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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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The hot seat.

Synopsis: You decide to attend a speed dating event in the city where you're deployed. Simon “Ghost” Riley, your lieutenant, is also there.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,595

Notes:

I got this idea after a friend told me she matched with one of her colleagues on Tinder.

Fluff.

Want more?

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“Why don’t you just give it a try?” One of your friends suggested, “It’s not like you’ll be committing to anything.”

And when you told them there are other ways to meet new people, such as dating apps, they laughed so hard that you felt offended. “You don’t trust your own shadow,” one of them said, “how could you possibly trust a couple of pictures and a few messages before meeting a stranger?”

They were right; not only had it been months since your last date, but your trust issues weren’t helping. So you listened to your friends and decided to give it a shot. This could be your opportunity to get “back on the horse.”

They wanted to come to your house a few hours before to advise you on what to wear—it seems like it wasn’t just you who had trust issues. “You have a thing with self-sabotage,” one of them admitted, “and we don’t want you to portray yourself as less than who you really are.” A bolt claim from Jessica, the master of self-sabotage, who kept bailing her partner out of jail because he was constantly breaking into people’s houses.

You politely declined, promising to do your best. You chose a little black dress, opaque tights, and black heels. You let your hair down for once, since the army wouldn’t let you, and applied some make-up—but not too much—to enhance your features.

The speed dating event is held in a trendy downtown bar. The room is crammed with small tables, each with two chairs facing each other. You take a deep breath and walk over to the registration desk. You sign up, fill out a form with your information, and they hand you a name tag.

“This Is What You Came For” plays over the speakers, and you can’t help but wonder what made the DJ choose that song. What did I come here for, Rihanna? You think to yourself. To tell a stranger in three minutes about my food preferences and favourite colour? Is that what will ensure compatibility?

Your nerves start to kick in, so you rush to the bar. Your options are limited to beer or wine, according to the bartender. When you ask why, he starts narrating the horrors he’s seen of people attempting to calm their nerves with shots before the speed date. You choose wine and turn to face the people you’re about to meet in three-minute rounds. A few catch your eye; some look intimidated, while others appear overconfident and exuberant. “Peacocks”, as you call them.

The event organiser announces the beginning of the event, and you make your way to your assigned table. Dread grips you. What if you don’t meet anyone interesting? What if everyone you talk to is dull or uninteresting? You take a seat and wait for the event to start.

The first guy who sits down is a health freak, to put it mildly. He gets up at 4 a.m., lifts “hard” for two hours, goes to work, and waits until his next workout at around 6 p.m. He says he likes chicken because of its high protein content and asks what your favourite food is, to which you respond, “Haribos,” to piss him off.

The next one is a cryptocurrency investor. Enough said.

The third guy is a motivational speaker. You’re unsure about the “motivational” part, but he’s undeniably a “speaker.” He doesn’t. Stop. Talking. He only asks for your name, which you don’t have to say because it’s written on your tag. He then starts mumbling about books he’s read and the importance of a proper and consistent morning routine. He and Mr Health Freak could have easily become soul mates, you think to yourself.

Three minutes pass like hours, and you lower your head to the table. This was a mistake. Coming here was, as you suspected, a bad idea.

“I see you’ve already given up.” The man in front of you comments with a smile.

You look up and meet his gaze. He is tall and well-built, with short blonde hair and dark brown eyes. But it’s his sleeve tattoo that draws your attention.

It’s familiar to you. You’ve seen it before, peeking through a military uniform and tactical gloves.

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

You’d never seen him without his mask, but his build, voice, and tattoos are distinct. Your heart is racing as you struggle to remain calm. He, too, appears surprised. Did he not recognise you at first because of your make-up and hair?

Well, it seems like he recognises you now. But you’re not supposed to acknowledge his true identity; doing so might destroy everything he’s worked so hard to keep hidden all these years. It may also jeopardise your professional relationship.

But, my God, he’s hot. He’s exactly as you imagined him, if not better. It’d be best to act as cool as possible. Ignorant, stupid, call it whatever you want—just don’t reveal his identity. There are tens of thousands of people named Simon, and you are not supposed to give your surname to the other person here. So all you know about him is his name. He could be any of the other “Simons” out there.

You immediately put on a happy-go-lucky face and smile, trying to muster the courage to date your lieutenant for three minutes.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you reply, trying to play it cool.

He fidgets in his seat, still feeling uneasy. You need to act quickly.

“Yes, I’m about to give up,” you moan and pout, “so please, for the love of God, be a decent one.”

He lets out an awkward chuckle. “I’m not sure about that,” he says.

“Oh, really?” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows, “Unless you speak nonchalantly about yourself, chuck twelve egg yolks in the morning, or boast about imaginary coins, you’re good.”

“Ah,” he says hesitantly, “no, I prefer my eggs cooked.”

“Boiled, scrambled, or sunny side up?”

“I don’t mind as long as they’re cooked properly.” He responds, and you raise your fist to your mouth.

“I assume no runny egg whites?” You ask, making a disgusted face.

“Christ, no.” He smiles and shakes his head.

He appears more at ease now, thinking you haven’t identified him.

But then another problem arises. When dating, one of the first questions you usually ask is about the other person’s occupation.

“So, Simon,” you say, “what do you do for a living?”

“I, um, work as an operator,” he replies. “And you?”

That was a wise move on his part. He knows you’ll relate if he discloses his primary occupation, and you’ll start speculating. So he decided to reveal his side job. Although he is not completely honest with you, which could be interpreted as a red flag, there is a serious reason behind his answer.

“I’m a sergeant in the military,” you admit.

He nods and smirks but doesn’t ask a follow-up question.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not very good at this.”

“Neither am I,” you chuckle, “but I can help you.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Do you prefer cats or dogs, Simon?”

“I like both,” he says, “I can’t have a preference for animals; they aren’t eggs.”

“Phew!” You exclaim, theatrically placing the back of your hand on your forehead, “most of the men I met today hate cats!”

“Yeah,” Simon agrees. “I believe it’s because they don’t have control over them like dogs.”

“I feel bad for most of the women in here,” you say, looking around, “for settling for such controlling personalities.”

“How do you know I’m not controlling?” He asks, his brow furrowed.

“Men whose job is to order soldiers around, tend to live a more chilled lifestyle.” You elaborate.

“Order soldiers?” He asks, and you immediately stiffen up. “How do you know I order soldiers at my work?”

“I, um, assume you do because of your profession.” You stutter and look down at your lap.

“I said I’m an operator,” he smirks, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, “but I never said what kind of operator I am.”

Your chair has turned into a hot seat all of a sudden.

“From what you know, I could be a heavy machinery operator.” He adds, his smile widening.

You blush and turn to look at the clock; time’s almost up.

He leans forward to the table. “Why such eagerness to end our date, sergeant?” he whispers, “I thought we were doing so well.”

You raise your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, Lt.,” you admit, “I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I appreciate that,” he says, “but knowing that you know who I am is already uncomfortable, don’t you think?”

You look down again, and he continues.

“Perhaps it would have been better to acknowledge the elephant in the room from the beginning.” He explains.

You let out a sigh. “You’re right,” you say, “I should have been more honest.”

He nods, and the bell rings for your next date. Simon gets up from his chair and smiles at you.

“Normally, I’d end this with a nice to meet you,” he says, “but in this case, it’s more of a nice getting to know you better,” he adds, extending his hand for a handshake.

You stand up and take his hand in yours. “Likewise, Lt.,” you say, smiling.

“See you tomorrow,” he says.

“For another date?” You joke, “You move too fast, Simon.”

“For the best military drill of your life,” he corrects you with a smirk, “for thinking you could fool me so easily.”

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months

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I loved your peter vs Alastor story, can we possibly get a part two? Like maybe Peter is looking for her and she hears about it through the news or something from missing persons reports. She’s changed her name and Alastor has told her there’s nothing to worry about, but keeps having dreams about Peter finding her? You can choose how it ends!

A/N: I didn’t think people would want a part two to that but since you asked you shall receive! I love writing about Yanderes going against each other it’s so much fun 🤗. I watched the first four episodes of Hazbin Hotel and guys i LOVE IT SO MUCH. I’m so glad I waited for this show, and I’m so glad other people are enjoying it as much as I am. Special thanks to @a-bookworms-teashop or also known as @forbidden-sunlight, for helping me with this short story! As per usual we all know I like cliffhangers so expect a part three soon <<33 happy reading & enjoy!

Warnings: violence, obsessive tendencies, mentions of blood, lots of manipulation, talks of mental abuse, lots of dark content ahead!!

Songs you can listen too while reading: Close to you by Rihanna. Slipping through my fingers by ABBA. Desire by Megan Myers. Love on the Brain by Rihanna. Forget her by Jeff Buckley. Meet me in the hallway by Harry Styles. The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo.

Part 1

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Forget her

Living in New Orleans was nice. People were always so kind, and everyone was so welcoming. Getting a new name was easy, surprisingly. The government didn’t make it hard to run away from psycho ex boyfriends who didn’t know how to take a hint. Living with Alastor was nice. He was always a gentlemen, a gentle man, a good lover too. He made sure to never treat you the way Peter did.

In fact he was quite the opposite with you. Inviting you out to parties with him, keeping you out of the public eye as to not bring the wrong type of attention around. Everything felt like it was starting to get better. He would bring you flowers, take you to work with him even, or work from home. Alastor was nothing short of the perfect boyfriend. In fact he was perfect and more.

But lately, something seemed to have you on edge. He had been fidgety. Checking his phone constantly but always reassuring you with the polite smile. A reassuring one he tried to keep on, but you saw right through. He was hiding something and you wanted to know what.

According to Husk, Peter had since moved out of the apartment he had been living in, with no notice too. He had gone completely ghost. There was no sign of him anywhere, according to your knowledge. It was a Saturday evening when it had all happened. When your intuition had finally proved to be right.

“You said I wouldn’t be seen.” You said, the article about an appearance the two of you had made up on your phone. Alastor was walking through the kitchen, tossing various ingredients into a large pot, his jambalaya coming along nicely.

“ Dear please, there hasn’t been any sign of you for months. I doubt the bastard has even seen it, let alone have any access to technology.” He brushed you off with a chuckle, sliding the ingredients off the cutting board and into the pot. You sighed and put your phone down on the counter. Maybe you were being over paranoid. But ever since reading the article, a chill had ran up your spine that didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. Alastor noticed you looking off to the side, lost in your own mind. He reaches out, hands brushing your sides gently. “Why don’t you take a bath, hm? Ill even set it up for you. What do you say dear?” He asks calmly, a hand on your lower back, ushering you out of the kitchen and past the open living room, making your way down the hall to the bathroom.

“ Alright fine. But we need to talk about this later.” You say, and he responds to you with a kiss on your cheek. You go to your shared bedroom, going through the large walk in closet to find a change of clothes for after your bath. The water is running in the bathroom, the smell of fragrances light on your senses. You make your way back to the bathroom to see Alastor leaning over the tub slightly, candles already lit on the sides of the tub to allow you to relax. There’s your favorite book next to a cup of wine, along with the radio playing light jazz. Everything is perfect, as it should be, and for a moment you can forget the feeling of strained eyes on you. You can forget it all as you’re embraced by a man who loves you. Who truly cares.

“ Take your time darling. I must run out for a bit to get some extra ingredients. Will you be fine without me?” He asks, taking the robe from you as you sink down into the tub, eyeing you carefully, enough to give you butterflies. You smile, one of his favorites and nod, reaching to the side to pick up your glass of wine, the red stains your lips slightly as you pull the cup away.

“I think Ill be okay, thank you love. Be quick please, I might just nap here.” You say jokingly. Alastor smiles, folding your robe up neatly in his hands before nodding to you lightly. He leans down to kiss you, a soft tender kiss, before leaving you in the bathroom alone. It’s when you hear the front door shut that you sigh, now knowing he’s gone. The water is just right, just warm enough on your skin for you to rest your eyes a bit.

A bit turns into an hour, and when you hear a loud glass shatter from the kitchen is when you wake up from your nap. You hadn’t been serious about sleeping in the tub, but mistakes happen. You quickly pull at the drain, the water slowly slipping down as you grab your towel and get yourself dressed, sliding a simple nightgown on before stepping out of the bathroom. “Alastor?” You call, but you’re met with silence. Your vision is hazy, the steam from the water seeming to create some sort of film over your sight, but you manage. Walking down the hall and into the living area, you see a vase shattered on the ground. What you don’t expect to see, is a distraught Peter standing across from you.

“Guess again Baby.” He says with a smile. He sighs and takes in your appearance, eyes completely devouring your appearance. “What are you doing here?” You ask, panic written all over your face.

“How did you find me?” You ask again. Peter tuts at you, standing straight up, revealing just how tall he really was in comparison to you. He has a folder in his hand, one he throws on the floor in between the two of you, and it just barely touches your feet as it slides across the floor. “What is this?” You ask, eyeing him closely. He grins, hands behind his back as he watches you pick up the folder.

“Your perfect boyfriend.” He responds. The pictures inside reveal themselves before you can even process whats going on. Pictures of Alastor and you about in the city. Ones of the two of you at home, the two of you at dinner. Intimate moments, things that were supposed to be private. All laid out right in front of you. A picture of Alastor and you at a friends wedding. His face was burned out of the photo, but you knew who it was. The more photos you looked through the more you found. Magazine clippings of Alastor with you in the town. Paparazzi seeing you both together at parties, dancing around each other like no one was watching but the worlds eyes were on you. Peters eyes were on you.

“He told me-“

“Told you what?” Peter snickered, stepping closer, the broken glass crunching under his feet. You kept going through photos, one right after the other. Then, one really caught your attention. Mimzy. She had been so obsessed with Alastor and how you were no good for him. Now, in front of you was a photo, the two of them with their arms around each other, almost like lovers, but not quite friends. How long ago was this? Why didnt he tell you about this?

“He doesn’t love you. Not the way I do.” Peter said, stepping closer, arms raising for a hug. “ Let’s just go home. We can put this all behind us. I can forgive you.” He said, a smile on his face. He was still the same. He thought he had done no wrong. He lowers his arms when he sees you don’t come closer, but instead reaches for your hands, pulling them to his chest. “What do you need? Money? I can give you that. If- if you want more freedom we can go out! We can do whatever you want-“ He pleaded, eyes begging for yours to look at him. “Please, just come back. He took you away from where you were safe. Now you have everyone judging you, when you don’t need that.” He said, hand cupping your chin to force you to look at him. “Are you really happy here?” He asks.

It feels like time freezes for a moment. Were you really happy? All the press, Alastor always being gone or out at parties. The social events. The liquor, the drugs. The dancers and the crowds of people together. With Alastor, it was always a party. But with Peter, things were different.

With Peter, you were quiet. Alone but without the drugs, the partying and the social interaction. With Peter you really never lifted a finger, not like you physically could. Peter always brought gifts home, even if he was upset with you. He always did laundry, had things neat and tidy, or as much as they could in the small apartment. With Peter, you were taken care of. With Peter, you lived a calm life.

Well, at least that was how he saw it.

With Peter, there was a constant fear surrounding you. Suffocating you. He never let you live, took away your freedom and your life to keep you tied down to him. He had hurt you on multiple occasions, raising a hand to the person he swore to love so dearly. He had threatened to kill your family, your friends, anyone who stood in between the two of you. Peter didn’t love you, no, he was obsessed. Did you really want that life back?

“I.. I am happy here.” You finally said, pulling yourself away from Peter. His eyes looked defeated. He looked, complex. In a matter of seconds his demeanor changed entirely, standing tall in his anger, his pride.

