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[pinkslaystation]

your tulips and roses fic was SCRUMPTIOUS omggg 🥹😫✨ i was also wondering are we going to get more Captain Price angsty fics in the future ??

Thank uuuuu

Duh ofc! I live for angst 😝🫶 feel free to give me ideas, anything in particular?

[pinkslaystation]

[Part 3] If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Here's Part 1 and Part 2 hehehe enjoy ;> Word Count: 5k trigger warning: drugging. viewer discretion is adviced.

Dating Simon reminded you of the British economy, constant fluctuations.

He would stay over at your flat, shower you with wet kisses, and the next day he'd walk right past you as if you didn't exist.

It felt like at times Simon did really love you. He listened you to, he brushed and plaited your hair post sex, but sometimes it's like his brain would switch and his behaviour would mimic that of a ghost.

Though it been nearly 3 months since he'd popped that question in the car, you often found yourself regretting your decision.

"I do like him...but I mean- it's just, he doesn't like me back you know? Sometimes I wake up and he's just staring at me like I've just told him I've killed his dog. I mean, he doesn't have a dog I don't think, but if he did, he'd prefer the dog over me, y'know.

I don't even know why I said yes that day. I mean, he's the first real guy that's actually shown interest in me. Maybe that's why I crave his attention so much. He makes me actually enjoy being with my family, if that's so hard to believ-"

"With all due disrespect, d'ya know you?" Your neighbour answers finally.

You stare back, blood rushing to your face, "I literally live next door to you. I smile at you before I leave for work every morning-"

"So, there's nothing wrong with your face?

"What? You know me- and I'm talking about Simon, he's next door to me too..."

"What?"

"You know skull face..."

"Who?"

"Tall buff dude, y'know."

"Huh?

"Riley-"

"Oh, the guy with the big dick."

You choke on your saliva, "What- How? Um..."

"Military dude yeah? The fit blonde? Yeah, he's big, if you get what I'm saying, virgin."

You furrow your eyebrows, words trailing off, "No I'm not...I'm sorry, how'd you know..."

"Yeah, he's fucked like everyone in this building, girl. Why d'ya think he doesn't come to the flat meetings? 'Cos then he'd be surrounded by all the people he's stuck his dick in, duh." She states like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Guy comes in, drinks a bit, and runs out."

"...I thought it was because he was nervous to see....me?" At this point, you don't know if you're telling your neighbour or asking her.

"Oh girl don't be delusional, you ain't no Beyonce. Anyway, been a while since I got that dick. Let 'im know next time you see 'im." She winks at you before, hobbling off with her walking stick.

"Yeah...sure...wait- Mrs Brenda, you're like 65... AND MARRIED-"

When the 3rd month anniversary mark finally reached, Simon decided to treat you to an expensive meal at a luxurious restaurant.

And by that I mean, 6 McNuggets at Maccies.

"They're cold, babe." He complains, slouching across you, one leg bent and propped on his seat.

Yes, Simon. Because you spent 15 minutes arguing with the worker for an extra packet of mayo. But you refrained yourself from saying that, in case you'd anger him further.

"So how's the task force?"

You've learnt very little about Simon, one part that stuck out to you was that the people he was closest to was his team in the military, naming his Captain John Price, who seemed to pop up in every conversation the two of you had.

"You got that 'lil mustache on yer face again."

"Excuse me?"

"Nah babe, it's cute. Reminds me of Captain's."

It hurt even more when he showed you a picture of John Price and you're face to face with a middle aged man with a full grown beard, who's being compared to the peach fuzz on your upper lip.

"Team's good." He sighs out of exhaustion. "Soap's engaged now, y'know."

You smile, mind suddenly racing to the thought of Simon proposing to you, but you shake it away, oddly cringing at the thought.

"'Old man's thinking of getting transferred to the States. Finally..."

The thought of Simon being jealous over his Captain was always a hidden theory for you. He'd mention it so frequently, it was as if he was keeping tabs on his superior, bringing it up at every moment at his signs of weakness. And when he'd compare Price to you, it was never in a positive light, rather one where it felt like he was looking down at Price, but through you.

You wondered if Simon had a superiority complex, and maybe that's why he'd chosen a little naive lamb like you, to project all of his insecurities onto you.

I mean, you're not gonna do anything about it are you? Nah, you're gonna take it like the good little girl you are.

I mean you are right now- literally.

His dick is cramped right in your pussy, his rounded tip rapidly kissing at your cervix. His chapped lips crash against yours, but you can't seem to ignore the faint taste of his Big Mac through his mouth.

"Can tell your cunt likes that, 'lil slut." He seethes out, through inconsistent breaths. You can barely hear him, through the sound of your sweaty bodies colliding and the ringing through your head.

You hum uncomfortably. It was gonna be a long night.

The following weekend, you find yourself spending eons getting dolled up for a get together at the base. You decorated your face with a bold smokey eye, paired with a lined red lip, only to be mocked by Simon.

"Red? We're going to base, not the circus."

So you take off the lipstick. And the eye makeup. In fact, even when you changed from a tight black pencil skirt to a matching sweatshirt and joggers combination, you still find yourself being berated by Simon.

"Getting kinda lazy with the clothes huh, love?" He asks, cocking his eyebrows towards you.

Is he for real?

Grunting in response, you look out the window, shoving your headphones in, grateful for the noise cancelling feature so you wouldn't have to sit through Simon's mouth breathing throughout the journey.

The meeting itself was as awkward as imagined. The moment the pair of you entered the room, Simon decided to detach his arm wrapped around your shoulder and immediately brisk walk to the nearest woman possible. If he was trying to fool his team to thinking he was single...boy was he good at it.

Being left out in an unfamiliar space was unfortunately not too foreign for you, and you quickly found solace by the water fountain, sipping on a plastic cup of lukewarm water.

"Bored, eh?"

You jump, having zoned out.

You turn to a man you've seen oh so many times on Simon's phone.

"Captain John Price?" You smile.

"The one and only, lass. My, a pair of sweatpants. Priorising comfort, are we?" He jokes, lightly.

"Were you expecting lingerie?"

"Pretty either way." He chuckles, and you eye the way his eyes squint as he smiles, and the smile lines painting his cheeks. You shouldn't be looking at your boyfriend's competition captain this way.

You're at peace with John. You find yourself opening up about yourself, something you now know you couldn't truly do around Simon. John cared about what you said, reacting to every joke you dropped here and there, unlike Simon, who plays connect the dots with your forehead blemishes as you rant passionately.

John chuckles, "Oh God. Work sounds intense."

You hum, admiring his laughter, which cuts off to the sound of a loud buzzing (buttplug?) coming from his back pocket. He excuses himself from the conversation, but you can't help but eavesdrop.

"John Price speaking. Yes. Uh huh-what? Another soldier? Same substance? Christ's sake...Doctor's got a name? Succiny- Succinylc- what? Okay, okay. I'm coming, gimme 20 minutes-what, now? I'm...busy" He turns to flash you a small smile, "Okay, fine. Dammit."

"You okay, seemed urgent?"

He dramatically sighs, "We both got work problems...There's been a...how do i say this...another one of our soldiers have been getting drugged?" It sounds more of a question than an answer, "We think it's some sort of new drug on the black market, and now that our enemy's have a hold of it, our soldiers...fuck, getting drugged left, right and centr- Sorry, um, unauthorized information..." He trails off, realising he's said too much.

You're ears perk up, "Drugs? What are the um, symptoms?" You can't help but be curious.

John looks around, as if to check if anyone was listening to the conversation, though most people are hammered on hardcore liquor and cigarettes. He lowers his voice, "Starts off with headaches, nausea, then there's seizures...worst case scenario is paralysis. Gotten 4 of our soldiers already, poor men, had to be medically dismissed...."

You hum, silently and unsure of what to reply with. If you were attempting to flirt with John, the mood had definitely dissipated.

"But hey, listen. You ever need a change of pace, a better job, you can call me." He grabs your hand, and messily writes his phone number with a biro, winking before he leaves.

Maybe you will call him.

As the sky becomes darker and the clock strikes past 9 P.M., you find yourself walking outside the building, searching for Simon.

"...annoying."

Huh? You peer over the corner to overhear the conversation. Was that Simon?

"..follows me around a sad 'lil shit."

Was he talking about you?

You catch a quick glance, confirming that it was indeed a drunk Simon, with who you believe was Soap.

"Her mum's hotter, too. All over me." Simon boasts, whipping out his phone, presumably to show them a picture of your mother, as it sparks a 'milf alert' comment from Soap.

"...nothing compared to her. She's like a doormat."

You look at Simon, and for a second, you swear he made deliberate eye contact with you.

"She's fuckin' spineless."

For a moment, time pauses.

...

Spineless.

You're spineless.

I mean, it may be true. But the truth doesn't always have to come out, no?

After doing so much for this man, you'e still...spineless?

Laying at the comfort of your bed, dragging a tipsy Simon out of the car and him rushing to his flat, you find yourself gazing down at the smudged ink on your palm. Maybe it's time to switch your job.

Who knows who you'll run into...

That night, you rest, dreaming about John Price.

You're in an abyss in your dreams, John's pale muscular arms wrap around your frame, with the faint scent of cigars and whisky wafting around your nose. You blink and you see the bottom of his groomed beard, and small smile resting on his tired face.

You blink once more. But this time, you don't see John Price. This time, you're staring into the sullen eyes of a skeleton-masked man, lifelessly staring straight at you with no emotion. You look down the body of Simon.

The lower half of his body was missing.

By the third blink, you jolt awake and look around, but this time you're on the floor wrapped in your quilt and covered in sweat. Very much alone.

What was this dream trying to tell you?

The jump from retail to cyber-operations was large and challenging. You went from serving customers to quite literally serving the country, from scanning items to defending the weapon's system. But 2 weeks into your new career and you feel like you've actually put your degree to some use.

Your family have been ringing you almost weekly, asking about your new position, although it's mainly your mother interrogating you about Simon.

And to say he was upset with your choice of working with the army, was an understatement, in his words, he felt like you were crowding him in all areas of his life. His home, his workplace, and now his mind.

You'd ask him to drop you off, considering he's going the same way, but he'd come up with unjustified excuses.

"Can't. Need to be there early."

"Nah, gonna distract me, love."

"Can't be seen with you." He mutters the last one, but you're not deaf and Simon can't exactly whisper very well. Sometimes you wonder why you haven't broken up with him.

