magic

Soap is a clingy spirit ♡

Since that night at the gas station you cant get that dream out of your head. It's been the same one for a week straight! You started to have trouble sleeping because all you wanted was to avoid it.

One night was worse than the others. You had finally fallen asleep around midnight and the dream starts again. Though now, it's storming pretty hard, ruining the usual quietness. This time, when you seen the man he was sitting at a campfire. He looks up at you and-

BAM!

You wake up to a loud bang coming from your kitchen. You felt like shit with a headache and a dizzy stomach, so it takes you a second to get out of bed. When you check your phone you see its 3:05 am. Of course. Good thing you're off work today otherwise this would be hell.

You step into the living room not wearing much because of how hot it was last night. The damn heatwave is hitting you like a freight train. You run your hand through your somewhat messy hair and head into the kitchen.

This is part 1 - part 2

You are walking through a forest and something immediately seems a bit off. Its a dark path..you don't really remember how you got there. Some kind of fog has settled and you can't hear anything but leaves blowing in the wind.

Someone appears in front of you and you stop immediately. A man..with a.. mohawk? He was dressed in military wear, a British flag on his gear. You can't make out his face too well, so you try speaking to him.

"Hey..is there something the matter..?"

The man begins to cough, you reach out and then-

You blink awake and quickly realize you were dreaming. You rub your hand over your face, you're on the clock, you can't be falling asleep! Then again, the job only pays minimum wage as you work at a 24/7 gas station. Not to mention you work the night shift, thats why you're so tired, because its 1am on a Thursday!

Of course you go out from behind the counter to take a good look around the store, making sure nobody was around as you were dozed off. It seemed pretty clear but when you get back to the counter you hear the bell ring at the door.

It’s concerning if the boys see you NOT reading.

Since you joined the team the base has gained random piles of books all over the place, to the point that Price recently requested a bookshelf for the common room.

Soap walks into the kitchen after a gym session with Ghost, finding you - surprise surprise - reading as you eat a sandwich.

It’s a book he hasn’t seen you with, you read a book or two a week, so naturally he ruffles your hair and asks. “New book, bon?”

Typically you LOVE talking to the boys about reading. Today, however, your cheeks flush and you practically run out of the room - discarding your food and almost crashing into Gaz as he wanders in.

Gaz frowns at the other man, looking confused. “What’s all that about?”

Soap looks equally confused, and maybe a bit upset. “I don’t know.. jus asked what they’re reading..”

They both look concerned now, it’s very out of character for you to be shy, you who has openly asked to recreate smut scenes with them with no shame.

Later, when all of you are sat eating together in the mess hall, Soap and Gaz keep looking at you in concern; you avoid their gaze entirely.

Soap’s foot nudges your own under the table and, instead of nudging back like you usually would, you pull your feet up onto your chair and continue eating.

Once you’ve wandered off to bed, likely to read for a while before they join you, Gaz gathers everyone in the common room.

He stands at the front of the room. “Right, our little librarian has a secret.”

Ghost cocks a brow, grumbling. “What are ya on about now, Garrick?”

The use of his surname earns Ghost a glare. “Simon I’m serious.” Ghost is stood and cupping his cheek before he can turn away. “I’m worried..”

Despite his amusement Ghost presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls him close, resting his chin on his head. “We’ll sort it, okay?”

“Mm..”

The lads eventually decide that Price should be the one to ask you, you’ve known him the longest and typically seek him out for comfort.

Price typically goes to bed soon after you, earlier than the others, and you cuddle for a while as you read - so he’s confused when he walks in on you hiding your book under your pillow.

He sits down, removing his slippers and sliding in next to you. “Hi love..”

You instantly tuck yourself into his side. “Hi..”

His fingers sink into your hair, resting his chin on your head. “What’s going on with you today?”

You lift your head from his chest to look at him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, the boys are worried about you and.. so am I”

The warmth for your breath washes over his face as you sigh. “It’s nothing..”

The look he fixes you with makes it clear he’s not going to drop it. “John I promise it’s nothing”

He cocks a brow, keeping the same look. The look only goes when you grumble and bury your face in his chest, he can’t keep the chuckle away at you irritation.

“Come on.. you can tell me anything, you know that..”

He softens as you look up at him, pouting. “Don’t do that. You know I trust you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to guilt you.. I’m just worried about you, we all are.. hell even Simon was getting antsy..”

“Really?”

“Saw him picking his nails..”

You search his expression for a few moments before huffing and pulling the book from under the pillow and handing it over.

It looks pretty unremarkable in his hand, no cover, no writing on the front or back - if he had to guess he’d say you’ve taken the book everywhere with you, based on how worn it is.

When he’s open it he’s confused to find handwriting, unmistakably yours, he looks up at you trying to figure out what he’s holding. “You’ve got a secret journal?”

You roll your eyes, amused by his reaction. “It’s a book. I’ve been.. writing a book”

His brows seem determined to reach his hairline as he looks between you and the book in his hands. “You’ve been writing a book?”

You barely nod, giving an almost inaudible hum of agreement.

He’s pretty much frozen for a few seconds before smiling unbelievably brightly at you. “That’s great, love”

Now it’s your turn to look confused, brows furrowed and lips pouted ever so slightly. “It is?”

He chuckles, setting the book down gently and pulling you into his lap. “Course it is”

“You’re not cross I kept it a secret?”

“Never.. I’m upset you felt you couldn’t tell us but nobody’s angry, promise..”

“I just- I didn’t want you to read it and think it’s really bad”

He presses a handful of kisses to your temple before shutting down that fear. “None of us would ever, ever do that. The boys will be so proud of you for doing something you’re clearly passionate about.. I know I am..”

Not 10 minutes later and everyone is piled into bed together, asking questions and fully engaging in your new hobby.

It had taken a while for the secret to come out, but now that it had you were happy they knew - now you had people to give feedback and test lines on.

