#love simon layouts

[asgardswinter]

Captain John Price icons

• icons from the MW3 campaign • like/reblog if u save :)

[decodee]

mitsuki kouga + aya oosawa

[anonymouspuzzler]

Big Environmental Design Post One!! for this one I decided to design an apartment for @/jaypg9's OC Simon, just for the fun of it (and it was a LOT of fun lemme tell ya!!)

[lluvguts]

this is my obligatory ghost playlist of songs he would listen to when given the aux to look like a tough guy (but when he's alone he listens to fiona apple and interpol because it reminds him of his mom-)

[writella]

Fuckin’ Favorite

Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.

— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.

A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.

—with love from writella ♡

He comes in without a knock.

The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.

This was his house. His rules.

“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”

If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.

“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.

“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.

You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.

He’s aware.

You can’t fool him any longer.

“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”

Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.

You do nothing.

There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”

You had never done that before.

“Do I gotta say it a third?”

You shake your head. No.

Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.

After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.

He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.

Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.

“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.

You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.

Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”

Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”

He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”

This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.

“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”

You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“I- I need you.”

In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.

“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.

You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.

You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.

Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.

Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.

He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.

And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.

Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.

Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”

You don’t open them.

He stops.

“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”

Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.

“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”

“Tell me you want it.”

You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”

“Tell me you need it.”

Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”

He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”

“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”

“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”

You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”

“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”

You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.

“Look at me when I tell you.”

Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.

“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”

As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.

His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.

The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”

Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”

“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”

“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN BOY,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”

[joonieskinks]

I just read your blurb where reader wakes up and she’s married to Sergeant Soap and not Captain Soap but I feel like what if it’s reversed. What if she’s this young bonnie thing with a young husband and then she wakes up to be married to older, slightly more mature, Captain MacTavish.

uh- HELLO?? I love it. Sorry it took so long but here you go, hope I did it justice xx

warning: age gap so shoo if ur not into it

You sat up slowly in the bed, stilling orientating yourself and emerging from sleep. You had thought the sheets felt a little different, but assumed that maybe you were still dreaming. It was only when your eyes opened did you realize you weren’t at home anymore.

You were on base in the early morning, in a room that looked an awful like your husband’s when you would come to see him and stay with him for a couple nights. Well, that was what you did until his passing.

Johnny and you were a young love. He got down on one knee before he was even 23, and got to the altar before 24. You only got a couple months with him as husband and wife- a young widow they now called you. Everyday is hard, but that horrible day you received the news plays over and over in your mind all the time like a nightmare you just can’t shake.

John, Simon and Kyle all came to your door to tell you personally. They cried with you and stayed with you, they promised they would help take care of you, always. It’s what Johnny would have wanted.

The panic finally began to sink in as you could not remember how you got here. Everything was different but also incredibly familiar. This was the base alright, but the layout seemed altered, the paint a different colour. Looking around, you turned on the nightstand light, eyes briefly glancing at the framed photo beside.

It was like your blood turned cold.

There was your Johnny.

That’s your Johnny with his boys, with John, Simon, Kyle. But older, so much older. But he was alive, he was smiling, he’s so handsome and he’s there-

You shot out of bed, running into the hallway, searching for anyone, any familiar face. For your husband. Is he your husband? If he’s older? But how is he alive? Is he still alive?

The questions running around your head, threatening to ignite tears from your eyes. You turn a sharp corner, bumping straight into a hefty figure.

“Sorry” you stumbled out, trying to regain your balance.

“‘S alright.” The man started, looking down at the small, young girl who’s a frantic mess before him.

“Hey, hold on,” he starts again, and you glance up. Coming face to face with John Price. Much older, a thicker beard adorning his face, but that same damn hat. It was him.

“Slow down there a sec and-“

“John?”

The recognition in your voice stops him in his tracks, he looks you over for a couple seconds and shakes his head.

“Think you might be mistaken, love.” He smiles gently, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Johnathon Price- Captain. You, Kyle, Simon and my Johnny were all on Taskforce 141 when we met. You even came to our wedding, you were one of the groomsmen for crying out loud. I-“

“Stop right there.” John orders, his hands coming to grip your shoulders. “How could you possibly know about all that?”

“John, I know you. Now, what’s going on? How did I get here and why’re you older?” You asked, utterly confused and exhausted, you needed answers and you needed them now.

He glanced around the room before making his decision.

“Alright, come with me. We’ve gotta talk.”

-

John sat you down in a private room with a two-way mirror where you told him all about himself, how you woke up here and your marriage. Your Johnny MacTavish, your young husband who went by Soap. Everything, you laid it all on the table, the task force, the mission, the death. Everything.

And John believed you, as crazy as it sounded, from wherever you came from and however you got here- because how else could you know all this?

As he listened, he kept looking to your ring finger, the gold band adorning that you refused to ever take off. He admired your devotion.

John sat, silent when you finished, glancing towards the mirror every now again. Thinking and planning his next move.

“Wait here.” He stood up from his chair and left out the door, leaving you with your own thoughts. But only the same questions were on repeat.

Where am I? What was that photo? Why is he older? Is he still alive? Does he know who I am? Would he think I’m crazy? What now?

You almost didn’t register the sound of Price opening the door again until his figure reappeared. He could only stare at you, empathy in his eyes. Although this was a weird situation, he could tell you were genuine and wanted to help, so he trusted you. Anything for his boys, Johnny included.

“He’s been listening.” John starts and you draw in a breath.. You didn’t even know you were holding it.

He? As in your Johnny?

“He would like to meet you, if you’d like to see him-“

“Yes.” You reply without thinking.

Eager for anything, anything at all that could bring you a glimpse Johnny. The love of your life taken so young, life was so cruel and unfair. Taking him just as you were happiest. He was alive but was this still your Johnny? From the photo he was older, he’s different. He probably doesn’t even know who you are, for all you know he could be married, have his own kids. Who the hell are you to interrupt all of that?

“Then I’ll take my leave.” John huffs, interrupting your thoughts. He eyes you up and down one last time before exiting once again.

You sit up from your chair instinctively, playing with your ring. It’s only now that the doubt hits you like a truck.

Would he believe you? Would he laugh you off? Would he even like what he sees?

The thoughts raced until he opened up the door, reveling himself to you. Then you could only stare in shock.

That was your Johnny.

Older, yes. But that was him. Banged up with more scars, he looks tired yet wears his age well, you just wish you could’ve seen him grow older alongside you… But that’s your Johnny alright.

His eyes drag from the floor to meet yours and he offers you a small smile. It’s enough to shoot the air back into your lungs and for your heart to beat again. The tears starts to leave your eyes and your hands shoot up to wipe them away.

Johnny takes a good look at you and particularly that golden wedding band that he supposedly gave you. It’s still always been his dream to marry a girl like you, in some odd way he feels proud that in another life he got you. A gorgeous, caring and devoted wife that he could love up and spoil. Johnny knows himself and in any life, he would do the same: wife up a woman like you. Looks like he did. Looks like he still could.

“I ‘eard what ye said.” He softly speaks. You close your eyes at the sound. It feels so good to hear him again. A little different, but it’s still him.

“Bonnie, ye don’t have to cry.”

He steps forward to cup your face, wiping your tears away with his fingers. You place your own hands over his, keeping him there. Having him touch you again, it’s better than anything you could have ever prayed for. This is all you think about and to finally have it all come true. Even if it’s just for a second, you’d trade it all away.

“My wife, eh?” Johnny jokes to try and lighten the mood. You look up into his eyes and laugh with a smile despite the tears still leaking. He doesn’t mind, he wipes them still anyway.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You confess, a hand leaving his to touch his scarred face. From his cheeks, a thumb over his chin and his lips. He’s so hard to look away from, how handsome he grew up to be. His gaze and attention makes you bite your lip out of habit. A blush flooding your cheeks- he still has the same effect on you. Damn.

The feeling goes straight to your core, and you react before you can think. Bringing your face to his, foreheads resting against each others while your hands explore his back and shoulders, his neck and through his hair. Something he used to love, and it makes you whine a little when he moans at the feeling. He loves your touch just as much.

“Lass, yer doin’ somethin’ wild to me.” Johnny stumbles out, his hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you in until you’re flush with his body. He feels so good, so toned under his clothes and solid. You didn’t want him to stop, your mind starting to spin.

He runs his hands up your sides, gliding your shirt up to touch the bare skin underneath. The slightest touch has you moaning his name out and he can’t help but swell with pride as he sees this gorgeous, young girl before him come apart, desperate for more of him. His ego has never felt so big until this moment.

“Johnny…”

“What do y’a need?” He mumbles out against your lips, brushing them with just enough touch to set your skin on fire, begging for more.

“Kiss me.” You lean further into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. It’s all too much, and yet you want more. God, you knew that if he were to take you right here in this room, you’d come undone within a minute. Easily. Happily.

“Please.”