“Happy? Happy with a man who took you from me?!” He yelled, lunging forward and caging you between him and the wall. His eyes looked manic, like something had snapped. It was only then you noticed him reaching into his pocket, glass shard in hand. “I told you what would happen if you ever left.” He said, hand in the air as the shard came down quickly. A slice to your cheek had you sliding down the wall, tears streaming down your face as blood ran down your neck, fingers shakily holding onto yourself for some support.

“Peter please-“ you pleaded with a whisper. Even after all these months away from him he still managed to make you feel so small.

“I see what’s going on.” He said, chuckling a bit. He crouches down, eye level with you now. “He has you completely brainwashed doesn’t he. I’m sure he-“ He stops when he hears the front lock being turned. The door opens to reveal a humming Alastor, eyes shut as he hums a song to himself softly. He turns to lock the door, before turning back around, finally opening his eyes to see the sight of Peter and you on the ground.

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Peter looks panicked, Alastor looks, unreadable, and you look, frightened. Alastor drops the bag of groceries, and before you can process what’s happening there’s a knife being drawn from under his shirt sleeve. Not a large one, but a size big enough to kill a man. To kill Peter. Peter stands quickly, clutching the glass shard in his hand so tight he begins to cut himself. The two meet in the middle, Peter swinging to try to slice Alastors neck. Something about the way Peter misses, the way Alastor inhales sharply. His eyes widen but in a different way. One you’d never seen from him before. There’s a difference in the way his eyes gloss over, the shine in them just a bit brighter than before.

Nothing would ever be the same after tonight.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin demon #alastor #peter vs alastor #ybf peter x reader #peter your boyfriend #your boyfriend peter x reader #ybf peter #yandere peter x reader #yandere alastor #Yandere alastor x reader

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kookblurx · 1 month

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" I love you " - cloud pov [ oneshot ]

→ SUMMARY: cloud was never good with his words. a guy who appears to be cold towards others but since a few days he seems .. different towards you. its like something is burning on his tounge.

→ GENRE: fluff; awkward; innocent; confession; mutual feelings; golden retriver energy.

→ RATING: 13+

→ NOTE: i know this is something completely different from the things i normally write. normally i only write about jungkook and taehyung but since FF7 came out .. i found my love for Cloud again. So i decided to write a pov about him. maybe more will follow on the future. also please keep in mind that english isnt my mother tounge, thanks. IMPORTANT; The city mentioned never appeared in the games. its my own interpretation! also my gaming povs mostly never matches with the games.

♡.°₊ˎ SONG FOR THIS ONESHOT

your hands were sweaty as you were sitting outside in front of the old house. it wasnt something fancy, just an old block house deep inside the woods which served as some kind of shelter for your little group. The cold evening air blew a few strands of hair into your face. It would be a while before he would come outside to join you. for a short moment you regretted volunteering for this sort of misson, not that it would be difficult. this wasnt the reason why you suddenly became so nervous. You looked up at the darkening sky with your lips pressed together. A few small stars could be seen here and there, so it was a perfect evening to search for a flower which only blooms once a month on a full moon night. The fabric of your light blue dress began to rustle as you moved back and forth on the tree trunk. its been 20 minutes already, what took him that long? you wiped your sweaty hands on your dress once again. If this continues you would have to go back inside to change again. surely tifa would raise an eyebrow, probably asking herself if that was some kind of sheme from you. making sure that "he" will really come with you. he trusted you, so you trusted him, naturally. but still, you were nervous. This would be the first time in months that you've done something alone together. The others accompanied you on every other mission. You loved your friends but sometimes you wished you had more time alone with him. from behind the old wooden door finally opened but you were too nervous to turn around to face him yet.

"are you ready?" his voice was gentle in your ear which why you finally turned around.

the second you did, you cursed yourself for not preparing a bit longer. the man in front of you was none other than Cloud Strife, your best friend, your companion and the men you had a crush on for so many months now. cloud had always been beautiful in your eyes but tonight he looked completely different. his armor was gone, so he only wore his dark turtleneck tank top, matched with a pair of dark pants. your eyes traveled down on his arms as you noticed that he also werent wearing the gloves which he was normally wearing. compared to him you looked like always. even his blonde styled hair looked a bit messy underneath the rising moonlight.

"whats wrong? did you saw a ghost?" raising one of his eyebrows, cloud crossed his arms in front of his chest. "i- uh no! you just look so different ..." "dont be silly and come ..."

without another word he finally started walking ahead. cloud never talked much, not even with you so it wasnt suprising that he didnt paid much attention to your remark. slowly you started to follow him into the woods. the both of you only heard rumours about this special flower. apparently it glows in the dark whenever moonlight hits one of its petals. beside that it didnt had any powers but tifa really wanted to plant one on her garden. at first you thought you could go alone but the second cloud heard that you were going outside at night, alone, he decided to tag along.

fidgeting with your fingers all you could see was his back in front of you. cloud even left his buster sword at home. looking down at his bare hand a slight glimmer of red crawled up your cheeks. there was only one time were you held hands with him and this only happened because of a small accident. it happened on one of the many Shinra ships. cloud was busy fighting off some of the soldiers while you were busy cracking the code to the main gate. It wasn't a difficult task as long as cloud could distract the others, but one soldier didn't seem to fall for it. suddenly someone grabbed your shoulder and pushed you backwards. you landed roughly against the nearest wall. Of course, cloud noticed this and immediately rushed to your side. he grabbed your hand to pull you behind him. the whole time he protected you, he never let go of your hand. so that was the closest you ever got to holding his hand with him. beside that nothing romantic ever happened between the two of you. after a while you came to the conclusion that cloud, probably, doesnt like you like this. in the beginning this perception was hard and you were heartbroken for days. maybe it was too much to ask for, considering how clumsy cloud is and that he doesnt really talk about his feelings.

"everything okay?" you nearly bumped against his chest, not noticing that cloud has stopped in his steps. were you sighing again? did he heard it? you could feel how your cheeks grew hotter with every passing second. in a fast motion you shook your head as cloud took a step into your direction. "are you sure? you were sighing pretty loudly. are you already tired? If yes .. dont worry we are nearly there"

you wanted to answer something but cloud turned around again. expecting to take up his pace you took a step forward but in the next moment something warm slipped into your hand. suprised your eyes darted downward and at the same time your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. cloud held your hand, he really held your hand. slowly your fingers closed around his palm. Whenever you pictured this day in your head, you never imagined that his hand would be so soft. it was like you were holding a fluffy cloud in your palm, carefully not to crush it.

with a slow motion cloud slowly started to walk again. like usual he didnt addressed the thing he just did and you were fine with it. by now you were too busy to calm down your pounding heart inside your chest. slowly cloud pulled you between some green bushes into a clearing. you could imagine that in this meadow many beautiful flowers were blooming, since its been night most of them were sleeping peacefully. As your eyes scanned the meadow, they stopped in a certain place. You immediately let go of cloud hand just so you could run to that spot.

"hey Y/N! whats wrong?" his voice rang in your ear but your eyes didnt left the spot. this was it, this wasnt a dream right?

suddenly you came to a halt and kneeled down on the ground. right in front of you were the glowing flower. it was so beautiful that you didnt even noticed how cloud kneeled down on the ground right beside you.

"its beautiful isnt it ...?" you asked him as your fingertips brushed over the delicate petals "yes ... more than beautiful" "say cloud how should we-"

the moment you turned your head into his direction you noticed that he was looking at you. cloud's face was so close and yet so far at the same time. from this distance you could clearly see his eyes which looked so beautiful to you. some other people were scared of him because of the Mako in them but for you, it was something totally normal. the glow from the flower was illuminating his face and for the first time you were able to see a slightly red shimmer on his cheeks. was he blushing? slowly you lift your hand up just to make sure youre not dreaming. mid air cloud catched your wrist with his own hand just to place it against his cheeks. at the same time your eyes widen feeling his soft warm skin at the back of your hand. what was wrong with him all of a sudden? why was he so affectionate?

"im sorry. i lied to you Y/N" "w-what do you mean ... ?" "tifa didnt wanted that flower. i just ... wanted to show you something beautiful ... and i thought such a flower would be the perfect thing you would enjoy"

you could see the hurt in his eyes, probably thinking you would be mad at him now. shaking your head you turned your hand inside of his palm into an direction so you were able to cup his cheek. how could you have been so blind? yes cloud never talked about his feelings but he always made sure to show them. especially around you he was always considerate, making sure that you felt comfortable on all their journeys.

a small smile appeared on your face "im not mad. thank you for showing me something so .. beautiful cloud."

the moment you pulled away from him to get up again, cloud squeezed your hand more tightly. in the next second your cheek was met with his chest, the soft fabric of his turtleneck shirt carressing your skin.

"cloud ...?" "Y/N I ..."

it was clear to you that he was struggling to find the right words. with a smile on your face you slowly lifted your head up, the red on his cheeks grew heavier with every second he kept looking at you. anxiety crawled up inside of you as his grip loosens around your body, what if he changed his opinion about you? a nervous chuckle escaped your mouth as you wanted to turn your head away but clouds hand on your cheek forced you to look back. there wasnt much time to contemplate what to say because in the next moment his warm lips met yours. at once your whole body felt like jelly as it immediately relaxed inside of his arms. it wasnt a passionate kiss he shared with you, it was a soft and careful kiss. clouds heartbeat hammered against your chest, it was so strong and loud that you could hear and feel it. as you wrapped both of your arms around his body to kiss him back, he slowly broke the kiss. clouds lips were still hovering above yours, just millimeters away. it was a sweet distraction from the words he finally managed to say;

"I love you, YN"

those words were enough, nothing more needed to be said. with a small nod your head moves forward to occupy his lips again. that was everything cloud needed as an an answer. the moon kept shining down on the both of you, wrapping your bodies in blue moonlight. it was like the whole forest approved of your feelings to each other as all the animals went quiet. around the both of you some fireflies took off from the grass into the sky. this moment belonged to you and cloud, no one could take this away from you anymore.

#cloud strife #cloud x reader #cloud strife x reader #final fantasy #ff7r #ff7 rebirth #ff7 remake #ff7 fanfic #cloud strife fanfic #gaming #gaming fanfic #cloud strife imagine #cloud imagines #cloud strife pov #ffvii x reader #ff7 cloud x reader #ff7 x reader #bf headcanons

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Meeting & Flirting W/ The C.o.D Men✦

(Five scenes were gn!reader meets, flirts, and eventually gets with the C.o.D guys. You can thank Gaz & a Doja Cat song for this)

✧Gaz, Price, Soap, & Ghost. The others will come later✧ ✦Flirting, light sexual tension here and there, basically just fluff, some mild descriptions of wounds/war, no specified appearance but I do hint that you're shorter than the guys here and there in a subtle manner. Sporadic use of Y/N that I apologize for. Random callsigns I made up on the spot.✦

✧Kyle "Gaz" Garrick✧

Laswell walked beside Price whilst leading the team out onto some tarmac. "I know you all are very competent, but this is a rather big mission, and so I wanted to give you backup I think you can depend on." She said calmly, coming to a stop, turning to the four men. Ghost crossed his arms and bit back a scoff. Kyle smiled for a split second because of it, though shrouded in mystery, it was no secret that Ghost hated working with others. A black jeep rolled up from a slight distance. Gaz wasn't too interested, he'd been tired all day and meeting new people sounded like a bit of a pain. He adjusted the hat on his head and kept his gaze on the ground, even when some footsteps approached. He glanced up at least, not paying any particular attention to the five individuals in front of him. Though he did give his full attention to Laswell when she began speaking. "Team 141, this is Team Sonar. They'll be working with you this upcoming mission, which we still need to go over." The woman explained. Their captain shook hands with price, an older man with dark hair and a broad white streak in the front. Two younger men stood to the side, Soap greeted them. One was blond and the other, a light brunette, they looked like twins. The fourth one was fairly androgynous, tall, eyes cast at the ground. Gaz was just about to look back at Laswell when his eyes fell on the last member. Dressed in black military gear, holding a rifle aimed at the ground, vest decorated in patches and a filtration-gas mask over the lower half of their face. They looked up and locked with his gaze, a spark let off in the air as soon as they did. Gaz rolled back his shoulders, pinching the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He watched their eyes scan him up, down, then slowly back up. By the way their eyes scrunched slightly, he could assume they were smiling, giving him one more quick once over. It was hard not to smile as well, especially when their eyes stuck to him whilst turning to face their captains. "Careful sergeant." Ghost's deep voice made Gaz jump. "Ahem, right." He mumbled, shifting his hat down a bit. Though he did risk stealing one more glance, feeling an ego boost when he caught them doing the same.

"You ever take that hat off?" They asked, leaning on the common room's table as he sat down, arms crossed. "I do, I just don't feel like it." Gaz shrugged, adjusting the ratty baseball cap on his head. "The flag is literally fallin' off, mate." They teased with a smile, reaching to nudge the brim, making it push down. Gaz snorted and took it off for a split second to fix it. He gasped when it was snatched from his hand, smiling when he saw their face covered in a cheeky grin, holding the hat away. "Alright, c'mon. Give it back." He insisted, holding out his hand. They hummed, tapping their chin whilst looking at the ceiling. "Nnnoo, no I don't think so." They replied with their tongue stuck out. Gaz tucked his tongue into his cheek and glared at them playfully. He laughed when they jerked back as he lunged for it, smiling more when they hid it behind their back. "Oh, playing dirty now?" Gaz asked, moving to snatch it once more, only to be dodged. "I think you look better without it, actually. I'm doing you a favor." They insisted, backing up more and more. He naturally followed. They reached up to put it on, chin tilted at an endearing angle. "Should just lemme have it." Gaz shook his head, although he did enjoy the sight of them wearing it. "Over my dead body, give it!" He laughed. They blocked his arm when he went to grab it one last time, reaching into the back pocket of their camo pants. Good thing about military pants? Big pockets. Gaz blinked in surprise when he felt a pressure on his skull, raising a hand to feel a different hat. He quickly took it off and looked at it. A baseball cap with a British flag and an embroidered "K.G.G" on the brim, in a dark green color. He gazed at it with some awe, feeling a quick wave of sentimental joy enter his system. "I think green is more your color." They said, prompting him to look at. He blinked when they booped him on the nose and then turned to walk away. "Hey, what about my original hat?!" Gaz called. They turned, walking backwards. "It's mine now! No take-backsies!!" They giggled, rotating on their heel. The man ran his tongue over his teeth as he chuckled in disbelief. He glanced once more at the hat before putting it on, shaking his head fondly.

(nsfw implication in this one; cause Y/N a bold bitch) Gaz hummed to the tune of his music as he sat on one of the chairs in the common room, waiting for time to pass until their next briefing. Listening to Y/N make themselves tea, occasionally passing conversation between them both. The topic now? Why he never used his actual name. "I guess I just don't really get it. It's not like it's a bad name." They said, pouring hot water into a mug. Gaz shrugged whilst scrolling through a playlist. "I used to like it, now I don't. A lot of people don't like their name." He answered, glancing over at them. They placed a teabag into the water and turned to look at him, hip leaned on the counter. "Yeah, I guess. But usually there's a reason if you specifically dislike it, ya know?" They retorted. Gaz nodded and adjusted in his seat. "I guess...I dunno, anytime I hear that name, it usually means somethings going wrong? Either someone's needing something from me or I'm like, in trouble? So, I prefer the nickname." He explained, looking back down at his phone whilst they threw away the tea bag. "Then it's not the name, it's what you associate hearing the name with! You just need to put a different context to it." They said, though their voice was a bit muffled by his earbuds now. He snorted. "Oh yeah? Well, lemme know if you got any ideas." He said sarcastically, not hearing them walk closer. "Let's try this then." Gaz jumped a bit when the earbud was pulled from his ear, replaced with the feeling of warm breath. Hot blood rose to Gaz's cheeks and neck as the cupped their hand around his ear. "Oh Kyle...~" His breath stopped at the sound of a very convincing moan, heart stuttering as they laughed quietly, gently putting the earbud back in his ear. They made it a point to lightly drag their fingers across his shoulders when walking around him. Gaz watched them walk away with wide eyes until they were out of sight. He then sunk in his seat, hand covering the lower half of his burning face. He forced in a deep breath. "Fuckin' hell..." He mumbled while replaying the sound in his brain. They at least had a point. Hearing his name like that was pretty enjoyable.

