#grace x Riley

[axelflare9700]

Kisses in hope county

[daemonsdarksister]

NO FOOOKING FIGHTING

Tommy Shelby - Peaky Blinders

[ang3lofdivinity]

Haiiiii!! I have no clue if youre taking requests or not, but I was wondering if you could do general relationship hcs for Riley (if you’re comfortable ofc!)

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“ 𝖨𝖽𝗒𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖼 ”

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

Relationship(s): Riley Andersen + GN!Reader (both platonic and romantic)

Format: Headcanons + small stories

Genre: Fluff + A decent amount of angst

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, Inside out 1-2 movie spoilers, emetophobia, panic attacks, little oc insert other than that- none!

Author’s notes: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR ONE OF THESE. AAAAAAAAAAHAHEHJEHAJAHSH. Guys, I love inside out 2, I’m seeing it tomorrow again. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I made you a bit of a recluse in this, so i’m.. very sorry - Playlist recommendation (not mine):

Side note: Idyllic - extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque.

Platonic:

Definitely one of your best friends.

She’s so sweet 😭

I wanna say you met her shortly after she was introduced into your class, when she was 12. You probably moved to San Francisco as well, but probably from at a younger age- like 5 years old.

You learned earlier on to understand the environment and adjust to it (even with how different and altering it was to you). You’re used to the same routine everyday, the same things everyday, and many things haven’t changed since then. You’ve definitely had trouble with friends even after being here for so long, though, it doesn’t matter- you were weird, at least to everyone around you. They never liked the fact you were.. primarily reserved. You were teased about it, nothing too severe, until it turned to bullying.

It’s…hard. The idea of being alone for the rest of your years here in middle school and then being alone in high school as well because they remember the recluse you were—

Well, until the new student arrived.

Riley Andersen, a girl who moved here from Minnesota with parents.

..If I’m being honest, it hurt to hear the pain within her voice after talking about her life in Minnesota, how she would play hockey from such a young age with her parents.

Though, it definitely took you much longer to actually talk to her, and go up to her. You’d definitely give her longing glances, seeing how lonely she seemed. And you understand, you’re in that very same position.

When you did introduce yourself however, she seemed a bit aloof about the whole situation. And you were patient.

“..Is this seat taken?” The nervousness in your voice was obvious, even with how much you tried to mask it. Tried to control the shakiness of it as you stood next to the dull, wooden picnic table. The blonde, with her head in her hand slightly looked up at you, surveying you for a moment before resting her head once more.

“..No.” She quietly replied.

“Did you.. wanna sit here?-“

“YES!— ..Yes, if that’s okay with you, of course!”

YOU EMBARRASSED YOURSELF. NONOJKOJOBO. GODDAMNIT. THIS IS NOT HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GOOOOOOOO.

“Make yourself comfortable.” You could definitely hear that she was at least attempting to be optimistic in her tone, which you silently appreciated.

Quickly sitting down, you placed your tray in front of you and attempted to find the most comfortable position to sit in.

“..So, you moved here- from Minnesota, right?”

“Mhm.”

..Dry reply. But- that’s okay! You understand why.

“It’s nice to know someone else who’s similar to you. I moved here myself as well, though it was.. a few years ago now. I’m sure you’ll at the very least like it here.”

“Oh- shoot, sorry um.. I’m (___). Riley, right?”

“..Yeah. Riley Andersen.”

You didn’t miss the small smile she gave you.

YOU HAVE ACQUIRED A NEW FRIEND LIFE-LONG FRIEND! :DD

Well- of course after some causal conversation about interests, hobbies, etc.

The two of you exchanged socials so you could keep in touch, and the two of you started talking more often during school and out of school, planning stuff for future hangouts and such.

It was genuinely nice to talk with her and get to know each other’s interests, and your bullies at school seemed bewildered at the fact that you’d actually grown more confident to go out and make friends. Even if it was some new girl like Riley.

Though when she started distancing herself, giving dry responses such as: “K.”, “wtv”, “lol”, “bye.” The repetitiveness of this had gotten you worried to the point you couldn’t even think of anything else but possibly losing your new friend. You just met her!

And this dryness eventually turned into ignorance on her end.

Of course you were going to be a bit of a worrywart over your friend, you had no idea what was going on in her head— you just wanted to help her in any way possible, and the nagging feeling that was gnawing at you due to this was impossible to ignore any longer.

So, you texted Riley when you noticed she was online one day: “Hi Riri! I’m sorry for the sudden message, but I’ve taken note that you’ve been leaving my messages on read for a bit now, and as much as I can understand wanting space from social platforms, but I would at least like to know if you’re okay. So, I wanted to request a video call or a meetup, so we can talk about everything going on, and you can speak your mind. I just want to talk to you, please.”

Apart of you wanted to wait for a message, but the other part of you wanted to close your laptop and hide in the corner of your room.

Though, you couldn’t pick fast enough given the fact Riley had already started typing her reply- given the fact you could see that she was.

“Call, ig. Whenever.”

..You instantly called the moment you got the chance.

“..Riley?” You quietly spoke up shortly after your friend had picked up the call, the laptop resting in your lap as you stared at Riley through the screen.

Riley seemed more despondent than you had seen her before, as she avoided any eye contact with you. The way your heart felt like it was sinking to your stomach-

“Riley?”

“I’m fine, (___). That’s what this call is about, right?” She spoke so bluntly- you probably would’ve thought you were talking to someone entirely different if you didn’t see Riley’s face, or recognize her voice you’d grown accustomed to.

“Riri- no, well- yes.. but that’s not the only thing! I want to know if anything’s bothering you. You know you can always tell me anything going on.” You interjected, shocked of the situation which was unfolding before you.

“Oh yeah, right.” …She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious!”

“I can tell you’re lying to me!” The way she yelled at you, looking at the screen- the way her eyes were filled with such hateful vitriol made you physically recoil, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Did you do something to deserve this? Did you say something weird?? Maybe she’s just going through something and is so pent up because of it! But- with the way of how this conversation is unravelling, you really don’t think this is how this is gonna go.

With furrowed eyebrows, you frowned and surveyed her expression once more.

“You don’t understand what’s going on. You could never! And it’s not that you would even care anyways.” Riley continued, looking away from the screen once more before she tossed down her laptop onto her bed.

You really had no idea where any of these ideas were coming from.

Have you just not been a good friend? You’ve tried. You’ve tried so hard to be kind and courteous with your friend, you’ve tried so hard to genuinely help her, but it seems like all of your efforts are going to waste. Perhaps you didn’t try as hard as you thought in order to be a good enough friend who was worth hanging around with, worthy of love and being able to not beg for attention or seem needy.

Maybe they were right.

That you’re better off without any friends, that nobody would want to be your friend anyway.

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

“..Whatever.”

“Riley- wait-“

She closed her laptop, ending the call.

…what do you do now.

There’s no way to describe the next few hours during those moments.

You were up in your room, pacing, feeling a growing headache starting to blossom like a poisonous flower of sorts.

Nothing yet everything was going through your head at the same time, did she hate you? Was she going to drop you? What if you never see her again?? Would she hate your guts and actually try to humiliate you the next time you see her during school, or any other time?

Your breath hitches at the thought and you move yourself back up against a wall. Your parents weren’t home, they’re out probably galavanting around. It felt like blood was pounding through your ears, the feeling of a heart became unbearable and uncomfortable from the fact it was beating so fast, thudding against your chest. Your back slid against the wall as you curled up into a ball, hands shaking- entire body trembling. It just continued to get worse, whatever this was, as your vision became disfigured and distorted, as if you were looking through a fish-eye lens. You swear you felt your chest feel tighten, coupled with the fact it felt like bile was coming up your throat.

It felt disgusting.

All of it, you felt so sweaty, you felt filthy.

This is pathetic. (You don’t understand what’s happening.)

But you can’t move your body. It feels so stiff. The feeling of cotton in your mouth making you unable to speak, the heavy sensation of your limbs, the way the lights are too bright for your eyes now- it feels like the room os starting to spin, with the walls closing in, and the ceiling pressing down. You can't breathe anymore. You can't even scream as much as you wanted to at this moment.

The scariest thing about whatever’s happening still stands:

You have absolutely no clue what to do.

It makes you feel powerless. Weak. Pathetic and worthless.

Just like it does with the events that just unfolded with Riley.

And it makes you too tired.

Too tired to keep yourself awake.

Desperately, you find yourself trying to find some source of comforting within the rising heat of your own body, even with what’s happening. The tiredness begins to wash over, even with all of these feelings still present, and it genuinely makes you feel worse than it should. Everything about this feels wrong. You should be able to handle this- not freak out over it.

But you can’t help it.

You don’t know what else to do.

. . .

You don’t know how long you were passed out for.

But you realized that you’re on your bed right away. You found yourself turning on your lamp, before hastily starting to look around for a moment, around for your laptop. The moment you found it, you opened it, the time was the first thing you saw on the screen.

1 am.

You passed out for 2 hours.

Your parents must’ve come home and put you in your bed. Theres still lingering effects from whatever happened earlier, like a throbbing headache- and your eyes are incredibly dry, along with your throat.

It takes you a while before you slowly close your laptop, and shakily arise from your spot on your bed, finding yourself going downstairs to get a snack and a drink. Everything felt.. fuzzy, in a way you can’t describe. Derealization is a better way to describe it.

In languid movements, you grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge, and decided to make yourself some simple microwaveable ramen.

Sitting there at the dinner table was awkward.

It felt lonely.

Depressing, even.

You attempt to distract yourself by drinking your water and focusing your attention on the outside sky, and the time on microwave.

You made sure you stopped it before the alarm went off.

Slowly eating, just.. wanted to not think about everything going wrong.

But you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t do anything. You only made things worse, no?

Nothing else eventful happened during your time downstairs, and you finished up your food rather quickly, before cleaning up after yourself. You took your plastic water bottle with you, back to your room. Closing the door behind you, you placed the water bottle down on your nightstand before getting back into bed, the dim lighting allowing you to focus on your computer screen better.

A new message alert popped up on the screen.

It didn’t say who it was from, as you were just about to put in the password. The message left as fast as it appeared, and you barely saw it.

…

You quickly typed in your password, the screen resuming back to your chat logs with Riley. Where the new message was. You scrolled down, and saw the lengthy message in its entirety.

“(__), I know you’re probably asleep right now, but I know you’ll get this message when you wake up and I can’t get rid the guilt off of my consciousness because I’ve been thinking all about it ever since the call, but I’m so sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be so rude, or accuse you of anything. That wasn’t right of me. I have not been going through an easy time, and I don’t wanna divulge that all to you right now, but perhaps in the future when I’m not so tired and emotional? But, I understand that you’re going to be upset with me over the situation, and may no longer want to be friends with me. If you do, I won’t hold it against you. I just hope you can forgive me eventually.”

You could feel more tears well up in your eyes.

Riley was currently offline, though. She probably went to sleep.

But you wouldn’t just not leave her without a response. So, you got to typing quickly.

“Hey, it’s okay, Riri! I understand. There’s absolutely no way I would leave you as a friend, you mean so much to me that I don’t think I can believe a future without you being there as my first friend. Of course we can always talk about it later, but don’t feel pressured to do so. I’ll let you know again that I won’t pry information out of you, I’ll only be there to comfort you in anyway I can! You’re my best friend, Riri. I care so much about you, okay? Never be scared to tell me anything. (Sorry for the fact this is really short, I am so tired and have a headache- lol.)”

You two eventually talked about the whole ordeal eventually.

Overall, you two are inseparable!

Now, if we’re going to time-skip a bit to now where you’re also friends with Bree and Grace, you’re all still inseparable.

Maybe you play hockey- maybe you don’t, and play a different ice sport (ie: Ice Skating).

Nevertheless, you’re all incredibly good friends. You schedule hangouts as often as you can, understand each other, open up to each other, learn interests and hobbies you’re all interested. You enjoy each other’s company.

