#your pain and sadness is barely masked!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

risuola · 8 months

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TOO MUCH — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Lately, it felt like not a second pass by without some new curse appearing somewhere in Japan and both you and Satoru had your hands full of work for few weeks, but when he comes back home, exhausted to the bone, his composure snaps and he unloads his frustration on you.

cw: angst, verbal abuse, hurt/little comfort, mentions of blood and hurt, reader is injured, mental exhaustion — 2,5k words

Too much. Too much of everything that piled up on Satoru's shoulders, weighing him down so heavily that he almost couldn't breathe. It felt like the world was on fire, curses crawling out of every shithole in Japan, most of them first or special grade, spreading nothing but death and chaos. So many people killed, so much blood and pain he had witnessed in the last few weeks, it drowned him in exhaustion and helplessness. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, and yet he felt so helpless in the current situation. He traveled from town to town, fighting these terrors, but the lives that had been taken away, he couldn't bring back, and he used to think that he was immune to it already. Turns out, one can never be immune enough.

You had your hands full with work as well, but you stayed in Tokyo. The situation drained your energy too, the cascading waves of sadness and sorrow made you feel like you couldn't think straight, but you pushed through. You felt so weak, but had to be strong, everyone had to be. All of your sorcerer friends were just as engaged in the fight as you were, just as tired and distressed, but the show must go on, as they say.

You and Gojo weren't officially a couple, though everyone knew you were together. You were friends, yes, the kind of friends who kiss and have sex. The kind of friends that use pet-names and fall asleep while cuddling naked. Shit, you lived together for a few months, you know everything about him and he knows just as much about you. And you were happy, sharing every moment. He always said that you bring him so much comfort, that he feels like he can be openly himself when he's with you and be accepted for it. Nothing could ever bring you more joy than the man you love feeling comfortable with you.

That being said, it wasn't the best time for your relationship slash situationship. He was more out of the house than in it, and you were just sleeping there, barely. It's been going on for a few weeks already, and it's just now it’s beginning to finally calm down. Few weeks of constant fighting for everyone involved in the jujutsu world, but it started to slow down. So you knew that Satoru would finally return home.

It's when you showered and put on your pajamas that you heard the keys twisting in the lock and the doors opening. Putting on a smile, you rushed to welcome Gojo home, but the moment you saw him, you knew he's extremely exhausted.

Satoru entered the house already annoyed by the conversation he had with Gakuganji a few moments before. That old fart had the audacity to nag him about his methods while he himself was sitting in his cave sipping green tea, not caring one bit that the world was drowning in curses and blood. He threw the keys on the shelf, kicked off his shoes and took off the blindfold, then looked at you, all clean and comfortable in your pajamas. He scoffed quietly.

He felt like his own body was falling apart, everything hurt, his head was pounding, his eyes were burning. Even though he was actively healing himself, the side effects of everything were getting to him. A few weeks of nonstop fighting, of domains, of reds, blues, and purples, and so much physical combat had left him hanging on the last thread of his composure. The usual mask of cheerful carelessness long gone.

Suddenly he wished he could enter the empty house, throw away his clothes, collapse on the bed dirty and just fall asleep, but he couldn't. You were there. And there was never a time in the past when he wouldn't be absolutely overjoyed to come home to you. Even when tired, he wanted nothing more than your arms around him. But not right now.

"Satoru, hey," you greeted him, keeping your voice soft and on the quiet side. You knew him so well, you could see how fatigued he was and frankly, you couldn't blame him. Being the strongest had its downsides, one of which was being very much in demand, and sadly, no one could take his place. "You're exhausted, huh?"

"Look at you, so damn perceptive," he snapped harshly, his eyes cold and empty as he looked down at you. He walked past you to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Are you hungry? I can make you someth-“

"No, just shut up, you cannot make me fucking anything," once again, his tone was cold as he snarled at you. It was the first time so much cyanide spilled out of his mouth and he just barely opened it. At first you tried to understand it. Things had been really draining lately and you knew he was angry because he was tired, but it hurt nonetheless.

"Alright," you sighed, deciding it's best not to get deeper into the conversation when he's so argumentative. "Do as you wish, get some rest, Satoru."

"You know, why instead of telling me what the hell to do, you just don't leave my house, huh?", Shut up Gojo, he screamed at himself subconsciously. "Why are you even here anyway?" Shut. Up. " All comfy when I'm constantly on the job?"

"I know you're tired, Satoru, but I've been on missions too. I'm tired too," you looked at him in defeat, unable to keep the smiley mask on. There was so much wrong in this situation, so much anger being thrown at you for no reason whatsoever, and you had every right in the world to be just as angry as he was, but you just chose not to. You wanted to welcome him home with warmth, comfort him, and keep him up even if you felt down. You wanted to soothe his aching body when yours hurt just as much. Or worse. You were badly injured during the last few battles, but Shoko had her hands so full, you told her you could wait, and you hid all those wounds from Gojo's eyes so as not to worry him.

"'Yeah, your little missions,'" he bit, and your brows furrowed at the sound of his words.

"What does that even mean?" you asked, slowly feeling the heat of anger coursing through your veins. "I'm first gra-"

"I don't care what you are. You're still nothing to me. I deal with real shit, not those..."

You slapped him. Or at least you tried, your hand stopping just short of his face, and it surprised you to realize his limitless was still on, even though he was home already. He was still in fight-or-flight mode, still feeling threatened enough to keep his defensive techniques activated.

"Just what do you think you're fucking doing?" he growled, taking your wrist into his grip, the squeeze shooting shockwaves of pain through your nervous system. "Did my words hurt you? Did the truth hurt you so badly that you thought you could actually hit me?", his tone had a taunting undertone, and when you looked into his blue eyes, you saw nothing but cold. "Funny little thing."

"Let go, Satoru."

"Oh, I will. And when I do, you'll get your useless ass out of here. I'm not your boyfriend, we just fuck, we're not in a goddamn relationship for you to be here all the time. I need my space."

Gojo hated every word that fell out of his mouth, but now he couldn't take them back or erase them, and he didn't exactly know how to act now that he had said them. Immediately, he let his limitless inactivate, hoping you'd want to slap him again. Shit, he'd even accept a kick in the balls, but you remained silent, just looking at him. He could tell by the way your eyes glistened in the sharp artificial light of his kitchen that there were tears threatening to come out, but you didn't cry. Your jaw clenched for a moment and you lowered your hand.

"Right," you exhaled deeply, feeling the hurt burn your heart and soul. The smoke of sadness already flowing through your veins, your cells, your mind. "You're right, we're not. Here," you performed a theatrical swing of your arm, displaying the interiors to him, "your fucking space. I'll let myself out."

"Y/n..." he tried, but you were already in the room, changing from your pj's to sweatpants. He stayed in the kitchen, hoping you'd just jump into bed and maybe cry about it all, and he'd just come back later and comfort you when he wasn't mad anymore, but it didn't go that way.

Once he saw you again, you were heading towards the door.

"Y/n stay, don't be silly, stop," he tried to grab you, but you slapped his hands away.

"What, does the almighty, fucking honored one wish to add something to his oh-so-wonderful speech?"

"No, I'm sorry, stay," he took your hand forcefully, pulling you into his chest, but you fought back, not wanting anything to do with him right now. He had said too much. You knew it was all driven by his exhaustion, but it was far too much.

"No, Gojo, I don't want to stay here. I'm more than pleased to leave you in your space. There's no damn reason for you to share your precious air with such a useless nothing."

"No, no, please," he begged, his anger slowly being overtaken by panic. The sound of his last name felt cold and unfamiliar as it rolled off your tongue. "I'm sorry, please stay. I didn't mean it. Fuck, I didn't mean any of it."

"Please, take your hands off me," you told him more quietly. You were tired and now emotionally drained as well. All you wanted from this evening was to cuddle up with him to sleep. To bask in his warmth, knowing he's safe and home, to feel his skin against yours, to breathe him in. But no.

"No, I won't," he lowered his head and buried his face in your neck. "Please, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm just so tired. I feel dead, there has been so much fighting and pain and suffering and death all around me these past few weeks. I'm sorry, y/n," his voice faded to whisper as he rambled against your pulse.

"Gojo..."

"I don't think you're useless or nothing. Fuck, what have I done" he was spiraling slowly into a panic attack. You could feel his heartbeat getting hectic, his breathing uneven, and his grip on you so tight it hurt. "I am nothing without you. Please stay."

"Gojo."

"I love you," he whispered, his tone breathless, and at first you thought you had heard him wrong. He had never told you that. Not even once. "I love you so fucking much, please. Slap me, kick me, punch me in the dick, I don't care. Just don't leave me. I'm so sorry."

"Satoru, please, it hurts..."

"Hurts?", he froze. What hurts? Did he hurt you? The thought frightened him, not only did he insult you for no damn reason and now he caused you pain? As if burned, he let go of you completely, raising his hands as if he wanted to keep them in sight so you knew he wouldn't hurt you anymore. "I'm sorry."

"I've been fighting for these weeks, too. I'm tired too. I would never compare myself to you, but I gave it my all, too," you exhaled deeply. "And I know you're exhausted, Satoru. So please go to bed and get some sleep. I'll just go home."

"Here is your home, with me."

"Here?", you briefly looked around. It was a place you loved because it was filled with him. It was where your heart wanted to be when you felt safest and happiest, but now... "Suddenly I feel like an intruder here. I feel like I shouldn't be here."

"No, please don't say that. Listen, y/n, love," he dropped to his knees, took your hands in his and kissed the tops of them gently and tenderly. "Please, stay with me. I'm an idiot. But I love you. And I need you here, I need you in my life. I want you by my side."

"So, what do you want us to be? You said we're just fucking. God, I thought we were at least friends, if not a couple, but..."

"I want us to be everything. I want you to be my friend, my partner, my lover, my wife and my entire world."

You sighed. Deep and slow, pushing the air out of your lungs, letting your whole body deflate as you took his hands and pulled him up.

"Go take a shower and come to bed. You need to sleep it off. I need to rest too."

Obeying, Satoru rushed to the bathroom and you made sure to lock the doors, turn off the lights and took the time to change back into your pajamas. Sitting on the bed, you finally felt the tears running down your face. They brought you some relief and you let them flow freely, desperate to get it out of you before Gojo came back. It pained you how wrong the evening went and you wondered if there was anything you did to cause it, but no. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve it. And you should leave him there alone, just as he wished for. Then why were you still here?

"Please don't cry," his long arms wrapped around you from behind, enveloping you in his warmth. The light sweet scent of his body wash pleasantly filled your airways and it's out of habit that you leaned into him. "Will you ever forgive me?" he asked, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. Slowly, he laid you down on the pillows and took his usual place beside you.

"I will," you sighed, already feeling the discomfort. "But please, let's change sides."

Satoru didn't understand at first, but he did what you asked anyway. When he saw you exhale in relief as you turned to the other side, his brain clicked. Moving his hands in the most delicate way possible, he lifted your shirt a little, revealing the many layers of bandages, already tinged with red that was seeping through them slowly.

"God, you're wounded. That's what was hurting you when I held you... I had no idea why you didn't tel-, ah, because I was being an asshole, right," he sighed.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to tell you anyway. I'm fine, just Shoko had her hands full, so I told her I'd wait a day or two. It's just a scratch, really," you told him, fixing your shirt. "Please, let's get some sleep, okay? We'll talk about it all later."

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you to his chest and planting a kiss on the top of your head. It was only now that he could feel his body relax, with you right next to him, your heartbeat syncing with his own, and all of your loving aura filling his body. And he realized that the words he never had the balls to say out loud to you now felt natural, rolling off his tongue. "I love you so much."

"You idiot," you sighed, closing your eyes and slowly melting into his form. "I love you too."

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countcvnt · 2 months

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Experiment

[Chapter Three: Safe House]

[Poly!Task Force 141/Fem!Reader]

[Ch. One] [Ch. Two]

Summary: When you are finally comfortable enough to nap, memories still come back. This time... you're left more sad than in pain. Warnings: Sadness, mentions of torture. Also, as always, this isn't really beta'd so there may be mistakes! Word Count: 3.3k A/N: COVID Brain Go BRRR! I know Ghostie baby has been the center of attention.... BUT IT'S SAD AND IMPORTANT.

“Ghost,” You look up at the beast of a man, “You can go shower if that’s what you wanted to do.” He turns slightly, looking at you over his shoulder. “I mean, why else would you walk into the showers? I can handle myself.”

