#Staying the Night Prompts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avocado-writing · 1 year

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[ UNEXPECTED ] one muse stays the night to keep an eye on the other after something traumatic and they end up having comfort sex. For Tangerine please <33

gentle cw for mentions of kidnapping // smut

Your hand is shaking as you turn on the tap. The kitchen sink sputters for a moment as it always does, before filling your empty glass up with water - which you lift to your lips and drink it down in one. Wiping your mouth on the back of your sleeve you end up staring out of the window, just to try and get your mind off of things.

It doesn’t work. It’s pitch black outside, so rather than being able to see into your back garden you catch a glimpse of your own reflection. You look exhausted. Baggy-eyed and greasy-skinned, hair not properly taken care of for days. You run your hand over your neck and wince. At least the bruising has mostly disappeared. The men who pulled you into their van less than a fortnight ago when you were on your way home from the shops hadn’t been… careful.

They grabbed you because they thought they could use you for leverage against Tangerine. More fool them - they were too dense to expect your other half and his brother to come and spring you free.

A shudder goes through your whole body. It hadn’t been a pleasant couple of days in that shitty semi-detached basement. You truly had come to terms with the fact you might die. That Tangerine might not get to you in time.

As if summoned by thinking about him, you catch sight of Tangerine in the window as he walks into the kitchen. He doesn’t wear a shirt to bed - you’re sure it’s because he likes showing off - and his pyjama bottoms are slung low on his hips. He shuffles over and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and safe to his body.

“Wondered where you’d gone,” he mutters into your ear.

“Just to get a drink,” you reply, but when you do you notice that you’re hiccuping as you speak. Fuck. You must have started crying without realising it. How absolutely pathetic.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright love, eh?” Tangerine whispers, arms tightening as he notices how upset you are, “I’m here. I’m never going to let anyone ever fucking hurt you again.”

You know he’ll do his best. But he’s just one man. One man with a lot of enemies. Another stupid little sob forces its way out of you.

“What can I do?” he asks, and you know him well enough to hear how desperate he is; how he’d do anything to make you happy. But there’s only one thing you need right now, and it’s intimacy. The reminder that he’s there.

“Fuck, just… be inside me, Tan.”

He pauses for a moment.

“You sure?”

You nod.

“I need to forget. Make me forget.”

He slowly begins to kiss down your neck, lips rough and chapped against your sensitive skin. Your breath hitches in your throat as he reaches around your body to cup your breasts over your night shirt. In the darkness of the window’s reflection, you watch the man who loves you skim his hand down your stomach and reach under your waistband.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your cunt. Your body goes limp as you let the tension seep out of it. His touch draws you out of the shadows of your mind and into the pleasure he’s thrumming through your body.

He presses down on your clit, sending shivers through your spine. It feels strange when he touches you while not wearing his rings; but intimate and lovely nonetheless.

“Tan,” you whisper when he dips inside. He strokes your soft inner walls a couple of times before gently pressing a hand to your shoulder blade, bending you over the sink. He slides your pyjama bottoms down your legs and you listen to the rustle of fabric as he pulls himself free.

The kitchen is silent except for the warm slap of skin on skin as he sinks inside of you. Your breath catches a little while you adjust to his size, but you practically feel made for him at this point. A long, shaky exhale leaves you as he catches his breath and begins to fuck you in earnest, hard thrusts of his hips filling you up over and over. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the revealed expanse of your shoulder.

“Tan…”

“I’ve got you. Nobody ever touches you again,” he growls, hands sinking into your hips.

You catch the sincerity on his face in the reflection, and you believe it.

#Tangerine x reader #staying the night prompts

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writingraven · 2 years

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Dialogue Prompts

Staying the Night

warnings: mentions of sexual content

☾

⇻ “Please stay. I don’t think I can be alone tonight.”

⇻ “Will you sleep with me? I know how that sounds. I just mean — I feel safe when you’re there.”

⇻ “I’ll be here the whole night okay? Nothing will get to you while I’m here.”

⇻ “I don’t have nightmares when you’re there.”

⇻ “I don’t want you to be alone tonight and honestly, I don’t really want to be alone either.”

⇻ “I’m staying. End of discussion. You have to learn to let people take care of you.”

⇻ “Well, I can think of some ways to wear you out.”

⇻ “I’d rather fuck than stare at the ceiling counting sheep.”

⇻ “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just don’t want to feel lonely tonight. I want to feel good for once.”

⇻ “Please, don’t go. I need— I need someone. I need you.”

⇻ “You don’t have to pretend to be fine. If you need me to stay, I will.”

⇻ “You need someone right now and I’m the one that’s here. Let me be what you need.”

⇻ “I can’t sleep unless someone’s with me.”

⇻ “It’s not a big deal.”

⇻ “It’s just sleeping… right?”

⇻ “You’re freezing. Come here.”

⇻ “My bed feels empty without you there.”

⇻ “This is embarrassing but… will you… stay?”

⇻ “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep.”

⇻ “Move over. I’m sleeping by the door.”

⇻ “You only have to ask. I’ll always stay.”

⇻ “Are you sure you don’t mind?” “I’m sure.”

⇻ “Come here. Might as well cuddle.”

⇻ “Never thought I’d say this, but I miss your snoring.”

⇻ “You talk in your sleep. It’s cute.”

⇻ “You’re so warm / cold.”

⇻ “I’ll hold you.”

⇻ “I’m here now, and I’ll be here when you wake up, and I’ll be here as long as you want me to be after that.”

#writing #prompt #prompt list #story ideas #one bed trope #spending the night #staying the night prompts #staying the night #sleeping #sleeping prompts #dialogue prompts #dialogue inspiration #writing dialogue

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mcfiddlestan · 2 months

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Staying the Night Prompts

❝ i don’t have nightmares when you’re there. ❞ (Loki/Bucky)

“We should probably get some rest.”

Bucky managed a lazy grin and an equally lazy nod at Steve’s words, but made no effort to rise from the long sofa in Stark’s penthouse lounge. The tower wasn’t exactly home, but it was the place everyone came to recuperate and get a warm meal, especially after returning from a mission. Bucky and Steve had only come back a few hours ago from their latest mission, providing some not necessarily needed support for Shuri and the Wakandans. Who knew stopping human traffickers could cause so many body aches. A slight shift on the seat to sit up and he knew there was definitely a bruised rib somewhere.

“I’ll head back in a bit.” He said with a soft groan, falling back against the cushions.

“Aren’t you tired?” Steve questioned from beside him. When he frowned the cut above his eyebrow stung and he tapped a finger to it a few times, pulling his hand back to look at it. Not bleeding anymore.

