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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 40 minutes

Note

oh god pls for the love of god and the dear christ and blahaj lord and IDK just

too scrumptious… pls I want to reread thousand times…

tyvvvm for fulfilling my dreamsssss you fucking nailed ittttt

simon riley*Reader tooth-rotting fluff

I NEED DRUNK SIMON DRABBLE OR SMTH ALL OKAY BUT I NEED DRUNK SIMON AAAAAAA

thx in advance 😈

(btw ur rules and regulations link isn’t working)

- HalloHello

thank you king for the idea and for the heads up

I accidentally privated the post so it'll be working right after this.

ANYWAYS

Drunk! Simon x Not so drunk! Reader

TW: Very drunk Simon. I think that's it

A/N: fangirling really hard rn

semi-proofread

You stayed up a little later becasue Simon said he'd be home soon, on a little drinking night with his buddies. He's usually good with controlling himself while drinking, but after missions? Man gets shitfaced and is all hugs and kisses and I love yous.

He's a sweetheart when drunk. Not to say he's not always a sweetheart, but when he has no inhibitions and is actually calm and not tense, he's a big old baby. His inner child really plays out.

You hear Gaz pull into your driveway, as he's usually the designated driver for the after mission drinks. You open your door to say hi to Simon but..

You see Gaz get out of the car with Simon. You open your door, waving. Simon doesn't wave back, and Gaz laughes quickly. He brings him up to the steps, and helps Simon walk up the stairs to your front door.

"Hey, darling. I'm handing you your.. Uh.. Very... Drunk boyfriend." Gaz holds back a hard laugh when Simon, his big self, stumbles forward to lean half his weight on you. You support yourself on the door confused.

"How-What-When--" You look for words but they fail you. Gaz shrugs.

"Even we don't know. Johnny told him to slow down, but.." Gaz gestures to the mess Simon is, and tips his head.

"Don't mean to leave you with him, but I got to drop off Price. Just.. Update me, yeah? I don't know why he'd drink so much," Gaz gives you a nice smile, and walks back to his car to drive off. You take Simon's hand, and try to lead him in. Simon laughs softly, a laugh you rarely hear, and he kisses your face a few times.

He gets in the house, just to crumple to the entrys mudroom seat, and leans back back into some of his own work shoes.

"Oh my, ya'... Y'r such a sore for sight eyes.." He mumbles. You tilt your head, in an 'excuse me' motion. He shakes his head, before trying to stand, and falling back.

"No no, love, a-a sight for sore eyes.. Yea' a sight.." He sighs, "I wish I had a girlfriend tha' wa-was like ya'.."

You snicker, covering your mouth. You manage to get him to the couch, and then your bed, taking off his sweaty shirt and changing his jeans to PJ pants.

"'F I ev'r 'ad a girl, 'd wan' her like ya'.." His words seemed to decline in coherence as he got more tired. You nodded slightly, smiling crookedly.

"Like me, you say? Why's that?" You kiss his temple, and he smiles warmly. His smile is the prettiest you've seen, and you love when he's even slightly drunk because he flashes it so much more.

"'M safe with ya'.. Why wouldn't I wan' a girl like ya'," he smiles, and takes your hand, and holds it.. Like a baby. His big ass hand is wrapped around your thumb.

You softly rub his scalp, as he moves himself onto your chest. You have the TV playing, watching your favorite show. Simon is mumbling.. Something, your sure, but he's just putty in your hands. Imagine: a big burly man, drunk, and infatuated in his girlfriend (but he apparently doesn't know) like a small school boy. It's adorable seeing him defenseless for once, relaxed shoulders, and his gaze is just as strong as he gazes up at you. You peck his forehead, and rub the bridge of his previously broken nose.

"Hey, Si, guess what?" You smile softly, your hand holding his jaw. He hums and tilts his head. "Did you know that I'm actually your girlfriend?"

He stares dumbfounded for a moment, before shaking his head.

"Can't be, mm... Y'r too pretty for me." He kisses your palm, and smiles.

"I promise. 2 years strong, honey." You kiss his lips softly, smiling at his cluelessness. His hands grip the sides of your shirt, looking up at you. He doesn't believe you, crazily, he's still got his insecurities.

"No no, ya'... Ya' shouldn't be.. Wasting Y'r time.." You shush him with another kiss, before his head falls onto his chest. He sighs.

"Wasting my time? Si, honey, I love spending my time on you." You kiss the crown of his head, and scratch his head. He mumbles more incoherent thoughts. He's lights out very quickly, and you follow suit a few minutes later.

The morning comes, and so does a very hungover Simon. He groans, sitting up, and wiping his jaw harshly. You were awake, on your phone when you feel him shift.

"Oh, hey baby." You smiled, and out your phone down. He groans, and nuzzles into your neck, complaining about how his head hurts.

"I know, I know. I got some advil for you." You grab the bottle from the side table, and feed him 2.

"God.. I'm.. Was I..?" He rubs his eyes and gives up, seeking comfort in your arms. Your rub his head some more, and move your fingers to rub his temples.

"You gotta stop drinking so hard, baby." You whisper, "I know you don't do it often, but.. Are the mornings worth it?"

He nods, to your surprise, and leans into your hands. "Mm.. Yeah.. It's worth it.. Cuz'.. Ya' rub my head and kiss me and.. Mm... Hug me.."

You kiss his head, and shake your own.

"Next time, just ask okay?" You get a nod as a response from him. He whispers a thank you into your neck, before drifting off to sleep until 1, like usual.

ahh this was so cute to write and I fell asleep writing it so. thats why I'm posting it in the morning.

by babes!!

-a661

#rb #a661 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 13 hours

Note

Got a yummy req from sharkie anon again! Stay tuned for next chapter of high pain tolerance reader if interested :D

it’ll come out soon :)

TYVM!!

Hello, this is 🦈 anon ◉⁠‿⁠◉. Um.. if you still open request, please can i have TF 141 together x F! Reader who has high (possibly extreme) pain tolerance that whenever reader's injured, she almost doesn't react or show she's in pain. When TF 141 found this new information, they couldn't be not worried because what do you mean you don't feel anything while bleeding heavily, sweetheart?

TLDR: "Ayo yer bleeding?!", "Uh, um..yeah, should I scream?"

hello 🦈 anon!!! nice to see you again :D ty for the request!! I hope u would like this one since I think it was sweet :) have a nice day/night!

word count: 2.3k

ship: TF141*F!Reader

tw: pet names (love etc.)

The first time they found out was on a mission.

The explosion made you fly and hit hard on the wall, you could hear Soap yelling at you.

“Yer okay, lassie?!” You brushed away the dust, Soap running over and checking on you, blue eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, alright.” Standing up from the wreckage, you simply responded to him. Though Soap doubted if you were truly fine under that big impact, but your face didn’t express thoughts other than focusing on the mission, so he just nodded and signaled to keep going.

The rest of the mission succeeded without any incidents. Price, Ghost, and Gaz are already waiting at the exfil place. Through the smoke and deafening sound of the helo, they saw you and Soap walking towards them.

“Y’all okay?” Hadn’t gotten close to the helicopter, Gaz already run towards you two, relief was obvious on his face when he didn’t see any injuries by a quick scan, but then Ghost came over too.

“Wait, your shoulder.” He pointed at your shoulder, leading everyone’s gaze to land on it, including yourself.

“oh... looks like it’s dislocated.” You evaluated.

“What do you mean ‘oh’?! don’t you feel any pain?!” Soap yelled at your words. His hands try to inspect your shoulder, but afraid to trigger the pain.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal, just...”

You put your hand on the shoulder, and with a loud CRACK, which made Gaz jump and Soap gaped, even Ghost’s eyes widened at your sudden motion.

“I think it’s fixed now.” You looked around at your teammates, confusion clouded your mind “Ummm... is there any problem?”

“You...” Ghost stuttered, but he regained his composure fast. “doesn’t that hurt?”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean, LT.” You shrugged, “But actually, I feel a little bit dizzy...”

Just at the moment you finished your sentence, the dizziness became more severe, and your vision started growing blurry...

“Oi! Call the medic!” Catching your slumped body, Ghost yelled at the sergeants, but the last thing you hear is Soap reassuring you and Gaz calling for help.

So quiet... Where am I?

You thought as you slowly opened your eyes, what came in your eyes first was the stainless white ceiling, and a low voice coming from aside.

“you awake, sergeant?”

Turning your head, your eyes met with the man’s ocean-like ones, who sitting on the chair beside and holding some papers.

“Captain.” The whisper slipped out when you recognized him

“I guess you don’t know you were seriously injured, love.”

“What happened?”

“The explosion.” Price leaned closer to the bed now “The impact caused your bone fractured and slowly internal bleeding. We have no idea how you were able to walk to the exfil and looked like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t feel any pain, so I assumed I was okay.” you avoided his attention when Price raised his eyebrows. You knew he was worried and it kind of made you guilty.

“since I was young I rarely feel pain, so...” staring at the catheter of your IV drip, you mumbled quietly.

Price didn’t reply, he just stared at the paper written with your injuries and health state.

The room fell into silence for a while, before you open your mouth again.

“Sorry, Captain...” You murmured, still don’t dare to look at him.

The man let out a long sigh, you snapped your head up when you felt your hands were covered by Price’s.

It’s warm, soothing, calming down your still hazy but full of thoughts mind.

“You should be sorry, dear.” He rubbed your hand in a repeated rhythm. “You make us worried. Me, and the boys...” he pointed his chin at the bedside desk, and you finally notice the flowers and your favorite snacks are placed on it.

“We’ll keep an eye on you every time the mission is complete, since you can’t feel pain, this is not a request, it’ s a command, got it, soldier?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” The composed grin eventually appeared on his face, and you smiled too when he ruffled your hair.

“Sleepy?” His comforting voice rings against your ears when you let out a big yawn.

“mmhmm.”

“Then sleep, Gaz will be here when you wake up.”

Price watched your eyelids struggle to stay open but failed, little snores leaving you when you fell drifted into dreams again.

What you didn’t know is he brushed off the hair on your face and placed a tender kiss on your serene face.

Weeks after, to your happiness, you could go back to your own quarter and start hitting the training room for some simple practice.

Except there was someone who insisted on following you every time when you went to the training room, even if you tried to sneak into the room, he was always there as if he knew your plan.

“Soap.” You sighed at the man sitting on the bench spotting you.

“Aye, lassie?”

“I’m okay, really.”

“I don’t trust ye anymore. I should check it mahself.”

You understood why he was acting like this. Price told you Soap had been blaming himself for not finding that you were injured in that mission until your body gave up due to blood loss.

“I’m just doing some easy weightlifting now, I won’t pass out just because of this okay?”

You concentrated on his figure as he strode to your side. You chuckled when he still looked at you with doubtful eyes.

“How ‘bout you spar with me? Go easy on me though, the doctor said I still haven’t recovered fully.”