"You're looking good, little yankee." Your ex-husband says to you in a horrible yet somehow sexy country accent, hopping out of his pickup truck. He tips his cowboy hat at your red, white, and blue outfit for the day. You eye him up and down. Even in a casual outfit of a white t-shirt and jeans that are too tight around his thighs, he still manages to look hot.

Stupid hot Brit.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that the way you're dressed right now was not to spite him. You chose a matching set with a push-up bra just so your tits looked better in your top. You put a little more time in styling your hair today and makeup, just so he could get a tease of what he couldn't have anymore.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon reminisces. You wake up.

Additional Tags/Warnings: bit of angst here

Wordcount: ~ 570

---

This chapter on AO3: here Chapter 2 on tumblr: here Chapter 4 on tumblr: tba

---

Simon Riley had never stopped loving you.

Never told you, either.

'Cause he'd only realized it when your car took that turn and left him feeling empty. Left a vacuum in his world. A slow implosion he couldn't stop.

So he buried it.

But even through all those years, even when he became the haunting ghost enemies only talked about in hushed whispers, your light shined through, from the sunken crevices of his childhood, dimmed only by his own effort to not lose his mind to your absence. But sometimes, on the battlefield, between the mines and ambushes, between the smoke and screams, he saw a flower in the mud or a marbled pebble in a river of red, a defiant, beautiful thing in a broken world, and he thought of you. Just a flicker of a memory, enough to remind him that the sediments of his being were laced with particles of you, that you were set into every foundational layer inside of him.

Now he sat inside the infirmary, keeping silent watch over you lying limp and broken in the bed, and the mismatch between his memories and what he saw in front of him fanned the growing flames of his rage. 

He remembered your daring grin, the cocky way you threw your head back when you challenged him. You hadn't been afraid of anything back then.

But what he saw now was a broken husk with a swollen face, a bandaged body covered in bruises and cuts.

Somebody needed to pay for this. Somebody was going to pay for this.

----

Trudging through clingy, grey mud, you didn't know where you were going, just that you had to continue. Your world had shrunken to three feet around you, everything else, was blurred by a cold fog. Then you heard voices, distant, muddied, from all around you, no hint as to where they were coming from. Not helpful, no direction, so you ignored them.

One voice, though, a deep gravely tone, rang through to you. 

"I got you, Princess."

You looked up the dazed, hissing sky and the sun turned hazel and the moon did too, and then you had your direction, following a string from your heart that you had wound up into a tight ball and stored away. Now it was unraveling in the labyrinth of the minotaur, finding you a way out.

---

You woke up with a startle, sun and moon turning into hazel eyes burning with worry - and something else you didn't have the capacity to understand in your state of pain subdued by painkillers.

You looked around frantically, all colour drained from your face, like a specter afraid that it might see a ghost. Your trembling fingers clawed at the needle in your arm, but then a heavy hand came down gently on yours, a skullfaced mask close to your face.

"You're safe."

The sentence rang like a battering ram through the panicked haze of your mind and settled in with a final certainty.

You should've been afraid, Death himself was talking to you! But you knew his eyes, the drawl in his voice. 

And you believed him.

That was all what's counted at the moment.

You fell back onto your pillow, a sigh escaped your lips and got lost in the cold, tiled walls.

tags: fem!mercenary!reader. forced proximity. alcohol consumption. tension cus ghost's got trust issues & u love getting under his skin. mentions of domestic violence and murder. military inaccuracies.

w/c: 3,6k

a/n: i did want to reiterate that "widow" is ur callsign ! otherwise i'd have tagged this as an x oc fic. hope that clears things up! mwah.

<< previously on widow ! || ao3 ♡

Soap's wish had come true.

It was hard for others within your group to not look at you. You definitely didn’t belong to any task force of theirs, no uniform, no patch. A black dress that seemed to fit snug on you, hugging you in all the right places and thigh high heels - who the hell worked in this business in heels?

Pretty thing you were, hanging around the likes of these big, dangerous men who’ve seen more blood than you can imagine. That’s what the other soldiers on base thought. Though, you’d love to see their faces contort in fear and surprise if you’d told them whatever they thought of these men beside you, make it ten times worse when it came to the thought of you.

<< previous — master list >>

The doors to the storage room were heavy, he knew you’d be close. He watched you run inside this dark place your face twisted up with fear.

Simon walks in slow, his phone ringing in his pocket. Slowly he pulls it out to see your name shining across his screen.

Nothing could matter more than this.

More than you right now.

You’re alone, and scared.

And calling for Simon.

Praying, Simon will pick up.

The ringing in the creepy room only adds to your torment.

You press your back into one of the storage crates you’re hiding behind.

Maybe Simon’s closer than you think.

You’re not sure why, but the thought tightens something in your gut.

Heavy footsteps break your train of thought, in a knee jerk reaction you curl up on yourself, pinching your eyes closed.

Your heart races in your chest.

Your phone tight in your hand.

You want to say something— to call out, but you can’t seem to move let alone speak.

This is where it ends. You’re sure whoever that’s been following you, caught you.

And no one is here to save you.

The ringing stops, making your eyes snap open.

Tears burn in your eyes, blurring your vision as you see your little life flash in your mind.

Everything you have done, everything you haven’t done.

More footsteps.. heavy.. slow.

Close— too close.

You gasp when a heavy hand brushes your shaking shoulder.

The man kneels down touching your knee, with a warm rough palm.

Your head turns up to see the last thing you think you’ll ever lay your eyes on.

But-

It’s just Simon.

“Easy there.. it’s me.”

Maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you could’ve sworn he just cood at you.

Simon has never seen you so.. scared.

It does something to him he doesn’t want to admit.

His jaw tightens, staring at you with an unwavering gaze.

You swallow, hard. A mix of confusion and relief spreading through you.

“Simon?”

You all but mutter.

You reach forward for his jacket, your fingers curl into the soft leather.

Needing something to anchor onto.

He leans forward, like a magnet. Shielding you with a massive arm. You’re so close he hopes you can hear just how hard his heart is beating in his chest.

Like a damn bird in a cage.

