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evilgwrl · 7 days

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Arranged marriage! With ghost where she’s from a small island and ghost comes to collect taxes well the island is just a few hundred short they can make it up next year? Right?! Nah ghosts is like mmmmm I’ll take what yall call a princess mean while she’s struggling as much as the other fokes on the island so when Simon takes her way and finds out she’s never lived the simple life he makes it his mission to show her the good that can out of this arrangement smutty if you would 😭 I’m obsessed with the arranged marriage trope with ghost he’s a cutie patootie

Arranged Marriage w/ Simon Riley

Holy moly I love this…

Thank you for this idea @creepytoes88 I hope you don’t mind that I made him a king, I just wanted it to flow with giving her a better life and the tax collection <3

King!Simon Riley x Reader

Archipelago

CW: Being sold by your family to pay off debt, sharing a bath, oral sex (f receiving), orgasm bc simon knows what to do ;)

Word Count: 2,623

Twisted fingers hooked under the bark, knees scraped with stagnant flora, coiling limbs of bushy thorns blistering around the tropical plains. There was a subtle burn that sunk through your thighs, muscles gnawing at your bones before you finally settled on a thick branch, wind hissing in your ear, almost warning you. You paid no attention.

Pupil-blown eyes stared off to the view in front of you, lapping in the vicious strain of turquoise, untouched coral glistening an array of colours under the harsh sun. There was a trickle of sweat that ran down the back of your neck, your hair thrown into a rough bun as you shielded yourself with raggedy, overworked fingers.

You watched the skerries surrounding your island, a flurry of birds swooping low before nestling down on the warmth of the rocky floor. It was a peaceful sight. Nothing but the low crash of waves to be sound, the occasional calling of a fellow Islander working its way through the palms and out of the sand, before landing in your ear.

You felt the prickle of pain shoot through your feet as you landed on the ground, the grass covered in speckles of yellow dust sticking in between your toes as you hurried down to the village. Any bit of tranquillity soon disappeared as your eyes locked into the sight of the townspeople, the Island far too small to accommodate such needing families.

“Y/N! Where have you been? The King shall be here soon and you’re off running with the fairies.”

Your Mother’s tone was harsh and reprimanding, her eyes tight with wrinkles as she scowled, chucking a makeshift broom at you. You weren’t exactly sure what the difference of you sweeping would make, the life you live here, swept or not, is strikingly different to the one of a King. No matter how beautiful your Island is, your feet are permanently stained with grains of sand, skin is littered with dull scars and fresh scratches.

You understood her worry, offering her a gentle, apologetic smile as you followed her bustle of orders. Your Father was the village Chief, a wise man who led the people to survive without the worry of advanced civilisation.

You were seen as a headcase to the others. A woman whose head wasn’t fixed well enough to her shoulders. A dreamer. Your mind was amplified by the need to do more, to see more. Untouched beauty too turns mundane when you’re not allowed to experience it.

As night fell, the waves seemed to settle, burying themselves in the crops of sand that spanned around you, 10-legged creatures hiding away in the cocoon of a cracked shell. Palms slept with the safety of coconuts that would blossom into the town’s delicacy, the meat tender on the tongues of children, the water fuel for the fishermen. There was a large bonfire lit, the earthly crackle occasionally popping as a spark flew out, hissing against the cool air before dispersing into a drag of smoke.

Girls chattered around you, smoothing down their appearances as they used crushed berries on their lips and the apples of their cheeks. You were never fussed about the King, hardly paying attention to him on his previous arrivals if he even bothered to show up. You took note of his lack of empathy, normally sending one of his men in his place, unbothered by the Island that’s supposed to fall under his command.

You heard the ship pull up, wood striking against the ground as it split between the beach, a carved woman tangled to the figurehead, flowing hair etched between wood and a man’s knife as she breached the island. They were a loud bunch, deep voices echoing across the Isle as your father walked down to greet them formally.

The air grew silent, thick smog suffocating the air as your father appeared, his figure shaking as he hobbled towards you. Toughened hands gripped your cheeks, stroking the sun-kissed skin to comfort you.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

“We- We’re short on our taxes,” he gulped, a hand planted in your matted hair as you scrunched your brows together.

“But how? We’re sensible, we work harder- How?”

“Things happen beyond our understanding sometimes, sweetheart, just know me and your mother love you very much.”

“I know? Why are you-” you stalled “- Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?”

“The King needs a wife,” he hiccupped as realisation set in, spine snapping into a cold flush as you attempted to wriggle free from your father’s grip.

“No-“

“I have to, Y/N, I don’t have a choice!”

“A choice? There’s always a choice! How could you do this to me?” The strain of a sob wracked through your chest, your heart beating eerily slow against your rib cage as you wailed out for your mother who only walked away, her face concealed by strands of hair. Hands coiled around your biceps, dragging you towards the ship as you carried on, cementing your heels into the dirtied sand to anchor yourself.

“Stop resisting,” A harsh voice spoke into your ear, nails breaking the surface of your tender skin as you nipped at the air, wriggling. Your limbs felt mangled as you were thrown over someone’s shoulder, your stomach caving in with a penetrative force as you choked on the air, saline tears streaming down your face.

Aching skin collided with the sand as you were thrown onto the floor, leather boots staring back at you as your head cocked up. His figure was tall, dressed in all black with a row of medals displayed on his breast pocket. His stare was dark, irises the colour of burnt whiskey, pale lashes flickering down at you before looking back up. The rest of his face was covered by a woven garment, handcrafted to perfection, painted with a white skull.

“Did you find it necessary to throw her at my feet like she’s some dog?”

“Your Majesty she was res-“

“It is a yes or no question.”

His voice was thick with malt, a hidden arrogance underlying his words as his eyes spoke for him. A veiny hand was offered to you, light scars tracing his knuckles before he lifted you, admiring you for a brief second.

“She’ll do. I’ll be back in 6 months,” The King spoke roughly.

The sea breeze was tranquil given the circumstances, the ocean rocking your tears to a halt as you huddled yourself away in the captain’s quarters. Your body was trailed with layers of silk, dirtied clothes moulded to your skin as you sniffled. There was a vast smell of salt, almost suffocating you as it burnt through your nose and hair. You scrunched your skin, rubbing at your nostrils before nestling yourself into a pillow.

You awoke to the sound of commotion. You took in the handful of women surrounding you, their hair tied back in a tight bun, protected by a frilly cap. They wore black and white dresses, aprons attached to their fronts and smiles on their faces.

“Good evening, your majesty. Shall we run you a bath?”

You sat up, hands creasing against the sheets below you as your eyes adjusted to the new scenery. You weren’t on the ship anymore.

“Where am I?” You choked out, huffing your chest out to look more intimidating. In reality, you look cowered, skin droopy with betrayal, burst blood vessels evident under your eyes.

“In your private quarters, the King requested we come to you, settle you in.”

You scowled, “I just want to be alone.” They left in a hurry, feet skidding against the floor in a squeak as they shut the large oak doors behind them.

The room was one for Royalty. The large bed was dressed in golden sheets, red swirls detailing the plush headpieces, solid gold baubles along the edges as tall stakes met the ceiling, lace hanging from them for privacy. Your feet hit the polished marble floors; calloused skin not used to such luxury that you almost yelped in unfamiliarity. Glass trickled from the overhead chandelier, an arrangement of crystals advocating flickers of light across the room, an occasional rainbow seeping through like a diamond in the rough.

Oil paintings hung from the walls, detailed gold wrapping around them as the figurines stared at you dauntingly. A plethora of books rested on shelves, a comforting sofa tucked away in the corner, highlights of red bursting through the stuffed pillows, plucked by the finest of feathers.

The room felt suffocating, the air a terminal sickness that wove into your lungs as you realised the severity of the situation. Your father – your parents, had sold you away to the King to pay for lost taxes. You were a miserable sight as you huddled over onto the floor, chest collapsing with cries as you attempted to grip the material beneath your knees, desperate for the sensation of sand.

Simon watched you intently from the door as he cracked it open, a deafening cough sounding from him as you looked up at him, bewildered.

“I understand the circumstances aren’t the best, but your people owed me, and they chose you as collateral.”

“I want to go home,” you hiccupped, facing away from him in humiliation. His leather shoes hit the floor, striding up to you in only a few steps.

“This is your home now, and in a few weeks, we shall be wedded. Whether or not you choose to invite your family is up to you, but I shall not tolerate disrespect. If you didn’t want the maids to tend to you, that’s fine, but I will.”

You watched his stalking figure disappear into another room attached to your quarters, the heavy pour of water indicating that he was running you a bath. You rose to your feet anxiously, popping your head around the corner as you took in the room. A large tub was carved with porcelain, wide in size with golden feet, bubbles guzzling under the powerful stream as the scent of lavender filled the air.

“Undress,” He spoke as you cocked a brow.

“In front of you?” You scoffed.

“You didn’t want the maids, now you have me. Undress.”

Your clothes itched as they were ridden from your skin, bare body flushed under the light as you attempted to conceal yourself from his bruising vision. The water scolded you as you sunk in, muscles relaxing instantly under the soothing oil. It was an irregular feeling.

You heard him shuffle behind you as you turned, eyes gawking wide as you took in his naked figure, cock resting low against his thigh. A squeak slipped through your lips as you turned around in a fluster.

His mask was off, his face a welcoming surprise. His brows were thick, bulging above slit frames, his nose slightly crooked with a masculine appeal to him.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, chest tight, eyes bulging.

“Bathing,” he practically snarled, “move over.”

Your belly felt hot, the unknowing feeling of arousal seeping through your pores as you adjusted in the water, the liquid rising as he stepped in before you were pulled back against him, bottom flushed against his thighs. You were tense.

“Relax, it’s just a bath. We will not do anything until you’re ready but after marriage, I will need heirs.”

“Heirs? I don’t even know your name!”

A hand coiled around your waist, tugging at the tender skin for a moment before it rested, settling at your upper thigh.

“It’s Simon, Y/N.”

“How do you- “

“What kind of King would I be if I didn’t even know the name of the woman I’m marrying?”

The air was hazy with steam, almost suffocating you as you felt yourself relax against his hard chest, delicate twirls of hair tickling against your spine. As your body settled, Simon washed you, entwined rag lubed with delicate soap as he massaged it into the crevices of your skin, any dirt seeping into the water. His fingers were long as they massaged against your scalp, digging any knots out with a gentle force before rinsing it.

You found yourself refreshed as you settled into the sheets once more, body fresh with a floral scent, skin drenched in almond oil, the glistening reflecting against the flame of the fireplace. The bed sunk in as Simon crawled in next to you, menacing frame wracking against yours. It was silent, the usual sound of waves and birds no longer hushing you to sleep.

Your fingers twitched as you played with the hem of your nightgown, letting out a low, exhausted breath.

“I shall not hurt you for as long as you are mine, Y/N. I hope you grow to trust me and understand that I am a man of my word. If you allow me, I would like to show you who I am and the life you can have here.”

You swallowed. There was an itch inside you that couldn’t be scratched, his words only adding fuel to an uncontrollable flame as you turned to face him, cocked up on one arm. Your gown hung low, strap dangerously low on your shoulder as he adjusted his vision back to your face, lips parted with a flushed manner.

“I’ve never experienced anything before.” Your voice was low, an evident streak of self-consciousness staining it as you averted your gaze.

“Let me help you.”

Rugged fingers lifted your gown up, silk resting against your stomach in a hunched manner as Simon gripped at your thighs, spreading them lewdly. He huffed out a hum of appreciation as you jolted in embarrassment. You were so open, so exposed to fresh eyes.

“No one’s ever touched you here?” He asked. You shook your head, gazing down at him with an unspoken innocence. You felt his lips curl against your thigh as he placed a gentle kiss to it, letting it rest against the warm skin before two fingers pulled apart your lips, glistening folds presented before him.

You felt pleasure tickle up your spine as the King placed a small kiss against your clit, a mewl escaping you as you instinctively attempted to press your thighs together. He let out a tsk as he looked up at you, amused by your reaction.

“Relax for me,” he said, arms flushed around your thighs before his tongue soaked up the middle, your juices drenching his lips as you squealed, your fingers wrapping into his dusty hair as he ravaged the taste of you.

The noises you made were wanton, slopping breaths soaking the air as he worked against you, slurping you into his mouth with an aggravated need for you. His teeth grazed against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it before sucking, an obscene scream sounding from you as he continued the assault.

“Taste so fucking good,” he quipped, holding your belly down in place as your hips lifted, clit overstimulated by the amount of pleasure it only just began receiving.

“Sim-Simon, I feel strange- somethings happening,” you croaked, pulling at his hair in an attempt to stop him.

“Let it happen,” he growled, his tongue thrusting against your entrance as a finger pressed against your nub, rubbing it in circular motions as you began to hold your breath.

The pressure in your belly was turmoil like an unknown danger was approaching. Simon didn’t stop, the sound of your breath hicking stirring something primal inside of him as he held you down before the pressure inside you popped, a broken whine piercing the air as you came, hips rocking desperately against the King’s face as he growled against your heat.

He pulled away, spit slick against his chin, cocky smile on his face as you panted, chest rising and falling in a synchronised fashion. Your legs closed instinctively, wetness seeping between your bottom as you shivered, satisfied clit throbbing.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

650 notes · View notes

cordeliawhohung · 3 months

Text

In Limbo [Chapter 9]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

ferocious and stubborn as an ox

cw: period talk, fluff

wc: 4.8k

Just as promised, Simon picks you up the following afternoon.

Jack Frost paid you a visit last night, leaving intricate, swirling designs on your windows, casting the grey cityscape beyond your apartment in prismatic light. It diffuses your vision to the point that you don’t recognize Simon when he pulls up, unfamiliar with his car, and you nearly jump out of your skin when he knocks on the door. Shoulders scrunching, muscles tensing; you turn to the door with a grunt as your cramps jolt through your body. They’re worse today than they were yesterday. They always seem to grow more intense with time, but it’s a familiar pain you know how to push through.

Shouldering on a coat, you open the door only to be immediately scrutinized under Simon’s gaze. Dark eyes flicker over your body, checking for dark circles, perspiration, and general fragility. Though you are loads better than when he saw you last week, you’re certain your crossed arms and the slight hunching over your stomach isn’t convincing. Judging by the tight line of his lips, he’s not entirely impressed.

Mustering a smile, you glance behind him, prodding him into action. “Hey. Ready to head out?”

He hums before nodding, boots clomping against the floor as he moves out of the way. “Got the car all warmed up for ya, sweetheart.”

London looks magical around this time of year, especially from the passenger's seat of Simon’s car. Warm white lights twist up the trunk of every tree, spiraling along branches where stray snowflakes glint in their glory. Evergreen garland adorns street lights with faux holly and winter berries, giving your eyes a break from the otherwise barren concrete jungle. It’s beautiful. Picture perfect. Something you’d expect to see on a postcard or in a movie. Glass fogs up with your breath as you lean closer to get a better look at the streets.

