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#ghost fanfic writer
anamelessfool · 9 months
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There is only one (allowed) television in the Ministry Compound. It is not due to cult reasons or control, it is just very shitty wiring in the building that nobody wants to really deal with.
It is located in the Rec Room next to the old pingpong table. Every day around 4 PM, a small gaggle of Siblings wander in, unfold the chairs propped up against the wall and watch an hour or two of Soap Operas. They are usually older women who bring their knitting and baked goods and yell at the foolishness at the screen.
Cirrus Ghoul has taken a liking to Soap Operas since she was summoned here on Earth. Something about the melodrama and passion excites her. Humans are, at their core, absurd creatures whose main form of entertainment is watching emotional upset. The Soap Operas made her realize this and she calmed down a bit and learned to just step back and not try to solve things all the time. Ghouls are empathic creatures, and Cirrus is more sensitive than that by her nature.
She can't talk with voiced words to the Siblings, but they are always friendly to her and share snacks and include her in their discussions about what is next for so and so and who is the father of whatshisname's child. She claps her hands, stomps her feet and waves her arms in disgust at the plot twists on the screen, just like the rest of the group.
She has since learned to crochet and thanks to her ghoulish instinctual knack for mastering physical tasks can make a fairly decent hat in about five minutes if she really focuses. She slows herself down on purpose, as a show of comraderie.
Rain Ghoul started coming to these weekday rituals at some point. She thinks it was because he half watched an episode while being roped into playing ping pong with Aether Ghoul. Rain is a curious sort of ghoul who pretends to not care about most things. He gives off an air of detached boredom at all times. And yet somehow Cirrus always finds him slumped in a folding chair by the TV waiting for everyone else to show up. Cirrus is happy she can now have a person to telepathically talk to as they watch, but Rain barely talks back with a few YEAHs, OH REALLY?s and sarcastic OH WOWs.
He can't hide his interest though. He subconsciously helps the old nuns wind up their yarnballs and does imperceptibly cock his head in interest when some new drama befalls the hero. Cirrus and the rest of Copia's choir of Ghouls have an aetheric soul connection, and although Rain does his best to hide it she can oftentimes see his interest and excitement visible in the air around him, small twitching tendrils of shifting blues and greens.
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sinkovia · 3 months
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Nsfw, smut, 18+
Knight Simon x Princess Fem!Reader
Deep grunts escape from Simon's throat as he fucks you in your chambers, your moans muffled as he presses his hand over your mouth. The last thing Simon needed was for one of your handmaidens to catch you letting the kingdom's most barbaric knight fuck you in secret.
“Can't have anyone catching us princess.” Your eyes rolled back in your head as he continued to abuse your soft gummy cervix.
Simon had denied you at first, he didn't want to be the one to take the innocence and purity of the kingdom's princess and he wasn’t looking for a death wish if you got caught. But the more time he spent with you after your father knighted him as your sworn protector, the more he started to feel for you.
The more he would buck his thick veiny cock into his calloused hand as he thought of you. The image of you being buried deep with his throbbing cock, the sound of your soft moans echoing off the walls of your chambers. 
Wanting you became a need fairly quickly and you were more than willing to let the man you admired from afar for so long take your purity away.
“I’m going to ruin you for the man you’re promised to, the second he sticks his worthless cock inside your pretty cunt he’ll know your innocence belongs to another man.”
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ghvst-ing · 15 days
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The shake in his hands is almost imperceptible, but still there as he holds his phone in his large, calloused fingers.
After years of active service, countless years of handling a sniper rifle, you’d think he’d be completely still at all times. And he is, but the emotions bottling inside him prevents it.
He hits the record button on the camera app the second his seven year old steps onto the stage, dressed up in a costume for the character she was playing as.
He feels proud.
Watching her as she so confidently says her part aloud, shifting into her role easily with an elated smile tugging at her lips once she notices his presence in one of the many seats before her.
Simon, being the tank of a man that he is, stands out amongst the crowd, surrounded by the parents’ of the other kids that came to witness the performance.
All goes well, and as the play comes to an end, and the parents’ cheer while the children on stage take a bow, he stops the recording. It pauses when he zooms in on your little girl, his lips quirking up in a rugged smile underneath the black surgical mask he wore.
His gaze drops, fingers tapping away at the screen as he closes the app, opening another, and finding your contact at the top of the list of the limited people he had saved.
He barely manages to send the messages before his daughter runs up to him from the stage, along with the other kids that rushed to their own parents, and clung onto his thigh, staring up at him expectingly with a face that resembled yours closely.
Attachment sent
Look at our little girl love Sent 16:48
He stuffs his phone into his pocket, brown eyes crinkling in the corners before he lifts her up into his arms, and she squeals in happiness.
It was for moments like these that he continued fighting.
Wish you were still here we both miss you Sent 16:49
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nyxiswrites1200 · 4 days
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Thinking of John Price being married to the prettiest wife. He invites Soap, Ghost, and Gaz over to his house where his pretty girl is sitting in the pool in the smallest bikini.
Getting all flustered because of the other guys but Price kisses her and says it's fine.
Ghost especially can't help but stare. He's never seen something so pretty in his life. Price knows you like him, you like the masked brooding L.T.
You sweetly ask for permission and of course Price grants it. You get to flirt with Ghost and hold on to his muscular arm while you try to convince him to get in the pool. However you just end up beneath him on a pool chair as he touches you.
"You take good care of your husband, love?"
"Mhm, I do. Let daddy fill me up all the time"
"You got room for one more?"
Letting him fuck you as Soap and Gaz try not to stare but they sit on the edge of the pool with their cocks hard. Price watching as he shamelessly strokes his cock, asking you how you like Ghost's dick in your tummy because it's so big.
Ghost fucking you in the backyard of your husband's house as the rest of em watch, trying not to be pervs. But you're just a sweet pretty little thing :( they can't help it.
Ghost is pounding you, making you moan so loudly. Good thing there's a tall fence surrounding the yard. He's got you pinned under his large frame, not even undressed.
Soap and Gaz cum in their swim trunks and Price's shoots over his happy trail on his stomach as Ghost pumps you full, leaving you dripping with his cum. You already know Price is going to want to fuck it back into you tonight along with his own.
Ghost was sweet though. Sent you flowers when he was away because he didn't want you to feel used even if you did want his cock anyway...
An: I don't know what came over me guys <3
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darlingwriter · 10 days
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💫🎀 with Ghost? Like he gets all tipsy and lovey. I honestly see this man as a lovesick puppy once you give him a lil bit of attention
Also if you’re keeping track of anons can I be 🧃anon?
a/n: okay first of all you're absolutely correct and you should say it. secondly, i've never had to track anons before and i'm actually so honoured! you can totally be 🧃 anon! 💗
fic: gn!reader x simon "ghost" riley tags: fluff warnings: none wordcount: under 1k
Strictly speaking, you and Simon really aren’t supposed to be sharing quarters. You’re definitely violating at least a dozen regulations by spending almost every night in his bed. Then again, not many people are willing to argue with a six-foot-three man in a skull mask, so strictly speaking has never really been an issue.