Bucky nodded even as he verbally answered, “Yeah, exhausted. I just wanna finish my beer.” He gave the bottle a little shake. “It’s nice to be back within four solid walls though.” And to sit in front of a fire he didn’t have to start or worry about putting out, he thought, as he stared at the flames in the hearth before them.

“Sure is. No rough blankets on the ground tonight. Well,” Steve sighed after a moment. He reached out and clapped a hand to Bucky’s shoulder. “Thanks for covering me out there. You saved my ass.” Bucky lifted bright blue eyes to his, narrowed an eye. “Again,” Steve conceded with that boyish smirk.

Bucky chuckled, nodded, and wished Steve a good night as he brought the Budweiser bottle to his lips. Steve slowly rose with a groan and walked directly into the waiting elevator.

It still amazed Bucky that Stark willingly allowed this ragtag group of vigilantes, spies, a former winter soldier, and others to freely come and go from his tower, using it as a makeshift Avengers Hotel. The billionaire himself kept a small apartment among the smaller bungalows at the place he’d once used as a homebase for his company, but, for the most part, Stark slept in a room off his lab, never too far away from his work — if he slept at all. But everyone left that to Bruce and Rhodey to deal with.

Finishing off his beer, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, careful not to strain any more muscles than he already had, and after rinsing it out, deposited the bottle into the recycle bin. Judging by its nearly full capacity, the tower’s rooms must’ve been equally full tonight. Too wiped to think about who might be milling around in the morning, Bucky headed for the elevator, stifling a yawn. He watched the numbers slowly descend to his floor — the same as Steve’s, but on the other opposite side of the building — contemplating how long he might let himself sleep before he got started on his report the next day.

He was planning it all out as he walked to his door, absently pulling out the key, and unlocking the door. The moment he stepped inside he sensed something was different than when he left it. The apartment assigned to him was larger than the one he kept in Brooklyn, but it was just as sparsely decorated. In his line of business, it wasn’t exactly ideal to plant roots or get attached to anything. The room here and now was lit only by the pale blue moonlight streaming through the tall, wide windows displaying the city and off in the distance, the Brooklyn Bridge.

Bucky wondered if he should’ve just gone home as he scanned the room and moved silently to the bedroom door. It was less than a half hour by subway. Pulling his gun from its strap, safety off, Bucky listened for any sounds even as his eyes scanned the area before pushing the door open and aiming the gun at his bed.

Seeing the hint of pale fingers rising in a surrender gesture in the shadows of one corner, Bucky locked and re-holstered the gun with an exasperated noise.

“What the fuck, Loki?”

Dressed in his usual casual outfit of a green tunic and black pants, Loki emerged from the corner and crossed his arms. “I was only awaiting your return. I didn’t realize you’d come in guns a-blazing like — what do they call them? Cowboys?”

Bucky scoffed and began to remove his gear, dumping it on the dark tufted chair beside his dresser. “What are you doing here? How’d you even get in?”

It was Loki’s turn to scoff. “Hello? I’m a god, remember? I can go anywhere I please. Your human locks are like Odin’s fatherly approval to me: nonexistent.”

Bucky jerked his head back. “Well, that got dark fast,” he muttered, finally dropping the last of his weapons. He gripped his shirt, tugging it free from his pants, then reached for his belt. “Is there something you need? ‘Cause I just got back from—”

“A mission in Wakanda, I know,” Loki finished, his voice lowered. “How is Shuri? I’ve missed…talking shop with her. Her technology is impressive. Even to an As—well, a former Asgardian.”

Bucky kicked off his second boot and stopped, watching Loki with more focused eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Loki raised his head, lifting a brow. “Must something be wrong? Are we not friends? Can’t I simply wish to welcome you—“

“Lokes.”

Loki took a long beat before he smirked, chuckling a little, and lowered to the foot of the bed. “Nothing’s wrong. Honestly. I was just…eager to say hello. Thought you might want to talk. Maybe shake off the mission. You must be hurt. I can hear you trying not to groan with every movement.”

Bucky went still then, realizing Loki was right, he moaned a little as he let out the breath he’d been holding. He was really feeling the aches now. As if his body knew the bed was so close. “I’m fine, Loki. It’s just taking a little longer for me to heal, that’s all. But, really, I’m just looking forward to collapsing into bed.” He moved to the dresser behind him to grab a pair of sweatpants and a fresh shirt from the drawers.

“Oh, well, don’t let me get in your way.” Loki crossed one leg over the other, seemingly planting himself in that spot.

Bucky, with his back turned to Loki, grinned a little to himself, unbuttoning his pants and kicking them aside once they dropped. “We said we were gonna stop,” he said as he slipped on the sweatpants.

The silence was blaring behind him. To give Loki whatever time he needed, Bucky stripped off his shirt and slipped a clean one over his head, and piled his soiled clothes in the corner along with his socks.

“I know what we said,” came the reply finally.

Tying the drawstring on his pants, Bucky turned to face Loki. He noted how Loki wouldn’t meet his eyes, turning his face away, toward the windows. The moon shone brighter at this angle, lighting up the part of Bucky’s room open to the windows. And Bucky could see Loki’s face now, that it was paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks a little hollower than usual.

Sensing his appointment with sleep was about to be delayed, Bucky crossed over to sit beside Loki on the bed. “So what’d you get up to while I was gone?” he asked casually.

“Not much,” Loki answered with a shrug, still looking out the window. “Worked on some spells, conjured up some new tinctures. Avoided Thor.”

Bucky laughed quietly, the bed shaking with the movement. “He was here?”

“Only for a few hours, Hail Frigga,” Loki said with a dry laugh that grew more genuine when Bucky chuckled too.

“Loki,” Bucky murmured after their laughter died down.

Loki’s smile faded, and he lowered his eyes. “Please,” he all but whispered.

Bucky grinned lopsidedly, but bit his lip. “You said no more.”

“I know. I lied.”

Bucky snickered and dropped his head on Loki’s shoulder. He was just so tired. “You told me not to let you anymore,” he whispered.

Loki turned his head, nuzzling his cheek against Bucky’s nose. “You shouldn’t listen to me. I’m an idiot.”

“Lokes,” he snorted. Bucky slipped his hand into Loki’s, felt his cold skin cool against his warm palm. “You’re not an idiot. And I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t listen to you.”

Loki nudged him with his elbow. Bucky only groaned softly and closed his heavy eyes, comfortable enough in Loki’s presence to let his guard down.

“I’m barely hanging on here, babe. You should probably go back to your room.”

Loki turned his body toward Bucky’s, clutching his hand tightly between his own in his lap. “I don’t want to. Just one more night, James. Please? I know what I’m asking…”

“Do you?” Bucky sat up and released Loki’s hand, so he could balance himself.