“You sure yer okay?”

“You’re like my mother now, Soapy.”

“Aye, 'cause we got a naughty kid in our team.” He laughed. “If I think you should stop, then ye stop, aye?”

“Yes, mama.”

You both burst into laughter and stepped on the training mat. Soap really went easy with his attack, unlike the usual training with the tension as if you two were about to devour each other.

“Oh!” When Soap swung out a punch, you abruptly lowered your body, and with a swipe of your leg, Soap fell onto the mat, followed by you sitting on him and securing his hands.

“Checkmate...? Soap.” You smirk at the man lying under you.

“Won’t complain if I was lost to you, but.” he huffed out a laugh, but your world spun the next second, and you met your gaze with the man now on top of you, his eyes glinting with mischievous.

“It’s a tie now, bonnie.” He flashed out a dazzling smile at you.

“Okay okay, it’s a tie now.”

A lazy grin spread along your lips when you poke at his chest.

“How about we go get some lunch together, handsome?

“Aye, ma'am.”

“The bones and the wound have healed very well, can say you are the most well-behaved patient in your team.”

The doctor smiled at you, and you turned to shoot a glimpse at Gaz, only to find his face written with embarrassment.

“What did he do last time you treat him, doctor?”

“oh, I forbid him to go training, but he still went and tore his knuckles, so he came back and stitched them again, making me call Captain Price to scold him.”

“Sorry, he’s a dumbass.”

“All of you guys are stubborn, sometimes I really want to tie you to the bed.” The doctor grinned “Well, since you’re fully recovered, you can go back to train and go on missions. Remember to be careful next time, don’t come back too soon, okay?”

“I will, Thank you, doc.”

Returning the smile, you and Gaz stepped out of the infirmary.

“I can’t wait to have you back next mission, need ya to bear Soap’s nonsense and Lt.’s bad jokes with me.” Walking beside you, Gaz sounded excited, and it’s hard not to be affected by his warmth.

“Need a helper to deal with those troublemakers?”

“That’s one reason.” He chuckled “Actually...”

“We all missed you.”

You halted to a stop when his words flowed into your ears with a bit of sadness.

Now face to face with him, you were able to see the concern on his face.

“You didn’t know when you just passed out without any warning, I felt like my heart almost shattered.”

It was close to midnight, so no one was nearby, and his words were gentle yet distinct, echoing softly in your mind.

“Not just, me, Ghost, Soap, Captain... we all are scared, you know?”

“We thought we lost you.”

You opened your mouth, mind still processing, managing to find a word, but nothing came out except an apology.

“Sorry, Kyle...”

The dusk light showered you two in an awkward peace, but it didn’t affect the sentiment Gaz conveyed to you.

“Just be careful, okay? You should tell us that you can barely feel pain, so we can help you check out, alright?”

“Okay.”

Giving your hands a little squeeze, Gaz accompanied you back to your quarter.

“We’re more than a team, more than family, we’ll always watch your back, just like you always do.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tilting your head, your lips curled mildly. “Goodnight, Gaz.”

The honey-like smile inched towards you until you felt his soft lips pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, lovie.”

Your first mission after months ended smoothly. You were glad that you didn’t become rusty after the long rest, seemed like the practice and training with Soap and Gaz were worth it.

Soap and Gaz were chatting loudly, while Price sat in front and was checking details regarding the mission. You listened to the boys bantering, sometimes quipped back when their target turned to you, but you could feel someone observing you, and you tried to ignore the chill sending through your spine.

Because you knew it was Ghost, sitting just across you and scanning you like a robot.

You silently wished to arrive at the base faster, so you could ask him what was wrong or if you had done something incorrectly.

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you let out a sigh of relief when you jump off the helo. Got rid of the gear and placing them back in their place, you straightly head back to your quarter, craving some hot shower to wash off the soreness and dirt.

On your way back to the quarter, you could hear footsteps following you, almost imperceptibly, but you noticed and immediately went to a stop.

“LT.?”

Your LT. loomed just right behind you, seeming not surprised that you were aware of him, or maybe that was just what he was planning.

He hummed at your recognition but didn’t stop his steps, until he was side by side with you.

“I’m just about to ask you, did I do something wrong? You kept staring at me when we were heading back.”

“You did it pretty well.”

“Then why did you...?”

“You’ll know when you get into your room.”

He placed his right hand on the small of your back, ushering you to your room, and you just obliged, letting him lead you.

Closing the door behind you and Ghost, you turned around to face the man now with his balaclava on.

“So what’s the issue?”

“Clothes, off.” The command came out from him unexpectedly.

“What—“

“I said clothes, off.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, what the fuck does he want? you thought while kicking off your cargo pants and tossing your shirt on the chair, leaving only the sports bra and underwear with you.

“What now?”

Ghost didn’t form a word as his eyes traveled from your head, slowly through every inch of your body, under his meticulous search, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“turn around.” You did as he told, and now you were unable to see him, anxiety crawling to your mind until he finally stood up.

His calloused hands touched your shoulder, circling you to face him.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing now?” You asked when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Checking.”

“If I’m injured?”

“yeah.”

“Oh god” You poke his pec with a frown “you all are overreacting. I’m okay, really. Don’t you guys trust me?”

“We trust your ability, but not your ability to tolerate pain.”

“I’m fi—“

“We can’t lose you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Ghost was looking into your eyes. He might be good at concealing his emotions, but they said, a person’s eyes can’t lie.

and all you see is sorrow, love, consideration.

All the retorts were swallowed back when his eyes conveyed how important you were to him — to them. You studied the man towering over you, tracing his scars and wrinkles in your mind.

“Thank you, Ghost.” You pulled him into a hug, which he didn’t back off, instead melting in your arms, head burying in the crook of your neck. “I will be careful, okay? I will tell you if I got hit and not sure if I was injured.”

He nodded while staying in your embrace, and you just patted his head.

“Now, I need to shower” Pulling back, a smile bloomed on your face “See you tomorrow, LT.”

“Don’t oversleep again, sergeant.” He scoffed, but petted you before letting you go to shower.

When you came out, with relaxed muscles and fresh clothes, you jumped onto your bed, but something on your desk caught your attention.

Picking it up, you shook your head in disbelief.

“Fuck you, Ghost, I already brushed my teeth.”

grumbling to yourself, you still opened the snack—your favorite one— and gave it a huge bite, while snickering at the paper placed under the snack.

‘Goodnight, luv. (remember to brush your bloody teeth again.)’ — Ghost

#self rb #tf 141 x reader #ghost x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #queued post

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 23 hours

Note

@a66-1 didn’t tell me they have such scrumptious things in their blog

HI OMG i just read all your stuff and theyre so GOOD AGHH!;!3)2):&;&??? and for any requests how about another docile!simon because hes SOO CUTE IM IN LOOVEE or a childhood!best friend 😮‍💨😮‍💨

crying and throwing up bc AHH

tysm omg..

it's giving I should do both of these

Childhood bestfriend!Simon (who's a docile soul) x Reader.

a/n: major fluff ❤️

what was a661 listening to? (Homesick by Noah Kahan, Sugar Sweet by Benson Boone, Young Blood by Noah Kahan, Like Real People Do by Hoizer)

Unedited and not proofread

Simon and you go way back, and I mean way back. You knew this boy since he learned how to tie his shoe. (Unsurprisingly you had to teach him because what the heck are you doing to the laces?)

You lived slightly south of Manchester, and only really saw Simon when your parents met up every month or so, but you and Simon were essentially locked at the hip when you two were around each other. Pinkies bound together as you walked around the pond, watching the swans swim in the water. His smile was always so.. Soft. Never a big, excited smile. One where you knew he was comfortable.

His older brother always scoffed at the two of you, opting to stick by his parents and yours as they sat on a bench, as they talked amongst themself. Simon Unhooked his pinkie from yours as he bent by a few rocks, looking through them.

"Hey, come 'ere." He gestured you over. You crouched next to him. He picked a few weed flowers, and plopped on the ground to tie the bottoms together. When he was done, he handed them to you.

"There! For you. They're really pretty." He smiled softly, as you took them. You laughed quietly, and hugged him.

"Thank you, Si." You said quietly, before pecking his cheek. You heard your mom yell at you to get your hands off eachother, as you two are only 8 and 10.

You two separate, and walk back over to your parents. Simon had a pink hue to his cheeks, but nothing he couldn't not excuse as sunburn.

Once you got in your rickety car back to your house, it's not like you knew you'd never see him again. You were packed and already on the plane 3 weeks later.

The absolute meltdown you had in the airport had your mom threatening to ductape your mouth shut, and you're pretty sure you cried all the way to America.

You lift your head, noticing your spot in line has moved up, again. You shift forward, a basket of food in your arms. You got your own places little over a year ago. Freedom feels.. Great, actually, nobody is on your ass and you can freely drive anywhere without a 'where tf are you??' text.

You get to the register, and give a polite nod and 'I'm good, and you?' Your accent still catches a few people off guard. Fucking hell, this state is absolute shit sometimes. Just because some people aren't the same as you, you don't gotta be weird about it-

It's not even like it's heavy, it's just slightly there. Growing up with the most British parents in a very not British town has got your accent all odd, but if anyone from Manchester heard you, they might be able to decipher you.

You take your bags and walk to your car, loading it. Just one more thing in the list... Ah, the pet shop. The place isn't far, so you lock your car and start your walk on the way there.

A few Military officers stand a block away, across the street. They don't look quite American, in all actuality, isn't that the flag from-

You abruptly run into someone. Fuck. God, why don't you keep your eyes open every once in a while? You take a step back, rubbing your nose. Crap, they had a hard fucking chest, because your nose feels half broken.

"My bad, I'm so sorry-" You glance up to notice an military officer. You stand straighter, noticing the Union Jack flag. The guy has gear on, and a.. Ghost mask? A bavaclava, I'm pretty sure, and some eye black.

"It's.." He squints, pausing, before continuing, "Fine. It's fine."

That's an accent if you've heard one. God, it's familiar as crap, you know you've heard it before. Which parents had that accent again? Sounds like.. Jack's parents were more west...

"You uh.. You from here?" He gruffly asks, "Can tell you got an accent."

You shake your head, "I was born in Manchester, moved when I was 8, give or take."

His eyes widen this time, before cursing. He turns to the group of men further down, and throws a hand signal. They nod, and continued a conversation they were having.

"Oh? I had a friand who uh.. Who.." He hesitated, but he slipped off his mask.

"Who did that too."

You stared doe eyed at him. "Simon?"

That blonde hair is impossible to forget. You choke on a laugh, before grabbing his face. His nose is definitely different, but it looks like shits been broken.

"Holy shit, it's you." He smiled. Fucking hell, his smile.

"Jesus! What're you doing here, I mean- I-I never thought we'd-" You cut yourself off with a laugh, before hugging him tightly, your hands curling into his hair. He swiftly hugged back, rocking you softly. Goddammit, he looks good.

