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darklordofthesimp · 1 year

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Wrath (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: After you risk your life protecting Ghost, the Lieutenant is furious. Angry enough, in fact, to pay you a late-night visit.

Requested by @chippyroh :

#69 Shut up or I'll shut you up.

#71 You’re driving me out of my fucking mind

A/N: Listen here you little shits, I will not be making a part 2 to this and you cannot convince me this time.

Category: Sexual Tension || Angst || Enemies to ? || Hurt/ Comfort

Warnings: Graphic language, Manhandling/Rough-handling, Sexually suggestive themes.

It was meant to be an easy mission but, really, what were you expecting?

You were experienced enough to know that when it was meant to be a breeze, you had to prepare for a fucking hurricane. And as Ghost stormed towards you, his fists clenched and his gaze furious, you knew this was gonna be one hell of a storm.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He didn’t stop until his chest bumped into yours, heaving and hard. His wide shoulders swayed from side to side as the officer sized you up. “Are you fucking stupid?”

You grit your teeth and glared. “I just saved your fucking life, Sir.”

You weren’t much in comparison to the towering figure that Ghost presented, you knew that. Still, you stood as tall as you could manage and set your jaw. You were right to provide him with backup. You were right to have taken out the people on his tail.

You’d done everything right.

So, why was he so fucking angry?

“Don’t start this shit with me, Sunshine,” Ghost hissed, fingers wrapping around your bicep. He pulled you in flush against his body, your armoured plates knocking against his. “That was out of line.”

“Saving your life?” You questioned, bewildered. “Saving your life was out of line, Ghost?”

His eyes narrowed and a deep rumble reverberated in his chest.

“No,” he snapped, leaning back. “Pretending you were anything but a fucking sniper was, though.”

Your breath left your lungs as though you’d been sucker-punched. You searched what little features you could see for an ounce of regret, any softness in his features to show he didn’t mean it- but the kohl on his eyes only highlighted the sharpness of his gaze.

“This isn’t over, Sunshine,” Ghost warned, snatching his hand from your arm. He imparted a glare that had your throat tightening, before he brushed past you roughly. For once, you wished you had never made it home.

______

You were angry at yourself for crying.

It was in your own shower and hidden from the rest of your unit, but you were still upset.

Your life was insane and full of enough sorrow to destroy most, and there were more than enough reasons to justify an emotional break. However, crying over a man? You were ashamed. Embarrassment seared red hot across your chest, it made your blood boil- it made you angry.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

You had done everything right. Price had clapped you on your back upon your return, commending your quick thinking. Ghost had scoffed at that, watching the interaction from the darkest corner of the room.

“Leaving your post is not ‘quick-thinking.’” The words had been a snarl from beneath his bloodied mask.

Price raised a brow as you shifted on your feet furiously. “I saved you on the evac, Sir. There was no fucking post.”

Ghost took a step toward you, his finger pointing at your chest as though he were marking you for death. You were thankful Price stepped in, you were angry but you weren’t stupid. You didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with the grim reaper himself but you would to defend your actions.

“How about you both hit the showers and cool off. Good job on today,” he gave the two of you a pointed look, “the both of you.”

You said nothing, only returning Ghost’s glare vehemently before storming off.

Your clothes felt too soft on your freshly scrubbed skin. It always felt like that after a mission; everything smelt too good, felt too good and sounded too quiet. It would take you a couple of hours to adjust, but your blood burned at your surroundings.

You were already overstimulated and now you were uncomfortable.

Fuck you, Simon Riley, you ingrateful twat.

You wanted to find him and shake some sense into him. You wanted a fucking thank you. You wanted his recognition, his approval and you seethed at your desire to feel accepted by him.

You dried your hair roughly with the towel, your frustrations translating into your menial tasks. Angrily shower, angrily dry off, angrily get dressed- you were fucking furious and you couldn’t get past it.

Bang, bang, bang.

You gasped, dropping the towel as someone battered against your door. It shook on the hinges under the pressure, and you stood frozen for a long moment. It was late, there was no reason for anyone to be visiting.

Everybody from the 141 was out and about, you and Ghost had returned a day earlier than expected.

You frowned as they knocked again with the flat part of their fist, the dull thuds picking up in volume. You scooped the towel from the floor, throwing it over the chair in the corner.

“Coming,” you shouted before they could go for a third round. You worried the frame wouldn’t hold up much longer. No sooner than you had twisted the handle, the door swung open. You leapt out of the way, eyes wide as a towering figure stepped through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind them.

The lock engaging behind him sounded like a death knell.

“Sir-“ you rasped, stumbling backward as he approached you.

“Cut that shit out,” Ghost snapped, “you know my fucking name.”

Fuck.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, as you continued back into the room. He was furious, just as heated as he had been when he’d gotten back from the mission. The man had clearly showered and changed, standing before you in a hoodie and balaclava.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You glared at him, heart leaping into your throat as your back finally hit the wall. Ghost’s eyes slid to each side of you, marking how you were trapped between your own furniture.

“You know what you did today, Sunshine,” he said heatedly, “everyone can congratulate you about it as much as they want but you listen to me. Never do that again.”

You sneered, leaning forward. Ghost inclined his head, meeting you halfway as your noses nearly brushed. “I saved your life within the parameters of the mission and I’ll do it again and again if I fucking have to.”

“You were almost killed!” Ghost’s finger rose to press into your chest harshly. “Almost had a fucking bullet put between your eyes.”

“But I didn’t! Had I not stepped in you would have been a fucking pin cushion, Simon!”

You were forced back into the wall as he smacked an open palm into the plaster beside your head. You jumped at the sound by your ear, your lip trembling beneath his gaze. You could feel the heat emanating from his body in waves, he was fucking burning.

“What?” You whispered, your mouth dry all of a sudden. “You gonna fuckin’ hit me, Riley? You gonna hit me for doing my job?”

“Of course not, you idiot.” He snapped, leaning back. Ghost’s eyes narrowed as his hand slid from the wall by your head, resting at his side.

“Why are you here then? Barging into my room, locking the door behind you, putting me against the wall,” you listed, your voice low and urgent as you glared at him. Your chest heaved against his as you raced to catch your breath. “You’re either here to fuck me or fight me and we both fucking know that you hate my guts, Riley. So, get to it and get the fuck out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine,” Ghost rasped, shifting on his feet. “You deserve to get your shit rocked for the way you acted out there.”

You searched his gaze, his eyes the colour of a stormy ocean as he glared right back at you. “You don’t even know what you’re doing here,” you snarled, leaning forward once more. This time, Ghost didn’t challenge you. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved, L.T?”

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“Your life is worth more than mine, Simon,” you growled, poking a finger into his chest. “You’re my superior, it’s my job to protect you.”

“Then fucking listen when I say shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”

“Sniper or not, if it ever came down to me or you- it’s my fucking job to die for you-“

Your back slammed against the wall, breath leaving your body at the impact. You were disoriented for a short moment, vision hazy as you tried to regain your bearings. His body was pressed against yours, his hands gripping your shoulders so tight you knew you’d be bruised.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t anticipate his next move. Not when he gripped your jaw, half his fingers on your face and the others wrapped against your neck. He leaned down and you flinched, opening your mouth to gasp.

He wasn’t going to hit you.

Instead, Ghost kissed you.

You don’t know when he had rolled his mask upward, but his mouth was hot and urgent against yours, groaning when he swallowed your gasp before it could come to fruition. He tasted sweet on your tongue and poisonous to your mind, drowning all your inhibitions in his touch. You whimpered against him and a wicked smile curved his lips upward.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly as his free hand moved to tangle itself in your damp hair, your dripping strands locked tightly between his fingers.

When he pulled away you were dizzy, your head falling back to rest against the wall. Your chest heaved as your heart pounded against your ribs, demanding to be freed.

There was nothing but silence for a long moment, the space between you both filled with his ragged breathing and your shaky gasps. You were so close you could taste him, his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re driving me out of my fucking mind, Sunshine.” Ghost rasped finally, his voice throaty and strained. “You just don’t fucking listen.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes trained on the beast before you. You’d watched this man tear people apart with his bare hands. You’d seen him take bullets to the chest, seen him snap necks and tear limbs.

But those fingers that had wreaked so much havoc rested on your throat softly, now. So gentle, as though he thought you would crumble beneath him if he squeezed.

But he wanted to grip tighter, and you knew it. You could tell by the twitch of his fingers, by the clench of his jaw.

“I can be taught, Sir,” your voice was barely a whisper but Ghost’s eyes snapped open as though you’d yelled at him. He watched you, like a predator observing its prey. You wondered if he thought he’d misheard you, maybe he was praying that he hadn’t.

When he leaned in close, your body shivered against his as adrenaline spiked your system.

“I’ll fuckin’ teach you to listen, Sunshine,” he murmured finally, fingers tightening against your skin. “Don’t you worry.”

Maybe he didn’t hate you, after all.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw2 ghost #ghost x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty #task force 141

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schwarz-san · 9 months

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A Revenant for The Red Knight

Your typical Dp x Dc Summoning AU, but with a twist.

Jason is having a bad time.

The most of the family to be honest.

Why? Cultist. In Gotham.

One that worship some kind of All Powerful Eldritch Death Outer God from Beyond and plans to summon the Thing to this plane of existence.

The worst part? Most of the bats are being use as sacrifice. Wait no, the worst part is that Jason is the main sacrifice.

They did contemplate whether to use Jason or the Demon child, but end up deciding to use Jason instead. Something about being having essence of Death and the Multiverse in his veins and you know what? He's not gonna touch that with a ten foot pole. Nope.

The demon child is lashing out like the unvaccinated feral racoon that he is, Dick is trying to escape and so does Bruce as well as trying to make sense of the Summoning circle that the cultist were using. The replacement is snoring, the asshole.

Hah. Thats what he get for drinking five mugs of expresso instead of sleeping then gatting tranq.

Also, fuck Bruce for not calling Constantine or Zattana the moment they smelled something supernatural.

God, he hates magic.

The cultist started chanting by then, speaking in a language that no one understood—huh? Well look at that. He could apparently. He could hear them chanting in that unknown language and english at the same time, its over lapping. Weird, its like it was being translated especially for him since the others didnt seems to show any recognition with the words the cultist was using.

Except maybe the demon child, but the others? Nada.

"—Ruler of the inbetween, Heed our call. Defeater of the Dark Tyrant. Master of Space, The bridge between Every Realms, The Great One, The Balance—"

Thats a fuck ton of titles.

The circle began glowing green and fucking Lazarus waters began to pour out and thats not fucking good.

Pillar of unnaturally Neon Red Fire emerge from the Circle and destroyed the ceiling and shook the entire ware house.

A tall armoured figure emerge as the pillar of fire began to settle out. It was floating above the circle, looming over everything in a terryfing manner. Temperature began to rise as the being's Unnayurally white gaze fell upon them.

It was… a knight? A knight cross over a biker??? It also had guns which is weird and is that a fucking Bat Insignia on its chest?

Pressure from all side crash over them as the beings gaze intensified before vanishing all together the moment its gaze fell on jason.

After what seems to be eternity, the being finally spoke.

"Huh. His majesty was right, I really was that stinky and fuck up before he find me."

???

The knight biker then remove his helmet to reveal his own face with a domino mask with his color pallete just inverted.

