#and all simon ever wanted was for wille to stop getting in the way of his own happiness

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

https://twitter.com/sluttywh0r3/status/1738661113154220340?t=VYLoAeMTbPq_UQ-a7lMuVA&s=19

You were both so horny but you just ran out of your birth control and didn't have any condoms so Simon said he'd pull out only to have you riding him and refusing to get off of him and begging him to cum inside you

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

READ IT HERE- Coming Soon

9-1-1, yes hello? There is an attempted murder in progress. Yes, it is on my sanity, thank you.

Seriously, you guys are trying to kill me, right? Because there is no way in hell I am supposed to read that and stay sane. I'm gonna have to take a minute just to get through the rest of this post after the flood of images that just entered by brain.

But damn if it ain't a pretty scenario to think about. I am mean come on, just thinking about you and Simon being so fucking out of your minds horny for each other that you are willing to risk everything is hot as hell. Just him heavy breathing in your ear, telling you how good he wants to make you feel, the vibration from his voice making your clit throb as his lips leave trails of tingles along the side of your neck from the warmth of his lips.

Just the feeling of you under his fingertips has him panting as he tries to shove his hands in your pants, in your shirt, or both if he's lucky. He needs to make you come, it's the only thing he cares about in that moment; he needs to know that he has the power to make you fall apart and it consumes him until it is agony.

Probably wouldn't even make it to the god damn bed before he is ripping off your clothes as fast as those thick fingers can get into them and then immediately throwing your legs on his shoulders and thrusting inside you the second he can; he'd just drag you onto the floor with him and spread your thighs wide. That massive, virile man isn't going be able to create anything more than a few coherent words before it's all grunts like an animal in heat.

"We'll be careful. Com' on, sweetheart...Mmmm fuck... swear I'll fuckin' pull out. Just need ta be inside ya."

(I can feel the flames licking at me right now just for thinking about this lol).

Then you end up on top and Simon is on cloud fucking nine watching you completely lose your mind at how good it feels that the minute you start begging him to come inside you, that promise he made to you about pulling out flies out the fucking window without a second thought. You pleading with him to fill you up is going to awaken that feral part of his brain that he will not be able to control and it's gonna be all over.

"Christ, can't say no to ya ever, pretty girl. Ya want it inside ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."

He'd be so out of it, high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that he will not even fight you on it. He isn't even going to hesitate to keep going all the way until you both are a whole god damn mess and you are leaking his cum. Shit he'd make sure you got everything you want by keeping your hips locked together with his tight grip as he begins to slam up into you harder and harder, loudly grunting from the strain through that point of no return. The risk would be 100% worth it at that point.

And you'd be so gone with his cock shoved so far in you that your brain cannot even create a single thought other than to come on it. So what if this hot as hell romp leads to an oopsie; he'd make a great dad, right?

Don't worry, he's thinking the same thing and he's fine with it.

"Jus' don't fuckin' stop."

Give me a bit to write this all out cause I really really REALLY need this to be a full fledged fic.

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

[skater110599]

I genuinely was not expecting to cry during the series finale of Young Royals but I cried like 4 times and straight-up sobbed through the end my GOD I've had lots of feelings about this show but the ending is what we all deserve, especially these characters.

#i hadn't cried at all up to this point and was like 'maybe i'm just not as emotionally invested' but NOPE all the feels tonight my friends #young royals #yr s3 spoilers #wille just was immediately so free and happy #when he told his mom #and sara and felice made up <3 #the way their love is treated as equal to simon/wille's makes my aroace heart full #and all simon ever wanted was for wille to stop getting in the way of his own happiness #and couldn't be happy with him in their current situation #and my god they still have work ahead of them but they can actually work through their shit now #they're not STUCK in the oppressive system #i knew the second wille dumped the broken snowglobe in the trash that we were in for a treat #AB! DI! CATE! #AB! DI! CATE!! #i was not ready to see the biggest smile on wille's face #like we've never seen before even in the happy moments with simon #my heart is so full

[yawnderu]

If Simon and bimbo!reader ever had a big fight (not petty disagreements), what would they fight about? How do both handle serious fights and making up?

ahhhh :((( anon when I catch you. It'd likely be at the beginning of the relationship, before she knows about his job and he always leaves for weeks without telling her much about it

>Simon and bimbo!reader fight and make up.

“I just don't understand why you do this to me... just tell me.” Your voice is as pleading as it is demanding, eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in a mix of frustration and sadness.

“I can't—” He's interrupted by a small scoff coming out of you, your arms crossed as you look away and take a deep breath. He's never seen you like this before, never so... frustrated and angry. Anxiety starts to fill his soul within seconds, stuck between wanting to keep you away from his job, and wanting to reassure you.

“Do you just.... have a second family or something? Is that what it is?” The accusation makes his own face scrunch up in a mix of mild disgust and confusion. Was his unwavering loyalty to you not obvious? He never even looks at other women at all, his eyes are for you only.

“I don't.” It's all he can say to defend himself. How does he go about telling you he kills people for a living? Sure, he's protecting the world and serving the Queen, but would you look at him differently when you find out the same hands that are so gentle with you will forever be tainted with another's blood?

“Then what is it, Simon?” You never call him Simon. Even when you first met, you've always called him Si. He lets out a small sigh, shaking his head. He doesn't want to be around to fight, he just wants it all to be okay like before— yet he also understands why you're acting that way after months of being kept in the dark.

“I'll be back later.” He turns around to leave the shared flat, only being stopped by another scoff.

“Fine. Leave like you always do.” It was a low blow, you can tell that much by the way his muscles visibly tense up, bulging out of his black shirt. He shakes his head, the hand on the doorknob trembling slightly. He loves you more than anything, but can he really handle seeing the expression on your face when he tells you why he's away?

“'M in the military.” He finally turns around, walking back to you and holding your hand, sitting down on the couch and pulling you on his lap, one of his hands running down the length of your hair.

“SAS. I'll show you my contracts if you don't believe me.” He's willing to do anything to make you believe him. Each silent second only increases his anxiety, barely managing to look down at you just to see the gears shifting in your brain, putting two and two together.

“.... Is that why you always stink when you come back?” There's enough mirth in your tone to let him know you're joking, barely managing to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“Y'sniff me like a fuckin' police dog when I'm back, love. You like it.” No matter how much you roll your eyes in fake annoyance and pretend you don't like it, you both know the truth. You cuddle up closer to him, resting comfortably on his burly body.

“Y'wear the cool uniforms, Si?” Your voice is softer, almost shy to even ask the question. He knows you like masked men— he's heard you rant about Pyramid Head and Ghostface enough times already. He hums softly in reply, nodding his head.

“Sometimes. Cool mask and all, you'd like it.” He's just teasing you at this point, trying to hold back a smile when he feels you rapidly shifting in his arms just to get closer to his face, unable to hide your excitement.

“Yeah? Can I see?” Your giddiness is almost contagious, making a deep chuckle finally escape his lips. You're not looking at him like he's a monster, you're simply excited about the idea of him wearing a mask. Maybe letting you see Ghost isn't a bad idea.

“Hmm...” He drags out, looking away and pretending to think about it just to tease you. The smack to his arm is enough to make him grin at you, stealing a kiss before adjusting you on his lap, finally allowing his body to fully relax.

“Yeah, I'll show you.”

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

#ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #stray answers #ghost cod #cod mwii #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #ghost simon riley #simon fluff #simon x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #mw2 ghost #mw2 #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #cod #ghost mw3 #mw3 #call of duty mw3 #modern warfare #simon ghost fluff

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of scenes that need to be remembered.

"i can show you" scene • episode 1

the first wille’s smile of the season and simon is the one and only reason for it to happen *act surprised*.

he has no rush but takes his time to enjoy simon’s presence, looking from afar first and then approaching him. just having him there is enough to make him This happy.

the casual gestures of fixing the jacket or bumping into the shoulder make me melt - just typical boyfriends things and we absolutely praise them in this house!

wille's flirtatious mood in this whole sequence is the best thing that could've happened to me - to simon too! the "i can show you", the whispering, the head's nod. he's still my fav loser but oh how much he has learned and stepped up the game.

also, i genuinely think not showing them holding hands here with a wider shot is a crime.

such a perfect parallel of the fish scene and they're probably reminded of that too: this time it's wilhelm's bedroom and a foreign place for simon, so he's the curious one - looking around and taking the space in - while wille simply waits for him.

simon's "mysigt" to describe the room, just like wilhelm did. it is another special moment for both of them.

this. this. this!!! claim a s3 moment as your own - this is mine.

to me it is the most seductive and romantic one they've ever shared hands down. it comes straight out of a fanfic.

the tension, the longing, the chemistry, the flirting. there's so much to unpack here: wille's breath is literally vibrating and simon's presence is so intense, he builds up the tension and keeps wilhelm waiting for his next move in the most endearing way - wille is also leaning into his hand at the end. there's no talking, they're barely touching but still filling the room with all the passion and attraction they feel for one another - this is actually insanely scripted and portrayed.

no thoughts head empty just simon's tongue and his hands through wille's hair (he's obsessed, excuse him!).

and it kinda seems like simon is getting pulled closer by the waist or he's pushing himself closer - either way it's hot soo

simon's little leg lift and him pinning wille down on the bed by the wrist right before the cut - they're comfortable and open and so playful with each other. wilhelm's hand that caresses simon's back is very much important too.

simon caressing wille's cheek (he has to return the favor ig) and wilhelm leaning up again when they interrupt the kiss.

these brief moments are the cutest. i love how they stay so close and can't stop tracing each other's features.

the nose rub. the mirrored smiles. they've missed and wanted this for so long and they're taking the most of it.

this whole scene is so passionate and they're both so touchy bc they were clearly waiting for this to happen - during a meeting at the palace might not be the greatest scenario, but the thrill that comes with it is definitely something.

i like the role play throughout the scene sm: wille initiates the first kiss, simon is the one taking the lead next and then it all comes back to wille rolling them over and taking initiative. the neck action is a serious thing for him and idk where his hand would've ended up if they hadn't been interrupted - and we do! love! all of it!

they're laughing over the fact that they were not caring about anything at all but spending quality time with each other. and they deserve it so freaking much.

look at them!!! this is not a subtle look bc they simply do not care anymore. i adore them your honor.