Good, good.

"Oh lovie, you can't understand how happy I am, I remember how you left and.." He stares at you quietly, and frowned. "Never really made another friend like you again."

That made you frown, "Si, you should've made friends! I was just the example!" You throw in a smile, to show him your joking.

You both find yourself laughing together, your hands back on his cheek, his hands on your hips. And.. Some reason naturally, you drifted closer and.. Kissed. Neither of you hesitated, it was swift and you kept his head against yours, and you made sure the kiss was good.

He was good.

You both pulled away, a soft look shared among you too.

"Are we gonna brush past that, or.." He laughed, and hugged you again, swinging you around once. You yelped, and hit his shoulder.

"Put me down!!" You squealed, laughing.

Price glanced over to the two of you, Soap turning as well.

"Tha' there mus' be tha' Bonnie he mentions," Soap nods slightly, smiling for his friend.

"Sure is. I knew he'd take this mission cuz' o' her." Price chuckled softly.

You carded through his hair softly, looking in his eyes.

"I missed you, Si."

AHH THE IINSPO FOR THIS HAD ME SENT WRITING THIS.

Never seen something like this so I feel accomplished not having a clue how to keep going.

TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT!!

Request to get more fun stories like this!

Bye babes!

-a661

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #a66-1

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 23 hours

Text

IM SORWEY HEY HERE’S BLAHAJ PLUSHIE FOR U AND TY I LOB U 😈💖

“Why do you join the military?”

“Because when I die someone will know, and I’m afraid of dying alone.

TF141*Reader, just some thoughts :) and yes ur reader killer writer is back sorry :D

Price

He knows because he’s the one to sign the report confirming your death.

He knows because there aren’t warm teas and sticky notes with ‘hydrate! capt. :D’ written on them waiting for him on his desk.

Soap

He knows because he can’t find you when he gets you your favorite snack.

He knows because there’s no sweet laughter accompanying him in the training room.

Gaz

He knows because he washed the blood from your dog tag and keeps it from gathering dust every day.

He knows because he helps you take care of your plushie that sleeps alone on your cold bed.

Ghost

He knows because he doesn’t get bantered when he sits in your quarter and tells a bad joke.

He knows because he always feels the morning is too quiet when you’re not here to make tea together with him.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Text

Grim Reaper!Ghost*Reader that’s always alone

You and Simon were lovers, after you both died, you reincarnated, but Simon was forced to become a Grim Reaper, that’s why you’re always lonely because Simon didn’t reincarnate.

People near their death usually can’t see grim reapers, but for some reasons, you can see Ghost in every of your life before your death, but you don’t remember him.

Yet he remembers you, remembers the love, and every encounter with you in different life, but what waits for him is the endless cycle of seeing you forget him, and watch you live lonely till your end.

“Are you here to bring me to the afterlife?” Ghost hear you ask as you look straight at him.

“You can see me.”

“Does that mean it’s almost the time?”

“you still got some time.”

“Okay then.”

He senses the slight disappointment in your tone. Maybe it’s because the fear of death isn’t a thing when you live alone the whole time and have nothing left and worried.

You are talkative, every time you wake up, you keep rambling, but not annoying, Ghost must admit, actually he enjoys hearing your cheerful voice.

“Oh, wait, What’s your name, Sir?”

“Call me Ghost.”

“Ghost, nice to meet you.”

He only gives you a grunt as a response, but you seem quite satisfied, and go back to tell him your experience again.

You can’t say things anymore, most of your time is in a coma, Ghost looks at your pale face, the empty ward is silent except for the beeping of the monitor.

Time for them isn’t important anymore, so he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you, until you stir a bit, and open your eyes slowly.

“Yeah, it’s time to go.” He tells you softly, he knows what you want to ask.

He watches you blink a few times, before beckoning him to come closer.

Ghost reaches out his hand, letting you write things on it, even though you can’t really touch him.

He patiently waits for you to finish.

Thank you, Ghost.

He knows what you’re thanking for: having his company at the end of your life.

“Call me Simon.” He coos.

Your eyes widen a bit, and again, you write a wobbly “Simon” on his palm.

He sees the corner of your eyes crinkle, and he reminds himself, don’t tell you how much he craves to hear you call him by his real name.

Ghost stands at the corner of the ward.

The room is in chaos, doctors and nurses rushing around, trying their best to save you from dying, but it’s impossible, because you’re leaving the world today.

He walks to your side when one of the nurses covers your face with white clothes.

The whole thing will happen again. You will reincarnate, live a lonely life, and he will see you living in solitude, wait until the last part of your life and you’re able to see him, but forget everything, including the fact that you two were lovers before.

A kiss lands on your covered lips as he takes your soul, and vanishes in a blink of an eye.

a/n: just some brainrot that I really need to get rid of :D

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Text

On The Same Page Pt 7 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Bookshop! AU)

Simon spends the night over, you dream of the past, and share a sweet moment and news with the man...

Part 6, Masterlist

Dessert passed without much fanfare and Sam stood for the dishes.

“It's getting late Pumpkin”

The name has you rolling your eyes but you stretch, popping your back as you listen to the sound of the rain. You turn to Simon who regards you calmly. His hair has dried and fluffed up, and you want to run your hands through it. Under your observation, Simon gives a small smile and you flush, turning away. The time was nearing 11 and you would need to be up to open the store on Friday. You stand out of your chair, turning to push it back in. Simon watches a moment before following, pushing his chair in before shuffling to your side.

You look up to him with a smile before moving to Sam and hugging him. Finishing up the plates he turns his head to place a kiss on yours before murmuring,

“Goodnight Buttercup,” He turns to Simon and nods.

Simon returns it as you return to him, a question in your reach.

“Ready for bed? It's not too late for the nail polish?” You ask it with a smirk, your hand going to Simon's arm. You get a humored huff at the joke,

“Sure.”

Your lips quirk up and you turn to leave the kitchen and Simon follows, hand trailing to take yours. You squeeze his and lead him to his room. At the door, you part, opening the door to reveal a small but comfy room. It was intended to be an office but you and Sam each worked either in the kitchen together or in your rooms. There was a bed tucked into the corner and yet more bookshelves. In one corner next to the small bathroom were a few more cases of typewriters.

“Typewriters?” He asks simply. You allow him to enter before you and you follow, approaching the corner and grabbing a case.

“Yeah, most are rescued from around London. I work on them in my free time.” You open this case, a brown crackled leather. Inside you reveal an ultraportable, a smaller typewriter. You pull the machine out and set it on the quilt of the bed before inviting Simon to look. He finds an ivory keyed machine in a casing of grey plastic. His fingers skim over the keys finding the hammers responsive as they move with a light click. You smile at the machine fondly, thumbing the worn leather of the case before speaking,

“Smith-Corona Skyriter, it is from the 1960s. Reliable once I get a new ribbon in it. It had a few sticky keys but a little cleaning got that fixed.”

You say it with a knowing tone and Simon can tell you care a lot for the machine. He runs a final hand over it before handing it back to you. You slip it back into the case, closing it before setting the bag aside. You return to him then.

“Do you need anything else Simon?”

He shakes his head.

“No thank you love, ‘his is fine.”

With that you nod and move to leave the room before pausing, biting your lip. You then spin on your feet and call his name. Simon looks down at you and you move. Pushing up onto your tiptoes you press a small peck to this cheek, brushing against warm skin before turning and rushing out of the room with a soft good night simon your cheeks flushed.

You quickly retreat to your room and close the door softly so as to not disturb Sam. Leaning against your door your heart races but you feel giddy. You smile to yourself before. You went into your bathroom and brushed your teeth before shutting your lights off and tucking yourself into bed. The sounds of the rain lured you into a deep and easy sleep.

The sounds of a river woke you in your sleep. Your eyes open to a tapestry of stars. You were on a hill overlooking your college city. Sam and you found it while biking one day and shortly made the space under an old oak tree your own. The light of a full moon lit your way as you stood on a spread quilt. Approaching the tree you grab a branch and hoist yourself up. Eternity passes as you climb, a breeze kicking up smells of the sea despite your distance, You feel at the stern of life, and you finally made it to the top before sitting on a sturdy branch, leaning back to watch the stars.

Here the burden of the world was shouldered by wood and bark. You hear a yip and your fox dances through the air, past shooting stars and nebula. There are smaller cries and she is followed by her kits. One of them, smaller than the others, tumbles in the air and you reach out to catch the poor thing.

Four black paws land on your palms as the little fox steadies itself. It shakes its fur and peers at you with new blue eyes that'll darken to a rich amber as it ages. The little fox watches you as you once again lean against the tree. The weight of the editing position gave way to the thrill of your newest publications. They had been a great success. But under the weight of your new work, you found yourself missing the fox and your old home.

Your open palms come to rest on your stretched-out legs, but the kit, ever the explorer, hopped out of your hands and into your lap. It then curled up gave a yawn and fell asleep. Your heart melts and you run your hand gently through its soft fur. It sighs in contentment in its sleep. You sit against the tree for a timeless period, head swirling with the dance of the fox and the twinkling of stars.

However, as dawn rises on the sky there is a call of your name at the base of the tree. You peer down expecting Sam but you find a different man. He looks up with brown eyes, they focus on you intently. He calls again,

“Come on Dove, it's time to leave this place.”

Your heart quickens in knowing but your mind pulls back, looking up instead, seeking the disappearing stars. The mother fox has stopped her dance and pads down to you. She looks at you, and you reach out a hand. She butts her head against your head before looking at her kit. The kit stirs, giving a sleepy yawn, shining eyes blinking away a sleepyness. However, it makes no move towards its mother, instead choosing to snuggle further into your lap.

Laughter passes over the mother's eyes and she looks to you a moment before looking to the vanishing moon.

‘I'll be back’ she seems to say, licking at your palm before turning and joining her other children in the air. She gives you one final look,

‘Take care of him’

You nod and she and her other kits disappear with the last of the stars. The man calls you again and the fox kit hops up and into the air, waiting for you to follow. You look at it a little shocked and it steps simply further into the air before turning back to you with a little yip. It then descends to join the man, curling around his neck like a scarf.

You stand, bracing yourself with the trunk of the tree. Uncertainty swells but looking down you meet his eyes and find something steadfast there. He is strong, you know then. His arms come out and he calls,

“Jump dove, I'll catch you.”

You trust him then, something in your heart swelling. You ready yourself, fears of publication, leaving home, and an uncertain future weigh you in the warm sunlight. But with the echo of stars behind your eyelids you take a breath and jump, easily falling into steady arms.

Friday

You stir and awaken slowly to the sound of London awakening, you turn onto your side, hands dreamily reaching for the fox kit only to feel the ghost of fur as you finally wake up. You sigh into your pillow, curling yourself up for a second before stretching fully out. You sluggishly get out of bed. There is a soft knock at your door and you call out a gentle come in.

