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magicalyaku · 1 year

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My March was filled with books about gay magical boys and enbys and it's the best state of existence to be in. Absolute bliss. Why are books so much fun?! Also despite everything I said in January, I ended up spending way too much time on reading. But. This month was so good. So good! If I had to go back in time and start from the beginning I wouldn't mind at all. xD

The Devil's Luck (L.S. Baird): Found this thanks to a recommendation list of aromantic books. And what a blast! The first arc was such a delight! Etienne is great! <3 It shifts in tone afterwards but it's still engaging with charming characters and adventure and intrigue. I love everything about this book. I wish there was a paper edition so that I could hug it close, put it in my bookshelf and stare at it for 20 minutes every other day. yAy (I actually made a fanart.)

Of Feathers and Thorns (Kit Vincent): I see a pretty cover with a decent blurb and a review complaining that it's not romancy enough I know I found my book. xD I loved this. Such a good time. See, these are some sensible boys. First, they save the world, then they make out. As it should be. Thank you. Also Oi. He has a very cute voice inside my head. And once I remembered about the pie-eating homunculi of Atelier Shallie now I can't unsee the image. Speaking of pies. Isn't Kieren the most charming boy to settle into a new house by cooking for its residents?

In Memoriam (Alice Winn): Picked this one up on a whim because it sounded tragic. And goddamn. I couldn't read another book for 5 days afterwards because my heart was still in pieces. I don't have the words to properly express everything I loved about this book (which is everything). It's just really, really good. It hurts and it’s beautiful at the same time. There’s sweetness and tenderness next to gruesome deaths, desperation and “why would they do that?!”. You can see how the characters fall apart and rebuild themselves. If you can stomach war cruelties and suffering boys, I cannot recommend this enough.

The Wicked Bargain (Gabe Cole Novoa): I enjoyed this one. Pirates! Magic! Demons! This is one of those books I feel even more positive about now that some time has passed (the opposite can happen as well). My only small gripe with the story is how Mar in the first third doesn't do anything to push the plot forward. They want to save their father but hardly do anything to get there. If not for the other characters pushing and nagging nothing would have happenend at all. :'D But! I like Mar and I very much appreciate them not being stupid. Like the classic "Oh someone told me not to do something? So I of course I'm doing it!" Not Mar. Their papà made a mistake so they are intend to not make the same. Good kid. It's just that that doesn't help to move things forward. xD

Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow 3) (Rainbow Rowell): Haah. I think, I liked the series better with each volume. I wonder if that is because it actually got better or because I finally got to know the characters and could enjoy them more. See, I've said it before, the first volume feels like a season ending without having seen the series until then. Now, after volume 3 I feel I could start with vol1 again and maybe appreciate everything a little more, because now I know everyone. Needless to say, I had fun! And it was so nice to see Simon grow and finally find his place.

The Heart of The Lost Star (Tales of the High Court 3) (Megan Derr): I like the worldbuilding of this series and the recurring characters. Now this particular volume is not something I would have picked up as a stand-alone or series starter, because children and pregnancy really aren't a thing I would choose to read about. That being said I did enjoy reading this because of everything else around (volume 1 is still my favourite. Having Allen in here made me want to go back there and read his story again.) Kamir is a pleasant character and there's stuff like a court procedure over child custody which is among the last things I would have expected in my fantasy book, but a nice change!

Heart, Haunt, Havoc (Freydís Moon): What? Another book I bought just because of the pretty cover? How dare you say that! uAu" Not true!! After the many slow-burns this month this one is so fast with its romance that I'm once again left wondering "is this really how it works?" xD It's ok though, I don't mind it in this case. I liked the story and the setting and the character backgrounds. The book is also really short at about 150 pages, so there's hardly reason not to read it.

The Left Hand of Darkness/Die Linke Hand der Dunkelheit (Ursula K. Le Guin): Ha! No pretty cover here. And surely I'm not just deciding do read a book because I saw one single pretty fanart of it. No no, not me, ever. (Definitely me.) It certainly felt different from what I usually read. Maybe because of the time it was written, maybe because of the genre which I rarely read or maybe just the author's style, probably all of it. I don't think I understood everything. Books like these usually have layers, right? Things told between the lines. I have a strong feeling, I missed some of that but that's alright. I did enjoy reading it. In the end, it was strangely moving. So I'll just fondly reread it in a year or two. :) (I read the all newly translated German edition and it made me wonder at certain points how it was translated originally and how it was written originally. The new translator Karen Nölle will be attending a convention in my city in May, where I’ll be having an artist alley table. I wonder if I can make it to her panel ...)

Prince of the Sorrows (Rowan Blood 1) (Kellen Graves): I picked this up last summer already and then put it down again after reading a few pages. It has a lot of descriptions and a lot of words, which are admittedly very pretty, but also very many. 8D (I get tired of descriptions easily.) Once I got past the opening pages, it quickly gripped me though. The story turned out to be much more than I expected. Like the scope of what's going on and how the love story is much sweeter than it seems at first. It's interesting! It also ends right in the middle of everything, which is something I didn't have in a long time (usually, my series have one adventure per volume)! Glad, the sequel is already out.

The Last Fallen Star (Graci Kim): I decided to read this after Aru Shah ended last year and I needed to fill my Middle Grade shaped hole. (Since I started Keeper of the Lost Cities as well, I guess, that hole will stayed filled for quite a while. :'D) The premise is interesting, the execution ... hm. It's far from the fun that Aru is. But I also listened to the audiobook and as I'm still bad with those that might be reason it didn't resonate with me as much. The thing that annoyed me the most was Riley lying for so long to her friend and even worse to the face of a goddess?! Like ... wow. 8D You summon a goddess who asks the truth of you so she can save your sister und you dare to lie to her?? I'm not okay with this. "8D It got better from there on though and I am actually very interested in the sequel (I will read this instead of listening. I learned my lesson.)

Falling for You (Katharina B. Gross): I got this book for free in exchange for review on that German Goodreads ripoff site. But when I'm asked beforehand to write a real review with sensible thoughts I get real picky while reading. Like with bad books where you start to notice every little nasty detail? I do that. It's not really fun. "8D So half the stuff that irked me I probably wouldn't have had a second thought about when reading normally. So the book was fine. Nothing great but easy enough to read. (Also after reading a really bad book later, I found that this one really has some good points.)

With everything I read the month felt really long. But it was also interesting, because in every book there's something that connects it to the next (want to know some? Two Bas/zes, shitty ex-husbands, magical tattoos, slaying demons and devils, too much magic for one person, graverobbing ...). And thanks to that, for the first time maybe, I could see clearly books that did certain things well against others who did the same things not so well. My first April book was a total letdown (in points of worldbuilding and romance among others) and having it in comparison to all the good March books is so intruiging.

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go-catch-a-chickn · 2 years

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I just realized a lot of my fav queer characters have dark curly hair

#simon eriksson #charlie spring #arnold please like me #elio cmbyn #jamie the gardener #alex claremont diaz #curlies unite #young royals #please like me #the haunting of bly manor #rwrb #heartstopper #call me by your name #jon snow #game of thrones #curly gays my beloved

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paragonrobits · 7 months

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Princess Bubblegum: So, in the interest of scientific inquiry... Simon Petrikov: You're about to ask me a horribly invasive question that will haunt our dreams, aren't you? Bubblegum: Yeah. Simon: in the spirit of scientific inquiry and also in fairness for me constantly kidnapping you during a delusional and what I am charitably calling a prolonged manic episode, fair enough. So what do you want to know? Bubblegum: What would you say was the most disturbing aspect of the ice crown's effect on you? Simon, legitimately making a itemized list in his mind: You mean besides the gradual erosion of my identity and sense of self until nothing was left but a hyper amplified version of my various impulses without any kind of restraint? Bubblegum: That goes without saying, I assumed. Simon: Once again, fair enough. Well besides that, I'd say the worst bit was throwing up my teeth. Finn, climbing up a nearby wall with his teeth just to see if he can win a bet with his hands to not employ their wicked ways, falling onto the floor in shock: Simon, not noticing: Oh yeah, it was nasty. A few times a week about ten years into me having the crown, I'd start vomiting up snow and every time some of my teeth would come with it. Simon: After they all came out my gums itched something awful and they sort of froze and icicles came out of my jaw and turned into big pointy fangs after a while. Simon: They became real teeth but I'm not sure how. I remember it being a fairly physical process. Actually if they diverted calcium from my bones somehow that might explain a lot. Bubblegum, writing this down: Noted... noted... I'm not sure that's where teeth come from, though. They're mostly enamel, I understand. Simon: Eh, I'm an antiquarian, not a dentist. You know what the difference is between me and a dentist? Besides being able to live with myself at night. Dentists get PAID. Simon: Self-respect doesn't pay the bills, y'know. Bubblegum: Hm, that's actually why I tried to avoid a monetary-based economy at all in favor of government-supplied tickets to handle all monetary needs but for some reason my people kept eating the tickets. Finn: First of all, back up a bit, I'm still stuck on the teeth thing! Simon, surprised: GREAT GOOGILY MOOGLY WHEN DID YOU GET HERE!? Finn: I've been here the whole time, dude. Bubblegum: It's been a real exercise of my restraint skills not to ask what you were doing, let me tell you!

#adventure time #simon petrikov #ice king #princess bubblegum #finn mertens #queued

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houseofoddballs · 3 months

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OK, wow, a lot of you really wanted to go for the "good" ending, right? Well, I'm sorry, but there was no good ending. Enjoy my little oddballs! Final word count is about 2,400 words!

Tw: aggression, angst, emotional hurt, vulgarity, physical abuse? Tell me If there are more to add!

This wasn't working. You stood inside your bathroom, propped against the sink as you stared into your own eyes. They just looked so sad now, so hollow. You could remember Simon cupping your cheek as he stared into your eyes under starlight and murmured against your lips how much he loved seeing them light up around him.

What you wouldn't give to have that again. Staring up at the stars with Simon, his fingers brushing through your hair. You missed the soft mumbled apologies whenever he would catch a snag, and the way he focused on you more than any silly constellation.

"Why stars?" You had asked him, on probably the third date where he took you stargazing with either a picnic or just some takeout. I mean, this was Simon after all. Deep, brooding, knew all of the vital organs and arteries on the human body, etc. He didn’t exactly seem like the soft stargazing type, especially with as clumsy as he was at romance.

You were met with a gruff grunt and a shrug at the time. But later, once you two had eaten and were just laying back together, hand in hand, he answered your question. "'S because no matter where I'm deployed, I know I'm always lookin' up at the same sky as you."

You were snapped back to reality by a sharp rap at your door and the voice of a Scottsman who you had began to secretly loathe. "Aye, lass, ya' mind bringin' up the wheely bin? Ghost said he would take the trash out if ya do." A soft sigh was leaving your lips before you could even process his words, turning away from the reflection of your despondent hollow eyes.

Snow crunched under your feet as you trekked out of the garrage to fetch the trash bin from its place next to the mailbox. Cold seeped through the thin layers of your clothing, a frigid therapy to clear your mind and remind you that you were alive. It was uncomfortable, but in the most comfortable and enveloping sort of way. Like a hug that lasts a bit too long from someone who you know just wants to help.

Hugs. You missed those.

Your eyes flicked up to the night sky, moving between the stars like a pachinko ball bouncing off of celestial pegs. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was time to put yourself first for a change. The very thought made your stomach twist and churn with guilt, but you were far beyond guilt at this point. It wasn't healthy for you to spend afternoons sitting on your floor with you back pressed against the door so you could just listen to Soap and Simon talk without intruding on their time. It wasn't healthy for you to make yourself dissappear just to please an overgrown child. It wasn't healthy for you to beat yourself up over standing up for yourself and what you needed.

So, this was it. You had to be done. Simon had been given more than enough chances to put you first, and he hadn't taken any of them. Simon had simply stayed off to the side complacently as Johnny pushed you further and further away. So beit then.