#we're back baby #young royals #young royals analysis #yr s3 #i can show you scene #wilhelm x simon #wilmon

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: The farmer who's growing head over heels for you.

PAIRING: Farmer¡Simon Riley x F¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.128k

WARNINGS: NSFW/SMUT, literally porn written down. Simon is a pervert man. Older¡Simon. Stealing panties. Cumming in your stealed panties. Dacryphilia.Kinda creepy man, ect. Not proofreaded!

NOTES: I'm just OBSESSED with Farmer¡Simon and might explore him better in a most detailed work.•́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀

RUMINATE: (v.) To think deeply about something.

Farmer¡Simon, who's renting a ranch for a good old fashioned family, who is sweet and gentle to everyone quickly as they get there.

Farmer¡Simon, who's informed that the family has a daughter, the only daughter of the couple and who's their pride. Once she got there, he could see the reason behind it.

Farmer¡Simon, with his body flaming under the sun, a lot of drops of sweat coming down from his forehead and doing a path in between his hairy chest. He can't bear the heat anymore, and grunts under his breath, pulling his shirt to the top of his head, letting it rest on his shoulders.

Farmer¡Simon, who feels a dedicated pair of fingertips touching his back on that scorching sun and turns to see a perfect young lady, asking for information and immediately making the corners of his lips turn into a smirk. The sun was not a problem, not when he has an eye drop as you are.

Farmer¡Simon, after finding out you're the new couple's daughter, is way more willing to show you around than every other person around.

Farmer¡Simon, who never thought that such an elegant lady could catch his attention so quickly. He's a mess of sweat and not elegant at the minimum of his persona, why would you even listen to him?

Farmer¡Simon, who's always bragging about being hot, but that suddenly becomes more insecure about his dad body. That's all because you're younger than him, you wouldn't want a man with a body like his.

Farmer¡Simon, that has a good pair of strong arms that carried trunks, metals and any other heavy materials you could think of.

Farmer¡Simon, who has hair all over his body, not even caring about shaving them because he thinks he's too "masculine" to do so. Nor he wants to shave them.

Farmer¡Simon, who's hair is greasy at the end of the day, after so much work he does all day at the ranch. The last thing he does is sprays his legs at the little table and reads the newspaper, eventually falling asleep on the couch that way.

Farmer¡Simon, who finds out you're staying for one month to visit your parents and is smiling from the inside out. The usually grumpy man is more receptive than he wants to admit it next to you.

Farmer¡Simon, that sees you riding on a horse from the window of his house and can't help but stop everything he's doing to watch closely. He leans his forearms on the window frame and just licks his own lips, making them moist as his eyes are glued on you, like you're his prey and he's ready to attack.

Farmer¡Simon, who's growing more and more pervert as he sees you often. The bare sight of you makes his mind run per miles and he can't really stop those thoughts.

Farmer¡Simon that can't help but be worried about the slight things he never worried about before. Like his usual masculine smell, all covered in sweat and stinking like a drunken leaving a saloon. But when he sees you, he immediately runs to a cold quick bath, even worrying more about perfume too, that he used to think it was "bullshit" if he's "going to get dirty anyways at the end of the day."

Farmer¡Simon, that is not the most clean man ever, but that will try to be unconsciously because you're the most graceful and sophisticated woman he ever saw and deep inside, wants to impress you.

Farmer¡Simon, who was once told by you, that you liked his natural scent. Since you're a clever lady, you noticed he's been using more perfume than when you met him.

Farmer¡Simon, who doesn't care about using perfumes anymore after what you said. And he's thankful for that, because he can't bear that strong scent on his nostrils.

Farmer¡Simon, that is getting bolder and bolder each moment you two share. He got a new habit that he's not proud of, but that helps him a lot.

Farmer¡Simon, who's been stealing your cute little rosy laced panties to have material to jerk off with. Visiting your parents way more to "discuss with your father", when he sneaks into your room and his hands "unconsciously" find his way to your panties drawer.

Farmer¡Simon, that in the deep pit of the night, with the company of himself and the longitude sounds of the crickets and the water of the lake closer, that is hard because of you.

Farmer¡Simon, who's hands traveled down to his crotch and without noticing, was already touching himself with your underwear on his hands.

Farmer¡Simon, who's with a problem, a big one. His hips are jerking forward as he holds your panties on his calloused hands, those same panties who's already with a white stain from his previous uses, but he can't stop himself.

Farmer¡Simon, who imagines you pinned down under him, seeing your face ruined with all that makeup you wear in tears, tears of the pleasure he would give you. He would love to see your petite body squirming on his hands, a slobbering mess, you would be so easy to mess with, it would be easy-peasy to make you reach your climax with only his fingers.

Farmer¡Simon, who keeps fucking his hands, sweating hard as ever, but this time not because of the sun or his hard work, no. It's because of you, because you're so beautiful he can't stop himself from being delusional, fantasizing about your body in every position ever created, just the way he imagines you to be in bed.

Farmer¡Simon, that's been pounding on your panties for what seems like hours, but it's only his mind. In reality, he just cums too fast with only thinking of you and fucking your tiny virgin holes on his mind.

Farmer¡Simon, that feels like a virgin college boy because of you, you turned him on the worst version of him. You messed up with his mind and turned him into that perverted huge man.

Farmer¡Simon, who's panting and biting his lower lip to hold some groans as he watches his pitiful state. His pants are lowered to his knees, he has your underwear on the palm of his fists, seeing how much he cummed on that delicate piece of cloth, already ruined.

Farmer¡Simon, that can only imagine you walking around with your laced rosy underwear on, all stained with his cum and so ready to finally take him inside you, the first man of his life. And with only that thought, he's shaking on the couch…hard again.

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

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if I had to continue this story about Knight!Ghost and Presumptuous maiden!reader

She can still feel his breath on her, but the huge body pinning her to the wall ceases to move.

"...What?"

It’s pure shock.

She’s dropped so quickly she has to take support from the stones behind her.

She wouldn’t have to: Simon grabs her by the arm and prevents her from falling forward and back towards that plated chest. His eyes search for hers, and she looks up at the knight who almost raped her – in the corridor of all places like she’s nothing but a common whore. But for the first time ever there’s genuine shock, even fear in his stare. The remnants of lust flicker back alive every now and then, but mostly he looks like she just hurled a powerful curse at him when she told him she’s a virgin.

"I'm sorry,” she tries. “I’ll–I’ll never do it again. I promise."

"Bloody fucking…"

He looks her up and down, the leather straps of his armour wailing from his still heaving chest. She should bolt, now, when Simon has taken a step away from her and is clearly puzzled and confused. But she can’t: those eyes rise to hold her captive again. And now, there’s anger in them.

"You should be whipped."

"For what...?"

Her chest is heaving, too. She never knew how low her voice could get when there's want in the air and in her veins.

"You attacked me, sir. I should have you whipped," she continues like an absolute fool.

"Don't test me, girl," he slurs behind bared teeth. She finally remembers how to shut up.

"Tsk."

Simon nudges his head towards the stairway leading to her quarters. Get out while you can, the gesture says, and she gathers the hem of her heavy woollen dress and flees.

She never believed her miserable begging would stop or sway him. Simon is bound by oath and honour, or then he doesn’t want his master’s wrath upon him. Her worth is between her legs; they both know it. Defiling the king’s daughter could lose him his head.

She climbs the stairs, slips into her room and bolts the door. It should probably be strange that she’s left aching by what just happened. It should make her wake up from her silly dreams, that the only thing stopping this man from raping her is other men, not her feelings and sensibilities.

It should be considered a doom, not fate, that she only wants him more.

…

Simon never participates in the tournaments, but this time, rumour has it that he’s planning to join.

In a distressed hurry, she makes preparations for the great day. There can be no other reason for him to joust other than the wish to win her favour back. His actions speak louder than any words, and just for the sake of that, she has kept her promise. She walks the halls as if the knight called Simon never even existed. She won’t look his way even when he has his back turned on her. She only dreams about him when the moon is full and there are no more candles burning in her lonely room.

But it’s hard.

It’s difficult, and it’s a horrible fate she has to suffer, because now it’s he who can’t keep his eyes off her. Now it’s Simon who has suddenly caught her scent, who is suddenly interested in dangerous, stupid sports such as jousting that could injure or kill a man. But he’s willing to do the thing he apparently hates most – along with the fevered attention of insufferable, flirtatious maidens – because he needs a token of her favour. She’s sure of it: that’s why she embroiders a tiny ‘S’ on her finest, most precious handkerchief.

The tournament day is as beautiful as can be. Her heart is about to rend itself out of her chest when Simon approaches her, riding across the field in his heaviest grey armour. He’s surrendering himself at her mercy, and at the mercy of other people’s ridicule, rumour and gossip by making it known that he thinks himself worthy of her blessing. She wonders if she’s the one being played now: she can’t decipher why he would refuse her one day, then fight to gain her favour the next.

He accepts her silken handkerchief with a blank expression, but his eyes betray the inner turmoil when he sees the embroidery. A plain, simple token would have sufficed – the adorned ‘S’ is a bit too much, it's a clear sign. It’s ten times more clear than her earlier games, ten times more blaring than her vivacious little flirt. She could've embroidered the sentence “If you come up to my room at nightfall, I will let you in,” on it and the meaning would've been just as obvious.

He tucks it under his breastplate and gives her a sideways look that is filled with both distaste and longing. Only Simon can speak entire sentences through his eyes. They say, “You’ve gone too far,” and “If I come out of this alive, you’ll get whipped, or fucked, or both.”

And one thing she never knew about Simon was that he could joust better than anyone. There’s one dead, three wounded and five humiliated by the time Simon is declared the winner of the tournament. Everyone understands now why he never joins these things: he will only rob the fun of other knights by toying with them.

Her chosen one accepts the king’s words and the crowd’s applause with a stern but slightly painful expression. Simon would rather be anywhere but here, but endures being the centre of attention for the rest of the afternoon like a good, patient dog. Then he disappears somewhere, done with being the sudden pet of the people. The next time she sees him is in the morning as she descends the stairs.

