all the pasta in at once. When the water settles, still giggling, you ease him back towards the stove, and show him how to properly add in the pasta. Really, how this man got by before you, you don't know.

When your hour is up, Simon leaps at the chance to take the tray from the oven.

"You'll burn yourself, Honey. Can't have that." He murmurs, flinching slightly at the warm air.

When the pasta is al dente, cooked to your liking, you strain it. Simon adds a few greens, half a lemon's worth of juice, and squishes the roasted garlic into the tray. You gag at the thought of adding coconut milk, so you leave it out. You stir in the pasta- slowly- and the doorbell rings.

Your eyes widen, flashing to the door, before looking at Simon.

"'S just Johnny, honey. Johnny and Peach. 'Member?" He says, voice gentle, hand held out. "I'll plate these up. Can ya get the door for me?"

Your feet are glued to the ground, your mouth is dry. Your eyes flick to the door. He's sure, he's sure it's them? You haven't had any... welcome visitors here.

"Here, I'll go with you. Bastard can plate himself." He snips, and your shoulders ease, taking his hand.

Scraggle is clawing at the door, while Dog sleeps against the couch. Some guard dog. Simon nudges Scraggle out of the way with his foot, before unlocking the door.

Your heart is in your throat.

"I told you he'd open the door!" Peach's loud voice was evident behind the door, followed by a dull *thwack!*

"Oi! I wasnae sayin'- Hi, LT- wasnae sayin' he forgot!" Says Johnny, sounding highly accosted, and slightly dramatic. You see him with a pout on his lips, and Peach's eyes light up when she sees you.

"Aren't ya so pretty? We brought a housewarmin' gift, Hon, hope ya don't mind!" She laughs, and your face flushes warm as she puts flowers in your hands. You glance and see Simon being handed a small bottle of amber liquid, before the two are ushered into the house.

"Ooh, shite, smells lovely, Honey." Johnny says, and you open your mouth to mutter a quiet thanks, before Peach interjects with a, "Language!"

"It- It's really okay," you hum softly. "It's in the kitchen, er- the plates aren't out-"

In the blink of an eye, Simon is opening the cabinet, and tossing a plate at Johnny, and handing one to Peach. Peach hands her plate to you, saying, "Cook gets the first dig!"

You flush, thanking her quietly, as Simon grabs a plate for himself, "accidentally" whacking Johnny over the head with it when he tries to reach for the ladle.

Simon looks.... happy.

You hum, an almost chittering sound, and scoop some pasta onto your plate as your stomach growls. Everyone else plates themselves, and the group migrates to the table.

You look... happy, Simon notes. As soon as the fork touches your tongue, you're shovelling food into your mouth, delighted at the way it turned out, but also ravenous, like you're worried you're never gonna have anything as good ever again.

Under the table from where he sits, Simon rests his hand on your thigh. His pulse beats firm beneath his wrist, and you falter. You take a breath. You don't have to eat like it's your last meal. It's okay. You're safe here, no one is going to judge you.

You smile at him, slightly relieved.

The push and pull of the waves, the horror and euphoria of being known.

This is how Simon loves, you think.

"Nae fookin' wonder yer so eager tae git home, LT-" Johnny practically moans through a mouthful of food. "I would take if Peach here wouldnae burn everythin'-"

"I do not! But oh my gods, Honey, this food is so fuckin' good, you gotta give me your recipe- pardon my language, but..."

She continues talking, playfully arguing with Johnny over a glass of bourbon, and Simon cracks a few laughs. You smile into your water, choking at some joke, and Scraggle screams under your chair for some pasta scraps mother, please, kindly donate a few to a starving Creature, never before eaten, Mother, you Do Not Understand-

You drop a noodle or two, and Scraggle yowls happily.

It feels... peaceful, in your house tonight.

Relaxation eases your shoulders, even after Peach and Johnny leave.

On the couch, you sip a few drops of Simon's bourbon. You don't usually drink, it makes you feel...... nervous, but a sip or two to relax wouldn't kill you. It was rich, smoky almost, and warm down your throat and into your chest.

Winter is coming soon, and the fire glows warmly in embers. Some movie is playing on the telly, and you're curled up against Simon's side. It took him a few moments to realize that you wanted comfort, and even then he asked to make sure. Now, his hand slowly rakes through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. Tingles rise on your arms every once in a while.

At peace.

Your eyes blink slowly, as you snuggle into him.

He doesn't take his eyes off you.

"Simon?" You ask, as if making sure he was still here.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." You say softly, a murmur. His heart quickens just the slightest.

His face is warm. "For what?"

You hum in response, hand drifting down to lightly pet Scraggle, who had fallen asleep right next to the couch, a note carried on by the warmth of the fire.

Your breathing evens out, deepens, and he knows he won't get an answer tonight. That's okay, he thinks.

His phone buzzes.

He yawns, thinking nothing of it, and looks down.

A text from John.

He opens it, rubbing his eyes slightly, before going back to petting your head, before cold flushes down his neck as he reads.

JP: Someone's looking for your girl.

masterlist

A/N: Hello! Thank you guys so much for the love on the past few chapters. I'm so sorry it's been a while since I updated, but I had a lot going on. Luckily, I'm okay and much better now, but I just wanted to let you all know that you're so so so loved! Also, the recipe in here is an actual, functional recipe. If anyone makes it, please let me know! I personally wouldn't add the coconut milk, but to each their own lol. see you next chapter!

[octopiys]

You guys think that on the days where I should probably use a cane or crutch or something (I dont have on yet but I'm actually thinking about getting one, yes it's for an actual medical reason for those of you who don't know) I could cosplay viktor I think it would be really funny lmao