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cordeliawhohung · 1 year

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The Emptiness had Always Been There

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader part 3 of "soft spot"

You dig the knife in deep. Simon isn't scared. Why isn't he scared?

Warnings: Alcohol, talk of sex, descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack, a little bit of PTSD, allusions to past dubcon, reader is a little traumatized, Ghost is a natural caretaker.

wc: 6.4k

“Are you sure you should be having another one?”

The half-raised glass of the fruity drink you had ordered at the bar stopped short of your lips at your co-workers question. She stared at you with that question heavy in her eyes as she glanced back and forth between you and your drink.

“Huh?” you asked, setting it down on the table.

“That’s almost your third, maybe fourth one of the hour. You’re gonna get pissed before we even get tipsy,” the other woman at the table teased.

Cheryl and Méabh. They were two of the girls at the bank who you were closest with, and they had both managed to rope you into a night out drinking. Or, at least you were drinking. They were still on the first drinks they had ordered nearly forty minutes ago.

Méabh was a sweet girl with bright eyes. He had only been working at the bank for about a year by that point. She worked there part time in the morning before her afternoon classes at university, but she always baked sweet pastries and made cute cards for everyone on their birthdays. Cheryl was a bit older than you, and gushed about her two children whenever she got the chance. She was as much of a motherly figure as you were going to get while living in London, and the concern in her eyes only reminded you of that fact.

“Yeah, of course. Probably should hold off a bit,” you said with a chuckle.

Truth was, by that point in the evening, you were already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Fruity drinks were the bane of your existence. They tasted too good, yet were full nearly to the brim with alcohol that would knock you on your ass by the end of the night. Every time you looked around, it was as if your head kept moving long after you had told it to stop.

Neither of the women in front of you were very covert in their glance at one another. The concern was practically seeping through their pores by that point, and it didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Cheryl invited you out because she’s worried about you,” Méabh suddenly admitted, eyes landing back on you once more. “She thinks you’ve been more distracted than normal.”

“Jesus Christ, Méabh, you can’t just blurt that out,” Cheryl chastised the girl as if she were her own child.

“Don’t look at me like that. We’ve been here for almost an hour and you haven’t even brought it up yet,” Méabh retorted. “It’s getting late, and I’ve got my tutoring job in the morning.”

Really, you hadn’t expected something like that from Méabh. She was always so reserved, despite her cheerfulness, and though she didn’t sound angry, she was certainly assertive.

“Distracted?” you repeated, your hand reaching out to absentmindedly grab your near empty glass. “As in like, at work, or…?”

Cheryl turned her attention back to you, her gaze softening at the concern in your voice. “Well, not necessarily. It’s just… you’ve been acting like you’ve got something on your mind lately.”

You could feel heat begin to rise to your cheeks, and you weren’t quite sure if it was because of the slight embarrassment or the alcohol. Either way, you lifted the glass off the table and took a quick sip before setting it back down.

“Oh. Well, I guess, maybe a little?” you said, unsure.

Both of the women hummed and nodded their heads in understanding, but their eyes still held something else behind them. More questions they wanted to ask. The silence that stretched between the three of you made you want to down the remainder of your drink.

“How are things with you and Simon?” Méabh asked, her soft smile radiating the corner of the bar you found yourselves in.

Simon. Simon Riley. Over the last few months that the two of you had been together, you learned quite a lot about that man. Earl Grey tea was his favorite, and so painfully stereotypical of him (not that you could blame him, as you fancied yourself a vanilla tea misto on particularly cold days). He would shiver every time you kissed the scar on his cheek. He hated Christmas, but whenever you asked him why he told you he always thought it was tacky (this was a lie, and you knew it, but you refused to push him on it). If he had family, he didn’t talk about them, but would mention small details about the members of the task force he was a part of.

Despite how quiet he could be at times, he was absolutely charming, albeit a bit cocky in a way. He was confident, and showered you with as much love and affection he could offer you whenever he wasn’t off on the other side of the world. On Valentines day, he sent you flowers at work (unsigned, of course, but you knew who they were from), and when you had gotten sick with the flu he provided you with all the medicine you would need (despite the fact you told him not to worry about it).

He was tall, and towered over every other person you ever knew, and he always came back with some sort of wound from his missions. In a way, he should have terrified you. Yet he was so soft with you, so sweet. He nearly shattered someone's jaw only to walk you home afterwards. He was everything you could have ever wanted, and maybe more than what you deserved.

And yet, there was still something in the back of your mind. This terrible, burning feeling that whispered to you day and night. That seed of doubt had been planted in you long ago. Someone had come in and taken their trowel, cutting you straight to the core where they shoved that terrible, decaying feeling deep inside you before patting it over, leaving it to fester.

But you weren’t about to spill that to your co-workers.

“They’re great. Yeah, things are good,” you answered, mustering a tight lipped smile.

“It’s the sex, isn’t it?”

Horrified, Méabh looked at Cheryl with wide eyes and mouth agape. “Bloody hell,” she breathed. “You yell at me for blurting out that we’re concerned about her, but you casually ask if she’s getting shagged?”

“Well, I certainly worded it more tactfully than that.”

Well, now the heat in your face was for sure from embarrassment. Your hand once more grasped around your drink and you shook your head before quickly taking a few large gulps. The sight of it only made Cheryl grin, and she leaned her elbows on the table.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” the woman pushed. “I’ve been on this earth long enough to know that sex can make or break a relationship. So, what is it? Your needs not being met, or what?”

You averted your gaze from them and instead turned your attention to the table. It was made of some sort of faux wood that had deep gashes in it from god knows what. The multicolored lights that were strung up around the ceiling of the bar reflected slightly off of the dull plastic, and they started to blend together in a shade that made your stomach feel queasy.

Maybe you really should have laid off the drinks.

“We haven’t… we haven’t had sex,” you admitted softly, biting the corner of your lip.

“Oh,” Cheryl said, surprised. “How long have the two of you been dating?”

“Since the end of January, so… four? Five months?” you threw out a guess, unable to think straight between the pressure of the conversation and the alcohol rotting your stomach.

The woman nodded her head as she reached up and shoved some of her greying hair behind her ear. “Well, that should be plenty of time. Just nervous or what?”

“God, wouldn’t you be?” Méabh interjected. “You’ve seen the size of that guy. He’d probably break the bed and your goddamn hips with it.”

Cheryl threw the girl a look of warning as your face fell into your hands. A groan huffed from your chest as you heavily rubbed at your eyes.

“God, I don’t wanna think about that,” you slurred.

Leaning over the table, Cheryl gave your shoulder a firm, motherly squeeze while offering a sympathetic smile. “What’s the matter then, darling?”

Your hands fell from your face, and you stared at the table once more as you thought. It felt like that’s all you ever did those days; think. Think and think and think and god, it was getting annoying. Worms infested your brain, whispering terrible lies and sickening worries so much so that their thoughts had replaced your own.

“I just, I don’t know. After everything with Eric I guess I’m maybe a little apprehensive? Or something?” you rambled. “Which is, like, stupid because they're nothing alike. Like, I know Simon looks scary and he’s in the military and he’s quiet but… fuck he’s… he’s so good to me, you guys.”

Eric, your ex, was… less than perfect. It was impossible to expect anyone to be perfect, but between the arguing, and the fighting, and the bruises and the degrading… Even before all that had started, back in the honeymoon phase, back before everything started going wrong, he had always put his needs above your own. It was almost as if the man had never heard of aftercare before in his life at all. Once he was finished, then so were you, and you were left behind to clean up the mess he made of you, and everything else.

But Simon was different. He had to be different. Because in reality, you were terrified of getting that close with someone again. Of being used and tossed aside. And yet you panicked and told yourself that if you didn’t give in soon, maybe he would get bored of you, and you would end up all alone in that big city in your big apartment that you were struggling to afford.

Fuck, were you going to cry?

Once more the rim of the glass cup came to your lips and you took another thick gulp to distract yourself before quickly blinking the moisture out of your eyes. Whatever horror that had been painted onto Méabh’s face was replaced with the same concern Cheryl wore. Even though it felt nice to have someone worry about you, the last thing you wanted was their pity.

“Hey, it’s alright to be anxious,” Méabh assured you. “Eric was a prick. You’ve every right to be worried.”

Cheryl nodded her head in agreement. “But at the same time, don’t let that hold you back if it’s what you want. Keyword, what you want. Take all the time you need, but you can’t let that arsehole control you forever.” She took a moment to pause and look you over, and a small smirk appeared on her face. “Or, just dive headfirst into it. I think you’ve got enough liquid courage coursing through you for that.”

It was a joke, and a poor one at that, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. You laughed a silly, unfiltered laugh and the two women beamed at you. Whatever concern they had for you previously seemed to melt away as they changed the spotlight of the conversation away from you. Cheryl told a story about how her first marriage ended, and though the events weren’t funny, the way she told the story was. Perhaps in an attempt to make you feel better, Méabh indulged in her countless failed relationships with both the men and women she had met while at university.

Eventually, the three of you had stayed there so long the bartender was beginning to grow a little impatient, giving you eyes that screamed for you all to just let him go home already. So you downed the rest of your drink and began to get some cash out of your bag, but as you went to stand up it felt like the floor was moving from underneath you.

“Whoa,” Méabh warned, gently pushing you back into your chair. “Take it easy, babe. I’ll take the cash up for you.”

Huffing, you obliged, and sat back at the table like a child as they helped you pay for the drinks you had indulged in too greatly that night. When they returned, they started to grab their own bags as they fumbled for their car keys.

“Need a ride?” Méabh asked.

You shook your head. “Nah, I walked here.”

Both of them froze, and after sharing glances with one another, Cheryl looked at you and crossed your arms. “You’re taking the piss outta me if you think we’re going to let you walk yourself home. Now you either come with one of us, or you call that boy of yours to come get you.”

A small scoff escaped your lips as you rummaged through your bag in search of your phone. “Boy…” you muttered, pulling your phone out and scrolling until you found Simon’s contact. “Six foot, four inches, and you’re calling him a boy.”

Simon picked up on the third ring. Even after the few months the two of you had been together, you couldn’t get over the sound of his voice. The shitty audio quality of the phone didn’t do him full justice, but just hearing the lilt of his Manchester accent had you nearly falling out of your seat.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard. “Hey, uhm… I went out with a few friends from work and uh… I know it’s late, and I’m sorry but-”

“Need a ride?” he interjected, cutting you off in the middle of your drunken ramble. Not in a rude way, but in a way that was more finishing your thought process. Or maybe he could just tell what you were working up towards asking by the slur of your words.

“Yes,” you said with a breathy laugh. “Yes, please.”

He hummed, dark and low and in a way that the phone hardly picked it up, but it was there. “The one on twenty-first?”

You nodded your head and stayed silent for a short moment. When he hadn’t responded, you blinked a few times to try and clear your mind, trying to remind yourself that you were, afterall, on the phone. “Sorry, yes, yes. Twenty-first.”

“I’ll be right there,” he assured you.

When you two said your goodbyes, you looked up at your co-workers with a toothy grin. Once they were certain you would be alright, you said your goodbyes before they left to go back to their own homes and families and lives. As you sat waiting for Simon, your eyes couldn’t help but wander back to your empty glass.

What had that been? Was it really your fourth? Or had it been your fifth? You couldn’t remember, but it must have been. And you must have drank it quickly too, because even though you had stopped drinking maybe thirty minutes ago, it was as if the backlog of all the liquid you had chugged was finally hitting you. Your stomach was starting to spin as fast as your head was, and you had to take a deep breath to try and steady your frayed nerves.

Or, just dive headfirst into it. I think you’ve got enough liquid courage coursing through you for that.

“Fuck…”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You didn’t have to wait long for Simon to come pick you up, and he practically had to carry you to his car. It wasn’t a secret that he was concerned for your wellbeing, as the moment his eyes landed on you he almost looked a little scared, and so you did your best to ease his nerves by doing the only thing you knew best; talk. So you talked and giggled over everything and nothing the entire drive back to your apartment. You weren’t quite sure if he even responded to half of the things you said, but you weren’t talking to entertain him, anyways.

Things weren’t much different by the time you actually arrived home. Stairs proved to be a challenge for you, and you found your breath being stolen by the way Simon rested his hand on your lower back to keep you steady. He walked a few steps behind you, watching you carefully in case you should fall. By the time you made it to the landing, he had to be the one to put the keys in the lock for you as you kept missing and scraping it along the side of it.

The very moment the door was open, you tossed your bag somewhere on the floor before making a beeline to the couch. If you stayed on your feet any longer, you felt like you really were going to fall over, and you weren’t trying to embarrass yourself that much in front of Simon that night.

“Thanks for the ride,” you sighed as you sunk back into your, frankly, uncomfortably sofa. “Sorry it’s so late.”

“Don’t be,” he said, adjusting the straps of his mask. “I don’t want you to ever hesitate to call me if you need me.”

A soft hum rumbled in your chest as you watched Simon walk further into the living room after ensuring the deadbolt was locked. God, just the sight of him sent your mind spinning, and the alcohol wasn’t helping. His mussed hair, those broad shoulders that could engulf you in a simple squeeze, and that damn tattoo peeking out from underneath the sleeve of his sweater.

You smiled softly as he knelt in front of you, his eyes glancing to your feet. Even with him knelt down he was hardly much shorter than from where you were sitting on the couch.

“Gonna muck up the floors,” he muttered softly.

You watched him as he carefully reached for your shoes where he undid the laces, only struggling a little bit with the double knots. His hand gently grabbed your ankle, lifting your leg up just enough to slide the shoe off before carefully setting it back on the ground. Your heart pounded so violently in your chest you swore you felt it palpitate. How could he be so soft with you?

“It’s fine. I can always clean them,” you said as he set your shoe to the side.

“You’re not going to want to,” he retorted.