You lean into him, like reflex. He smells different today, cleaner. Like a hospital.

Bleach-y.

He speaks again, the pad of his thumb collecting the tears under your eyes.

“Look at you, shaking like a leaf.”

He tilts your chin up, savoring the way his fingers feel against your soft face.

He whispers.

“Tell me whats wrong bird.”

Hoping this moment will never end.

You open your mouth to speak but honestly you feel like an idiot.

Here you are, crying and shaking and for what good reason?

You breathe out, steadying yourself.

“Someone.. someone was following me.”

You whisper, the tremble in your voice has Simon tensing.

He doesn’t question you further, instead he nods, brushing the tears that stream down your face away with a rough thumb.

His next words send a chill through you.

“Someone was. I took care of them.”

Your eyes widen on his. Everything playing back in your head.

With your brows knitting together words tumble from your lips.

“Simon— what does that mean?”

He stares back at you, dragging his thumb under your eye.

“Means they won’t be botherin’ you again.”

He pauses, studying you.

Before you can even find words to question him with, his big hand moves from your face to your arm, brushing against the cold skin there.

Silencing you.

His words should make you feel better.

They don’t.

But.

The tears in your eyes stop falling.

Again his thumb strokes slowly against your arm.

“Can I take you home?”

Simon doesn’t rush, just waits.

His gentle motions never stopping as you gather your thoughts.

Frozen like a deer in headlights.

The what ifs?

The maybes?

The could haves?

You freeze.

Nasty anxiety stirs in your stomach.

Before you know what you’re doing, your head is shaking side to side.

Slow like you’re unsure of the answer yourself.

“No.”

It’s small, barely there. But Simon doesn’t miss it. Nor the way your eyes dart away from his.

He doesn’t like it.

That’s when he offers, even lower.

“How about mine instead?”

You nod.

Behind his black surgical mask, Simon is sure to crinkle his eyes just enough for a smile to be seen.

Gently, Simon offers you his hand.

It’s big.

Scarred from things you’re not sure you want to know.

Calloused just right before knuckles meet fingers.

You don’t wait to take it.

His grip tightens on you, not painfully.

Never painfully.

Just enough to pull you up and close to him.

He wraps a protective arm around you as you two walk out of the store.

No items in hand.

Just your quietness and another victory for Simon.

He looks down at you, your distant gaze.

Quietly, he speaks to you as you walk.

“You’re alright. Safe now.”

You nod, barely registering the words.

The walk to his Chevy is short, at least you remember it to be.

He opens the passenger door for you, helping you climb in as he’s done before.

It’s soothing, the familiarity of it all.

The smell of his leather seats, the way his hand instinctively moves to the back of your headrest.

Close but not touching, like being near is all he needs.

You take a deep breath in, and out.

Looking up at the roof.

Calming your nerves as your hands clench open and closed.

Simon looks over at you with one hand on the steering wheel, a question in his eyes.

“You see who did it?”

You swallow hard, all the work you just did to calm your unwravels at the simple question.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

Simon sees this.

Watches how you stare at only one point, how your fingers clench around the fabric of your shirt.

Softly.

Gently, even.

“You’re safe with me.”

The words on his tongue feel like a lie.

A blatant one.

Simon is not the kind of man anyone is safe around.

But you?

You finally smile back at him, and nod like his words are fact.

His massive hand moves to your shoulder, slow, like if he moved too fast you might jump out your skin.

But you don’t.

Then, his thumb swipes against you.

Once, then twice.

It’s nice.

Comforting.

Your eyes close for just a moment, then Simons outside, opening your door like a true gentleman, offering his hand for you to get out.

Like routine, you take his hand and jump down.

Without a word you follow Simon in, he leads you to his apartment, his hand on your lower back the whole way.

Inside his apartment it’s clean, as you remember from last time. But now your eyes land on a pillow and blanket already folded onto the end of his couch.

Like it was waiting for you.

You look at Simon, he simply shrugs, nodding to the couch.

“Guess it’s a good thing I forgot to put ‘em away.”

You nod, seems understandable enough.

“Sit make yourself comfortable.”

Simon suggests, standing from the kitchen.

You almost move to follow him, but instead you land on the couch. More tired than you realize. Your hands drag down your face.

What a day it has been.

When you look back up, Simon is standing beside you. Bending to place a cup of tea in front of you.

Without question you reach to take it, with a single sip you realize it’s your favorite.

You must have mentioned it once, you think.

“Thank you.”

You breathe out, the ceramic cup warm in your hands. The aroma sweet but natural, blissful even.

Simon stays standing, looking almost awkward in his own home. He clears his throat, shoving his hands too aggressively in his back pockets as he takes a half step back to the kitchen behind him.

“You need to eat.”

It’s not a question.

You open your mouth to protest but the man is already gone.

Pots clink softly in the background, cabinet doors open and close. Before you know it, the smell is making your mouth water.

It was strangely domestic feeling.

Before you’re able to think too deeply, Simon returns with a bowl carefully balanced in big hands, steam rising from the top.

It’s your favorite.

Somehow.

But you don’t ever remember talking about it.

Not once.

Your eyes bounce from the beautiful meal in front of you to Simon.

“How did you know?”

You ask, your tone laced with suspicion.

He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, silently asking to join you with a nod of his head.

You move, making room for him despite his unwillingness to answer you.

When he sits, the couch dips under his weight, sighing with an audible creak.

You look down at the bowl in your hands again, a soft genuine smile pulling at the corners of your lips despite weird coincidence.

You sigh, barely hearing yourself.

“Thank you Simon, really.”

Simon shifts, watching you all too closely as you bring the spoon to your lips, blowing on the steaming food before it slips between the soft muscles making Simon look away with a grunt.

Looking deadly at a spot in his white walls he asks, his voice low meant only for you.

“Who did you call first?”

It seems almost out of the blue. Simon, being curious.

“You.”

You answer without hesitation.

That’s when he sighs again, longer and deeper than before, like you’ve just taken something off his chest.