No, the only issue is that it’s almost ten and he’s not back from drinks with Soap and Gaz yet and you’re deeply regretting not going with him because, as it turns out, hanging out in this apartment all by yourself is, big surprise, actually pretty fucking boring.
It feels like a millennium passes by in the confines of the white walls before you at last hear a familiar knock at the door.
Setting down your book, you unfold yourself from the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, already mourning the loss of warmth as you shuffle across a cold hardwood floor to let the lieutenant in, one quilt still wrapped loosely around your shoulders, trailing behind you as you reach for the latch.
Simon’s pulling you into a hug almost the second you open the door, burying a fabric-covered face against your hair.
“You’re late,” you mumble into his chest, in an unsuccessful attempt to sound scolding.
“I know, ‘m sorry, lovely, cab took fuckin’ forever.” He shoves the door shut behind him. Leans back against it. “Ended up standin’ in the rain for ‘bout an hour.” He strips off a damp jacket. Pulls off his mask, revealing stubble and scars and a smile. “Missed you th’ whole time.”
“Sappy bastard.”
“Mmph.” The scent of bourbon whiskey still lingers on his skin, warm and a little smokey. He wraps the blanket — which has been slowly slipping off over the course of the exchange — back around you. “You like it.” You scoff and roll your eyes, and he cups your face with his hands and grins. “You’re cute.”
“You’re drunk,” you protest through squished cheeks.
“M’right, though.” He chuckles. Pulls you close again. Sinks down onto the couch, and you’re pulled down with him, his thick arms wrapped around you protectively as he rests his chin atop your head.
“Simon.”
“Lovely.”
“Breathing.”
“Not important,” he murmurs.
You sigh in defeat. Melt into the embrace. “You’re warm.” The words are muffled against his neck. Simon hums in acknowledgement. Presses a soft kiss against your temple.
“You too, lovely.”
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dapper-lil-arts · 3 months
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Darlings. is it gay when the phantom you created as a manifestation of your dreadfull loneliness takes the form of one of your closest friends.
Fanart of this pretty good horror rarijack fanfic, "The haunting of carroussel boutique" personaly i am surprised the writer didnt take the chance to point out how fucking funny this is. Me n kim started laughing about it during stream and i just had to draw this
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killerpancakeburger · 3 months
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Bluebeard's wife
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SUMMARY: On a visit to your boyfriend, you end up having to deal with a creep on base, but Soap and Ghost's methods of resolving your problem are... far more drastic than yours.
PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (and BFF!Ghost)
TAGS: Dark content, Badass!Reader, Established relationship, Dark! a bit yandere! Soap, Dark! a bit yandere! Ghost.
WARNINGS: Canon violence, blood mention, sexual harassment, insults. Soap and Ghost are acting creepy but not towards Reader.
WORDS COUNT: 1,1k words.
A/N: Was thinking about how high the risks of sexual assault are in the military for women + about how much the Task Force could get away with (Soap's mohawk is NOT standard issue lol), but it turned out kinda dark. Not my usual kind of content. This is my first time writting those characters, pls be indulgent.
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Your elbow connects with the man’s nose with a satisfying crack.
Immediately he howls, pressing his broken nose with one hand, blood dripping between his fingers.
“FUCK! What the fuck! You broke my nose, you crazy bitch!”
This. This is why you didn’t want to meet the Task Force on base. There was always one brainless fucker who didn’t get the memo that, no, despite having breasts, you weren’t here as a comfort woman.
The private is glaring at you with a hatred as deep as it is sudden, one that screams murder.
The only good side of the situation is, with how loud he’s being, you won’t even need to call for help. Already most of the soldiers nearby are staring at you, muttering among themselves. Not that you can’t beat this guy up on your own, but the military tends to frown upon civilians roughing up their members, you learned it at your expense quite early. On the other hand, soldiers settling accounts between each other was… well, not exactly authorized, but it was way less trouble for you.
He grabs you by the collar, his rage only exacerbated by your composure. The action stains your clothing with his blood. You mentally grimace. You’re no stranger to blood, but the idea of this repulsive individual’s bodily fluids being anywhere on your person is disgusting. 
“Are you listening, you dumb bitch!? I’m gonna fucking kill-”
The venom-filled verbal onslaught stops dead as a hand takes hold of your assailant’s wrist.
“Now, now, at ease, soldier. Ya making a spectacle of yourself.”
The thickly accented voice of your boyfriend sends a wave of warmth in your chest. 
Your harasser hesitates a second too long, so Soap makes the decision for him, tightening his grasp until the soldier winces, and finally takes the hint, letting you go and taking a few steps backward. Johnny immediately positions himself between the two of you, shielding you.
He’s been smiling the whole time, but it’s the kind of dangerous smile you wear when you’re about to give an asshole a righteous beating.
The private looks partially sheepish, but not defeated, indignation burning in his eyes. He lets loose a torrent of justifications and excuses, actively painting you as the villain, not caring if he contradicts himself in the process. You don’t pay attention to the details of his speech. It’s always the same “she was asking for it” kind of diatribe. The fact that he sincerely believes that there’s a chance that Soap will take his side instead of yours is laughable, but not surprising. 
You wonder how long this will go on, until the private notices something next to you, and all blood seems to desert his face as his voice deserts his vocal cords. 
You turn your head and, to no surprise to you, Ghost is there. He stands so close to you that your arms are almost touching. Clothed entirely in black, which brings out the white skull on his mask, his presence is as menacing as ever; all he needs to do is scowl at lesser soldiers to make them cower in fear. He doesn’t look back at you, but his support for you is so obvious through the rest of his behavior that he doesn’t need to.
Soap takes advantage of the newfound silence to turn to you.
“Ya good, yeah?” He asks, cradling your cheek tenderly, and stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. 
The question is futile - if you were hurt, he would have noticed right away. But it’s still cute to see.
“Yeah. Not a scratch.” you smile.
“That’s my girl”, he smiles back. “So, what the bloody hell happened here?”
You glance at the private behind him. He’s shaking, and the look he sends you back is begging for mercy. Remembering the first words he addressed to you earlier, you realize you’re all out of mercy for today. Thus, with a sadistic little smile, you recount the events.
“This man came to me complaining that I was unfairly privileging Sergeant Mctavish and that he wanted his turn. Then when I explained that I wasn’t some kind of free-for-all buffet, he took it the wrong way and put his hands on me. That’s when I exploded his nose.”
By the time you finish your explanation, Soap’s expression has darkened considerably.
“I see.” is all that leaves his mouth. Anyone familiar with him would know that for him to start talking by monosyllables like Ghost, something must be very wrong.