The door opens quietly and Simon steps into the room. You straighten up a little at his presence. He looks around your room, taking in the sense of just, you. Books stacked in assorted piles dot the room. Cream walls are spotted with posters, and in the corner on a crate sits a teal record player with records stored below. He looks at your desk finding the Corsair. He steps toward it and runs a hand over the worn plastic. You feel a warm comfort bubble in your chest at his observation. You don’t mind him in your space and that surprises you. You shake the thought aside and stand, turning to tuck your blanket back in before crossing the small space to join him.

“It’s mine from when I was a kid. I started writing back then,” You reach a hand to brush the machine,

“It, it felt wrong to leave it.” You stumble on your words for a moment, a wave of hurt surging in your chest. What had you left behind?

A hand covers yours over the keys then and your eyes flicker up to his.

Honey and bourbon. Or?

He dips his head looking into your eyes, his hand on yours travels up your arm and you hold in a breath, afraid to break the moment. His hand ghosts over the sleeve of your shirt before reaching your shoulder, he then lifts it. You exhale, slowly, tension releasing from your shoulders before his hand returns to span over your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek. Unlike James, this touch is gentle, reverent even, an examination of a treasure before it can vanish into dust. But instead of grasping at emptiness, Simon finds you under his hand.

Something, someone so unlike him. A person untarnished by the horrors he’s lived, hell, the things he’s committed. Finding you was a sanctuary. After coming in for that month he returned, hearing James threaten you awoke something nasty in him, claiming to be your partner, his heart quickening in the moment before he was pleased by your shocked admiration. Then getting caught in the rain, holding you close in the kitchen. But the feeling of your lips against his cheek was a ray of sun on his dark heart.

Something in his chest wove around his heart when he thought of you. Your passion for writing and typewriters, baking yes, but working with others. You were warm and welcoming to everyone. Johnny about talked his ear off about you, and the Fox’s Den made him feel at home. Sam humored him. The man loved you like family.

The men passed into the hallway as you remained in the kitchen. As they entered the guest room Sam turned to him abruptly, green eyes focusing in on the taller man, evaluating. Simon returns the look, not in challenge but in understanding. He knew sibling protection all too well.

Sam seems satisfied and then speaks,

“You're a good man Simon. Johnny talks a lot about you.” He starts, a hand running along the books on the nearest shelf absentmindedly. His eyes move to the typewriters, then back to the quiet man before him.

“I get the hunch you intend to stick around?”

Simon nods, something setting on his face at the vision of your smile in his head.

Sam nods, humming and running a hand through his hair, the curls stretching before bouncing back into place.

He then gives Simon a serious look, eyes sharp,

“Take care of her Simon, especially in these coming weeks. I don’t trust this.”

Simon speaks up, like a rumble of thunder from his chest,

“Of course.” It's a strong affirmation, quick and quiet, and it brings a smile to Sam's face.

“We agree then.”

Simon’s mind returns to you, wide eyes looking into his. Your hands move on their own, one reaching to his free hand and the other skimming up his abdomen to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart.

“Si” Your voice is soft and you offer him a shy smile.

Simon just admires you in the streaming sunlight, the rain clouds having turned away into mist. The air in the room stirs, and memories of strong arms around you wakes your writer's mind. You can see the fox kit yawn and tuck itself against Simon. The sound of the ever-present sea echos into the buzz of your ears. Then there is all but silence, and you feel like the last two people in the meaningless world, the blank landscape dawning around you with the new day was yours to create. Nothing else mattered you realized in his arms, you looked up back to him with a growing excitement, in your mind, you could sense the gathering of waves, wild like a storm but tamed by the safety of what life was offering.

You grin at him and in your mind the fox kit awakens, pulling from Simon and dropping down to your typewriter, a ghost of an idea appearing. Price was right you realized. What had you lost but, your eyes softened, what had you gained? Your hand on Simon’s chest travels up, over his collarbone, and up his neck. He signs softly when your hand mirrors his on your own face, cupping his face and running fingers along a strong jawline.

He murmurs your name in a sacred whisper, eyes, and hand dropping to meet yours. Stands of his hair brush against your forehead, his eyes rich and warm flicker to your lips but he makes no other movement choosing instead to cherish your warmth and the feel of you in his arms. Your heart quickens and something shifts in your chest. Determination perhaps, a rush of the moment but promise of something more has you leaning up and connecting your lips to his. He is caught by surprise before his eyes close and he leans further into the kiss.

His thumb caresses your cheek sweetly before his hand trails to cradle your head. He tilts your head to deepen the kiss before he parts for a steadying breath his heart pounding in his chest. You look up at him with a lightly flushed face, not quite having expected to kiss the man but the honeyed chuckle he lets out pleases something in you. His hand squeezes yours before moving to the small of your back and pulling you close.

You breathe out, head tucked against his chest for a moment before your alarm for 9 am finally sounds. You sigh and Simon fully releases you, allowing you to shut your phone off. You look back to him in question.

“Are you sticking around Si?”

The syllable rolls naturally off your tongue, and Simon leans back against your desk in consideration. He pulls out his phone checking something.

“I’ll need to run home love.” You nod at that as there is a knock at the door. Sam waits a moment before popping his head in with an easy good morning to Simon, a knowing smile on his face before his eyes find yours.

“Morning ladybug. Sofia is here, she came around 30 minutes ago seeking you.”

You stand a little straighter and sigh. You loved your manager dearly, especially after all that happened, but the woman tired you out sometimes. Besides the point of her not just calling but you understand that this must be a rush. Maybe she could answer some questions.

Sam then turns to SImon.

“Your clothes are in a bag whenever you decide to head out.” With that Sam passes you a wink and heads back down to the bookstore. The smell of a quick breakfast drifts in through the open door. You look back to Simon,

“I still have your jacket-”

“Hold on to it for me.”

You blink in surprise but nod a little smile creeping onto your face. You move from your bedside and step towards Simon, his hands lifting in expectation, they move to your elbows before tracing to your back, you look up at him,

“Will you be back sometime today?”

His fingers circle patterns into your skin absentmindedly and he hums.

“If I can.” It is simple but his eyes dip towards yours and you feel at peace here with him. You nod. He watches you relax in his arms, looking up to him with curious eyes tracing a scar that goes from his chin to his next. He doesn't feel self-conscious though, not anymore. You raise a hand to trace the scar softly.

“Do they hurt anymore?”

“Not often, sometimes there's the ghost of a memory.”

You hum an affirmative before gazing into his eyes. They are sunlit into a light hazel, flecked with gold under the rays. You enjoy the moment a bit longer before you sigh.

“I should keep Sofia waiting, besides, you need to leave.”

He nods, then leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go. He moves to the door,

“I’ll wait for you dove.”

You smile in appreciation and after he leaves change for the day. On a whim, you turn to your laptop and slip it into your backpack to take down to the store. You look to your corsair with a smile and turn to exit your room.

Passing into the living room you find Simon sitting on his phone, his eyes raising to you when you pass into the kitchen. Sam had eaten a quick breakfast, the evidence of which was in the fridge. You grab a yogurt to take down. You look back to Simon when he enters. You grab another yogurt and some wrapped banana bread. You present these to Simon and you and he make quick work of them.

After cleaning up you both gather your things and head for the door to the bookstore. Passing down the stairs you hear the voices of Sam and Sofia along with an English-accented voice you didn't recognize. You make it to the bottom of the stairs followed by Simon and see the three in the sitting area with a few scattered teacups that humors you. Sam’s look alerts the others and Sofia and another handsome man turns to regard you and Simon.

Hazel eyes lift to you in warm but urgent expectation before shifting to regard the man behind you. Sofia was a woman in her mid-40s, with long black hair and a set of round glasses perched on her nose. She had taken more the place of an aunt while you were away from your parents, a close friendship cemented by long hours up late with tea and manuscripts. She also did double duty as your illustrator, and it was she who helped you paint all the foxes.

The other set of brown eyes regarded you curiously before shooting to the tall man behind you.

“L.T.?” His accent told you he was a local, Simon tilts his head in regard,

“Kyle. It’s been a while.”

“It's been ages!”

Kyle shoots up as Simon moves forward and offers a hand out, Simon takes it as you follow, setting your stuff at the inside of the counter before joining the others.

“Morning Sofia, sorry to keep you waiting,” You look to Kyle in consideration and he meets you with a wide smile. You return it happy with his nature, he offers his hand.

“Kyle Garrick.”

You return with your name and nod,

“Johnny’s told me about you! It’s nice to finally meet you!”

He grasps your hand in both of his and gives a cheeky wink,

“Same love, Johnny would not stop talking about you.”

You laugh, Johnny was the equivalent of a golden retriever you thought. Kyle’s eyes move between you and Simon and you wonder what else Johnny may have said. But the curiosity passes when you see a bundle of documents in Sofia’s hand, you sigh at the look in her eyes. You pass Kyle and Simon and take the seat next to her. Kyle looks between the two of you before he returns to his seat as well.

You look to Simon,

“Are you leaving Si?”

He thought he needed to return home but nothing was pressing. He shifts, then mind made up he sets his bag next to your chair and takes a seat on a ottoman next to you, long legs spreading out. You offer him a pleased smile before turning back to Sofia. You find her eyes on Simon, a simmering curiosity, much like Kyle’s but with a more maternal feel. She pats your knee before going into an explanation.

“I am sorry about last night! I was in such a rush with that letter arriving! I spoke with Sam’s family, they were shocked with the notification that arrived yesterday as well.” She pulls out an official-looking document, the embossed paper making you roll your eyes. You take it and look over it. There was the general nonsense, the niceties, and such, but what got your interest was the communication of the development of a working relationship between the two publishers with the combined work of you and James. Your gut wrenches as you flip the page.

There you find a promotional tour schedule showcasing both you and James amongst some of the other authors. You scan the list and are relieved to find Sarah listed as well. You flip the page and there you find an advertisement for another formal event. Dread splinters through you and you want to burn the paper. The announcement was inviting international publishers to a gala here in London with you and James as some of the headline speakers. You didn't like the implications of the gala and the following formal dinner. Given what happened last time you don’t understand why they would want to pull you and White Owl into a stunt like this.

“I don't like this.” You speak it, your voice low and cautious, trepidation nipping at your fingertips as you pass the paper to Sam. He nods in agreement. Kyle’s eyes look between the two of you,

“Trouble?” He asks and you nod.

“Unfortunately so, I believe my ex-fiance is causing a ruckus again. He’s the reason I came here at all,” A hand presses to your knee and you find Simon regarding you,

“I've told Johnny the whole story but I can tell it again if you want to hear it?”

“Sure.”

Kyle affirms with a gentle tone, and you find yourself happy he was there. Simon on the other hand tenses and your hand reaches to his. His hand engulfs your knee easily, once your fingers brush over his he flips his palm up. You set your hand in his and he intertwines your fingers, brushing his thumb every so often over your knuckles as you begin to speak.