"Gaz, Spark, how copy?" Gaz's radio crackled, Ghost's voice cutting in and out. "Copy sir, we're in a safe house. Hell of a storm outside, we'll need to wait it out." He said. Y/N was checking the pipes and looking around for firewood as Ghost gave choppy orders. The man huffed and took off his vest when he saw the fire being lit, grabbing a rickety wooden chair to pull up next to it. "Fuckin' snow." He grumbled as he heard the wind bare down on the house. "Not a winter guy?" They asked, making him look over his shoulder as they walked in with two cups. "Found coffee. I know you're more of a tea type, but warm is warm." They responded softly. He thanked them and took the cup, though he cringed at the bitter taste, swallowing so he could answer their question. "Nah, always liked Summer more." They nodded before setting their mug on the floor. "So, we're alone for god knows how many hours." They said, looking at a tactical watch on their wrist. Gaz rose an eyebrow while taking another sip of his coffee. "Yeah? What of it?" He asked. "You gonna finally make a move or should I keep pretending there's no tension here?" Their blunt words made him choke and began coughing. They laughed and lightly smacked his back, snickering when he cleared his throat. "I uh, wow, okay. Bit blunt to put it that way, innit?" He said with a breathless laugh, putting the cup down. "Bit rude to eye fuck me all the time and do nothin' about it, innit?" They mocked with a grin, making him blush, though thankfully the melanin in his skin left it unnoticeable. "Okay, I do not...alright, maybe a little, but listen." He laughed bashfully. He watched them roll their eyes with a heavy sigh, looking down at him with a smile. "What? Do I have to do everything?" He rose his hands up and sank in the seat slightly as they placed their hands on his knees, leaning in slowly. "Didn't take you for such a scaredy cat, sergeant.~" Gaz cleared his throat and couldn't stop himself from laughing nervously again. "I'm not a scaredy cat. I'm just...patient." "Patient?" "Yes, indeed." They hummed and clicked their tongue. "Well, I'm not." Gaz felt his lungs constrict and the air expel from his body once their weight rested on his lap, hands on the back of the chair, which creaked under their combined weight. He watched them take his hat off and rest it on their head. "So, sergeant major Gaz. You gonna make a move, or should I?" They asked quietly. He let out a slow exhaled before shaking his head. "You...are gonna get me in so much trouble." He said fondly, though he did invite them leaning in dangerously close. "Guess that's a risk you gotta take." They whispered back. He hummed in thought, stalling for the sake of mischievousness now. "Eh, only live once." He shrugged, grinning as they laughed, unable to stop smiling when the held his face to kiss him. Trouble or not, it was inevitable.

✧John Price✧

John sighed and messed with his dog tags as he waited of Laswell to come back into the room. She’d said she had something important to tell him. She finally poked her head into his office with a calm smile, giving him a nod. “A few weeks ago, you asked for a sniper. I found one I think is suitable.” She said, opening the door a bit further to reveal them. Stood in a compression shirt and camp pants, arms behind their back. John straightened his back as he took their figure in, acknowledging slightly nervous body language. They seemed young, but not by much compared to the rest of the team. “Alright. Lemme talk to’em.” John mumbled, motioning with his hand for the soldier to step inside. Laswell patted their shoulder as they entered, crossing the office to sit in the chair across from Price. Laswell left with the door closed. “You’re nervous, soldier.” He said. They swallowed and nodded, patting their leg. “A little sir, yes. Trying not to be.” They answered honestly with a little chuckle. “You afraid your skills aren’t up to snuff?” He questioned, voice gruff, trying to poke for insecurities. Not that he was cruel, but he needed soldiers made of steel on the field. “Oh, no. I’m 100% confident in my skills. It’s uh, just hard to not feel anxious when you’re sat in front of a captain with such an impressive resume. I’m uh, well, I’m worried about my impression is all.” They admitted bashfully, clenching their hands in their lap. John rose an eyebrow and let out an amused huff at their praise. “You’re certain you’ll keep up?” He asked. “Yes sir.” They answered immediately. John nodded, he motioned for them to stand as he did the same. They listened without hesitation. He rounded his desk and stood in front of them, watching them force back nerves in order to meet his gaze. He held out his hand. “I‘ll look forward to seeing you work, soldier.” He said. His smile grew when they shook his hand, a spark growing in their eyes. “You won’t be disappointed, sir.”

John huffed and rubbed his temple, soreness radiating through his skull as a result of persistent annoyance. He'd been put in charge of some new recruits, a batch of youngsters, all of which seemed to enjoy testing his patience. They all liked to slack off, lose focus, occasionally take a little jab at him. John was a patient man and did his best to keep his cool, usually only losing it in dire circumstances. But, he was a human, and humans had their limits, and the captain was at the end of his rope as he watched the recruits joke around. All right after he specifically told them to run laps, a standard training exercise. His frustration must've been obvious on his face, hence why Mist approached him. "You alright, captain? You look ready to blow a gasket." They asked, voice soft, showing sympathy. The brunet huffed and rested his hand on his hip, feeling a bit soothed by the gentle pat on his bicep. "These damn kids won't take me seriously, and I've bout had it." He explained, motioning to the group. The soldier's eyes widened and looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Unable to fathom it. They weren't much older than the newbies, and they'd already shown a genuine and powerful admiration for John. For various reasons. John watched them frown and shake their head. "Try again." They motioned, giving an encouraging nod. John was a bit confused but he cleared his throat and shouted to get their attention. "I said to run laps, not stand chit-chatting! Move it!" He demanded, voice rough and commanding, but not as intense was it was in the heat of battle. Y/N's blood boiled at the blatantly disrespectful laugh one recruit let out. "Whatever, old man!" A young man replied. John felt his jaw tighten and he took in a breath to yell again, on his last nerve, before a voice beside him beat him to it. "WATCH YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH!" Mist exclaimed, voice echoing in the air like flying daggers. They'd been rather soft, quiet, and gentle the whole time they were with 141. Excluding battle. To see them so angry, so intense, it was enough to make John even jolt in surprise. "When your commanding officer gives you an order, you execute it on the first fucking demand! He said run, you sprint damnit! If you think you can dick around at the sake of the training that will save your life and the lives of your comrades, FUCK OFF BACK HOME!" They hissed, baring teeth like a raging dog. "Now, move it! Forty fucking laps at least and if I hear more disrespect at my captain, I'll have your fuckin' heads!" The recruits had already began on the track, wincing when the threat landed in their ears. John watched Mist compose themself with a look of shock interlaced with endearment. They gave him a bashful glance and cleared their throat. "Uhm...there ya go." They smiled. John let out a quiet chuckle and patted their back. "Remind me to stay on your good side." He said playfully.

(Brief description of bullet wound & war) The sounds of gunfire were sharp on the ear drums. Air permeated with the scent of rubble dust & metallic blood. Mist jumped over an enemy corpse as they dodged around a building, clicking the button on their radio in order to answer their captain. "This is Mist! Ran off about six yards east, where are you, cap?" They asked, chest heaving. "Three yards to your right! Haul ass before these cunts reload!" It was probably a terrible time to think it, but they couldn't help but worry about his throat, all those cigars surely made his voice rougher than it was naturally. That thought was pushed back by the need of survival, although their worry was barely focused on themselves, more on the safety of their captain. They found him settled behind some large stacked crates, littered with bullet holes. Taking no time to slide up beside him, huffing and puffing, face smeared with paint & dirt. "Are you steady, Cap?" They asked breathlessly. John nodded, adjusting his bucket cap. "For now. We gotta move out toward the evac, Soap's got this place set to blow and I wanna be out before it happens." He explained whilst loading a rifle. "Understood, I'll cover you." They replied. Whilst sprinting away from the enemy, ducking when the gunfire got heavy, their barriers were thinning. John huffed and pushed through, scanning for the next thing they could duck behind. As he did, he was left open. The young soldier's eyes locked in on a sniper overhead, gun angled directly at the man beside them. The world moved slow and frightfully quick all at once as they shoved John off to the side whilst shouting for him to take cover. The bullet spun through the air and made itself home in Mist's leg. John was quick to act, able to aim his rifle up at the roof, landing a rather lucky headshot in retaliation. "Damnit, soldier, what the hell were you thinkin'?!" He exclaimed, using his arm to help them stand. They didn't respond, teeth gritted in pain as the two of them continued to move. Making it to the evac wasn't easy, but it happened. The team left like a bat out of hell, holding up with shotty attempts at first-aid until they could get to a medic. John put Y/N on priority for one since the bullet was lodged in their thigh, risking a problem with an artery or bone. Thankfully though, it was just a muscle issue. They'd need recovery time and rest, but overall, they'd be fine. Likely to only sport a scar by the end of it. They sat on a medical bed as John heard the verdict, eventually waving off the doctor so he could speak with them alone. "What the hell were you thinking?" John whispered harshly. Though Mist was the more sensitive type, they didn't flinch, not a single waver as they met his gaze. "Thinking about saving your life." They answered. "And you got shot cause of it." John replied, making them snort. "I can handle a shot to the leg. Far less damage than losing you. In terms of pros & cons? I think I weighed'em pretty well." John felt his chest constrict as they gave him a satisfied smile, as if they weren't still covered in the signs of war. He opened his mouth and no words came out, he gave up and sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He stared at them for a moment. Eventually, his hand fell limp at his side, chuckling quietly. "You'll be the death of me, soldier." He said. They laughed and shrugged. "Nah, I think I'll keep you alive for awhile longer. That's my plan anyway." Their retort played like music in the strings of his neurons, sending waves of serotonin & oxytocin in his system. "I'll hold you to that." He sighed.

(NPC death mentions) The sound of paper rustlings and the scratch of a pen was monotonous and soul sucking. John had always been a diligent worker, but, he'd never enjoyed paper work. It was something he found particularly boring even as he got older, and there was always an air of somberness when he was filling out reports on men who'd died. Lost their lives under his command. In the late hours of the night where silence was suffocating and the loneliness began to grow more obvious in his bones, continuously marking his signature down on dotted lines until his wrists were sore. His throat was dry and his eyes stung. There was a bottle of whiskey on a side table calling his name, but he didn't have the energy to move, and he knew it wouldn't satisfy any actual thirst. The sigh he let out was full of exhaustion. Then, he flinched, silence broken by a knock at the door. The brunet's brows furrowed in confusion & suspicion, given lights out was at least two hours ago. "Who is it?" He called after clearing his throat. "It's me." The voice was unmistakable, and though he hated to admit it, his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Enter." He instructed, finding it worrisome how it felt easier to breathe when their figure poked through the door, entering slowly. A cup of steaming tea rested in their hands. "You should be asleep, soldier." John said, leaning back in his seat. They gave a soft laugh and a nod, walking up to his desk. "Couldn't. Kept thinkin' bout you, knowing you were overworking yourself. Finally gave in and made you a cup of tea. With all due respect, sir, you should also be in bed." They answered, setting the cup on the desk. Like a godsend, able to sense his unspoken needs from across the base. He was a providing type, protective too, he'd been called a "dad" type as well, always caring for others. Although being cared for was foreign, he couldn't help but have his heart melt in a way he hadn't really felt in a very long time. The man sighed, grabbing the cup, blowing on it before he took a sip. He could feel his soul grow warm as he realized it was a perfect replica of how he'd make it, ideal to his preferences. It was impossible not to smile. "You're a real saint, you know that?" He asked. The room felt brighter as they laughed again. "I'm not sure about that, but thank you." They replied. "I mean it. You stick out your neck to make things easier for me, even when I don't ask. I notice it, even if I'd prefer you keep a bullet out of your leg." He scolded lightly, making them nervously shift their gaze to the side, recalling the shot they'd taken for him. "Eh, I don't really regret it." They said, moving around his desk in order to sit on the same side as him, remaining on the corner of the wooden table, careful to avoid sitting on any of the papers. John shook his head. "I'd probably take another eighty bullets for you." They answered honestly, ignoring the stutter in their heartbeat as he stood, chair scraping on the rug below. "Now why would you do that?" He questioned cynically. The response he got struck every chord in his heart. "Because I care about you too much to see you get hurt." They whispered. "You're such a good person, and you do so much for everyone else, even when you're at the end of your rope. There really aren't people like that in the world, and I don't think I could really handle losing something so rare." John inhaled and stepped in front of them. He was intently in their personal space, but they didn't feel the need to lean away, even if their nerves were alight with a specific type of anxiety as he tilted their chin with his hand. He didn't say anything for a long while, only gazing, adoringly and intensely full of passion. Finally, he smiled with an amused breath. "I think I hit the nail on the head..." He heard their breath catch when he leaned close enough for his facial hair to lightly prick at their skin. "You're nothin' short of a saint, sweetheart."

✧Johnny "Soap" MacTavish✧

The bar was crowded and rowdy, dimly lit and teeming with energy. 141 settled in a booth. The bar was popular with veterans and active soldiers, so there wasn't a corner of the building that didn't have some camo print in it. Johnny chuckled at a joke Gaz made at the expense of a recently defeated enemy before taking a swing of beer. He scanned the bar lazily. At the same time as others, cerulean eyes settled on a small scene in the crowd. Kyle leaned around Soap to get a better visual. "Yeesh, can't a man take a hint?" The man mumbled as they watched a tipsy soldier flirt with, what seemed like, a civilian. Dressed up for a night of fun but clearly not having a good time with a slurring and pushy man not being able to take a no. "Think we should step in?" Soap questioned, to which Ghost rose his hand, a signal to stay seated. "Look at their friends, they look like they're waiting for somethin'. Maybe they've got it covered already." He mumbled past the fabric of his balaclava. Johnny cringed, scrunching his nose at the scene, biting his tongue, literally. "They're a civilian against a trained soldier. Drunk or not, they probably need some help." Kyle commented. It was immediately after he finished his sentence that the "civilian" set their drink down, face showing annoyance. They turned to the drunkard and in quick, trained movements, took him out. Or in less intense terms, knocked him out cold with a swift elbow to the chest and a well formed punch to the jaw. The bar went quiet after a collective "oooohhh" in response to it all. The "civilian huffed and rested their hands on their hips, shaking their head. Soap's jaw was lax as he watched them walk over to the bar, pay, and leave. Left in utter awe intermingled with disappointment that he hadn't had a chance to talk to them. Up until a week later when a higher up declared he'd be gifting a lieutenant with an impressive track record to aid the task force in a mission. A huge help, since apparently they had specialized information. The four men waited for the mystery person right outside of base. When they walked up, they had a mask on, but a collective string of shock hit the men when they came closer. Gaz let out a little laugh and nudged Soap with his elbow. "Looks like you get to talk to them after all." He teased, watching Johnny fight to keep his jaw closed. They stopped in front of him with their arms crossed and face stern. "You lot must be 141. Lieutenant Fern." They said. Price stepped up calmly to introduce the team. Johnny cut him off, practically leaping forward with his hand extended to greet them. "Sergeant Soap, pleasure to meet'cha Lieutenant." He said with a boyish grin. They tilted their head with a raised eyebrow. "You always this excitable, sergeant?" They asked. Johnny's eyes glimmered with childlike fascination and liveliness. "Only with beauties like ya'self." He said boldly. They scoffed with some amusement, shaking his hand as they glanced at an embarrassed Price. "Bold, this one." They praised.

