MY RIGHT PERSON, OUR WRONG TIME

MY RIGHT PERSON, OUR WRONG TIME

☾ ─ summary. wanting to start a new life, y/n suggest to her lover running away, but he obviously disagrees. he soons regrets not begging her to stay a little more.

☾ ─ contents. fem!omaticaya!reader, hurt no comfort, wc: 1.5k

☾ ─ notes. i fucking love hurt no comfort hihi👹👹 also this sucks, but i have over 8 unfinished drafts, so i'm trying to get rid of 'em :pp

THE ECLIPSE WAS getting closer, and with each passing second, Y/N's worries only grew. It was now or never, Y/N reminded herself, as she harshly bit her lower lip. Her body tensed upon the sudden sting. She swallowed the taste of metal, wiping away the small amount of blood leaking from her mouth with the back of her hand.

Y/N took in the view front of her, sharply inhaling. The tree of voices. It was a strange place to simply hang out at with your lover, but Y/N had a reason for bringing Neteyam there. This night might be the last one in their village, and Y/N wanted to cherish it. After all, she grew up there. It was the place where she met Neteyam, the person who changed her and her life forever.

All her memories begun to replay in her head, causing Y/N's eyes to flutter, as tears begun to form in her eyes. Letting her eyelids fall, Y/N harshly blinked the tears away, finally taking her eyes off the tree. "Nete..?" She whispered over her shoulder in an attempt to wake up the older boy. Almost every day, the duo would hang out late at night and Neteyam would fall asleep with Y/N in his arms, while she silently adored him, playing with his hair or just taking in his beautiful features. His back was pressed against one of the many trees, while his arms were loosely wrapped around Y/N's body. Her back pressed against his chest, sitting between his legs with Neteyam's head resting in the crook of her neck.

"Mhm? Is everything okay?" Tiredness laced his voice, as Neteyam finally raised his head to look at Y/N. "Yeah, yeah... I--" Y/N couldn't help, but already miss his warm touch, as she sat up and turned to face the older boy, his arms falling freely to the ground. "I need to talk to you about something." Y/N confessed, playing with the dead skin around her fingernails anxiously.

"You can talk to me." Placing his hand on top of hers, Neteyam explained, as he rubbed his thumb over the bracelet decorating Y/N's wrist. No matter the amount of love Y/N held for her clan, Neteyam and his family, who took her in after she was left all alone, her past continued to haunt her. Every place in the village she'd lay her eyes upon reminded her of unpleasant memories, and with that, Y/N came to a conclusion. She needed to get as far away as possible with the hope of finally leaving her traumatic past behind.

A lump grew inside Y/N's throat, as she grasped Neteyam's hands in hers. "Let's run away." Silence fell over duo, as Y/N desperately looked in her lover's eyes. Neteyam could see the forming tears in her eyes, signalling what she just said wasn't some kind of a prank. "I'm serious, Neteyam, let's get away from this place. Just the two of us." Y/N begged, as a single tear ran down her cheek. Her stomach twisted with anxiety, when Neteyam only stared at her in silence with an unreadable expression.

"What are you talking about, Y/N?" Neteyam furrowed his brows in confusion, before pulling his hands back. Y/N's heart dropped at his move. "This is our home." He added, as Y/N quickly shook her head from side to side, gulping down. "No... You're my home, Neteyam. Please." Once again, Y/N reached out for his comforting touch, but Neteyam dodged away. Swiftly standing up, he looked down at Y/N with a strange expression, his own heart beating fast.

"Is this... about what happened?" Neteyam begun, "Y/N, I understand it's hard to live in the same village all those awful things took place, but you cannot just- just run away from your past." As Y/N got up from the ground, hugging herself while desperately searching for even the smallest bit of comfort, Neteyam held out his shaky hand, but Y/N only looked at him with a dejected face. "Neteyam, you don't get it. We have to get away. I have to get away." Y/N tried to hold back her tears. "So what? You expect me to leave me family here? I'm the next Olo'eyktan, I have responsibilities-- I can't leave." Neteyam's voice grew louder, as he begun to get upset over his lover's request. "I love you, Y/N, I truly do, but..." Shaking his head from side to side, Neteyam averted his gaze.

Staring at his distressed expression and hearing his words echo inside her ears, Y/N felt her stomach drop. She didn't think about it that way. She only thought about herself and her own feelings, as she wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow her whole at the moment. Her expression falling at the sudden realization, Y/N begun to uncontrollably sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She muttered, before Neteyam took a step closer, pulling her into his chest. His touch gentle, as if Y/N was about to fall apart any minute. He understood her struggle and wanted only the best for her, but he couldn't leave his parents and siblings behind. "I'm so selfish, I wasn't thinking--" Y/N continued to cry into his chest, as Neteyam caressed the back of her head. "It's alright. But please don't say stuff like that anymore." He attempted to assure her.

With her face hiding in the crook of Neteyam's neck, Y/N opened her mouth, but closed it as soon as no words came out, just another painful sob. She wanted nothing more than to tell Neteyam how much it pained her to have her past follow her for every second of the day, even in her sleep.

Few minutes have passed and Y/N's crying begun to calm down. "Y/N?" Neteyam softly whispered, as she looked up at him with tear-stained face. "Promise me you won't leave?" At his words, Y/N felt her chest tighten. She couldn't lie. Especially not to Neteyam, so instead, she pulled him closer for a kiss. But this kiss wasn't like any other ones they've shared. And it didn't go unnoticed by Neteyam, the way Y/N held him like he'd disappear the second she lets go.

"Let's go home, okay?" Gently caressing her cheek with his thumb, Neteyam offered, earning a nod from Y/N. Intertwining their hands, Neteyam begun to pull Y/N with him, as she stole one last glance at the tree of voices. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, Eywa." She quietly whispered, the wind carrying her words away.

Y/N gave Neteyam's hand one last squeeze, before they parted, each taking off on their ikrans. With an aching heart, she watched as Neteyam slowly disappeared into the dark night, before letting out a long shaky breath. "We're gonna be alright..." Gently caressing the side of her ikran, Y/N muttered, more to herself than to her ikran.

"Neteyam!" A hand waving in front of the older boy's face snapped him out of his thoughts, as he threw a confused look at his brother. "What's going on with you, bro?" Lo'ak nudged Neteyam's shoulder, expecting a snarky comment in response, but instead Neteyam's eyes fell to the floor once again, as he stayed silent.

Ever since the moment he woke up, Neteyam had a strange feeling growing inside his stomach - like something bad was about to happen, yet he couldn't place his finger on it. Looking around, he made sure his parents and siblings were all nearby and well, and they were. Furrowing his brows in pure confusion, Neteyam got lost in his thoughts once again.

He thought about everything over and over again, desperate to know why he felt so strange. His parents and siblings were barely a few feet away from him and okay, he wasn't late to a training nor forgot any of his chores, and Y/N, who'd never break a promise, promised she wouldn't leave- Y/N promised...? The last night played on repeat inside Neteyam's mind, until he realised one thing. Y/N did in fact not promise anything.