Soap won.

You didn't bother packing most of your stuff knowing that it would only make it harder to leave, and if you let yourself think about it too much then you were going to stay trapped, haunting their broken relationship. No.

Your favorite clothes, toiletries, and other things went into your suitcase as you finally decided to free yourself. With every item you packed, it felt like another link was cut from the chain that was wrapped around your neck, trapping you here. And yet, there is terror that comes with freedom. You canceled your phone plan that night and waited until Ghost and Johnny went to bed to make your move.

Guttural grunts and lewd moans were your signal to move, rolling your eyes as you left a single sheet of paper folded neatly on your bed. Neither of them hardly ever came to check on you, so you reckoned that you had at least a week before even Simon noticed your absence. Unless, of course, Johnny noticed your car missing. But, even if he did, it didn't matter. This was it.

"Goodby, Simon. I loved you."

And then you were gone. Tossing your suitcase in the back and driving off into the night. The stars were, and always would be, a painful reminder of Simon. But they say that time heals all wounds. You would just have to test that.

no. No. NO. NO!

Simon's hands trembled as they clutched the small piece of paper from you pillows, eyes tracing over and reading each line until he couldn’t make out the words through the tears welling in his eyes.

Gone. You were gone.

His angel, his sweet, his world, his everything. As much as he tried to fool himself into asking why, he knew the answer.

Simon loved you desperately. After everything that had happened to him, his father, losing his family, being buried alive, being hung by his ribs, all of it; after all of it was when he had met you, and Ghost felt truly alive in a manner he had never felt before.

There were quite a few differences between feeling alive in the heat of battle and feeling alive with someone you love, and yet, both of them made Ghost acutely aware of his pounding heart, both of them made Ghost's stomach twist up in knots, both of them brought blood to Ghost's face.

And Ghost wouldn't have had it any other way. Ghost had spent so long being Ghost, that he was starting to forget who Simon was. But you changed that. A simple holiday with Price, that was all it took for him to meet and fall so ridiculously in love with you that he walked around base with a dopy grin under his Skull balaclava at the thought of you texting him.

As Simon numbly sat on the edge of your bed, clutching so tight to the paper that he was afraid it might shred, your entire relationship flashed before his eyes.

Your first date, your first hug, your first kiss, your first time, When he told you his real name, the first time he took off his mask in front of you, the first time he broke down to you. How could he have been such an idiot?

Simon tired to think back on His and Johnny's relationship in a similar way, but it just wasn't the same. They had been great friends in the task force already, so when they were both captured together, of course that was when things had to change.

Sure, he had fallen for Johnny's kind words and beautiful eyes when they were tied together and bleeding on the cold concrete. Ghost should have known better!! But when the stubborn Scottsman confessed so sweetly so that he wouldn't die with any regrets, well, it was hard not to feel touched.

But they just weren't compatible.

Johnny was loud, immature, selfish, didn't think very far ahead, and he was just so clingy. And, yet the thought of leaving him made Simon's heart ache whenever he thought about it. Johnny didn't treat him like he was in love, but Ghost was sure that Soap loved him in his own way.

But it wasn't worth this. He tried calling you, searching for you, emailing you for the queen's sake! But he found nothing. You had been so isolated that you didn't really have any friends that Simon knew of. He was just lost.

He should have taken the ache of being honest with John over this overwhelmingly hollow torment in his chest. When you left, you took hardly anything, but you took everything from Simon.

The world became colorless, music lost it's rhythm, food lost it's taste, life lost its luster. And Johnny? Well, he became a lot harder to tolerate.

"Did ya hear their makin' a new-" "Not now Johnny." It was like he didn't care. Didn't care that you were gone, didn't care how badly Simon was hurting. "Is this about the lass again? Look, I'm sorry Si, but it's not your fault she didn't care enought-"

"Shut up." Soap looked at Ghost in shock for a moment, a brow quirking up. "What?" "You heard me." Now Johnny's brows were furrowing, his lips setting into that stairght line that meant he was about to win.

Something about Soap? He was impossible to argue with. He would argue in circles to the point where it didn't matter which side he was on as long as he won, which was incredibly frustrating to say the least and made any arguments completely pointless because he would win in the end out of sheer exasperation. It was just easier that way. But not this time.

"Shut. Up." "Look, ya' ken nae go blamin' me for the way she left! She-" Simon was up in an instant, a hand around Soaps throat, effectively shutting him up and pinning him to the wall. Johnny reached up and clawed at his wrist as Simon squeezed just a bit too tight, he could feel Johnny's windpipe being crushed into itself. But he didn't care. Not right now.

"You absolute fuckin' nubty. You just don't get it, do you? Well, seargant, let me spell it out for you, you dense fuck." Simon's eyes were burning, but this wasn't Simon anymore. He could almost feel his balaclava over his face as he glowered down at Soap, eyes filled with disdain and mallace. This was Ghost, someone who hadn't been out to play in years, despite the name sticking around.

Soap winced as Ghost tightened his grip even further, a snarl meeting his lips as he spoke. "She was MINE. And I was hers. We'll use a pie for the sake of your small. Fucking. Brain." Each venomous word was punctuated with a twitch of Ghost's hand, a lingering desire to just squeeze all of the life out of Soap right here and now.

He could see Soaps eyes rolling back as dark spots were inevitably clouding them. That was no good. He had to be awake for what Simon had to say. Ghost loosened his grip just enough to allow Soap the bare minimum of blood and oxygen before delivering a harsh slap across his face with his free hand.

"Ah ah ah sausage, stay with me. So, the pie. She goes and gets a third of the pie because I'm in the military and she doesn't get to see my beautiful mug very often. Then, she hears that I'm coming home for good. She gets all of that delicious pie. Ya' followin' me Johnny?" A strangled nodd. Good. Ghost didn't care about the strangled noises leaving soap or the way that tears pricked his eyes.

"Good boy Johnny. So, she thinks she's getting all of this pie that I am. And then, I come back toting your arse along like some fucking new pet. Well, now she thinks she only gets half of the pie. But she still agrees because she was a fucking angel." Ghost's voice was cold again, filled with the same gruffness that the military had imparted into him.

Ghost hadn't been out in ages. It felt good. Ghost could feel Soaps pulse under his fingers, feel his lifeblood. It was intoxicating. He loved that look of pure terror, missed people looking at him like the monster he was.

"Except, instead of half of the pie, she's still only getting a third, because SOMEONE is a greedy fucking pig. Wonder who that is, Johnny?" Ghost cocked his head to the side as he dug his nails into the flesh of Johnny's neck, reveling in the way that he winced.

"And then what happens? This little piggy goes and takes even more of the fuckin pie. You just keep taking and taking and TAKING until all that was left was fucking crumbs. Do you get it now? You fucking muppet."

Soap nodded furiously as he gripped Ghost's wrist, trying desperately to pull him off. But it wasn't Ghost's fault Johnny hadn't been working out as much. Five years ago he would have at least been able to put up a fight. This was just pathetic to Ghost.

"And so, she lapped at your fucking crumbs like the good girl she was, because she fucking loved me. Do you love me Johnny?" Ghost cut off Soaps nodding with a glare. "I know your cock does, but that's not what I'm asking. Do YOU love me? Because I don't think you do. I think you love having someone complacent to you. You love thinking you have complete control and having everything bend to your fucking whim."

Ghost pulled away finally, letting Soap crumple to the ground coughing and clutching his neck. Ghost just shook his head and made his way to the door, grabbing the keys to his jeep off the rack and his familiar skull balaclava as he did so.

"Pick yourself up. Shits about to change, and I'm done letting you walk all over me. You better hope I find my girl again, or you better be gone when I come back. Your choice Johnny."

It wasn't good, wasn't healthy by any means, but everyone had a breaking point.

And you? What did you do? You lived. Love was definitely off of the table, but you managed to find a place to stay with a nice landlord who helped you find a job in your new small town. A nice older gentleman with sandy chops and a fatherly disposition. He became your best friend. Romance was dead to you at this point, but he was just so gentlemanly and sweet.

Little did you know that Price had forbid Simon and Johnny from your life after what you told him. He was protecting you in more ways than you knew from both the devil you knew and the devil you thought you knew. Simon was ravenous, like a rabbid dog desperately trying to get to you. But Price wasn't going to let him hurt you anymore.

And he didn't.

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cordeliawhohung · 8 months

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Smoldering Butterflies

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

You've been haunting Simon Riley for awhile now. Even with the distance, he keeps you in his back pocket.

Warnings: slight references to the violence in the previous part, other than that mostly fluff, soap gives reader a nickname, soft ghost, slightly domestic ghost?

wc: 6.2k

Careful eyes watched Simon as he sat towards the back of the plane.

Military transport aircrafts were always miserably loud, which made for poor conversation, yet the man was completely content sitting away from his comrades, staring down at his hands. More specifically, the item in his hands. A small, black handkerchief that was patterned with silly, cartoonish dogs. It wasn’t unlike him to be quiet. However, the new item was rather odd for him to be lugging around, and his two sergeants were very quick to take notice.

“Think he’s got a kid?” Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick questioned. He was leaned far over to his left, looking at Simon, or as he was better known in the military, Ghost.

Though it was difficult to hear him over the humming of the engines, John “Soap” MacTavish chuckled as he shook his head. “Sure hope not. Have a hard time imagining him around a kid.”

Gaz tilted his head to the side. Simon continued to look at that silly piece of cloth, gloved thumbs rubbing over it gently, and almost longingly. It was as if he was lost in thought.

“Naw, I think he’s got someone else waiting for him back home,” Soap commented, turning his attention to Gaz. The red lighting inside the airbus made it feel like his eyes were going to melt, but he wore a sly grin anyway. “He’s got a spook.”

“A spook?” Gaz repeated incredulously.

Soap nodded and hummed, a sound that was quickly drowned out by the engines. “We call him Ghost. Thought it’s fitting if his lass gets an equal nickname.”

“If there is a girl,” Gaz corrected.

Soap looked back at Simon just in time to watch him fold the handkerchief. It was neatly done, a perfect square, and once he finished, he leaned to the side, shoving it into his back pocket. One could argue that he took such care in folding the cloth because he was a military man. They did every single thing in their life with care. Soap would argue otherwise.

“Oh, there’s a girl, alright.”

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

Winters in London were miserable. Take that gloomy rain from the rest of the year but drop the temperatures a few degrees, and that’s where the weather stayed. Though it would get close to freezing, it was hardly ever cold enough for it to snow, which meant that not only were you cold, but you were cold and wet.

It was times like that that made you regret finding an apartment so close to work. It wasn’t far enough away to rationalize taking a bus or train, and you didn’t have a car to drive yourself, so you were stuck walking just on principle. Your knees and thighs had turned into ice from the moisture and frigid air. Rainwater was threatening to soak through the fabric of your shoes with a single wrong step, and your toes were beginning to feel the effects.

Still, you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and tugged your coat closer to your body as you pushed onwards. The droplets of water plummeting from the sky made it difficult to really look around while you walked, as every time you tried one would inevitably land in your eyes. Even the hood of your coat only offered so much protection.

The very moment your apartment building came into view, you rushed up the stairs. Rubber squeaked on the wood of the stairs as you rushed up to the second floor, glad to finally have some cover from that relentless trickle of water. Despite how counter intuitive it seemed, once the door shut behind you, you quickly made your way into the shower. Warm, steaming water washed over your body, washing away the grime of the money you dealt with that turned the tips of your fingers grey,

There was something so renewing about a shower. It washed away more than just the filth on your body, but the stress in your muscles, and the dissonance in your thoughts. For a moment there was nothing in the world to worry about.