But the moment doesn’t last long, he turns facing you.

“Why?”

The question catches you off guard.

Because when your breaker box gave out on you, he was there.

When your pipes busted, he was there.

When your keys decided to grow legs and walk away, he’s the one to give you rides, to make sure you don’t walk alone.

It was clear to you.

“I trust you.”

Simon blinks. Your words settling over him like the waves against sand. Washing away the little drawings once etched into them, along with all his thoughts.

I trust you

I trust you

I trust you

Your words ring in his head like church bells.

He replays them over and over until nothing is left but you.

You look down at your half full bowl, taking another bite.

The scape of your spoon against the ceramic bowl is the only sound in the room until you look up to see Simon starting right back at you.

The whites of his eyes visible.

“Simon?”

His eyes flick, so slowly he moves in. Your breath catches at his proximity. But Simon feels like he can breathe again as he gently brushes away stray hairs from your face.

Trust.

You trust him.

“Sleep in my bed tonight.”

Your turn to him with your brows to your hairline.

“Excuse me?”

You breathe out, after all you’ve been through your heart can’t take any more of this.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, my bed is comfortable.”

His gaze hasn’t left yours, he’s not asking.

Somehow you find yourself nodding along to the idea, too tired to argue you tell yourself.

But, things are always safer with Simon.

You know this.

Once your bowl is empty, and your stomach is full, your eyelids are heavy and you can’t help but lean into the warmth at your side.

The TV drones on in the background but the only thing Simon is paying attention to is how perfectly you fit.

Fit beside him.

Fit in his life.

Fit his urges.

You were perfect.

And now he’s got you.

His strong arms snake under your legs, carefully carrying you to his bed, where he’s left special soft sheets like yours just for you tonight.

You barely stir as he tucks you in, completely vulnerable and unconscious in his presence.

He just can’t help himself, staring down at your peaceful form.

His hand twitches at his side.

He knows he shouldn’t. But he’s already gotten away with so much already.

Giving into temptation the back of Simon’s hand brushes against your cheek.

Slow.

Intimate.

Like he was memorizing the way your skin rises under his touch.

So warm.

A smile, one crooked appears on his lips.

His finger ghosting over the line of your jaw.

“Oh.. my stupid little bird.”

…

Simon slowly moves back to the living room after spending too long at your bedside.

The couch isn’t comfortable, digging into his back in plenty of places.

But it’s all worth it.

Worth it, he thinks as his finger brushes over his screen, showing off your pretty face all tear streaked and red with fear from earlier. A small huff of satisfaction leaves him as he saves the picture to a file only meant for you.

He looks back at the hallway where you sleep only a few feet away and sighs.

Placing his phone screen down on his chest.

You’re safe.

Laid in his bed.

Just where you’re meant to be.

simon ghost riley who i just know is a massive hugger. the oaf doesn't really know how else to react, he's far from good at emotions and he only finds himself able to comfort you through physical touch. if you're crying, he'll give you a gentle hug, one that wraps around your waist as he gently pulls you to him and gives you a soft kiss to the crown of your head. happy? he'll pick you up and swing you around because he loves to hear your little giddy laughs that accompanies it. content and he'll come up behind you and rest his chin against your shoulder, bulky arms crossing against your waist. you suppose it isn't the worst thing in the world to have a hugger boyfriend!

© BITTERSWEETLYBLUE. do not copy, translate, edit my work then claim it as your own, attempt to plagarise or repost it on any other website nor feed into AI. you will be blocked.

The safehouse was unusually quiet after the mission. Rain tapped softly against the windows while the rest of the team argued over cards in the next room.

Y/N "Goblin" sat cross-legged on the floor, cleaning mud from your boots. Your short, scruffy brown hair stuck out in every direction, the little yellow peekaboo escaping from behind one ear. At only 5'5, you looked almost swallowed by her oversized hoodie, but ghost has watched you take down enemies twice your size without breaking a sweat.

He leaned against the doorway, arms folded.

"You missed a spot," he rumbled after a beat.

You looked up, dark, matcha green eyes sparkling with amusement. "thought you'd finally found something to complain about."

A rare chuckle escaped behind his mask.

He walked over slowly, knelt beside her and after long moment silently brushed a smear of dirt from your cheek with his gloved thumb.

"you always..." ghost started, then paused, as if weighing every word "you always throw yourself into danger."

"you always come after me."

There was a long pause

"I know," he admitted quietly. "I always will."

Your teasing smile softened. "you know... I was hoping you'd say that, I mean, I knew you would

Obviously. Because you always do, And it's honestly kind of sweet In a terrifying stoic way, as well as-"

Ghost cut you off by lifting a hand to the back of your neck and kissing you before you could keep talking.

When he finally pulled apart, you blinked up at him, momentarily speachless

Ghost rested his forehead against your neck. "too much talking." he murmured

You grinned "you could've just said That."

Author's note: This is my first time ever writing so I'm sorry if this is bad,short and for grammatical errors as English is not my first language.

A familiar vehicle rolled to a stop outside the house.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You immediately knew it was Price as you kept cooking in the kitchen.

The sound of the door opening and heavy footsteps filled the house.

Price emerges as he takes off his boots and gear.

"You're finally home." You said softly as you glanced at Price before continuing to cook.

His shoulders sagged the moment he stepped inside.

He let out a long, weary sigh.

"Long day?" You asked.

Price paused before he answered

"You could say that."

Price entered the kitchen and smelled the scent of slow-simmering beef stew greeting him.

Fresh bread rested on the counter beside two steaming bowls, the warmth of the house melting away the chill he'd carried home.

Price hugged you from behind while resting his arms on your waist as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"Sit," you said gently. "Dinner's ready."

Price let out the first genuine smile he'd managed all day.

"Smells incredible."

Price sat down as you served two cold water beside the bowls as you, too sat down.

You rested a hand on his shoulder, your thumb rubbing slow circles into his tense muscles.