For the first time that night, Loki met Bucky’s gaze. Even through his tiredness and the pale moonlight, Bucky could see Loki was equally as exhausted as he. He hasn’t slept, he realized with a spark of concern. Hard as he tried, Bucky couldn’t stop himself from worrying about Loki.

“Look, Loki—”

He held up a hand to cut Bucky off. “No, I know. I know I don’t make this any easier for you.” He uncrossed his legs and turned away from Bucky. “I don’t mean to be selfish, you know. I don’t mean to hurt you. It’s just that…”

Bucky waited for the answer, but none came. “What?” he urged, nudging Loki’s arm with his fingers.

Loki inhaled deeply and turned his eyes to Bucky’s again, and with a quiver to his voice, he said, “I don’t have nightmares when you’re there.”

Bucky swallowed thickly. “Oh.” The revelation was one thing. They’d initially bonded over their shared experiences with torture and brainwashing. Few, if any, of the others could relate. But the tears clinging to Loki’s long black lashes was quite another. Bucky hadn’t seen Loki so vulnerable before. He wasn’t at all sure what to do, but to scratch at his head with the metal fingers, searching for the right words. “Um…”

Loki shifted and Bucky saw the moment he shut down and that cool mask slid into place. His dark emerald green eyes cleared instantly, his lips, already thin, thinned even further. “Forget it. Forget I said anything. Forget this ever happened. I’ll go.”

“No!” Bucky shouted the word, grasping for Loki’s arm as he rose and tugging so hard, the sleeve of his tunic ripping cut into the silence between them. “Shit!” Bucky shot up to his feet, but only stammered out an apology and held out the torn piece of his tunic to Loki.

Loki took it and clenched his jaw. “James, I’m getting rather mixed signals from you.” In one long sweep of his hand, Loki’s tunic was repaired and the ripped piece disappeared. “You won’t allow me to have a restful night’s sleep in your bed, yet you seem eager to quite literally rip my clothes off.”

Bucky slapped the non-metal palm to his face. “I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. And I was going to tell you that it’s fine, you can stay here. I just got a little thrown off by the tears in your eyes.” He started to turn away, but decided he had more to say. “And you know what? Speaking of mixed signals, what kind are you sending to me exactly? I mean, you know very well how I feel about you and you continuously torture me by coming to my room and begging to sleep — just sleep! — in my bed, beside me, all long legs and silky hair, and I’m doing my damndest to be a gentleman and be understanding because we are friends, but it’s fucking killing me when I wake up and there you are, just causally wrapped around my—“

It took Bucky’s brain a good five seconds to compute that his epic rant had been cut short by Loki, and that he was now currently being lovingly and tenderly kissed by the longtime object of his affection. As Loki’s lips pressed against his, Bucky slowly sank into the kiss, taking the opportunity to deepen it and pull Loki’s body against his.

Needing the air to breathe, and realizing what he was doing, Bucky took one giant step back.

“What is happening right now?”

Loki swiped a finger across his bottom lip. “Well, something that was a long time coming, I think. Don’t you?”

Bucky relaxed, glared. “Don’t be a dick.” Loki cocked a brow, this time in confusion, and Bucky scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. You’re practically BFFs with Stark and he’s the sassiest bitch in this place. So I know you’re learning some shit.” He looked up and caught the smile lighting up Loki’s face. “What does this mean?”

Loki’s expression turned thoughtful as he closed the distance between them and ran his hands up Bucky’s chest to wrap around his neck underneath the dark brown strands of his hair. “I think what it means, darling, is that your love is no longer unrequited.”

Bucky gawked at Loki. “Really?” he asked, his voice soft. Loki nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. But just as their lips touched Bucky sprang back. “Is this just because of the nightmares?”

Loki laughed, throwing his head back. “No. Well, not entirely.” He breathed out a sigh, as if a weight had been lifted from him, and kept his hands at Bucky’s chest. “I suppose it took me a little while to realize how stupid I would be to keep denying what I was feeling.”

Their eyes met and Bucky felt his stomach flip at the expression in Loki’s gaze. “But why—?”

“I’m not very good at this, James. Physically, it’s not difficult to navigate. But everything else that goes with it…” Loki turned his face again and nearly stepped away from Bucky. But Bucky was there, keeping a tight grip on him. “I ruined whatever it was between Fandral and I, and I—I ruined him. He can barely stand the sight of me now. I don’t want that to happen with you.”

“It won’t.” Loki skeptically angled his head and Bucky grinned. “I’m not great at this either, okay? Back in my day, I couldn’t do this. Not without major consequences. And I never really knew anyone I was willing to risk it with. Until you.”

“How romantic of you,” Loki murmured with his signature facetiousness.

“Shut up, Mischief. I’m saying, we don’t have to sneak around anymore, right? We also don’t have to rush into anything neither of us isn’t ready for. So…” He ran a finger down the side of Loki’s face. “How ‘bout we just see where it goes, okay, doll?”

Loki fluttered his lashes, swooning. “I do love it when you call me that.”

This time, Bucky let the kiss happen, wrapping both of his arms around Loki and holding him tight. He laughed against Loki’s mouth when the nimble god leapt up and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist.

“Um, off to bed then?”

“Hm, I thought you were tired?”

Bucky let out a low growl, near purr, at Loki’s fingers carding through his hair. “I might’ve gotten a second wind.”

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

Sorry that took a minute. I had the idea as soon as you sent the ask, I just wasn't able to get it down until last night (Wednesday) and I didn't get to read what I wrote at three o'clock in the morning and edit until tonight (Thursday). Felt kinda nice to write some WinterFrost again!

LMK if y'all want me to post this on AO3. Then I might have at least one fic posted this year, lol.

xoxo

#Staying the Night Prompts #matbts #asked and answered #WinterFrost #bucky x loki #loki x bucky #my otp #yay i wrote something #my fic #bucky barnes #loki laufeyson

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writelikeyouarerunningoutof · 10 months

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❝ you can stay but i’m not letting you sleep on that couch. ❞ ( kira to scott. )

meme: staying the night prompts status: accepting (from mutuals)

"It's fine." Scott grinned at Kira, easy and bright. "I've slept on worse. Your couch looks positively great when you consider the time I passed out in the woods after -" Wait, not helpful. He needed to stop talking now. "Really, Kira, I'm good."

#queenxvixens #rp; scott mccall #rp; kira yukimura #;answered #;ic post #;para post #staying the night prompts #verse; the true alpha

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littlebennettbitch · 10 months

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❝ wait— have you been here all night? ❞ ( from camille. )

meme: staying the night prompts status: accepting (from mutuals)

The witch glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through. A slight smile graced her lips as she nodded. "I didn't want you to be alone, not after yesterday." Before Camille could say anything more, she added, "I hope you don't mind, I made us some breakfast. I figured you'd be hungry."

