#also all he talks about is simon so it was obvious that he’s not over him

[dan-crimes]

Where is the Candy Queen love? I mean maybe I'm just a sucker for her design and voice work and just general demeanor but I can't be the only one

[catradoraism]

when edvin said wille was selfish this season and he couldn’t defend his actions i was expecting wille to do a lot worse??? there’s literally nothing he did this season that i wouldn’t call unjustifiable or selfish

[unreliablesnake]

Surprises (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: Price finds out at a family gathering that his favorite niece's new boyfriend is none other than Ghost. The lieutenant thinks he's in trouble. How bad can things be?

Note: A little fluff and angst. What do you think? / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Simon knew he fucked up the moment he realized you were Price's niece.

The very niece he babysat several times when you were little, the one he talked so much about whenever they were discussing family. He loved you, he was proud of you, and despite you now being an independent young woman, he still treated you as if you were an expensive and rare piece of jewelry that had to be locked away.

So yes, when he attended a family event you invited him to and met the captain there, he knew he was in trouble. You had talked about your Uncle John before, sure, even joked about the two of them possibly knowing each other, but not even in his wildest dream could he suspect the two men being the same.

And now he was sitting there across from him at the long picnic table in the garden, his blue eyes piercing through his skull. Every time you intertwined your fingers with his on top of the table or leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek, he could almost hear the annoyed groan leave his lips.

You suddenly rested your head on his shoulder, smiling sweetly when he looked down at you. He couldn't help himself, he just followed his instincts when he leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of your head. That move made the captain snap.

"Simon, why don't you help me bring out some nice, cold drinks?"

He gulped before nodding, his entire body suddenly going rigid from the terror he felt. "Hey, he barks, but doesn't bite. You'll be fine," you assured him as you kissed his shoulder through his shirt.

With a sigh, he stood up and followed Price into the kitchen, carefully closing the door after himself. "Look, Cap, I didn't know she was your niece. I'm sorry. But trust me, I'm serious about this relationship. I really like her," he began to explain the situation without hesitation.

But Price didn't seem interested in his excuses as he was quick to raise a hand to stop him. "I don't care, Simon. She likes you too, it's obvious and she told me before, I just don't want her to suffer if…"

If he dies on the field. That's what he wanted to say, he knew that. Nodding, he leaned against the kitchen island and folded his arms over his chest. The two of them stood there in silence for a while, trying to figure out what to do now. Simon understood why Price was so worried about this relationship, but he also had to understand that he wasn't about to give you up.

"Would you be happier if she was dating a civilian? Some loser who doesn't even know what he wants to do with his life?" he asked to break the silence.

Price drew in a sharp breath that he let out while running a hand through his hair. It was easy to tell he was dying to light a cigar, but his sister had a strict no smoking in the house rule. So he settled with the second best option and began pacing in front of him.

"You, as a person, are not the problem, Simon," he began. "You're a good man, I know that. The problem is our line of work. And the fact I'm your higher-up, and now I have to think about you not only as my right hand, but also as the boyfriend of my favorite niece. Every time I send you somewhere dangerous, I'll have to consider how she would react if something happened to you."

With a loud gulp, Simon considered his reasoning. He was right. Everything he said was understandable. "If you think it would be better if we broke up, just say it," he told him eventually.

There was no response for a while, they stood there in silence once again. But then Price shook his head and extended his hand. "Just make her happy, that's all I'm asking for," he said with a smile. "And don't tell her that we know each other. I don't want her to worry."

Hesitantly, but Simon shook his hand. He had no idea what made the captain change his mind, but he didn't have an issue with that as long as he was okay with him being with you. He then opened the fridge and began to put a selection of drinks on the counter next to it.

Once they made it back to the family, you immediately gave him a worried look, silently asking for a story he wasn't about to give you. So he lied like Price had just asked him to do, even if it hurt like hell.

"Everything's fine, he just wanted to get to know me," he told you with a smile before giving you a quick kiss. "We're good."

"Sure?" you asked with a suspicious look on your face. Simon nodded. "All right, if you say so. I'm glad he likes you," you noted with a smile on your lips.

Before he could say anything, Price raised a hand. "If I might add, you chose well, kiddo," he said with a smile before flashing a smile at the lieutenant.

"I know," you said with a triumphant smile before giving Simon a kiss.

[shadowspromise]

ghoapy thoughts

Ghost has a stupid crush on you. He swears he’ll deny it till the end of time.

Soap has an enthusiastic crush on you. He makes it painfully obvious.

Ghost has an even stupider crush on Soap. He tells himself every morning not to let his feelings get ahead of his job.

Soap has, yet again, an enthusiastic crush on Ghost. It’s even more obvious, somehow, than his crush on you.

You know that Soap’s down tremendously for Ghost, but you know that he’s also flirting with you. It confuses you, making you wonder if he’s just naturally flirty or if he really likes both of you.

Ghost wakes up every morning, looks in the mirror, gives himself a firm slap across his own face and tells himself to behave. Crushes are stupid and he’s a grown man with a grown man job. He doesn’t have time for his stupid feelings.

Oh, but when it’s just Ghost and Soap at the bar together, after a few too many drinks…

They can’t help but talk about each other, talk about you. They keep buying each other drinks, knowing that at this rate they’ll have to call someone to pick them up.

“Could barely focus during Price’s meeting today. You an’ Y/N wearin’ those tight shirts… drivin’ me up the damn wall…” Ghost rambles, his eyes parallel to Soap’s.

“Ah did it on purpose, ya know ah love distractin’ you…” Soap responds, his accent thicker due to the alcohol. His cheeks are heavily tinted red, both from blushing and the drinking.

“You think Y/N knows what they’re doin’ to us? Think they do it on purpose too?” Ghost replies, smirking from under his mask. He lifts it over his nose to take another drink.

“God, I hope so,” Soap mumbles, rubbing his temples. He can’t even remember how many drinks he’s had tonight.

“You a’ight Johnny? Think we should go?” Ghost asks, intentionally touching Soap’s shoulder as an act of comfort (and seduction).

“Ah’m fuckin’ blootered, ah’m see’in colors when I close my damn eyes… cannae even feel my toes properly…” Soap starts muttering. Ghost only comprehends about half of what he just said but gets the general point.

“I’ll ask someone to get us. We’ll wake up in a whorehouse if we try walkin’ ourselves back…” Ghost pulls out his phone, squinting his eyes at the screen, trying to focus.

He texts Gaz and gets no answer, probably because it’s late and he’s sleeping.

He texts Price and gets the response of “You’re big boys, get yourself back.”

That leaves you. He decides to rethink a nicer message than the “pick johnny and I up cuntbag” he sent to the others.

“Johnny and I are drunk. Would appreciate if you came and walked us back to base.”

Simon mentally gives himself a pat on the back for managing to type all that without sounding condescending or making a dozen typos.

You respond within 15 seconds, to his surprise. Although he knew you were a good boy/girl and were always eager to help.

“Sure thing. Will be there soon ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ”

The little emoticons you send him drives him mad.

“Aye, you think they’re into me? They put a… fuckin’ dog or whatever…” Ghost shows Johnny his phone.

“That’s a bear, mate,” Soap points at the text.

“I think it’s a dog.”

“Well you’re wrong, ye braw bastard.”

The bar is just about a ten minute walk from base and you’ll be there any minute, so they spent their “alone” time talking about you (and the things they’d do to you)

When you arrive, Soap gets overly excited and falls over. Ghost tries with every nerve in his body not to laugh, attempting to keep up the cold and stoic personality for you.

You guide them back to base, stopping Soap from stumbling onto the road. Ghost is much more physically put together, but mentally he’s having an aneurysm. He’s staring at Johnny’s ass whenever he has the chance and can physically feel himself get warmer when your arm brushes against his.

At base, you attempt to push them into their separate rooms but they refuse. Ghost and Soap give one drunken look at each other and it’s seconds before they’re cornering you.

That night, all three of you had your dreams come true.

[lundenloves]

THE CARD

〔 this is dedicated to all the girlies who never stopped trying. because sometimes, putting up boundaries isn’t as easy as it seems and that’s okay. if you think i’m talking to you, i am. 〕

˗ˏˋ to be flat about it, simon’s daughter stopped making him birthday cards. this one unintentionally got a bit deep but i do that with everything so don’t act surprised.

⇀ 1.1k | no warnings

masterlist | dad!simon masterlist | request info | taglist

Your husband often forgot about his birthday. Lost to bad memories, and lack of care but primarily his job. Even still, it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to remember — feeling comfort in letting it slip under the rug, rubbing the back of his neck in absence when you had asked him the date. He insisted it was something to be ignored, and for your three years without kids it was, aside from the one present he reluctantly let you buy. 

Of course, that was until your first born came along. 

And there were a lot of things Simon didn’t know about having children. The obvious ones like the guilty regret late at night, being out of his depth and even how to deal with them. But, also their childlike wonder and passion for random things that seemed so foreign to him. Afterall, a birthday is a birthday, it never seemed to matter whose it was — your kid would turn to incredulous sobs if it wasn’t celebrated. Especially when she had found out about her fathers, bottom lip quivering when he had gently told her how he prefers to not do anything. 

It started when she was a toddler, forgetting about his birthday until she had heard you talking about it. Small ears perked up at the mention of the word, hanging by the door to watch as you traced Simon’s arm and the tattoos, his head shaking and a few words mumbled between you. Every year you asked if he wanted to do anything, knowing his answer but hoping for another.

So, naturally, she took to her bedroom. Trashing her small desk with dozens of crayons to create a card for Simon, one that was unevenly folded yet made with her whole heart. 

She did that every following year without fail. Except, her cards folded more evenly as time passed and the crayons were exchanged for pens, then pencils. The drawings got better and better, words spelt right and the inner messages were longer all before they had stopped entirely.

In seemingly simple change for a shop bought card. See, the words were joined together nicely though the message was shorter and the lack of ten kisses in exchange for one suddenly made the card seem empty. “Why’d you stop?” You would ask one night as the pair of you lay together in the dark, your husband's place taken by your daughter near every night when he was away. “Making the cards.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think he cared.” 

When in reality, those cards were the only thing Simon looked forward to year round. And it wasn’t like he had outwardly expressed how much they meant to him, rather giving a weak smile and a soft kiss to her temple each time. But he kept them, every single one, every drawing was stored for safekeeping in a small box filled to the brim. Sketches that ranged from family drawings, to landscapes, animals and solo drawings of him if not herself.

Time ran from small limbs clambering over your own, six in the morning to reach Simon who had stirred when she fell onto his chest, a hand instinctively placed on the back of her head in his half-conscious state. “It’s your birthday!” She used to drag out with a laugh, sitting up on his stomach and holding the card mere centimeters from his face. 

To the last birthday, handing him the shop bought card in all teenage glory, too embarrassed to write ‘I love you’ so it came as a ‘Love you’ and the once overly done x’s and o’s were now a set of one. He didn’t know the first thing about teenagers either. How past a certain age everything felt detrimental and targeted, embarrassment seeped through everything and it wasn’t cool to like your dad anymore. 

Especially not as a teenage girl. 

And it wasn’t until he was away for his birthday for the first time in years that she had missed it. Missed the softening of his eyes and the way his arm would wrap around her shoulder and pull her to his side, hand rubbing her arm in acknowledgement of her efforts. 

She took his safety for granted most of the time. Waving to him at the door with no doubt that he would be back months later, a naturally blunt text that he was safe would be sent to you and all would be well. Though, sometimes he was required to hand his phone in before the tougher trips. Designed to provide the safest atmosphere, though back home many miles away it never did feel safer. And that was when she missed him the most. 

You always wanted what you couldn’t have.

Simon was no better. He had taken the younger years for granted. The tears before bed, stalking into his bedroom after a bad dream, tired eyes in the mornings and the excitement to see him once back home. He wasn’t to know when the last time he would pick up his daughter was, or the last time she would ask for help when reaching for a cereal box. Hell, even the final she had fallen asleep on his chest or asked him to stay until she had dozed off in her own ‘big’ bed. Small hands wrapping around his fingers, giggles and toothy grins had all evaporated into nothing. 

It was tough being a dad.

But it was hell being a teenage girl. 

Sometimes it felt ike you were made purely to drink iced coffee with alternative milk, wear baggy clothes and feel bad for old people every now and then. The act of growing up isn’t something you want, though something you concede to after realising you had wished your youth away. 

And in that, 

There was something about girls and their fathers. 

The constant need for subconscious approval and love, feeling bad for the man who raised you whenever he was left to eat dinner alone or scorned by your mother in a heated argument you couldn’t help to overhear. Simon’s daughter had always been in that predicament. 

She missed her dad when he left, yet hated when she shared the kitchen with him. It felt like an itch that you weren’t able to scratch, though his rare hugs completely killed all flame she had for him and sometimes, instead, they allowed for tears to flow. Because after all, a girl is really just her dad. 

Maybe that card should've been made after all. 

˗ˏˋ university is wiping me out already. it’s the first week back do you want to fucking calm down. been set two presentations (both recorded wtf) and three literature papers.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee

as always reblogs and comments are mighty appreciated blah blah blah

[bingoboingobongo]

in his eyes

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Fluff

Summary: Gaz swears that there’s something going on between you and Ghost. Soap refuses to believe it until he sees it for himself.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: explicit language, slight Gaz x Reader, i wrote the first draft w/o my glasses in the dark while listening to airplane sounds so forgive any typos

A/N: nothing is more humbling than hungrily fishing for pickles with chopsticks. also yes i wrote this instead of part three of awuass. anyways, likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated, enjoyyy :)

“Soap! Wait up, man,” Soap heard from behind him. He stopped walking and turned to see Gaz chasing behind him.