“Well- what the wife wants, the wife gets.” He chuckles as he clashes his lips to yours, his large frame utterly engulfing your small one. The way he uses your title so easily, wife- you can’t help but need more of him everywhere, all over like a wife deserves from her husband. Your own hands itching for more of him to touch, your mouths moving together, tongues finding each other as he hums against you.

Johnny guides you and gently backs you up against the wall, a hand protecting your head as your body meets it. You try to pull him even closer to you, grabbing at his clothes when you realize you need him completely bare. It’s been so long since you’ve felt good, only ever wanting your husband. And now here he is just for you. You wonder if he’s even better now with his age... Hard to tell without a test drive.

But it’s only when you need to part for air that some of reality comes back to you.

Guilt.

“Wait, Johnny.” The alarm bells go off in his head and he looks at you worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing his eyebrows crease you immediately try to calm him. Another kiss to his lips and he eases up a bit. Just like he used to.

“I need to know. Do you- do you already have someone? A wife?”

Your nerves hit once more. He could still have someone in this universe or wherever you are. And even like this, you couldn’t be that woman that ruins a marriage. Even if he does feel rightfully yours.

Johnny smiles a bit at the question before glancing downward, almost as if he’s shy or embarrassed.

“Nay, never did.” He starts before taking your cheeks back into his hands, looking into your eyes.

“Just you.”

The biggest smile breaks out on your face, your hands tugging at his shirt to bring his lips back down to yours. He feels good, warm, right. Yours. Still yours. Always yours.

“I know I’m a little young, but that doesn’t bother you, does it?” You ask with a slight smirk against his lips.

Johnny just laughs, his hands working their way down your body to cup your ass almost possessively.

“Certainly not.” His eyes looking all over your face, taking you all in. Gods, you’re gorgeous and all his? He could still hardly believe it, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t at least get to know you and try to make it all work with you. He owes that much to himself.

“Does it bother you?”

“Hmm? You being older?” You ask innocently.

Johnny only nods, still admiring your beautiful face, his girl.

You shake your head no, not daring to look away from his gaze.

“I think it’s sexy, Sergeant John MacTavish.” You quip teasingly.

A groan escapes his lips, his pants straining against him almost painfully at this point. He needed you now or he might combust.

“This room or mine?” Johnny whispers, bringing his knee in between your legs and his mouth to your ear.

“And it’s Captain now, bonnie. Make a decision or I’ll make one for ya. Put on a show.” He glances to the two-way mirror and a nervous giggle leaves your lips.

Your husband most certainly would do such a thing.

-

Johnny was sure to make you use his proper title as he properly had you in bed, as well as used yours.

And with your volume and his reach, everyone on the base now knew he had a wife.

Things were complicated, sure, but you two would figure it out. He knew you both wanted to give it a try and were both willing despite it all.

And after a few weeks, he decides that all there’s left to do is buy a ring of his own that’ll match yours.

[oceantornadoo]

neighbor!simon but he just can’t help that he’s creepy!! he moved the entire layout of his bedroom so that your beds share a wall. late nights when you think you’re alone, getting yourself off with your favorite vibrator, he’s right there, getting off to the sound of your moans on the other side of the wall. stroking up and down, imagining it was your small hands instead.

he knows your laundry schedule, always coming down right after you put your things in the wash so he can stop the machine and steal a piece of underwear. he knows you think the machine eats your clothes, as you've complained to him so many times, your words falling on deaf ears as he nods and gives you a squeeze indulgently. he doesn't notice how your face warms, tucking your chin to hide your embarassment at how hot you find your silent neighbor.

and don't get him started on inviting strangers into your apartment. suddenly he needs to borrow a cup of sugar, knocking on your door until you open hurriedly, half-dressed. you can see him smirking under his mask, like he knew what you were doing, saying in that low voice of his "can I borrow a cup of sugar, love?" and when you open the door (you always open for him), he stares down your companion, hulking over him, asserting his ownership of you. he thanks you with a "don't be too loud, love." and suddenly you're too embarrassed to continue your escapade, unceremoniously kicking out your companion in favor of daydreaming about your menacing neighbor and his raspy growls.

[jakeperalta]

@pscentral event 13: tropes

a selection of my favourite rom-com tropes — featuring: when harry met sally..., friends with benefits, 13 going on 30, plus one, what’s love got to do with it?, love rosie, always be my maybe, how to lose a guy in 10 days, to all the boys i’ve loved before, the proposal, single all the way, serendipity, the holiday, set it up, about time, 500 days of summer, the half of it, crazy rich asians, you’ve got mail, love and other drugs, palm springs, sweet home alabama, love simon, fire island, 50 first dates, bridget jones’s diary, love actually, something from tiffany’s, sleepless in seattle, letters to juliet, hitch & notting hill — [layout insp]

[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 2

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: You and Ghost have grown more comfortable with each other as both of you got used to a new routine. However, a sudden party announcement along with a marriage proposal from a new bachelor drives the both of you to become even closer.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6

It’s been a couple weeks since Ghost was introduced to you as your new bodyguard. The first few days were rough as Ghost spent most of his time understanding the palace layout and your daily schedules. Once he got more familiar with the entire place, though, he was much more relaxed. He got used to following close behind you all while understanding where to go if things went south. He took his job of protecting you very seriously, especially after getting to know you little by little.

You settled into the new addition to your routine nicely. While it was awkward trying to figure out what to talk about around bedtime, you always ended up finding something to open up about. Ghost always listened carefully.

At the end of the day, you both still managed to keep your distance. Besides the occasional stolen glances, the both of you were good about maintaining some professionalism. Even during tea time when he would accept your offer to sit with you. You normally didn’t speak about anything too specific since you didn’t want to get in trouble, so most of that time was enjoyed in complete silence. Ghost never minded. He understood that you had to be selective with your words. Sometimes, he admired how seriously you took your responsibilities as well.

It was a rainy day when you were given a revised schedule to follow for the next few days, one that had you raise your brows as soon as you saw how even more unusually packed it was. Your independent study time was scrapped. You didn’t have to attend piano lessons anymore either. Instead, they were replaced with etiquette-type classes. Table setting, conversation practice, ballroom dancing. Everything pointed to the preparation of a party.

As you looked over your schedule, the room was silent save for the patter of rain against the glass. Thunder lightly rumbled in the distance. Your mother sat across from you, giving you time to drink it all in. Ghost stood behind you near the shadows, watching everything unfold.

When you were done comprehending your schedule, you looked up at your mother inquisitively. “What is the occasion?”

“There is a gentleman that we have been communicating with who has recently entered the country for a trip abroad. He is an exceptional bachelor with the money and status to support a proper lifestyle. He sent an invitation for tea with us, but we figured that an important man like him needed a more memorable experience in Stuoca.” Your mother cheerfully explained, clearly excited for this party. She sipped her tea, proud of herself for orchestrating such an event to happen.

You picked up your favorite teacup and gripped it firmly. The warmth of the tea passing the porcelain and into your palms provided you comfort as your head swirled. Your mother wasn’t explicit in her intentions of this party and it bothered you. Reading into her words, you knew what she intended for you, though.

“You are marrying me off.” You revealed, your eyes widening at your little slip. You meant to choose better words, but perhaps you were growing too bitter to think straight. Ghost, who was listening intently, was now fully at attention like he was called by his captain. 

At first, he listened for information. An outside party needed to be investigated in order to keep you safe. He didn’t pick up on what your mother was implying in the midst of it. When you exposed this truth, that’s when he grew rigid. 

“Come now, you shouldn’t say it like that. We are securing your future. If you want to maintain the life that you have, then it would be good to marry. Besides, you are not getting any younger.” The queen jabbed with a bright smile. Her implicit insult stung. 

Your mother was always like this. She was even more subtle in front of your father, so this was actually rather explicit of her. You had to bite your tongue to avoid letting your bitterness seep out once more. “My apologies. I am just surprised that this is happening so quickly.”

Her gaze sharpened as she graded your sincerity. It wasn’t like you had lied, but you avoided telling the full truth on how you felt. Your mother scoffed as you failed to exchange more grateful words with her. “This is for the best. You should be appreciative of this effort. Most women your age have to search for their security all by themselves. They rarely find the perfect one on the first try too. You're lucky that you won’t have to go through the pain of that.”

You bit your cheek hard to avoid an outburst, a metallic taste on your tastebuds. You didn’t say anything as your mother got up and left the room, allowing you to finish your teatime all by yourself. This was her idea of a punishment. If you couldn’t be grateful for her time, then she would give you only a little of her time. Little did she know that you preferred it when she gave you none of her time at all.

As soon as the door was completely closed and her heels clicked further down the hall, you buried your face in your hands. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or break the throw the expensive teapot out of the window. The stinging in your chest grew to a malicious weight, making you feel like you were drowning. You already had so little control of your life. Now you were expected to give up your life to a man you didn’t know. 