Pivoting again, he faces the private and, as the latter opens his mouth to plead for forgiveness, punches him right in the face. Blood gushes, drops of it landing on his face. You mentally count until three, one for every blow, and when Soap still doesn’t stop punching, you frown, disturbed and worried by his conduct. He’s never been one to remain impassive in the face of injustice, easily riled-up even in critical situations and despite his superiors’ orders, but you’ve never seen him go this far. 
You’re about to intervene when Ghost beats you to it, putting a hand on his sergeant’s shoulder. That’s right. Ghost, the voice of reason, the paragon of self-control, their cold-hearted leader, will fix everything.
However when you hear the next words that leave his mouth, it’s like the world tilted on its axis.
“Not out in the open, Johnny.”
The words are whispered low enough that only Soap and you would have heard. They send a cold shiver down your spine. Rattled and unsettled in a way that they never made you feel before, you contemplate the situation in silent incredulity.
“Aye, L.T.”, replies Soap with an abnormally monotonous tone.
Before you can ask what the fuck is happening, he proceeds to punch the soldier so hard in the stomach that the latter collapses without a sound, except for the muffled noise of someone winded. The scene makes you increasingly uncomfortable. You feel like Bluebeard's newest wife, having stumbled upon the one room you were forbidden from entering, having witnessed something you weren't supposed to see, and now you can never go back to how things were before.
You counted on Soap and Ghost’s intervention, sure, but you expected them to put an end to the fight, maybe intimidate the guy a little, and ultimately end things here. You didn’t expect… whatever this is.
Staring in shock at the two Special Forces, you shake your head to get a grip and come closer.
“Alright guys, I think he’s had enough-”
Ghost interrupts you with a hand on your shoulder. The Ghost touching two people in less than five minutes? Yes, something’s seriously wrong. Looking at him, you try to convey urgency with your gaze…
“Simon, this isn’t-” 
…but his next words make you lose hope of winning this argument.
“Easy there, love. Johnny’s takin’ care of it, ya don’t need to worry ‘bout a thing.”
The next thing you know, he presses a hand against your lower back, making you leave the premises, completely ignoring the way you stare at him in utter disbelief… and growing apprehension. 
He had never called you “love” before.
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forsworned · 2 months
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I WANNA TAKE A RIDE ON YOUR DISCO STICK ft. SWITCH!KEEGAN
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𓈒༑•̩̩͙ ⏤ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁!𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝖽𝖺, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝗉𝗇𝗏
𓈒༑•̩̩͙ ⏤ 𝗌𝗒𝗉𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗌: 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗒 𝗀𝖿, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋
𓈒༑•̩̩͙ ⏤ 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗀𝗌
⤷ links: masterlist rules buy me a coffee!!
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Whether it was on base, missions, or in the privacy of your quarters, you were always inappropriately groping at your quiet boy toy (with his prior permission obviously), but that doesn't stop him from shooting you an icy glare that sent you snickering. Truthfully, you palming at his dick over his trousers was enticing for him. He loved the perverse smile that graced your glossy lips when you skipped away after his cock immediately chubbed at your touch. Always casting aside the jabs from his teammates about the hickies that littered his neck and torso, and the scratch marks that etched into his back in long, jagged crimson streaks. Keegan didn't give a damn.
In fact, he proudly paraded you around, with fresh bite marks on his neck after you finished grinding down on cock just moments ago while your hands were pressed into neck as he begged for more. Keegan was so, so, so needy. So, need for you.
"Fu⏤ fuck, angel, I⏤ " He whimpered out underneath you, as you greedily bounce on his cock and your breasts caromed with every stroke. His thick brows scrunching together as his pretty, wintry hues rolled back in his skull and his jaw hung as strangled moans left those rosy lips of his. "I⏤think, I think gonna c⏤"
"Uh uh uh." You gently chided, halting your ministrations against his hips, depriving him of any pleasure. He let out a constricted whine at your display of authority that he found so sexy, but it only made him more yielding to your rule.
A soft exhale left his lips as he smiled up at you, eyes still closed, caressing your sides and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. The dom in him itching to come crawling out, and tossing you around like a ragdoll. Keegan was certainly allowing you to have a little too much fun in this domineering position, and your heart instantly jumped at the expression on his face as his eyes fluttered open. Dark, long lashes framing his steely, libidinous gaze.
His teeth hooking into his lip was a dead giveaway of him deciphering whether or not to flip you over and hammer into you to satiate his needs of absolutely pulverizing you. Nothing would satisfy him more than to do just that. Your haughty gaze challenging him to do what he was currently pondering, knowing damn well he outsized you and the thought alone was quickly decoded as he practically saw the submissiveness trickle into your eyes. As soon as you could even register it, Keegan had you flat on your back. The mattress warm and slightly damp was an indication of how much you were torturing him, but now it was his turn.
A small gasp escaped you when he held your wrists with his hefty hand. "Think you've had enough fun, princess." He declared, hovering over your quivering form and a deep chuckle bubbled from his chest as he slowly rolled his hips so deliciously against yours. The shattered breath that escaped you was so heavenly to him, lyrical even. The enmeshment of dirty words, incoherent profanities, whimpers and groans was a little symphony orchestrated by him. The blissful thrusts only made your pussy pulsate against his girthy cock, stretching you pliant as hell.
Though there was still a look of defiance scrambled into your features that were bunched up in the thrill of him taking control. "Oh, don't look at me like that." His honeyed voice, said between your lips glossed over with saliva as he gently pressed his free hand around your throat.
"Open your mouth." He prodded your mouth open with his thumb, ceasing his movements for a moment as you observed him spitting into your mouth. His saliva hit your tongue and you immediately swallowed it. An involuntary clench was enough to part his own lips to let a shameless whimper slip out. That sent him into euphoria as he drove all the way into you to the hilt, kissing your cervix so delightfully. The both of spiraling into a frenzy as you clasped your legs around his waist and his brows furrowed once more as the silky warm that enveloped his cock.
His tip nudging at your a-spot slowly, but deeply as your mouth hung open at the luscious sensation. The way your eyes never left his each and every time he pounded into as you puckered your walls around him, making him near his end. "Fuck, princess⏤gonna cum." He softly cried out between thrusts and you nodded, with starry eyes and lips laquered with his saliva.
"Keegan⏤" You choked out between sobs as his fingers tightened around your throat and you felt your orgasm start to build up in your lower belly. "I'm⏤"
"Cum for me." He let out a shaky breath, and you felt the warm, rushing sensation expanding through your system as your climax rippled through you. And he felt that. Every single twitch and pulse as you locked onto him and soon he felt that sweet, sweet, moment of carthasis washing over him. His dick throbbed uncontrollably, spilling his tepid, creamy arousal into you.