So you've resorted to the next option.

Public transport. Calling John Price.

"You're not a burden, sweetheart. Who's been tellin' you that?"

You subordinate <3 But you can't say that, so you resort to casually laughing at his question. You can't help but think about the reoccurring dream you've been having, they always start the same.

You're in a abyss, and you're in the arms of John Price, you blink and suddenly face to face with the half-corpse of Simon. You're struggling to work out the deeper message of the visio-

"Love, you there? Went to lala-land or something?"

Think about John Price. Focus on him, why are you still bound to that jerk? You think.

"I'm good. So uh, how's the situation with you? And the um...drugs thing?" You look at him, your words surprising yourself, since when did you have an interest in drugs?

"Oh, uh. We're not allowed to disclose that sweetheart...besides, Simon didn't tell you? Kinda big thing here..."

Of course, Simon wouldn't tell me, why would he? You tell me, John.

You give him your best puppy dog eyes, eyebrows knitting together, "Oh..."

He runs his thick fingers through his brunette hair, adjusting himself in his seat, "Succinylcholine. There's a mixture, but that's the main component. Causes paralysis to the legs and spine...seems like that's what they wanted, to paralyse our soldiers, 7th victim this we..."

Paralysis huh. You turn to look at the passing trees outside the windows. Paralysis to the spine and legs...

By the time you reach work, you're at your computer by your desk, typing away at the lines of code on your programme, once again eavesdropping to the conversations in your vicinity.

"...it's the same location they keep getting deployed, why are they getting deployed there again?"

"Captain Price is going this time..."

"...2nd guy's in a coma now..."

The chatter dies down to the loud slam of the door: Your supervisor.

"People. Come on. Chop chop, we have deadlines to meet. Stop the chatter, fucks sake."

You get back to your screen, but you can't help but shake the unsettling feeling off your mind.

Ding!

11:26 A.M. Si:- Come outside on your break. Need to talk.

I guess you're finally breaking up.

"Getting deployed."

Simon's scarred hands caress yours, gently lifting your ring finger and slotting a shiny silver ring, with a skull stuck in the center. You think back to the times where you told Simon that you preferred gold jewelry over silver, since it complimented your skin tone better. To love is to be seen I guess.

A crowd of soldiers begin whistling at the scene, and Simon retracts his hands almost instantaneously.

"Wanted to give this to you for anniversary...but I ordered it a little late."

You hum, immediately twisting the ring around your ring. It's tight and cramped.

"How's work?" He asks, his eyes roaming around the people behind you, his gaze not falling on you once since the conversation had started.

"Oh it's goo-"

"Cool. So um, here's my key if you need something." He hands you his key, more like shoving it into your chest, before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead and running off towards the crowd of soldiers that were now practicing drills.

Seems like you've gotten promoted from girlfriend to house-keeper.

By 8 P.M., you and a handful of your colleagues began to go home.

With your 4th cup of caffeine in your hand, you check Simon's text once more.

7:52 P.M. Si:- What time u finish Si:- 8? Si:- Too long to wait, going home

He couldn't wait 8 minutes?

As you trudge past the empty hallway, you're met face to face with the door of the lab, which you notice was half open.

You felt like a character in Alice in Wonderland. Trespassing is a crime, is it not?

A normal person would just inform a staff member and go home right? Definitely wouldn't enter the room. And definitely wouldn't head straight towards the counter that held various labelled test tubes.

Definitely wouldn't snatch a test tube labelled danger, and most definitely stuff it in their bag and run out the door, as if they haven't basically committed a crime.

But it's a good thing you wouldn't consider yourself a normal person.

The wind blows against your skin when you finally make it outside, and it feels like natures punishing you for breaking into the army's laboratory. With your bag clutched tightly against your chest, your mind begins racing - what if someone saw you? What about cameras? What if-

"There you are love. Thought I'd have to come 'n get you myself."

John leans against his range rover, wrapping his large military jacket around your shoulders, and you instantly lean into his towering frame.

"John...didn't you go home?"

He shakes his head. "Saw Simon speeding off the moment we finished, thought you needed a ride, especially at this time."

The wind blows against you again, and your smile falters, remembering the contents of your bag.

"Can we go home now? Please?"

A comforting silence accompanied the drive, with John's palm ghosting your thigh ever so slightly and you had to resist every urge in your body to just lock hands with him.

So you do.

His large hand encompassing yours completely. If his grin could widen anymore, they just did, and you swear you could see faint dimples decorating his cheeks.

But they fall just as quickly, jerking his hand back.

"Nice ring."

You're visibly confused, eyes dragging back to the tight skull band wrapped around your ring finger.

Fuck you, Simon.

When you exit John's car at the entrance of the block of flats, your eyes catch another deep brown pair of menacing eyes, standing at the balcony, hiding behind a black balaclava. You can't see the lower portion of the face, but you'd bet your life that there was a smirk hidden behind the cloth.

You grit your teeth, tossing the ring by the nearest bush as the car drives off. The grip around your bag tightens, and you remember the test tube.

If you're going to ruin my chances of love, I'll ruin your chances of life, Simon Riley.

A week later and the test tube lay aimlessly on your bedside time, alongside a small post card gifted yesterday from your truly. John Price, that is, not Simon.

Leaving soon - If I find something you like, I'll bring it for you :-D - J Price

Even the way he drew his little smiley faces warmed you.

On the other hand, Simon had shot you a single text, ignoring all the spelling mistakes.

Si:- bee home ina mont. by.

When he gets home, you're immediately breaking up with him, assigning yourself mental homework.

But for the meanwhile, you have to decide what to do with the test tube...for now you decide it's too risky to keep it at home, who knows if the wrong people get their hands on it.

So you opt to shoving into deep into your purse.

At work, as you walk back to your team's common room, you hear the commotion coming from the...laboratory?

"Doctor, how careless are you?"

"Sir...I-I-I didn't do anything! The lab was locked, I don't know who would have taken it-"

"And how are we sure you haven't stolen it? I mean for all we know, you might have the drug at home. How do we know you're a traitor and working for the other side. I should have you reported."

"Boss, you've known me for the longest! And why don't you stop shouting me and get these cameras fixed already-"

"Captain Price's gonna flip and fire his entire team when he comes back-"

"If he comes back that is-"

"Boy if you don't shut your mout-"

Scurrying to the common room, you shut the door abruptly. You don't why you stole the drug, but you do know you can't let anyone find out about what you did.

Not Simon.

Not John.

A month had nearly gone by, and a train of gifts has began coming, from small affirmation notes to bags of lego flower bouquets and teddy bears. All of course, accompanied by a small note with the signature smiley face :-D.

Considering the notes weren't hand written, you couldn't tell whether it was from Simon or John, though it was quite obvious. Even though you liked John, you couldn't help but feel some sort of sorrow towards Simon. I mean, who else does he have apart from you?

On a dark Friday evening while you and your team were getting ready to leave, the sound of shouting followed by stampede coursed through the hallway. Screams of terror broke from whom you made out to be doctors and nurses.

"What's happening?" You turn to your coworker.

"More people have gotten drugged, like 7 this time..."

You couldn't help but feel a wave of guilt washing over you, considering a sample of the weapon of the crime was quite literally concealed with your belongings.

"Oh -"

"Apparently, Captain Price and Liutentant Riley were involved."

That was enough to strike a nerve. You don't know which name hit you harder, but before your colleague could even stop you, you began sprinting down the hallway towards the hospital rooms.

By the time you reach though, it's already too late, and the doors have shut, the nurse informing you that surgeries have already begun undergoing. But for who, they didn't disclose.

It didn't matter who it was, you just had a reoccurring thought that if maybe you had left the sample alone, maybe a curve could have already been developed.

Oh God, this is your fault isn't it....?

A person's going to die in your hands, and you're not even a soldier.

With discomfort running through your nerves, you sit by the hospital rooms, your hands feeling heavy under the weight of your head, waiting to hear more from the nurses. But as they rush in and out of the room with urgency, your voice gradually drowns out by the monotonous beeping of the machines inside.

4 hours go by, and you can't tell if it from the lack of sleep or not, but the staff around you shoot you looks of pity as if you're in critical condition. Those hours in the waiting room felt like hell, and you couldn't help but notice the lack security in the building. No cameras again, huh?

"Nurse, is John Price in there?" You ask wearily, the strain in your voice was evident.

The nurse shakes her head, "It's Lieutenant Riley."

Your breath hitches, and unfortunately you can't help but a slight feeling of relief.

"Is he okay? Was he...drugged?"

The nurse clenches her jaw, "That information can't be disclos-"

"He's my boyfriend." You urge, standing up to meet the nurse eye to eye.

The palpable tension in the air was uncomfortable and pervasive, hanging over the room like a heavy fog, and the nurse eventually breaks, slowly opening the door to what looked like a corpse.

"No traces of the drugs were found in his body, but there's no way to really say in the early stages...He is displaying some symptoms however..." She reads off a clipboard.

You nod, though her words aren't really getting to your head, "Like...paralysis?" There's no movement from the bed, just the constant ringing from the machines.

The nurse pauses, "No. Headaches, and muscle pain, just the regular. Bullet shot in the shoulder, but that's been taken care off. We're still monitoring him. I'll be outside if you need anything." With that she leaves, shutting the door behind you. And you find yourself alone with Simon's corpse.

Simon's face looks like broken china, like fine art but damaged externally, yet still holding the essence of its beauty within. His features, usually composed and serene, now bore the cracks of strain and worry. His under eyes were now darker than ever, and you couldn't help but press your now tear soaked lips across his rough cheek, until you stopped.

His neck, though scarred, bore scattered red marks, which you know could be confused with a rash. But it wasn't.

They were hickies.

Fresh hickies.

It's been a month since you've last seen Simon, so you immediately rule out yourself, disregarding the fact that you haven't even been intimate with anyone in a while.

As you sit beside the bed, a surge of anger rises within you, fueled by the betrayal and disappointment coursing through your veins. You want nothing more than to confront Simon, to unleash a torrent of accusatory questions upon him, but you know it would be futile.

His chest rises and falls gently, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you.

The situations looks like that particular scene straight from your dreams. Dark room, alone with Simon, him laying there still.

His body is still intact, you think. Intact and littered with marks.

You try to recall what happens in the dreams after this, but you always wake up at the last second.