With only one more week until Christmas, the pavement bustles with last minute shoppers. Children in too-large coats and fluffy caps trot behind their parents as they squeal in delight at window displays in flashy shops. The holiday has a way of illuminating everything. Casting a warm, yellow glow on the wonderstruck faces peering through the glass. Bathing the streets until they’re lively and buzzing. Banishing the gloom of the city — you almost don’t recognize the streets.

Of course, the grey is always there underneath the surface somewhere. Lurking with sharp, nefarious tendrils, waiting to smother anything it can. For the moment, at least, it’s nice to pretend that it’s gone forever.

Once Simon finds a place to park, you’re able to step out into that wonderland yourself. A soft breeze nips at the tips of your ears and nose, rubbing them raw with crystalline shards like sandpaper across your skin, but you ignore it in favor of the toy shop display flashing through the window. A model train travels through a tiny village dusted with cotton-like snow. Tiny villagers go about their tiny lives as they attend church and visit family or throw snowballs at one another. Each of them are hand painted with care, complete with rosy cheeks and colorful winter attire.

Simon’s reflection dances in the glass as he approaches your side, looking down at the scene you can’t help but gawk at. His arm brushes against yours as he inspects the paintwork on the figurines, and you glance up at him with a smile. His face glows in the light bringing his skin to life, scars and all. It casts shadows on his face perfectly, defining the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones.

Swallowing, you turn your attention back to the scene in front of you. “I wish it would snow more in London.”

He hums, feet shuffling on the pavement. “Would be a lot of shoveling.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have to snow a whole lot,” you chuckle. “Just enough to stick around. Thick enough to make snow angels out of.”

You pause to watch the train travel through the tunnel. A small light fixed to the front of the locomotive cuts through the darkness, and you watch it grow brighter as it nears the exit. In your head, you imagine its whistle. The huff and puff of smoke as the engine burns coal to transport presents. You smile.

“My dad and I used to make frost angels instead. The grass at the park would always glisten with frost, especially in the mornings, so we’d lay in the field and make angels.” You laugh at the memory as a fit of giggles erupts behind you, children passing through with toys in hand. For a moment, you almost feel warm. “They never looked really pretty, but he’d always finish them off with halos anyway.”

“Could always blend up some ice for ya,” he patronizes.

You mock laugh at him. “Oh sure, thanks. Think you can get all of London covered by Christmas?”

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

Ignoring the way your cheeks warm at his comment, you quickly change the subject, suggesting that you get to shopping before you freeze to death. Thankfully, Simon bites and leads you inside of the toy shop where you’re welcomed by a jovial clerk with a kind smile. A green elf hat sits on his head, leaving the children nearby to gawk at him. Christmas music plays softly through the radio on the back counter and it fades in and out as you wander between shelves where spiced cinnamon and pumpkin wafts just behind you.

A variety of toys adorn the aisles, but Simon appears to be on a mission for something in specific. He completely bypasses the frilly princess costumes, fancy dolls, action figures and crafts supplies in favor of toy cars and model ships. They’re cute; impossibly small. Made perfectly for little hands and fingers.

Then you make the mistake of looking at the price tags.

There’s a special aesthetic that surrounds this time of year. Something beautiful and kind. It’s the type of feeling that tugs on heartstrings, drawing people into warm embraces with hearty meals and laughter. It makes you feel at home even when you’re far from it. Despite it all, there’s always going to be something that’ll separate you from everyone else. You’ll never be the one bringing home gifts to family members. Never be the one to splurge. Each year you can hardly scrounge up enough to give Row something. Hell, you’re not even sure if you’ll have enough to buy the sanitary products you so desperately need.

Then again, it’s not like you have much family left to buy gifts for.

“What kind of present are you looking for?” Push it out of your mind. You can’t mope forever.

“Somethin’ my nephew’s been wantin’ for a bit. He’s been talkin’ his parents ear off ‘bout it for the last few months,” Simon replies, eyes scanning the shelf in front of him. He hums as his fingers ghost over the box to a model plane. “Been obsessed with planes lately.”

“Nephew?” you repeat. “So you have siblings, then?”

“A brother. Thomas. Everyone calls ‘im Tommy. I like to call him a pain in the arse,” he humors.

Chuckling, you crouch down to assist Simon’s search for the perfect gift for his nephew. The movement, curling in on yourself, temporarily eases the cramps that still fester deep in your abdomen, and you sigh. No matter how little the reprieve is, it’s always welcome.

“Big or little brother, then?” you ask.

“Older. Certainly not bigger than me.”

“Yeah, figure it’s pretty hard to be bigger than you.”

Falling quiet, you put in more effort into searching through eye-catching toys flashy enough to steal away any child’s attention. They’ve got everything from small sets made out of metal, to build-your-own models. It’s certainly fancier than anything you remembered from when you were a kid, but it’s also been ages since you’ve last visited a toy store.

“Oh, this is cute!” you coo.

Your hands reach out for a large box padded with smooth cardboard. For its size, it’s incredibly light, so it’s easy work to slide it off of the shelf. A precious, design it yourself RC plane, complete with paint and all. The box depicts what you assume is supposed to be father and son, painting designs on the body of the plane together.

You hold the box up for Simon to see, giving it a little shake. “Look, he could design his own little plane!”

Simon’s eyes widen in recognition as you straighten yourself out, box still in hand. “That’s it.”

Holding it out for him to take, he relieves you of carrying its weight. Large hands flip the box around, reading the description on the back. He smirks, then chuckles before shaking his head.

“As seen on TV,” he quotes. “They play the commercial for this between his favorite cartoons. Been begging his mum for it ever since.”

“What’s his name?” you ask.

“Joseph.”

Before you have the chance to comment further, Simon slides the box underneath his arm while his free hand retrieves his phone. The screen flickers on, casting a dim glow on his face as he flicks through applications.

When he turns it in your direction, you’re met with a half fuzzy photo of a young boy and a woman. They’re outside, sitting in a pile of leaves, their dying colors of red and yellows vibrantly declaring the autumn season. A few torn leaves stick to the boy’s bright blonde hair as he attempts to shove a fistful of them into the woman's hair. They don’t quite stick to her copper locks, but she grins at him anyway. With bright blue eyes and beautiful smiles, they’re near carbon copies of one another.

“Tom sent me this a few months back. That’s little Joey there, and his mum, Beth,” Simon shares.

“He’s adorable,” you coo. “How old is he?”

The very moment Simon answers, an unforgiving contraction rips through your abdomen. Muscles cramping and tightening, pulling so taut you fear they’ll tear each other apart. In a pitiful attempt to soothe yourself, your hand presses right above where your uterus is wreaking havoc on your body. With enough pressure, you’re sure you can phase through your organs. Reach into yourself and remove the nuisance and go on with your life. Instead, you fight back a grimace.

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to hide such vicious pain from Simon. He catches on quickly. Sniffs it out like a cadaver dog. His phone shuts off yet stays firmly in his palm as he presses the back of his hand against your forehead. Taken aback, you stare up at him, mouth trying to form words, yet nothing falls from your lips. There’s something about this touch that feels familiar. Something that leaves you feeling empty when he moves his hand away.

“Sure you’re feelin’ alright?” he asks. “Still a little warm. Don’t look like you’re feelin’ too good, sweetheart.”

Maybe it’s due to what your body has been going through as of late, or maybe it’s because of the way he’s looking at you, but your mouth grows dry. Like a desert. Devoid of the oasis of words you so desperately need. There’s no use in beating around the bush — or at least, you try to tell yourself as much — you’ve followed him out here for a reason.

“Yeah I’m just… you know. On my menses,” you explain, trying to make it humorous but it sounds more awkward than anything. “That’s, uh, one of the reasons I came with you today. Was sorta hoping I could drop by the pharmacy to pick some stuff up.”

You were hoping the concern etched into his face would melt away with your explanation, but if anything, it only gets worse. “You shoulda said something. Would’ve dropped by there first.”

“It’s no big deal,” you attempt to assure. “I mean, it’s not like this stuff goes away with a magic medication or something.”

God, you wish it would. A simple pop of a pill and a quick nap to have this all fade away sounds heavenly. It would save you from the odd look Simon gives you as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve made him uncomfortable. Some men get… squeamish around that type of talk. You have a very vivid memory shoved in the back of your mind of one of the cooks getting on Bee for walking in the restaurant with a box of tampons. She told them off with a bravery you could only dream of mustering, and they haven’t mentioned anything since, but the image of their tense faces is forever burned into your mind.

You wonder if it’s the blood or the body it comes from that disgusts them so much.

“C’mon,” Simon urges as he nods towards the end of the aisle. “Should be a pharmacy on the end of the block.”

“But what about presents for your family?” you ask.

“This was the last thing I was lookin’ for. Everythin’ else is already covered,” he assures you. “We’ll go up and pay and get you what you need, yeah?”

If there is one thing that you’ve learned about Simon Riley over the last few months, it’s that he’s a force to be reckoned with. Of course, you’ve known this fairly early on. You’ve known as much since the moment he taught you how to shoot pool, hands firm and unwavering against yours. It’s a force that evolves. One that shows its teeth — ones sharp enough to send a man as terrifying as Andrei whimpering and running for the hills.

You wonder if he brings that same heat to John’s establishment. Doing grunt work in the club, fighting off men gathering around the innocent like flies drawn to rot and decay. How often have those teeth been redirected at him, causing the puffy scars that trace the features of his nose and jaw? Are his claws only razors because someone else sharpened them for him?

Too many times have you seen men like Simon deteriorate. Shatter and become nothing but self-centered beasts who don’t fear spilling blood. Strength and power corrupts even the kindest of people — turns humans into monsters; into men like Marco. Simon should terrify you, but he doesn’t.

You don’t fully realize why that is until you reach the pharmacy

Even with your obvious apprehension about him accompanying you inside, he does anyway. Doesn’t flinch at the hygiene products. Watches intently as you peruse, counting numbers in your head and quids in your hand. It’s that counting game again. Barely scraping by — not having enough to buy supplies that’ll last you more than a few days, forever stuck with travel sized versions of what you require. When he catches on to that frustrated expression on your face, he insists on paying for you.

“Not gonna let you go without what’cha need. These prices are robbin’ you blind,” he says when you try to argue.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” you retort, guilt eating you alive.

“I’m not buyin’ you a pony here, sweetheart. They’re pads and tampons. Necessities.”

Stubborn as an ox, he doesn’t budge. He’s perseverant, and certainly has more stamina than you. Saving yourself from any further embarrassment, you finally allow it. You’ll just have to buy him something another time. He carries the items up himself, sneaking some over the counter painkillers in his hands in the process. You follow behind him like a wounded animal; or, at least the clerk looks at you as if you are one. Some pathetic, bleeding bitch — it’s like he can smell the blood that stains the insides of your thighs. Shame mixes with the embarrassment in your veins, lighting you on fire until you’re nothing but a boiling mess of a woman.

Suddenly, the only thing you see is Simon’s back.

“Get paid to stare or are you gonna ring us up?” he grunts.

Simon cares ferociously, you realize. That’s why you’re not scared of him. It would be so easy for him to take. To scrape up everything he wants and shove it into his pocket like it’s always belonged to him, but he doesn’t. Simon likes balance. Enjoys peace. When he snarls, it’s with sharp teeth; just enough to get the glares and smirks to dissipate, and when he looks back at you, there is only care. Doesn’t speak about the tally. There are no numbers in the back of his mind. No debt to pay.

He doesn’t count. He cares because that’s what he wants to do. And if it’s not, then he is the greatest pretender you’ve ever met — second only to yourself.

You’re able to breathe again the moment you’re back in Simon’s car, seatbelt fastened and supplies in hand. Dusk settles in the sky with a soft lilac hue as you’re taken back home, but the streets do not darken. Christmas joy keeps the pavement illuminated, bright lights diffusing through the window — they almost look like stars. You squint, try to pick out constellations, try to ignore the cramping and humiliation that festers in your stomach.

“Got plans for Christmas?”

Neither of you have spoken in so long you nearly jump at the warm baritone resonating in his chest. Glancing at him, you quell your heart as you watch him for a moment. Hands carefully on the wheel, safely maneuvering through traffic, eyes flickering to you for only a moment before they’re back on the road.

“Oh, uhm, not really. Usually I spend it with Row and John, but they’re headed out of the country for the holiday. My parents passed when I was a kid so… uh, otherwise I think I’ll probably spend it at home? Relax or whatever,” you explain.

An eternity passes by as you wait for his response. Engine humming, radio playing old Christmas tunes in the background — you know what he’s going to say, and you try not to grimace before the words leave his mouth.

“I’ve got family in Manchester. My mum’s hostin’ my brother and I for the holiday. You’re more than welcome to join, if you’d like,” he offers.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh. “You know you don’t… have to do that, right?” you ask.

“Do what?” he questions, sincere confusion lacing his tone.

“I know that Row asked you to keep an eye on me. That she’s concerned about me, or whatever. And I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me, truly. But Simon, this is your family. I can’t… barge in. You deserve to spend time with them without having to worry about, you know… me.”

His head shakes, eyes daring a glance at you as you fiddle with the bag in your lap. “Row isn’t makin’ me do anything. And you’re not bargin’ in if I invite you,” he says.

Teeth digging into the flesh of your bottom lip, you feel yourself sunder. Long, spiderweb cracks in your foundation, heart pounding so hard you fear it’ll rip itself to shreds. You’re becoming undone in the passenger's seat of a car, and you swear it’ll be the end of you.

“Sweetheart, I’m not askin’ you because of Row, or anyone else. I’m askin’ because I wanna know if you’ll go to Manchester with me or not. That’s it,” he says.

Finally, you bring yourself to look at him, anxiety slithering down your throat as you swallow. “Do you… really want me to go?”

“Course I do. Wouldn’t be askin’ if I didn’t. I’d be chuffed if you did, but it’s up to you.” He pauses as he spares another glance at you. “You can say no.”

Quiet eudaimonia warms your chest at his words, but you’re not sure which part has done you in. Is it his outspoken wish that you join him? That it’d make him happy if you came along? Or is it his quiet reminder that, despite what he wants, you still have a choice?

“When would we leave?” you ask.

“Christmas Eve, most likely. Still got work up until then, and then would have to be back the day after Christmas. It’d be a short trip,” he explains.

Lungs filling with air, your heart settles as you manage a quiet smile. “Okay. Well… I’d love to meet them. Your family. And it’d be nice not to be alone this Christmas.”

Simon smiles, and you find yourself staring at him longer than you should because of it. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He is really… handsome. Ruggedness, scars, crooked nose and all; all his features come together perfectly, as if sculpted by an artist. This is the same man who fought off a blade for you, the man who assured you were safe on several occasions, who refuses to be bashful or stationary when it comes to ensuring your comfort. This is the man who always walks you up the stairs to your apartment, refusing to let you out of his sight until he knows you’re safe in your residence. The man who fixed your door. Your sink. Everything.

As you say goodnight and reiterate your plans for Christmas, your mind repeats that phrase: Simon Riley cares ferociously.

Simon Riley cares ferociously about you.