Soap grunted and slammed his hand on the floor twice, letting out a strained word. He took a deep breath when the pressure let off his neck, hearing a few tongue clicks. "That's the third take down, Soap. You gotta stop leaving yourself open." Fern sighed, giving him a hand up. He rubbed his neck and coughed, frustrated at himself for letting his performance slip. It was showing on his face and in his shoulders, weighing down by the sense of failure. "Oi, suds, quit that." They ordered, making him look up with confusion. They made a vague motion to his person, referring to his posture, before resting their hands on their hips. "The self-doubt and anger at yourself. It ain't gonna help ya. You're not bad at what you do, you're learning still. That's normal." They explained. Though their tone sounded blunt and rough, as usual, Johnny had been around them enough now to hear the hint of softness that lingered in their words. Something he had yet to hear before. He huffed and dropped his hand at his side. "I shouldn't be havin' these fuck ups, L.T. I been doin' this for too many years for fuck ups." Johnny let out a yelp and a whine as he received a flick to the bridge of his nose. "'nough of that, sergeant. What'd I just say?" Fern demanded with their gaze sharpened. They poked his chest to keep his attention. "You listen here, and you listen good because I won't be repeating myself. You're smart, and you're good at what you do. Fuck ups happen no matter how long you've been doin' something. You ain't perfect and I ain't expecting you to be. I expect you to be observant and open minded." They stated. Johnny's face softened and so did their tone. Fern sighed and shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up over shit that's fixable or that you can't control. Doing that won't help you, it'll just make you feel like shit. Enough of that will turn you into a stick in the mud." Their hand smacked on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. Soap felt his heart squeeze when they gave him a rare and small smile. "And I like you as the puppy dog you are, alright, soldier?" Johnny blinked before he snorted and nodded, taking their words to heart. "Good man. Now, c'mon. Let's go again. I'll go slower and correct your form and we'll get those slip ups worked out. On your mark." They ordered, gentler this time. Soap got into position with a grin and determination lit aflame once more. "On it, Lieutenant. Hit me." He challenged, burning with joy when they gave a fond chuckle.

Music and commotion filled the air with noise, adding a backdrop to a conversation that flooded in and out. Soap threw back some whiskey and cringed as it hit his taste buds. He coughed and set the cup down, shaking his head whilst the person across from him chuckled. "Not a whiskey type, suds?" They teased. He shook his head and slid the cup over, letting them take it and refill it. "I'll stick to my beer, thanks." Johnny replied with a huff. He pushed down the warmth in his face he got from watching them drink out of the same glass, mouth placed over where he'd just pressed his lips. Unintentional, most likely. He felt ridiculous being flustered over such a school-yard level of intimacy, and indirect kiss from sharing a glass was juvenile. He looked over their face, eyes settling on the signs of exhaustion in their expression. The Scotsman frowned and tapped the table a few times before he gave into his thoughts. "You ain't been sleeping, 'ave ya?" He asked. They looked up from following the patters of paint in the wall beside the two of them. Their silence was answer enough but the fact they shook their head sealed the deal. "Mind if I pry?" Soap asked, leaning in a bit more on his elbows. Fern shrugged and sank in their seat a bit, sighing. They rubbed their eye before regaining eye contact. "Different reasons. Old demons, mostly." They muttered. Johnny's brows dipped in sympathy. "You got a way of dealin' wit' that? Therapist?" He asked, sadness bubbling in his chest as they gave a humorless laugh and headshake. "Nah, I ain't gonna put my shit in someone else's hands. It's my problems, I should be able to deal with'em-" "Now that's a loada shit, L.T." Soap's voice cutting them off caught them by surprise. Johnny was a bold man, a loud man too, but he knew respect and knew when he needed to bite his tongue. He'd never really given an outburst at them. "Ain't you the one always tellin' me an' the team to speak up when we're in trouble?" He asked. They opened their mouth and shut it, unable to formulate a response. Their eyes softened when he reached over and rested his hand on top of their own. "Don't hesitate to ask for help. When you're out your depth, holdin' you pride too tight will get'cha killed. That's what you said." Fern blinked before a sad smile crossed their face. "Yeah...I did say that." They nodded, heart clenching as Johnny gave their hand a squeeze. "Then take your own advice, Y/N. Don't'cha owe yourself that?" He asked in a hushed tone. They bit the inside of their cheek and took his words to heart, nodding slowly with a slow exhale. "You're right. I'll keep that in mind...thank you, Johnny." They replied. He gave that sunshine filled grin in reply. "Ain't gotta thank me for that, L.T. But, you can buy me a drink if you wanna show your gratitude." He joked, feeling proud when it got them to laugh. "How's a tequila sound?" They asked. "After my 'eart, you are! I'll take three." Johnny responded with a grin.

(Implied wound) Soap grunted and leaned against a wall whilst holding his side. Pain shot through his nervous system with every movement. He huffed and thumped his head against the brick. His skin was growing clammy and moving his head too fast lead to his vision blurring, the dizziness was something that always got him the worst. He'd never been good with the sensation. It always felt him nauseous. The brunet groaned past gritted teeth as he tried to force himself to focus, will his brain to work despite the myriad of overloaded senses. His radio crackled with sound and a voice that was choppy thanks to the slightly cracked speaker. He let out a huff and rose his arm to click the button whilst trying to focus on the words, spoken by a familiar voice. "Soap? Soap, do you copy? C'mon mate, don't leave me hanging here." Fern asked with a hint of worry. The man grunted and that alone let the lieutenant take a sigh of relief. "You broken, serge?" They asked. Johnny swallowed in order to clear his throat. "Cracked, L.T. Took a hit to the side. Not sure of the damage but I ain't doin' so hot." He wheezed. Speaking brought on a coughing fit. He barely heard the order to stay put as his ears rung from the pain coughing caused. His vision was going spotty by the time he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. In his half focused state, he weakly tried to reach for his gun, only for a gloved hand to stop his arm. "It's me, Johnny." Fern's voice brought him a sense of relief. He leaned his head back to look at them, giving a weak smile. "'ey there, beautiful." He said, coughing again, which was followed by what could only be described as a whimper. Fern frowned as they checked his wound, using one hand to keep him steady. "Shit, Johnny. We need to get you to the evac right now. Can you stand?" They asked. He shook his head, slumping on their shoulder. He sighed, soothed by their body heat. "Just go on...I had a pretty good r-FUCKIN' CHRIST!" He screeched as they applied pressure to his wound. His face was grabbed sternly, forcing him to look them in the eye. Shock flooded his system as he saw saltwater building along their lower lid. "You listen here, you bloody fuckin' moron. You ain't allowed to die on me. Not until I fuckin' say so." They hissed. Soap blinked and opened his mouth to speak, letting out a noise of surprise when their lips collided with his. He let out a shaky breath whilst leaned into them, hand clutching a strap on their vest. Left tingling and energized by the action as they pulled away. "You pull all that fightin' spirit back in your fuckin' body and fight for me. Then, we get you out of here, we get you fixed up, and you owe me a fuckin' date. You got me, loverboy?" They demanded. The Scotsman heaved some breaths before he nodded. "I got'cha." He replied. Fern gave a single nod and stood up, pulling up the weakened soldier, getting under his arm to keep him steady. "Atta boy. Keep your head up, Johnny. I need you to keep your word." They said as they began helping him move. He gave a weak chuckled and a wheeze. "Roger that, L.T. Roger that."

✧Simon "Ghost" Riley✧

(Brief description of an NPC gettin' knifed in the face) The stairs creaked under Ghost's weight as he moved up behind Price. The man made a hand motion to move up more, which Ghost followed. "Stay steady, boys. Remember, not everyone in this place is a hostile." Price whispered gruffly, getting some affirmative responses. Ghost motioned for Soap to help him scan one side of the second floor, moving slowly through the rooms. Three hostiles were down in the span of two minutes. "Floor clear?" Gaz asked. "Affirmative." Soap replied, looking around. Just as Ghost was about to move out of the room, his eyes fell on a door he hadn't seen at first, with noise from behind it. "Negative. Unchecked room to the south." He motioned. The men rose their guns as Ghost moved toward it, carefully turning the door knob. He listened closely before swinging the door open quickly, locking in on a target almost instantly. They rose their hands with a yelp, an unidentified box in their hand. Ghost's finger twitched on the trigger before they spoke. "Friendly, don't shoot! Unarmed!" They declared, which made Price motion for the team to hold fire. "Name!" Ghost demanded. "Y/N L/N, call sign Blister. I'm a medic with S.A.S, and currently a hostage!" They said, voice sounding out of breath from the rush of adrenaline. Price clicked into the radio for Laswell for an identification as Ghost's eyes looked back at the box they held. Now he could see it was white with a red cross on it, as well as some faded stickers. He lowered his gun as Price confirmed they were telling the truth. Ghost motioned to the box and opened his mouth to demand they hand it over before they tensed, eyes locked on something right past him. "COVER!" They exclaimed. Shots ran past him, Gaz & Soap ducked. An enemy had snuck up behind them. About to reload before a white box flew and clocked them in the face, quickly followed by a throwing knife. As the body dropped limp, the men of 141 looked over with widened eyes as the medic let out a huff. "You said you were unarmed." Ghost replied gruffly, pushing past his feelings of shock. "One knife compared to four AK-12's is pretty much unarmed, big guy." Blister retorted. Ghost scoffed a small amused huff with a nod. "Fair point and good aim." He praised, watching them smile slightly. Price snapped his fingers to get their attention. "Need a gun?" He asked, to which Blister nodded. Ghost took his pistol out and handed it over, though he jerked it from their grasp at the last second with a warning look. "I better not regret givin' you this." He threatened, slowly holding it out again. They took it from his palm slowly, fingertips brushing against his gloves. "Relax, big guy. Only grief I plan to give is to the enemy." They said, checking the ammo clip before putting the gun in their pocket. Price motioned for them to move, stay low. Ghost was sure to trail the medic closely from behind. Unaware that it'd be soon that a higher up would decide that 141 needed a medic, and who better than one with perfect aim?

"Bit late to be up, ain't it?" The voice from behind him made him tense and nearly choke on the smoke in his mouth. Ghost looked over his shoulder as he exhaled the vaporized tabaco, pulling his mask back down once it was expelled completely. He watched Blister meander up to him, highlighted by the color of the moon. "Could ask you the same thing, medic." He replied. They snorted as they came to stand beside him. "Fair point, Lieutenant, fair point." They nodded, tilting their head to look up at the sky. The air was cold and the roof was quiet, below their feet were sleeping soldiers, unaware of the bright moon and twinkling stars. Blister tilted their head as their shoulders fell lax, something Ghost noticed. They never seemed tense and he couldn't fathom it when he couldn't ever relax, even when he was alone his muscles were tight, ready for fight-or-flight at all times. "You're staring, sir." They whispered, looking at him in their peripheral. Ghost scoffed and looked at the sky. "Was not." He denied, hearing them snicker. Silence passed between them before the medic noted Ghost's posture, just like he'd done to them. "You ever gonna let your shoulders relax? Your muscles' are gonna snap under that hypertension, sir." The blond clicked his tongue and shook his head. "These are as relaxed as they're gonna get, medic." He answered. "Because you're burning off constant anxiety?" Their response hit him a bit hard and he snapped his head to look at them. They stood with all their weight shifted to one leg, head tilted. "You don't hide it real well, ya know. All that unease. I know it ain't my place to pry, but I want you to know I can see it." Y/N said softly. Ghost let out an exhale from his nose. "And so what if you do? You're on thin ice, Blister." He warned, getting a headshake in reply. "I'm saying I see it so you know you're not invisible to me." He scoffed, crossing his arms after tossing the put out cigarette off the edge of the roof. The moonlight bounced off his irises, providing superficial light to replace the one that'd been missing since he was young. "Hard to miss me. I'm a "big guy in a Halloween mask", aren't I?" He said, using air quotes. They clicked their tongue. Ghost tensed and looked at them once more as their hand rested on his arm. "What I meant is; I see when you're struggling. And I'm here for you when it gets a bit too heavy. Whether you like it or not. I'm stick to ya, like a superglued plaster, sir." They patted his bicep and gave a kind smile. "Come see me sometime, you don't have to be injured to talk to me. My door's always open." Their words hung in the air as they walked away, and Simon couldn't help but pivot to watch them leave. When they disappeared off the roof, he cursed under his breath, feeling his chest clench and a pressure in the back of his throat. He looked up at the stars with weakness in the circles of his pupils. "...fuckin' help me ma, I'm screwed." He whispered into the night air, watching a star blink back at him.

(Ghostie gets a panic attack but it's still fluffy) Ghost let out a shaky sigh as pins and needles made themselves at home in his extremities. His veins buzzed with anxious energy and his hands had begun to shake slightly. His breathing wasn't erratic yet, but he knew it wasn't long before it would be. He bounced his leg and weighed his options before he stood up, chair squeaking along the floor at the speed of which he did. His footsteps were quick and heavier than usual as he rushed down the halls and toward med-bay. It never made sense to him, why he'd be perfectly fine and then suddenly be hit with sense of panic. Like there was a guillotine hanging over his neck that he couldn't see, but he knew the blade would drop at any second. The med-bay was empty of anyone, except for one person, organizing a new shipment of bandages. Blister heard the door click shut and the ragged breathing. They looked over their shoulder, surprised at first to see Ghost. They went to greet him before noticing all the signs of something they'd seen a million times. Twitchy, anxious, unable to breathe clearly, trembling hands. Without him saying a word, they pulled out a chair and motioned to it. "Sit." They demanded. Simon wasn't one for listening to other's orders if he didn't have to, but he did it, bouncing his leg. Y/N walked over to the water cooler and then a mini fridge, pulling out an ice pack. They walked over with it in hand, along with a tiny cup of water. Y/N placed it on his chest and motioned for him to hold it there. "Simon, look at me." They instructed in a soft voice. "I need you to try and take a deep breath. I know that's not easy, but try your best." He felt them lift his balaclava just far enough to rest over his nose, making it easier to breathe. "Can't you just shoot me up wit' somethin'?" He gasped. "I'd rather not if I can help it. Do you know what's happening right now?" They asked as he took the cup, tossing back the cold water. He shook his head. "This is a panic attack, Si. I'm gonna walk you through it, you just gotta do your best to breathe and focus on me." He didn't have much choice. They took his free hand and sat in front of him, looking him in the eye. "Follow with me. Give me five things you see." Simon swallowed and scanned. "Uh...peeling paint, cracked window, fire hydrant, ugly tile, broken light." He answered. They nodded and squeezed his hand soothingly. "Four things you feel." He took a deep breath. "Your hand, the seam of my jeans, ice pack, my itchy ass stubble." That got a little amused huff out of the medic. "Very good, you're doing great. Now, three things you can hear." Their praise was more comforting than he liked to admit. "My heartbeat, the clock on the wall...your voice." He whispered. They gave him a gentle smile and another squeeze to his hand. "Two things you smell." Simon took a deep breath through his nose and noted what came with it. "Sanitizer and somethin' fruity." He mumbled. "That'd be me. Now, last one. Take a deep breath and then tell me something you taste." They asked. Simon did as he was told, it felt easier now, less like his lungs were collapsing. "Mmph, tea. Bad tea, let the bag sit for too long." He complained. Blister chuckled and stood up, taking the ice pack from him and putting it on the table. They rested their hands on his shoulders, lightly pressing into them as they told him to take some more deep breaths. Once his breathing was steady again, he sighed and blinked slowly. "You alright?" They asked. Simon nodded, though he felt tired now. "You're...a real good medic." He muttered, feeling warm as they snorted cutely. "Thanks, big guy. I do my best."