“You need something, mate?” Soap asked, confused. It wasn’t that he and Gaz weren’t close or anything — they were — but he had never seen Gaz so desperate to talk to him. He waited for Gaz to arrive, shooting him a concerned look when he had to stop and catch his breath, which Gaz just waved off. “Where were you coming from that’s got you all out of breath like this?” he asked.

“The training room,” Gaz said, taking another deep breath. “I sprinted here just to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” Soap was confused, he couldn’t think of a situation that was urgent enough for Gaz to come chasing after him, but not urgent enough for Price or one of the higher-ups to find him.

“You know Stick?” Gaz asked, one of his eyebrows cocked upwards. Soap was even more confused, of course he knew. You were Stick. You had gotten the nickname after you kept asking the guys to look for chapstick while they were on missions. Apparently you had lost the one you packed when you first arrived on base, and since then you had always been on the lookout for it. Soap had been the first one to call you it, although he called you Chapstick at first. Somewhere down the line though, it had been shortened to Stick and no one really questioned it.

“Yeah, what about her?” Soap asked.

“I just saw her and the lieutenant down at the training room, they were sparring together.”

“You mean Ghost?

Gaz nodded, which only left Soap more confused. Perhaps it was a little odd for you to be sparring with the lieutenant, given the general height and size disparity, but it wasn’t completely out of the question, and certainly not important enough to warrant such an extreme reaction from Gaz.

“Is that it? They were training together?”

“Of course not,” Gaz said, as if it were obvious, “I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between them. He was acting so weird around her, I’m telling you.”

Soap’s interest was piqued. “You mean you think they’re hooking up?”

“I don’t know about hooking up but there’s definitely something there, you can tell just looking at them.”

Soap hummed. You and Ghost, huh? On the surface, it wasn’t an absurd conclusion for Gaz to come to, the two of you did hang out together a lot, which held a lot of weight considering the kind of man Ghost was. But thinking about Ghost blushing over some school-boy crush on a girl just seemed insane. He was a 6’4 killing machine with more deaths under his belt than Soap could count; Soap just couldn’t see it.

“You’re reading into things, pal,” he said, punching Gaz lightly on the shoulder, “you really think Ghost’s got a crush on Stick?”

Gaz rolled his eyes, “I’m telling you man, there’s something there, for real. He was like a whole different person today while they were sparring. I swear to God he looked at her like she was the bloody Queen of England.”

“You think Ghost’s in love with the Queen of England?” Soap asked, smirking.

“Oh, fuck off,” Gaz said, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. There’s something there, I’m pretty sure I saw him smile at her for a moment.”

“He took off his mask?” Soap asked, surprised.

“Of course not, you idiot.”

“Then how could you see if he smiled, genius?”

“I saw his mask shift.”

“You saw his mask— Are you messing with me?”

“Oh fuck you, Soap. You know what I mean. It was in his eyes too, like, he looked at her like he was in love.”

Soap snorted, that idea was even more insane than Ghost blushing. “Alright, good one, Gaz. You got me.”

Gaz sighed, “I’m serious mate, I swear. Tonight, at dinner, I’ll show you. Just watch him, see how he looks at her, there’s no way he doesn’t like her.”

Soap rolled his eyes and began to walk away, “Whatever you say, Gaz,” he said nonchalantly. But despite his incredulous behavior, he couldn’t help but wonder if Gaz had a point. He did see Ghost hanging around you a lot, but he had assumed it was just coincidence until now. That being said, coincidences didn’t just happen over and over and over again.

That night, he decided to take Gaz up on his offer. He went to stop by his room before dinner, but before he could say anything Gaz shushed him. 

“Get in, quick. Ghost’s gonna be coming down the hallway any second now,” Gaz explained in a whisper as he tugged Soap into his room.

“You're stalking the lieutenant now, Gaz?” Soap asked.

“Oh piss off,” he said, “he always stops by her room around seven, and then they walk to dinner together. It’s been happening for about a week now.”

“So why’re you only telling me now?”

“Because I figured he was just reminding her of dinner or something. But after today,” he clicked his tongue, “no, there’s definitely something more there.”

Soap watched as Gaz creaked open the door ever so slightly, positioning himself so that he could just barely see out of it. Low and behold, Gaz was right. He heard Ghost walking down the hall before he saw him, but then he was there, just a few feet diagonal from them, knocking at your door.

He watched as you opened it, and said something he couldn’t hear, before closing it again. Ghost stayed outside of your door, leaning his weight against it as he stared down the hallway.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Soap asked. 

Gaz didn't answer, instead choosing to motion wildly at Soap as a signal for him to be quiet.

A few more minutes passed before you opened the door again. You looked surprised to see him there, but your surprise quickly morphed into a smile and the two of you left Soap’s line of sight. Gaz kept watching for a while longer, before shutting the door.

“See that?” Gaz asked.

“Did you hear what they said?” Soap repeated.

“He said something about dinner, and then she said she had to finish something up. I think it was a TV show or something. And then when she opened up the door she asked what he was doing there and that he didn’t need to wait for her.”

“Did he say anything in response?”

Gaz sighed, “I don’t know. I swear I heard him say he was happy to or something along those lines, but his voice is so damn low and his accent doesn’t help.”

Soap nodded slowly, “So he’s been doing this every day for a week now?”

Gaz nodded, “Usually he doesn’t have to wait for her though. They just go straight to dinner.”

Soap paused, staring at the ground for a moment, “Should we follow them? See if we can catch them doing something else?”

Gaz stared at him for a moment, his face thoughtful. “I’ll do you one better, Soap. How about you go up there and pretend to hit on her, eh? And then see how Ghost looks, I swear he’ll probably beat you up.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Soap asked.

“Because I’m not trying to get on Ghost’s bad side.”

“Well, neither am I,” Soap cried.

Gaz sighed, “Fine, I’ll do it. But you owe me for this. And you have to watch Ghost’s face. I’m not about to put my life in danger for nothing.”

Soap nodded, and the two of them made their way out into the hallway. You and Ghost had already exited, but it wasn’t hard to catch up. Gaz motioned for Soap to be quiet, and he watched as Gaz crept up behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump up in surprise.

He watched Ghost turn and glare at Gaz, and he could swear he could feel Ghost’s glower from a mile away. Soap ran to catch up to the three of you, just in time to hear you jokingly berate Gaz for scaring you.

“I swear to god, Kyle, if you didn’t have such a pretty face I would slap you right now,” you said, jokingly raising your fist at him. Soap immediately turned to look at Ghost, who’s eyes looked like they could probably kill. Soap took the chance to run ahead of you three, facing you guys as you walked down the hall together.

“Woah there, Stick,” Soap said, placing his hands out in front of him in fake concern, “we can’t have you threatening Gaz here, can we? I’d have to snitch on you to Price for that.”

“Oh screw you, Soap,” you said, laughing. Soap didn’t miss the way Gaz had managed to wedge himself in between you and Ghost, and he also didn’t miss the murderous glare Ghost was shooting towards Gaz.

“You guys going to dinner?” Soap asked, eyeing Gaz warily as he not-so-subtly put an arm around your shoulder.

“What is this? What are you doing, Gaz?” you snorted, holding up the hand that was wrapped around your shoulder.

Gaz opened his mouth to answer, but Ghost beat him to the chase. “She’s right, sergeant,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Get your hands off her, just because we’re off duty doesn’t mean you can just forget about the rules.”

Gaz clicked his tongue and nodded, slowly snaking his hand off of you. Soap didn’t miss the told-you-so look Gaz shot him as they made eye contact. 

You laughed again, “It’s alright, Ghost, he was just playing around. It's all in good fun, right Gaz?”

“You know it, Stick.”

Ghost’s eyes flickered between you and Gaz. Gaz had been right, Ghost was different when you were involved. Before, reading Ghost had been harder than reading a text in a different language, but now he was an open book. Soap could see every emotion behind Ghost’s eyes, anger, annoyance, betrayal?

“Besides,” you said, looking at Ghost, “you’re still my favorite.”

And there it was. The ‘something’ Gaz wouldn’t stop talking about. Love, with an undertone of adoration and maybe a hint of disbelief. Soap was shocked. There really was something between you and the lieutenant.

“Alright, you lovebirds,” Soap said, curious to see how Ghost would respond. He acted how he thought he would, his eyes snapping off of you and onto Soap, and maybe, just maybe Soap could see the slightest hint of blush on the edge of his exposed skin at being caught. “Are you guys going to dinner or not?”

You turned to look at him, a bright smile on your face as you nodded. “You?”

“Of course,” Soap said, “you guys sitting with us still?”

He watched as you turned to look at Ghost, who also turned to look at you. Somehow, the two of you managed to exchange some sort of silent conversation, because when you looked back you gave him a sheepish smile and said, “We’ll see.”

Soap watched you carefully, “Right then," he said, “come on Gaz, let’s go while the food’s still warm.”

He pulled Gaz out from between the two of you and the pair headed towards the dining hall, moving as fast as possible to try and get far enough away that they could talk about what had just happened.

“God, I guess you were right, Gaz,” Soap said, as they entered the hall.

Gaz clicked his tongue, “I told you so. I guess all it took was me risking my life to convince you.”

Soap chuckled, “You were gutsy back there, you know? God, if you saw the way he was looking at you? You better be glad he wasn’t armed or he probably would’ve shot you right then and there.”

Gaz snorted, “Oh I saw how he was looking at me, scared the shit out of me too. You know, they should give me a medal for that level of bravery.”

“I'll say.”

He followed Gaz as they went to go get a plate of food, before finding a table near the center of the room to sit down at. “You think they’ll come eat with us?” Gaz asked.

“Why wouldn’t they? They always eat with us,” Soap said.

Gaz hummed, “Could you see how stiff he got when I was standing in between them?” 

Soap laughed again, “Of course, I did. And when he yelled at you for putting your arm around her?”

Gaz snorted, picking at the food on his plate, “Oh god, you don’t know how fast my heart was racing when I did that. I was preparing my last will and testament and everything.”

Soap doubled over in laughter, but stopped quickly when Gaz tapped his shoulder repeatedly and hurriedly whispered for him to be quiet. He looked up, his eyes swiveling around before they landed on you and Ghost. He watched as you made eye contact with him; he let out a wave which you returned before moving towards the food. As always, Ghost was right behind you, but Soap could’ve sworn he was following a little more closely than usual.

“Is it just me or is he standing really close to her?” he asked Gaz, lowering his voice so they couldn’t be heard over the dining hall chatter.

Gaz shook his head as he pretended to toy with his food, “No, he’s definitely closer. Look at them, they’re practically touching hips.”

Soap watched out of the corner of his eye as you two finished getting your food. He saw you look over at Ghost and then nod your head in their direction, before you rolled your eyes with a smirk and went to follow Ghost to a small table in the opposite corner of the room.

“Did you see that?” Soap asked Gaz, his eyes flicking between him and you.

“I did, now stop staring before you get us all in trouble,” Gaz said, keeping his eyes focused on his plate. 

“Why do you think they’re sitting alone?” Soap asked.

“Why do you think? Ghost probably thinks I actually fancy Stick and now he’s trying to keep her away so she’ll pick him.”

Soap hummed thoughtfully, “I think you’ve actually got a point there, Gaz.”

“Damn right I do.”

“Do you actually though?” Soap asked.

“Do I what? Have a point?”

“No, do you actually fancy Stick?”

Gaz stopped to think as he took a bite of his food, “I mean,” he said, swallowing. “She’s pretty, don’t get me wrong, and I’d probably try and at least ask her out under different circumstances—”

“But?”

“But if there's something going on between her and L.T. I’m not going to be the idiot that tries to get between them.”

“Really?” Soap asked, “what if there’s nothing actually between them?”

Gaz snorted, “Are you serious mate? After all this? I risked my life just to prove it to you and you’re still doubting me?” He shook his head. “There’s definitely something going on between them, get your head out of your ass. And — and maybe this is a controversial opinion — but I would like to return to my family when this is all done. I don’t have a death wish.”

Soap chuckled, tilting his head in agreement.

“Besides,” he said, gesturing for Soap to look at them again. He did, and through the mess of heads he could see Ghost cut off a piece of his food and feed it to you, a strangely domestic scene that went against everything he thought he knew about the cold lieutenant. “They’re kind of made for each other, eh?”

“Who’s made for each other?” asked Price, sitting down next to them with a groan.

“Sir,” Gaz said, stiffening, “didn’t realize you were listening.”

“It’s my job to listen, Garrick. Now answer the question.”

Gaz sighed, nodding his head towards your direction.

Price let out a sigh. “So you guys finally caught on, eh?”

“You knew about this?” Soap asked, turning to face Price.

“It’s not hard to notice.”

“Are they…” Soap paused, nodding his head suggestively.

“What? Dating?” Price asked.

“Sure.”

“Now that, I don’t know. I don’t think so though.”

“Do you think she likes him?” Gaz asked.

Price clicked his tongue, “Most likely.”

“Do you think he likes her?” Gaz asked.

“Most definitely,” Price said, snorting.

“Do you think he knows she likes him?” Soap asked.

Price chuckled, “MacTavish, I don’t think he even knows that he likes her.”

That comment earned a round of laughs from the three of them. But despite Price changing the topic, Soap couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you and Ghost. It was such a strange scene to see, you and him tucked away in a private table in your own little corner. He watched the way your eyes crinkled with laughter as you spoke; the way Ghost would interrupt you every so often with a piece of neatly cut food on his fork for you to eat it.

He could practically see the adoration oozing out of Ghost every time you rolled your eyes and took a bite; the way you practically stared at him with hearts in your eyes whenever he would ever so slightly lift his mask to take a bite of food. And for a moment, just for a moment, he swore he saw the corner of Ghost’s mouth twitch into a smile at something you said before he lowered his mask again. But even with his mouth covered, Soap realized Gaz had been right once more. Soap could see the smile in Ghost’s eyes. Soap could see everything in Ghost’s eyes, every single drop of love and reverence and adoration he had for you.