Your lips curling into a giddied smile as you both caught your breath, covering your eyes with your forearm. Keegan's intense gaze usually left you flustered after such an impassioned session. He licked his moistened lips and chuckled at your shy state, always finding it endearing as hell when your orgasm carried you away. "Let me see that pretty face." He murmured, moving your arm out of the way and you peeked an eye at him that sent him into fit of laughter.
And you whined as he embraced you, rolling you over so that you laid ontop of him. A gentle kiss to your hair as he pulled upward so he could nuzzle his nose against your soft cheeks. Another plush kiss to your skin and playfully groaned, pinching his nipple in return. He jolted at the sudden pang of pain.
"Oh, you wanna play dirty, huh?" His husky voice perked up and you knew what was coming. You attempted to escape his grasp but his stout fingers caged you as he began to tickle you.
"No! N-no! Keegan⏤!" You struggled to find words between breaths and laughter. His assault not stopping, your mirth like music to his ears. To him, there was nothing better than these silly little moments he shared with you.
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𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 ࣪ೀ ࣪ 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 © 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽
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sexy-sea-basss · 6 months
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here’s the thing I admire about the ghouls: they love every body, no matter shape, size, color. they love imperfections and they always love on those imperfections.
thank you writers and artists for using different bodies in scenes, because it makes me feel like someday, i too will be loved for who i am, imperfections and all
I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH. like yall don’t even understand.
i love seeing those stretch marks, lil fatty rolls, dad-bod copia, glasses, freckles, small titties, big titties, no titties, scars, top surgery scars, description of thighs jiggling when getting into position, happy trails, body hair, etc.
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copiousloverofcopia · 4 months
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💗Hey there ghesties!💗
Those of you who keep up with my posts/fics probably noticed that I have only 1 more fic to finish this month before all my current ongoing chapter fics have an update this month!!
Next up will be the finale of Death & Flowers, and I'm so excited but a little sad to see it over 🥹.
Anyways, once everything is up to date for this year and my Valentine's Day commissions are done, I will be resuming regular updates to chapter fics AS WELL AS answering asks/request again!!!
And... As a reminder I still have some slots available for both a Valentine's Day fic or letter from Papa! Once this week is over I will be closing those to help ensure they are completed by Valentine's Day.
Here is my link if you are interested in a commission from me (Valentine's or otherwise) here is my link 💗:
Thank you ghesties!
💗 PM Ren
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codfanficedits · 8 months
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The Silent Treatment.
Pairing:
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.
Wordcount: 3695| Rating: E (18+ only!)
Warnings: Arguing, cussing, swearing, mommy issues, communication, mention of a finger in an ass, angst with no comfort.
A/N: No alternative endings for this one, life's a bitch and if I have to suffer so have you <3 also maybe thinking about taking request, idk.
There were three rules in your relationship with Simon.
One – NEVER eat leftovers that aren’t yours.
Two – Bending over is NOT an invitation to poke someone’s ass.
Three – Never go to a mission while still in an argument.  
Rule number one was an easy one. You’d gotten fed up with him eating your leftovers. You’d spent the whole day dreaming about the leftover pasta carbonara only to be met with an empty plate when you came home. An innocent look on his face when you scolded him. “I was hungry.” He pouted. “If your name isn’t on it, it isn’t yours!” You scolded him.
Simon would just put a post it with his name on your leftovers. A cocky grin on his face whenever you called him out on it. “Whaddya mean lovie? It clearly says my name.” In the beginning you wanted to wipe that cocky grin of his face, but over time you found yourself cooking a little extra, just so there would always be a portion of leftovers for Simon. In return you would just keep the good leftovers in an old, empty tub of butter. Your little secret and he didn’t need to know.
Rule number two was brought to life when Simon was finally fed up with you trying to poke his ass every goddamn time he bended over.
“It’s off limits!”
“But that’s not fair.” You protest. “My ass is not off limits for you.”
“You like it.”
“You won’t know it if you won’t try it.”
“You are out of your goddamn mind.”
“Just once.” And with those words you take a step closer, holding out your pointer finger.
“I swear to God, one more step and I’ll put you up for sale on Facebook Marketplace.”
A loud exaggerated gasp leaves you while you lower your hand. “You would never!”
“Correct.” A twinkle in his brown eyes. “I would have to pay people to even be interested in picking you up.”
“Simon!”
You’re met with two arms around you and a million soft kisses on your cheek, forehead, neck. “I would never do such a thing.” He mutters into your ear. “I like my money too much.”
It became a little inside joke. Every now and then he would take the most unflattering picture of you, his favourite was the one where you’d fallen asleep on the couch, your mouth open, snoring while a little bit of drool was on the side of your face. Simon would proudly show you the picture.
“This is the one I would put up with that Facebook Market place ad.” He would grin.
“Please do. Maybe some rich prince will pick me up.”
“Yeah if you count someone with a Burger King crown a prince.”
In return, when the two of you were watching tv, you’d point at some of the rich women you’d see on there.
“That would be me when some rich man responds to the ad you made about me.”
“Be sure to send me some allowance every now and then.”
“As if!” You scoff. “I’d be too busy being rich and pretty to think about sending you a tenner every month.”
It would always be met with a low, grumble, mixed in with a laugh. “You’re already pretty, lovie, pretty sure you can miss a tenner too already.”
But he would always, always pull you close to him and press a kiss onto your hair, and you were pretty sure you could hear him mutter the word “mine”.
Rule number three came to life after the first time the two of you had a big argument. While the two of you could communicate perfectly fine most of the time, every now and then it would escalate. He had a temper, you were so fucking stubborn and sometimes it just had to clash.
And this was the first time. The two of you had just moved in together, and with that came a lot of irritations. Both of you were used to living alone. You didn’t have to worry about people nagging you about your dirty sock scattered around the floor. Simon was used to putting his socks directly into the hamper when he took them off. In return, he could make the kitchen explode while cooking and was perfectly fine with leaving it like that for the night, your fingers would itch whenever the kitchen wasn’t spotless after dinner. But this was new for the both of you, and all of the sudden the two of you weren’t just soldiers, but two people, madly in love but both trying to be right on an argument that only needed compromises.
And it felt as if the world was coming to an end at the kitchen table, while the two of you were arguing and crying, eating of the last, sweet bite of your relationship.
Unfortunately a mission doesn’t stop for a little argument, so the argument had to be cut short. You’d be sent away for no longer than two weeks, and leaving tore your heart out, leaving it behind on the shoe rack for him to look at while you were away. You didn’t even know if you would be single or not when you would come back.
Inside your shared house, Simon would be sitting on the floor, gaze fixed on the door through which you left, hoping you’d come back through that door, tell him you love him, and that you would clean up your socks.
But you didn’t.
Instead he received the news that the communication was cut off between your squad and base. An unforeseen enemy ambush that no one had seen coming. And your socks on the floor no longer mattered to Simon, he promised himself he would never, ever complain about the socks scattered on the bathroom floor if that meant you would come home safe. Simon had never been a religious man, but he would find himself praying at your empty side of your bed every night he was home, begging all the Gods above that you would come home to him.