And you can't help but inch your hand towards your purse., the outline of the test tube screaming at you to finally use it.

Use it for the reason you had originally stolen it for.

Use me.

Drug him. It screams. It's not like he ever loved you? Francesca, remember her? The other women? Your own mother, your own flesh and blood? Think about the times he forgot your anniversary, your birthday, when he insulted you, in front of you, in front of others, hell, even behind your back! You're spineless remember.

I mean you'd be doing the world a favour, getting rid of this from this world, wouldn't you?

Wouldn't you.

John Price would be proud of you wouldn't he?

He finally be with you.

With a steady hand, you reached into your purse and retrieved the test tube, its contents glinting in the dim light of the hospital room. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, before steeling yourself and uncapping the tube.

The acrid scent of the drug filled the air, its toxic fumes making you gag slightly. But you pushed past the discomfort, focusing all your attention on the task at hand. With precision, you extracted the entire liquid from the tube and carefully poured it into Simon's IV drip, mentally wincing at how effortlessly you had manipulated the situation.

You have to get rid of the drug somehow, and if it means using it against him, then so be it.

The next morning had come and you're awaken by the phone buzzing by your bedside table, the screen lighting up with John's name. You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before you finally answer, steeling yourself for whatever news awaits you on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Your voice comes out strained, betraying the anxiety churning within you.

"Hey angel, it's me," John's voice crackles through the phone, the urgency in his tone palpable. "You need to come to the hospital. It's Simon."

Without a word, you hang up the phone and hail a cab, the journey to the hospital passing in a blur of anxious thoughts and racing heartbeat. Did they find out you stole the drugs? No...how could they? The empty test tube is in your bin, at home, not at the hospital and there's no cameras at you recall...

Arriving at the hospital, you're met with a scene of controlled chaos. Doctors and nurses bustle about, their faces tense with worry. You navigate through the maze of corridors, the familiar scent of antiseptic hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, you reach Simon's bedside, and what you see makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. Simon manually lies propped up against the pillows, his face pale and drawn, his body racked with violent tremors as he retches into a basin. The sight is enough to make you physically ill, although it slowly dissipates, seeing the now purple marks on his necks darkening.

John appears beside you, and without a word, he takes your hand in his, his grip steady and reassuring, pressing a small kiss at the side of your head. In that fleeting moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

"I'll be outside," he mumbles, leaving with you with Simon.

With a heavy heart, you take a seat beside him. Simon looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion. It takes all your strength to meet his gaze, the truth burning like acid on your tongue.

"Hey." He groans out. He can barely move, as his head painfully cranes to look at you, the effects of the drugs taking effect slowly.

"What happened." But it's more of a demand than a question.

Simon sniffs, "Traces of drugs..."

"No. I meant your neck."

He pauses, like he was trying to carefully choose his words, though he didn't have much of a escape now.

"Don't act like I see you and Price-"

"Don't bring him into this, Simon."

Don't lie to me anymore.

A tear rolls down his cheek, but you can't tell if it's crocodile tears or not.

"They-they... dismissed me."

You hum, a smirk gradually building up on your face.

"Why?"

Simon closes his eyes, "Back. My spine. Can't move it..."

You let out a slow, deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

"I know." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but the words hang heavy in the air between you. "I drugged you."

Simon's eyes wince once again, studying your face silently.

"Excuse me?" He begins.

You stand up, placing your purse back on your shoulder.

"What- what do you mean? You he-heard me? Love. Listen to me-"

You walk towards the door.

"WAIT. Wait. What do you mean you knew? You said you knew. What. What did you do. Sweetheart. Come back. Let's talk. You love me don't you? I love you! Where's that ring I gave you?"

You laugh, twisting the door handle.

"Baby, you better not fuckin' leav- THEY'LL FIND OUT-"

"And who's going to believe a damaged, deluded man, Simon Riley? You were out on a mission, I'll pin the blame on the enemies."

Simon shakes in his bed, unable to control any part of his body now. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME- HOW FUCKIN' DARE YOU- After that life I gave you-"

"Life? You call that living?"

"I LOVED YOU WHEN NO ONE ELSE DID-" His voice is painfully loud now, you're wondering how no one's running to his room already.

"Love? You don't know one thing about love, you fucker."

"I should have never fucked you, you- YOU BITCH-" He shouts, his body flailing violently, globes of tears racing down his clenched jaw and red cheeks.

"Rot in hell Simon Riley, I guess we're both fucking spineless now."

And that's a wrap for this mini seriesss - thank all of you for sticking around ;D IM AWARE IT TOOK SO LONG- I KEPT WRITING IT AND FOR SOME REASON IT DIDN'T AUTOSAVE LIKE TWICE??? SO I HAD TO REWRITE IT- Quick Notes: Let's all be real. We wanted reader to get with ol' john boy. But let's also be for real, if Reader was an object, she'd be a doormat. Although I've implied John Price x You, the bitch really needs to focus on herself and sort her shit out right now 💀 in the near future they're together for sure. ALSO the reference of drugs is highly inaccurate but let's all switch our imaginations on <3 lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12 , @restrictionsapply-blog , @lunamoonbby , @nigthmar3moon , @thychuvaluswife , @itsnourm , @bubusi11, @owkittie, @cheomain , @corvusmorte , @k4es , @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese , @yyiikes , @funkyyysho3s

[pinkslaystation]

HEYY DAWG, hope you’ve had an awesome time so far. I wanted to ask if you have any plans to make a part 2 of “A Ghost of a Connection” Ghost fanfic. I lowkey been stalking ur page, hoping. No pressure tho. 😊😊

DAWG YOU GOT ITT part 2 under constructionnn

The pressure is on 😭

Again I apologise for the delay, I've got uni exams coming so I've been busy revising 😭😭😭

[pinkslaystation]

i literally check ur acc everyday for part 3😭

NOOO IM SORRY ITS COMING PROMISE IM HALFWAY THRU

[pinkslaystation]

hey girlie.just wanted to ask a question if you are working on 'if i meant something to you' part 3, when are you gonna update 'ghost of a connection' ? love ya tho bye💕

Ly222

I wasn't actually planning to write a part 2 to Ghost of a connection, but if that's what the people want, then that's what the people get :P

Lemme write part 3 to If I meant something to you, and I'll see from there!

[pinkslaystation]

I'm so excited for the Ghost fanfic part3 <333, Also bro you're doing great and your English is actually amazing, thank you for blessing us with your cute fics ♥️

Thank you so much for being here!!!

I'm gonna try harder to get the grammar perfectttt

[pinkslaystation]

lord i need part 3 of if i meant something to you to have a happy ending for reader at least 😭🙏 other than that i love tulips and roses so glad i found you

THANK U FOR FINDING ME 😄

What if I fucked around and gave reader a sad ass ending heheheheh-

[pinkslaystation]

Okay so I'm rereading Tulips and Roses, and omds there's so many spelling errors 💀💀💀

I wanna say it's cos English isn't my first language, but it practically is...

And everytime I try to edit them, Tumblr glitches and the changes aren't saved-

[pinkslaystation]

Omg I love your fics, your writing is so good! When are you going to update the "If I meant something to you?" Simon Riley fanfic?

Thank you!!!!

I'm currently writing the 3rd and final part but icl I'm going through writer's block and I've literally only written one sentence, but dww it's cominggg, thank you for being patient 😄

[pinkslaystation]

OMG THIS IS SO NICE THANK UUUU 🫶🫶🫶🫶

I'm happy that the writing affected people this much heheheh

Lemme make it clear -> The act of John giving roses (+ tulips) to his wife at the end was meant to symbolise that he no longer associates Rose with roses, rather now with u !!

rose era is over :) tulips are now in season 🌷

(Rose<<<)

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[pinkslaystation]

[Part 2] If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Here's part 1 hee hee hee hee Here's part 3 You believe Simon's changed his ways after your sister's engagement. After his actions, you still want him, but does he want you? Word Count: 3.6k

A half naked woman running out of Simon's flat? A surprise indeed it was.

You really thought he reciprocated the same feelings as you did at one point, for once in your life feeling as if someone truly did want you for you, but that fantasy had dried out, and it was clear Simon had no intentions with you.

Your replacement proved it.

Before you began to weep in front of the Brit again, you hurried to your flat door, rummaging through your sweatshirt pockets for your key, wanting to wallow back into a state of depression in the comfort in your own home.

Simon didn't follow you, instead he just leaned against his door frame, sexily might I add, intensely watching you clumsily rip out past receipts and snotty used tissues from your pockets. He wanted to say something, ask you how your day had been, even thought it just turned 9 A.M.

Then it hit you.

You think back to your previous steps. You woke up at 8:30, you read the texts from your sister, made yourself some coffee, which you definitely think had gone off, and left your home, feigning a state of happiness.

You didn't take your keys with you. They sat on your kitchen counter, almost like they were mocking you for being so careless.

Banging your head against the door, you curse, "Fuck's sake...."

You mentally note that this is probably one of the most humiliating scenes you've found yourself in, nearly as bad enough as your 18th birthday, when your parents congratulated your younger brother instead of you accidently.

Simon exhales a puff of smoke towards your direction, you were so fixed on trying to get inside, you didn't catch him lazily eyeing you whilst lighting a cigarette into his mouth.

"You...wanna come inside?" He asks nonchalantly, looking at the sky, avoiding your gaze as if to seem cooler than you.

"Why would I do that? I don't wanna know where that bitch has been..." You scoff, referring to the girl. You want to look away from him, but his blonde chest hair glistens in the sunlight, enticing you to follow his instructions. He's not even all military mode on you but you already find yourself acting submissive around his presence again.

He grunts, thinking about what to say next, "Well for starters, Francesca's no one...and, where else are ya gonna go?" The sarcasm is sharp in his voice.

So you were replaced by a Francesca.

"And listen love, face it, you need something from me, come in so we can talk. Can't guarantee we'll do a lot of talkin' though..." His words trails off, trying to convince you. Boy, is it working...

His eyebrows are raised, and he purposely flexes his still wet pecs.

Fuck it. You think, barging into his room, purposely bumping shoulders.

You finally enter Simon's room for the first time.

Simon wasn't completely heartless.