Until you stepped out of the shower. Until you got dressed in your pajamas. Until you walked out of your bedroom and into the living room and remembered just how alone you were. Alone and yet haunted all at the same time. Despite how many months it had been since you had broken up with your ex-boyfriend, there were reminders of him everywhere. A cardboard box sitting in place of the glass base lamp he had shattered. Poorly matched paint that covered a small area in the wall near the entryway. Raised skin on the corner of your lip.

He was everywhere you didn’t want him to be.

A knock on your door startled you out of your depressing daydream and your head snapped back towards the entrance. It wasn’t extremely late at night. The sun had long since set as it normally did in winter, yet it was no later than seven. Still, it was odd for someone to come over so late in the evening, and you would be lying if you said that your heart didn’t instantly jump into your throat at the sound.

Taking care to avoid the squeaky parts in your hardwood floor, you slowly crept towards the door as you held your breath in anticipation. Leaning forward, you pressed your face near the door as you gazed through the peephole that peered into the hallway right outside of your apartment. The very moment your brain registered the figure on the other side, your hand instantly flew to the lock.

After undoing the deadbolt on the door, you flung it open, the force of it sending a breeze your way that tugged at your wet locks of hair. Beyond the door was none other than Simon Riley. His tall frame had made it difficult to make out his face (or in this case his balaclava), but you could recognize him from his build alone. He stood in front of you, hands shoved in his pockets and dark eyes trained on your face. His balaclava was dotted with droplets of water, and for a moment you almost thought it was sequined with how it reflected the dim lighting of your apartment.

It wasn’t until you looked him over that you realized how disheveled you were. Hair still damp and unbrushed, loose pajamas so big on you that you basically swam in them, large house slippers. It was certainly very much different from your normal attire that you wore when you were at the bank.

“Simon,” you exclaimed softly as your hand fell from the doorframe.

After the little incident at the bar back in October, Simon stayed around until the end of November before he had left suddenly. This wasn’t new behavior of course. Being in the military meant that he was often getting deployed or sent on missions. Luckily they seemed to be rather short compared to what you had expected, but still, it was nearing the end of January. Months had gone by since you had last seen him, and despite the odd friendship that had bloomed between the two of you, you had no way to contact him outside of seeing him at work.

“It’s good to see you,” you said. Reaching a hand up, you ran your fingers through your damp hair, digits getting caught on the stretchy strands. Yet you tried to tame them anyway. “Do you want to come in? Warm up a bit?”

Simon shifted, the heels of his boots squeaking on the floor as he did. Despite the fact that you could only see his eyes through his balaclava, he was quite expressive. Or maybe you just had a knack for reading people. He looked almost apprehensive. Maybe not quite apprehensive, but a little guilty at least.

“Don’t waste your evening on me,” he said. His voice sounded gruff and worn as if he spent the better part of the last month or so doing nothing but barking orders. Which, in hindsight, he certainly did. “Just figured I’d check up on you. See how things were going for you.”

As he spoke, you saw his eyes unmistakably wander to the scar on the wall not too far behind you. He was actually the one who helped you patch it up in order to hide it from your landlords. It was faint, and the hardest part of it all was trying to find the perfect off-white color that matched the rest of the walls. Still, both you and him knew what exactly to look for, and it had become quite an eyesore.

“Please,” you insisted, stepping aside slightly. “I was just about to put the kettle on, and it’s freezing out. It’s no trouble at all.”

There was a short pause between the two of you as Simon mulled your proposition open. The longer he stayed quiet, the more you studied him. His eyes seemed… darker somehow. Was he wearing makeup? Slight eyeliner? No, it was much too smudged for that. What was it that soldiers wore sometimes? Or even football players? Eyeblack? How long had he even been home?

“Alright,” he finally spoke, taking a careful step forward through the doorway. “Won’t keep you long.”

The freezing cold was practically radiating off of him as a few stray drops of rain wicked off of his jumper. He hadn’t even worn a proper coat, and he looked soaked to the bone yet if he was cold he had done a good job at hiding it.

Once in the entryway, Simon knelt to the ground as he undid the shoelaces of his boots. It was odd seeing him be so low compared to you, but you tried not to let your eyes linger on him too long as you took a few steps backwards, giving him some space as you walked into the kitchen.

“When did you get home?” you asked as you grabbed your kettle. You had learned long ago that when you and Simon conversed, it was you who did most of the talking. However, that time around, you were hellbent on changing that.

“This morning,” he answered, voice still a little gruff. It sounded almost as if he had a frog caught in his throat.

Running water sounded from the sink as you began to fill the kettle, and Simon’s boots gently thunked against the side of the wall as he lined them near your shoe rack in the entryway. You stole a glance at them, and did a double take at the utter size difference between your shoes and his.

“Late night, then?” you asked, somewhat teasing as you set the kettle on the stove. A few clicks later and the heat turned on, the electric coils burning bright red.

“Something like that,” he mumbled. He turned around to face you, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. God, he was almost as broad as the damn thing.

Nodding your head, you attempted to run your fingers through your still damp hair once more before instantly giving up. “Feel free to take a seat in the living room. I hate to make you stand around, I’m sure you’re tired,” you said, gesturing to the lone couch that you could hardly make out from the doorway of the kitchen.

Simon leaned back, glancing to where you gestured. He looked like he was going to deny your offer for a moment, but he did a double take as something seemed to catch his eye.

“What’s in the box?” He took a step into the living room, the floorboards squeaking underneath the sheer mass of his body.

“Oh, that?” you asked, peeking into the room yourself. “I bought myself a new lamp. I tried to glue the glass base of the other one back together. You know, like with gold glue? Thought it would look neat. Didn’t really work out, and I was missing a few pieces so I figured it was easier to just buy a new one. Haven’t quite gotten it together yet, though.”

So much for trying to get Simon to do the talking. Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you ducked back into the kitchen as Simon approached the box. While the water boiled, you began to rummage through your cupboards, finding painfully little. Rent had become much more difficult since you were the only one paying it for the last few months. Though, it wasn’t like your ex had helped out much anyway, he at least kept the kitchen stocked; something you found to be increasingly difficult. Still, you managed to find a box of breakfast tea at least.

“You alright with breakfast tea?” you called, double checking to see how many bags you had left.

He was silent for a moment. “Yeah. Plain.”

Plain? You thought it was a joke that men in the military liked their coffee black. Perhaps that extended to tea as well. Either way, the very moment the kettle began to whistle you took it off the stove, instantly soothing its screech. Once you got the tea bags soaking, you heard the distinct sound of cardboard ripping coming from the living room. Leaving the cups behind to steep, you stood in the doorway where you found Simon sitting on the floor with the box that belonged to your new lamp.

Several parts and pieces already laid out in front of him, all in their own separate packaging bags. A small piece of paper sat in his hands as he carefully read through them. Dumbfounded, you stood there for a moment, watching as he began to put the parts together for you.

“Simon, you don’t have to do that,” you insisted. Though maybe it was a blessing in disguise. That damn box had been sitting on your side table for weeks.

For a moment he didn’t respond to you, as he was too caught up with reading over the instructions. Even with his face turned slightly away from you, you could make out just how much he was squinting at it.

“Where the hell did you buy this from?” he asked, reaching his hand up to remove his hood, fully exposing his balaclava.

“Ikea.”

“Fucking hell,” he grumbled before tossing the instructions to the side. “Useless…”

Without the help of instructions, Simon continued to put the lamp together. Really there weren’t too many pieces, as it was just a simple table lamp, but even from a short distance you could make out about twenty screws with several different sizes. The scene of it all was odd. With his balaclava, Simon looked like a robber. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had given someone a heart attack in the lower lobby of the building. However, instead of robbing you, he was putting together your side lamp.

You chuckled to yourself before returning to grab the tea. After fixing yours up to your liking (and leaving Simon’s painfully plain) you meandered into the living room where you left his cup on the coffee table that sat in front of your couch. You took a seat, warming your hands around the cup as you watched Simon work. It was a little endearing how seriously he was taking it. Brows furrowed, eyes steady, hands moving.

How did the two of you get to that point? Going from strangers, to… whatever you were in that moment? What sparked it? Was it the day you said he didn’t have to remove his mask at the bank? Or the night he hit your ex so hard his jaw nearly splintered? Maybe it was something else. Something more simple. So simple that it was complicated.

As you sipped on your tea, the warm liquid pooled in your stomach, almost making you shiver in delight while you watched Simon work. Over the course of him working on screwing the lamp together with the allen wrench, he had slightly rolled up his sleeves, revealing part of his forearms. Something of a sleeve of tattoos covered his left forearm. Skulls, smoke, and dog tags with barbed wire for a chain were some of the things you could make out on his mural-like tattoo. On his other arm, you noticed a fresh cut. A tender bruise formed around the edges of the angry red scrape, and it was so deep you were surprised that he hadn’t gotten it stitched, or at least bandaged it.

“What happened to your arm?” you asked, tucking your legs underneath yourself.

Simon turned away from the lamp and glanced at you, head tilting to the side in a way that sent butterflies scrambling in your stomach. Every time he looked at you, you felt like your skin was going to catch on fire. Not because his gaze was angry, but because of the heat that boiled inside of you, threatening to burn those butterflies in your stomach until they were nothing but ash.

“Right,” you said with a breathy laugh, looking down at your cup. “Stupid question, I suppose.”

Something of a chuckle left Simon as he stood from his spot on the floor. It felt like you had to crane your neck back just to even keep looking at him. But the lamp was finally put together, lightbulb, lampshade and the works. He placed it on the side table before plugging it into the wall, and you excitedly placed your half drank tea on the coffee table next to him before leaning over and twisting the switch. Warm light poured out of it, illuminating the darkened corner of the living room.

“Would you look at that,” you beamed, leaning on the armrest. Really, it wasn’t anything spectacular. It was just a lamp, afterall. But it felt like, in a way, you were getting a part of your life back. You looked up at Simon, his dark eyes trained on you. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” he responded simply.

For a moment, things suddenly became tense. Simon continued to stand next to that lamp, eyes flickering away from you and to the window behind you. It felt weird having him back in London. You were used to him vanishing without a trace every now and then, and you tried not to worry, but this time you had. But knowing the kind of man he was, you knew he didn’t want you to.

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you glanced back at the coffee table. He still hadn’t attempted to drink his tea at all. Really, you weren’t sure why you had expected him to. Afterall, he never took his mask off. Perhaps that was why he had asked for it plain; he didn’t want to waste any milk or sweeteners.

“I missed you,” you suddenly blurted out.

This sudden revelation that left your lips surprised not only you, but Simon as well. You saw it in the way his eyes landed on you. How they flickered over your face. How they lingered on your lips. They always lingered on your lips. But you knew it wasn’t in the way that you wanted them to. Your tongue swiped over the corner of your lip, of the painful reminder of that night all those months ago.

“I never used to worry about you,” you continued, shifting in your spot on the couch. “We knew you were in the military, so when you’d disappear without notice I would just assume you were out saving the world or something. But I… I worried this time.” You paused for a moment, feeling the embarrassment already eating away at your chest. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you’re back.”

For a moment you didn’t think he was going to answer you. Simon’s eyes were trained on you in a way that both confused and excited you at the same time. Yet he did speak, his mouth dancing underneath the cloth on his face as he did.

“Of course I came back,” he said as if stating a fact. “Had to make sure you weren’t getting into any more trouble.”

You laughed, thankful for his teasing tone. It was comforting to know he wasn’t put off by your awkward ramble, or if he was he was at least good at hiding it like he was with everything else.

“Yeah, well, I think you scared off any trouble that would find me,” you admitted with a shy smile.

“Brute force will do that.”

Simon was… funny. In his own weird, and maybe a little dark, way. Either way, you appreciated it, despite how dry his humor could get. He was a strange man, and you oddly found yourself wanting to know more about him. Even with that nagging feeling in your stomach that told you to keep your distance, there was something just so alluring about him.

“Do you want to catch a movie this weekend?”