Once he started on your second shoe, you found yourself enamored by his face. Or what you could make of it through that mask he always wore. With it nearing summer, he wasn’t wearing the balaclava as much, and opted for the surgical style cloth mask that was a bit more accepted. You liked it more because it showed his hair. But what you really wanted to see was his face. All of it. The slight stubble on his face, the cheeks that you loved to pepper with kisses and caress with your thumbs…

Before you knew it, your finger was hooked underneath the fabric of his mask, which caused him to pause midway through taking your shoe off. Yet he then continued as if nothing happened, and your shoe slid off with ease. When your feet were finally free from the confines of your shoes, and the floor no longer being assaulted by the dirt from outside, Simon looked up at you, his eyes shining as your finger stayed hooked under his mask.

Reading your mind wasn’t difficult, as you were practically asking out loud for it. Simon reached his hands up and in one smooth motion pulled his mask off before setting it on the arm of the couch next to you. A grin broke out on your face as your hand instantly made its home against the flesh of his cheek.

“You’re so handsome,” you said, nearly cooing.

He didn’t break eye contact with you as his hands slowly reached for your shoes, taking them in his hands before he slowly stood up. “I know.”

You huffed as he shot you a playful smirk before walking towards the entryway and placing your shoes against the wall next to his boots. You watched him carefully; how small your shoes looked in his hands, how the fabric of his sweater stretched against his back as he leaned forward, the way his hands rubbed at the back of his neck as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“You’re awfully modest, you know that?” you called out to him in a teasing tone.

Simon let out his own small huff before it was smothered by the sound of running water. “Haven’t been called that in a while,” he mused. Moments later he returned back through the doorway, a cup of water in hand, which he held out to you the moment he was near the couch. “Drink.”

When you reached for the cup the first time, you nearly missed. Giggling your blunder away, you held out both of your hands instead, trying to keep as steady as possible as you then brought the glass to your lips. It was refreshing to have the cool taste of water wash over your tongue rather than the sugary, and somewhat biting taste of alcohol. It didn’t do much to wash away the aftertaste of everything you had drank at the bar, but it was enough.

While you sipped away, Simon slowly lowered himself into the spot next to you on the sofa. It was the usual thing the two of you did whenever you were craving a night in. Slight cuddling on the sofa, watching something on the television, trying not to fall asleep. But this time you couldn’t look away from him. The way he placed his arm along the back of the couch, resting behind your head; the way his shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest; all of it drew you in.

“See something you like?” Simon asked, brow raised slightly as he continued to tease you as usual.

Why did you feel so… queasy? That twisting feeling in your stomach, and that spinning feeling in your head. Vision constantly rotating so fast your body couldn’t keep up. Was it the alcohol? No, alcohol never made your heart lurch like that. Never made it beat so fast that it felt like it was going to tear itself to shreds. Was it Simon?

Just dive headfirst into it.

You took your eyes off of Simon long enough to set your cup on the side table next to you, and then in an instant you were swinging your leg over to straddle his hips. He looked up at you with his mouth slightly parted in surprise as he watched you settle yourself onto his lap. Instinctively his hands came to rest on your waist, helping to steady your slight swaying as you put your arms on his shoulders.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low as his eyes scanned your face.

Something in his eyes softened as he looked at you. Whatever playfulness or cockiness that had been there before melted away as his grip on you became more firm. His eyes were beautiful, and honestly, they were probably your favorite thing about him. Sometimes, when the sunlight hit them just right, the dark brown color would brighten to that of sweet honey. In a way, it was ironic that a man of his nature could hold so much softness to him. But you found you also liked it when the color of his eyes were dark. So dark that they looked endless, as if his irises were some void inviting you in.

But everything started to fall apart after that. You could feel it in your trembling legs and the pressure building behind your eyes. Everything was too fuzzy. Too bright. Too soft. Too loud. God, it was loud. Deafening. It was too much. Too everything. It was everything all at once. Except for Simon. He was beautiful. So beautiful, so soft, so careful.

How you wanted to fall into him. To fall and fall and let his arms catch you. To hold you. To pin you. Pin you and pin you. Feel his teeth graze against you and take. And take and take and take. Would it… hurt? Did you want it to hurt? Did you like it when it did? Like it did when you were with him? Him? With Eric? Face into the mattress, palm of his hand pushing you down. He was always so greedy. And greedy and greedy and greedy.

You can’t let that arsehole control you forever.

In a last ditch attempt to get your nerves under control, you gripped the collar of his shirt with both of your hands before descending on him with your eyes shut tight. Flesh collided with your lips but it felt empty. It felt cold. It wasn’t like the kisses Simon normally gave you. It was wrong.

When you opened your eyes, you found that you hadn’t even made it halfway to Simon’s lips before something stopped you. His hand. It pressed firmly against your mouth, holding you back away from him. He wasn’t pushing you away, he had only created a barrier. A line. And he wasn’t going to let you cross it.

“You’re drunk,” he said. It sounded so funny to hear him say it. Like it wasn’t obvious. But that’s not what he meant when he said it, and you knew it. It was an answer. It was him saying no.

His hand lingered on your mouth for a moment and he didn’t pull it away until you nodded your head. A part of you felt ashamed. No, all of you felt ashamed. What were you thinking? Had you even been thinking at all? Was he going to see you as some idiot? Some stupid girl?

You fucking minx.

“Sorry,” you stuttered out, your voice trembling. “I, uhm… I didn’t mean…”

Simon hushed you. Not to interrupt you (as there wasn’t much to interrupt to begin with,) but to soothe you. It wasn’t until he did this that you felt the moisture starting to stain your cheeks, and his hand returned to your face once more to wipe at the tears there.

“Come here,” he urged as his hand slowly pulled you closer.

Before you knew it you were against his chest where his hand held the back of your head, keeping you firmly tucked underneath his chin. While his hand rubbed soothing circles into your scalp, his other arm stayed wrapped firmly around your waist, making you feel secure against him despite the fact that everything still felt like it was rotating and trying to drag you along with it.

You didn’t want to cry, but you did. An embarrassing amount, at that. It was mostly silent with sniffles here and there as the proof of your sorrow soaked into the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t say anything, and you were honestly glad he didn’t. You didn’t need to be questioned at that moment, or talked through anything. All you needed was the firm reminder that you were there with him.

Once your sniffling and hiccuping stopped, Simon’s hands slowly began to move down your body. His touch ran down your spine in smooth, solid motions, and you felt your body begin to go limp. The drowsiness of the alcohol began to shut down your nerves in a rolling blackout, and eventually it felt like every part of you was fried.

Never had you felt so empty before. No, the emptiness had always been there, looming in the dark chasm of your chest. You had just filled it with so much junk, so much nonsense so that for some fleeting moment you could forget about the gaping hole left where your stomach was supposed to be. But Simon had torn out that unnecessary waste and stared straight into that emptiness inside of you.

For some reason, he didn’t seem scared.

Why wasn’t he scared?

And so the two of you stayed like that with your legs still straddling his hips but the side of your face pressed against his newly damp shirt. Eventually the movement of his hands stopped and he just held you, still not saying anything. There was nothing but you, him, and the silence. Of course there was still the festering wound in your stomach, eating you alive from the inside out, but for that moment, that short, fleeting moment, you pretended that it wasn’t there.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

When the morning sun hit your face, you thought it wasn’t real. It was warm, and felt like liquid gold against your eyelids, just like in the way poets always described it. However, all its softness and grace did nothing to wash away the terrible ache that smothered your body. Your head was the apex of the pain, but it quickly radiated in waves down your neck, your spine, seeping into the very fiber of your bones.

For a moment you laid there, head on the pillow, splayed on your back, staring up at the ceiling. The window was open, which was strange because you didn’t remember opening it before bed. In fact, you didn’t remember going to bed at all. Birds chirped in some tree, and you could make out the vague sounds of people shuffling about, enjoying their weekend.

Then there was the rustling of paper bags. Brows furrowing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, trying to restrain the groan threatening to leave your throat at the movement. The door to your room was closed, muffling the sound coming from your kitchen, but it was still distinct nonetheless.

In several slow and painful movements, you slid out of bed where your feet landed on the wooden floor. You were still wearing socks for some reason, which you found odd. In fact, you were still wearing every bit of clothing that you had worn the previous day. They felt heavy with sweat and with every emotion you drowned in.

You turned your attention back towards your bedroom door where you carefully walked to it. The rustling of the paper bags grew louder once you opened it, and you quietly trudged down the hallway until you reached the kitchen.

Simon stood in front of your fridge, bent over slightly as he shoved items into the shelving on the side of the door. Several bags were sprawled out on your counter where some grocery items laid between them like some odd mosaic. It didn’t take long for Simon to realize you were standing in the doorway, and he turned to you for a moment, mask obscuring his face.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he went straight back to putting away those groceries.

“Not great but… better than last night,” you admitted.

Your attention turned back to the groceries, confused. You certainly didn’t buy them, as the gods knew you couldn’t afford that much food.

“Did… did you buy these yourself?” you questioned.

Without turning to you, Simon opened up your breadbox where he quickly shoved a loaf of wheat bread inside. “Went to try and make breakfast for you, but when I was going through your pantry I realized there was fuck all for ingredients,” he answered nonchalantly.

A pit formed in your stomach at that realization. He really did go out and buy you food. With his own money. Not only had you made a fool of yourself that previous night, but now he had gone and filled up your pantry for you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled as your feet finally carried you fully into the room.

Without wasting time, you started to rummage through the bags, pulling out items and searching for a new home for them. But you didn’t make it very far before Simon hummed and grabbed the item from your hands.

“Nuh uh,” he said softly as he placed the item back down. He then motioned towards a small bag on the edge of the counter. A cute emblem of some sort of pastry was printed on the front of the bag. “Don’t worry about this. I need you to eat.”

Arguing with him was useless, and you knew it, so you did as he asked. You grabbed the bag and moved towards the stove where you leaned against the side of it as you dug into the bag. A still warm strawberry danish laid inside, and you wasted little time biting into it while Simon continued to work.

It felt… oddly domestic. As if the two of you had done this a million times before. But there was some sort of stench in the air. A tension that threatened to drown you, and you knew exactly what was causing it.

Swallowing the bite of pastry you took, you softly prompted the conversation; “I’m sorry about last night.”

Completely unphased by your words, Simon continued to work, having nearly finished finding a place for everything in your once empty cupboards. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

What a lie. There was so much to be sorry about, so much you felt sorry for. Or if not sorry, then at least ashamed about. Even your nights worth of sleep couldn’t get rid of that taste in your mouth.

“Did you go home?” you questioned.

He shook his head. “Camped out on your sofa after putting you to bed. Thought it would be best that you weren’t alone.”

While the image of Simon trying to scrunch himself into a comfortable position on your tiny, two seater sofa would have made you laugh any other day, you found yourself another reason to feel guilty again. His neck probably ached from it, and you knew he couldn’t have gotten decent sleep because of it.

“Why did you stop me?” you then asked.

The last bag of groceries had been put away, and Simon stopped his pacing around the kitchen to lean against the counter on the other side of the room from you. His hands rested flat against the surface of the counter, torso leaning forward some so that his head would hit the cabinet behind his head.

“You were drunk,” he said simply.

He wasn’t wrong, but then again, it never exactly stopped others before him. But he wasn’t like them. Like him. A part of you felt guilty for even expecting something like that from him. No, you hadn’t been expecting it; it’s just what you had gotten used to.

“Don’t… don’t you want to have sex with me?” you then asked softly.

Simon’s expression changed only a little, but it spoke volumes. His eyes softened while the muscles in his arms tensed. He continued to look at you for a moment, the silence enveloping the both of you, before he reached up and pulled his mask off of his face, tossing it onto the counter.

It wasn’t until he started walking up to you that you realized just how tense your body had become, too. The poor pastry in your hands had almost crumbled into dust by the time he stopped in front of you. You had never seen him so serious before. But he wasn’t angry, or upset, just sincere. And maybe a little sad.

“If we ever have sex, it’s not going to be like that,” he said, speaking it as if it was a fact. “Not with you drunk. Not with you looking at me like that.”

A lump formed in your throat, and when you tried to swallow it you almost choked. “Like what?” you pressed, forcing yourself to hear his answer.

“Like you’re terrified.”

God, if you didn’t feel gutted before, you definitely did then, and you couldn’t look at him any longer. In an excuse to look away, you turned slightly and set your half-eaten pastry back in the wax paper it had come out of. Was this the part where you bared yourself? Stripped yourself down so he could count up all the scars? Ripped off your skin just to show him how deep they went?

“I’m sorry.” The words came sputtering out of your mouth like a rusty faucet. Overused. Well known. Repeated too often. “I don’t know what came over me, or why I was trying to… I don’t know…”

Simon shook his head and a hand came up to brush against your arm. Once your eyes met his, he shook his head again as his eyes carefully scanned your face.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said while his thumb carefully traced the side of your bicep. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”

How did you end up there? In the kitchen, leaning against the stove, fresh bags of groceries put away by a man who wasn’t mumbling about the annoyance of it? What did you do to find yourself standing so close to the person you loved and not be terrified at the same time? It was new, and it felt nice. So nice, and so scary at the same time.

Your arms made their home around his torso, and Simon was quick to return the gesture. He pulled you into him, trying to take the weight of it all off of you. You breathed in the scent of him and realized he was beginning to smell like home. The place where you ran to when everything else was too loud. You could be petrified in his arms for all of eternity and be perfectly satisfied.

“Thank you,” you choked out.

As he held you in that kitchen, the one with the freshly stocked cupboards, the one that stood just next to the entryway with the freshly patched hole in the wall, you kept replaying his words. They echoed over and over in your head.

If we ever have sex, it’s not going to be like that.

If we ever have sex. If. It was a promise to be different, but not a promise that it would ever happen at all. There was no pressure, no ulterior motives, it just was.

For the first time in your life, you found comfort in the uncertainty of it all.