[the-raindeer-king]

“I’m getting a haircut today.”

A simple statement, and certainly nothing to phone the Prime Minister about. Except you haven’t gone in a couple of years. The last time you had gotten a haircut had gone poorly, leaving you with uneven ends that you had to go somewhere else to fix. So, you don’t blame yourself for being a little nervous about the appointment.

On the other hand, your boyfriend just hums in response, completely unfazed by the statement. Part of you appreciates how nonchalant he is, but it’s also a bitter reminder that you should also be feeling that way.

“Want me to take you?” Simon asks, barely glancing up from his paperwork. He pauses to take a bite of breakfast, before turning his hazel eyes back to the papers you’re pretty sure he shouldn’t have brought home. But that’s a different conversation.

“Oh, uh… I don’t know,” you admit, the anxiety in your voice obvious. You can’t help but wring your hands together, thinking it over for a moment.

That catches Simon’s attention, setting the papers onto the table. His gaze settles on you, scanning over your body language. He doesn’t understand why you’re so nervous. You practically jump at the opportunity to have him take you to your other appointments, eating up any excuse to show off your man. So, why hesitate now?

“Talk to me, love.”

It takes you a second to gather your thoughts, and then it’s all spilling out: the last haircut you got, the anxiety of having a repeat experience. It definitely doesn’t help that you’re getting your hair cut shorter than you ever have before. You’ve been working on your self-esteem, but sometimes it creeps up on you anyway. You ended the rant with a soft, out of breath, “What if I look ugly?”

Simon’s quiet for a moment, processing what’ve you said. For a moment, you feel more like a butterfly, pinned under the weight of his gaze. You’re tempted to run, to go hide in the bedroom and just miss the appointment all together. But you had been looking forward to this all week, and it sucks feeling so unsure now.

Simon speaks before you can.

“I’m never going to think you look ugly, love.”

You open your mouth to interject, but he holds up a hand to stop you.

“You could buzz your head, and I'd still think you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

And damn, if that one sentence doesn’t make you feel immediately better. You duck your head, trying to hide the goofy smile that grows on your face. Not that it does much to hide the heat rising on your cheeks. “Well… let’s hope we don’t have to do that,” you reply, quietly.

Simon snorts in response, but there’s a small smile on his face as well. He stands from the table, moving around it to press a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll be fine.”

And wouldn’t you know it? You are fine, and you look fucking good with your new haircut.

[simon-sehs]

due (18+) pt 3

pairing: f!reader x simon ‘ghost’ riley

tags / cw: f!reader, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, sexually repressed!reader, smut, pining, flirting, inappropriate conduct, seduction, mind games, theft, insults, sexual tension, possessive!simon, jealous!simon, manipulative!reader, injury mention, dirty talk, virginity kink, grinding, dry humping, come marking, oral sex, pussy eating, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

His name was Carter.

The two of you talked once or twice, struck up a decent conversation here and there, but didn’t really see each other much outside of the mess hall during meals. You at first thought of calling up your ex, Billy, but that was too obvious, and also: Fuck. That.

No, Carter would do nicely.

He was pretty: black hair, green eyes, a sweet, warm smile.

Part of you knew you should feel bad for using him to get back at Ghost, but you took solace in the fact that he was only one part of your plan. After all, it was your gracious Lieutenant who taught you not to put all your eggs in one basket when it came to strategies.

You found yourself back in the mess hall, only a couple hours later. Your sleep had been small and futile, but you found yourself refreshed regardless. Whether it was from the excitement of your budding plan, or the action you had received last night, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter.

You stood near the door, and glanced around, your eyes settling on a familiar figure. Bingo. You began walking over to him, not bothering to look for Ghost. You couldn’t, you had to be subtle, or this entire operation would crumble before it even left the ground.

Carter glanced up as you sat down across from him with a warm smile. “Hi. Mind if I join you?”

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yeah, help yourself, Sergeant.”

You sat down with your cup of coffee, your eyes glancing at his tray of food briefly before meeting his gaze. “Been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, I’m fine. Nothing really worth talking about. Dislocated my knee a week ago. You?”

Time to put on a show.

You let your face fall slightly. “I, uh… I’ve been better. Just… stressed, about stuff.”

Carter nodded sympathetically. “Understandable. I’m here to talk if needed, my husband says I’m great at listening and giving advice.”

You paused. Husband? Oh.

You quickly composed yourself. “Really? How long have you two been together? If you… don’t mind sharing…”

Carter’s face lit up. “Ah, six years, now. High school sweethearts, actually. Married for three. What about you?”

This threw a slight wrench in your plans, but this could work.

“Uhh, well… it’s… complicated…”

“Mm, well, I hope it gets un-complicated for you.”

Meanwhile, across the room…

Ghost watched the two of you have a conversation. A fascinating conversation, by the looks of it. To say he was jealous was an understatement. Hell, you hadn’t even looked at him once this whole morning. Did you even know he was there? Or was this some sort of petty revenge for what he said last night?

He took a sip of his tea, wondering if he should risk getting closer to listen to the two of you. He ultimately decided against it, content with watching…

For now.

You smiled at Carter. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” You took a drink of coffee. “I… have a weird request, actually. Feel free to say no.”

“Weird, eh? Now I got to hear it, Sarge.”

“I, uh, could really use a hug…”

Carter’s eyebrows raised. “Hmm, well, I wasn’t really expecting that, but I don’t see why not.” He paused. “You’re, uh… not going to slap a note on my back that says ‘kick me’ or anything, right?”

You let out a laugh. A good, genuine laugh that reached Ghost’s ears.

“No, no… I promise. Just a hug.”

Carter nodded and stood from his seat. Then, so did you. The both of you met halfway around the table, and embraced each other. Ghost set his mug down on his table with a little more force than intended, gaze burning a hole through the both of you.

You pulled back with a smile, and lightly squeezed Carter’s shoulder.

Ghost grit his teeth.

“Thank you, Carter. I feel a lot better, already…” You said.

“No problem.”

The both of you sat back down, and talked a bit more. You eventually excused yourself after finishing your cup of coffee.

It was time for the next order of business.

You entered an empty training room and got everything set up. When it came to throwing knives, you were alright. You could use a bit of polishing when it came to that skill, and you were thankful that that would come into play, today. Now, you just had to wait for him to show up.

There was no way in hell Ghost wouldn’t follow you in after your performance with Carter…

You picked up one of the knives and twirled it in your fingers. To get this to work, you’d have to appear just a little more incompetent than usual. You got into an… adequate stance and lazily threw the knife at the wall target. It missed the entire thing.

Alright, let’s not appear that incompetent…

You picked up another knife as you heard the door open behind you. You didn’t bother to turn and look… you didn’t need to. You adjusted your wrist and threw. Outermost circle.

“Want some help?”

You tensed slightly as Ghost’s breath hit your neck. “No, I’m good.”

He chuckled. “You sure?”

You watched as he slowly picked up three knives, pretending to examine them in his hands. He turned towards the target, and threw one. Bullseye. Another. Bullseye. Then the last. Bullseye.

You glanced away, trying to mentally beat your growing arousal to a pulp. Focus.

He turned to face you once more, eyes crinkling as he smirked beneath the mask.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you obviously don’t need the practice, and I don’t need your help. You can go, now.” You said, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to leave.

“Nah. Think I’ll stick around, evaluate your progress.”

Excellent…

You sighed and got into position once more. The incorrect stance. You knew better, of course, but he didn’t know that. His scrutinizing gaze along your form burned into your skin, but you proceeded to throw the knife. Outermost circle.

You picked up another, ignoring Ghost all the while. Stance. Throw… Outermost circle. You were surprised how quickly it took for him to fold.

“Your stance is wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

He huffed. “You daft? The way you’re standing, you’ll never hit the center if your stance is fucked.”

He got closer to you, putting his hands on your hips and adjusting you. His feet kicked at yours, prodding them into a different position. You bit your cheeks in an effort to not grin. Time for the next part.

Your movements were subtle, so agonizingly minuscule, as he focused on fixing your form. You slowly leaned into his touch, your back melting into his chest, and he was none the wiser.

“There. Now throw.”

You did, the knife hitting a ring closer to the center. You carefully fidgeted in his grasp, undoing his work.

Ghost groaned. “What are you doin’? You just undid your stance.”

His movements were a bit rougher as he manhandled you back into place. The perfect excuse to… accidentally… bump back against his groin. He froze, and you could hear his breath hitch. But only for a second, and then he continued his task as if nothing happened.

He jostled you forward a bit, making you ‘lose’ your balance slightly and bump back against him once more.

“Dammit, stop that.” He hissed.

“Me? You’re the one throwing me around!”

“Don’t be dramatic and stay still like a good girl.”

“Why, so you can keep ‘accidentally rubbing’ up against me?” You say, turning it around on him.

He scoffed and leaned forward, his breath hot on your ear. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Having me rutt against you like a damn dog...”

“You are a damn dog.”

“Mmm, is that so?” He lowered his head and started kissing your neck, pulling you flush against him. “Then you won’t mind if I do…”

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to smile with giddy glee. “There’s a camera in here, too.”

“No shit.” He grabbed your hips and started circling them along his—now prominent—bulge.

He then braced one of his arms along your ribs, under your breasts, to keep you locked against him, while his lips continued leaving wet kisses on your throat.

You let him grind against you for a bit, his fingers tightening around your skin as he got closer to his peak, his grunts and groans increasing. You suppressed an evil grin before sighing. “Alright, I’m getting bored.”

He huffed and puffed. “Sh-shut up, I’m getting close…”

“That’s too bad…” You pulled away, and out of his tight grip.

For a second, the intensity of his glare had you internally sweating, and wondering if he was going to attempt to continue, but he just clenched his jaw.

And stared, of course.

“Fuckin’ tease…”

“Getting déjà vu, Lieutenant? I know I am…” You walked over to the wall targets and began pulling the knives out.

“Don’t pull that, with me. I made you see stars twice last night.”

You ignored him and proceeded to put the knives away. Ghost kept glaring, sulking over his lost orgasm.

You sighed and faced him. “Well, if you want to make yourself useful, I guess we could spar.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “I’m still recovering from your fuckup.”

“Hm, but you seemed fine manhandling me last night…”

He stared at you, weighing the options in his head. “Fine. I only need one good arm to beat your ass, anyway. But if you deliberately harm my shoulder, you will regret it.”

“Give it a rest, LT, I’m not going to hit your precious shoulder…” You crossed your arms and watched as he unzipped his jacket, and threw it at you.

You barely caught it in time and narrowed your eyes at him, trying to ignore the sight of his beefy arms in the—wow, black again, what a surprise—t-shirt he wore. You noticed the bandage on his lower forearm was now gone. You sighed and walked towards the nearest bench.

You were not expecting him to just hand you his jacket outright, but you didn’t care. If anything, he just saved you a step. How kind of him…

Your hand deftly slipped into the left pocket. The security camera wouldn’t catch this angle. Even if it did, it would be too late for Ghost to even think to check the footage later. No, by then, things would have played out as hoped. They had to.

Your fingers curled around the lighter, and you slowly pulled it out, switching it to a pocket on your leggings; the ones you specifically picked out for today. Why? Pockets with zippers. Can’t risk his precious lighter falling out during the sparring session, after all…

And then you tossed his jacket onto the bench, before joining him on the mat.

His arms were crossed. “You didn’t have to go on a damn journey to set it down, the floor would have been fine.”

“Then why throw it at me?” You raised an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Because it’s funny.”

“Right…”

“Ready to get your ass kicked?”

You sighed inwardly. You really weren’t, to be honest, but the proposition to spar was only an excuse to get him out of his damn jacket.

“Don’t get cocky, now. You’re at a disadvantage, remember?”

But it didn’t matter, he was right…

He only needed one good arm.

•••

Ding!

Your gaze left the page of your book and landed on the lit-up screen beside your thigh. You set the book in your lap and picked up the phone. One new message from ‘Ghostie’.

You opened it.

Ghostie: Hey. Have you seen my lighter?

You smirked to yourself. Damn, already? You weren’t expecting him to reach out to you about his missing lighter so soon. If anything, you thought he wouldn’t catch on to your possible involvement until one or two more days after.

You: found a lighter in the hallway earlier. what color is it?

Ghostie: Hey that’s mine. Bring it to my office ASAP.

You: tell me the color! i’m not giving anything until you confirm.

Ghostie: Red.

You: fine you can have it back

You: but in the morning

You: i’m in jamas and busy reading.

Ghostie: Bloody hell. Fine, I’ll stop by.

You chuckled to yourself and set the phone down, returning to your book. But the words blurred together as you excitedly waited for him to stop by. There was no guarantee that things would escalate tonight, but all the buildup, the planning… it would at least be another stepping stone.

A minute later, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You called out.

The door opened, and there he was. He shut the door behind him and walked over to you.

“Alright, give.” He said holding out his hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Hello to you, too, Lieutenant.”

You leaned over the bed, grabbing your leggings off of the floor and unzipping the pocket, pulling the lighter out and handing it to him. “You should keep better track of your stuff, LT.”

“Quiet.” He pocketed the lighter, watching as you dropped your pants to the floor and laid back down on your bed, book still in your lap.

Then it dawned on him, just how intimate this situation… felt. Standing in the sanctity of your room, you dressed in your pajama shirt and shorts, the lamp lighting low and warm, and the candle on the nightstand filling the room with the sweet scent of vanilla.

His gaze lingered on your bare legs, up your body, to your midriff. Your shirt was slightly hiked up your stomach, but you didn’t seem to mind.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something else?”

Was that a trick question? He needed you. Needed to rip those stupid little shorts off, stuff your virgin hole and make you come over, and over, and—

“No. What are you reading?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “A book.”

He huffed and looked away. “Not leaving until you tell me.”

“…Fine… It’s a romance novel: ‘Reverie’ by Stephanie Fenderson.”