Bree is a great listener, and she actually sometimes will partake in some of your hobbies with you while you’re also doing them, even if she has no idea what it is. Like, if you’re drawing, she’d grab her own sketchbook and start drawing herself! (Though, neither of your drawings may not be good, you appreciate it). If you do actually play in a different sport, such as Ice Skating, you’d probably try and teach her some different moves- though she’d fail miserably. She’s at least trying, and that’s what you appreciate! Silent time with her is something you also enjoy having with her, because she’s one of the most comfortable people to be with (no offense to the others).

Grace is probably one of the funniest people in the group (not that the other two aren’t funny, its just that she’s so out of pocket at random points that it’s so perplexing yet, hilarious). You all could be silent for a moment while eating something, and then she says one of the most BEWILDERING things ever in human history. It shocks all of you to the CORE. (Don’t lie, we all have this one friend). If you tried showing her some moves in Ice Skating, she’d probably get some right. Though ultimately, she’d be decently stiff and fail in the end. But failure is a learning stone, not something to look down upon! She’s your favorite person to be around if you wanna get your hair braided or laugh so hard you can’t breathe.

Now, back to Riley. Even with Grace and Bree, you two still hold the closest relationship, given your guy’s background, you two talk the most to each other. You’ll blabber something about one of your interests, and she’ll add onto it, and then it’ll be a back and forth of questions from her and answers along with fun facts from you. You even got her into doing some of your hobbies from time to time! If you were to show her some moves in Ice Skating, she’d just admire. SHE WOULD NEVER DO IT. She would be too anxious, and freak out before even doing anything, so she just gives you a thumbs up. Though, if you implored a bit, she’d definitely give in and absolutely FAIL. (None of these girls know how to Ice Skate). Nevertheless, she’s one of your favorite people overall, and you care about her tons.

Now if we fast forward even more towards the end of the Inside out 2 movie, to where Val and her friends come into play..

Val is a gentle, yet firm person. Even with the age gap, you both are stille good friends and care for each other. She’s more like a mother figure to you, but still. You two managed to find a few hobbies the both of you enjoy that you both partake in whenever you can/are available, to which you both take great delight and joy in. Both because you enjoy each others company, but because you can relax and don’t have to worry about conversation, because if you/her want it to be silent- it’s comforting, but if you/her wish to engage in lighthearted banter about anything in general, it feels natural and genuine. Not forced, like you two have to keep talking, but that if you want to, you can! If you tried to show her any Ice-Skating moves, she’d definitely be the best at accuracy and skill. What can I say, she’s a woman of many talents! (She still fails). The best person if you need someone to go talk to. #ibelieveintherapistfriendvalortiz.

Romantic:

Yk this girl is so anxious.

I feel like her love language is acts of service. Ngl.

Taking everything from the platonic area as a prequel to this, she definitely knew she had a crush on you the moment she actually started seeing so many things about you that she hadn’t noticed before or really taken attention to: Your smile seemed much more genuine, your eyes had this small shone to them she originally didn’t see, the way you were by her side when she asked to console her- rubbing her back in circular motions, hugging her firmly yet softly.

….WHAT IS HAPPENING. HELP. WHAT DOES SHE DO???

WHAT IS THIS FEELING.

Amia is behind the console, and accidentally made her so confused with this sudden romantic attraction. (IM SORRY, I WANTED TO HAVE AN EXCUSE TO BRING HER UP).

She definitely starts trying to get closer to you as possible, scheduling more private hangouts for just the two of you- such as picnics, hangouts at her house. And she would use the fact that Grace and Bree wouldn’t be able to make it to her house at the time to her advantage/as an excuse.

Though, the downside is the fact she’s too anxious to even speak to you half of the time. Too anxious to genuinely do anything- even get closer like she originally intending.

..She eventually asked her parents for some advice. Which, may or may have not been a good idea.

Even with that, they still did help in their own way.

So the next time you went to leave your house for whatever, you’d discover a letter at your doorstep. The next day after that, flowers and chocolates. Though they weren’t expensive gifts, they were something.

You noticed that Riley actually started doing things for you before you even asked. You were about to ask her for a glass of water whole the two of you were relaxing at either her or your house, and she’s already handing the glass. You were about to ask her to pass her one of the ingredients you needed while cooking, and she’s already placed it into your hand. Trying to open the door? She already opened it for you, about to leave? She’s got your bag for you before you leave, full of everything you could needed. It’s gotten to the point where you’re actually a bit scared of her intuition.

Perhaps you may have had a crush on her too? Who knows. You decide, after all.

It’s.. hard to pinpoint when this whole ordeal started unraveling, but nevertheless- you felt very… odd at first. Why was she doing all of this for you? A part of you wanted to say that it was all just her being extra friendly on accident and that it meant nothing- but another part of you thought differently.

But the idea of someone having a crush on you felt absolutely and utterly absurd, ridiculous, and incredulous!

You two are just friends! (Just friends.. okay, right/sarc).

She would.. never think of you in romantic sense, there’s just no possible way. (De Nile is a river in Egypt🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️/ref).

(OMFG I NEED TO STOP. IM GIGGLING TOO MUCH AND BEING IMMATURE. But it’s silly).

Nevertheless, you just.. cannot accept it as true. It’s just some actions, it’s nothing that serious! You’re over-analyzing and overthinking it! Stop thinking like that!

..But it doesn’t go away. The itching sensation in the back of your brain never leaves. You’ve started to think about it 24/7, and as much as you try to push it down and say you’re overreacting, it’s still there- even diminutively. It’s. Always. There.

With the more time you spend trying to rid of the suspicion and feeling, you’ve started noticing little things about Riley yourself: The way she looks at you just a little longer than anyone else with a look in her eyes that is indescribable, the way she waits for you at the door as you pick up your phone and holds it open for you, the way she leans closer to you whenever watching any movie- and perhaps in a too intimate way. Like, she gets too close and rests her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck ever so subtly.

..I think it’s safe to say you’re getting attracted to her.

ESPECIALLY WHEN SHE’S PLAYING AT A HOCKEY GAME AND SHE WALKS UP TO YOU LOOKING ALL PRETTY, WITH THE WAY THE SUN REFLECTS OFF OF HER SLIGHTLY DAMPENED HAIR-

…

Yeah, yeah you are.

You’re blushing so hard at the realization of what the hell is happening right now. And you’re way too nervous to tell her anything. You even found out she was the one who left those small gifts at your doorstep. How?

Well..

“I’ll go get us some snacks from downstairs, ’ll be right back!” Riley’s voice sounded out, and you looked up from her sketchbook you’d been using with her permission!with a small smile on your face as you nodded in understanding, before she rather quickly shuffled out of the door and downstairs. You went back to doodling on the sketchbook.

You were just going to pay attention to what you were going to draw next, you saw a small piece of paper sticking out on another page.

..you should not be prying- but, perhaps she drew something!

The excitement filled you as you flipped to the page, where you were meet with no drawing of any kind. But instead, there was a note which was ripped. It was written rather quickly, and the confusion of what you were seeing quickly filled you. But looking at the first few lines had you shocked and blushing like crazy.

‘I had given them a few gifts to leave on their doorstep like my parents..’

Instantly, you closed the sketchbook all together, head racing with so many thoughts at the same time.

She was the one who left those gifts?…

You couldn’t believe it, at all.

Perhaps it was for a different person? (But it was too similar).

What the hell were you supposed to do now????

Wait for some sort of date from her?

Or ask her out yourself?

Both would be.. nerve wracking, but you knew you had to make a move soon, or you probably would never have another chances. You felt scared, more nervous than you had ever before in your life, but you seriously thought that there was going to be no other option.

You had to do it sooner rather than later, in fear of what would happen.

Especially with the possibility of ruining your relationship, you’d take the risk. For the both of you. This way, you could learn if she was truly being more friendly to you for some reason or for none at all and she simply felt like it.

But then another problem came up:

You had absolutely zero idea on how to ask someone out.

..what do you do now.

Well, you at the very least- knew it had to be romantic. Something genuine. None of that faux stuff!

So, you decided on a rather fancy picnic, that appeared to be more of a tea party instead of a small picnic with the fact that you wanted it to be much more different…

There was a large glass table with an umbrella stuck in the middle and unfolded as to keep those safe from the bright sunlight, delicately covered with an embroidered lace cloth.

Upon the table, there are an array of delectable snacks and drinks, carefully arranged. Elegant porcelain teapots, each filled with a different fragrant tea, sat alongside dainty teacups with gold-rimmed edges. Platters of finger sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam.

(You don’t remember how long this took, given you used old antiques and cleaned them so many times- just in case, and made all of these foods yourself. You borrowed the fancy table from your garage and cleaned it down, given it hadn’t been used in years, and brought some simple- yet fancy looking chairs from your house as well).

And you spent quite a bit making sure the letter you sent to Riley was perfect.

You were sat in one of the chairs, dressed in one of your most fancy outfits. You didn’t want to look foolish during this, after all- you made it all look this fancy for a reason!

It was a nice day out today, given that it wasn’t very cold or too warm to be uncomfortable. The sun was on the horizon, and the moon was rising as the stars started shining within the soft colors of pink and orange in the sky. Honestly, it felt more like a dream that this was happening.

And the way you’re genuinely panicking internally-

“(___)?” You heard someone speak up, and you turned your head to look at..

Riley, who was in her fanciest dress, you noted., Though you know she’s not one to dress so formal unless it’s an important event. The dress was white, right above her ankles with a floral design embroidered into it. Even on the slightly puffy sleeves. Though, she was still wearing her converse, with plain white socks to match. Her hair was styled into topsy tail ponytail from what you could see, and a flower clip in her hair.

“Why, don’t look rather ravishing!” You immediately said without another thought, and she blushed at the remark.

“Thank you- you look great yourself!” She nervously laughed while smiling, blush growing on her cheeks. A moment of silence passed between you two, before you spoke again.

“Well don’t just stand there, come sit with me.” Riley instantly became stiff, before nodding and scampering on over to the empty seat in front of you. You gave a lighthearted laugh before subconsciously wiping your hands down the sides of your outer garments.

The two of you stayed in somewhat awkward silence before striking up conversation with one another, talking about the things you did- not including anything.. personal (fangirling over one another) But, instead things you weren’t together for, like actives you did with family, or games/practice you had. Riley even commented on how well made and delicious the food tasted, which made you blush HARD. You were so giddy, yet so anxious at the same time- you felt the need to throw up.

“Thanks again for inviting me.” Riley spoke again before taking another bite of her macaroon, as you simply nodded. You’d found yourself going quiet as you continued to eat your food and sip upon your favorite drink the fancy, porcelain tea cup.

..how were you going to confess your feelings to her after she finds the little note stored in one of the macaroon? How will she react? Will you be able to speak fast enough? Will she accept this, or hate you for the rest of your time together as friends???

Your body was tense as you thought of all the horrible ways this conversation could go after she-

“Oh! Cool, some of them have little fortunes- like fortune cookies!” CURSES.

Riley’s face changed from one of joy, to one of perplexity as she read the small piece of paper, before looking up at you with the same look.

She could definitely see how pink your cheeks were.

REACT, IDIOT, YOU LOOK LIKE AN IMBECILE FOR JUST SITTING THERE!

“..(___)-“

“Riley Andersen, will you be my girlfriend!!?” You slapped your hands over your mouth the moment you said that. The words spill from your mouth like word vomit so quickly you had no time to react while you were saying it, only afterwards did you truly realize what you did.

Her mouth went agape, blinking a few times as she simply stared at you in shock, before her expression changed to a softer one and smiling wide.

“Of course.”

Now, isn’t that banal?

But it’s the way that it happened.

(Side note: you’ll never get to know what the slip of paper said 🫶😋)

Nah it was just some rhyming, and cringey poem that would continue with you saying aloud ‘Riley Andersen, will you be my girlfriend?’

You two are both very awkward to show each other any sort of affection in public, or in private at first. But; it started with Riley slowly- trying (and, failing) to be subtle, holding your hand in public.

Grace and Bree are the first two people you three told about your relationship after you got together the other day. Val being the third.

The more comfortable you get, the more you tell other people, like Riley’s Parents.

They definitely would take you to those Pride parades to show their support, ik it. Prove me wrong rn.

Nevertheless, all of them are incredibly supporting of your relationship!

The more comfortable you two get in the relationship, the emotional and touchy you get (not in that way 🤨).