Once more, your mouth was opening and spewing out words before you even had the chance to think it through. Sometimes you hated how much you talked. How you would just say whatever was on your mind without any regard for how it would come across, or even how it would affect those around you. How you hadn’t annoyed a quiet man like Simon was beyond you.

“What? Need protecting?” Simon asked dryly.

You grinned. “You never know when trouble is gonna find me.”

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

“So, what rank are you?”

“Lieutenant.”

“Is that good?”

“Good enough.”

Maybe you should have bothered to check the movie showings that weekend before inviting Simon out to watch one with you, because the one you two got stuck watching was absolutely atrocious. Not even a few minutes through the movie you had gotten bored and ended up whispering facetious jokes to Simon throughout a majority of it. Really, you weren’t quite sure if he enjoyed himself that much throughout the movie, but as he walked you back to your apartment, he seemed to liven up a little.

It was one of the rare nights that it actually snowed in London. Even though the temperature was quite literally freezing, you would take the fat, fluffy flakes of snow over the skin biting drops of rain that normally assaulted the city. And god, was it beautiful. Sparkling, glittery snow dusted the entire city, and there wasn’t a single bit of wind to add to the frigid chill. It was the type of scenery you’d find on a postcard.

“Does that mean you get to lead other soldiers?” you continued as the two of you came upon your apartment building. Taking care not to slip on the slick snow, you rushed up the steps, unlocking the entryway door for him before climbing up to the second floor.

“Sometimes,” he explained simply, following behind you with long, slow steps. “There are others I have to answer to.”

You hummed as you came across your door. Cold fingers fumbled with the keys as you shoved it into your lock where you twisted the door open moments later.

“And then, what branch of the military are you in? Army?” you questioned further as you entered the warm embrace of your apartment.

Simon paused for a moment, not answering your question until the door shut behind the two of you. “SAS.”

Your brows pinched together as you worked on getting your snow boots off of your feet while Simon did the same. Despite the fact you asked him so many questions about his line of work, you weren’t really versed in it at all. “What’s that mean?”

“Special Air Service,” he explained simply. “A branch of the army. We specialize in stuff like covert surveillance and hostage rescue.”

You were about halfway into the living room when Simon explained this, and you found yourself quickly pausing to jump and turn around. A huge grin was plastered on your face as you worked on shrugging your coat off of your shoulders.

“I knew it!” you exclaimed with a giggle, tossing your coat onto the hook on the wall. “High priority missions! Secret agent shit!”

“You make it sound more interesting than it actually is,” Simon said softly as he entered the living room behind you.

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you turned away and walked towards the couch. You sank into the cushion, though not very far. They were much too firm to be completely comfortable, yet it was the only furniture you had in that room.

“It is interesting. You guys sound cool,” you said.

“I never said we weren’t cool,” Simon said, a slight gruff, yet teasing tone in his voice.

He ventured further into the room, standing on the other side of the coffee table. You were certain that if there was a chair there, he would have taken that rather than the seat next to you. Despite how close the two of you had gotten, there was still something a little off about Simon. Like he was hiding something. Not in any nefarious way. More in a guarded way. It was like he kept building up a wall of sorts. For every brick you removed, he added two more.

But his eyes gave him away. It’s what made you trust him so easily when he had first walked into your work all that time ago. They were intense, and sometimes intimidating, but never before did you see a single sliver or glint of anything wicked. Perhaps there was a sense of brokenness to them, but in that world, who wasn’t shattered?

“Is that why you wear a mask all the time?” you asked softly. “Because of work?”

For the first time since you had known him, you saw Simon freeze. Really freeze. It should have been expected, though. The subject of his mask wasn’t exactly one he had ever seemed all too interested in divulging in. Really, you didn’t know what even possessed you to ask the question in the first place. Maybe a part of you was just hopeful that he would be a little vulnerable with you.

“Something like that,” he responded after a beat.

Of course. Something like that. You quickly learned he gave that answer to you when you were hitting the answer close to home, but not exactly making it there. Like you were stuck on the outside of the house, trying to look through the window with the curtains drawn closed.

“Do you ever… take it off?” you then asked.

It was a dangerous question to ask, and you knew it, but as of late, your filter had become painfully nonexistent. You had gotten comfortable with him. Too comfortable. Something had happened between the two of you that left your mind spinning months ago. Friends but not. Maybe something more. Maybe something less. The line was so blurry at that point all it did was add a dreamy glow to the situation you found yourself in.

“Never,” he answered firmly.

Delusional. That’s what you were. Simon was never anything short of being a gentleman towards you, but god, what were you thinking? The man seemingly never showed his face, always wore a mask, and was in the special forces. He had probably killed someone before. No, he certainly had. You still remembered the way he punched your ex at the bar. The squelching sound of his jaw cracking and teeth sinking into his flesh had echoed in your ears for days.

But they were the same hands that you had patched up. The same ones that put together your lamp and held open the door for you at the cinema. Did he even like movies? Why did he even go with you?

“Why not?” you asked so softly the words hardly left your lips.

He tilted his head to the side slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets, and it reminded you of something that a dog would do. “Do you want me to?”

Your answer was caught in your throat and it burned like poison. Yes.

“I don’t know,” you said instead.

Even without his thick work boots, Simon’s footsteps on the hardwood floor were noticeable as he carefully maneuvered around the coffee table. You both watched one another carefully, eyes never flickering away for even a second as he slowly sank into the cushion next to you. You hadn’t noticed it before, but he smelled faintly like something fresh. Cedar, perhaps? And vaguely like the cheap popcorn you had indulged in at the cinema.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Why?” you asked.

“You always ask so many questions?” He wasn’t irritated. It was mostly a plain question, with a slight hint of amusement.

“Always.”

You stared at each other for a moment. He was so close, yet so painfully far at the same time. God, those butterflies in your stomach were nothing but ash by that point and even in death they still smoldered.

Trusting him, you finally closed your eyes. Your vision wasn’t exactly plunged into darkness. The dim lighting of your living room bled through your eyelids, showing you only the red color of the blood in your body. You stayed still, as if you would scare Simon off if you moved so much as an inch.

Then came the unmistakable sound of rustling clothes, and it didn’t take you long to realize what he was doing. Removing his balaclava, Simon tossed the cloth onto the couch next to him, his movements echoing in the couch as you felt it move underneath his shifting weight. You had to remind yourself to breathe as he sat there, seemingly fixing his hair for what seemed like forever.

After patiently waiting for him, his fingers brushed against the back of your hands, almost making you jump. Instead, you found yourself holding your breath as you felt his thumbs drift to your palms as he carefully raised your hands off of your lap. Instinctively, you closed your fingers around his thumbs and he paused for a moment. He didn’t say anything as he raised your hands higher up, and you felt your hands brush against the unmistakable feeling of his face.

Slowly, afraid of going too fast, you let go of his hands to gently cup his cheeks. His hands fell away from yours, allowing you to explore him with your eyes still shut tight. Each move you made was careful and soft. Fingertips ghosted so carefully across his face, taking notice of the slight stubble on his chin. As you moved up, your right hand came in contact with some rougher skin. It was uneven, slightly raised off of his cheekbone, reaching all the way back to his hairline. Another one was further up, cutting vertically down near his temple and slicing part of his eyebrow.

As you continued, your movements became a little more brave. His nose was strong and angled with a noticeable bump on the bridge. You traced down to the tip of his nose, taking note of how it wasn’t exactly straight. Almost there, but not quite. Then you went lower. Another scar sliced the top of his lip, a deep one that created a small crevice of sorts. His breath was warm on your fingers as your thumb moved across his lower lip. You could feel how tense his muscles were in his face, as if he was pressing his lips tightly together. Like he was afraid something would escape him if he didn’t.

A small huff escaped him as your fingers started to dip below his jaw, and his hands came up to ensnare yours. Thumbs pressed gently into your palms and fingers firmly on the back of your hands, he held them there for a moment, and you could feel your face begin to heat up.

“Sorry,” you apologized, fingers retracting from his face and wrapping around his thumbs once more. God, it was crazy how big his hands were compared to yours. How you could make a complete fist around his thumb and the rest of his fingers could still engulf your hand.

“Didn’t think you’d wander so far so quick,” he quipped, and you would have rolled your eyes at him if they weren’t already closed.

“Your ID doesn’t show the scar on your cheek,” you stated instead. One of your hands loosened the grip on his thumb before slowly slipping away from him. The pads of your fingers gently ran over the thick tissue of his scar. You wondered if it looked as deep as it felt.

“I heard some women find scars attractive,” Simon said, his dry humor showing.

A choked sort of laugh rumbled in your chest and you gently shook your head. You sucked on the side of your lip slightly, teeth biting into the corner of your mouth where you knew your own scar laid just behind it.

“Maybe if they’re on men,” you said with a sour chuckle.

Within an instant Simon’s fingers were cupping your chin. Similar to what you had done to him just a moment before, his thumb swiped over your bottom lip, lingering for a moment on the scar there. You could feel your heart threaten to break free from your chest.

“A few more and you’ll look as dashing as I do,” he said, fingers still lingering on your skin.

Your head tilted down some and you shook it slightly in disbelief. “You’re awfully confident for a man who hides his face all the time.”

“I’ve earned it,” he retorted bluntly.

His grip on your chin tightened some, not enough to hurt, but enough to get you to lift your head back up. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, threatening to open, yet you quickly squeezed them shut. He was awfully trusting of you in that moment, and you weren’t going to break that.

“Have you?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your voice was breathless.

He shifted forward slightly, and he was so close you could feel his breath fanning across your face. Your grasp on his thumb tightened even more, and you found your breath becoming increasingly difficult to control.

“Wanna find out?” he asked, his voice lower than it was before.

You weren’t sure how it happened, or who closed the distance, but your lips collided with Simon’s in something so unexpectedly soft it stole your breath. Those smoldering butterflies in your stomach resurrected with a vengeful fury. With wings of fire they thrashed around in your stomach as Simon’s hand fell away from your chin. He pressed his hand against yours, as if reveling in your touch on his cheek.

Never in a million years would you have expected something so soft and sweet from a man like Simon Riley. With his brooding stare and intimidating figure; masking up in a way that always left everyone on edge. God, your sweet tooth was insatiable, so much so that it was Simon who had to be the one to pull away.

You had to hold back your protest as the absence of him left your stomach churning. His hand pulled yours away from his face, but he still held it in his as he lowered your joined hands towards your laps.

“Still keeping your eyes closed even after all that?” he asked, the baritone of his voice rumbling you to your core.

Taking his invitation, you finally opened your eyes. Of course his face was the very first thing you were met with. In an odd way, he looked exactly how he felt. A strong, slightly crooked nose, deep scars on his cheek and forehead, and strong brows. His lips were slightly turned downwards in a neutral expression, but a light shined bright even in the umber of his eyes.

A smile broke out on your lips, one that continued to spread and spread so much so that one nearly appeared on his own lips.

“There he is,” you said softly.

“Been here the whole time, sweetheart.”

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

Spring came just in time to send Simon off on another mission, though it was already blistering hot in the desert he found himself stuck in. The morning sun rose dully off the horizon, and he stood facing the scene. Without any clouds, the sunrise wasn’t anything spectacular, but he wasn’t focused on the sky at all.

That goddamn handkerchief. He couldn’t go anywhere without it, but damn, he wouldn’t dare to leave it behind. Not when it was the only thing that he had out on the field that reminded him of you.

“How’s Spook?”

Confused, Simon turned around, annoyance evident on his face even from behind his mask as he faced one of his sergeants.

“What the hell are you on about, Johnny?” he questioned, eyes settling on the Scotsman.

Soap motioned towards the handkerchief in his hand. It was the same one he had spotted Simon holding on their last mission while flying back home. He had meant to ask his lieutenant about it before, but never got the chance. The shit eating grin on his face was the only hint Simon needed to put two and two together.