Yes, his childhood trauma resulted in his avoidant nature, ignoring his team in order to work alone on the field, disobeying his Captain to do what he'd deemed as best, and even ghosting you ever time you tried reaching out to you. What you didn't know though, was that Simon had given you his previous phone number, one he doesn't use anymore...

Late nights in his hospital bed led him trying to stalk you through Facebook, which no one your age uses by the way (don't tell him that), and every time his searches led him to nothing.

Had he not been so foolish, he would have manned up and straight up demanded you for your number. But he didn't, instead he told you he'd find you if he needed you, which was becoming more and more infrequent.

Yet here he lies, now clad in a loose black top and sweatpants, sitting across from you on his couch in his oddly empty room, hearing you out.

"'Kay so, your sister wants you at her engagement and you need a date, and you have no other friends but me, and you want me to be your fake date." He repeats back to you.

You hum, "For someone that didn't finish secondary school, you're quite smart."

Simon chuckles at the reciprocates banter, "And...what's in it for me?"

You scrunch your nose, "What?"

"What's in it for me." He enunciates his word, as if speaking to a baby, "What do I benefit from this?"

"Are you fuckin' for real, you've basically used me for your own pleasure, and you can't even fake a relationship in front of my family for like a couple of hours?"

You stand up, ready to leave, not willing to be disrespected again.

"Love, listen," Simon pulls on your arms, and you begin to notice the fresh scars decorating his forearms.

"Our relationship...platonic of course, it's like a business. You want something, you gotta work for it."

You're stunned, did he just insinuate that you were merely a business partner to you? Can this man be anymore of an ass, than he already is, reducing your relationship to a step below a 'situation-ship'.

"What possibly could I have that you need?"

"Yeah," he gruffs out, contemplating his decision, "not money 'cos I got more of that than you..."

He sits there in mock confusion, but you had a feeling he knew what he wanted from you the moment you spat out your request at his door earlier.

Before you try cursing him out again, your attention shifts to the ping from your phone, another unfamiliar number, but not from your sister.

10:32 A.M. ####:- Hey kiddo, how's life been treating you. ####:- Finally gotta a job? ####:- Can't wait to see you, your brother's been waiting to introduce you to his new girlfriend, good addition to the family this time I think. ####:- You're getting older now, unmarried and unemployed. Chop Chop.

Great, just a monthly reminder from your father that you've already been replaced by your brother's new fling for the week.

Now you really needed that date.

"I'll fuck you." You state.

Simon stares at your new found dominance, standing up to purposely look down at you and tower over you, disliking the sense of authority shifting between you two.

"Once again, dove."

"Just. Fuck. Me. Simon. Get this shit over with." You command.

Okay, now you actually felt used. Blackmailed into having sex with Simon, just for him to get what he wants really was the all time low for you. And you've hit rock bottom multiple times.

You wake up light-headed, in Simon's empty bed. The bedside table held a small note in messy handwriting and a singular key.

Headed out to the pub, got a spare key for your room. You better be out of there by the time I get back. Jesus, you got the hint.

You wonder why and where Simon got a spare key from, realising that this situation could have been rectified from the beginning, instead he basically coerced you into sex just to fulfill his needs.

Your mother would die if she knew what your life was like.

Walking back into your room, you shoot a text to Simon, your now fake date, informing him of the fool-proof plan you'd come up with.

As you rest on your couch, thinking about the future ahead of you, and your head unconsciously drifts to that dreaded question:

What if you hurt Simon like he's hurt you?

The next few days was filled with your evenings trying to explain the dynamics of your family to Simon and teaching him more about you.

"And what, they went to the theme park and just left you there? Ain't that borderline abuse?" He questions, a small guilty feeling arising in the pit of your stomach learning about how similar both of yours fucked childhood was like.

You shrug, used to being kicked to the curb. You stop yourself before making some remark that he has no right to act upset about your parents behaviour when he's acting no better.

You tell him your middle name, hell, you tell him the correct spelling of your first name, and you stare at him, embarrassed that this hunk has pounded at your core but doesn't even know the vowels in your name.

"And last week was my birthday if they ask, and you better tell them I celebrated it by going to the cinema with my friends." You inform him, hoping some of this information gets retained into his pea sized head.

Simon cringes, unaware of your birthday, recalling the numerous amount times you'd shot him a smile that day, urging at least one person to wish you a happy birthday. He cocks his head, "What friends?" before correctly himself, "I mean, names wise."

"....you gotta make them up."

Note to self: Make new friends.

The big day comes and you and Simon had driven to the venue of your sister's engagement party. Extravagant was an understatement. Anyone that would look at this event would assume your parents were millionaires, but they're not considering only 2 out of 3 children received trust funds.

You wore a sleek black dress with a slit by your right leg, and Simon matched with a clean black suit which, by the way, you paid for.

Though you would usually drink in his appearance, his recent brooding behaviour gnawed in your mind, so no matter how many smiles he sent your direction, they couldn't dispel the unease settling in your gut.

The first hour consisted of the pair of you awkwardly standing around, drinking numerous glasses of the finest champagne, with his broad arm hovering over your shoulder.

"Where's the family?" He asks eyeing every guy that even so glances your direction.

You shrug, glancing at your unread messages to your sister.

1:00 P.M. You:- hey :) made it, wru??? You:- looks very grand btw!! 1:29 A.M. You:- hello? where's ma? 1:37 A.M. You:- champagne's tastyyy You:- hi wru 1:59 A.M. You:- bruh did you rly invite me just to ignore me???

Simon winces at your phone, reminding himself to finally get your number so at least someone would reply to your messages.

"You made it!"

You both turn around at the chirpy voice, instantly locking eyes with your sister.

"Hey, you didn't read my texts, been here for an hour now." You question, as you're being pulled into a hug.

"Oh that was you? Sorry, I haven't saved you on my phone," she laughs. You glance at Simon almost offended by that, even though you hadn't saved her number either.

"Introduce me to the big guy!" She nudges you, and Simon interrupts you before you open your mouth.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley, and uh- also boyfriend." He extends his arm, and you can't tell whether he's faking his grin or not.

She drags his forearms, yanking him away from you and ushering him along eagerly., "You need to meet my family, come come!", as they walk off together, and you find yourself standing there, left to socialise with someone else.

At 3 P.M., you navigate yourself to your family and your 'boyfriend', whom at this point, had really seemed to fit in with the community. Your father hadn't believed that you scored a buff military commander, and if he wasn't unhappily married to your mother, you'd bet 10 quid that he'd be all over Simon.

"Served in Afghanistan huh?" He chuckles boisterously.

"Yes sir." Simon actually looks like he's having fun, displaying the look of admiration for having an almost father-like figure in his life. He begins you question why you dislike your family so much, they're great!

"And you watch football lad?" He pats Simon on his back.

"Avid fan, sir."

Your father shakes Simon's hand, immediately surprised by his firm grip, "Good man. Don't let go of this one, love." He nods towards you, his smile twitching at Simon, who's basically gripping the bones through his wrist.

You force a smile hugging into your boyfriend's side, shouldn't he be saying that to your Simon, rather than you? I mean it's either your biological daughter you've sort of brought up her entire life versus a solider you've known for about an hour.

"Son, take some notes from your sister, no wonder you're single every other day." Your father reprimands your brother, who flinches from the sudden sound of disapproval and grips his girlfriend's forearm tighter. For sure the first time you're actually than him, at finding a better fake partner.

Your mother, on the other hand, was virtually glued to the other side of Simon, gripping his biceps and fawning over his muscles to your brother, who's actually looked like the only one who saw through your facade.

"Wow, you must really enjoy the gym, sweetie." She bags her eyes, disgustingly.

"Yes ma'am."

She addresses you, for what you think was the first time in over a year, and mouths sternly, "I was wrong, I approve."

The entire event was a drag to you, something you weren't used to at all, considering the majority of your childhood was mainly you being left home during such big events, but Simon managed to enjoy the evening whilst successfully lying to your entire family.

"Me and the missus have been together for 10 months now. She's very happy." He raises his glass to you, eliciting a genuine smile from you. It was times like this that you wished that you and Simon just tied the knot and just began dating. However, you couldn't ignore those underlying feelings of a simmering anger, a desire to confront him publicly for using you for so long.

"I am..." It sounds more like a question than a reply, kissing him, in mock affection.

"You need to stay over our place, Simon darling," Your mother gleams, with your father agreeing, "You can stay in the study!"

"You mean my old bedroom?"

It's midnight, and your family have finally fell asleep in the place you once called home.

You lay next to Simon on your old bed, inspecting your previous room. The walls were no longer painted your favourite colour, but now was coated in a dull grey, your desk now replaced by a vintage looking oak table, definitely all to accommodate your father's taste. Any speck of 'you' had been wiped out from the room, and Simon wonders what young you was like.

"That was very fun...I like 'em, your family." He whispers almost inaudibly, fatigue evident in his words. His arm is draped comfortably around your neck, your head resting in the nook of his armpit.

You hum. The unfamiliar attention Simon had brought up on the two of you exhausted you, though a small part of you liked it, that now your mother actually cared about what you got up with him on a daily basis.

"Simon..." You begin, "What- what are we? If anything..."

You're anticipating his rejection.

"Neighbours..." He mouths silently.

You nod at him, hoisting yourself up on your elbows, although his eyes are closed.

"Simon. It's just that. I know it's all a show...but today it didn't feel like pretend...And when you said you wanted to marry me to my mum, it's just, I don't know, didn't feel fake you know. Felt real..Simon...Simon?"

He snores in response.

Great. You're just confessing to the thin air.

If he doesn't take you out, socialising for almost 9 hours straight will. You pass out next to him, no longer under his arm. Simon lays next to you, watching the slow rise of fall of your chest, after faking a snore.

He stares at the ceiling thinking about the day.

Come morning, and you find yourself sitting at the dining table next to Simon, who'd found himself in a hearty conversation with your parents, sister and future brother in law.

Across from you is your brother, whom you're sure didn't fall for your ruse.

His expression reveals concern as he gazes at you, almost as if he's silently urging you to unravel the tangled web of lies you've woven.

With a swift motion, he picks up his phone, arching an eyebrow in your direction, just as your phone chimes with a notification.

9:12 A.M. ####:- ik you two aren't dating. ####:- better fess up before i do

He smirks at you, your expression mirrors one of close defeat.

9:13 A.M. You:- ik you mad that she cheats on you every friday. You:- better check her private 2nd insta account before i do

Your brother looks up, hesitant to curse you out in front of everyone.