Like, more hugs (back-hugs, random hugs, etc) between you two, more cheek/forehead kisses, cuddling for the first time, first time kiss, etc. The whole spiel.

Now… on the topic of the first kiss..

It happened at her house while it was just the two of you. Her parents were off at their jobs, and it was summer break. How it happened is.. decently embarrassing. She was leaning in to give you a cheek kiss, until you turned your head in her direction, purely for the reason you were going to ask her a question. It wasn’t until your lips were both connected did you realize what was going on.

Safe to say that both of you were blushing messes.

Grace and Bree tease you often about your relationship, not in a rude way- ofc, but in a friendly way. Val, gives small remarks from time to time, but they don’t mean anything rude by it!

Your relationship overall is pretty healthy, even with some small arguments here and there, and might even struggle with some miscommunication.

Your guy’s relationship though has its ups and downs, like any other, but you’ll always try your best.

For Riley.

Your wonderful girlfriend <3.

. . .

“All we’ve been able to think about is (___) this entire week!” Disgust exclaimed, not necessarily in a bad way, but moreover in a.. realization kind of way. Looking down at the console, which was a deep pink color.

“Isn’t it wonderful!? (___) is so lovely… WE COULD THINK ABOUT THEM EVERYDAY from now on! They’re so kind, sweet, beautiful, and so much more!!” Amia beamed happily while clasping her hands together.

“Says the Love Emotion..” Fear remarked quietly to himself, before sipping his tea. That quickly earned a glare from her, which had him running off in a hurry.

“It’s good though! It proves we’re a genuine partner, and that we’re truly smitten with them!” Joy added, ruffling Amia’s hair as the smaller emotion giggled.

“..They can never be boring, you know?” Ennui, leisurely laid on the couch, said. Laughing a bit.

“BUT, What if they think we’re being too much of an overbearing partner though!?” Anxiety yelped aloud, jumping out of her ���special’ chair to run up to the console, as if looking for tanything that could be a sign or anything possibly wrong. That only lasted for a moment before she backed away, flapping her hands and pacing around.

Joy stared for a second, smile dropping before sighing, shaking her head in disapproval and a softer expression taking over.

“They could never! They love us, Anxiety. They’re being genuine. Just look at Riley and (___) together right now.” The emotion’s hands rested upon Anxiety’s shoulders, gently leading them towards the console to stare at what was happening with Riley at this very moment.

Riley and (___) were happy with their current circumstance. Genuinely contempt. They were currently star gazing in a nearby park, the moonlight’s soft rays of light hitting the couple’s faces, as if it were a true person- caressing their faces ever so gently. Their hands intertwined, and focused on each other, along with the stars to witness their own date. They really could stay like this forever, leisurely sitting in the lush grass near the jagged rocks of the lake to which the light was reflecting off of against the moving waves.

(___) rested their head upon Riley’s shoulder, eyes slowly closing from the tiredness that’d accumulated over the day. And hesitantly, she leaned her head atop of yours.

They were really here. It wasn’t just some wild and crazy dream that dream productions crafted, but instead it was reality, the meticulous reality that now Riley and (___) live with.

It really was idyllic.

This took so long… i can confirm because my phone is lagging so much while typing all of this + my Acheron!reader.

WHICH IM WORKING ON I PROMISE

Enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears(PLEASE. PHONE IS LAGGING SO BAD)

[tommygrace]

One of the things why I think Grace is perfect for Tommy and the only one that was good for him, is because although she also has her dark side, and the two bonded over their traumas, they connected through that night, which they saw each other in their darkest moment. But they also healed each other when they were together. But the reason is, Grace told Campbell that the hatred she felt had disappeared, she no longer felt the need to want to avenge her father, and by continuing with the mission, it was like a tribute to her father. She closed that chapter in her life, she stopped being an undercover spy, since it was something that she did not feel like, she did it for revenge, and she saw how the police were not that good, just as the gangsters are not that bad. But she was able to overcome her trauma and move on with her life. She tried to start over with Tommy but she couldn't, she went to start another life, more sincere to herself. Of course you can't erase your dark side completely, so she kept making mistakes and learning from them. By S3, she had the life she wanted and that made her happy, she married the love of her life, Tommy and they had a family, which brought them peace and happiness. That's why Tommy needed her so much, because although he was better in terms of the trauma, but his trauma was much stronger, and much more difficult to overcome in a short time, he was beginning that path of healing, with Grace by his side, because she inspired him, and she could teach him how to do it. She accompanied him on that path of healing and finally having the life he wanted so much and made him happy.

Quite the opposite of his relationship with Lizzie. When he married her, he was depressed and had much more darkness, it was not one trauma, there were two. He was toxic and dark, and Lizzie was also depressive, toxic and dark, and she did not inspire him to be better, on the contrary, she accepted that he mistreated her, told him that he could cheat on her with other women, and she let him use her again and again. So for Tommy, he had no reason to change for the better, since he didn't want to, he wasn't interested, and in his life there were no people who inspired him or motivated him to improve. All the Shelbys in S5 were depressed, and they all had a life that did not make them happy. Lizzie had a lot of darkness but she had no light since her life was depressive, unlike Grace, she was able to find light in her life.

And May, it couldn't be called a relationship, neither of them felt anything deep for the other and they were very different, if they had started a relationship, they would have gotten bored, because neither of them really understood the other. May never understood Tommy's true darkness, and to love him, you have to love that part too. And only Grace did it, she accepted him, loved him and inspired him, that's why he saw only her as his equal, only her he loved, and only her he needed. And that's why he knows that he will never find someone like Grace, they will never replace her, and he will never find that happiness again in his life.

In short: Grace never, at any time, demanded that Tommy had to be a normal man, she never got frustrated because he wasn't, or because of his traumas. She met him that way, she understood why he was like that, and she fell in love with that Tommy. She saw that he could overcome the trauma, but always accompanied him, never making him feel guilty or frustrated every time he talked about the war. The complete opposite of how Lizzie acts with Tommy.

That's why I think Grace was what Tommy needed and what he wanted. She was perfect for him.

[apollos-forgotten-flower-bf]

this isn't important but i am having ghostsoap and valgrace brainrot simultaneously and the ships are just so angsty i am in constant emotional pain. Every third fanart/fic i find about them is angst and it's HEARTBREAKING

But the fluff for both is so damn cute so i can't really complain

[aceghosts]

Romantic Tarot Card Pairing for OTPs

Hey everyone! I was tagged to do this uquiz by @inafieldofdaisies. Thanks for tagging me!

Since I'm early, I'm going to tag a bunch of people: @sstewyhosseini, @jinfromyarikawa, @marivenah, @jillvalentinesday, @alexxmason, @voidika , @anonymousmalkavian, @clicheantagonist, @commander-krios, @direwombat, @cassietrn, @eclecticwildflowers, @roofgeese, @killerspinal, @children-of-epiales, @strangefable, @theelderhazelnut, @captastra, @chazz-anova, and anyone else who would like to do this!

Blue Murphy & Grace Armstrong

the two of cups + the star

your romance is a wish granted. finally, finally, they're here. finally, *it's* here! the time where you don't have to feel lonely anymore - you'll never feel that way ever again. laughter, joy, sweetness, kisses - be at ease. all of these are things you have found someone to share with. your love is a dreamy fantasy of love and devotion and miracles. at first, your chest gets too tight when they're around - until they become as natural as the air in your lungs.

Hunter Delaney & Albert Wesker

the devil + the emperor

there's only one religion for the two of you, and that religion is the other. you two are very nearly unhealthily obsessed with one another, and that's just how you like it. when they touch you, they can feel the blood pumping under the surface of your skin. your hearts beat for one another. when the day comes that one stops, the other will soon after. until then, you both will live out your lives in perfect, gothy paradise.

Riley Callahan & Ingo

knight of pentacles + the magician

if there's something you want, you will GET IT. nothing escapes your fingertips. after all, you're the power couple. your pairing sparks pure cosmic energy. you're fiercely driven to your goals - whether that be status, fortune, or power. you're also fiercely protective of one another. with the knight's earthy energy, you both prefer to purposefully make your way towards your ambitions, rather than playing cards too early or acting too loosely. meanwhile, the magician's half makes gives you a little fire. if they get too close, onlookers and threats to your relationship may get burned.

Emerson Wright & Ricardo Ortega

the tower + the lovers

meeting this person shook your whole world. crumbling down is everything you thought you knew about life and love. their warmth, their generosity, their naivete, their knowing...! you don't know how anything made sense before them. all you know is that nothing will make sense afterwards.

[allisluv]

Heyyy, I was wondering if I could get a 💍(I think that's what this is) for Daisy Jones.

I've literally just finished the show a couple days ago, and I'm obsessed (also lowkey died when I finished it, like wtf, but still). And I cannot stop thinking about Daisy being a mom, like-

I just know my girl would be the best girl mom ever; playing pretend/dressing up with her and trying to rope you into it, making pancakes for breakfast. Teaching her the words to her songs and how to play the guitar. Cuddling with her and letting her sleep in your shared bed when she has a nightmare. and platting/braiding her hair and putting like star clips and ribbons in them.

(I'm kinda rambling, but i just wanted to see what you think🌝)

-🕸️ (again, hope that's okay)

anon please send me as many djats requests as you have cause the lack of daisy content on this app is actually criminal.

daisy would be the best mom ever. she's wearing little tiaras at your daughter's tea party and doing funny voices for the different stuffed animals. she would use chocolate sauce to draw little smiley faces on the pancakes. she would let your daughter sit on her lap as she writes her songs and if she's had a nightmare, daisys tucking her in between the two of you and humming a lullaby until she falls back to sleep. she would do french plaits and weave little ribbons into her hair!!

[fel0ny-01]

I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING!!!!!! STATE OF GRACE (TV) IS SO GHOST SOAP CODED. LET ME EXPLAIN. (I will delve deeply into this! Forgive me! Read at your own discretion lmfao)

So “State of Grace” is about falling in love, and the power that falling in love can hold; especially how it can change a person’s views on others and themselves. It holds the deeper and spiritual meaning of what love means, right? Now at its core, the song is about growth, change and redemption. Now that sounds familiar to me, especially in how Ghost/Soap is portrayed in fan-made creations (Fuck you Activison!)

I’m gonna delve into some lyrics really quick that scream Ghostsoap to me. They will be in bold.

“I'm walking fast through the traffic lights

Busy streets and busy lives

And all we know is touch and go”

All they know is touch and go. As a noun, it applies to them. Come back from missions, get debriefed, go back and do more missions again. Touch and Go, as simple as that. They both do it, they’ve been doing it for a while.

Now as an adjective, they would also only know touch and go. For Ghost, this could apply to his relationships. People die when they know him, when they love him. It’s possible they will stay, but very uncertain. In a lot of fanon, Soap doesn’t have this problem. However, if we look at canon, it’s implied in Modern Warfare 3, that he doesn’t have any family to go back to. So it’s all touch and go for them.

“We are alone with our changing minds

Being in the military (or even in childhood), they experience traumatic events that a regular human being would never experience. And usually it’s very unheard of in the military to talk about emotional feelings, you are required to keep that away professionally.

We fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds, or fades in time”

Relationships come with a lot of hurt. As always. But the words used here (Hurts, Bleeds or fades in time) really strike me as words that would and could be used to describe the relationships the boys have experienced, whether for both, it would be Graves’ betrayal, or for Ghost, Losing Roach.

“And I never (never)

Saw you coming

And I’ll never (never)

Be the same”

This just applies to the general relationship. We see when Soap and Ghost meet after a couple of years, Ghost seems pretty annoyed that he’s working with the sergeant again, but God he didn’t expect to get so close with him that he felt like he had changed from spending time with him. Physically, he did see him coming, but the way Soap wormed his way into Ghost’s heart? He never saw that coming.

“You come around and the armor falls

Pierce the room like a cannonball

Now all we know is don't let go”

THIS. THIS LADIES AND GENTLETHEM. THIS IS THE LINE. I feel as though this is definitely from Ghost’s perspective. When he’s with recruits, or allies, or anyone else other than Soap, he is stone cold, walls up, no banter. But when Soap, the armour (I love this!) falls, whether it’s the battle armour, or the emotional armour; he lets go when he’s around Soap.