(Reference to Ghost's poor self image & a singular mention of a wound) Ghost sat in an unmarked van with his back against one of the doors, watching Blister rummage around in hopes of finding medical supplies. His eyes drifted down to his leg, a broken pipe ran through his thigh. It hurt like hell and based on the annoyed growl the medic let out whilst throwing away another useless box, there wasn't anything they could do to help at the moment. Their radios overlapped with the sound of Price's words, informing them about the evac on the way, and how they'd ensure to send the help needed to get Ghost out of there safely. Said man shook his head as Y/N replied to their captain. "Just go. I'll slow ya down, it ain't worth it." He grumbled, wincing as he attempted to move his leg again. "Shut your fucking mouth, lieutenant." Blister hissed back. The man blinked in surprise at their response. They rarely snapped, not unless they were in the midst of battle. "Damnit, medic, don't be stubborn right now. Just fucking go, leave me here. That's an order-" "God damnit, Simon, shut your fucking mouth!" Ghost flinched at their shouting, now even more caught off guard. He watched them stand, walking a few steps to sit between his thighs. They gripped his vest roughly, eyes sharp like daggers and their nose scrunched in anger, teeth clenched tightly. They pointed a finger in his face while breathing heavily. "Now you listen and you listen good, I am not fucking leaving you hear. I am not leaving you anywhere, you understand? We are gonna get you in that fucking evac." They insisted. Ghost rolled his eyes at their declaration. "I am a liability, Blister!" They jostled him roughly. "You are fucking important to me, Simon! Your survival fucking matters to me, and until you stop breathing I am going to ensure I do everything in my power to keep you alive. And not just because it's my fucking job, but because I give a shit!" They shouted. Simon's chest felt tight again. His hands trembled so he curled them into tight fists to hide it. He felt like a kid again, weak and vulnerable. Something he despised. "Why?" He whispered past clenched teeth. He watched their gaze soften and their grip on him loosened, leaving their hand resting on his chest. "Because I care about you, but I know you don't care about yourself. But whether you like it or not, I give a shit whether you live or die. And one day, even if it takes my entire god damn life, I will get you to the day you can look in the mirror and love what you see. In and out. In order to do that, I need you alive. I need you alive to see the great man I see every day, o you're gonna get in that fucking evac, we're gonna get you patched up, and you're gonna live." Their voice shook and he watched their bottom lip shake slightly. Simon shuddered under the weight of their words. "Do you copy?" They asked. He stared at them, unable to find any hints of deception. They meant every word. Simon bit his lower lip and inhaled slowly. "...yeah, I copy."

#call of duty x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #team 141

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charlessainzz · 2 months

Note

A request for Lily bringing you to a race to cheer her up after a bad breakup and playing a little Cupid with Charles or Carlos ??

Stupid Cupid

thank you for requesting this! hopefully I did it justice :)

“Lily, I don't want to go to the race! He’s going to be there and think I’m stalking him”, you groaned. It had been two weeks since your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend Matt, dumped you. He was a mechanic for Williams who had been introduced to you by your best friend Lily.

“Oh y/n don’t be so dramatic! You’re going to put on your hottest outfit and show him what he’s missing, okay!” she said as she threw you the best form fitting jeans money could buy. Unknown to you she had an ulterior motive. Lily felt bad that she and Alex had introduced you to Matt and they needed to make up for it. Alex had heard through the grapevine that the Charles Leclerc had seen you at a party and mentioned to Alex he thought you were cute. So what better person to match you up with. The plan was to somehow get you two alone but how… that would be difficult.

You and Lily walked into the paddock, your eyes darting back and forth looking out for your ex. “Lily I feel nauseous, I don’t want to run into him!” you cried grabbing her hand.

“Y/n don’t worry! We’re not hanging out in the Williams garage today, I’ve got passes to the Ferrari garage”, she sing-songed. A huge smile appeared on your face. How lucky to be in the presence of Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc.

“Someone likes that idea..” Lily joked seeing your big smile. She texted Alex that the plan was a go. It was time to get Charles in place.

You both entered the Ferrari building and noticed Alex was randomly in the building. “What’s he doing here?” you questioned.

“Uh not sure, let’s go find out!” Lily said as she dragged you towards him. That’s when you noticed he was talking to Charles. You felt your face go hot. As you both walked up to them, Alex started to introduce you but then like a ghost Charles disappeared.

“What the-” Alex said shocked, turning every which way looking for Charles. Then he spotted him, he got snatched by his PR person for an interview. “Sorry y/n” Alex said defeated.

“Haha no worries, I’m not important enough for him to talk to”, you joked. You linked your arm with Lily and walked to your standing area. Lily turned and gave Alex a mad look. Plan A failed, time for Plan B.

You watched as they went through FP1. You felt like you and Charles kept making eye contact but maybe your head was playing tricks on you. If you hadn't known better you could’ve sworn he kept smiling at you too.

“Come on y/n, let’s go find a table to have lunch. Alex said he’d join us later with some friends”, Lily explained. You both settle into a table waiting for your guests.

“Hey man!” Alex said as he patted Charles on the back. “Thanks for joining our lunch!”. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you see who the special friend was. “You know Lily, and this right here is our dear friend y/n”.

Charles smiles and reaches for your hand. “Nice to meet you y/n”, he grins. You shake his hand grimmacing at how sweaty your palm was.

“N-Nice to meet you too. You did great out there!”, you stammered a bit. The conversation started slow but the more you all talked the better it got. Almost as if Lily and Alex weren’t there and they got the hint. Lily texted Alex that it was time to dip.

“Oh well me and Lily have to uh- we have to leave!” Alex stupidly explained. You and Charles looked at them with confusion and you so more with panic. They couldn’t leave you alone, not with him! Lily gave you a thumbs up and mouthed ‘You got this!’ as they both ran away.

Now without the presence of your friends it started to get… awkward and silent. Funnily, Alex and Lily had actually hid behind some bushes watching.

“Alex, we left too early, it looks bad now!” Lily cried.

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got something to break the ice” Alex slyly says as grabs a tennis ball from his pocket.

“What the hell is that for?”, she sternly says.

“Well I don’t have a bow and arrow, so I have to improvise” he giggles. They watch as you and Charles sit there both trying to find something to say. When all of a sudden a tennis ball goes flying and hits your drink glass shattering it to the floor.

You both jump out of your seats and look around for where it came from. You look at him and fall over laughing. “I think the universe is trying to tell us something” you wheeze.

“I think the universe is telling us to get out of here” Charles smiles. You give him a confused look. “Let me take you out to lunch in town, somewhere better”, he says confidently.

“Oh!” you grin feeling your cheeks blush. “I would love that”. He grabs your hand and starts to lead you to the parking lot.

Lily and Alex jump from behind the bush and silently cheer. “You are the stupidest cupid Alex Albon”, Lily laughs at her boyfriend.

“Hey! It worked though, look at them… a perfect pair”, he giggles.

You and Charles walked hand in hand down the paddock towards his car. Just then the one person you had avoided all day walks past you. Matt does a double take as his mouth falls open. Turning to meet his gaze you give him a wink and snuggle more into Charles’s side.

Hopefully this match made by cupid turns out better!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 requests open #writtenbycharlessainzz #charles leclerc fluff

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ink-n-shadowfiction · 8 months

Note

Still having bodyguard!Simon thoughts so just HEAR ME OUT-

Rockstar!reader has a song debuting with a popular male artist, so she has to do press with him. Interviews, red carpet appearances, a live performance, etc. It’s driving Simon crazy to see another man with his arm around her waist, holding her close, being face-to-face with her on stage - but he has to remain professional. Simon won’t crack, no matter how bad reader wants him to. Until one day, rockstar!reader is doing a slightly-spicy promo photoshoot with her male artist counterpart for the cover of their new single, and Simon’s self-control finally snaps.

It’s giving sexy, tense, angsty, flirty, juicy, dramatic L O L

Anything but Routine | bodyguard!Simon "Ghost" Riley

I LOVE THE THOUGHTS YOU HAVE so lemme indulge in them more. what if i made it fellow rockstar!keegan o_O

pairing: bodyguard!Simon "Ghost" Riley x rockstar!fem!reader, brief rockstar!keegan x rockstar!fem!reader (link to all works in this au)

genre: mainly angsty but also kinda sexy

word count: 2162 (kinda long but worth it i promise)

warning: mean!ghost, jealous/possessive!ghost, fighting with ghost, unedited (i'm sorry)

It was supposed to be a routine pick-up. Ghost was going to walk in, wait for you to pack up from the meeting you'd just been in with your producer about an upcoming single, and take you back to your apartment. That was supposed to be it.

But as soon as he walked in, seeing you on the leather couch of your producer's office with some burly guy's arm around your shoulders, he knew it was going to be anything but routine.

"Hey Ghost." You chirped as soon as you noticed him walking through the door, crossing your leg over your knee and sinking a bit deeper into the leather couch. "I didn't think you'd here until—"

Ghost's eyes narrowed, lingering on the way the guy looked so comfortable with you against his body. Too comfortable. He couldn't help the way his teeth ground down as his jaw tensed. "You said 2:30, dove. It's 2:30 now, yeah?"

Your eyes flitted down to the watch strapped to your wrist, letting out a grumbled curse and you nodded. "Guess it is, huh?" You giggled as you glanced over at the guy, pushing your hand against his chest as you sat up straight. "Sorry, this is Ghost by the way. He's my—"

The guy met Ghost's steeled gaze, his lips turning upward in an almost challenge smirk as he spoke. "Your infamous bodyguard, huh? Gotta say, the mask looks much more intimidating in person." The guy reached his hand out for a formal handshake. "Keegan, by the way."

Ghost didn't move to shake Keegan's hand, instead offering him the barest nod he could muster before moving his eyes back to you. "We've gotta go. You're on a tight schedule."

"Oh c'mon, Ghost. Not like I haven't been late before." You groaned as you leaned back against the leather couch, sulking a bit under his hard gaze. "You don't even wanna hear the first demo track?"

Oh, this was the artist you were collaborating with. Ghost remembered you rambling on about Keegan, talking about how big of a deal it was that a star of his caliber was wanting to collaborate with a lesser-known artist like you. It was a dream come true for you—but for Ghost, it was his worst fucking nightmare.

Instead of indulging in your offer, Ghost moved wordlessly to scoop your purse up from the floor, holding the straps in a vice grip in his palm as he strode back toward the door. "Now, dove."

Keegan snorted a bit as he watched you get up, an apologetic smile on your face as you went to pick up your phone from the coffee table. "He always this cold? Don't know how you put up with it. If my bodyguard talked to me like that, I'd have 'em on the street before they could finish talking."

"Trust me—this is Ghost being nice." You leaned down to give Keegan a quick hug, arms looping around his neck and one of his falling around your waist. "Thanks for handling the mixing and stuff—let me know when you get the demo done?" The hair on the back of your neck prickled, knowing that Ghost was probably staring daggers at you.

"Course, babe. Shouldn't take me and my team that long, so keep your phone on you, yeah?" Keegan pulled away and gave your waist a gentle pat, gesturing to the door. "Better go before he drags you outta here."

You smiled apologetically once more, giving Keegan one last nod before you turned towards the door. The scowl on your face was heavy, eyes flitting angrily to meet Ghost's as you brushed past him and out of the door he was holding open for you.

You were storming halfway down the hallway when Ghost caught up with you easily. "What's got you steamin', dove? The fuck did I do?"

Spinning around on the heel of your sneaker, you turned to face Ghost, hands pushing against his chest rather weakly as you let out an annoyed scoff. "Are you kidding me, Ghost? You just completely embarrassed me in there—in front of Keegan for fuck's sake! You gotta be an asshole to every fucking guy I interact with?"

Ghost took the weak shove and barely moved, lips twitching under the fabric of his mask before he swallowed down the smirk that itched to be on his lips. He liked when you were angry.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about. You seemed pretty cozy with 'em when I got there—surely he won't hold it against you." Ghost's words sounded bitter, like they left a bad taste in his mouth and he was desperate to spit them off of his tongue. "It's not my fault you have an interview in an hour—blame your fuckin' manager for scheduling things when you'd rather be foolin' around with some rockstar."

You stood there, mouth agape and eyes narrowed as your fists balled angrily at your sides. "Is that what this is about? You're fucking jealous of Keegan or something? This is a new low—even for you, Ghost." You rolled your eyes as you continued storming down the hall, giving Ghost no choice but to follow behind you.

There was a tense silence as you made your way to the car waiting outside. You didn't even let Ghost open the back passenger door for you as you normally would, instead opting to throw it open yourself and crawl inside to the seat farthest away. Ghost didn't speak until the car began moving, the privacy partition raised up and leaving you two practically alone.

"It's not jealousy. My job is to protect you, and if that means from some guy ogling you with his arm around you, then so fuckin' be it." Ghost stated matter-of-factly, his voice cold and bitter as he stared out of the window next to him.

You snorted out an angry laugh, shaking your head as you glowered over at him from across the backseat. "Right—'cuz Keegan is so dangerous that I need you to come rescue me. Seriously, Ghost. Just fuck off 'till you figure your shit out, alright?"

The topic didn't come up between you two again for a week or two—but it was still palpable. You two hardly spoke to one another, hardly wanted to breathe the same air as the other. But he was your bodyguard, and you were his charge. You had to be around one another.

It only came up when Ghost and you were once again in the backseat of your car, heading to a photoshoot to shoot the cover of your upcoming single with Keegan. You were still sitting on opposite ends of the backseat, your elbow perched on the door's armrest and your chin digging into the palm of your hand.

"He's gonna be there." You said coldly, flicking your gaze over to Ghost sitting silently beside you. "So don't embarrass me again."

He didn't breathe a word, just giving you a bitter scoff before nodding curtly.

Ghost didn't even look at you until you made it to the photoshoot location, watching from the shadows behind the camera as you came out from the dressing room with Keegan. You two were laughing about something together, and Ghost immediately clocked the hand you rested on Keegan's forearm as you walked.

You were dressed in a flowing white gown, hair done up and pinned in ringlet curls around your face. Your usual dark sultry makeup was replaced by something softer, the apples of your cheeks a rosy pink and your usual red lipstick replaced by a peachy gloss. You looked ethereal, and Ghost couldn't help the way his eyes ravished your look.

Keegan was the opposite, dressed in an all-black three piece suit with cold silver jewelry and chains adorning his skin. His dark brown hair was slick with pomade and pushed up away from his icy eyes, the usual stud punched through his lip replaced by a sleek silver ring.

"You know how much I hate these photoshoots?" Keegan told you as he let the photographer put him in the position they needed, knees spread and back straight as he sat on an all-black throne.

You laughed softly as you nodded in agreement, following the photographer's instructions and settling yourself on one of Keegan's strong thighs. "You and me both. At least you look cool—I look like a fuckin' church girl right now."

Your eyes flicked up to meet Ghost's in the very back of the room, cheeks tinging even more pink as you noticed the way he was looking at you. It wasn't angry like it had been for a week now—it was hungry, like you were the prey and him the predator. It made knots tie themselves in your gut.