The doppelganger then pull out his gun and began shooting down the cultist all against the other bats protest. One by one the cultist vanished in to tin air as if they didn't exist all together.

He snapped his fingers and the rope that tying the burst in the same crimson flames and vanished all together.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?!"

Or cultist used kidnap batfam and use jason as a sacrifice to the ghost king to summon him.

They summon Alternate version of jason who is a halfa and work as one of Danny's Fright knight: Red Knight.

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blackbirdi · 3 months

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Batfamily Incorrect Quotes #3

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce: If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world stays the same.

Jason: *Eating a sandwich* Kill two

———————————

*Steph waking into the Batcave to discover Tim surrounded in the current case’s papers*

Steph: What the hell are you doing?

Tim: *Near tears* MY FUCKING BEST, OKAY!?

———————————

Dick: *Hugs Damian*

Damian: What was that?

Dick: Affection.

Damian:

Dick:

Damian: Do it again.

———————————

*Having a family dinner*

Jason: Can you pass the pepper?

Duke: What’s the magic word~?

Jason: *Clearly not impressed*

Jason: *Starts chanting in Latin*

Duke: *Panicking and shoving pepper into Jason’s hands* JUST TAKE IT! TAKE IT, OH MY GOD!”

———————————

Damian: *Tossing a spider outside* Treat spiders how you wish to be treated.

Tim: Killed without hesitation?

———————————

Dick: What’re you reading, Bruce?

Bruce: Just a book about the things I love!

Dick: … Those are just pictures of me and the others …

Bruce: Oh really? What a coincidence.

———————————

Steph: Things people look good in regardless of gender: suits, lacy lingerie…

Bruce: Eyeliner.

Tim: Ball gowns.

Cass: Battle armour.

Jason: The blood of your enemies.

Duke: Flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up.

Dick: Glasses.

Steph: That went from zero to a hundred to zero, real fucking quick.

———————————

Alfred: “Master Tim, you are going to hate yourself in the morning if you stay up any later!

Tim: Jokes on you! I’m gonna hate myself in the morning regardless!

———————————

Jason: I’m backkkkkkk.

Bruce: You died! I literally saw your dead body! You were dead!

Jason: *Shrugging nonchalantly* Death is a social construct.

———————————

Duke: What are you looking at?

Jason: Doing a Buzzfeed quiz to see what kind of scented candle he is* Porn.

———————————

Dick: *Drunk* In every single Christmas movie Santa never goes to the house next door. He always gets in his sleigh and fucks off twenty miles east!

Jason: Dick, can you shut the —

The other Batkids: No, let him finish.

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darthgloris · 4 months

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2AM THOUGHTS #8: unburnt!Vader is attracted to a Jedi

The first time you saw Darth Vader in person, you were pleasantly surprised: you thought he would be this disfigured shell of a man that couldn't tell right from wrong, just another Sith with a mangled and scarred face.

But, oh, my God, was he the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on.

From his sharp jawline to his slightly upturned nose to his cheekbones that seemed to be carved in marble, even the scar over his eye was attractive. And his eyes, his tantalising crystal blues had this intensity to them, this determination. It made your knees wobble for a split second, and it distracted you enough to almost get you shot.

From then on, at every battlefield you and him exchanged innocent glances that soon turned into eye-fucking, and at some point you began engaging in lightsaber duels. The tension was so palpable, it could be cut with a knife.

Now you were nervous, to say the least. The first time you and your troops would be engaging in combat on the Death Star, Vader's official station. You didn't want to fail the Rebellion, and you trusted that the ambition and importance of the undertaking would help you fight more efficiently.

The battle didn't go at all how you expected it to.

"Ahh, fuck, angel..." Vader groaned, relentlessly pounding you from behind. Your cheek was smushed against the wall, drool dripping out of the corner of your mouth with every mewl, and your breasts were pressed flush into the cold surface of the wall. His scent was rubbing off all over you, almost as if he wanted to mark his territory, his broad shoulders swallowed your smaller figure as his embrace engulfed you entirely, each snap of his hips made the metal shelves of the closet room creak and stutter with the sheer force of his movements.

"Vader..." you sobbed, one hand gripping the shelf to keep you grounded to reality while the other rested against the wall for stability. It felt like each time he pulled out, he dragged out your whole spine with him.

"Listen to you, moaning my name like a bitch in heat. Bet you want everyone hearing who's fucking you, huh?" He grinned, pawing at your breasts through your robes. The way his armour brushed against your back made you shiver, the feeling of his large frame turning you on more, if that was even possible. "Only a whore like you could have left her own troops alone just to get fucked good. I mean, how do they even take you seriously?"

You let out a loud cry at the words, whimpering and babbling his name. "Shh, quiet down for me, angel. Don't want anyone to see what belongs to you, do you?" You could only manage to shake your head, your brain could barely compose a coherent thought. He was fucking you too good.

"Good fucking girl..." he groaned, soft growls rumbling deep within his throat as his hips slapped harder against your ass.

"Vader... I- I'm close..." you stuttered. In a swift movement, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over, pushing your back against the wall as he shoved his cock in your entrance once again and slammed into you impossibly harder, making you inhale sharply and bite your fist to keep from screaming.

He grabbed your jaw with a surprisingly gentle grip, "Look at me, baby girl. I want you to look me in the eyes while you cum."

You gazed into his icy blues, a passionate sparkle to them as he stared back into your own eyes, and you felt your climax growing closer by the second. He brought his hand down to circle your clit and toyed with the wet folds, the pad of his thumb prodding at your sensitive pearl.

The overstimulation made you sob as the coil in your lower stomach finally snapped, making you cling to his shoulders as your hips curled repeatedly. "That's it, goooood girl..." Vader drawled, a guttural groan escaping his lips as your warmth flooded all around him. His thrusts grew sloppier and his cock throbbed inside you, indicating he wasn't going to last much longer. "Fuck- angel, you're gonna make me cum..." his voice cracked as his breathing picked up.

With a last particularly knee-weakening plunge, he threw his head back and groaned, this time slightly higher in pitch, and his aggressive bucking mellowed into soft strokes as he gritted his teeth in pure bliss while he rode out his high.

Vader sighed and slumped into you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as his chest heaved with passion and intensity. "That was... fucking... amazing..." he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. "My perfect girl..."

#star wars #anakin skywalker #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin #darth vader x reader #darth vader smut #darth vader #anakin skywalker smut

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thekissofaphrodite · 2 months

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Could you please do Clarisse La Rue X female reader, where the reader is a daughter of Hephaestus and they offer to try and fix, and possibly improve, her broken spear?

THIS IS SO FUN TO MAKE!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING <33

Smudge

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Hephaestus!reader

Summary: Fixing a damaged spear and a molten heart.

Warnings: Lovesick Clarisse (+kissing) Language 🫢

Author's Note: I wrote this while there's a literal program going on in my school, I'm shameless 😶

——

There was an eerie and an uncomfortable silence in the Ares Cabin. Apparently, Capture the flag this day didn't go well. Hence, Clarisse La Rue terrorized her siblings, snapping at them and most probably WILL strangling them to death. But one of her siblings finally opened their mouth and said something worth hearing; "I heard The Hephaestus Cabin can take damages like that, You'll have to pay five extra drachmas though"

Despite the disagreement and feud between those two cabins because of their fathers, Clarisse never got her wallet out so fast and ran towards Cabin 9, clutching the remains of her broken spear in hand.

The Workshop-like cabin was in the distance, There was a small queue of campers, waiting for their armours and weapons that they commissioned and repaired.

Clarisse, Being the arrogant, Daughter of the high tempered war God, pushed those campers away, earning groans and nasty side-eyes.

The first person clarisse saw was you, Forging a bronze shield with a hot iron. Your hair held by a huge claw clip in a bun, A brown leather apron was tied on your waist and neck, There was a bead of sweat that rolled down your from forehead to your cheeks, using the back of your hands, you wiped your cheeks, a smudge of charcoal appeared on your cheeks, But you kept going, Unaware.

Clarisse stood there awkwardly, waiting for you to look up and notice her, but you seemed pre-occupied, Just as she was about to clear her throat, Your halfbrother crossed his arms in the table next to you, glaring at Clarisse.

"Oi, La Rue! Gonna stand there like a damn statue? My sister ain't got all day" Your brother addressing Clarisse with his heavy southern accent caught your attention, You looked up at her before dismissing your brother away.

"I got it, Devon. Besides, I'm almost done here, I can take her in"

Your brother's eyebrows furrowed.

"Look, Sis, you've been forging all day since 6 AM, Your wrists are gonna fall off any second"

You laughed.

"I'm pretty sure dad's not gonna let that happen, And...I think I can see Mila peeking over there"

The mention of your brother's girlfriend made him blush madly, Near the entrance, a pale girl with freckles and light brown hair wearing a jumper over her orange camp halfblood shirt was waving at your brother excitedly while holding a small punett basket full of strawberries.

He then rubbed the back of his neck before excusing himself, bringing his girlfriend into his arms.

It was now only you and clarisse inside the workshop , there was a moment of silence before clarisse broke it by placing her damaged spear on your table that made a loud clattering noise.

"Are you able to fix this?" Her voice cracked a little, you felt pity as you examined her spear. Clarisse looked up at you, there was a glint of hope in her eyes.

"It looks repairable, But the electricity.. I'm not sure, It's not going to be that electric, How did this happen anyway?"

Clarissed frowned.

"Jackson"

You stared at her in disbelief.

"That twelve yearold boy did this?"

"Yes— Why does that matter? He's a brat, if I could just snap his neck into two—"

"Hey," you whispered.

"He's just a kid, Let him be. I'm sure I'll get this done in no time." Comfort and reassurance lacing your voice, as you held her hand gently.

You could've sworn you saw Clarisse La Rue blush at the contact.

"So...Are you free?" Clarisse said all of a sudden, It was probably the most cheesiest way of saying 'Will you go out with me' But you won't complain, It's Clarisse.

There was a hint of playfulness in your voice as you responded "Are you asking me out?" Arms folded on your chest as you stared at her in amusement. The Ares girl blushed once more and rubbed the back of her neck, It was almost an unbelievable sight that THE Clarisse La Rue was blushing and acting flustered in front of someone, she mostly acts brute and mean, like totally mean to the point that if she was spotted in a crowd, people would part way.

"Isn't it obvious?"

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"I'd love to"

Clarisse La Rue was screaming on the inside, but still, she kept a neutral expression, her eyes darting for her spear to yours.

"Great! I- uh... I'll come back tomorrow"

"For me or the spear?"

"Both"

——

The Ares cabin was peace and quiet in the morning, with Clarisse's siblings snoring away, the sun rising from the horizon signalling Apollo's coming, and birds singing softly.

Clarisse never thought she'd be like this, up early in the morning just to get a glimpse of a girl. Her whole life, she devoted herself to making her father proud, training every single day until her limbs went numb, fingers calloused and body sore, yearning for a single praise from her father. But it did. It worked, He gifted her a spear, an electric spear that she deeply treasured, the same spear that broken by that pathetic newbie.

You were her only hope.

So she sneaked out quietly, Carefully trying not to wake her sleep deprived siblings.

each footstep she took towards your cabin made her extremely nervous, but she kept her composure and held her head high like a true daughter of Ares.