The phrase, “pierce the room like a cannonball” really just makes me laugh because it brings out Soap’s inner destructiveness, but also how explosive he was getting into Ghost’s heart. It even works with how he most definitely lights up the room when he walks in, piercing it.

“ALL WE KNOW IS DONT LET GO” they’ve progressed in their relationship, it’s getting to the point where neither can even think about losing the other. That they’d rather die than lose the other person. They knew touch and go before, that was all they did know, but that uncertain feeling has been replaced with a sense of belonging to the other, now all the know is don’t let go.

“We are alone, just you and me

Up in your room and our slates are clean

Just twin fire signs, four blue eyes”

I’d like to think Ghost and Soap spend their spare time in each others spaces, basking in the warmth of the other. I know in a lot of fics, they either go in theirs or the others rooms, because it’s safe there. When they are together and alone, their slates are clean. They are just Johnny and Soap, not the insane murder machines that kill, get shot and get hurt. They are just two boys in love, adoring eachother. Twin fire signs.

“So you were never a saint

And I've loved in shades of wrong”

FROTHING AT THE MOUTH. THIS IS IT. This could be from either of their perspectives, but I do see it as more of a Soap line. Ghost thinks he’s this awful, unredeemable killer who doesn’t deserve anything good, and Soap recognises he’s done bad things (and so has he) but Soap loves in shades of wrong. He knows they’ve both done bad things, but he never wanted anything less than him, anything less than Simon. Anything less than the brutal killing machine he sees himself as.

“We learn to live with the pain

Mosaic broken hearts”

Whether it’s learning to live with the pain of losing people, seeing unimaginable things, or having traumatic things happen to them, they learn to live with it all. They learn to accept their “mosaic broken hearts” even if they don’t accept their own, but the others.

“But this love is brave and wild”

I love this one, because it feels like it captures the explosive nature of their relationship. Their love is brave, they go out on missions where they could lose the other, but they would also kill for the other. They know anything could happen, but yet they still continue to love. And the wild part just screams Johnny, his explosiveness, his willingness to put his love and trust into Ghost, who returns it with much enthusiasm.

“This is a state of grace”

The phrase “State of Grace” means “a condition of being free from sin”. And this just hits different. Soap and Ghost are ‘sinners’. They have committed several sins in the eyes of religion, they have done awful things, they have committed war crimes for god sake!

But their love strips that all away. Their love is a state of Grace, it’s a condition of being free from sin. When they are in love, all their sins, mistakes, they are all gone. When they are together, they are almost like angels. Their love rebuilds through their fractures, and redeems them.

“This is the worthwhile fight”

Lots of fights don’t feel worthwhile to Ghost, he doesn’t feel like some battles are worth fighting for. He feels like they are just doing them out of pure pity, he feels that a lot of the time. But this time, this fight for love and life with Johnny is so worthwhile to him. It’s something he isn’t doing out of pity, or out of command, he is doing it because it’s worthwhile to him.

“These are the hands of fate

You're my Achilles heel”

Ghost’s hands end lives. With the flick of his wrist he can snap someone’s neck, he can do it without hesitation. His hands decide fate. But Soap is his Achilles heel. Soap could sway him from doing some of the things he does out of habit, that’s how much influence he has on him. He would do anything for his Johnny, even if that means giving up the world.

“This is the golden age of something good and right and real”

Finally, thank fuck, finally, they both have something that’s positive for once. Not war, not death, not pain. Something just for them, something that’s good, and right, and real. They both feel it for each other eternally. It feels right, everything slots together so nice, like a jigsaw.

“And I never (never)

Saw you coming

And I'll never (so you were never a saint)

(And I've loved in shades of wrong)

Be the same (we learn to live with the pain)

(Mosaic broken hearts)

(But this love is brave and wild)”

This bit is more technical on the production side, but it really hits me in the heart. To me, it’s like they are reminiscing over the start of their relationship. Ghost saying he will bever be the same, and Soap reassuring Ghost saying that he loves him regardless of what he’s done. That he’s allowed to have this one thing. That they are both allowed to have this.

[ehhgg-art]

these dudes got me listening to the most loser (affectionate) music ever

[emilythezeldafan]

Unnamed Hello Puppets AU Character Biographies

Unfortunately my Ashley bio was TOO LONG for a Tumblr post so I'll copy paste my Quotev bios here. I'll put them in a book since I think you need an account to view Journals.

[daemonsdarksister]

Thomas bloody Shelby - peaky blinders

[axelflare9700]

Joseph Seed x Grace x Riley Colt

[dawnwriterimagines]

Innocents among you

Part Two to TRAITORS AMONG US

SIMON RILEY X FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 X FEM!READER

Summary: Your torture is over, but is it really? There is only the torment in your mind now. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the flowers at your hospital bed and the tormentors awaiting the relief of your forgiveness.

Part 3!!

Part 4

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

You flatlined twice, almost as soon as you were handed off to the medics.

Committing themselves to doing CPR before bringing in the defibrillator for an electric charge to your sudden cardiac arrest. "Clear!" They restarted your heart just outside the hallway of your cell, Simon held back by Price as your heart stopped again within the same minute and panic ensued. Johnny and Kyle hearing the news, rushing up towards the hall, their footsteps probably the echo that you held onto as your heart rate picked back up.

Clearly, you lived.

You didn't have the luxury of going comatose immediately after. As you would've preferred.

You'd awoken hours after the medical team carried you off to the infirmary. Still on edge, still plagued by discomfort and cold, despite the lights of the recovery facility and the nurses that paraded around you.

Morphine wears off in about 6 hours, so you were up wailing in agony within the same time. Clearly no one expected you up so soon, but you hadn't slept in days, at least not more than an hour. Jerking up involuntarily, hands all over you to keep you down and steady, you could hear a familiar doctor's attempt to calm you down. But, the blistering pain that radiated from every pore in your body was ringing so loud, a present noise that blocked everything out.

So, at first, you'd been terrified, attempting to clutch onto the first thing you'd woken up to. But, you couldn't move, at least not voluntarily.

With the damage to your spine for countless hours, days, and what you had discovered to be two fucking weeks of endless torture, you'd undergone three difference corrective surgeries that would 'possibly' fix the nerve and circulatory damage done to you. It had left you nearly completely immobile since your admission into the infirmary. The doctors were quite astonished that you were even alive...

The nurses were patient enough with your panicked state to slowly ease you out of your stupor. But, at times it wasn't easy, especially when you didn't even know where you were at first. Since you couldn't see...

You were blind for about four days. Everything a tinted red for a few more after you'd regained your sight.

Fevers plagued you for the week, skin that was raw and inflamed from the severe cold and constant dousing from the pipes, you couldn't move if you wanted to.

The first thing you'd been graced to see were the multiple arrangements of flowers, lilies, white tulips, hydrangeas, roses...typical assortments of regret and remorse.

"Can someone throw these away?" had been your first words.

The nurse who had been checking over your vitals looks over at the flowers, the were all over the desk, even on the floor lining the windows, once they ran out of space to put them. It was beautiful. But, she knew why. Everyone knew why. You were quite famous here in the infirmary, as you were in special unit. "Of course."

They were out within the day. The room bare once more.

And then you saw them outside your infirmary window. Just a glimpse. Around the time you were still getting your sight back.

Seeing them for the first time since everything made bile build up in your throat, a screaming fear that created a pulsing headache.

Kyle, Johnny, Price and...you didn't see Simon.

Price was...a statue. Not moving an inch. His hand against his mouth, covering up the aching distress anyone could see on his face.

Kyle was pacing, back and forth and back and forth. Making an offhanded comment at one of them every few seconds.

But, Johnny was talking, pointing spitefully at someone out of your view.

He was there too then. Simon.

Turning away from the window, you couldn't look at them anymore.

"Don't let them in," you breathe out to your doctor as she sets down a trayed mug on your sliding table as she sits you up to drink a hot cup of tea, which you had requested. "Any of them. Please." You were still so cold, you couldn't imagine dealing with any type of cold weather for a while after dealing with this.

She's confused a moment, before turning to the doorway, where she recalled seeing the four men waiting outside in the hallway. She's seen them just sitting there for days now, they wouldn't beg or argue to come in, they'd just wait. It's not like you were cleared for visitors yet anyway.

Every morning she clocked in for the job, there they were. Sitting there like abandoned children, awaiting the moment the door would open to be welcomed inside.

It was like they never left.

Of course she knew who they were to you. Word spreads fast on the base. Especially for a Task Force as 'famous' as they were around here.

Squeezing your shoulder, comfortingly. Feeling protective, your doctor spoke, "Of course," she slides the mug forward a bit, taking the teaspoon to stir once and lift it to toward your lips to sip. "Blow," she guided.

You did. And sipped.

And it was warmer than any blanket they'd wrapped you in.

---

Prior to being able to trudge around on your own, with the help of a crutch you'd been given to go to the bathroom by yourself finally, the nurses had sponged you down in bed. Your spinal surgeries led to you being at risk if they made efforts to remove you from your bed for anything more than a medical emergency.

Mostly, because you're terrified of the showerhead....and it's pathetic, but no one judges you for it as you opt for a sponge bath every time instead. Even if you're shaking as the water slides down your skin even now. The last thing you needed on top of all this was to develop aquaphobia.

Today was the first day you could do it on you own, limping your way to the bathroom with your crutch. The smell of bleach is much stronger in here, it stings your nose.

You stared at the metal stool left tucked at the side, walking around it as if it would pounce up and attack you, you try not to look at it. You'd been doing well without panic attacks for a few days now, just hold it together.

Taking a breath, you reach out to the handle for the spout, glancing up at the showerhead, before back down. Swallowing thickly when you begin to turn it before pausing, hearing the water rush up the pipe to spill out. Turning it back up just as quickly, shutting off the pipe, you inhale deeply, trembling now, hand up to the chilled tile to steady yourself.

You'll try again, you had to.

Drip...

Drip...

Unable to help yourself, the sudden rush of paranoia that runs through you is terrible, a hoarse cry leaves you. You shove yourself away from the shower stall, back ramming into the doorframe, catching yourself, and away from the showerhead as the water drips, slowly from the faucet.

Drip...

Drip...

As panic tightened its grip around your chest, your breaths quickly turned to short, sharp gasps. The room spinning, colors blurring into a dizzying whirlwind. You turn swiftly, nearly knocking yourself off your feet as the thudding of your own heart startles you, you can hear it in your ears, in your hands, in your feet.

You press a trembling hand to your chest, clawing over the area, trying to slow the frantic pace of your breathing, but it only seemed to escalate. The small room narrowing to a black hole of fear and suffocation, every gasp began to disorient you, turning lightheaded.

As tears welled in your eyes, you collapse against the side wall, sliding down to the tiled floor. Slamming your palm against your chest, once, twice, as hot tears leave streaks down your bruised face, you beg your lungs to expand and wait for your breathing to regulate.

Beginning to sob uncontrollably as you hit yourself in the chest again and again and again, waiting for the moment you found yourself able to breathe.

Why did this have to happen?

You remember the violent swing of the baton against your face, the sting it leaves afterwards, the immediate spotting of bruises forming. The memory startles you, receding back into yourself, back to that day.

"It wasn't me..." you cried loudly, in the empty room. It echoes against the tiles.

Simon wrapping his hands around your neck, staring you down as he squeezed, maliciously. You couldn't breathe as your lover shook with the strength he uses to hold himself back from taking your life.

"I'm sorry," you hiccupped. "I'm--I'm sorry," you're not sure when you crawled yourself into the corner, the lights of the bathroom flickering off dimly from your lack of movement. As you're drowned in darkness, the water dripping from the spout, the cold tile against your skin, it's too much. You scramble upwards, running out of the bathroom.

The automatic lights flicker back on inside, but you're too in your head to notice.

Stumbling down to your knees as you feel the rip of a ruined stitching tearing along your side. "Ah!" comes your startled cry. Making it to the side of your hospital bed, you fist your hand through your sheets, unable to stand yourself up.

Taking pained breaths against the sterile sheets, you bury your head in them, cursing whatever luck you thought you had in this life.