The feeling of Keegan's hand splaying across your stomach brought you back into the moment, letting out a shuddering breath as you shifted yourself into place. "You alright, kid? Spacing off even before the camera starts clicking."

"Sorry—just...got in my own head a bit." It wasn't a complete lie, but Keegan didn't have to know what had pushed you inside of yourself, didn't have to know that the way Ghost was staring at you like a man starved was the reason you were spacing out.

The photoshoot went on smoothly, the photographer snapping a few photos and maneuvering the pose ever so slightly. With each click of the camera, the photographer placed Keegan's hand higher and higher with each shot, the final pose eventually becoming Keegan's tattooed fingers splayed out on my throat.

Keegan was ever the gentleman he was, making sure you were comfortable and okay with the way things were going. All the while, Ghost remained a haunting figure both in the back of the room and the back of your head. No matter where you looked, your eyes always seemed to magnetize back to him.

You didn’t see Ghost again until you were back in the dressing room of the photography studio, makeup wipe in hand and scrubbing off the pretty makeup. You heard the door open and close behind you, but you didn’t turn around. “If you’re in here to say something snarky about today, save it, Ghost.” You mumbled softly, focusing on wiping the remaining gloss from your lips.

Ghost remained silent, his boots clacking against the linoleum floors as he stalked towards you. His arm stretched out, taking the makeup wipe from your hand and discarding it as he turned you to face him. This time, however, your eyes locked on the way his balaclava was pushed up under his nose to reveal only his lips, pink and puffed out as his tongue ran over them. You could see a glint of metal punched into the muscle of his tongue.

“Y’wanna know somethin’, dove?” Ghost’s voice was a gravelly whisper, rumbling deep inside of his chest as he held your body between his and the vanity you were standing in front of. “You were right. Maybe I was a little jealous—hell, still am, if m'being honest.”

You were breathless, eyes wide and lashes fluttering as your brain scrambled to catch up to the words coming from his mouth. You were too busy staring directly at his mouth, the closet you’ve gotten to ever seeing Ghost’s real appearance, your heart thundering in your chest as the sound of blood rushing filled your ears. “Why?” Your question was almost inaudible, the heavy breathing coming from both of your nostrils almost drowning it out entirely.

Ghost hummed softly, leaning down ever so slowly and making the bunched up fabric under his nose brush against yours. “Maybe I don’t like seein’ you with another guy. Y’know how much I wanted to fucking drag you off of that asshole’s lap today? To pull his hand off of your stomach, your chest, your throat? To rip him to fuckin’ pieces?”

Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, body fighting to keep itself from melting into a puddle on the floor below. You couldn’t help but grip onto the collar of Ghost’s shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his words washed over you like a tidal wave. “Ghost…”

“Tell me to stop.” Ghost hissed in your ear, his gloved hands moving from your shoulders and down your arms before finally landing with an almost bruising grip on your waist. The white fabric of your flowing gown bunched between his fingers. “You know how wrong this is? How much trouble I would be in for this? You’re my client. I shouldn’t want you this fuckin’ badly, dove.”

Your body squirmed in Ghost’s grasp, skin eager to feel him pressed up against you and snarling words into your ear. It was maddening in the best way possible. You couldn’t stop yourself. “Don’t stop, Ghost.” It was breathy and needy as it fell from your lips, but the groan it pulled from Ghost’s chest made it that much more powerful.

“Fuckin’ hell—you’re going to be the death of me, dove.”

(do i dare make a part 2 for this scene?👀)

430 notes · View notes

meshlasolus · 7 months

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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megangovier · 2 months

Text

Two Is Better Than One

Pairing: Michael Myers x fem! reader x ghost face

Summary: You're at home alone on the bed, listening to your spicy playlist. Frustrated you put a pillow on the bed and started to grind on it, not knowing two men in halloween masks were staring at you through the window.

No mention of y/n

Michael talks in this fic!

WC: 959

Friday has come round once again and you can't wait to get home from work, everyone was stressing you out and nagging in your ear especially impatient bosses who orders you around all day and not an ounce of appreciation or something that makes you feel like you're good at what you do.

That's not just the problem, you've been frustrated in the bedroom for a few months and can't take it anymore so when you step inside your flat you're going to have a relaxing bath, with scented candles and roses with a glass of red wine and calming music. Even thinking about being in that bath makes you feel more relaxed in your office chair.

Looking at the time on your phone it read "18:00" a smile appeared on your face "finally, time for the relaxation i deserved" as you stood up from the chair and quickly packed your things away, a knock on the door took you out your good mood "come in.." as the door opened an intoxicating smell smacked you in the nose, turning your head heat crawled up your neck a gorgeous man stepped into your office.

"Evening ma'am, I know you were on your way out to head home but I was wondering if you're doing anything tomorrow night? me and the guys are going for a celebration drink". As you thought about it you agreed and he wrote down the time and his number.

As you locked the office door and headed out to your car, a strange feeling washed over you like you were being watched. As you looked both ways you couldn't see anyone shrugging your shoulders, you put the stuff at the back and got in your car driving away.

Putting Bluetooth on connecting your phone to the radio, slowed down spicy songs came on making your face flushed and a pool started to form between your legs making you whimper "I've got to stop doing this, clearly making things worse for myself" you honestly couldn't wait to get home and have that bath of yours with a nice large glass of red wine for the evening.

A sigh of relief left your lips, you've finally got home. Closing the door behind you putting the bag down beside your draw you ran upstairs and walked into the bathroom, thank god you took the candles and roses out earlier that morning. Putting the taps on you poured lavender and rose body wash in. Walking downstairs to get a bottle of red wine you head back up and turn the taps off.

Taking your clothes off you slip into the bath and relax for two hours. After you were relaxed enough you got out, dried and sprayed fragrance on your wrist, neck and behind ears. Closing the door behind you heading towards the closet you take out thigh high socks, black panties and oversized hoodie. Now in your PJ's you connected your phone to the Bluetooth once again that evening.

As the pool started to grow once again between your legs, you grabbed the closest pillow and planted it on the bed grinding against it. Cute whimpers left your lips. As you were slowly getting to your climax two masked men were peeping through the window getting hard themselves, Ghost Face slipped his latex gloved hand over his bulge "She's fucking begging for it".. Michael was needing a release.

As Michael and Ghost face forced themselves inside your room a squeal left your throat, as you were about to get up Michael forced you back down on your bed closing your legs. Michael grabbed your thighs and opened them "Don't try hiding it from us sweet thing, we know what you were doing. Heat ran up your neck.

Ghost face was salivating, he wanted to know what you tasted like. Michael moved away from you and unzipped his boiler suit, out sprund an 8 inch throbbing cock. As Michael slammed himself into your tight throat, Ghost face slipped his mask up over his nose and got between your thighs heat radiating off your core.

"What a naughty little pathetic slut you're, getting off on this!.." as he grabbed your thighs and started to kiss up a moan left your throat causing Michael to growl "Fuck, just like that princess!" As he fully grabbed your thighs his head went down to devour the needy cunt of yours.

Grabbing the sheets, eyes rolling back a grumbling moan escaped your throat. Michael slipped a hand around your throat making you squirm "Close princess"? Ghost face said.

As Michael growled he painted your throat white, you exploded over ghost face's mask.

As Michael and ghost face repositioned themselves, Michael was behind you positioning himself between your wet lips while ghost face had your throat "open up slut, I know you can take both of us at the same fucking time" as you opened your pretty mouth for him he slammed himself into you. Michael slammed into you from behind, clenching around his cock he grabbed your hair and growled in your ear "Good girl, taking us both so well".

Ghost face took his cock out your mouth "open up wider baby" as you did what he said, he grabbed your face and spat into it "back in now baby" Michael was pounding you faster now making your eyes roll at the back of your head.

Clenching around him, Michael slipped his hand around your neck and rammed you harder making your body overcome with pleasure "come on baby, come on this cock!" As you did your mouth was moving faster on ghost face's cock "holy fuck, keep doing that and I'm going to come" as you did him and Michael exploded in your holes.

@toxicanonymity @michaelmyers-isdaddy

#Michael Audrey Myers #Michael Myers #Michael Myers x fem reader #Michael Myers smut #Michael Myers x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher smut #megangovier22 #Ghost face #Scream #Halloween #ghost face x female reader #ghostface smut

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ichorai · 2 years

Text

dlz ; jake lockley.

track ten of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; jake lockley x gn!reader

synopsis ; jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.

words ; 3.5k

themes ; angst, mild fluff, married au

warnings / includes ; suggestive, implications of sex, jake is a rough kisser e_e, mentions of injury/blood, mild cursing, marc and steven both have appearances, jake is emotionally constipated, jake calls reader peach !! reader is a sweetheart <3

main masterlist.

Jake Lockley didn’t like your perfume—it was almost nauseatingly fresh and its smell permeated through his own clothes so that he’d often walk out smelling like he had doused himself in Febreze.

He didn’t like the way you’d hum to his favorite songs while doing the dishes. Nirvana, Elliott Smith, Radiohead—were you singing them on purpose just to annoy him? Nearly every night, he could hear your faint voice drift into the living room, where he was reading the same three sentences of the daily paper over and over and over again because he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your endearingly inconsistent mutters to the music.

He especially hated when you’d walk out of the bedroom in nothing but Steven’s shirt loosely draped over your form, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your heavy-lidded eyes. There was just something about seeing you at your most vulnerable. You were comfortable around him, and that made Jake uneasy.

When Jake fronted, he slept in the guest room. Marc had convinced him not to blow more money staying at a hotel—and Steven was trying to persuade him to at least sleep in the same bed as you. After all, they were married to you.

But Jake wasn’t your husband. Steven and Marc were. Jake was just… he was just there. A ghost living in your house.

The very thought of sharing a bed with you made a chill dance down Jake’s spine. He could never. As appealing as the thought of having you slotted between his arms, sleepily recounting how your day went to him, sounded, he couldn’t ever have that. Jake Lockley wasn’t a domestic man.

His hands would always be dripping with blood that wasn’t his, no matter how hard he tried scrubbing it away.

There were times Jake felt a morsel of regret. He was nowhere near nice to you, and yet you still spared him that infuriatingly patient, sweet smile, always telling him to stay safe before he left to drive his cab around (or do Khonshu’s dirty work), and never failing to whisper good night before slipping into your bedroom.

Sometimes he had a queer, niggling feeling scratching at the pits of his stomach one would commonly refer to as jealousy. He knew that Marc and Steven got to hold you, kiss you, tell you they loved you as they pleased.

Jake couldn’t do that. Jake wasn’t even entirely sure he was capable of loving someone.

What made it even worse was that Jake learned about you through them—not because he ever actually tried to get closer to you.

He knew you loved apricots, but not as much as peaches. He knew you loved lighting scented candles whenever it rained. He knew you named each one of your house plants. He knew you were only slightly ticklish. He knew you had a tell; your nose would twitch and your eyebrows would quirk upwards whenever you lied. He knew from Steven to kiss just above your pulse point against the column of your throat to make you melt into him. He knew you had a birthmark between your thighs from when Marc—

Yeah, he’d rather not think about that one.

Jake knew you cried a lot—that one he learned on his own. He could hear you through the walls, but you probably weren’t aware of that fact.

One night, Jake sat in the living room, staring into nothing, heart twisting angrily at himself until he couldn’t take it anymore, storming out of the apartment after shoving his hat onto his head and grabbing his cab’s keys. Steven and Marc had yelled angrily at him the whole time, but he learned to block their voices out.

He wasn’t very good in the emotional department, that was abundantly clear.

When he came back home hours later, having driven around the city several times to clear his head, he tried to be as quiet as possible. At an hour as late as this, you were bound to be asleep, right?

But alas, there you were, curled into the corner of the couch, head uncomfortably lolled onto your shoulder. The house was entirely dark save for the dim glow of the television, casting a blue luminescence over your dozing form. Long shadows kissed the slopes of your features, softened with sleep. He noticed that there were tear tracks faintly outlined over the skin of your cheekbones.

Jake froze at the doorway for a moment. Were you waiting for him to come home?

He pushed down any and all intrusive thoughts, begrudgingly shrugging off his coat and hanging up his hat. A calloused palm carded through messy, coffee-hued curls.

Heart dipping heavy within his chest, Jake stalked forward to turn the TV off, setting the remote down on the coffee table. He stood over you for a moment. A frown twisted at the corner of his lips, drawing his brows together.

Jaw clenching, Jake stepped away from you, slipping into the hall. He leaned against the door to the guest room for a moment, huffing out a low groan. Gods, what in the hell was he doing?

After another minute of frustrated hesitation, Jake willed himself to make his way back into the living room. You were twitching in your sleep, eyelids fluttering with what he could guess were the beginnings of a harsh nightmare.

Gently—or, as gentle as a highly-skilled mercenary could be—Jake hooked an arm beneath the crook of your knee, the other looping over your shoulders and neck. When you stirred, Jake could only quietly make hushing noises, wincing at himself. Thankfully, you didn’t fully awaken, a soft noise falling from your lips as your nose turned to press against the fabric of his shirt obscuring his chest, just above where his heart scratched at the walls of his ribcage.

He kicked the door to your bedroom open none too silently, eager to set you down. Get as far away from you as possible. The sound of the doorknob thwacking against the wall behind it made your lids shoot open, and you groggily mumbled incoherent phrases under your breath before peering up at him with confused, watery eyes. He cursed internally.

“You’re back,” you said, voice hoarse with disuse. “You okay?”

There were lots of things Jake wanted to say to you at that moment.

No, I’m not okay. Were you waiting for me to get home? I’m sorry if I made you worry. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. Am I an asshole? You shouldn’t ever wait for me again. What were you dreaming of? Was it a nightmare about me?

Instead of any of that, Jake merely set you down onto the mattress with a grunt, dusting his hands onto his pants. He glared down at you as if he was angry—and he was, but not necessarily at you.

But wasn’t he, though? He was angry that you were just so… so kind to him. He was angry that you were patient. He was angry that you were so easy to love.

“Go to sleep, peach,” he gruffed. A hot flush coursed over his face at the nickname that had unintentionally slipped out. To his relief, you didn’t seem to notice.

Your sleepy expression seemed to cave in on itself and you dazedly nodded, head falling back into the pillow.

If only he could slip in beside you, entangle his legs with yours as you kissed softly over his tense face, call you his.

Jake nearly slapped himself to get his head screwed on straight. He spared your already-sleeping form one last glance before trudging out of your room. Hurriedly, he threw himself into the guestroom, ripping off his shirt and pressing a palm flat against his chest to quell the racing thunder of his heart.

You were not good news for him.

You didn’t see Jake for weeks after that incident.

A part of you was glad—you were beginning to miss the sound of Steven’s sweet voice, his tender touches, his passionate kisses. You missed Marc’s back hugs, his strange fixation with your bare legs, his lopsided smiles.

The other part of you, however, wondered about Jake.

“Does Jake ever… say anything to the two of you?” you asked Steven one day, stirring sugar into your steaming tea as you leaned against the kitchen counter. Your husband looked up from the novel he was reading, pushing his glasses up his nose while considering your question.

“Sometimes. Mostly stays to himself—quite the quiet bloke, innhe? Why, love?”

Your bottom lip trembled as you glared into your tea, as if it was the source of all your troubles. Steven was immediately out of his seat, tugging you close until your forehead rested upon his clavicle bone. You sniffled into him, crushing your eyes shut with shame.

“Does he hate me?” you asked, voice cracking. “I don’t… I don’t know what I did to make him—”

Steven immediately held you all the closer, crooning out, “No! No, of course not, silly. He’s just… he’s just having trouble with himself, that’s all. Doesn’t really talk to us much, either. It’s not you, love, I promise. In fact, I’m nearly certain he fancies you.”