#fanfiction #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 x you #mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #mw2 fanfic

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twstgarden · 7 months

Text

✿ ❝ 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗸𝗶𝗱 ❞

━ riddle rosehearts x gifted kid burnout! fem! reader ━ being a gifted child is not always deemed as a blessing, and riddle knows the feeling all too well. (f/n means first name)

requested by: @tangybiskit1 request type: oneshot requester’s message: Reader is like the perfect student.(not prefect) She gets full marks, optimistic, kind and charming to the point where even Riddle thinks his mother would like her. But after befriending her for a few weeks he decides to visit reader and her room is a mess, filled with books, scattered papers. It reminds Riddle of himself and you know how that turned out... So he tries to comfort her saying that she is good enough,(ending can be how you want) sorry if it's badly worded😭😭 this is my first time making a request.. florist’s note: oh wow, this hits close to home <3 anyway, thank you for the request, little one! ♥

this work contains spoilers from chapter 1, heartslabyul's arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

ko-fi here if you want to support me, commission are open

perfect. that was how people described you. a sweet, young lady with a bright smile and a bright mind. a lot of the students in night raven college liked you for your charming personality, and there was barely any student that had a bad experience with you.

perfect. you were the epitome of perfect. a beautiful young lady with a sweet smile, a charming personality, and a bright mind. who would not want to befriend you? some students even talked about you to their peers and their parents. now, it wasn’t always painted in a good light. some have been jealous of you, and some wished you did not exist at all. it makes them look bad, you know?

of course, riddle was one of those people. he greatly admired you for your dedication and hard work, and he takes great pride in having you as a heartslabyul resident. you were the perfect, ideal example of what heartslabyul students should be. you followed all the rules to a t, memorized every one of them, and never questioned or disobeyed the rules that may seem too extreme or ridiculous.

“ah, f/n,” spoke riddle as soon as he saw you in the library, a smile ghosting over his lips. his voice reached your ears as you looked up from your book and smiled at him, “oh… hello, dormitory leader rosehearts!”

that sweet smile.

riddle did not realise his cheeks were tinted pink as he remained smiling at you. he then walked away, not knowing what else to say or how to keep the conversation going. oh, how he wished he could befriend you. he was stuck in this student-to-student relationship with you, and he did not know how to deepen it.

it was going well, at least, that’s what he thought. he made sure he could interact with you at least once a day, to get the both of you used to each other’s presence. he also decided to join you at your table during lunch, eating with you without the need for a conversation. it did not take long until your relationship went deeper than the shallow interactions.

“by the way, riddle… why is your favourite food strawberry tarts?” you asked as you nibbled on a tart that he shared with you. as riddle took a bite of his own, he replied, “it’s sweet and rich with flavours. i rarely ever get to taste it when i was younger, but the one time i did felt like heaven was in my mouth…”

there was a small smile on your face as you listened to riddle. you knew what his household was like. you were there during the overblot incident, after all. “i mean, my mother did get angry at me for eating that… she told me it was too sugary and it’s poisonous for my health…”

unconsciously, your hand went up to his cheek as you caressed it for comfort. riddle also froze as soon as he felt the affection before glancing at you. you realised what you had done and quickly retracted your hand with a blush, “ah— sorry, sorry. i thought you needed some comfort.”

with you around, riddle always felt like he could continue to hold on and move forward. seeing your bright smile energizes him for the day, and seeing your name at the top of the achiever's list always brings a sense of pride from within.

“congratulations, f/n,” spoke riddle as soon as he saw you standing by the bulletin board. you had a blank expression on your face before smiling as soon as you heard his voice, “oh, thanks! congratulations to you, too.”

‘why do you look sad?’, thought riddle to himself as he noticed your blank expression before acknowledging him. were you not happy with what you got? but you received a 499 out of 500, surely, it’s worth a smile or two, no?

he decided to brush it off a little since you had already walked away, but it was in the back of his mind for a few days now. why did you seem bothered? he knew the importance of getting a perfect score, his mother reiterated that several times.

he did not speak much of it, but he did notice you getting a little distant, even if you are physically beside him. your mind seemed to be in another place every time he tried to discuss something with you. it was clear that something was wrong.

but he did not know how to approach the problem.

riddle tried accompanying you during study sessions, gifting you treats, sharing his tarts with you over lunch, doing mind exercises with you, and many other things. however, they only seemed to fix the problem temporarily.

exam season was around the corner once more, and everyone has been busying themselves with studying. riddle had spent his time studying, but of course, he did not neglect his duties as the dormitory head. as soon as the clock struck 3 in the afternoon, it was time for his patrol around the dorm. he had to make sure all his residents were disciplined and studying.

with one room into the next, he discovered all of them busying themselves with reading and discussing certain sections of their books with their roommates. ‘good work,’ thought riddle to himself as he saw his residents studying. he just hoped ace and deuce were doing the same.

as soon as he reached your room, he knocked on the door before twisting the knob and peeking in. he thought he would see you silently seated on your study table, reading through a book, or taking notes. however, he discovered you seated on the floor, a book on your lap as you wrote in your notebook, surrounded by several copies of papers and books.

you were in a clear state of disarray. your hair was a mess as you checked every paper before writing something down in the notebook. the process continued as you mumbled under your breath, “no, this is not right… the answer isn’t hydrolysis…”

a sigh escaped your lips as you buried your head into your palms, your hair covered your devastated expression as riddle silently walked into your room and knelt beside you, picking up all the scattered notes as you sniffled and glanced at him, “riddle…?”

you did not expect to see him in your room, and you quickly wiped your cheeks as you picked up the remaining scattered papers. riddle held the notes he collected and looked at you, seeing your cheeks, eyes, and the tip of your nose being tinted with a little bit of red from all the crying.

you were having a breakdown. he knew that much. he now noticed why you seemed absentminded and distant lately, especially with the exam season coming up. you were drowning yourself in your studies, making sure you memorized and remembered every single fact taught to you.

“…sorry you had to see me like this…” you mumbled as you grabbed the notes from him. he quickly shook his head as he spoke, “no… you don’t have to apologise. how long have you been cooped up in here?”

“i’ve been here all weekend…” you replied. you’ve been in your room, studying for two days straight without paying much attention to your other needs, and it was evident with the bags under your eyes. he hoped you were at least eating, but as he looked around your room, there were a few wrappers from the snacks you ate and an empty water bottle.

a sigh escaped riddle’s lips as he held his hand out to you, “you’re a mess. you need to eat… come.” you shook your head, which caused riddle to raise a brow, “f/n, all you’ve eaten were convenience meals with no proper nutrition whatsoever. don’t be stubborn and—”

“i don’t care!”

riddle fell silent in shock. did you just… yell?

you looked up at him, your eyes held glossy tears as you spoke, “i don’t care even if i starve for days! they’re worth nothing if i fail… this is our finals, and it will determine just how much i’m worth…” a soft sob escaped your lips as you bowed your head to hide your tears, “it will… determine how much my parents love me…”

riddle was silent. so, this is what hides behind the perfect f/n l/n. behind that sweet smile, charming personality, and bright mind was a little girl who never had the chance to be a child, to experience what it’s like to have fun, and to know what it’s like to have no expectations to live up to.

how lonely you must have felt.

“who cares if i’m physically well when i make a single mistake on the test? my mother cursed me through the phone as soon as she saw my results…” you mumbled, venting out everything that had happened the past few days, “i’m nothing but a useless brat who wastes their money in a prestigious school… i don’t deserve to be here if i can’t even get full marks to show that i’m learning something…”

riddle knew what it was like to have a parent who seeks perfection in their child, and it was only lately when he realised it was an unhealthy way of living, drowning yourself in your studies to ensure future success to the point you’d neglect yourself. he got closer to you, holding your shoulder as you wiped your tears, “if i fail the finals, they won’t let me continue my education…”

he was stunned. sure, a punishment is given when one does not receive the desired results on a test. that was his norm, too, but completely discontinuing your education because of 1 mistake or 2 on a test is extreme.

“what…? your parents would go that far…?” questioned riddle. you merely nodded in response as you wiped your tears and hugged your knees to your chest, “…everything feels like a chore…” riddle was left frozen, he did not know what to say or do as he never received appropriate support growing up.

he understands your pains, but he doesn’t know how to comfort you. he can’t lie and say it would be better because he knows that won’t do anything.

you have been showing the brightest smile he’s ever seen all the time, but who knew you were breaking piece by piece? all because of the expectations set on you. all because you were the gifted child of your parents, and therefore, you must live up to be the best of the best.

“sometimes i think… i should just stop… maybe if i fail several times, then they’ll leave me alone… but that also means i won’t receive their love and praises… and i won’t be their favourite daughter anymore…”

riddle stayed silent as he sat on the floor beside you, listening to you vent out all that had been stuck in your mind.

“but… sometimes i also think… if i ruin myself too much and fail… i’m worth nothing… who would love a worthless person? then i’ll be destined to be alone…” you cried softly as you kept hugging your knees to your chest, “i’m tired of thinking about this… i’m tired of caring so much… i’m tired of hearing all the curses that come out of my mother’s mouth… i’m tired of repeatedly being told that i am useless…”

the room then fell silent, and only your soft sobs broke the ice as riddle gently placed his hand on your hair. ��…you’re not useless just because you got one or two questions wrong in a test…” mumbled riddle as you peeked at him with your face buried into your arms, “and… you’re not worthless. you don’t need to be perfect to be loved… you just need to be yourself.”

as you remained to look at him, you sniffled softly and wiped your tears, “…but…” riddle gave you a small smile, “i know what it feels like to know that everything we learned growing up and the things we are exposed to is wrong… you’ve been told that anything less than perfect is unacceptable, and i was taught the same thing…”

a soft sigh left his lips as he placed a hand on your cheek, the same way you did to him when he spoke of his reason for loving a sweet treat, “you were there when the incident happened, and i have learned my mistakes… now i am here to tell you that you are worth it. you’re not a financial burden, you’re not useless, you’re not stupid, you are none of that, f/n. i wish you could see yourself the way i see you… then you’ll understand why i always want to be around you…”

you were speechless. what could you possibly say in response to that? if you didn’t know any better, it felt like a confession disguised as comforting words. receiving no verbal response, riddle got a little embarrassed as he avoided your gaze, “… i said too much. i apologise—”

“no…”

riddle blinked before he glanced back at you, seeing you smile a little at him, “…i appreciate your words… thank you…” seeing that sweet smile, even if it was a small one, made riddle smile as well, “you don’t need to thank me… now, you need to have your lunch.” he stood up and held his hand out to you.

you held his hand and stood up, smiling at him as you were about to wipe any remaining tearstains on your face when his hand gently rested on your cheek, wiping it as he spoke, “i don’t want to see you neglecting yourself next time.”

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songmingisthighs · 3 months

Text

Oddeleny

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xxx - peeking

ghost!yeosang × reader

genre : ghost!au

wc : 1.6 k

rating, warning : mature; crude jokes and filthy language, depiction of an accident; electrocution, head injury

buy me coffee ?

a connection once had, broken with the expectation that the ending is final. but life has an odd proclivity of making attachments from detachments. in the end, we don't know what we lost until we look at what we have

For a moment the room was quiet and cold.

Mingi had come in with cake and coffee and you both had been silently taking a bite, waiting for the other person to talk. Well, the people who could talk at least. You didn't realize it but you kept glancing at your phone, worried that Yeosang might accidentally make a noise as you had put him on a call.

"Waiting for someone?" Mingi asked after taking a sip of his latte.

You shook your head and offered him a polite smile, "Nope, just don't want anyone to disturb us while we talk," and you cleared your throat, deciding that you should be the one who directed the conversation, "And I guess we should start talking now." Agreeing, Mingi straightened up and nod, "If you don't mind, I would like for you to explain your side first. Not because of anything, but I would like to get all of the information so I can process my feelings accordingly with the information I will reveal." He sounded so stocky and it made you crack a grin because he didn't sound like his usual self while simultaneously being his absolute genuine self, someone who is just curious.

"Fair enough," you agreed, taking a moment to think where you should start your story.

"So you know that I grew up with Wooyoung and I befriended Yeosang in middle school. It was safe to say I was one of the less popular crowd because I was trying to excel in school in hopes that my parents would give a shit about me if I had an achievement of my own. I didn't realize then that no matter how many prizes I won for math, science, art, debate, English, and more, they would simply not care because I'm not Wooyoung, the child they actually want and the child who's actually theirs. They didn't want me so much that they just pawned me off to my grandma and took Wooyoung to wherever he wanted so it became GLARINGLY obvious they didn't care about my existence at all. So I was bullied and while Wooyoung was a bystander, at age 9, he suddenly turned on me and joined in on the bullying, even giving ammunition, leading the bullying, and sending people at me. I don't know what changed but I do know that when we got to middle school, he became more vicious because I got close to Yeosang. See, Wooyoung wanted to befriend Yeosang because everyone likes Yeosang. I befriended Yeosang because we're the top 2 in the high-achieving class and this pissed Wooyoung off because he couldn't get to the same class because all of his work, all of his tests were copies of mine. So he became resentful of me and my parents allowed it. One day, sometimes during gym class, Yeosang came up to me and asked for my water because he had finished his and couldn't bear the walk to refill his water so I did, I gave him my water bottle and he downed it in one go. I didn't think much of it but not even 15 minutes later, while we were resting by the court, Yeosang fell to the ground looking pale and clammy, he was shivering and he was crying saying that his stomach was hurting so he was rushed to the hospital and I went with him. While he was being treated, I was suddenly called out and brought back to school, to the principal's office where I was informed that Yeosang had gotten alcohol poisoning from my water bottle. Long story short, I was told that Yeosang no longer felt safe with having me around the school and I was expelled within a day."

Mingi didn't even try to hide the surprised look on his face. His jaw was practically on the ground by the time you told him how you got expelled so easily. "Wait, they can't just expel you like that without any evidence," he was getting emotionally involved. Mingi didn't like hearing injustice in general and hearing what happened to you made his blood boil. You shrugged, a little too casually for someone who was retelling her shitty past, but at that point, you had to shield yourself from feeling the negativities all over again. "There were eyewitnesses around, everyone saw me handing him my water bottle before he dropped to the ground so it seemed like the case was clear. To them at least. I tried pleading my case, I tried telling them that I knew nothing but they wouldn't hear. Not even my parents. In fact, My dad dragged me to the hospital to face the Kangs, well Yeosang's parents at least because apparently Yeosang was terrified of me, and forced me to bow and apologize. Then that evening he kicked me out of his house without saying anything else and I cried in front of the gate for a solid two hours before giving up and leaving to go to my grandma's by myself."