“Spook,” Soap repeated, hands reaching up to rest on the straps of his vest. “Your bird.”

Shaking his head, Simon carefully folded up the handkerchief before placing it in its home in his back pocket. He huffed as he walked past Soap before muttering, “Comedian, you are.”

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

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sinkovia · 3 months

Text

Polaroids

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, mention of suicide, mention of death.

Underneath the winter sky, the world transformed into a pristine landscape of snow-covered fields and frost-kissed trees. You and Simon found yourselves amidst this winter wonderland, bundled up against the chill, ready to capture a moment frozen in time.

With the camera in your hand, you pulled Simon close, wrapping your arm around him as you both huddled together for a picture. There was anticipation in the air as you counted down. "Three!" you exclaimed, and just as the flash burst into life, Simon seized the opportunity. A mischievous grin played on his lips as he swiftly smashed a snowball onto your head right at the moment the picture was taken.

"Simon!" a mix of laughter and surprise in your voice. Your hair was dusted with snow, and you looked at him with mock indignation, but the gleam in your eyes hinted at joy. Simon, with a mischievous grin, reveled in the success of his snow assault.

The snowball ambush marked the beginning of a delightful chaos. Laughter echoed through the winter air as you both dodged, ducked, and retaliated with fluffy ammunition. The pristine landscape transformed into a battleground, each throw leaving its mark on the snowy canvas.

As you dodged and weaved, Simon's infectious laughter filled the air, his playful spirit contagious. Eventually, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You felt a mischievous glint in his eyes, and before you could react, he playfully brought you down into the soft snow. The cold powder cushioned the fall, and you found yourself rolling together, laughter bubbling up between you.

In the midst of the snowy tussle, the world around you blurred into a playful dance of white. The winter air was filled with the sounds of your laughter and the soft crunch of snow.

Eventually, the playful roll came to a gentle stop, leaving you on top of Simon. Amidst the falling glistening snowflakes, you looked into each other's eyes, the two of you catching your breath between fits of laughter.

As your laughter gradually faded into a contented quiet, you leaned down, your smile lingering, and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss. The softness of the snow beneath you mirrored the tenderness of the stolen moment, and the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in your snowy sanctuary.

In the midst of this tender exchange, a soft click resonated. You turned your gaze to the right, where Simon held up the camera, capturing another candid moment, immortalizing the post-snowball fight kiss.

Taking the polaroid, you began to huff warm air onto it, warding off the haziness that the cold weather threatened to impose. Squinting at the image, a frown creased your features.

"What's wrong, love?"

"My face is all hazy, damn cold weather."

"Let me see." you turned the photo over so he could examine it with squinted eyes.

"Hmm, only a little, but why would I look at a picture when I'll always have you next to me?" Shaking your head, you kissed him again. "For memories, Si."

Those words echoed in Simon's mind as he held the Polaroid in his hand, sitting alone on a bench. The serene snowy landscape looked dull and gray without you. It had been a year since you passed, your life cut short by a drunk driver hitting the passenger side of the car. The memory of that tragic day haunted him, and the Polaroid served as a bittersweet reminder of the love and laughter that once filled his life.

In the quiet solitude, Simon vividly recalled the moment he turned to look at you in the passenger seat. Laughter filled the car as you both shared a moment over an awful joke. He just wanted another glimpse of you laughing, savoring the way you closed your eyes and held a hand to your stomach in pure joy. Your radiant smile, the tears in your eyes—he longed to see your radiance, a sight he had always cherished.

Then came the headlights on the other side of the passenger window. Panic set in, and Simon tried to react, to steer away, anything to shield you from the impending danger. But it was too late. The impact sent the car flipping several times before landing upright. Simon, initially dazed, was jolted into awareness by the sound of your labored attempts to breathe, a shard of glass embedded on the left side of your neck.

You turned to look at him, tears streaming down your face. Pure desperation filled his gaze as he swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching over to hold your neck in an attempt to stop the blood spurting from your neck.

"S…si…" Your eyes conveyed agony as your choked attempts at breathing became more shallow.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's okay baby. You're gonna be okay, I promise." He spoke with a tremor in his voice, desperately denying the gravity of the situation when your hand fell limp from your neck, landing in your lap. He reassured himself that you were still alive.

"Help is coming, baby, I promise. Just hang in there, okay? For me, can you do that for me, baby?" His words were a desperate plea, and when he heard you stop trying to breathe, he continued to deny the reality, reassuring himself that you were still alive.

"Just breathe slow, sweetheart. Please, just breathe, baby. Please just—" When your head slumped against his shoulder, he felt his hands begin to shake, a lump forming in his throat that made it hard for him to speak.

"Y/n, baby, I need you to lift… I need you to lift your head up, baby. I can't… I can't." He choked out a sob as his hands slowly moved away from your neck. He started heaving in breaths as he threw open the driver door and collapsed on the ground. His chest tightened, and his heart raced a million miles per hour. He couldn't bear to see your lifeless body. He clawed at his chest as a sharp pain tore through.

He was having a heart attack.

The paramedics arrived just in time to tend to Simon, nearly saving his life, a fact he later cursed them for. Why couldn't they just let him follow you into the afterlife?

Staring at the two Polaroids in his hand, he longed to go back to that day. Back to a time when everything that reminded him of you didn't cause insurmountable pain, a time when he still felt warmth—a time when you were still alive.

Despite the accident not being his fault, Simon carried the burden of self-blame, haunted by the regret of not noticing the oncoming car. The echoes of that fateful day lingered, casting a shadow over the stark winter scene surrounding him. Rising from the bench, he walked back to the house you once shared—a place you had made a home.

In the hallway, he stopped and looked at the framed photo of both of you, taken on your first date. You insisted on framing it, and he softly smiled, almost hearing your voice echo through the walls of the house.

He continued walking until he reached the edge of the bed, where he sat down and pulled out his phone, dialing 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

“I heard gunshots at my neighbor's house, the address is 1311 Amberville Rd,” he reported stoically before hanging up and reaching for the metal box under his side of the bed. Slowly opening it, he revealed a pistol.

He tried his best to carry on, to honor the memories you had together, to keep you alive through the love in his heart. However, the weight of living without you became unbearable. Tired of waking up each day without you by his side, exhausted from the relentless nightmares that plagued him.

He was simply tired of experiencing life without you.

He took the gun from the box, raising it to his temple. Without hesitating he pulled the trigger.

His eyes flew open, and he quickly sat up in bed, confusion clouding his gaze as he realized it looked just like your shared home. The surroundings appeared brighter, more vivid than before. Slowly getting up, he walked through the hallway, glancing at the framed picture on the wall before searching the entire house, only to find it empty. Opening the front door, he stepped outside, the soft crunch of snow under his shoes echoing with each step. The snow seemed to stretch out for miles, and trees covered in a thin layer of snow surrounded the yard.

Furrowing his brows at the unfamiliar scene, he noticed it was odd—they never had trees in their front yard. He remembered your dream of having big oak and willow trees. He smiled when he remembered the small pout you made when he told you that trees take years to grow full size.

Suddenly, a snowball crashed onto the side of his head. He heard your laughter and turned wide-eyed to see you running up, tackling him to the soft snowy ground. Rolling with you until he stopped, you ended up on top of him. He looked up at you in disbelief, tears welling in his eyes. Cupping your face with shaky hands, he questioned if it was too good to be true. Was he dreaming again? No, this felt too real. You felt too real.

“Y/n?” You smiled and gently pressed your lips to his.

“You came too early, Si.” He shook his head, his eyes bouncing all over your features. “I didn't come soon enough. I'm sorry I kept you waiting, love.” You smiled as you gazed down at him, your heart swelling. He combed his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” You nestled your head in the crook of his neck. He took in a deep breath, your scent filling him with warmth. “I missed you too, Si.”

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 10 months

Text

Ice & Rain

Requested: No

Warnings: Injury via slipping on ice (no blood), child in pain and injured

Summary: Your and Simon’s daughter takes a nasty fall on some ice.

A/N: I mentioned it in the story but Asa (the daughter) is adopted to give me the ability to keep Reader GN so she has a preset look, described with brown hair and pale skin. This does NOT reflect anything about the Reader’s looks.

Something was wrong. You could feel it. From the second you woke up at a little after seven, you felt ill. Sick to your stomach, a feeling of dread making you twitch and turn, trying to find the source of whatever was disturbing you, only to come up with nothing.

“Are you sure she was alright before she left?” You asked, scratching at your wrist anxiously. ‘She’ being your daughter of 14, Asa, who had already been sent off to school on her bus before you had woken up. A quiet and clingy girl, usually seen clutching onto either your or your husband’s shirts when in public, slow to talk but incredibly sweet. It got a bit frustrating at times, you couldn’t lie, but she was a good girl and you wouldn’t trade her for the world. You remembered the day you adopted her like it was yesterday. How tiny she was in your arms. The tears you cried.

“For the millionth time, Love. Yes, she was just fine.” Simon says with a sigh, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his lips pressing against the back of your neck, an effort to soothe you, all in vain.

“Okay. I believe you.” You say, taking a deep breath, trying to brush aside all the ‘what if’s’ that bounced around in your brain. “She’s okay. She’s perfectly fine and at school. Probably asleep at her desk again.”

“Probably.” Simon hummed, holding you a bit tighter. You wondered idly if he was also a bit worried. If he had also started off that way, or if your own fear had sparked his own.

You took another breath, opening the curtains of one of the front facing windows, deciding that some fresh air would do you some good, even if it was cold out. As you did so, you caught a glimpse of some strange shape in the middle of the still dark walkway, halfway between your house and the road. Had she forgotten her backpack again? Not unusual. She tended to put things down-

The shape moved.

It was just a twitch, almost unnoticeable but your blood ran cold, like ice in your veins as you shook yourself from free Simon’s grasp, not bothering to put on shoes or a coat as you took the stairs two at a time, only vaguely aware of your husband calling after you.

When you burst through the door, there she was, her voice suddenly so clean to you. Wails of pain, broken only by sobs and loud cries of “Daddy” that only served to break your heart.

You heard a loud “fuck!” from behind you but you paid it no attention, scrambling through the snow to the pathway, almost slipping and busting your ass when you realized that there was ice everywhere. Was this why she was here? Had she fallen on her way to the bus? How had they not noticed her? How did you not hear her?

You fell to your knees beside your daughter, hands hovering around her as she cried, the soft pattering of rain beating down on the back of your head.

“Oh baby. Oh sweet girl, it’s okay.” You try to tell her, your voice cracking, tears brimming in your eyes as you cup her face, biting your lip when she only cried harder. She couldn’t seem to actually speak, only able to call for you and Simon, small hands clutching at your night shirt.

Simon was beside you but you barely even noticed, not until Asa shouted with pain, so loud that it hurt your ears, the sound echoing in your brain, sure to haunt your nightmares tonight.

“Shh shhhh, Little Love. I got you.” Simon cooed to her, his voice strained but infinitely calmer than yours as he continued sliding his arm under her lower back, nudging you out of the way so he could get his other one under his shoulders. “I got you. It’s okay. I know it hurts but we need to get you out of this cold.”

“Simon.” You whimpered, shaking as you tried to stand with him, bare feet not even feeling the cold as adrenaline pumped through you. “Oh baby.” You said, holding your daughter’s freezing hand, changing for any discoloration at the fingertips. She’d been out here at least half an hour.

“It’s okay, Love. Get her bag, yeah?” He says, motioning to Asa’s small pink backpack that lay beside where she had fallen. You picked it up silently, right behind Simon as he carried your sobbing child into the house, not even a hint of strain on his face as he tried to maneuver over the ice carefully, back up to the door. You shut it behind yourself as he laid Asa on the couch, big hands trying to help her out of her thick winter coat without causing her too much pain.

Your hands shook as you placed Asa’s bag at the foot of the couch, kneeling beside her as she sniffled, taking her hands in your and huffing hot air into them, trying to warm her up a bit.