Ghost blinks. He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”

You immediately pick up on what that means. ‘I would rather stay with you.’ You don’t question it further. You stick by Ghost as the two of you finally reach the cafeteria and the sound of people inside sends you into a panic. You freeze. You look at all the people and your chest is tightening.

“You good?” Ghost turns and notices your fear.

“Uh,” You can’t look at him. Your eyes are jumping from person to person. “I haven’t been around this many people in… a while.”

“Look at me,” He steps in front of you, careful to not touch you. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna let-”

You interrupt him. “I know-” Your eyes move to him and you freeze. Your stomach turns. Suddenly you feel like your brain is running at hyper speed. He was so close to you… The sounds around you are being drowned out and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you.

“Hey,” His voice is low. His hand gently touches your shoulder, “Are you alright?”

“Simon-” Your heart jumps into your throat. Your head is spinning. “Your name…”

You can feel his grip on you tighten. His eyes widen, only momentarily, but you catch it. You hear him exhale like he’s just been punched, and see his mouth upturn slightly under his mask. The smile drops fast. You wonder why, but you’re too torn up to ask about it. You pinch the bridge of your nose and flinch at the sudden bustle around you again.

“Let’s get some food and get you out of here.”

You nod. You trail behind Simon as he grabs you some food. Other soldiers are staring, but you notice when Simon stares back, the soldiers are suddenly very interested in their food. The both of you walk from the cafeteria to the room you were at earlier.

Simon opens the door, lets you in, and you walk towards one of the chairs. You sit. Simon brings over your food and gently sits in front of you. You thank him quietly.

“Everything alright?” John asks. His eyes watch you closely.

“My head hurts.” You pick at the food, “I remembered Simon’s name.”

John looks proud. “Good!” He’s enthusiastic, but his voice is low. “That’s a step in the right direction.”

“I guess.” You nod. You can’t help sound defeated.

“How come dae ye sound sae dowie?”

Your face contorts. “What?”

“Why are you sad?” Gaz asks you. “It’s good you’re remembering.”

You sigh, picking at a granola bar. You scrunch your face up and look at Gaz. “My brain has been fucking picked apart and put back together. You four seem to adore me- Or what used to be me… And I can barely remember your names! Soap- I don’t remember your name! And,” You point at Price, “you had to tell me yours.”

Soap walks over to you, “Johnny. Name’s Johnny.” He gives you a soft smile. You’re melting. You look up at him, scraping through your brain. It hurts to even think. You want so badly to know him. To know all of them. But you don’t. Not anymore.

“What was it I did here?” You ask them. Price goes to open his mouth, “And don't-” you put your finger up, “ask me what I remember. Because all I know is Laswell hand picked me-”

“You remember Laswell?”

You nod. “Well, yeah. I remember her hand picking me for… something. After that it's a little fuzzy. I think- Actually I know I was a computer gal. But that's about it. What did I do here?”

“Exactly what you think you did. You never really had to be on the field, you were behind the scenes. Helping us get in and out of places.” John informs you.

“Do you-” You stop yourself. “I don't know what happened. To me. Like,” you bite the inside of your lip as Simon tenses, “do you know how it happened?”

“You were in the safe house—”

Simon immediately excuses himself. Your heart sinks. A feeling of nausea washes over you. The door slams as he leaves and you flinch. Gaz places a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes shut tight.

A hand is wrapped around your forearm. You are being dragged down a hallway. Screams rip from your throat, pleading, begging. You claw at the masked guard pulling you towards the unknown.

“I promise!” You're sobbing, “I'll be good! I won't fight anymore!” It’s ironic, really.

The bright lights of the facility are blinding. The guard reaches a large double door and walks in, tossing you inside. You slide across the floor, a loud cry escaping you.

“Hook her up.” The guard is blunt. Done with you. Done with your bullshit.

“Hook me- hook me up?”

A female scientist walks out from a secluded booth. She says nothing to you. She pulls you up, and the guard points a gun at you, with intent to get you to cooperate. You do. She leads you to a chair and sits you down. You look up at her with tears in your eyes, your cheeks soaked from the tears that previously fell. She doesn't lock eyes with you.

“Please,” you whisper, “please help me.”

She does not.

The scientist begins to hook you up to a monitor. She quietly asks you to open your mouth, and you do so. She places a guard in between your teeth and you clamp down. Your bottom lip quivers.

The woman walks back into the booth. The guard exits the room, the door slamming behind him. You flinch.

“Ye okay?” Soap asks you.

You pull back, harshly. You’re standing up in a matter of seconds, tears threatening to spill. You turn to look back at the door that had slammed and you want to scream. You look back at Soap, Gaz, and John, pouting. Your bottom lip quivers and you want to hide. You want to go back to your room. But you don’t want to be alone. You can’t.

“You need to rest.”

“No.” You huff. “I can’t be alone.” You admit it out loud. It doesn’t make it any better.

“One of us can stay with you.” You’re tired of Price’s reassuring tone. It’s no longer reassuring you.

“I’d hate to keep you from your work, I- I just need to eat or something. Need to calm down.” When you get knowing looks from Soap, Gaz, and John you groan. “Fine. I need rest. Um,” you look at Price, “will you stay with me?”

“Of course.” He gives you a soft smile. “You two know what to do.”

The way John says it, it’s like he doesn’t want you to know what it is. Or, doesn’t want to worry you with it. You go with the second option. John’s hand presses to the small of your back, and you feel yourself relaxing. The two of you leave the room and begin heading towards what you can only assume is John’s room.

“Is Simon mad at me?” The words fall from your lips, you aren’t thinking.

“He’s not mad, love,” Goosebumps rise on your skin as Price says ‘love’. ‘There that word is again…’ “Not at you.”

“But he is mad?”

Price falters. “He just needs space right now.”

You don't push it further. You only nod. You understand to a certain extent. You want to understand more though. You want to know what has him so upset. It has something to do with you, and that's all you know. You get to John’s room and he opens the door for you, motions for you to walk in. He doesn't grab for you, he doesn't push you. You're thankful for that.

“I'll be here, you lay down and rest.” John sits down in a chair in the room and you stand there awkwardly.

“Okay.” You walk towards the bed and lie down. You close your eyes and huff. Your eyes open back up and look towards John. He's watching you. “This is weird.” You admit. “It feels too familiar.” John shifts in his seat. “Can you like, I don't know? Maybe just lay down too?”

“On the floor?” He asks you.

Your expression drops, you give him a deadpan stare. “No, over here silly. It'll be okay.”

You, as he gets up and walks over to you, realize you haven't been in an intimate situation for at least four months. You aren't sure what kind of situations you were in before the facility, but you are sure you didn't do anything in there.

You scoot over slightly for Price. The bed shifts and he lays beside you. He seems the most comfortable around you since your arrival back. You can't tell if he's acting or not. You aren't sure how you would react to someone in your situation, so you don't think too hard about it. Instead, you lie in bed, your eyes shutting.

“Y’know,” your voice is soft, “I forgot how nice and warm people are.”

John lets out a quiet laugh (you can't tell if he's nervous). He pats you on the back as you roll onto your side. “Go to sleep.”

You don't fight it. You know John is going to keep you safe.

“You can take that off.”

Simon huffs at you. “No.”

You roll your eyes. “We're stuck here, for God knows how long, and you're going to keep your mask on? Simon, I startle easily, don't come at me when I wake up to you wearing that and attack you.”

Simon lets out a breathy laugh. It isn't forced. “Who the hell said we are sleeping in the same room?”

You are hurt, momentarily. “Well—” You pause. “Whatever.” You cross your arms and begin to walk towards the kitchen. “I'm making myself some food.”

Simon stands up and walks behind you. “Hey,” he walks in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you want to sleep in the same room?”

Your arms fall to your sides. You nod. “I know there are several rooms here. But, I’d feel more comfortable with you in the room. I can handle myself.” You put your hands up, eyes widening, “but I feel better with you by my side.”

Simon nods. “Okay.”

“So you’ll need to take that off.” Simon stiffens as you point at his face. “Not now,” you laugh, “but definitely before we sleep. Anyway, it’s probably all sweaty.”

You walk past Simon and towards the small kitchen. You begin to scour for food. Anything. There isn’t too much, but when you find some rice canned vegetables, you go with it. You begin to heat everything up and ask Simon if he’s hungry. He answers with a ‘hm’. You groan, looking at him.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“I nodded.”

“Can’t hear that brain rattle.” You smile at him. Your stomach flips as he smiles under his mask. You focus back on the food and once it’s heated up you bring it to the small table. You grab a couple of bowls and place them on the table. Simon grabs one. You open your mouth without thinking. “Sorry, it’s not the best… It’s all we had.”

“Beats MREs.” Simon pats you on the back and sits down. You sit across from him and look at the empty chairs. Simon watches you closely. “What are ya thinkin’ about?”

“Nothing.” You wave your hand in the air. “It’s silly.”

“It’s probably not.”

You sigh. “Just thinking about John, Kyle, and Johnny. What if we weren’t in this situation? What if we were all… home? Together?”

“Together?” Simon pulls the bottom of his mask up, revealing his mouth. Shivers run down your spine. “Is that how ya want it to be?”

You nod. “All of us. Yeah. But—” You scrunch your nose, “It can’t be that way.”

Simon doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t respond. The both of you finish your food and he pulls his mask back down. Simon picks your bowl and walks it to the sink. “You’ve had a long day. You should sleep.”

“You have too, Simon. We should both sleep.” You stand up from the table. You turn to him and stare. Simon looks back at you, and you assume he realizes you aren’t going to bed without him, and he sighs.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

You smile at him. You find the room with the biggest bed and decide that would be the best room. You look at the neatly made bed and then at yourself. You’re sweaty, a little bloody, and definitely dirty. Simon sees you examining the bed and hums. You look up at him. “We have no pajamas.”

Simon, “Guess we sleep—”

“Sleep in our clothes.” You nod at him. He smirks. “What?” Your stomach is flipping.

“You, sleep in that nice bed, in your dirty clothes?” Simon laughs, “You’d rather sleep on the floor, I know you better than that, Ace.”

You roll your eyes and pretend you aren’t dying over how he said that. “Fine.” You cross your arms. “We’ll make a deal.” You look up at Simon, “I’ll just sleep in my underwear, but you have to take—”

“Wait,” Simon puts a finger up, “so I’ll be in my underwear too?”

“Well yeah, I’ll feel the dirt specks from your clothes if you sleep in those.” You cross your arms. Simon groans. “I’ll, like, close my eyes or something—”

“I trust you,” Simon interrupts you.

Your world is rocked. You nod. “I trust you too.” It is true. You trust all of them. Your heart flutters in your chest at his words, though. There has always been trust there, in yours and Simon’s relationship. Hearing him say it; it leaves you breathless.

You take a step back from Simon and begin to undress. He tenses. “What are you—”

“Getting ready for bed.” You strip down to your underwear and walk over to the bed. Your whole body burns, in a good way. You pull the covers back and lay down. Simon follows your suit. You feel back watching him, so you look at the ceiling. You hear him stifle a low laugh as he realizes what you’re doing. You look at him, with an angry face, only for heat to bristle across your cheeks.

Simon, with his balaclava still on, was stripped to his underwear now. He’s big. In more ways than one. You cross your arms and try to look just angry, while not seeming sexually frustrated at all. Simon makes his way towards the bed and his hand goes towards the bottom of his mask. He grabs it and you are hit with anticipation.

“Oh, you’re gonna watch me now?” He asks, smug.

“Well, yeah, you—” You are struggling. Simon is enjoying it. “I’m just going to sleep!” You yell, frustrated. You grab the covers and pull them up and huff. Simon laughs, briefly, before there is silence filling the room. The bed shifts and the covers move.

You peek over your shoulder to find big eyes, blond lashes, and smeared black face paint staring back at you. Your heart is in your throat. “Holy shit,” You whisper, “you’re so…” You are awestruck. You roll over onto your back, Simon’s face is inches from yours. He’s holding himself up with his forearm. You keep from kissing him. You’re trying to be professional.

“So what?” He asks, curiously. Still smug.

Angelic? Heavenly? Other worldly? You feel weird calling him those things. “Handsome.” You can’t help but look hungry for him. Simon smiles. He lays down and looks up at the ceiling. You can’t help but stare at him.