Eyes widening, Neteyam's heart skipped a beat as he jumped out of his bed, before running as fast as he could towards Y/N's place. She wouldn't leave, would she? Neteyam questioned himself, ignoring the worried calls of his name. Thank Eywa, Y/N lived quite close, meaning it only took Neteyam about a minute to get to her place, especially with how fast he was running.

Heavy breaths escaped Neteyam's lips, as he frantically looked around Y/N's place, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but he didn't. Instead, his eyes fell on the bracelet laying on top of Y/N's bed. The same bracelet Neteyam was looking at last night - the same bracelet Y/N never took off. "No, no..." Gulping down, Neteyam muttered to himself, quickly grabbing the bracelet, before desperately looking around once again.

The realization begun to set in, causing his heart to painfully ache. His knuckles turned white, as the grip on the bracelet grew stronger. But Neteyam couldn't care less how the beads pricked at his skin, because all he could think about - is how he should have begged her to stay a little more.

SEA, SWALLOW ME (neteyam !)

content — HEAVY ANGST!!!! character death, no happy ending, emotional distress, gn!reader. honestly i see a lot of neteyam death stories but like no one ever includes emotion and feeling so i wanted to attempt to put it into words so we get a feel of what it's like to love and lose someone and how it completely ruins you for all you are. :') had to turn on my depression playlist for this one tbh, enjoy lol!

"the stars, ma y/n." neteyam's eyes finally rest on you, the most stable his gaze has been since you guys reached shore. seconds ago his eyes frantically bouncing from figure to figure as if he's processing everything that is happening in the moment, and then the observation begins, his brain working overtime to memorize the faces he loves but will never see again all while accepting what's to come.

his hand is trembling violently, the stains of blood beginning to dry, but you hold on like it's your lifeline, lifting it to your face to graze comforting kisses across each knuckle.

you struggle to voice your thoughts and feelings as if you have all the time in the world and you don't. it angers you and tears you apart simultaneously. so many emotions and you fail to process a single one. it's not the first time neteyam has seen you cry, but it's the first time he cries with you.

your minds hold different thoughts. he's grieving his loss of you before he's even gone, recalling every second that he's spent his life loving you, every minute his skin has had the pleasure of touching yours, every fraction of his heart that he happily gave you. all snatched out of his grasp within seconds, too fast to even comprehend but he's always been a man or awareness. through blurry eyes, he sees the way you crack and begin to shatter, trying to piece yourself together before him so an empty shell of his lover isn't the last thing he sees.

meanwhile, your mind is in shambles, your wonderland is destroyed and your heart is in ruins. he's still breathing before you, but you wonder what you'll do when he isn't. he has less than minutes with you but you're already gone. you fight to configure a idea of how you'll live your life without him by your side, but you only come to a single conclusion; you won't. it's impossible. you never only became his all those years ago, you became one, and what are you without your other half? it's like two strings tied together at the heart, the home of the great emotion called love, threaded in the vessels in order to pump your love through the line and into the other only to have it torn out, leaving you both to bleed freely.

you gasp for a breath that you're worthy of, cursing yourself for taking even an ounce of the oxygen that the love of your life is being deprived of, wanting to give everything you're made of, everything that is keeping you alive right now just for him to live.

despite how unbelievably brave and strong you've always been, not any amount of training prepares you for this moment. the weak squeeze that you feel from him makes you crumble. you think you're being attacked with the way you struggle to breathe through cries of agony and despair. the sight pains him and suddenly the gun wound that is killing him is the last thing he's worried about.

he finally realizes what it means to have a soulmate, more importantly, to lose one. the feeling is equivalent to sand falling between his fingers. he sees the acceptance coated in your tears, the mourning beginning before it has a reason to.

but he must be assured that this isn't the end, that this isn't the last of the two of you. "we will meet again, in the stars."

you nod profusely, confirming his advances and that is enough for him. his grip loosens and that familiar light that swims in his eyes dulls within milliseconds.

there's screaming, there's crying, there's every emotion you could imagine, all surrounding you, but you feel nothing. you recognize this bottomless pit that sits in your heart as the same one you carried around before meeting him. what a power you have to hold to make and destroy someone just by existing and then, not.

a single second is what it took for neteyam to leave you, and another is all you need to disappear with him.

j can you please make a corpse x reader where they are both publicly dating and as all internet couples do, get a fair amount of hate. but one day a specific comment gets under the readers skin so they distance themselves from corpse (lots of angst but with a good ending ?)

I'm sorry this took forever, I couldn't get my meds and went a lil crazy agh, also idk if this is any good tbh I feel bad at writing lately. Hopefully you like it though oof.

-J The Ghost

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➢ Author: J The Ghost ➢ Pairings:  Corpse X reader | Corpse X y/n ➢ WC: ~4k ➢ Themes:  Hurt/Comfort? | Angst | Fluff | Happy Endings ➢ Warnings: Depression | Anxiety | Death Threats | Spiraling | Intrusive Thoughts | Cyberbullying? ➢ Summary: You and Corpse are publicly dating, you knew you'd get some hate, but you didn't actually think it would get to you like this...

Request: Hate Mail

You woke up from your nap to the sounds of several voices coming from the other room. He must be streaming… You thought groggily as you stretched and snuggled back into the covers enveloped in the scent of his cologne.  You pulled out your phone and checked the time, almost four… Jesus, he really had made good on his word, you didn’t even realize you could be that exhausted. As you scrolled through your socials you saw the notifications of most of his friends live streams. Sussy Sundays, of course, how did you forget? He really had taken it out of you earlier. 

You were grateful to have weekends off, allowing you to see him more than just any days you managed to get off work at a decent time, but you hated Sundays. You both took turns staying over at each other's houses and coming up with fun things to do together, but since he’d agreed to be a part of the Sussy Sundays, you had to find a way to entertain yourself. When he would stay at your house, it was easy to find things to do- dishes, laundry, and tidying up always needed done- but at his place, he mostly ordered takeout, and didn't really have enough stuff to ever accumulate messes, much less any laundry, so you were left to figure something else out. 

A few times he’d asked you to join in on games, or hangout and watch him, but if the viewers got wind that you were with him- everyone's chat would latch on and start blowing up about it. You hated the fact that you’d turn viewers' attention away from the streamers they were watching, which led to you feeling guilty for making even the slightest sounds despite both him and his ever supportive friends trying to actively involve you. 

Ever since the two of you had gone public, the internet had gone wild. In the beginning fans were pretty supportive and kind, but once Corpse started to post about you more and more, they quickly turned on you. It felt like the majority now was vehemently against the idea of your relationship. You knew that once it was public, you would get a lot of hate, but some of the comments were so hyper specific and vile- you couldn't help but be hurt. You always did your best to not read through them, or let him see when ones you did see affect you. You knew it was mostly young fans that were crushing on him and envious of you, but it all still seemed to leave you feeling drained, and anxious, an empty feeling of doom settling in with each critique. What if he saw merit in some of them? Sure most were shallow insults, but some seemed so spot on to you. 

Who even are they? They're nobody, why is he with them??

He probably felt bad- he’s just too nice…

He can do soo much better…

You weren't usually an insecure person, but it was hard to stay positive when you did kind of agree. You worked a normal job, lived an average life, and you weren't really into the world of streaming, even as a viewer. It was- at the least- confusing to understand why he would be with you over someone with a similar lifestyle, or had more in common with him. 

