Kail Rose

tagging: @angel444riley

thinking about Simon Riley who can't sleep without you. he'd wake up breathless from a nightmare, breath uneven. his fists clenched, that familiar military instinct to grab his firearm shooting pure adrenaline through his veins.

his mind is still stuck in that post dream state, mission still fresh in his mind as he scanned around in the darkness, eyes starting around the shadows for any sign of movement.

soft breathing beside him broke through his haze and he squinted, catching sight of your figure sleeping soundly next to him, calm and breathing.

safe he thought, reassuring - forcing himself to take a breath as he tried to calm down, the sound of his heartbeat loud in his ears.

you stirred, feeling the rustling of his unrest.

"si?" you mumbled sleepily, turning towards him. his eyes softened. even half asleep you were still attentive, still worried about him.

he was quick to wrap his arms around you, warm and strong around your body as he pulled you against him. the knot in his chest loosened at the contact of your body against his, the tension in his shoulders fading as he buried his face in your neck - breathing in your scent.

still here he thought, closing his eyes in relief.

"shh lovie, go back to sleep" he replied huskily, settling against you.

you relaxed back into his arms, resting your cheek against his broad chest as sleep took over you again.

other nights when he'd wake up without you, he'd panic. dread settling in as he grasped the sheets next to him, seeking out your presence only to find it empty. he'd sit up wide awake, alert only to exhale when he heard you moving around in the bathroom, light shining beneath the door.

when you'd come out and see his expression, the left over anxiety in his eyes you'd rush over, cupping his face and smiling when he melted in your hold.

"still here" you'd whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

his eyes would close at the contact of your lips, shoulders dropping and he'd wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto the bed. you'd giggle at the abrupt action to which he smiled, the sound erasing whatever post nightmare plagued him and grounding him in the sound.

with you in his embrace, right where you belonged, he'd drift slowly back into slumber. peacefully.

It all began in the briefing room when the task force returned from a long deployment. Everyone was exhausted after being stuck in those cargo planes for hours. You couldn't get comfortable in your chair; your backside was aching from those shitty, cold, netted seats.

​Price was rambling about information you all already knew, gesturing at diagrams and maps, but your head was somewhere else. You were trying hard not to whine about the pain, scanning the room for anywhere more comfortable to sit. Suddenly, your eyes landed on Ghost’s well-defined, muscular thighs, and dear God, did they look cushioned.

​"Ghost," you whispered, trying not to draw attention to yourselves. "Hey."

​"Wot?" he grunted, his eyes fixed on Price.

​"My ass really hurts from those shitty aircraft seats. I’m literally dying here. I was wondering if I could sit on your lap?" you begged.

​"What? No. We’re in a bloody meeting."

​"Please! It really hurts!"

​Ghost remained silent for a long moment, analyzing the situation. You were just about to give up when you saw him spread his legs and pat his thigh softly. "You bloody nightmare."

​You blinked several times, then immediately crawled onto his lap. Thank God—they were just as comfortable as you’d imagined. It was like sitting on a damn cloud. Seeking even more comfort, you grabbed both of Ghost’s arms and wrapped them around your waist. He was so massive that he simply rested his chin on the top of your head.

​"The next mission will take place on—" Price cut off abruptly in the middle of his sentence, his eyes locked on the two of you.

​"What? My ass hurts; you really should change the bloody seats on the aircraft," you defended yourself against Price’s judgmental stare.

​That didn't stop you, though. From that day on, you were always found in your usual place: perched on Ghost's thighs. Without fail.

Simon Riley is the type of man to go to your mean bosses house in the middle of the night to “scare him straight” after he hurt your feelings.

He canceled your office birthday party. Purely budgetary was what he said, but, Simon didn’t give a fuck. That bastard hurt your feelings and as your husband, it’s his job to fix it and make you happy.

He waited until you were asleep to track the man down. He drove with the headlights off, wanting to be completely undetected. The house was nice. Too nice. Just another thing that pissed him off. This muppet didn’t deserve a house this nice. 

His large fist pounds the door hard, ready to kick this prick's ass straight into the ground. Your boss answers the door in his robe, looking tired and annoyed.

His face changes quickly when he sees your gigantic, furious husband on his doorstep, masked and all in black. “Who- who are you? I don’t have any money.” Your boss stammers in terror, lips trembling. 

Simon huffs and pushes the door open fully. “I don’t want your fuckin’ money, prick. I’m here for my wife.”

“I don't have her! I swear, Sir! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The pathetic wanker was nearly in tears already just at the sight of Simon. To his credit, Simon was a sight to behold, especially when he showed up ready to throw fists and ask questions later

“Shut up!” Simon bellows, “You hurt 'er feelings today, canceled 'er party. She’s been excited about tha', been talking all month about it.” It was true, you really had been excited for that stupid party. It was nothing but a small office party with a cake and maybe some streamers, but Simon knew it meant the world to you. 

“What? That… that was budgetary. I had no choice.” Your boss faltered, pulling fluffy robe tighter around himself like it would save him from the soldier in front of him ready to strike. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Simon growled, standing taller and grabbing the man by his collar. “I’ve killed men for less than this.” 

“Please, Sir.” Your boss whimpered, trying to pull away. 

“Be quiet, you pathetic shrew.” Simon rolls his eyes and shoves the man inside, towering over him. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say, or we're gonna have problems.”

Your boss scampered away quickly, trembling now. He pressed himself into a corner like a frightened animal. “Okay okay I swear I’ll do whatever you want.”

Simon sneered at him, satisfied with the pathetic display. “You’re gonna give ‘er the party. You’re gonna make it the best damn party she’s ever been to. There will be gifts, an apology, and whatever cake my wife wants. Got it?”

“Y-yes yes I understand.” Your boss nodded rapidly, eyes wide and pleading.

Simon couldn’t help but smirk. He deserved this. Deserved this for making you sad, taking something special from you. Your boss was not going to get away with it. “Throw a bonus check in there too.”

“I can’t just-“ Your boss sputtered pitifully. It was bullshit. Simon knew it. The company was doing better than ever, especially considering the lavish state of this man's house. He would find the money for your party whether he liked it or not. 

Simon was having none of it. He wouldn’t actually kill him. You would never allow that. But that didn’t stop Simon from crouching for effect, needing to really give this little shit a good scare. “Do it. Or I’ll be back, yeah?”

Your boss looked down, nodding in surrender. “Y-yeah… okay.” 

Simon slipped back into your house without a word that night. He tells you nothing when you come home with that bright, beautiful smile, saying that your boss gave you the party and you got a raise to go with it. Seeing that look on your face would always be worth terrifying a man in the middle of the night. 

Victor Gideon in proper medical form.

Victor Gideon in his snake coat.

Victor Gideon in tailored, fancy clothes.

Victor Gideon, in a silk robe that hangs loosely on him and is tied only with a slipping belt, sprawled seductively on a lavish bed.

the daeronlings

I love it when people express themselves in cool, weird ways! :3 anyways here's my fursona!!!

The Estate's Secret

They have no kings, no gods, and no laws beyond what's fair and what's funny. They will respect you in their own way, but only on their own terms.

You cannot shame a clown in any way that matters.

You cannot silence the clowns in any way that matters.

The only way to offend a clown is to try to silence them.