You 1, your brother 0.

Breakfast was served at this time you actually got the same amount of food as your siblings did, although Simon beat all 3 of you for it. Even though your sister was celebrating her engagement, the entire conversation was stuck on you and Simon.

Credits to your parents, because you were actually learning things about Simon, and you wonder if he thinks you're self-obsessed given that you've forced every fact about you down his throat and you haven't even given a minute for him.

"...and my Captain John Price, great guy. She loves him actually." He nudges you, breaking you from your trance.

"Huh."

Everyone on the table turn to you as Simon rubs your knee softly.

"OH. Um, yeah. Mr Price, John, um, great guy, handsome and so hot. Love him. The best really."

As you stumbled over your words, trying to cover up the slip, Simon gave you a reassuring squeeze on your knee. His eyes conveyed a silent message, telling you that it was okay and that they didn't catch you in a lie.

Your brother, however, shot you a knowing look, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. It was clear that he had caught onto your the slip up.

"Alright, enough about work," your mother interjected, steering the conversation away from Simon's military life. "Let's talk about something more fun. Like the wedding!"

The topic shifted to your sister's upcoming wedding, and you found yourself for once engaged in a lively discussion with your family about venues, dresses, and guest lists. Simon chimes in, his comments light-hearted and filled with humor.

As the breakfast progressed, you couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt gnawing at you. Your brother's text had reminded you that you were deceiving your family, and although it had started as a harmless ruse, it was beginning to feel like a weight on your shoulders.

After the meal, you and Simon got ready to depart, and as Simon and the rest of your family went to his car, you stood back at the front door, watching how perfect Simon fit in with them.

"It's obvious you don't like him."

You turn to the voice: your brother.

Your groan, "You again? Can't you just leave me alone, God's sake..."

"Aren't you a 'lil worried about how easily he lies though?" he taunts, "how'd you get him here? Money? Or you hold him over a secret? Maybe...sex?"

"What's your problem? Can't you just be happy I'm with someone?" You step back from him.

"Of course I am, if he doesn't like who, who else will, no? I'm just looking out for you bro. It's not gonna last, take it from someone who's in and out of relationships like your guy's in and out of other women."

You squint your eyes at him, confused.

"Grace, Josie, Francesca..." he trails off walking slowly towards the rest of the group. Francesca? That name rings a bell...

"Word of advice, don't leave your phone out in the open, I mean the amount of nudes on there, you'd think his gallery was a porn site! And without a password? Didn't know you were into whores, sis." He cackles.

And here you thought the trip had altered the dynamic.

The ride home was 2 hours too long and too silent. You contemplated your next move. Do you beat around the bush or straight up ask him if he's still seeing other people behind your back? You know he doesn't owe you anything, he is your FAKE boyfriend, right? But, why did it feel so real?

"So..." he starts.

You rest your head on the window, "So..."

His hand moves to your thigh, squeezing gently before moving towards your core slowly.

"That was fun." He states.

You hum.

"Real cool family, huh."

You hum once again, unsure what to say.

"We should do that again..."

You look at him confused.

"Are you serious? I think they still think that they have 2 kids, they focused on you the entire time-"

"Well, it's not like you put in much effort to talk, love."

That shuts you up.

He sighs at your silence, "Listen, I've been thinking."

You glance at him, hoping he'd kick you out of his car and let you walk the rest of the way home, too ashamed to be in his vicinity.

"Your parents were hinting us to take the next move you know..."

"Neighbours to friends?" You question.

He laughs, "Your family's great, your sister's and her lad, real cute couple you know, I felt at home...so I was thinking...we should try it you know, going out I guess."

You scrunch your face at him, was he really convinced into asking you out because your parents asked him? And here you were, months of trying to hint to wanting more, and the moment your demanding parents butt in, he's just going to do what they say? And the fact that he couldn't even say the word relationship.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

You cross your arms in annoyance. You were tired of being pushed around like a doormat.

Your brother's words ring through your head, as Simon drives.

It's not gonna last, take it from someone who's in and out of relationships like your guy's in and out of other women.

All the signs point towards rejecting his proposal. He doesn't want you, he just wants the safest route. You being in a relationship with him isn't going to stop him fucking other women.

Why would you waste your time with a guy to whom you meant nothing to?

So you decide to give it to him directly.

"Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

Thank you all so much for the interactions on part 1! Means a lot :D THERE WILL BE A PART 3 LMAOOO i did not intend for this fic to be long but here we are. lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @owkittie

[pinkslaystation]

If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

You want him, but does he want you? Part 2 :> Part 3 :< Word Count: 2.1k

Whatever you did, you always found yourself being a disappoint to your parents.

First, it was getting rejected from the university your parents intended you to go to. Then, it was working at a job that didn't utilise your degree. And now, it's complaint after complaint for being in a 'relationship' with some they didn't approve of.

"Honey, I just don't think he's the right one for you..." Your mother complained on the phone for what felt like the thousandth time this day.

You rolled your eyes exasperatingly, happy that she couldn't see your annoyance through the call.

"Ma...you haven't even met him, I don't see why it's such a big deal, I'm finally out of your hair anyways, isn't that what you wanted?" You argued.

Everyday felt like a battle for your parent's time and affection.

Living under the shadows of your siblings was a pain. Your older sister had pursued a law degree at a top university when you were just in high school, and moved abroad to practice at one of the best law firms in the US. Your younger brother, on the other hand, was in their 2nd year studying Aeronautical Engineering at the same university as the elder. You felt like the odd one out in every field.

And here you are, stuck working in retail even though you complete your Bachelors degree in Computer Science.

Whatever you did, just was not enough for your parents.

So you saved enough money from your job, took out a small loan and made the decision to pack your bags and move to the Midlands, which was just regionally higher up than where you initially resided in your family home. How funny was it that you were the last sibling to move out?

After weeks of working your ass of at your new 8-6 job...still in retail, one silent evening after taking out the trash, you found yourself coming face to face to your neighbor.

And to say to he was attractive was an understatement. He had a tall tower-like frame, height ranging anywhere from 6'2 to 6'4, his scarred face was decorated with dirty blonde, short yet soft, hair and a slight stubble. His face, though rough, looked almost model worthy and held a permanent angry face, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching as if it hurt to open them.

"You got a staring problem, love?" He scoffed at you, the first time your met. You stumbled over your words, eyes wide as saucepans.

"!- we- um..who..who are you?"

The blonde chuckled at you sarcastically, "Your neighbour, Riley, you won't see as often so close that bloody mouth of yours."

And he was right, out of 7 months of living at your new flat, you'd seen him only a handful of times. You often found yourself questioning his occupation, why exactly he hangs out and about the area for a week, then just suddenly just disappears, like a ghost.

You'd learnt from the other residents that he worked within the military, whether it was the marines, the air force or the army, you never knew, until one faithful morning, you found yourself nestled against his broad warm chest, both of you hungover from the block party that all of the residents had been invited to.

"Hmm...mornin'" He grunts out at you, and the slightly reddening marks running down his neck and the bruising hand prints on your waist told you enough about the previous night.

You stiffen next to him, but his rough skin grazing against your skin urges to continue to curl up beside him.

Fast-forward another 5 months, it's been nearly a year of knowing 'Riley' and nearly a year you'd seen anyone from your family. You've always wanted to know how long they would be able to go on without you...and you'd finally got your answer.

You've learnt a lot of things about 'Riley'. For starters, his full name was Simon, though everyone in the building referred to him by his last name (you'd pestered him too much, and he finally caved in and allowed you to call him by his first name). He was almost 10 years elder to you and his striking face was usually masked with a black balaclava or those disposable ones.

"Ma, I'm happy, why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Sweetheart, why don't you come home for the weekend and we can finally meet this man. I mean since you're exclusive and everything."

"We...we're not that level yet-"

"Your older sister's getting married and she's only 4 years older than you.-"

"Why do you keep bringing her up? What's she got to do with this?"

"Honey, listen, me and your father are happy you're with someone. I mean this is the first time someone actually liked you right?"

Ouch.

"It wouldn't hurt to meet the old fella, no?"

Ah, one important part I forgot to mention.

You weren't dating Simon.

In fact, you guys never really established a relationship between the two of you. When he was home from deployment, your evening usually consisted of lazing about after work, wine in hand, Simon walking in, a few words exchanged here and there about his work-

Oh, and the night ending with a good rough fucking.

The morning would come by and you'd walk into your shift, your hickey-adorned chest and neck covered with a black turtleneck although it was the middle of August (and against the uniform policy).

So one night you decided to break away from his dominating kiss, and sit him down for a heartfelt conversation-

"Why'd you want to complicate things," he sneers, "we're just fuck buddies yeah?"

"Excuse me? So, what those 5 months didn't mean shit to you?" You scoffed, rather offended that he looked down at you, just like your family.

"You're old enough to be my kid, what make you think this was gonna go anywhere?" He stands up, lighting a smoke, knowing you hated the stench of his cigarettes in your room. It was always your room, always your flat. You can't remember the last time you even went to Simon's place, if there ever was a time.

"Who has a kid at 10? And why'd you keep fucking me? And I'm 24 fucking years old, Jesus, why does that not go through anyone's thick ass skull?!"

"Calm down love, thought this arrangement was mutual, I've got pent up frustration from the military, you're pent up 'cos no one else wants you-"

"Those nights didn't mean anything to you?"

"You don't mean anything to me." He asserts furiously. You studied him, the glimpse of that comforting man who stroked your back and kissed your forehead post-sex really wasn't there.

The fuck does this guy think he is?

"Get out."

"Done."

And he gets up and leaves, blowing a puff of smoke as if to scent the room. Just like that. Wow, was there anyone in your life that actually cared about you?

All those Wattpad stories taught you that the guy usually fights for his lover, screaming back saying that he won't leave without a fight, arguing that that the pair deserved each other. And yet, here you are, sobbing in the shower, unable to differentiate whether your body is getting soaked from the water or from the river of salty tears streaming down your dull, lifeless face, all because the guy you wanted never truly wanted you back.

You felt used, mainly your body. Rubbing yourself full of soap just caused your mind to flash back to his thick calloused hands massaging every inch of skin.