Tik Tok was your savior while he finished up with his friends. The algorithm only showed you the mind-numbing content you wanted to see, nothing about him or streaming at all. It was around 7:30 and you were halfway through a dinner recipe video when he finally entered his room again. 

“Have a good nap?” He smirked tiredly as he plopped down on the bed beside you. 

“So good…” You chuckled, saving the video before tossing your phone aside to snuggle up to him “How was the stream?” 

“It was fun. Everyone said to tell you hi…” He wrapped his arm around you and absently traced his fingers along your arm.

“Tell them I say hi too.” You smiled as you buried your face into his hoodie. “Your friends are so nice…” 

“Mhm… they really like you.” He chuckled. “Are you hungry yet? I'm starving…” You nodded and paused, still groggy from lying in bed. 

“Can we get pasta? I’m craving it so bad…” Your voice perked up at the thought of the recipe video.

“Of course,” he laughed at your enthused voice, “you better start getting ready though…”

“Were going out?” You looked up at him in confusion, it was rare he ever wanted to go out, especially so spontaneously. 

“Yeah why not? I mean… as long as you’re up for it?” 

“Y-Yeah, just surprised that you are…” You beamed up at him before mustering the energy to get up and get ready. You pulled your hair aside and headed to the bathroom to wash your face, peeking slightly in the mirror's reflection and catching glimpses of him changing from the bedroom. The cheeky blush across your face turned quickly to a hot embarrassment as you watched the black button-down settle across his lean shoulders. Your mind started flashing through images of all the comments deeming you unworthy of him. You turned your face away from the mirror and avoided eye-contact with yourself- knowing it would only cement those thoughts and sour your mood even more. 

You quickly brushed your teeth and headed back to the room, only to stare at the clothes you had brought in disappointment. Too loose you’ll look like a soggy cardboard box, too tight you’ll look like a shrink wrapped ham, too-

“You okay?” He chuckled from behind you as he fixed his shirt.

“Yeah… I’m fine.” You huffed out, grabbing at a random article of clothing and feeling yourself physically recoil at the thought of wearing it. 

“You don’t look fine- if you don’t wanna go out we can stay in…” He shrugged and examined your clothes with you. “You still have some other things in my closet you know… you don’t have to keep living out of your carry on bag. You can keep things here.” He laughed softly. 

“I- I know. I just… I don’t know- it's one of those days- you know?” You mustered up a small laugh. “Nothing feels right.” You shrugged it off. 

“I get it… let's just stay in.” He sat beside your clothes on the bed, offering a soft smile as he took your hands and pulled you closer .

“No, I want to go out…” You furrowed your brow a bit, irritated that you were letting it all affect you so much. “I’ll hurry up.” You pulled another few items of clothing out and headed back to the bathroom, not wanting to even think about him watching you change right now. 

You came back out after continuing to struggle through every aspect of getting ready while your mind attacked you. He sat up from scrolling his socials on the bed and quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket- a detail you wish your brain would find insignificant.

 “Ready?” He smiled and stood as you nodded. He grabbed his jacket and threw it on as you grabbed your things and started to head out with him. 

You were grateful for the comfortable silence as he drove to the restaurant, allowing you some time to try and change your mood. He’d put some softer lofi on the radio and let you silently watch as the streetlights flashed past your window. You weren't sure how he always seemed to know exactly what you needed, yet he always did. 

When you arrived at the restaurant you were surprised to hear he’d made reservations for the two of you. You couldn’t help but smile, despite the discomfort welling up that he’d chosen something more fancy than you had expected- or dressed for. 

“Wait, wait…” He hooked arm around your side, stopping you as you followed the host to the booth. He spun you into him in front of the elegant floor length mirror stood beside the entrance and pulled out his phone for a picture. You giggled at the quick cute gesture and posed with him, shutting your eyes as he snapped the pic to avoid any further mental spiraling. 

Dinner went by uneventfully, you stayed a bit more quiet as he excitedly told you about new songs he was working on, or vented about the issues holding up his new merch drop. It wasn’t entirely due to your bad mood, you loved seeing him enthuse about his passions and how animated he’d suddenly become. His whiskey toned eyes would light up and his excitement was palpable in the air, making even you more energized. It wasn’t until halfway through or so when you came back from the bathroom that things shifted. You caught sight of him looking up at you returning before tucking his phone quickly away again. 

“What’s that about?” You questioned lightheartedly with a laugh.

“Oh it’s nothing… Did you wanna get dessert?” He dismissed before swiftly changing the subject, but not before you caught a strange look on his face. 

“Okay Mr. Secretive… um, I think I’m full though.” You shrugged awkwardly as you looked down at your plate.

“You sure weren't saying that about the wine though…” He chuckled as he sipped his own glass.

“I- okay?” You rebutted, hesitating as you gave him a confused glance. “I was just trying to cure my bad mood…” You internally cringed as your voice came out more defeated and offended than you intended, seemingly proving his point that you’d had too much. It was only two glasses… am I really that bad? All that stupid pasta I kept shoving in my fat mouth absorbed it all- I don’t even feel drunk…

“Wh- no… baby I- I was just making a joke… I didn’t mean anything by it-” His face softened with concern. 

“No it’s fine… I probably have had too much- sorry.” You managed to squeak out, your face reddening with embarrassment. “Let’s just get the check…” I just want to go home now… Jesus Christ. You bit down on the inside of your lip as you heard the harsh, irritated sigh he let out. 

---

The drive back from the restaurant was insufferable, just as it had been for him to the restaurant. He wasn’t sure if even his knives could’ve cut the tension radiating from the passenger side. It was clear something happened but he didn’t know what. Before he’d gone to his office to join the stream everything was fine, but once he came back the mood had completely changed. 

“Are you- okay? Did I do something to upset you?” He asked as tentatively as he could upon getting back home. 

“N-No, I’m fine. I’m sorry I had too much to drink.” Your voice was still soft but had a bit of an edge to it. 

“I’m sorry I said that at the restaurant, I didn’t mean it like that at all. I meant it in like a- ‘it’s funny that you chose the wine over dessert…’ because I agreed- kind of way… I’m sorry baby.” He paused, taking your hands and tugging you gently closer as he kissed your forehead. “Y/n, If I did something to upset you, I wanna know, so I can fix it and make you feel better. You’ve seemed upset since I got off stream.”

“It… it’s fine, I’m just stupidly sensitive. I’m fine.” You ruined the entire night with him, great job. If he really wasn’t hiding anything on his phone earlier, he’ll surely start now. You huffed in frustration at yourself. “I should probably get home…” 

“W- Why? You always leave Monday mornings…” He asked, feeling his energy plummet as you continued to shut down. 

“I just have an early day tomorrow is all. I’m sorry…” You met his gaze, immediately wishing you hadn't as you offered a half smile to his heartbreakingly defeated expression. You pushed back the self-criticism as you went to collect your things, that could wait until you were alone in your car. He silently followed you back into his room like a kicked puppy and helped you gather your things, making your brain slew more insecurities about him wanting you gone. Once all your stuff was in your bag he walked you out to your car while you said your goodbyes. 