They were your family...

All you had for so many years...

As your breathing slows to distraught, agonized huffs of air, sniffling to yourself as you catch sight of your face in the metal frame of your hospital bed. The dark purple bruises beneath your eyes as the swelling gradually went down, the still bloodshot left eye of yours, the twelve stitches on the left side of your face. So gruesome you knew it would scar you for life, a permanent reminder on your fucking face.

Anger bubbled up inside you at the sight of it. At the memory that would always follow when you'd look at it.

Anger that you hadn't been able to properly feel until now.

Anger that you feared to have until today.

"Are you alright?" the sound of his voice makes you visible tense.

Simon.

He's here.

You don't turn to face him, if you did, you'd revert back to the person you were cowering into moments ago. "The door was open...I just--" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "Lemme help you up."

Hearing his footsteps suddenly moving closer, you speak fast. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" you scream over your shoulder, tucking yourself further away from him. "Do NOT move."

He stops in his tracks. You catch the sight of him in the metal framing of the bed, he's a blur in the metal, but you notice his mask is gone, he's Simon Riley now, not Ghost as he appeared to you in the interrogation cell.

"Don't you dare get any closer," you spat.

"I heard you," he spoke, carefully. Mouth opening and closing, before speaking again. "But, you don't have to be stubborn. If you stay there any longer you could tear your stitches."

"Whose fault is that?"

Simon shifts his stance on his feet, waits a second. "I know. And I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. What we all did to you," he says, quietly. "The intel we discovered...or that was forged, it came from a source we've used a dozen times, (Y/n), we thought it was true. It had to be. We've never been misled before."

"So..." your nails bite into your skin, you make an amused sound, biting down on your lip for a moment, till it hurt. " That's what you came here to say, huh? What you waited days to--. Is this you justifying--"

"No, (y/n), that's not--"

"--why you tortured me, strangled me, stripped me, in that fucking cell, Simon?"

"We had to believe it, at the time..."

"Was I not a trusted source?" you argued. "Had I not proven more than a thousand times that you could trust me? I've fought next to you, laid in your bed, given you my love, my trust, I--" you shook with rage at the time and energy wasted on time family, this relationship, if the end goal was always meant to just be this.. "I thought that was at least half the reason you decided to marry me..." at the mention of your relationship, you could see the way Simon nearly lost his balance, hands coming up to run along his face. "You told me you would kill me in that room..."

"I was just talking, I wouldn't have--" his voice cracks as he whispers, trying to convince.

"When you left, I thought you'd come back to kill me any minute, or Price, to spare you. I waited to die for two days, terrified out of my mind. I wondered about heaven, not if I'd make it... but what it'd be like, what I'd be missing out on," you thought back to your time in that cell, a haunted expression Simon couldn't see. "While you all got a good nights rest, woke up for some bacon and eggs, and listened to the warden tell you that your prisoner was framed...for a crime you'd already punished her for..." you stuttered on your breathing, tears flowing silently.

Simon inhales deeply. "I could never expect you to forgive me. I-I had taken my hurt out on you, I thought you did it, I was so sure. I couldn't hear what you were saying, I just could see the evidence, and I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love. I'm truly--" he gets to his knees behind you.

"Get up."

"I can never tell you how sorry I am---"

"Simon."

"I never should've done this to you. If I could ever--" his voice rising with distressed breaths, you didn't have to look at him to see his face a mess of sorrow, tears that would mix into the stubble on his face.

"Simon!"

"--make it up to you. If you could ever find it in your to forgive me, (y/n). I'll spend the rest of my life--" he gets closer, reaching out.

Whipping around, stiffening completely as you feel the graze of his fingers across your skin, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" you shove your back against your bedding, your hand swinging and flying across his face. His head snapping to the side as he pauses, freezing up where he kneels, having completely forgotten your request to stay put. "What's the matter with you! Even now? Even now, you can't just listen to this one thing?!"

"I-I'm sorry..." He looks at you, finally seeing your face clearly and up close since it all happened. Finally he can see the bruises along your face, the blood that fills your eye, the dark bruise still around your neck.

Seeing him. He looks rough. Honestly, he looks terrible. His hair shaggy and falling over his eye. Dark circles with bags under them. Pale, and thinner than he should be.

His jaw clenches with guilt and he averts his eyes, you continue. "How could I forgive you for this?" you stare at him, "I could forgive you, if you hadn't let them chain me up like an animal. If you hadn't watched them drown me for hours, beat me black and blue and left me screaming for days. I could forgive you if you had just believed me even for a moment." you feign thoughtfulness. "How about you look at my face. My wrists. My legs! MY FUCKING SPINE, SIMON!"

"Nothing I can say or do, will ever make any of it ok, I know that. And I can't ask for you to ever forgive--"

"What could I possible owe you in this life, that makes you think I'd even think about forgiving any of you for the things you did to me?" you gritted out, angrily.

Simon's head drops, a slow, shuttering sigh leaves him. "I'll never stop trying to make this right. Never."

"...Get out, Simon."

"I'm sorry."

"Simon."

"I'm so sorry..." he reaches out again.

"Ghost."

He's silent this time, fingers tensing, out in mid air.

"I never wanna see you again."

"I love you, (Y/n)," he confessed, eyes feral and wide. Pulling at the ends of your slip.

"I don't want to hear that, Ghost," kicking away from him. "Stop it."

"I couldn't stop even as it happened--"

"Shut up. And get out," shaking as you sneered at his desperate attempts. "It's over, Ghost."

"And I took it on you. It hurt so much, I couldn't think," Simon's face twisted with agony and remorse. "I'm sorry!"

He was making you lose your goddamn mind, you broke. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" screaming at one another as overwhelming tears escaped your eyes.

---

It's quiet in your hospital room, it's empty now, the door closed this time.

The door knob turns and opens again a moment later. "Oh no, Ms. (L/n)!" luckily it was your assigned nurse, who takes your arm and fixes it around her shoulder before helping haul yourself up to your feet. "What're you doing on the floor? There's a call button for a reason," she scolds as you sit on the edge of your bed.

You're quiet.

Alarmingly so for your nurse, who notices the pulled stitching that creates a line of blood down your side. "If this is about what happened to you..." the nurse started, speaking carefully, pulling a lining of gauze from the side to press to your skin. You don't even wince at the pressure, even when she begins to clean and replace the broken stitch. "Don't let it break you. Not even further than this experience already has..." she says, while through the last stitch and prepping a bandage.

"I've been broken long before this," you whispered, looking towards the afternoon sun shining through your window. "This. This didn't break me, no," you admitted, before glancing up with glossy eyes, rage hidden beneath a profound look of sadness. "It destroyed me."

Her hand pauses at your side, your words startling, turning to see the tear that slips down your cheek. Knowing now how deep your scars were from this, before gently sliding the last of the bandage across your skin. "Do not think you are irreparable. That time can't heal your wounds."

"But, there's always reminders," touching the stitches on your cheek, "some things can't be forgiven."

"I never said to forgive..." the nurse interjected. "If you could, after all this, you're stronger than any woman that could be named."

You snicker at that, humming soundly. "That's an interesting thought. I guess I'm one of the weaker ones then."

"And yet, still the strongest I've ever met," she finishes. Pats your cheek, "click the button next time. Save us both the heart attack."

"Noted," you assured.

As she's prepping to leave for her rounds, you open your mouth, once, twice, before clearing it. "Is it possible, someone could help me out--the water..."

"Of course," the nurse says, quickly. "Don't worry, I understand. I'll get everything set for you."

As she walks away, you breathing out your appreciation, you take a long inhale, swallowing down the heaviness in your chest.

part 3 OUT NOW!!

Tag List:

@m3ntally-unstable @dreamsarenicer @ttsbaby01 @theweirdgeninistuff @shelbycillian @azxulaa @kthehoeforfictionalmen @amusling @v1x3n @nobodycanknoww @thesinsoflust @asexualbuthorny @poisonedsultana @blackhawkfanatic @character---obsessed @yunggoblin @teenagellamaangel @hanniebanggi @nym-phos @gastonlover9000 @lyssa-211 @doodle-cat16 @haven-1307 @kneelforloki @delphiakira @just-going-through-the-motions

[ghostsangel]

Totally free to say no but would you be willing to write something about Ghost's girl not introducing him to her family and she gets a little squirrely if the conversation is brought up until Ghost sees an invitation to her sister's wedding and she reluctantly asks if he'll be her plus one. Only for him to find out it's not her being embarrassed of him or not wanting them to know about him, it's because they're fucking awful to her... If you wouldn't mind doing a plus size reader if you do that would be amazing! Thank you! Your writing is amazing!!

omfg i love this concept<3

simon ghost riley x plus-size!reader

tags/warnings: fatphobia, reader’s mom is a bitch, soft and protective simon. no smut in this one! just fluff.

Simon is a little worried.

You two have been together for over a year now, and he’s never heard you mention your family. He’s told you about his, sure, but every time the conversation shifts to yours, you begin fidgeting in your seat and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, I haven’t spoken to them recently.”

“We’re not very close.”

“I don’t wanna talk about me. How was your day?”

Simon always thinks the worst—you’re too ashamed of him to introduce him to your family. Part of him understands. He’s a giant scarred man who looks scary at any point during the day. Maybe your parents were mega religious and would think he’s some sort of demon come to possess you.

So, Simon eventually just stopped asking—especially when the last time he asked you, he pressed for more information and you almost broke down into tears. He couldn’t stand to see those crystalline drops prickle in your eyes and your lower lip wobble, so he just tugged you into his lap and wrapped his arms around you until you calmed down.

He dropped the subject.

Until today. He sat on the couch, some cop show playing in the flatscreen you two hung in your living room. He hears the door open, watches you trudge inside, your brows pulled together and a frown on your face.

“What’s the matter, doll?” He asks, eyes running down your body slowly. He loves your body—your big soft tummy and thick thighs that he suffocates himself in. Your large breasts that somehow your bra can’t even contain and your plump ass he loves to squeeze with his large hands.

You sigh, holding up a piece of card stock. Shuffling over to him, you sit on the couch, your legs slung over his lap.

“My sister is getting married,” you mumble, so low Simon can barely hear you.

His eyebrows shoot up, his hands splaying out across your thighs, rubbing small circles into the skin. He says nothing—doesn’t wanna push you for more info.

Your eyes flick from the invitation to his face, taking in the handsomely scarred skin. The scar runs across the whole left side of his face, and it’s part of his beauty. You reach up, running your fingertips over the scar, laughing softly when Simon kisses your fingers.

“D’you wanna be my date to the wedding?” You ask reluctantly, avoiding eye contact in hopes you won’t see how uncomfortable you are.

Simon stifles the urge to light up, sit up straighter. Instead, he nods nonchalantly, quirking his lips up into a half smile. “Sure, baby. Anything for you.”

That’s how the two of you wind up walking into an elegantly decorated villa. Simon thinks you look gorgeous—a pretty emerald dress that clings to your curves in just the right way. He found a suit that somehow fit him, and your eyes graze over his thick muscled figure. He looks sexy.

You’re holding his hand tightly, almost like an anchor, your hands sweaty. It isn’t until you see your mother that your heart starts pounding in your chest and you tug Simon closer.

His eyes flick down to you, giving your hand a squeeze and a kiss on the top of your head as your mother waltzes over. You have her eyes, but that’s all. She’s wearing an elegant dress that clings to her tiny waist, and her eyes flit from Simon to you, a hint of disdain in her eyes.

“Glad you could grace us with your presence,” your mother says stiffly, her eyes rolling down to take in your outfit.

“Mother,” you mumble, clenching Simon’s hand. “This is my boyfriend, Simon.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says gruffly, holding out a hand.

Your mother doesn’t take it, simply nodding at him and curling her lip up at she takes in the sight of him. He lowers his hand, and you feel his body stiffen.

“Really, you’d think for a wedding you would wear something a bit more…appropriate,” you mother spits out, her voice low.

You freeze, unable to come up with a response. Her words take you back to years of verbal abuse—“Do you think you need a second plate?”, “Come on, dear, why don’t you go take a walk with your sister to burn those calories!”, “You’ll never find a boyfriend if you weigh as much as you do.”