#rp: bonnie bennett #rp: camille o'connell #ic post #para post #staying the night prompts #answered #queenvixens

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skylersprompts · 6 days

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DC x DP Prompt *34*

Last night's patrol had been rough. Killer Croc got the jump on Tim, who won, but not without injuries. His son had a twisted ankle, bruised ribs and a wound on his back that needed stitches.

All of this meant that Bruce needed to find an excuse for Danny, who would be very confused why his brother was so hurt, when he was supposed to be sleeping at night.

Bruce stood up and made his way to Tim's room to make sure that the boy was still sleeping. To Bruce's surprise he not only found Tim, but also Danny in the bed. Both boys were deeply asleep. Danny's hand clasped Tim's wrist, his fingertips rested on the pulse point of his brother.

Unsure what that exactly meant, Bruce left. He would need to watch the development of this closely, to find out what was going on. If something was going on.

Dick got doused in fear gas. Danny sneaked into his room at night. His fingers are against the pulse of his oldest brother. Bruce closed the door, a light smile on his lips.

Stephanie got hurt in a fight against Freeze and stayed at the manor. Danny sat slumped on the floor of her room. His fingers securely against her wrist.

Damian got into a fight with Ivy and was still recovering from her pollen. Dick was sleeping and cuddling with his youngest brother. But someone else had cuddled close to the youngest bird. Danny was holding Damian's wrist close to his own chest.

Bruce was laying in bed with a broken arm after a run in with Bane. He wasn't surprised to hear his door open, or the smaller body that was crawling under his blanket. Danny's cold finger pressed against his wrist, until they found his pulse. The boy relaxed with a shuddering exhale. He pretended a little longer to be asleep, but before he could do anything else sleep pulled him under.

Duke ran into the Riddler. While he did solve the puzzle, he couldn't escape uninjured. He cracked a few ribs and wasn't able to hide his limp. When Duke was going to bed, Danny followed him to his room and slept beside the daytime vigilante.

Cass had a tough fight tonight. The court of owls was active again and while she was a skilled fighter, even she wasn't able to stay uninjured with too many enemies at once. She had a black eye and her wrist had a sprain. When Danny tried to sneak into her room, she looked at him and held her uninjured wrist in his direction. They both snuggled into her bed.

Alfred had an accident, while doing housework. He fell a few steps down the stairs with a laundry basket in hand. Luckily he only twisted his ankle. But when the old man woke up in the early hours of the morning, he found a black haired boy sleeping in a sitting position beside his bed. His fingers tightly around his wrist.

Jason had been shot. And while he tries to argue about being able to drive himself to his safe house, Alfred's disapproving gaze was enough to let him falter. But he stayed in the med Bay. When Bruce came to check on his second eldest, he found a smaller blackhead wrapped around him, his fingers pressed to the pulse point on his neck.

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sprout-fics · 9 months

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Humbly requesting the stay the night prompt of “wait…you’ve been here all night?” Pairing whatever. Just wanting to see this written out 💜

When you wake, the world feels like it’s trying to hammer you back unconscious.

“Shit…” You say immediately following your groan, pressing the heel of your palm to your eyes to quell the horrible pulsing pain there. The headache feels like it’s trying to carve inside your skull, and you can taste bile still on your lips, tacky in your mouth.

The hell happened last night? You think blearily, blinking in the brightness of late morning sunlight that filters through your curtains. It’s too bright, but when you twist to try and draw them closed your body aches in protest.

You try to recall the evening from the night before, recalling your giggling laughter as Soap slung an arm around your shoulder and dragged you over to the dance floor of the club. He and Gaz had belted out the lyrics to the songs, muffled by the pump of the speakers, had stumbled over to the bar and ordered more drinks. The rest is a dizzying haze of color and light, but judging from your clothes crumpled and the foul taste in your mouth, you can judge it didn’t go well.

“Fuckin hell…” You groan at a fresh wave of throbbing at your temples. Yet your stomach rumbles, empty and biting at your insides, and at last it forces you from bed, stumbling down the stairs of your flat towards the kitchen.

Yet as you enter inside you’re startled to find a gigantic, looming figure in a dark hoodie, mask bunched around his nose as he sips from a mug that seems far too small for his massive hands.

“Ghost?” You squeak in surprise, bracing in the doorway with shock clear across your face.

Ghost looks up at you, dark eyes not smudged with paint and clear behind his plain black balaclava. He doesn’t look surprised to see you at all, unlike you.

“Was beginning to wonder if you were dead.” He remarks flatly, holding your gaze for a long moment, just enough to make your cheeks burn. You’re still dressed in your clothes from last night, hair messy and makeup likely smudged to shit. Yet Ghost appears entirely nonplussed, at last turning towards the kettle.

“You don’t remember.” He observes, and when you shake your head you groan, the motion far too much for your hangover headache. He glances over his shoulder at you, nodding with meaning towards a chair at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Johnny…Gaz?” You ask as you gently lower yourself down, cradling your head in your hands.

“Probably still bollocksed.” Ghost declares, turning and leaning on the counter as the kettle simmers behind him. “They were bog-faced by the time they called me. Said you were fallen from grace, from what I could make out.”

You knew that much, can tell from the way your stomach distantly rolls with discontent. It doesn’t explain why he’s here.

“So what?” You ask, rubbing your temples. “You helped me home?”

Ghost shrugs, mouth quirking with a hint of amusement in a rare glimpse of his expression. “Held your hair while you got sick, made you drink some water, kept you from texting your ex…joking.” He supplies at your aghast expression. “Settled down on your couch to make sure you didn’t wander out into the streets.”

You blink at that, raising your head from your hands and snapping to look at him. “Wait…you’ve been here all night?”

Ghost shrugs again, but this time there’s a strange ounce of guardedness to it, like he’s reluctant to admit he kept watch.

“...and Soap and Gaz?” You venture, and that makes the wry, barely sinister smile return.

“Told ‘em to bugger off. Might have to go hunting in some alleys for them later.”

You aren’t sure whether to laugh or be horrified with the dryness of his tone, half-convinced he’s telling the truth. Before you can ask, the kettle whistles behind him and Ghost turns, pouring the hot water into a second mug.

“Bloody sergeants.” He sighs, a little irritated. “Should have never let them take you out. Can’t be trusted when they’re sloshed.”

There’s a tone there that’s frustrated, and rather than it sitting unhappily in your chest it instead makes you smile.

He was worried.