“Fawn.”

She flinches from the now familiar dark voice. He’s been waiting for her, and almost prowls forth from the shadows when she’s floating down the steps. There’s a good few feet between them, but she can feel the heat emanating from him. Simon is always blazing like the sun, and he's always tired, downright exhausted, encumbered by pain or something worse.

“Do you always forget your promises so quickly?”

She corrects her posture under his tall shadow; she should’ve known there would be consequences for that handkerchief.

"What crime have I committed now?"

Simon never expects it when she fights back. Long, pale lashes cover the brief bafflement in his eyes, then he reaches for something under his tunic. Her heart skips a beat – he has kept it against his skin, right over his heart, instead of under the plate where he tucked it at the joust.

"This belongs to you," he holds it between them like it’s nothing but a piece of dirty cotton he wants to get rid of. Or then he doesn’t want to stain it with his hands – who knows? This man is so full of contradictions she’s having a hard time getting to the bottom of his soul. She has all the time in the world to study different characters here in the castle, but Simon remains a tightly locked mystery.

"No,” she lifts her chin proudly. “It belongs to you."

His nostrils flare for a moment – a sign of anger or exhilaration; you’d need a powerful witch to tell.

“A knight should return the lady’s favour if he survives the joust,” he mutters, clearly trying to make an effort to speak finely to a fine lady.

“You don’t have to. I made it for you.”

He grunts with frustration, then shoves her gift back inside his tunic. Then he tilts his head. A strange, dark little smile rises on his lips.

"Fawn. Did your father ever beat you?"

It’s only morning, but Simon makes it feel like they’re having this conversation in the cold, damp dungeons. Her heart shudders at the foul words, and yet, she fights to maintain eye contact. She fights both tooth and nail to look straight into the abyss.

"No."

"I can tell."

Insolent bastard, is her first thought at such audacity, but two can play this game, is the second. She takes a slow step forward and rejoices silently when Simon struggles to remain still.

"If I was your wife…" she starts softly, "Would you beat me?"

His nostrils flare again as he looks for a trap where there is none. She’s standing before him without any shields, with no weapons, and he still can’t tell, the poor man.

"I don't beat women," he finally spits. Then he succumbs to the impulse to get away from her, although it looks like he’s struggling to do so, too. He has to wrench himself free, and it gives her more power to rise rooted: to meet his crude manners, the arrogance of a dog.

"You'd never be my wife," is the last thing he says, so quietly that it’s nothing but a mutter; a sullen whisper. The birds have fallen silent, or then she can’t hear them anymore. The golden light that pours from the narrow windows makes it suddenly seem like this morning could last an eternity.

"Why not?" She whispers back.

The moment shatters – her knight escapes like he’s the fragile little fawn now. The clatter of his armour makes it known how much of a hurry he’s in to get away from the golden light... And from her.

#not so dark as the first one but still kinda dark #medieval au #knight!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

[waybeforeyourtime]

Why this line was the last straw?

"Why can't I decide how the hell I want to live? I want to live a normal life."

Before S1E1 even hits the 3-minute mark, we see a frustrated Wille make this statement. We, the audience, think it's simply the spoiled demands of a privileged prince.

We come to find out that it's not. It's a boy being forced into a role he doesn't fit into. He's a square peg being shoved into a round hole.

Then he meets Simon. Then he becomes Crown Prince.

"I can't keep doing this anymore."

He tries, but he can't. So, he goes back to Simon. Then he * fucks * up again. The video is leaked. More shame on the family. He lies to be a good prince.

He's surrounded by the privileged and expected to act like the privileged while loving someone unprivileged. August betrays him and hurts Simon because he isn't a good enough Prince.

August: "You have it all, and you don't want it." (paraphrasing).

August can be his backup, but he hates August for what he did. Except Wille is getting desperate. He's lost Simon, and he considers letting that happen to give him the normal life he always wanted. Except August is worse than he thought. August would send Simon to jail to protect himself.

He wants to be a good prince and not let August take the role, somewhat out of spite, too.

Wille - impulsive last-minute Wille - decides, mid-freakin'-speech, to try being true to himself and remain a Royal, and he outs himself publicly and declares that it was him with Simon in the video.

It doesn't change anything, though. In fact, it gets worse. Now, Simon has to fit into the mold of a Royal, and he's miserable. Wille tries to explain how it works but he can't. It's half-hearted. He doesn't believe in it, so how can he sell it to Simon? He doesn't think Simon should have to stop posting his music or being who he is, but it's what is expected of him. It's how the privileged act. They expect the lower class to conform to their wishes. They don't care about the wants or needs of the lower classes.

Simon breaks up with him. Wille's defeated because he knows Simon is right. Simon will never be happy being stuck in the expectations of Royal life. But Wille isn't either. And Wille sees that his mother isn't happy - she's having a mental breakdown. Erik wasn't the perfect brother either. He did toxic things and then covered it up.

Everyone is fake. Except Simon, so he lets him go.

"You'll make a great King."

This was the last straw. Wille had never heard that before. Everything he's ever done has been the wrong thing. The wrong way of thinking. The wrong way of acting. Wanting the wrong things. When he tried to make it right, it failed. Now, his mother is telling him that he'll make a Great King. Why? Because he gave up Simon and tried to fake it like everyone else.

And in that moment, our impulsive last-minute Wille, decides that 'no. he will not make a great king.' He stops just trying to get approval from his parents. He will not carve out pieces of himself to fit in that round hole, and he runs. He runs away from it and runs towards a life where he can make his own choices. He doesn't know who he wants to be, but he knows it's not King.

A hopeful ending. Not a happy ending.

#young royals #again #it did not come out of nowhere #omg #yr s3 #yr s3 spoilers #how can you have watched 2 season of this show and not understand how impulsive Wille is #yr s3 reaction

[mytvjunk]

Regarding the media and public opinion, Simon will always receive the most backlash from them. He is the most vulnerable out of him and Wilhelm. And I’m not disregarding or invalidating all that’s happening to Wilhelm, but in many ways Wille is more prepared with dealing with the press and public opinion about him and his family and has been since he was born. He also has the resources to help stop some of the media frenzy targeted at him, Simon does not.

Historically whenever a royal has decided to date or marry a “commoner” there is a specific group of press and public opinion that tends to eviscerate the commoner, for no reasons other than that person existing and being an ordinary person, without rank or title. Largely branded unworthy and a gold digger who finessed their way into the royal family.

Another highly important fact to point out is that Simon is Latino. Simon is a brown boy. With this, he will experience racism sharply targeted at him. Racism that Wilhelm will never experience. So, this will be an added layer of hatred spewed at him on top of homophobia, classism, and everything else in between.

Per the trailer, it looks like someone smashed his window with a rock, so he is already being targeted…he is at his most vulnerable now. So, I hope that the queen is sensible enough to provide Simon and his family some security. Someone who can at least guard their house because it’s clear that people know where he lives, and it feels like things could get worse before they get better for Simon.

These are two 16 year old kids dealing with the most insane situation that no one, at any age, is really equipped to deal with. That no one should be dealing with. We just got to wish them strength and hope that everything will work out for them in the end.

Aside from the negativity, I do believe that there is a large group of supporters out there of this relationship and of Simon himself. I honestly believe that most of their classmates will be their biggest cheerleaders. And I hope we get to see the publics support so that Simon and Wilhelm know that there are a lot of people on their side, despite feeling alone in this. Cuz sometimes the negativity can sound so loud that it drowns out all the love that’s very present.

I just want to wrap them both in a protective shield because everything that’s going on is so intense and unfair. As Simon said, "Love should not be this difficult." And I hope that once all this nonsense has settled down, their love is never difficult for them ever again 💜💜

#young royals #netflix #wilmon #endgame #end game #omar rudberg #edvin ryding #simon eriksson #wilhelm x simon #prince wilhelm #Wilhelm #yr s3 #young royals season 3 #young royals spoilers #yr fanfic #yr s3 spoilers #edmar #friends best #lgbtq #gay ships #gay #netflix nordic

[kechiwrites]

not quite heart-shaped

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: you and simon both have the 14th off, and by god you were going to make the most of it. pt. 4/?

wc: 2.3k

cw: afab + fem!reader, fluff, banter, cunnilingus, fingering, teasing, very light breeding kink, femme pet name (princess), no use of y/n ever.

an: the return of medic reader, special thanks to @weebitofaslag who with a single comment reignited my love for their dynamic. babes all my knowledge of the military comes from romance novels, mw2 campaign and my fleeting contact with the canadian armed forces. so like if i get something wrong…don’t tell me. happy valentines day!

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

"Three." The tense quiet of the bedroom is disrupted by your offer. 

Ghost stands in front of you, and despite his crossed arms his posture is deceptively casual.

He scoffs at your pitch. The standoff is common for the two of you. Basically foreplay at this point. Pretending to be irritated and annoyed with each other until you're basically begging to rip each other's clothes off.

"No way." He grunts, but doesn't provide a number of his own.

You can't keep the disbelief out of your tone.

"Less than three, Simon? You're losing your touch!"

That does get a rise out of him and he stops leaning against the bathroom door frame.

"More than three. Anything less than five is a waste of both of our days off. But you knew that, didn't you, princess?"

"I don't know if I have five in me to give, honestly." You choke out, already tugging off the sweater you wore. 

"If I'm eating you out, I'm spending the day down there." He huffs. 

You're breathless when you finally respond, your cool and collected demeanour crumbling in the wake of his assertion.

"Yeah okay, that's fine, but wanting to fuck me after? I may not even be conscious." When he doesn’t respond, you gasp dramatically, like a soap opera lead discovering a villain’s plot. "Maybe that's what you want! Simon! Who knew you were so depraved?" It’s easy to be silly with him lately, even more so when you’re both free of the oppressive air of the base you’re both stationed at.