“Yeah? What’s it about?” He found himself intrigued.

“Two nobles from rival houses start a forbidden love affair. Think… ‘Romeo and Juliet’, but raunchier… and with actual adults, of course.”

“Hmm. How raunchy?”

Perfect.

You fake a scoff. “I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll find out eventually. Rather hear it from your pretty lips.”

You meet his gaze. “Well… there’s this… one scene… They’re at the same fancy ball, and sneak off to a room to… have fun.”

You sit up on the bed, crossing your legs as you set the book on your nightstand. Ghost can’t help but notice the small opening of the shorts along your inner thigh, and his teeth clenched. It was just the tiniest of peeks, but there was no mistaking the sight of black, lacy panties. He felt his cock twitch.

“Specifics.” He says.

“Hmph. Sure. So, they’re getting busy, having a great time. Pretty standard, vanilla. But then they almost get caught. The man, Fredrick, hides underneath the woman, Constance’s, gown. It’s one of those… hoop skirt dresses, or whatever…”

You scratch your chin. “The guy who interrupted them is this important dude who wants to marry her. Fredrick gets jealous of the guy’s attempts to court her, so… he starts eating her out while she tries to be polite to her suitor, and he’s none the wiser.”

Despite the fact that the two of were intimate the night before, you still found yourself blushing as you recounted the smutty novel.

He carefully walked over to your bed and sat beside you, laying his elbows on his thighs in an effort to conceal his growing boner. “Interesting… maybe I’ll have to borrow it from you, sometime.”

“Mm, I don’t think so. Your big hands would likely ruin the spine.”

He leaned in closer. “These big hands took good care of your pussy last night. Or did you forget?”

Heat pooled in your abdomen. “I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter in the long run, I have plans beyond you…”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Huh. It sounds like you’re the one forgetting about last night. Do you not remember what I said about finding someone else?”

His blood ran cold, and his jaw clenched. “You… you wouldn’t. I told you, your virginity is mi—“

You tilted your head. “You also said to forget about the favor. That you forgive me.”

He breathed deeply. “I was being sarcastic. I didn’t expect you to be that dense…”

“Oh, well. I guess you’ll be getting sloppy seconds, Mr. ‘I’m a Patient Man’.”

The seconds ticked by in silence. You watched in his brown eyes as he went through a journey of emotions. It was so, so, satisfying. But this wasn’t even the end, or the best part, for that matter.

“Now, are you going to leave, Lieutenant? I really should get some sleep…”

You watched in real time as the last of his resolve snapped, and he seemed to come to terms with something. “…No.”

Yes…

You leaned in. “No?”

“You want a dick that badly? Fine, you greedy girl, I’ll give you one…” He seethed.

And there it is… I win.

He continued. “You’re not going to anyone else. I’m gonna fuck the very notion of that out of your daft head.”

You shook your head. “You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t feel pressured into this—“

“Oh, shut up. You? Pressure me?” He laughed bitterly. “I’ve wanted this for months, and I’m not letting some stupid motherfucker get his hands on you first.”

Time for the pièce de résistance…

You gingerly placed a hand on his warm, toned thigh. “Simon…” You say softly, so sweetly. “Are you sure?”

You gasped as he pushed you back onto your bed, your head hitting the pillow.

He crawled on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored. He stared down at you, his gaze making you feel like you were trapped beneath a predator ready to make their kill. You waited for something, anything, but then realized…

He was calming himself down.

It would be easy—so easy—to just take you without mercy, without care, but he knew better. As much as you were getting on his fucking nerves, he was adamant on making sure your first time was great. No, more than great. Indescribable.

He finally chuckled, lifting his balaclava to reveal his mouth and nose.

“What’s so funny?” You asked.

“Have you ever been kissed? That sleazebag, Billy, did he ever kiss you?”

You sighed. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“A shame. But I’m here now, we can pretend I’m your first kiss…”

“That’s not how it—mmh!”

His lips smothered yours, and you started blushing; the realization that this man had ate you out the night before, but never even gave you a proper kiss, washing over you. You probably would have laughed, if your mouth wasn’t busy.

He was a good kisser, his lips rough but plump. You felt disappointment, realizing that all the times you kissed Billy, it was nothing like this. That boy had no idea what he was doing.

Not like Ghost, and you felt yourself getting soaked.

He moaned before pulling away to gaze into your eyes. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

“Ah, now you’re being considerate?”

“Of course I am, love. Want to hear you say it, out loud.”

“You know how I feel, but fine. I want you, Simon, I need you…” You grabbed his hand and slipped it through the leg of your shorts, his fingers grazing along your wet folds, making him moan.

You made a silent prayer, hoping that your lack of experience wouldn’t shine through too much as you prepped yourself for the ultimate challenge: dirty talk.

“Feel that?” You whispered. “All for you…”

So simple, so small. But you knew it would resonate with his infatuation towards you, and the jealousy you had carefully built up from that morning. You watched him breathe deeply.

“Yes… all mine…” He continued staring into your eyes, his dark and heavy. “No one can get you wet like me… not Billy. Not that dickhead in the mess hall. Not those filthy little books you read… Me.”

“Are you getting jealous over my reading materi—ah!”

He swiped his fingers around your entrance, gathering your wetness. “You ever taste yourself, love?”

You could feel a blush forming. “I, uh… sometimes…”

He chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed…”

He pulled his fingers out of your shorts, his other hand delicately moving your chin to part your lips. Then, his wet fingers entered your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, letting your tongue lick and taste them.

Like before—during your experimenting—the taste was pleasant, but not overwhelming. Nothing in particular came to mind when trying to compare it to other… flavors, other than… sweet? Maybe?

You snapped out of your daze as his fingers started moving, in and out of your mouth. They were now clean of you, but it seemed he wasn’t ready to take them out just yet. So, you continued to lick, to suck.

The look in his eyes confirmed your suspicions, he was imagining something better than fingers in your warm mouth. He groaned and then took them out with a soft pop, his hands now moving to undo his jeans.

Oh, finally. Yes…

He took them off with ease, revealing basic white boxers. His shirt? Well…

Ghost must have forgotten about the state of his shoulder amidst his horniness, a hiss leaving his mouth as he attempted to lift the hem with his bad arm. You immediately sat up. “Let me…”

You expected him to push you back down, allow his stubbornness to take over…

But he didn’t.

He let you carefully begin to take the shirt off, being mindful of the bandage still present on his shoulder. You lifted it past his head, fingers clutching onto the warm fabric as you oggled his bare muscles. He grabbed the shirt from your hands and tossed it onto the floor.

“Like what you see?”

You ignored him, eye-fucking him without a sliver of shame. You grinned.

He laughed softly, gently lowering you back down, and crawling back up your body to look over you. “Oh, yeah. You do…”

You palmed him through his boxer shorts, earning a hiss and then a groan. You had wanted this since last night, knowing he had been touching himself while pleasuring you…

“Ahh, what are you doing, love?”

“Want to… uh… help you…”

He gingerly took your wrist in his hand. “Mm, next time. Yeah, next time, I’ll teach ya how to please a man properly. Me, I mean. It’s not like you’ll be sleepin’ with other men after this…”

“Is that so?” You smirked, your expression waning as he made you moan by grinding against your clothed pussy.

He ignored your bait. “Nnf, damn… I’m gonna treat you so well, sweetheart. That way, I’ll be able to punish you after for ruining my fun earlier.”

Excitement bubbled up inside you. “Heh, yeah? How?”

“Mmm… oh yeah… I think I’ll continue what I was doing earlier. Hump you like a toy, all over… You won’t be allowed to come at all.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“You heard me. Maybe I’ll let you finish after I’m spent, but that depends on how good you are, hmm?” He leaned in. “All the meanwhile, I’ll paint allll of you pretty in white…”

Holy shit. “Simon…” You whine.

“So needy, so fuckin’ desperate. I give you two orgasms last night and you’re already addicted. Be a good girl, and you’ll get what you want.”

You whimper and nod.

He grasped your hips and grinded you up and down his clothed bulge. “Fuck… yeah… feels better than before… soak through those shorts and my boxers, love, ruin them…”

“Unnnhh…” You lazily rutted against him, the friction feeling lovely but not enough. “Simon… I need more…”

“Poor girl, you achin’ down there?”

“Mhmm…”

He put a hand on your face, his large fingers caressing your cheek bones. “I’ll take good care of you, love. I promise.” He said softly, the weight of his words making your heart ache as well.

He slowly pulled back to take your shorts off, his grin widening as he got a proper look at your underwear. Pretty black lace, almost too small to properly cover your leaking cunt. He couldn’t help himself, gripping your hips and grinding against you once more.

He shivered. Your underwear had completely soaked through.

“Simon.” You whined once more.

He grunted in response, tentatively pulling back again to remove the lace. However, you didn’t crook your knees in time to help, making him rip the underwear in half.

“Shit, sorry, love. My bad...” He said sheepishly, and then held them up, raising an eyebrow at you. “But… seems like you won’t need them anymore. A good ‘lil keepsake for me…”

You huffed.

He didn’t spare a glance at your bare sex. Not yet. He dropped the ruined underwear. His fingers curled into your shirt and he started lifting it, his nails softly scratching along your skin. Then, he paused.

“Mm. No bra?”

“Not tonight, no. They can be uncomfortable to sleep in.” You said nonchalantly.

“Uncomfortable… hm… but you’ll wear panties that barely cover your cunt…”

Uhh…

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to care or look more into it. He shook his head and continued taking the shirt off. “Not like I’m complaining, mind you. But I do want to see the matching bra, sometime. There’s no way you don’t have one.”

You smirked. “Alright, noted.”

He threw the shirt aside and leaned back to admire your naked form. “How lovely… better than I imagined…”

His hands grasped your breasts, three of his fingers still slightly cold and moist from being in your mouth. You shivered with a moan. “So pretty, so soft… can’t wait to deflower you.”

“Technically, after last night—“

“Oh, don’t go there. I don’t care about the technicalities of last night. You’ve never been dicked down, and that’s what I’m referring to. Now, be a good girl and shush…”

Ghost leaned back again, and finally pulled his boxers off. You couldn’t hold back the moan that left your mouth at the sight of his dick, leaking with pre-come. He leaned forward again, resting his member on your clit.

“See that, pretty girl?” He slowly stroked himself against your folds. “That’s what a cock looks like.”

You had to resist the urge to face palm yourself. “Jesus, Simon, I know what a dick looks like.”

“No, you don’t know what mine looks like. Get well acquainted, you’re gonna be seeing it a lot.” He paused and peered down once more. “Aha, damn, you’re soaking your bed, love. Pretty pussy is working so hard, preparing itself just for me…”

He pulled his lower body away and inserted a finger. You moaned, he groaned. He began pumping it in and out, making your pussy sing with your slickness.

“Shit, I think… think you’re wetter than last night. Good…”

You smirked at him. “Yeah, the book I was reading is pretty spicy…”

“Shut up, or I’m burnin’ the damn thing.” He took his finger out, and you began to regret your teasing.

Before you could beg and plead your case for more, he stuffed his face against your pussy and started lapping at it.

“Gahh, Simon, not again, I want you inside—“

“Quiet,” he growled, “I know what I’m doing. Ya need to be ready for me…”

You pouted but didn’t say anything more, only opening your mouth to moan softly as he licked and sucked. But then, his finger entered you once more, and he proceeded to stimulate you with both his hand and mouth.

Oh, this is new.

You clutched the bed sheets, trying to keep still and let him do his thing, lest he chastise you again like last night.

“Tell me when you’re close…” He breathed out, inserting another finger.

“O-okay… god, Simon, ohhh…”

“Mhmm…” He mumbled, still licking and fingering you.

You noticed his whole body moving in junction with his head and fingers, and you peered downward. You saw him dragging his weeping cock along your bedsheets, the sight making you whimper and clench around his fingers.

“Simon… I’m gonna come…”

“Mm, good girl. Thank you for telling me.” He stopped all movements and pulled away.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“What you did to me, earlier. Sucks, doesn’t it? But don’t worry, you’ll get to come…” He leaned in and started kissing your neck. “You smell so good… you always smell good… drives me fuckin’ crazy…”

“God, Simon, please, I want to come…”

Ghost licked along your neck. “Don’t worry, love, you will. I’ll let you come around my dick, how’s that?”

“Please…”

“Good girl… such a good girl…” He cooed.

He leaned back and adjusted his position, lining himself up at your weeping sex.

“Now, I want you to hold onto me. This might hurt, sweetheart…”

You did as he requested, and that’s when he started entering you.

You winced and bit your lip, the stretch feeling a bit more painful than you anticipated. Suck it up, you’ve taken bullets...

He slowly eased his way in, your hole trying to push him out, despite it having done so much prep beforehand to welcome him with open arms. He leaned in closer and caressed a cheek.

“Relax, love. Loosen those muscles, breathe deeply… I got you.” He whispered.

His words helped alone, making you sigh with relief as you steered focus towards the new wave of arousal washing over your body. Something about the way he spoke softly just never failed to do wonders for you.

But then you realized he wasn’t moving anymore. You looked down in confusion and saw him already all the way in, to the hilt. Oh.

He also glanced down, admiring the joining of your bodies as he held your legs up, placing your ankles on his shoulders. “Fuck, look at that… what a pretty sight. Feels even better inside…”

Then, he started moving. His thrusts were slow and gentle, caring. But the sensation was still deliciously overwhelming; you could feel his cock rubbing against your soft, virgin walls, tight and pulsing around him.

“God, you don’t… understand how hard it is… to hold myself back… right now…” He grit out.

“D-don’t hold back, Simon…”

He grunted. “Don’t be saying shit like that. You’ll get it in the future, but for now, I’m keeping it simple, sweetheart.”

He held onto your thighs and squeezed hard, grounding himself as he maintained a sweet and slow pace, one that gradually increased in speed, if only by a minuscule difference. His eyes raked up and down your body, soaking in every reaction to his ministrations.