“You’re staring.” He closes his eyes.

You look up at the ceiling. Your eyes are wide and you aren’t sleepy anymore. You’re gripping the covers tightly, heart pounding in your chest.

“Simon?” You whisper to him. He immediately answers with a grunt. “Um, this is going to sound crazy…” You trail off. Simon looks at you, urging you to continue. “I sleep with a body pillow most of the time… I’m very comfortable with uh, cuddling. I wanna say now, that I may latch onto you in the middle of the night.”

“We can nip that in the bud now?” Simon cocks his head.

“I can cuddle you?”

“Opposite, actually.” His movements are quick for someone so large. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s pulling himself into your space. You don’t mind. Your skin is on fire again. “This okay?” He asks you.

“Perfect.”

Simon rests his head on your chest and you stop breathing momentarily. You are unsure what to do with your hands. Simon is resting peacefully on your chest and you aren’t even sure what to do with your hands.

You do the first thing that comes to mind. One of your hands finds his hair, and plays with it. Your fingers gently pull at the short blond strands, and your fingernails run over his scalp. Simon groans. The both of you freeze.

“I can stop.” You sound more embarrassed than you had tended to.

“Don’t.” Simon doesn’t look up at you, he doesn't move. “Please don’t.”

You smile to yourself. You begin to hum softly. Simon has you locked in a death grip. You aren’t getting out anytime soon. And you don’t mind. You fall asleep on your back, you and Simon holding each other as close as possible.

You have no clue of what’s to come.

The calling of your name brings you back out of slumber. The franticness of the voice wakes you up abruptly. Your eyes shoot open and you feel tears smeared on your face. You look beside you and find John Price.

“You’re okay. I’m here.” He soothes you.

“Simon—” You want to vomit. “I need to see Simon!”

“Whoa, whoa!” John doesn’t grab for you as you get up, but he does follow you.

“Please!” You turn towards John with tears in your eyes. “I need to see him. Now.” John grabs his radio and radios Simon. No response. You turn towards Price’s door and swing it open. Price is sure you almost ripped it off the hinges. “Where could he be?”

“He’s probably blowing off some steam—”

You don’t let him finish. The gym. It’s your first thought. You had seen it earlier. You take off running towards the gym. You slide to a halt when you reach the gym doors and intentionally keep yourself from ripping the door off. You spot Simon doing pushups and take off running once more.

“Ghost!” Your voice cracks. He stops. He stands up when he sees how frantic you look. As soon as he’s on his feet you launch yourself towards him. Simon catches you, easily. He’s knocked back slightly.

You mumble something into his chest. “What?” He questions you. Price enters the gym and spots the both of you. Simon looks at Price with confusion, he shrugs back, a look of shock on his face.

You pull back and look up at him with tears in your eyes and wet cheeks. “I remembered… The safe house…” Simon immediately tenses. “Me and you— It was me and you.”

You bury your face back in his chest and try to keep from crushing his ribs. You don’t want to squeeze him too tight. Simon lets you hug him. You feel him hug back and you relax into his arms. A soft sob escapes you.

“It was me and you…”

Everything is slowly coming together. Simon was with you, that night in the safe house. But they took you… Simon was obviously the better option considering how fucking big he is. But they hand picked you.

You try to not think about it. Instead, you just hold Simon tighter.

_____________________

Taglist: @reap3erslov3 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cosmic-rich @bvxygriimes (let me know if i happened to miss you, or you want to be added!)

Divider by: @cafekitsune

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #x reader

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popquizhot-shot · 10 months

Text

Father mine. Miguel O’Hara x teen!Spider!reader

Hope you like this :D it’s sad asf.

Warnings: mommy issues backstory, feelings of inadequacy, wanting to feel pain. Angst.

Miguel’s body shields over yours as Miles breaks through the force field and causes everyone to fly backwards. Your leg bends in an unnatural way and you resist the urge to cry out.

He holds you to him and does a once over of your form. You nod at him, not wanting to worry him and he looks to Miles.

You can see the exact moment where the rope finally breaks and he chases after the boy.

Your cries fall on deaf ears as you run behind him. Your legs screams with ever step and you’re forced to stop and look helplessly as he calls every spider and alerts them.

Soon enough there’s a hole broken in one of the windows as Miles jumps and Miguel follows. Every other spider jumping after the both of them like blind followers.

You join them, because you would follow Miguel to the death.

You try to focus all the power into your arms and your good leg but it’s fucking hard because you’re climbing the spaceship that Miles has somehow traversed.

In front of you, is every other spider that is a part of the society, and each of them is almost climbing on top of the others like mindless zombies that crave flesh.

Your spider sense tingles and you duck just in time for Miguel to fall past you and hang on to the spaceship with his claws.

You Web him and he looks at you gratefully.

“Gracias, Mija.” He grunts, his eyes glowing red.

You don’t answer. His hair is disheveled and he looks he’s been electrocuted or some shit, his fangs are bared and he snarles as he looks above you, “let me go now, and go back to the fucking tower.”

You scowl, “why should I?”

He tears through the webs, “because I said so, I’m already pissed off at two teenagers, don’t make me even worse.” He seethes and your lips form a thin line under your mask.

Suddenly, you’re eight years old trying to convince your mother to talk to you when she’s giving you the silent treatment and you have to gulp to try to keep your whimper of pain inside. You’re not a burden, you think, as he shakes his head and jumps past you.

something in you screams to go back, to listen to him. For once to listen to him, not just because you’re afraid he won’t love you anymore if you don’t but, call it spider sense pro, it helps predict the future so you listen to it.

You reluctantly jump out of the force field and swing. You can see the hole in the broken window and the jagged edges that form it. They resemble your heart and you clench your jaw and zoom through, tucking your legs inwards and crouching into a roll to minimise impact. The pain is still there when you hit the ground, but you wish it was harder.

You deserve to hurt right now. You deserve the pain in your leg and the pain in your heart because you’re not a good kid.

A groan leaves your lips as your spider sense tells you to go to where the go home machine is.

You run to the area and see spider byte and lyla walking around in a panicked frenzy.

“What the hell is going on?” You say out loud and they turn to look at you.

“Your dad is being a horrible person.” Spider-Byte scowls.

You look at Lyla and she doesn’t meet your eyes, only turning back to look at the monitors.

You squint and look at the go-home machine.

Miles. Invisible Miles.

You know why Miguel is mad, you know the risk that Miles brings, because you’ve seen first hand how a universe is destroyed. Your own was.

But Miles is a kid. He’s like you, wanting to save his dad. Just like you’re trying to help yours.

You can feel his panic and his anger and his hurt.

He turns visible at the last second and you meet his eyes as everyone storms in. Your own dad leading the party as the go-home machine starts to operate.

And then you look at the man who is your father. The man who has fed you and bandaged you and smiled at your jokes. The man who has been there with you through so much.

You watch as he shouts and tries to break the barrier. You see Peter’s horror. You watch as he pries open the field just the slightest. You see him try and kill a kid. A kid like you.

And your eyes fill with tears because this man is a monster.

By some dumb luck, Miles is able to escape and Miguel stands defeated. The go-home machine Scans him and he breaks it like it’s nothing. You flinch.

You watch as he turns and walks amidst everyone like nothing has happened. You watch as he dishes out orders as if he hasn’t just tried to take the life of a child. You watch him threaten Gwen, and you watch as he sends her to her universe. Ignoring her cries because to him, she’s an inconvenience.

Is that what you are? Now that you’re not on his side anymore?

He opens a portal and Jessica and another Peter you don’t give a shit about walk through. His eyes meet yours as his mask materialises over his face. You know he expects you to follow him, even if he tells you to stay. So he doesn’t bother and walks in.

You don’t follow.

Because this man, this cold, unflinching monster of a man is not your father.

Part 2 here

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #atsv x reader #mini miguel<33

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byunpum · 1 year

Text

My lost child…

Pair: Aunt Sully human x Spider Socorro (mother and son)

Warning: None. Cute, Kinda sad, Y/N being a good mother.

+REQUEST "Here"+

Note: My baby spider need love and attention. I got sentimental doing this writing. Auntie Y/N would be the perfect mother for him.

"Are you sure you want to keep this baby?" says norm, as you hold spider in your arms, a baby just 10 months old. The first time you saw this baby was in the arms of Socorro, a coworker. You were from the research area, but you still shared with other friends from other areas of work. And it was also the first time you saw the child of your husband's lover Miles Quaritch, who had betrayed you with this woman a few months ago.

She had a smile from ear to ear, showing her son to the others, with an air of self-satisfaction. She gave you a few glances as she laughed. You barely approach the group of ladies now surrounding the newborn. You decide to turn around and go back to the laboratories, you had a lot of work to do and the mission to escape to a safe area, in order to save the Omaticaya was your priority at the moment. After the war, many people were sent to earth, but some were too young to travel.

And there you were holding a baby that reminded you of all the pain you once had. But, what was this child's fault? None. "Yes…I'll take care of him" you say, pulling the spider closer to your chest. Norm watches you, he has been by your side all along, he knows how you feel. But he also knows your heart is so big. "You and your brother Jake have a heart like a chicken," he jokes. Norm knows he'll be safe with you.

That same night you are with spider, in your room. A small room, which had a very small bunk bed. A small dresser and a mirror next to it. You had to decorate it so it would be perfect for a baby. You are preparing a kind of nest with the sheets, you wanted him to sleep next to you. "ba b aba" spider barks, as you set up. "You're in the mood to talk, huh?" you laugh, as you reach over and give him a kiss on the cheeks. And you lay him down next to you, as you wrap him in your blanket. Your face is close to his face, while his cute little hands touch and caress your cheeks. As he lets out a few laughs. "You're a very happy baby… aren't you" you speak, stroking his golden curls. Spider begins to cry a little, and you pull him to your chest so that his head rests on your chest, so that he can hear your heartbeat.

This hurt you so much…you were not able to have children on your own, you had so many pregnancy losses that you had already lost all hope of being a mother. This was one of the many reasons why Quaritch had decided to look for another woman to give him what you could never give him. But here you were… caring for a baby that was the image of the betrayal that those two people had done to you. But your heart was not selfish, it was not cruel. It never had been… you couldn't be cruel to a baby who needed you. You needed him.

His little hands squeezed your hands, bringing one of your fingers to his hand. "I will take care of you… forever" you speak, as you stroke your boy's hair. For a moment you come back to reality, and there was spider, scared and hurt. His body was shaking with cold, as he hugged you and his head was pressed against your chest. Even though he was all wet, you could still feel the tears coming down from his eyes. "Mom…I'm scared," says spider, trying to breathe calmly into his oxygen mask.

You hadn't seen your son in the last 4 months since the RDA had kidnapped him, and now he was hugging you so tightly, you felt like he was going to crack a rib. " Darling…I'm here…it's ok. I found you, mommy is here" you speak while hugging your son. As you watch the boat sink into the sea. Your whole family was together, Jake and Neytiri and your nephews. Neteyam was hurt, but he was okay. Everyone hugs each other, while your sight drifts to the water… you almost lost what you loved the most in this life. You feel a hand drag you by the arm, and you see it's Jake. Hugging you and spider. "Here we are…together" Jake says, as the other family members gather to hug them.

Hours later, everyone was at the metkayina clan, in the marui that everyone shared. Neytiri was taking care of neteyam, and your other nephews were talking to each other. Jake had gone to talk to Tonowari and Ronal. While you were tending to spider's wounds, the boy was silently watching you carefully place the medicinal paste on his wounds. With such love and passion. "And how is he? Did you like meeting your father?" you ask him. Spider just says " mm yes" after a while you ask again.

"And you saw pictures of her… of your mom?" you ask, spider swallows hard. "Yes… and they told me about her. I even saw videos" says spider. Your heart squeezes a little, you're sure they told him about her. That they told him how wonderful his mother was, how he was such a wanted child. "It's good that you know who your mother was," you say, a little hurt. Neytiri was listening to the conversation, she knew the pain in your tone of voice. You had always had the feeling that the day would come when Spider would know more about his mother and you would move on.

Spider can see your face of disgust and sadness. The boy comes up to you and hugs you. "He and that woman do not affect my feelings for you. The one who took care of me…who raised me, and loved me is you…mom. My mother Y/N" says spider giving you a smile. You caress his face, and give him a kiss on his forehead. "I love you too my life" you speak. " I love you more…mama" spider rests his face in the crook of your neck.