"Get on the bed or get out of my house." His shirt’s already off, and it’s oh so hard to stay on the task of mocking him when the cut muscle and little bit of fat on his torso shine under the room’s low light. With the mask still on, and the dark fabric of his pants obscuring his bottom half, he makes quite the sight. The pale, wide expanse of his chest, only broken up by tattoos and healed, pink scars and sandy, blond chest hair makes your mouth water. He steps towards you, hooking the thumb under the mask and pulling it up. It feels as though the cloth is moving in slow motion, your heart beating loud and erratic with anticipation. When he stops so it rests on his nose, you exhale, not quite disappointed, but you sure as hell aren’t relieved. 

“Sex in a bed?” You question facetiously, willing your brain to revert back to being a little shit. You know he can’t stand when you're being a brat, it reminds him of just how easily he’d lost control, just how messily he’d fucked you the first time, but around Simon you just can't seem to stop yourself, “You're spoiling me.” You lay back on the bed as ordered, contorting your arms to shimmy out of your bra, then your bottoms, tugging your underwear along with them. Not a thong this time, a fact that seems to disappoint Simon when he notices your regular boyshort panties entangled in your discarded sweatpants. 

“Yeah, don't get used to it, I'm just tired of the smell of antiseptic.” He mutters, kicking your discarded clothes off to the side.

You snort derisively, spreading your legs so he can lay between them, allowing for him to brush the petal soft skin of his lips against your hip, your thigh, just above your knee. “Ladies and gentlemen, the last true romantic.” You mumble, patting the top of his head, lamenting your inability to card your fingers through his fine blonde hair. 

Your entire body jolts when his tongue comes in contact with your clit, a full body shiver alerting Ghost to just how badly you'd needed this. He hasn't shaved and his stubble scrapes the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing a jolt up your spine, shuddering breaths escaping your lungs as his mouth gets better acquainted with the lips of your cunt. 

He drags his tongue over you in your entirety, taking special interest in the skin just below your entrance, he stays there, skimming, sucking, licking, until you're worried he'll manage to give you a hickey there, on your fucking taint. He has you dripping with his spit and your own slick, and the sound when he returns to your clit is obscene. He brings both hands up towards your abdomen, but neither continues the course to where you want them, on top of your chest, plucking at your nipples, or even around your throat, obstructing your airway. Instead, Simon's left hand pushes down on your abdomen, and his right gently shifts the hood of your clit up so he can abuse it better. 

All the soldiers in all the world and you had to hook up with the one who eats pussy like that?

"Fuck." You wince, and you twitch away from him as best you can, which only makes him suck harder, like he’s giving you ‘two for flinching’. You groan loud and unashamed, assured by the privacy afforded by not fucking on base for once. Your toes curl and relax over and over, the periodic tremble of your hips against his mouth has him holding you down as best he can, determined to pull more sounds from your wide open mouth. Your whole body tenses and you let out a litany of curses only disrupted by stutters of his name, all while you clench around nothing. He’s mumbling into you as you come, but whatever he’s saying ultimately doesn’t fucking matter when the vibrations of his voice make you want to cry or scream or kick Simon in his stupid masked face.

There's barely any hangtime between your orgasm shuttering through you and Simon circling his arms around your thighs before he tongue fucks you mercilessly, letting the tip of the muscle broach your entrance while he drags the edge of his teeth over the still buzzing flesh of your labia. He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you onto his face, until you get with the program and begin rolling your hips, pressing your clit against the bridge and tip of his nose, allowing his tongue to push deeper within you. 

Your body is already dripping its satisfaction all over his chin, and this time with breath barely in your lungs it takes longer for him to get you into a place of desperation again. But by God, does Simon Riley get you there. This time he takes a break from the constant contact between your cunt and his tongue to slip one of his thumbs into your entrance, fucking you with slow and deliberate strokes, like a promise of what he’ll do to you later when he finally fucks you. Long, greedy swipes of his tongue jar your brain like a hit to the head. You try to struggle away, levering up with your arms before he tugs you down again like a fucking ragdoll, like you trying not to lose your fucking mind is a slight inconvenience to him. He lays wet, panting, open mouth kisses over the pulsing heat of your cunt, and when you you raise your head to - fuck you don’t know - curse his entire bloodline, you can see he’s helplessly grinding his hips into the mattress, seeking some sort of friction while he tongues at your folds, while you soak him to the knuckle. It’s hot, hotter than it has any right to be and you flop back down, turning your head into his pillow to muffle your moans. Old habits and all that. Unfortunately, the pillow is steeped in Simon’s scent, and your eyelids drift closed when you inhale deeply. Your breath stalls and you ride out yet another climax on his tongue, this time very grateful for the way he fingers you through it, even if his thumb isn’t nearly big enough. The bed beneath you bears the brunt of your orgasm this time, damp sheets attesting to your fervent enjoyment. 

“What a mess you’ve made.” He speaks, once you stop huffing, voice disturbingly even, like he didn’t just factory reset your body. Which is…incredibly irritating.

“You know technically as a doctor I outrank you.” You snip, nose in the air. 

“So?” He lifts his head, but his eyes are still locked between your legs, not quite able to decide if he wants to move from where he is so clearly comfortable.

“So…” you mock him, squeezing your thighs around his neck, until his stare is redirected to your face. “you should be fucking nice to me, asshole.” He digs his thumbs into the back of your knees, until you release him. Slowly, he drags himself up, over your body until he can lay on his back next to you. 

“You know, I really should have finished inside you that first time. Knocked you up and had you taken off base.” And wouldn’t that have been a fun conversation for you to have with your CO. ‘I’m so sorry ma’am, he wears a mask and has big hands and knows my kinks. I had no choice, ma’am.’

“Stop talking or I’m gonna sit on your dick.” You whisper, shutting your eyes against the harsh beam of the light overhead. Your heart rate is finally starting to settle, and you’re grateful for the moment of reprieve, the few moments he gives for you to stitch your mind back together, to regain purposeful use of the human language. 

Shoulder to shoulder in his bed, and no longer occupied with singing Simon’s praises, your mind begins to harmlessly wander, unhelpfully cataloguing that you aren’t even halfway through what he’s planned for you. You also start to filter through your responsibilities due in the coming days. It’s automatic at this point, a system you developed during school, when papers and projects and your social life all constantly contradicted each other. You’d come, at the hands of yourself or someone else, and your orgasm cleared brain began building a calendar. Nothing today, of course, you’d cleared your schedule and no one had questioned why. Most people wouldn’t question anyone taking off Valentines.

The “holiday” never really stuck out to you in the past, for one reason or another. Work, med school, family stuff, hell sometimes you just didn’t fucking feel like it. But this year, today, you can’t help yourself. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Simon.” You puff, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling, letting your brain make patterns out of the popcorn ceiling.

“Ah,” he vocalizes, voice gruff. “Right.” he shifts in his bed, and you figure you’ve got about 30 seconds before he gives you the dusty combat boot. Your face burns with embarrassment, why the fuck did you say that? When did he ever give you even the slightest inclination he gave a shit about some overblown, capitalistic, aggrandized-

“Here.” A bag of jellybeans is unceremoniously plopped onto your bare chest, right between your tits. 

“Where were you hiding these?” You gawp, struggling to string together a sentence as you examine the bag of colourful candies. It has a bow on it. You finger the pre-tied ribbon, stuck on with an adhesive pad.

“Under the bed.” He grunts, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like he’s fending off a headache, but you think he may just be embarrassed, if the pink tips of his ears are anything to go by. 

“This is sweet.” You choke out, and you have to sink your teeth into your already swollen lower lip to stop from giggling hysterically. “Thank you, Simon.”

“Mng.” He makes the noise in his throat, forgoing the English language for the easy comfort of grunts, watching you tear the bag open and chew on a handful of the brightly coloured beans. All at once, like some kind of animal. The flavours don’t quite go together, strawberry and buttered popcorn and root beer. Others you can’t even begin to pin down. But you're too frazzled to eat them how you usually would, your favourites first, then making combinations with whatever’s left, guided by the suggestions on the back of the bag. And ultimately, it’s not altogether too unpleasant. It works, in a fucked up, saccharine sweet kind of way. Kind of like you and-

“Alright, put it away.” He rasps, turning over to cover you with his weight once more, sliding down to get started on orgasm three. 

He plucks the bag out of your hands and drops it on the nightstand near you, devoid of any knick knacks or photographs, just a beat up 70s style alarm clock that acts as a pedestal for your candy.

“My beans!” You shout, trying in vain to secure the confection for further enjoyment. You give up your fruitless endeavour when Simon sinks his teeth into the flesh of your breast on his way back down to your pussy. 

“I didn’t get you anything.” You moan, pressing the cool palms of your hands to your overheated face, soothing the mix of embarrassment and giddiness stirring in your mind.

“I’ll live.” He grouses, bending your knees, holding your thighs up and together with both palms at the back of your knees. You can’t see his face. Have never seen the whole thing, but you’d bet all the jellybeans in the fucking world, that Simon Riley’s cheeks are pink.

the beans were soap’s idea for sure. poor guy’s definitely heard them fucking more than once. support city girls, reblog what u like. happy valentines.

#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x black reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #kechiwrites #cod mw2 smut #cod fic #ghost x black!reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x fem reader

[vampykween]

Crazy idea for toxic husband simon? Lets send them to couples counselling >:]

hehe i love this idea! sorry this took so long i pondered over how to write it, but i like how it turned out! these two deserve a brief reprieve from all the angst so enjoy this little glimmer of hope <3

“i still don’t think we need to do this, love” 

“so, you’ve said. can you please just go get the kids ready to leave, im not finished getting ready.” you mentally count down from ten while leaning over the bathroom sink attempting to finish up your makeup. you know by the time you hit ten, simon will have volleyed back some comment you’re in no mood to hear. 

“’s therapy, not a fashion show. dont even get why you’re getting dolled up anyway.” he’s unbelievably predictable. 

you roll your eyes and stare pointedly in his direction. “you know if you’re trying to convince me you still love me, you should try just saying ‘wow babe you look beautiful, of course i’ll get the kids ready’.” simon squints his eyes at you as if he’s actually considering what you’re saying, huffs, and stalks off in the direction of your daughters’ room. 