"Mind telling me about your day?"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Dinner grew colder as the conversation drifted to lighter things after Price told his awful day at work. Neither of you both hurried to move. Outside, the world carried on without them. Inside, all that mattered was the quiet warmth of home, and the comforting scent of dinner with you.

Summary: You have been friends with Kyle for a long time. You wouldn't jeopardize your friendship with him for anything, not even the blooming romance between you two. But the knife of loneliness cuts deep, and Kyle knows you too well to keep secrets from him.

A/N: Wrote this without much editing. I hope you all enjoy. This is a F!Reader who goes by the nickname Rosie.

Warnings: A Dyslexic wrote this. Angst with a happy end. Mentions of internet sexting and somewhat manipulative behaviors from others. Implied past torture. If I miss anything, let me know.

(reader feels insecure but she doesn’t really express those feelings. simon is described as taller than reader. also probably ooc simon because i’ve never actually consumed any official cod media.)

you’re a big girl, you always have been. you’ve been overweight for most of your life and in grade school you were always the tallest. thankfully in highschool a few of the boys outgrew you, but it was still rare to see another girl your height.

you’re used to taking up space.

it used to bother you. you would feel unworthy of the space you occupied, trying to shrink into yourself anyway you could. but it got exhausting to care so much all the time, so you slowly let yourself just exist as you are.

you tried not to let the ways boys your age would ignore you get to you, but it still took a toll. you act confident, but years of being treated like you were less pretty than other girls left its mark on you.

simon is a big guy. he feels uncomfortable in his skin. he has to slouch to fit through most doorways and his legs are too long to sit comfortably in regular cars. cans of pop look tiny in his hands, and his muscular build makes him even larger.

when he enters a room the air shifts. people tense up and try not to get caught staring. this makes simon very uncomfortable. he doesn’t want to be noticed in every crowd. he doesn’t want people to act differently when he’s around. in the ideal social situation, he’d merely be a fly on the wall. as far as simon is concerned, outside of combat, his size has zero advantages.

Vampire!TF141x witch!Gn!reader

Summary: a lonely and rejected witch catches the eyes of the four vampires that just moved into town. Their deep desire for the witch has only just begun.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of stabbing, polyamorous

Taglist: @fluffysmiko @diorsvnz @pinkkyangel @entr4p3 @sukunasleftdih @ethethereal @youngtaxpayer @sleepisfortheweakpooh

<- Part one Series Masterlist -> regular Masterlist ->

The room is quiet when you awaken. Your body is warm with blankets draped over you with care. You shift, feeling your familiar sheets under you as a rush of nausea hits you from moving to much. You groan, trying your best to keep the nausea down. Opening your eyes, you find yourself back in your room. Confusion clouds your mind, weren't you just in town? Suddenly, all the memories from last night come crashing down on you at once.

You sit up quickly, making you wince at how stiff your body felt. Those two villagers attacked you. And a strange shadowy presence saved you. You think back to the man that healed your stab wound, how he comforted you. You lift your shirt up, only to find no evidence of the stab wound. Was it all a dream? No, theres no way. A glass of water on your night stand catches your attention. Filled to the brim with cold water, the ice cubes floating around in it have yet to melt.

You remember how the man's eyes were locked on yours, how he comforted you while the shadow behind him was beating the two men senseless. They were both obviously not human, but you've never encountered them before. Your mind goes back to Eleanor's gossip about the new vampires in town. The headache pounding in your skull hurts to much to proccess all this information now. You flop back down with a huff, thinking about what could've possibly went down last night.

After 10 minutes of laying there, you finally found the strength to get out of bed. Unfortunately theres things that needed to be done today, even after the traumatic and confusing night you had. You can still feel the anxiety simmering under the surface, but you force yourself to ignore it for now. The kettle on the stove howling a loud whistle breaks you from your thoughts, you quickly stand up from your seat at the dining room table and pick up the kettles handle with a mitten.

You pour it slowly over a bag of tea you made a few days prior from the herbs in your garden. Setting the kettle down, you now open the lid to a small jar, picking out one unpolished rose quarts crystal from inside, and popping it right into your tea like it was sugar. After drinking your tea, you clean up your mess and decide its time to stop stalling and go outside to tend to your garden.

You slightly sway as you attempt to walk to your room to start getting ready, catching yourself on the wall before your knees gave out. You feel a wave of dizzy hit you. Shaking your head to snap yourself out of it, you think back to the nausea you felt when that man was healing your wound. Opening your bedroom door, you take a seat on your bed in hopes of calming down.

The dizzying feeling dispears after a moment, making you thankful. Theres chores that need to be done today, you wouldn't want yourself to feel sick throughout the day, especially now the season is getting hotter. You stand up carefully, before making your way to your closet. hopefully keeping yourself busy will distract you from all these unanswered questions.

~♡~

The sun is hot as it beams down on you. You wipe your face with the garden gloves you have on, finally putting down the basket you were using for harvesting. Theres been a creeping feeling of eyes on you all day. Its been hours since you've started working outside, but the strange feeling of being watched hasn't gone away once. Lurking in the shadows inbetween the trees, simply watching you work.

It doesn't feel necessary threatening, but its definitely there, and it makes you slightly nervous. Throughout the day you tried multiple times to spot who or what was watching you so intensely, but you have yet to find a single thing between the thick trees. You are very sensitive to these things, so its easy to point out what and where the feelings were coming from, but you still come up with nothing during the hours of being outside. So you ignore it until you have full evidence of something truly being there.

You sigh out in exhaustion, you begin to feel slightly light headed from the heat. So you sit on the floor in hopes that would help the familiar nauseating feeling. But it doesn't do much. You lay back on the grass, letting yourself relax to attempt to relieve the sick feeling you've had since you woke up. After a few minutes of laying down against the warm grass, you start to drift off. The exhaustion from both yesterday and today's events finally getting to you.

While drifting off, you could hear faint talking, slowly getting louder as they approach. Their voices are low as multiple of them speak. But your to far gone to be alert. You manage to catch a few words as you finally drift to sleep.