Jake had returned from talking to Tonowari, as he walked in he saw the scene. Spider was still hugging you, while you stroked his hair. Jake carefully approaches neytiri's side, just as he sits down and begins to speak, the woman speaks. "eywa gives second chances, gives us something we have lost. It doesn't have to come in the best way…but it will always bring two lost souls together…like those two," says Neytiri, pointing at you. Jake is thoughtful for a moment.

"Am I missing something?" asks Jake, Neytiri just laughs and continues to look after Neteyam. Jake takes another look in your direction. You were hugging your son, he had never seen you so happy, your smile was just like his mother's, right there he could understand everything. Eywa always brings together souls that have been lost…always.

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unreliablesnake · 7 months

Text

Note: I'm sorry, Simon. Also, IDK who came up with the idea of Ghost breaking his own jaw, but kudos to you.

You stopped breathing the moment you noticed the wound on Ghost’s exposed forearm and when your gaze moved up to find his face, you saw the shock in his eyes for a fleeting moment when he registered what just happened. Soap muttered something under his breath as he began to pace behind you, and his footsteps were the only sound in the abandoned house at the time.

“Go,” Ghost suddenly said in his usual authoritative voice.

“I’m sorry, LT.” Before you could say or do anything, you felt Soap’s hand wrap around your wrist and he began to pull you out of the room, but you definitely weren’t about to leave him there. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” the sergeant asked you, his voice never breaking despite the gloomy look in his eyes.

But you stood your ground and yanked your arm away from him as you took a few steps closer to the lieutenant again. “We can’t just leave you here. There must be something we can do.”

Ghost shook his head as he reached out to take your hand. “I’m sorry, baby, there’s nothing you can do,” he began as he pulled you closer. He raised his other gloved hand to wipe away your tears, then placed a soft kiss on your forehead through the fabric of his mask.

You wrapped your arms around his giant frame and buried your face into his chest. “I can’t lose you, Simon,” you told him quietly.

“Go with Johnny, he’ll keep you safe.” When you looked up at him with a worried look, he let out a sigh. “I love you. I wish we had more time, but my luck ran out.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“You have to.”

“Please, don’t make me leave.”

He drew in a sharp breath before looking over at Soap, as if he was silently begging him to step in and drag you away from him. Luckily, he knew better than to approach you now. He waited until Ghost handled this little problem himself, convincing you that being bitten meant he was as good as dead.

So he told you again and again that he would soon turn into one of those monsters you were fighting out there, his voice trembling by the end from a mixture of sadness and fear. Eventually, you accepted it. When he pulled up his mask so he could give you one last kiss, you finally believed this was goodbye.

Hesitantly, you took a few steps back, slowly building enough distance to get out of his gravitational pull. It was heartbreaking, knowing there was nothing any of you could do to stop the process. “Even if I commit suicide, I’ll just come back. You need to leave me here, locking me into this house so I can’t hurt anyone,” he had told you.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” you heard Soap from behind your back.

Ghost nodded in agreement, and you could tell he had a sad smile on his face under that mask. “I love you. I will always love you,” he said as a goodbye before turning around and reaching for a heavy statue that was sitting on a cabinet near him.

“What are you doing with that?” you asked, having a terrible feeling from the way he was holding up that object.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t turn around, and you couldn’t even ask again because Soap forcefully dragged you out of the room and closed the door after himself. You barely reached the end of the hallway when you heard Ghost shouting in pain, and when you instinctively turned around to run back to him, Soap grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t think about it, just walk, all right?” he asked.

No. It wasn’t all right. “No, what the fuck just happened?”

Soap licked his lower lip and ran a hand through his mohawk. “The LT and I talked about the possibility of being bitten, about what we want the other to do in this case. This is what he wanted. He wanted me to get you away from him before he could hurt you.” He fell silent for a moment when he noticed the way you were watching him. “He just broke his jaw so he wouldn’t be able to bite anyone. He told me he would do it if it came down to it.”

“Simon,” you whined quietly, once again fighting your tears.

Shaking his head, Soap put his hand on your back and began to guide you outside again. “Pull yourself together, we need to get out of here in one piece,” he told you once you reached the front door.

How could you pull yourself together when Ghost… When he… It just wasn’t… Fuck. At the moment you’d rather be bitten and locked up with him. Leaving just didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t have left you behind. Without thinking more about this, you pushed Soap away and ran back inside, heading straight to the room Ghost was in.

“I’m not leaving. I’m sorry, I know that’s what you wanted, but I can’t. I’ll stay until the very end,” you told him matter-of-factly.

You heard him groan under the mask, unable to speak with the broken jaw. For a while you were just staring at each other, but then he looked at something behind you and shook his head. It must have been Soap, but by the time you turned around, he was already gone.

After a few minutes of awkward silence he sat down with his back against the wall and patted the floor next to him. You sat down as well then took his hand and rested your head on his shoulder. If he was going to die here, you would stick around to either die with him or end his suffering. There was no other option.

#call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #modern warfare ii #ghost x reader #mw2 #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #zombie ghost #Spotify

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d6volution · 6 months

Note

jax teasing reader under the table while everyone else is ‘eating’ their digital dinner.. and reader getting revenge on jax later…

please and thank you <33🙏

i love your username 😆 , this was on the shorter side but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

The Banquet.

Jax/Fem!Reader

tags: fingering, public sex, biting.

minors dni.

"Y/N.. a-are you alright..?" Gangle who sat directly next to you at the long dinner table seemed worried, their sad mask making that painfully obvious. You squirmed a little, nodding your head and clearing your throat. "O.. Of course, Gangle why do you.. ask!" your voice hitched and broke at the end of your sentence. You were clearly far from okay.

Gangle felt guilty for asking, maybe you were just nervous..? She sure was on her first few dinners, "Right.. sorry, y/n.." You shook your head, elbow resting on the table. No digging into the table as you tried to find some sense of balance. "It's, f.. fine gangle..!" You reassured the sad little bundle of ribbons.

Your leg attempted to kick the disturbance beneath the table, but Jax was quick to catch your leg and instead using this advantage to spread them further. 'Heh, you're just makin this too easy, y/n.' He thought to himself. A gloved hand stroked your inner thigh, the other keeping it pried open. His fingertips got closer to the heat in between your legs and tried to keep your compsure.

Jax was sat with his legs crossed beneath the table, his ears just rubbing against the table due to his height. He pushed your undergarments aside , finger prodding at your wet slit before dipping a finger inside. His grin wide with delight.

You slapped your hand over your mouth , stifling a yelp. You desperately wanted to close your legs but his grip on your thigh was vice. He tutted in his head as if to silently scold you. Move again and he'd have no choice but to bite you. Oh, too bad you couldn't hear his threat. Guess you'll just have to learn the hard way.

His finger kept pumping in and out of your cunt slowly, your hips bucked forward. "Hhn.." You hummed in pleasure, pretending it was because of the 'delicious' food. Shooting a nervous, half smile at Zooble who eyed you curiously. If anyone knew, it was them. They couldn't tell what exactly was going on but was sure the only person who could be behind this was the one person who wasn't at the table. Jax.

Another finger was added and you gasped, attempting to hide it with a cough. Jax found this hilarious and had to stifle his laughter, using this chance to suddenly pump those two fingers into your cunt even faster. Causing your legs to shake and try to close around his hand again.

Nope.

His mouth opened, sharp rows of teeth being bared just before he chomped at your inner thigh, leaving bright red teeth marks that just nearly broke the skin. This sent a shudder through your spine, the mix of pain and pleasure pushing you even closer to climax. Being in such a vulnerable situation, surrounded by many questioning eyes.. it wasn't fair.. you'd have to get him back by this.

"Ghn.." You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your hardest to have to the quietest orgasm of your life. But the way he was digging into your cunt , purposely curling his fingers it made it all too hard. Your hand reached down and grabbed his hand but in turn he grabbed yours , fingers digging in your forearm to keep you still as a violent orgasm wracked through your body.

You bit your lip nearly making it bleed as you came, hunched over the table. A few people had already vacated , only Kinger and Gangle were left at the table. Kinger completely unaware and Gangle still worried.

"I.. I need to be excused..!" You said, your voice a little horse. Jax removed his fingers from your cunt unceremoniously and wiped his fingers on your inner thigh. Sitting back and admiring his work.

He saw you stand up quickly, your legs almost giving out as the chair scooted back with an ungodly screech.

You hurried back to your room, glaring at Jax's in the process. You knew he had to wait for everyone to leave the table before he could even think about coming to his room.

Hurriedly you cleaned yourself up, face still flushed and heart still racing from that little incident.

You heard a little knock on your door and swung it open immediately, or course it was Jax. Standing there with a smug look on his face. Your hand curled around one of his overall straps and yanked him inside. The door slamming afterwards.

"No need to get violent doll, seems like you enjoyed yourself out there. Am I wrong? Or was I just hallucinating your pretty cunt clenching around my fingers?"

"Sh.. Shut up!" You pushed him onto the bed and he laid back, arms crossed behind his head carelessly. "Why? What ya gonna do, suck me off til I have a heart attack?"

"Nope. I'm not touching you at all."

He sat up, "What? C'mon don't be like that doll," You tried to hide your grin, giving him a faux cold shoulder so he couldn't make out your expression.

"Maybe.. if you get on your knees and say please then I'll return the favor. How about that?" You said, finally revealing your face to him. A sly smile playing on your lips.

"Not happening." He said in a flat tone.

"Well then I hope you like being blue balled my little bunny." You said with a smile and got up from the bed but he grabbed your wrist before you could. His face was downcast at the floor, hiding the very subtle flush on his cheeks.

. . . . .

Kinger swung open your door without thinking , "JAX! We have a problem I—" Kinger stood in shock, staring at Jax on his knees pleading to you and you sitting on the bed with your legs crossed staring down at him. Jax face palmed, of course. Of course someone had to interrupt.

"I.. see, perhaps I should come back later.." He slowly shut the door.

#the amazing digital circus #ask #jax tadc #jax x reader #minors dni #jaxsmut

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criminalamnesia · 6 months

Text

Alive

warnings: angst, sad Simon Riley, reader dies, gender neutral reader, no pronouns used for reader, mentions of death, no use of y/n, proofread but I’m human and might’ve missed something

summary: Simon loses you.

author’s note: simon deserves the world.

Simon Riley understood the risks of enlisting. He understood that he was one small cog in a machine, and although valued, he wasn’t crucial. He was a soldier, just like thousands of others that decided to put their lives on the line for something they believed in. If he had to lay his life down during his service, so be it. Maybe his sacrifice would make the world a little bit better.

Simon didn’t know what he believed now.

You were like him in the way that you understood the risks, but that’s where he thought the similarities ended. He was quiet. You were outspoken. He was harsh. You were empathetic.

He was your lieutenant. You were one of his sergeants.

It was against all logic for him to fall for you, yet he had. From the moment you’d been invited to join Task Force 141, Simon knew you would cause him trouble.

He knew by the way you threw your head back and laughed at one of Soap’s cheesy lines. Knew by the way you bested Gaz at pool. At the way you’d tried Price’s drink of choice, bourbon, and swallowed it down without any fuss.

He knew by the way you saw him as he was— not just as your superior or as ‘Ghost’— but as Simon. Simon, who cared deeply for his teammates, his family, beyond what his title required. Simon, who made shitty jokes at shitty times. Simon, who bickered with you over how to properly prepare tea.

He didn’t understand why you’d shown interest in him at first. He surely thought Soap would be the one to sweep you off your feet— but you shut the Scotsman down. You only had eyes for Simon.

He found out later that it was because the two of you were more similar than he’d previously believed. You were fiercely loyal, just like him. You never backed down from a fight, just like him. You dealt with shit quietly, just like him.

You understood him, and you didn’t push. You trusted him so completely, too. Fuck’s sake, you took a bullet for him.

“Ghost, move!” You had shouted, diving out of cover to shove the Brit behind a wall.

“What the fuck?!” He yelled at you, drawing his breath in shallow pants as his eyes narrowed at you from under his mask.

“You don’t listen for shit sometimes, LT,” you were shouting to be heard over the gunfire surrounding you. “There was a fucking sniper— you were gonna be shot!”

“He was a shit shot, Sergeant. I knew he was there—”

“Ghost, just say thank you,” you rolled your eyes and straightened.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled as his eyes scanned you, and you looked at him with confusion.