“Princess?” A deep yet soft voice called out. You looked up only to find Ghost sitting on the couch across from you. Lightning flashed from the window followed by a bellowing rumble. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you with a patient gaze. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. 

Actually, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. He wanted to go up to your mother and rip her a new one. It wasn’t like you were withering away from old age like your mother seemed to think. You were young, intelligent, skilled. For someone that dedicated your schedule on a regular basis, she sure didn’t know a thing about you. From what Ghost had seen from you in the past two weeks, you were very much capable of handling yourself or learning quickly how to.

Ghost could say a million things. The problem was that none of those words may be the right words you needed. Your world was different from his and he was still trying to figure it out. Saying what he wanted to say from his perspective may not have been appropriate or helpful to you.

Finally, you spoke up. Your tone was quiet and grave. “My apologies that you had to overhear that conversation. I shouldn’t be surprised that my parents are ready for me to marry. I just never expected that I would be the one having to do the impressing.”

You were right. Why should you be the one having to dance for this stranger? It should be him that should be trying to impress you. Ghost poured himself some tea, thinking about how backwards this all seemed. “You don’t know anything about this man, right? Your parents have never mentioned him before today?”

“No. They don’t usually say anything to me until events are just around the corner. I don’t have much of a social life outside of the palace walls either, so there wouldn’t be any way for me to really know this bachelor’s true character.” You began thinking more clearly, Ghost’s questions actually helping you approach this much more tactfully. It was like he was helping you come up with a plan. 

“You don’t want to marry this guy or just in general?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. It was a rather personal question, one that would have to be kept secret between the both of you. 

You paused, thinking about his question very carefully. Once again, he was trying to get to know how you really felt about things. Ghost seemed to be the only one in the palace that genuinely wanted to know what you thought. After a sip of warm, slightly sweet tea, you gave him your truth. 

A truth that a princess would give too. “I want to marry who I choose and I would choose out of love. I refuse to marry someone that I do not love. This potential bachelor. . . who is to say that I would not fall in love with him the moment I lay my eyes on him? Though, I do doubt this. I am unsure if I could trust his potential personality if the only people who could vouch for him are my parents. Their values in a partner may not reflect my own.”

Ghost has been getting better at deciphering your cryptic princess language. From what he understood, you didn’t reject the idea of marriage. You just wanted it to be out of your own choice of love. A reasonable answer. A bit romantic too. Like a true princess, you believed that love at first sight was possible. Ghost didn’t think he could agree with that. Though, your hint at valuing certain characteristics in a potential spouse piqued his interest in a way he couldn’t explain. “What do you value?”

For a moment, you looked out the window, another flash of lightning illuminating the rainy gray outside. As the light hit your features for a brief moment, Ghost felt his heart skip a beat. Now, you were giving a daydreaming, sweet smile. “I value courage, ambition, and openly high morals. Someone that isn’t afraid of pursuing their passions, satiating their curiosities appropriately, and standing up for what is right. Someone that I could grow alongside with their complete support. Someone that would not only see me as a lover, but as my own person too.”

He couldn’t help but feel his face grow a little warm as you described your ideal man. Though he couldn’t say he checked off all of those boxes, a part of him did feel like you were describing someone like him, even if you didn’t know it. At the very least, you obviously wanted someone that could put their money where their mouth was. Someone with bark and bite.

Not that he would actively pursue you. He lightly shook his head while you weren’t looking, ridding his thoughts of the idea of him being the perfect man for you. “It sounds like you know what you want.”

Those words gave you courage for some reason. Confidence. It surprised you to be filled with such confidence from that simple sentence alone. You looked towards Ghost, your breath hitching slightly as he stared at you with those blue eyes of his. “Yes, I do know what I want.”

“I’ll help you however I can, then. I’m going to run background checks on this guy. Checks on everyone that received an invite as well. I’ll make sure that you are only present at the party for strictly one hour. I still have my job to protect you, after all.” He promised you. If you couldn’t speak up against your parents due to decorum, then hopefully this would give you what you need to fight back instead.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Ghost. I truly do appreciate it.” You gratefully beamed. Who knew that when you were given a bodyguard that you would be given a friend as well.

~

The next few days were busy. While Ghost followed you around to your now tighter classes, he was also doing background checks on every single person that your parents sent an invite out to. Which was a lot. Jesus, when he saw the list of people he wanted to smack them both. It was incredibly dangerous for them to have so many people at the palace at once considering the threats against them and their daughter. It became clear that your parents were more concerned about protecting their public image or parading you around like a doll than about your true safety. 

You felt that classes were a little easier to handle with Ghost being so focused on his laptop. Normally, he would be watching you carry on with your classes. Now that he was preoccupied with his own work, you felt less like you were giving a performance and like you were genuinely learning. Though, you did wish that he would look at you once you were finished with a successful new dance. For some reason, you craved some of his attention now that you had less of it.

Nights were different as well. While you had grown accustomed to talking yourself to sleep with Ghost listening to your every word, he had to focus on getting all the background checks complete. He also took it upon himself to tighten up some security detail. He was extremely busy making sure that you were safe, so it was hard to be upset with him. Yet, you still felt a bit lonely.

One night, you just couldn’t sleep. You laid awake for hours, trying to drift off to dreamland to no avail. Part of it was nerves over the upcoming party. Part of it was fear of being assassinated or kidnapped. Part of it was bundles of creative energy that needed to be released. You usually got it out of your system during independent study or piano, but now that it was gone for now, your fingers were itching to do something you wanted to do.

Quietly, you sat up in bed, listening carefully outside the door. You knew that Ghost usually spent his time guarding you out there. You wondered if he was still there or borrowing an office somewhere to complete his work. Either way, you wanted to be a little sneaky with or without him.

You opened the bedroom door a smidge, looking along the hallways to see if Ghost or anyone was up and around. Moonlight shined through the large windows, illuminating the halls brightly in a white light. You stepped out, now seeing Ghost situated at a small oak desk that was placed out in the hall for him right outside the door. His attention was already on you, having noticed the small opening of the door. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I have too much energy.” You explained briefly, fearful that he may tell you to go back into your room. Thankfully, he seemed to understand.

“You usually sneak out in the middle of the night?” He teased, catching you off guard. You didn’t realize that Ghost could have such a playful tone.

“Sometimes, yes.” You answered honestly. Ghost was a little surprised by your answer. You were more defiant than you usually looked. Sneaking banned books, sneaking out of your bedroom at night. Not that you were doing anything bad. You just did what you could to explore your true interests. 

Ghost closed his laptop and picked it up, ready to follow you to wherever you wished to go. “Where to then?”

Swiftly, you led him to a far part of the palace, a room that was far from your parent’s wing. Without alerting any palace staff, the both of you snuck into the room. In the middle of the room was a pure white grand piano. There were some shelves lined with books about music along with piano sheet music. There was a couch with a table as well, which would allow Ghost to continue working while you tired yourself out. 

As you situated yourself in front of the piano, the lieutenant got himself all set up on the couch. For some reason, you were calm. Comfortable. You thought that you would be nervous with Ghost being your audience once more, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, you have never felt more secure than you did then. Even as you had the chance to play the music that you weren’t normally allowed to play.

You started up with warm-ups. Simple scales, listening to the tune of the piano. Feeling the weight of the pedals under your feet along with the weight of the keys under your fingertips. Ghost has grown familiar with that scale. He didn’t have any particular musical talent, yet he still appreciated it. The classics and simple songs you played were good.

As Ghost worked to the sound of your playing, the both of you fell into a comfortable groove. With your playing, Ghost felt more efficient in his work. You felt more confident in your abilities. Along with this, you began to branch out a little more, practicing classical songs that you were familiar with.

However, you played them. Truly. Not how your instructors guided you to play or how the sheet music dictated. No. You felt the emotions in each note. Each sound was played naturally as if it was second nature to you. Full of passion like the songs were intended to be played. Classical music that Ghost had admittedly grew bored of listening to just about every day, no matter how well you played, was now completely enthralled. Even songs he’s heard before meeting you seemed to breathe new life as you played with your heart rather than your head. 

Before Ghost knew it, all of his attention was on watching and listening to you play. He saw how you closed your eyes, your fingers naturally finding each key without the use of sheet music. How you swayed as your hands moved. How you beautifully smiled to yourself as you heard the wonderful sounds your hands made. 

It only got better when you began to play songs that weren’t of the classical variety. Songs that would have you banned from playing the piano in the palace. Hell, banned from music in general. There were some modern songs that Ghost recognized, now given your own flair. He didn’t even know how you knew some of those songs, but that didn’t matter. 

You had talent. Real talent. A clear love for music and the piano.

An hour passed by of him neglecting his work just to watch you play. When you finished a final song, you were breathing heavily as if you had just worked out. Your heart was beating hard in your chest. Once you managed to catch your breath, Ghost spoke up, unable to remain just the silent audience. “Why don’t you play like that during classes? You only play the basics with your tutor.”