"-i expected this"

"Over working themselves-"

But the voices are to far away to catch anything else. Being drowned in your mind as you fully succumbed to the much needed sleep your body has been craving since you got out of bed this morning.

The sun beams down on your skin as you feel a slightly cold pressure against your arm. Your body doesn't react. But another soft cold touch nudges your cheek, making your head move ever so slightly. You open your eyes, finally coming back to proper consciousness. You must of startled whatever was nudging you, because it hurriedly scurried away from you in a dark blur of movement.

You sit up on your elbows while looking in the direction the inky blur of movement disappeared too. Your head pounded at the sudden movement, making you groan and reach up to cradle your head. You sit up properly. Looking at all the unfinished work you still had to do in your garden. Your body disagrees with the idea of continuing to working. You sigh in defeat, finally raising the white flag while you take off your gloves and stand up. You sway as you stand, but manage to successfully make it to the front door. Unaware of the four pares of red eyes watching you from the shadows in concern and guilt.

While taking a shower, you think back to the night before. The magic that man used had to be the cause of the sudden sickness that followed you all day. You lather the body wash over you while you think. Large amounts of magic towards the body can make one feel extremely sick in the healing process. Chills cover your skin at the thought of being stabbed, the feeling will never leave your mind. You continue to shower and try to think of something else to distract your mind from the traumatic memories.

~♡~

Over the next three days it seems the feeling of a lingering presence doesn't leave the air. Whether you're outside, or inside, the feeling of being watched doesn't leave. You've grown use to it at this point. Even though you are curious, and slightly unnerved. The strange energy is hard to decipher, it feels steady and focused, but soft around the edges, and Sometimes it changes completely, but it still holds the same level of intensity. Its energy is hidden well by whatever is watching, Under the leaves and branches of the forest like its trained to do so. Hidden so well it would be easy to not even notice it at all, but you know better then that.

The sun shines through the kitchen window while you make your morning tea. You open your jar of crystals to pop one into your tea, but you find you have used all of the small healing stones. They sit in a dish next to the tea pot, begging to be recharged and used again. You huff out a frustrated breath. You weren't planning to go back to the water fall for more river water for quite some time. But it seems fate has other plans for you.

You recharge all of your crystals in a pot of river water, setting it under the moonlight for a full night. And now it was time to trek back to the river for more. Grabbing your clay pot with a lid, you set it in your bag carefully. Before making your way out the door. The walk to the falls was roughly a 20 minute walk, you think about which spell you could use to lighten your bag as you near the river. You could hear the flowing water when you suddenly feel a drop in the air, making you stop in your tracks.

The air is heavy and full of authority, like you just stepped into a enclosed room with a lion. Its guarded and protected on a deeper level then meets the eye. Looking around, you once again find nothing. You begin to feel anxious at the quietness of the forest. No birds chirp, no bug hum. Just silence. You quicken your pace to the falls, in hopes of leaving the area as soon as possible. But little did you know, you had crossed into freshly marked vampire territory.

The water fall comes into view, its loud water crashing into the rocks as it shines in the sunlight, the water flowing quickly at the bottom. You set your bag down on the grass, opening it to take out your clay pot to catch the water. You sit down on your knees at the edge of the water, pot in hand while you lean forward to dip it into the rusing river. Unaware of the presence behind you, watching you with a slightly fond look on his face.

His voice almost makes you lose your grip on your pot "Hello there" his gruff voice cuts through the sound of the rushing water. You turn around, deer caught in headlights at his undetected appearance. He stands a couple feet away from you, his mutton chops adoring his face, along with a bucket hat to shade his face from the sun. His presence takes you off guard entirely. "Oh!" You stand, arms clutching your pot full of water to your chest "I didn't notice you there!" You say, it meaning more then just words.

Your witch senses didn't notice him approach at all. Usually humans bring the loudest energy with them no matter where they go, but you didn't notice this man at all. He takes you in for a moment, glancing down to the clay pot of water in your hands, before flickering back up to your face. He smiles, taking a dew steps closer to you. "You're alrigh'" he says, before continuing "i just moved in around here, with three others" he adjusts his hat, before fully making eye contact with you now that hes closer.

You feel your heart stop, seeing his red eyes watching you, knowing you can finally see he's not human like you originally thought. These were the vampires Eleanor was talking about. You've never met a vampire before, nor did you think you ever would. They aren't super common, they stay hidden in dark castles and away from civilization. Smart, humans hate anything that isn't human. He lets you feel the emotions tumbling through your chest without trying to change them. He feels the fear brew your heart, the surprise and awe, and the curiosity blooming beneath all of it.

He tilts his head at you with a small smile, waiting your reaction at his unspoken confession. He's aware you are a witch, they could all smell it from a mile away. He wouldn't of revealed himself so quickly if you weren't. You recover quickly after "o-oh I see" you nod at his words, sensing him trying to be friendly. But his eyes hold a intensity as they linger on you. "I live in the forest too" you say almost innocently, not knowing what else to offer as you try not to bring attention to your surprise at him being a vampire.

He nods his head like he didn't already know that. "Do you come to the falls often?" He questions, making you nod "yes. I come here to get river water" you glance down at your pot, your reflection staring back at you in the rippling water. You hesitate to ask the next question "is this your...territory?" He chuckles softly "yes. It is" you deflate slightly, thinking that means you won't be able to come back to get river water anymore. You'll have to find new alternatives to recharge your crystals.

He feels the disappointment pang in your chest and the way your shoulders droop slightly. How cute. "You're still allowed to come here" you look up at him surprised "really?" He nods "really" you think about how there's other vampires who own the land as well, you wouldn't want to step on anyones toes "but wouldn't that irritate the others?" He laughs at your words, if only you knew how obsessed they were with you already. Or how they are currently listening this conversation from the shadows "I don't think they would mind"

You look back towards the water, looking at how the water flows. You think back to the night you were stabbed, how those two could potentially be vampires as well. You hear shuffling behind you, making you turn back towards the man "price" he offers his hand, which you let one hand go of the pot to take his. His hand is cold as he wraps it around yours, giving you a firm shake as you offer your own name. After letting go, he looks up at the sky, before glancing behind him at the woods like something was there.