“What?”

“Maybe tha’ sniper wasn’t shit after all. Gotta get you to a medic, c’mon—” he began, reaching a hand out to grasp your arm and tug you away from the firefight.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, you had no clue what he was talking about. You looked down at your body as you allowed Ghost to drag you along. That’s when you saw the crimson peeking out from the edge of your vest, and the first pang of pain finally hit you.

“Oh, shit. Didn’t even notice,” you grumbled, and you could hear Simon grunt ahead of you.

“Adrenaline. An’ the fact tha’ you were mad at me.”

“If I was mad at you, you’d know it. Just think you should show more gratitude since I saved your life and all.”

“I’ll show gratitude when you ain’t bleedin’.” He huffed.

Fiercely loyal. It was a blessing to the team and a curse to you. Loyal to the men you called your family. Loyal to the cause. Loyal to the mission, no matter the personal cost.

Simon wished you would’ve let him take that bullet. Maybe then he wouldn’t be here with the remainder of the 141, holding the urn containing what was left of you. The gold-colored metal felt cool against his bare hands. It was almost soothing, but it would soothe him more if you were still by his side.

He knew that he’d never get the image of you laying there lifeless out of his head. It had been quick. Shot right in the fucking head, execution style. Simon hadn’t even realized what had happened until the gunfire had subsided and Soap was yelling.

His heart had nearly stopped. He knew this happened all the time— a soldier’s death. But he never expected it to happen to you.

The task force had been on so many missions together. You’d all survived so much shit, and Simon realized that up until the moment he saw your lifeless body, he’d felt that the team was somewhat invincible. Yes, he knew the risks, but all of you had gotten out of worse before. It was naive to think nothing would happen, and Simon cursed himself for it.

He knew that the abruptness of your death was the reason he couldn’t quite comprehend it. One second you’re there, warning him of a shooter to his left, and the next you’re on the ground with a bullet in your skull.

“Bravest fucking soldier I ever knew,” Price’s voice is gruff with emotion as he speaks. One of his hands rests atop the urn. “Most loyal, too. Took a bullet for all of us, one time or another.”

The other men nodded their heads.

“Kindest person I knew,” Soap spoke with a soft voice. “Outspoken, but kind.”

“Fought until the end,” Gaz said with a frown. “Rest easy, love.”

Simon knew it was his turn to say something. Tears glistened in his eyes, threatening to spill and smudge the black paint around them. He knew how to be alone. He’d spent years alone. But this wasn’t just being alone— it was being alone without you.

He didn’t think he could go back to the way things were before he met you. He didn’t want to go back to the way things were. He wanted to fight and yell and get you to come back, but it wasn’t possible.

The hand he had in the pocket of his hoodie curled into a tight fist. The hand he had on the urn didn’t waver.

He didn’t want to say goodbye, to make this final. To close the door you’d opened when you stepped into his life and turned things on its axis.

“Rest in peace, love.” He spoke at last, his voice full of barely contained emotion.

There were too many things to say, but those were the words he settled on. ‘Rest in peace.’ He truly hoped you were at peace. Simon didn’t know what he believed came after death, but he hoped that wherever you were now, you were serene.

‘Rest in peace.’ It wasn’t goodbye, not explicitly. You’d always be with him— a dagger in his heart he couldn’t bear to remove. He’d carry the pain for the rest of his service, the rest of his life.

It wasn’t goodbye. You’d always be with him.

Price removed the lid of the urn. The men slowly removed their hands from the object, allowing Simon full possession as he drew his other hand out of his pocket.

He held the metal as delicately as he would hold you. You’d always laughed and told him you weren’t glass— you wouldn’t break. Simon knew that. Of course he knew that, he’d witnessed firsthand how tough you were.

But you were precious to him, and he treated you as such.

His fingers shook the slightest bit as he turned his body to face the edge of the cliff. It was a truly beautiful place, and Simon knew that if you could’ve seen it, you would’ve loved it.

A breeze picked up as Simon slowly tipped the urn. He watched the last bits of you flow through the wind. The other men of Task Force 141 turned and walked away quietly.

Simon remained there, rooted to the spot, until he could no longer see the scattered ashes of you floating in the breeze.

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kiss-theggoat · 8 months

Note

Okay it’s a sad request but you know the slashers reacting to s/o being hurt? Can you do a slashers reaction to s/o thought to be killed by one of their victims. Only if you are comfortable with it of course!

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Some of these might be a little out of character, so I apologize, but I hope you like it! 🖤

Slashers if Their S/O Was Badly Injured

Slashers Included: Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Asa Emory, Michael Meyers, Sinclair Brothers

TW: VIOLENCE AND DEATH

Thomas Hewitt:

When Hoyt and Thomas brought home a group of teenagers going through Texas, one of the men got free and ran into the kitchen where you and Luda Mae were preparing dinner. He stole a knife from Luda, shoving her to the ground where she hit her head and it left you, held at knifepoint. You tried to lunge at him, but the knife entered your stomach, twisting and gnashing at your skin and muscle.

Hoyt finally came in, shooting the man who held the knife. You collapsed with him, blood pouring from your wound onto the tile and soaking into your clothes.

Thomas shoved Hoyt aside, hands trembling and eyes already welling with tears. His chest felt like a black hole as he watched you grow more pale by the second. With shaking hands he rolled you over, placing your head in his lap. He reached down to put pressure on the wound, unable to stifle his cries as he watched blood gush from between his fingers.

You started to cough and sputter, blood leaking from the side of your lips as he leaned down, unclipping his mask. His pressed gentle kisses to your eyelids as they grew heavier, holding you in his lap as he watched you fade away.

Billy Loomis:

You’d been at Stu’s party, but you weren’t supposed to be part of the plan. Billy walked around the house, making sure that everyone was dealt with before going to find Sydney. He stopped in his tracks when one body looked familiar.

He dropped to his knees, knife clattering away from him as he touched your shoulders gently. He whispered your name, watching as you bled onto the floor. You could barely breathe, slowly taking in wheezy breaths.

“Billy?” You whispered in horror, realizing that he’d been the one involved with your death. Billy’s jaw tensed as he leaned closer to you.

“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to be here.” He whispered, placing his hand gently on your cheek for a moment before he stood, retrieving his knife.

Stu Macher:

Stu had let you in on his and Billy’s plan, and when Billy agreed to let you help, he was ecstatic.

But on the night of, everything went wrong. It was the time to give each other injuries, and you stood there, holding the knife nervously, hesitant to stab Billy. You moved forward and plunged the knife into him, but at the last second you closed your eyes, accidentally stabbing him too deep. Billy fumed, growling at you to give him the knife.

When it was your turn, you’d wanted Stu to do it, but Billy insisted. He shoved the knife into your stomach, not even trying to hide the fact he has bad intentions.

Stu yelled, shoving Billy away from you and hanging onto you as you fell to the ground. He apologized profusely for getting you involved, crying as he moved your hair gently out of your face, holding you as you closer your eyes even though Billy yelled at him to get up.

Asa Emory:

You’d probably be in the house of traps when someone got free from the red box. They snuck into the room that you occupied, at first thinking you were a victim. You played along until you tried to maneuver them towards another trap, and instead, they shoved you into it.

You fell onto the ground right on top of a two by two foot mat full of nails. They stabbed through your chest, and you screamed in pain, trying to push yourself up off the nails but the pain was too intense.

Asa heard you and immediately knew where you were, maneuvering through his house to get to you. The victim was long gone by now, leaving you and Asa in silence. He was full of rage, eyes twinkling with anger and sadness. There was nothing he could do now, except for take it out on the rest of the victims inside the house.

Michael Meyers:

You hadn’t seen Michael for a while, and it was making you nervous. He usually came by your house daily, but it’d been almost a week. You went by the Meyers house at night, slinking inside to try to find Michael.

A searing pain radiated through your back, and as you slowly turned around you saw Michael’s eyes through his mask, wide and could tell how heavy he was breathing. You looked back and saw his signature knife protruding from your back, warm blood soaking into your jeans. You fell forward, coughing as you felt your chest starting to tighten.

Michael looked down at you before kneeling, a large hand touching the top of your back softly. He didn’t know what to do. He leaned down and looked at you in the eyes, watching them go still. His grip tightened on your shirt. He didn’t know how to process the fact that he’d hurt the only person he’d actually cared about.

Sinclair Brothers:

A stray survivor escaped Bo’s basement, spotting you. They were so on guard they didn’t even bother to talk to you, instead, they grabbed a wrench from Bo’s work bench and hit you across the face, making you fall to the ground immediately.

You had no idea what happened next, but all three Sinclair brothers surrounded you, kneeling. Bo grabbed your face gently, inspecting your wound when Lester said something to him, sounding panicked. Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. Bo couldn’t panic. He had to be calm, but Lester started to shake at seeing you bleeding.

Your cheek and upper eye socket was cut open, a sizeable gash leaking blood down your face and neck. Your entire face felt like it was on fire and your vision was shaking, it felt like you couldn’t think straight.

Vincent leaned down closer to your face, inspecting the wound gently, knowing that it was pretty severe. With shaky hands he held your cheeks, wiping some blood away from your eye gently.

“Don’t worry, Darlin…we’ll get you all patched up.” Bo whispered.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #lester sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #ghostface #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher #thomas hewitt x reader #asa emory #michael meyers

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bambisnc · 2 months

Text

late night conversations [ft. j.wy]

-> pt2 of this [recap] -> you’re just about to point out that you are, in fact, just a fake girlfriend but before you can wonyoung interrupts you, tilting your face towards her in a way that leaves your lips inches away from hers (and leaves you completely breathless), her tone dripping with urgency, “he’s looking. kiss me now.”

pairing : wony x reader genre : fluffyy/crack/angstish + fake dating trope! cw/tw : kissing + super lowk suggestive + u dont have to read pt1 but u'd get a lil bg so + uneditted oohf ;-; wc : 2! pages! in google docs yayay

“well aren’t you just the best kisser ever~”

“jang wonyoung do you want me to cry.”

your fake girlfriend’s arm drapes itself over your shoulder, “but yn.. i’m the one who’s sad.. you know, i’d asked my girlfriend to kiss me, but she ended up biting my lip. i think i even saw a little blood…” you try to push her figure off of you, only for her to loop another under your knees and position you to sit on her lap with astonishing ease.

“or should i take it to mean that you were just that excited to kiss me, hmm~?” she’s teasing you, trying to rile you up – you know that.

but since when did fake dating involve.. this much intimacy? wonyoung is still whining about how much your action pained her, you panicked okay?!, but the casual way she rests her hand on your hip and her face nuzzles into your neck, placing kisses which seem to be dangerously lowering with every successive brush of her lips on your skin.., just seems a bit too real to be considered a show.

when you’d asked her, wonyoung had an answer ready at the tip of her tongue, “we need to practice; yn c’mon you seriously don’t expect people to believe us if you keep acting all stiff. we need practice.” and voila, she’d invited herself into your house.

you ignored the dull glint of .. something you couldn’t really understand in her usually bright eyes. you ignored how her rigid expression felt like a knife to your heart.

“hey.,” 2 hands press against your face, forcing your lips into a little pout, “pay attention to me.” you think she’s still being playful, but her expression is the most serious you’ve ever seen it..

and then, a featherlight touch of her lips on yours.

it leaves you a little dizzy, to be honest. you’ve kissed before, and this was barely even considerable comparing your past ‘practice’ sessions with wonyoung.. so maybe it’s something about this moment in particular.

you’d long accepted that she’d only remain a hallway crush, an alluring daydream. because you knew there was no way you could get over her unless.. unless maybe if you got the closure you needed. that you and her could never happen. which was why you’d accepted her plea to be her fake girlfriend.

you’d hope the way she was basically using you would be enough to knock some sense back into your love lost brain. but it didn’t. you realized if it was wonyoung, you’d be okay with her doing whatever, however, whenever she wanted.

and maybe.. maybe your feelings weren’t completely hopeless. maybe you had a chance.

“wah yn- c’mon do you want me to beg?” wonyoung asks, her arms now moving to pull you closer to her, embracing you ever so tenderly, “i’ll do it if you want, you know? pleasee~ tell me why you were late to the party? you said something about an issue?”

you sigh, “it’s..complicated. a really long story. and it’s 2 am..”