You nearly had forgotten that Ghost had been there. You weren’t even aware that he had been listening to you play the entire time. A blush spread across your cheeks as you grew bashful all of a sudden. “It is believed that I am slow at learning the piano. I don’t correct this assumption since I don’t want to be pressured to play even more songs that I don’t find much joy in. At least, not the way they want me to play. I. . . I also don’t want to give my parents another party trick that they can exploit.”

His fists clenched at the mention of your parents. With each passing day, he’s come to resent your parents more and more. How they treat you, control your life, and regard you like a pet rather than a daughter was making his blood simmer more each day. It was getting harder for him to hold his true opinions back. “You deserve more. You deserve to play whatever you want whenever you want.”

Your eyes grew wide at his open criticism. This was the first time he spoke his mind like this. Ghost was careful in his words just as you were up until this point. It was actually rather refreshing to hear him not hold back for once. “Thank you. I hope that I can someday get to that point.”

It felt like a wall between the both of you had crumbled down. As the moonlight fell upon your soft features, your optimism for the future bright in your eyes, Ghost felt himself choke up. This was you at your rebelliousness. You were a princess that snuck around in the night to enjoy forbidden knowledge. And he wanted to be part of that.

For a moment, he understood how people could fall in love at first sight.

You began to toy around with the piano again, this time playing a little more quietly and simpler so that Ghost could get back to work. While it was hard to focus on what he needed to do because he wanted to take in more of the beauty he was in the presence of, he managed to finish what he wanted to do for the night. 

He finished his background check on this bachelor that your mother wanted you to marry. Ghost read everything that he could find on the guy. Net worth, news coverage, social media, and even criminal history. Kate was a massive help in finding more confidential information too. Everything was compiled into a report that he wrote himself. When it was done, he got up from the couch and sat down beside you on the piano bench. 

“Would you like to hear the report?” He simply offered, not wanting to break your light playing.

With a nod, you prepared yourself for what Ghost found. He took a deep breath before reading. “Royal background. A duke. Only a couple of years older than you are. Owns a lot of land and has a lot of wealth-”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You interrupted, your tone suddenly a bit colder. As Ghost looked at you with slight shock, you turned your head away. He didn’t expect you to speak up like that. The fact that you did meant that you were getting more comfortable with him though. You were taking this seriously as well.

“What would you like to hear then, Princess?” He offered, giving you more control that you deserved. 

When he spoke back to you so softly, you met his eyes once more. The piano bench was decently big, but Ghost was a big man. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him. As you looked up, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. The way he looked at you like you deserved the world made you feel lighter than air. When you gazed into his eyes, you felt like you could see his genuinity. 

You trusted him. You trusted that he was an excellent judge of character as well. Much more than your own parents. “Based on the values that you know I am looking for, is he a good fit for me?”

Ghost bit his tongue hard, stopping his immediate response from escaping. He wanted to say no. Based on everything he read, this guy seemed stuck-up. Seedy. He had quite a few exes under his belt, not even counting just one-off flings. He didn’t have a criminal record or seemed to be dealing with anything particularly shady, but he did take advantage of his wealthy and royal status to experience certain things in life, regardless of how others may feel.

Then again, Ghost felt like his brain was foggy. Like he couldn’t really make a fair judgment because he wanted to reject him immediately. He had a bias against him. Where it came from exactly, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he didn’t trust him to be the one for you. He didn’t want you anywhere near him either.

For now, he decided to be earnest yet nice. “I don’t think he would be a good match based on his track records, but who’s to say that he isn’t better in person. You’ll have an hour to judge him at the very least.”

Your heart fell as you heard his answer. It wasn’t that you were disappointed over this stranger probably not being the best for you. No. You were disappointed that Ghost wasn’t more blunt with what he thought. You appreciated how he was trying to preserve your feelings, but you didn’t want that right now. You wished that he could protest some more, any excuse not to meet this stranger and play into the hands of your parents. 

As he saw the flash of anguish on your face, Ghost felt his heart break. He could tell that you were really hesitant about this man. You didn’t even want to meet him if you had the choice. Without thinking, he took up your hands and squeezed. His hand was so much bigger than yours. Rougher, sturdier. Hands that have done things that you would never be able to fully comprehend. And now, they were holding yours. 

“One hour. That’s all. However, if you tell me that you hate him, even within the first second of seeing him, I’ll make sure that he won’t even get to touch you.” His tone was resolute, unwavering. 

As he put the control back in your hands, you squeezed his hands right back. Your heart swelled again as if on a rollercoaster. The moonlight cutting across the skull mask you have gotten used to only to brighten his deep, blue eyes made you melt. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” 

-

Taglist: @angel-anna @ghostlythots @maiyatheprettiestprincess

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Of Cupcakes and Skulls | Part 7

(A/N) Once again a bit shorter, but I think this was a good place to break. ALSO WHAT KINDA DRESS DO WE WANT TO WEAR? Send me some ideas if you want. (I'm definitely thinking high slit, so he can easily finger her during the car ride home. 😏) Also, I couldn't help myself with the Gordon Ramsay cameo.

Pairing: single dad! Mafia! Simon x baker! Reader

Warning: kissies, fluff, Simon is fucking smitten, a lot of money spending

Synopsis: Based on this post by @lunamoonbby

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

When Simon told you that you’d go grocery shopping, you didn’t expect him to take you to the most exclusive wholesale supermarket that existed. To get in, you had to get a card, and to get that card you had to be super rich. But of course, Simon had one.

“Ah, Mister Riley, welcome.”

Even the staff was dressed as if you had just walked into a five-star hotel.

“Will you be needing a shopping assistant today?”

The woman at the front desk smiled and fluttered her lashes as she handed him a champagne flute, trying her best to look as desirable as possible. You couldn’t help but grumble some obscenities under your breath, just loud enough for Simon to catch, who quickly started chuckling. That brought the woman’s attention onto you, and suddenly, she no longer looked as friendly as before.

“Oh, and who is that?”

If looked could kill, the two of you would be having a battle for life and death, clashing swords and dodging each other’s blows. But when Simon wrapped his strong arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, a proud smile on his face, the woman’s eyes widened.

“My girlfriend. And no, we won’t be needing an assistant today, just a cart or two. And could you go ahead and issue my lovely lady a card as well?”

She smiled through clenched teeth and you couldn’t help but smirk at her, victorious in your little battle. While still trying to act as pleasantly as possible - in which she tragically failed - the woman asked for your name and date of birth, and once you gave both to her, she disappeared into the back, before reemerging with a slick, black card in her hand.

“Here you go, Miss.”

You gave her your best fake smile and took the card, placing it in your purse without even glancing at it. No way you would give her the satisfaction of geeking out over it, right in front of her.

Once everything was handled, Simon grabbed a cart and walked in, one arm still wrapped around your waist. As soon as you were out of eyesight of the woman, you pulled out the card again and marveled at it. When you started your business, you wished you had access to this store. But you knew that it would always be a dream…well until now.

“I can’t believe I have this.”

Your eyes were still fixed on the card, even while you were walking, and Simon had to pull you closer to keep you from running into things. He just watched you, amusement sparkling in his eyes, while he grinned.

“I’m glad you like it.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your head, before focusing on the task at hand. And after a bit more marveling, you did too.

As if he knew the layout of the store like the back of his hand, he led you to the baking supply section, where you realized, that maybe one cart wasn’t enough.

“Just take one of each, and tell me the amount you need, we’ll take care of everything at the checkout.”

You nodded and did as you were told, grabbing everything from flour and butter to sugar and decorations. By the end, the cart was overflowing with things, and you weren’t even done.

“Then I need fruits, vegetables, and meats.”

Simon glanced at you, while he was driving the cart through the store, already heading in the direction of the checkout.

“I have some people for that, we’ll go to them.”

You nodded, curious about his connections, but not saying anything.

At the checkout, Simon went through every item and the amount you needed, the clerk writing down everything he was saying before Simon asked him to have everything delivered to your bakery. The clerk confirmed the items once more and accepted Simon’s card as he handed it over. As the clerk was about to read out the total, Simon quickly clasped his hands over your ears, making sure you couldn’t hear it. You glared up at him, knowing that he was once again spending hundreds - if not thousands of pounds on you. Once it seemed to be safe, Simon lowered his hands and took his card and the receipt back, folding it and quickly hiding it in his pocket, so you couldn’t look.

The cart was taken away, and you had to admit that it felt weird walking out of the store empty-handed, but once you saw that car Simon and you had taken, you quickly realized why. It would never have fit.

As you were walking through the parking lot, you saw a familiar figure out of the corner of your eyes. But no, it couldn’t be.

“Is that Gordon Ramsay? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan.”