You didn't realize how it happened but Mingi pulled you into an immediate hug, his body shaking from anger because he couldn't help but think of the younger version of you being treated worse than trash by the adults in your life.

"Thank God you're okay now," he said in a whispered tone. It surprised you because you had imagined that Mingi would be siding with Yeosang and Wooyoung despite saying that he trusted that each story has two versions. You absolutely thought that he would simply accept that there was your side that he could hear if he wanted to but not to this extent, not him taking your pain personally. It didn't even occurred to you that you shed a tear or two, or five until Mingi pulled back and frantically trying to reach the tissue on your desk.

"Yeosang's situation was odd even to the police," Mingi started, knowing that it was his turn to talk without having to be urged by you.

After wiping your tears, you cleared your throat and prepare yourself to listen to what Mingi had to say.

"They were suspicious of the circumstances because Yeosang was admitted due to electrocution but they couldn't figure out the head injury he sustained. The doctors analyzed him and declared that Yeosang sustained the injury before he was electrocuted, so it wasn't like he banged his head due to being electrocuted. Heck, they even found where Yeosang injured his head and it wasn't the ground, it was the wall. They theorized that Yeosang must not have completely lost his consciousness and was trying to get up only to electrocute himself on the open wires dangling by the electricity pole."

Your head was trying to make sense of things but instead of getting answers, it generated more questions. "Couldn't he have fallen or slipped or something?" you questioned and Mingi nodded firmly, "That's what they think. Based on the height of the area where they found the trace of impact, it seemed possible that Yeosang had slipped and hit his head. But it still doesn't answer a crucial question, why was Yeosang in the alley in the first place? His car was on the left side of the building and the alley was on the right side, logically speaking, Yeosang had no business being there unless maybe he was urinating in public or something but we all know Yeosang would never do that. He wouldn't even chew gum in public places." You may no longer know Yeosang, but you knew him enough to agree with Mingi.

Then another question popped into your head, "Well were there CCTV around? They must've seen something," "They're still trying to get the footage from the establishments around but the thing is, the police are not even investigating this properly, Yeosang's situation is not a priority so they've just been passively looking things over." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and disbelief, "That makes no sense, they agreed that the circumstances were suspicious so why wouldn't they do anything?" "According to them, while it is suspicious, there were no evidence of foul play so they can't really do anything because, and i quote this directly from them, "there are more pressing cases they need to pursue", whatever the hell that means," Mingi huffed annoyedly.

Sure, you wanted to be as objective and as detached as you could towards the issue as this involved Yeosang, the same person who was part of the worst pain you've ever felt in your life. But you couldn't help but feel frustrated over the situation. You'd like to believe that it must have been because it would probably mean that you would be involved for longer than necessary. But you knew yourself well enough to acknowledge that the human side of you was trying to protest the unfairness.

"Hey," Mingi called out after a long pause, catching your attention. "I... This might mean nothing but I want you to know that I believe your side, I trust you," he looked abashed saying that and to be fair, Mingi didn't even know why he said that. What he knew was that you had been hurt by enough people, even people who were supposed to be your family. He didn't realize how much his consideration meant to you. Though you barely knew him, he had proven himself to be a trustworthy person who is capable of finding his own truth. So you gave him a small smile and reached forward to pat the back of his hand gently, "It means a lot to me, Mingi. Thank you," and Mingi, in return, broke out into a big smile.

Truly if life had taught you anything even after the worst of rain came down, completely drenching you and ruining your whole day, the sun will come out. It might take some time, and it might be infuriatingly slow, but it will. So with a glance at your strategically placed phone, you could only hope that your faith would not be shaken because boy oh boy it's going to be one heck of a rain.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@luvt0kki @aestheticsluut @stayatinykatsy @miaatiny @yukichan67 @maidens-world @wlv-asteria @bee-the-loser @junstulip @keinskpopcorner @donghyuckanti27 @axo-l0tl @aurora-tiny @cyber-innie @oddracha @dinossaurz @vcutparis @redzie02 @blackb3ll @mizumigi @jan-l @zoro-nanami-wifey @charreddonuts @angelicyeo @green-agent @teenyfinds @gxlden-bxbyy @that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict @tinyelfperson @jenowithjaem @mayonnaisehoeshit @allisonleannn @raspberrysannie @surveilenceysystem @borahae-reads @watanabehan @boo-ven9eance @cosmolight @ateezourstars @potatos-on-clouds @iinsomiac

@starjoongie1117 @rheriver

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

Hi bee, how are you? hope you're having a great week ❤

I was thinking about a Joel fic, they're in Jackson and reader lives in the house next to Joel's, they become friends and are feelings in between but they're to stubborn to confess.

Ellie is kinda dude just tell her and finally he does it with some dinner in his house or something like that.

Thank you, your fics are amazing 🥰

AN | I love this so much! Joel being soft for his girl has me so <3

Combined with this prompt | Can I please request something with Joel where he’s like cold in front of others but he’s so soft with his girl. And Ellie absolutely teases him for it.

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of Sexual Situations

Word Count | 2.9k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You're soft, you know," Joel stiffened at the sound of Ellie's comment. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, but decided not to indulge her. Not yet anyway, "for her."

"Ellie," his voice was careful, collected. So much for being any sort of subtle.

"I'm just saying," she holds up her hands innocently, playing as best as she could into her innocent child role, "and everybody knows."

“Nobody knows anything,” he insisted with a gentle, playful little tap to the side of her cheek, “y’all are always so nosey with everyone else’s business, makes me wonder what any of you ever get done.”

“Hey, I’m a kid, I’m not supposed to do anything,” she stuck her tongue but Joel’s hands settled on his hips as he gave her that look, “fine, I do some things.”

“Some things,” he twanged back at her, “like your chores, right? Which you should be doing right now, not harassing me, so get going.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she groaned, throwing her arms up in the arm, “and blind! Dude, just tell her!”

“Ain’t nothing to tell!” he called after her as she threw up her middle finger. If she would have looked back she would have seen the wicked, rosy blush that was covering his cheeks. His face felt warm enough to fry an egg on.

He wondered if people were really that perceptive or if just she was. He hated the idea that he was being so obvious. It wasn’t that he wasn’t into you, oh no. Joel Miller was into you; the whole picturing a future together, picturing you in his bed when he was alone at night, growing old(er) with you, type of into you.

He just had no clue if you felt the same. Even remotely so. And he wasn’t about to make a fuckin’ fool out of myself by making a move and potentially being wrong. The thing he hated most of all was the idea of a life without you. He’d rather keep you as a friend than lose you altogether.

Joel huffed at him, feeling pathetic with how lovesick he sounded. He wasn’t some sort of teenage boy, he was a grown ass man.

“Hey cowboy,” okay. He was a pathetic lovesick grown ass man, “whatcha up to?”

“Nothing,” fucking hell. Joel’s voice pitched up about three octaves as he glanced over at you, standing in the backyard like a vision. He never knew he loved sundresses so much; not until the weather grew warm and you started wearing them. You and those pretty little dresses were going to be the death of him, “just working on a few things around the house.”

“Hmm,” you mused as you walked over, ghosting your fingers along the flowers that had started growing, “need a hand? I’m done with the things I needed to do today. The rest are a problem for future me.”

“I like your thinking,” he agreed, setting down the hammer he’d absentmindedly picked up to look like he was doing something, “let’s call it a day.”

“Want to head to the river?” Your suggestion was followed by a sugary sweet smile that made him want to take you in his arms and kiss you, “we can bring some lunch and have a little picnic.”

He wanted to have a little more than lunch. But that was a conversation for a different day.

“Sure,” he agreed, a vain attempt at nonchalance, but if you noticed, you didn’t give it away, “let me just get out of these dirty clothes first.”

“Need a hand with that?” you teased, feeling emboldened for whatever reason. The surprised look on his face as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water was worth it, “I’m just teasing, Joel. No need to look so panicked. You change and I’ll get some lunch together. Do you think Ellie would like to come?”

“No!” he insisted quickly before realizing his gaff. You raised an eyebrow but remained silent, “she’s busy with her chores this afternoon. Kid’s gotta earn her keep, you know?”

“Mhmm,” you reached over and put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “well, just meet me at mine when you’re done. Door will be unlocked as always.”

Joel watched wordlessly as you flounced away, skirt swishing and hips swaying. He was pretty sure he was almost drooling, but caught himself before anyone around seemed to notice. You were trouble; you were absolutely going to cause him to lose it.

And god, he was so here for it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You looked nervously around the kitchen, trying to figure out what you could throw together for a little picnic. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead - you hadn’t really expected him to say yes. Not that Joel had ever said no to you but still…one never knew. Maybe the dress was helping; you’d worn it purposely after all. Men practically became putty when they saw a woman in a sundress.

“Fuck,” you sighed to yourself, already mentally prepping the food as you grabbed the picnic basket out of the cupboard. You sang to yourself, “don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck this upppppp.”

You kept singing that mantra to yourself as you bounced around the kitchen and managed to whip up a lunch that wasn’t too shabby at all. By the time Joel made his way over to yours, you were flushed and breathless. His handsome face and lovely smile were almost too much for you. You felt like a victorian maiden in the presence of a man alone for the time.

Yikes. You really needed to get laid. Preferably by Joel, but that was a worry for another day.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that?” you could have sworn there was a knowing little smile on his face.

“Nothing,”you. You weren’t about to just freely admit that yet, “just excited to get to spend some time in the sunshine with my best guy.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take his reaction, be it good or bad.

“Come on,” he reached for the basket before you could even think about reaching for it, “let’s get going then, sweetheart.”

You warmed up under his saccharine gaze but let him take the basket nonetheless and followed after him.

As the two of you walked towards the lake, on the outskirts of the ever expanding Jackson, a few people here and there stopped to say hello and, you know, do the whole chit-chat thing. You loved talking to people and totally soaked it up…meanwhile Joel was a totally different story. He didn’t dislike people, not unless they gave him a reason to, but he wasn’t a big talker or mingler.

You wouldn’t say he was cold to others (Ellie totally would), but he was absolutely soft for you. Even if you didn’t know it, you had that man wrapped around your finger.

While he vehemently tried to avoid being stopped by anyone else, you looped your arm through his…and almost killed him in the process. You smelled sweet, not cloying so, but just right and your skin was dangerously soft. He should have gotten an award or something for how much self control he managed to exercise around you.

Meanwhile, you were oblivious to the internal struggle he was currently experiencing, instead talking his ear off about something Gemma had said to Ben but then did with Kerrie. He wasn’t sure, he was only half listening, way too distracted by you.

When you got to the lake, you slipped your hand into the basket and pulled out the soft blanket that you’d had enough forethrough to bring. You tossed it under the shade from one of the trees so neither of you would get too hot from the direct sunlight. You sat down and patted the space next to you, watching as he set the basket down, his brows knitted together in what appeared to be deep thought.

It wasn’t all that deep; he was trying not to stare at your breasts or how good they looked in that dress, or how your legs looked particularly enticing. If you were to sum it all up, he was basically trying not to be a pubescent boy and pop a boner at the sight of you.

Grown man he repeated to himself, you are a grown man.

“I don’t bite,” was it on purpose? Maybe, maybe not. But you liked the look of pure panic that his face morphed into, “unless you want me to.”

“Sweetheart-”

“C’mon,” you cut him off, enjoying this a little too much, “pull out some sandwiches because I’m starving!”

So was he. Just not for food. Well - you and food if he was being honest.

When he froze, you reached over him and pulled out the freshly cut fruit and sandwiches for each of you, handing it to him with an air of innocence. He gratefully accepted your offering, stuffing his face full before he could make too much of a fool of himself.

And from there, as always, the two of you feel into easy conversation, about life, this, that, and everything in between. You liked that about him - things were always so easy, so right with Joel. In the time since he and Ellie had arrived in Jackson the winter before, Joel Miller had easily become your best friend…and all around favorite person.

You wanted to tell him, really, but you were terrified of messing things up and losing him. It wasn’t worth the risk. Not yet anyway…and maybe never but yeah. Joel was it for you in so many ways.

"Berries," his smile lit up his entire face, effectively pulling you out of your little fantasy. You nodded as you watched him grab a ripe strawberry and pop into his mouth, "my favorites!"

"I know," ugh. How was this man adorable and dorky on top of everything else? It was unfair, "you told me."

"When? Like once in passing," he raised his eyebrows as you tried to play it off, "you remembered?"

"I remember a lot of things," you whispered, "especially about the people that mean most to me."

Joel was stunned, unable to think of the words to properly convey what he was feeling. He opted for a nod as he leaned against the tree, casting him in a golden, sunny light.

You grabbed a few berries from the bowl and gave him a wink before lying down on the back, staring at the fluffy white clouds.

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate the lunch you had packed, growing full and warm.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a while, you came up with a brilliant plan. You sat up and looked around to make sure no one was nearby before standing back up.

"Swim with me," you said suddenly as you grinned at Joel. He remained silent as you started to push up your dress, brown eyes wide and his throat feeling thick. You shucked the dress off and tossed it by him, "Joel?"

"O-okay," he was trying not to lose his control as you stood there in front of him, only a bra and panties. You were so carefree, uninhibited, and wild that it was infectious. You tied up your hair before walking over to the water and motioned for him to hurry up, "are you sure you want to-"

You jumped into the water before he could say anything else, remaining below the water for a few moments to let your body adjust the temperature difference. When your lungs started to burn, you floated back up and broke through the surface. Joel was standing at the edge of the lake, hands on his lips as he watched, a lazy little smile on his face.

“Water’s perfect,” you drew back your hand and splashed them gently, “come on in!”

You could see his hesitation and shook your head. You swam to the edge and held out your hand to him. He was weighing something in his mind, mulling over his decision before he eventually tugged off his boots and pants, kicked them to the side. It was a moment until he gathered up the courage to pull off his shirt - silly, he would say but you would argue otherwise - but he tossed into the pile of your clothing.

“Handsome,” you cooed softly as his shoulders relaxed. And he was, you weren’t just trying to make him feel better. You could see the scars and marks littering his body along with the freckles you already planned on connected with your lips, and the muscle under the softness. You loved him - all of him, “alright?”