“Please drive safe…”

He’ll just feel guilty if something happens…

“...text me when you get home…”

He feels like he has to say that… you’re so fucking sensitive. He walks on eggshells with you.

“I love you…” 

No he doesn’t, why the fuck would he? 

The drive back home continued that way as you dissociated the entire time, only letting the tears fall once you were back inside your own house. After having a small breakdown over the bullying your brain had done, you texted him you were home before collapsing down into your bed- exhausted by it all. You were ready for any solace you could get from mindlessly scrolling your phone, though it seemed the universe had something else in mind. You opened your instagram to check messages from your friends but were promptly bombarded by a photo he’d posted of the two of you from the restaurant. He’d put some goofy angel and devil emojis over your faces that you tried to let yourself laugh at but couldn't muster at the moment. He’d captioned it ‘LOMFL 😍🥵’ that got a small smile out of you, but not without a scoff. It wasn’t really until you tapped on the comments, you felt your gut tighten. The first few were various heart emojis from Rae, Tina, and Sean- but below that it took a turn. His fans attacked everything about you, your outfit, your weight, even your personality- as if they even knew you. But it didn’t stop there, some crazed fans had gone as far as finding you somehow- despite him never tagging you- and DMing your personal account even more vile things, even death threats. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to scream and show them how awful you could really be, but mostly you wanted to make yourself stop believing them. You didn’t want any of it to be true… but you were now convinced it was. 

The next day you kept your phone completely off, even going as far as deleting all your socials before shutting it off. In the morning meeting with your boss you informed her your phone wasn’t working and email was how you should be contacted from now on, so you wouldn't even need it on for later. You went about your daily tasks at work completely numb, doing everything you could to keep yourself too busy to think. Of course, that only worked at work, at home it was entirely different. The next few days turned to weeks as you cleaned like you never had before, you rearranged furniture like you were suddenly trying to fit four Alaskan king sized beds in your home, you went to the store and meal prepped- full well knowing you’d have no appetite, you binged several of your favorite shows entirely. 

By the third week, you’d fully run out of tasks to keep the thoughts and anxiety at bay. You scrolled through Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon- finding nothing. Out of either habit or some subconscious cue about the anxiety of not texting the only person you wanted to at the moment, you opened up Youtube. You rolled your eyes and groaned softly but scrolled through the videos anyway, cringing as the recommendations of Sussy Sundays and various other videos with your boyfriend popped up. You felt incredibly guilty about not talking to him. It wasn’t like the two of you talked non-stop, or that he’d be mad, you were just sure with the way you’d left things he was likely worrying about you by now. As you continued to scroll you saw a live video pop up in your suggestions, of him. He’s live? Why is he live? He doesn’t stream anymore… You were already anxious, but after reading the title ‘we need to talk…’ you started to feel sick. You hesitantly clicked the video and his voice rang out from your TV. 

“...I really don’t give a fuck how you guys feel or what you fuckin think…” He paused, presumably reading the chat. “I know it’s not all of you… but those of you that are commenting this shit… I don’t wanna fuckin see it- I don’t everr wanna see this shit again… if you like my content but come into my chat, or friends chats, or on twitter.com or instagram and say that shit… fucking unsubscribe right now, fuck you. Get off the fucking internet, it's disgusting.” You took in a deep breath as anxiety welled up more, why was he doing this? “I’ll straight up never put out another thing ever again if this keeps happening. I know that people are always gonna be assholes, but if you’re a fan of me or whatever- and saying this fucking shit about my partner? Go fuck yourself. I don’t want your fucking support…”  

You stared at his animated figure standing in the rain blankly and opened up your laptop, starting a video call to him. You waited for a while as he went silent on stream before it was denied. Is he mad at me? It’s all my fault- fuck.

“Anyways- I just thought I’d get on here and reprimand you fucks… and to all my actual fans, being kind and supportive, thank you, and keep reporting these people- love you guys… oodles and oodles… keep being you- I’m sorry you guys had to hear this… love you.” 

 You tried again as the stream ended. Again denied. Fuck he’s pissed… Because of me he had to get on after not streaming anymore and do that- fuck… You took a deep breath and tried to not overthink. Maybe he’s just sick of your bullshit. If he was worried or he’d been trying to contact you at all, he probably would’ve answered. You fidgeted nervously at the thought. I’ll just start a new show- keep my mind off this… You shut your laptop and dejectedly threw it aside on the couch before getting up and grabbing some blankets for another night of Netflix. 

You were two episodes in when you decided to grab a snack but just as you paused the show and stood, there was a knock on the door. You looked over, and cautiously moved toward it. Peeking out the peephole you saw what looked like an outraged figure of your boyfriend standing outside. You felt icy panic run through you as you grabbed the handle and twisted, preparing yourself for the worst.

“You’re okay…” He sighed in relief as his whole body relaxed. 

“I- Y- yeah… I- I’m fine.. What are you-” You tried to play catch up, still in shock to see him at your door, let alone not yelling at you. 

“You haven’t answered your phone- for anyone- in like a month…” He seemed to pant out. “I tried to give you space and not worry too much when you weren't answering, but then you deleted your socials, and then didn’t answer Tina, or Rae… or me… I was… scared.” He paused and caught his breath. “When you video called me I panicked, I thought you were in trouble or- I- I don’t even know… I just rushed over.” He stepped in and yanked you into one of his enveloping bear hugs. You stood motionless, mostly from how tight his arms were around you, but partially from even more surprise. Here he was, yet again, proving that he knew you better than anyone- and certainly better than you knew him. The guilt of not talking to him only grew now. How could you have ever thought any awful things about the panic stricken, devoted, heart-of-fucking-gold man that was seemingly holding onto you for dear life? 

“I- I’m sorry…” You squeaked out, faltering under his obvious concern. He sighed again and released his hold but kept his hands gently on your arms. 

“Please don’t do that again… If you need space that's okay, but please just tell me… I- I didn’t know what to think- or do…” He knelt down to your level slightly, his face full of worry as he seemed to practically beg. 

“I’m sorry…” You swallowed hard, feeling your face heat as your voice wavered. 

“I-It’s okay… I- I’m not mad… I just wanted to know you’re safe- cause I worked myself into a panic not knowing- I’m sorry I just showed up out of the blue…” He took a deep breath. “If you still need space that's okay I just- I was really worried. I know I’m probably overreacting…” 

“No… I just… I don’t know-” You looked down at your feet, the guilt consuming you now as he continued to prove every horrible thought you had about him wrong. 

“Do you want to talk?” He questioned hesitantly as his mind began reeling in the same way yours had. You just nodded, looking up as he closed the door and looked back to you, eyes still full of worry. 

You moved back to the couch and curled up into the blanket, comforting yourself and trying to hold back tears of guilt over how you’d acted toward him. He slowly moved to sit by you. 

“What’s going on? A-are you upset with me?” He stuttered nervously, also anticipating the worst. You shook your head and shut your eyes as they welled up. It all felt so stupid now- but the constant harassment, death threats, and insults had done a number- and having him here, almost completely in the dark about it all but still so kind and loving was just too much all at once. 

“Oh- baby… shh come here.” He soothed melodically as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly again. “Please talk to me.” His voice was soft and quiet as he pressed kisses onto the top of your head. 

“I don’t wanna cry- it’s stupid…” You managed to mumble. 