When you occasionally saw him at the building get together, which you wonder why he even attends considering he just hates and complains about everyone (everyone but you of course), you'd find yourself glued on the spot, lips quivering, tears threatening to spill again- and the throbbing. Man, the throbbing you felt between your legs. If it wasn't for his dick, you'd really be wondering why you craved him so bad, because it's definitely not his nasty personality.

And every time you open your mouth to say something to him, to call him over, to greet him, hell you should be cursing him out in front of everyone, he just stormed out with his head down with what looks like a combination of embarrassment or grief.

Until one night, you get a phone call from your older sister, the unsaved number appearing unfamiliar to you. Your hesitant to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy," She drags out her words, as if to waste time. You can tell your mother meddled in between, "So, I'm having the engagement party by the end of this month, and um...you free to come? No worries if you can't."

You pause, did she even want you there?

"Sure."

"Cool. Um, Mum says you're seeing someone, you can bring 'em if you want."

"Sure."

"Yeah, dunno if it's serious enough but there's enough space in the venue."

"Sure."

There's a pause on the other line.

"Hey can you say anything other than 'sUrE'?" She mocks you. Your eyebrow twitches in amusement.

"Did you just call to brag about you and your fancy ass engagement party? And the audacity to not send an invite, if you don't want me there, just say it. I'm not a baby anymore." You frustratingly answer.

Your sister remains quiet on the other line and you can tell you struck a nerve.

"I- listen I know we never get along but can you please come? Ma keeps mentioning you, surprisingly, and- and we haven't seen you in months, you don't even reply to the memes on the family group chat..."

You blink. "We have a family group chat?"

The rest of the month was empty, and although you were thankful for no more surprising run-ins with Simon, you missed having a warm body next to you. You learnt from one of the residents that he's been deployed for 3 weeks, this particular one shorter than others.

He confused you, Simon. He hated the idea of being in a relationship with you, yet he did 'relationship things' with you. He disliked when people assumed you two were a couple in public, but he always had his arm around you protectively. Not even education was this stressful.

And as much as you wanted to sit and let the misery marinate into your mind, you knew the date of the engagement party was nearing and you knew you couldn't come empty-handed.

By the end of the 3rd week, you knew Simon had come home, recognising the sound of the heavy footsteps entering his flat next door at 3 in the morning, you being awake from all the stress your high-maintenance sister had thrown suddenly at you. But you couldn't help but notice the sound of a softer treads following his. Maybe he got a pet?

That night, you had trouble sleeping, unsure whether it was the stress of trying to impress your family or the light sound of the headboards of next door creaking. That sound was familiar, reminding you when he was over at your place, rocking gently inside of you, though you question why he's not with you this moment. Usually you'd find him at the other side of the door, tired eyes resembling those of a stray puppy looking for a place to stay.

You close your eyes, your mind racing to the thought of the burly man on the other side of the wall rubbing himself to the thought of you. You sink into the bed, disregarding that unignorable pulsating feeling.

Saturday morning come, and you stretched contently, knowing that you finally had the day off from work. But that short-lived happiness dimmed when you checked the unread notification blasting through your phone.

7:29 A.M. #####:- hey listen i meant it when i said i wanted you there. pls come. #####:- it wouldnt just make ma happy but me too #####:- u gotta be there to make look better haha im joking

You had a feeling that she was not.

7:56 A.M. #####:-and uh, bring your guy as well pls, ma's so excited planning this wedding she wants to get started on the next one too lolol #####:- also she thinks your lying :/

Great, now there's actual pressure to bring someone.

Your morning dose of caffeine didn't hit today, as your body feels heavier than usual as you trudge all the way to your doorstep. When the last time you actually left your apartment if not for work?

Forcing yourself to look decently good, you make your way to your neighbour's doorstep, knocking so softly you almost tried again, until the door abruptly open, revealing a wet toweled Simon.

An eerie silence captures the atmosphere, consists of his eyes drinking in your disheveled appearance after almost a month, and yours undressing him, as if he wasn't already standing almost-nude.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, "Listen I know you've been deployed for the past 3 weeks, but listen I need a favour, I know you hate me and don't want to be with me but I really need a date to an engagement party, and I hate men and men hate me so I don't know anyone but you, and here me out, but could you please take some time out of your month to please be my date, I know you don't like me like that, which makes no sense to me 'cos you're in that mask almost the same number of times as you're in me- just please give it a thought-"

There's a cough behind Simon.

A half nude woman runs past you, head down in shame, smilingly guiltily as she tiptoes out of his room. She heard it all, you thought.

You look at Simon, suddenly recollected last night's events, the 2nd footsteps, the headboard banging. It all made sense. You really didn't mean anything to him.

Simon shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

"Surprise?"

its's 2 a.m. as i post this...why do my brain cells suddenly begin to work post-midnight I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[pinkslaystation]

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[pinkslaystation]

TOO GOOD

You always joked about how you'd find out what's beneath his mask someday. Literally and figuratively.

He'd scoff at your attempts, or suggestions to lift up his sniper mask. Some of them caught him off guard, to the point he almost did it if not for his logical mind. But some of them were downright ridiculous, that he couldn't help but snort.

Maybe you already accepted it from the start, that he would never give in, but it had become a harmless jest at this point, so you might as well keep it going.

Until he gives you permission.

The thing is, it doesn't make you happy—it scares you to death instead. He once bit off someone's finger when they poked it in the place they shouldn't have touched. So what's behind the mask couldn't be worth the pain.

At first, you thought of it as a warning. Yet he wasn't showing any signs of threat. He even pulled you closer, so you'd get a better view of him.

His mask stays on, but he lets you touch his face. Your hands hover an inch away from his veiled visage, before you test the water with a touch.

He doesn't flinch away, or charge at you like a venomous snake. He stays still, letting your hands cup his cheeks.

"Didn't you say you wanna feel my face?" He said as he brought you closer, causing a shiver down on your spine.

"I did," Your lips trembled slightly, "I'm doing it."

"You're not doing it right." He tugged your paralyzed hands onto his chest.

You're confused when he firmly grips both of your hands, before slowly sliding them under the hem of his hood.

"Inside, maus." He commanded you, "Tell me what you feel."

And so, you complied.

You reach into his mask, and touch his neck tentatively. For a brief moment, his muscles tense under your fingertips, before they come down relaxed.

"Oh." You murmured as you pressed your palm onto his nape, "You can certainly survive the fighter jet ride."

He doesn't give you any response, so you take it as a cue to continue.

Your hands creep up higher, until your fingers reach the soft bones of his ears. They seem small in your grasp, smaller than they should, for a man of his height. A quiet smile spreads in your lips, as you imagine the tiny shells that frame both sides of his face.

"I'm surprised you have clear skin." You commented when you caressed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin, "I thought you'd have a problem with it since you always wore a mask."

"Not always." He replied, nudging you to roam further, "I took it off whenever I'm alone."

"Did you take care of it?"

"No."

"How unfair." You chuckled, "I want to have your skin."

He keeps his eyes on you, and you feel the need to clear your throat, before you trace the lines on his face.

"You have a big nose." You mused as you ran your finger down from the bridge of his nose, "It's crooked."

He hums, while his eyes follow your uncertain gaze.

"Why you stopped?" He called you out, and you jumped upon hearing them, "There's one place you haven't touched."

You bit your lips, trembling, as you lowered your hand, until you felt the soft lumps on your fingertips.

They form a thin line, before they split open, inviting your finger inside. Your breathing becomes labored, as he takes a hold on your hand, guiding your thumb into his mouth.

He doesn't break eye contact the whole time, and you're too paralyzed to look away. You feel the sharpness of his teeth as his lips are closing around your digit. You have anticipated the guillotine falling on the head of your thumb, yet what comes after is a soft brush of his tongue.

It was rough, and drenched with his saliva, that it formed a string at the time your thumb left his mouth.

"König—" You gasped when he dragged his lips down to your palm, before stopping on your wrist. Pressing his tongue on your pulse point, where the skin barrier is so thin, that it feels as if he's tasting your flesh.

"Scared, maus?" He muttered, his teeth scraped against your skin, "Are you scared of me?"

You stare at him, as your instinct screams at you to nod. But you shake your head, despite the tremble in your hands.

"Then you'll do as I say." He wraps his arm around your waist, leaving no room for you to run, "Take off my mask."

Your eyes widened, not believing what you just heard from his mouth. Alas, his glare is enough to confirm the truth.

He guides your hands to his mask, pushing it up in a manner that's close to unveiling a white cover. And once the mask is lifted, you have no time to admire him as he slams his lips against yours.

Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, as he pushes his tongue between your lips. You can't do anything but cling to him, as he presses your body down with his, until your back is flush against the cushion.

When you open your eyes, what greets you is a pair of eclipses. Gone was the cruel Colonel, as he's replaced by a voracious brute.

The moment he opens his mouth, you know you'll be devoured by him.

[pinkslaystation]

[Part 2] Unimpressive yet Impressed.

König and gn!Reader

Part 2 to Impressive yet unimpressed! In which König attempts to reconcile with you after his attack. TOOK 4EVER but part 2 is here teehee fuck midterms Word count: 4.3k; translations in purple, shout out google translate.

König sat on the cold plastic chair beside your hospital bed in the infirmary, for what felt like months. 2 to be exact.

The room was empty at 2 A.M on a grey Sunday. Of course it was, it was 6 hours past visiting hours ended, but König couldn't help but enter through the infirmary's window, tiptoe past all the injured, asleep soldiers, and rest on the chair, watching your chest painfully heave up and down, with ragged breathes.

His first sane thought was to break into the respected infirmary, where he remembers laying after broken bones, with you besides him. It makes sense for him to return the favour.

I mean...he's the reason you're in a coma in the first place...

After attempting to check up on you, he'd overheard the doctors' order: You see a poorly dressed mammoth of a man, you tell security immediately. The poor girl's distressed enough, mentioned the Colonel's name and her heart rates quicken to an alarming rate.

That broke his heart. He loved having such an affect on you, yes! But in a 'cutesy-butterflies-in-my-stomach' way, not a 'panic-attack-about-to-die-omfg-scary-man-alert' way!

So he sits here, patiently waiting for the sun to rise, so he can exit the infirmary as quietly as possible, and sneak into, yet again, another room. Yours. Where he lays in your bed. Using your expensive floral soaps. Ate your food. Anything to feel like you were with him again.

He swears he sees your fingers shift, closed eyes twitching ever so gently, but according to your files (which he stole), stated that you 'were in a worse state that before, slowly recovering although there's limited hope,' and ah 'one of the worst non-mission on-base injuries seen'.