“There we go, Little Love.” Simon whispered to her once her coat and shoes were off, brushing strands of thick brown hair out of her face, cupping her cheek sweetly. “I’m gonna get you some tea and meds, yeah? Somethin to help with the pain. And you just get some rest.”

Asa nodded weakly, soothed by his warm voice as he slowly stood, motioning you up to follow him. You did so, though it hurt your heart to look back and see her just watching you go, pale face bright red from the cold and her tears.

“We should-we should take her to the hospital.” You say, inhaling deeply as he scrub your eyes, trying to calm yourself down as Simon filled the kettle and turned on the stove.

“She fell, Love. She’s okay. Probably just sprained something. She’ll be better in a few days.” He tells you, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“You can’t be-”

“I was in the field for a lot of years, Love. Seen a lot of injuries. This was just a slip.” He says, reaching up to grab the teabags, the sweet fruity ones that your little girl preferred. “She’ll be just fine.”

You nodded against your better judgment. Simon was right, she’d be just fine.

Asa would be just fine.

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

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babygirl-riley · 6 months

Text

I’m Sorry Alternative Version

A mission that was suppose to be easy turns sideways as you lay bleeding out, watching Simon panicking trying to save you.

A/N: @batmanunicorns523 hope this is what you had in mind 👀

“Haven’t I given enough? Given enough? Always the fool with the slowest heart.”

Warnings: angst, childhood trauma, trauma, blood, violance, near death, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

Blood. Crimson. Gasping. Crying. Everything that Simon never wanted to see you do. It wasn’t suppose to go the way it did, just him and you in the mission. Scope out and confirm the target, however the patrol was never spotted as they came from behind the both of you. Everything was fine, took the squad out done. Until more came.

Both you and Ghost retreated or tried to until the group caught up. The bullets lodging into your leg, shoulder, and chest. You fought until the last solider dropped, you didn’t notice or feel anything until Ghost looked at you. An emotion written all over his face. Something you never seen. Fear.

You looked down to see the blood seeping through your winter gear. The white slowly staining into a red. You looked up at him before feeling weak and started to crumble. He looked over your body before saying something. The words left his mouth but you couldn’t catch them. All you heard was ringing in your ears. You became terrified, you could feel your body weakening, feeling nauseous, tired. So when he picked you up and carried you through the snowy mountains, you didn’t feel anything by that time.

You watched as the trees sprinkled the snow to the ground. It would have been beautiful, you always love the trees when they were covered in snow. You blinked slowly trying to look at Simon. Not Ghost. Simon. Ghost seemed calm yet Simon, his eyes told you different. Panic written on them as he searched the area around them, making sure no one followed. He sprinted up the stairs of deck on the safe house, running through the door. You groaned feeling the pain even more. He set you down quickly and softly, hushing you while watched your color fading.

Simon tossed his gear to the side and his gun next to you just in case they did follow. He ran around the house grabbing alcohol, tissues, any sort of fucking clothing. He had to stop the bleeding. That was the first thought that ran through him, no matter what happens your blood needed to stay.

You stared up at the ceiling feeling the nausea come through once again. You couldn’t die not like this. Not with him here. Watching you die. You knew of his past and you didn’t want him to add another haunting to his memory. You saw a blur and you try to focus your eyes to him. His eyes wild, his chest covered in crimson. Panic went through you as you reached for him, he pushed you hand aside. Is that his or is that…Oh.

Simon knelt next to you as he searched which wound to tend; he saw the blood seeping through to the couch. Simon has seen blood many of times, many different ways, how many pints been taken out; this was no different. However, Simon wanted to throw up, watching the love of his life bleed away from life. Watching the color drain. Watching her soul being yanked by death himself.

He got to work quickly working on the one on your thigh. Grabbing a towel to tie above it to stop the bleeding. You moaned as you looked away, feeling your eyes start to shut. “Nuh uh y/n eyes on me!” He yelled sternly. You tried to sob as you tried to. “I know love I know just keep lookin’ at me yeah?”

Simon’s gloves became heavy as the blood was staining them. He took his gloves off throwing them somewhere as he kept working. There was so much and not one being controlled. He couldn’t loose you, you ware his rock, his world. You kept him grounded. If you leave him…

“Fucking hell,” He mumbled putting pressure on your chest. “I gotta take it off,” Your eyes moved to him it seemed like you were there. He nodded as he pulled a knife and ripped through your jacket and other items of clothing beneath. When he saw it, it was nasty, it wasn’t just one hole there was two. He took a deep breath and kept going. The more he worked the more blood came. “Fuck! Fuck! Come on!”

His frustration was clear, which made it clear for you. You were not making it out of this. You frowned. “It’s okay baby.” You whispered your voice raspy, wheezing.

“No, no stop baby I gotta get this,” He shook his head he placed a hand on your cheek, you felt the red warm stickiness stain your face. Tears welling up. “I’m so s’rry baby, it’s okay it’s fuck-I don’t know what to do! There is just so much fuckin’.” His yelling continued as he worked on you.

“It’s okay,” You kept repeating feeling like death was right there grabbing you taking you. You watched as his eyes was full of panic, you knew that look. The look of ‘there is nothing we can do.’ You had to tell him, you thought that it was an asshole move. But he needed to know. “I love you Simon…Riley. I..I lo…” You couldn’t finish as your eyes started to become heavier. Watching Simon yell, as his eyes widened.

Simon starts to panic, pure fucking panic. Simon started to shake you a bit, then again harder. Thinking how he did the same with his mom, memories flashing back and forth. He let out a growl before yelling out your name. Rocking back and forth before inhaling, petting the sides your face begging for your beautiful eyes to open. “Sweethear’ just stay with me! Please! I can’t loose you too! Fuck come on!” His hands froze for a moment then went back to work on the wounds, while the rest of his body froze inside.

Simon thought that this was it, you were out of his grasp. Once your eyes shut his mind will go with. His heart will go down as well. No one will be able to break down the barriers again. He wouldn’t let it happen. His mind went to the happiest moments with you to become more plagued of never going to see this again. Until the bleeding stopped, slowly letting him help you.

It was hours before he got your bleeding to stop, hours of tears, sweat, blood. Simon placed his fingers around your wrist where the pulse would be, weak. Very weak. He leaned back on his heels as he overlooked you. He watched your chest to slowly see it rise and fall. You were breathing barely but you were alive. He sat there for a moment before sitting down all the way taking a large inhale.

Simon felt his body shake as he watched you. You could have been dead right now, no life, paler, no chest movements. He thought about everything that both of you could have been doing that wasn’t here. Simon would have taken you to a beautiful resort, somewhere where no one would bug him or you. Smiling and laughing at nonsense together. Hell he even thought about how you would be in a wedding dress. Walking down to him. Holding you. Kissing you.

Simon felt his lip tremble as he went into a more darker place in his mind. Seeing faces of his dead loved ones, that could have been you as well. Laying with them. All pale and gone. He couldn’t lose you, couldn’t add you to the pile. Simon gulped before pushing himself up, you laid still as he placed with a small sheet on you to keep you warm.

His mind ticked as he stared more thinking and memorizing all your features. This sheet could cover you completely, hiding the fact you were there. Dead. His finger twitch before he snapped his body away. “Fuck,” He whispered, pacing. His heart was thundering against his chest. Chewing his lip. “Fuck!” He threw the med kit across the room as it smashed against the floor. Simon realized that he still had the damn thing glued to his hand.

Simon couldn’t control all the emotions that ran through him. The rage. The sadness. The sorrow. The spite. The relief. Everything, it felt like his blood stream was yelling for help try to cool the home that was burning everything. Simon stood breathing in and out before the radio went off.

“Bravo 7 come in,” Simon stood still the ringing of his ears coming down to listen to the surroundings. “Bravo 7 how copy?”

Johnny. Simon thought he reached up to the button of the walkie. “Bravo 7 copy.”

“Thank Mary herself,” Johnny sighed. “Where ya at LT, tryin to get ahold of y/c/n.” Simon looked over at you, then looked at your radio, which your radio was broken. Bullet got caught inside of it, which he thanked whatever was out there. Maybe that one wound would have taken you. “Ghost?”

Simon blinked a couple of times. “She’s in critical, when can we get extraction?”

There wasn’t an answer for a moment before Price’s voice came through. “How critical?”

Simon bit the inside of his cheek. “She los’ lots of blood, she will need a blood transfusion. I was able to stop the bleed barley. Is there an ETA?”

Price sighed. “The storm is fuckin’ with our sensors,” He mumbled. Simon’s heart started to drop. “We don’t know until the storm subsides.”

Simon looked out the window, he didn’t even noticed the wind that was yelling outside. The snow fighting around each other, covering any sort of distance from the house to outside. Simon looked at you as nothing changed, watching your chest move up and down.

Simon shook his head. “She doesn’ have that time Price.”

“She will have to Ghost.” He replied quickly.

Simon started to chew his bottom lip now. What if he can’t keep you stable? One wrong move and you could be gone. Just like he did with Tommy. Like his mom. Like his neph… “Simon,” His attention was brought back to his radio. “We will keep in touch, just hang on.”

It was a couple hours before you started to stir yourself awake. The nightmares of continuously running and dying, jolted you awake. Your eyes snapped open as you tried to jolt up but felt heavy. You yelled loudly, as the pain flashed through your veins. That’s when panic came in, looking around with your eyes. Where’s Simon?

Simon rushed over as he shut the door watching your body trying to get up. “Love,” He yelled as you still kept getting up. When he reached your shoulders and soft pushed you back down. “Stay still.”

Tears brimmed your eyes as you stared up at him. You winced as the pain worsened and you held back a scream. Simon’s heart sank as he placed his hand on your forehead. Soothing you as he let out soft hushes. Simon pulled out a stim shot, you winced as you bit your cheek. “It’s ‘ight love ‘m right here.”

Your lip trembled as your body started to calm down a bit. “I-.” Your sentence dropped as you coughed.

Simon got up quickly to find a canteen in his pack and to come back and help it to your lips. You drank carefully as you gripped his wrist. You leaned back down panting becoming more leveled breathing. It was silent for a moment as he rubbed circles on your hand. “How long has it been?” You mumbled your voice hoarse.

“8 hours minimum.” His eyes haven’t met yours since waking up. Looking to the side or down.

You nodded as you tried to grab his attention to you. “Whats…hm the damages?”

His eyes looked at your body, his shoulders going stiff. Simon thought about the possibility of you being dead hours ago. That he wouldn’t be hearing the scratched honey of your voice instead just dust and echos. His imagination. His memories. Simon shook himself mentally before clearing his throat. “Ya have 4 bullet wounds, couple of bruises, and loss of blood. Lots of it. Probably need some blood transfusion when we get back.”

You nodded, reality hitting that would mean that you almost died. You flipped your hand around and grabbed his. Gripping it. “Okay,” You whispered. “That’s good.”

“Good?” Simon chuckled. “No not good.”

You gave him a confused look. “I’m ali…”

“You could have died y/n,” He mumbled, his hand shaking a bit before he snapped it out of yours. “Because I didn’ know what to fuckin’ do. You just kept bleedin’ and there was nothing I could do and-and-I panicked, I never…” His voice cracked, making your heart stop. Did you die? Did you have to be brought back?

“Simon.” You whispered reaching for his face to guide him to your eyes.

His eyes were glossy from tears brimming them. You started to tear up. “I’m sor’y,” He whispered. “You almost were gone an’ I don’t know what I would have done.”

You smiled weakly. “Yet here I am Si,” He leaned into your forehead laying it there. “I’m right here.”

Simon sighed and rubbed his hand through your hair. “You’re right here.”