“You’re not just saying that?” you said, scrutinizing him with wide, glassy eyes. “I don’t need him to love me like you and Marc do. I just… it’s hard when it feels like a man with the same face as your husband hates you.”

Steven’s expression crumbled, and he kissed over your left eyelid softly. “I know. I’m sorry, darling, I can’t imagine what that’s like.” Rubbing soothing circles over your back, he urged you to take a seat next to him, leaning over to move your mug of tea from the counter to the kitchen table. “Come on, I’ve got an amazing poem I want you to read.”

It was only two days later that you saw Jake again. You strode through the door, juggling grocery bags in one hand and a stack of books you borrowed from the library in the other. With a huff, you set the groceries down in the kitchen, turning around to see Jake quietly observing you, leaning against the fridge. You bit down a startled scream, flinching at his unexpected presence.

“Oh,” you said after a second of flustered silence. “Hi, Jake. Didn’t see you there.”

He was observing you with such a sharp gaze that it felt like his irises were cutting straight through your flesh. Finally, he pushed away from the fridge, slowly moving towards you until he stood just in front of you, about an arm’s length away.

“Jake, what are you—?”

“I don’t hate you, peach,” the man said, all gravelly and brusque.

It took you a moment to fully register what he was saying. “Oh,” was all you said, parroting yourself from five seconds ago in a rather poignant manner. “Well… I don’t hate you, either, Jake. Far from that.”

You could see the struggle in the dark depths of his irises. Turmoil raged behind those narrowed lids, and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to look away, not even if you tried.

Feeling bold, you shuffled forward to slowly raise your hands, cupping Jake’s face within your palms. His glare seemed to harden at first, always so angry at things for not going the way he expected it to go, muscles tensing beneath your touch—but when your fingers gently scraped over his stubble, he could feel himself letting go, practically liquefying into you.

“Why are you like this, Jake Lockley?” you murmured, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. The action made his eyelids flutter shut. He’d never let himself be this vulnerable in front of you before. He wasn’t prepared for his walls to come crashing down around him so quickly—so easily. “Did I do something to upset you?”

All previous inhibitions thrown out the window, Jake grumbled out a small, “Yeah. All the fuckin’ time, peach.”

You quirked a brow. “Go on, then.”

One of his eyes opened before sliding closed again. “Where do I start? You smell too good—I can never concentrate around you. You’re always singing my favorite songs and it’s buggin’ the hell outta me. You’re always so nice to me—even though you know I’m not like your precious Steven and Marc.”

Something akin to a guffaw fell from your lips. “Well, first of all, thank you? Somehow you managed to compliment me in the rudest way possible, and I commend you for that. Second, I know you’re not like Steven and Marc. But I still love you all the same.”

The kitchen grew so quiet, Jake could’ve sworn he’d be able to hear a pin drop.

His heart began tripping over its own gallop of a pace. You’d said it so easily, so swiftly, as if loving him came as naturally as breathing.

Jake found his eyes falling to your mouth, slightly puckered to the side in thought.

Noticing his sudden change in demeanor, you started saying, “Jake—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted, glowering at you with a newfound fire crackling behind his eyes.

You blinked once, then twice. Then you nodded.

A small sigh of content that made Jake far too excited for his own good escaped your lungs as he dove forward and melded his lips with yours, dipping you backward ever so slightly in the midst of his vigor.

He kissed differently than Steven or Marc did. Steven was languid, careful, and tender whilst Marc was feverish, calculated, and explorative.

Jake Lockley, however, kissed like a mad man. He was all tongue and teeth, desperately furious with his motions, kissing you as if it was the very last time he’d have the chance to do so. His nose slotted against yours, brushing against your cheek as you caved into him, arms winding over his neck to pull him ever so close.

His fingers immediately clutched at your waist, one moving upwards beneath your (Marc’s) shirt to lightly scratch over the skin of your ribcage and the other shifting lower to tug over the back of your thigh.

Gods, you just felt so right.

“Mmh, peach,” Jake growled into your skin as he traversed down your neck, biting at the spot just above your pulse point, which made a low, desperate noise scratch at the back of your throat. He’d do anything to hear that noise over and over again.

“Why do you call me that?” you panted out, fingers threading through his haphazard curls to haul him away from your neck and back onto your lips.

“You like peaches,” he breathed into you, a groan of agony rumbling from his chest when you nipped at his bottom lip with a hum of approval. “Don’t you?”

A choked sound was all you could let out when he shoved you none-too-gently against the counter, bending over to accommodate for his eager lips over yours.

“I love them,” you whispered once he parted away to catch his breath.

There it was again. The L word.

Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

Suddenly, as if snapped back into reality, Jake halted any and all ministrations, nose only a hair's breadth away from your neck. You smelled so damn good, so tantalizingly tempting, lips raw-bitten and skin flushed with heat.

But Jake couldn’t. You didn’t belong with a person like him. With Steven? Yeah, of course. With Marc? The idiot loved you too much to ever let you go, even if he tried to.

Jake would bring you nothing but pain and misery and the thinly-veiled threat of danger.

“This is a mistake,” he said, voice rough with tremendous restraint.

He thought that if he kissed you, all these stupid feelings would wash down the drain, as if you’d be able to suck it all out of him like a goddamn love vacuum. But, no, it was as if just having a taste wasn’t enough. He needed the rest of you. He needed all of you.

But he couldn’t.

“Jake…” Your voice was quiet, breaking off slightly when he let go of you, stepping back while glaring a hole into the ground.

With the maturity equivalent to that of a prepubescent teenager, Jake stormed out of the kitchen and into the hall, slamming the guest room door behind him so hard that the picture frames of you and Steven and Marc on the walls rattled.

A week passed by until you saw Jake again.

You were in bed with Marc, shivering as he ran his palms down your waist, swatting his hands away while gritting out, “That tickles, Marc!”

He hummed noncommittally, pressing kisses down your shoulder, nosing your cheek affectionately.

“Tell me about this one,” he whispered into you, taking your hand to trace a thin scar over the inside of your wrist.

“I was seven,” you whispered. “This boy pushed me off a swing in the playground. I threw my hands out and a rock got me bad—fractured my wrist, too. I don’t remember much, but I remember there was a lot of blood. I’m pretty sure the poor kid was the one that ran screaming for a teacher to come help.”

Marc regarded you with a look of pure adoration, thinly laced with amusement. “Did you really just call the bastard who pushed you a ‘poor kid’?”

You barked out a laugh and he pressed a lasting kiss over your faded scar.

“Alright, your turn. Tell me about this,” you playfully pressed your thumb between his brows. “You got a little divot here. Been furrowing your eyebrows too much, huh? And you wonder why I call you the grumpy eagle muppet.” When he rolled his eyes, you chuckled out, “What? Listen, it’s not my fault Khonshu got rid of all your scars! I gotta work with what I’m given, here!”

“That’s enough out of you,” Marc bit out, though you could tell he wasn’t really being serious with the smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, turn around. Sleep time, baby. Love you.”

You hummed in mild contentment, turning around so your back molded perfectly against his chest. “Love you, too, Marc.”

The rise and fall of his chest was deep, rhythmic, so calming that you were just on the brink of sleep—

Until it stopped.

You could feel the body wrapped behind you stiffen. Immediately, you knew this was Jake.

With a lump lodged in your throat, you hesitantly turned around, only to be met with Jake staring back at you, wide-eyed. It was dark, so you could just barely make out the upset tautness of his features.

Jerkily, he started moving to clamber off the bed, all but shaking you off of him like you were a pesky insect.

No. No, you wouldn’t stand for this.

“Jake,” you said firmly, reaching out to wrap your hand around his wrist. “Stay. Please.”

Mute, the man shook his head, legs slipping out from beneath the blanket.

Desperate, you sat up, wrapping your arms around his midriff and pressing your cheek into his back as you said, “You deserve love, Jake. You deserve my love. Please, stay.”

For a moment, you wondered if he’d just push you off again. Disappear into that guestroom you were too scared to venture into when he left for work. Just when you were on the near precipice of relinquishing any and all hope, you could feel Jake’s shoulders sag. His head hung low as he sighed.

Wordless, he shifted around and you let go of him so he could slip back under the covers.

Tentative, you laid down next to him, shifting so your head could rest over his chest. His arm jostled around to rest comfortably beneath your neck.

Jake held you differently from Marc and Steven.

Jake held you as if he was afraid you’d break apart. Jake held you like he had to be ready to let you go at any moment. Jake held you like he was afraid to show you just how much he loved you.

You craned your neck upwards to press a light kiss to his stubbled jaw, then settled back down.

You heard Jake sigh, but this time, it was one of pure relief—utter bliss. It was quiet, but it was there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally, nose tucked into your hair. “I’ll try to be better with you. I’ll try, peach.”

Nodding minutely, you intertwined your hand with his free one, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “I know.”

Just before your breaths evened with sleep, Jake could only barely hear you drowsily mumble out, “I love you, Lockley.”

He knew you were already asleep, which made the feat of saying it back somewhat easier for him.

“Love you, too, peach.”

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neoarchipelago · 1 year

Text

And they were Roommates (part 5)

A/N: MY OH MY. This tag list has grown so much it makes me so happy! Thanks to the anonymous ask, i indulged myself and added a little self care on reader being sick. It honestly comforted me.

Again you are all entirely welcome to send some heacanons, tropes or ideas to add to this.

and yes. You'll have the slowest burn ever.

YOU WANTED TO BE FLUSTERED? HERE YOU GO MWAHAHA

Warnings: some 18+ inuendos, swearing.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You were exhausted. It had been an awfully long week. To your demise, sickness had entered your ranks. Sergeant McTavish was first. Whaling like a wounded soldier every time he felt a cough erupting. The drama queen had soon infected the others.

"We should have taken him out when I said to."

You had rolled your eyes at Ghost's remark.

Colonel Vargas was second. It had been slightly less complicated. He seemed to handle the flu much better. Gaz, he, had sung the song of his people with Soap, acting as if they've been shot. Though as per Price's comment, they complained far less when they had actually been shot.

Of course they had all nested in the apartment, Ghost highly irritated, asking them to go die somewhere else where they wouldn't bother him.

Being a medic had never been your dream. Yet you had to improvise yourself as a nurse for the week, giving medication and hot beverages to the wounded soldiers, or as you affectionately called them, pussies.

Price had followed, he had acted as if nothing was wrong, the obvious raspiness of his voice betraying him. He had kindly refused your offer to take care of him, but gave in at the warm soup for dinner. Your best patient so far.

Now to your worst patient. Ghost. He had entirely avoided any care package thrown his way, resulting in a lot of bickering to the amusement of the rest of the healing squad.

"Take your fucking meds." You said annoyed.

"Fucking make me." He dared.

You threw him your most annoyed glance.

"I will punch you." You threatened.

"Sure thing gremlin, reach my face first." He answered in the same tone.

You had kindly thrown every pillow in the living room at him, taking the one underneath soap's head, earning a 'hey!' from the agonizing man.

He had still accepted warm beverages, and after a very long fight and a threat to get drunk again, he had taken his meds.

It was finally over. Everyone was on the path of healing. Your duty was done.

Unfortunately for you, on this fine Sunday morning, you woke up with a raging headache and a sore throat.

You had been infected by the zombies. The game was over. You sighed. You had hoped very very strongly that you might escape the plague but the fight had been lost. You groaned as you sat up in bed. The warmth radiating from your body couldn't betray the obvious. You had a fever. You closed your eyes, cursing every baby man in the apartment because, OF COURSE, they were still camping around. Price was the only one who went back home for the night and came back in the morning to babysit his men.

You tried to stand, grabbing the black hoodie laying on your desk chair. You'd be fucking damned if you gave him back his hoodie. And he'd have to deal with you stealing the others too. Throwing it on, you tried to walk out of your room, the men complaining in the living room were being way too noisy for your pounding head. Finally appearing in the doorway the men turned to you.

"Oh god… you got sick." Price said.

The look of annoyance on your face couldn't betray it. You walked to the counter where Ghost was eyeing you carefully. You stared into his eyes.

"Johnny, make some tea." Ghost ordered, not dropping his gaze.

"Copy." Soap said jumping from the couch and jogging to the kitchen.

"Gaz go get some meds" he ordered again. "Copy" Gaz spoke out loud, walking to the front door. You felt your cheeks color.

"I'll go buy some snacks." Alejandro said, walking behind Gaz.

"You should get her to bed." Price said, walking next to soap probably to stop him from burning the kitchen down.

Ghost stood, extending his hand. You sighed before grabbing it, letting him walk you back to your room.

"Get in bed." He ordered.

"Like that? Not even a date first?" You teased dropping to your knees on the mattress.

"Stop taking your fantasies for reality." He snickered.

You let yourself slip under the covers again. He turned on the TV in your room, putting Netflix on.

"Ghost…" you asked, unsure of what you're going to say next.

He turned to you.

"Can… you stay…?" You asked.

"Can you give me back my hoodie?"

"No "

"Fuckin hell…"

So here you were. Cup of warm tea in hand, various snacks dropped around the bed, chocolate, candy, chips, sliced fruit and other things. Ghost laid next to you, slightly sitting against the headboard. Community was playing on the wide screen. It was peaceful. You, laying in bed, with your scary dog of a roommate next to you on the bed, his teammates half laying at the feet of the bed and around the room.

You sighed of content. Price had to run off to get some things done, but he promised to drop by in the evening again. Your eyelids felt heavy, the sickness getting you tired. A large hand came to slowly grab the half empty mug from your hands, putting it down on your night stand. You tried keeping track of the show on TV or the boys commenting or snickering at the jokes, but your eyes were fighting against your will.

It felt comfy. Warm. The man next to you seemed to radiate so much warmth. Your head had slightly fallen to the side, resting on his shoulder. You convinced yourself you'd close your eyes just for a minute. Just… a little… minute…

It felt… good… comfy… against his chest… his arm… around you… maybe… you could… sleep… for a bit…

"Sleep little bunny… we're here." He whispered, finally letting you completely give in to your exhaustion.

You groaned at the sound of someone repeatedly knocking and ringing at the front door. You peeked at the clock on your phone. 6:20 am. Who ? What?

It couldn't be Ghost. He did go for his morning runs, but… maybe he had forgotten his keys?

You got up, finally giving in. The knocking was non stop.

"I'm coming! God! Just a minute!" You yelled.

The pijamas you were wearing didn't help the cold hair from making you shiver as you walked to the front door.

You opened it, trying to focus your brain on what was happening.

"Oh darling! I'm soooo sorry to wake you up but I really need you!"

You stared at the woman in front of you. Sergeant Melisa Gallegos stood there. You had met her in one of the previous missions, you had gotten friendly with her. She was kind and sweet. You sometimes get coffee and gossip with her. That's how you had gotten to know each other. You had learned that she was a single mother of a 3 years old little girl named Amy.

Which was sitting in her mother's arms, eyes fighting to stay open at the obvious early rise she had to go through.

"I need you to babysit."

"What?"

"I am SO sorry to ask you this. I have a big emergency at the base, and her babysitter is on vacation… " she explained.

"But… I… I haven't taken care of a kid in a long time!" You debated.

"You know Amy! She loves you, you did this before." She tried smiling at you.

You stood before her, looking at her shift from one foot to another, and at Amy just begging to fall asleep.

You sighed.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!!" She said, handing the little girl into your arms.

"Wait!- I-" you tried.

Unfortunately she had already dropped the two little bags in front of the door and ran off.

You looked at the little girl in your arms, not bothered by the change of person. She did know you after all, you had already babysat for her a few times.