Once she reached the entrance, her hands found the door knob and carefully twisted it, Letting it open, She saw you again, But this time you were sleeping peacefully on your work table, dust covered your face while her spear was placed in front of you, good as new with a red ribbon tied to the handle.

You must've pulled up a whole nighter.

She was caught off guard when you slowly started to steer from your sleep, moving uncomfortably.

Clarisse didn't know what to do, so she watched you carefully while you tried to process the world, still dowsy. You saw Clarisse and almost screamed.

"HOLY SHIT— CLARISSE?!" You yell a little too loud because you heard a loud yet distant 'SHUT UP!' coming from your siblings' room.

She just stood there, grinning shyly.

"I'm too early, am I?"

Your eyes found the clock up in the wall that read; 4:36.

"Way too early..."

You looked at Clarisse, then the spear on your table, Sighing.

"..and this was meant to be a surprise"

Clarisse chuckled.

"The spear is the least of my problems, I came here to see you"

Silence

"Me?"

"Yes, you...Do you wanna watch the sunrise?" Clarisse asked, carefully watching your expression, her cheeks flushed with red.

Sunrise?

You love sunrises..

"You didn't have to say it twice." Quickly grabbing your scarf, you held Clarisse's hand towards the fields.

The walk was long and quiet, with only you and Clarisse's breathing, and your boots crunching on the moist grass beneath it.

Once you two reached the small hill, you sat down and leaned back, Clarisse did the same. The sun was slowly rising, signalling Apollo and Aurora's arrival.

"Sorry for the unannounced intrusion earlier, I—"

"You couldn't wait to see me?" You chuckled softly.

Clarisse blushed again.

"Yes, That.." She couldn't admit that it was a little embarrassing admitting that she missed you.

But she missed more than you.

She missed your smile, She missed the way your vanilla perfume mixed with the copper and iron inside you and your siblings' forge, creating an irresistibly intoxicating smell. She missed the way your brows knit together while you focus intensely on hammering out a sword into shape, she missed the way your baby hairs stick on your sweaty forehead, she missed the way your apron wrapped perfectly around your body, bringing out your figure.

She missed everything about you.

You two were engulfed in a comfortable silence, with birds chirping and the trees swaying softly. she turned to you, but before she could speak, she noticed the smudge of charcoal on your cheeks from yesterday, it was a little faded, but still pretty visible.

so acting in her instinct, she moved closer to you and brought her hands on your cheeks, you were a bit startled, watching her wipe your cheeks softly as if tho you were the most delicate porcelain doll.

"Clarisse— What are you—" when she pulled her hand away, you saw a dark smear on her fingers, realization suddenly hit you, you embarrassingly looked away and tried to wipe the mess itself, but Clarisse's hands pushed yours away.

Her palm was now cupping your cheeks, and your gaze fix upon her.

Your heartbeat started beating faster, so did hers.

Clarisse didn't know what made her feel this way towards you, maybe Eros was spying on her and shot her an arrow, maybe Aphrodite was playing games because this was an alluring feeling that she had never felt before towards any person, Yeah, maybe she had a relationship with Silena Beauregard, but it was out of loneliness, Silena needed someone before she even met Beckendorf, and Clarisse needed someone before she met you.

You were the one that brought light to her day, the one that encouraged her to wake up every morning every time she felt little to no enthusiasm.

and now here you are, inches away from her lips while the sun rises.

It wasn't long before her lips touched yours, a burning and a twisting feeling inside your stomach along with butterflies erupted in you. She pulled you closer by wrapping her muscular arm around you waist. Her lips moved in sync against yours, your calloused fingers found her hair as you ran your fingers through it.

And it was pretty much the best sunrise kiss ever.

A/N

HELLO! I'm back with my first request from my inbox! I do hope you guys like this, i know it's been a month since i disappeared but fear no more— I will empty my inbox first before re-opening my requests! SO...STAY TUNED! ANY REQUEST I MIGHT POST MIGHT BE YOURS!

#percy jackon and the olympians #thekissofaphrodite #clarisse la rue x reader #dior goodjohn #xy/n #percy jackson #lovers #wlw

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sun-snatcher · 3 months

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🌾 ・ OF CLARION CALLS

summ. The rebellion runs into trouble, & Jet takes the brunt of it. In the aftermath, you fight to keep him alive. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 1.5k a/n. So little Jet fics/imagines around so i had to take matters into my own hands. Enjoy!

The moonlight casts a halo above your head, and for a brief moment, Jet thinks you’re a divine spirit, perhaps a goddess— or whatever it is his mother used to read to him before bed.

( In some ways, you are. )

…Jet, he hears, distant. He can’t pinpoint exactly where— every sound is either muffled or echoing, and the world keeps tipping in and out of a blur. All he can sense through the haze is the belt of dull pain creeping up his chest, and the cotton-numbness engulfing his head. Right. He’d been shot clean through his armor plate by a wayward arrow after he’d jumped infront of Sneers to protect him. He remembers now, vaguely. It had been an ambush on their way home.

...et, stay with me.

Jet.

“Jet!”

The world focuses. He inhales, sharp, and the pain blinds him white as he gasps.

“Easy there, handsome,” you joke (not really), holding his twitching body down and trying to meet his dazed look. The blood is thick enough to taste, and one look is enough to tell he’s walking a tightrope between life or death. He's growing colder, and losing colour by the minute. You make quick work to staunch the gaping wound in his chest, hope he can’t detect the shakiness in your hands, or the tears gathering in your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Will he?” comes a voice behind the two medics crowding him. It’s Smellerbee, standing at the step of the medical tent; her voice sounds uncharacteristically frightened, and it sends a pang through your heart. I’m fine, Jet instinctively wants to insist, but you answer for him instead. “Yes. He will." ( And, well, surely such a small deception would not count against you, not when it was meant to give the others some measure of peace. )

Jet blinks, finally orienting himself enough to look at you and not through you— and blinks again. You’re lying. He could feel it. He could always tell, whenever it comes to you.

…Stay, he thinks, suddenly and senselessly, and clasps his bloodied hand around your wrist. He calls your name, voice straining in pain. But he must’ve said it aloud instead, because you’d smiled at him as gently as you could— even when it looked as if the effort of doing so would wound you— and said, calmly, convincingly: I promise, I’m not going anywhere.

“With me?” he asks, again, even when he knows he must’ve sounded like a madman. Perhaps it’s the bloodloss. Likely, it was. It wouldn’t be such a bad end, though, so long as you stood by his side. He wants to tell you this— been wanting to for a long time, now— but the strength has left him, leaving him floating somewhere between the world of waking and dreaming.

“With you,” comes your reply.

You catch the ghost of his trademark smile just before he slips away.

Jet survives.

That’s the first surprise.

The second is that; you’re here. Just as you’d promised.

He must have been out for longer than he thinks, because the atmosphere in the medical tent seemed to have ebbed to something much more conducive than last he remembers. The tinctures of alcohol and sedatives surrounding him and his bloody bandages that night are now replaced with dry ingredients; yarrow half-crushed in a mortar and pestle, mixed herbs and colourful liquids corked in tiny bottles and tins he couldn’t begin to name. His armour had been stripped from him, lying above a chest by the corner.

Ever the leader; “Sneers,” is the first word out his mouth, once he’d stirred awake on his cot and recognition returned slowly to him. It’s early sometime in the morning, judging by the colour of the sky outside the tattered tent flaps and the still quietness in the air. Beside him, an incense of sandalwood burns. “Sneers—”

“Is alive, thanks to you,” you override. The faint bitterness in your voice is not lost on him.

Somehow, someway, seeing him conscious now seemed to make you bristle. You think— no, you know— that it’s unfair of you; that it’s simply the pent-up frustrations and stress overflowing from the night he’d been hauled back to camp with one foot in the grave. But Longshot’s harrowing clarion call for a medic from the trees still rings clear as a bell in your head, just as much as the cold shock that had seized you the moment you realised the birdcall was for Jet.

“Good.”

“Not good,” you correct, “Not when you of all people pay the price.”

( Jet doesn’t delude himself into thinking that there could possibly be another meaning to what you said. It would be impossible. ) “You would’ve done the same,” he bites back, and takes your silence as quiet agreement.

“You’re upset,” Jet points out, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

A sigh. “You just woke up,” you dismiss, if only to get him off your scent. “We can talk another day.”

“We’re already here, so let’s settle it now. The mission went well, and as far as I can see, I’m the only one in here, which means nobody else got hurt on the way back but me. Atleast, not as badly.”

It’s a debrief, you recognise. A coping mechanism for him— to spur himself into action and settle himself. Given the stress and trauma his body has been enduring the past days, you let it pass.

It’s only when you shift out from your seat by his cot, standing to begin putting away the bowls of medicine prepared, that Jet realises your fingers had been holding his wrist before. You must have stayed up for, what he can only imagine to be long nights, to keep track on whether his pulse was still beating. ( Something inside his chest burns. He can’t tell if it’s your doing or the injury being fussy. )

“I’m sorry,” he huffs, sighing out. “If that’s what you wanna hear.”

“For what?” You set the mortar down on your table with more force than necessary, and looked at him sharply from over your shoulder. Jet, damn him, still looks at you straight in the eyes, confident as ever. You want to kiss him. You want to break his nose. “For being a hero?”

“No.”

“Playing martyr?”

“No.”

“For saving Sneers? Everyone?”

“No—”

“Then what?”

“For scaring you,” he says, simply.

Your heart starts.

A frisson runs through you, and you feel the back of your eyes begin to burn.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he emphasises, and doesn’t say, I’m sorry I made you cry, because your prideful self would have denied it instantly, even if he remembers it clear as day. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He yanks at a loose thread on the blanket you’d laid on him a night ago. It must have been terrifying to see him be dragged to the table, half-dead with a broken arrow in his chest, and leave a mess of blood and horror in his wake. It must have been terrifying, indeed, to be the one responsible for him against Death itself— to carry the weight of his life on your shoulders, while the rest of the Freedom Fighters watched on.

“It’s, it’s my job,” you turn away to close a drawer of medical instruments, because you’re not quite sure you can stand meeting his gaze. Not when it only reminds you of just how much he lived, breathed and bleeds chaos and revolution; not when you know this accident definitely won’t be the last.

You can’t handle him. Or maybe it’s yourself you can’t handle, when it comes to him. “Just, be careful.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he salutes mockingly, albeit with a wince. The flinch is what kicks you back into action.

“You’re staying in bed until you’re better,” you order, curt, ignoring his groan. His wrapped shoulder still seems painfully defiant despite all the numbing you’d given him; it would be a couple of weeks longer before he’d be fully healed, but knowing Jet— he’ll be up performing duties within a week. “That means no strain at all. No scouting or recon or hunting, got it?”

He lulls his head, but there’s a dash of humour on his face. “Since I’m bedridden, does that mean you’re at my every beck and call, then?”

Your face twists. He lets out a laugh when you answer, "In your dreams, Jet."

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

You roll your eyes, though without heat, and place a bowl of fresh water by his side. There is, at the very least, a smile on your face, and Jet’s sure he can sleep well tonight knowing you both are, at the end of the day, okay.

“Hey,” he calls your name, once you've begun making your way out the tent. You try to ignore how much more sweeter it sounds coming from him. “I really am sorry. I’m serious.”