Simon didn’t move from this spot until the radios went off to inform them that they would be an hour out. Simon will never let this happen again, until the day he fucking got taken from the grim reaper himself.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley angst #Spotify

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iamamythologicalcreature · 5 months

Text

Six Sentence Sunday Climbs Out the Window

Hello all! Thank you for the tags today, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and @youarenevertooold! And thank you to everyone who has tagged me in the past couple of weeks. I'm woefully behind on reading WIPs-Day posts, so I really appreciate the tagging. It's the only way I'll find them when I'm finally able to read. So please keep tagging me, even if I'm slow to respond. I may have taken on a bit much this month. >.> Anyhoo, on to some WIP sentences! This will be my last teaser before posting the actual Chapter 1 of the @carryon-reverse-bang fic at the end of the month (Oh God it still needs a title...). I've never tried to tease a single chapter for so long lol. Soooo I'm giving you a little slice of Chapter 2, today. Right at the beginning, though! So really no spoilers. Simon's POV continues:

After another quick inspection of the fire damage, I look back to the window. On impulse I check the latch on the window. At first it sticks, but I manage to persuade it open with my usual flare for diplomacy. I breathe in deeply as fresh, green-scented air wafts in, and push the window all the way open. I rest a hip against the sill and lean out a bit, looking around. There’s a wide overhang just under me, and above me… I can’t quite see. (Or maybe I just want the excuse.) I grin a little as I climb out the window onto the slate roof, being careful to test the shingles before each step. Everything’s solid, though. Whoever had this room before it was closed off was one lucky git. I can only imagine having something like this just outside my bedroom window. It nearly makes up for all the gargoyles. Nah, it completely makes up for them.

Simon knows how to make use of a good excuse. And how to sneak out of bedroom windows. (Did we really ever doubt that would be part of his skillset? Nah.) Tags and hello's under the cut!

No pressure and also HI! to @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @leithillustration, @prettygoododds, @rimeswithpurple, @artsyunderstudy, @ic3-que3n, @blackberrysummerblog, @shrekgogurt, @aristocratic-otter, @hushed-chorus, @nightimedreamersworld, @best--dress, @whatevertheweather, @ileadacharmedlife, @theearlgreymage, @thewholelemon, @alexalexinii, @scribble-tier, @imagineacoolusername, @cutestkilla, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @alleycat0306, @angelsfalling16, @fatalfangirl, @erzbethluna, @tender-ministrations, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @katmiscellanious, @anxious-m3ss, @raenestee, @ebbpettier, @bubble-gumhead

#I know nothing about slate shingles #it's possible I've just written Simon into falling to his doom #the end!#no it's cool he has wings right?#if he does die it will be doing what he loves #impulsively charging into an unknown situation #snowbaz #six sentence sunday #simon snow #carry on #simon snow series #the simon snow trilogy #carry on fanfiction #yeah there's a haunted mansion involved #I'll give you that one for free #since it's not exactly subtly hidden #srsly tho I need a title #jodofic

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carryon-reverse-bang · 5 months

Text

Carry On Reverse Bang 2023 Masterlist

The Carry On Reverse Bang is a fandom event where an artist and writer pair up to collaborate on fic/art that is inspired by the artist’s concept. Our posting window for 2023 has now closed! You can click on any of the links to view these amazing collabs. You can also check out the collection on AO3, Carry On Reverse Bang 2023

Rated G

Three months or 3,000 miles is a collab with art by @theimpossibledemon and fic by @larkral

Rated T

Feet Buried in the Sand is a collab with art by @leithillustration and fic by @larkral

Known is a collab with art by @stardustasincocaine and fic by @melodysmash

After the Freak Show is a collab with art by @ebbpettier and fic by @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists

Bait and Switch is a collab with art by @cutestkilla and fic by @whatevertheweather

The Secret to Forever is a collab with art by @artsyunderstudy and fic by @gaymageenthusiast

The Heart in the Well is a collab with art by @alexalexinii and fic by @aristocratic-otter

Stake My Breath Away is a collab with art by @ivelovedhimthroughworse and fic by @dragoneggos

Take a Walk on the Wild Slice is a collab with art by @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and fic by @youarenevertooold

Out of Time is a collab with art by @artsyunderstudy and fic by @nightimedreamersworld

Hey Cowgirl With That Look in Your Eyes is a collab with art by @excalisbury and fic by @iknowfuck-allaboutvampires

Rated M

The Tower Room is a collab with art by @artsyunderstudy and fic by @best--dress

Let me fall is a collab with art by @rimeswithpurple and fic by @nightimedreamersworld

The Vampire Knight and the Chivalrous Dragon is a collab with art by @leithillustration and fic by @scribble-tier

The Haunting of Simon Snow is a collab with art by @bubble-gumhead and fic by @iamamythologicalcreature

The Stars Light Our Path is a collab with art by @ghostpepperworld and fic by @blackberrysummerblog

Rated E

Supernova is a collab with art by @pato-roldnart and fic by @orange-peony

When I Get My Hands on You is a collab with art by @stardustasincocaine and fic by @blackberrysummerblog

#carry on reverse bang #corb 2023 #snowbaz #the simon snow series #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on #carry on fanart #carry on fanfiction

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merakiui · 1 month

Note

Since you don’t mind being asked for recommendations, do you have any horror or thriller book recommendations to give? I just thought that you must have read a lot to nail the terrifying atmosphere in your fics so well.

Aaaa thank you for saying so!!! I'm glad my fics have scary atmosphere. As for horror/thriller recs, here are a few that I have read and enjoyed!

Definitely the Red Eye series. I can't recommend it enough. orz but my personal favorites from the series would be:

✧ Frozen Charlotte by Alex Bell (also the prequel Charlotte Says) - these are amazing. I can't recommend Alex Bell's work enough. I reread Frozen Charlotte every year because it's such a delicious horror story. I may be biased because of the Victorian charm it has, especially in the prequel, but overall it's really enjoyable and I highly recommend it.

✧ Flesh & Blood by Simon Cheshire - THE ENDING. OHHHHH, IT GUTTED ME IN THE BEST WAY. I loved the suspicion in this one. So tangible.

✧ Sleepless by Lou Morgan - this one was great! The concept of wealthy uni students getting their hands on "study aid" drugs and then losing their minds as a result was so fascinating to read about. It's been a while since I've read it, so I can't remember if it was truly horrifying. Moreso unsettling.

✧ Savage Island by Bryony Pearce (also the sequel Cruel Castle) - THIS STORY. OMG IT GUTTED ME IN THE WORST WAY. I had to take a walk after I read the last chapter in Savage Island. Savage Island is such a brutal horror. It made me squirm. It was just so !!!!!!!!!! Cruel Castle was also an enjoyable sequel filled with lots of tension.

✧ Whiteout by Gabriel Dylan - I love novels that confine the characters to a bleak backdrop, especially when it's in the middle of winter. Stuck in a ski resort that's been snowed in... aaaaa what a yummy premise. From beginning to end, I was on the edge of my seat.

As for things outside of the Red Eye:

✧ The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole - a gothic classic!!! I love the haunting imagery. It sticks with me.

✧ The Brothers Grimm fairy tales - I can't recommend just a single fairy tale because I think all of them are wonderful. So creepy. orz

✧ The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe - AAAAAA I LOVE TELL-TALE HEART!!!!!! One of my favorite works by Poe. The unreliable narrator, the tension, the suspense, the breakdown at the end when he tears up the floorboards........ so good.

There is so much more I want to recommend, but I can't remember the titles of everything. T_T my brain is scrambled egg,,,, but one day I will create a reading list/favorite fiction list and share it for more recs!!! >w<

#chit chat #meraki recs

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mehidktbh · 1 year

Text

First Timer

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: A snowy mission leads you to find out your lieutenant has never skated before, making sure you'll have to teach him one day...

Warning: War shit, guns, swearing, pining between the two of you!!, holding hands, falling over/tripping, cutesy moment between you too and mentions some of Ghosts' past

A/N: This idea was straight out of the bottom of the barrel, sorry. But stay tuned for part 2... maybe...idk. But I'll definitely be writing HC for all the guys going ice skating.

Clutching the gun further into your chest you move forward through the thick snow and heavy downfall. The nightly sounds take mix with the crunch of your feet as they move through the thick snow. The layer of thickness makes it harder for you to catch up with Ghost but you quickly get some paste. "There's a lake up here, supposedly." You whisper over to your lieutenant as he nods in reply, a clearing through the forest makes you sigh. For a second you thought you were going the wrong way the whole time, and with only a little touch attached to your helmet, you've lost track.

"Fuckin' hell." Ghost frustratedly groans, turning his head into the walkie-talkie that's attached to his chest amour, speaking into the microphone. "Price, you didn't bloody tell me we had to go ice skating" Price chuckles on the other end, "Suck it up princess, a quick walk across. Now hurry up." Price was demanding, he's probably smoked countless cigars by now just waiting for us. It's my fault that we had to stop halfway just so I could get a breather, much to Ghost's nagging to hurry up.

"You know who to ice skate, sir?" Ghost turns to you, his mask makes it hard to read his face but he definitely rolled his eyes at your question. "Let's just hurry up, follow me." You nod, letting him go first as he gets onto the ice-covered lake confident about making it across. You can barely make out his legs wobbling a bit as he tries to get his balance, his feet shuffle slowly and cautiously across the ice. His head dipped all the way down as he tries not to slip, hearing the sound that would haunt him forever. A crack.

"Scared, sir?" You tease, his head turning around before he shuts you up instantly, his feet come to a hunting stop as you begin to take over. "Wanna hold my hand?" Ghost flips you off, "Fuck off, Y/N." A shrug of your shoulders sends you way ahead of him, he watches your feet glide over the ice like perfection. Smooth motions send him into a daze as he stares at you in wonder, watching your feet glide without trouble.

Ghost instantly tries to get the upper hand after staring at you for a while, he realises that you are way ahead of him and he can't allow that. You can hear the faint sound of feet shuffling fast, his breath is practically breathing down your ear. "Careful sir. Remember to bend your knees-" "I know how to walk-!" And suddenly he doesn't. You watch him fall down, his legs collapse under him as he now sits down on the ice defeated.

"I told you to bend your knees, Jesus..." He looks up to see you moving closer, your feet pushing out and in with smooth butter movements. He watches in awe until you reach your hand out for him to grab. He takes it with hesitancy. Your hand doesn't move from his as you glide him to the other side, through you have gloves on Ghost can feel the heat being shared between you two. "Maybe I should teach you considering you've never ice skated," You ponder, "I don't need lessons."

You both reach the soft snow, Ghost still holding on tight as he's scared the second he lets go he's gonna fall. Your hands come out to push him first, he can feel your fingers dig into his back as you lightly push him. The quiet thanks doesn't go unrecognized by you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Through it wasn't until you finished that mission that your lieutenant really didn't know how to ice skate. He gave you that look after you both had gotten back to Price that told you to never speak of what happened between the two of you. And you did. Ghost did thank you again in his own way by covering for you when Price got mad at the both of you for taking so long. Blaming it on him instead of you when you had to take that 20-minute break.

You even began to think more of the situation when you had finished the mission. On the way back from it you were strapped down to the seat, the bands digging into your skin from the amount of clothing and amour you had on. The turbulence and shaking were nothing as you sat there as a rock, staring at the hard floor as you tried to piece it together.

Maybe it was the conversation that randomly was brought up between the group, Soap must have started it (like he does every time). Asking the men what they were going to do once they were getting out. Gaz responded with a "meh", shrugging his shoulders as he just hopped to get some peace and quiet. Price was going home to his lovely wife, having a few drinks and staying locked at home. Soap well... he had a bunch of ideas that flew right past your head. And when it was time for Ghost he said nothing, stating how he was going to go home and do nothing.

Gaz seemed to drop the idea to Soap once Ghost began to mumble words under his breath. A long quiet plane ride home with ideas flooding your head, maybe it'll be nice to accompany Ghost. You know he doesn't have family or relatives to look forward to and frankly, you've heard enough stories from other soldiers to feel bad for him.