You whisper-shouted at Simon, who quickly turned to look in the direction you pointed, a smile spreading on his lips, as he started to steer you in that direction. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he just pulled you along as he approached the famous chef.

“Gordon!”

The man turned around, at first he looked confused, but once he got a good look at Simon, a smile spread on his face.

“Simon! How’re you doing, mate?”

Simon was mates with Gordon fucking Ramsay? Of course, he bloody was.

“Good good, just wanted to introduce you to my girl. She’s a big fan o’ yours.”

Shyly, you peeked out from behind Simon’s massive frame and waved at the chef. He smiled and reached out his hand.

“Oh, lovely to meet you, I’m Gordon.”

You quietly introduced yourself, slightly shaking from excitement.

Simon and Gordon chatted for a bit, keeping you in the conversation, and you slowly started to warm up. In the end, you were even joking with Gordon and you had stars in your eyes as he noted down your bakery’s address, promising to swing by.

“How about you come to the 1890 tonight? I’ll be there, cooking.”

Simon glanced at you, and when you eagerly nodded, he turned back to the chef.

“Of course, I’ll get one of my guys to babysit Millie and we’ll be there. Is eight okay?”

“Eight is perfect, see you then.”

He nodded at you, before walking into the store and disappearing. With your hand in his, Simon started to walk back to the car, chuckling as you practically bounced up and down next to him.

“I can’t believe I just met Gordon Ramsay. And he is coming by the bakery!”

You squealed in excitement before you realized that you lagged something for this evening.

“Si?”

He hummed, gently squeezing your hand as he typed something on his phone.

“I don’t have a dress for tonight.”

He hummed again, quickly opening the door to the passenger side and ushering you in, only closing said door, once you were all safe and buckled in. With quick strides, he rounded the car and jumped into the driver’s seat, putting on his seat belt, before pulling out of the parking lot.

“I know.”

That was all he said, as he continued driving. You frowned at him for a moment, wondering what he had planned, but you quickly gave up and decided to trust him. He wouldn’t let you embarrass yourself.

Just a minute into the drive, his free hand landed on your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he kept his eyes focused on the road. Yeah, he wouldn’t let you embarrass yourself.

After about a half an hour's drive, he pulled into a parking space, right in front of one of the most luxurious boutiques you know and you already knew that this was going to be expensive. But you also knew that it was no use to complain, that was very clear.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you, helping you out, before wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. During the few steps it took to get to the boutique it felt as if the entire world was watching, as you felt more eyes on you than ever before. And you knew that most of them probably looked at you with jealousy, seeing the man by your side.

But he was yours. As you were his.

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Tags: @lunamoonbby @distinguishedprincesstrash @xanvasy @reader-1290

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

[lvl100hummuswarrior]

public domain simon model sheet turnaround thing for the people. i hate fucking formatting the layout of these things ive made a million of them and this might be the ugliest but i have the like style replication kind of autism that makes me very bothered by not having a proper reference point for characters i draw frequently! i love that artists have more stylistic freedom and that people aren’t breaking their backs to make every shot look identical, i just get very nitpicky about my ideas of staying on model in my own work. for anybody with a similar disease, this one’s for you. use him and his 3000000 colors however you wish. this isn’t 100% accurate, i consolidated like the colors on his shoes and kinda eyeballed the mouth colors etc, but i hope that it will be of use to the simonoids of the world. yay

[pure-oddity]

Worth the Trouble

Simon/Ghost x Mean!fem!Reader

Warnings: slightly toxic? Reader is verbally mean and ghost Def manipulates the situation so he can have the missus come see him. PiV , Smut MDNI

“Heard LTs lost it, goin around on a rampage.”

“Just about near it. Price thinks he's injured and trying to downplay it. Won't tell him much aside from ‘I'm fine’. Hell for all we know hes just got a man-cold”

“Ach, the poor bastard”

Gaz snorts and continues with the next set, Soap checks for signs of struggle or strain before continuing (a dutiful gym buddy)

“Heard he blew some recruits ear out.”

“Think he backed out entirely, can't blame him - if I weren't already knee deep in this shit I'd tuck tail and run from Ghost”

“You n me both. Well. I did always have a taste for trouble. Probably woulda sought him out and he mighta strangled me.” he muses happily imagining his Lt tossing him around.

“Surprised he hasn't already “ gaz laughs, his eyes determined through the final pushes.

Soap laughs at that, thinks his lt has gotten close once or twice.

“Don't worry much about it though” gaz grunts.

Soap meets gaz's eye, watches a bead of sweat trickle down into his hair line.

“Why not?”

“Captain says he's calling in the secret weapon. Going nuclear.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Johnny questions, thinks of what could possibly be nuclear in regards to Ghost.

“Dunno. But I guess we'll find out.” Gaz finishes, setting the bar back in place and sitting up with a groan. He gives a sniff to his shirt and audibly gags.

“Yea that's rank, you wanna hit the showers?”

“Sayin I stink Garrick?”

“Sayin we should hit the showers”

“Cheeky cunt”

Soap follows his fellow Sargent to freshen up in the shower block, a stealthy sniff to his armpit solidifying his choice in joining.

The issue of the ornery Lieutenant momentarily forgotten.

—----------

He always knew price had an easy time with the ladies, but to parade one around so freely - a young woman at that?

“Well well, did price finally let you out his basement? I knew he had a pretty bird caged away somewhere!”

He reaches out a rugged palm and his smile is all boyish charm.

“Names Soap, nice to meet you bonnie”

She doesn't respond and doesn't move to shake his hand. Her arms remain seated within pockets of the leather jacket she adorns. Just continues to chew a wad of gum, sizing him up like one would an enemy. She looks bored, mildly annoyed.

He can't feel too upset over the snuff, the ample amount of cleavage on display makes up for it.

“Not the sociable type? No problem, work with one of those - I'll break you down”

She looks at price now, who - soaps noticing - looks like he swallowed a lemon laced with depression.

“MacTavish. This young lady is not my bird - lovely as she is - but she is the solution to our problem.”

For once Soap is speechless. Realization kicking in suddenly and with a force so strong his jaw drops.

“.....is that why he's pissed?? Lads gone without a bit of pussy and he's lost the plot? “

“MacTavish”

“Just sayin! Sorry lass, don't mean to be crude” he does mean to be crude actually. He is crude, but usually he waits till the second date before parading that fact around.

“......let's just get this over with. Fuckin bullshit for you to pull me out here. again” She grosses, looking miffed.

“Right, yes. Again, I do sincerely apologize- I wouldn't if I had another option”

“You're his captain, just order the fucker to act right” She scolds him, dissaproval evident in how she sizes him up.

“Unfortunately my lieutenant is a master of malicious compliance. Sweet as sugar with me, but a menace to anyone else.”

She sighs something resigned and annoyed. He watches as she blows a small bubble and pops it with a sharp click. Her brows scrunched and nose wrinkled into a sneer.

“Are…are you actually here to - do I get something like this if I start throwing a fit?!”

He eyes the woman next to his captain as she walks past him, seemingly familiar with the layout of the building.

“MacTavish. Shut up.”

“Yes sir.”

A brief pause

“Is it cause he's a lieutenant? Do I need to be a lieutenant?”

“Give me 50 Sargent MacTavish “

“Yes sir.”

He drops quickly and works through the 50, counting quickly before springing back up and towards the direction his captain and mystery woman left. He catches up to the tail end of their conversation.

“-he won't come out”

“really. Have you tried, I don't know, kicking the door in?”

“No. A bit extreme don't you think?”

He watches as she walks to the door, examines it, and he thinks ‘no, no way’. Watches as she turns and braces herself against the doorframe and thinks ‘Oh she's insane’ as she picks her foot up and slams it back against the door with a solid thump.

She gets 4 in, he notices the damage to the door grows steadily - the odd tinge of arousal at the unhinged behavior of this woman.

Feels his stomach drop to his knees when the door is thrust open and she's dragged inside the darkness.

The door is hardly shut when the screaming begins.

His captain waits patiently while he looks towards him and the door.

His LT is loud but she's managed to be louder. He can't make much out from how fast everything is said, muffled through the slightly askew door

“-acting like a fucking toddler!”

While this isn't his particular brand of dirty talk, he supposes it makes sense for the ghost to want a heavier hand.

Too heavy, it would seem. The loud thump is jarring, enough so that he springs towards the door. Price grabs him, handles him into his side with a fierce look and a sternly mouthed ‘no’

The screaming had stopped. The silence is deafening. Johnny thinks at least one of them is dead. A woman that crazy probably wouldn't go down that easy, even against a ghost.

His body flinches when the door opens, he expects a limp hand to flop out horror movie style- heavily surprised to find the lass perfectly intact, not a hair out of place.

He peeks in the open doorway to see Ghost knelt in a way that can only be described at revenant. He sits at her feet, face pressed to her stomach while he clutches her body to him. she has a hand on each of his shoulders and glares down like an angry God.