"Alright little monkey. Let's go back to bed. It's way too early." You said, pushing the bags inside with your feet and closing the front door.

When Amy had woken up again, it was around 9 am. You were fine by it as it was the normal time you'd wake up. You two had played a bit on the bed, tickling her, and creating stories with the little plushie she dragged around everywhere with her.

After a good laugh you had decided to get up, peeking at your phone. One notification.

"I'm bringing breakfast, just got to pass at the base first. Be there at 10."

Alright. Gave you time to get dressed with Amy and make her a hot chocolate, with the usual tea for you and him. You had walked into the living room, dropping her on the couch softly turning on some cartoons, leaving you to start on the beverages. You heard the front door unlock, Ghost walking in with the usual breakfast.

"I got-"

He glanced at the couch. Freezing on the spot. The staring match in between the toddler and the man in a skull balaclava was almost comical if you weren't so anxious of Amy's reaction at the masked man. You hadn't thought that she might be scared of Ghost.

"Awe you a supew hewo?" She asked, eyes shining with happiness.

Your heart melted on the spot. You smiled at Ghost who suddenly turned to you.

"How the fuck did a kid spawn here?" He asked, confusion clearly visible in his eyes.

You gasped ready to reprimand him from cursing in front of the child.

"Fwuck!"

You both turned to the toddler who had a wide smile on her face.

"No. No. Nonononoo… Amy sweety no.." you freaked out a bit. God Melisa was going to kill you.

You walked to the toddler kneeling in front of her.

"Darling, that's a bad word… only grown ups can use it… alright?" You tried to explain. Throwing a dark look at the man still standing at the doorstep.

"Ok!" She happily conceded.

You smiled.

"Perfect! Do you want to meet the big man?" You asked. She frantically nodded. You picked her up, walking around the couch to stand in front of Ghost who looked almost terrified.

"Amy, this is Lieutenant Riley. You can call him Ghost. He's my roommate… hum, my friend!" You explained.

You turned to ghost who's eyes shifted from the child to you.

"Ghost. This is Amy. She's my friend's kid, and I had to babysit at the last minute. She'll be spending the day with me."

He nodded.

"Why you wwear a mask?" She asked.

He frowned for a second.

"Hmm… it's for my job." He answered.

"Can I touwch it?" She asked, extending her little hand.

Ghost stared at it for a few seconds before looking back at you.

"Hum, sweety, maybe-" you started trying to defuse the situation.

To your shock he stopped closer, lowering his face, letting the little girl touch his mask. His eyes were on you, and yours were glued to his.

What was that funny feeling spreading through you? The burning sensation coursing through you? God..

The little girl giggled. Before letting her hand drop.

She then turned to you.

"Can I watch SpongewBob?" She asked.

You cleared your throat. Looking away embarrassed.

"Of course darling. We'll prepare breakfast."

You turned away, walking back to the couch and sitting her down, leaving her to watch 'SpongewBob' on tv.

You walked to the kitchen Ghost closely following you.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting -" you began in a low voice.

"It's… ok. It was surprising." He whispered back..

God, why was he so close to you? Why were you so HOT?!

"I'm not used to kids." He admitted.

"It's alright. I'm the babysitter. You don't have to stay." You smiled.

"Didn't we have to go grocery shopping?" He reminded you.

You closed your eyes at the sudden realization.

"Oh… fu-.. I mean… yeah… I forgot." You said.

"We can take her. It'll be ok, right?" He asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You questioned back.

"I don't know. It's not too cold for her?" He asked.

God can he stop being so FUCKIN cute?! You bit your lip, keeping the wide smile from being too visible and failing miserably.

"She'll be fine."

Breakfast had been, calm. You were thankful that Amy was one of the calmest kid's you knew. She was well behaved, calm, and sweet. She was, unfortunately for Ghost, extremely curious. And again, to his dismay, she had taken a liking to him. She had been fascinated at the way he raised his mask to his nose to eat.

His lips were one of the things you were used to.

To SEE. USED TO SEE.

On another hand, Ghost had seemed very thoughtful during the morning.

He had eclipsed himself for half an hour while you battled with the toddler to get both of you ready to go grocery shopping. She kept questioning everything, sometimes wondering about things that never ever crossed your mind. You found it funny. It was incredibly adorable.

Zipping her little coat, making sure she had her scarf, you received a text from Ghost.

"I'm here."

You walked out of the door, the little girl holding your hand as you were walking down. You made sure to walk down the stairs at her pace, eyes never leaving her, too scared she might fall even though her tiny hand was secured in yours.

You pushed the building's door to the underground parking lot where you immediately saw Ghost, arms crossed over his chest, all dressed in black leaning against his black jeep. Amy squealed as she saw him. Jumping.

You smiled. You walked to him.

"Where did you go?" You asked.

"We were missing something." He said.

"Really? What?" You inquired, confused.

He moved, opening the back door. You blinked. A FUCKING CAR SEAT. You closed your eyes, sighing.

"Thank you… it had completely escaped my mind…" you apologized.

Amy had let go of your hand, skipping her way to Ghost, hands up in the air for him to pick her up and sit her in the back.

Ghost froze. You were quick to make a move but you stopped as he slowly bent forward. You stood there in shock, watching him pick up the child. She was so small in his arms.

Fuck… was this awakening something in you?

He sat her very softly in the car seat, being extremely careful to make sure she wouldn't hit her head. He moved as if Amy was a little porcelain doll. You saw him fidget to buckle her up, again surprising you. The little 'click' was heard, and he pulled a little on the belts, making sure it was safe. Amy was holding her little plushie babbling about whatever new thing she had learned this morning to the soft thing.

Ghost looked back at you, leaning on his arm against the car. As if taking your opinion on his handy work. You bit your lip. And his eyes fell on the movement, forearms flexing.

"Thanks…" you whispered.

"You're welcome." He answered voice deeper than usual. You finally moved, opening the passenger door, he closed the back door making sure Amy didn't have her leg or arm in the way. You sat in the front, Ghost closing your door behind you.

You took a deep breath. Amy seemed to be enjoying herself, not at all weary of her new environment. Ghost took place in the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt as well. You watched his movements as turned on the vehicle.

"Ghost…" you called.

He looked at you.

"Did you… buy a car seat?" You asked.

"Yes." Was all he said, attention turning back to his task.

You pushed the Shopping cart where Amy had taken place. Ghost followed you as you tried to remember what you needed. The grocery store on the base was a good thing. It avoided having civilians staring at Ghost. At least here, everyone knew who he was. The fact he was with a woman and a child though, that, caused many to stare.

The fact that Amy was a little blond, curly haired girl, that was incredibly close in color to Ghost's eyelashes also made everyone stare.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, Amy and Ghost not caring at all about the rest of the people in the store.

She kept pointing at things, asking Ghost to explain what It was. It made you smile. The way he was willingly letting himself be questioned by the little girl.

"Oh, i forgot…" you mentally cursed yourself.

Ghost looked at you.

"Can.. you stay with her for a few minutes? I'm sorry… I forgot to grab something." You asked with a sorry look..he nodded.

You smiled at him before turning around and walking out of the aisle, hurrying up. As you scanned the new aisle your phone rang. Rummaging through your pocket you grabbed it. It was Amy's mother.

" Hey! How's everything going?" She asked.

"Everything's fine. Your daughter met Liteutenant Ghost Riley." You teased.

"...what?" She asked.

"Yeah, he's my roommate." You spoke, still searching for the damn thing.

"... And… is everything going ok?" She asked with a little worry in her voice.

"Everything is fine…" you sighed " she likes him more than me, and he acts as if she's made of glass." You said.

"Oh! Thank god! I was worried she might be a bit much for him." She chuckled.

"Well he's not used to it, but he's extremely patient with her." You reassured.

"Alright, I might pick her up late… I'm really sorry…"

"It's ok. You owe me though." You teased.

"Ok, fair." She laughed.

You bid your goodbyes, her having to rush back to work, and you worrying about leaving Ghost and Amy alone too long.

You walked back to the aisle you had left him, finding them nowhere. You frowned. You walked around the aisle, suddenly feeling the anxiety coursing through you. What happened? Why aren't they here? You stopped as you turned left into the biscuits section.

You let out a sigh of relief.

"Ghost!" You walked to him. He turned to you not bothered at all by the situation.

"I've been looking for-"

You interrupted yourself as you looked at Amy.

"Ghost. Why does she have a doll?" You asked.

"She asked for it." He replied.

You looked at the cart.

"She also asked for the plush, the Legos and the ponies?" You glared at him.

"Yes." He replied again, as if the situation was completely fine.

"Ghost. You can't buy her that."

"Yes I can."

"No! You can't give her everything she asks for!"

"Yes I can. She asked nicely. She said please." He explained turning back to lean on the cart.

"That's not an excuse!" You scolded.

"It's my money." He concluded.

Amy smiled widely, hugging the box the doll was in.

You stood there mouth slightly open, shocked from the situation.

She had him wrapped around her finger! You rolled your eyes. This was a fight you wouldn't win. You headed for the cashier's, ready to ring up everything. Amy was thrilled with her new toys. Walking back to the car, you dropped the groceries in the trunk, Amy already had her doll out of the box as she had 'asked nicely', and ghost had ripped the box apart to give it to her.

He had let you buckle her up this time. You headed back home. Stopping at MacDonalds on the way home because, once again, 'she had asked nicely'.

"Stop spoiling her Ghost!"

"No."

Ghost parked in the parking lot. You both got out of the car. You opened the back door, looking at the little girl. She had fallen asleep on the way home. She hadn't liked waking up early, and it was almost time for her nap. You stood there for a little while watching her sleep. She was so cute. You didn't want to wake her up.

The breath on your neck made your hair stand, as he whispered in your ear.

"Do you want me to pick her up…"

You held your breath. He was in your back, cornering you, arms on each side, leaning down.

You slowly looked to your left, planting your eyes into his. Time froze. You were so close. You could feel his breath though his balaclava on your lips. He frowned. Eyes shifting to said lips.

"You're always biting your lip…" he noted in a low voice.

Were you? You didn't even realize you were doing it now.

"Does it bother you?" You hushed back.

"It makes them… red." He stated awkwardly.

"Does it?" You asked. Of course it did. You could see his brows furrowing.

"Makes me…want-" he started, almost growling.

You were hanging on to his every word. Heat pouling dangerously deep in your stomach.

"Why does it make whem red?" The little voice made you both separate instantly. Ghost taking a step back.

You cleared your throat, looking at Amy.

"Hum… well… hum… it's… complicated. I'll explain another time, ok?" You tried, clearly blushing.

"Ok!" She smiled.

God. Keeping children was hard.

The day had gone by pretty fast. You ate lunch, Amy napped leaving you and Ghost time to work a bit. You two were acting as if nothing happened. On your part at least you were obviously embarrassed.

After she had woken up, she insisted on playing with her new Legos. You had moved the coffee table to the side so you could play on the carpet with her. Ghost was sitting on the couch, legs spread, reading a report, occasionally looking at you playing with Amy. Once in a while Amy turned to him proudly showing off her constructions.

Each time he praised her with a little, 'that's really nice, you did good', it made your heart flutter.

He was so kind, so gentle with her.

You could feel his gaze on you when you weren't looking. It burnt through you.

After a while you had dinner, and put on a Disney movie for her. You sat on the couch with her on your lap cuddling her new teddy and her old plushie. She rested against you. Ghost joined after finishing his report.

"Move." He asked.

You frowned. He sat next to you, making you lean on him. You blushed.

"Are you really gonna watch Encanto?" You teased.

"You'd rather I go away?" He asked, looking down at you intensely.

You didn't say anything at all.

The more the movie played the more Amy seemed to close her eyes. It was getting pretty late. Around half of the movie she was sound asleep in your arms. You smiled down at her, brushing a little strand of blond hair away from her face.

"Fuck…"

You looked at Ghost meeting his gaze.

"Is everything alright?" You whispered.

He stayed silent.

"Ghost..?" You asked frowning.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"What.. Do you mean?" You whispered.

"To me…" he finished furrowing his brows in confusion.

You sucked in a breath, but before you could say anything, a knock on the door made you separate. It took a little moment for him to gather himself and get up to open the door. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. A few seconds later, Melisa walked in.

"Hey!" She whispered to you, walking to where you sat.

"Hi, how was work? " You hushed back.

"Hell… but we made it… I'm so sorry to have dropped her off like that…" she said, the sincerest sorry look on her face.

"It's alright Melisa. I understand, and I don't mind helping you out. Amy is adorable." You reassured.

She smiled at you, feeling slightly emotional by the look on her face. With the utmost care, you gave her the sleeping toddler.

"I'll help you with the bags." You told her, getting up the couch with her. Looking around at the toys scattered around and then to the new plush she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Did you buy her all of this?" She asked.

"No. He did." You said pointing at the man leaning behind the kitchen counter.

It was absolutely ridiculous to say that the man, in all black, with a mask made of a human skull, with the most terrifying glance you could fall on, had bought so many toys for a toddler after she had simply said 'please'.

You both walked to the doorstep as she stopped in front of Ghost.

"I'm sorry lieutenant.. I hope she didn't make a fuss. I'm very thankful to you both for keeping her… and for the toys." She said.

"No problem. She's a nice kid." He said.

You smiled at him, he noticed. You grabbed the two little bags and followed Melisa out, walking down the stairs to her car.

"He's pretty nice actually, for a cold blooded killer he is reputed for." She remarked.

"He's still a terrifying man, who sticks up to his reputation by the reports of missions I've seen. He's just… calmer, here." You said.

She had put Amy into her car seat.

"He bought her… a car seat." You said. It sounded more like a thought coming out of your mouth, as if for yourself, it was still something your brain was trying to process.

"He did? Just… for today?" She asked.

"Yeah. We went to the store, and I guess he was worried for her safety, and immediately went out and bought her the car seat." You explained.

Now you remembered how he seemed deep in thoughts during breakfast. He had been thinking about it.

"Well. He seems like a good man." She said softly, closing the back door.

"Yeah.. you're right." You smiled at her. "I trust that this stays in between us." You asked.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't say anything that involves my daughter to anyone. This situation stays knowledge for us only." She assured. You knew that she was extremely worried to have her child on the line. Unfortunately, it's part of the job to earn enemies, and everyone wants to keep their loved one away from it.

Melisa thanked you again as you handed her the bags. You offered to take care of Amy if she ever needed again. After hugging her goodbye, you headed back up to the apartment.

Locking the front door behind you, you walked into the living room where you saw Ghost, holding what now seemed to be his favorite mug, standing behind the counter.

"You look tired. You should head to sleep." He remarked.

He was right. You were tired. Taking care of a child wasn't easy, you were glad for his help. You walked up to him, you saw him stiffen.

"Thank you Ghost. Your help was really appreciated. And I had an amazing day. Amy adored it. So… again, thank you Gh-"

"Simon." He interrupted.

You blinked.

"Wh-what..?" You whispered.

He stepped closer, barely inches away.

"My name. It's Simon." He clarified.

Your mouth opened. Then shut itself again.

Simon.

"(Y/N)." You blurted out.

His eyes flashed something unknown.

"(Y/N).." he whispered, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. Your name, on his lips. Fuck…

"Simon…" you whispered too.

You felt his fingertips rush to your hip, hovering there, too close yet so far. After a second he lowered his hand back to his body.

"You're welcome. It was a good day." He added.

You nodded, smiling at him, trying to hide the obvious way your heart was racing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watched him step back, gaining some composure.

"Goodnight (Y/N)." He said.

"Goodnight Simon."

----

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