“It’s not stupid- something is really bothering you… is it the comments and shit?” You nodded. 

“It’s all of it- I- I don’t know why you’re even with me…” Your voice cracked and broke. 

“Y/n, I’m with you because I’m in love with you- I wouldn’t ever let the opinions of fucking dumbass ten-year-olds with no internet supervision change or dictate that…” You cringed as you heard the offended tone in his voice. 

“I know… I just… I let my brain believe it all… and I feel shitty… and that just makes me wonder even more why- because I do shit like this- even though you’re nothing but amazing and loving to me…” You choked out between sobs. 

“You’re not shitty…” His tone softened even more as he pulled your face up. “I have no idea what it’s like to go through that, and how you can even deal with it. Most people don’t. I knew it was hard to see, and if I had any idea that you’d been this upset about it for this long I would’ve stopped it right then and there…” He kissed your forehead and wiped off your tears. “I’m so sorry baby… I should’ve known.” You shook your head. 

“I should’ve just told you… but I felt so stupid- letting it get to me- I wanted to just come home and clear my head and get over it… but then it got worse and I just I don’t know, I couldn't deal.” He pushed your hair from your face and let you continue after the sobs began to slow. “Now I just feel guilty and shitty for avoiding you- avoiding all of it, not telling you… especially when you are… like this- so nice, and understanding.” You scoffed harshly at yourself, making him chuckle.

“Don’t. It’s a pretty understandable way to react… I’m sorry honey…” He leaned in and kissed you softly. “Would it help if I pretend to be mad at you?” He joked lightly as you parted. You let out a weak but honest giggle and gave an exaggeratory nod. He laughed and tsked loudly. “I can’t believe it… how could someone so goddamn attractive, funny, kind, and lovable think that I’d be dumb enough to see any warrant to the words of fuckin dipshit kids? To think that I’m not already blindly and completely head over heels? I’m disappointed…” He mocked in a goofy tone.

“Shut up…” You laughed, wiping your face and pushing him playfully. 

“I love you dummy.” He chuckled and kissed you again. 

“I love you too, Corpsie.” 

white bandages (the process of healing) | simon "ghost" riley

part 2 to this fic. I will very likely have a part 3 to wrap things up. —tags: tw blood, ghost + therapy, mild angst, fluff too —running out of pictures to use of this man so this is an edit by @ave661

Fluorescent light falls over an unmasked face. It highlights every ridge of every scar, his shorn stubble, his pale skin. When was the last time Simon Riley took a good look in the mirror? He can't remember— there are many things he works hard to avoid, and his own name is scribbled at the top of the list.

That first night without you, he finds himself in front of the mirror and half expects to see a ghost staring back at him. A corpse, maybe.

But, instead, he sees a man who lives and breathes. A man whose need for sleep is evident in the grey blotches under his eyes. A man whose eyes are anything but empty.

I feel nothing.

No—a ghost feels nothing. A ghost would've been able to forget how you looked at him, your eyes wide with the same fear he used to stare at his old man in. But Simon is not a ghost, and he remembers the fresh images with a pain that starts in his ribs and works its way to the pit of his stomach. Burning. It is a pain so unfamiliar that he doesn't know what to do with it—

—so he seeks a pain that he does know.

Pain that bursts in his hand the moment it meets the mirror. Pain accompanied by the splintering of glass as he hits the mirror over and over, and not once does he make a sound or cry or anything of the sort. He just breathes heavily and, once the mirror is not much of a mirror anymore, he looks at his hand and sees the bits of glass and the blood, and - fucking hell - it does nothing to mask what he feels in his chest.

"Jesus Christ."

He sighs.

His breathing slowly begins to settle.

And then he gets out the medical kit he keeps in the cabinet, sits with it on his bed, and carefully picks out the glass from his hand.

He knows how to take care of this wound. Knows exactly what to do to fix it.

But there are some things Ghost— Simon— doesn't know how to fix; wounds that are far too deep for him to reach. And as he wraps his hand up with some gauze, he remembers what you'd said to him earlier that day, so damn caring and gentle, even in your desire to get away from him:

I think you need help. You deserve it, Simon.

------

You loved the snow.

One time, you made Simon build a snowman with you. Well— it was more like you building the snowman while he watched and critiqued it. Your snowman looks like he's seen some rough shit, pet. Jesus, where is his smile? You had pouted through your laughter, nudging his shoulder. You can't judge him for not smiling, Si. Just like I don't judge you for it.

Of course, you ended up with a handful of snow in your hair for that one.

Quite the mouth on you today, huh?

And then he was rolling his eyes and lifting up his mask to kiss you as your hands combed out the ice from your hair, and you swore you felt him smiling against your lips— but you could never know for sure.

You loved that snowy day with him.

But now—

Now you're not sure if you're so happy about the snow you wake up to.

It's been a week of space. Work has been your main distraction, and you know you need to get the fallen snow off your windshield before you can make it there today.

But when you walk out into the white morning with a coat slipped over your pajamas, you find that your car is already being cleared off by a familiar silhouette with broad shoulders and a black, winter coat.

The cold squeezes your chest. Your heartbeat is swallowed up.

Seven days ago, you had begged him for space. Seven days ago, you left his place with defeat thick in your veins.

Today, you're not sure what you feel as you simply stand there for a moment. Your cheeks bitten to pink by the air and your arms crossed over your body. You watch him draw the brush over the hood, so easily, with one hand stuffed in his pocket, but then his eyes are drifting up— up until they land on where you stand a few meters away, and your fingertips dig into the palms of your hands.

He's the first one to speak. A man of few words who leans the brush against your car and utters a simple:

"Hey."

"Hey," you clear your throat, "Um, why are you doing this?”

He takes a step closer to you, but only one. A tentative step that keeps a good gap between your bodies, where faint flakes of snow fill the space.

“I know we are havin’ space right now," he murmurs. Gentle, murky eyes hold your stare. He slips the hidden hand out from his pocket, only for a short moment, to brush off the snow from his other hand, and you spot the flash of white bandages before it disappears into his coat again.

"But I also know you're workin' today so I thought I'd just... make your morning easier.”

"Thanks," your eyes drift to the ground. "But I don't know— I'm not sure if I'm ready..."

"S'okay," he says, gruff yet incredibly careful, a tiptoe over what lays damaged. "I'm not askin' anything of you, alright?"

“Alright,” you say quietly before your eyes drift to his pocket. “What happened to your hand?”

You’re not sure why you are asking him, and you doubt if the truth will even leave his lips. Wounds— over a year with him, and you’d witnessed plenty. Wounds that you only ever found out about when your fingers would graze under his shirt as he fucked you, and you’d carefully ask what happened as you both lay there breathless. Nothin’ worth telling you about, was his usual answer.

But today, with a peppering of snow on his mask and a sigh pooling from his breath, he tells you earnestly, “Broke my bloody mirror, is what happened.”

“What?”

“Look— it’s not important, yeah? There’s somethin’ else… somethin' else I wanted to tell you before you go to work, and I don’t expect anythin’ from you, but I just thought I should tell you.”