“We'll be in the infirmary captain, he's got an infection. Stupid fuck.” She slips from Ghosts grasp with some struggle, swatting at clutching hands as she commands him “up”

Ghost, much like his namesake,rises like the dead and slinks out of the shadows of his room and into the light. He looks, oddly pleased(downright giddy) for a guy just pronounced a ‘stupid fuck’.

He watches as the fury marches towards the medbay, her hellhound shadow tight on her heels - might have even carried her if she didn't look as rabid as she did.

“Captain?”

“That's Doll, Johnny. Ghosts leash, and Simon's keeper. Try to annoy her less yea? She sends ghost after you and there'll be fuck all I can do to stop him.”

“Heard…..doll? Really? I think of a doll, I think sweet and porcelain. Not, pissy with a heavy heaping of crazy. She looks like the type to cut brake lines.”

“Yea well, just don't let her know which car is yours and you'll be fine.”

“Sure she won't just cut them all?”

He sighs, something heavy and worn.

“I'm hoping she's forgotten where we keep them.”

—-------

“Hi just him today, thanks.”

“Oh um, and you are?” Doctor Nicole has seen a lot. Hasn't seen this yet. Might see more if spouses were more common on base.

“Im his voice currently. And his brain. He's not smart enough to use either on his own to tell you about his infection. Left leg, by the way.”

“Oh well. Oh. Um. I - I'll have you hop up on the bed then lieutenant! I'll take a look and. And fix that.”

He doesn't move, stares at the woman(his voice and brain, apparently) like she's the only one in the room - in the world.

His world groans and throws her head back - he chuffs.

“Listen to the fucking doctor , on the bed. Now.”

His steps are heavy and solid as he seats himself on the edge of the bed. Thighs spread and hands limp between his legs. He looks like a hunched beast eyeing his next meal.

The doctor finds that having her keep his attention is better than having it herself.

“Well. Uh, left you said?”

“Yeah. Calf area - knife probably? Something sharp.”

“Well then, uh , lieutenant? Are you able to, to roll your pant leg up for me to see? Or is the pain too severe?” she prods gently, he doesn't respond.

“Roll up your pants.” like a marionette with strings tightly wrapped around her fingers, he moves to roll up his jeans to reveal the sickly wound.

“Oh yeah definitely an infection. Odd for you lieutenant, usually you're better at catching this.”

The woman scoffs and slumps in her seat. He leans towards her as she sends him a scathing look.

“He's a fucking man child. Threw a tantrum to get what he wanted and now he's being pampered.”

“Mhm.” The affirmation is the most sound he's made since coming in here.

“Well I'll just. I'll just get this taken care of” Nicole stumbles put, feeling like an intruder.

“ ‘Priciate that doc. Don't be afraid to make it hurt.” Her tone is tinged with sadistic hope.

“Oh I. I'd never intentionally hurt someone under my care - that's unethical “ the military may not be the most ethical, but she's damn sure going to try to be.

“Pity. He'd deserve it, letting it get this bad-willingly might I add.” She snips at him , face scrunched.

He hums something delighted, and the doctor wonders if she should order a psych evaluation. Remembers the 141 are notorious for dodging said evals and dismisses the thought entirely.

If he likes when women are mean and degrade him, that's his business.

He sits still, moving only when told by the woman in the chair who's now playing on her phone.

He stares at her intently, glares at the phone occasionally. The doctor finishes quickly, grateful that the infection was only in its earliest of stages.

“Okay so I'm prescribing a round of antibiotics, I noticed that you have an allergy to penicillin so I'm giving you doxycycline." She writes the perscriptipn down quickly, grabs a bottle stocked preemptively for cases like this.

"Take it with a meal twice a day every 12 hours until the bottle is empty. Come back within a few days just to make sure it's progressing and then again when the bottle is empty.” She types in a quick series of notes notating the lieutenants upcoming appointments.

“He'll be here. I'll make sure of it” there's a bitter edge to the woman's words, the doctor wonders how anyone could stand to be with someone so angry.

“God I hope you do” ghost groans out, threat either going over his head or straight to his crotch.

The doctor flinches, forgetting the lieutenant capable of speech.

“Well thanks for the help. I'll be getting him back to his captain.” the woman hops up and walks towards the door.

“Oh uh, have a g-good one!”

She smiles politely, drops it quickly when she eyes the once again silent wraith behind her

“Let's go, it would be rude to make your captain wait.”

He nods and follows along after her, like a deformed elongated shadow.

An odd couple, the doctor muses. But not the oddest she's seen. Not even the weirdest.

Another soldier bursts in, she hears the words ‘snake bite’ and ‘penis’, wishes she was stuck back with the ghost and his guide.

—-------

“You alright then, lieutenant? Everything sorted?”

“Affirmative sir. I've got the prescription, doc cleaned me up and changed my bandage. “

“Good. Thank you for coming, Doll.”

“He only acts like this because you let him, you know.”

“I do. But sometimes it's easier to go along the path of least resistance. Trying to argue with a stubborn mut, or handle the fury of his actual commanding officer? I'll take you anyday love.” He finishes with a purr, noting the sudden tenseness in Ghosts shoulders.

“Careful, might put thoughts in a girl's head if you keep talking like that.” She notices too, but eggs the poor lieutenant on - smile a touch cruel.

“Oh? That all it takes? Not a fan of Mactavish then?” semi-joking now. He'd be a liar if he said having a pretty woman snark up at him didn't effect him at all.

“Prefer waking up with mouthful of English breakfast personally. Speaking of-” She turns towards ghost, her face still cold and indifferent as always.

“I'll be in your room. I'll only be here another hour and then I'm gone. Why don't you see if your captain can find it in his heart to dismiss you early”

She smiles something sharp and sinful, takes off in a run that makes Ghost body jolt - he looks like a junkyard dog choking himself on the end of his lead trying to get a bone just out of reach.

“Captain. May I be dismissed.”

“Well-”

“Captain.”

“Simon”

“Captain price, may I please be dismissed, sir”

There's a desperate edge john isn't used to. Something rabid, something hungry. A darkness kept caged wriggling through iron bars.

“dismissed, lieutenant “

The ghost breaks off into a sprint, and the hunt is on. Price can't think too much about how it ends, his trousers already too tight at his twinge of interest.

Similar shades of fucked up, the both of them.

—----

He's panting in your ear, groaning as his hips slap against and bruise your ass.

“fu-fuck. Come on, give it to me. Show me you're- fuck! Show me you're worth all the fuckin trouble - Oh god, simon!” You can't help but scream, hope he doesn't have neighbors.

His pace is mind-numbingly good, making up for the dry start in the beginning. Prepped just enough to fit him but not enough for the ache to be avoided. But he knows your body thoroughly , and with a few well aimed thrusts and a circles of your clit you're dripping down your own AND his thighs.

A mess on his bedsheets - he thinks of it as a present for later, you think you spoil him.

He fucks you like an animal, unhinged and hurried- like he's worried you'll get up and leave, worried you'll realize he's not worth the trouble.

He pins you further under his weight and changes the angle - groans at your wail of ecstasy .

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! You - you better not pull this shit again. I - I let you keep this fuckin job -please don't stop- let you play hero but -oh god, oh god - but don't-”

You gasp, moan something pained and drawn out as you come again along his rigid cock - muffling a scream into his pillow as he grinds up into the sensitive spots in your cunt to draw your orgasm out further.

“k-keep this shit up toy soldier, see how quick I put you back in the box!” You snarl , glaring at him over your shoulder. He groans deep and slams as deep as he can, unloading against the deepest parts of your hole.

He's still hard when he slips from you, wrangling you onto your back before slipping back in. Your legs fit nicely on his shoulders, and you're grateful for your flexibility.

You scoff. “can't cum lookin at a skull , switch to another one or take it off - might have a chance of getting me off then” you wonder how mean he'll be, wonder if he'll actually stop to find a different mask.

Dont have wonder long as he's quick to throw the whole thing off. The black grease around his eyes is streaked from the sweat - hair plastered to his forhead. He looks happy to see you.

“not - not bad! Might be worth all this after- after-after!” You buffer aloud. Like a skipping record, you'd be humiliated if it didn't feel as good as it does.

In fact. You should be mad at his constant interruptions, but he's persistent on fucking through your cunt and into your brain.

“Tell me. Tell me dolly. Tell me sweet heart. I'm worth the trouble, yeah? I'm your trouble right? Gonna keep coming back, keep coming on my cock?” He says it like he doesn't exist somewhere in your rib cage nearest to your heart. Like you don't already live in his.

“Yes, yes!” You promise, the one you will die before you break.

“Yes what?" He implores, a steady chant of 'keep me, keep me, keep me' running through his head.