It continues. Repetitive. Never ending. Not even as Simon vanishes back down the stairs and you shut and lock the door behind him. Not even when you toss yourself face first into your bed, period products discarded on some forgotten counter in your kitchen. Fervid desire swells in your chest to the point you feel yourself about to pop. Explode in a mess of viscera until you’re unrecognizable and it hurts but feels like the closest thing to freedom you’ve ever tasted.

Something’s gotten into you, surely. Or maybe you’re more sick than you thought. Period hormones wreaking havoc on your psyche. Whatever it is, you realize you haven’t felt this much excitement since you were a kid.

For the first time in ages, something finally feels like it’s changing for the better.

When your phone goes off an hour later, you find yourself looking at the screen hoping it’s Simon. You drop everything, pasta nearly boiling over on the stove, just to fetch the device, and you feel your stomach plummet when you see Row’s caller ID instead of his. A palpable tension still stretches between you two since your last conversation. You still taste the bile. That stomach acid and soup.

Your hand shakes as you press accept and turn the heat down on the burner. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Row greets. Her voice is soft. Careful. “You sound better than you did last week.”

“Yeah, feeling a lot better,” you admit. Your laugh is awkward. Tense. You feel like you’re talking to a stranger, and maybe in some way you are. That’s what you’ve been doing — pushing her away, building walls until you’re unrecognizable to one another. Nothing but strangers who’ve known each other for half your lives.

“Good. That’s good. Hey, uhm…” You brace yourself, eyes shutting as you let steam from the pot brush over your face before she continues. “I wanted to apologize for last week. For… honestly the last few weeks. You’ve… been going through a rough time with work and everything and… what I thought was me being supportive was really just me being a dunce. When I see something I think is a problem, I want to fix it right away, and when I can’t I get frustrated and… and I shouldn’t have said what I said to you the other day. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Row pauses to clear her throat, but it still takes her a moment before she speaks up again. When she does, you freeze at the tightness of her voice. “I just… it makes me sad thinking about you having to do anything alone a-and I know no one likes unwanted help, least of all you but… just know that I’m here for you. Anything, I swear. Both John and I would move heaven and earth for you.”

Trembling lips curve into a smile, and when you laugh you’re not sure if it’s out of love, relief, or both. Row falls silent on the other end of the line, trepidation obvious even through the call.

“You keep saying I’m alone, but I’m not. I have you, silly,” you tease. “I know you’re more of a talker than I am, and you wanna know what’s going on but… that’s just not me. You know that. But just because I’m not sharing my… feelings or whatever, doesn’t mean I’m doing this alone. I have you, and John, and —” and Simon “— and I always have you guys to lean on. I know you feel like you aren’t doing enough, or that you should be doing more, but Row, you’re doing more for me than anyone else in my entire life ever has.”

A long stretch of silence interrupts the call as you wait for Row to respond, and when she finally does, all she can muster is a quiet: “Oh.” There’s a slightly longer silence before she’s finally able to string the correct words together. “Well, when you put it that way… I sound really stupid.”

“You have your moments,” you humor.

A melodic fit of giggles erupts from both you and Row. Sweet, carefree, and loving. You sound like kids again. Gossiping school girls snickering to one another when you shouldn’t be.

“Well, thanks for helping me get my head on straight, then,” she chuckles. “Really. It’s always nice to know it was worse in my head than it was in real life.”

“I notice things usually are like that,” you quip.

“Well, I might have gone a little overboard. The idea of you spending Christmas alone still really makes me sad, so I talked to my mum. She said you’re more than welcome to spend the day with her and granny, if you’re needing company,” Row explains. There’s a short pause before she anxiously adds: “You don’t have to go, of course, if you’d rather stay home.”

There’s another ardent swell that expands in your chest. It travels all throughout your body, synapses tingling, neurons buzzing. Leaning against the counter, you look down at the floor — which could use a good sweep — as your toes wiggle in your slippers.

“Well, I’ve actually got plans for Christmas now. Simon invited me to go to Manchester for the holiday. We’ll be spending it with his family,” you share.

An over dramatic gasp crackles through the speaker. “Seriously? You’re not joking? Wait, did you suggest it? Or was he seriously, like, let me take you to Manchester?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” you say with an awkward laugh. “It was… really sweet.”

“Oh? Sweet, was it?” Row jests.

What you thought was going to be a quick call consisting of setting scores straight and airing baggage quickly devolves into a childish conversation about a potential relationship with Simon. You have to flip your phone on speaker to finish up dinner, and even then Row persists well after you’ve washed your dishes.

It is… strange to be having this conversation. Even as a kid, you never pursued any sort of relationship. No one ever caught your eye. Nothing ever sparked what you imagined infatuation would feel like. For a long while, you thought you were broken. Meant to forever go about the world without a partner to crawl next to in bed or someone to make breakfast for. It would have been fine. You’ve gone your entire life so far without that bond.

But now? Now that it feels so close you can reach out and touch it? You’re too frightened to name it — to call it love — lest you scare it off before you even have the chance to hold it in your hands.

Eventually the call ends with promises and oaths, each of you swearing to tell one another about your Christmas excursions when Row returns from her trip with John. Lights flicker off as you slip into pajamas, soft cotton warming your skin as you slip under covers. As you lay on your back, eyes bleary as they attempt to focus on the pale ceiling above you, you think of Simon. Fingers itch to reach for your phone, to shoot him a text — to thank him for his kindness today.

Don’t you remind yourself. Simon is the water you try to cup in your hands. Palms pressed tight together, wrists contorting into the perfect cup — you’ll spill it if you’re not careful. So you close your eyes, and for once you allow yourself to hope. To yearn. You lay there and pray that when Simon thinks of you, his heart beats just as wildly as yours does when you think of him.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader #in limbo

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cntloup · 7 months

Text

Fem!Reader angst, hurt/comfort, mention of miscarriage

"I might be pregnant." you mumble nervously to your husband, fidgeting with your fingers and avoiding his gaze. You didn't get your period and you've been sick every morning the past week. "Dove, did you check to make sure?" Simon asks, starting to feel excited but the heavy weight on his chest doesn't let him. "No, we don't have any baby checks." you reply, head still hanging low, "I-I'll g-go to the drugstore now." he stutters, excitement mixed with gloom, not really knowing how to feel, "Are you gonna be ok while I'm gone?" he asks with worry, "Yeah." you reply weakly. He places a kiss on your forehead, nuzzling the soft skin of your cheeks, his touch lingering, "I'll be ok, Si." you reassure him. He leans in to kiss you, eyes filled with concern locked onto yours for a moment before heading out the door.

The moment he walks out, you see the dark clouds looming over you and feel the familiar tingle in the back of your eyes. Soon after, you break into sobs, overwhelmed by all the emotions prancing around and shifting through you. You've been trying to have a baby for a while now, but unfortunately fate had something else in store for you. You've already gone through two miscarriages. You thought that life was playing a sick, twisted game with you. The wish to have a child and not being able to fulfill that, had your mental health in shambles. But he was beside you every step of the way. He held you tightly in his embrace as you sobbed your heart out. He reassured you that it's ok if you can never have children. He was your rock. Always. But you still felt it deep in your heart that there might be something wrong with you. And that led you to always feel this little tingle of guilt inside and blame yourself. But he would always put an end to that thought at the mere mention of it. It was not your fault. You felt guilty about putting him through all of this. And him not being able to grieve properly because he has to stay strong for you. You felt as though you were failing him.

All of a sudden, there's a buzzing in your ear and your vision is blurry and you struggle to breathe. As soon as he walks through the door and sets eyes on you bawling uncontrollably and gasping for air, he rushes to your side. "Hey, hey, it's ok, love. Just breathe. Like this." he tries to get your attention, taking deep breaths for you to imitate. You focus on the movements of his lips and chest, finally able to get some air in your lungs. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against him and sways side to side to soothe you, "Shh, lovie. It's ok. I'm right here. You're ok." he coos softly against your temple, placing loving kisses on your skin.

"Simon..." you call out to him, voice weak and shaky. "Yes, love?" he pulls away slightly, his gaze soft and filled with worry. He tucks your hair behind your ear, placing his hand on your cheek, softly wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, "Is there something wrong with me?" you pout, lips quivering and holding back sobs. He's taken aback, "No, lovie. There's nothing wrong with you. It's just something that happens. It's not your fault." he pauses to take a look at you, his beautiful wife, woeful and suffering. His heart aches at this sight of you and tears start to well up in his eyes, "We'll get through this. I promise. If we can't have a child ourselves, we can always adopt." he adds, kind eyes looking into your tear-filled ones. He tries to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, and when you look up at him with a smile, he knows he succeeded, at least to some extent. There's still sorrow in your eyes. You will always grieve the loss of your children. Nothing can erase that. "Yeah, sure! We'll adopt." your smile begins to get wider as you wipe away the tears. "Yeah?" he grins, gently cupping your face in his hands, "Yeah!" you nod, giggling. He stares into your eyes with pure love, leans in and places his lips on yours, kissing you tenderly. "I love you." he murmurs into the kiss, "I love you too, Si."

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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faith369 · 5 months

Note

Idea of mine:

How would 141 (either poly or like any of them, im not fussy, take ur pick) to a reader (preferably fem) who like doesn't make any noise in bed? Like could be having the most earth shattering orgasm but not a single moan. Would they see it as like a challenge to compete to see who could get her to make a noise?

Best believe they'd take it as a challenge.

Poly!141 x fem!reader

Warnings: p in v, poly, oral fem receiving, just straight up nasty so mdni

The captain's eyes were trained on the scene that played out in front of him, your poor little cunny all slick and waiting to be played with again , but Gaz and Soap seemed to be too occupied with arguing who would manage to make their little bird sing, neither of them noticing that their Liteunant had entered, who wasn't happy at all about seeing his little darling neglected. The sergeants only stopped as Ghost grabbed them at their necks like a cat does to her kittens in order to maneuver them of the bed.

"Can't leave you two alone f' one second. Look a' that, not thinking about our poor bunny. Wanna' show 'em how to make her scream, Cap?"

The older man simply nodded, sliding onto the bed to flush your back against his hairy chest. Gaz and Soap settled down, pouting like children that had just gotten their favorite toy taken away, which, at least to some extent, was true. And still, your only sign of just having your cunt eaten out were your hazy eyes and the way your breath came out faster than usual. John fondled your breast, twisting the little buds between his fingers, while Simon slowly moved into you. The pleasure that you felt was only given away by the way you threw your head back. You pressed yourself further into John's body seeking him out. Simon picked up his pace in hopes of at least getting a whimper out of you, but nothing, not until one of the hands that had just rested on your chest started rubbing small circles on your swollen clit. It was too much Simon's hard strokes—one hand playing with your nipple while the other abused your poor bud, the feeling caused you to leave out a string of moans that carried their names within them. Johnny and Kyle glared at the scene that unfolded right infront of them, the scot even palming himself through his pants while the other one was too encapsulated to move. The Captain had the audacity to grin at them smugly, as if that didn't make them want to prove that they would make you sing for them just as pretty after the older two were done.

#cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x reader #captain price x female reader #simon riley x you #faith writes #cod mwii #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x you #kyle garrick x you #poly!141 #simon ghost riley x reader #captain price x you #soap x fem reader #johnny x reader

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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

Note

Still in love/obsessed ex-husband

A still in love and obsessed ex-husband can be answered in various ways. I thought I'd make this one a little loosey goosey and stretch the definition of "ex-husband" here a tad bit. I also split "still in love" and "obsessed." My personal HC about these characters actions around those two phrases will certainly vary.

Anyway, here are four quick drabbles on the topic (And thank you for your patience as I fulfill requests.)

Find the Imagines & What If Series Masterlist HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): reconciliation, fluff, light angst, suggestive themes, swearing, marriage, strained and established relationships, stalking

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“I still have it.”

“Have what?” you ask.

“Your wedding dress,” answers John.

“I told you to return it. And the ring.”

John shakes his head. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it. Still in my closet.”

“You don’t want to.”

“No.”

“Why?” you ask.

“You know why, love.”

You sigh. “Did you sign the papers?”

“No,” he answers automatically. “Why would I? When you’re clearly still in love with me.”

“John.”

“You promised me an army.”

“I’ve given you three,” you murmur, thinking of your children with him.

John smiles, and you melt. “We can make number four right here.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What’s this?”

“Nothing.”

“Show me.”

You keep your hand behind your back. Johnny grins down at you, one eyebrow raised. Johnny is fast, snagging your arm and bringing your hand into the light.

His gaze drops to the diamond on your finger.

“You still wear it,” he breathes.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, love. It does.” He steps closer, one warm hand cupping your cheek.

You lean into him, not wanting to admit out loud what still holds true in your heart.

“You still love me,” he teases.

“And?” you prompt.

He draws you close. “And I still want you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Signing this won’t change anything. You know this.”

Kyle is right and you hate that he is. Grasping the back of your neck, Kyle threads his fingers through your hair. Twisting. Gripping. Arching your neck.

He draws you forward, lips nearly brushing over yours. “You know I’d burn everything down for you. Walk any distance. I will never be rid of you. Never.”

Kyle’s words are searing. They sit heavy in your chest.

“Do you not feel the same?” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that.”

The divorce papers are scattered across the kitchen table.

You swallow. “Shred them.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is a wraith.

He watches from the shadows. He knows your every step, who you talk to, and what your day looks like. He has always known. Even before you called him husband—and before that boyfriend—Ghost learned your habits.

He sits. Waits.

You glance over your shoulder with no idea how close he is, trying to find his in. Because he will. He will have you.

The current boyfriend will disappear.

Just like the last one.

Because Ghost made it happen.

All he needs is time and then, he can put his ring back on your finger.

Taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

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kitkatscabinet · 1 year

Text

Always been you

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! childhood friend reader

Summary: From the moment you first smiled at him as children Simon knew it would always be you.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: some nsfw content so minors keep scrolling

It starts like this, he’s 9 years old feet listlessly guiding himself to the rundown park desperate to be somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t the oppressive confines of home. The weather, as was typical of Manchester, wasn’t exactly cooperating. A dreary grey drizzle that served to keep most of the general populace indoors. Few parents were willing to stand outside and supervise their rowdy children.

That’s not to say the area was completely devoid of activity and for a while Simon was content to sit idly on the swing set and people watch. Trying desperately to ignore the clench in his chest and the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes as he watched the loving interactions between child and parent. Bitterness and wanting in equal parts threatened to consume him.

A voice from the side quickly pulls him from the harrowing thoughts, though he quickly thinks maybe they’d be easier to deal with. It’s a boy, around his age, maybe a little older and he’s boring like Simon’s deeply offended him.

“Get off the swing, I want a turn.” The demand leaves Simon more than a little flabbergasted. Apparently, he takes too long to not follow the sudden command as the boy's face twists in even more displeasure.

“I said, move!” He’s taller, and maybe it's because Simon had already been scared by Tommy that morning but he freezes.

Or maybe it’s just because he’s pathetic, his father’s voice whispers traitorously in his mind.

Thankfully, the thought doesn’t get to stick around for long as a new voice enters the fray. “Hey! Fuck off!” Both boys whirl around with wide eyes at the newcomer, neither sure how to respond to the loudly swearing girl. However, when the boy responds with what Simon assumes to be your name it becomes clear that you already know each other.