His actions caused great harm, I mean look at you. But one would say his plan worked.

News spread like wildfire, with almost everyone talking about the combat room incident. Soldiers murmured everywhere he walked.

König means King you know, bro lives up to the name.

He's a fucking beast, beating her up like that, mans got no emotion i swear.

Heard he's getting promoted for that stunt he pulled...

And indeed he was getting more recognised. His once slow forgotten image was roaring in popularity, with his higher-ups signing him up for more missions than one should be given.

"It's a great opportunity Colonel. I mean you've improved this month! Like you're on steroids or sum'" König finds himself being cornered in the hallway of the barracks by his superior, cheeks wet and reddening under this mask, after sneaking out of your room one morning.

His superior's eyes glisten cunningly, "And uh...those moves, yeah. Impressive." His head nods, gesturing towards your room.

König squints his eyes, glaring so hard in pure shame, he swear he feels his eyeballs vibrate. But instead he walks off, vowing to abstain himself from anymore violence. He's learnt his lesson.

'Unimpressive...' he mumbles, physically shivering as his mind is forced to recall that fateful day again.

Minutes feel like days and days feel like months, and all those hospital visits from your teammates gradually decrease, some unable to see you resting corpse-like with jagged scars painting your skin, some purposely avoiding the whole situation, with paperwork as their main excuse.

But König finds solace staring at your almost dead but resting state. Yes, he cringes at the slightly bent nose, the busted lip, and the countless stitches on your scalp, but overall he notes you seem peaceful on the bed.

Not like that fearful expression you pulled before he...you remember.

Though he'd rejected the numerous proposals to lead missions, he finds himself persuaded into changing into his musky, unwashed uniform, adjusting his mask whilst attempting to silence his growing headache. One more König, one more mission. Think about who you're doing this for. Think about your future. Think about that cottage. Think about that Austrian countryside.

So he gears up, attempting to push you away from his thoughts, though he can't. He curses himself for using your floral scented soaps, his senses being heightened and hyper-focusing on it the entire ride in that aircraft. It smells like you. Not like that dreaded dull stench of the hospital.

His train of thoughts halt as his superior yells strings of commands towards his team, and his priority shifts to stays alive for you.

After exiting the aircraft he takes a good look of his surrounding, as his team gather round in group, and his face drops. It looks like just Alpbach, the countryside he wanted to settle down in with you.

His eyes catch the small row of houses and buildings kilometres away.

That was meant to be the cottage you two grow old in...

"König! Where's your mind at?"

His eyes clench.

No time for mistakes.

2000 kilometres away, lay you. Eyes indeed twitching rapidly. You were most definitely not conscious yesterday, but the memory of a German bedtime story being read to you early morning comes to you frequently, must be deja vu.

Today though, you open your eyes, lazily making eye-contact with the medical intern who'd been studying you for research purposes.

"Hey, hope you don't mind m- OH MY GOD. UM- OH. MY GOD. ¿QUÉ DEMONIOS ESTÁ PASANDO? EH, ¿POR QUÉ ESTÁ DESPIERTA? VUELVE A DORMIR." What the fuck is happening. Um, why is she awake, go back to sleep!

And a week passes by, and your movements are restricted to sitting up and switching the TV channel. But you're better. Your closest 2 teammates visit you daily now, adorning you with gifts, like your luxurious chocolates.

But no one dares mention his name. Not even you. You don't care about the lack of flowers or medals by your bed like your last hospital visit.

"But you should have seen her face-" One of your teammates chokes on his laugh, caught up on a story you'd missed, "bitch tried to tackle me-" he stifles a laugh, "ever seen a mouse try to fight a lion-"

"How are you still on that, it was 2 weeks ago!"

You turn to your other friend, stationed at the other side of your bed.

"Wow, sounds like I'm stronger than you, and I'm in hospital." You tease her, cheeks aching from smiling too hard, a painful feeling you've missed.

"Dude, I tried to tackle him, König styl- I mean. I- um. Sorry-"

Oh.

Your face flashes a pained look, before your eyebrows furrow in anger, fixating on your clenched fingers.

"She, um, she didn't mean that. It's just-" your friend tries to defend her.

"So what's that fucker up to, huh?" You ask, though it comes out more like a command than a question.

"Um...he's on a mission, like in Austria or something, I don't know.-"

You scoff, "Good, hope that asshole dies there."

Another month and another successful mission from König's team go by, and your higher ups have talked you into being stuck at an office desk, buried in paperwork. It's long and monotonous, and although you want to be focus on improving your overall physical ability, your grateful you don't see as many soldiers on the base as usual, given the amount of pitied looks you've gotten after being discharged.

But hey! The good news in that you're not doing it all on your own. You occupy a small office with a lower ranked soldier, and though you both work under different positions, you both share a similarity. Both victims of König. The soldier you'd seen on the floor, who'd looked like he'd left bleeding to death, also recovered moderately well, and he sits across your desk, cheeks always looking flushed. As if he's still sick.

"You have another pen? Um, this one's ran out."

He's got a gentle voice, like König, but his don't make you pause in fear. He's definitely not as bulky as König rather, he's on the other end of the spectrum. Shorter, leaner, less muscular. But his differences to König make you appreciate him more.

"Huh- yeah, here." You toss a pen towards him and he clumsily misses it, apologising before crouching to pick it up, and you don't fail to catch his bruised knuckles and wrists.

"Thanks..." he mumbles shyly, pulling his sleeves down after realising what your gaze on.

You both haven't discussed it, but have mentally agreed not to talk about that night in the combat room.

"Team's coming back from an assignment today. Or so I heard." He strikes up a conversation, blushing and still avoiding eye contact.

You smile at him, humming as your fingers type away at the keyboard, "Hmm, when do they get back?"

"Couple of hours from now...it's been a month I think."

You nod in response, "They wish they were doing paperwork right now."

He snorts, before coughing it away from embarrassment, but you smirk at his reaction.

"Adorable." You mumble.

"What?" His eyebrows raise.

"Huh?" You mock teasingly.

The evening of paperwork and back and forth banter goes by, and you find yourself with him - who you've now nicknamed 'Paperwork' - at the canteen, sitting and eating alone, isolating yourselves from the obvious glances and murmurs from the other soldiers, yet neither of you want to mention the obvious unspoken tension.

"All my soap's gone, Paperwork!" You look at the obvious peaking black eye that he failed to cover fully with the wrong shade of foundation.

He looks at you curiously, amused at the new found nickname.

"Like, it's gone, and my bed's all messy." There's a cut on his plump lips.

He nods awkwardly.

"Food's nice." You state, receiving a hum from him, but you focus on his swollen wrists, gently reaching to touch them.

He flinches, dropping the steel cutlery on the floor, earning more stares than before, if that was possible, squeaking an apology and continuing to eat like nothing happened.

He's cute. You smile. He's nothing like him.

You continue munching on your food, unaware of the stares you receive. Of the stare you receive.

The 6'10 colonel stands metres away from you at the entrance of the canteen, your back turned to him, as his fists clench and squeeze at the first bouquet of hand-picked Austrian flowers out of envy, as he studies your new found friendship. Considering it's the evening, he's happy he's standing in the dimly lit corridor by the mess hall doors, so he's aware that you cannot see him.

But König can see you.

Most importantly, König can see you, with him.

Was zum Teufel macht er mit ihr? He curses. What the fuck is he doing with her?

"The food's shit mate-" He's interrupted by lower ranked soldiers, and he skillfully moves out of the way to hide behind the door, as they enter the mess hall, and he swears you turn back to look at him.

He wants to walk up to you. He wants to look at you straight in the face and apologise, but he deep down knows that no matter what he says to you, what he gifts you, what he promises you- you will never forgive you for his abuse. For the way he neglected you and your feelings, for putting his greed before you.

And he knows deep down, you'd be happier with...with him. That puny guy. Aren't soldiers meant to be strong and muscular? This guys looks the same weight as König's left calf, no wonder he beat him up to a pulp.

He scoffs, ignoring the sinking feeling in his heart, hearing your laugh at whatever this guy says to you. Deep down he knows he lost you. Deep down he knows he's no longer yours.

"Hey, I'm gonna get my phone, I think I left it in my room, see you in a bit?" You ask the soldier, and after he nods, you find yourself walking towards the entrance of the mess hall.

König watches as you walk towards the door and he swears his mind pauses.

You're walking towards him? Right now? What is he meant to say to you? Are the flowers okay? Would you like them? Would you even talk to him?

He finds his anxiety catching up to him all of a sudden, head feeling light and palms beginning to sweat. Though he feels a rise of panic, he doesn't find the strength to move, not even a muscle. He wishes you were by his side, stroking his biceps.

But you're not by his side. Yet, that is.

You open the semi-transparent door, yawning inaudibly, closing your eyes in the process.

And you walk straight into a brick wall-

"Holy shit, you scared me..." You look up at him, halting immediately after you realise who you bumped into.

König looks down at you, and like his brain, his heart stops and skips a beat.

"Liebling- what- who- why are you talking to him? Are you over me that quickly?" darling-

You glare up and him angrily. Over 2 months without König and no apology? And instead he dares question your relationships with other soldiers.

"Listen mein baby, I'm tired, can we just go back to our room-" my baby

"Our room?" The first words you've uttered to König before the incident.

"Our. Room?"

König looks away in embarrassment. "Liebling, can we talk in our-your room, I don't feel comfortable being here-"

"You don't feel comfortable? You don't feel comfortable? Oh what, now I'm supposed to care about YOUR feelings like you care about MINE? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" You point your finger at his chest as you feel your emotions pouring out.

"I-"

"You don't get the fucking right to tell me what I fucking do, you insolent freak. Yeah no wonder you were abused as kid, maybe domestic violence runs in your fucking blood." König widens his eyes at that last dig, knowing you said it only to hurt him, which it did.

He watches you walk away angrily, stomping down the dark corridor, slowing fading out of his vision and into the dark.

He knows he lost you.

He knows, but he'll try again.

The next 2 weeks you receive letter upon letter, all written in various languages, some in English, some in German, some in your mother-tongue, which were definitely google translated.

And every single one, you burnt. You wake up with them under the door of your room, and every single time you take your lighter and burn the bottom right corner without even bothering to read the entire letter. König could write a fucking novel for you, but nothing would fix the evident hatred you felt for the Colonel.