“To all of it you fuck! Yes! All mine, my cock, my headache, my brute - fuck!” your own mind proclaiming that you'll keep him 'forever, forever, forever"

You're crying now, overstimulated tears as your thighs quiver on his shoulders.

“Yeah. Yeah. All yours, n' you're mine. All fuckin mine. Not Prices and not fuckin Johnnys” he snarls, bitter and possessive.

“Gotta act up, gotta cause a mess. Can't get you here otherwise. “ he continues, pace consistent to further along your impending ruin.

It's getting hard to keep up with the banter. Hate how he's still capable of talking while you're becoming goo.

“J-just fuckin wait till you're off deployment! Fuck!”

“Nu-uh, get too tight n mean when I do. Have to drag you here to give you your fix so you're sweet when I get home. You're my sweet girl right?” He coos mockingly.

You don't respond. too busy clawing red ribbons into his back.

“Right?” He punches your cervix now, enough to make you choke and bite into the meat of his shoulder.

You bite hard. Harder when he moans. You lick at the indents and nose into the hammering pulse at his neck.

You can tells he's close with how his tempo gets thrown off, how his huffs louder. Having forgiven him for making you drive all this way, you give the dog a well earned bone.

“Yours, your sweet girl. You just need to work for it a bit hm? You don't mind huh big guy? My big guy?” You whisper into his ear, whine into it in a way you know drives him crazy.

He comes with a shout, one you know the whole fucking base heard. You're too fucked out to care much, especially when the brute lakes down and settles his weight on you with a contented sigh.

He hums, a touch demanding and you roll your eyes. You rub a hand gently up and down his torn back, scratching gently at his scalp to feel his heavy sigh of contentment.

“You gonna take care of yourself now? Got everything out your system?”

He hums, tone non-committal - fucker. As long as price has your number, as long as the ghost stays restless - you'll be called in eventually. Not a matter of 'if', but 'when".

Thankfully you don't mind being the nuclear option. Not much anyway. Especially if this is what it gets you. A moment of peace, skin pressed against skin - soft breaths evening out against your collarbone.

'Yea', you think. 'He's worth the trouble.'

(End notes: the thump that was heard was actually Simon falling to his knees. Dude goes from 0-100 when it comes to love so he either ghosts(hehe) you or worships you.)

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Hail storms

Requested: No

Warnings: Spicy 🌶, Religious themes (Kyle’s), Oral Sex (Kyle’s) Toxic relationships (Simon’s), Angry Sex (Simon’s), Bondage (Alejandro’s), Spit Kink (Alejandro’s)

Characters: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Alejandro Vargas

Word Count: 1,448

A/N: New layout, woooooo!!!

Gaz - I’m Not An Angel

I wasn't always this way

I used to be the one with the halo

The weight of the gold cross on his clavicle burned as he watched you from across the pub, the sound of Soap’s laughter, of Price’s scolding words, of Ghost’s heavy breathing, it all faded into the background. Like the static of an old radio that you could never tune quite right. But you, you were clarity. The perfect pitch of some singer rising above the other soft noises.

He’d never had a one night stand before. Thought about it, prayed about it, but he could never bring himself to do it. Could never bring himself to let himself taste the sweet fruit of sin that he so often craved. The same one his pastor warned him of when he was but a boy, years before the man that sat in his place now. But he finds himself crossing that threshold now, the devil tugging him closer, a marionette on cursed strings.

“Hi.” He says, as he sits beside you, fingers trembling as he holds onto his mug of cheap beer. “I’m Kyle.”

But that disappeared when I had my first taste

And fell from grace

The taste of you in his mouth was sweeter than anything he had ever had, more than the grapes his mother used to pack in his lunch tin when he was younger, but yet you were also more bitter than the wine that followed communion bread. Innocence turned to pain and fear and blood. But none of it could ever be more holy than. No holy relic would ever be able to bring him to his knees the way flesh between your thighs did.

And when you ran your nails through the stubble of his hair, your eyes piercing and heavy as you stared down at him, he knew the cross he wore meant nothing anymore. A false idol, trying to take your rightful place in his heart. He squirmed impossible closer, tongue out as he panted for air, so desperate to keep tasting you that he was barely a centimeter away.

The chain of his cross broke easy under the grip of his fist, and he heard the soft ting of it hitting the floor, before it was lost to him.

It left me in this place

I'm starting to think, maybe you like it

Kyle woke last the next day, an unusual occurrence considering his line of work. The smell of freshly brewed earl grey curling pleasantly in his nostrils, rousing him from the pleasant warmth of your bed, flaccid cock hanging at his thigh when he slips out from beneath the sheets.

“Love?” He mumbles, feet dragging on the ground, feeling all too much like a newborn lamb, limping after its shepherd after just being born. Like the world was made anew, with you as his guiding light.

And that light led him to the kitchen, where you leaned against the counter, dangling his cross between your pretty fingers.

Meeting his eyes as you let it slip into the trash.

Ghost - I Miss The Misery

When you tell me you'll make it worse

(I'd rather fight all night than watch the TV)

The front door slammed open, your shoulder blades digging painfully into the hardwood as Simon rammed you into it, his hands ripping away at your clothes (clothes he bought you, clothes he loved on you, clothes he always loved to take off), your own tearing away at his skin, nails shredding away at skin like cheap paper, leaving raw bloody lines on his back that were sure to sting .

Some bitter and angry part of you hopes that the next time he tries to have a sleazy fuck with someone else, that they’ll see this. See what you do to him. And know that they’ll always be insufficient by comparison.

Cause no matter how hard you fought, no matter how loud you got. There was a simple truth you needed everyone to know about him.

He was yours. Now. Always. Forever.

I hate that feeling inside

You tell me how hard you'll try

“Promise I’ll get better.” He’s whispered in your ear countless times, curled around you after the latest round of angry sex, clinging to you like a lifeline, like he hadn’t had his hands curled around your throat not even half an hour ago as he told he how much you pissed him off, how much he hated you. “Never do it again. Promise, Love.”

And it was always a lie.

But he promised everytime, even knowing it was futile, fragile, already broken. Floating in the air like the moans you let out in the bedroom, under him with his teeth buried in your shoulder. Fucking you like he wanted to kill you with his dick. Headboard slamming into the wall so hard it cracked, brittle paint chips falling to the floor. And you couldn’t deny how god damn good it felt, everytime you fought your way back towards each other. Like opposing magnets, like heaven and hell.

But when we're at our worst

I miss the misery

The morning after, he was in the front room of the house, grouching and grumbling loudly about how he had to fix the hole the doorknob made again. His side of the bed was still warm from his gargantuan body, making you curl into it, seeking him and his heat out without specifically calling for him, though you knew he would come running with only a word from your sore lips. Eager to flee back to your side and crawl above you once more.

You smiled into the pillows, one full of teeth and mischief.

You couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

Alejandro - Do Not Disturb

Let's take our clothes off

I wanna show you my hidden tattoo

“This is cute.” You chuckled against his lips, back pressed firmly against the cool wall of his apartment, running your fingers over the crow tattoo that arched over his broad hip. The beady eye of the mischievous avian staring right back at you.

“Yes, what every man wants to hear during sex. Cute.” Alejandro laughed in return, darkened hazelnut eyes gaining a hint of amusement as he took your hand and placed it right on the patch of black ink. “Go ahead, touch it. You’re the only one that’ll ever get to see it.”

“Only me, huh?” You cooed in an almost mocking tone of voice, raking your nails along the razor sharp feathers of the ink bird. His skin jiggling pleasantly for you when you reared your hand back to give his ass a playful little slap, the sound of it reverberating in the room along with his grunt. “Well, aren’t I just honored?”

That nobody ever gets to see but you do

Oh baby let me taste ya, shake ya, tie you up and break ya

Hands tied above your head with a silk tie, his silk tie. A brilliant deep blue that stood out against the barebones gray sheets and pillowcases. Blue digging into your wrists in a delicious combination of pain mingling with pleasure. The same as his hips slapping against you with every inward thrust.

“Such a good pretty thing you are.” He huffs, leaning forward and pressing your knees to your chest, constricting your airflow just the smallest bit, white starbursts flashing behind your eyelids. “Letting me tie you up and have my way like this. Gonna let me spit in your mouth next?”

In response, you simply opened your mouth and let your tongue roll out.

'Cause I've been alone, left on my own for too long

Oh damn, too long, too long, too long, I say come on

“Come on.” He huffed, tweaking your nipple, grazing his teeth over the thin skin that stretched over your collarbone, a bruise or two sure to form with how rough he was being. “Come on, come on, come on.”

And come you did, with seizing muscles and flailing legs, a high pitched cry crawling out from your lungs and bursting out your swollen mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks in rivers as you throw your head back in ecstasy. Barely even noticing the way his hips started to stutter before he spilled inside of you, thick white seed covering your insides. Rolling his hips a few more times to really push it all in before he pulls out and collapses beside you, narrowly missing crashing on top of you.