“I don’t have to listen a girl.” That proves to be exactly the wrong thing to say, Righteous indignation lights up your face and before Simon can even blink the would-be bully is on the ground, clutching his nose with a cry. You’d punched him, hard enough that Simon could see the blood spilling out from over the crying boy’s hands and down his chin. Not wanting to suffer the same fate, Simon had let you pull on his hand, keeping it in a deceptively strong grip as you marched the two of them away. When you make it far enough from the crime scene you turn to him with a toothy grin, introducing yourself and promptly claiming the title of his new best friend.

It’s not quite love at first sight, but years down the line Simon will recognise it as something close.

The fourth time you meet at the park, not even two weeks from the initial greeting, you ask after his parents. It wasn’t unusual that Simon didn’t talk much, content to listen to you chatter away but you must have noticed something different in that instance of silence. You were alarmingly perceptive like that when it came to him, your eyes feeling as if they were staring directly into his soul, seeing all the shattered hurt he tried to hide. Nodding to yourself you grabbed his hand, an occurrence that he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet - your gentle touch, and tugged him along. You walk him all the way to your house, open the door with an excited bang and march straight up to your parents.

“This is my best friend, Simon, he’s gonna sleep over tonight!” Your parents are rightfully not amused but their protests quickly die down. He has no idea what convinced them in the end, but from then on he’d somehow become a permanent fixture in your home. Dinners became a regular thing which often became sleepovers as you attempted to keep him out of the house that had caused him so much fear and pain. It was about as subtle as a brick to the face but Simon never complained, especially if it meant you’d pull him into your bed as often as possible to sleep.

He hadn’t minded the first two ‘boyfriends’, they had been nothing serious, silly childhood infatuations. Because at the end of the day, it was always him that you returned to. Crawling through his window late at night and pouting that you couldn’t sleep without your favourite pillow, because somehow, despite his protests you always wrestled him into being the little spoon.

No, it isn’t until he’s 17 and more than aware of how painfully in love with you he is that the boyfriends finally become a problem. Simon wasn’t a violent person, didn’t want to be, not like his father was. But as he holds you in his arms after you’d climbed through the window in tears, cuddling up to him under the blanket covering his bed that he swears for the first time in his life he could kill somebody. He offers too, you simply laugh and tell him he’s the best friend you could ever have. You think he’s joking, Simon’s not entirely sure he is.

You’re his first kiss, something that had only occurred at your aghast knowledge that he’d never kissed anyone at all. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, you’re the only person he ever lets near him let alone touch him. It’s simultaneously the best and worst moment of his life because now he actually knows what it feels like to kiss you. Knows that nobody will ever live up to you.

It’s then he realises that you’re his first everything really, first friend, first crush, first and only love.

He reads some of your smutty books, the ones you giggle at, a secret he’ll take to the grave, just to learn what you like. It comes about after a drunken confession on your part, liquor loosening your lips just a tad too much as you detail how much your last boyfriend sucked in bed. It’s a mistake, because now every time he looks at you he can’t help but imagine the way you’d taste. How you’d sound begging so prettily for him.

His decision to join the military was not made lightly, you’d gotten accepted into some fancy university and it’s then Simon starts to realise just how much his entire life has started to revolve around you. As much as he wants to follow, he knows that life isn’t for him, and he knows how much you want him to flourish in whatever path he chooses.

Training isn’t easy, but it’s far from the hardest thing he’d ever done. That title was reserved for telling you about his chosen career path.

“Promise me you’ll always come back home to me” you demand, parting just slightly from your hug to look into his eyes. Simon knows he shouldn’t, after all there’s never any guarantee that he will, but as has been the case since you were both 12 he can’t bare to say no to you.

“I promise love” it’s barely a whisper but you still hear it, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt starting to shake a little.

He wants to kiss you, he always does, but standing before him now, eyes glassy from the tears you’re trying to hold back, Simon swears you’ve never looked more ethereal. As much as he wants to lean down and finally taste your lips he doesn’t, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you or to him, so instead he presses a soft kiss to your hairline, keeping you held tightly against him.

You send him more care packages than he can count, photos, letters and little trinkets he kept tucked safely away in his bunk or on his person when he could get away with it. He gets teased for it but Simon couldn’t give less of a fuck about their poorly hidden jealousy, not when you cared for him so deeply. Not when he gets to fall asleep with your words in his head and faint scent rubbing off on him.

He’d thought that perhaps the distance would do him some good, would finally douse the blazing flames of his love for you. He really should have known better because as the day's drone on you start to consume his every thought both waking and asleep. His life becomes a series of training and missions that only serve as a way to pass the time until he gets to see you again. Because no matter how much blood stains his hands he knows you’ll always be there to wash it away. He’s aware how selfish it is, to place the brunt of his longing and emotional baggage that only continues to grow in your careful hands, but Simon’s never claimed to be a good man.

Some of the darkness slips out one night, after his brother's wedding, after the revelry had died down and it was just the two of you lying on the grass and looking up at the stars at your insistence. He’ll forever blame it on the alcohol, descriptions of the violence he’d tried so desperately to keep from you pouring from his lips in confession. He can’t bear to look at you, heart roaring in his ears as he waits for the moment you’ll run, the moment you’ll finally realise what a monster he is. That moment never comes, instead, you ensnare him in your protective grip, hands cradling him far more softly than he deserves. It’s that moment that finally cements the fact that you’re never leaving in his mind. You’re never leaving so it’s up to him to pull away before he tarnishes your light, but Simon is weak and so he stays.

It happens after his third tour, the one where he’d had too close a call, the one he’d thought for a few moments he wasn’t coming home from. In those moments he’d thought of you, of your smile and god he regretted. He regretted never telling you how he felt.

It feels like he’s barely off the plane, eyes searching desperately for you before he hears the shout of his name. He spins just in time for you to launch yourself at his chest, gripping desperately onto him. You’ve always tried to keep your affection for him private, knowing he wasn’t entirely comfortable with people staring. Neither of you cared in that moment though and Simon’s already dropped his bags, engulfing you in a near-crushing grip.

It’s an eternity before you pull away, but it’s still too soon. He briefly glimpses the tears in your eyes before he leans down and kisses you. Something in the back of his mind is screaming at him, but he doesn’t really care to listen. At first, you don’t respond and Simon finally panics as the consequences of his actions set in. You don’t give him the chance to run away though, hands grasping his face and keeping him in place.

When you pull away you don’t say anything, simply taking his hand in yours and tugging him out to your car. The drive to your apartment is silent, but not uncomfortable. It isn’t until you’ve pulled him into your bed, in a mirror image of your younger years that you finally break the silence.

“I never thought you felt the same.” The same? The implications of your words seared into the forefront of his mind.

“Silly girl, why would I ever even look at somebody else when you exist?” You let out an adorably embarrassed squawk at his words, lightly hitting him on the chest as you bury your burning face against his neck.“It’s always been you” he murmurs, the confession settling over you like a wave.

For a split second, he fears your relapse into silence means he’d pushed too far too fast. Years of pining bubbling up and over the surface at the slightest bit of reciprocation. You’re quick to shut down his internal spiral with another earth-shattering kiss, pulling away and resting your chin on his chest.

“Yeah, you’ve always been it for me too Si. From the moment I pulled you from that swing." It's a little embarrassing, how fast his heart races at the confession. Tears build in the corners of his eyes as he finally, finally lets himself fully succumb to your love. You're quick to wipe them away though, because you would always take care of your Simon.

#x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod ghost

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petr1kov · 1 year

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i'm really so interested in seeing how simon will reckon with his identity as the ice king. his rejection of the fionna and cake stories clearly stems from his rejection of his past as the ice king, something he wants no association with any longer, and yet, at the same time, he also misses actually being ice king on some level, while also hating that he misses that.

it has always been tricky to determine exactly how much of ice king is simon, where exactly the curse starts and simon ends. many of ice king's characteristics come from the crown, his madness and appearence and magic (as made clear by evergreen), but even through all of this, the wearers remain the wearers, to an extent; ice king still is simon, deep down, and that's what truly terrifies him and thrills him.

i think that being ice king was like having all of his basest needs and desires broadcast to the world, filtered by the complete lack of moral compass and impulse control that came with the curse: ice king was a being of pure emotion, who made his needs known at all times. he wanted to find the love of his life (his princess, or, deep down, just betty), he wanted to be surrounded by his children (his gunthers, but really, just marcy), he wanted to have finn and jake's friendship, he wanted to be loved and accepted by all the residents of ooo, and he went after all of that loudly, shamelessly, recklessly.

being ice king was simultaneously restricting and freeing. he spent a millenia taking a backseat on his own mind, watching this twisted version of himself express everything for him, make every decision for him, by him. so now that he's back to being 'himself', how can he even know what that really is? how to act for himself again? how can he get used to it, when he spent so long completely overwhelmed by the crown, playing second fiddle to his own mind, ruled by a mixture of madness and his instincts? just existing, doing whatever he pleases regardless of the consequences?

it's no wonder that simon is mortified by it, and it's no wonder that he misses it, too.

#i am soooo normal about him :]#simon petrikov #at #fionna and cake

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tixdixl · 6 months

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Airport doodle of @simons-twsted-children 's Klaus

#twst #twst ocs #my art #mutuals ocs #Klaus Hassenkamp #simons twisted children

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qwimchii · 11 months

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𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 2) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 —𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.1k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺(𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰), 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳

you left that meeting without exchanging a word with Simon. he didn’t seem to mind.

by the time you had left, he was swarmed by the girls at the meeting, all curious and wanting his attention. Maya included, much to Sarah’s amusement. not to yours at all.

the rest of the meeting had been a drone of done anything fun for the past week? have you set any new routines and practices? have you been utilizing any constructive coping strategies we learned about in your routines?

that was usually your favorite part about the meeting. with Simon’s presence a steaming reek right in your peripheral, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t get out more than a choked i’ve been good.

although, in comparison, Kate could barely coax a word from Simon. most of his responses came in the form of a blink, a shrug, or shifting in that rickety, creaking chair.

walking down the familiar road to the church, this time mid-day, but the air just as cutting and cold, you pulled out your phone to mull over the brief text conversation between yourself and Simon.

-1pm tmrw church

-Sure.

and that was that. Kate had practically strangled you over a phone call to actually text the thing and agree on a place and time to meet to plan for the upcoming fall projects.

your eyes ran over the phone screen again.

Sure.

you rolled your eyes. even that response felt arrogant and asshole-ish.

you knew your mind, in all its immaturity, was twisting the text and pulling it apart, trampling it, and spitting it back out. you knew because it was something Kate chided you about time and time again.

you couldn’t find it in you to care.

you pushed through the doors of the church, entering the chapel, descending down the stairs, to find Simon brooding by the double-doors of the meeting room.

he was leaned back against the faded walls, donning that all-black attire, hood up and masked, earbuds in and eyes closed. he looked virtually the same as he had only several days ago, save for the black baseball cap peeking out of his hood.

as you neared, you swallowed hard, stomach flurrying erratically. you probably would’ve turned tail and ditched him if his eyes didn’t snap open, pushing off the wall and arms stiff by his side.

you stopped when there was an awkwardly marginal distance between the two of you.

“hi.”

silence.

you fumbled with your phone with a sigh, scrolling through the document Kate shared with you, squinting at the screen, and wholly ignoring Simon’s dark eyes on you.

every year, the city hosts a community-led halloween festival for children with table events, performers, music, mini-haunted houses, and more. it stretches for a couple blocks and wraps around the church—where you and Simon had been assigned pumpkin carving and costume coordination by Kate.

“so we’ve got pumpkin carving and—”

“costume coordination,” he finished, hands clenched by his sides. you eyed his gloves curiously, then roamed up to his masked face.

with a bitterness, you realized he kind of looked like a serial killer. but, biting down on your tongue, you chose not to speak on it, only pocketed your phone with a nod.

“right. costumes this way,” you gestured down the hallway, and Simon fell into step just a few strides behind you.

to fill the terse silence, you fumbled around for small talk.

“so you got a day job?”

if he had agreed to meet at one o’clock on a weekday, you assumed his military job might be something with a peculiar irregularity, much to your chagrin. you had hoped he would say no to the meeting.

but he just shook his head. “i’m on leave. been here since last week.”

your heart soared, and you bit down on your lip to smother a smile as you opened the door at the end of the hallway. “does that mean you’ll be going back soon?”

flicking on the flights, the storage room flooded with an artificial fluorescent glare. you reached for a familiar storage container beneath a table covered with dusty white sheets. hauling it towards you, you paused when you realized Simon hadn’t followed you into the room.

you looked over your shoulder. he stared back at you from where his massive frame crowded the doorway, hands clenched by his sides.

you swallowed hard. you were alone in this church with Simon. just you and a man.

and he was blocking the only exit.

an alarming flash ran through you—hot and sharp and leaving you breathless.

“did i do something?”

you stood, steadying your labored breath like Kate had taught you.

“yes.”

he stared at you for a long moment before huffing out, eyes flashing as he stepped into the room and away from the entrance. you exhaled, rough and shaky.

that burn of his prying gaze built a familiar anger in your lungs, and you eyed him with narrowed eyes. “what?”

he shook his head, bending down for a box beside yours. “nothing.”

you cocked your head. “something funny?”

“no.” he rose to his full height, a box between his hands, and head craned as he looked down at you. dark eyes murky and quiet.

your hands balled into fists. he really was massive.

“you’re just bad at lying.”

your brow furrowed and he gestured with a dip of his head towards your stance, and your gaze followed his, down to the stiffness of your body and your hands clenched in your pockets.

you blinked. when had you done that?

immediately, you jerked them out of your pockets and smoothed your clammy hands down your thighs.

“let’s just—” you cleared your throat, turning back to the boxes, “—let’s just get this over with and leave.”

you could see Simon’s stare from your peripheral. “alright.”

carrying the boxes down the hallway, his footsteps those eerie quiet thuds behind you, you turned to push through the door with your back and strode to settle the box at the center of the floor, rummaging through the contents and spreading them out over the carpet. you picked up a little black number draped with longer, jagged pieces along its hems. a child size witch’s dress.

Simon settled beside you a comfortable distance away, watching your movement with a careful eye.

“okay so—” you turned the dress over in your hands, inspecting its light wear and tear, “—i’ll take half of the costumes to sew. you take the other half to work on and next meeting we’ll—”

the deep timbre of his voice cut you off. “sew?”

the words died in your throat, head whipping to Simon who held up a toddler’s pumpkin costume that was dwarfed by the size of his hands.

you struggled for words, choking out, “you don’t know how to sew?”

his eyes met yours. “not clothing.”

flabbergasted, you pressed, “and Kate assigned you to costume coordination?”

he nodded, beginning to pull out his phone and show you Kate’s document you presumed, but you waved a hand at him, a new berth of stress weighing down your shoulders.