~ 

maybe your husband(?) was right, this does feel stupid. you two are sitting in a far too stuffy room with plain decorations, on a too-plush couch that makes you sink further with every movement. you don't even realize the therapist is asking you something until simon places a hand on your bouncing knee, stilling it to catch your attention. your heart shouldn’t stutter at the small display of affection, but simon hadn’t touched you in so long the touch melted the icy feelings you had towards him.

the session goes far better than you had expected. you didn’t think simon would open up much, but he was a lot more willing to admit his faults than you figured he’d be. you couldn’t help but stare at him incredulously, where was this man when you two were at home? when you were begging and pleading for help with literally any and everything? a part of you starts to feel bad when simon’s revealing his feelings of depression and worthlessness, not that you’re giving him a pass for the years of transgression, but once upon a time he was your soulmate and your heartbreaks knowing he was in so much pain.

maybe you didn’t see it because you were blinded by rage, or because you were so exhausted day in and day out, you didn’t have time to think of anything other than being a mom. you both come to the realization, with the therapist’s help of course, that you were both so eager to rush into life that you never stopped to consider what that would actually look like. you wanted a baby so badly that even when things started to snowball into madness you two convinced yourselves that this was just the way it was and that it had to be worth it somehow.

as you’re both walking back to the car, you leave feeling a whole lot lighter than when you went in. sure no major hurdles were cleared. you weren’t sure when you’d be able to kiss and love on your husband again without being confronted with everything he wasn’t doing, but you two are going to take it slow and learn to listen to each other. give and take. push and pull. as you slide into the passenger seat, simon tugs gently at one of your hands and interlocks his fingers with yours.

“i know i can’t take back the past, but i’m serious about changing. i want to be better for you, for us, and for our girls.”

you’re not sure what you had expected him to say, but his words have your breath caught in your throat. you distinctly remember a time when he promised he would be good to you, and he failed. you wanted to badly to believe him now, hearing the sincerity in his voice. warring between what the angry part of you wants to say and what the hopeful part of you wants to say, you land on a simple response of “okay”

“okay?”

“yes, okay. i’m not ready to forgive you yet and i don’t know when i ever will be. but i am saying that i will try.” his eyes lock with yours and you can see the emotion brewing in them, he doesn’t offer any words back. he simply squeezes your hand three times in quick succession. i love you. maybe just maybe things will work out this time.

#mic answers #mic writes #toxichusband!simon #toxichusband!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader

[k-pepp]

S2 Simon was so delightfully unhinged. It’s interesting to see him try to run from his feelings to only show them 10 times more, just in other ways that are completely off the rails. The song is probably my favorite example.

At first he tries to process his heartbreak through writing a song. Nice. Normal. But then! He figures this can’t just be a song for only him to know. This will be the new school song. A song every Hillerska student must know and sing for years to come. Don’t worry that some of the actual lyrics are “If you saw me here today, Saw how longing makes me weak”. He crammed the word “Hillerska” in one time, so no one could possibly figure out the real meaning.

And is he going to subtly slip the new song into the mix of some ordinary school event? NO! It’s going to make its debut at the Valentines ball. Stop the party, turn on the lights, and make every single student stand in a circle and watch him sing his love song new school song directly to his ex-boyfriend. My god, basically serenading Wille. Right in front of everyone, including his current date.

But keeping it for the school is not enough! He wants to sing his love song new school song at the Jubilee. An event he knows damn well will be broadcast on national television. And once again, singing the song directly to his ex-boyfriend. But with the extra bonus of singing the song directly to the Queen of Sweden as well. And then he had the nerve to be shocked and indignant when he was stopped. (Look, I get why he was upset and Jon-Olof is definitely an asshole, but let’s be real, from a PR perspective no one associated to the monarchy was ever going to let that song happen). No doubt he was FUMING when he had to sing the old song instead of his love song new school song to all of Sweden.

The whole thing was so completely unhinged and I loved him for that. Honestly, I hope he brings some of that into season 3. The monarchy can’t make him go away this time. They have to deal with him. And I hope he makes it absolutely exhausting for them.

And I hope he looks like this when he does it

#young royals #simon eriksson #unhinged Simon #Simon is a little shit and I love him for that

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Dad!Simon Riley x Fem!reader

Simon Riley: Girl Dad

From the request here ; pic screenshot from this video

“Can I come in now?” you ask, popping your head into the nursery as Simon finishes getting your 3 month old daughter Anna ready for the day. 

She wriggles in his grasp, babbling away as he mutters in a hushed tone to her about keeping still for daddy.

"Ya think this is funny yeah," he teases her, tickling her chubby tummy before trying to wrangle one of her legs in his grasp.

It’s like music to his soul the way the happy talking sounds she makes touches his heart and it only makes him want to do whatever he can so that she will keep making them for him. That’s why it always takes longer than usual to get her dressed when he does it.

You crane your neck trying to sneak a peak, but his voice stops you. “Not yet,” he says and moves his body to block your view. 

He doesn’t want you to see before he’s ready. The outfit is one he picked up the other night on a whim, the moment he saw it he knew Anna had to have it for today, and he wants to get it all on to give the full effect. He finishes straightening her up and tucks her body sitting up in the crook of his arm. She is content as can be being snuggled at the side of his chest, happily clapping her little hands together as they turn to face you. 

“Well?” he asks, brow furrowed and body slightly tense as he waits for your critique. “How'd we do?”

You match your daughter’s vibrant smile as you see the outfit Simon’s bought all on his own: a bright yellow corduroy romper with frill capped sleeves, little socks with suns on them, and a big yellow bow to match. Your heart swells full of emotion at the sight; it’s just an outfit, sure, but it really means so much more than the sum of its parts. You know just how far Simon has come in his journey with her and it truly warms your heart to see him so smitten with the little babe this way.  

When she first came home, there wasn’t a moment when Simon wasn’t on edge around her, nervous that somehow, someway, he would end up hurting her. She seemed so small to him in those first days, so incredibly delicate as she lay sleeping in her bassinet like the most perfect doll, that he was certain that someone as rough around the edges as him would never be able to be near her without breaking her and that was something he was not willing to risk.

She is his gift, his light, a treasure that came from out of all the years of heartache and hardship and he would never let anything bad ever happen to her.

It took some time and a lot of encouragement on your part, but finally Simon found his confidence and never looked back. Any chance now that he can get he is holding her, changing her, feeding her; anything and everything he can do to show her his love by his actions alone. And whether he gives himself the credit for it or not, he is doing a marvelous job.

“How did I know you'd choose something yellow?” you laugh as Simon glares at you, trying not to crack that fake tough facade. 

It is becoming a pattern for him to choose yellow things when it comes to Anna. When she came home from the hospital a few months ago in that yellow onesie, it was like a flip and been switched and that was it; that was her hue from then on. It is strange, Simon never really had a favorite color before that special day and then suddenly yellow was never the same. Now he cannot imagine his life without it.

His face breaks into a smile as he shakes his head, not ready to admit that he is becoming predictable. “Come on, did I do it right or not? Just want to be sure it looks fine on her. We got a big day and I want it ta be perfect.”

Your face brightens as you look her over again. “She looks adorable, Simon,” you reply cheerfully. “You did good, baby. I think you’re really getting the hang of this dad thing.”

Looking down at her in his grasp, he beams with a sense of accomplishment and his tense shoulders ease. Parenting is not something Simon ever thought he could be good at, he never thought he would be the one with the chance at having a family, but each day he is making strides in the right direction to becoming the dad he desperately wants to be.  

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own today?” you ask as you watch Simon place a delicate kiss to the top of Anna’s small, wispy-haired head. “Cause I can stay if you need me to. All I gotta do is make a call and let them know I can’t go.”

Simon shakes his head and reaches for you with his free arm, pulling you by the wrist until you step close enough that he can wrap his arm around your hip to pull you against him opposite your daughter. “Ya worry too damn much, sweetheart,” he says as his hand finds your cheek, his thumb stroking across the soft skin before he is leaning his face in towards yours. 

His full lips catch you in their tender embrace, a kiss that is full of emotion, and in an instant your eyes flutter closed as you relinquish yourself to him. You let all those worries fall away as the gentle touch of his lips, the heat from his breath, the passion flowing through his kiss calms your mind. He conveys so much without ever speaking a single word and in a flash you are put at ease.

Slowly he breaks away, already missing your taste the moment your lips part. Eyes still shut, he rests his forehead against yours, rocking all three of you back and forth a moment as he enjoys the feeling of having his entire life resting comfortably in his arms. You both open your eyes after a time and look down at Anna babbling away to herself, before looking back at each other. This is all still new and unchartered territory, so the both of you are working to figure it all out, but so far it has been anything except bad. 

“I promise, I got ‘er. We’re gonna be just fine,” he says quietly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

At the sound of his voice Anna turns her face to find his and it lights up as it always does whenever her favorite person talks to her. She even employs her recently-learned skill of giggling happily to punctuate that she agrees with whatever it was she was just asked, even though she doesn’t understand a word of it.  

Simon kisses your forehead to be sure the worry is completely gone. “It’s just a couple hours on base and then we’ll be home the rest of tha day,” he says. “Besides, might be nice to show her off to the guys. She does look real pretty today.” 

“That she does,” you agree as you quickly check the clock on your phone and with a kiss to your baby and one more for Simon you are gone, leaving the pair alone.

Simon gets to work double checking everything in his backpack that he has to bring for her: extra diapers, wipes, bottles, toys, anything he could need while he is out. It’s in his nature, years of military training has come in handy as he is prepared for it all. Satisfied, he turns back to the baby at his side. “Alright princess,” he says, “ready to go see where your dad spends all his time when he ain’t at home?”

The moment he’s walking on base, black backpack filled with essentials strapped to his back, tiny baby girl dressed in bright clothes tucked in his arms, he’s drawing curious stares from everyone he passes. This is the first time she has gone to base with him, so of course people are going to be inquisitive about things. How can they not? Simon looks like… well, Simon: intense, stoic, intimidating. Even in just his black t-shirt and jeans, with his lightweight balaclava on, he is still an imposing figure. Never one to be shy per se, Simon still does not like the attention on him, but since he is with his little angel he doesn’t care. He is proud to show off the best damn thing he has ever helped to create.