“so? we have all the time in the world.”

it’s really hard to argue with her in your current position, especially when her fingers are tracing soothing, mindless patterns on your back.

wonyoung decides you need further convincing, mumbling a “i want you to speak your mind around me yn.. let that mask of yours drop now.. please?” to do so.

gods, at this point you’d even tell her all your banking information if she wanted you to.

notes : honorary dedication to yuyu again n @elliesrosetoy ! (ily btoh) !! <3 + [m.list] + lowkey thinking of a pt3,, lmk tho!

update -> [pt.3] !! [series m.list]

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hobiebrownismygod · 7 days

Note

can you do a fic where 42!miles gets hurt after you two had a big argument and now you have to clean him up while still mad at him?? sorry if this didn't make sense

yess!! This is so cute I love it!! Thx for requesting <3

TW: BLOOD, mention of being hurt/wounds, use of Y/N in place of reader's name, very very slight angst (mostly fluff)

___________

Click

You locked your window and pulled the curtains closed with a huff. Your phone was silenced, your door was locked and you had promised yourself that no matter what, you were ignoring him.

Complete silent treatment.

The two of you had had a pretty big argument (and you could barely even remember how it'd started) so of course, you decided to be petty and pretend he didn't exist.

He always tried to make it up to you when you fought, climbing in through your window late at night, with a bouquet of hand-picked flowers or a movie he rented for the two of you to watch.

He'd be pretty silent about it, pretty nonchalant, and he'd plop down beside you on the bed and hold you. Not a word would be exchanged. And you'd always forgive him.

Not this time though. You were too mad.

So you decided you'd sit down, do your homework, and if you heard a knock at your window you'd simply pretend it never happened.

He could take care of himself.

You weren't going to be his little nurse. Not tonight.

But then of course...you were never one to leave him hanging.

It'd barely been fifteen minutes from when you'd started your homework when you heard a quiet knock at your window. You ignored it.

And then he knocked again. This time, you hesitated. You wanted to open it, you really did...but you didn't. No. You had to stand your ground. You weren't going to give in.

"Y/N" you heard his voice. The tapping on the window got louder, sloppier. "Y/N!" his voice was hoarse, not quiet and playful like usual. It was different.

But you stayed silent. You weren't going to let him in, you promised yourself.

"Y/N, please." You dropped your pencil. His voice was just a whisper now and you could barely hear it outside the locked window. He tapped one more time. "I'm hurt."

You felt chills on your neck and you immediately walked towards the window, pulling the curtains open. There he was, crouching against your balcony. His Prowler mask was on, his gauntlets were hanging off his hands.

And his shirt was soaked in blood.

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight. He reached his arm up with a pained groan, pulling his mask off. His brow was soaked in sweat, his face glistening slightly in the moonlight. "Please." he mouthed.

Robotically, you pulled open the window. You took his arm and helped him in, and he basically collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.

You helped him sit up, his back pressed against the wall. You quickly got to work, like you always did when he showed up in pain, grabbing your first-aid kit from underneath your bed and snapping it open quietly.

He winced as you began cleaning his wounds, pulling his shirt up so you could get to where the blood was coming from. He had a slash right across his stomach, blood gushing out in ribbons of red. It was never-ending.

You pressed an old t-shirt to the wound, trying your best to make some sort of tourniquet to stop the flow of the blood before pouring the rubbing alcohol over it. He covered his mouth with his hand and groaned, eyes squeezing shut, tears prickling the edges.

As you worked, he fell completely silent. You did too, too focused on keeping him alive to notice his eyes on you.

Not a word was exchanged.

Then a quiet, "Are you still mad at me?"

You looked up for a moment, eyes meeting his as he stared at you. They were hooded, but filled with sadness. He tilted his head back, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he blinked, still keeping his eyes on yours.

He looked like he wanted to say something. He didn't.

So neither did you.

But after another moment,

"I'm sorry."

It was just a whisper, so quiet you'd barely even heard it, but it meant so much. You felt your eyes tear up and you refused to look at him, continuing to gently work on his wounds.

"Say something." he whispered, pushing your hands off of him and sitting up. He grabbed your arms, holding your hands in his. "Please. Anything. I'm-I'm sorry."

You looked at him, taking a shaky breath. Suddenly, you jumped towards him, practically melting into his arms when they wrapped around you.

And just like that...everything felt better.

"Ow-" he winced as you accidentally put pressure on his sore wound, and you immediately shifted yourself, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I-I'm sorry. You shouldn't be sorry, I'm sorry." he stammered, taking your face in his hands as gently as he could. He smiled slightly, wiping away the remnants of tears in the corners of your eyes. "Are you crying?"

"No!" you quickly responded, pulling back. "I just-I just-"

"It's okay. You can cry" he said with a grin, sitting up again with a grunt.

"I'm not crying because of the argument, you jerk." you said with a huff. "I-I just hate seeing you like this. I get scared." your voice sounded so small in the moment, it was like a completely different person had appeared.

His gaze softened. "I see." He gestured for you to come back towards him and you did, resting your head against his chest as he held you close. "Thank you. For letting me in." he whispered, kissing the top of your head gently, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual.

"Of course." you replied with a smile, looking up at him with crinkled eyes. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." he said, returning the smile before giving you a gentle kiss, hands cupping your face as he pulled you close. You giggled before snuggling up to him a little closer, making sure to be careful not to graze his still sensitive cuts.

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked tentatively, closing his eyes as he buried his face in your neck. You stayed silent for a moment and you could swear you felt his heart drop when you didn't respond.

You grinned. "No. I'm not mad anymore." He chuckled, nervously almost. "You had me there for a second." he whispered, kissing your cheek gently.

"I am sorry though."

"What for?"

He froze. "For...for the argument."

"What part of the argument?"

He stayed silent and you couldn't help but laugh. So he'd forgotten how it'd started too. Funny.

"I forgot too, Miles. Don't worry."

He breathed out a sigh of relief and laughed, tilting his head back. "Jesus, you scared me."

"Not as bad as you scared me, knocking on my window like that. There's blood everywhere" you said with a frown, glancing back towards the window.

He pulled your head back gently. "Don't look at the blood, just look at me. We can worry about that later, yeah?"

You smiled, nodding before hugging him again. His fingers brushed through your hair as he held you close, breathing matching yours. A tender moment.

"I love you, you know that right?" he asked softly, lips moving to kiss your forehead one more time.

"I know, Miles. I love you too."

_______

🥺🥺🥺 im gonna cry

why did I write this it literally hurts how cute it is

:((

hopefully you liked this anon!!

______

Taglist:

@therealloopylupin2099 @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0uble-tr0ubl3 @choccymilkdrinker @breadglasses @sunasslut69 @a-cinnamonbunny @ask-1610miles @axels-garden @miniaturesuitfox @spotconlon55 @riris-radioactive-panther @trash-panda-xoxo @0strawberrysorbet0 @preciousxsin @d3lux4ry @uwukiity

Taglist Link --> HERE

Masterlist --> HERE

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konigsblog · 1 month

Note

need more rapist-simon, pretty please with sugar on top 😩🙏🏻

rapist-simon riley who lingers around at bars, waiting for his next drunk, little victim.

MDNI 18+

WARNINGS: RAPE/NON-CON, INTOXICATION (ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION), RAPIST-SIMON RILEY. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. YOU'RE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

some part of simon feels remorse and shame for doing something so callous and sadistic. he craves control, he craves to see you squirming and whimpering out, piteous cries leaving your swollen lips as he violates your weak, aching body. the sight of your trembling, slick thighs coated in your crimson blood leaves simon's dick aching in his grasp, watching as you fall limp in his arms, knocked out cold.

simon riley will linger in alleyways, waiting for drunken and vulnerable women to have his way with. he watches as you're barely able to walk in a straight line, before his gloved and filthy hands grasp at your waist. you yelp, squealing as you're forced to the wet and dirty concrete, your dress beginning to roll up and reveal your lace panties, making no effort to cover yourself up, it seems.

to simon, it's as if you wanted this — wanted to be raped by a male with so much power and dominance, for your face to be shoved into the ground as he begins to slide your panties to the side.

he's ruthless, he makes no effort in changing his cruel behaviour, or even sympathising with his victims. of course, his stomach churns with disgust afterwards, mortified yet aroused by the sight of your swollen, bruised cunt — he pays no mind to your pained and pathetic cries as he goes for another round, using you for his own greedy gratification and pleasure.

each hard and painful thrust leaves your body sore and in agony, you can feel your head spinning and pounding due to the stretch and force of his bulbous and thick cock prodding against your womb, mixed with the booze you'd just consumed. you babble out pleas, apologises, begging for no more as he pins your face against the concrete, the rain landing on your bare thighs causing goosebumps to spread all over your skin.

you listen to the sound of the man's guttural grunts and hoarse growls — the sound of his pleasure. the sound of your pain leaves him delirious as he chases the orgasm he believes he deserves, whilst you choke down your cries, too stunned as he quickens his already merciless pace. the impact of his heavy and fat balls against your cunny before he shoots a hot load deep inside your swollen cunt, fixing you with his potent seed, one last groan loudly leaving his mouth.

the balaclava leaves you threatened, as you're flipped onto your back, forced to look at him behind the mask he rubs his wet tip against your soaking folds, your sad and tearstained face leaving his dick twitching against your clit. ;(

#orla speaks #tw: rape #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #tw: dark content #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost headcanon #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #reader x ghost

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nsharks · 1 year

Text

nightmare | simon “ghost” riley

words: 1.3k

plot: simon has a nightmare and accidentally hurts you. mostly fluff. I like fics about sad!boy simon.

tags: fem!reader, blood tw

_______

It’s not rare for Simon to wake you up with his body thrashing around and low groans leaving his lips.

No matter how many times it’s happened, it never gets less painful for you, waking up to him having a nasty nightmare in the bed beside you.

You had a routine down pat by now. You’d gently touch his shoulders, careful not to surprise him, and then coo sweet things until his eyes fluttered open and his body relaxed under your hands. You hadn’t told Simon “I love you” yet, given the ill-defined nature of your relationship with him, but you often whispered other affectionate words to get him back to sleep.

Tonight is no different.

You’ve blinked your own slumber away, groggily rubbing your eyes before realizing what was happening. He’d been home for nearly a month now, and this was only the second nightmare of his. Your heart sinks as you sit up in the bed and reach over to touch his shoulder.

Simon was equally as hesitant about taking off his clothes as he was about taking off his mask. But he’s grown more and more comfortable around you, and tonight he’s sleeping with only his grey sweats on. His scarred chest is bare. When you touch his shoulder, the skin feels cool with sweat and the muscles beneath your fingers feel tense and knotted.

You’re about to whisper his name when he suddenly shouts out yours.

“Y/N,” he speaks hoarsely, eyes still closed. He’s moved around so much that his painted balaclava has shifted against face, a piece of his hair poking out from the cut-out for his eyes.

Your eyes widen. He whimpers out your name again.

“Simon, sweetheart,” you are gentle with your words. Somehow you get the feeling this dream is worse than the ones before. Beads of sweat percolate his brow bone and his skin looks ghastly under the moonlight seeping in from the window. You swallow, throat feeling narrowed, and touch his shoulder a little firmer.

“Simon.”

This one wakes him up. His eyes fly open and he shoots straight up, knocking his head against your lip in the process. His hands grip the blanket which has bunched around his hips as he breathes heavily. You hiss an explicative under your breath, pain shooting across the spot he’d just head-butted.

“Ow.”

Touching your lip, it feels hot and damp.

Simon hasn’t even come to his senses yet. His body is still in high-alert, the muscles of his back flexing as he shoots his eyes around the room, as if surveying for any signs of danger. Under his mask, it looks like his nostrils are flaring with each heavy breath he takes.

Then, his eyes land on you.

They are wild at first. Angry and intense and almost scrutinizing. But then the sight of you holding your lip, an unassuming tear rolling down your cheek, seems to bring him back to reality. Simon’s eyes soften drastically, painted with confusion until he starts to put the pieces around him together. His body is covered in sweat. You sitting up beside him. He’s not actually being threatened. He’s in his own room, his bed, and you’re sitting there hurt because of him.

“Christ,” he whispers gruffly, swiping the back of his hand over his bleary eyes. “I did that?”

You don’t give an answer. He did and he didn’t. It was obviously an accident, but that doesn’t seem to change the way his frame turns into a visibly frustrated one. Simon closes his eyes, huffs out a breath, and then reaches for you.