“no, no it’s fine just…” you held your forehead, jaw clenched tight. “i’ll teach you.”

speaking it was like a death sentence, and you only wallowed in your own self-pity. how could Kate do this to you?

everyone assigned costume coordination had to know how to sew. it was part of the requirements.

unless Kate pulled some strings.

you watched Simon spread out the costumes over the carpet like you had.

“did Kate put you up to this?”

Simon didn’t even pause to acknowledge you, picking at the garments until they were in neat rows.

“no.”

“so you joined the group… on your own accord?” the idea of it was staggering. Simon had looked downright trodden when sharing about himself with the group—not giving up much more than that he watched tv sometimes and read books sometimes. which, in your opinion, was what most people did in their freetime.

“not exactly,” he said, voice gruff, and you eyed him for a long moment before sighing, careful not to push him further.

you reached over for the costumes of his that needed the most attention. “i’ll take the most beat up ones—”

he ignored you, eyes trained on the clothes. “no. we’re a team. i can pull my weight.”

a bitter taste flooded your mouth. team.

“right, well, there are lots of youtube tutorials.”

he just nodded, gathering up the items and throwing them back in the box.

you heaved a sigh. “i’m assuming you don’t have sewing supplies?”

“i can buy some.”

you shook your head. “no need. next meeting i can bring some of mine. i have extra.”

“thought you said we needed to work on them by next meeting?”

his question was pure but it still set that irked fire rolling through your stomach. shoving the costumes back into your box, you mourned his attention to detail. you always thought he was only half-listening.

with your long silence, he offered, “i’ll buy some supplies.”

that ugly feeling trickled down to your chest. guilt. regret. “no just…”

you screwed your eyes shut, like couldn’t believe you were saying this.

“i live just down the block. just come to my place now and i can give you some if you really want to get a head start.”

you ignored his curious gaze as you picked up the box, and trudged your way out of the meeting room.

“alright.”

he followed you.

the entire walk to your apartment was silent.

a creeping awkward, muddled feeling prickled along your spine. it was almost unbearable, but the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot was more comforting than scrambling around for small talk.

arms beginning to ache with the effort of carrying the box of costumes, you felt a burst of relief at the sight of your brick red apartment complex just ahead. your steps quickened now, and you didn’t bother to see if Simon was following you closely or not. from the sound of his slow breath just beyond your shoulder, with a shudder, you could assume that he was.

you hopped up the steps, putting down the box and fumbling around in your bag for the keys to shove them into the old lock, scrambling around with half-frozen hands till it gave way. you stepped inside, not waiting to hold the door open for him as you rubbed your arms with a shudder. the heat blasted your numb face in the entrance hall, the white radiator working furiously by the door.

“cold?”

you jolted, turning sharply to him as he closed the door, looking completely content after walking a block in such low temperatures. maybe, you were just being overdramatic. or maybe it was because Simon was wearing a good couple more layers than you were.

“yeah,” you said, “are you not?”

he just shrugged. “got used to it from work.”

you found that strangely ominous, so you just gave him a curt nod in reply, picking up the box of costumes and turning to walk up the creaky stairs to the upper floor of the old building. you strode down the carpeted hall till you reached a faded red door.

your jerked your head to it, mumbling awkwardly, this is my place, before struggling with the keys again to open it. strangely, your heart thudded against your rib cage during the movements, prickling at the thought of his dark eyes watching you.

when you pushed the heavy door open, shoving your foot in the crack, you took one look inside and decided that you didn’t want Simon stepping anywhere near your home. especially not if you were alone. especially not if you were alone with a man.

“uh…” you trailed off, mouth opening and closing, then turning to him, leaning against the wall casually, then looked away, unable to make eye contact.

he shifted in your peripheral. “i’ll wait out here.”

you almost jolted at that, an airy bubble of shock breaking into your words as you gave him a wide-eyed stare. “are you sure?”

he nodded and you mumbled a slow apology, stepping inside your apartment with the box of costumes and letting the front door glide shut. that was… strange.

with a hefty sigh, you put down the box on the kitchen table, brushing the feeling away, and stripped yourself of your jacket, moving into your bedroom.

you pulled open the drawers of the storage containers on your desk, shuffling around for extra sewing supplies that you could spare and shoving them all into an extra bag that you didn’t use anymore. that bag happened to be an old, pink hello kitty zip-up pouch from middle school.

you hoped Simon wouldn’t be too irked by it as you zipped it up, then chided yourself for caring if he felt mad at you at all.

at that, you paused at your desk, fingers fiddling with the zipper as your mind whizzed through some thoughts. Simon hadn’t made any unnecessary advancements towards you. he hadn’t waltzed into your home like it was your own. he hadn’t pushed your boundaries when you obviously displayed them. he didn’t dump the workload on you because Kate had given him an assignment out of his skillset.

he wasn’t even that talkative. you couldn’t even imagine him as being touchy. in fact, he was a good four feet from you at almost all times.

except when you were in that church basement.

you steadied yourself with deep, slow inhales, just like Kate had taught you. was this what Kate meant by trying to get better? forcing you to work with a man who she knew wouldn’t cross your boundaries?

and what did that mean for Simon? did he have something to work out over being near… women?

your support group specialized in a range of things. mostly, victims of sexual trauma. though, not all girls in the group came for that reason.

there was a bitter taste in your mouth. for some reason, it hadn’t dawned on you that Simon might’ve come, albeit seemingly dragged along by Kate, to the group for the same reason as you.

as a victim of sexual trauma.

you cursed Kate and all her conspiring, reverse-psychology, psychic plans, quickly striding from your bedroom to the front door. you paused at the entrance, hand twitching over the knob, before twisting the door open with an apology already on your lips.

the words died in your throat at the sight of your new, brutish neighbor just steps from the door, conversing with Simon in an excited, low voice.

when he noticed you, a smile bloomed across his face. “hey, lass! how’re ye doin’?”

you almost withered. this was exactly the kind of men you avoided. talkative and touchy.

you cracked the door open a little wider, but not enough so that he could pull you into a friendly hug like he had done a couple days ago without warning. the memory of it had you in shivers behind the shield of the door.

Simon stood with crossed arms a step away from your neighbor, eyeing you with a dark curiosity that you chose to ignore.

“Johnny,” you chewed out, skipping any formalities. though it didn’t matter, because no matter how rude you could get, the scot would beam at you anyways.

“i was just talkin’ to yer friend here,” he said, slapping Simon on the back, who didn’t even flinch. “we’re coworkers! who would’ve guessed?”

he laughed, long and hearty, and you grimaced. “great.”

snaking a hand out of the crack of your front door, you handed the hello kitty pouch to Simon. the black mask shrouded half his face, but from the way his brows pinched together, eyes flitting up in a hard glance before glaring back down at the pink, worn thing, you thought he seemed irked. swallowing, you felt an ounce of guilt as Johnny watched the whole interaction with glee.

“i ken ye’ were a hello kitty guy, Ghost.”

“fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” he grumbled under his breath, snatching up the pouch from your hand.

you almost felt bad as Simon shoved it into the pocket of his sweatshirt, feeling as though you may have opened up a slew of new ways for Johnny to poke at Simon.

he turned sharply on his heel, looking like he was escaping the conversation just as much as you wanted to right now but—

you pushed open the door a tad wider, knocking into Johnny carelessly, who blundered back with a surprised oof.

“wait!”

Simon slowly turned, peering at you from over his shoulder.

you hesitated, knowing Johnny’s eyes were picking apart the situation with an intense scrutiny that made you feel like shrinking into dust.

“i…”

you thought back to how you had felt a few minutes ago—the apology extracted from the simmering guilt in your gut. you looked over Simon, the tall, muscular strength of him, and felt something dark and wet twist your heart.

maybe not guilt, but sympathy.

the words of apology were on your lips, but you could see Johnny leaning forward into your peripheral, so instead you said, “are you busy tomorrow?”

he blinked at you. “no.”

“do you live far from here?”

“ten minutes by walk.”

not far at all, you realized, with a breath of relief. “there’s a cafe on the corner of smith and wellerstation. i work till six. i can teach you how to sew then.”

he just stared at you. “you don’t have to.”

i want to, you wanted to say.

but you never worked well with words or apologies, and after observing Simon, just in the short time you had met him, he seemed to share somewhat of the same qualities.

“just be there,” you shot out quickly with an annoyed flush, and then slammed the door shut.

standing in your apartment for a moment, a silence filling the air, you deliberated before shoving the door open again, nearly missing Johnny by a hair.

he startled when you stuck your head out to peer at him.

“have a good evening,” you snapped, and he opened his mouth to say something, maybe shocked because you had never taken such formality to be nice to him before, but you shut the door in his face before he could get anything out.

finally, at peace and alone in your own apartment, you trudged over to grab the box of costumes and hauled it by your couch before stepping into your bedroom to snatch up the bag of your sewing supplies.

you sank onto the couch with a deep sigh, fiddled with the remote to switch on an episode of that new k-drama on netflix.

restitching the fraying seams of the little witch dress, eyes flitting between the fabric in your hands and the tv screen, as much as you bit back the thoughts with your lower lip trapped beneath your teeth, your mind drifted far away to think of the man you’d be teaching to sew tomorrow.

this chapter is pretty short and not interesting imo, but just wait till the next one oml 😵‍💫 shit goes down

wait also please ignore the gaping, massive plot holes in this story. half of it doesn’t really make any sense but likkkeeeee Simon x halloween x therapy support group had me in a chokehold… it’s giving the faults in our stars or smth but i love writing this au

i say that: 1. kate has retired/stopped working in military 2. i really dont know if this is taking place in america or uk bc in my head its very much america w like halloween type stuff and all the minor characters are american in my brain so pls just ignore everything that does not make sense ty 😇 3. oh also i like to think that johnny moved near simon just to terrorize him 😇 4. ok anyways ive been rambling on for so long i hope you enjoy this part!! 💞

taglist: @kenma-izhu @actuallyhiswife@froggielottiee @neenieweenie @delaynew @ilovehyperfixating @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @tomorrowseverything @moonlqths@ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley @keiva1000 @arminarlertssword @crowbird @jasonloveclub @karurururu

@embers-of-alluring @newsies-pape-girl @suhmie @amberpanda99 @mystsee @cosmoscoffeee @hunterofhonor @wawuwe @kunikku @corvusmorte @hearts4sky @aloudplace @justletmelivethanks @shadowdaddysposts @leclercdream @ayanokomu @thedevillovesflowers @moonstonedeluluera

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writingoddess1125 · 10 months

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What do you do Dad?

Simon Riley + OOC Children

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Your children ask about their fathers job

Fluffy

It was days like this Simon lived for- Were he could just relax and let his guard down just a little.. enjoy time with his family and get a taste of domestic bliss- Seated on the sofa with his 5 year old triplets piled on him like he was a bed and they were all watching Bluey, You'd had him watch the litter while you picked up the dog Riley from the groomers.

Hazel was nestled on his left just under his arm and curled into his side- Rose sitting on his lap with her head on his chest and Johnny sitting in his right arm with his head tucked onto Simon's neck.

It was defiently a bit cramped for Simon's taste but he wasn't one to complain- Especially since it ment time with his kids watching cartoons all day and wiping boogers.

"Daddy?" Hazel voice cut through the man's thoughts, Simon humming in response as he waited for his daughters question.

"What do you do?" She asked, Simon confused by the question as he looked at Hazel who was staring up at him with big eyes.

"What do you mean Dove?"

"At your job when you go away? What do you do?" Hazel ask, Simon feeling a Sinking feeling in his chest at her question as he stared at the matching eyes before him. He had been dreading this day, he truly had and what made it worse was you not being there to help him- His mind flashing the horrors he had done, the smell of gunpowder seemingly filling his nose from nowhere and he felt like his mask was brushing against his face. The feeling of Ghost wrapping his fingers around his heart again and getting to close to comfort to his children- bringing fear into mouth.

Why did you have to go to pick up the Dog from the groomers today..

"I do a lot of things Bug.." He started, watching how she scrunched her face in mild irritation clearly able to tell he was dodging the real answer. The dodging made Rose look up and seem curious as well, Johnny shifting as well at feeling his father become uncomfortable. They were all too smart to let it go as well, He blamed you for that..-

Sitting up some more he gently pulled them from his sides and set them all on his lap facing him in order to listen equally.

"I work for the military, I'm a soldier- So my job is to help other people get to safety from bad guys" He worded the best he could, Hazel staring at her father as he said this and chewing over his words.

"How?" Johnny signed, For the first time that day wanting to 'speak' it seemed. Simon almost wishing that his Lad didn't ask.

"By fighting"

"It is, But remember how I've always said you should never hit first but if they hit you, it's okay? It's like that- They hit first and so they send me to hit back" He explained as carefully as possible.

Rose face twisted up at this, Surprised by his words. His little princess, a gentle soul who was sad by the idea of her father fighting.

"But fighting is bad- is that why you have booboos?" She said softly, Simon wincing at her words. He figured he'd hidden some of the scarier scars better so they didn't see them, Seemed not.

Simon waited for- something? His anxiety up and prepared for something negative...

But instead Hazel moved first, going right back to her spot happily.

"So You're like the hero people on TV right?" She seemed to reason, Simon nodding calmly as she settled back in. Seemingly satisfied with the answer and line of thinking- Johnny next moving back to his spot giving a thumbs up also in agreement. Rose being the last, Looking to her siblings and seeing them seemingly fine with what they had learned- So she returned as well and the trio went back to watching Cartoons.

Simon sat there, a bit shocked in truth. He'd expected more? But he was happy there wasnt... he knew they were way to young to truly understand what he did, but he preferred it that way.

A wash of peace falling over him once more and he settle back in for the cartoons. Ghost once again falling away and hidden from his precious family-

"I love you lot so much..."

#call of duty imagine #call of duty thoughts #call of duty #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #konig cod #könig cod #konig x reader #könig x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

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cordeliawhohung · 7 months

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When Your Blood Meets Mine - Part 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part twelve of "soft spot"

taglist

it's scary.

warnings: anxiety, talk/thoughts of abortion, medical talk,

wc: 5.9k

You would have given anything in the world to have your mom hold you.

You wished she was just a simple phone call away and not buried in a rotting grave out of your reach. You wished you could hear her voice, hear her tell you that it was all going to be okay, that you would survive this too just like you had everything else. But she was long gone. Nothing more than drying bones in a coffin. The only comfort you would receive from her would be whatever your memory held, which at that point wasn’t much. Fond memories of her had decayed just as much as she had.

So you were alone, which was such a strange feeling because it had been such a long time since you felt so isolated from everyone else. Even the apartment didn’t seem as welcoming as usual. It was as if the walls knew you shouldn’t have been there, panicking in silence as pure anxiety rattled your chest, but you couldn’t go back to work. The idea of facing Simon while you harbored a secret like that made your stomach twist so violently you felt queasy. That sickness festering in you had been no illness at all, but a child.

Simon’s child.