"And he just sends so many damn letter, like enough Shakespeare." You groan to your paperwork partner.

Over the weeks you've definitely bonded with him more, eating together more often, roaming the grounds more often, hell, one night he even slept on the couch in your room! You're grateful to have him by your side, if he weren't there, you would be spiraling down a hole of indefinite depression. Though, you question whether you could say the same to him, and you swear he ever so silently shifts away from you.

"You shouldn't get back with him." He warns you.

You smirk, "Paperwork, you jealous?" and he coughs aggressively in response.

Your smile thins, "But for real, I would never. What he did to me, what he did to you- it's unforgivable. I promise."

He nods wincing at the thought of seeing you with König, a smile ever so gently etching on his flushed face.

"You wanna go take a walk around?"

So you both tour around the base, past the barracks, past the canteen, past that damn combat room, through the gardens, until you find yourselves sitting on the benches by the empty concrete grounds, a comfortable silence filling the air.

The sunny yet cold weather breezes past you, your pony-tailed hair gently swaying towards the direction of the wind as you stare at both your shadows in front of you.

"Weather's nic- are you fucking for real?!" You grip the bench, gritting your teeth as you see a taller third shadow rising beside the original two shadows. Paperwork, looking behind him, jumps out of the bench after realising it was his superior.

"Colonel, sir", he salutes towards König, "sir- I-."

You interrupt him instantly, "Paperwork, I love you, but shut the fuck up."

"2 weeks and we're confessing our feelings already huh?" König stares down at the two of you.

"The only person that should be confessing their feelings should be you, Colonel. To a fucking therapist." You scoff.

"Schatz, listen-"

"Nothing you say will change my mind König. I don't want to see you anymore. Can't you get that through your thick skull or is that shitty cloth on your big head getting in the way?"

König feels his eyes shut involuntarily, being bombarded with all these insults, "Can I not apologise? Did you not read my letters?"

You laugh sarcastically, "König, you're a better clown than a Colonel, cos you're a fucking joke. Now leave me the hell alone." You brisk-walk away, yanking Paperwork behind you, who shoots an apologetic look towards König.

"Scheisse...." König mumbles. Shit....

König's relentless attempts of begging for your forgiveness were all fruitless. He attempting breaking into your room to leave flowers on your bed, but he didn't realise that he'd see you and Paperwork hanging out in the living room.

"Didn't realise there was a fucking rat infestation in this fucking building." You groaned, before slamming the window shut on König's fingers, as he jumped at the pain before falling 2 stories down onto the hard ground.

And there was a time he even had the audacity to sit next to Paperwork, across from you on the dinner table in the canteen.

"Hallo-" But he was rudely ignored by you throwing your scorching hot coffee straight onto his uncovered forearms.

"NEIN, MEINE ARME, ICH WERDE STERBEN, MAMA, HILFE!" NOOOO MY ARMS I'M GONNA DIE MAMA HELP

His useless attempts to woo you remained ... well, useless. You'd never spare a second for him, unless you inflicted pain onto him, like when you knocked down the weights at the gym on top of his feet, or when you 'accidentally' kicked his crotch as he snuck up from behind you. Although you found it funny, going back to your dorm to tell Paperwork about the new event, you just couldn't scratch the burning feeling in your chest. Like you only hit him, burnt him, kicked him out of spite, out of anger, out of revenge from that pain he caused onto you. You may be angry at him for his actions, but you knew hurting him just wasn't what you wanted. You wanted to be the bigger person, and cut him out of your life once and for all.

If only he got the hint.

When you found yourself forcing yourself to knock on his door, cringing at the awkward silence, you had learned from Paperwork that König had be assigned for another mission, which was listed for 2 months.

Ahhhh, 2 months without König. What a dream.

But oh how quickly those months have gone by. One month in, and you and Paperwork were back on the field. The doctor gave you both the signal that physical activity was okay, if done carefully, so now your evenings before dinner, you two would be found dead lifting at the gym.

And damn, did Paperwork look good in a black compression shirt.

"3, come on, 2 let's go Paperboy, 1 more 1 more come on, okaayyy and you're done, well done!" You patted him on his back.

"You're getting better, boy!" You toss him your water bottle, which he takes graciously.

Out of breath but smiling, he nods contently, sitting down on the mat, gesturing you to sit beside him.

"I need to tell you something." He starts, and you look at him narrowing your eyes.

"Don't tell me you have a wife and 3 kids and home..." You snort at him, quickly silencing yourself after he doesn't return a laugh.

"Listen, I was thinking..." He looks away from you.

"This isn't for me anymore-"

You furrow your eyebrows, "This friendship, did I make you uncomfortable, did König tell you I like you?" You ramble on.

"You like me?" He tilts his head, ignoring everything else you've said.

"Huh?"

"hUh? No! No. No, I've been thinking about my career in the army, and I've done it for like 2 years now, which you know, isn't a lot, but the paperwork we did together...it changed me."

You're the confused one now.

"Maybe I'm destined for an office job, maybe this, this just isn't me..." He trails off, finally meeting your eyes, looking for an answer.

You nod, and this time you look away, "No, that makes sense."

There's a pause in the conversation, and for a while, the both of you just stare at the other gym-goers in the vicinity.

You sigh, "I've been doing some of my own thinking you know..."

"You have?"

"Yeah, I talked to the boss and I asked for a tr-"

Suddenly the door, bursts open, and your friends run towards you, huffing, "König-" huff, "He's-" huff, "oh my days, I am so out of breath, I've come to the right place, the gym!"

"Get to the damn point, woman! König in the hospital, he's been shot-"

That was enough to get you up and running.

A 4 hour surgery later, and you and Paperwork sat outside of the hospital door, the same one where you were admitted to, and the same one König lay behind. Paperwork swears he felt his eyes strain, watching you walk up and down the corridor, and he questions whether there was still some unspoken, remaining feelings you had for his superior.

The doctors, leave the room, with a solemn look to their faces, greeted with you running up to you immediately.

"So? Is he finally dead?"

"Ma'am, what- no. He's good, he's recovering rapidly. He's also asking for you." A doctor states, pointing towards, leading both you and Paperwork towards the room.

The hospital rooms still sends shivers down your back, memories of the previous few months rushing back to you all of a sudden, but you're calmed down by the soft rub on the small of your back by Paperwork, who's already looking at you with a soft smile.

You walk towards the bed, with Paperwork standing behind you.

"König. And you're still here."

You look down at you and you wince.

There König lie, bloodied and bruised worse than ever. If your state when you were admitted was described as the worse, you wondered what the doctors were to say when they saw him.

"Schnucki...bist du das?" Sweetie-pie...is that you?

"König honey, what happened?" You gently rub the tears of his swollen face.

"Feind…habe es nicht gesehen…es tut mir alles leid..." Enemy…didn't see…i'm sorry for everything

You hum stroking his bare face, and you look back to Paperwork, knowing it's probably his first time seeing the Colonel maskless.

"Papierkram, es tut mir alles leid...Ich bin ein beschissener Mann mit noch beschisseneren Taten, aber du kannst es in dir finden, mir zu vergeben...." Paperwork, i'm sorry for everything. I'm a shitty man with shittier actions, but you can find it in yourself to forgive me.

Paperwork smiles, nodding as he understood what the fuck the Colonel just said to him in the foreign language, "Sì, non preoccuparti, amico." yeah dont you worry mate (italian)

"Glaubt dieser Idiot, dass ich Italiener bin?" Does this idiot think I'm italian, König warily asks looking at you.

Stroking your cheek, you giggle.

"König, listen. What you did, was...unforgivable."

König sits up slowly with your help, listening intently.

"But as much as I want to strangle you and throw you as you did to me...it's not going to solve any issues."

König tears up.

"I'll never forgive the memories we made together König. I really did love you. But-"

"But?" he squeaks.

"But we're done. I want to be someone's priority always. And König, let's be real, you need to talk to someone about all these pent up emotions."

König nods, tears now streaming down his face.

You wipe his tears, "Hey, hey, don't cry okay, listen. I know it's hard, but it's for the best. We both need to heal and grow separately. Maybe someday we can be friends again, but we need space."

König nods again, sniffling as he tries to compose himself. "I understand. I'll seek help, I promise."

You smile softly, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. "That's all I ask. Take care of yourself, König."

He nods once more, and you lean in to give him a gentle hug before standing up. As you start to stand up, you hear him whisper, "Danke für alles." Thank you, for everything.

Paperwork walks towards you, his arm wrapped your waist.

"Pass auf sie auf, ja?" Look after her, will you?

Paperwork nods, "Sì, signore, lo farò." Yes sir i will. (italian)

"Boy if you don't- listen. I wanted to tell you both something.

The two men look at you intensely.

"What I wanted to say at the gym...and to you König...I've been thinking, for a few months now."

The two men look at each other.

"I've talked to the superiors about this, but I requested a transfer. To England. And...it was approved this morning." You mutter.

König and Paperwork widen their eyes.

"Liebling, that's amazing! I mean I'm sad to see you go as a friend and a team mate, offensichtlich, but I'm happy. Truly impressed soldier." Darling, offensichtlich - obviously.

Paperwork smiles by your side, squeezing your arm gently, "England here I come," and you chuckle to the thought with him by your side.

"Where are you being transferred to you?" König asks.

"Oh, um, Task Force One-Four-One."

Why choose between Paperwork and König when you can have both, YALL GET ME?! Also this should've have taken me so long, my God, but i'm glad it's done fr, sorry for the wait :D also not proofread, so if you see any mistakes, treat it like a middle child and ignore it &lt;3 I have a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[pinkslaystation]

Really likes your angst works! Hoping to see more <3

thank you thank you!!! angst is the best :D

I'm just going thru midterms at uni rn so I'm currently struggling to write at the same time, but more's to come ;)

[pinkslaystation]

Read inpressive yet unimpressed and if I was reader I’d tear him a new one and be saying stuff like

“you care more about reputation than me. You beat me up because you went fucking crazy and acted all high and mighty! You can forget a wedding or an Austrian cottage or children. The only purpose you’ll serve in life is being a soldier and then letting your rotting body be fertilizer for the forest!”

Probs would get into more detail about it. I’m petty🥰💅🏻

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAALLLL

thanks for the inspo 😹😹😹