“I— okay,” you blink rapidly, still hung up on the mirror part. But you nod your head and shift your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to listen to what he wants to tell you because maybe your heart is beginning to thump firm, expectant beats against your ribs, and maybe there are flakes of hope peppering the defeat in your chest, just like the snow that dusts Simon’s shoulders.

But what Simon has to tell you feels like pebbles in his mouth. He’s not good with words; his failure with them seven days ago is a testament to that. These pebbles sit behind his teeth for a lingering moment, before he finds the strength to push them out between the cracks.

(Perhaps, it’s all your patience and care for even the darkest parts of him that has finally given him this strength.)

“I talked to someone yesterday,” he tells you.

He exhales immediately.

You’re not sure if you’ve heard him correctly at first - there is no way? - but the words hang in the cold air as he stares at you with lowered brows, studying the expression on your face, and your lips part open like a bloody koi fish because this is not at all what you expected him to say.

“Really?” you finally breathe, a lilt of relief catching at the end. “You did?”

“Get it free through the military,” he mumbles with a nod, clearing his throat. “Thought a lot about what you said, yeah?”

Numbly, you sputter again, “You did?” But then you shake your head and rub your arms, “Sorry, I mean— that’s so good to hear, Simon. That’s just… How was it?”

“Bloody difficult,” he admits in a mumble, and only you, the person closest to him these days, are able to detect the minor tremor in his voice. “But - fuck - I’m gonna keep doin’ it.”

“Maybe it’ll get easier,” you tell him, drawing an arm over your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m… really proud of you.”

You’re not even fully aware of your crying— no, you’re too focused on the sudden warmth that floods your chest because it is now you realize that if there is no worse feeling than watching someone you care for refuse to help themselves, then there is also no better feeling than hearing that help is something they are finally seeking.

And you care about Simon.

You have for so long, even when the agreement was just sex. Even when you'd flinched away. Even when you spent a week distracting yourself from thoughts of him.

This agreement you shared had turned into care. And you care, you care, you care. You care so much that you forget about the space you'd begged him for in this moment that you rush over to him, closing the cold and hesitant gap as your arms wrap around his neck and your forehead presses into his coat.

But the body against you is stiff and unmoving.

Your smile of relief turns into something apologetic and confused when two strong hands gently push you away.

You peer up at him.

"Don't think that's a good idea, pet."

"What?" you exhale, frowning.

He puts his hands back into his pockets. "I've hurt you, yeah?"

"I know, but—"

"I never want to do that again," he murmurs firmly. "Need some more time before I can make that promise to you."

Your heart sinks and floats and tries to swim through everything you feel. You can't discern all the feelings— there's so much. A flood. He's looking down at you as if you are the most fragile thing and as if, even by just getting too close, he might frighten you again.

"More space, then?" you whisper, stepping back.

Where you'd been the one to start it, now you are the one disappointed by it.

The short nod he gives is confirmation, but before you can get too down about it, he allows this: his good hand reaching out to grab yours. He kisses your knuckles with warm, masked lips.

"I care about you," he murmurs against your hand. "So goddamn much."

"I care about you, too."

"I know," and he lowers your hand, carefully rubbing the back of it. "Wanna be the kind of man you deserve. But I need to—" and his bandaged hand lifts up to tap a finger against his temple, "Need to sort through all the shit in here, yeah?"

"Okay," you whisper, nod, and sniffle. "They'll help you with it. You just have to let them in, Simon."

But he doesn't have anything to say to that— his source of words is a bit depleted. This week has drained him in every way possible, visible to you in the bags under his eyes. A squeeze of your hand is the last thing he has to offer before he lets it go, and then he is off to finish clearing your car.

(Although, you already know you will have a hard time getting to work on time this morning.)

Hi honey! I don't know if u r taking requests right now but if you do I have one. Can you make a standalone where Ghost and F/reader are together for like 1/2 year(s) and she is always like really nervous around Ghost and can't look him in the eye for too long because she is really shy and Ghost kind of like the effect he has on her. Something along that way :)

Thank you so much and have a great day!!🤍

ɞ - 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑠

𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 "𝑔𝚑𝑜𝑠𝑡" 𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠- 𝚑𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑? 𝑔𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ( 𝑖 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑚𝑏 𝑖𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡) 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎?? 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑙

𝑤𝑐: 830

𝑎/𝑛: 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞!!!! 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑙 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑏𝑚𝑏. 𝚑𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𖠌

anyone would be nervous if a 6’4 buff military man locked eyes with you. right? possibly- but does knowing him for 4 years make it any better? does dating for two of those years help? nope. looking this hunk of a guy in the eyes didn’t get any less nerving, even after knowing him for so long.

the way he trapped you under your gaze made you nervous. it made your fingers drum against your cargo pants -it made your heavy boots tap on the concrete. he must know, he gave it away by the way he held his stare- not daring to look away. he knew it made you nervous- he knew it made you weak in the knees. maybe if you could look him in the eyes for longer, you’d see the glimmer in them when your eyes drifted down and your face went hot.

the first time he noticed- it was a team briefing. you were sat across from him, he was looking at you- as always- and he began to zone out. he admired your face- your beauty. the way you chewed on your cheek in concentration as you listened carefully to the orders price was giving out . he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. someone to trust, someone to kiss, someone to hug.

at first- he didn’t notice he was staring at you. but when price slammed something onto the table - most likely harder than he intended to - it snapped him out of his trace. he was confused- to say the least- he didn’t understand the ways your eyes were darting all over the place… until he did.

your fingers - which were resting against the table - were fighting against each other and your knee was bouncing at a particular pace. he knew it was yours- the table was rocking and soap - who was sitting on his right -  was completely still. as for gaz, he was sat, on a chair, away from the table, why? god knows - but that left you.

 he understood now- you were nervous. why? because you were caught under his gaze.

that moment, he was thankful for the mask. it hid the smirk on his face. well- not that you could look for long enough to see it. he was still staring at you- he realised. maybe he should stop. let you focus. so he, thoughtfully, looked away- though not before taking one last glance, just for fun.

the second time, he’d actually forgotten. you were all cramped into a little plane, on the route to a mission. soap was squashed up beside you, practically locking you into the wall. ghost, however, was facing you, the tip of his boots pressed against yours. he was looking at soap, who was waffling about god knows what- it was always hard to keep up with what the scot was saying.

you- were also listening. just not so intensely. you didn’t bother to turn your body to look at soap, you couldn’t, he had you trapped against the wall. so, you had to look straight ahead. right at ghost.

you did your best to avoid his eyes. you stared at the wall of the plane, his vest, the badge on his jacket - hell even his gun. but you found yourself staring back into his eyes. you loved his eyes- you did, even if it didn’t seem like it. you loved the way they sparkled in the sunlight- the way they lit up when you walked into a room. but you just couldn’t maintain eye contact.

he tried to listen to soap- for a change - he really did, but eventually, the man became a buzzing in his ears. so he turned his attention back to you. as soon as his eyes began to move, so did yours. you looked away as quickly as possible- deciding the marks on the floor were much more interesting to look at.

ghost, although hidden by the mask, raised an eyebrow at this. again, he didn’t understand why. he racked his brain for the memory or the reason. oh. right.

the corners of his lips perked up, and he kicked his foot against your boot. he watched your eyebrows furrow, and your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip. he kicked again, and again until you were forced to look at him. he was having far too much fun for a man about to head onto the battlefield.

you- on the other hand. god, this was the furthest thing from fun you could imagine. he was your boyfriend for christ’s sake. you hoped he would never notice. the height difference between you two always meant you stared directly at his chest and you almost always sat next to him. maybe you cold try look at him, just once more.

so the next minute- you were staring right into his eyes. maybe a couple of seconds passed, you could already feel your face getting hot, your fingers start to twitch against your knee. fuck sake. you caved in again, looking away. 

and you swear you heard the faintest sound of a deep chuckle come from him.