It wasn’t supposed to be possible. Simon’s work was important and demanding, and both of you were in agreement that having a kid wasn’t the right thing to do at that stage in your lives. He would leave for weeks, or even months at a time for missions, and he made it clear he would never want to leave you alone with a child. You had been on birth control for the last few years because of it and of course, of course, it failed. But it made everything else make sense. Your pregnancy explained all of the symptoms you had confused with the same sickness your mother had. Your achy, tender breasts were not sore just from the fat necrosis, but because of the hormone changes. The complete fatigue and brain fog that ravaged your body wasn’t from some cancer eating away at you, but the child growing inside of you.

Your anxiety began to get the better of you, and before it was able to choke you, you wandered out of the entryway and into the living room where you collapsed on the couch with your face in your hands. There was no time for you to think about all the signs you had missed the last few weeks because you only had a few hours until Simon would be home. You were going to have to tell him, but you had no idea how. Simply admitting it didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel like a cause for celebration, either. Neither of you had ever talked about children, save for the conversation about how that time in your lives wasn’t a good time to have them. Would he want you to get rid of it? Should you get rid of it? After everything you had been through, would you truly be stable enough to take care of a kid? Or would your ever burning anger eventually turn you into the same monster your father had become?

No. No, you wouldn’t make a good mother at all.

Just as your despair began to manifest in wet streaks along your face, an innocent chirp caught your attention. Pulling your hands from your face, you were met by Boo’s empty and innocent expression as he stared up at you from the floor with large, yellow eyes. Despite your tears, you did your best to muster a smile as you patted your lap, inviting him up on the couch with you. Without hesitation he jumped up and made himself comfortable at your side. His purring was loud and crackly, and as he leaned against you he reached a small, deformed paw toward you where he rested on your stomach.

“You little jerk,” you said with a trembling lip and a breathy laugh. “You knew all this time and didn’t tell me.”

Completely unaware of your emotional turmoil, all he did was coo in response as if to confirm your suspicions before he snuggled even closer and closed his eyes. It was all so innocent and pure that for a single, fleeting moment, things almost felt like they were going to be okay. After all, surely there was nothing worse than being trapped in a basement.

But your absence didn’t go unnoticed for long. What turned into an appointment that was supposed to take an hour or two quickly turned into half the day, and then some. For a while, Simon had thought nothing of it until he wandered into the front office to file paperwork only to realize his favorite secretary wasn’t at her desk. The plaque that read the name Riley sat on an abandoned station, and as he put his papers in your basket, he realized your computer was shut down. Not only that, but the tower was cold to the touch.

You had never returned from your appointment.

Unwelcome thoughts clouded his skull as he marched out of the room and towards his own office. Earlier that morning you had done your best to insist that you were fine despite your trepidation, that you didn’t need him to come with you. He was foolish enough to believe you. You had acted so unlike yourself the entire time leading up to your appointment. Always anxious and jumpy with hands that refused to leave the ache in your side alone. And now you were gone, which wasn’t a good sign. He should have known better. Should have convinced you to let him come with you because he should have been there to support you even if you claimed the visit was quick and simple.

As the door to his office closed behind him, the idea that he was wrong about those lumps being fat necrosis overwhelmed his mind. He wasn’t a fucking doctor, he only told you about it because it made sense at the time and he wanted to ease your mind, to normalize it, to not make you feel like a spectacle. But the fear that it was something more, that something was wrong, gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach that he hadn’t felt since he yanked Bukin off of you all those years ago.

Simon didn’t even bother to sit at his desk before he yanked his phone free from his pocket. Within moments both your name and number illuminated his screen and there was no hesitation in calling you. The line rang for only a few moments before your hoarse voice greeted him on the other side.

“Hello?”

“Doin’ alright, love?”

There was no point in beating around the bush. Simon was worried, terribly so, and it almost felt silly. It wasn’t as if you had vanished off of the face of the earth or anything, but there was this gut feeling that ravaged his senses, rendering him unable to do anything except panic.

“I’m fine, Simon,” you said with a humorous giggle. But there was something else to your tone. A tiredness that not even your little laugh could cover. Not exactly what he would consider fine.

“You had me worried when I couldn’t find you in the office,” he admitted. “Are you still at the doctors?”

“No, I uh, I went home,” you admitted. “They did a biopsy in the office so I’m feeling a little sore. Thought it was a good idea to take the rest of the day off.”

Simon hummed, half in agreement and half in thought. “What did the doctor say?”

“She thinks you’re right. Just fat necrosis. She just did the biopsy to be safe, but she’s confident it’ll come back fine, so…”

So that was it. Everything was alright, except somehow it wasn’t. There was something about the tone of your voice that was off. It reminded him of all the other times he tried to draw information out of you, yet you hesitated too much to fully get it out. You weren’t lying, and he knew that, but there was something else you hid from him, something he wasn’t sure he could get you to admit over the phone.

There wasn’t much left to say besides a quick I love you and a goodbye, and yet when the line went silent Simon couldn’t say that the achy feeling in his stomach was remedied. Between your tone and your lack of communication throughout the day, something was deeply wrong. Something that he couldn’t fix while he was on base.

Work could wait. He needed to get home to you.

Soon after he shoved his phone into his pocket, Simon swung open the door to his office only to be met by the confused and surprised face of Johnny. His arm was half raised as if he had been ready to knock on the door, but he awkwardly lowered it as Simon stared at him in the doorway.

“You read minds now?” he asked humorously.

“Always could,” Simon quipped.

Really, he didn’t have time for pleasantries or conversation, even if it was with Johnny. Sure, it wouldn’t kill him, but the only thing that consumed his mind was getting back to you. You needed him and he knew that, even if you refused to admit it over the phone, and he didn’t want to waste any time.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Johnny then asked.

“Now’s not a good time,” Simon excused.

Confused at his lieutenant's quick response, a look of concern overwhelmed Johnny’s face. “Everything alright?” he questioned as he stepped to the side, giving Simon enough room to fully exit his office and shut the door behind him.

“Dunno,” he replied, “tryin’ to figure that out.”

“Is it Spook?”

Simon shouldn’t have been so surprised that the man was able to figure out what ailed him so quickly. After years of working with one another, they had grown close enough to know what made one another tick, and you were Simon’s reason for everything. For fighting, for coming home, for breaking a man’s arm. It wasn’t a secret anymore, but a well known fact Johnny could sniff out in an instance.

“She’s fine, I think,” Simon excused. “Just gotta bad feeling ‘bout somethin’ that I’d like to check out.”

Sallow. That was Johnny’s immediate thought. The bastard had been slithering around base with poisonous intent nearly unchecked for the last week, which was his whole reason for seeking out Simon in the first place. But if something was worrying him this much to the point where the man would leave work early, perhaps it was best he not add fuel to the already growing fire. He just hoped that he was wrong.

“Go take care of her,” Johnny said as he nodded down the hallway. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Good man,” Simon said blankly.

Johnny stayed standing in front of Simon’s office as he watched his hulking frame vanish past the corner. Whatever was going on, he knew it wasn’t good. Really, he wouldn’t be surprised if he heard about Sallow either resigning or being dishonorably discharged within the next hour, but whatever happened, he just hoped you were alright. But it was a foolish thing to worry about. He had seen what Simon was willing and able to go through if it meant ensuring your safety. Johnny knew he had nothing to worry about.

After your phone call with Simon, you weren’t able to sit still. Idle hands left you with a pang of panic in your chest, and instead of sitting on the couch to let it fester, you cleaned nearly every inch of the apartment. Despite the throbbing pain in your boob, dishes got washed, countertops were wiped down, and you nearly started a deep clean of the bathroom until you thought about the chemicals. Should you expose yourself to that stuff while you're pregnant? Certainly it wouldn’t be good for the baby. Would it even matter? Surely a few chemicals wouldn’t have hurt the baby if you decided to get an abortion anyway. Fuck, how terrible of a thought was that?

The only thing that was able to stop your restless hands was the sound of a key turning the lock at the front door. Leaving the myriad of cleaning supplies on the bathroom counter, you dashed out of the room and greeted Simon in the entryway before he even had time to shut and lock the door behind him. He didn’t do much to hide the confusion on his face as he removed his mask and stowed it in his pocket.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he approached you like a skittish cat.

Warmth flooded through you as his fingers grazed your arm, and you realized just how much you craved his touch and yearned to be held. Your body moved on its own accord and you wrapped your arms around your husband and buried your face into his chest. Your gesture was not at all unwelcome, yet seemed to only confuse him further. Still, his arms embraced you tightly and he kissed the top of your head with a deep breath.

“A little sore,” you finally replied.

“Makes sense,” he hummed.

Silence followed. Your secret began to decompose so quickly you were certain Simon would be able to sniff it out before your mouth would admit it. Maybe that was for the best. His arms were so warm and safe, and you were certain that if you tried to look him in the eyes to tell him the truth you’d turn into dust. But he could feel the hesitation weighing your body down, and a sob nearly escaped you when he squeezed you closer.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, voice soft but still rumbly in his chest.

All it took was that one question to get the waterworks started, and you felt an odd shame about how your tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt. Even after everything you had gone through, even after the basement, the orchard, everything, the scariest thing to you was still talking. It was sharing the darkest parts of you that you attempted to smother with as much kindness as you could muster, or keeping your grief chained so tightly that the only proof it existed was the rattling of its shackles.

But this secret was no such dark thing. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion where he’d sweep you off your feet into a kiss and you would giggle like you didn’t have a care in the world. At least, that’s what the movies would have you believe. So then why did you feel so scared?

“I’m pregnant.”

Your confession echoed throughout Simon’s body; you could feel it in the way the muscles in his back tensed and the movement of his chest ceased. His arms loosened around you so that he could get a better look at your tear stained face, and you almost broke when his eyes met yours. A storm of emotions swirled in his eyes so fiercely you were unable to tell exactly what he felt, but there wasn’t anger. There wasn’t anger, and you knew there never would be, and yet you still felt relieved.

“I don’t know why I didn’t realize it myself,” you said, voice trembling from the influx of conflicting emotions. “As soon as the doctor told me it made so much sense. Fat necrosis isn’t supposed to hurt but with the changes of hormones everything was sore and that’s why I’ve been so tired. I attributed my missed period to stress and, you know, I was on birth control so I never even would have imagined that… I’m- I’m sorry. I know that- I know we talked about how kids aren’t a good idea for us and I don’t want to ruin work for you and- and I’m rambling, Simon please shut me up.”

So he did. Your husband shut you up in the only way he knew how: smothering you with as much love as he could. His hands found your cheeks where he wiped your tears with his thumbs before he kissed the top of your head once more. You rested your hands over his to just hold him there, to feel him. It was so soft, and yet despite everything he still hadn’t spoken.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated as your fingers curled into his.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mumbled against your hairline.

“But I don’t want to ruin everything.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

Doing as he asked, you tilted your head to look at him as he pulled his lips away from your head. His eyes were still impossible to read, and his face refused to reveal any emotion, positive or otherwise. It was a little unfair of you to expect that he’d have a set reaction other than shock, though. This was quite literally life changing for the both of you, so Simon was bound to be left at least a little speechless. Still, it was so unlike him to be at a loss for words. To not have an answer.

“You’re not ruinin’ anything. We’re in this together, yeah? We’ll figure somethin’ out,” he said as he continued to cradle your face.

“I just- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if we should keep it, or… or if…”

A cry rattled your body before you were able to finish your sentence, and Simon gently shushed you before he enveloped you in his arms again. Somehow the two of you ended up on the couch, which was something you were grateful for as you doubted you’d be able to stand upright any longer with the emotions rendering your mind virtually useless. Simon sat you in his lap where he cradled you in his arms, offering you comfort as you sobbed for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, the thoughts in your mind waned from a suffocating storm to a dull buzz, and your body no longer shook with your sniffing. As if on cue, a tiny meow demanded your attention, and you felt a weight appear in your lap. A furry mess of black and white made its home in the comfort of your presence as Boo began to purr. Simon hummed as he reached to scratch behind the furrball’s ears, causing his purring to intensify while he attempted to rub his face against his fingers.

“He’s here to help,” Simon chuckled.

“He’s a prick,” you retorted, only half serious. “He’s known this whole time and didn’t tell me.”

As if to prove your point, Boo moved away from Simon’s hand in order to lovingly bash his head against your stomach. Giggling, you placed your hand on top of him as he nuzzled closer to you. Even with the little ray of sunshine in your lap, there was nothing that sweet cat could do that would completely rid you of that twisting feeling in your gut.

“How far along?” Simon then asked.

You shrugged. “Hard to tell from a urine test alone, but if I had to guess at least six weeks. Maybe more. I wasn’t exactly doing a great job at keeping track,” you chuckled. “But the doctor wants me back next week for an ultrasound. That’ll give us a better idea about our… well, options.”

Simon stayed silent but nodded in understanding at your explanation. As if he could feel your mind begin to wander, Boo cooed at you to grab your attention, and he stretched his arms up towards your chest as if demanding a hug. Once again you chuckled as you gave him a few pats, but it didn’t make swallowing the lump in your throat any easier.

“Do you want to keep it?” you asked.

Silence.

“I’d never make you do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do,” he replied.

It wasn’t a proper answer, and you wanted to grab him and shake him around, demand that he give you a yes or no. But maybe he didn’t even know the answer to your question. You just hated waiting around when you quite literally had something growing inside of you that demanded your attention. Something that demanded instant answers and decisions. But that wasn’t how things worked.

“We don’t have to decide anythin’ now,” Simon said as if he had read your mind. “We can wait until next week when we see your doctor. We’ll figure it out.”

Perhaps it was for the best that he left your question unanswered, because you weren’t sure you could bear to hear it, no matter what it was. No would mean he would put his work before truly starting a life with you. Sure, you didn’t think you were ready to be a mother, but no one could ever be truly ready for something like that. But yes? Yes would mean that he loved you enough to throw everything else away, and maybe that fact made you uneasy because you knew you didn’t deserve it.

But Simon was right. Nothing had to be decided right then and there. For the moment, you could just sit there in your husband’s lap and attempt to find an odd comfort in the fact that you had not gained your mother’s sickness.

In the days leading up to your appointment, Simon doted on you more than usual. At work he would find any excuse to visit your office, be it for paperwork or some other bullshit reason. His mask was as opaque as ever, but you always saw right through it. Worry clouded his eyes to the point you almost couldn't make out the earthy brown color, yet he refused to show it on the outside. You were certain someone was going to get suspicious about him visiting you so often, as no one besides his teammates even knew the two of you were married, but rumors never worried Simon.

At home he acted as if he had been surgically attached to your side. He always ensured you were fed and stayed on top of chores more than normal. In a way, it had gotten a little annoying because there was nothing for you to do around the apartment to distract yourself besides watch some terrible reality programme on the television. Not even your sweet and clueless cat would leave you alone, as he seemed hellbent on snuggling your stomach as much as possible.

During the night, when Simon thought you were asleep, you could feel his hands wander. As he laid curled behind you, his hand would sneak underneath your shirt not to grope you, but to feel you. His palm would rest flat against your stomach as if he could feel the life growing inside of you through your skin. He did this two times of which you could recall. The first night he did it was the day you had broken the news to him, and you had been so exhausted from crying you thought you had imagined it. The second time you were wide awake. You could sense the subtle yearning of his touch as he held your stomach and buried his face into the back of your neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt your pulse quicken.