The contrast between him and his daughter he knows is jarring and Simon laughs to himself at how absurd this must look for someone like him with such a coarse demeanor to be handling such a precious, sweet thing. Who would have thought that the scary skull-masked military officer would have a family of his own? It is a shock he is sure. 

“Seems we’re gonna be the talk ‘round ‘ere today, princess,” he says as he looks down at Anna, secure in his grasp as they continue on towards his office.

She is too busy looking everywhere her little head can turn to be bothered by anything. Being out and about with her father, seeing things she’s never seen before, which is pretty much everything, has her interested and engaged with the sights around her. Those small brown eyes, the ones that are a carbon copy of his, stare on as she silently takes everything in.

He makes it to his office and gets set up, grabbing everything that he needs in one tight spot as he sits Anna up in his lap with a toy for her to play with. She is content for a while as he goes through paperwork, occasionally he gives her a tickle or readjusts her on his thigh, something to show that he hasn’t forgotten she’s there with him. 

Barely an hour has passed before Anna begins to whine and fuss and Simon knows what that means: she’s hungry. He grabs the prepped bottle out of the bag and walks to the small microwave in the corner of the room, warming it and testing it on his wrist before he moves back to his desk and sits back down in his chair, cradling her in his arms against his chest as he places the nipple of the bottle in her mouth.

“There ya are, luv,” he comforts her until she settles into him, “I gotcha. Daddy didn’t forget.”

Unknown to Simon, there is an unexpected guest that has just appeared near his office door, though before the person can even knock to announce themselves, they are caught by surprise at the sight before them. Johnny, who’s come to deliver something from Price, stops right in his tracks and stares at the scene before him.

He stands there, watching as Simon tenderly holds this little infant in his arms, quietly rocking back and forth as she drinks her bottle. Every now and again he speaks to her softly, the skin around his eyes tightening to indicate there is a smile underneath the mask. There is an ease to his movements as if he knows exactly what he is doing and it genuinely shocks the young sergeant. Who could have ever guessed that this would be something Simon would be such a natural at?

As Anna is finishing the bottle, Simon looks up as he feels a pair of eyes on him to see Johnny standing there, obscured by the doorframe, silently watching. He sets the empty bottle down on his desk and moves Anna to sit upright on his thigh, leaning her against the crook of his arm so that he can pat and rub her back until she burps. 

“Can I help ya, Mactavish?” Simon’s distinct voice calls out, catching Johnny off-guard as he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Sorry, L.T.” Johnny stutters out as he hurriedly steps inside the office, remembering why he is here in the first place, and sets some papers upon his desk. “Price sent these; says he needs ya to look ‘em over.”

Simon nods in understanding, his hand still rubbing the baby’s back. “Will do,” he agrees, thinking this will be the end of the interaction, but Johnny still lingers. “Anything else?”

“I heard ‘round base that ya had your little one here today. Had to come see if it was true fer myself,” Johnny admits with guilt. 

“Well, ya could meet ‘er if ya like, ‘stead a standin’ there just starin’.”  Simon nods his head down at the baby. “Johnny, this is Anna.”

The sergeant observes her as she begins to coo, her eyes catching the tattoos along Simon’s muscular arm, her petite fingers tapping and poking along the lines and patterns with delight as she loves to do when he holds her like this. She’s so engrossed that she hasn’t realized there is another person in the room yet.

Johnny clears his throat. “Didn’t mean ta stare, ya know. It’s just a surprise ta see she’s actually real, I guess.”

The original members of the 141 know about Anna, it wasn’t something that Simon could hide once she was about to make her way into the world, but it’s a bit jarring for the Scot to see someone that he had previously known to be so toughened by the world change so drastically. Anyone who gets close enough can see it in the lieutenant’s soft gaze: he adores the little girl and that is… interesting, to say the least.

Simon chuckles at the clear surprise in Johnny’s voice as Anna is still playing with his arm. “Bit absurd, innit Johnny?” he questions while watching her with a prideful twinkle in those brown eyes as she giggles. “Me with a kid? Doesn’t seem possible, does it?” 

“Ya seem a natural ta me,” the Scot admits in awe of how easily he makes it seem, as if he was given some secret knowledge that made him know exactly what to do and how to do it. “Then again I don’t know the first thing ‘bout babies. Wouldn’t even know where ta start.”

Simon is reminded about how when he first found out he was going to be a dad he had started reading all the books, researching all the things like a good, capable soldier would, but how all of that prep was nothing in the end as the moment she came into the world everything was turned on its head. It’s not like in the books, it’s so much better and it is days like today that make it worth all the worry and fear and anxiety he had to break through to get here.

“Easier than ya think,” Simon replies with a chuckle as he moves Anna around facing forward now. “Once ya get the hang of it.”

“Don’t tell my girl that,” Johnny laughs back. “Can’t afford one right now.”

Anna’s attention is stirred away from Simon’s tattoos and towards the other man standing in the room with them. She looks up at Johnny in awe, not having much experience with others outside of Simon and you, but Johnny shoots her his classic smile and he has her giggling again in a flash. 

“Well hey there Anna, nice ta meet ya,” he introduces himself before turning back to Simon. “I think she likes me.”

“It's your hair she's eyein’,” Simon points out, following her eye line.

Sure enough as soon as Johnny runs his hands over the mohawk cut into his hair her eyes light up. “Can she touch it?” he asks Simon and he nods in agreement.

Johnny falls to one knee in front of the little girl, leans his head down, and lets her put her hand in it. Her short, chubby fingers pull the strands as she laughs, the short, spiky pieces pricking her fingertips. She pulls away quickly before bringing her hand back in again, a sort of game that she repeats a few more times before Johnny gets back to his feet. 

“He’s a funny one, ain’t he, princess?” Simon questions his little one as he strokes his thumb around the smile that fills her tiny, round cheeks. “Ya like him, yeah?”

She coos, her little lips forming an ‘o’ so that she sounds like a dove. That’s the closest to a yes as they are going to get. 

“I sure ‘ope ya do, seein’ as I’m your dad’s best friend,” Johnny picks, looking to Simon to see his reaction. 

He rolls his eyes at the statement, but stays silent and doesn’t correct him. Instead Simon opts to end the conversation there, needing to get finished here anyway so that he can get back home. As much as Johnny’s company isn’t as grating as it first was, he is ready to spend some alone time with the baby before you get back. “Well, if ya don’t mind, I need to get back to it. Say goodbye Anna.”

Johnny agrees, though his mouth twitches like he wants to ask a question, but ultimately decides not to ask it in the end. He turns to leave, but Simon guesses at what he is wanting and calls out behind him so that he stops. 

“And ya can tell the others they can come see ‘er if they want,” Simon assures, “I know they’re probably itchin’ to get a glimpse of her too. That’s why they sent ya, yeah? See if I was up for company?”

Johnny turns around and nods his head. Fuck, they’ve been caught. “Will do, L.T.” he says. “Can ya blame us though? She’s pretty damn cute.”

And with that he turns back around. As Johnny leaves the office with the sounds of Simon and Anna at his back, he can’t help but smile to himself at seeing his friend finally have a bit of happiness; if anyone deserves it, it is Simon. Wait till the others see just how much things around here are going to change.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost #cod ghost #ghost call of duty

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 7

Summary: John Price comes to terms with the reality of you.

Words: 1.8k

CWs: Kidnapping

You had considered just refusing to eat, had your hand on the edge of the plate ready to push it right off the counter in a huff, but one look from Price who seemed like he might actually do something about it if you did stopped you and you swallowed down your pride and ate lunch. It was delicious. Fucker. You could smell the orangey creme brulee that had been made for dessert and were fighting between not accepting it as a protest and trying it because it smelled so good and not doing so felt like you were the one being punished. 

The little dish was slid in front of you by a softly smiling Kyle and you wanted to smack that smile right off of his face. Why was he looking at you all indulgent like that? After the shit he just pulled? You grumpily cracked the sugar shell and took a bite. It was wildly delicious but the only thing you could taste was orange on your tongue. You flushed and felt your pussy clench around nothing, still worked up and needy and now reminded of how those fingers had tasted. 

That was about as much indignity as you were willing to suffer so you pawed the dessert slowly off of the counter in disgust to clatter onto the floor and hopped off the stool. While Kyle only chuffed softly and Johnny did fuck all to hide a surprised little grin at the small outburst, Price’s eyebrows were furrowed with some sort of confused disappointment. 

“Ye’ll need tae clean that up.”

“I’m technically dead, remember? Pretty sure that means I don’t have to clean anything up ever again.”

“Ye’d naw be the first Ghost biding here bonnie thing, and he always manages tae clean his messes just fine.”

“Consider me a poltergeist.”

“Need tae break oot the ouija board Gaz, get our wee poltergeist talking pretty instead of misbehaving.”

“Now where did we put that old thing?”

You glared at them and they grinned at you and for a small, tiny moment it felt like it could be fun to banter away with them like this. And then Price was off of his stool and picking up the dish and dropping it so hard into the sink that the sound caused a flurry of wings outside. 

John was usually more controlled than this. He shouldn’t be letting his mind get this muddied, but it felt that everytime he thought he knew what you would do next you went right ahead and did the opposite. He thought hauling you into his office would scare you straight and instead you had been defiant. It wasn’t lost on him that there was heat mixed with that defiance and that affected him so much he had just left you there alone and went to walk it off. 

Only when he got back, it was to Soap and Gaz in a fist fight. Not the first time and wouldn’t be the last of course, Soap had a short fuse and sometimes needed one of them to get physical with him, let him work it off. But he could hear you crying. What the hell had happened? How could he have left you all full of heat and rebellion and come back to this? So he stopped it, ordered Soap to get himself ready and go see Simon to cool off. Watched Kyle comfort you. Comforted you himself without even meaning to.