Heyyy hope you have a great day! Love your writing so muchhhh

I have a request that could go either way (angst/fluff) for ghost. So reader and him go way back to sas training and were either friends or even lovers. Canon when his family died he died on paper and she attended the funeral. Several years later she had to work along with 141 and there he is. I don't think she recognises him but he def does

A/N: omg thank you so much!! Ahh!! Hope you’re having a good day too!!

PLSSS THIS HURT, THIS HURT, BUT ITS TOOOOO GOOD🫢🧌 Hope you enjoy, thank you for the wonderful idea to write!

P.S. I know that the timeline is messed up in my writing. TF 141 comes before certain things that I write in this post. You’ll see, but you should be able to understand when things are.

Eaten Up

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, murder, suicide, mistreatment (all only very briefly though!) Not final draft yet. Also, I know nothing about military or special forces💀

Part 2: ⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

⋅⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆💀⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ ⋅

As the days went on, the sun still rose and the wind still blew. The birds still chirped and the curtains moved. Yet everything felt much grayer over the years. A dull ache encapsulated the young person’s heart for what would feel like an eternity.

It was an entanglement of rosebuds that didn’t have enough time to bloom. The passionate romance was lost in an instant on multiple occasions. Had it been when they were deployed in completely separate parts of the world? Or perhaps when he and his entire family were murdered? Was it when he subtly revealed his feelings for the young special forces officer? There were so many questions left unanswered in the two’s past, but not enough time or clarity to answer them.

7 years ago…

A young Simon Riley stood amongst the sea of recruits, eyeing up the young ones he had been similar to just three years ago. Their bright expressions and wide eyes gazed over at the masked individual. He walked around with just a painted balaclava on and muscles growing from his new knowledge of special forces workouts.

It was a sea of eager men; tall, a little too skinny, and acne-ridden to be SAS yet. One person caught his eye amongst the crowd. There stood a young woman with a stoic look on her face. He noted that she must’ve been popular amongst the young men, likely enduring some type of mistreatment that had been cast aside by her superiors. Her rugged look likely the result of her mistrust of the men around her.

Smart little thing, he thought.

Her hair was braided neatly, and her uniform tight against her waist.

She’ll be eaten up here, he thought again.

In a few swift movements, he was out of the crowd of recruits, sitting far away on the sidelines, watching the training administrators work their magic on the young people. They all sweat profusely, some even throwing up or gagging from their bodies’ overuse. One that he kept his eye on though was the young woman from before. Every coherent boy from the group would gaze at her like a piece of meat, but this seemed to not affect her performance one bit. If she was given the task to slam a 6’4 240lb man to the ground, she’d somehow do it, despite the piggish chirps from the crowd.

Months went by and Simon had learned that she passed. Made it into the special forces with resilience and grit. He admired the girl, seeing her as a force to be reckoned with, especially her mind. He learned that she was smart and that her name was Y/N, but had been deemed “Slag” by her nasty colleagues and “Maiden” by those she actually worked with.

Simon would observe her quite frequently if they were stationed or deployed together. Not once did he see her even communicate with another SAS man unless he was injured, serving her food, or her superior. She often read books, ranging from classics, to ones clearly containing inappropriate literature he probably shouldn’t pry into. She liked to do braids in her hair. She would do them mostly for efficiency and safety, but also to look pretty in a field that was overflowing with testosterone. She liked her coffee very sweet. She also liked sitting on any hilltop on base and enjoying her alone time with her headphones on. She was a very good soldier too, never missing a shot on the large rifle she brought with her on missions.

Simon felt as though he knew all of her, yet none of her at the same time. She liked keeping a face covering on quite frequently, but that didn’t stop the large SAS man from admiring her pretty face and eyes.

To Y/N, the “Simon Riley” was an enigma and not one to bother. She admired his ability to scare off nearly everyone simply because of who he was, only allowing some to see beneath his exterior.

The two had developed some form of relationship working closely together on missions. Y/N’s specialty was on intel missions. She was skilled with a sniper rifle and blessed with knowledge that was beyond his comprehension. She knew how to gather information and she did it well every time.

The pair had worked together on a mission in Ukraine where he had been caught by terrorists. She had been one of the team members to free him and the children. The moment the doors to the school opened and he spotted his team, he could see the pretty young woman amongst the bulky men. Despite the balaclava, he noticed the little stray y/h/c hairs sticking out. Your eyes sparkled but had a sense of nervousness within them.

Their commanding officer had requested that Lieutenant Y/L/N help out with freeing the kids, hoping that her soothing nature would be somewhat nurturing to them at that time. Simon watched as she guided the children out with a soft voice and light hands. They found comfort in her, always having a hard time letting her gloved hand free. Even if she was masked and covered in tactical gear, the children felt her aura and trusted her. Simon couldn’t tear his eyes away despite the constant questioning from his peers. He answered in short phrases, still gawking at the way she so gracefully gave the children back to their mothers outside.

Once every child was returned to their families, she felt a heavy hand pat on her shoulder. Turning around she heard a simple “Good job.” It was so fast that for a second, she thought that her ears deceived her.

Quite a nice voice, she thought.

“Thank you sir.”

Quite a sweet voice, he thought.

The pair had become somewhat closer over the course of a year or two. He liked keeping the weapons the team used very clean, and to keep his brain occupied, he oftentimes visited the weapons locker to clean them. It wasn’t a very fun job, but a crucial one to keep him and his team safe and capable. One day though, upon his usual visit, he saw that the weapons had been cleaned already. The floors were mopped and the tables were wiped down. He left thinking nothing of it.

It started happening more and more though, and his hobby had been taken over by some other person who clearly shared his attention and appreciation for detail. He had finally caught the young woman, now with a little more battle knowledge, in the weapons locker, taking a q-tip to the blood that had splattered across someone’s pistol.

She looked up at him, unmasked with wide eyes, almost as if she had been caught. “Oh hi L.T..”

“I take it you’re the one that’s been taking care of our weapons as of recently Lieutenant Y/N?”

“Yessir.” She almost said shamefully.

He nodded, devoid of really any emotion. “Need any help?”

She looked back up, “Mind sweeping the floors? You’ve got longer arms than I, you can reach a larger surface area.” She asked giggling a little bit.

His eyes seemed to crease a bit behind the mask. He nodded and silently grabbed the broom and got to work.

Over the course of a few months, the two would complete this little routine of theirs after every big mission.

The two grew close, with her even learning a bit about his past. She knew he had quite an abusive father, but that was mostly it. He kept to himself mostly, but he himself noticed that normally, he wouldn’t tell anyone who he had really only known for two months about his father, let alone anything from his personal life.