“I see you still haven’t lost the weight,” she continues, her eyes hard. “I thought you’d finally make an effort for your sister’s wedding. She looks beautiful, by the way. Size 2 wedding dress. Unlike you—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Simon’s voice is gruff and low. His eyes flick to your face, taking note of the tears welling in them and the way your eyes are glued to the floor. His free hand clenches into a fist, and he understands now why you never want to speak about your family.

“I was speaking—”

“Well, you’re done now,” he says, his eyes dangerously cold. “Don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talkin’ to, but this is my girl. She’s fuckin’ perfect, and if you say one more nasty thing about or to her, I’ll pop out your eyeballs with my fingers.”

Your mother’s mouth hangs open, and you blink back the tears and look up at Simon, grateful he’s there. Grateful he’s in your corner and that he loves you. You squeeze his hand, and he smiles down at you.

“I never have been spoken to like this—”

“Well, someone should.” Simon tugs at your hand, pulling you against him. “We’ll be going now. Don’t expect to hear from us. Have a terrible life.”

He leads you away from your bewildered mother, out of the villa and to his car. He bends down, wiping at your eyes with his thumbs, concern in his own.

“You alright, baby?” He murmurs softly, cupping your face.

You nod, looking into his eyes. “I couldn’t say anything,” you mumble. “Every time she opens her mouth, I freeze. I’m so—”

“Shhhh, love.” He leads you to the car, opening up the passenger side door. “Come on. Let’s go get ice cream and go home. I’m itchin’ to give you some proper lovin’.”

He squeezes your thigh all the way home, the two of you eating ice cream and laughing, Simon trying to take your mind off of the terrible encounter with your mom.

And when the two of you get home, he strips you bare and worships your body until you’re crying out his name.

[moondirti]

featuring: ghoap x nanny! f!reader. parenthood. adoption processes. fluff. slice of life. reader is given an age range

hear me out: simon and johnny transferring to reserve duty – i.e., serving the military on a part-time basis rather than being on active call – once they make the decision to become dads. it comes after a long period of deliberation (and healing on simon's part), but after they're absolutely sure that they want to start this next phase of life together, they call price to get it sorted.

who is thrilled for them, naturally, but warns that they still have a specialised commitment to the task force. if he needs them, then they best make sure they're there. the world isn't a better place yet, and no one can do what the pair does.

fine by them.

so it begins. instead of the complex and ethical choices that come with surrogacy, they opt for adoption and work with an attorney to facilitate the logistics. months of searching come up with a young mother, whose unwanted pregnancy has interfered with her life thus far, and is unwilling to make the further sacrifice that comes with keeping the baby. they must be more understanding, or otherwise less overbearing, than the other candidates – because two months later, they're in a hospital waiting room, anxiously lingering to meet the new addition to their family.

isla riley-mactavish. named after the river where johnny realised he'd be much happier with his lieutenant by his side.

the first few months are bliss. exhausting bliss, but a type of contentment that neither man has known since they first confessed to one another. isla's fussy through nights but they take turns settling her down, and if they have military duties to attend to then it's usually never at the same time. she's spoiled rotten – not just by them, but by the captain and gaz as well, who visit more often than not with bags full of toys they have nowhere to put. a little princess in the eyes of everyone who knows her.

by month five, she's teething and can hold her head up unsupported. simon reads somewhere that it's one of the most pivotal points in her development.

of course the call has to come then.

in the middle of the night, no less, and loud enough to wake her up from her crib. johnny scrambles to calm the bairn down as simon answers, price's grave voice crackling in from the other end. expected to be a long haul. a month at least. state security's at serious risk here, simon. i wouldn't ask you to come out otherwise.

and they made a promise. no matter how much it aches them to leave their darling girl behind.

rdv on base in a week.

he knows that one week is a matter of grace. he can feel the captain itching to hatch the operation as soon as possible, but has staved off to give the boys time to order their affairs. that doesn't mean simon's happy with the timeline, though. seven days is not nearly enough to find a sitter they can trust, especially given their own hindrances.

regardless, they send a job posting for a live-in, 24/7 nanny to close friends – no way in hell are they advertising it to the open internet – and hours later, johnny's sister lets them know of a girl who substitutes at the same primary school she works at. a real darling, apparently. honest 'n' stowed oot of energy, th' weans love her, and she haes experience with bairns too!

promising, but word of mouth isn't enough. they get a name and ask laswell to run a thorough background check. to their relief, it comes out squeaky clean. no arrests, no dui's, no shady travel history. modest socials with only a handful of followers. it's in line with what they know so far, solid enough to encourage them to reach out. so they do: just a brief email, asking what time and place would be best for a face-to-face interview.

they bring isla with them to the agreed meeting spot. a cozy cafe nestled in one of the safest parts of town. it's an early saturday morning and they're scheduled to leave in three days. so far, they've put all their eggs in this basket. johnny has to hold onto simon's hand when he notices the nerves dancing behind his partners usually void eyes. but if he were being honest with himself, he's just as scared.

they notice you as soon as they walk in.

sitting at a table for four, mug of coffee steaming as you bend over a well-loved book. despite your preoccupation, you're observant – they inch in your periphery and your head snaps up, a brilliant smile parting your lips as you spring up onto your feet. simon tallies a point on the ledger in his head. good. alert is good.

as is true for them, it's abundantly clear that you're who they're supposed to meet. johnny can't imagine anyone but a children's educator dressing like that: a gingham babydoll dress over a pair of blue tights, which carries over to the bow in your hair and is juxtaposed by the white oxford lace-ups on your feet. he startles when you extend your hand to shake his and he finds a painted fruit on each of your short nails. positively adorable. and so unlike anything they know.

simon shuffles next to him. isla reaches out from her bugaboo stroller, the colours having caught her eye.

"well hello there! aren't you just the cutest angel i've ever seen? do you like my dress?"

that's another point for immediately engaging with the object of your soon-to-be care. simon watches as you pull out a rattle from your purse, handing it over to the cooing baby. warmth blossoms in his chest, and his apprehension fizzles out in the heat. they hadn't told you they'd be bringing isla – opting to catch you off guard and seeing how you'd deal – so he assumes you carry the toy around for emergency purposes, like anyone else of their ilk would carry a gun.

something about that quirk just screams safe.

"it is a nice dress." johnny pursues, voice smooth in that way it gets when he's flirting but doesn't want it made clear. it took weeks for ghost to attune himself to it – he always just thought the scot spoke like that – but now that he's able to hear it for what it is, he shoots him a cautionary look. not so much mad as he is cautious. wouldn't want to scare her off.

"oh! thank you very much. it's my grandmother's design." you straighten up once isla gains a proper grip on the rattle, patting the skirt like you're basking in the praise. "shall we sit? i assume you have a lot to discuss, and i promise you'll want to try the maple scones they make here."

"please. after you." simon nods.

an hour later, you're giggling into your palm as johnny deviates into a story of the time they took isla to the hospital because they didn't know the soft spot on her head could pulse. simon is quiet in contrast, though not displeased. rather, he's focused on keeping the tally of all the green flags you've exhibited thus far. he doesn't mind that the conversation hasn't followed a typical interview format. in fact, people are more likely to show their true nature when in relaxed settings such as this, which is perhaps why johnny hasn't stuck to the script of questions they'd prepared beforehand. the man is better at social manoeuvring than simon is, anyway. he trusts him to direct this where it needs to go.

"it can be freaky! especially if you've never been around a child that young. i had a similar reaction the first time i babysat my neighbour's infant at sixteen. did you know that they can break out like teenagers? i noticed the poor thing's skin erupt in acne at just a month old and called his parent's crying." you wheeze, wiping the tears along your lashline.

"have ye worked wi' many bairns?"

"oh, yeah. it's been my primary source of income since secondary, all the way through uni. i just finished a master's degree in early childhood education, actually! and i wrote a list of referrals you can call if you need to double check on any of that." you rummage through your purse and pull out an apple-shaped sticky note. "do you mind if i ask what you do? people don't usually look for a full-time nanny unless they're really busy. not that i'm judging! i would ne–"

"military." simon interrupts, ensuring his tone is gentle enough to reassure.

"that makes sense! i mean, for an indefinite amount of time, the pay you're offering is more than perfect. above industry standard, really." you pause, brows furrowing like you're doubting whether you should have said that. "ah– whatever. anyway. isla is wonderful, just the sweetest. and the provided accommodation is an added plus. if you guys have no other qualms, then i'd love to accept the position."

"does i' bother you that there are cameras on the property? porch, kitchen, and living room. jus' for security's sake." simon tests, though he knows he doesn't need to, for extra measure. to someone with bad intentions, CCTV is a massive dealbreaker.

you don't hesitate before answering. "makes total sense! you guys are well within your right to check in at any time."

and they don't have to consult each other to know. johnny is practically buzzing in his seat, muscles flexed with enthusiasm as his gaze flits all over you. lingering on your chest in particular, before he looks over to simon and smiles in an offensively handsome way. simon can't help but smile back, crinkling his eyes more than necessary so the both of you can tell what's going on behind his mask.

it feels a little too good to be true, hopeful in a way that sets off the alarm bells in his head. he's stable enough to recognise that it isn't your fault, though. stable enough not to pin his distrust on you. this is likely the best shot they've got at ensuring their daughter's safety while they're away, and it's come in the form of a vivid, bright little blessing.

(with great tits.)

he'd be a fool to sabotage it.

johnny beats him to the cause. "ye'r hired."

[ next ]

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Housewife!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Such a good little wife you are to your military husband, ready to welcome him back home after he returns from deployment. This time you've even prepared a meal of all his favorites, but when Simon gets back early than expected and catches you flitting about the kitchen in nothing but his t-shirt, it isn't food that he wants.

Word Count: 6.4 k

Warnings:

Simon has gotten in earlier than either of you expected, but instead of letting you know he doesn’t call, doesn’t text. There are other thoughts on his mind that cloud his judgment and the last thing he thinks about is wasting time focusing on messing with his phone when showing up back home is infinitely better. He’s excited to be back, chomping at the bit to get back his girl as he’s been missing you something terrible. Now that he’s back on home turf, that longing to see you again is only getting worse by the second.  

You had told him your plan for today: you wanted to make his homecoming right by cooking him a nice meal for the two of you as a celebration since he’s been gone for quite a while this round. The gesture is sweet and Simon is getting hungry… the only problem is that it isn’t for food.

He reiterates to himself on the drive back about the promise that he made to you that he would be on his best behavior today. All this trouble you are going to, he wants to be sure to show his appreciation by enjoying the hard work you’ve put in to prepare a dinner of all his favorite things and he plans to keep it by not letting his yearnings get out of hand…at least that is what he hopes.

By the time he pulls up to the house he is over two hours early from when he was meant to land and his pulse is racing as he parks on the driveway. Just a short distance more and he’s back in the company he’s been craving like crazy.

His key clicks in the lock and as he opens the door to his house he is hit by the sights and sounds of familiarity that instantly put him at ease. There are reminders of you everywhere, little touches that make this a place of comfort he looks forward to coming back to after being away. It is the sound of music echoing from the kitchen that urges him to continue forward after he shuts the door quietly, hoping to catch you by surprise. He sets his gear down by the door and creeps silently through the house, the metallic clangs of pots and utensils underneath the music now becoming more prominent as he reaches the source. 

And there you are.

The pupils of those caramel brown eyes dilate as you come into view; it has been too long since the object of his desire was standing right in front of him and fuck, do you look good. He watches you transfixed on the grace of your movements, unwavering gaze following the motions of your body as you go about the kitchen popping from the stove to the countertop singing along with the song playing over the bluetooth speakers. 

This is it, this is his little piece of heaven on earth, his oasis safe from the chaos that is his daily life, his sunshine that pierces through the darkness that clouds his thoughts, and she’s wearing his t-shirt. And only his t-shirt with your panties.

How the hell can you make something so simple look like perfection? He could very well be biased because he only has ever had eyes for you, but fuck your beauty could pull off anything. 

This right here is what keeps him going, knowing that this is what he will come home to.