“Talk to me, lovie. Tell me how it feels…”

“Uuuuhhhn, feels… good…” You croaked out.

“Good? Just good?”

You groaned. “It feels amazing, don’t stop…”

“That right? Tell me, you still think you would have done well with someone else for your first time?”

“Uffff, mmm…”

He chuckled. “Can’t even think properly, can you? So cock-drunk…”

Then he stopped and pulled out.

“Sim—“

“On your stomach.”

You blushed, but rushed to do as he said, the side of your face hitting the pillow. He grabbed your hips and tilted them upwards, his knee pushing one of your legs open aside. “There we go…” You couldn’t see much from this angle, but the excitement in his voice was palpable.

He slowly lowered himself on top of you, his chest connecting with your back. He wasn’t squishing you, not completely, but enough to make his presence felt. Then, he entered you once more, stuffing his face into your neck.

“Mmmh… make you feel all of me… every inch of my skin… make sure you memorize it. It’s okay if you forget, though, I’ll happily remind you…” He started moving, his pace still casual and languid.

“Can’t… can’t wait to ruin you… turn you into a fuckin’ degenerate… heh, unless… you already are, and we just don’t know it, yet…”

He adjusted one of his legs, the angle of his hips making him reach deeper, and you whimper. “Ohh, god, oh…”

Ghost then sped up, reaching a faster rhythm that would satisfy you, but wouldn’t be too much.

You whimpered. “G-gonna…”

“Gonna come, baby? Good… milk my cock, wanna feel that cunt thank me for taking your virginity…”

“Jesus…” You groaned loudly, your orgasm hitting you hard; your walls clamping around him like a vice, pulsating like a heartbeat.

“Fuuuuck…” He snarled into your ear, his fist digging into your pillow, beside your head. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Y-yes, please, yes…”

“‘Attagirl. Need to make sure this pussy learns who it belongs to…”

His movements slowed but got harder, and then eventually, halted, as he reached his climax. He groaned into your neck, filling you up with his seed. “Good… girl… take it… all…”

He stayed on top of you for a minute, your muscles starting to ache. “Simon… you’re squishing me…”

“Ah. Sorry…” He rolled off of you, laying beside you and pulling you into his arms. “You alright, love?”

You started blushing, still trying to catch your breath. “I-I’m fine. It was good… really good…” You smiled.

You expected a snarky, arrogant comment like usual, but he just smiled in response. “Good. I’m glad.”

He used a hand to caress your body, slowly trailing down to your pussy. His fingers delved into your hole, coating them in his come before pulling them out and rubbing it along your slit. “Yeah… this is all mine…”

He then licked his fingers and pulled you closer with a content grunt. “Mm. You should have listened to me. I always get what I want, and I told you this would happen.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Oh, Simon… you think this was all a coincidence? Did you really think… you’re the only one who can fight dirty?” You cooed.

He stared at you, eyes wide, the realization that, perhaps—he had been thinking with his dick too much—dawning on him. You weren’t sure how he’d react, but mentally prepared for the possibility that he’d be pissed for getting beaten at his own game.

But instead… he grinned.

“You… That’s my fuckin’ girl… all mine...”

[part one] [part two] [part three]

taglist: @corvusmorte @oceanicexolorer @icouldntthinkofanythingclever

[moody-alcoholic]

Boundaries

I've had time off work, so I've been pumping these out since my main project is on hold for the time being. It's been a lot of fun.

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.4k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: Alcohol, mentions of sex, language. Back to the fluff... this is supposed to be a slow burn...

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

You sit at the table your leg nervously bouncing up and down. Simon comes to sit next to you pushing a cup of tea over. 

“Thank you,” you say blowing on it, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since Johnny woke Simon up telling him we all needed to talk. Your mind had been going at a million miles an hour. What if you saying you’re falling for them is too far? They are already married, you just kind of barged in.  

“Right!” Johnny says standing up his palms flat on the table. 

“I call this first official family meeting to begin.” He says way to enthusiastically for your energy level.  

“Christ.” You hear Simon sigh next to you, you look at him his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. You smile sipping on your tea. 

“We’ve all had a nice time but I think we need a debrief.” You chuckle.

“You want a post sex debrief every time?” Simon asks Johnny who taps his knuckles on the table.

“I don’t have a hammer thing.” He says. 

“Is this a court room or a meeting?” Simon asks. They’re winding each other up you can’t help but smile. 

“It’s a meeting, casual, a safe space to air out all your problems.” Johnny says. 

“Now first order of business, boring stuff out the way first.” Johnny puts a key down on the table moving it towards you, you pick it up. 

“You’re welcome over any time,” Johnny says smiling. That’s not boring that’s a massive thing.

“Do you guys want keys to my place?” You ask looking at them, it seems only right, you have access to their home they should have access to yours.  

“Up to you.” Simon says. You make a mental note to look for a key-cutter tomorrow.

“PDA! Now I love a good smooch in public but Simon’s all about that stiff upper lip, sometimes he won’t even hold my hand.” Johnny says pouting.

“Nothing wrong with keeping your private life private.” Simon says defensively.

“What about you?” Johnny asks turning to you.

“I don’t mind I guess, I can get self conscious easy.” You admit, Johnny nods.

“Okay we’ll work on that.” Johnny says. 

“Sex, do you have any limits? No-go’s other then the obvious ones.” Johnny says looking at you. 

“Eh, I don’t know I’ve never really done much other then the normal stuff.” You feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

“That’s fine, we can work it out as we go along, don’t worry we’re not going to do anything crazy. Plain old vanilla sex is also fine, besides Simon’s the kinky one anyway.” Johnny says winking at you.

“Sure I’m the kinky one,” Simon chuckles. Johnny rolls his eyes sitting back down in the chair. 

“Anything you want to add?” Johnny asks Simon who shakes his head, then his eyes fall on you. You don’t know what to say, maybe now would be a good time to ask them to stop being so…nice. 

“You don’t need to be so accommodating, if you guys need some time alone, I can make myself scarce. And I don’t mind paying for things, food and what not, and I don’t mind treating you guys, it’s the least I can do.” Simon’s hand finds your thigh as Johnny smiles at you. 

“Don’t worry about that, you just being here is enough.” Johnny smiles.

“I need to make the most of it, when I get posted I could be gone for up to 6 months.” You say, your last post was 6 months now you only have a month off before you’ll be sent somewhere else. You could be sent abroad, it had been years since you were stationed somewhere outside the UK but it could happen then you would feel even further away from them. Your hand rests on top of Simon’s as he squeezes your thigh.

“S’okay, we’re all over the place too, could get a call right now and we'd have to drop everything and leave.” Johnny says. The thought of them leaving makes you sad, you know Johnny is only trying to help but it just fills you with dread. There’s a pit forming in your stomach, their job is harder then yours more dangerous, they could leave any second then you might never see them again. Johnny defuses bombs, you’re not sure what Simon does but it’s enough that it makes him hide his identity. The most danger you have ever experienced was a field hospital in a run down building in the middle of a war-zone, even then you were surrounded by soldiers who’s sole job was to keep the medical staff safe. You Squeeze Simon's hand, now you can’t imagine being without them. 

“It’s very rare we get called like that.” Simon says as he moves his hand to hold yours. You look up at him, he must be able to see something in your eyes, his face softens and he brings his hand up to stroke your cheek. 

“I never know where you go, how long you’re going to be gone for. If you’ll ever come back.” You say looking in Simon’s eyes. He kisses your forehead pulling you into his chest. 

“I know I’ll come back I have the worlds best marksman watching my back.” Simon says. 

“Yeah and you should see the things Simon can do with a knife, or a sniper, or a pistol.” You hear Johnny say. It makes you feel a little better, that they’re being so blasé about it, that pit is still there though as you pull out of Simon’s arms. 

“How about we go out, get some food just chill? We can try out that new place on the corner you’ve been wanting to go to Johnny.” Simon says, Johnny’s eyes light up and he’s out his chair before he can respond. It makes you smile, you’re not really in the mood to go out but you you could use the fresh air, maybe a nice meal out will be good. 

“You okay?” Simon asks as you stare off towards the bedroom. 

“Yeah, I need to start bringing a change of clothes.” You say, Simon smiles.

—————————— 

The place is nice, not fancy or anything and there’s a cosy looking beer garden in the back Johnny excitedly leads you to. You sit outside under the strung up lights and Johnny leaves to go order. Simon reaches into his jacket pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. 

“Sorry,” he says lighting it. “I’m trying to quit.” He turns his head blowing the smoke away from you. You move to sit next to him on the bench.

“I could get you some nicotine patches.” You say. He shakes his head smiling. Johnny comes out with a tray of beer placing them on the table. You reach out picking one up. 

“It’s 2 in the afternoon.” Simon says chuckling. 

“Stressed?” Johnny asks sipping his beer. Simon sighs, Johnny winks at you. 

“Simon only smokes when he’s stressed.” Johnny says as you take a sip of your beer. 

“Not true, I smoke when I want to.” Simon replies. Johnny laughs, it’s a proper laugh and it makes your heart flutter. You look up at Simon who looks less then impressed, they’ve been teasing each other all day. They start bantering back and forth until Simon finishes his cigarette. Johnny opens a menu and starts reading the options out, well the options he likes the sound off. Simon just says he’ll have whatever Johnny’s having. Johnny seems to see that as a challenge his eyes going back to scan the menu as a cheeky grin appears on his face.

Simon’s hand finds your thigh again, you didn’t think he would be up for touching with the conversation this morning but you don’t mind it’s nice feeling his hands on you. Johnny orders food asking what you want, honestly you haven’t been paying attention but you’re not hungry so you just order a sandwich. Johnny sighs ordering you a side of chips. You sigh but don’t argue. When the food comes out you switch to sit next to Johnny, you’re not sure why, but this whole relationship seems to be about finding what works, at least for now.  

—————————— 

Your leaning your head on Johnny's shoulder his arm wrapped round you picking at the last of you chips which you’re convinced at this point he bought just for himself. 

“Another round?” He asks as Simon finishes his beer off. Simon nods and Johnny peels himself a way from you collecting the glasses and heading inside. You smile at Simon, today has been nice, the food was good the beer warming your belly as the evening breeze is rolling in. You could almost say it was perfect. Then the sound of glasses crashing forces your head to snap looking for the source of the noise. 

“What the fuck man!” There’s a voice shouting now. 

“Sorry but you came out of fecking nowhere mate.” You hear Johnny’s voice, Simon is already on his feet moving to the back door of the restaurant Johnny had disappeared into a few minutes earlier, you gingerly follow after him. 

“I came out the bathroom mate.” The man replies his voice still loud. You can see people turning to look, it feels like there’s a million eyes on you. 

“What’s going on? You alright Johnny?” Simon asks as he reaches them. You look past Simon to see Johnny and a man both covered beer broken glasses on the floor. 

“Yeah, I’m fine ‘e just came outta nowhere slammed the door in my face.” Johnny says . 

“It’s okay, we’ll get you new drinks.” You look over and see a waitress with a mop in her hands waiting for them to move.  

“I came out the bloody bathroom!” The man says as he takes a step closer to Johnny who holds his ground meeting the mans eye line. “I’m supposed to be going on a date, now my suit is ruined.” 

“Shame, you wouldn’t want her to think you’re incompetent.” Johnny says, that cheeky grin on his face. 

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife, low and commanding. You feel hairs stand up on the back of your neck. Simon grabs Johnny's arm pulling him out the way as Johnny’s eyes follow the man until he walks past Simon turning to look at you. 

“You okay?” You ask not really knowing what to say, his expression changes almost instantaneously when he sees you a smile appearing on his lips. 

“‘Cause lass, no one’s fault!” Johnny says his arm wrapping round your shoulders leading you back to the table.

“Oi!” You hear the man call, Johnny doesn’t turn or stop walking. 

“Alright, calm down,” is all you hear from Simon as you move out of earshot. 

“Think Simon will be okay?” You ask as Johnny sits you down next to him, his arm never leaving your shoulder.

“Pff Simon, who spends his days ordering soldiers round, he’ll be fine.” Johnny laughs. “Between you and me he could use some practice in conflict de-escalation.” You relax into him not realising how tense your body has become, he kisses the top of your head. 

“You stink.” You chuckle the smell of beer is almost overwhelming making your head spin. A few minutes later a waitress comes over with fresh drinks apologising for the situation, explaining that the builders installed the door wrong and it’s just been an accident waiting to happen ever since. Johnny laughs it off telling her it’s no problem and he’ll pay for the replacement drinks. Simon comes back as she leaves sticking his hand in his jacket looking for another cigarette, he sighs muttering under his breath as he sits down. 

“All good?” Johnny asks Simon who nods sipping his beer. Guess he’s out of cigarettes. 

“Paid for his taxi home so he could change.” Simon says leaning back, his eyes landing on you, you smile at him. He seems tense, Johnny lightens the mood by telling a story that happened when he was a kid and his dad dropped a pint on his head. 

“That explains a lot.” Simon says seeming to relax after a few sips of beer. The sun is setting quickly now and wind chill is picking up. Johnny promises you’ll go home after this drink.   

——————————

As soon as you get in Johnny is rushing into the shower. You fall on the sofa with Simon as he flicks the TV on. You lay up against him stroking his chest. 

“Is it true you get to boss people around all day?” You ask him. 

“What did Johnny tell you that?” He chuckles. You nod.

“Price does all the shouting, I’m just there to make sure they listen.” He says. 

“Is he nice Price, your boss?” You ask, you want to know something about their work maybe it will make you feel better when they inevitably go away. 

“Yeah he’s nice, we go way back. He’s a good boss.” He says as he lands on the football satisfied he puts the remote down. 

“I’ll go home tomorrow, I’ve got some errands to run, I could use a shower, and a change of clothes.” You say, but as you say it you realise how little you want to leave. 