“So….” You start after a few minutes of you both catching a breath, turning to him with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin. “Round two?”

[peachesofteal]

Everyone is going full angst but I also love the idea of Johnny and Simon setting up the nursery 🥹

Choosing paint colors, building the crib and other furniture. Simon spending hours researching the safest strollers and car seats.

Darling doesn’t have to lift a finger her entire pregnancy.

Baby trapping or not I just know they would be the most supportive and dedicated fathers/partners.

They would be insufferable... in the best ways possible.

You get to do absolutely nothing for nine months. Simon retires early, Johnny transitions to a desk role as soon as soon he can (why couldn't they have done that before? not sure, but you're most certainly crying about it) and they're doing everything they can to make sure you're okay.

You get to pick the colors you want for the nursery, and they paint it. You get final say on the crib, the rocking chair, the decor of the room. You change your mind a million times about the layout, and they rearrange it each time without complaining.

"I'm sorry." you pout, pointing at the corner. But Simon just smiles, planting a quick kiss to your cheek.

"Don't be, mum. We've got to take care of you two, right?"

You're craving something in the middle of the night? Johnny practically sleeps half dressed so he can leave at a moment's notice to go track down that obscure ice cream flavor. You're crying over a commercial on TV? Simon changes the channel immediately and does his best to distract you. Feet hurt? They get rubbed. Back hurts? It gets rubbed. Baby kicking you in the organs? Johnny sings to your belly until they settle down. Nightmares get worse? They rotate staying up with you to take your mind off it until you're tired enough to sleep.

They do that thing where they stand behind you and hold you, taking the pressure off your back by the supporting the weight of your belly, all the time. In public, in private, in the shower. Wherever.

You also don't go anywhere alone anymore. Your normal walks in the park are now you and one of them, or both. You don't go to the market alone, or to doctor's appointments alone, or anywhere. Simon doesn't let you ride the train anymore, and Johnny insists on carrying everything, even your purse half the time.

[illyria-and-her-pet]

Hello everyone I'm back and I'm here to complain about the subdivision 2 scoring cause it was absolutely disgusting to see it happen literally in the same division.

I can't believe we got Rio 2.0 with how everyone was getting overscored except for China when they were literally rotating at the same time as USA & Kaylia+ we just saw the scores GB & Romania got.

They really tried to FYL QQY, but they can't and she will still make UB finals! They better not rob her in EF cause it makes no sense! Only 8.266 E when Kaylia got 8.5, Suni got 8.466, ZYH got 8.3, Jordan got 8.266, and Simone got 8.233??? How??? And Suni score only 0.2 less than QQY despite having 0.4 less in difficulty... I fear it Suni hits the 6.6 routine they would try to put it ahead of QQY's 6.8, which is just no!

Gutted QQY fell on the Arabian but I am manifesting her hitting the 7.2 on UB and being undeniable. It should be neck and neck with QQY-Kaylia and I still want them top 2 no matter the order, but I want fair judging! And it seems like judges are willing to put Kaylia far ahead of QQY or even ahead if Kaylia hit 7.0, while QQY hits 7.2. They're even trying to get Suni close to QQY when QQY and Kaylia should be far away from her.

Also Jordan was robbed from AA finals idc! Yes both Jordan and Suni were overscored e score wise on UB/BB, but Suni got gifted 0.4 in d score on beam which made the difference. Her beam score was literally insane especially with how beam has been scored since 2017 and the most overscored routine of the last two quads. 14.0 with 8.0 E and 6.0 D when it was giving 5.6 D and 7.5 E is an insane difference...

I am manifesting a judging 180 where QQY UB e scores are fair and Suni dismount gets downgraded to B for not being in line. The only thing that will stop me from being mad is judging being fair in the finals. Cause Suni is awesome and I love her beam when she hits it like Nats Day 2, but based on QF she cost Jordan AA final and she is going to cost someone beam final. I just hope the dismount doesn't affect any of the standings in TF, AA, or BB EF otherwise I will go even more insane!

Simone is truly insane tho having one of her best competitions of the year despite the calf pain. Idk how she did it and still managed the triple double, YDP, and Cheng. Like in vault warmups she put the YDP to her knees and her Lopez timer looked terrible yet she put both to her feet, did YDP with 9.4 E, and the Cheng honestly looked better amplitude and form wise then podium training. I hope she stays healthy through finals.

ZYQ is a smart queen just doing 6.6 d score beam to get into finals yet she still will qualify 1st to beam EF. She better win beam EF or its joever. Also 8.266 E so at least judges were kind to her. Idk why they are QQYphobic!

I feel bad for Jade. Both in PT and QF she couldn't do her dismount and ended up with just a layout or back tuck. Hezly also didnt do too well on BB or UB. I wonder if this means in TF, Jordan will do BB over Hezly and Suni will do floor over Jade.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Me getting ready, doing my makeup in the mirror & listening to varying types of music from love songs to emo songs to sexual songs just imagining taskforce 141 watching me get ready for an undercover mission as the decoy with differing reactions.

warnings: allusions to and descriptions of graphic sexual situations, oral (male receiving), hair pulling

Simon’s trying not to get turned on listening to the sexual lyrics leaving your lips. Words he’s never heard you say, or if he say, it’s scarce and only in retaliation to a joke someone’s made. Listening to your breathing change with your singing, it draws back memories of how you sound in distress; heavy breathing, hot and heavy under different circumstances. He wonders how you’d kiss, if you’d be slow and passionate, taking your time to explore him with your mouth. Maybe you’d be desperate and desirous, tongue making an appearance as it swipes at his bottom lip. Would you tease him with your teeth? The way he’d love to hear how you sound as he makes you come undone. He struggles watching you put on your lipstick, imagining the color smeared in different places, kiss marks adorning certain places on both of your bodies. It’s the way he can clearly imagine the way you’d look up at him innocently with your doe eyes, dribble, spit, and cum dripping from your chin after you’ve just taken care of him. Oh, how he’d be more than willing to get on his knees and return the favor. 💄

Gaz can’t help but chuckle to himself as he loves to hear your voice. It’s not often you all sing and get to see each other at ease, but it’s one of the times he cherishes with all of you. While he makes sure everything’s prepared to go with Nikolai and everyone else is making progress, the music distracts him time to time. He can’t deny your singing is lovely, and your choice in music is something he’s always enjoy, even if there’s certain genres he’d never admit to liking in front of the boys. Yet, he’s surprised by a few choices. After a while, he takes a break, getting a drink nearby as he quietly whispers the lyrics you’re singing to himself, knowing the song. Yet, as he turns and leans back against the counter he can’t help as his eyes scan the room and eventually land on you. Taking in the outfit your taskforce had picked out carefully earlier that week (he remembers how hard that decision was to come to with everyone needing to be in agreement. That… was an event in itself) Kyle takes in your curves and the exposed skin he rarely gets to see while out on the field. Sure, he’s seen you in various different attire and even in compromised positions, but this is different. Preening and primping, you look like a proper doll and he can’t help but imagine the mascara you’re applying just streaking down your face, your elegantly done hair messy and undone, exposed neck and legs covered in bruises and hickies and love bites by the time he’s done with you. The way improper and unprofessional images of the two of you flood his mind in various different places in many tantalizing positions has him clearing his throat guiltily before making himself look busy and attempting to refocus and return to the task at hand. You’re dangerous, and he’s sure you know it. 💋

Price is mesmerized by the way you style your hair, brushing through your (long) locks and putting it up in a slicked back ponytail. The event isn’t high-class, and your style is modern and sleek enough to bypass as just a stylish choice. Despite trying to focus on the blueprint layouts of the building, he gets distracted by the way you run your fingers through your hair, putting some type of oil—it wouldn’t be conditioner, would it?—in it. Intrusive images of him tugging on that ponytail and keeping you held tight to him by it circulating in his mind. 🎀

Johnny is blown away by you… wholly. Transfixed in his seat at the table as he loads up the equipment, he can’t help but pause here and there to take note of the process. The way you seem so skilled at applying the makeup and transforming your look. You’ve always been stunning, even from the first time he’d laid eyes on you. But this… this is a side of you he hasn’t seen. Sure, he’s seen you in makeup before, but… something about the process, the behind the scenes look at you applying things bit by bit just turns him on. Your lashes curled, getting thicker and more pronounced with the dark mascara. Your eye colors just popping even more with whatever you’d done to your eyelids when he’d looked away to pack up the case at his feet. The way you sing and laugh to yourself as you seem genuinely content, not at all worried about what you’re walking into is… admirable, to say the least. And if that doesn’t have him wanting to praise you and make you see how good you look in the mirror bent over that table with him whispering nothing but sweet words in your ear, his hand on the small of your back as he draws out the sweetest of sounds and contorts your face with pleasure, then he’ll be damned. 🪞