Ghost turns, sets the mug of tea on the table before you, his hand covering the top. Yet when you reach for it he doesn’t move, and you glance up to see his severe stare leveled down at you.

“No more getting pished.” Ghost tells you severely in a low murmur, and you grimace, duck your head in a rightful amount of shame.

“No more drinking with the sergeants.” You recite dutifully, and Simon huffs a sound that almost feels like a chuckle.

He stands over you, arms crossed as you blow at your tea, watches as you finish it, and you feel warm under his gaze.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #stay the night writing prompts #OK BUT I REALLY LIKED THIS ONE #I love Simon's sarcastic and kind of biting humor it's so fun to write #drabbles

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avocado-writing · 1 year

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For the 'staying the night' prompts, maybe [unexpected] with Tan?🥺

Absolutely love your writing<3

[ UNEXPECTED ] one muse stays the night to keep an eye on the other after something traumatic and they end up having comfort sex.

“You alright?”

Tangerine’s voice is quiet. Respectful. On the off chance you’re asleep he doesn't want to risk waking you. Yeah, there’s no chance of that happening. Your body still canes from the beating that you took earlier, despite the pretty expert job Tangerine did at patching you up. Danger of the job: sometimes bastards come at you with crowbars.

You turn over to face him - in the shared bed in the one hotel room your employer could be bothered to shell out for, tight bastard - and look him in the eyes. He’s tired but far from falling asleep. You’re sure he doesn’t want to be the first one to conk out tonight, not until he’s sure you’ve nodded off first. Until he’s sure you’re okay.

“Been better,” you reply, and a breathy exhale from his nose tells you he’s nearly laughing. “Thank you for helping me.”

“‘Course, darling. Wouldn’t just leave you there, would I?”

You purse your lips and hope he can’t see it in the low light of the room. A couple of months ago you’d have to admit you weren’t sure if he would just leave you bleeding out in the middle of a car park. But ever since Lemon broke his leg and the two of you were temporarily paired up by your handler, you’ve been getting closer to Tangerine. Finding out about the man whose rough outer shell you have to chip through. Liking what you slowly uncover.

“Can you distract me from it?” you ask, voice a little horse. “Gently. Please?”

Tangerine carefully reaches over and cups the side of your face, pressing his mouth firmly against yours. As your lips move and tongues touch his hand skirts down the front of your body, across your chest, under the waistband of your pyjamas. He’s careful to avoid any bandages as he settles between your legs, and you can feel him smile against you as he realises how ready you are for him.

“You’re eager for someone who got the shit kicked out of them not three hours ago.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you chuckle, and your brain stops thinking about the pain as his hands take it away.

#Staying the night prompts #Tangerine x reader #AND I LOVE YOU #tangerine x gn reader

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writinggremlin · 4 months

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How's about a whumpee who desires pain?

A whumpee who wants to be stressed and panicked and hurt. Everything's been too good for too long, and maybe that frustrates them a little bit.

Why do they feel this way? They don't know. All they do know, is that that risky and/or hurtful scenario is looking quite tempting.

If nobody's going to make them worse, they'll do it themself.

#whump #angst #whumpblr #whumpee #caretaker #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump ideas #whump idea #kinda going through it rn ngl. dont really get why. probably just need to sleep. i did stay up super late last night ngl lol #I think i just kinda wanna feel alive y'know? i yearn for the pain of my heart squeezing in my chest. I want a problem. i want pressure.#eh. doesn't matter. like I said- I'm probably just tired. if somebody's seeing this for some reason- I hope you're having a lovely day/night #imma go to sleep now lol. night!

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landwriter · 1 year

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Sandman prompt: Dreamling roadtrip

"Remind me why I am allowing this," says Dream.

Hob casts a sidelong glance at him. Dream, in his car. Dream, stuck in the crawl of London traffic with him. Imagine that.

He reels off Dream's succession of unfortunate choices with poorly smothered glee. "Because your sister said you should spend more time among us humans, which you mentioned in passing to Matthew yesterday, who suggested a road trip, then had to explain to you that a road trip meant 'Just driving somewhere for a while', and you apparently you said-," Hob pauses to pitch his voice as low and poncy as possible, "'Ah, a pilgrimage, then. A journey for self-knowledge.' And Matthew said 'That's right, boss' and you said you would, in fact, be curious about such an experience."

"False pretenses," says Dream, darkly, under his breath.

"Indeed," says Hob, who thinks he loves false pretenses now. Matthew had shown up at his flat laughing so hard he couldn't even speak. When he finally recounted the conversation (after Hob had gotten very concerned and asked if Matthew needed a human counselor or an animal vet, and Matthew had shaken his head and wheezed 'No, a driver', before falling into fits of laughter again), Hob had immediately agreed.

"And then I canceled my plans for the weekend because I'm the only human you know who has a car, it turns out," (A reliable and bright red Vauxhall Corsa, thank you for asking.) "And because I'm a very good friend," he adds. He still relishes the new-word feel of it. It had only been four months since Dream had shown up at The New Inn. Hob was skiving off marking midterm papers for this, actually.

"Yes," says Dream. Hob realizes he'd skive off the whole term for this.

How could he turn down the prospect? His friend, literally strapped into the Corsa for at least the next several hours. Assuming Dream didn't leap out and flee on foot down the M1 - which seemed so thoroughly undignified for a being of Dream's station that Hob felt utterly assured of his company. It had all rather gone to his head.

"This will be fun," he promises. "Feel the grass under your feet, and that."

Dream looks out the window bitterly as a lorry overtakes them. Hob has never been the fastest of drivers. Never really took to it, to be honest. Bit of the medieval peasant in him, he thinks, can't quite make himself go over fifty miles per hour. But he's very safe. Hardly any accidents. Mostly minor rear-end damage.

"I see no grass," says Dream.

"Surely the Lord of Stories is familiar with figurative speech," says Hob, and glows under the heat of Dream's glare in reply.

"Anyways," he continues, "We're getting to that bit. Literally. In, uh, six hours or so? It's a great spot. But in the mean time, this is part of it too." Hob takes a hand off the wheel to gesture with a flourish at the sea of sensible hatchbacks and work vans around them, swimming like fish in the asphalt rivers of London's outer burbs. "Humanity," he pronounces, and the car drifts a little into the next lane. Humanity honks rudely at him and then accelerates safely out of Hob's radius.

Dream's sulking seems to have pushed him fully into the realm of catatonia, because Hob's passengers are usually more animated when he does exciting little things like that. Hob looks over in concern and this time the car barely follows with him.

"Bit rusty," he offers.

Dream deigns to snort softly at that. "My sister is far worse," he says.

Hob raises his eyebrows. It was hard to imagine Death bad at anything, frankly. Dream must see his look because he clarifies.