“I can come with you if you want, or Johnny can?” He says his arm stroking your shoulder. 

“It’s fine you should really spend some time together.” You say not wanting to be a bother but at the same time that does sound nice having them just following you around. The more time you can spend with them the better. 

“I doesn't work like that, if we want some time alone we’ll let you know, besides you were right this morning, at some point we’re both going to be back at work and then it could be months before we see each other.” You look up at him the pit reforming in your belly. 

“Oh hey who’s playing?” You hear Johnny ask as he comes down to the sofa. Simon plants a kiss on your lips as Johnny comes to sit next to you. 

“Man city and Sheffield.” Simon says you put your head back on his chest. 

“I forget do we like that one?” Johnny asks. Simon chuckles.

“Yeah we like that one.” He replies, going back to stroking your arm. Johnny scoots closer to you and you lay your legs on him, his arm reaching over to run his fingers through Simon’s hair. Now you just hope and pray the world stays quiet for another few weeks.  

Next part

[pensbridge]

1 thing that the Bridgerton siblings all have in common is that they are going to act in the most innane, chaotic, borderline animalistic of ways.

Anthony: speed runs toward Daphne and Simon without thought to pry them off from fucking in the garden only followed by bitch punching Simon square in the face; schemes to find the "perfect" wife (one who fits his checklist) to only later realize he feels for her sister....but doesn't stop there, and continues his plan as if he doesn't realize that his perfect wife is actually right there, therefore he should not have to attempt to marry the other in his escape that can only be described as a self-destruct endeavor to not accept happiness; ruins the plan AT the wedding; also smells his future wife as she passes (and gets caught); the gazebo..nuff said

Benedict: is generally a little shit (see him at dinner tables, in large gatherings, and just around his siblings); criticized an artist in front of their own work. he wasn't aware, which just adds to the chaos. walks into spaces without a clue to what is going on before him (i repeat: criticizing the artist's painting; also his chaotic arrivals at sibling councils calling for immediate action); in an ongoing frustration over his artistic expression that is meant to be expression of his feelings; proceeded to get high and took the whole bottle of substances; almost jumped out of a window fr

Colin: proposes to a woman he barely knows in a mad dash impulsive instinct that evades kissing her; walks out from the dinner with his fiancé without notice on the sole basis that he does not want to hear his future in-law sing badly. yes she is indeed terrible, fyi. failed engagement -> impulse flee from the country; ahh (sigh) he is feeding the ducks; loudly proclaims his "mis-affections" for a woman who is actually his future wife, then lends himself to help her find a husband like he doesn't see the big yellow sign flashing to reveal himself as the spouse in question

Daphne: is ½ of the couple about to desperately fuck in the garden; previously was involved in a scheme to fool the people of their surroundings that she was on her way towards marriage; ran away from a prince who was about to propose to her. I understand, but we are in dire, desperate times here. fell for the garden-fuck buddy, and became obligated to marry him, but he doesn't want kids oh no.........married him; in the "I know something my brother's fiancé doesn't know" club of 3 (peace-out, staying out of the drama; c u @ the wedding)

Eloise: trots into a room full of her mother and siblings LOUDLY inquiring how a lady becomes pregnant; accuses a maid of writing a gossip column as if she does have much time on her hands to observe and overhear the secrets of those in her surroundings, and further write about it with an internal sassy voice like she doesn't have chores and duties to tend to everyday to survive; does everything in her power to avoid men, marriage, and anything to do with the opposite sex... except one (which is scandalous no matter how cute/innocent). tears apart her bff's room in haste after the shock effect of Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

Bonus) 'Mother' Bridgerton: nearly asked a servant to lie on her in need for her "garden" to be tended to

Here's some more events from Season 3 that is added on to Bridgerdums malfunctioning:

Benedict: insults someone again/talks without thinking; generally has no idea what's going on; shit's (ship's) going on right in front of his eyes and he has no idea (tbh this is everything that I expected from him and this is EVERYTHING (he's chilling); so obvious trying to escape the desper-taunt; sooooo obvious trying to chat it up with L.D./Aggie Danbury, my girl

Colin: where do I start...playing 'Where's Waldo' with his bff for half an episode; LYING LIAR WHO LIES, 17 cities...you went to 17 cities?! (i'm just shocked); perhaps we should go somewhere more private??? /rushes to apologize with full sentimental remarks (good); rushes to offer the help as previously mentioned; kisses his best friend to help her out it's only fair; "OF COURSE!"...back on the hunt for pretty bff; *ooh watching bff eat a pastry, malfunction ahh* -> buys the pastry; the entirrreee hot air balloon scene (he waits, he rushes...he's definitely a fight mode with mental gymnastics flight in the lead up); can't speak in the middle of a ball; downbadism yellow sheet drop; crashes a proposal, cuts in the dance, literally so obvious, *angry* "perhaps that is for the best"; chases down a carriage ON FOOT; the (in)FAMOUS carriage; chaotic proposal

Eloise: she hates socializing with men and she's gonna shout it; cracking jokes with The Plastics; oops loud queen...let the cat out of the bag; /forever the accuser (now w/Cressida, former queen of The Plastics); she HATES society, guys, I don't think you understand; "MY BROTHER?!???" x2 (3x04 deleted scene + 3x05 tick tock Lady Featheringdown)

Francesca: the most sane, but living up to her name; dun dun dun piano; introvert escape room expert; finds a man without talking to him; rushes out of the new boyfriend hang to play her piano

Gregory: fell and broke his arm being nosy AND faaaaaailedddd; dummy was just fascinated by a balloon

Hyacinth: she's gonna be trouble, we just know, ok/always always always right

[inbarfink]

So when I talk about how the Winter King is, on some level, far more removed from original-flavor Simon than Ice King ever was - Betty is the most obvious example. Ice King’s whole obsession with princesses and the kidnapping therefore and general romantic neediness has always been a Mad, Sad and Magical reflection of just how much Simon misses Betty.

Even when he was too far too gone to recognize Betty when she was standing right in front of his face

Ice King always carried the hole she left in his heart. Meanwhile, the Winter King has full access to his old memories, he just forgotten her because he doesn’t care anymore. 

Even while he was forcing Princess Bubblegum to dance along in a recreation of that same romantic grief.

But still, I feel like what happened Winterworld version of Marceline is an ever more poetic example, even if figuring out what exactly happened includes a lot of inferences and headcanons.

In “I Remember You”, during yet another emotional breakdown, Ice King accidentally shoved Marceline - and he was immediately absolutely overcome with regret and shame

Because although he didn’t consciously remember what Marceline meant to him, he still retained these feelings of fatherly care and affection. Some sort of core element of Simon’s being that persisted despite the effects of the Magic Crown. Because of that, he couldn't even stand the thought of hurting her, even slightly.

Ice King was capable of doing some fucked-up things in his desperation and madness - but hurting Marceline was the one line he never ever wanted to cross.

But the Winter King?

We only have hints of what went down between Winterworld Simon and Winterworld Marceline. All we know is: 

The Winter King and Winterworld Marceline had the same Simon and Marcy backstory as in the Mainworld, and the Winter King fully remembers it - since he conjures a vision of them during his song. 

Since Marceline’s Ax Bass still exists in its familiar form, it’s safe to say this version of Marceline did reach adulthood and probably had a pretty similar life to Mainworld Marceline.

The Winter King did something absolutely morally repugnant to the Candy Kingdom in general and Princess Bubblegum specifically. Although at the time the Winter King came to being, Marcy and Peebs were still reeling from that centuries-old breakup (assuming there are no other major divergences in the timeline) - I have no doubt that Marceline still had enough lingering feelings (and also maybe general human decency) that she would not stand for Simon’s actions.

And yet the real Marceline is 100% unaccounted for, only her Ax-Bass remains, in the Winter King’s possession. 

Or rather, in the possession of Ice Marcy, an icy duplicate of Marceline as a child living in a gilded cage in the Winter King’s palace - presumably just as lacking in Free Will as the Ice Scouts and any other creation of the Winter King.

The Winter King’s little conversation with Simon about Betty is the best hint we have to Winter King’s motivation for making Ice Marcy. Namely, he suggested making an ‘Ice Betty’ as a way for Simon to get over losing the love of his life. And he’s fully aware that this is unethical - he just doesn’t care.

I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that Marceline and the Winter King would have some sort of confrontation about what he did to Bubblegum and since the Winter King implicitly compares it to the situation with ‘the dead one’ (Betty)… I honestly think it is not a stretch at all to assume the Winter King killed Marceline. 

And even if he didn’t straight-up kill her, I think most scenarios that fall under Occam’s Razor still involve the Winter King knowingly inflicting a great amount of emotional and potentially physical damage to Marceline. And it definitely involves the Winter King claiming Marceline’s most beloved posession as his own and giving it to a false icy duplicate of her child self he made to replace her. 

I mean, the fact that he even bothered implies that he at least misses her more than Betty. But his discussion with Simon still means he considers replacing her with a nonsapient magic ice construct that copies not the person she was when she was speaking out against him but the child who adored him to be more than a suitable solution. Which is a demonstration that whatever sort of love remained in the Winter King’s heart for Marceline was a very twisted and selfish kind of love. 

Even if you want to argue that the Winter King has nothing to do with Marceline’s disappearance - the fact that this is how he dealt with her being gone shows how much of the love Simon genuinely had for Marcy is now become a hollow and self-centered sort of thing. This is also a form of hurting her.  And again, with the way the Winter King is in general - I think it’s very likely he has a lot to do with what happened to Marceline.

Meanwhile in the Mainverse, the Ice King couldn’t even lightly shove her away in a fit of emotions without being overcome with pain and regret.

So which Ice Wizard really retains more of what made Simon Petrikov who has is? The one who kept his identity and memories but has lost all of the love and care that has once motivated him more than anything? Or the one who can’t remember his name or his old face most days but still retains this ever-persistent echo of his romantic love for Betty and his fatherly love for Marceline even if he doesn’t fully understand where it comes from? 

[x-reader-theater]

Breaking and Entering {1}

summary: Someone breaks into your flat through the window, and you don't have enough energy left to care.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Gender Neutral!Reader

word count: 1801

warnings: The Reader is described as having depression and suicidal ideations. Nothing is done about it, but it's very obvious so if you don't think you can handle that please do not read.

a/n: this is also going to be a series, but i have no idea how long it's going to take to finish it or how long it's gonna be. also if you haven't seen, my requests are open and you can find my request rules here.

Breaking and Entering Series: {Chapter 1}, {Chapter 2}, (You can also use the tag #breaking and entering series as well if you don't want to use links)

It was supposed to be a normal night. Lonely. Depressed. It was going to be the perfect terrible night.

So of course someone had to ruin it.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, about to disassociate and share at the wall across from you for eight hours, when you have to go back to work, when you hear a loud crash coming from beside you.

“Shit!” you exclaim, jumping back and over the back of your chair, stumbling over it and smacking the back of your head on your old wooden floors.

“Shit,” you hear a low, gravely voice say from where the smashing sound came from.

Your vision is blurry for a moment, but it clears as you see a skull leaning over you. The skull talks, but your ears have started ringing, subsiding right as he finishes talking.

“What?” you ask, dazed and probably a lot more calm for someone who just had a floating skull smash through what was probably their window, but you’re too dazed right now to really care.

“I said,” the heavily accented skull says and as your vision clears, you see the skull isn't actually floating, but is attached to a body covered in what looks to be some sort of tactical gear. “Sit up. I want to have a look at your head.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you say, before slowly sitting up. The man holds out his arm, and you feel his hand on your back push you up as well. He shifts, so he’s looking at the back of you, and you stare forward at the wall, trying to get your senses back.

“I don't see a wound,” the man mumbles, probably just intended for himself, but you definitely heard. You’re just too shocked to say anything. The man sits in front of you again, his hand still on your back as he pulls out what looks to be a pen light. He holds it up in front of your eyes, and you move away from it, but he reaches out with the hand holding the light and places it gently on your cheek, pushing your head, so it’s facing you again. “Stay still.” Gus gruff voice is contradictory to how gentle he's handling you right now. “I need to look at your pupillary response.”

You try to sit still, though you still jump at the bright light. He flashes the light in your eye and away and back again a couple of times, moving onto the second one and doing the same, before finally clicking it off again. You sigh in relief.

“Response looks good, but you should probably have someone monitor you in case something happens,” the man says. “Does anyone else live here?”

“No,” you say, probably unwisely but, again, you’re exactly sound of mind right now.

“Do you have anyone you can call? A friend or a neighbour? Someone who might stay with you and take care of you?”

You shake your head, but instantly regret it as it causes a lance of pain to shoot through your skull. You hiss and clutch at your temple.

“Careful,” the man admonishes, his voice gentler than it has been. “You don't have anyone?”

“No,” you say, watery and thick with building mucus. You blink a few times to drive the tears back as you are suddenly faced with how lonely you really are.

The man hums, but doesn’t say anything more, instead opting to ask, “What’s your name?”

You wipe at your eyes to get any stray tears and say with a tight throat, “[Y/N]. What about you?”

“You can call me Ghost,” is all he says.

You chuckle. “Terrifying,” you mock. You think you hear a laugh coming from the man, but underneath that skull mask you can’t tell. You get up and walk over to the freezer, grabbing a Ziplock bag you left on the counter a little while ago. You fill the baggie with ice before walking back over to the table and flipping the chair back onto its feet before sitting down again. Pressing the ice to the back of your head, you wince as you ask, “What are you anyways? What are you doing in my flat?”

“It's classified,” Ghost says.

“Ooooooooooooh,” you draw out, nodding. “You're military, aren't ya?” When the man doesn’t answer, you make a clicking sound with your teeth. “Right. Classified.”

“I could be a murderer,” the man says suddenly.