And you did.
He had been waiting for you the moment he got the news you and your squad had been found. Nervously pacing around, while he was Ghost out on the field, for you he was just Simon, and right now Simon needed you more than ever before. You had been gone for nearly a month now, and he could no longer care about your socks, or the way you would kick out your shoes. All he could care about was you, and having you.
You on the other hand, had no idea what you would come home to. Maybe he had left, maybe you would come home to an empty house with a lover long moved on. But that wasn’t the case, you were greeted by a large man, his hands instantly cupping your face, lips all over your cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, forehead as if his lips were trying to imprint your face in his mind.
After that, the two of you decided to never, ever leave on a mission again while still mad and that rule needed a little tweaking.
By the next big argument, months later, the both of you stayed up all night, trying to talk out the argument. The lack of sleep only fuelling the anger on both sides. It made you both irrational and unable to think in solutions. Eventually the both of you fell asleep, Simon sitting at the kitchen table, you had made your way to the couch, holding on to his hoodie out of spite. The next morning the two of you could in fact talk it out, without the crying, without raising your voice, without the cussing.
So eventually rule number three became really simple. Don’t go on a mission while you’re still in an argument. No matter the subject, no matter how angry one of you was. If someone had to leave for a mission, the argument was put on hold, almost always accompanied by some soft words.
“I’m still mad, but I love you, and we’ll find a solution when you’re back”
“You’re still a pain in my ass, but I love you, and we will work this out.”
“When you’re back, we will talk about it, but for now, all you need to know is that I love you.”
A kiss always followed afterwards, usually on a lips, a single time on the forehead.
Today the two of you were about to break rule three. The past few months had been hectic, to say the least. A lot of missions, birthdays, other obligations. Not enough sleep, not enough intimacy, not enough time for each other. It had placed a ticking bomb under your relationship with Simon. An argument waiting to happen. The little things that would usually just make you shake your head and go on with your day, suddenly became a big deal. The way he would leave the kitchen, the way he would drape his shirts over the armrest over the couch. How he would leave his razor in the shower, always next to your shampoo. Speaking of it, you were certain he was using your shampoo, despite you asking him not to. Multiple times and he never fucking listens.
On the other hand, Simon was getting annoyed by you more and more, the way you would leave your socks on the bathroom floor, how you would leave a door open if you had been in that room. And you always left the fucking light on in the bathroom, no matter how often he would tell you to be mindful of it.
So there you were, walking into your kitchen after he had come home after a long, tiring mission. You had just come home from a day full of meetings and preparations for your upcoming mission.
Your whole kitchen a goddamn mess, who the fucks needs two pans, a cutting board, three plates and a fork, a knife AND a spoon for a portion of scrambled eggs anyway? But you try to let it go, you try counting to ten, you try to ignore the eggshells on the stove, the ketchup on the counter, you try to ignore it all.
Then he barges in, a pair of your socks in his hands, while he looks you in the eyes, using his foot to open the bin, tossing your socks in there.
“What the fuck is that for?”
“I’m sick and tired of finding your fucking socks everywhere.”
“Oh so you can throw away my socks, but throwing out eggshells while you’re cooking is too much to fucking ask?”
“I was going to do it after my nap.”
“Sure you were.” An eyeroll from you followed.
“Don’t give me that fucking attitude lovie.”
“Attitude?” You narrow your eyes.
“Attitude. All I want is some fucking peace and quiet and all you’re doing is fucking nagging.”
“I wouldn’t have to nag if you would just clean this fucking kitchen! Other people want to live and cook here too.”
You can see him press his lips together, a sign that the temper in him is rising, but you don’t care, you can feel your own anger building up and it needs to get out.
“Well, other people would like to go to the fucking bathroom without having to cross a fucking path of dirty, filthy fucking socks!”
“They’re just fucking socks, what is your big fucking deal?”
“My big fucking deal is that little miss perfect over here is nagging like a fucking bitch, while I’m following her around cleaning up her fucking socks, closing fucking doors behind her fucking ass. You can’t even turn of the fucking light after you’ve been in a room and you’re whining about the fucking kitchen!” His voice is raising with every word that comes out of his mouth.
But you were raised by a woman couldn’t love herself, so you don’t back down, instead you get in his face, your tone and volume matching his. “Because this kitchen is fucking disgusting Simon! How the fuck could the army recruit someone so fucking filthy?” Bringing in his career was a low blow. “How fucking hard is it to clean the goddamn ketchup if you spill it?”
His hands form two fists, clenched while they hang beside his body.
“Do not.” His voice is a hiss. “Bring my fucking work into this.”
You roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you fucking say Simon.” You turn around as you spit out your words.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Out of this fucking swinery of a kitchen.”
“We’re not done talking.”
“What else is there to fucking say? You’re a fucking pig and I am the problem apparently.” Another turn to face him again.
“You know, when you act like this, you’re just your mother.”
Oh, your mother. The woman who was your first friend and your first enemy. The woman who had taught you that your worth was what men thought of you, while slut shaming you in the same sentence. The woman who never loved you how you needed her to. The day she called you ugly wasn’t the day you stopped loving her, but the day you stopped loving yourself, and you had told him. You had cried in his arms about your fucked up relationship with your mother, you had cried about what you had wanted her to be, but what she never could be for you.
“If I’m my mother, then you’re your fat-“ He cuts you off.
“Don’t fucking go there.”
“Why not? You can compare me to my fucking mother. My MOTHER out of all people!” It’s your turn to raise your voice at him.
“It’s different.”
“You’re a fucking hypocrite Simon.”
“I’m the hypocrite? I can’t even come home without you nagging on my fucking ass about this fucking kitchen while you leave a trail of your fucking mess throughout the whole fucking house.”
“Oh well, I’m sorry for not wanting fucking eggshells on my stove, or your fucking shirts all over the couch. Or your FUCKING razor next to MY fucking shampoo!”
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“Oh don’t fucking act all innocent now, Simon. I’ve told you plenty of times to keep your hands of my fucking shampoo. That shit is fucking expensive.”
“So I don’t deserve nice, expensive things?”
His comment makes your blood boil. “Stop trying to be the fucking victim.”
“The fucking victim? I can’t even use some nice smelling shampoo in my own fucking house without it being used against me.”
“Oh my God! You could’ve bought your own fucking shampoo. But noo, you always have to take my fucking things. Not even my fucking leftovers are safe from you!”
“Are you still upset because I ate some leftovers?”
“Yes!”
“You’re a fucking child.”
“You’re a fucking leech.”
“A leech?” His fists turning white at your comment.
“A fucking leech. Feeding off others like a fucking parasite.”
“It would be a very good idea if you learned how to shut up, lovie.” The last word didn’t even sound as a pet name anymore.