He pulls his phone from out of his pocket and promptly snaps a picture, wanting to capture this innocent moment of carefree beauty that you exude now that you are alone in your own little world: humming happily to yourself, flitting about the kitchen, his baggy shirt randomly clinging to different curves as you move, your hair tied back into a low ponytail. 

In that moment, looking like you do, he wants you so bad it hurts. Your figure is only a few feet away from his grasp and yet his body is aching in pain still being this far. He has to be wrapped around you and it has to be right now. Moving with haste he pulls off his mask and gloves and discards them on the ground, removing any sign of Ghost so that he cannot taint his sweet thing with the unsavory dealings of his alter ego. He can’t wait, those lips and hands have to be on you the second they can.

Just as you go to stir the pot of vegetables bubbling away on the stove, the music cuts out abruptly and a familiar pair of arms snake their way around your waist from behind, lacing themselves across the middle of your stomach. You jump, not expecting anyone to be against you, but as soon as your eyes catch that forearm full of familiar tattoos you settle. He’s home, that’s all that matters and those nerves that have been brewing inside your chest all day turn into delicious flutters as those large hands begin to roam across your body.

The old familiar curves call to him, beckoning him to travel their paths once again. Who is he to deny them? He does not even wait as his hands paw over your stomach and hips, those large, exploratory hands taking the curves of your body into their embrace over the t-shirt until his grip is so full he can’t contain any more. 

“You’re early,” you say through a smile as you settle back into him, head resting against his shoulder. 

The warmth from his breath is at the edge of your ear as he moves his face in closer while his hands wander with purpose. His lips are ghosting themselves near the delicate skin of your earlobe teasingly until he has you squirming in his arms. "Woulda called, just wanted to get home as fast as I fuckin’ could," he groans as he tightens his grip around you to cause your back to form into the contours of his taut chest. “Had a craving for somethin’ sweet.” 

Pulling up the t-shirt just enough he moves under it with those large hands, splaying them across your soft flesh around your waist, your hips, your stomach as he takes your earlobe in his teeth to nibble at it playfully until it sends shivers down your spine.

“I missed ya, baby,” he says desperately against the side of your head.

"I missed you too," you return. 

The longer he plays up under the shirt, the more your sanity wanes. His touch is ecstasy and after not having it for so long, it is hard to not immediately succumb to its bliss. He’s barely even begun and you are already falling apart; if this keeps up you’ll never finish what you have started on the stove. 

"I wish you would have called,” you say, trying to break the spell, “cause I wanted everything to be done before you got home. I’m not ready, I’m not even dressed. I wanted this to be perfect." 

His lips move from your earlobe and start just below your jaw, making the connection against your skin over and again along the line of your jugular as he descends down your neck with kisses. He pauses against the vein there as his lips pick up the thudding as it pulses under his touch. The more his mouth lingers, the quicker it gets. 

With a smile he nuzzles his nose into your skin as his nostrils fill with your scent; the fragrance fills his head and it feels like he is being consumed. “Don’t need to get dressed,” his words breeze over your neck and down your chest, “ya look perfect just like this. How could I ask for anythin’ more?”

Simon takes the spoon out of your hand and rests it on the counter so that he can turn you around to face him; that stoic military officer is yearning to look into the face of the beauty he hasn't seen in far too fucking long. Meeting your gaze for the first time in months is akin to a contact high and immediately he is out of his goddamn mind as your eyes lock to his.

You are struggling just as badly. It is always a struggle not to miss him like crazy when he’s gone and now that he is back there is so much time to make up for. And the way he looks as he stands here in front of you, hands around your hips, isn’t helping. The universe knew what they were doing when they put Simon together and even though the black around his eyes is already smugged and his crinkled blonde hair is pressed down from being under his balaclava, the sight of him still makes your stomach flip. You are transfixed and it’s getting harder to breathe.

Brown eyes trail down your features to take you all in, drinking up every gorgeous facet of your face as his hands move to cup around the sides of your head like the frame around a work of art. Those eyes that light up whenever they look at him, that sweet mouth always ready with a smile, those soft cheeks glowing whenever he touches you, all of it a unique perfection that he cannot get enough of. Finally his sight lands on your mouth and as if drawn by an overwhelming urge he is compelled to move in.

He has to kiss you; it is suddenly unbearable that he still hasn’t tasted you yet. 

Leaning into your face he gives your lips a peck to test that they still feel the same as he remembers. Pulling back, he catches the sparkle in your eyes that tells him to do that again and he is ready to oblige. Then he steals another and another at an increasing pace until his mouth smashes against yours and latches on, drawing you in as he deepens the connection. 

His tongue meets yours and shoves its way past the barrier of your lips and into the confines of your mouth as he tastes you. Everything comes flooding back all at once and he is overtaken by all that familiarity. The longer the connection lasts the more he loses himself until he is panting into you, sharing one sticky, hot bit of air as his features shape themselves around your own to make your faces become one.

The thick stubble outlining his jaw abrades the skin of your cheeks and around your lips, making your face sting, but you don't want him to pull away. Not yet, not when his lips are making your mind hazy and your limbs tremble as all that tension that has been building for days as you wait for his return bubbles over the surface. 

His desperation is showing as his dick digs itself into your upper thigh, pulsing and throbbing the harder it gets until you cannot ignore it. Each heavy breath pushes his bulky chest against yours until you can feel his rapid pulse rushing angrily through his veins as his heartbeat pounds. 

"You’re gonna be the death ‘a me," he says quietly under his breath as he cannot think of anything else to say in that moment; his mind is too absorbed in the way your kiss is like heaven and he is succumbing to the feeling of it. “I know I said I’d wait til later, but I don’t think I can, sweetheart. It’s been hell without ya.”

At this rate Simon isn’t going to make it to dinner and you’re so close to being done, but maybe there is something you can do to sate him long enough that you can get through this. With a bit of struggle you break the kiss and pull away as he desperately tries to wrangle you back in so that you have to place your hand on his chest to get him to pause.

Giving Simon’s lower lip one last quick nip you slowly lower yourself to your knees before him, your fingers lacing into the leather of his belt as you fiddle with the buckle. “Then how about I give you a little something to keep you satisfied til dinner’s over?” you suggest as you look up at him with those pretty doe-eyes. “Something to make you feel better?” 

His chest heaves up and down with each laborious breath he takes as you jump into unhooking the metal of his buckle and pulling the leather through until the belt hangs loosely around his hips. Your fingers slide down the zipper, but before you can do more his hands press yours into place along the lower portion of his pelvis so that you can’t keep undressing him.

“Ya don’t have to do this,” he mildly protests. Simon knows if you don’t stop he isn’t going to be able to either and this dinner is going to take a detour, though he can’t lie that he wants you to keep going. 

Giving you a look, he waits to see if you stand back up, but you only smile as you pull your hands back out from underneath his. “I want to do this for you, baby,” you reassure, lifting the bottom of his shirt and leaning in to kiss along the light colored patch of hair that trails down into his boxers as you finish undoing his pants. 

How in the hell is someone supposed to resist this? Simon is strong, he would not have gotten far in life if he wasn’t, but not this strong. You reach the waistband of his underwear with your lips and meet the seam with your fingers to pull them down under his ass low enough that you can release his thick, fat cock.

He is hard already, the tip swollen and angry, and the veins running through it visibly throbbing. The inside of your mouth salivates as it remembers the feeling of being stuffed with that girthy appendage. You keep the spit gathered on your tongue as you lean in and open your lips.

Taking the tip of your tongue you trace the head of his cock as your hand at the base keeps his foreskin pulled back. A breathy moan rumbles out from somewhere deep inside his chest, low and guttural as his hips buck and his ass hits into the ledge of the kitchen counter, making his belt jingle from the movement.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as his head falls back and his eyelids momentarily close. “Forgot how that pretty mouth feels ‘round me.”

He can feel a tightening around him as your lips contort into a smile, excited that you can still make that big ol boy come undone with something as simple as your mouth. Clearly he has been just as worked up as you have been for him to get home. As Simon settles back against the countertop with his palm on your cheek, his thumb lovingly strokes the corner of your full mouth as you continue on.

Your lips around him, wet and messy, suck him in until his cock reaches the threshold of your throat. Those pretty eyes of yours lift back up to look into his face, keeping contact as you choke around him, vision swimming with tears while your head bobs up and down in a steady rhythm. Your lips are bright red and swollen from his kiss, your cheeks blossoming with heated color, that lust-drunk look plastered on your face; it all makes up the gorgeous picture. The visual makes his blood pressure rise until his limbs are vibrating with the racing beats of his heart. 

The slurping sounds of your saliva-filled mouth being fucked is punctuated by sparse gags; it hasn’t been this full for a while and it’s going to take some getting used to. Still, you don’t slow your pace, even as his hips begin thrusting against your face the longer you go. It’s like you’d rather suck him off than breathe and goddamn is that a turn-on. 

Simon releases your cheek so that he can rest his hands on the counter behind him. He hasn’t had you like this in so long that it doesn’t take much to overwhelm him now. That pressure deep inside is building to its peak, drawing his body to the edge of its release with each pass of your mouth over him from as far down the base as you can reach back to the tip. His hands grip hard into the surface behind him until his knuckles turn white.

Shit, he is going to come just like he knows you want, but it is at that moment that he realizes that he doesn’t want to just take this quick blow job and be done with you until later. Simon needs you, all of you, under his touch and at his disposal right this fucking second. Suddenly he is pulling out of your mouth and situating his cock back into the confines of his pants as you stare up at him with your head tilted in confusion. 

“What’s…” you start to ask, but before the words can even leave your lips you are being pulled to your feet. He doesn’t say a word as he wipes away a bit of spittle that has dripped from the corner of your mouth, using his thumb to remove it before he kisses you full force again. 

It's too much, too strong an all consuming feeling to stop and so without warning he pulls from you and throws you over his broad shoulder to carry you out of the room in a rush. He is frantic; he needs to have you now and can’t wait to drag you all the way to the bedroom. No, it’s too far.

Scanning around him as his aroused brain tries to find the fastest solution, he spots it. The dining table that you’ve set special for tonight is just a few feet away and he instantly brings you over to it. Dishes clank and clatter, ceramic and glass hitting itself as he hurriedly shoves everything out of his way to make room for your body before setting you on the surface.

"I know you’re not done cookin’, but I’m hungry for somethin' else," he breathes as he sets you down and lays you back. “I need ya now…waited too long for this.”

The movement has caused your shirt to get pulled up off your stomach and the uncovered area catches his eye; more skin that he desperately needs to claim and now. He brushes his fingertips down across your waist and over your navel, past to your lower abdomen until he lightly grazes the seam of your panties. He can feel the goosebumps forming under his touch and he can hear the hitch in your breathing the lower he gets. 

Reaching your sex he cups his wide palm over the mound and applies pressure. It is warm to the touch and he can feel it radiate into his hand. You buck against him, squirming at the unexpected sensitivity with a gasp. All that softness of your body, so delicate to the touch like silk against his skin, it’s too much for him to handle. Simon has had months and months of only rough, coarse, and rugged things from the brutal environment he was forced to endure, but the moment his fingers grace across all that balmy flesh his brain short-circuits.

It’s not just your looks that drive him wild, though. You are the one bit of happiness he keeps separate from the brutality of his work, the sanctuary that he looks forward to coming home to, the calm in his stormy existence. That's why he suggested he take care of the money so you could stay at home, not bother yourself with working, so that the harsh world wouldn't taint your sweet demeanor with its cruelty. And in return you take care of his life, never asking for anything as you make sure everything here runs smoothly.

"You're always takin’ care a me, makin' sure that everything is perfect when I get back home," he says as he gets more worked up. "Now it's my turn to return the favor. Goddammit, I just wanna screw the hell outta my pretty girl until she can’t move."

Firm hands cup against your hips as his fingertips slip between your panties and your warm skin, tangling them in the fabric so that he can pull them down your thighs and off your legs. Your bare petals faintly glisten as he gets a peak at them through the tight space between your legs, a product of his minimal touch already working on your body; nice to know he still has that effect on you no matter how much time you’ve spent apart. He slides his hands between your thighs, parting them easily as a knife in warm butter, until his hand is deep enough that he can stop and separate them so that the gap is wide and his body can easily fit in between.