“I mean, so could I,” you say, just as cryptically as he did. “Besides. If you really are in the military like I totally think you are, you probably have killed people so, you’re probably right that you’re a murderer. But I’m also not a soldier so if you did kill me that would be like, some sort of violation of something, right? If not totally illegal,” you ramble, using your one free arm to gesture wildly as you talk.

“Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” Ghost asks finally after you take a pause.

You stare at him, taken aback by the question before saying, “Uh, aha… you could say that my will to live is currently… wilted, at the moment.”

Ghost stares at you for a long moment, for several moments even, and you fidget underneath his gaze. When you glance at his eyes, you see they’re a deep brown, almost black, ringed with black eye makeup to conceal anything that could give away his identity, you guess.

When he finally speaks again, he says, “Maybe you could use a friend right now.”

You stare at him blankly, and say, “Yes, I want the masked soldier man who broke through my window to be my friend…”

“Do you have much of a choice otherwise?” Ghost asks and your mouth clicks shut with a clack of your teeth. You look away, dropping the hand with the ice and wrapping your arms around your body.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you ask, finally raising your eyes and catching Ghost’s stare.

“Because I’ve been you,” he states plainly. “You’re better off alive than dead.”

The way he says it so plainly, in a way you’ve never heard before, it makes your heart thud in your chest, like it hasn't beat for so long that no it finally is, it has to work in overdrive to pump blood through your veins. You've gotten the pitying glances, you’ve felt the patronising slaps on the shoulder, and you’ve heard the infuriating “It will get better soon” speeches.

But this six foot, masked, most likely military, stranger, telling you he was just like you? Somehow, that's what makes you have a little hope. Because he’s still here.

“There must be something wrong with you to want to be friends with someone whose window you just crashed through,” you judge, putting the ice back against your head.

Ghost sighs but gets up, going to your oven and grabbing the tea towel. He walks back over to you and gently pries the baggie of ice from your hand, wrapping it up in the towel and placing it back on the back of your head, moving your hand, so it’s placed on top of his before he slips his hand out from under yours. “I think there’s always been something a little wrong with me,” he says, and you look up at him standing over you, that white skull with brown eyes looking down and through you. You expect him to say something serious, but instead he says, “I’m wearing a fuckin’ mask, there’s obviously something wrong with me.”

You stare at him for a moment before bursting out laughing, wrapping your free arm around your stomach as you howl out laughter, probably more laughter than the situation required, but you just can’t stop. Eventually you suck in large lungfuls of air, hiccuping as you try and catch your breath, wiping your eyes for the second time today, but this time for a different reason.

When you catch your breath, you look over at Ghost who has sat down again, and you see his eyes are crinkled and his shoulders and bouncing up and down, and you realise he’s laughing as well.

You watch as he laughs, realising he’s been tense since the moment he got here. Now, he seems relaxed and open. You can see the laughter in his eyes before he closes them and throws his head back in bliss. This, human connection, laughing with someone else, just being near someone who doesn’t hate you, you think it could help fix you. Maybe not entirely, you’ll need more help for that, therapy and maybe some drugs, but having someone else, it could really help you.

And you don’t want to lose that.

“Will you come back?” you ask while Ghost is still laughing. He takes a moment to catch his breath, steadying himself again.

“When I’m in town, I’ll stop by,” he says, his voice sounding inhumanly steady after laughing so hard for so long. The control he has over himself makes him even more alluring.

You smile and nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You feel your eyes begin to get heavy, and you ask, “Is it okay for me to sleep?”

Ghost nods. “You don’t have a concussion. But I’ll stay until I have to go.”

“No one’s going to follow you here, right?” you ask, laying your head down on the table and placing the towel-wrapped bag of ice on the table next to your face.

Ghost chuckles guiltily. “No, I think before I smashed through your window, I lost them.”

“Why did you crash through my window?” you ask, fading off to sleep.

“I slipped,” you hear Ghost’s low voice mumble as it lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Ghost is gone. In his place there’s a small sticky note like the ones in a drawer in your kitchen, a pen that looks like it’s from that drawer as well. Probably because it is from that drawer, you realise as you rub your eyes to try and get them to work again. When they finally clear a little more, you see that the sticky note is a lot bigger than it should be. Grabbing it and pulling it towards you, you see there’s money folded neatly underneath it. Unfolding it, you see a couple hundred dollars, and on the note it says, “Sorry for your window.”

Looking over at the window, you see Ghost has patched up the window temporarily with a rubbish bag and some tape. You have no idea how he could have slipped and fallen into your seventh story flat, but you also don’t really care. You clutch the note to your chest with a smile, the first real smile you’ve felt in years.

[sunshine-sunni]

Small story about CBF!Simon and Orphan!Reader

—★! Tags: Slight NSFW, Fluff, AFAB, MNDI, not proofread!!

Like clockwork, every day at 4pm, the two of you meet on the steps outside your school. You've lost count of how many times you've seen each other in passing, but this shared routine has created a bond between you. Both of you sit there, waiting for parents or guardians who never seem to show up on time, if at all.

You see him so often, his name even became a drunken slur from the older man who shows up every now and then. "Simon." But there's no warmth in the way he says it, just pure hatred and disgust. He doesn't bother to hide his apathy towards the young boy as he roughly grabs him by the shirt and pulls him towards their car.

You also see Simon throughout the school day, always alone with fresh bruises appearing on his skin every day. He doesn't participate in sports or ask any questions. Instead, he sits at the back of the class with his head down, wearing an expression of someone much older than his years.

However, Simon sees you too. How could he not? You always sit next to him on the steps, waiting for your ride. This happens every day until he gets picked up or decides to leave first. No matter what, he always leaves before you do. Sometimes, he watches from a distance as you finally get up once he's gone, realizing that you only stay behind to keep him company.

Your name is familiar to him, whether it's being called out for questions or in the hallways. You're different from him in many ways. Unlike him, you engage with others, participate in activities, and go out of your way to help people. In school, you seem worlds apart from him. But outside on those steps every afternoon, you couldn't be more similar - and that alone makes his young heart skip a beat.

Surprisingly, he takes the initiative and asks if you want to take a walk around the park since it's obvious no one will pick either of you up at 4:30. You agree and there's silence between you as you roam through the park.

It's not uncomfortable or awkward; instead, it's comforting. You sit on the swings while he stands next to you, watching the other kids play with their parents.

Suddenly, you ask him "What's it like having a family?"

His response is short and blunt: "I couldn't tell you."

Over the years, you become close friends and then best friends. In middle school, you are attached at the hip and inseparable. Even when the older boys tease him and call him names, he doesn't mind because you're always there to defend him, often with rocks in hand. The two of you end up running away from the bullies, but he's not worried because he has you by his side, and that's all he needs to truly be happy.

You know him like the back of your hand and he knows the inside of your mind better than you do. But you've never visited his home before and you refuse to bring him back to the orphanage. The park has become your sanctuary; every day after school, you both spend hours there, with you doing most of the talking while he listens intently. He pushes you on the swings and eventually, you both have to leave and return to a place that shouldn't be called home.

As he grows older, the bruises on his body become less frequent but more severe. Some months go by without a single mark, and then suddenly there's a bright purplish bruise on his skin the next day at school. Simon doesn't mention it, and you don't ask. Instead, you quietly offer support and patch him up each time you notice a new bruise.

Life at the orphanage was bearable; no one caused any trouble. But it was also isolating, watching others you grew close to being adopted while you were constantly overlooked by potential parents who deemed you unworthy of a home. You quickly realize that being adopted is out of the question; people tend to prefer adopting younger children over older ones. As each year passes, your chances grow slimmer. Despite this fact, you are content with having someone who considers you family, at least with him you weren't alone.

During your teenage years, you began exploring the dating scene, trying out different partners that caught your eye. Through it all, Simon remained in the background. He didn't try to stop you, even though he felt a pang of jealousy inside. Instead, he took this time to truly get to know you and learn how to love you in every way possible.

Turning 18 was a heartbreaking moment for both of you. He made the tough decision to leave and join the military, although he never disclosed his reasons to you. You cried for weeks on end after he told you the news, and it pained him to see you so upset. His mind wavered at times, questioning if this was truly the right choice, but ultimately he knew it was what he wanted. While you had your own aspirations and goals, he had none. But one thing he could offer was protection, and that's what he promised - to keep any harm from coming your way as long as he could help it.

As he prepared to depart, you found yourself drained of all tears. Your eyes were swollen and red, and all you could do was sniffle weakly. You sat in the park on the swings, the same place you had spent each day before. "You better not die," you whispered, struggling to keep yourself composed.

He wasn't one for words, and you knew that. Instead, he stepped closer and pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. You responded eagerly, your hearts beating in tune with the butterflies fluttering in your stomachs. It was his way of expressing the feelings he had held onto for years, and as he left, your lips held a piece of him with them.

Ghost fights with unrelenting determination for you. He endures countless services and deployments, constantly reminding himself of what he's fighting for back at home. Simon, who is stationed elsewhere has Price send you discreet postcards and small gifts from his tour, which you treasure dearly. When he returns, you both navigate uncertain waters, exchanging hushed kisses and lingering touches while longing for more time together. But inevitably, it always ends too soon, leaving you both wishing time would stand still.

This cycle continues for years, until you reach your late 20's and he finally returns for good. By this time, you're well established in your career and he moves in with you. It doesn't take long for the passion between you to reignite once again. Simon knows exactly how to please you - he pays attention to what makes you moan and how you arch your back for more of him. He is always enraptured by you, whether it's the way you grip his cock during sex or the sound of his name on your kiss-swollen lips. Your pleasure is all that matters to him, as long as he gets to hear how amazing he is at making love to you.

Without a doubt, the two of you make up for lost time and within 2 months, you discover that you're pregnant. He tries to maintain his stoic facade, but deep down you know he's struggling. It's like there's a war raging inside him, one that can't be fought with a rifle or scope. As for you, you remain calm. After all, having a baby is not something to take lightly, especially considering your family backgrounds. You both have a lot to think about before bringing a child into this world. What did either of you know about raising a family? But everything changes at 26 weeks when you have your first ultrasound. Seeing your baby girl on the screen has him feeling weak in the knees. This little one growing inside of you is a combination of both of you, a beautiful representation of your love and connection.

Over the course of a week, Simon diligently baby proofs the entire house and devours every book he can find on parenting. He is determined to be prepared and give your baby girl the best life possible, one that surpasses his own and yours. He wants her to have a childhood where she doesn't have to wait on the steps.

You are now lying in a hospital bed, exhausted after 47 hours of pushing. But then, you hear the most beautiful sound - the cry of your little fighter. Simon approaches you and carefully cradles the tiny bundle of pink in his arms, just like he learned in those Mommy and me classes. Tears form in his eyes as he hands her to you. Your hands tremble as you hold her, your vision blurry with happy tears. She has your nose and his eyes. Gazing up at Simon, you both share a wordless exchange that speaks volumes: "We are a family."

♡! I hope this makes up for my lack of posting, college sucks!!!

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: after he'd expended his pent-up energy, Wally had followed Rhonda out of the weight room and back up to the main floor where they'd encountered Simon stood outside the English classroom. neither had been sure what to make of him, but, for the briefest moment, Wally had been sure that there'd been more to Simon's ability than even Maddie or Charley knew.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: panic attacks. eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.19

Wally reentered the school in a haze, his thoughts a discordant refrain of feedback noise as he traipsed down the flights of stairs to the weight room. He was antsy, manic, brain going a thousand miles a minute. The silhouettes of important information indistinct behind a sandstorm of jealousy and confusion. He needed an outlet and the punching bag in the corner was unoccupied.

In perfunctory motions, he wrapped his knuckles in gauze and tape, slashed the air with a few practice swings, and then stepped up to the bag to unleash his aggression.

Thump. Thump. Smack.

He should focus on Simon, Wally knew. On the fact that Simon could see Maddie. That was huge. A piece of the puzzle that reinforced your claim of In Betweens and Maddie's body being out there somewhere for her to slip back in to. Simon's ability explained why he'd dragged you to the bus stop on Tuesday. Why he'd asked you about seeing ghosts. It also explained why Wally had believed Simon wasn't like you and couldn't see what you could see.

Did you know about Simon? Had you simply played dumb last night? No. Wally knew in his bones that you'd have told him if you'd thought Simon could see Maddie. So, aside from Charley, did anyone else know about Simon? Fuck, aside from Ajay, did anyone else know about you!?

It was a game of Clue Wally didn't want to play. Did the person have a hidden cache of money? Did the person know about magic and ghosts and astral projection? Did the person ever use a service road to stalk a teenage girl? Was it Professor Plum in the boiler room with a wrench!?

How many players were sitting on secrets?

Thump. Thump. Smack.

That was the thing, wasn't it? Everyone on the board had a secret. You and Wally. Mr. Anderson. Xavier and his sidepiece. Maddie and Simon. Even Ajay, for fucksakes. And now Charley.

Unlike Rhonda, who was most likely coping on the roof with a pack of Ms. Fields' smokes and Mrs. Arsenault's contraband bottle of wine, Wally couldn't fault Charley for recommending that Maddie not tell anyone about Simon. Not just that it would make Wally a hypocrite, but because Wally had seen Simon. Exhausted and paranoid and scared. A boy who'd been charged with the responsibility of solving his best friend's murder by said best friend.

Wally didn't know what had motivated Charley to keep things on the DL, however, Wally finally understood the gravity of your family's Golden Rule.

It was something Wally had heard Rhonda spit at Charley before he'd been bowled over by the paingriefterror of your panic attack: "You just want to keep him all to yourself so you can talk to Emilio, am I right?" Wally wondered vaguely if Rhonda would regret having said that, no matter how much sense it'd made.

Thump. Thump. Smack.

Simon and Maddie's connection represented a way to reach out from the beyond. Not only for Maddie, but for all the trapped souls in her vicinity. Simon would be run ragged trying to explain the unexplainable: "Don't ask how," He'd have to say, "but here's a message from your dead son/daughter/friend/husband..." And fuck, okay, yes, Wally would spend an eternity in Hell to keep you from that, even if it meant losing his friends.