“Oh I’ll fucking shut up.”
“Finally some fucking peace around here.”
You press your lips together, not making another sound. If he wants some fucking peace he can get it. You turn around to leave the kitchen.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Without looking at him you point at the whiteboard, the date of the mission you had to go on today circled with a red marker.
“Be sure to pack some extra socks so you can litter the fucking battlefield.” He shouts at you as you walk off to pack your bag.
Never break rule number three.
You’re angry when you pack your bag, stomping around, making sure he hears how pissed off he has made you. You even want to take your stupid fucking shampoo with you, but you decide against it, it would be too much of a hassle.
You go downstairs again with your packed bag, and the two of you make eye contact. But neither of you says a thing. Neither of you say the words you had promised each other to always say before a mission.
You turn around while his eyes look back at the tv again, and you make sure to slam the door a little too hard while you leave on your mission.
Turns out all Simon needed was a good nap, some food, a shower and some more sleep. When he wakes up from his little nap and the sky outside is already dark, he realises how much he misses you, how he didn’t tell you he loved you when you went away. He lets out a sigh when he gets to the bathroom, your socks still on the floor, and with a small huff he bends over to pick them up, his hand automatically covering his ass, a force of habit to make sure you don’t poke him while he is bending over. A soft sigh leaving his lips when he realises you’re not there.
For the first time since the two of you got together, your side of the bed felt extra cold, extra empty, and he found himself on his knees again, praying to the heavens you would be home quick, so he could tell you he loved you, and so the two of you could have an actual conversation about the things that had been bothering the two of you.
Simon lets out a soft groan when he sees the kitchen, you had been right, it looked like an active warzone in there. Maybe he should learn to clean up the kitchen after cooking. He’s a grown man for fuck sake.
He rolls up his sleeves, puts on some music and it’s time to clean that goddamned kitchen. And while he is cleaning his thoughts wandered to you, how hurt you looked when he compared you to your mother, and a jolt of guilt shoots through him. It had been unfair to compare you to your mother. You were nothing like her, and when you would be back he would make sure to tell you that.
He's sweaty and Simon isn’t sure how it happened, but he got eggshells in his hair, but the kitchen is clean, and he intends to keep it that way. With a light spring in his step he makes his way to the shower. He automatically reaches for your shampoo, he just loves how your hair smells when you’re laying on his chest, or when he is your weighed blanket and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Washing his hair with your shampoo reminds him of you during the day. Simon unscrews the cap, bringing the bottle to his nose and he closes his eyes, the steam and the scent of your shampoo give him the illusion that you’re with him again, and when he opens his eyes he feels empty when you’re not there.
He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.
When he lays in bed at night, and you’re not there to hold, he feels lonely, for the first time since forever, you had always feel like home, and now his home was gone. Simon keeps reaching out for you, only to be met by the cold feeling of your empty pillow. The scrolls past the pictures he has from you, the ones he had always threatened to put in a Facebook marketplace ad, and they bring a smile to his face. He remembers the first time he gave you the playful threat and how he had to make sure to smother you in kisses in case you were angry at him. But you weren’t, you had always been a saint and today he had let his anger take control.
He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.
But when you finally return and he gets the chance to tell you that he loves you, the words get stuck in his throat. Rule number three had been broken and he wasn’t sure how to continue from there. Eventually he finds the courage to speak to you again.
“I love you.” The words are simple, yet raw. But you’re not done being silent, after all, he wished for some peace and now he was getting it.
And so the minutes pass, the hours pass, the days pass, but your silent treatment doesn’t end, you’re a stubborn one, and he knows it.
But he has to speak to you, it is the least he could do, but it’s hard to speak to you when he knows you won’t say a thing back.
“I should’ve hugged you tighter the last time I saw you. I just miss you, in a quite simple, desperate, human way.” The words are raw again, as if they are ripped from the very core of his human being. Again there is no answer from you, and it rips his heart out. He just wishes the last thing you said to him were words of love, not words out of anger.
And now he is sitting next to you, a blanket around the both of you, while he finds the courage to speak to you. Simon’s gaze shifts from the flowers in front of him, to the stars in the sky.
“The stars will go out before I forget you.” His voice is soft, a whisper, the words are meant just for you.
He sighs when you stay silent, oh what he would give to hear your voice once again.
“You know, this is not how I had imagined life, lovie. I want to stay on the back porch, while the world tilts toward sleep, until what I love misses me, and calls me back to bed.” His voice breaks in the middle of his sentence.
Simon rests his head against your tombstone. “This silent treatment has been going on for long enough, don’t you think, lovie?”
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sinkovia · 3 months
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Simon Riley hated photographs, but still, you begged him to take pictures together, eager to preserve the precious memories you created.
Simon, glued to his convictions, had always refused no matter how many times you begged.
But what if our memory is not enough? What if we forget what we had together?
I promise you, love. As long as I'm breathing, I'll never let that happen. Our memories will always be enough for me.
Out of respect for his wishes, you had reluctantly ceased your requests, choosing to cherish the moments you shared in the fleeting present. You got rid of all the old photos of yourself, telling yourself that if Simon didn’t need them neither did you.
Now, standing alone before your casket, Simon's regret weighed heavy on his heart like an anchor dragging him down into the depths of despair. He longed for a tangible memento of your time together, a photograph to serve as a beacon of light amidst the darkness of his grief. 
But time, that relentless thief of memories, had a cruel way of distorting even the most cherished recollections. 
With each passing year, the image of you grew increasingly hazy in his mind, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Desperate to hold onto the essence of you, Simon turned to the only medium he knew.
Drawing.
With trembling hands and a heavy heart, he painstakingly sketched your features from memory, pouring his soul into each stroke of the pencil. 
But the passage of time had a way of eroding even the most vivid memories , and each attempt to capture you resulted in a different interpretation, leaving Simon haunted by the ever-shifting image of the one he loved.
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ghvst-ing · 4 days
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He hated feeling like this — vulnerable.
It made him feel weak, like he was a little kid again at the mercy of the bastard he called a father. The emotions that he buried deep within him years ago bubbling to the surface as he tried to contain them.
His eyes closed instinctively as a bit of soapy water rolled down his face, shoulders hunched, and meaty legs bent at the knees whilst he sat in the bathtub stiffly.
An apologetic ‘sorry’ tumbled from your pursed lips, hands running through his short hair as you massaged your scented shampoo into his scalp. You were sat on the edge of the tub, clothed as you helped him get clean, scrubbing the grime, blood, and sweat that lingered on him post-mission.
“T’s fine,” he mumbled back, lids fluttering half-open to gaze at you from the corner of his eye.
He was tired.
Exhaustion clung onto him, weighing him down, his bones heavy, and every little move caused an ache in his joints.
In this moment, Simon was exposed to you fully. Both literally, and figuratively. His heavily guarded trust heart was handed over to your delicate fingers. And in a time of weakness, he hoped that you wouldn’t dare to break it.