He had caught your sleeve when he spoke, so your fingers now brush against his. You try not to focus on the touch too much. “So am I.”

“We can’t lose you, Jet,” you continue, unsteady; because saying I can’t lose you would have been unthinkable.

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house-of-kolchek · 1 year

Text

Ghosts Behind The Falls (18+)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

SUPRISE EVERYONE ITS A GHOST FIC

Everyone say thank you to @kawaiiwitch224 for getting me hooked onto this son of a bitch and inspiring FOUR THOUSAND WORDS of smut. I love you. Now back to your regularly unscheduled programming.

WARNINGS: This is literally just smut. There's like zero plot. Enjoy a very naked Ghost talking dirty to you in a cave.

Word Count: 4k

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It was supposed to be an easy mission. A quick drug bust - taking out the leader of one of the heavy-hitting cartels. The plan was solid, with a clear entry and exit plan, and intel on each and every soul that would be in the building. It was simple and covert, easily attainable with two agents.

So, how you became the target, you’d never know.

It had all happened so fast - one second you were sweeping through a freshly cleared room, keeping your senses tuned for the target, the one from the pictures you’d spent hours studying.

And the next you were turning tail and fucking running.

“When did the entire fucking cartel decide to show at the door?!” You shrieked, skirting sideways to dodge a stray bullet in your path.

“Just fuckin’ run!” A deep voice called from behind you, followed by a spray of gunfire towards your attacker. Ghost’s hand wrapped around your bicep, guiding you to the door and kicking you off in a sprint.

You cursed, stumbling over a few steps before shooting towards the tree line. Ghost was hot on your heels, grunting curses of his own under his breath. The thundering shouts of the cartel echoed behind you, no doubt giving chase as you ran with your tail between your legs. You aimed for the trees, taking solace in their protection.

Until of course, the ground decided to drop off.

“Hang on hang on hang on!” You shrieked, digging your feet in and skidding to a stop. Your balance threw you off, and one leg was sent flying over the cliff edge, your arms flailing for any sort of purchase.

Just before your stomach could officially drop, Ghost’s strong hand found your forearm, tugging you away from the ledge and into his side. You gasped, stumbling for a moment as you found a death grip on his vest.

“Shit,” he muttered, leaning over to survey the water below. “We’re gonna have to jump.”

“What! No!” you yelped, tightening your grip on him. “I can’t!”

“Wait you- what?”

“I can’t jump from this height!”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t got much choice,” he hissed, glancing back towards the growing shouts and gunshots. You stiffened, creeping away from the edge.

“I’m scared of heights,” you all but whispered. Your fingers flexed, hovering over the pistol tucked in your belt. Ghost gave you an incredulous look, seemingly baffled that you would rather stand and fight an obviously losing battle. He was right of course - you stood no chance - but that rational part of your brain had long since left the premises.

The shouts grew louder, the outlines of your attackers growing into focus. A stray bullet struck the ground a few feet away, and for the first time in a long while, you jumped at the sound.

It was at that moment Ghost decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Ah for the love of- hold on,” he growled, holstering his gun. Your breath left you again as his arms found your waist, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Wait shit what are you- RILEY!” You shrieked, digging your nails into the sides of his vest as he leapt off the cliff edge. Your scream was muffled as he braced the back of your head, burying your face into his armoured chest. His other arm tightened around your waist as cold air swept past you.

And then, like a sharp jolt to your system, you hit the water. After a short moment, his arms loosened, his hand keeping hold on yours to guide you back to the surface.

You coughed, sucking in a large breath of air as you broke from the water. Blinking, you glanced up, towards the cliff you’d been standing on mere seconds ago.

“GHOST!” you hollered, muffled behind the large, gloved hand that slapped over your mouth.

“Scream at me later, yeah?” he hissed, kicking through the water until the two of you were nearly pressed against the rocks. His voice was low as he muttered next to your ear. “If they think we’re dead after that fall, let’s keep it that way.”

Your face grew warm, your breath leaving you from the combination of his arm falling to tighten around your waist, and the echoing shouts of others above.

“There.” He nodded towards a towering waterfall, a small corridor just peeking out from the side. “We can hold up there while I call for exfil.”

Finally releasing your waist, he held a finger towards the mouth of his mask, before dipping his head under the water and swimming towards the falls. With a heavy sigh, and a slight tingle between your legs, you followed suit, diving below the water as you swam towards the cover.

The waterfall was roaring, audible even below the surface of the water. As you broke for another breath, you startled at the spray. Blinking the drops from your eyes, you made brief contact with Ghost, paddling to meet him at the edge of the small corridor.

Heaving yourself back onto solid ground, you coughed, wiping the spray of water from your lips. Ghost wasn’t far behind you, flicking on his flashlight to survey the space. He hummed his approval, barely heard over the water as he stepped further into the expansive cave that stretched behind the falls.

It was dark, musty and cold. But it was safe, and that was all that mattered. Combing a hand through your dripping hair, you followed the Lieutenant into the cave, dropping to a seat on a rock farther back. Ghost remained on his feet, glancing around the space once more.

“Should do for now,” he hummed.

“Yeah. It’s good,” you commented with a shrug. “At least there’s no more cliffs for you to throw me over.”

“Hey. You weren’t gonna jump and-” he sucked in a breath, only to choke on some of the water that soaked through his mask.

“Jesus Chri- you’re gonna waterboard yourself!”

You were met with a sharp exhale, and a spray of water from the mask where his mouth would be.

“I’ll be fine,” he commented, his eyes darting sideways to ignore your pointed look. The two of you were silent for a moment, Ghost muffling a few lingering coughs behind his hand.

“and I was gonna jump. Eventually,” you hissed. His gaze found yours again, cutting straight through the wall you were struggling to keep up.

“Not before gettin’ shot.”

“Well that seems more like a me problem than a you problem.”

“Would you rather I’d left you to get filled with bullets?”

Your mouth fell open and closed a few times as you struggled to find a quick response. You heard the barely-there rumble of a chuckle from the man, as he stepped back towards the cave entrance.

“S’what I thought,” he quipped. He was right, and you both knew it. His actions had saved your life, as much as you hated to admit it. You heaved a long sigh, the thread holding up your pride finally snapping.

“Thank you,” you uttered, causing Ghost to stutter in his steps. His head turned to the side, flashing a short stripe of white from the skull shaped plate across his face. With a short clear of his throat, he nodded.

“Right. Gonna call for exfil.”

—

By the time he returned, not even ten minutes later, the cold had begun to seep through your skin. In the damp space, you were still dripping, your clothes beginning to feel like ice.

Of course, the breeze and constant spray from the waterfall didn’t help either.

“You alright there?” Ghost asked, unable to keep the humour hidden from his voice. You shivered, raising a brow in his direction.

“Peachy. What’s the plan?”

Ghost chuckled, low and husky. If you hadn’t been fucking freezing, you might have noticed the slight heat behind it.

“ETA for exfil’s forty five minutes. We’re staying put till then,” he muttered, stepping close enough that his armor brushed against your upper arm. You shuddered, instinctively leaning further into the warmth you craved.

“Great,” you hummed. “Forty five minutes to fucking freeze to death.” Ghost sighed, though there was no malice behind it. His gloved hand found your shoulder, prompting you to tilt your head to face him.

“Take off your clothes.”

“I’m sorry- What?” You blanched, your cheeks growing even more flushed.

“What, conserving body heat and all that,” he justified, reaching to unclip the buckles of his vest. You fell into silence, forcing all the inappropriate thoughts to flee from your mind. Though, as you found yourself mirroring his actions, you couldn’t find the will to tear your gaze away from his hands working at the layers of his clothing, and each flash of skin he exposed.

It was crazy. Like something out of a wet dream you may have had more than once. And it was happening. Like right in front of you happening.

Your pants fell in a pile, the last article of your clothing save for your undergarments. Dipping your head to hide your blush, you didn’t even have the time to appreciate him before his hands - his bare hands - found your hips, pulling you flush against his chest.

You nearly gasped at the feeling of his skin, instantly warming your own. It was… effective, in more ways than one, as your cheek pressed into his chest.

“Better?” He asked, and you could hear the smirk behind his mask. Unable to form the words, you nodded, acutely aware of the rumble in his chest as he chuckled.

It was a side you hadn’t seen from the Lieutenant before - so openly kind and almost soft. His hands rubbed your arms a few times before falling loosely across your lower back. Your chest flared with warmth as he sucked in a barely audible breath.

Each brush of his skin sent shocks racing up your spine, to the point where you almost felt too warm. You leaned back - just slightly - turning to meet his. Very. Bare. Chest.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Um- I mean,” you babbled, slowly slipping from his arms. It didn’t help of course, if only the full sight of him clad in nothing but a mask and boxers only fanned the flames in your core. Your face flushed as you choked on every word trying to escape your throat. “I mean just like-“

You sighed. Might as well be fuckin’ out with it.

“What fucking adonis carved you out?”

Ghost was silent for a long moment. It would have been comical, watching him flounder for words if you weren’t stuck in the exact same position. You couldn’t place it, the new, sudden shift in his demeanor, until he started taking long strides towards you.

“Wait what are you doing-” you were cut off as his arms found your waist again, pulling you even closer than before. Your hands flew to either side of his chest, and you nearly gasped at the half hard pressure against your hips.

“You really think that?” he hummed, letting one hand brush up and down your spine, hovering dangerously close to the clasp of your bra. With a complete lack of words on your tongue, you nodded, fighting the urge to dig your nails into his skin.

“Well then. I might have an idea on how we can keep… warm.” You nearly keened from the growl in his tone, his voice growing even huskier as his hands fell back to squeeze at your hips.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, surprised at how quickly you were falling apart. The man had barely touched you and you were on the verge of snapping. As if he’d heard your thoughts, Ghost chuckled, low and husky, clearly enjoying the way you stroked his ego.

Without another word, he had you walking backwards until your shoulders hit the damp stone wall. You yelped at the sharpness of the cold stone, curling your hips further into his and accidentally grinding against him. The clipped groan he let out had you seeing stars, your arousal only fueled by the deep baritone of his voice.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Doll,” he husked, brushing his fingers along the skin of your stomach. Your head fell back against the stones, your mouth falling open to let out hot breaths as his other hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh. Hoisting it over his hip, you gasped at the sudden rush of air over your clothed core. Through your panties, Ghost slid one finger in a stripe across your core, brushing with delicious friction against your clit.

And you whined.

“Ghost-”

“Simon,” he cut you off. Finding your eyes through the mask, you studied the intensity of his gaze, almost feeling shy under its heat.

“Simon,” you breathed, and he blinked, unable to suppress the slight shudder in his shoulders as you used his name. His real name.

“Now that’s better.”

His head fell against the stone, his chin brushing against your shoulder. With another swipe of his finger across your panties, he pulled another clipped whine from the back of your throat. Letting his finger drag, he moved to circle over your clit through the fabric, increasing the pressure and forcing the friction across your nerves to amplify. You dug into his shoulder, panting a short breath as shocks of pleasure traveled up your spine.

“Simon, that’s-” you shot out another exhale. “That’s so good.” At your praise, his pace quickened, and he added another finger to the mix. There was a pressure against the skin of your shoulder, and you barely processed the outline of his lips through the rough fabric of his mask, pressing kisses against your collarbone.