You began from the beginning, moving to finish your master's, meeting Sam, and eventually getting into the publishing and editing business.

Fin - For information, this is a Smith Corona Corsair:

Taglist!

@ghostlythots, @tapioca-milktea1978, @cmbghost, @nexthyperfix, @feedthefandoms995

AN This was going to originally include you meeting James, but I figured all of the past stuff should be its own chapter!

#on the same page pt7 is outtttt aaaaaaaa #bookshop!au #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #thetravelingtyper

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Text

ty for loving this 💖

yes I wanted Simon truly understood what he did wrong, and changed to a person who he thought was capable of staying beside her again in this 10 years!!!

that’s when they can have a happy and healthy relationship 🫡

(goddamn I’m too serious for a fic but whatever 🫡)

[Hey, how are you?] Simon Riley*F!Reader

Ten years ago, Simon lost you due to his mistake, and he meets you again after these years of regret.

Hurt and comfort, Happy Ending

“Are you married?”

He always be asked when others see the ring on his finger.

“No.” He answers while taking another sip of his wine, letting the person realize it’s a topic they don’t have the authority to dig in.

He still remembers the vow he chanted as he put the ring on your finger.

The memory is as clear as the day you left the house, and he never saw you again.

It’s his fault, you didn’t shed many tears when he yelled at you, saying that you will never be able to free him from his nightmares, who do you think you are? a fucking philanthropist?

He knew he screwed up everything the moment his taunt escape his mouth.

No, No. I didn’t mean to say that, I need you, I love you, please don’t leave me.

He watched you lower your head, trying in vain to hide your sadness, but your heart was already shattered into pieces, by him, the man who promised to protect you by any means.

I’m sorry.

The words stuck in his throat when he looked at you stepping out the threshold with your belongings.

Please stay.

The greedy wish was buried inside his heart when you stopped for a second. “Bye, Simon. Take care.” you whispered, and disappeared into the aisle.

Ten years, he’s still unable to move on.

He brainwashes himself repeatedly, she will have a better life without you.

Yet he still opens his phone every time he finishes his therapy sessions, looks at your number, and just stares at the screen for minutes.

His thumb lingers on the “call” button but never dares to press it.

Hey, are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I want you back. I went to therapy after that day. I’m not the same person caged in his past anymore.

I miss you so much.

but how selfish he is if he interrupts your life now? Such a nice person like you deserves someone to cherish you nicely, and treasure you with their whole heart.

That’s why he now stands afar from you, watching you behind the veil of autumn’s breeze.

You’re still stunning, time doesn’t deprive your beauty even a bit.

He gazes at you for a long while, and when you turn around and spot him, it’s obvious that you’re in shock and come to a halt.

The world keeps moving, but the time seems frozen between you two, as you both set eyes on each other and never dart.

You head towards him as he starts hesitating to take the first move.

“Hey.” You look at him with a shallow grin on your face.

“Hey.” He mumbles.

The silence fills the air, but no awkwardness, he’s just too indulged in your presence, which he has been dreaming of for years.

Sorry for that day. How are you doing now? Have you married? Have a partner?...

He has too many things he wants to ask, but his thoughts are like matted wool, until his eyes land on the ring on your finger.

“You’re marrie—“ He questions without a second thought, but the words get cut off instantly due to his realization.

because the ring is paired with the one on his finger right now.

It’s not until you chuckle that he’s back to reality.

“Yes, I’m married, about ten years ago? to an idiot man.”

“Why did you marry him? he’s a bloody dork.”

“Good question. or maybe that’s the reason why I married him.” Shrugging, you then meet his gaze with a smile “How about you? Are you married?”

“Yeah, ten years ago, to a woman that’s too precious for me, so I lost her.”

“If you meet her again, what do you want to tell her?”

“I’ve improved. I’ve reached for help and now I’m not the same man anymore.”

“Anything else you want to say?”

“I miss her every single day, and I hope I can have her in my arms again.”

“Well, I don’t know about her.” you step closer to him. “But I’m sure she will love to have some tea with you as her first compensation from you, what do you think?”

He blinks at the hand you reach out at him, and slowly, he takes it into his palms, that’s befitting to drive away the chill.

Your hand fits well in his, like it’s made for him to serve it with all his warmth, and he’s sure that he will never let go of it again.

“My pleasure.”

a/n: lemme give Simon a fucking punch/j

#rb #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Text

“Why do you join the military?”

“Because when I die someone will know, and I’m afraid of dying alone.

TF141*Reader, just some thoughts :) and yes ur reader killer writer is back sorry :D

Price

He knows because he’s the one to sign the report confirming your death.

He knows because there aren’t warm teas and sticky notes with ‘hydrate! capt. :D’ written on them waiting for him on his desk.

Soap

He knows because he can’t find you when he gets you your favorite snack.

He knows because there’s no sweet laughter accompanying him in the training room.

Gaz

He knows because he washed the blood from your dog tag and keeps it from gathering dust every day.

He knows because he helps you take care of your plushie that sleeps alone on your cold bed.

Ghost

He knows because he doesn’t get bantered when he sits in your quarter and tells a bad joke.

He knows because he always feels the morning is too quiet when you’re not here to make tea together with him.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Text

[Hey, how are you?] Simon Riley*F!Reader

Ten years ago, Simon lost you due to his mistake, and he meets you again after these years of regret.

Hurt and comfort, Happy Ending

“Are you married?”

He always be asked when others see the ring on his finger.

“No.” He answers while taking another sip of his wine, letting the person realize it’s a topic they don’t have the authority to dig in.

He still remembers the vow he chanted as he put the ring on your finger.

The memory is as clear as the day you left the house, and he never saw you again.

It’s his fault, you didn’t shed many tears when he yelled at you, saying that you will never be able to free him from his nightmares, who do you think you are? a fucking philanthropist?

He knew he screwed up everything the moment his taunt escape his mouth.

No, No. I didn’t mean to say that, I need you, I love you, please don’t leave me.

He watched you lower your head, trying in vain to hide your sadness, but your heart was already shattered into pieces, by him, the man who promised to protect you by any means.

I’m sorry.

The words stuck in his throat when he looked at you stepping out the threshold with your belongings.

Please stay.

The greedy wish was buried inside his heart when you stopped for a second. “Bye, Simon. Take care.” you whispered, and disappeared into the aisle.

Ten years, he’s still unable to move on.

He brainwashes himself repeatedly, she will have a better life without you.

Yet he still opens his phone every time he finishes his therapy sessions, looks at your number, and just stares at the screen for minutes.

His thumb lingers on the “call” button but never dares to press it.

Hey, are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I want you back. I went to therapy after that day. I’m not the same person caged in his past anymore.

I miss you so much.

but how selfish he is if he interrupts your life now? Such a nice person like you deserves someone to cherish you nicely, and treasure you with their whole heart.

That’s why he now stands afar from you, watching you behind the veil of autumn’s breeze.

You’re still stunning, time doesn’t deprive your beauty even a bit.

He gazes at you for a long while, and when you turn around and spot him, it’s obvious that you’re in shock and come to a halt.

The world keeps moving, but the time seems frozen between you two, as you both set eyes on each other and never dart.

You head towards him as he starts hesitating to take the first move.

“Hey.” You look at him with a shallow grin on your face.

“Hey.” He mumbles.

The silence fills the air, but no awkwardness, he’s just too indulged in your presence, which he has been dreaming of for years.

Sorry for that day. How are you doing now? Have you married? Have a partner?...

He has too many things he wants to ask, but his thoughts are like matted wool, until his eyes land on the ring on your finger.

“You’re marrie—“ He questions without a second thought, but the words get cut off instantly due to his realization.

because the ring is paired with the one on his finger right now.

It’s not until you chuckle that he’s back to reality.

“Yes, I’m married, about ten years ago? to an idiot man.”

“Why did you marry him? he’s a bloody dork.”

“Good question. or maybe that’s the reason why I married him.” Shrugging, you then meet his gaze with a smile “How about you? Are you married?”

“Yeah, ten years ago, to a woman that’s too precious for me, so I lost her.”

“If you meet her again, what do you want to tell her?”

“I’ve improved. I’ve reached for help and now I’m not the same man anymore.”

“Anything else you want to say?”

“I miss her every single day, and I hope I can have her in my arms again.”

“Well, I don’t know about her.” you step closer to him. “But I’m sure she will love to have some tea with you as her first compensation from you, what do you think?”

He blinks at the hand you reach out at him, and slowly, he takes it into his palms, that’s befitting to drive away the chill.

Your hand fits well in his, like it’s made for him to serve it with all his warmth, and he’s sure that he will never let go of it again.

“My pleasure.”

a/n: lemme give Simon a fucking punch/j

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Note

AAAAAAAA THAT'S SO CUTE 😭🩷

Aaaaand yessss i do love it!! If i have to be honest, i gave you this prompt because this is relatable to me. I have round & chubby face and my parents keep teasing me for looking like a walking steamed bun. When i was in highschool i wasn't safe from my girl classmates either because their hands often lingering to my cheeks and poke them, and some female teachers were also threatening teasing to pinch my cheeks when i walked to the teachers office. Now i want Simon to do the same and I'd be grateful. Imagine his big palms covering my oversized cheeks and squishing me *giggling, kicking*..

🦈

Firstly I so happy that you like it!! (was afraid lol)

Secondly, WHAT U HAVE THOSE CHUBBY CHEEKS?!

LEMME SQUISH THEMMMMMM SHARKIIEEEEE 😈🦈💖

and I can imagine Simon squeezes your both cheeks with one hand since his hand are huge 😎

ty for telling me this sharkie 💖

#🦈#thx for the ask!#HalloHelloAsk

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

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OMG I LOB UR COD FICS AAAAAAA (starstruck scream)

ty for reading and sorry for the tears lmao

[Always By Your Side] (TF141*Reader)

you can decide which TF141 men he is, but I imagine he’s Ghost (I’m truly sorry Simon). A short drabble you can read when u are sitting on the toilet for 1 minute/j.

word count: 414

He’s not good at this, but after you leave, He starts folding the origami stars just like you.

His hands are big, clumsy, the paper slips out of his hands tons of times, but he searches the tutorial, redoing it again and again.

The first few stars aren’t good, crooked edges, uneven portions, unlike yours you gave him.

He doesn’t give up, carefully folding the stars, and they become better each time he finishes one.

The stars start to make into a pile. He puts them into a glass jar just like how you stored them.

“It’s beautiful, right? watching different colors cluster together, just like the rainbow.”

He recalls the memory whilst doing another star.

The times he’s not training, supervising or on missions, he locks himself in his quarter, creating those little stars that he used to sit beside you, looking at his phone while you fixated on making them.