A long sigh escaped his lips. All the air is pushed out of his lungs as you lean in, placing a gentle kiss to temple. He relished in the softness of your lips against his damp skin before you pulled back, returning to the task at hand.
The shallow water he sat in was growing cold, yet it was the least of his concerns as your touch was warm enough to combat the chilliness, a tingling feeling running down his spine.
“I missed you,” you said, breaking the somewhat comfortable silence that fell over you both.
From his peripheral, he could see the small smile that tugged at your lips, brows just slightly pinched in concentration.
If he was some other man; a man not so scarred, delt with the cruelest cards, one that hadn’t seen, gone through the things he had, he’d return the gesture.
But he wasn’t that man. He would never be that man.
Not in this lifetime, at least.
Simon swallowed thickly, his lips pulled into a soft frown as his eyes shifted to the wall.
No response came from him, and that was okay. It was to be expected. You were used to the man he was. The wary, scared, conditioned man he was.
So it came as a surprise when his thin lips parted, forming the words that came out just barely audible, quiet, and in the softest tone one could receive from him.
“..Missed you, too.”
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thebookbutterfly · 2 months
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I love fanfic writers because they will spend days researching some niche aspect of their oneshot to make sure it’s all factual and accurate. And in the very next chapter they will write a smut scene that disregards the laws of physics, biology and good common sense.
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nyxiswrites1200 · 2 months
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Muscular!men x Curvy!fem
Slight NSFW, Slight body image issues/insecurities, I'm self-indulging
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Something about big strong men and soft curvy women just melts my brain ❤️
Large men who are muscular and just have a large presence in the room (dobermans and golden retrievers <3). Very well can win fights and protect their pretty girl. Along with the contrast of this pretty little thing standing beside them. A woman with a soft figure, soft tummy, squishy thighs, the whole works.
These men absolutely adore seeing their girlfriend in any clothes. Especially when it shows that bit of soft stomach. Even if you're standing there all insecure and unsure. He'll be trying his best not to drool. "I love it, princess", "God, you're gorgeous", "Makes you look like a goddess".
The intimacy is top notch. That one day you decided to wear lingerie for once? You'd never seen your boyfriend pop a boner so fast. He didn't even wanna take it off, just pushing it to the side and eating your pussy while holding those squishy hips of yours down.
Treats you like a million dollar work of art. Tells you how pretty you are and reassures every insecurity that you might have. Plus the perk of feeling security and safety anytime he's near.
Slowly erasing any derogatory statements you may have received before about your weight. Getting rid of that feeling that you can't wear certain things because he loves seeing those thick thighs in the shortest skirt you can find (if you're into that sort of style <3).
So yeah, muscular men and curvy girlies have my heart ❤️❤️
Thinking about.... Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price, Nanami Kento, Toji Zenin, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Leon Kennedy, Miguel O'Hara....and whoever you want <3
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girlwitheconverse · 2 months
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STRAWBERRIES
╰┈➤ KEEGAN P. RUSS
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Pairing: Keegan x singlemom!reader
Genre: fluff
Story type: one shot
Word count: 2k
TW: unexpected pregnancy
masterlist
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You take a sip of your iced coffee, well deserved you must say, as you look around the coffee shop finally relaxing after a stressing day.
Then you remember that it’s still 10 in the morning and that your work break ends in ten minutes.
The life of a single mother of a toddler of four isn’t easy by any means but you wouldn’t change it for the world, you love Ellie, your daughter, too much to even think of a life without her. You remember all the emotion you felt the day you discovered you were pregnant: shock, fear, and excitement; in this precise order. Ellie’s father probably stopped at shock, because the day after you told him you were pregnant you received a break-up message and he ghosted you.
He disappeared. Completely. Even moved out of his apartment.
Your parents? Like the religious people they are…They kicked you out of the house because you had a kid outside marriage! How outrageous of you.
“Sorry? Is this seat free?” a deep voice makes you come back with your mind on earth, you look at the man and damn is he handsome. Black hair, blue eyes, athletic…Definitely your type. Before answering you look around: the place is almost empty and there are plenty of free tables. Is he…Does he like me? Is the first explanation that comes to your mind but you can’t be sure of it: maybe he just doesn’t like to sit alone.
You nod with a polite smile “Yes.”
The mysterious handsome man sits in front of you and places his cappuccino on the table. The air between you two is awkward so you decide to say something.
Because standing up and leaving seems mean.
But before you can say anything he speaks, “My name is Keegan.”
You blink a few times, then smile “I’m Y/n”
He’s definitely trying to flirt with me.
“I’m not usually one to flirt like this so forgive me if I'm straightforward but that's just how I am.” He says, leaving you shocked. “But…I think you’re beautiful”
You notice his ears getting red and smile at the cuteness. “Thank you, Keegan.”
When was the last time a man flirted with you? You can’t even remember. Every time you go out you have Ellie glued to the hip and that makes most men run away. You’d be lying if you said you didn't like the attention.
“Would you…like to go on a date with me?” He asks as he looks into your eyes, he is indeed very straightforward.
“I…” You try to buy yourself time by taking the last sip of your coffee, should I say yes? He’s totally my type…But what if he drops me as soon as I tell him I have a daughter? Maybe I should just see how the date goes and then decide how to procede. Yes. Definitely that. “Why not?” you say with a smile.
He smiles too and Oh God, his smile is so pretty you feel like you’ve already fallen in love. He hands you his phone to put your number in it, you do so and then stand up.
“I need to go back to work, it was a pleasure meeting you, Keegan…I’ll wait for your text then.” You smile at him and walk outside the cafe, already calling your best friend.
“Girl, I need you to babysit Ellie someday…I don’t know when but I’m going on a date with this super handsome guy and-” before you can finish talking your best friend screams.
“Going out with a guy? An handsome one? You? Damn I’ll babysit Ellie anytime! You go get that D while me and your daughter have a tea party while we talk shit about Cinderella, never liked that bitch anyway.” You laugh and can’t help but feel grateful for having her as best friend.
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A week later
“Do I look cute?” You ask as you show your best friend your outfit “it’s a picnic date, I wanted to stay on theme”
“You really went for the slutty sundress, uh” she says with a smirk, your eyes shoot wide and you look down at Ellie, hoping she didn't hear the swearword.
“Mommy pretty!” She says as she hugs your legs, you pick her up and kiss her round cheek, chuckling as you need to clean your lipstick off her cheek.
“Mommy loves you.” you say before placing her on the ground, “Mommy is going out with a friend okay? I’ll see you later.”
The doorbell rings and you hold back a scream of excitement before picking your purse and walking outside, making sure that Keegan couldn't see Ellie from the door.
“H-hi.” You stutter as you see his outfit, a white t-shirt and brown pants, he’s holding a picnic basket, nothing spectacular but he looks so handsome. His bicep is so big.