“Oh, yeah?” he teased, biting you through his mask. You took a sharp breath. “I know how to make it even better.”

Oh how did you end up here. Stuck in a cave with your wildly attractive colleague practically naked and grinding against your hip. Muttering the filthiest things in your ears. Hooking his thumb to slide his mask up to his nose.

Wait, what?

“Simon?”

You were met with his shining grin, and the beautiful sight of his fair skin, all the way up from his chin to the bottom of his nose. His lips looked absolutely delicious. Full and sporting the perfect shade of pink. As you squinted, you were just able to make out a scar that travelled to the corner of his lip.

And that was all you were able to catch before his lips were on yours.

His kiss was deep and passionate, chasing after your lips as if he’d been craving them for years. His hands were completely forgotten, moving to simply squeeze the sides of your hips. You kissed him back just as eager, sighing at the taste of his lips. In a daring move, you swept your tongue across his lower lip, squeaking as his tongue tangled with yours.

He was barely able to catch one breath before he was kissing you again, falling out of the spell enough to slide his hands up the sides of your waist to your ribcage. As his tongue met yours once again, he found the clasp of your bra, struggling with it for less than a second before the garment was sliding off your shoulders. He wasted no time in finding your breasts, his calloused palms catching against your nipples and drawing a high pitched moan from your throat.

Your lips broke from his in a messy groan as you arched into his chest. His eyes fluttered shut, his bottom lip pinching between his teeth at the feel of your skin. One hand drew to the back of your neck, his pinky finger curling under your jaw to tilt your head back. You shivered at the graze of his teeth against your jawline, drawing down the column of your throat, where he left a pink bite mark against your skin.

“Oh, you like that?” he growled, his gaze fluttering up to your face. Breathless, you only nodded, feeling his smile against your skin. “You like when I leave my mark on you, eh?” You nodded again, and his teeth clamped down, just below your collarbone.

Simon soothed the mark, massaging your skin with his tongue and his lips until a dark bruise formed. Your hands flew to the back of his neck, your hips jumping against his as he brought his kisses lower, his breath hovering right over your breasts. With a soft, pleased sigh, he brought his lips down to your nipple, teasing and tugging at the bud, drawing an endless supply of clipped moans from behind your gritted teeth.

You ground your core against him, tightening your leg around his waist as you chased that friction you desperately craved. Simon sucked in a sharp breath, his mouth breaking from your skin for a moment to regain composure. But his lips didn’t falter for long. With a wicked grin, he brought his mouth to your other nipple, brushing it with his teeth. His grip fell to your waist, tightening around your hips and jerking them hard against his barely-covered erection.

You cried out, digging your nails into the back of his neck as he met your hips with a sharp thrust. Dragging against your core, his fingers dug further into your skin as you whined. Your stomach felt tight, every ounce of you wanting to wriggle against his grip, chase after that delicious friction, but his hands held firm. That knot in your core wound up impossibly tight, your face growing even hotter as he bucked your hips into his again, and again, and again.

Until it finally snapped.

“Simon!” you keened, your mouth falling open with soundless moans as your orgasm washed over you. The accused continued to grind against you, riding you through each wave until your twitching stilled.

You sucked in a heavy breath, letting your hands fall loose, your fingers dancing gently down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders. His fingers flexed against your waist, eyes darting to meet yours again. His pupils had blown wide enough to blend in completely with his dark irises. And in the dark lighting of the cave, you could have sworn you saw a somewhat glossy reflection in them.

Without a word, Simon leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. His palm slid up your back, laying flat between your shoulder blades to press you further into his chest. His skin was still impossibly warm, slightly dampened with a mix of sweat and sprays of water from the falls.

You’re not sure when, or how it happened, but your kiss grew fervently heated again. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with yours in a messy show of dominance. Simon's hands slid from your back, his thumbs brushing across each of your sensitive nipples before he broke away from the kiss.

“Don’t think I’m finished with you yet, yeah?” he growled, his hands finding your waist and spinning you around to face the stones behind you. “Hands on the wall.”

With a jolt, that familiar sense of arousal pooled in your lower stomach again. Already craving what you knew was coming next, you threw your palms flat against the stone, gasping at the coldness of it. Simon pressed his front against your back, and you shuddered at the realization that he’d stripped off his underwear.

His hands started at your throat. Brushing his fingers against your skin, they traveled down, stopping to give attention to each of your breasts, covering each mound and drawing a shaky breath from you. He skimmed over your abdomen, hooking his thumbs into the sides of your panties and dragging them down your legs. He took his time, inching his way across your skin with feather-light touches, and you just knew he was doing it to rile you up.

“Simon, please,” you begged, subtly pressing your hips back against him. You gasped at the hardness pressing back - it was big.

Not that you expected otherwise.

Simon chuckled behind you, all low and sexy. Your breath hitched in your throat as his tip grazed your entrance. You shifted your hips, almost trying to seat yourself on him, earning another dark chuckle.

“Ah ah- patience,” he teased. You huffed, desperate for his touch as his tip brushed across your entrance again, just barely dipping in. As your spine shuddered again, he found a solid grip on your waist, suddenly filling you with one deep thrust.

You cried, slapping a hand over your mouth as he hit that spot deep within. Your eyes glazed over, muffling another whimper as he gave another shallow thrust. And then suddenly, his breath fanned across your ear.

“Hands back on the wall,” he ordered. “I’m the only one that can hear you. And God, I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you keep making.”

He solidified his words with another pointed thrust, and your hands slapped against the wall, a long, pitched whine ripping from your throat.

“That’s more like it.” You could hear the grin behind his words as he pulled out until just the tip remained, before slamming back into you.

His hand found your hip, tilting it in a way that arched your back until his hips could fall flush against yours. You cried at the new angle, the tip of him brushing against your inner walls in long strokes. You curled your fingers into the rocks, your nails screaming in protest as they scratched against the rough stone. Simon’s free hand caught yours, prying your nails from the wall and curling his fingers between yours.

He didn’t keep the same pace for long, switching between long, drawn out thrusts, and practically drilling into your core. You let moans and whimpers fly, crying out each time he hit the spot that had you seeing stars. Simon’s own composure started to falter, clipped noises escaping from the back of his throat as he leaned more weight across your back. You felt him everywhere - his hand wandering across your stomach, his chest pressed fully against your back, his pinpointed thrusts hitting your inner walls. Hell, even the smell of him filled your senses, spinning in your head until all that existed around you was him.

“Fuck-” he swore, his voice just barely cracking behind his gritted teeth. “I hope you’re getting close, doll.” His thrusts grew sloppier with each word, and his fingers tightened around yours.

“Yeah-” you breathed, unable to form any other words. “I’m just-” he tilted his hips slightly, hitting you at a perfect angle. “Fuck! Right there!” Your pitch grew higher with each thrust as he drilled into that spot over and over, your entire body tightening around him as you approached the edge of your orgasm.

Simon growled as he came, pinning you with one final thrust that had you barrelling over the edge with him. You let out a long, drawn out sigh as your muscles finally relaxed. Simon leaned into you, pressing the both of you against the stone wall as he fought to regain his own breath.

“Well. I’d say I’m sufficiently warmed up.” You said between heaving breaths. Simon laughed, moving to wrap his arms around you in a gentle embrace.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, pressed up against that damp stone wall. It was long enough that the crack of daylight past the waterfall began to fade, leaving the moon to light up the dim space. Eventually, reality called, and you gently slid away from him to collect your still-damp clothing.

“Hey - This is gonna become a more… regular thing, right?” You asked, unable to keep that shining sense of hope from the back of your voice. Because God, you wanted it to. All at once, you were addicted to the man, never able to get enough. Hell, you were already tempted to jump him again as you watched him slide his damp shirt back on - the fabric clinging perfectly to his body.

Simon crossed the three steps towards you, his hand cupping your cheek as he drew you into one more long, passionate kiss. His fingers played with the ends of your hair even as he broke away from your lips, reaching to finally slide his mask back over his chin. The radio crackled to life with orders for exfil as he pulled you against his side.

“Sweetheart, there’s no fucking way I’m letting that stay a one-time occurrence.”

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Tags!

@kawaiiwitch224 @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @obsessedwithtoomanythings @lorebite @yellowroses-world @ageofbajabule

#cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut

1K notes · View notes

jewbeloved · 19 days

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stan,kenny and wendy with a ghost s/o? like s/o died in south park (cause,i mean cmon,if you dont have plot armour are you really gonna survive?) and they just kinda haunt sp.they also have similar abilities to damien (flight,telekinesis,teleportation,ect),maybe they even have a human/physical form like him too 😃?

Stan, Kenny, and Wendy with a ghost s/o💙🧡🩷

warnings: Plasmophobia (If you have it)

Gender: Neutral

💙 Stan Marsh ⚽

Blud thought he was hearing things because someone kept calling his name and he didn't know where it was coming from.

Stan began to get irritated and demanded whoever was calling his name multiple times to show themselves.

You just now realized that you were invisible to Stan and he obviously cannot see you. So you make yourself visible while making the place around you cold asf.

The gif above is Stan's brief reaction before he jumps back in complete shock.

It took him a while to realize it was you but in the form of a ghost.....

Stan wasn't really close to you at all when you first came to south park. Probably because he didn't even notice you were there.

He did hear about one of the students dying on the news but he didn't think it was you.

But since you're a ghost that death that occurred confirms it was you after all. He feels guilty that he never spoken to you, not even once before you died.

You both started to have a lot of conversations with each other after your first meeting. Stan obviously snuck out during lunch or free time to go talk to you behind the school.

Stan always talked about you to Kyle though. Kyle thought he had a screw loose since Kyle can't even see you.

You like to tease Stan with your powers and scare him a lot. I'd like to think Stan always puffs his cheeks whenever he's angry and you find that cute :)

If physical contact was possible he would be so happy. If you allow him to be able to touch💙💙💙💙

🧡 Kenny Mccormick 🍄

You both already know about each other.

You always remembered the times Kenny has died and comforted him after he regenerates the next day.

But when he heard that you died he was so sad that he couldn't stop crying because you weren't immortal like him so you couldn't come back to life.

That all changed when he started shivering because his room got cold all of a sudden and this woke him up out of his sleep.

He thought that he accidentally left the window open so got up to go look, only for him to find out that it was never opened.

He then felt a soft tap on his shoulder and turned around immediately while flinching.

"Oh for heavens sake Kenny, It's just me (Name)...".

....................

.........................................................

Wait what?

A ghost?

You?

I guess he shouldn't be surprised just by seeing that. He was so happy and relieved to hear that it was just you.

You really came back to see him...well in a ghostly form anyway because you're dead.... Kenny's happy nonetheless!

You both can go back to interacting with each other again! But he's still a bit sad that he isn't able to feel your heartbeat anymore whenever he hugs you. Please cheer him up.

Since Kenny is immortal, you both can literally spend the rest of your lives together forever now that you're here <33333🧡🧡🧡🧡

🩷 Wendy Testaburger 💮

Like Kenny, you and her have known each other ever since you moved to south park.....or whatever you did in order to get there.

She one day saw that you weren't home at all and she panicked thinking you went missing.

It wasn't until your parents told her that you recently had died (Or if she finds out on her own if you don't have any parents).

You and her had a close bonding relationship and she was devastated to hear the news.