"Another sister. Delirium. An official of the carriageway stopped us. He would not have us continue our passage. So she gave him delusion of bugs crawling across his skin. Forever."

"Well, that's one way to get out of a ticket," says Hob, and makes a mental note to ask Death for a complete list of siblings and how to avoid angering them.

"He was being rude," adds Dream. He suddenly sounds very much like an older brother.

"Oh, fair play, then," says Hob affably. He'd had little sisters once. He understood.

They drive in silence for a few minutes. Hob thinks about putting on a playlist, and has just decided that nineties Britpop is perfect for this occasion when they pass a junction sign and he exclaims in recognition.

"The M25! Funny story, I know just the loveliest antiquarian book dealer who says his partner - uh, I'm assuming there, but if you heard the way he talks about him - anyways, his partner designed it. Some kind of high-flying civil engineer, I reckon."

"Really," says Dream. "A...high-flying...civil engineer." He sounds fascinated.

Hob hadn't expected Dream to be interested in road design.

"Something like that, definitely," he says, looking over to see Dream, staring at him, rapt. He looks back and brakes just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of him as it turns off onto the motorway in question. "Sorry. Saw him once in passing, actually. Dresses like you. Very fancy and dark."

"Perhaps you should keep your focus on the road, Hob," says Dream, but he sounds like he's smiling.

"Oh, we're not for a while yet," says Hob. Half truth, half optimism.

"Where are we going?" asks Dream. Hob beams. He's just won a bet with Matthew.

"It's a surprise" he says. "Now, have you heard of this band called Oasis?"

#asks #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #prompt fill #my writing #road trip fic is a timeless genre #hob is making it up as he goes #hob def has multiple routes in mind depending on how long dream is willing to abscond with him #hey fellas is it gay to want to drive across the country with your best friend #(hey fellas is it gay to hope you'll have to stay the night at a village inn and be mistaken for a couple)

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writelikeyouarerunningoutof · 10 months

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❝ please stay. i don’t think i can be alone tonight. ❞ ( jenna to laurel. )

meme: staying the night prompts status: accepting (from mutuals)

"Alright." Laurel's hand finds Jenna's shoulder. She squeezes gently and smiles down at her friend softly. "Alright, Jen, I'll stay. You're okay."

#queenxvixens #rp; laurel lance #rp; jenna sommers #;ic post #;para post #;answered #staying the night prompts

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littlebennettbitch · 10 months

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❝ you’re clearly exhausted. you can go in the morning. ❞ ( from jenna. )

meme: staying the night prompts status: accepting (from mutuals)

It wasn't as though Jenna was wrong. Considering the fact that Bonnie could barely raise her head from where she had rested it on the kitchen table, all she could do was hum in agreement. Already, her eyes were closing.

"'Kay," she murmured, somehow managing to find the energy to push herself to her feet and make her way to the couch. Whether that had been what Jenna had meant, Bonnie did not know. She had a pillow and a relatively soft surface to lie down on.

She was not moving.

#rp: bonnie bennett #rp: jenna sommers #ic post #para post #staying the night prompts #answered #queenvixens

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thornybubbles · 1 year

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All I Ever Wanted: Yandere Santana x Reader

Note: I used a different method for writing this story than I normally do. I used a picker wheel to randomly choose a prompt from a list of Yandere Prompts from Tumblr and a list of JoJo characters I haven’t written for yet. The winning character was Santana and the winning prompt was “Yandere saves Darling’s life”. I may use this method again in the future.

Santana first encountered you when you snuck into the German base to aid Joseph in rescuing Speedwagon. He could not take his eyes off of you as you tended to the old man while Joseph tried to gain his attention with his buffoonery. Nothing the young Joestar said or did could pull Santana’s gaze from you as you spoke words of comfort to the frightened Speedwagon. The old man scolded you for tagging along with Joseph on such a dangerous mission, but he was relieved to have you there nonetheless. Watching you coddle the old man stirred something in Santana that he never felt before. Santana never considered humans to be especially attractive before, but there was something about you that lured him in. Maybe it was the gentle look in your eyes as you checked the old man over? Maybe it was the loving words you used as you spoke to him?

Santana found himself growing jealous over the attention the old man was getting from you. For him, affection was few and far between and usually limited to a half-hearted head pat from Kars or Esidesi whenever he did as he was told. As he got older though, they started to treat him less like kin and more like a pet. During training, he found himself unable to achieve the same kind of results that Wammu could, and Kars became increasingly frustrated with him. He once warned him that if he did not catch up with the rest of them, then he would be left behind. When he woke up thousands of years later and found himself alone, he knew that he’d been abandoned.

He fully intended to take all of his grief and anger out on every single human he came across, but seeing you, he decided to make an exception. Though anger began to simmer in him as he watched you with the old man. You hadn’t even looked at him when you came in. Did you have any idea how stupid it was to blunder into enemy territory and not be on guard? He could have killed you a thousand times over before you even made eye contact with him! Why were you wasting time with that old man when you should be paying attention to him?! Santana side-stepped Joseph, who was incessantly tapping his nose and saying ridiculous things, and began to advance on you and Speedwagon.

Your back was turned to the Pillarman. You were too busy trying to release Speedwagon from his restraints to notice as Santana drew ever closer to you. He was strangely quiet for someone so large. It wasn’t until Speedwagon’s horrified gaze locked on something behind you did you turn around and find yourself face to face with the Pillarman. You gasped and instinctively put yourself between Santana and the old man, trying to shield Speedwagon from the brute. Santana just stared down at you with an unreadable expression while Speedwagon begged for you to get away.

Slowly, Santana reached out for you, his massive hand looking like it was about to clamp down on your head.

“Don’t ignore me, you prehistoric prick!” shouted Joseph.

He placed a hand on Santana’s shoulder, trying to annoy the Pillarman enough that he would forget about whatever he was planning to do to you. When Santana didn’t react, Joseph sent a jolt of Ripple energy into the flesh of his shoulder to get the point across. It certainly worked because Santana’s eye twitched and the corner of his mouth turned up into a slight snarl. His shoulder sizzled from the attack but was already healing itself. Santana slowly turned to face Joseph who was bouncing from foot to foot holding his fists up as if he were in a boxing ring.

“That’s what you get for treating me like I’m just a mosquito flying around your ear!” Joseph said, grinning obnoxiously.

Santana was giving him a blank look but you could practically feel the rage boiling off of him. Before anything else could happen, though, the sound of several booted feet stomped up the corridor and a troop of German soldiers burst into the room. They lined up on either side of a very confused Joseph and took aim at Santana. Who the blazes were these guys? Reinforcements? From where? You thought Santana had killed all the soldiers in the base! You didn’t think much more about it because you realized that while the Germans had their guns locked on Santana, you and Speedwagon were right behind him. If they fired on the Pillarman, they would take you and the old man out, too! Joseph must have realized the same thing because he was already trying to wrestle the gun out of one of the soldiers hands. The others ignored Joseph’s antics and you heard someone yell, “FIRE!”