“Alright,” he agreed before sitting down and dangling his legs in and eventually slipping all the way into the water. You could tell he was up to something but your musing was quickly put to an end when you felt his hands on your hips, causing you to shriek in surprise. You heard him laughing as you pouted at him, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“You are a menace,” you turned around so you were facing him, settling your hands on his shoulders, “you, Joel Miller, are trouble.”

“Yeah?” he was practically vibrating under your touch as you tried to give him a somewhat serious expression. It fell flat, more of a sweet, innocent look, which made his heart even softer than he thought possible, “what about you then? What does that make you?”

“Sweet and innocent,” you grinned softly, “I’m a good girl.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Were you trying to kill him?

“Oh sweetheart,” he tried to keep it from sounding too much like a groan, “you are something else.”

You hummed in content as you closed your eyes and tilted your head towards the sun. You couldn’t have imagined a better day - but there was still one more thing you wanted to know that could make the day even better than anything else, “So, I was talking to Ellie…and she told me something interesting.”

“Ellie says a lot of things.” oh no. His heart was racing so quickly that he was afraid that he was going to pass out, “mostly nonsense.”

“I’m not so sure on that one,” you snorted in amusement, “do you wanna know what she told me?”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me regardless of what I say…”

“Of course,” you reached over and stroked his cheek, watching as a boyish grin grew on his face, “she told me that you like me. You know, like me like me.”

“And she said it just like that?” he asked, trying to his cool as you tried to read his expression.

“She did actually,” you stuck your tongue out at him, “are you gonna tell me if its true or not? Or are ya gonna leave me guessing?”

“Do you really need me to tell you or do you already know the answer?” he was deflecting, trying to make sure he hadn’t read anything wrong.

“I’m pretty sure that you’re hopelessly and madly in love with me,” you were teasing - but only just. You both knew that much, “but a little bit of reassurance doesn’t hurt either.”

“I am,” he confirmed after a few moments of tranquil quietness passed between the two of you. Inside you were practically screaming and bursting with joy. When you didn’t didn’t say anything, he grew worried, “is that…are you…okay? You’re makin’ me nervous sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gave him the most dazzling smile. You paused for a moment before quietly exhaling, “oh! I’m in love with you too. If that wasn’t obvious….I thought it was, but I figured you’d want to hear it too.”

“I did,” he relaxed; every fiber of his being was humming with positive energy. Holy shit. You loved him. You were in love with him, “were you ever going to say anything?”

“Eventually,” you confessed, “but I kind of liked watching you squirm too. You look real cute when you blush, you know.”

“I do not,” he huffed indignantly, “I do not blush.”

“Whatever you say, love,” oh. He liked that sound of that, “are you going to kiss me or?”

“Do you want me to?” his eyes widened, “you want me to kiss you?”

“Very much so,” you agreed, “I would love it if you kissed me…finally.”

“Finally?” he asked, wondering if you’d wanted this for as long and as much as he had. The look on your face said it all.

“Finally.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

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ancha-aus · 4 months

Text

RealAge AU Drabble - Parentalbond Dust

I am back :3 Another drabble for the RealAge AU (Thanks @spotaus as always for starting this treat by treating me to the first prompt that got this ball rolling)

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

Remember how in the last drabble I uploaded i mentioned those parentalbonds? (honestly if you read my drabbles in order these before things won't make ANY kind of sense... anyway!)

I had been thinking about how all of them bond with they new tiny boss and finally settles on how. The question then was. Who goes first?

I decided to go in order of who bonded with Nightmare first :3

So, big surprise. Dust. (everyone was surprised by this)

Warnings as always, unedited and unbeta'ed. We are here for a good and fun time.

Slight warning for Ghost/hallucination Papyrus being rude and mean and intrusive thoughts.

------------

Dust can admit that Nightmare is fast. Dust is just faster, by a lot.

As soon as Nightmare shifts Dust has an arm around him and drags him back to his side.

Nightmare glares at him, and it would have been terrifying and effective.

If Nightmare wasn't tiny.

Fuck DUst is still not over how TINY his boss is now.

Can Dust even still call him boss? That would be weird. Kiler tends to call Nightmare Tiny Boss now but Dust isn't quite set on a name yet.

Nightmare grumbles nad glares to the side once it becomes clear once again that Dust isn't going to get intimidated.

Nightmare glances at him before crossing his arms as he looks to the side "This is stupid."

Dust nods "I agree." Dust did not want to be here just watching Nightmare and keeping him from wandering and getting lost.

A cackle and then a whisper Really? First kidnaping and now keeping him a prisoner? How low you have sunk. Keeping a child captured and locked away.

Dust's hand forms a fist as he tries to ignore the muttering. They just need Nightmare to see he can trust them. That is all. That takes time. The chackle just chackles on.

Nightmare shoots him a look "It is stupid. I don't need supervision. I am fine on my own."

Dust goes to nod before blinking and shooting him a look "Yeah no. Nice try. I am staying right here."

Nightmare looks beyond annoyed but it is justified that one of them watches over him. Mostly because Nightmare had already managed to almost escape three times.

Look, it has been an hectic week since they euh... found Nightmare again.

Even more laughter that no one else hears Oh? That is what you call it now? That is what you call stalking a child? Following him everywhere? Finding out where he feels safest and surprising him there? Hah! Found! You are a liar and you even lie to yourself.

Dust glares harder at the dark wall as he pulls his knees up and leans on those as he watches the wall, still being a physical barrier between Nightmare and the door.

Nightmare glares at him but Dust just keeps glaring at the shedwall. Waiting. Hoping one of the others will come to relieve him of this babysitting duty. He hates it. He feels useless and stuck.

A huff Wow? Really? You decided to capture him and now you are annoyed you have to watch your prisoner? And even better the one you captured was the one to save you before? You really are thankless and impossible to please. You will never be happy or content and you don't deserve to feel other of those things.

Dust takes another deep breath. He needs a distraction. But what?!

Dust takes out his phone and scrolls through what he has on there. He sees a few movies and gets an idea.

He needs to wait while the others get supplies anyway. Cross is getting information about the multiverse, Horror is getting them food and Killer is getting them overall supplies.

Which means they should still be busy for a while.

Dust pauses as he shoots Nightmare a look. Nightmare had just been sitting there staring at his own feet as he wiggles his feet a bit. Distracted for a bit.

Dust grins as he reaches for Nightmare and quickly grabs him.

Nightmare immediantly freezes for a moment before glaring "What?!"

Dust grins and just turns him around and his old hoody that Nightmare had taken and stolen ages ago. and as Nightmare has his arms crossed he puts the hoody on him. He yelps but Dust doens't give him time to try and get his arms in the right sleeves. Instead Dust ties those together.

He thinks for a moment before grabbing his scarf and using that to tie up the slippery skeleton.

Dust takes a step back to watch his handy work and can't help but snort.

Nightmare looks shocked down at his state. The hoody already making it harder for him to move and now the scarf kept him even more from moving. The problem was. With Nightmare just being tiny and looking like a babybones... He looks plainly adorable. Fuck Dust kinda wished he had made a bow instead of a knot but he has a mission.

Dust nods and looks at Nightmare "Don't move. I am going to grab some food." He turns and leaves the shed.

It should take Nightmare at least a little while to escape that situation. And Nightmare hadn't tried another teleport after he butchered the last one and got them all thrown into a river. Which means that Dust doubts he will try another one soon.

Dust follows the road and by memory finds the pizza place they walked by not too long ago. He only has to wait for a little while before a delivery boy goes by on bike. He kicks off the guy and snatches the bag. Dust is already in the bushes again before the human has time to form a completely sentence.

Dust has to take a bit of a longer way back to make sure he doesn't go over the road. But as he cuts through backyards and gardens he can't help but feel a bit anxious. What if Nightmare escapes? How is he going to explain that.

By the time he is by the shed again he is close to shaking. He opens it and snorts as Nightmare seems to have fallen over. Less funny is the fact he has almost wiggled his way out of his trappings.

Dust puts the bag to the side and silently joins Nightmare's side "And? Is it working?"

Nightmare freezes before a mutter "I hate you."

That.

Dust isn't sure how to explain how much that hurts.

A sneer Really? Are your poor feelings hurt? By just that? What? Are you sad your so-called boss finally hates you? After all the disappointment and betrayal? And yet you feel sad? You truly are nothing but disgusting and disapointing trash.

Dust ignores it as he pulls Nightmare back upright and undoes the scarf binding and unknots the sleeves. Dust has already helped Nightmare with getting on of his arms into the right sleeve before Dust realises what he is doing.

Dust freezes and Nightmare ignores him as he quickly finishes dressing himself. After which Nightmare glances at him with an expecting look.

Dust instead just sits down on his spot on the ground. Opens the bag and fishes out the food. Oh nice. two pizzas instead of one. He lays both open near him before spotting some weird shake things, three of them. Dust shrugs again and places them near them. Next he grabs Nightmare again and pulls him right by his side as he opens his phone and scrolls through the movies.

Dust very quickly realises he deosn't really have movies without a high rating on his phone.Dust isn't even sure how far Nightmare's mind is at the moment.

Dust knows that Nightmare knows who they are. But Dust doens't know how old Nightmare is mentally at the moment. It isn't like Nightmare is sharing any of that information with them at the moment but Dust thinks he is at least a child again. He just also still has his adult form's memories and that is causing a bit of a disconnect.

Dust sighs and looks at Nightmare "Do you like horror movies?"

Nightmare shoots him a suspicious look before answering "I don't dislike them. They can be..." a frown as Ngihtmare thinks for a while before answering with some difficulty "interesting."

That was another thing that is slightly adorable. Nightmare is trying to still speak like he used to before but it seems that some of his knowledge has disappeared after regaining his true body.

Dust nods as he puts on the horror movie. It is one he thinks is okay even after seeing it four times. And only one of those four was because Dust had wanted to watch it.

He presses play and the movie starts.

Nightmare at first tries to keep his distance but it is a matter of time before he is focussed fully on the movie.

Dust grabs some food and eats it. He makes sure it push some towards Nightmare including one of the drinks.

The movie plays and they watch as some dude bro guy walks through the froest. Shouting about how he isn't scared and to come get him!

"... Why?"

Dust blinks and looks at Nightmare. Nightmare stares at him.

Dust looks back at his phone and the now paused movie "Why the guy is screaming? Mostly he is stupid?"

Nightmare frowns beofre looking away "No. I mean... Why.... this?"

Dust looks at the pizza and his phone "I just wanted to watch a movie?"

More frustration on Nightmare's face before he sighs. He then just looks back at the phone with a resigned expression. "okay."

Dust hates that. No. That isn't right. Nightmare doesn't give up and certainly doesn't give up getting answers to questions he has. Dust doesn't press play and looks at Nightmare "What why?"

Ngihtmare glances to the side. To all their things. "You don't... want to be here... with me. Why..."

Dust frowns "I told you? To make sure you don't escape."

More frustration on that tiny face and Ngihtmare looks away "it's not..." another sigh "whatever. When will you kill me?"

dead silence.

Dust turns sharply "What?!"

Nightmare shrugs "I figured... I wanne know."

Dust stares at Nightmare "What the hell? No we don't want you dead?! Why would we go out of our way to find you just to hurt and kill you?!"

Nightmare sits very still before shrugging again "it is the normal thing... normally."

The book. The fucking story. Fuck! He is a fucking idiot!

Nightmare is a child again! Nightmare is in the middle of his fucking trauma! To him the trauma happened days ago! Of course he thinks they would hurt him. That is what always happens.

How long has Nightmare thought that was the only reason anyone ever came to him? How long had a six year old have to fear the sound of someone approaching.

Dust looks away "We... aren't going to kill you... or hurt you." but... why would he beleive his words? Why would he believe anything any of them say after they arleady betrayed him once?

"okay."

It didn't sound like an okay in the way that he heard and believed what Dust said. it was an okay in the sense of a child being afraid to disagree.

Fuck.

Dust isn't sure how to... how to fix this mess. The mess he had partly created. He isn't even sure this can be fixed...

Dust glances back at him and speaks quieter "I mean it... we aren't going to hurt you. We don't want that." wait... he never... "I am sorry."

a long silence but he forces more out "we shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have left. I just... figured it wasn't my place anymore. I was wrong. I am sorry i left you." and it won't happen again.

Even just saying those things. Apologising. Dust feels lighter. It feels good. He needed Nightmare ot hear that Dust now realises.

Ngihtmare doens't say anything about it but does relax a tiny bit next to him. A very very fragile and tiny show of trust and Dust wants to grab it with both hands but he does't know how!

For now he turns the movie on again and makes sure the babybones is near him and eating and drinking.

Dust isn't even watching the movie anymore. He just listens out in case there is anyone who will try to hurt Nightmare or tempt this uneasy peace they have managed to create.

THe movie plays on and Dsut suddenly feels a weight against him. He turns and stares. Because Nightmare is asleep while leaning against him. Out like a light.

It doesn't even surprise Dust. As Dust doubts that Nightmare slept at all in this last week. Maybe even not before they took him with them.

Dust can't help but notice the very dark marks under those sockets. clear sighs of lack of sleep.

Dust moves slowly and carefully as he picks Nightmare up and puts him in his lap. Fuck he is freezing. Dust wraps his own hoody around him and it helps him relax.

He is safe. He is asleep. And while getting Ngihtmare to trust them again will be a long time and healing will be even longer... For now Dust is happy with his arms full of babybones.