She will wear anything you had left behind before you died (hats, scarfs, etc.)

When she was cleaning out her locker for her next class. She saw a bunch of students running away from the janitor's closet, screaming about how the closet is haunted or something.

Wendy brushed it off as them being weird until Bebe told her that she saw a ghost in the closet. Wendy signed and went to check it out for herself since she trusts Bebe.

She opened the closet door and saw nothing inside.

She was about to go and confront Bebe for lying to her until she saw a ghostly figure that looked exactly like her.

She screamed until you shifted back into your normal self and reassured her that it was just only you.

She couldn't believe it, she always thought ghosts weren't real...how is it possible for someone to be able to see ghosts????

She's going through the five stages of grief right now that she can't even mutter another word out. Eventually she can't escape reality in the end.

She doesn't know exactly what to do now that she is seeing you again as a ghost?? But those tears streaming down her cheeks told you everything you needed to know about how she feels.

You noticed that she was wearing your stuff (If you had any) while you were hugging her.

You kept hugging and comforting her until she stopped crying. Telling her that you would never leave her even in death. 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

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amuseoffyre · 3 months

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Mulling once again on Ed and presentation and how he tends to keep certain emotions and things under wraps when he's presenting a specific way.

Most specifically I want to mention his leather as his armour and when he's in armour, he'll play Blackbeard, he'll joke around with the crew, he'll banter, he'll be chaotic, he'll be scary. He'll be loud and cheerful and chaotic and terrifying, depending on the situation.

But the instant he is upset or emotional about anything, his instinct is to hide himself, close himself away or cover himself so no one can see him. That aesthetic, that whole performative presentation can not be seen to be emotionally vulnerable.

30 years of living in the world of piracy and he knows he can't show his emotions because they'll be used against him. We see it when Jack shames him into leaving ("I saved your life man"), we see it when Izzy confronts him in 1x01 ("some namby pamby in a silk robe, pining for his boyfriend"), we see it again when Izzy tries to break through his kraken spiral ("your feelings for Stede fucking Bonnet"), we see it with Mary and Anne roasting him and Stede ("that was so fucking earnest").

Even when he's back with the crew and the ship in S2, he keeps his heart-eyes and his softer emotions for Stede for when they're alone together, keeping a careful distance so no one can read too much into it. Not when he's dressed like this. Not when he's looking like this. The wall very nearly came down on Calypso's birthday, when they were going to dance, but then Low happened and everything went to hell in a handbasket.

Ned came after them because of him, because Ed provoked him. No. Blackbeard provoked him. "It's me you want" he says. It is also such a big part of why he abandons the leathers the next day: he brought this down on them as Blackbeard. He doesn't want to see Stede hurt again, even says they should stay away from life-or-death situations.

He sees the Blackbeard vibe and look and persona as something that can only be destructive and awful, because - in his mind - it just keeps making things worse for him.

It's one of the reasons I love the leather reclamation so much.

For so many years, he's been forced to hide his emotions while wearing it, but it's was never about the clothes. The clothes were just a symbol. As I said earlier, it's his emotional armour and he never believed he could just... be himself without it.

In the fight with Stede in the republic, he says himself "I don't even know who I am". He's spent so long dividing up the way he presents himself that he's fragmented and disorientated. He threw his leathers overboard because he wants to be able to be loved, but doesn't feel he can be while that whole presentation and reputation is hanging over him.

But then we get to a point where he needs said armour - he's going into battle to fight for the man he loves and going dressed as a fisherman just ain't gonna cut it. He pulls it back on, he rises from the waves, but - and this is a sign of things changing - the second he arrives on the beach and finds that letter, the tangible reminder that he loved, his emotions are fully on display.

For the first time he is expressing himself without hiding away or covering himself up. He's finally understanding that he can be Edward no matter what he looks like on the surface. He can be himself without keeping the mask up, even when he has his armour on.

Admittedly, he is still hesitant about expressing himself fully. At the wedding, he only glances sidelong at Stede and even when they're standing on the porch of the inn, some part of him still expects Stede to leave. He even gives him a chance and excuse - "having second thoughts?" and uses metaphors about the inn to explain his uncertainties. But he's getting there. He's figuring out how to deal with his stuff and become more and more himself.

#ofmd #ofmd meta #ed teach #blackbeard

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ickaimp · 1 year

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[BotW] Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy (discontinued)

My SidLink fic, ‘Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy’, has been getting a lot of attention on Ao3. It’s two parts, and I tried to write a part three from Link’s POV. That was back in 2018, and I’ve since moved five times. Needless to say, it never got past the WiP stage and the HTTYD fic, ‘Coming Down is the Hardest Thing‘ ate our brain instead. But in honour of Tears of the Kingdom, figured I’d put everything in roughly a chronological shape and post what got written. It’s not complete, prolly never will be, but hopefully it’ll give a couple chuckles. 2900 words. There is also now a bonus scene at the end of Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy on Ao3.

+++ He didn’t mean to return to the Zora Domain.

Death Mountain lived up to its name, Vah Rudania had been freed from Ganon’s touch, and all Link wanted to do was go somewhere cooler where he could relax and recoup from climbing over a moving metal structure that was standing over gigantic pools of lava. So his duty done to the Gorons, he’d pulled out the Sheikah slate and hit the first shrine that looked near water. Finding himself facing a handful of angry armed Zora guards had been a bit of a shock, but he’d honestly been too tired to care. Getting the helmet off and breathing the cool humid air of the Zora domain helped, more so when Sidon arrived. The shock on the prince’s face was comical. Even more so when he told his guards to stand down and offered Link a bath. +++ The kiss to the top of his head was unexpected, and made his chest feel light and fluffy. The gesture was as unexpected as it was confusing, but not in a bad way. Sidon’s explanation, his offer of kisses, just made it funnier. +++ Kisses. Link reminded himself as he struggled and fought his way through the shrine. Sidon believed in him, and when Link finished, he could see Sidon again. And get another kiss. +++ He didn’t know how to pay back Sidon for the encouragement. For the kisses. And he wanted to. He wanted to show Sidon how much it meant to Link. How much Sidon himself meant to Link. Armour was important to Zora. Milpha had made him armour. He was pretty sure there were books in the library that explained how to make armour. And armour would keep Sidon safe when Link wasn’t around. He could do that. He had gems and supplies from his travels all over Hyrule. He could make armour. +++ He couldn’t make armour. He could, but not armour for Sidon, who was much larger than Link, or the average anyone. The armour came out the same every time he tried, just the right size for him to fit in to. This was a problem. +++ “You’re making something entirely new.” Rhondson said, shaking her head over Link’s confusion. “You and your magic have seen jewellery and many kinds of armour and know what shapes to make things it has seen before. But to make something new, you’re going to have to do it the hard way.” Link looked down at his hands. Well, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the time to learn something new.

+++ Zora made their armour from scales, but Link didn’t have scales. Which meant that he needed to get scales somehow. What had scales? Fish, of course. Zora, but he couldn’t ask them for scales, not for this. Dragons. He had a small collection of their scales and horns. Not enough for armour. Which meant that he’d have to get more.

“I’m gonna go fight a dragon.” Link declared, anticipation singing through his body.

“Link? Is everything okay?” Zelda looked worried as she peered into his face. “You’ve kind of got your crazy eyes on.”

He just grinned at her.

“Okay then.” Zelda sighed and shook her head. He knew that he worried her, that before the Calamity he’d been raised to be a knight, with all the genteel manners and stuff, but he didn’t remember any of that.

And really, it sounded completely boring and dull. He liked who he was now, he couldn’t go back to whatever he’d been before. Zelda had accepted that, but she still fussed at him. It was kind of... nice, in a strange way.

She kissed him on the cheek. “Go do your thing. Try not to come back all bloody.”

He appreciated the fact that she never referred to the castle as his home. It was hers, certainly. And while he didn’t mind staying here, it didn’t feel like home to him.

His heart called him elsewhere.

‘No promises.’ He agreed, kissing her cheek as well. Her kisses weren’t like Sidon’s. Still sweet, in a different way. Softer, for one thing. And not as varied, she liked to kiss and be kissed mostly on the cheek.

He liked Sidon’s kisses better. The feeling of rough scales on skin was more welcoming to him than that of soft Hylian skin. Kissing Zelda didn’t leave his heart fluttering and skin tingling and wanting more. +++ The dragon scales were too large and unwieldy to just make into armour. Especially for someone who was as streamlined as Sidon. Cutting them down with normal tools didn’t work, they shattered swords and shears alike. The only thing that seemed to be able to cut dragon scale was dragon scale itself. Link growled to himself, realising that this meant he needed to get more scales, some for the armour, some to use as tools. Which meant more time away from Sidon. He sighed. He could do it. +++ ‘Think it’ll work?’ Link signed, as Bazz looked contemplative, looking over the scales Link had harvested and started to cut into shapes based off the books and patterns he’d found.

“It should.” He agreed. “My biggest concern is what are you going to attach it to? You’re going for shock resistance, so metal is out, which means some sort of really heavy duty hide or cloth. If you use leather, you could boil it, making it harder and shape it, but I don’t know what would be thick enough.”

That was a problem. Monster hide might work, but he’d killed most of those.

And he wanted something for the shock resistance too. It was kind of worrisome that Zora couldn’t even touch shock arrows, leading Link having to collect them from the Lynel....

Link paused, looking up towards the tip of Shatterback Point. ‘Be right back.’ He signed, and took off running.

“Wait! No!” Bazz hissed. “Link! He’ll kill me if you come back dead!”

Link laughed as he jumped off a balcony, his hang-glider snapping open and catching the ocean breeze. The breeze wasn’t strong enough to get him all the way to the top, but it’d get him part way there.

+++

A few hours later, Link pulled the fresh Lynel hide out of his pack and set it in front of Bazz. ‘Think it’ll work?’

Bazz made a sound like he couldn’t decide if he was laughing or crying. “You’re certifiably nuts.” He said, shaking his head. “The two of you deserve each other. Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

Link tilted his head to the side, wondering what Bazz meant by that.

“We’ll have to sit down sometime with a pint or two and I’ll tell you some of the things our Prince has gotten up to in the past.” Bazz grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “You heard about him being eaten by the Octorok and going up against Vah Ruta on his own? That’s nothing.”

Link grinned. He knew he liked Sidon for a reason. +++

“Link, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your new habit of carving dragon scales during meetings.” Zelda’s lips pressed together in a disapproving line. “It’s scaring some of the Council.”

Link grimaced. It was about the only time that he sat still long enough to get any carving done, he was constantly interrupted otherwise. ‘You want me to stop?’ He offered. He’d just have to figure something else out.

“Oh good heavens, no!” She beamed at him. “Could you please sit next to Councillor Tyrol? We might be able to get some work done if he stops sharing his ‘hunting’ stories. He’s quite terrified of you, you know.”

+++ Zelda glanced around before tugging on Link’s arm and pulling him closer. She had a mischievous curve to her lips and he leaned in so no one else could overhear what she was saying. “Some of the Council thinks you’re dating a Gerudo woman.” She whispered, then covered her mouth with a hand to contain her laughter.