He was vulnerable to her, and he was quite uncomfortable with that, but that fact couldn’t help but fill him with warmth as well. He would lay awake at night, tossing a ball in the air when he couldn’t get any sleep, thinking of her. He would think of the different style of braid she did that day. He would think of the way she gained a few freckles when the mission would take place in a hot, sunny place. He couldn’t help but think she was beautiful.

She would think of him in a similar way, despite not knowing what he looked like. She would lay awake thinking of the way his eyes slightly scrunched when she made a joke he particularly liked. She would think about the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed when he took a drink of some strong whiskey. She would think of the way he’d anxiously tap his leg when he was on his way to a mission.

Simon was the one to make the first “move.” The sudden shift came one morning where he asked her to accompany him on a nearby hillside for breakfast. He brought her a nice egg bagel and some orange juice. To her, it tasted like heaven, and being with Simon on that hill was just the cherry on top. Both of them could tell there was less than platonic intentions to the meeting, but neither felt the need, or rather confidence, to act on this fact. 

She finally saw his lips and jaw as he bit into some apple slices. She made the conclusion that he was a handsome man, even just by seeing the lower half of his face. He felt vulnerable, but comfortable, and almost giddy as he caught her staring at him in the corner of his eye. All this time the two had watched each other from a distance, and platonically in some contexts, but now, he knew that once he came back after his leaves, he’d be happy to see her on base again, to maybe hug her, or even kiss her in private. The idea of waking up next to her, holding her hand on the streets of England without a word spoken, introducing her to his family back home all felt possible. His heart soared at the fact, and for the rest of the day after that breakfast date, he couldn’t help but find himself smiling under his balaclava. 

It was the night before many soldiers were to leave for their Christmas break. Simon, for once, got to go home and was actually excited to go home. He would finally be able to see his family who was improving day by day. He’d see his nephew that he told Y/N she’d love, and he’d be able to kiss his mother on the cheek, finally seeing her smile after so long.

Y/N had finished her chores for the day and she was about to turn in for the night. As she dried her hair from her previous shower, she heard a soft knock at the door, it almost sounding hesitant in a way. She was confused but opened the door nonetheless. 

There stood Simon who looked quite nervous, his balaclava off and his hair messy. He saw her and was struck by her pure beauty, seeing her in her natural form with cozy pajamas on, hair wet, and a wonderful smelling body mist. He was nervous and she could tell. 

“Simon you alright?” She touched his arm and he flinched slightly, but didn’t move from the touch. He was still nervous, so she decided to make a move, pulling him by his arm into her grasp into the room. “Simon, speak to me. Do you need help? Are you hurt?”

“I-” He started, but stopped soon after. She waited for him, lightly rubbing her thumb against the exposed skin on his arm. He sighed at the soothing movement. “I’m nervous about seeing my family. It’s been a while and I don’t know how to greet them after all we’ve been through.”

“They love you Si, your mother is going to be ecstatic. Your nephew gets to see his favorite uncle again.” She placed her hand on the side of his face and lightly tugged it up to make him look at her. She could see the dark blush of frustration and sadness on his cheeks. “Oh honey, c’mere.” She pulled him into a tight hug and surprisingly, he let her embrace him. He grabbed her tightly, fully immersing himself into her existence. His anxiety still plagued his mind, but he felt much more comfortable with her. 

There was a deeper shift in the mood between the two. Instead of just a comforting hug, it became a loving embrace from the girl he really liked. For her it was a loving embrace from the man she really liked. Both of them could feel it. 

However, she didn’t feel like acting on it with Simon already being overwhelmed with emotions. A distraction was good, but she didn’t want to force more anxiety on the man. The two both pulled away, looking deeply into each others’ eyes, hands still wrapped around one another. In this moment, they acknowledged the shift in tone, but both understood each other enough to not embrace those emotions right now. 

“Stay here tonight Si. You can sleep next to me.” She whispered, pulling his hand over to her bed. 

“Yes ma’am.” He whispered.

He laid down and remained stiff as the woman laid next to him. She looked at his face, the two still not breaking the barrier of feelings while still noting of the loving gaze from one another. She blinked, forcing herself out of the lovesick state. She pulled herself into his chest, cozying up to him with her head pushed against his chest and both arms around his waist, the one under him bound to fall asleep at some point in the night. After a few beats he wrapped his arms around her figure in response. His head dug itself into her drying hair and he squeezed her tight. 

“G’night Simon.”

“G’night sweet girl.” He whispered in his husky voice. 

The next morning she awoke to an empty bed with a large yellow note on her pillow. “Thank you for making my dark moments brighter. I’ll see you when I get back. Merry Christmas Love -Simon.” 

The best part of the note was that she couldn’t tell if he meant Love Simon, or if he just gave her a really sweet nickname. She blushed and packed to go home for Christmas herself. 

A few weeks later...

Y/N came back from leave, refreshed after seeing some family and friends. She walked with a little extra pep in her step knowing that she would see Simon once again, he too, hopefully well-rested and refreshed after seeing his family. 

She had said Happy New Years to a few of the men she trusted on base, enjoying the smiling faces of many that actually had their leave. There was one face she didn’t see though, and it was his, the man she had been eager to see for weeks. It was a large base with many soldiers though, and it wasn’t guaranteed he was coming back the same day as her. So, in an attempt to keep realistic, she suppressed her worry for a few days. 

It was a little over a week and her worry had taken over. The base felt empty and her chores actually felt like chores instead of fun activities she would do with her once friend. 

She went to lunch that morning, sitting in the dining hall with her fellow soldiers. “Did you guys hear about Riley?” A young solider said, standing behind the men at her table. Her head whipped around, looking at the man expecting an answer.

“No what’s up?” Someone responded.

“Killed his entire family.” Several people shouted “WHAT” around the cafeteria. “Apparently, he killed his family when he got home on Christmas. AND THEN! A few days later he blew up a building and committed suicide.”

No fucking way, she thought.

“Damn he really was cold huh.”

“There was always something off about him. I thought he was weird, but not that weird.” At that moment, and with everyone’s offensive words flying around her, she couldn’t muster up the strength to comment and fight for her friend. He loved his family and there was no way in hell Simon would go out that way.

She prayed it was just a rumor, but over time, and after her denial phase, she knew she’d have to accept it at one point. But she never did fully accept it, and there was always something in her brain and in her heart telling her that it wasn’t true.

Many years later in a conversation between Kate Laswell and Captain John Price…

“Ah… Y/N L/N, goes by Maiden. Real good with a gun. Communications and intel too. Could be a real good leader if she sticks with the forces.”

“I like her already.” Kate says with a light smile on her face.

“There he is. Simon Riley.”

“There’s no picture-“

“Never.”

Current day…

“Laswell says they call you Ghost.”

“Actually I believe he prefers-“

“That’ll do.”

“Ah… señorita. I hear they call you Maiden no? Eres una fuerza a tener en cuenta!” The colonel giggles.

Simon’s eyes slightly widen, slowly turning to the “señorita” Alejandro was referring to. There he saw the young woman he saw so many years ago. 

She wasn’t eaten up, he thought.

IMPORTANT A/N: There’s obviously gonna be a part 2, and it’ll be more specific to the request ;)

Part 2: ⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