Maybe teaching him wasn't a bad idea...

#ghost simon riley #cod ghost #ghost riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x you #mw2 x reader #cod mw

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skinnyazn · 1 year

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter

The sequel to this story: The Masks We Wear

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Chapters: 1/5 Notes: brief mention of military grade hard drugs (I made the mistake of researching what the Americans handed out during the Viet war, do not recommend), graphic violence, gore, eventual smut in the later chapter(s) but we're not there yet lol, explicit content

The frozen landscape was soundless, not even a stray winter bird chirped, as you surveyed the small compound. Fresh snow was suspended over every tree and surface. The crumbling facades of the shacks all dusted in a hazy white. Your breath lingered in the air as you exhaled.

“Feels off,” you spoke into your comm.

“Agreed,” the gruff, Manchester voice responded through your earpiece.

Simon “Ghost” Riley. His callsign was fitting for a man as stealthy and menacing as he. On missions, The Ghost moved like smoke, an apparition with a penchant for death. Around camp, you’d feel his eyes on you, but then you’d turn around and there’d be no one there. And, like his callsign, he’d began haunting your waking thoughts too.

You can’t remember when it started—it’s only been a few months since you joined the task force. But since you started working together, had been assigned this mission together, Simon “Ghost” Riley had infiltrated your head—marked by one too many lingering stares and unnecessarily brushes of the hand when exchanging briefs. He’d insidiously worked his way into your thoughts, intentionally or otherwise: what did he look like under the mask, how would his calloused hands feel like under your shirt, what sounds would he make pinned between your thighs. It unnerved you. You didn’t mix business with pleasure. It was a susceptibility.

Your contracts were for your legendary tracking skills, propensity to gather intelligence, and ability to nail a target two and a half klicks away with a single shot. If someone needed a HVT stalked and scoped without leaving a trace, you were their go to. Which was how Kate Laswell reached out to you in the first place. She said there was a team, the 141, who needed help with a particular illusive target. Kept slipping through their fingers. The pay was good (of course, coming from the CIA), so you agreed to hunt for them. What you hadn't accounted for was their towering, beautiful phantom: Simon.

“Walk me through it, Jag.” The Brit’s voice cracked over the comm, interrupting your thoughts. Jag; Jaguar. You ignored the way your name rolled off his tongue.

She needs a callsign, Ghost.

Why do I need a callsign?

Cause everyone on the team gets a callsign! And it has to match. Can’t be something dumb, like Barbie.

Why can’t I be Barbie?

Cause you’re not blonde. Take me for example: got mine for my aptitude to clean a room, all spick and span like. And Ghost’s is… well, just look at the bastard.

Fine. Then what’s my callsign?

Mantis.

Nah, doesn’t fit her.

Jaguar? …You know, cause you’re smart, stealthy.

A smooth ride?

Dangerous.

Jesus, you two. Alright. Jaguar it is.

Your frozen fingers pressed your comm. “It’s too quiet, Ghost. We saw vehicles on the drive up, but there’s nobody in the town, not even a single light on.”

Months of hard work and intel pointed to this village on the outskirts of Kokshetau. The perfect place to lay low, forgotten by the world. The perfect place for an ambush.

“It shouldn’t be this quiet.”

Ghost was on the rooftop three buildings to your left, assessing the area too. You’d parked the jeep a mile and a half outside of town, in the forest, and trekked the remainder of the way through the bleakness. Every shell of a building you passed in this liminal village was vacant; it was like walking through an unsettling dream.

“Intel said he’d be here, right?” Ghost spoke. “You and Laswell traced him to these coordinates?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s gotta be here.” Ghost breathed into the comm. “I’m gonna to do an interior sweep. Eyes sharp; watch my six.”

Your thumb pressed down. “Copy.”

Tactically, it made the most sense. You were both snipers, but Ghost was a bear of a man. He towered over you and was build like a god. He’d hold up a lot better in a close-quarters ambush. Plus, this was his mission with the 141. You’d been key in tracking him here, but your specialty was picking off targets from afar. They wouldn’t even feel the tack of the shot that painted the snow with their pink matter. Wouldn’t hear the bullet that would breach the stillness of this place. But that only worked if they were out in the open, or visible through the decay of the buildings.

You followed Ghost through your scope as he climbed down from the roof. His winter camo was an efficient cover. It hooded his black balaclava with signature skull well. Ghost maneuvered through the buildings like a shadow.

“Clear,” he whispered through the mic with each sweep.

You flexed your hands to keep the blood circulating and the cold from seeping in. The fleece gaiter irritated your reddening nose. He’d gone through three buildings already. Patience was a strong suit of yours, but this waiting and watching left a burning in your tense shoulders. Part of you wished there was more backup, but Price wanted to keep it lean and quiet. Don’t want to spook the target with three in a car, should anyone be watching. It was a shit idea when there was already a towering, beast of a man wearing tactical gear and a skull for a face driving.

Ghost entered the fourth building below.

It was two stories, which left your heart beating a little faster than before. You were timing his previous sweeps. They were all one-story structures but Ghost was thorough and efficient; each sweep was just under a minute.

Your eyes flicked to the watch on your wrist. One minute, twenty three seconds. You didn’t have eyes on him from this angle.

“Come on,” you breathed quietly.

Two twelve.

“Come on…” you repeated, a little louder this time. You were holding your breath; knuckles white under the gloves.

You pulled back from the scope and scanned around the building. Stillness.

Two twenty six.

“Ghost, come in,” you whispered into the comm.

Three fifteen.

“Ghost, do you copy?” Blood pounded through your ears, filling the silence.

Three forty eight.

“Ghost, come in.”

Three fifty seven.

Unlucky, unlucky four.

The back door to the building burst open as a man—not your target and not Ghost—stumbled out. Bright crimson painted the snow beneath him. He was crawling now. You pulled the trigger. The sound of birds fluttering echoed in the distance.

“Fuck!” you cursed under your breath; gloved hands moved the sniper to your back. Your feet carried you quickly off the roof as you landed with a muffled thud; nimble hands reached for the pistol strapped to your thigh, quickly screwing on its silencer. Quietly, you rushed to the back door, stepping over the body and all the red. Ghost’s knife was embedded deep into his torso. You pressed your shoulder against the crumbling facade. Sharp breathe in. You whipped your pistol into the room as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a body in a pool of blood near the front door, and a trail from the man you shot leading upstairs.

You stuck to the shadows, keeping silent as you peered up the steps. There was scuffling above. Deep breathe out. Your boots crunched over the concrete bits littering the stairs.

In your line of work, a second was the precipice between a grazed bicep or splatter of the head; between bleeding out or staying alive. So when you reached the top of the of the stairs, you had exactly one second to process everything before your fired your pistol twice: one to the shoulder, one to the head.

Ghost was bleeding all over the floor, struggling to right himself from his post-strangulation daze. Your target was supine next to him, twitching the last seconds of his life away. He was a hulk of a man, like the lieutenant. Quite the fight. You scurried to Ghost.

“Got me good on the head,” he wheezed. A concrete cinderblock was crumbled on the floor around him. Ghost’s skull-plate mask was cracked and there was blood dripping over his left eye. You surveyed the rest of his body: stab wounds in his bicep, a knife lodged in his right thigh.

You reached into your vest to pull out bandages to tourniquet the arm and leg. Your eyes stayed on the stairs as you synched it over his thick clothes, hoping it was tight enough.

“Knife stays in until we get you to a medic.” You reached for his mask. His large hand gripped your wrist with intense pressure.

“Mask stays on.”

Blood already darkened the fabric of his mask. You just hoped it would clot against the cloth. He released you as you reached into your vest and procured a vial.

“Need you to take this.”

Ghost grunted as he lifted the bottom of his balaclava clumsily and swallowed its contents. “What is it?”

“Amphetamine. Can you stand?”

“Christ,” he slurred.

You shifted under his right shoulder. “On three,” you wrapped his massive arm over you. He was heavy. “One, two, three.”

He groaned as you got him up. The sound etched itself into your brain. In any other situation, you’d beg him to make that sound again. For a split second you wondered if that’s what he sounded like when he—god, what the fuck was wrong with you?

“Fffuck!” he ground out. His weight pressed into your shoulder. Blood was soddening his pants where the knife was lodged.

“I need your help down these stairs, Ghost,” you said solidly as he hobbled with you. “Gonna be a gentleman and help me out?”

“‘M always a gentleman.”

The drug must have kicked in because he wasn’t leaning as heavily on you as before. You radioed Price as you struggled down the steps.

“Price,” you strained, “target is down. Need an emergency EVAC. Ghost is in bad shape.”

“Copy that,” his voice crackled over the radio. “Can you reach the backup rendezvous? I can’t land a chopper that close to the village.”

It was just under half a klick away. You looked at Ghost. He grunted. You doubted.

“Copy, on our way,” you confirmed, finally reaching the last step before the solid ground of the first floor.

Ghost was more coherent now; the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins. You helped him toward the back door that was still ajar. Dull winter light from the outside illuminated its silhouette on the floor.

“Stay,” you whispered, gripping the cold pistol again. He leaned heavily against the wall. You peaked your head through the opening.

The crunch of snow gave away the man outside who was surveying the top of the buildings—looking for the sniper. Looking for you. It was a clean shot to the back of the head, and his body crumpled to the snow. You hoped that was the last of them as you grabbed Ghost again.

“Let’s go.”

______

To your surprise, you made it farther than you expected before Ghost started to stumble. A steady trail of red saturated the endless white behind you. It was too much blood.

“Come on, big guy. Almost there.”

He stumbled again, falling into the snow this time. He rolled halfway onto his back.

“Jus’ need a second,” Ghost groaned out. Heavy lids and blonde lashes obscured those pretty brown eyes of his.

“No, no, no, Simon,” you bent over and whispered, “we gotta keep going, yeah? We’re almost there.”

He made an attempt to reach for you but his arm flopped like jelly. You hooked your arms under his shoulder and started to drag him through the dense snow.

“Hey, stay with me. Don’t give in to that concussion. That’d be a stupid way to die.”

“Sorry, sweet’eart.” His head started to lull to the side.

“Simon,” you growled as you continued dragging his body. “Eyes open.” Christ, he was so heavy.

“Tryin’.”

“That’s an order,” you huffed.

Your heavy breathing permeated through the silent forest. Time stretched on.

“I…” Simon’s head flopped back against your chest. His lashes fluttered as his eyes desperately tried to focus. Blood clotted over his left eye. “Don’t take orders… from you.”

“You do. When I’m dragging. Your fucking heavy ass. Through the snow.” Each sentence was a struggle. You were 5’6” and nearly 130 pounds of lean prowess. But Simon was a colossus. And dragging his dead weight through the thick snow for the past fifteen minutes had every tendon in your body screaming. Your lungs burned.

In the distance, sounds of the helicopter circling finally breached the trees. You looked behind you. The landing zone was still a couple hundred yards away.

“Stay with me, Simon,” you whispered against the crown of his head. Your quads seared with every backward step.

“Leg’s numb,” he managed.

Not good.

“That’s just the cold.”

You wanted to cry from the fire that encompassed every cell in your body. You were burning up; sweating. Every muscle strained to the max. You looked behind you. Almost there.

Simon’s head lulled forward again.

“Make you a deal,” you panted. The whirring of the helo was louder now. “You stay alive. And I’ll tell you one of my biggest secrets.”

Finally in the clearing, the snow fanned across your back. Two medics rushed from the helicopter toward you with a stretcher. They started strapping Ghost down as you nearly collapsed from overexertion right there. Price’s arm wrapped around you as he hurried you back to the copter, shouting over the comms.

The metal of the floor was cold against your face as you collapsed. The helicopter ascended. Price was hovering over the stretcher, and red crosses on white patches blurred as you finally succumbed to your exhaustion.

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