On the day of the appointment, both you and Simon took the entire day off of work. Really, it didn’t make sense to miss a full day as the appointment would take no more than an hour, but you knew it was for the best. Your nerves were so fried that you couldn’t stop shaking when you tried to strip yourself of your clothes to shower that morning. Simon ended up having to help you, and you dragged him into the water with you, not wanting to be alone. Between the steamy water and the warmth of his hands, you were almost able to forget the pure fear that gripped your throat.

When you arrived at the clinic for your appointment, all the dread that you had attempted to keep at bay for the last week hit you all at once. From the droning atmosphere in the waiting room, to the dark and foreboding air in the ultrasound room, you swore you would faint. It was all so sterile. All you could think of was the scent of death you could never seem to get away from when you wandered the halls of the hospital when your mother was sick. You wanted to run away from all of it. Instead, you endured long enough to strip yourself half naked and lay on the bed with your stomach fully exposed so that the technician could glide the wand along your stomach.

Simon sat as close as humanly possible to you, and you were certain he would have tried to squeeze up there with you if he wasn’t a tall freak of nature. A dull grey hue shrouded his masked face in a cold shadow as his eyes focused on the ultrasound monitor on your right. You followed his gaze and you were met with nothing but a mess of fuzzy static as the technician searched through your body to find your uterus.

It was surreal when the image finally came into focus. Through the mess of static was a black void that the technician pointed out as being your womb, and floating amidst that darkness was what you could only describe as being a blip. A small little bean that was so tiny it hardly took up any space at all. It was odd to think that this small creature had caused you such emotional turmoil.

“There we are,” the technician smiled.

“It’s… so little,” you commented.

“It is,” she concurred before pressing a few buttons on the keyboard in front of her. “Just a little under two centimeters, to be exact.”

You stayed quiet as she glided the wand along your stomach again, and you tried not to make a face at the odd pressure and the sticky feeling of the gel. She clacked away at the buttons a few more times while humming to herself, completely relaxed, as you were certain this was a routine thing for her. It was difficult not to wiggle your feet or tap your hands on the bed underneath you as you thought to yourself. With an embryo that small, you were certain you could take a pill or two to abort it if that’s what you and Simon decided. It could all be over in a week and you could rest well knowing you hadn’t ruined your husband's career.

A quiet shame overwhelmed you for even thinking such a thing. You didn’t even know what you wanted, but thinking about getting rid of it made you feel worse than thinking about keeping it.

In an attempt to calm your mind, you tore your eyes away from the monitor and looked to Simon only to find his eyes glued to the screen. He sat as still as a statue, immovable and unwavering as he stared at that little glowing blip. He was… enamored. A quiet sound suddenly filled the room that you had confused for white noise at first until you could make out the clear, rapid yet steady rhythm of it. It was messy and warbly, but undeniably strong.

“And… there’s the heartbeat,” the technician confirmed.

Even in the darkness of the room you could clearly make out the way Simon’s eyes dilated. He soaked up every single image, every sound that took place inside of you with a sort of wonder you had only ever seen from him when he looked at you. No, he wasn’t just awestruck, he was in love. With you. With this child. And the only thing that was able to get him to look away from the screen was your longing touch as you tugged at the sleeve of his jumper. That wide eyed expression stuck with him as he automatically grabbed your hand in response, and you didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched underneath his mask.

“That’s our baby,” you whispered.

Our baby. Those words clung to Simon’s chest and made his heart jump. He quickly glanced at the monitor again before looking back at you with a gentle squeeze of your hand. Even with his mask you could see the faint crinkle of the corner of his eyes in what you knew was a loving smile. That was the moment you had finally gotten the answer to your question.

After everything that had happened to you, Simon had promised himself he would never carry around another picture, but he couldn’t get rid of the copy of the little blip the technician had given him at the end of your appointment. It was still impossible for him to fully comprehend just how small it was. It was hardly the size of his fingernails. None of it seemed real, and yet there he was, sitting on the edge of his desk in his office as he stared down at that picture.

All was well. Your biopsy had come back clear, there were no abnormalities with the baby; he was going to be a father. That was something he had never imagined himself being. Even when he was younger he was fully content on just being an uncle. Settling down wasn’t supposed to be for him. That life was meant for people better than him, with something waiting for them other than gore and violence. Perhaps he had grown soft.

A rushed and demanding knock rattled the door to Simon’s office and his eyes shot up to stare at the pale wood. He took the photo in his hands and laid it face down on his desk before he shifted his weight, wood creaking and groaning underneath him.

“Come in.”

The door swung open with such force it nearly tore off its hinges just to slam shut with a thunderous bang. Simon continued to sit on the edge of his desk unbothered as Johnny looked at him with wild blue eyes and a slightly reddened face. Judging by the way he could nearly hear the man’s teeth grind, he wasn’t impressed about something.

“You’re quitting?” he demanded.

“It’s called retiring, Johnny,” Simon corrected in a dry attempt at humor.

“But you’re leaving?”

“Not for another year at least,” Simon confirmed.

Instead of standing there to stare right at him, Johnny began to pace as if keeping still would be the death of him. “But why?”

“I’m gettin’ old,” Simon shrugged.

“Bullshit,” Johnny spat.

An uneasy silence stretched between the two men as Johnny waited for his answer and Simon contemplated if he should tell the truth or not. He never thought he would get as close to Johnny as he had. Hell, he had read him like an open book years ago when the two of you first started seeing one another. But there was something odd happening. There was a terribly strong rage that bubbled inside of his sergeant, and it didn’t take long for him to get answers as to why the man was so upset.

“Is it because of Sallow?” he asked.

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The bastard’s been trying to make it seem like you’re pining after a married woman. Spook, your own damn wife. Almost seems like he’s trying to get you discharged based on infidelity charges,” Johnny explained.

That fact was so bizarre Simon nearly chuckled at the mere thought of it. He had known that the Trooper had some screws loose, but he didn’t expect him to truly act on it while he was staying on base. Let alone mess with you. Surely it was an issue, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about some FNG.

“Sallow’s got nothin’ to do with this,” Simon replied.

“Yeah?” Johnny challenged.

“That cunt couldn’t get me fired no matter how hard he tried. And certainly not for loving my fuckin’ wife.”

“Then why? Why did Price just tell me that you’re leaving?” Johnny asked. His tone was firm, but his eyes looked defeated. Like it would have been easier to know Simon was leaving because of something out of his control, and not something he would willingly do himself. “What’s going on?”

Simon’s fingers absentmindedly reached for the photo next to him before his mind had fully decided that’s what he wanted to do. And maybe it was a bad idea sharing the news so early. There were so many things that could go wrong, and maybe he had even acted irrationally by leaving the force as soon as he got the news, but it just felt right. He needed to do it. He needed to be vulnerable to the man who had helped save your life and care for you while he was locked away. He needed to learn that it was okay to stop fighting.

He carefully slid the photo off of his desk and flipped it over to give it a good glance before he held it out for Johnny. The man snatched it from his fingers and looked at it as if he expected a report or some sort of ransom note, but every muscle in his body froze the moment he made sense of the mess of black and white. All the pieces suddenly fit together in Johnny’s mind, and he couldn’t help but glance back and forth between Simon and the picture.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Simon agreed.

“How far along?” Johnny asked. He gripped the photo with two hands as the fragility of the situation fully hit him.

“About nine weeks.”

His eyes finally settled to just look at Simon and Simon alone as he held the photo out for him to take back. “Congrats, mate.”

Simon hummed. “Just don’t go yappin’ about it. You’re the only one who knows.”

The photo was returned to the desk where it laid face up that time. It was almost as if Simon couldn’t take his eyes off of it. That if he did he would wake up and realize it was all just a dream.

“That’s… that’s gotta be a big change,” Johnny said. Whatever anger that had bubbled inside of him previously had dissipated at the truth and instead was placed with a shocked sort of awe.

“It’s fuckin’ terrifying,” Simon admitted.

A sympathetic smile crossed Johnny’s face at his vulnerability. “You’re gonna be a good dad, Simon.”

He chuckled something gruff and sour.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighed.

Whether he would be a good dad or not would remain to be seen. All his life he had only ever known fighting and fear; it was in his nature by that point to be nothing but a vile creature. Dead men weren’t supposed to have families and settle down, but you came along and muddled all of that up. You gave him something to fight for, to protect, to love; you gave him not only yourself but a child, too. He didn’t think he would be a good dad, but he knew he would be better than what he had, what you had, and that was more than enough for him.

hi (: just dropping by to say yes there is more soft spot, but i just wanted to point out the change in my taglist! okay ily bye

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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babygirl-riley · 1 year

Text

The Riley’s

You surprise a new Riley in the family.

“He’s a four legged tracking machine.”

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Warnings: swearing and fluff

You couldn’t resist, you were alone for two months now. Which is pretty normal for how Simon’s job is. So you went to a couple of shelters, animal shelters. Originally it was to check out what type of dogs were out there. Simon and you talked about it before, that if there was a dog present that it would not be some small yappy one.

Simon hated the small dogs, thought they were to tiny and he could squash them by accident when walking around. Which was fair, he was a large man in stature. So just looking for ideas wasn’t suppose to have the end goal you got.

It was a loud shelter many dogs barking and howling. It broke your heart to see them, some were cowering in the corner others up against the fence. You would look at the names Sparky, Jack, Velma, Cupcake. Really odd names. However there was one that made you stop in your tracks.

Riley. You looked into the cage to find a German Shepard, at first he was cautious on when you stopped. Glaring and still. “He used to be a military dog actually,” The woman said behind you. “We might have to put him down soon cause he is getting aggressive.”

You smiled and turned to her. “Can I walk him?”

She stared at you for a minute and shook her head. “I don’t know he isn’t for sale.”

You chuckled. “No worries just one walk and if he snaps then don’t worry about it.”

The lady shrugged and walked to grab a leash. You turned back to the dog who still hasn’t moved. Just staring, you kneeled down and looked at him. Tried to read his eyes. Curious was behind them yet cautious at the same time. “Hey bud,” You whispered. “It’s alright, I’m here to take you home.”

The dog stared unsure before sitting down waiting until the door opened. You watched as the lady cautiously took the dog and handed the leash to you. You grabbed it and he walked with you, he was next to you the whole time. When you looked at him he would look away but when you didn’t he sniffed you.

It reminded you of Simon, cautious and curious. When you both started to date Simon was standoffish yet caring at the same time. You knew nothing of him until damn near 2 years of the relationship. Didn’t know his family was killed until marriage. You could tell how similar the personality between Simon and Riley really was. You guess that’s what the military can do to you. Give you horrible things to twist your mind into think no one is trusted.

Not once for the hour you were with him he was aggressive. You pulled the lady aside and talked about taking him home. She explained that he doesn’t like children or other pets. Luckily for him neither of those were there, she explained that the personality would come out and she expected for him to be back.

You negotiated and bought him, he followed you to the car, hopping in normally. The drive home was nice, he sat and watched the world go by. “Ya know your new dad is military,” You spoke looking over for Riley to be laying down. “You two will get along just fine.”

Riley was to himself a lot of the time, you would feed him and taking him for walks. He wasn’t loving at first until 2 weeks later. He would play with you and cuddle up to you when it was time for bed. Would growl if he felt someone was too close to you when walking. Eventually you tested to see how trained he was. Learned he knew the basic things but also knew how to do protection tricks.

Simon didn’t expect when he pulled home to hear a deep growl at the door when putting his keys in. He wanted to surprise you if being home early, Simon even checked if it was the right house. The growl was deep, a warning. It was dark out, late very very late. So maybe he was hearing things, it wasn’t until he heard you tell something to sit.

“Simon!” You yelled swinging in for a hug. He hugged you back but all he could see is that dog. The dog that was glaring at him for a moment.

“What’s that?”

You turned smiling before biting down on his lower lip. “So I got lonely,” You stated walking over to Riley petting his head. “I wasn’t going to buy a dog but something ironic happened.”

Simon watched as the dog scooted closer to you. Still cautious of him, Simon was just a big man, he rarely wore his mask at home. Takes it off in his truck unless he was extremely tired. “What is it?” He said again.

“His name is Riley.”

Simon was shocked, you were joking, there is no way his name was that. That would be very strange and interesting. “Really?”

You nodded and grabbed his dog tag and his name was engraved. He was a beautiful dog. He walked up to the dog, at first the dog froze then sniffed his hand. Simon let it do whatever as he growled lowly before walking away. You sucked in your lips. “He will get used to you.”

Simon hoped it would be awful to have a pet that tolerated him. For the couple of weeks he was there, Riley slowly got closer to him. Riley followed him everywhere, bathroom, back hard when mowing, on the side of his bed. All of it. Hell Riley would watch football with Simon.

Riley and Simon started to do more training. Taught him how to search, would hide little things of yours, eventually you as Riley searched. Slowly Riley would leave with Simon to the base, slowly would not be at home.

You rolled your eyes humorously. “He hated you.”

Simon scoffed. “He was shy.”

You laughed placing the noodles on each plate. You frowned. “You promise you both come back safe? Intact?”

Simon frowned as well. He knew how you felt when you both talked about what would Riley do, stay at home. That was your only thing, he didn’t need to go out and fight anymore. He did it when he was younger. However Riley has been anxious been doing things that Simon noticed that the other canines would do. Especially when they retired.

Price watched Simon and Riley together on the base. Riley was a good tracking dog and really good at attacking as well. So Price pulled Simon aside and asked how he felt about Riley joining 141. Simon said he would love to but he would have to ask the Misses.

At first you walked away from him, angry of course. Simon knew not to follow you, that he got you that upset to retreat to the bedroom. So he waited. Until you came out and asked what Riley would do. He explained that he would only go on missions that needed the enemy to be found. Capture or kill.

You would listen sit and made tea for both of you as you both negotiated on what would happen. You sighed again. “It would only be for those missions. Some I will know ahead some I won’t. Just like normally.” Simon explained holding her hands. “Ya seen him. He walks around the house like he needs something. He just got into the planets last week.” Simon explained.

You looked outside remembering him bringing in a whole bush of flowers. Dirt and a fucked up backyard. Riley would start destroying things after one paw of his stepped into the base. He wanted more. Needed more. More energy. You frowned looking down at Riley. Riley wagged his tail looking up at you.

“Dogs don’t need to fight the wars Si.” You whispered petting Riley.

Simon nodded his head. “I agree lovie, unfortunately he has already been trained it wouldn’t be his firs’. He would be a good asset.”

You watched as Riley licked your hand. Like he was reassuring you, like he was telling you it was fine. “Alright, only for those missions. But I next time Simon I am getting a yippy and you can’t do shit.”

Simon shook his head chuckling lowly. “No I don’t think so sweethear’”

Simon thought you were kidding but three months later, you brought home a tiniest dog. Yorkie of all dogs. Simon now knows not to take the dogs with him to base. Well Riley fell in love with the little bugger. Eventually Simon did as well having both dogs near him.