It made a certain amount of sense, he was in Gerudo town a lot. … He also wore the clothing a lot while coming back. Did they think that he was dating himself? Or someone else? He paused, eyes narrowing as he remembered the inquires to the Gerudo Chieftain's health. “Riju’s twelve.” He deadpanned. She may have been the steadfast leader of the fierce Gerudo, but she was also a kid who loved soft plushies, especially those of Sand Seals.

Zelda nodded with barely repressed glee. “I know that and you know that, but how many people here do you think have meet a real Gerudo in their lives? Much less know who the Gerudo chief is?”

That was a good point. They should probably fix that, get more of all the various tribes together more often. ‘Should I start mentioning Isha more?’ He offered.

She thought about it, then giggled. “You should invite her to the castle as a merchant.” Zelda grinned. “Plus, I’d like to meet her.”

+++ ‘You need a break.’ Link signed with a frown as he looked Zelda over. She looked kind of like she wanted to punch something then take a nap. “I can’t.” Zelda closed her eyes, looking frustrated. “There’s no where in the castle I can go that someone won’t find me with some sort of emergency. I feel like all I’m doing is putting out fires.”

Link pulled out a bomb and offered it to her. She stared at it for a moment, which he was starting to think was the default reaction to being offered a bomb. Although it wasn’t like he offered them to just anyone, but Sidon always looked so surprised and confused by the bombs.

Zelda looked like she was contemplating using it.

“No.” She shook her head, pushing the bomb away. “Thank you, but no. That’d just undo all the hard work we just finished constructing.” Which was a pretty good point. With a shrug, he put it away again. A thought hit, and he looked her up and down, silently measuring her with his eyes, a smirk growing.

“Link.” Zelda crossed her arms, turning her body away, looking uncomfortable ‘We’re almost the same height and size.’ Link grinned at her. He was a little broader in the shoulder, she a bit broader in the hip, but still about the same proportions. Well, given his lack of height.

“And?” Link bounced a little on the balls of his feet, feeling pleased with himself. ‘That means you should fit my clothes.’ He explained. ‘And I should fit yours.’ She stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape. “There’s no way it’d work. I mean, you don’t talk, that’s easy for me to mimic, but the ruse would be over as soon as you opened your mouth.”

That was easy enough too. He held up a finger, silently motioning for patience, then rubbed his nose vigorously, until it was red, then coughed a couple of times. “I’m sick.” He rasped, trying to pitch his voice slightly higher. “I need to stay in bed.”

Then he fluttered his eyelashes at her and grinned.

Zelda gaped at him. “No.” She said, then immediately wavered. “I mean. No. It couldn’t possibly work.” He shrugged. ‘I need to finish carving some scales, I could do that while you go on a ride, get some fresh air. Wear the champion tunic, everything'll run as soon as they see you coming.’

Link could see her visibly waver. “Oh.” She glared at him, stamping her foot in irritation. “This is a horrible idea. Give me your tunic.” Link grinned and tapped the Sheikah Slate, switching clothing until he was wearing the Champion’s Tunic, pulling it off over his head and tossed it to her. Zelda wrinkled her nose, holding it away from her face. “When was the last time you washed this?” He gave her a puzzled look back. He never washed any of his clothes, any rips, tears, burns, or other assorted damage were gone whenever he dismissed them and put them back on. “Nevermind.” She shook her head, pulling the tunic on. It was a little big on her in the shoulders, but nothing too obvious. He pulled off his pants and handed them to her as well, before wandering over to her wardrobe and sorting through it before finding a long nightgown, pulling that over his head. This method of getting dressed was such a hassle, it was so much easier to get dressed via the Sheikah Slate. Less fabric to get tangled up in. “You’re hopeless.” Zelda informed him sounding amused and fond as he felt hands tug the fabric down over him. He gestured his thanks, smiling a bit to see her in his clothing. It was kind of strange, seeing her dressed like this. He reached up, undoing the pins in her hair, fingers quickly undoing the braids and messing up her sleek smooth strands. He could never get his hair nearly as soft and nice. The thought of if Sidon liked his hair, so different than the Zora’s scaled flickered through his mind, then he dismissed it. He was pretty sure that Sidon liked him, scales or no scales. Pretty sure. “Gah.” Zelda batted his hands away, stepping backwards out of reach before moving towards her vanity, checking her hair in the mirror. She made a face at seeing it so disordered, then grabbed a tie, pulling it back in a messy pony tail, then teasing the hair out on the sides of her face a bit. “What do you think?” She asked, looking up at him. Link walked over so they could see each other in the mirror. They looked disturbingly alike. They could almost be siblings, possibly even twins. He nodded, and she echoed the movement. “Okay.” She agreed. “This’ll work.” He gave her a thumbs up. +++ A knock on the door interrupted Link’s concentration and he growled in annoyance. He stood up, detouring long enough to grab a blanket from Zelda’s bed and tossed it over his head, wrapping it around himself like a cocoon before opening the door. “What?” He snapped, his voice low and rough. “n-Never mind.” Councillor Tyrol scurried off. Link huffed, shutting the door with a slam and went back to making smaller scales out of larger scales for armour. +++ “Got any clothing in red?” Bazz inquired, idly twirling his trident in one hand. It immediately put Link on edge, because there was something a little too casual sounding to the warrior’s tone.

‘No.’ Link signed, confused. Almost all of his clothing was blue, unless he took the time to dye it. ‘Why?’ “Could you get some?” Bazz asked. Link shrugged. He didn’t have any at hand, but it’d be easy enough to swing by the Hateno Village and talk to Sayge at the Kochi Dye Shop. He could spare five rupees for payment, and a few extra apples or spicy peppers he could use for red dye. ‘Yeah. Why?’

“The next time you come to see the Prince, you should wear something red.”

This was starting to sound really suspicious. ‘Anything specific I should wear?’

“Doesn’t matter. Just something bright red.” Bazz shook his head. “As a favour to me?” He asked, attempting to look as sweet and innocent as a kitten. It didn’t quite work.

Link did kind of owe Bazz for his help in making the armour, making sure it’d fit the prince and keeping it a secret from Sidon. “Okay.” He agreed. It was easy enough.

“Thanks.” Bazz gave him a bright grin, full of razor sharp teeth and Link wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.

++++

“Link! My Dear!” Link had just enough warning to brace himself before he was picked up and pressed against Sidon’s ginormous chest. “It is such a pleasure to see you!”

“Sidon!” Link wrapped his arms around Sidon, pressing as close as he could. Sidon smelled like he usually did, water and musk, something always made Link relax.

It meant safety, comfort, and laughter.

He kissed the nearest part of Sidon he could reach, his jaw just below the fin that framed his face and felt a small shiver run down Sidon’s frame.

Sidon eased his grip slightly, pulling back so he could look Link over. “It’s so good to see you healthy. No new scars?”

Link smiled and shook his head. Sidon beamed in delight, taking Link’s hand and kissing the palm. “I’m glad.”

Seriously, Sidon was the only person who worried if Link could take care of himself. Well, maybe other than Zelda, but she was more likely to laugh at him for it.

“Is this new?” Sidon asked, peering at Link’s shirt. It was just a basic tunic, but he’d dyed it the bright red of fresh chillies, as Bazz had requested.

Link shrugged. Honestly, he couldn’t remember where he’d picked the shirt up from.

“I like it!” Sidon beamed at him, and Link wondered how he could contain such joy in his face. “We match!”

… They did. He looked at the shirt against Sidon’s scales and realised that they did, the dye almost the same colour as Sidon. Anyone seeing them together would probably assume they were a matched set.

He didn’t know whether to be grateful or to strangle Bazz for his meddling, when Sidon barely set him down for the remainder of the day, almost always keeping in contact with Link. He also made a note to wear more red, if this was Sidon’s reaction.

-fin- -And that’s all folks.

#legend of zelda #prince sidon #link #sidlink #breath of the wild #botw

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spectrerie · 1 year

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Would you let me go? Even if I asked you to

Simon Ghost Riley x Fem!Reader.

Requested by my awesome mutual @lululandd

Part One. ~ 3k words.

Simon meets a young woman on a night out with the 141 ft. Los Vaqueros. He's drawn to protect her and when she needs him, he makes a promise he's not sure he can keep. With one war over another begins, and his task: Protecting you, no matter what it takes.

POV alternates between Ghost and the Reader.

this is a stalker fic where Ghost watches over the reader and discovers that he's not the only one doing so. Eliminate the hostiles and fulfil his mission. Easy. Right?

TW: Stalking, kidnapping, murder, extreme depictions of violence, swearing and foul language, threats, minor character death. Possessive!Simon, Toxic!Simon

Additional parts to come, with additional warnings. This is just a general TW for the whole fic

“I swear lads, I swear I thought I was gonna die of laughter if he didn’t kill me first!” Drinks sloshed and laughter rang out around them as Gaz recounted some sage, albeit dodgy, advice Price had given him.

A night out with the 141 and two of the friends they’d made along the way was long overdue. The weeks of blood, sweat, and smoke had taken its toll on them. Killing came with a a cost, and they paid it gladly. For their countries, for the world. For themselves.

Life in battle was easy, everything came down to friend or foe. Friends were hard to make, and the latter easy to dispose of. Usually. Killing could be easy, if they let it be. If that made them bad people so be it, they’d be bad to keep the balance. But not tonight.

Tonight donned in their civvies they occupied a corner booth of a hole in the wall pub, a town away from the barracks. It was their last night all together, one of their first nights all safe. Before the Cowboys went back home to fight another day. Before Soap went back to Scotland to see the country he missed dearly. And before Ghost and Gaz went back to their corners of England. Before Ghost crawled back to the barracks, to the only life he knew how to live.

“Ah, will ye fuck off, ‘e didnae say that! ‘ E’s been up te his oxters in work.” Soap barked out as he clutched his sides. The group waited with baited breath, stifling peals of laughter as they waited for Ghost’s response.

“Christ, Johnny. In English?” The stoic blonde said from across the table.

“Eh? D’ye no ken what I’m sayin’ L.t? That was bloody English.” Soap whined back as he closed his bleary eyes. The first of the laughs began to eek out. When he opened them the blonde Lieutenant was staring back at him with his dark eyes. “Gaun'ae no dae that? That was bloody English! Fine. ’Oh emm gee, he did not say that. He has like totally been up to his armpits with work!’ THERE!” Johnny shouted back in a mock American accent.

The group fell about themselves with laughter as Simon shook his head slowly.

They needed this. This release. There’d been other nights for tears, for recalling the horrors they’d seen over the months, but not tonight. Tonight was only for good things. For accents coming out too thick, for drinking too much knowing you were in safe company, for friendship.

Ghost stood and pulled his dark cap lower, casting a shadow over his face. “Same orders, yeah?” He asked the group and he walked out of the booth. He had to good sense to leave the mask at home. Or so they thought. He had it folded in the inner pocket of his jacket, his armour against the world.

“I’ll have a Dom Perignon if you’re buying, whole bottle please.” Called out Gaz as Alejandro poured him another shot of earthy Tequila.

Ghost shook his head and huffed out a low laugh, chasing tequila with pints. They were clever chaps, weren’t they?

As he made his way across the bar, the din of dozens of conversations hushed as he walked by, the packed room parting in his wake. He cut an intimidating figure. Six foot two, almost six four in this heavy dark boots. A myriad of faded scars dusting his jaw and hands, the only part of him easily visible. The brightest thing about him was his blonde hair, neatly tucked away from prying eyes. He didn’t need the mask tonight. His crew knew his face, and no one in the pub could bring themselves to look at it, averting their eyes sheepishly as he moved by them. At most people glance up at the top of his head in awe, surveying the space he took up with his sheer bulk and height. He didn’t need to be Ghost. Not here.