Finally, he watches the jar being filled with the stars, mostly your favorite color, and he puts his jar beside the one you gifted him.

- - - - - -

“Paper stars?” He hears the clerk mumbles when she is scanning the barcode on the paper strips for checkout.

“Oh, it’s just rare to see someone making these nowadays.” She sees him blink at her with confusion. “years ago young girls love to make them, there’s a saying that if you fold 1000 stars, the wish you wrote inside will come true.”

The words after that fly over his mind, he rushes back to his car, tapping at the steering wheel when all he can think about now is—

You said you were making 1000 stars before.

He stumbles back to his quarter, doesn’t care about the recruits’ curious eyes as he shuts the door behind him, taking your jar and opening it.

Every star was obviously made with patience, shaped in a perfect pentagon, that’s why he never dared to touch them, afraid of ruining them.

but this time, he picks one up with trembling fingers, and slowly unfolds the purple star.

“I hope I can live long enough, staying by his side until we both become old, if I don’t, I hope these stars can help me protect him.”

He stares at the words neatly written on the inner of the paper, and tries to focus on the handwriting, but all he can do is just letting his vision become blurry, choke back a sob as he grasps the star and slumps to the floor.

Not killing Reader in my fics: mission impossible

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

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let me piece them back

[Rambling Something in Few Sentences - Angst version]

TF141*Reader, I promise there will be a fluff version I promise. I know I love to make these men suffer esp Simon Riley I just can’t help 😖

Hey everyone fluff version is out omg :D

Price

“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, Love?”

“Of course, John.” He watched your glistening eyes contained endless love for him.

...

“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, love?”

“...”

He watches your photo, lights up a cigar, starts the music on his player, and sways to the music alone in the house that used to ring with your laughter.

Soap

“Stop drawing me, Johnny, you already have tons of sketches of me, draw something else!”

“Journal is for the beautiful things, aye? how can I not draw when the prettiest lass is beside me?”

...

“Why I never see you draw people? Soap?”

“Because the most beautiful person doesn’t exist now, there’s no meaning to draw people anymore.”

Gaz

“Hey babe, time to get up for breakfast!” He yelled from the dining room, only to hear your hoarse and languid voice coming from the bedroom.

“ten more... minutes... come wake me up... “ He smiled to your response, and took a look at the clock, reminding himself to go find you later.

...

“Babe, time for breakfast!”

“...”

“Shit” He stares at the breakfast for two people placing on the table, curses under his breath.

“always remembered to wake you up 10 minutes later, always forget you aren’t here anymore.”

Ghost

“Talking to a doll is fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s a daily ritual for good luck, okay?” He stood there, huffed out a laugh when you gave the shark plushie a kiss. “Bye sharkie, wish me luck, We’ll be home soon!”

...

“Hi, sharkie.” He wakes up when the sunlight pours into the room, and what he sees first is the shark plushie lying beside him.

Brushing his teeth, brewing a morning tea for himself, he comes back to the bedroom one more time before he leaves the house.

“Bye sharkie, wish me luck, I’ll be back soon, yeah?”

The necklace you used to wear after he gifted to you now is secured around the shark’s body, reflecting the sunlight and shining when he speaks softly to it, as if answering him for the sharkie, and you.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 days

Text

[Rambling Something in Few Sentences - Angst version]

TF141*Reader, I promise there will be a fluff version I promise. I know I love to make these men suffer esp Simon Riley I just can’t help 😖

Hey everyone fluff version is out omg :D

Price

“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, Love?”

“Of course, John.” He watched your glistening eyes contained endless love for him.

...

“May I have the pleasure to dance with you, love?”

“...”

He watches your photo, lights up a cigar, starts the music on his player, and sways to the music alone in the house that used to ring with your laughter.

Soap

“Stop drawing me, Johnny, you already have tons of sketches of me, draw something else!”

“Journal is for the beautiful things, aye? how can I not draw when the prettiest lass is beside me?”

...

“Why I never see you draw people? Soap?”

“Because the most beautiful person doesn’t exist now, there’s no meaning to draw people anymore.”

Gaz

“Hey babe, time to get up for breakfast!” He yelled from the dining room, only to hear your hoarse and languid voice coming from the bedroom.

“ten more... minutes... come wake me up... “ He smiled to your response, and took a look at the clock, reminding himself to go find you later.

...

“Babe, time for breakfast!”

“...”

“Shit” He stares at the breakfast for two people placing on the table, curses under his breath.

“always remembered to wake you up 10 minutes later, always forget you aren’t here anymore.”

Ghost

“Talking to a doll is fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s a daily ritual for good luck, okay?” He stood there, huffed out a laugh when you gave the shark plushie a kiss. “Bye sharkie, wish me luck, We’ll be home soon!”

...

“Hi, sharkie.” He wakes up when the sunlight pours into the room, and what he sees first is the shark plushie lying beside him.

Brushing his teeth, brewing a morning tea for himself, he comes back to the bedroom one more time before he leaves the house.

“Bye sharkie, wish me luck, I’ll be back soon, yeah?”

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 3 days

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Read your post about something other than angst for Simon so I have a thought that needs to get out. Morning routine with Simon. Obviously, the man is military and has a strict routine but that all goes to shit with you. Sleeping in, lazy lunch, all that cute couples shit but with Simon.

hello! tyvm for sending this idea! cute and silly couple’s domestic fluff is sweeettt!! I hope you will enjoy this :D 💖

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple - Simon Riley*Reader

[6:00]

Simon doesn’t need an alarm, he automatically wakes up at 6 am.

Jogging is an important part of his morning routine when he’s on leave, a nice way to maintain his stamina, and to keep him from getting too loose.

“Where you... going...”

Oh, he forgets he has an unavoidable barrier, between him and his morning jog.

Simon looks down at you, clenching at the hem of his shirt. Your eyes aren’t even open, you just catch him in instinct and now refusing to let go.

“Go for a jog, you know it, love.” The calmness of morning makes him explain in a soft tone unconsciously.

“Stay... please...”

“You can hug your blåhaj first, I will be back soon, yeah?”

“You feel better than blåhaj...”

“...”

It’s too cruel for him to just leave you here, not when you choose him over that bloody shark you always squeeze against your body.

Simon secures the curtain so the room won’t be too bright after the sun fully rises, and lies back on the bed.

Your limbs immediately twine around him when you sense his figure is nearby, and scoots closer to him.

Jogging is important to keep him from getting loose... it’s a must for him to be strict with his morning routine...

The voices in his mind are gradually replaced by the little snores of yours as he drifts back to sleep.

[12:00]

“Can we eat fries for lunch?”

you yell at Simon who’s preparing lunch in the kitchen.

“No”

“WHYYYY!”

“UNHEALTHY!” He shouts back so his voice won’t get covered by the noise of the range hood.

okay then... you feel a bit disappointed, but you can’t come up with a convincing reason, so you just back to sweeping the floor.

just as you’re cleaning the last few spots, a scrumptious smell catches your attention, it’s not those chicken breast or salad or scrambled eggs that Simon deems healthier.

“Do you make fries?!” You knock open the kitchen door with excitement.

What you see is Simon sprinkling some salt and pepper on a bowl of fries, and he turns to you when you rush in like an energetic child.

“A few fries are tolerable” He shows you the bowl, and you can’t wait to reach out and take a bite on the crunchy and golden fries.

“Thank you, baby.” You press an open mouth kiss on your lover’s cheek.

“Don’t kiss me with your greasy mouth...”He growls, but you’re already leaving the kitchen, lilting an off-key song with the bowl of fries in your arms.

Simon just shakes his head and starts cleaning the countertop. If some fries can make you this happy, then fuck those healthy diets.

[18:00]

You two sitting face to face on the couch, the air is full of tension when you speak first.

“Mushroom”

“Mango”

“Oreo”

“Orange”

“Egg”

“g...”

“It’s over 2 seconds! Go take out the garbage, silly!”

“Fucking hell...”

Snickering at Simon’s loss, as he grumbles and on his way to grab the garbage, you add another star under your name to ‘the winner of the week’ sticky note that’s pasting on the fridge.

[23:00]

“Time to sleep.”

“but I want to watch this movie.”

“You can watch it tomorrow.”

“pleassee I want to watch it nowww Simonnn”

“...Fine.”

(00:00)

Simon looking at you sleeping like a log, whole body leaning on him and tangling him like an octopus, totally ignoring the wretched screaming from the movie, sighs and turns off the TV.

He leaves a night lamp for you, in case you need to get up for water during the night, and adjusts you two into a more comfortable posture.

He hears you mumbling something like donuts or maybe your favorite character, and chuckles quietly at how silly you are.

He already knew you would fall asleep during the movie, so that’s why he gave in, and time proves that his prediction’s correct since he’s looking at your serene face now.

“Goodnight.” Satisfied with you resting safe and sound in his arms, Simon plants a kiss on the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping for a sweet dream that has you in it.

a/n: blåhaj sorry I love u I don't mean to harm u

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 3 days

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[HalloHelloSpeaks]

I started this account by accident, just wanted to give myself some things to achieve, and I never thought of being able to reach to what I have now

(Sorry for pinning some people below, hope u guys don’t feel pressured!)

BIG THANK to all of u who join my journey, like @abcdbleh, 🦈 anon, evil 🐼 anon (I know her so I can call her evil😈), @a66-1, @yyiikes @strawberrystargal @poohkie90

and some cod enjoyers I followed like @ghostslittlegf @cod-z @thetravelingtyper (It sucks that this is a side blog so u guys don’t know I’m fan of u)

of course every reader who just stay by maybe one fic, or leave likes, even comments and reblogs, BIG THANKS TO every single of u!!

(I’m not leaving I’m just hit a milestone today and feeling sentimental)

#HalloHelloSpeaks #cod x reader #cod x you

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 3 days

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dear sharkie anon 🦈:

if u see this I would love to know ur thoughts about this drabble 💖 is this sweet enough for u sharkie? (no pressure to respond of course!)

Wait until i got you in my hands (or in this case under my jaw 🦈)

Anyway since you're asking fluff for Simon (and i hope you don't twist it in the end because I'll trust you for this once and you're not Chucky), what about Simon having cuteness aggression, everybody? Mmhm you have chubby face and it's undeniable fact that they sometimes look like dumpling or steamed buns. Just Simon can't keep his hands from touching or pinching your cheeks, and even better if he also bit them.

mercy plss sharkieeee 🦈 as always ty for the ideas tho 💖 happy to see u again!!!

Simon loves your chubby and adorable face

“What Simon? Why you keep staring at me?”

“dumplings”

“what dumplings?”

“your cheeks.”

“huh?...SIMON STOP CHEWING MY CHEEK—$;@/!@;&”

You two are lying on your shared bed. You’re facing him and scrolling your phone, too concentrated on the fanfic you’re reading that you haven’t notice Simon’s gaze on your face.