“C’mon, pet, let me fix this.”

You don’t get a chance to protest before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. He sets you carefully on the sink counter, your butt settling at the edge of it, as you sit there quietly and continue touching the place that he’d accidentally split your skin.

“Let me see it,” he orders lowly. He touches your hand and beckons it away from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell, I got you good.”

The sight is bloodier than he thought, but he can already tell it’s not very deep. Puffy, a bit of a bruise forming already, but nothing he can’t fix up for you. He is quick to find the first-aid kit he keeps in the medicine cabinet, scrummaging around for a cotton pad and getting it damp under the faucet.

He’s cleaned far worse wounds before. That’s the only thing you can think about as he concentrates on touching the damp pad to your lip, collecting all the blood. How much blood has he seen? You wonder to yourself. How many times has he tended someone’s wounds like this, only for them to lose the life in their eyes moments later?

They are dark thoughts. But they are tough to ignore, even though there is a shirtless, big man standing between your parted legs as he nurses you.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you finally. Throwing the blood-stained pad away, he picks up another one. Simon has never said he loves you, the words a bit tough for him to admit, but his gentle touch seems to say it with each dab to your wounded lip. “I was dreaming, huh?”

“Nightmare,” you correct him quietly. Your eyes meet his and the memory of him calling out your name seems to stare back at you. “You… you said my name.”

“Did I?”

You nod. “Yeah,” the word barely making it out, “I know you don’t like talking about them. But just… I was in it this time, wasn’t I?”

Something flashes across his lidded eyes. Something dark, haunting, and you wish he would let you see whatever it is he is seeing.

Surprisingly, he admits, “Yeah, you were. You’re in a lot of them now days.”

He throws away the cotton pad and returns between your legs. He is observing you intently, grabbing your face in his hands and inspecting the wound he’s cleaned up. There are many thoughts that haunt him, but the thought of you hurt tops the charts. He never imagined being the cause of your pain and it makes his anger flicker dangerously, like a stubborn candle he just can’t blow out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Stop,” you shake your head. You’ve still got that lone tear on your cheek and he wipes it. “Don’t… don’t do that. Don’t get all angry at yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

Once you started saying the words, they seemed to find a way out on their own terms. Your statement hangs heavy in the cramped space of the bathroom and Simon can’t even begin to reflect on how goddamn true it is. Your words measure beyond this moment, beyond the pathetic cut on your lip, and they take him back to everything he blames himself for. Everything he carries with him, so heavy and burdensome and nightmarish.

“Simon,” you whisper, and your soft voice brings him back to the here and now.

He splays his hands on your thighs.

“Y/N.”

“You good?”

“Peachy,” he tells you, and it’s full of sarcasm, but you rather it be that than something darker.

You touch his masked cheek and whisper out a sleepy request, feeling ready to get back in bed now that the blood has stopped.

“Kiss me?” you ask.

There was a time, in the beginning of your “relationship”, where Simon kissed you sparingly. He was so hesitant, reserved. But now, sighing away the bad thoughts, Simon peels up his mask just enough to lean forward and ever so carefully kiss your injured lips. It’s soft, despite the roughness of his mouth, and it is just what you both needed before heading back to bed.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #fluff #cod #john soap mactavish #fanfiction

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emmamayhews · 2 months

Text

Dexter's grief in 2003 was loud and roaring. He was drinking himself into passing out and engaging in the same self destructive behavior he did when he lost his mom as a coping mechanism. He was crying and openly grieving and so obviously in great pain that it was hard to watch. It felt like I was intruding in someone's deepest most private moment.

But to me, the portrayal of Dexter's grief in 2004 was more heartbreaking. Everything leading up to the box room scene was nerve-wracking. You could feel his pain simmering right under the surface. He didn't want to socialize with their loved ones on her death day. They try and try to engage him in the conversation and yes, you can feel his guard fall down for a moment and he relaxes. They joke around about his loft but he closes himself back up the moment he hears himself say her name out loud. That's when he remembers. They all can see it and he knows they can see it but he's not comfortable sharing his feelings with the others again. I think he was tired of being pitied and coddled when all he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts because that way, he could feel closer to her. He could see her and talk to her even in his imagination. He was barely holding it together during the entire conversation. That's why he ran for the bottle the moment the door closed.

2004 Dexter and 2003 Dexter are one and the same except he got better at masking his pain. Not for his own sake but for the others, and most definitely for his daughter. (edit: He even repeats the line “It’s just a day” when Sylvie and Ian ask him how he’s doing) That makes me terribly sad for him. How do you move on from such a great love without feeling guilty? How do you move on when all you want to do is live in your grief so her memory never leaves you?

This show ruined me.

#one day #one day netflix #dexter mayhew #emmadex

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switchypanic · 3 months

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One Last Trust Exercise || A 'Hazbin Hotel' Tickle Fic

Summary: The night before The Extermination, the hotel crew decides to play a game of truth or dare. After all, what do they have to lose? They'll probably all be dead the next day anyways. However, a few interesting secrets come to light, and the evening takes a surprising turn.

Content Warnings: Canon-typical language and MINOR spoilers for the beginning of episode eight.

Word Count: 2,475 words.

Nobody was excited for what tomorrow would bring. The threat of imminent, painful failure loomed over their heads, unable to be masked by alcoholic beverages or (attempts at) rousing speeches. For them to survive, it was going to take a miracle, and Heaven had not been too keen on giving those out up to that point. However, there was a small bright side to the situation, as hard as it is to believe.

With little left to lose, the hotel staff were oddly relaxed with each other, showing the most affection and open comradery towards one another that Charlie had ever seen from the group. Husk and Angel were sharing drinks and snickering softly to each other at the bar, the former overlord absentmindedly cleaning a few shot glasses as the spider demon watched, barely muffling snickers behind one of his many hands. Whatever the two were joking about was lost on the princess, not that she minded in the slightest.

Nifty was rambling to Cherri Bomb about her newest creation, a morbid adaptation of 'Romeo and Juliet' which utilized the many roaches she had exterminated as puppets, garnering looks of concern and feigned smiles of encouragement from her captive audience. From a few meters away, Alastor listened in silently, his ever present smile somehow even wider than usual, betraying his clear amusement at the situation before him.

And then there was Vaggie, mumbling quiet words of encouragement to Sir Pentious in the far corner of the room, away from any prying ears. The snake demon fiddled with his hat, eyes flickering over to Cherri Bomb, causing his hood to flare open for a moment before he forced it back down with his hands. Charlie couldn't help but giggle; Vaggie wasn't the best at flirting herself, yet she was still trying her best to be a good wingman. If Charlie had thought she couldn't possibly be any more in love with the woman, she was being proven wrong yet again.

Charlie felt a pang of anxious sadness in her heart, knowing that all of the progress they had made could be undone in a single instant tomorrow morning. A single pierce from an exorcist's blade could mean the end, the final end, for any one of them. It could mean the sudden and cruel end of everything they had been working so hard to achieve.

The princess wrung her hands, blinking back tears as she attempted to calm herself down. Getting all worked up in front of everyone wouldn't help matters. No, she needed to do something to get her mind off of tomorrow. Scouring her mind for any ideas, one suddenly came to her, and her usual smile returned in a flash.

Clearing her throat, Charlie climbed atop of the nearby coffee table, careful not to accidentally knock over one of the many whisky glasses left strewn about. "Um, excuse me everyone! Can I have your attempt for a moment?" She yelled.

The various conversations paused, heads turning expectantly towards her.

"I had an idea for one final trust exercise for us to do before tomorrow; truth or dare! Anyone who wants to play is welcome to, but it's totally not mandatory!" Charlie announced. "Like I said, spend tonight however you guys want! I just thought it might be fun for us to-"

"Sounds fun to me!" Angel Dust interrupted, a playful smirk plastered to his face as he got to his feet. "Haven't played that since before I bit the bullet back on Earth. What do you say, Husk? You in too?" The actor asked, glancing over his shoulder at the cat demon.

Husk hummed, seemingly thinking it over. "Aah, what the hell? Why not? Not like I've got much else to do tonight." The bartender replied, shrugging.

Charlie turned her attempt to Nifty, who was bouncing on her toes with excitement. "Oh, I love that game! I love that game!" The short sinner squealed.

Cherri Bomb couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Fuck yeah, I'm in too! Last time I played that, I got to spend ten minutes in a closet with some super hot hellhound!"

From across the room, Charlie noticed Pentious' face go bright red. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with such a game...but I would be willing to learn!" The snake demon pipped in. "This...Truth Or Dare, as you called it, does sound quite intriguing. How about you, Vagatha? Shall you be joining in as well?"

Vaggie rolled her eyes. "NOT my name, dude. We've been over this. But...yeah, why not?" The former Exorcist shot her girlfriend a gentle smile, and Charlie felt like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

Now, it seemed the only one left to answer was...

Charlie turned her attention to Alastor. The overlord hadn't moved from his previous position, though his expression had changed ever so slightly, bearing an emotion that Charlie couldn't quite discern. "Al? What about you?" The princess asked, offering an encouraging smile. "You want to play? No pressure, of course!" She half expected him to say no. Alastor was a private man, and while he often enjoyed messing with others, he didn't seem the type to play a game which could leave him vulnerable in some capacity.

However, to her surprise, the radio host let out a small laugh and quickly strode over to her. "Why not? I'm afraid I'm also unfamiliar with such a game, though I have been told I'm a fast learner!" Alastor replied.

Charlie squealed with excitement, jumping off of the table and ushering everyone forwards. "Great! Alright, everybody get into a circle on the floor!" She instructed, plopping down on the carpet with a soft thud. Vaggie took the seat to her right, as expected, and Nifty to her left. Alastor positioned himself between Nifty and Sir Pentious, the later of which had strategically made sure to claim a seat next to Cherri. Finally, Angel and Husk finished out the circle (were Charlie's eyes deceiving her, or was Husk ever so slightly wrapping a wing around the actor).

The princess clapped her hands with excitement. "Okay, since some of you haven't played before, I'll explain the rules! When the game starts, I'll ask one of you to pick truth or dare. If you pick truth, you have to answer whatever question I ask honestly. If you pick dare, you have to do whatever I dare you to. Once you've done either of those things, it's your turn to ask somebody else!"

Sir Pentious raised a hand. "ANYTHING you ask or dare? What if you wanted me to sign over my soul?" He asked, shooting a distrusting look at Alastor.

Charlie hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Good point! I guess it would be a good idea to put some rules in place, just for safe keeping. If there is a truth or dare you really aren't comfortable with doing, use the safeword...apple!"

"And how do we know if somebody is telling the truth?" The snake demon continued, head cocked to the side with curiousity.

"That's the thing, we're working on the honor system! It's up to you guys to stay truthful with us. Remember all of our previous exercises; you can trust everyone here!"

Husk snorted. "Suuure..." He grumbled, also shooting Alastor a nasty look. If the deer demon was bothered by the group's apparent distrust in him, he didn't show it.

"Alright, I'll go first! Hm....Vaggie, truth or dare?" Charlie asked, beaming from ear to ear as she turned towards her girlfriend. The former Exorcist chuckled, shaking her head.

"Truth."

"Okay then, what's your favorite food?" Angel could be heard snickering from across the circle; of course Charlie would pick such a vanilla question.

"Empanadas."

"See?" Charlie squealed with delight. "It's super easy! You'll all get the hang of it in no time! Okay, Vaggie, it's your turn to ask someone!"

"Oookay..." Vaggie slowly glanced around the circle, taking a moment to think before selecting her target. "Cherri, truth or dare?"

The bomb expert grinned impishly. "You kiddin' me? Dare, mate!"

"Then I dare you to...do a cartwheel."

Cherri Bomb scoffed, getting to her feet. "For real? I can do that in my sleep!" She retorted, easily demonstrating her point as she completed the dare with ease. Nifty clapped excitedly, letting out a maniacal giggle.

"Bravo, bravo!"

Cherri looked over to the shorter demoness, chuckling as she sat back down. "Alright, pipsqueak, your turn! Truth or dare?"

The janitor was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oooh, dare! Dare!"

"Then I dare you to give ol' Angie here a taste of the tickle monster treatment, yeah?" Cherri replied, sending a knowing smirk to her friend.

Angel, who had been preoccupied whispering something to Husk, sputtered in shock. "What the fuck? Cherri!" The actor cried out, a look of betrayal on his face. "Did you have to throw me under the bus?!"