"Its best you start heading home. Its gonna be gettin dark soon" he says, his red eyes lingering on you as you grab the lid from your bag and lock it tightly on the pot full of water. "You're right. Ill be off now" you say, making him smile "have a good night sweetheart" and with that he dispears, a blur of quick movement following him. taking you off guard with how quickly he vanished into the woods. You forget vampires can move extremely quick if they wanted too.

You let out of breath of relief you didn't know you were holding. The whole experience had a rush of adrenaline coursing through you. You can't help but feel slightly excited at the thought of not being the only one who wasn't a human anymore. You put the pot into your bag securely and pick it up carefully. The walk back to your house will be slightly annoying with the extra weight on you. Walking back, you realise why you felt the energy shift when you arrived at the water fall. You were stepping into vampire territory without even knowing.

You sigh, having new neighbors is nerve wracking, but exciting. Especially now that you've officially met one of them. He seemed nice, maybe slightly intense under the surface, but nice nonetheless. You think about the others, would you ever get the chance the meet them properly? You secretly hope so. The feeling of intensity from the falls doesn't go away until you've reached your front doorstep, but you don't seem to mind it that much anymore.

To be continued...

<- Part one Series Masterlist -> regular Masterlist ->

as soon as he's able to get into bed with you, he's immediately slipping behind you without a single item of clothing adorning his hulking frame. he's molding his body back into yours, refamiliarizing himself with the tetris of your sleeping form. his heavy arm wraps around the curve of your waist and pulls you tight against him. it's usually then when you wake up, he knows, he knows your routine by now. his fingers will slip up your thighs, sliding one of his own meaty legs between yours to keep them parted. he'll pull your underwear to the side — the ones you specifically like to wear to bed — before his fingers gently slide through your folds.

he wants to take his time with you, he really does. it's been a month since he felt you, but now isn't the time. he'll have his moment later. desperation is clawing through his chest. it's ripping his skin apart by the thread until he can no longer keep himself in form.

his hips line up with yours before he sloowwwly pushes his tip in. just the tip first! you need to be ready to take him. you'll mumble out a soft sigh of his name, bleary eyes that are thick with sleep. he'll shush you and tell you to go back to sleep, "'m here, love, just wanna feel you". and he does feel you!!! and he's so thankful that you let him. it's the only way he can even begin to feel human again. the only way he can feel like simon again, instead of ghost.

Part 1 — part 2 —

୨୧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ♡ ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ୨୧

Trees. Tall buildings. More trees. People.

Gaz’s eyes flick to each fleeting scene of normalcy as his fingers dig into the armrest below. The cab driver has been quiet the entire ride.

His luggage in the back sits forgotten. It smells of too-clean leather and whatever shitty cologne the driver has dabbed onto his skin.

Gaz hasn’t even had time to change out of his military uniform. The light and dark greens were stained with blood and dirt from his recent mission. He looks away, his jaw ticking trying to focus on what’s ahead.

Johnny.

A brother in arms. Gaz picks at the loose skin by his nail as the hospital comes into view. Bile was crawling up his throat, making him feel sick to his stomach.

Stepping out of the cab, he doesn’t remember grabbing his luggage or talking to the person behind the desk. The next thing he sees is the elevator doors. His attention locked onto the button he should be pressing but he can’t seem to move.

Suddenly a soft, pretty purple catches his eye. Looking down, he sees a nurse.

“You’re a part of Johnny's crew, aren’t you?”

You ask.

Gaz opens his mouth to respond with a question, but you’re already moving before he gets the chance. Pressing the elevator button to Johnny's floor, not waiting for an answer, you explain.

“I’m Y/N. I’m Johnny’s primary nurse. You look like you could use a coffee.”

Too stunned to say anything, Gaz only nods back.

You have no idea.

You smile up at him, bright and easy like he hadn’t just been on an 8-hour flight, back to back with a 4-hour drive.

Like it’s nothing, you walk out of the elevator calling out before you get too far away.

“I’ll be checking on Johnny soon. He’s in room 203.”

You remind the pretty military man with tan skin and short buzzed hair.

Gaz stands in the elevator a moment longer, only moving when the doors threaten to close him in once again, now alone.

Before such a fate, he takes a massive step, his heart pounding in his chest.

All this time, and he’s had no updates. No word of Johnny's condition, just the fact that he’s been shot in a fatal area..

Finally, his eyes land on the placard screwed against the wooden door, reading 203.

Johnny's room.

His blood feels cold in his veins as his hand wraps around the handle, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

But that’s hard when all he wants is to see the bright blue-eyed Scot.

Tears are already sprouting in the corners of his eyes as he slowly pushes the door open, ready to see his best friend on the edge of death.

The moment the door opens, 3 pairs of eyes immediately snap to whoever came in.

Gaz stands in the doorway, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed inside yet. His expression haunted, dark circles under his wet eyes, and lips so tight they hurt.

Bright blue eyes stare back at him with a growing smile.

“Kyle!”

Johnny exclaims, his heart monitor beeping a pace quicker than before.

Chairs scrape as both men stand.

Even Simon’s eyes are wide.

“Gaz.”

The man still in camouflage brushes past Price and Simon to get to Johnny. His knees give out on him as he moves closer to the hospital bed. Tears freely streaming down his face.

“Johnny! Fucking Christ! You’re okay!”

His nails dig into the sheets covering Johnny’s legs as he bows his head into his lap. Uncaring of the snot and tears that soak into the cloth below.

“M’ alright Kyle.”

Johnny murmurs, petting the top of his head trying to comfort the usually put-together man.

Then the door opens again—

Lilac scrubs.

A kind smile.

You.

You stop at the door, sure you’re not supposed to be here during such an emotional reunion, you take a step back when Johnny calls out.

“Angel! Get ova’ ‘ere.”

The Scot gestures you to come closer, and you take a step as Gaz straightens up, wiping his face.