“...” you expression’s same as straight face emoji when your lover abruptly pinches your cheeks.

“sorry.” he says without any apology in his tone while kneading your cheeks.

“My face isn’t mochi, Simon.”

“I know.”

“Then can you stop rubbing them like they are?”

“No.”

A nice Sunday morning, peaceful, and you leisurely walk to the living room, expecting seeing Simon there as usual.

“Good morning, baby.” You greet him immediately when you see his figure, his back’s facing you, seeming busy doing something.

“Hey, love.” He gives you a kiss on your cheek like he always do, but he sounds a bit of excited today.

“What do we have for breakfast?”

“I make a you.”

“What does that mean?”

You lean closer to him when he hands you the plate.

“This is you.”

“...”

You don’t even want to argue when you see two little buns are placing at each side of a smiling face egg that’s grinning at you.

Simon gets kicked out to buy the groceries after the breakfast.

“He better remember to buy some ice cream for me” You mumble.

Well, he does keep that in mind when he comes back an hour later.

“Got you some ice creams.” Simon tells you while fishing them out under your expecting eyes.

“New brand?” You pick up the carton when you can’t recognize the brand of it.

“...Simon.”

“It looks like you, it’s cute.” He doesn’t forget to give your cheeks a few pokes whilst you staring at the rabbit mascot on the box with two obviously chubby cheeks.

(later, Simon texting)

Ghost: Soap, how to apologize to your partner

Soap: what did you do to them LT.?

Ghost: I just showed my love to their cheeks

Soap: Not you anger them with same reason again

Soap: Send some cute pictures to them and buy them some snacks?

Ghost: Can I send this?

Soap: I guess you just want to die, LT.

#shout out to 🦈 anon #self rb #HalloHelloSpeaks #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 3 days

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Strangers

john price x fem!reader | masterlist | ao3

John Price remembers every life he's ever lived. When death takes him in one universe, he's born into the next with all his memories and past experiences still intact. Throughout the lives he's lived, you're the only thing that ever seems to quell the ache in his chest, and he spends every life searching for your comfort. Except, in this life, he's too late

cw: soulmate!au, murder, suicide, feticide, kidnapping, drugging, possessive john price, non-con elements, one shot, dead dove: do not eat!!!

In every life you’ve ever lived, John Price finds you.

He’s drawn to you like an animal is drawn to its cage. The glint of the metal bars look like stars if he squints hard enough, and the smell of blood and iron is the fairest perfume in the world. There is no life that he wishes to live without you in it. Tucked close to his chest in bed at night. Curled up underneath his thumb. Where you go, he follows you, hidden in the shadows until he’s ready to reveal himself as the soulmate who’s been tracking you across eons worth of lives.

It’s a simple curse. One that’s haunted him since he first poofed into existence so long ago he can’t recall how much time has passed. Forever bound to remember every life he’s ever lived while everyone else debates the possibility of a god or heaven, forgetting their reincarnated selves in other universes. It’s a particularly lonely ailment. He had been locked in chains in one life for attempting to convince the world that there was life after death, not through a god, but through sheer human will. Had to sever the artery in his tongue with his teeth and drink down his blood to escape a life of imprisonment, and just like he knew he would, he woke up in his next life a free man.

These days, he spends his lives on something more worthwhile: you. Just as he does, you look the same in every universe with a smile he knows by touch alone and a laugh that is the only melody that can soothe the immortal ache in his chest. He’s fried his brain with drugs and killed his liver with drink, forever carrying the burden of memory, and yet throughout his travels, you remain the only thing capable of soothing that terrible ache that haunts him. If death has already taken you in one life, he kills himself and moves onto the next, a wild man forever on the hunt for you.

The only other thing that stays consistent throughout his many lives besides the desire to be yours, is the taste of fresh tea. He prefers Yorkshire tea, but the Earl Grey they substitute at the shop is fine enough. Quiet muttering fills the air around him as he sits in the corner of the shop, alone with his thoughts. He takes a sip of the tea, allowing the hint of lavender to wash over his tongue as if cleansing him. It’s the only thing that tastes and smells like home. Besides you, of course; but he hasn’t found you yet, and it’s getting late.

Usually, he’s lucky enough to find you by the time both of you are in your twenties. It’s easy to win you over at that age. He holds a maturity well beyond his years, and you hold a wide-eyed innocence that has you in his grasp before you even realize it. But he’s in his thirties, and that has him anxious. Too much time has passed — a decade more than usual — which leaves him with a variety of possibilities. Ones he doesn’t like entertaining.

No matter. He’s learned to be somewhat patient over the countless lifetimes spent searching for you, because it always pays off in the end. All the marriages, the children you have, the love you make. John Price is the luckiest man in the world, being able to replay his favorite memories with you for all eternity. He could never tire of you, would never dream of such a terror.

So when the bell attached to the shop door rings with the entrance of another customer, it quickly turns to music to his ears when he sees you. Afternoon sunlight illuminates the world behind you, blinding him with the beauty you carry across universes and worlds. Your familiar eyes scan the area briefly, hardly paying him any mind before you approach the counter with a grace and poise that has his heart thudding in his throat. He can never get used to the first time. The first time his eyes land on you, he hears your voice, or skin touches yours; it’s the only thing that can tear him apart as well as you do.

He tries not to stare at your ass when you order your drink. It’s always been his favorite physical feature of yours. There’s something different about this version of you, yet still familiar. Nothing is ever entirely unknown to him, not when it concerns you, but you’re glowing more than usual. It’s captivating in a way that makes him feel like a dog, looking at a woman in such a perverse way, but he knows you like it when he stares. You always have in every other life.

When the barista hands you a to-go cup, John knows he doesn’t have long before you slip away. Such a sharp girl, quick on her feet. Always buzzing around, never staying in one place for too long, as if the imprint of your soul enjoyed the chase of him following after you. It’s a game he enjoys very much; one he doesn’t mind entertaining at all.

John rises from his seat, cup still half full, where he slips to the door just as you turn around to leave. His pace is leisurely, certainly in no rush as his hands reach out for the exit, only for him to pause. How silly of him to have left his drink behind, the only reason he even came to that shop in the first place. When he turns around, it’s quick and violent, and catches you so off guard you run right into him.

Piping hot tea splashes around in your to-go cup, and if it wasn’t for John’s quick reflexes and a firm grip on your wrist, you would’ve gotten yourself hurt. Your gasp is sweet and melodic on his ears, and he nearly melts under your gaze as your wide eyes stare at him. Your surprise is cute. As if you couldn’t remember meeting him in countless different universes like this.

“Terribly sorry, darling,” he says as if surprised. His grip loosens on your wrist just as his other hand comes up to rest on your waist. It’s quick, he knows; but in some way, you’re already used to it. “You alright?”

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and once you do, John feels you slip out of his grasp as you take a step back. Both of your hands come up to hold the cup, afraid of dropping it, and you give him a polite smile and nod.

“Yes, thank you, I… good save,” is all you can manage as you chuckle and gesture to your drink.

John’s hands mourn the absence of your warmth, yet he allows them to politely fall back against his side. His lips yearn to be on yours. For him, this isn’t a first time greeting, but a long awaited reunion. Still, he calms his nerves and hardens them to steel as he chuckles with you.

“Would’ve hated for you to have gotten hurt,” he comments as his eyes glance down at your legs. The brief thought of that searing hot liquid broiling the supple skin of your thighs invades his mind before he can push it away. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

Whatever your response is, he can’t hear it. The dazzling bling of your betrayal drowns out the sound of your voice and everything around him. It’s beautiful; your ring. Its gemstone glints in the sunlight streaming through the windows as if attempting to blind him. No, not blind him. Something worse. It screams at him the very thing he had feared for the last few years; he was too late. Bound to another man in matrimony, a silly mistake you had made before ever seeing the light.

The aftertaste of tea suddenly tastes putrid on his tongue. His sweet mate, too impatient to wait for him in that lifetime. You’d fucked other men in other lives, and though it had always made his stomach turn, John could understand. But marriage?

His teeth threaten to shatter under the pressure of his clenching jaw.

When the sound comes back to him, his eyes comprehend the expression on your face. Discomfort — near disdain. In this universe, John Price is not your lover. He is a man, and only that. One who just so happens to be barring you from the exit.

He remembers himself, and smiles at you kindly as he quickly steps to the side, muttering an apology with a jaw that’s much too stiff. And still, he reaches behind him to hold the door open for you, and despite your apprehension you thank him quietly and say goodbye before you vanish into the streets. Your smell lingers in the air next to him for only a moment before it dissipates and drowns in the aroma of herbs and teas. His face goes cold as he glares at the corner where his now cold tea sits.

This was the first life he ever lived where you married a man that wasn’t him. Something broke. Shattered in his chest where the shards cut him apart from the inside out. When he breathes in, he can smell the blood pooling inside of him and it wakes him up to the terrible realization that — for once in his many, many lifetimes — he’s late. He’s late, and he doesn’t know what to do.

As the sweet smell of tea fades and is replaced by the putrid aroma of London, John tells himself to let it go. So what he wasted thirty plus years just for your heart to already be stolen away from him? There’s a millennia behind him, and a millennia ahead of him. When one life doesn’t go right for him, there’s always the next. Yet as pavement turns to brick and The Thames sprawls out in front of him beyond metal bars, he finds himself hesitating. The idea of letting go can’t quite sink its tendrils into his mind, and his knuckles grow white as he grips the barrier in front of him.

Bitter wind bites at his face as he looks at the water below him. Hesitation. He doesn’t know why it paralyzes him. There’s never been any need or use for second guesses, because he’s always known what’s waiting for him on the other side. All he needs to do is lift his leg, hoist himself up, and then let gravity do the rest. He’s done it before, in some other life. He’s felt his body hit the frigid water with needle-like pain blossoming across his skin just before it swallows him whole. It’s not an easy way to die, but it’s the only thing violent enough that has the capability of smothering the bitterness growing in his heart.

The answer to his confusion comes as a whisper on the back of his neck, where it tingles until it reaches the base of his spine and flutters throughout every cell of his body. Principle. It’s the principle of it all. In every single life, you’ve been his lover, his wife, the mother of his children, and if you are not, then you are dead. Rotten. Decaying in some grave by the time he finally finds you. You’re not just his desire, the love of his life, his reason for being; you are his right.

How long can someone love a soul before it becomes theirs? Before it’s ripped out of their lover and tucked safely away into a cage?

John chuckles as his hand slips from the railing, and he slides them into his pockets as if he had been enjoying the view of grey water and even more grey skies this entire time. Kill himself? No; you’ve been his this entire time. You just don’t know it yet.

He’s only ever done this a few times before; kidnap someone. In a few of his past lives, he’s been a soldier. A stone-hardened man who’s stolen families as bartering tools to make terrorists talk when their mouths were otherwise sealed shut. Killing is a good way for him to let out the anger that builds in a man’s soul after so long, and though he prefers to keep it to people who deserve it, his fingers can’t help but twitch as he watches your husband drop you off at the yoga studio.