-----

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

#RealAgeAU #deaged nightmare #utmv #fanfic #drabble #Nightmare sans #Dust sans #bad sanses #Okay that are the necessary ones for now #And that is how Dust SpeedRun the character development to start feeling like Nightmare is his babybones.#Congrats Dust #You are a parent now #the baby is nightmare #You may eventually need to learn how to share this right #also yes from this day onwards Dust pretty much demanded to have babysitting duty #turns out when it is YOUR kid it is fine #the others EVENTUALLY caught on to what was going on #mostly after they completed their own parent speedrun #that is is for now

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makethatelevenrings · 4 months

Text

Maybe // S. Riley x f!reader

me: I have a cold, I need to study, and I have work in a few hours but I have this tiny thought that won't escape me

me: I should abandon everything I'm working on and write it out? so true bestie

this could be considered a part of this simon x 141!reader universe I've made but idk, I am thinking of a name for their universe. Maybe sadwetcatverse because they're both pathetic. Maybe next part I'll let them fucknasty, who knows. Certainly not me!

warnings: mention of kids/wanting kids, reader and Simon are both masochist losers who can't imagine themselves being happy or living past 40

The thought doesn’t crop up as often as he imagined. In fact, the first time it crossed his mind was on a mission. They’re in southern Italy, tracking a rogue operative who is working with a local mafia to transport fentanyl-laced drugs into England. They’re not spies, Ghosts remembers saying. No, you’re right, Price retorted. But they’re armed like they’re an army.

The sun is high in the sky and painting your skin deliciously. He has to tear his gaze away from you to focus on the task at hand: analyzing the landscape and seeing where they could set up recon. His shoulders tense as he hears footsteps rapidly approach from behind, but when he turns, he sees a young boy gazing up at you in nothing short but adoration. You crouch down to his level and greet him in Italian, a wide smile on your lips as he extends a bundle of flowers in your direction and babbles out something that has you chuckling and nodding. The boy suddenly turns shy after his bold move and your smile brightens. You thank him for the flowers and he beams before running back to where his family is standing. You wave at the parents and call out a thanks and they laugh in response, ruffling the hair of the child and teasing him.

"What was that about?" he finally asks. You hold the flowers loosely in one hand and use the other to point out a possible place to set up a sniper to watch for their target.

"He said his dad taught him that pretty ladies deserve flowers," you hummed. "It was cute, really."

A wistful look appears in your eyes and he considers, just for a moment, what it might be like to see you with a sleeping babe in your strong arms. A tiny lil thing with a shock of blond hair and eyes the same color as yours. A child with soft skin untouched by the scars you both wore on your bodies and souls. He could picture it so clearly now, the way you would carry his child like the most precious thing in the world, almost akin to how you were carrying the flowers. His chest burns with want, but his face, masked of course, betrays none of the feelings he's experiencing.

That night, when you're both back in the safehouse with the rest of the team, he finds himself sitting up with Price and going over schematics on how to set up this mission. He glances over to where you're on the only bed curled up next to Gaz, fast asleep. The two of you got on like a fire on a house, which made for a great partnership out on the field. Ghost didn't resent him. No, not at all. But he had made it clear to Garrick that if anything happened to you on his watch, Ghost would rearrange his ribs one by one.

And for a moment he lets his guard down and he lets himself picture the way you would fall asleep on the couch with your child pressed against your heart. Your body would shield them from the cruel world you two were intimately familiar with and he would place himself between both of you and anything that threatened you. It was a fool's dream, he knew this, but it was something he had never considered before. Price lets his eyes drift from the map and over to his two sleeping kids, Soap was sprawled out on the floor with his mouth slack and snoring like a chainsaw, and back to his lieutenant.

"Ever consider retiring?" he asks. They never spoke about the relationship between his two lieutenants. He just merely filed away the paperwork that Simon handed him that listed you as his primary contact. He silently approved their file updates with their new shared address. They never let it affect them on the field, save for the few times that you two had gotten a little overzealous in your revenge when the other was hurt or captured. In fact, Price couldn't name a time he saw the two of you interact outside of a professional capacity.

But he can see the look in Simon's eyes. For a man so guarded and cold, Price knew Simon well enough to read what he was thinking.

"Never gave it much thought," Ghost finally answers. "Figured I'll quit once they put me in that casket."

Price sighs. Fucking masochist. Always thinks he deserves life's worst. "And what if that never comes?"

Simon thinks for a moment. Breathes in and out. Considers the way all the lines of stress and tension in your face and body melts away as you sleep. Thinks about how you feed the stray cats around the townhome the two of you share. Remembers how you looked earlier that day with a bright smile highlighted by the sun, eyes sparkling and fingers curled around the stem of the flowers that now rested on the nightstand next to you.

"Wouldn't be fair to her. Taking care of me," he finally answers. Price gives up for the night and just tells him to get some sleep before they move into position tomorrow. Simon settles himself onto the floor on the other side of you, placing himself between you and the door. You were firmly sandwiched between two men who would die and kill for you. He could rest easy, as easy as someone like him could.

And what he doesn't realize is when you first took hold of those flowers, you pictured that little boy with honey brown eyes like his daddy and hair just like yours and a gap-toothed grin as he laughed at one of his dad's stupid jokes. You had never considered that life for you before. Your life was filled with uncertainty and danger. Men and women had come into your bed and left just as easily. Simon was the first person you let settle in close and he was now forever a part of you. The only thing that would take him from you was death himself and you refused to let that be the case. Not if you had a say in it.

You couldn't be a mother. No. Not when you were in such a dangerous job. Even when Gaz teased you about the way you seemed to mother hen him on missions and you retorted it's because he would accidentally blow himself up if you weren't watching over him. Your hands were stained red. So you would let that thought remain a thought. A wish. A hopeless dream, never to be realized. You truly expected to come home covered in a flag and that would be it.

Maybe in another life. Maybe in a safer world. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley fic #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #cod imagine #cod x reader

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unreliablesnake · 2 years

Note

‌Hi! Could you write s/o had a abortion (not because health, just didn't want or didn't feel ready) with ghost? Like ghost find a positive pregnancy test and next days he's expected for s/o to tell him but it didnt happen so he decided start to conservation. Like "i find the test so if it's not something else ik you're pregnant and it's okay""i was" feel free to change or ignore.

(I'm just looking for abortion fics and it's so hard to find🤕)(sorry for my english i hope i made it understandable)have a nice day<3

Note: It took me to long to write this.

•••••••

It all happened by accident. Ghost wasn't going through your things, he was just looking for something in a bathroom closet and found a positive pregnancy test hidden in the back.

He wondered how long it had been there, how long you've been hiding this from him. Because you hadn't said a word, didn't even give him a hint. You kept it to yourself, keeping silent about a matter this big.

With a sigh he sat on the edge of the bathtub and thought about what to tell you. Should he let you know that he knew? Or should he wait and see if you would ever tell him? It was a tough decision to make because he didn't want to scare you.

Ghost came to the conclusion that it would be best to wait until you felt like telling him. He put the test back where he found it, making sure nothing would be out of place.

You remained silent. He waited for over a week, but you didn't say anything. You looked sad, but that was all he noticed. One day he had enough and decided to confront you, so he went into the bathroom to get the test.

With a groan he put the test on the coffee table in front of you when he returned to the living room. "I found this the other day. Unless I'm wrong and it's something completely different, I know you're pregnant." You looked down at the floor, clearly avoiding his gaze. "Hey, it's okay. And I'm not mad."

"I was," you told him after a long pause. Ghost let out a questioning hum, forcing you to go on. "I'm not pregnant anymore."

Oh, fuck. "Did you have a miscarriage?" he asked quietly.

You shook your head at first. "I had an abortion."

"A what? Without my knowledge?" He was mad, although not because he wasn't involved in making this decision. No, it was your body, you would have to carry this child for nine months, he wasn't one to have a say in that. Still… "Fucking hell, you should've told me before."

"I'm not ready to be a parent," you replied.

This made him think. "In general or with me?"

"Simon, please. It has nothing to do with you. I'm just not ready to have a kid running around. It's a commitment for a lifetime, not something that would pass in a few months."

"You still should have told me," Ghost told you softly as he sat down next to you and put his hand on your shoulder. "I should have been by your side!"

You glanced over at him shyly, as if you couldn't believe your ears. "So you're not mad that I made this decision without you?" you asked in the end.

"Of course not. I just don't understand why you wanted to do this alone."

"I didn't know how you would react."

"Is that how much you trust me? You should know me better than that. C'mere, baby." He sneaked his arm around your body and pulled you against him, his free hand resting on the back of your head. "It's gonna be okay. We can still have a kid when you're ready."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 #modern warfare ii #modern warfare #ghost #ghost x reader

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wutheringcaterpillar · 8 months

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Time Was Never On Our Side

Summary: Decades after the heartbreaking split between you and Cillian, you see one another out and about. After realizing he’s married now, guilt follows you up to his hotel room where words are said, and a kiss is shared. Warnings: Morally grounded reader, an unfaithful kiss, sad ending but the right ending

sidenote: This fic is in favor of his wife toward the end, there will be no smut just heartbreak following from a kiss. heavily inspired by Cut The Shit-Delusion, Sweetheart by @cillianmesoftlyyy

The everlonging gaze of a man with crystal blue eyes, and an ash gray hair color that you knew all too well, stopped you in your tracks, the two of you stared at one another in disbelief. It felt as if you were looking at a ghost

It had been so long, since you’d both graduated high school that was the last time you saw one another.

Cillian was your first love, and it always seemed to be right person, wrong time, but maybe that had changed. “Y/N? What er you doing here?” Nostalgia flooded back, like a river overfilling a valley, leaving you nearly sppechless. He still looked great, very handsome in his suit and tie, with his shimmering, almost transparent blue eyes.

“Cillian? I- I just finished with work, was going to grab a bite to eat then head home.” He shook his head, insisting that you allow him to court you to dinner to which you obliged. The ring around his finger not going unnoticed, but you attempted to convince yourself this was just a catching up between to friends, nothing more.

He watched you intently as you skimmed the dinner menu, glancing at the untouched glass of pinot grigio. You always did have class, and could hold your own.

After small talk and eating as much as knew he shouldn’t, he had a proposal.

“Come to my room. Just fer a chat, it’s a bit more private.” Glancing down at his ring, a ping of guilt washed over you, knowing that his wife was more than likely unaware to know whom he was having dinner with as of this moment, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say.

His eyes searched your facial expression for an answer, and he could tell you were nervous about this meeting by the way you twiddled your thumbs.

Reaching his hand over, he placed it gently on top of yours, his fingers caressing your delicate skin.

“I promise, just a drink nothing more.” Nodding, you disregarded the presence of morals in your mind. After paying the tab, and walking you to his room, he removed your jacket, placing on the chair near the kitchen table.

His laptop had been left open and a photo of him, his wife and child, enjoying what looked like to be a summer vacation on the beach was displayed on the screen, making you unbearably uncomfortable.

Noticing, he closed the laptop, insisting you take a seat on the sofa, asking if you needed anything to drink and what not.

After politely declining, he sat near you at an arm’s length away, his vibrant yet subtle cologne that smelt of ivory and pine filling your senses. Cillian had always smelt wonderful and was a very clean-sly man, you couldn’t deny in the three years you were together, it was a relief having a man that could hold his own and you didn’t have to clean up after him.

“So, how’ve you been? What’s been going on yer life? I’d love to know.”

“I graduated, received my diploma in the arts, and now I’m a full time journalist for the times, the stories you run across are unbelievable sometimes.” His lips spread into a wide smile before his hand settled on your knee, rubbing the fabric of your thin leggings gracefully, his touch sending chills up your spine.

“That’s wonderful Y/N. I always knew you had it in you! Any man in yer life? Kids?” He cleared his throat, his voice slightly cracking, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he was terrified for your answer.

“Cillian, I don’t think we should discuss this. After all that was one of the reasons we never made it. You wanted kids. I didn’t. You wanted to act and travel, I wanted to settle with the environment and area I’m familiar with. We were always with one another for the right reasons, but we never saw eye to eye with our future together.” As much as it broke you inside to say those words, they needed to be released, thrown into the air to really sink in. You weren’t trying to hurt him, and you didn’t feel like he was trying to hurt you, it just always seemed to be right person, wrong time.

Biting his lip, his eyes sulking toward the ground, the memories of your very first date entered his mind. The way you dressed in a red plaid shirt with blue jeans, how you had your hair straightened and beat him in an arcade game, ending the night with him driving you home, insisting on waiting to kiss you at least until the second date as he didn’t want to rush or pressure you.

The first kiss when you were laying on a plush blanket, your eyes beaming up into the sky watching the fireworks explode into their bursts of vibrant colors before your eyes locked, and he leaned in.

The moment you had moved into your first apartment together, almost in amazement at how organized and smoothly you unpacked boxes with your hair tied in a messy bun. Even when you were sweating, your aura radiated an unexplainable, beautiful energy like no other woman could.

He was completely and devastatingly still in love with you and all your little ticks.

After a moment of silence, you were staring down at your palms, fiddling with the fabric of your sweater. Cillian skimmed his hand through the strands of your hair, placing it behind your ear gently, causing your cheeks to become a rosy shade of red. Everything in you wished that the past was different, that your relationship had made it but timing never seemed to be on either of your sides.

Your lips parted, taking a much needed breath when you felt his body scoot closer. His longing blue eyes fixated on your enticing lips, scanning your eyes, finding that maybe he wasnt the only one with this immense urge.

His thumb brushed under your chin, turning your head slightly toward him. Leaning in his lips collided with yours in a nostalgic, tender kiss, adrenaline and dopamine coursing through his veins as moments of your past continued to flash through his mind like a romantic motion-picture.

All he could remember was the way he made you laugh, the way your smile outshined the sun, how your eyes lit up whenever you were near him.

Shame flooded over you, selfish was the first word that came to your mind. Your eyebrows rising in shock when your lips connected in a gentle, loving kiss, yet he still felt so far away. The heat in your chest was undeniably present, butterflies forming in your stomach but that didn’t stop the strain of your emotions running wildly. You knew if you didn’t break away from his touch, this would lead further, the night ending in his bed and you waking up in the morning with the reminder he was a married man, and you’d been his mistress.

Pulling away, your hands settled in his arms, lips pursing together in sadness, and regret. You couldn’t stop the tears that were at the brim of your eyelids from flowing freely down your cheeks.

“What? Is everything alright?” His voice was low but he spoke with sincerity and concern.

Glancing down at his ring, his eyes followed yours.

“Cillian. You’re married now, with a son. I cant do this to your wife, I won’t let you do this to her. I need to go.” Standing up and patting down your dress, Cillian stood up just as fast, worried he had gone too far, too quick.