"All this for me?” he asks as he stares like an animal starved at your pussy, mouth salivating to play. "Bet you’ve been achin’ somethin’ terrible since I left. Do ya need me ta fix that?”

“Yes,” you breathe.Your body is radiating with the intensity of every sensation that courses through your limbs like an electrical current everywhere Simon touches you.

“That’s a good girl,” he says as he glides his hand up so his fingers can part through the lips of your pussy.

Two of those thick fingers slide between the petals of your sex towards your entrance, gathering as much of your slick as he can on his digits. Carefully he teases them around the rim of your core, circling it through the dampness gathering in your slit. “One or two?” he asks as your back arches off the table, the stimulation driving you to the brink of insanity; it’s been too long since you’ve felt his fingers there.

You swallow hard. “T-two,” you beg. At this point, any amount will work as long as they are his and as long as they get inside you.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s what I like ta hear,” he praises as he aligns his fingers with your opening and slowly fits those two long fingers inside and up into you. “Fuck, there ya go. Just breathe for me, that’s it. Let your body do all the work and take ‘em in.”

They slip up further into your cunt and with a slow pace he begins to pump in and out of you while the overwhelming pressure causes you to arch your back up off the table. Instinctively, your hips buck against his hand, trying to make as much contact with him as possible. 

Those long, coarse fingers curl inside you continuously as his heavy palm rests over top of your sex to put pressure so that he can make more contact and cause more friction with your G spot as his thumb nestles against your clit. Your body writhes against the table, your head falling back with eyes closed as the twinges of pleasure spring up your spine and Simon is grinning from ear to ear to see he still knows how to work his sweetheart just the way she likes.

As he watches you fall apart to the stroking of his fingers, from the corner of sight he catches it: that bounce at the top of your torso under the shirt. It’s as if he suddenly remembers about those beautiful breasts as they rebound with his strokes and out of a drunken haze he is consumed by the need to see them.

Pushing the bottom of your shirt up over your chest, it’s revealed that you don’t have on a bra and his breath hitches to see those perky tits he’s been dreaming of burying his face in staring right back at him. Fuck, he can’t stop himself from getting at all that juicy meat and quickly he leans over you with a groan from the table so that he can reach you with his mouth. Lightly he grazes his teeth over the delicate skin of your nipple to make the little bud grow hard under the sharp contact.

"Oh God, Simon," his name falls from your lips in a breathy prayer.

The sweet sound of his name being spoken in such a desperate way only spurns him on; he needs to hear it as many times as he can make you repeat it, especially after not being able to hear it at all while he was gone. "Say it again," he demands, never lifting his face from your breasts, just switching sides periodically to get them both engaged.

His tongue flicks at the hardened nipple and it makes you whimper as the stimulation runs down your body like liquid fire until you can feel its effects radiating in your clit each time his thumb strokes over it. You know that he wants you to say his name again, but you don’t know if you can. It’s too much stimulation that you are losing your ability to speak.  

"Simon," you say as your voice shakes.  

His hum of satisfaction vibrates through the tissue of your breast. "Again," he repeats firmly before drawing it fully into his mouth. Latching on he takes as much of your breast as he can fit and sucks down hard. 

“S-simon,” your desperate voice clumsily moans. 

Tiny beads of sweat form along the line of your body as it burns with the intensity of the ecstasy you feel under his expert care. He’s in your head, in the very marrow of your bones; there isn’t a part of you that isn’t consumed by him. Those rough fingers grinding away into your pussy and his mouth on your body all pail in comparison to the way his kiss had felt on your lips. That desperate, consuming, overwhelming kiss is your drug and you need another hit.

Your fingers lace into his short hair and you tug hard to pull him from your chest, only then does he unlatch himself from your breast as you guide him back up to your mouth. Simon’s lips are nearly raw and yet he takes yours as roughly as he had in the kitchen, never slowing the pace of his finger fucking. 

It’s like liquid fire, your kiss, and he sucks down with a hunger that cannot be quenched. The sound of your sloppy lips match the wet slaps currently being produced between your legs. Simon is drunk as his mouth takes and takes and takes, and yet… 

His mouth craves more, another set of lips.

The pad of his tongue makes contact with your clit and you jolt, making the table creak as the over-stimulation sends shock waves through your needy body. You can feel the sigh he releases against you as he begins to suck on the nodule of pleasure while flicking it with his tongue; it’s hard to think amongst the staggering overstimulation is leaving you begging and pleading for mercy.

Simon pulls from you amidst your whined protests to drop to his knees before you, giving those thick thighs his attention. His face comes level with your pussy that is absolutely soaked from the work of his fingers and raising your legs to rest your ankles on his shoulders, he dives in. Instantly his face is buried in your heat and as he brushes his tongue through your slit his mouth is filled with your nectar, that tangy burst of flavor that he can not get enough of. It is slathering all over the lower half of his face, coating him from his nose to his chin in the scent of your arousal.

Your thighs squeeze around his head and then release. “I can’t…I-I can’t…” you murmur as you try to move from him.

His mouth releases from you. “Yes, yes ya can, baby. Now, come on my face,” he says fiercely as he grips into the muscle of your hips with all his strength, secures you to his sharp features, and dives right back in like a man starved. 

“F-f-fuck,” you groan as your hands seize the tablecloth in your fists, that coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach tighter with each flick of his tongue. 

Feverish movements against that erogenous button are no longer controlled as he devours all he can, forcing your body towards that ledge to throw you off into ecstasy. He craves it, burns for it, and would die for it: the way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his advances, it all makes him rabid.

As your breath grows shorter and shorter, he knows it's not far; just a bit more suffocation on his part and you will be done in. He moves his face down to tease your hole with his tongue as his nose takes over on your clit. You are so hot it feels like someone has set you on fire as the knot in your stomach gathers to its breaking point. It’s there, right there within reach; just a little more and you are going to come hard and he’ll get his wish. 

Those desperate whimpers quiet all of a sudden and he knows it’s happening; with a few more flicks of his tongue you plunge off the edge with a cry as your thighs clamp down tight around his ears so that he is blocked against you, but that is exactly what he wants. Those seconds after your orgasm shakes through you are his favorite: you writhing uncontrollably over him as he continues to stroke his tongue through you until that high has finally worn off.

Nothing has ever felt better and after not having this for months, it is pure heaven.

It isn’t until you settle down and your legs open back up that he emerges with his face covered in the sticky juices of your cum and his saliva. He is grinning like he has just been given a present, even as he wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand before wiping the slick on his t-shirt.

“Fuckin’ fantastic as always, baby,” he breathes. “But I ain’t done with ya yet. I think we can get at least one more orgasm from ya right now. Come ‘ere.”

He helps your weak body to sit up on the edge of the table to embrace your lips, hoping to reinvigorate you to keep going with the intensity of his desire. You can taste yourself in his kiss, a mixture of sweet and salty that combines with his natural tang to become the flavor of your union. The kiss only lasts a few more seconds, but after just being made to come the exhaustion makes it feel like a lifetime… not that you are complaining.

Pulling from you, he tugs at the crotch of his pants; he can’t wait anymore. “I need ya ta get up and turn ‘round, sweet thing,” he says, guiding you up and rotating you around before pushing you back down onto the table, this time on your stomach. “Gotta get inside. Need ta fill ya.”

The sound of metal jingles as he lowers his pants as his knee pushes against your inner thigh to spread you wider. He releases his cock again and squats down lower so that he can align the tip with your entrance. You can feel it press through the swollen lips of your pussy and you ready yourself for that moment when you’ll be split open.

He can already feel your dampness on his cock as he guides it through and without hesitation he grabs your hips and thrusts inside all the way down to the very base of his cock. Simon instantly bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; it’s been too fucking long since he’s been inside you and if he isn’t careful he is going to come to quick for him. 

Those rough fingers dig in deeper to your hips as he tries to hold on for dear life. “Goddammit, baby,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”

His girth stretches your core wide to its limit so that the walls of your cunt can’t help but feel every single detail of his cock: every enlarged vein, the exact curve of it, each and every crease.

It’s like he’s imprinting it with his signature, letting your pussy know that the one it belongs to is home once again.

Hips begin to rock slowly at first and are immediately punctuated by deep-throated groans as he cannot keep himself calm for long no matter how hard he tries. Your body is too much like paradise, so devastatingly amazing that even though he is desperately clawing at his sanity it is slipping through his fingers faster and faster with each thrust like sand in a sieve. Pulling almost completely out of you he slams back into your core down to the base, repeating this over and over with a ferocity that only gets worse. 

Your body rocks, breasts bouncing and bunching the tablecloth as you are pressed into the surface; you can only moan as the uncomfortable fullness becomes euphorically intoxicating. The table squeaks and strains against each plunge of him deeper into your pussy, threatening to break under the force at any second. Plates and silverware clatter to the floor as they are knocked off and yet you do not care. He will just replace them anyway so there is no sense to take yourself out of the moment to worry about it. 

"Ya look so fuckin' pretty with my cock buried in ya," he grunts. "My sweet girl, my good little wife, always keepin' my balls empty. How'd I get so goddamn lucky to marry someone so good, yeah?"

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. The recoil of your ass as he pounds into you from behind is something he can’t pull his sight from even if he wants to. He is mesmerized, watching himself disappear into the confines of your body only to reemerge more coated in your juices than when he went in. 

“I want ta feel ya pulse around me each letter of my name,” he says as his hand runs down the length of your spine. “Come on, baby, let me fuckin’ feel it.”

You follow his command and flex the muscles in your pelvis. Ten letters isn’t that much, not for him; you do it all for him, anything he asks, anything he needs because you know that he is just as whipped for you as you are for him and this is the way to keep him coming back like a good little pup.

He’s panting like a bitch in heat behind you. “That’s it, fuck, just as that.”

So wet, so tight, the pulsing, the throbbing, the speckles of sweat covering your bodies, his hands grabbing at skin, your hips grinding into him… it’s all too much. “Keep going,” you beg with a shudder. “Fuck, Simon right there.”

You can feel him hitting that sensitive spot inside, his cock pounding over it at the perfect angle, and your limbs tingle as the second coming is fast approaching. There is only one man who can make you come multiple times and it is and always has been your husband. And now his complete possession of your body is almost finished.

“Come on, my pretty girl, gimme another,” he urges enthusiastically as he hears your whimpers get louder while your body trembles. “I know ya have another for me and I fuckin’ want it.”

He pounds into you as if his life is dependent on your orgasm and you steady yourself by gripping onto the edge of the tabletop. The pressure builds and builds, a scourge to your sanity until all at once that bolt of hot electricity shoots through your limbs and your head falls forward with a whine as your second orgasm rockets through you so hard that you are left a mewling mess.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” Simon growls as he finally allows himself to let go and all that build up, all that pining, all that longing for this moment comes to a head and with a few more hard, deep strokes inside your spasming pussy he too comes undone.

A roar rips through his chest as he pulls out and comes across your back, stroking his hand over his cock until he can milk himself dry. You close your eyes, laying your head down as he finishes and grabs a napkin that sits on the table above your head to wipe the cum off. His limbs feel heavy as he sits you back upright to face him. 

Simon simply stares into your face for a while, letting you both just work to catch your breaths. There are no words that need be said, not between you both. Once he is more calm, he gently pushes a strand of hair off your glistening face and tucks it behind your ear.  

“Ya did so well for me, sweetheart,” he says sweetly, placing a softer kiss on your lips as his heart slows. 

“Always for you,” you return with a smile against his lips. 

As you both stand there in the midst of the afterglow of your euphoria, a smell begins to waft in from the kitchen. It is unmistakably the scent of something burning. You poke your head around him just to be sure there isn’t a fire on the stove before turning back to his face.

“I hope you like your food burnt cause that’s what we’re gonna be having now,” you laugh as he pulls you back in for one more kiss, letting his forehead rest against yours.

“Guess its a good fuckin’ thing I filled up on the first course then,” he says as you tut in fake exasperation. He lowers his voice. “But ya know… if the food’s ruined, maybe we should just go ta bed.”

Something about the way he says it and the glint in his eye as you pull back, it doesn’t sound like you are going to be sleeping anything off.