The other shrugged. "Sorry, mate! I'm kinda limited on the kinds of dares I'm allowed to give at this bloody place."

Angel's head snapped in Nifty's direction, his heart racing as the tiny cyclops scuttled over to him, giggling with excited glee. "N-Now Nif, we can talk about this, yeah?" A grin was already starting to tug at Angel's lips, and while he leaned back slightly, he made no real effort to get away.

"Sorry, a dare's a dare!" Nifty launched herself forward, nearly knocking the actor onto his back with the force of her movement. The smaller sinner's fingers immediately found their way to Angel's sides, digging in with chaotic zeal. Angel let out a surprised yelp, biting down on his lip in a vain attempt to contain his chuckles.

"Nohoho! Nifty, cohohome on! Lemme gohohohoho!"

"Ah, he doesn't mean that! Just look at him; he's barely fighting back!" Cherri replied, grinning deviously. "Wait, not barely fighting back, more like not fighting back AT ALL."

From across the rug, Charlie was cooing at the endearing sight, and even Vaggie was starting to smile a little.

"Aaw, this is so cute!" The princess gushed.

"You think this is cute? Lil' gremlin ain't even gettin' one of his really good spots. You latch onto one of those, he's DONE FOR." Cherri was determined to fluster the shit out of him, wasn't she?"

Angel's face turned a brilliant shade of pink, his face burrowing into his hands in an attempt to hide itself. "Cheheherri, shuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhup!" He whined. Next to him, Husk couldn't contain the teasing grin tugging at his own lips.

"Well, well. Never would have pegged you as the ticklish type, considering your line of work."

Angel collapsed backwards onto the carpet as Nifty was gently pried off of him by Cherri, supporting his upper body on his elbows. It seemed the brief attack had been enough to satisfy his companion's mischievous streak, though Nifty herself was protesting over her fun being cut short. "Oho, cohohome off it. Everybody's a bit ticklish, ain't they?" He retorted.

"Not me." Husk replied smugly. A burst of laughter rang out from across the circle; it seemed Alastor was finally ready to speak up.

"Now Husker, it's not very nice to lie to one's friends, is it?" The Radio Demon chided, shaking his head in disapproval. The cat demon shot him a glare, wings puffing up slightly.

"I ain't lying!"

Alastor hummed, grin sharpening as a devious glint entered his eyes. "Funny, I seem to remember you rolling on the round, wheezing with laughter during your last shedding season. If I recall correctly, Nifty had decided to take a grooming brush to your wings. Ringing any bells?"

While not especially evident because of his fur, Husk knew that he was blushing up a storm. "You shut it!" He growled, tail flicking back and forth in flustered irritation.

"There's nothing to be embarrased about, Husk! I'm ticklish, and as we all just saw, so is Angel! It's completely normal!" Charlie chimed in, attempting to offer reassurance. "It wouldn't surprise me if everyone here was to some degree!"

"Hey, stop draggin' me into this!" Angel groaned. "Though I suppose she does have a point; I ain't never met somebody who ain't ticklish SOMEWHERE!"

"I'm not!" Nifty said, beaming with pride.

"Yeah, suuure." Cherri chuckled in response, shaking her head.

"I'm afraid little Nifty is quite right; both Husker and I have attempted to tickle her on multiple occasions, to no success." Alastor said, sharing a sharp-toothed smile with the little cyclops. "She seems to be indestructible when it comes to tickling."

Happy to have the conversation directed away from his own sensitivity, Husk nodded. "As much as I hate to say it, Smiles is right on that front. The girl's a walking fortress; no cracks in the foundation."

Noticing that Sir Pentious had been oddly quiet, Vaggie gave him a gentle nudge. "How about you?" She asked, wanting to ensure the snake demon felt included.

Pentious flinched, hood flaring out slightly. "Who, me?" He chuckled nervously. "Why, the great Sir Pentious isn't ticklish! It would be rather unbecoming of a villain such as I, would it not?"

"Not necessarily. Anyone can be ticklish, even villains." Charlie said gently.

Angel Dust snorted with laughter. "You say that, but somehow I have a hard time picture Al rolling on his ass and laughin' up a storm!" The actor butted in, pointing an accusatory finger at the overlord. "What IS the deal with YOU, huh? You got anything your wanna admit to the group?"

The faint sound of buzzing radio static could be heard lingering in the air. "Me? Why, I don't see how that's any of your business, is it?" Alastor replied, head cocking to the side as if to challenge the other demon.

"That ain't a no." Angel retorted with a small smirk.

Nifty jumped to her feet, waving her arms about excitedly. "Oh, oh! He is! He is! This one time, I-" The little demoness was cut off as Alastor scooped her up, pressing a palm against her mouth.

"Now, now, my dear! Some things are best left a secret, hm?"

"No fuckin' way, I wanna hear it!" Angel leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. "Go on, Nif! Tell us aaall about it!" As Nifty squirmed in Alastor's hold, frantic talking could be heard muffled behind his hand. A moment later, Alastor suddenly released his grip, lip curling as he recoiled in disgust.

"Did you just LICK my hand?!"

Charlie knew she should probably put a stop to things before they got too crazy; that she should redirect the group back to the game. However, seeing the pure, silly interactions they were having, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. After all, why not let them have their silly little squabble?

After tomorrow, it could be a good, long while before any of them could relax again.

#ticklish!angel dust #mentioned ticklish!husk #mentioned!ticklish alastor #hazbin hotel tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickles #tickle fic #sfw tickles #sfw tickling #sfw tickling community #tickling community #sfw twords #sfw tword community #tword community #switchy writes tickles

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sinkovia · 3 months

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Selfish asshole

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Fluff w/ slight Angst

The bond between you and Ghost had always been deep, a connection that went beyond words. In the subtle gestures and the extra efforts, your love for him remained a secret. Ghost, perceptive as ever, saw the signs – the smiles, the looks, the special attention reserved just for him and he loved every bit of it. You always went the extra mile for him, making sure his mornings started with a cup of tea, ready by the time he came down from his barracks.

You stayed up late with him when he couldn't sleep, offering your comforting presence. You were always there for him, and he appreciated that more than words could express. Ghost cherished you, you were so beautiful in his eyes. He found comfort in the sound of your voice and the way you looked at him as if he were more than just a soldier.

Ghost couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart every time you were around.

Yet, beneath the surface, a silent struggle unfolded within him. He recognized the love growing within your heart, mirroring the emotions he held but could never admit. The unspoken truth became a weight, and he made a painful decision to distance himself. In his eyes, you deserved more than what he believed he could offer.

Haunted by his past and perceiving himself as a mere shell, Ghost felt a duty to spare you from the darkness that clung to him. He became distant, withdrawing from the closeness you once shared, hoping you'd find happiness elsewhere. The short responses and a subtle coldness were his way of urging you to move on, to seek love with someone who could provide the life he thought you deserved.

It was a choice Ghost made out of love, even if it meant sacrificing his own feelings.

The change in Ghost's behavior was immediately noticeable. He started his days earlier, and the morning tea ritual you once shared slowly faded away.

As the days went by, the once vibrant connection between you two started to fade. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, and the shared moments that used to bring you joy now felt like distant memories. It was as if he had built an impenetrable wall around himself, shutting you out.

You found yourself at a loss, trying to comprehend what had gone wrong. Hurt and confusion crept into your heart as you grappled with the unexplained distance. You missed him more than words could explain. The ache grew, prompting you to confront him about it.

"Hey, do you think we can—" Your words hung in the air as he turned abruptly, walking away. Determined to have answers, you gently reached for his arm, concern etched on your face. But before you could express your worries, he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

"Don't fucking touch me." He yanked his arm away, leaving you shocked by the sudden change. In all the time you'd known him, he had never raised his voice at you.

"Please just tell me what's wrong. Why are you pushing me away? Was it something I said?"

He glanced around, a momentary flicker of sadness crossing his eyes before the familiar cold mask returned. Towering over you, he stared into your eyes, contemplating something. The cold, dead expression dominated, and the words he spoke cut through your heart.

"You're always bothering me, following me around like a lost puppy! You never give me my fucking space!" Your lips parted, face etched in disbelief and pain.

“You don't mean that.” The words barely escaped in a whisper, your heart breaking.

“I do. Now leave me alone.”

His gaze softened as he saw your teary-eyed expression, regret clouding his eyes. The harsh words he yelled were filled with remorse, but he believed they were necessary lies to push you away. With your heart shattered, you turned and walked away, leaving Ghost alone with his regrets and self-imposed isolation. He hoped that the hurtful words would be enough for you to move on, to find someone better. As you hurried to your room, tears streaming down your face, you ran into Soap, further entangling your emotions in the web of confusion and pain.

"Bloody hell lass, are you okay?"

You broke down in the hallway, pouring your heart out to Soap about your feelings for Ghost and what he had said to you when you tried to talk to him. Anger fueled him, and he stormed away to find Ghost. Entering the rec room, he found him sitting alone on the couch. Ghost's eyes met Soap's as he was about to ask what he was doing, but Soap's knuckles collided with his jaw.

Soap, who knew Ghost felt the same way about you, couldn't fathom why he would say something hurtful to you.

"You're pathetic, Ghost, you know that?" he staggered back from the impact, shock evident in his wide eyes.

"You're a fucking coward." Soap's frustration echoed in his voice as he berated him for hurting your feelings when he knew you both loved each other. Ghost got up, towering over Soap, breathing quickening. He pushed passed him to walk away, but Soap spoke up again.

"You hate Y/n, admit it."

Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and walked up to Soap, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"You don't know anything about how I feel. You have no idea how I feel about her. If I told her how I really felt, she would drop everything to be with me. She would sacrifice everything good in her life for me because that's the type of person she is. She's perfect, Soap, the best thing that has ever happened to me. She's too good for someone like me. I won't let myself ruin her. I refuse to let that happen."

You had been standing at the entrance of the rec room, hearing everything. Soap's gaze shifted to you, and Ghost quickly turned around. His eyes widened in shock as you walked up to him with anger in your eyes. Without hesitation, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

"You selfish asshole."

Both Ghost and Soap's eyes widened, not expecting such a reaction from you.

"Why can't you let yourself be happy for once in your life Ghost? I love you more than anything. I don't care if you think you're not good enough for me. You are enough. You are more than enough, Ghost. You make me so happy. Please just let me do the same for you."

Ghost opened his mouth to object, but you quickly put your finger up, shushing him.

"I'll be at Maggianos at 8pm tomorrow night. If you don't show then I'll have my answers and if you do then it's a date." with that you turned and walked out of the rec room.

The next evening, you were sitting in a booth by yourself waiting. You checked the time on your phone, It was 8:05. You wondered if he would show up. You gave him five more minutes and still, he had not come. You sigh and get up from the booth, as you were turning to leave you saw him standing there, flowers in hand and his mask off.

You smile as he walks up to you and hands you the flowers. "Your late"

"I know, I'm sorry"

Seated across from each other, you spent hours talking over dinner, sharing a romantic night. As the night grew late, you both returned to the base together. Walking you to your room, Ghost lingered, and you chatted for a few moments before bidding each other farewell. As he began to leave while you unlocked your door, he suddenly turned around, cupping your face and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"I couldn't spend another second wondering what it felt like, I'm sorry," he whispered against your lips. Smiling, you responded by gently placing your hand behind his neck and pulling him into another soft kiss.

Pulling away, he smiled down at you, admiring your features. Despite not being religious, he thanked god for having someone as pure and perfect as you in his life. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Ghost."

"Simon," he said, gazing down at you with a gaze full of love.

"Goodnight, Simon." The sound of his name coming from you made his heart swell, and he planted a kiss on your forehead before walking back to his room. Smiling, you entered yours, closing the door behind you.

You found yourself lying on your bed, basking in the afterglow of the evening. The room held a serene ambiance as you reflected on the moments you two shared.

Thoughts of how good your life had become flooded your mind, and a contented smile graced your face. The memory of the date lingered, and you couldn't help but replay the sweet moments, the laughter, and the connection you felt.

Your thoughts shifted to the warmth of Simon's lips, savoring the tender kisses exchanged. The sensation lingered, and you found yourself lost in the euphoria of the moment. As you lay there, the room filled with a sense of fulfillment, your heart swelled with gratitude for the happiness that had found its way into your life.

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