And then he had thought this would make you finally settle and it didn’t. His hand on your waist caused a flush on your skin and a fire in his blood. He fucking wanted you. Not that soft love he had always imagined on long watches in the tower, following your day with the binoculars. He thought one day he’d kiss you softly and you’d melt into him, letting him slowly lay you down on a nice, plush bed as you’d say such sweet little things to him that he’d know that it was the right decision to put a ring on your finger. But you were nothing like that gentle little lady that had existed in his mind, and it made him some mixture of angry and burning with the need to fuck all of his feelings right into you, possess you in ways entirely different from a pretty ring on your finger and a slow press into your heat. 

He had to get away from you then, realising how close he had come to completely losing control. Simon had noticed he was off immediately but just given him a firm squeeze on the shoulder and a look of understanding. At least he wasn’t alone then, at least Simon obviously struggled with the reality of you. Still though, Ghost was happy to play rough with Soap for a bit, burn off all that agitation the man was carrying. 

And maybe that helped Price settle in a way as well, gave him time to just look out over their forest, their home, and take some peace in how beautiful he’d always found it. Looking out of the tower in one direction he could see the burnt remains of your cottage and then a bit beyond that the small town. He walked the perimeter so he could look out into the other direction, where it was just forest as far as the eye could see, mountains painting the horizon. If he didn’t know where to look, he wouldn’t even be able to pick out the little glimpse of their cabin through the trees. 

How strange it was to think that from them to you had always been just a turn on his heel, and he had done it so often. Looked fondly at their cabin and felt the warmth of home, turned to look longingly at your cottage and felt the contentment of the future he could imagine with you. 

It didn’t last as long as he would like because then they were back at the cabin and you were doing the opposite of what he expected AGAIN. Hearing you moaning for Gaz got him right back to that volatile mixture between angry and needing to fuck you and then hearing you give away your half baked plan? He had to turn away and light a cigar to distract himself. Even if you had no chance of pulling it off, the fact that turning them against one another had been something you had been considering… once again Price had at least 3 or 4 little daydreams of you that had gotten you totally wrong. 

The thing that made him snap in the end was how easily Soap and Gaz adjusted to the reality of you. At least Soap needed to be mad about it first, but Gaz? He so easily flowed around all of the things they were learning about you and bended as he needed to let you flow around all the things you were learning about them. Price was their Captain, he was supposed to look after his team. He had thought he would be able to look after you. And instead it was Gaz doing all the work because he was too confused over every single thing you did to do his job.  

The silence after the clatter of the dish made him feel intense guilt at losing control of his emotions like that. He swallowed it back, muttering the word brat under his breath. Unfortunately for him Soap had always had insane hearing and fortunately for you he also didn’t hold on to grudges or anger. Right now Johnny was playful, Simon had gotten all his aggression out and he was more than happy to smooth over whatever Price was feeling. 

“Hear that bonnie thing? Even Cap kens ye’r a brat” he said, standing himself to manoeuvre behind you, his toes right up against your heels as he gave a little shove to your back.

You found yourself bent over the island counter suggestively, hands splayed on the surface to try and keep some sort of balance. While it was certainly hot, you rolled your eyes and twisted your head around to glare at him. He was playing with you, teasing. The easy grin on his face was proof enough of that. 

“Want a spanking? Bet I could get the brat right out of ye, would that naw be nice for ye?”

“Nice? If someone is going to spank me, it’s going to be someone that actually knows what they’re doing,” you sniped, stamping on one of his feet when he gave a light tap to your ass. 

Your stomach was starting to cramp from you getting continually worked up but not finishing and you were not about to ask him for anything. One because you still hated him, you kept telling yourself you still hated him, and two because he had said you needed permission from all of them. If you actually let him touch you he would get you right on the edge and then leave you wanting because Simon wasn’t here to say yes, you knew for sure that he would. How bizarre that after such a short time you were adjusting to the personalities around you, anticipating what they might do. Johnny? He burned through emotions intensely and quickly you were learning, going from furious with you to trying to play with you without too much fuss. Hotheaded.

He barked a laugh and backed off of you, tugging at the back of your shirt to pull you up to standing and dodging when you tried to fling an elbow back into his stomach. Maybe you would have been fine, maybe you could have sort of kept it together, but Price laughed. John Price laughed and it was warm. John Price laughed and you couldn’t help but feel relieved at the sound, tension from the idea that he was upset leaving you even though you should want him to be upset. 

Yeah, it was certainly time to get out of their space and get your head on straight. You slipped away with a huff, heading for the bathroom.

“I’m using the shower. Might be nice if I could have some clothes that actually fit after” you said, trying to be venomous. 

“Demanding brat as well” Price laughed after you as you glowered at him and huffed off to the bathroom. 

You may not have been anything like he had thought, but John Price was starting to come around to the idea. So much so that when Soap casually turned off the hot water he only shook his head with a grin. Your frustrated scream gave him such a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Well, we did say she couldnae cum without permission. Dinnae want her tae be tempted now.”

#mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #cod au #fanfic #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #resisting the temptation to bombard you all with hoop photos instead of actual content btw

[strlingsav]

Yo…your last fic was brutal. I had to stop and back up coz immediately after the smut was pain! No prefaces or even a segue on what’s about to happen. It choked me up with the suddenness of it all.

Smut..fluff..more smut..more fluff..MOTHERFUCKING PAIN!!! 🤯😱🫢😭😭😭

Please, please, please…bring him back. Give us fluff and butterflies. Maybe he can survive, just a damaged but is able to come home to reader, he can heal and with those injuries, maybe retire and live in peace with reader? Maybe even have a bun in the oven waiting for him? Just heal us pleaseeeee! Anything will do, please!! 😭😭😭

(But only if you’re willing, of course.)

Thank you for the love, the smut, and the shared pain (coz I’m sure that also hurt you too). Just..thanks. 💕

Ugh of course I'll indulge this bc one I love you for being so sweet and two because I'm an absolute whore for happy endings. 🥺🤍 The first is here.

Endings: Two

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Explicit/gory content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

"L.T.," A voice was hazy and distant in Simon's ear- miles away, but he could see the outline of a figure before him.

He didn't have the energy to respond. He wanted nothing more than to give in to his body's demand to sleep, to rest. The dopamine firing in his brain, coursing through his veins, kept him subdued, peaceful, even.

"Up you get, Sir." There was a short pause, followed by radio static, "We're on our way out, evac standby."

Simon grunted as he was lifted from the ground, the shift in his weight caused a growl to come from his swollen lips.

"Steamin' bloody Jesus. You look like hell."

Simon could register the voice, now. It was Johnny. The Sergeant had found him in the wreckage, he'd survived.

Simon could hardly muster a 'fuck off', settling for a haphazard groan of displeasure.

Simon carried on, regardless of the pain in his chest, in his thigh, the throbbing in his skull now making him fully aware of the injuries to his person.

"Need a medic down here!"

Simon felt his body transfer to a spineboard, not without a loud yowl of pain, watching his feet as he was carried toward another helicopter prepped for evac.

Soap jogged beside him, his hand helping carry Simon's weight. The fog hadn't yet lifted, still blurry and half-awake, Simon could hardly comprehend where he was headed.

"You'll be alright, Sir. We'll take care of ya. Hang on, wouldya?"

He was relieved and devastated at the same time. He'd already made his peace with dying, he'd agreed to the terms his body set, the serenity that had almost cradled him to his grave- but you, damn you, forced him to hold on. Damn you, for settling into his mind and making it your home. For being the only thing he could think of, rely on to keep him hopeful, as he was carried onto the helo.

—

You received the call while at home, nearly dropping the plate in your hands when you heard the Doctor on the other end tell you Simon had been admitted with traumatic injuries.

You drove to the hospital, disregarding every speed limit and stop sign, thrumming your fingers against the steering wheel impatiently at every red light, watching the road through blurry, swollen eyes.

When you'd made it through the maze of hallways, finally finding Simon, he was asleep. He was on a ventilator, his skull bandaged where they'd pieced it back together once the swelling had gone down.

His eyes had been taped shut after surgery to aid in the repair of the severed retina, a white cast over the broken femur he'd endured.

You hardly recognized him through the swelling on his face. He wasn't the same- not the strong, solid man you'd said goodbye to a month ago.

You were sure it was a joke, a prank he'd pulled to keep you on your toes, but that wasn't like him, and a month in, you knew it was your new reality. He was lucky to be alive- so the doctor said.

The extent of his injuries meant physical therapy, a lot of it. The idea made you cringe, if he ever woke up, he'd fight like hell against it.

Despite feeling so completely overjoyed that he'd made it this far, survived this much, there was a part of you that knew there was a long journey ahead. A journey that would mean sleepless nights, emotional support, physical support.

You were dreading it. It seeped into you, like a bird of prey, it dug its claws into you. It only got worse.

A cycle of grief and anger, missing him- his voice, his eyes- so badly your breath caught in your throat every time you looked at him, looked at the broken man lying helplessly in the hospital bed- but also resenting him for putting you in that position.

Turning you into a caretaker, the solid foundation for the both of you while you almost lost the most important man in your life.

You couldn't help but feel the guilt eating away at you- how fucked up it was to think of yourself during a time when Simon might never wake up.

But you persevered, pushed past the dread in the pit of your stomach, and waited at his bedside with sharp eyes.

Day and night, you'd settle in, sleeping with a thin throw-blanket you stole off the couch and an old pillow. You'd wear his T-shirts and sweaters, just for a hint of familiarity, a semblance of your old life, his smell.

You'd hold his hand, even when you knew he couldn't feel a damn thing. You'd talk to him, tell him about your day- regardless of the fact that he didn't hear you at all.

Most nights, you'd sob under the disguise of the heart monitor and thrum of the ventilator. You'd grieve the man you loved. Whether he was dead or not, he would never truly be Simon Riley again. You'd learn to love the new man he'd be, you were sure of it, but your heart had been caged in, trapped under the weight of his unrecognizable form.

He had woken up after a few months, to which you celebrated with vibrating happiness. You tried not to smother him with affection. Instead, you gave him his space as he took in his surroundings, began to somewhat understand what exactly had happened.

You sat down, reaching for Simon's hand, and you felt him squeeze down. For the first time in months, he'd responded to your touch.

You stared up at him, your eyes welling with tears, your heart racing in your chest, pounding against your rib cage. A tidal wave of relief washed over you.