Thinking quickly you knocked Speedwagon out of the wheelchair and onto the floor where he would be out of range of the gunfire. Seconds later you found yourself swept up in a pair of muscular arms and held to an equally muscular chest. Thinking that it was Joseph that held you, you screamed as you felt the bullets tear into him. Over the racket you heard both Speedwagon and Joseph call your name. That’s when you realized that it wasn’t Joseph that had you in his grasp. You looked up and actually felt the blood drain from your face. Staring down at you with impassive red eyes was Santana. You felt your arms and legs draw up against your body in terror. You tried to speak, working your jaw and tongue to get words out, wanting to demand or even beg him not to kill you, but you could only manage to emit squeaks of fright.

You became vaguely aware of the sound of JoJo fighting with the soldiers and more gunfire. He was angry with them for nearly killing you and Speedwagon.

“What kind of morons just burst into a room and start shooting?!” He shouted as he kicked one of them in the back of the head, knocking off his helmet and sending the soldier to dreamland. It was only then that he spotted you in the arms of the Pillarman and froze, eyes widening in horror.

“My God! Joseph! That monster has her!” Speedwagon spoke up. He, too, only just now realized what was happening.

Seeing that JoJo had stopped attacking them, the soldiers returned their attention to Santana once more taking aim. You gasped and squinted your eyes closed, not wanting to see your demise coming. Joseph prepared to send a Hamon-fueled kick to the ground under the soldiers feet to knock them off balance but he never got the chance. Santana readjusted you so that he was cradling you with one arm. He raised his free arm upwards towards the soldiers, spreading his fingers at weird angles. Just like he had before, he used the bullets that had been absorbed into his body to return fire. Each bullet shot from his fingertips hit its mark, embedding itself into the heads of each of the soldiers. Not even the ones that Joseph knocked out were spared. Only Joseph remained unscathed. He looked around himself in confusion, wondering why he didn’t get shot, too. Santana lowered his arm, readjusting you in his hold once more. He glared at Joseph the entire time. He only spared him because he had unfinished business with the upstart primitive, but he could take care of that later. Joseph had gotten over his confusion and was now glaring back at Santana with equal ferocity.

“Put my friend down right now!” He demanded, pointing a finger at the ground as if to show exactly where he wanted Santana to place you.

The Pillarman’s lips pulled away from his teeth in a snarl and he made a noise that sounded like a cross between a snake’s hiss and a dog’s growl. Joseph had the audacity to growl back at him, an action that you would have thought funny if it weren’t for the situation you were in. Santana moved slightly and Joseph seemed to know immediately what he was planning.

“Don’t you dare!” he warned the Pillarman.

Santana hissed/growled at him again, before suddenly taking off down the corridor that the German troops had just come from. The action took Joseph off guard. He was expecting the Pillarman to try to harm you in some way, not run off with you!

“JoJo! Stop him!” cried Speedwagon from where he still lay on the floor.

That was all he needed to snap out of his shocked state and into action. He took off down the corridor at full speed, desperately trying to catch up with Santana. The Pillarman’s powerful legs let him run far faster than any human though, and he was constantly maneuvering out of Joseph’s grasp as he tried to snatch you away from him. Santana went so far as to run along the walls and at some point, you even found yourself upside down as Santana began running on the very ceiling.

“Get down here, you cheater!” Joseph yelled up at him.

Joseph’s vision was suddenly obstructed as a green cloth fluttered down on top of him. During his escape from the observation lab, Santana grabbed a shirt off of one of the dead soldiers. While he and Joseph were glaring each other down, Santana had spotted a map of the base among the scattered files and papers that littered the ground after his earlier rampage. He only needed to glance at it once in order to commit it to memory. When he knew that he was coming upon an intersection, he waited for just the right moment to drop the shirt down on Joseph, obscuring his view as he darted off down the corridor that he knew led to some maintenance tunnels.

Joseph snatched the bloodstained shirt off of himself. He let out an angry shout when he realized that Santana had evaded him. That freak was a lot smarter than he seemed. There were three passages he could’ve taken: straight ahead, right, or left. He obviously didn’t keep going straight or Joseph would still be able to see him. So that left either the left or the right. Joseph debated on which way to go for a moment. In comics, the bad guys almost always take the left passage to get away from the good guys. Maybe that was the case in real life, too? He growled in frustration. He didn’t have anything else to go on, so left passage it was. He ran down the passage calling your name, hoping that the monster hadn’t hurt you. Unfortunately, real life isn’t like comic books and Santana had taken the right passage.

You were grateful when Santana began running upright again. Being upside down for so long was starting to give you a headache. You lost sight of Joseph hours ago. You tried calling out for him once, but Santana gave you such a glare that the words died on your tongue from sheer fright. But you were beginning to wonder just how long this damned corridor was. And just how long could this guy run? He’d been running for a while now and wasn’t even breathing hard!

Santana darted down a flight of stairs that seemed to lead to a basement and storage area. He slowed down to a normal walk and began searching for something. Finally he came to a set of chained up doors with a lot of writing around it. You couldn’t read German so you had no clue what it said. He pulled the doors open, snapping the chains as if they were made of paper. He then stepped inside of the room and closed the doors behind him. The lighting inside of the room was dim, but you could make out the shapes of a desk and some machines that you didn’t recognize. Santana walked to a corner of the room and plopped down on the ground, hiding in the shadows. He held you in his lap and stared at the doors, watching to see if JoJo would burst through them at any moment. After a moment, you felt him relax and he let out a quiet sigh. Then, he turned his gaze on you.

The dim light made him look especially eerie and you noted that his red eyes seemed to have a bit of a glow to them.

“Uh… hi…” you said awkwardly.

“You did not thank me.”

You blinked up at him. You had only heard him say one or two word sentences before, and usually he only seemed to repeat what others said to him. He may have said something to JoJo before, but you were too busy worrying about Speedwagon to pay much attention.

“Thank me properly.” he said. His voice was quiet and calm, but you could definitely hear the demand in it when he said that.

“I… what? W-what do you w-want me to d-do?” You stammered. “I don’t even know w-what I’m t-thanking you for.”

Santana gave you an insulted look.

“I saved your life.” he stated in a gruff, clipped tone. “The other humans would have killed you. I prevented it. Now thank me properly.”

Oh well, now you’ve made him angry.

“Thank you…?” You said lamely, not sure what he wanted.