He smiles and you notice him looking at you from head to toe, “Hi…Let’s go, I know you can’t wait to see my secret spot.” He says with a chuckle and you two start walking side by side. You and him have been texting each other for the past week and you discovered that he’s in the military, it now makes sense why he has such perfect physique, you also told him about your job as a banker.
As you walk, you chat about anything and everything, from your favorite books to the most embarrassing moments of your childhood. Keegan is easy to talk to, and his warm laughter puts you at ease. You can't help but wonder what he would be like with Ellie, but you quickly shake off the thought, reminding yourself that it's too early to think about that.
The spots he brings you to is a beautiful park with green grass and flowers, “it’s beautiful!” You say as you look around while he puts a blanket over the grass.
“Next time I’m taking you to the beach.” He says as you both sit down on the blanket.
“I love the beach!” You say excited, it’s been so long since you felt like this…Like a woman and not only a mother. “And I love sushi too…” You say as he takes the food out of the basket.
“Yeah, you already told me that a few times by message.” He says with a chuckle, remembering how you spent more than twenty messages talking about sushi.
“It was my worst craving when I was-” You stop before you can say too much, you still haven't told him about Ellie “When I was sick a few months ago, but the doctor said I couldn't eat any.”
He shakes his head and hands you a pair of chopsticks, “Oh, I almost forgot” he says as he picks from the basket a bottle of white wine and two glasses.
“The wine too?” You say shocked but with a smile on your face.
“Of course.” Keegan puts some wine in a glass and hands it to you, “to this date.”
“Hoping that this will be the first of many.” You add before you take a sip of the wine.
You two spend an hour eating and chatting before you lay down on the blanket with a sigh and a smile “I’m so full!”
“Even for these?” Keegan asks as he takes out of the basket strawberries that have been dipped in chocolate.
“I’m never full for these” you say with a chuckle.
“Say ah…” He says as he picks a strawberry and places it near your mouth, you blush but let him feed you the strawberry.
The sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry floods your mouth, followed by the warmth of Keegan's gaze. You blush profusely, your heart pounding in your chest as he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
You sit up and pick a strawberry, “say ah…” you say as you feed him the strawberry, he laughs but lets you feed him. “ops, you’ve got chocolate here” you say before kissing his lips. He’s frozen at first and you think you’ve gone too far, but then he places his hand on the back of your head and deepens the kiss.
The kiss is a heady, intoxicating rush that seems to consume every part of you, spiraling through you and leaving you breathless, your senses filled to the brim. The world narrows down to just the two of you, and for that moment, nothing else matters. As you reluctantly pull away, still caught in the lingering haze of the kiss, you can't help the bubbling laughter that escapes your lips. Keegan, ever so stoic, stands there looking utterly bemused, that stunned expression on his face worth a thousand words.
"That was... unexpected," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a thrill running down your spine. There's a hint of a smile playing on his lips, a soft, almost shy admission that echoes your own feelings.
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A month and a half later
You’re panicking as you text to Keegan, cancelling the date (one of the many you two had in the past month and half) last minute because your best friend just told you she has a fever and can’t babysit Ellie. Is also too late to call a a babysitter, so you don’t have any other choice if not to stay at home with Ellie…Ellie, whom you still haven't told anything to Keegan.
I’m getting deployed tomorrow after lunch, we won’t see each other for two month after that…You really can’t come?
I’m sorry but my stomach hurts so much, I just got my period :(
Then I’m coming at your place with some chocolate ice cream and chips
You really don’t have to
Too bad I'm already in my car.
You sigh you look at the text and sit on the couch, damn him and his perfect personality. Maybe it’s the universe telling you to stop hiding the truth from him, to stop ignoring the elephant in the room.
“Mommy look!” Ellie says as she shows you the drawing she just made: some yellow on top of the paper and then blue on the bottom, “It’s sea!” With that you realize that you were holding the drawing upside down.
“Oh my! It’s so pretty! This definitely goes on the fridge” you say as you stand up to put her drawing on the fridge, next to your favorite drawing she made: the one with the two of you.
“Yay! Mommy likes it!” She says as she jumps up and down happily, you pick her up and kiss her cheek.
“Listen, Ellie, mommy’s friend is coming here and you need to be a good girl okay?”
“Auntie?” she immediately thinks of your best friend.
“No, not Auntie, another friend.” As soon as you say those words the doorbell rings.
You place Ellie down and walk towards the door, when you see Keegan standing outside with his hands full of snacks your heart breaks because of all the lies you told him but now is the moment of the truth. Will he run away? Will he get mad? You couldn't really blame him if he did so, not after all the lies.
You smile, “Thank you, really but…I need to tell you something…”
“What’s wrong?” He asks worried, but before you can speak a little voice behind you speaks and a little head pokes out the door.
“Mommy friend came?” Ellie asks as she looks up at Keegan with her big eyes. The man looks at you confused and you give him an awkward smile.
“I think it’s better if you come in.” You say as you let him in, Keegan enters and places the snack on the coffe table in front of the couch in the living room.
You place your hands on Ellie’s shoulder and take a deep breath, “Keegan, this is Ellie…My daughter”
To say that he’s shocked is an understatement, he stutters for the first time since you have started dating him, “w-what?”
“I shouldn’t have hidden this from you and i’m so sorry for my stupid actions I was just…afraid I guess at the thought of losing you.” You admit and Ellie looks up at you with a confused expression, you don’t want her to think that you don’t love her.
“You thought I’d leave you because you have a daughter?” He says even more shocked than before.
“That’s what most men do when I tell them.”
“I am not the type to do something like that, I love you and the fact that you have a daughter? Just makes me love you more” your heart flutters as he drops the l-word and your cheek flush red.
“You love me?” you ask with wide eyes.
“Damn if I do!”
“I love you too…And I was so scared of losing you, I’m so sorry…” You say with a smile, he smiles back and then crunches down to Ellie’s height, smiling at her.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Keegan, mommy’s…friend” Keegan says with a smile as he holds out his hand towards Ellie.
“Hi I’m Ellie” Your daughter says as she puts her small hands in his, shaking it clumsily.
It was such a sweet moment and you were almost tearing up when, “Are you my daddy?” Ellie suddenly says. You choke on your own saliva and Keegan laughs, shaking his head.
“No…Not yet at least” Keegan says as he smiles up at you.
“Watch Mulan with me?” Ellie changes subject immediately, very much toddler like, and pulls Keegan towards the couch. You can’t help but laugh as you look at the two of them playing together, feeling like you just found the missing piece of your puzzle, which is now perfect.
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Ugh, this probably sucks and I’m sorry but I recently got back to writing and I’m trying to stay consistent to it :(
If you liked the story don’t forget to like, reblog and maybe even leave a comment :)
And remember, my inbox is always open for requests! even anonymous ones (emoji anon too!)
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