"Baby," You whispered, moving closer, kneeling next to him. "Simon."

His voice was muffled, panic filling his eyes as he realized he had an E.T. tube down his throat. You kept him calm, calling for the nurses immediately, watching with worried eyes as they extubated him.

He coughed, settling back into bed as he turned his head to look at you. Then, he whispered your name. Strangled and hoarse, rough with phlegm.

You could feel a shiver down your spine. You took a deep breath in, bowing your head to rest on his arm as your chest was racked with sobs. It was nearly impossible to control.

"God, Simon," You sniffled, your face tilting to look up at him. "Thank God," You cried, burying your face in his shoulder.

His doctor didn't want you to get your hopes up- he didn't want you clinging to the idea of Simon's recovery.

"We're not entirely certain what his brain function is like at this point, he'll need a CT. He may not ever remember his accident, and might even have trouble recognizing his surroundings." His doctor was resolute- harsh, not wanting to lead you on with false promises and hopeful ideations.

Your eyes had been swollen for months, and after finally coming to terms with his situation, they were dry and irritated.

You pursed your lips, entirely unsatisfied with the answer but defeated.

"Thank you," You forced a polite smile, turning on your heel, back to Simon's bed.

—

His physical therapy had been going well.

The cast had come off, and you finally recognized your boyfriend after the swelling went down. He was there, real, whole again- mostly.

You'd been woken up by his terrifying shouts and screams for help multiple times a night. It didn't subside, not until you wrapped your arms around him and quieted him down. You weren't sure if he knew, or if he wanted to hide behind the facade of sleep to save himself from embarrassment.

He had difficulty remembering the accident in its entirety, only remembering how difficult it was to move, to get up. He recalled the pain well, regardless of just how hard his body worked to keep him sedate. On the rare occasions he spoke about it, he'd never forget Soap. Never forget the voice he heard, urging him to stay awake, to get up.

You knew you couldn't thank Johnny enough, couldn't make it up to him in anyway that would equate to what he did for you and Simon. Anytime you brought it up, he'd shut you down, and Simon didn't speak about it either. Not unless provoked.

It was a memory he pushed down, as deep as he could, locking it away in the same vault where he kept every other long-living secret.

You knew better than to push him on it. You wanted to be there for him so badly, to tell him how happy you were that he was okay, alive, but you didn't. You gave him his space until he asked otherwise, which usually came in the form of a simple kiss, a hand on your waist, a quiet 'love you' when he passed by you.

You could never figure out why he'd suddenly started telling you he loved you more often, but you didn't question it.

—

When you missed your period, missed the cramps starting a few days before, the blinding headache at the start of the week, you realized your intimate exchange before his deployment may have had an unintended effect. Despite contraception, you had a feeling something was different- wrong.

You were pregnant. Two solid, indisputable red lines, staring you in the face. A happy face, on another, with a plus sign. It was real, concrete. Part of you didn't want to tell Simon- you wanted it to go away. But, against your judgment, you did.

It was late, finishing the day with a shower together as usual.

You were starting to show- not enough that he'd notice, especially not with the turmoil in his head. Though, while he scrubbed across the flesh of your stomach, a soapy loofa leaving bubbles and foam behind, the grin on his face when you stood on your toes to kiss him; it was the right time.

"I'm pregnant," You blurted out, your hands falling to your sides.

You avoided his gaze and silence fell between you, the running shower louder than ever, accompanied by your jugular pounding in your throat.

He looked shocked, confused, terrified- all in a series of minutes.

"Trust me, I know it's not ideal. It's not good timing. I know you're still healing and we're just getting things back together. I'm sorry."

He took a moment, his rough hand pressing against the small bulge in your stomach.

"How long have you known?" He asked.

"A few weeks." You swallowed.

"How far along?"

"Three months."

The tension was undeniable, holding your breath for the moment he told you he couldn't do it, didn't want it.

Instead, his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"My kid's in there," He breathed, his arms squeezing you gently. "You're havin' a kid. We're havin' a kid."

You smiled softly against his shoulder. Now, you could be excited. You didn't have to feel guilty for holding it back, or for carrying another 'burden' inside you. You could celebrate. The baby, another milestone in your life with Simon, normalcy returning.

"We are," You breathed, leaning back to hold his face in your hands. "I love you," You said gently- a fact, a statement with every ounce of truth to it.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

He'd tell you one day that during his accident, all he could think about was you- that he wanted to fight to be alive for you. But for now, he settled for telling you he loved you, every chance he got.

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #ghost x you #ask strlingsav

[grapehyasynth]

young royals fic rec, 24/?

i’m (slowly) working my way through the wilmon tag on ao3 and thought that as i go i might shout out some fics i enjoy along the way! i've tagged authors where i knew their tumblr url, but please feel free to tag folks or dm me if you know ones i've missed!

see all my rec lists here

1. all i know is i can't let go by @tooindecisivetopickaurl - So, wanting to kiss Wille—it wasn’t nothing. It was a kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in years, like he could lay down all his worries for a little while and everything would somehow be alright. He didn’t know whether that was terrifying or the closest thing to magic he’d ever experienced.

2. Hetero of the Year by @girls-are-weird - Prince Wilhelm is nominated for the Hetero of the Year award at the QX Gay Gala. In response, he freaks out. Simon, his popstar friend who's been pining for him for the better part of a year, worries this might mean Wille's secretly homophobic. After all, what other reason could there be for him to get so upset?

3. I Want You to Want Me by SkuldTheNorn - After they got together on film night, there still are some things to clear up. Wille and Simon try their best to talk it out. Featuring a spot of making out, a hickey, unexpected insecurities and errant thoughts about boners. (Sequel to Study of a Prince in Pink and All Kinds of Ways to Be)

4. have i known you for twenty seconds or twenty years? by @prince-simon - Still basking in the novelty of their relationship, Wille and Simon celebrate their first New Year's Eve together.

5. One, two, three, four, five, sex on my mind by @pagegirlintraining and @the-amber-fox - When Wille first sees Simon, the rest of the world simply fades away. Which would be romantic and all, if it didn’t lead to him blindly stumbling into the sex shop Simon works at. Once he figures out his mistake, it’s already too late. But Wille wouldn’t be Wille if he let that stop him from pursuing the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

6. swaying as the room burned down by @altruistic-meme - the last moments that Wilhelm and Simon thought they would ever get to have, set in the time between s2e5 and s2e6

#young royals #yr fic rec

[bunnyreaper]

johnny has noticed you've been growing distant, so he asks ghost to help him out.

(18+/mdni, dubcon/noncon, toxic behaviour, manipulation, infidelity)

johnny wasn't sure the first time he noticed it, but recently something had changed. where before you used to react to his smothering with clinginess of your own, lately, you've started to withdraw. you squirm free from his tight hugs, make excuses not to have sex, you don't tell him how you're feeling anymore.

he knows he's losing you, knows you're slipping right out of his grasp and he doesn't know what to do to stop it. at first he tried to hold on stronger--would make more excuses to be around you, but it never worked.

ghost is at his wits end watching johnny climb the walls--with his actions growing more reckless, his temper flaring up so easily. its ghost who offers his help, expecting johnny to invite him out for a pint and a chat.

what johnny asks floors him, what floors ghost more is that he accepts.

it was almost too easy, johnny knew all your usernames, knew the communities you liked to frequent. ghost just slipped into one like he'd been there the whole time, an anonymous face following you and sharing your interests. a few comments here, some likes there--and you were so nice, so willing to make friends. it was easy for ghost, or his fake persona, to work his way into your dms and your confidence.

late nights texting until the early hours, all while you slipped further and further away from johnny.

ghost coaxed so many things out of you, cute selfies, stories about your life, conversations about your boyfriend.

and that whole time, ghost was your shoulder to cry on, ever so slightly pushing your boundaries at johnny's request, while you desperately try to stay loyal. he was always there to listen when you and johnny had a fight over god knows what, and he was always so balanced, trying to get you to see your boyfriends side, trying to get you to concede how your boyfriend was doing these things because he just cared so much.

your new friend confused the fuck out of you. on one hand, they seemed interested in you, some comments that could be misinterpreted as flirting, and they always gave their undivided attention, and yet they always played at being johnny's advocate. maybe you wanted to read too much into it, maybe you wanted them to want you because you wanted them--the distance between you and johnny having become too much.

you tried to flirt back, tried to get to know the stranger more, and he always gave you just enough to keep you hooked, but not enough to make you cross any real lines. johnny seemed to have long given up on making things work, having withdrawn himself. when the guilt and the loneliness overcomes you, you wonder how you can rebuild things with him, how you can back to where you were, but it all seems so futile.

you missed the way you used to feel with him, how certain you felt of everything--but these days none of it made sense anymore.

the breakdown comes swiftly, you're gently and unknowingly coaxed to it by your online friend, while johnny waits to sweep in and pick up all the pieces. you find yourself crying and begging for your new friend to meet you, to give you just a bit of light in such a confusing time.

he gives you the name of a hotel, a time and date, and a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long time. you find yourself slipping into a nice dress, some makeup--putting in effort so your new friend doesn't think you're a mess. that's what you tell yourself.

you're a nervous wreck as you make your way to the room number he gave, the door ajar when you arrive, coaxing you to step inside. this is it, the moment of no return, where you step away from johnny and step toward him.

imagine your surprise when you step into the room to see ghost waiting there, sitting on the bed.

"fuck, simon?! don't tell johnny, please." you beg and plead, panic coursing through you.

ghost just smirks behind his mask, leans back casually.

"don't tell johnny what, bonnie?" you feel his sickening touch on your skin, the feeling of him slipping behind you, you smell his familiar cologne. "tell me that you were coming here to get fucked by somebody that isn't me?"

he snarls, hand wrapping around your neck as you try to explain yourself.

"well ghost, she came here to get fucked. what d'ya say we give my girl what she really wanted?"

#soap mactavish x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #this is shit and im going to hell but i needed to get it out #evil brain!!! stinky brain!!! #i feel like this is too inconcise and doesnt pack the punch i want but whatever #inspired by dearly beloved in the weirdest way 💛