You came home from grocery shopping and while walking in you saw the dogs and him sleeping. Riley laid at the end of his feet while Hallie laid on his chest. You scoffed, pulling out your phone, clicking the picture. You smiled as you sent it to Price stating you will have a drug locator too.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost x reader #Spotify

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 9 months

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.⋆｡Just Like Daddy｡⋆.

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x plus size reader

A bored husband and kids in need of a haircut while you’re at work, good thing they’re all so freaking adorable

Warnings: fluff, domestic humour

WC: 744

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Honey! I’m home!” The front door quietly shut behind you as you kicked off your heels and dropped your work bag on the bench next to you. You expected a cacophony of noise upon your return given that there were 4 children in your home (including your husband) but the whole place was dead silent.

You glanced out the front window, confirming that Johnny’s car was in fact in the driveway so he wasn’t out running errands with the kids. Plus all of their little sneakers were lined up against the wall so they couldn’t have gone out to the park.

“Johnny?” After a quick look down the hallway to the empty kitchen, you began to climb the stairs to the second floor. Anxiety curled in your gut, logically you knew that everyone was fine and safe but Johnny’s job was dangerous and came with some very… interesting people.

But then, a baby’s giggle echoed from the master bathroom and your body relaxed. The sound was quickly cut off as another voice harshly whispered. “Shush.” That was definitely your husband.

“But it’s mama.” Your heart melted at your toddler’s words, he was such a mummy’s boy.

“I know it’s yer mum, tha’s why we’re stayin’ quiet.” You forced down your smirk, preparing a disapproving look for your family and whatever shenanigans they had gotten up to in your absence. Last time, Johnny, at the whims of your eldest, dyed Riley pink while you had been dog-sitting her for Simon. You were scrubbing pink dye out of the carpet for weeks afterwards.

Silently, you crept down the hall and slipped into your bedroom which was suspiciously clean considering the almost violent romp of last night and this morning. The bathroom door was firmly shut but light leaked out from underneath, letting you know exactly where your little clan was.

You slipped out of your work jacket and shimmied down your tights, deciding to let your husband fester in anticipation and his bad decisions for a few more minutes. By the time you had donned your comfy house clothes, you could feel the panic your husband was experiencing.

As soon as your wrist twisted the doorknob, the excited babbles began. “Mama!” Your youngest screamed. The door creaked open and for a moment, everything was dead silent.

Johnny stood beside the bathtub, your 6 year old daughter beside him as the two younger kids, your three year old and one year old, sat in the bath, huge smiles on their faces. Hair covered the tiled floor and it didn’t take you very long to work out where it had come from.

Each and every one of them had matching mohawks, each of them looking like an exact carbon copy of their father.

“Now bonnie, I can explain. See, me hair was gettin’ long so I wanted ta take some clippers ta it but then Maisie said her hair was too long and wanted it like mine and ya know I canne resist those big eyes o hers. And then the babies were upset and-and, it got outta hand.” He nervously rubbed the nape of his neck, a dark blush blooming across his scruffy cheeks.

Callum stood up, sending another wave of loose hair onto the ground, a pout on his face. “Wan look li da.” He said simply as if he were trying to defend his father. His baby sister Ava slapped the side of the tub with a happy screech.

“Ma-“ Maisie started but immediately stopped as soon as your laughter filled the room. You doubled over, clutching your stomach tightly. Johnny chuckled along with you uncomfortably, still anticipating some sort of retribution.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you straightened up once more. Maisie ran into your waiting arms, her perfectly done mohawk brushing against your chest. Your fingers brushed through her hair that was so much like Johnny’s, pulling out the cut strands still caught in her thick mane.

“You gave me children some fudged up mullets.” You chuckled and his shoulders dropped, realising that he was finally off the hook.

“I’ll fix em up.” Leaning over your daughter’s head, you met his lips in a delicate kiss which was met by some very frustrated shouts from your children.

“Alright then! I guess we need to get everyone in a bath and maybe some pizzas in your bellies, daddy’s treat.” Four almost identical smiling faces looked back at you, all of them incredibly adorable.

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nellasbookplanet · 6 months

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Book recs: Queer fantasy, part 1

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean “guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending”, but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don’t always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of “gay best friend” or a blink and you’ll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

For queer sci-fi recs, click here! For a masterpost of book rec lists, click here! For more details on the books recommended here, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites!

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez*

AKA the book the killed me. Two boys travel throughout their land with the body of a god as her horrible, horrible children try to hunt them down. It’s hard to explain more than that, but trust me when I say the narrative voice and literary techniques are incredibly unique in how they blend past and present, reality and story, lead and bystander. Truly an experience. Features an m/m romance.

The Unbroken (Magic of the Lost series) by C.L. Clark*

Tourraine, who was stolen as a child and trained as a soldier for the empire that conquered her home, is recruited by Luka, the future leader of the conquering country, to root out a rebellion. A game of twisted loyalties and attraction is soon to develop as the two must decide where their priorities lie: with each other, or with their respective countries and people.

Sing the Four Quarters (Quarters series) by Tanya Huff*

Though a royal by birth, princess Annice renounced her throne to become a bard, a musician who through training can Sing elemental spirits to do their bidding. Ten years later, she goes on the run for two counts of treason, first by imperiling the succession order by becoming pregnant, second by helping her ex, and the father of her child, escape the palace dungeons and a death sentence. Bisexual lead in an f/f relationship. When I first read this book I described it as, and I quote, 'a fucking delight', and I stand by that.

The Unspoken Name (The Serpent Gates duology) by C.L. Clark*

The sort of portal fantasy you get when all the worlds connected by portals are fantasy worlds, and none of them are ours. The portals themselves become simply a part of the worldbuilding that the characters use to travel between fascinating places, and it’s all really cool. It follows Csorwe (lesbian orc assassin whom I love), who grew up in a cult, indoctrinated as a child sacrifice to a god. But on the day she was meant to die, she instead chose to follow a powerful wizard and train to become his loyal servant and sword. Aside from being an excellent fantasy, it’s also a close look at the hard path of unlearning indoctrination and the search for love and validation where you’ll never find it, and learning to live for yourself. Multiple queer leads.

The Jasmine Throne (The Burning Kingdoms series) by Tasha Suri

A princess held captive by her own brother, who wants to see her dead, tries to trick a servant into helping her escape, but with undeniable attraction growing between them and the servant having her own goals of liberation things quickly get complicated, both between them and in the country at large as rebellion and dangerous magic brews. Sapphic romance.

The Priory of the Orange Tree (The Roots of Chaos duology) by Samantha Shannon

Queen Sabran's lineage has protected the country of Inys from dragons for a thousand years, but now the safety of their land is threatened as Sabran is yet to conceive and assassins are closing in. Lady-in-waiting Ead is secretly part of a society of hidden mages, and is using her position to protect her queen. Meanwhile, on the other side of the sea, dragonrider Tané is faced with an impossible choice. The fates of all three are intertwined as they attempt to stop the rise of a great dragon. 800+ page epic fantasy. Sapphic romance.

The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher*

Young adult, fairy tale retelling of the Snow Queen. When Gerta's friend Kai is stolen away by the evil Snow Queen, Gerta must depart on a mission to save him. On the way, she encounters, among others, a talking raven and a pretty robber girl who become her allies. Sapphic romance.

The Rise of Kyoshi (Kyoshi duology) by F.C. Yee*

Young adult. Set in the Avatar universe, but aimed at an older audience than the animated series. Though she will one day be one of the most well-known avatars of the land, for now, young Kyoshi is but a humble girl who has yet to find out her true destiny as the bender of all four elements and keeper of balance of her world. When betrayal strikes and a dear friend is lost, Kyoshi goes on the run alongside fiesty firebender Rangi to find out the truth of her destiny and power. Sapphic romance.

Legends & Lattes (Legends & Lattes series) by Travis Baldree

Viv is tired of adventures and bloodshed - now she wants a peaceful life, and decides to go after it by opening a café. But going from warrior to small business owner is easier said than done, especially when Viv's old life comes knocking. Best described as a cozy fantasy, with a largely low-stakes but heartwarming plot and a sapphic romance.

Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee

Gyen Jebi is an artist, but making a living is difficult. When offered a job by the Ministry of Armor to paint the magical sigils that animate their automaton soldiers, they have little choice but to accept. But as Jebi sees the dark depths of the government, especially the shocking source of their magical paint, they must find a way to resist. Perhaps by freeing the Ministry's mighty automaton dragon... Nonbinary main character.

Crier's War by Nina Varela

Young adult. Who says sci-fi has monopoly on robots? In Crier’s War, artificially created automae have defeated and subjugated humans, who live as second class citizens. Young Ayla goes undercover as a servant, meaning to assassinate automae girl and Sovereign’s daughter Crier. This would be easier if the two weren’t quick to develop feelings for each other.

Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky trilogy) by Rebecca Roanhorse

In a pre-columbian inspired world, sea captain Xiala, gifted with an unusual connection to the sea, travels with a mysterious scarred and blind passenger toward a dangerous goal as prophecy heralds the return of a god. Features among others bisexual and nonbinary leads.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her daughter, stolen away by a father who just murdered their son after having discovered a terrible secret of their family. Does feature multiple queer characters and a main polyam relationship, but DO NOT read this expecting happy queer relationships as this series handles many dark subjects (you should still read it though, it's incredibly good).

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan*

Young adult. Kids who can walk between our world and a magical one get recruited into a magical school that trains them to be either fighters or diplomats. Our lead decides that fighting is stupid and that he’s going to peacefully solve every conflict ever, all while being the most delightfully obnoxious little brat possible and getting involved in the most bisexual love triangle imaginable. Very good, funny, and heart-felt coming of age story.

Our Bloody Pearl D.N. Bryn

A siren who’s been held captive by a pirate is freed, but too injured to survive on their own as their tail has become paralyzed. Another pirate captain decides to help them out and has to work to win their trust. Fairly fluffy and light on world-building and plot (though there is a bit of a revenge story in there), with a focus on character and recovery. m/nb romance with an asexual love interest.

A Master of Djinn by P. Djélí Clark

Set in an alternate 1910’s steampunk Cairo, where djinn and other creatures live alongside humans. We get to follow an investigator as she races to catch a criminal using a powerful object to control djinn and stir unrest. Fantastically creative and fresh, and also features a buddy cop dynamic between two female leads as well as a sapphic romance.

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho*

As a toddler, Jessamyn Teoh left Malaysia. Now a young adult, she’s broke, closeted, and moving back. There she’s faced with the ghost of her estranged grandmother, Ah Ma, who was a medium and avatar of the deity the Black Water Sister in life. Now she demands Jess' help in exacting revenge against a gang boss that offended her god. Meanwhile, all Jess wants is to get her life back on track.

Heaven Official's Blessing (Heaven Official's Blessing series) by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Once, Xie Lian was the beloved crown prince of a kingdom. Then he rose to godhood at a young age, and was expected to take a step back from his land and his people, but in his inability to do so ended up losing everything. Now, eight hundred years later, Xie Lian has ascended to godhood for a third time, forgotten by mortals and the laughing stock of Heaven. Trying to rebuild his reputation, Xie Lian sets off on a mission, and on it encounters an infamous demon king who inspires fear in all of heaven. M/M romance.

Jane, Unlimited by Kristin Cashore*

Young Adult. Jane is invited by an old acquaintance to an extravagant gala in an island mansion, stranding her among the rich and glamorous. But being surrounded by rich people is the least of Jane’s problems: the mansion is housing secrets, some of them tied to Jane’s own family. The mansion offers her five choices, all of them leading her down different paths and different answers. Jane, Unlimited is a choose-your-own adventure story of sorts, featuring five different endings in five different genres, each more off the wall bonkers than the next. It also features a bisexual main character!

Every Heart a Doorway (Wayward Children series) by Seanan McGuire*

A tumblr favorite, the Wayward Children novellas feature a school open to children who have returned from adventures in other realms and now have trouble adapting back to regular life. Some installments are set in our world, others follow children as they have their otherworldly adventures. The main characters vary between books, but are generally pretty diverse with among others asexual, trans, intersexual and sapphic leads. Both funny and dark, it takes a closer look at the trauma many endure growing up different.

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern*

Surreal and fairy tale-esque, The Starless Sea is stories within a story, following graduate student Zachary as he finds a strange book which, in-between other tales, tells a story from his own childhood. Trying to find out how this came to be, Zachary gets involved with a pink-haired woman and a handsome man who are doing their utmost to protect a strange, otherworldly library available only through magical doors. It’s a book hard to put in words, but which I once described as “romantic without being a romance while stile having a love story at it’s core”, and which can be summed up only as “an Experience”. It’s also quite gay!

Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer*

Young adult. Nita isn’t a murderer - technically. She just dissects the bodies of supernatural beings her mother brings home and sells for parts on the black market. But when her mother brings home a still living victim, Nita has had enough and frees him. As it turns out, no good deed goes unpunished as Nita is betrayed, her own nature as a supernatural entity outed as she’s kidnapped and placed behind bars. Now she must find a way to escape before she's sold for parts. Features two aroace leads and a queerplatonic relationship, though it isn’t made textual until book 3 and briefly masquerades as a romance, which is pretty hilarious.

The Last Sun (The Tarot Sequence) by K.D. Edwards

Urban fantasy. Rune Saint John is the only survivor of the massacre against the Sun Court years prior. Now he’s been hired by Lady Judgement to find her missing son, Addam. Alongside his companion and bodyguard Brand, Rune goes on to question Addam's family and business contacts all over New Atlantis, island city and home of the Atlanteans after their original home was destroyed by ordinary humans. But the more he digs, the more Rune finds clues that Addam's absence is connected to Rune's own tragic past. M/M romance.

Gossamer Axe by Gael Baudino

Centuries ago in Ireland, Chairiste Ní Cummen was trained in the secrets of music and magic. But her pride was her downfall, trapping her and her lover in the land of the Sidh. Only Chairiste escaped, hoping to one day win her lover's freedom in musical battle with the fairy that holds her captive. Now she is Christa Cruitare, harp teacher in the modern world and all but resigned to her loss. Until she comes across a great new music: heavy metal. Taking one last chance to win her lover's freedom, Christa sets out to gather other skilled musicians and bring them with her in her final battle. Sapphic romance.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Pantomime (Micah Grey trilogy) by Laura Lam

Young adult. On the surface, Gene's life is that of a noble debutante. In reality, she has secrets: she's both male and female, and has magical abilities that hasn’t been seen in an age. In the face of a betrayal from her parents, Gene runs away from home, dresses up as a boy, and joins a circus. Intersex main character.

Ghost Walk by Kay Solo

Maaya Sahni can see ghosts, and does her best to survive in her small isolated town by keeping her head down. But when an entire street full of people is spirited away by faceless specters that scares even ghosts, Maaya must find a way to stop the specters. Lesbian main character.

Swordspoint (Riverside series) by Ellen Kushner

In Riverside, duels are the way to settle disputes, and Richard St. Vier is the undisputed master of the sword - at least until a death is met not with awe but with outrage. M/M romance.

#nella talks books #I'm almost done with the fae rec list too! it should go up some time next week #after that maybe part 2 of queer sf

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