Or, alternatively, if it meant never seeking you out again; never speaking to you, never touching you—Wally's punches landed harder as images of Xavier holding you close flashed through his mind. Tight, vicious bursts of jealousy that spun the bag in wide sways on its chain.

Wally didn't hate him, but he sure as hell wished Xavier would break both elbows before contracting a chronic case of head lice. The guy was a deadbeat who'd probably never had to face the consequences of his stupid decisions because Officer Daddy had always bailed him out. More likely to abandon you for a new toy than protect you from the monsters like you trusted him to.

It drove Wally fucking crazy that you didn't see it. That, according to you, Xavier was the best thing since sliced bread. Wally had seen how you'd found comfort in Xavier's arms. How you'd gone all pliant and soft for him, molding into his side as if he'd created that space just for you. When, in reality, Xavier was the asshole who'd sought out some peppy, rah-rah pick me to get his dick wet because Maddie hadn't put out. The guy who'd stolen Maddie's phone to delete his mistakes the day she'd been cornered in the boiler room by someone with a grudge.

Xavier hadn't been there for Maddie, and he wouldn't be there for you. Thump. Not always. Thump. Not how you truly believed he would be there for you. Thump. Not how Wally would be there.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. SMACK.

The bag swung violently from the momentum of Wally's last punch, almost knocking him back a few steps when he caught it. He pressed his head against the leather, panting, sweat dripping from his hairline to his chin.

All at once, the anger and jealousy he'd been trying to assuage erupted out of him in a desperate, wild howl.

"FUCK~!"

He punched the bag again, over and over, harder and harder, damp hair matted, sweat stinging his eyes. Hitting a face that wasn't there until it was bloody and mangled, and Wally was spent.

"Whoa there, Rambo, maybe take it down a notch."

Wally stilled the bag with his hands and once more pressed his forehead against it, unwilling to turn around and look at Rhonda just yet.

"You mean Rocky." Wally corrected through labored breaths. She smelt like cigarettes and that Tweed Lentheric perfume she'd died with. Spring earth and chemical ash. "Rambo's the jungle, Rocky's the Eye of the Tiger."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-o. Stallone doesn't exactly have range," She snided, taking a seat on the bench Wally had thrown his jacket over. "What's got you in a mood? And don't tell me it's about Charley. You wouldn't stay mad at him if he'd strangled your childhood dog with his bare hands."

Wally flinched, "That's...descriptive." He turned and regarded her with a put-off expression, "And Charley would never do that." Charley wouldn't even try to hurt someone's feelings. Sure, he armored himself with snark and sarcasm, but Charley was the most empathetic person Wally knew.

Rhonda shrugged, glaring at nothing as she sat in her sulk. Her lips were stained purple from the wine, eyes a little glossy, posture more relaxed than Wally had seen in a long time. Although she still seemed to have an axe to grind, her party-of-one on the roof had served to mellow her somewhat. No longer vibrating with rage as she had been when Wally had left her and Charley at the bus stop.

"So?" Rhonda asked, blunt, "Why are you beating the crap out of that thing?"

Wally used the bottom of his shirt to mop the sweat from his face, taking his time to decide what to say. There were too many landmines; things he couldn't tell her if he didn't want her knowing just how much he and Charley had in common when it came to keeping her in the dark.

"Thinking about talking to the living reminded me of Gary—" Xavier. "and Jenny—" You. "and everything that went down after Homecoming." Except you weren't going to weep about your dead boyfriend in Xavier's arms and then proceed to make out with Xavier under the bleachers. In front of Wally. "Just. How much I wish I'd had someone to beat the shit out of Z—Gary on my behalf, you know?"

Rhonda peered at him like an optical illusion, narrowed eyes and determination, like she could solve him if she looked hard enough. For a moment, Wally was worried she would. Or, at the very least, she'd make a guess so close to the truth, Wally would have to do something drastic to avoid answering.

Thankfully, he didn't have to as Rhonda stood—a little wobbly—and crossed her arms, hip cocked and brows knitted, "I get it." She looked up at him, focus suddenly sharp as a tack, "I wish I'd had someone to put a bullet between Mr. Manfredo's eyes on my behalf." Her expression slackened into something distant and deeply sad that made Wally's gut roll with guilt.

Wally swallowed, nodded, "Yeah," he said, sounding a bit winded as he leveled his gaze on his sneakers. "I wish that, too."

"Alright, fuck this pity party." Rhonda announced, grabbing Wally's jacket and tossing it at him, "Let's go see if Mr. Mueller still has that bottle of whiskey in his desk."

Snickering, "Because that's so much better," Wally trailed after her. When he stepped out of the weight room and into the corridor, the pits and back of his shirt felt instantly drier. Modest resets were fucking mindboggling but also came in clutch in situations like this, when he didn't have the chance to hit the showers.

Rhonda took her time up the stairs, pace quickly going from sluggish to sober as they entered the main floor. That was something Wally enjoyed about being dead: No hangovers. Their systems reset so quickly, it didn't matter how much they drank, the effects wouldn't last longer than thirty minutes, tops. Oh the fun they'd had (under Mr. Martin's nose, of course).

As Wally was getting into the idea of sharing the whiskey with Rhonda, he spotted a particular someone down the hall to his right, leaned against the lockers outside the classroom Wally had escorted you from earlier.

He wouldn't have bothered to stop, Rhonda certainly wasn't going to, except that—

"Hurry up, Clark, Mueller locks his desk before he leaves," Rhonda said, turning around to walk back toward Wally where he stood at the T intersection of the two hallways.

Distracted, "Yeah, be right there..." Wally answered even as he shifted his body to completely face Simon.

Simon. Who fidgeted with his thumb, in deep concentration as he waited for something Wally wasn't aware of. Casually looked up and down the hallway to give himself something to do.

"I'll go get it myself if you'd rather examine the freakshow," Rhonda said, only slightly nasty.

After she abandoned Wally, there was no one else around. No one and nothing to grab attention, though that would change in a minute when final classes were dismissed at the bell.

And yet...for a solid few seconds...

Simon's gaze fell on Wally and stayed there.

💀___________________________

PART EIGHTEEN - PART TWENTY

also available on AO3!

[celestialprincesse]

Bourbon 🏜🥃

You linger somewhat awkwardly in Simon's kitchen, eyes darting about to take everything in whilst you run the pad of your forefinger over the ridges of the glass which you currently sip from. The newcomer seems to observe you with something you could almost see as appreciation, chocolate eyes flitting from your head to your booted toes.

"Nice place." You hum, trying unsuccessfully to break the silence, pulling the sleeves of your shirt over your palms. "Got it cheap." He nods, turning back to the casserole dish which he warms through on the stovetop. "Everything here is cheap." The sound of your voice comes out so unintentionally bitter that you force yourself to clear your throat as you stare at him with a flush overtaking your cheeks, suddenly intrigued by the contents of your glass.

"Haven't seen you 'round." Simon observes, taking the pot from the stove and placing it on the dining table, reaching too easily to the top cupboard over the sink to withdraw two bowls, sliding them across the table whilst you automatically fill them with the casserole. You can't help but to hum in satisfaction when the steam finds your nose and makes your stomach growl.

"Don't get out so much." Your voice fills the kitchen as he stares at you, handing you a fork. "Too much to get done at my place. Tryna get ready for when summer starts proper."

"It's June." The soldier before you chuffs, and you think perhaps he raises an amused brow beneath his balaclava.

You give a noncommittal hum at that, settling in the chair opposite him and pointing at the hulking figure hunched over the table with your fork. "July's when it gets real hot. Days get longer." You advise, taking an appreciative bite of your own cooking, lips kicking up in a smile when he gives a nod of enjoyment himself. With the balaclava rolled halfway up his crooked nose, you can't help but appreciate more than just his quiet company, but also the pronounced bow of his lips and the strong set of his jaw, shadowed by just barely grown out stubble and a wry smirk.

"Good to know." He grunts before taking another mouthful of his food whilst you take a long sip of bourbon to distract yourself from the off-putting sensuality of his movements.

"Marlene saw you at the body shop. You fix cars or sum'n?" "Marlene?" Simon nearly chokes at your bluntness before his surprise turns to amusement at how you're practically more socially inept than he is.

"Marlene. Pretty, blonde, talks like she's verbally incontinent? Flits around Frank like a moth to a flame?" "Frank?"

"Hell." You huff, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger.

"What?" He grunts with a chuckle that has your heart doing flips against your ribs.

"You know anyone here?" "I know you." That wry smile pulls at his lips again and you think that if he keeps looking at you like that you'll either puke or cry - or wind up on your knees - which you'd really rather not be doing when you've known this guy all of five minutes.

"Frank's a mechanic, works at the bodyshop, which Dean owns. Marlene is Frank's girlfriend - and the biggest gossip on this side of the equator."

"Right - and Marlena-" "Marlene." "Marlene told you I fix cars?"

"No. Marlene told me she say you at the body shop and by the state of the Chevy outside I put two and two together."

He gives a thoughtful hum at that, looking over at you with a glint in his eye before washing down his last bite with a swill of whiskey.

"I'm no mechanic but I know a thing or two." "About old cars?" You can't tamp down the obvious hope in your voice as you stare up at him in a way that makes his stomach tighten.

"How old?" "I got a '69 fastback. S' a mess and I got no time to look at it properly. Not even too sure where to start."

"I'll come over and have a look tomorrow." Simon grunts, leaving no room for argument as he goes back to eating whilst you stare like he's just told you he's actually Superman disguised as a very handsome, rugged military man.

"Eat your dinner."

[l0v3tast3]

ooh can i request a 141 witha reader that has bad abandonment issues and needs constant reassurance?

if it’s to much please then don’t do it, don’t wanna make you write something you don’t want to

but if you do mwah ily! ❤️❤️

as someone with severe abandonment issues. and also needs constant reassurance. thank you for this request lmao also mwah ily2 !!! (っ˘ω˘ς ) this was rlly cute to write lol also sorry this took like a month im finally trying to get caught up on requests lmaoo

✎ tags: gn!reader, young military reader, angst, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff

✎ word count: 900 words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests

✧ ˖ ° they all notice it when your eyes shift towards theirs for their approval when you do well during training, when you never say "no" to whatever they ask you to do for them. they think you're just eager to please. you're the shiny new recruit to the team, beaming bright and always ready to take on your next task, so they brush it off.

✧ ˖ ° simon is the first to really figure out how deep your servitude runs, what the real reason behind it is. it's during one of your missions together, him and johnny and you in a firefight. johnny gets separated from the two of you and he can nearly feel the panic radiating off of you at the thought of your teammate, your friend, being gone. you do a good job of concealing it, of pushing through it to clear the area before you bolt to go looking for him.

✧ ˖ ° it clicks for simon so quickly because he's been where you are before. he's felt that trepidation too many times, the dread dripping cold down his spine when the other end of the radio goes silent. he's felt that same dizzying relief when you both reunite with johnny and your shoulders visibly relax. so when you're all back at base and you're hanging back while you fiddle with your gear, he pats a heavy hand on your shoulder with a gruff "y'did good, kid," before he walks away.

✧ ˖ ° kyle doesn't quite figure it out in the same depth as simon, but he picks up on the way you get nearly giddy at any kind of praise or validation and how anxious you seem to get when you think you haven't done something as well as they want you to. as he gets to know you and grows more and more fond of you, he'll make it a point to encourage you and try his best to help you build your confidence in your abilities. it's subtle and obvious at the same time, a quick "nice shot!" over the radio during missions and a huffed "are you ever gonna let me win?" while you're sparring together.

✧ ˖ ° it's not something that's spoken between you two, but you know he'll always be there for you. being the closest in age (and social media knowledge) helps you both to bond quickly and strongly when you join the team, and eventually people start joking that the two of you are attached at the hip. and it's pretty much true; when you aren't together you're texting, sending memes back and forth and talking about how bored or entertained you were in the moment. during missions, you're checking in with each other every few minutes, to the point where simon starts getting annoyed.

✧ ˖ ° price can see it in you the same way he can see it in so many of the recruits that join the military seeking purpose and approval. you're looking for a reason that others will give you to keep going, and he wants to tell you that you need to find your own reason, that you will find your own reason, but it's not something for him to explain. instead, he'll show you a gentleness that he doesn't often show; it's not outright obvious, not enough that others besides probably the rest of the 141 will notice, but it's enough that you'll see it. encouragement and very slowly helping you build your confidence is the road price takes to help you. quiet affirmations after training sessions, positive feedback surrounding the negative, a heavy hand thumping against your back when you do well- price is quiet, but he notices.

✧ ˖ ° as for johnny, well... he's not oblivious, per say, but he'll be somewhere along the "realization scale" close to kyle. it's not something that he's personally worried about himself all that much. johnny knows his talents and capabilities, and the confidence he's built up after a decade in the military is unquestionable. but you haven't had as long as him, as any of them to climb to their level of self-assurance, and he's aware of that much at least.

✧ ˖ ° when he sees you struggling internally with your self-doubt, johnny always swoops in with something to lighten your mood. he brings up that you've mastered a particular move in training already or how impressed he was that you're already able to bring himself down while sparring. johnny sticks near you when he can; he'll eat meals with you and work out with you and just enjoy your company during your free time at the base. if he sees you struggling with something during training, you become certain that he'll always pull you aside after everyone leaves and help you until you've got it down.

✧ ˖ ° as a whole, the men of the 141 task force aren't great at outright reassurance and emotional help. they're hardened soldiers who've proven their worth time and time again, but they know you haven't had a chance to yet. so with their unknowingly combined forces, they'll do their best to make sure you do get that chance, to make sure that you know how much of an irreplaceable and valuable cog in their well-oiled machine you've become.