He placed a hand on the bar and slid in, eliciting no complaints from the other patrons. What could they have said? Move? That’d be the day.

— — —

“So you’re not going crack a smile, baby? I thought that was a pretty good one.” The drunken lout beside you laughed in your face, the smell of hops, stale cigarettes and chips blowing at you.

“Ha. Ha.” You said dryly. Turning your attention to the bartender trying to get drinks for you and your ever-late friend. You felt an overly warm, sticky hand slide around your waist, tugging you back towards him. “Alright then, you tell me a joke, if I’m no good at ‘em.”

“I’d rather not, sorry.” You said with a terse smile, eyes drifting back to the bartender hoping to catch his eye.

“Okay, okay, let’s play a new game if you don’t like jokes. If I guess your name you buy me a pint, but if you tell me now I’ll buy you one.” He winked at you, or rather he tried to.

“How about I tell you and you go away?” You asked, before barking out your name and turning away, though his grip on you tightened.

“Oi, mate. Two Coronas, three lagers. Whatever’s easy, yeah?”

A low voice beside you called out to the bartender you’d been playing a one sided game of cat and mouse with.

“Is Carling alright?” The bartender’s attention went straight to the owner of the voice beside you, as did yours. You were about to tell him you’d been here first, as you looked up and you were met not with a face, but the middle of a wide set of shoulders. Was this a man or a mountain?

“Excuse m-“ craning your neck up you caught a glimpse of a face and your protests died on your lips. The giant was handsome. In a rugged, cold sort of way, but handsome nonetheless. He cast a glance in your direction that turned cold quickly. All the heat of your body pooled at the bottom of your stomach, you didn’t even notice the arm around your waist had dropped immediately.

“Hmm?” He grumbled in way of a prompt.

“Uhh, I was— I was just going to say I’ve been waiting.”

“I don’t know you.” He said curtly. A normal person would ask ‘do I know you?’, or rather a normal person would understand basic bar etiquette. Though it seemed this man had no need for niceties.

“Well no, I was waiting to order my drinks. Didn’t anyone teach you any manners?” You said, letting go of your decorum. Two could play at this game. You’d had enough of men thinking they could have whatever they wanted.

“What?” He said, turning away from the bartender. Your bravado dissipated as quickly as you’d found it. You felt your eyes grow round in shock and a heat creep up your neck to your face.

“I just-“ your sentence was cut off by a low laugh from him as he said “What, as in what were you going to order?”

“Ah… just two ciders, sorry.” Fuck. Where had all your confidence gone, he wasn’t going to hit you for teaching him manners.

His gaze grew cold again, well maybe he was.

“You let your girl do all the talking, do you?” He said, seemingly to the man who’d been pestering you for the better part of your evening thus far.

“I’m not his anything.” You said before the man behind you had a chance to speak.

The handsome one turned away from you again, “And two ciders, cheers.” He said to the bartender. When the man behind the bar asked what sort he angled himself back to you again, you sheepishly pointed to the tap of your choosing and said your thanks quietly.

You heard your name from the pest behind you and ignored it, watching the bartender pull your pints along with those of the only person at the bar you had any interest in.

“Fine then, be a bitch.” The man huffed and walked away, you only knew because your new companion’s eyes watched him closely as he left. Tracking him through the crowd. Something about him made your skin tingle. Made the hairs on your body stand. There was an edge to him that scared you.

“Sorry about him” you said at the same time, eliciting a laugh from you both.

“So, you planning on neckin’ two pints or are you waiting on someone?” He asked as he slid his card over to the barman.

“Oh, no you don’t have to pay for these. Please, let me ge-“

“Think of them as payment, for tonight's lesson. Anyway, are you alone?”

“Oh, I’m just waiting on a friend.” You shook you head, confused. “Wait. What lesson?”

He laughed, tucking his card back into his pocket, arranging his three pint glasses into a triangle, then balancing the two bottles on their rims. He’d never be able to carry these back to his table, at least not without spilling half their contents.

“In manners,” he said with a wink before grasping the drinks in his big hands and slipping back into the flow of the crowd, disappearing like a ghost.

— — —

“Bloody took you long enough, L.t” Gaz crowed, clearly they’d need less pints and a few glasses of water to offset all the tequila they’d drunk in Simon’s absence.

“Did you go to brew la cheve, Ghost?” Rudy chimed in, emboldened by the alcohol.

Ghost huffed and set the full drinks down deftly. “Shut up and drink.” He didn’t have to tell them twice.

The conversation and alcohol flowed easily as the boys cleansed themselves of the stresses of war. Minutes rolled into hours and their raucous laughs drew a few sidelong glances to their table, they couldn’t care less.

“Right,” Garrick said as he stood, clapping his hands together and rubbing them mischievously. “I’d murder a kebab right now. Have you lads had kebabs before?” He asked their Mexican companions. Soap stood and stretched, the promise of a trip to the chippers rousing him from his stupor. “Not a kebab on a stick, like… with lamb and cabbage and sauce, y’know. A kebab.” he chimed in, clapping Gaz on the back for his enlightened suggestion. Alejandro and Rudy shook their heads with a laugh, “teach us the British way, amigos. Where do we get this ‘kebab’?” Rudy asked as he and the other two men stood from the table.

The pros and cons of a kebab after a night out were being discussed as though life’s meaning could be deciphered after one drunken bite. As Soap and Gaz evangelised a groggy ‘no!’ caught Simon’s attention. The quiet pleads were mixed with a name that was new, yet familiar.

“One second, lads,” he said as he moved ahead of the group, instinctively making his way towards the source of the disquieting feeling growing in his chest. Something was wrong, very very wrong.

“No, I don’t— I want to go. I don’t— I’m too tired. I want—no,” the girl from the bar was pulling against the grip of the man who’d ran with his tail between his legs at the first sign of confrontation. Simon didn’t have to listen to the young woman’s garbled sentences to know this shouldn’t be happening. She didn’t know him. She didn’t trust him. Neither did he. The would be assailant kept muttering her name and steering her towards the door as she shook her head and kept glancing behind her.

“Oi. Is there a problem, mate?” Simon asked, as his friends caught up with him. The man blanched as he looked up at Simon, growing quiet as the girl's protests got louder, drawing the attention of the few patrons left in the pub.

“She’s wasted, I’m just trying to get her home,” a shaky laugh punctuated the lie.

“I’m sure. But she doesn’t know you.” Simon pushed the mans shoulder, sending him two steps back and giving the girl the chance to shake him off.

“She… her friend knows me, he told me to get her home. Right? David,” he reached out to the girl in an attempt to get her attention. The look in Simon’s eyes told him that wasn’t a smart move. “Hey, tell them that David told me to-” before the sentence could end Soap spoke up, putting himself between Simon and the man, as Simon stepped closer. Whether this David existed or not didn’t matter, the Lieutenant was ready to separate the man’s lying head from his body. A scene was ill advised, especially if the police ended up getting involved.

“Alright,” Soap said, he reigned in his brogue as best he could, “let’s not put words in anyone’s mouth.” He began trying to deescalate the situation, much to Simon’s irritation. The girl looked up at him and he watched as she took in his face and something dawned on her.

“Ah, manners,” she said, mumbling to herself as she drew nearer to him. Simon couldn’t help but soften at that, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her protectively. She’s been full of fire at the bar, a small part of him felt more sad than angry at the situation she found herself in. Maybe he should have stayed with her, at least until her friend came.

“Yeah, that’s me. Can you tell me your friends name, or what they look like? Maybe we can find-”

“The ghost with manners” she said weakly as she pressed her head against his chest, body going slack, knees buckling beneath her. Simon’s arms reached around her, his grip like a vice pressing her closer to him. The Ghost.

Ghost. How could she know that name?

He clung to her weak frame like a raft on a rocky sea. His fingers digging into the soft flesh of her as they both spiralled.

— — —

Weak pleads and careful promises swirled behind you, you couldn't hear them. Not really. Every fibre of your being was fixed on the man holding you up. The ghost from the bar with the big hands and scary eyes. But he wasn’t scary now, not anymore. Not to you.

“Hey,” his deep voice rang out above the world around you, though he spoke to you gently. A whisper that contained the roar of a distant sea. Who? Who was he?

“Simon, my name’s Simon.”

Shit. Had you said that out loud? Why couldn’t you tell? Why couldn’t you stand? You tried to take a shaky step back, to get free. To get a better look at this ‘Simon’, but your legs wouldn’t work, the muscles felt heavy and useless. How were you still standing, why couldn’t you remember how you’d gotten here?

You and David had been drinking, laughing. He’d gone to the bathroom. Said he’s meet you at the door and you’d get a taxi home together. Then the room began to slip away. A tide pulled you to the door. Sticky hands, a shake voice, and your name over and over again as you were pulled away. You’d wanted to fight but your body wouldn’t let you. You wanted to scream but your voice wouldn’t work right, your words didn’t fit together. The last few minutes became a puzzle somehow, and it terrified you.

Then Simon.

Like some vengeful angel, he appeared from nowhere. Pulling you close, holding you up though you felt as heavy as a star.

“Please, Simon… Simon,” you muttered, not sure whether he could hear you or if you were speaking in your mind again. Though a part of you felt like he could hear everything in there too.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Suddenly you were warm and weightless, drifting through the cold air. Fear beat in your chest, thumping against your ribs like a molten ball. You were going to die. You were certain. Your stomach rolled at the realisation.

“You’re not going to die, pet. You’re just a bit poorly now. But I’ve got you.”

His voice was closer now, warm lips pressed against your ear as he spoke into your mind. You wanted to believe him, so badly. You wanted to believe it was true.

“It is. I won’t let you die. I swear.”

“Don’t you let— don’t let me down. Are you gonna drop me?” please don't, Simon. Please.

“No, never.”

Simon.

Your ghostly Simon. The word shone bright in your foggy mind. “Never— don't hurt me.”

Something deep in you told you he couldn't.

— — —

The nurse at the desk was asking all the wrong questions. Simon could guess the answers she wanted, he could form a loose timeline in his mind. A version of events that made sense. But one thing was certain, he’d have to embellish the truth to get the right result. Civilian life was easier in someways, harder in others.

He gave her a name, gave an approximation of an age but he wouldn’t be allowed to stay with you unless he started filling in the blank spaces. He’d made a promise to you, and he’d keep it.

“I need a surname for the intake form, sir. Do you actually know this young lady?”

He sighed. He wasn’t the villain here. He knew how it looked, five men bringing a clearly intoxicated girl into the ER was dodgy. But he wasn’t the villain.

“Yeah, I already said that. Look, she needs help, and I have to stay with her, she’ll be looking for me when she wakes up.”

“I understand that sir, but only family are allowed to stay with patients overnight. And you still haven’t given me her—“

Surname and relationship to him. Yeah, because he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had to be here, all night if it took that long. He had to be there when you woke up, so he could fulfil his promise. So you'd know you were safe.

“Riley. It’s Riley.”

“And you’re family?”

Was he?

“Yes, of course.”

Now he was.

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