“Sorry about that.”

He whispers.

Once you make it to Johnny's bedside you offer the shaky man beside you a soft smile.

“Thats alright.”

Price watches as you rest a gentle hand on Gaz’s shoulder. He says nothing.

“All four of you have gone through hell, take some time to just be with each other.”

You turn your attention to Johnny. He seems alright. Good vitals, no signs of discomfort.

Your eyes bounce between Price, Simon who’s silent as always, and back to the stranger.

“It’s alright, a lot of emotions running.”

You offer a supportive pat on the shoulder.

“Angel—“

Johnny slurs, catching both of your attentions.

“Kyle, this is my angel.”

He gestures to you, then to Kyle.

“N’ Angel this is my best mate, Kyle!”

Johnny waits for you two to shake hands, and a chuckle leaves your lips as you reach out.

“Pleased to meet you, properly this time.”

His hand is warm, rough like the rest of the men in this room. The gold band on his fingers rests coldly against your hand.

He nods, and you see the smallest smile form on his lips, just enough to give you the shadow of a dimple.

You look back at Johnny with a brow raised.

“Was that all?”

He shakes his head, but a mischievous smile splits his face.

“Puddin‘?”

You scoff, but can’t help but smile.

“Always.”

Quietly you leave, with a side mission to grab a cup of pudding.

–

Now alone, Price slumps back in a chair, pulling his fishing hat over his eyes with a sigh.

Simon sits beside Gaz who can't look away from the needle taped into Johnny’s arm. He paces.

“Kyle.”

His head snaps in the direction of Simon, who’s sitting with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Sit.”

“Yer’ even makin me nervous.”

Johnny adds, a crinkle in his eye.

Gaz ends up, begrudgingly pulling a plastic chair nearby to be more comfortable, completely silent. His leg resumes its relentless bouncing.

Johnny’s smile slowly turns lazy, his head tilting.

“Don't look so blue, it ain't a pretty color on ye Kyle.”

That rewards Johnny with a half-hearted chuckle.

“That nurse of yours, seems nice.”

Gaz offers trying to lighten the mood, Johnny takes the bait, grinning, instantly moving onto his favorite current topic.

You.

“Were not the only ones to think so, seems Price has taken a likin’ to ‘em too.”

Gaz actually laughs this time, looking over at Price who only snores in response, his cap over his eyes.

“Think they'd be good together, the two of em.”

Only then does Price have something to say. Ripping the hat off his face to gruffly decline..

“Absolutely not, McTavish. Don't start.”

Johnny and Gaz share a look, and Simon who's been quiet speaks up from beside them both.

“Think he might ‘ava point there Captain.”

“Unbelievable.”

Price mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

Johnny laughs.

“M’ takin a leek.”

Price stands, shaking off the remainder of the smile betraying him on his lips.

Johnny turns to Gaz, a shit-eating smirk on his lips as he whispers.

“How much you wanna bet he's just tryin’ to see em again.”

Gaz snorts.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Gaz brushes it off but Johnny turns, ready to tell him more of the angel in purple.

“They always leave me extra puddin’ they're a real sweetheart.”

–

Price’s steps are slow as he begins to return to Johnny's room, wiping his wet hands on the back of his dark denim, his eyes scanning across the white halls. Military habit as they bounce from corner to corner, searching for something he prefers not to name.

Only for it to find him.

“Captain?”

You question, making Price jump.

Literally, he flinches a whole inch backwards..

You laugh.

“Jumpy much?”

“Too much caffeine.”

Your narrowed eyes scan him up and down, he really does look worn out.

“cmon, I wanna show you something.”

He looks at you with suspicion, but you’re already walking away.

Shoving his hands in his pockets he trails after you, pretending he isn’t stretching to keep up.

You look back at him, a smile on your lips as you push through two doors. One was painted a soft blue, the other a baby pink.

Price is quick to realize that you’re taking him to the nursery unit.

His throat tightens for a reason he just can’t put a finger on.

You lead him to a big window, behind this pane of glass separates you two from what Price could count as 20 newborns all swaddled in blue and pink blankets along with tiny hats he is sure his hand would dwarf.

Price swallows.

Hard.

You hadn’t expected awe.

Softly you whisper.

“I always come here when things get a little too hectic. It’s peaceful.”

Price’s hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach out.

The silence between you is thick. His eyes scan over each child with purpose, the smallest, almost sad smile crossing his lips.

Then his hand moves, fingertips just barely brushing the cold glass.

“It’s... funny.”

You look over at him, your breath caught in your throat at his soft tone. His eyes don't leave the pastel colored room.

“I've spent my entire life, protecting people.”

His hand drops from the glass, like pulling himself back from a dream too far gone.

“Just never got around to makin any..”

His gaze hesitantly moves to meet yours.

You want to say something, the words right on your tongue, you open your mouth to speak when—

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

Your pager, clipped to your hip shrieks cutting through the intimate atmosphere. The words die in your throat when your eyes flick down.

“It’s.. it’s Johnny.”

Before Price can ask what happened, you turn on your heel and sprint down the hallway.

He chases after you…

previous

It's been two weeks. You're uneasy about having stood Kyle up. You can only imagine how he's feeling. He called you several times that day and every day since, but you haven't been able to answer. Your mobile's been set to silent so Philip won't hear it, and you delete the call history with religious frequency, so even if Philip sees the phone, he won't see any incoming calls.

You want to reach out, want to let Kyle know you're...well, not safe exactly, but still alive. He suspected what you were going through on that first day, and he's smart enough to jump to a pretty damn accurate conclusion that, in this case, isn't true. Yet. Which is why you haven't tried to reach out.

When Philip came home that day, mid-morning, you knew something was wrong. You'd trained yourself not to jump when the door banged off the wall. Got good at patching plasterboard. There's a can of the hallway paint in the crawlspace, so things always look good as new by the next evening.

But that day was different. The banging was followed by clear bellowing, not the slightly slurred shouts you were used to.