Santana huffed and rolled his eyes. You were unfortunately as thick-skulled at any other human, in spite of your kind, gentle nature. You would have to be trained apparently. He grabbed your hand, causing you to flinch. He then guided your hand to the top of his head and moved your hand around in a motion that made it seem like you were ruffling his hair. Once or twice your palm scraped against the two small horns that jutted from his skull causing you to wince. You were surprised at how soft his hair was though. For someone that came from a time when hair care products weren’t exactly readily available yet, it seemed very healthy. After a while, he let your hand go but made sure you kept rubbing his head. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into your hand. The action caused you to blush.

Stop. Bad guys are not supposed to be cute. You mentally scolded yourself.

After a few minutes of rubbing the top of his head, you were starting to feel a little awkward.

“Okay… good Aztec Demi-God…” you said in a nervous tone and slowly pulled your hand away from his hair. When he didn’t immediately force you to start petting him again, you relaxed a little.

“I guess it’s safe to assume that you aren’t going to kill me then?” you asked, feeling a little braver.

Santana shook his head.

“No.” he said, a sleepy look in his eyes.

You glanced down at the floor longingly.

“Any chance of you putting me down?” You asked, feeling brave enough to push your luck.

Instantly, the sleepy look was gone from his eyes and he tightened his hold on you.

“NO!” he all but roared.

You cringed in his hold and didn’t say anything else.

Well it was worth a shot. You really hoped JoJo found you soon, before this situation got any more uncomfortable.

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sprout-fics · 9 months

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❝ you don’t have to pretend to be fine, if you need me to stay i will. ❞ (fix saying this to ghost?)

I fucking love Fix and Ghost and how they deal with hurt/comfort with the other. Fuck it's so good.

“He’s smoking.” Soap says as you walk past him after your shower. The Scot is still inventorying his kit under the faulty light of the safe house, steady hands appraising the contents beside his vest. He pauses to throw you the barest glance over his shoulder, brow scrunched with something akin to worry before he goes back to his task.

“On the fire escape.” He adds, and there’s meaning in the scarce words he offers you, meaning that has you quietly slip away in the direction he’s offered you.

Soap doesn’t question the thing between you and his lieutenant, if it can be called that. You’re not sure if he knows the full scope of your relationship with Simon and is strangely quiet on it, or if you both have managed to keep him as carefully in the dark as you intended. Either way, Soap knows Ghost well enough to recognize his mannerisms just as you do, and you both know that Simon slinking off for a cig means something is weighing heavy on his mind.

You knock on the pane of the window that leads to the fire escape, making out Ghost’s looming figure just beside it, concealed carefully in the shadows. The only indication he’s there at all is the slant from the light inside catching across his boot, the glow of the cigarette in his hand as he lifts it to his lips.

When you knock you see him make room for you to climb out, and even though he doesn’t welcome you, it’s a clear indication that he at least tolerates your presence. You lean on the wall beside him, catching the light where he sidles further into darkness, boots scraping the metal mesh of the platform under you. The wisp of nicotine curls around you both, an acrid smell to fill the silence.

You don’t press him. You know better than that. You learned long ago that saccharine sweet words to Simon will only throw his guard up just as it does yours, make him bristle and bare his fangs in a paradoxical effort to protect himself.

❝ You don’t have to pretend to be fine, if you need me to stay I will.❞ You told him once, remembering how Simon’s head had snapped in your direction hard enough to make his neck crack.

“I don’t need anything.” He told you flatly, scarcely hiding his hostility. It had startled you then, this whiplash of emotion from him. Yet when you looked at him, saw the look in his eyes, you understood.

You’re both feral, untamed creatures. There’s beauty in the wildness of you, an understanding of the untouchable spirit that resides in the other. You wander the wilderness in search of someone just the same as you, something more fit for savagery than gentleness. Like a beast howling at the sacrosanct moon, you hear the other's lonely call and dare to challenge it with your own.

Yet wounded, injured, the proximity of others summons flashing fangs and snarling gazes even as you desperately want to be anything but alone.

So you only stand beside him, cross your arms and brace on the wall until you gesture at him for a cigarette, smiling to yourself when he simply offers his. His lighter flicks as he lights a new one for him, and the orange of the flame reveals the grim set of his jaw in the shadows.

You try and think back on the day, try and discern the things that could have gone wrong to warrant this sudden heaviness and withdrawal of him. Ghost had been set up in a sniper nest all day, navigating you and Soap through the city in your plain clothes, tailing a contact. You’d been waiting for him to make an exchange, information hidden in his briefcase. Yet the person he had handed it off to was not another gangster.

Instead, it was a boy.

Blonde. Brown eyes, looking up at his father and smiling as the man had cupped the child’s face when he spoke.

Ghost didn’t take the shot.

You take a long drag of your cigarette, wincing at the taste. You never had a penchant for smoking, picked it up only to find excuses to linger beside the man next to you. Simon is silent, ruminating, and you tumble the image of the boy in your mind, trying to find the tether that connected him to Simon’s heart.

It hits you all at once. A kid, roughly the same age, blonde, brown eyed, rosy cheeked, looking up at his father with stars in his eyes.

Joseph.

You close your eyes, pained realization rippling through your chest. Joseph, the smallest one lost to that deadly night that took Simon’s family. The one he had spoken of only once and then never again. A secret locked in the deepest parts of his heart, something he trusted scarcely few people with.

Including you.

The gift and responsibility of Simon’s trust of you isn’t wasted in its meaning. You know how difficult it is for him to allow even the smallest sliver of someone that deep inside, and you tread carefully, knowing that there’s things that you haven’t told Simon either about your own family.

You fight him tooth and nail for every meager scrap he gives you, and it’s enough. It’s always enough- because every single truth you unspool from him ties its threads into your own stitches atop your fractured heart.

You both stand in the long silence of the night air, letting the curl of smoke wind between your two forms before you deign to speak.

“He looked nothing like him.” You lie.

Simon goes still beside you, coiling a telltale inch as you finally speak the truth of it into existence. You think maybe he’ll go back inside without another word, and will leave you out here in the aftermath of your feigned declaration.

“No.” He replies flatly, not moving from where he stands, voice firm in a way that tells of what he is trying to hide underneath- something you know you’ll see eventually when he comes to you with desperate touches and hushed words, trying to escape the weight of the world in the feral familiarity of you.

“He didn’t.”

#simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #simon riley x reader #oc: fix #stay the night writing prompts #drabbles #They're both so!!!!#They're the same person they're the mirror of each other they hate the things in each other that remind them of themselves #they're the only one who know what it's like to be them they're the only ones that can trust the other with their secrets #crying yelling screaming

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