“Please, I’m sorry. I- I don’t know what came over me. I’m a fecking idiot but I still love you.” Your throat began to tighten, in irritation and anxiety.

“Don’t! Don’t do that. This hurts me as much as it does you but I will not participate in you throwing away your marriage. Do you love her?” Gulping, Cillian released your wrist, his hands brushing through his hair as he too felt his eyes begin to water, an immense feeling of regret, and heartbreak, shattering his chest.

“I- I do but I’m not over you Y/N. I don’t think I ever will be, even after all these years.” Sighing and brushing away the tears, your hands settled on his dampened cheeks, forcing your aching eyes to lock together.

“And that is okay. I still love you too, but I respect your wife. We were never going to work Cillian. That is alright to still have lingering feelings, they may never go away, but I need to go away. Not just for myself, but for you.” His hands gripped on your wrists, his throat tightening while his heart dropped into the bottomless pit of his stomach.

“I know. Love, I know. I’d love if we had made it and I need to let you go, no matter how much it pains me. Just know, you deserve better, and there is a man out there waiting for your love. I just hope he is deserving of it, and won’t take your love fer granted the way I did tonight.” You nodded painfully, thanking him before picking up your purse, heading for the door, only this time he didn’t stop you.

Turning the knob, you glanced back at Cillian once more. “Please have the decency to tell your wife and inform her I mean her no harm. I only wish the best and I will not be in contact with you. If she’d like to call me I left my number on the table. Goodbye Cillian.” Closing the door, it felt like the love-story had painstakingly come to an end, the way it needed to be.

Cillian stayed awake, your words sinking in before he face-timed his wife, being completely truthful and transparent with her, doing as you asked, giving her your number if she felt the need to call with any questions or wanted to speak any words with you.

#Cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #ranaewrites

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realityandrebirth · 9 months

Text

Green

Three scenes from an alternate universe. | A piece I'm never going to finish.

Warnings for mentioned/implied death.

The Chosen Hero

When she first met him, Harumi thought Lord Garmadon's weapons were glowing with the power that allowed him to kill the Great Devourer. But that was a long time ago, and Harumi had not only learned that the Golden Weapons were not his, but that they were glowing because of her.

"I can't be the Green Ninja," she told him. "I don't want to defeat you! I hate the ninja!"

"I know," Garmadon said, "and that is why I took you in. Had the ninja realized who you were, they would have forced you to fight against me–but I changed that!" He glanced back at her with a grin. "With the Green Ninja on my side, my victory is assured!"

Harumi nodded, but she still felt uneasy. The sea air was cold, and she had never been so far from Ninjago. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she said.

"I was afraid you would want to fulfill the prophecy. I understand now I had no reason to worry." Garmadon adjusted the sail and squinted through the fog. "If my calculations are correct, we should be reaching the dark continent soon…"

She wrung her hands together. "I'll never fulfill the prophecy," she said. "I won't be their Green Ninja."

"Yes, that's what I'm counting on. A-ha!"

The sailboat ran aground. Garmadon stepped out into the shallow water and picked up Harumi, putting her on his shoulders. "This will give us what I need to conquer Ninjago," he said. "I will rule over them as Lord Garmadon–and you will be my princess! Let's go!"

Harumi nodded. "The ninja will pay," she said.

The Prized Possession

"Fix your posture," the ghost hissed. "Pull back harder. You've got living muscles, boy. Use them."

"I know what I'm doing," Lloyd said, and he set the arrow loose. It sailed through the forest brush and pierced the center of the target he had drawn on a tree. Soul Archer examined it and nodded in approval–the highest possible praise from him.

"Your targets won't be trees," he said. "Your next lesson is moving targets."

"I can hit moving targets," Lloyd said. "Ghoultar, throw me a puffy pot sticker!"

"Okay!" Ghoultar bellowed, and he tossed one of the dumplings into the air. An arrow promptly pinned it to a branch. While Ghoultar mourned the wasted food, Lloyd turned to Soul Archer with a smirk, only to be met with a disapproving scowl.

"I'm not training you to show off, boy," he said. "You have a destiny to fulfill."

"I know!" Lloyd protested. "I'm ready for it!"

He yelped as a third ghost grabbed his hoodie and hoisted him off the ground. "You'll be ready when she says you are," Bansha hissed. "You have a long way to go before you can think about seeing your father again."

Lloyd clenched his jaw. "I will be worthy of serving the Preeminent," he said carefully. "I will free my father and kill the Green Ninja."

Bansha dropped him. "Then get back to work," she said.

He stood up and summoned another ghostly arrow. "Moving targets," he said to Soul Archer. "What do I need to know?"

It was easy to hit every mark when he pictured Harumi's face on the target–the girl who had stolen his father from him.

The Quiet One

"Your parents built this?" Harumi said, following the prince deeper into the palace. The floor was stone carved with intricate runes and symbols, and the air was cold enough to make her shiver.

"They had it commissioned," Morro said. He didn't seem bothered by the cold. Harumi knew very little about the adopted son of Ninjago's emperor and empress, just that he was a sickly child who shared a name with Master Wu's first student. For a long time, his adoption had not been announced for fear he would die before adulthood, but as it went, the heir had outlived his parents. He looked healthy enough, Harumi thought to herself, keeping an eye on him.

"It was done in utmost secrecy," he continued. "The contractors were paid very well. My parents had very specific needs."

"Did they need a haunted mansion?" Harumi muttered.

Morro laughed. "They needed a temple."

He stopped at the entrance of a large room. Harumi peered over his shoulder and gasped.

The three oni masks the ninja had failed to protect lay on three pedestals. Harumi's hand went to her sword.

"What's the matter?" Morro said, not looking at her.

"You have the oni masks," she hissed. "You're working with the Sons of Garmadon!"

"I'm more than working with them," Morro said. "Disarm her."

Harumi didn't know what he meant until a blow hit her shoulder. She yelped and dropped her sword. Strong arms wrapped around her middle and hoisted her up in the air. She recognized Killow's laugh as she struggled.

"What do you want?!" she shouted. "You have the oni masks! Now what?!"

Morro turned away. "My parents wanted a child," he said, "and after several failed attempts, they didn't think they would ever have one. They resorted to drastic measures."

"What are you talking about?!"

More Sons of Garmadon appeared out of the shadows. Morro snapped his fingers. "They had very specific needs," he said again. "They needed an obedient child, someone to teach and train, to mold into their image. A quiet one, even."

Harumi grit her teeth. "You're awfully chatty for the Quiet One," she snapped.

"I was not the child they wanted, no." Morro turned around and grinned. "They may have built the Temple of Resurrection, but they had no idea who they would get."

Her eyes widened. Memories flashed in her mind; You lost your parents? Morro said. I'm sorry to hear it. It must have been a tragedy.

She shook her head and planted a kick directly in Killow's gut. He swore and dropped her. Harumi darted away before he could grab her again. The rest moved to restrain her–Morro raised a hand and they froze.

"I'll make a deal with you," he said. "You let me resurrect who I want, and maybe I'll give you a turn."

#lego ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago fanfic #ninjago #ninjago harumi #ninjago morro #lloyd garmadon #harumi ninjago #morro ninjago

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bleue-flora · 16 days

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tbh to me c!sapnap is on the same level of betraying c!dream as c!sam. It may seem far-fetched considering what c!sam did and considering we don't have much real lore content with c!sapnap or c!dreamnap, but when you look at what we DO have, it's kind of a picture

like, he's not just some stupid or short-sighted character, as it might seem at first glance - we have a ton of evidence that he understands perfectly well that prison makes c!dream physically and mentally ill, but he agrees with it. In the dialogue with c!michael he literally says "dream fucked up, prison fucked him up in another sense, but it doesn't matter, cause dream has to get better and become *my* dream again, let him stay in prison and improve, even if it breaks him idc", like wtf is this? funny, but at the same time, c!sapnap doesn't visit dream more than once, how will he know that c!dream is making progress? In c!sapnap's head, prison is supposed to be a rehabilitation for c!dream, only no one checks his progress in stopping being a "fucked up", he either sits there completely alone or people go there to hurt him and c!sapnap understands and acknowledged it, but he doesn't give a shit. I'm sorry, but this gives off sam's "I thought I broke his will to do something like that". He obviously doesn't care about c!dream and just wants his good old *convenient* friend, and he doesn't care about the consequences.

But he's not just passively harming c!dream, he's doing it actively. If the threat could still be interpreted as an emotional outburst, something he could say and regret, then his other actions clearly say the opposite. Like, the dude literally stalked and harassed c!dream for months after he found out where he lived??

The revival book was more important to him than torture. Even in the beginning, he didn't care about c!dream's reputation, when c!wilbur and c!tommy dragged it into the dirt for no reason, and he repeatedly went against c!dream or supported things that directly harmed c!dream. For me, one of the most telling scenes is c!sapnap and c!george's meeting with mexican dream's ghost, where c!sapnap, without any reason, pins the explosion of El Rapids on c!dream, and then, when he finds out that actually c!quackity was the one who did it, c!sapnap immediately says that they urgently need to go and find out why he did it, to check if he's okay and all that. This is literally the attitude you'd expect from c!tommy, to attribute every bad event to c!dream, but no, this is his so-called best friend! And of course, he only wants to know the reasons for an action when someone else does a bad action, but not c!dream - well, of course, cause it's clear that c!dream reasons are "being evil" or smth.

So, I've been in my c!sapnap hate arc for over two years now and you all should join me lmao

I didn't think I'd write SO much, but emotions took over after reading the new chapter of your fic and some of your posts, sorry abt that :"^

[context a & b]

Honestly, in my opinion his betrayal is almost worse than Sam’s, which is saying something since he literally enabled and facilitated daily torture. But like Sam wasn’t Dream’s self proclaimed brother, and at least Sam’s delusion kinda makes sense. Sapnap is just like - the chicken tastes rubbery and overcooked, so I put it in the oven and then it tasted burnt, so I put it back in the oven to help the taste and at some point I’ll take it out of the oven and then it’ll taste good again. No idea how long that’ll take, and no don’t be ridiculous I’m not gonna check on it. I swear though if anyone touches my chicken before it tastes good again like so much as removes it from the oven or seasons it I’m gonna throw it in the trash… vs Sam who’s like - the chicken tastes rubbery but I spent money on it so I’m gonna put it in the oven and turn it to charcoal so at least then it won’t be a complete waste…

ya know? Like at least Sam was corrupted by power, financial benefit, manipulated a bit, and had the blood of a “child” on his hands. Sapnap doesn’t even have that, he has a life long best friend who he heard made a speech about not caring about anything and then later a speech about wanting to control everyone, a fish in a item frame and a letter saying “thanks for visiting”…

Well I don’t know about the “even if it breaks him” I don’t think he is thinking that directing about Dream’s suffering if that makes sense, but Sapnap is delusional no doubt. I also don’t know if he even cares that much about the book in general, he just doesn’t seem to given a damn about the torture. He seems to really just be about the fear of what Dream might do and how he needs to be stopped before that.

And you do have a point, in the beginning even as his “brother” he on many occasions went against him, down to the very first disc war where they killed him multiple times. I mean if Sapnap weren’t American, he’d have probably been right alongside clingy duo in L’manberg and stuff… oh I had no idea about the El Rapids thing but am also not surprised…

What do you even mean, I am literally an engineer of this Sapnap hate train 🚂 choo choo! I be shoveling coal to keep this engine running ya know. like literally the more lore I watch the more he actually just kills me.

but anyways, I mean you read the chapter (and presumably the one before) so you know my thoughts on Sapnap lol. ;D

#No worries lol I’m pretty sure contagious XD.#but anyways I mean you read the chapter (and presumably the one before) so you know my thoughts on Sapnap lol. ;D #dsmp #c!sapnap #c!dream and c!sapnap #hello there #dream smp #can you imagine being punz and Tommy in the finale talking about Dream just being simple in the beginning - it was just George… and Sapnap.#dreblr #did someone order an essay?

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

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i don't much know tmc so i hope this makes sense, but 65 for adam and jonah and friendly alternate reader? maybe it goes the way you laid out in your original post, where the events of volume 2 make them distrust reader briefly and the fic is set in the aftermath?

Good idea! Also this is slightly different from how I wrote those hcs, but the general idea is still there!

65) "I didn't mean it...please forgive me."

.......

While waiting for your human friends to finish their investigation inside the house, you remained in the van that you all arrived in, trying your best to remain patient.

You would have much rather accompanied them, knowing of the dangers present....however the fragile trust you've formed with the two was close to shattering.

Preacher arrived without any warning on the second night, and you caught her whispering things to Adam while he was trying to get some sleep. Jonah was wide awake and had the misfortune of seeing her face-to-face before he hid somewhere, allowing you to confront her.

Although you succeeded in driving her off by pretending that they were your victims to claim, he wildly misinterpreted your actions and believed you summoned her here to kill them both. He didn't believe your ruse for a second, as he freaked out on you and demanded you to get out.

In fear of triggering a panic attack in the already frightened boy, you just quietly left, but stayed inside the van to ensure that no other Alternates could interfere with the radio signal or hijack it.

Yet as the minutes dragged on, you grew more and more worried about their well being.

Preacher easily believed your lie--considering Alternates were master manipulators--so she won't be coming back anytime soon...but you didn't like the thought of leaving those two all by themselves.

Sometime later you saw the front door open, and you teleported out of the van, finding Jonah standing there. He appeared unharmed, much to your relief.

However that's when you noticed only he emerged from the house..Adam was nowhere in sight.

"Jonah, are you alright? Where's Adam?"

"Th-The basement door opened..and he wanted to check it out. I-I told him not to, but he wouldn't listen!" He panicked, before he suddenly fell silent as his expression turned to a hateful scowl--aimed at you. "I bet you opened it, didn't you? Or was it your freaky lady friend?"

"That was neither my doing nor hers. And she's not my "lady friend"." You huffed, wishing he'd stop accusing you. "Why did you leave him all alone in there? It's too dangerous."