Doesn’t he — your husband — deserve it? Death? Shouldn’t he pay the ultimate price for stealing you away from your true lover? The man who’s looked after you for eons? John wants to do it. Kill him. Smell the sanguine aroma that mixes with the harsh gunpowder that expels after a bullet is shot. He wants to, and he could do it, but murder muddles things up more than he would like, and though he’s good at covering his trail, he’d rather steal you away without incident. He’s been carefully plotting this ever since he saw you in that tea shop all those days ago; he can’t ruin it.

A smile pulls at his lips as he thinks about the look on your husband's face, when his pretty little pretend wife doesn’t return home. When he realizes how he’s failed you.

John’s hands tap at the steering wheel as he waits, patient as ever, for your session to end. Silly of you to go to a night class, really. Even sillier of your husband to allow such a terrible thing. If anything, it's greater proof that this new man in this new life isn’t good for you. It could have been anyone sitting in that car park, waiting for you to leave. Waiting to take you home.

Good thing it’s only him.

John exits the car just before eight. Cool air does its best to calm the electricity sizzling in his veins, but ultimately it’s his own mind that stills his nerves. Everything is planned out in his mind with moves expertly rehearsed in a past now forgotten, yet still ingrained in his memory; he knows he’ll get exactly what he wants. You. It’s all he craves. All he ever does.

You exit the studio with a laugh and a wave goodbye to the other women in your yoga class. That pathetic husband of yours is late, which only proves to be good fortune for John as he slips by your side. His feet are dangerously silent on the pavement and his arm is just as warm as ever as he wraps it around your waist, blade in hand. Even through the fabric of your shirt its point is noticeably sharp, and your feet stumble as he presses it against you in warning.

“Not a word, darling,” he whispers, too saccharine to be a stranger.

You listen, just like he knew you would, and he steers you away from the pavement and into the car park. It’s difficult for him not to chuckle as he recalls you in another life. How you once batted your pretty lashes at him, all but begging him to use a knife in bed with you. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel the cold sting of it against your skin. He wonders if some part of you feels that way in this life.

Once you reach the car, he slips the zip ties over your wrists in a single fluid motion before opening the door for you. Any onlookers would just think he’s being a gentleman helping you into the car like that, but there’s a method to his madness. As soon as you’re seated into the passengers side, your eyes meet his and they widen with terrified recognition. Not quite the look he hoped for from you, but your expression quickly melts away the moment a needle pierces through your pants and into your thigh. All that’s left to do is buckle you in and drive off.

He likes to pretend he’s carrying you to your honeymoon room as he curls you up into his arms. A sweet bride, passed out against his chest as he carries you to bed, safe in the confines of the cage he’s spent that entire lifetime preparing for you. You don’t stir when he places you in bed, but he lays down next to you as if both of you are resting. He lays in front of you so he can see your face while it’s peaceful; not while it’s twisted with confusion and disgust like it was in the tea shop a few days ago. No, he likes you much better like this. Quiet and pliant.

The tips of his fingers trace the features of your face, and it’s a dance he’s grown to have well memorized. They brush your lips and the tip of your nose before dipping underneath your jaw where they continue to wander. It doesn’t feel wrong, even though he knows you’d beg to differ. He’s done this before, in a life you don’t remember. Touch you like this. Feeling the dip between your breasts and the skin of your stomach. He pats your hands, still bound together with a zip tie — he tells himself he’ll remove them once you start behaving — before caressing your thighs. He wants to slip upwards, to brush his thumb against your clit just like how he knows you like it, but he refrains. He’ll wait until you wake up to do that. Your gasps are always sweeter when you’re aware.

The sweet bliss of numb eternity melts away as the drugs begin to wear off, and when your eyes flutter open you’re met with the face of a stranger. Truly, he’s not a stranger at all. Or, at least that’s what John would have you believe with the knowing smile he gives you. Your bound hands move up and press against his chest, desperately attempting to earn some space between the two of you. This only makes him laugh, and his hand rests on top of yours.

“Easy, darling,” he soothes.

An incoherent response stumbles out from your lips just as fearful tears swell in your eyes. His hand pants yours against his chest before he frowns. The gemstone on your wedding ring stands out like a sore thumb against his palm, and it serves as a stark reminder as to why he had to do all this in the first place. You don’t — or can’t — fight against him as he slips the ring off your finger and places it on the nightstand next to him. He’ll dispose of it properly another time, but for now he just can’t stand to see that proof of ownership on you.

“Please.” It’s the first word you’re able to slur out, and John hangs onto the syllable like it’s dessert. “W-Whatever you want… please… my husband, h-he’ll give it to you just… let me go, please.”

Husband. He hates that word on your lips when it’s not in reference to him.

“I’ve already gotten what I want, love,” he whispers.

Your eyes wrench shut and tears fall free at the realization that there’s nothing you can do to get away from this crazed man. He shushes you as he holds your face in his hands and presses his lips against your forehead. It’s not enjoyable, the way you recoil from him, but giving you the same love he’s given you in every other life feels right. It feels more wrong to withhold it from you.

Because this is his right, isn’t it? Of course it is, and in some sort of way, you seem to know this too. Your hands no longer press against his chest in disdain, and it’s all too easy to prop himself up on his elbow and press his lips against yours. The pressure is firm, as if he’s holding himself back from taking more from you. He groans at the taste of salt on your lips, and nearly chuckles at the way you tremble. It’s a one-sided embrace that you refuse to return, but he tells himself you’ll learn otherwise soon enough.

When John pulls away, your eyes refuse to focus on him as the shame eats you from the inside out. Your entire body is limp, bound hands resting against your stomach as he sits up. Deciding you’ve been behaving well enough, he reaches for the knife on the nightstand and he turns back to you, ready to cut the ties from your wrists.

The very moment the glint of the knife catches your eye is the moment you begin to squirm. Legs thrash and mess up the sheets as you scramble away from him until your head and back is pressed against the headboard. Your chest heaves violently as your terror overtakes you, and John pauses as you retreat. He’s never seen you look at him like that; not in any life he’s ever lived.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises.

“Please don’t,” you beg, his assurance falling on deaf ears. Your pleas turn into mindless stuttering for a moment before something visibly breaks in you, forcing you to share a secret that feels like sealing your death: “Please, you can’t just- I- I’m pregnant! Please!”

Everything stops. The world. His heart. It all falls quiet except for the sound of your hyperventilating which is almost as deafening as the ringing in his ears. Pregnant. Anything kind in John’s eyes dies quietly as he clenches the knife in his hand.

Pregnant. Not with his child. It must be a lie — it has to be a lie. You don’t look pregnant. There is no swelling of your stomach. Yet your hands lie on your lower abdomen as if you’re cradling something. Cradling someone. You have never been good at lying in any of your lives, and the candor sheen in your eyes tells him you’re not good at lying in this one, either.

John tells himself he only wants to embrace you. To mourn the life the two of you could have had if you only behaved. He doesn’t register why you’re screaming until the blood covers his hands, and then you fall quiet. His knife sinks into your stomach like it’s butter, and it pulls free from you even easier. You stare up at him, confused. As if you can’t comprehend why he would do this to you.

Ichor flows free from you like a river, and all you can do is gasp and paw at your wound. Your legs flail as John pulls you against his chest, chin resting on top of your head as if this is something he can soothe away with a hug. It’s not. He can’t soothe away your betrayal. Can’t come to terms with the fact you carry another man’s child when you should be carrying his.

“I know,” he shushes with a strained voice. “I know. It’ll be over soon.”

Your death is not kind, and he mourns every minute you bleed in his arms until you eventually still. It’s only when your blood goes cold that he allows himself to cry. Angry, hot tears that sear his skin as they soak into your hair. Damn this ruined life. Damn the years he wasted trying to find you only for you to be soiled by the time you were in his grasp. He hates the gore that stains your being, but he assures himself it was necessary.

In every life, you belong to him. In the lives that you don’t, you’re already dead.

John carefully places your body back on the mattress where he takes in the sight of you. There’s no more glow to your skin, not like there was while you were alive. But you’re dead, and he knows the life inside of you is dead, too. He tries to take comfort in that fact before angling the knife towards himself.

Killing himself is easier than killing you, as driving the knife into his throat is a well practiced motion. It’s something he’s done before, and he’s so used to it he doesn’t even groan at the sting as the blade slices his artery. Darkness is quick to cloud his vision as the blood loss overwhelms him, and he sputters and stares down at your cold body below. There is little comfort he feels when his blood meets yours on the stained sheets of the bed he wished to love you on. The mixing of blood is the only bond the two of you will ever have in that life.

He coughs as he falls forward. Soon, he has no use for any sort of comfort at all.

There is no blood in your next life. No iron taste in your mouth, or rotten flesh haunting your nose. No, there is only ink, paper, and well loved books.

You love your job. Books are your livelihood; the tool you use to escape reality on rainy days, so it only makes sense that in this life you work as a librarian. The building is dated with poorly insulated windows, and a bell that chimes as another patron enters, but that’s what makes it charming. Millions of words have been consumed in that library, and they linger in a way that never leaves you feeling alone.

Several books sit tucked safely in your arms as you wander aisles, on the hunt to return them home. Every shelf is well memorized. You could find any book in that building blind folded, and you hum to yourself as you go to return Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself to its rightful home on the top shelf of the WXYZ aisle.

Your feet are nimble as you climb the step stool to reach the shelf. It nearly reaches the ceiling, which is no small feat for a building of that size. Your arm stretches over your head and you breathe in the scent of stale paper and well loved books. Just as your fingers slide the item into place, the stool below you jerks, and your stomach drops as you fall to the side.

The books in your arms tumble onto the ground, but you’re saved from that same fate as a pair of arms swoop around you. You squeak as your hands grip the shirt of your savior, and you look up with wild eyes at the man. John Price is younger in this life when he finds you. In his twenties this go around. His face is clean shaven, but his eyes still hold the wisdom of forgotten ages and dead worlds.

“Terribly sorry, darling,” he apologizes. His grip on you loosens, but he doesn’t quite cut you free just yet. “You alright?”

“Yes, thank you, I… good save,” is all you can manage through a breathless chuckle.

There’s an innocence in your eyes that has John smiling at you. His hands are kinder in this life. The angry claws that ended your previous life don’t exist anymore. They do not wield a knife in anger; they only hold you with unbridled adoration. It’s the way things are supposed to be, with you in his arms and looking up at him with that innocent gaze, just the way he likes you. For a moment, John worries that you somehow recognize him when you tilt your head, yet as you bashfully return his smile, he takes comfort in knowing that you don’t remember anything.

You don’t remember anything at all.

#exquisite #john price x reader #john price x you #fem!reader #dead dove do not eat #cordeliawhohung

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