"He doesn't know the first thing about "danger". You don't think I've been trying to tell him these ghost hunts are gonna get us killed one day?! It's like he doesn't even hear me! We both know his mom is dead and he's looking for something that's not actually there..but god forbid I ever tell him that. I'm just sick of him getting pissed off at me for wanting to fucking live."

"I understand your frustration, but..leaving him behind is not the solution here." You tried to reason with him. "To my knowledge that's not how friends should treat each other, even if they-"

"I'm not sure if I even see him as my "friend" anymore." He scoffed, hugging himself as the air grew chillier. "He literally screamed at me to leave, [y/n]. So that's what I'm doing. I don't give a shit about him or the fame or the money anymore. I'm done. I'm going back home. Alone."

Hoping to put this conversation to rest, Jonah stormed past you and hopped into the driver's seat, trying to start the engine...but it wasn't turning on at all.

He tried hotwiring it as well--to no avail.

"Shit, [y/n]..are you doing this?" He glanced at you, annoyed. "Are you screwing with the transmission?"

"........."

"C'mon, I'm not in the mood for-"

"We cannot leave him behind, child." You insisted. As much as you hated to anger your friend, this was the only way he'll listen. "Is this truly how you wish to end things between you two?"

"I'm not a child, I'm a grown ass man. And I've made my choice, and he made his."

"It doesn't have to be that way. I can still help you both-"

"If you're so insistent on "helping" me, you'll let me start this goddamn car and stay out of my life!!" Jonah slammed his hands on the steering wheel, but unfortunately for him, you weren't about to give into his childish tantrum.

"The only way I can help you is by NOT letting you leave." You shook your head, trying to stay calm and logical. "There is no running away anymore, Jonah. If the others realize you are all by yourself...they will come for you, including him."

"...wait, how do you know he'll show up?" He blinked.

"Because...I've known him since our creation. I'm aware of his patterns. Your government calls him Intruder, children call him Stanley....we call him Six. His connection with technology knows no boundaries, including radios and GPS, so it's imperative that I'm here to stop him from- "

"Oh, so you've been bffs with that child kidnapper since the dawn of time...and you're telling me he could've been fucking eavesdropping on all our conversations regarding BPS?!!"

"I.." For a moment you tensed up, realizing you may have said too much. "No, Jonah. That's not what-"

"Damn, I wish I knew all of that before we decided to trust you." Tears welled up in his eyes again, threatening to spill over. "Adam never should've let you come along. I told him he was making a huge mistake letting you out of that TV..and guess who was right?!!"

Your nonexistent heart sunk slightly at his words.

"Jonah, please calm down. You're not thinking-"

You tried setting a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he violently smacked it away before your claws could even graze his jacket.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!! You're all the same....you're a bunch of heartless, lying, demonic bastards who destroyed our lives and made our loved ones kill themselves!!" He choked out. "You've taken everything from us...a-and if it weren't for you....THEN MAYBE ADAM WOULD STILL BE ALIVE RIGHT NOW!!"

You physically flinched at his screaming, having never seen a human look so enraged...yet sorrowful at the same time. The emotions emanating from him were quite powerful, and when he stopped to take several deep breaths, you needed a moment to absorb them all.

But seeing as you didn't immediately leave, Jonah felt his resolve completely crumble as he gritted his teeth together, trying to stop his sobs from escaping..only for them to come out as small hiccups and gasps.

"J-Just stop pretending to care, alright? Go and...a-and leave me be." Tears streaked down his face as he clutched the steering wheel with trembling hands, laying his head on it as he tried muffling his sobs.

He felt like he just gave himself M.A.D with how badly he felt like dying right now.

Although you were initially stunned by his emotions going from one extreme to the other so quickly, you snapped out your shock and frowned slightly at his distraught state.

'He's so young...and has gone through far too much...'

You gently reached over to set your hand on his back, feeling his entire body trembling beneath your fingertips. Surprisingly enough, he didn't shove your comfort away this time as he was too busy scrubbing away his tears.

You understood that he didn't actually mean those hurtful things. He just needed to lash out after all the stress of these past few nights, and you so happened to be the closest person--whose species is the very cause of his anxieties.

"[Y/n]..I-I..I know you're not like the others. It's just...I'm so lost and I'm so fucking scared to lose one more friend...!" His voice cracked. "I-I don't wanna lose him.."

"I know, my little fish.." You soothed. "I know your heart and mind are deeply troubled. I know you're very afraid...but rest assure, I will not let anything bad happen to either of you. Whatever you think of my kind is fine, but please understand that I would never pretend to care for your safety. It is...my purpose to protect you both from their evil ways."

"..a-according to who?"

"Me. Not my "Savior" or anybody else." Taking your hand off his back, you stepped away as he finally looked up at you. His eyes were wet and tinted red from crying so hard, but through blurred vision he could see you offering your hand. "Come, let us seek out Adam. I sense he is still alive."

With a small nod, Jonah grasped your hand so you could help him out of the van, though as soon as you let him go....he hugged you unexpectedly.

You blinked, looking down at him in confusion. "Jonah? Is everything okay?"

"Y-Yeah, I...I'm just sorry about what I said to you." He sniffled quietly, his forehead pressed to your chest. "I didn't mean it..please forgive me. You know how I tend to say stupid shit when I'm scared and-"

"You needn't justify yourself, my friend. I absolve you." You smiled as you patted his head. "I have gotten worse insults in my lifetime, so they don't affect me as much."

"Good to know. Also...why did you call me "little fish"? I don't hate it or anything, but I was wondering."

"Ah, because you remind me of some...old friends, we'll say. Were you ever told the story of Jonah and the Whale?"

"...uh-"

"What ever happened to "I won't be here to confirm that"?"

The moment was cut short as Jonah suddenly let you go, looking back to see Adam emerge from the house completely unharmed. He had the camcorder and other equipment in his arms, and an annoyed expression on his face.

As he approached the van, he stopped short upon seeing the other male, blinking in bewilderment. "Were you crying?"

"..n-no, it's the allergies. I told you it's that damn cat's fault.." After making a point to wipe his eyes, Jonah shoved his hands into his pockets. "So um...what did you find in that basement?"

"Just an old TV. And you're right about that cat..it was actually an Alternate. But I got some other good footage, so I'm ready to bail."

"What about staying-?"

"We'll tell the lady we stayed all three nights." Adam shrugged. "It's not like she'll know."

"Oh, so now you listen?"

"....look, this shit's getting heavy. So if you don't mind-"

"I'll help." You spoke up, disliking this growing tension in the air as you took the heavier equipment away from Adam and loaded up the van with it.

But still, you refused to allow it to start, and Jonah knew exactly why.

He couldn't just act like he didn't have that huge fight with his friend only a short time ago, so they both talked for a few minutes, apologizing to one another and hugging it out.

When they heard the engine crank on, they immediately rushed towards the van...only to see you sitting behind the wheel, much to their confusion.

They didn't know Alternates could drive.

"You kids had a rough few nights. I'll take us wherever you desire to go." You offered.

"Jeez, since when did we have our own chaperone?" Adam rolled his eyes, but opted to climb into the back while Jonah called shotgun. "I guess we owe you an apology too, right?"

"Well..Jonah and I talked it out already, but I forgive you both."

"Yeah...I still feel like shit, though."

"Dude," the brunette huffed. "What did you say to them?"

Jonah opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it as he didn't wanna bring up the harsh words he said out of frustration and anxiety. Instead he just shook his head. "I-It doesn't matter. Let's just get outta here and go for some pizza."

"I would very much like that." You agreed, backing out of the driveway and heading down the main road.

"And....as thanks for putting up with our bullshit, we'll let you pick the toppings this time."

"What?!" Adam's jaw dropped, but your smile only grew, and he had no choice but to relent.

It was certainly something to think about on the way to the pizza shop you all knew and loved.

#leave it to alternate y/n to break the canon /ref #clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #tmc x reader #alternate reader #alternate y/n #adam murray #jonah marshall #platonic #hurt/comfort #angst/horror prompt

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

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could you possibly do lockwood x reader and the reader is always slightly to eager to sacrifice her life for george and lockwood etc to the point where lockwood is concerned about it and he confronts her abt it and she basically says how does the same thing like kinda angsty.

sorry that was long and rly specific and sounds abit depressing in retrospect 😭 no pressure if not love ur lockwood and co imagines tho

a/n: oh i can absolutely do this! if there's anything i love, it's lockwood and angst lol. i hope you enjoy!! and don't worry about the length of a request, if there's something you want then I'll do it <3

warnings: mild language, angst, mentions of death gn reader

It's four in the morning and all you want is a good cup of tea and to lie down, but when does anything ever go the way you want it to?

As you sit on one of the kitchen chairs, Lockwood is fumbling around, trying to patch up a gash on your forehead after a scuffle with the ghost you had a case for tonight. You feel like a child. Even more so because he's telling you off.

If you're being honest, you've not been listening to most of what he's been saying, partly because of exhaustion and pain, partly because he's been pattering on for so long that, quite frankly, you've lost interest.

"Are you even listening to me?"

You flinch as Lockwood slathers antiseptic cream on the cut. "Honest answer?"

"Preferably."

"Then no. What were you saying?"

The look he gives you holds no humour. No, this is the look Anthony Lockwood gives when he's tired and irritated and unable to keep up the farce of a charming, unbothered business owner. It doesn't hold much sway over you, and it never has, truthfully, but you can empathise with him. Solely because he often acts the same way you're acting now.

"You can't keep doing this," he says. His eyes are fixed on the plaster he slowly places on your forehead. "You're throwing yourself into harm's way with no good cause."

"No good cause? I think making sure you and George stay alive is an exceptional cause."

"This isn't a joke, (name). This is your life."

The words irk you a little. "I could say the same to you."

Lockwood's hands drop from your head, and he looks at you straight-on now. His eyes, usually filled with curiosity and soft happiness, swirl with something else. Frustration.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're always so snippy with me after cases," you say, trying to keep the edge out of your voice, "when all I'm doing is keeping you and George safe. I mean, tonight, you were both ghost-locked when I found you! But you're no different. If anything, you're worse than me. You've thrown yourself out of windows before. Shit, you've locked me in a room to fight a ghost yourself while I tried to find a source!"

He starts packing away the first aid kit, tearing his eyes away from yours, and you know you've made a good point. He never looks at you when he knows you're right.

"Lockwood, this company can't survive without you, we can't survive without you. My risks are thought through, and I'm not doing anything that should really cost me my life. You on the other hand..."

He glances at you, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "Me?"

You sigh, willing him silently to just look at you. "You'd give your life in a second. Which, believe me, I am eternally appreciative of, but it's rarely ever necessary, if ever. I've half a mind to think you're doing it to just... you know. Finish things. I'm - we're concerned about you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you absolutely do. You are such a hypocrite!"

"Me?" The look he gives you is scathing, so unlike any way he's looked at you before. "That's rich. Who was it that jumped from a balcony to stop of ghost? Who put themself right in the path of a ghost launching itself for someone? It was you!"

The anger that grips you is almost unbearable, but you push it down. Shouting will get you nowhere, and George is trying to sleep. "First of all, that balcony hung over a thick spread of bushes, so I had no injuries except for some thorn scrapes. Secondly, that ghost was going to kill you. Third, I can name at least five more things you've done in the last two weeks that put you in much more danger. Are we seriously going to make this a competition?"

Suddenly, he stands, and his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. You wince, watching as he shoves the first aid kit back into the cupboard. He pauses, hands on the countertop, standing straight as a rod.

Drama queen, you think, but you don't dare say it out loud.

"You're getting too reckless," Lockwood says, his back still facing you. "I can't risk having an agent who is too reckless. It endangers everyone."

Oh, you want to strangle him.

Angrily, you stand, not caring that you almost send the chair clattering to the floor. You press your hands to the table, wrinkling the thinking cloth, and lean forward, scowling.

"Reckless? Do you even hear yourself, Lockwood?"

"I do."

"I think you just love to hear the sound of your own voice. Surely that's why you spout so much bullshit."

"No, I -"

"I'm talking now, Lockwood," you snap and, thank god, he goes quiet. "You of all people do not get to call me reckless, not with the shit you pull. George, yes, he can feel free. But, you? Not a fucking chance. You go out of your way to put yourself in dangerous situations! And I get it, you want to protect us, but that is what I'm doing, too, and you don't see me almost dying! I leave with a scratch or two, so what. You leave with concussions and ghost-touch and the risk of bleeding internally. But, okay, I'm the reckless one. Whatever."

When he turns, his eyes are burning. "You endanger all of us when you pull shit like what you did today."

Scoffing, you say, "All right. What should I have done? Left you and George to be killed? My question is, what would you have done, Lockwood? Would you have left us?"

His silence is your answer, and you stand straight. Your gazes are locked, both alight with rage, but you won't back down. Not on this.

"That's what I thought."

You make to leave, but he moves quickly, grasping your wrist with a touch that should be strong. You're surprised by the gentleness of his hand, how loose his grip is, and you look up at him, frowning. His gaze has changed entirely, from rage to desperation.

"I can't -" He struggles for the words. "I can't lose you, (name). Not like I lost..."

My family. The words are left unspoken, but you know it's what he would've said. There's a pang in your heart, and you want to apologise for it all, but that's always been your gut instinct. To say sorry for everything. But not this time.

"And you think I can bear to lose you?" You try to hide the waver in your voice, but he's caught it, and you know it from the way his gaze softens. "You can't order me around, demand me not to protect you guys, when you do exactly that. It's not fair, Lockwood. Not on me, not on George. And I don't - I don't want a part in this if all you're going to do is sacrifice yourself and then criticise me for doing the same."

His hand shakes as it holds yours, and that's when all the sadness hits you, the regret for the argument you've had. "I'm sorry. I just..."

Your hand closes over his. "I know. I know."

When his forehead touches yours, careful not to press on the gash, you breathe in deeply. And you breathe out all the bad, all the pent-up anger inside of you. There's too little time in your lives to spend like this.

"I won't stop unless you stop," you murmur, closing your eyes.

His breath is warm on your cheeks. "Seems like we're stuck in a checkmate forever, then."

You sigh. "I suppose we are."

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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