Ghosting Pt. 1

Ghosting pt. 1

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: swearing, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of abortion, angst, arguments, abandonment, younger Simon, story takes place when he’s 23 and you’re 21.

“kids?”

“What about them?”

“Would you ever want any?”

It was yours and Simon your one year anniversary. It was nothing special, just some takeout and card games with a movie playing in the back. You don’t know how the conversation of your futures came to be but you both knew it had to be said at some point in your relationship. You asked what Simon planned to do once he got older and retired from the military. He asked you questions about your plans as you grew older. That’s when you decided to be the one to bring up the very question that tends to either strain or strengthen a relation, children.

“No. Hard pass. I don’t do well with them nor do I want any of my own.” He never meant to say it with such a rude tone but It didn’t bother you much. You knew that there was a deeper reason why with the way his brows furrowed and the tension in the shoulders. You wanted him to elaborate more but you decided against it.

“Yeah I’m not too keen on children. At least right now anyways.” You said placing down your card on the table as Simon continued to examine his cards to find a way to defeat you. He looked at you as you spoke your last words as you kept your eyes on your cards. You liked kids to a certain extent and wouldn’t mind one later on in your life as you settle down or just none at all. You tried not to let Simons words get to you, since you don’t mind a childless life, as long as you had Simon by your side, but sometimes there would be days where you felt lonely without Simon when he’s deployed to his job. There’s also days where you fear he’ll never come back home and you’d be left with nothing to remember him by but memories, pictures and his possessions. A kid would be something that not only would be a piece of him that breathes and moves but they would be the physical embodiment of yours and Simons’ love, something that would keep you two tied to each other.

As nice as a child with Simon would be, you respected his wishes and you would have to come to terms with it. It’ll just be you and Simon, growing old together in a little house on the far side of town where no one can bother you and it’ll just be you, your grumpy (eventual) husband and your animals to keep you company. Yeah, you could live with that.

Hopefully, if he doesn’t die on the job…

“It’ll just be the two of us and a bunch of animals.”

That’s how you’d thought it be. Until it wasn’t.

You sat there on your bed holding the white stick in your hand. The pink plus sign was burning your eyes. You could feel your stomach churning. What the hell were you gonna do? You were panicking. You had been throwing up the past few days, Simon suggested you’d go see a doctor worried you ate something bad or caught some stomach bug but you refused and said you’d be fine thinking it go away within a few days however more things surfaced on your body that caught your attention. You breast grew a cup bigger and felt sore as hell, you assumed it was due to your period, it was due to arrive in a week anyway but you still found it abnormal that your breast swelled up so much. When the week passed you figured it was delayed due to your little stomach bug but another week passed. That’s when the thoughts hit you. You couldn’t be right? There’s no way you could be pregnant. You and Simon were always careful.

That same day of realization you went to the drug store just to be sure. You brought three sticks and each one came out with the same pink plus sign appearing on the little box. What the hell were you gonna do? How were you going to tell Simon? Maybe you don’t. You can just get an abortion and get it over with. Well, maybe it’s best if you tell him either way. But the more you thought about the baby, the more harder it seemed for you to think about getting rid of it.

You never really made your decision on not having kids, you figured that when it happens it happens, but what about now? Simon doesn’t want a baby, but you’re pregnant with the child you created with the love of your life, Yours and Simons baby…

Tears prick your eyes as you stared at the stick. What are you going to do?

Simon was out drinking with his ‘comrades’ so you had some time to yourself before he came back. You needed to plan a time when you’d tell him. But you were beyond terrified. You know having this baby was putting your relationship with Simon at risk. But this was just as much of his doing as yours, but at the same time, your IUD should’ve prevented this from happening.

You tired to gain the courage in the past couple days since you’ve found out, to tell him but you never could. For days Simon could tell something was bothering you, and it wasn’t the sickness you had. It was something that was clouding your mind. He could see in your eyes that something was troubling you.

Simon had just returned to home from the bar, feeling dreadful about having to be deployed once again here in a couple of days, he doesn’t want to leave you. He hates it, he hated leaving you here all alone, he can’t be there to protect you, hold you and love you but his job makes it worth it if it means you get everything you deserve. Even if he isn’t around for long periods at a time.

As he walks into the house you greet him with a smile, he’s a little tipsy but just barely since he still had to drive home, he did enjoy his time with Price, Soap and Gaz though. Even if he didn’t outright admit it.

“How’d it go?” You asked him as you approach him with a small smile. You’re too nervous to give him his usual greeting kiss which made Simon’s suspicions of your worry confirmed.

“It was fine, not too shabby and the boys were okay as usual. I need to ask you something.” He said glancing your direction aa he looks into your eyes like he’s trying to read your mind, he cups your face gently as he approached you. He saw your body tense up, you tried to save yourself by quickly relaxing before Simon could see but it was too late, he already did. That was his que. “There’s something bothering you, I can see it. You know you can’t hide things from me and I understand you don’t wanna talk about it but at least let me help you the way you help me.”

Your throat grew dry, ‘Shit.’ You thought. You could feel your anxiety flow through your nerves as your hand began to tremble slightly. Your silence worried Simon. “Yn…” He called out but you stood silent.

‘It’s now or never, i can’t hide this forever, not when I start to show.” You thought, Simons hand gently rubbed your cheekbones which brought your attention back to him. Your teary gaze met his concerned ones. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry…” You quivered out. You tried to keep your composure but the hormones betrayed your body. “For what? What happened love?” He grew more worried as the tears rolled down your face. He wiped them away with his fingers as he cradled your face, as you both stare into the others gaze. “You promise you won’t be mad, I’m scared you’re gonna hate me, leave me and…” You whisper but Simon cuts you off as he leaned down to take your lips into a soft but passionate kiss, pulling away you look at him such vulnerability as you wrap your hands around Simons wrist gently. “I won’t.” He whispers back to you, his eyes filled with concern and love in his eyes. It makes your heart break thinking about what can happen next.

Your breath hitched before you inhaled and closed your eyes leaning into Simons touch. “I’m pregnant…” it was silent for a hot second. You felt his hands stiffen up but quickly relax as he looked a bit surprised. Your IUD should’ve been working, but he can’t blame you, there’s still a small chance.

“Have you made an appointment?” He asked after a long silence.

“For what?” You look up nervously, your guts telling you things were going downhill soon now, it’s too late you’ve already made up your mind.

“To get rid of it.” He asks you confused but something was telling him something else is going on. It was dead silence after that, you didn’t even need to say anything, the look in your eyes were enough to tell Simon what your intentions were. His hands were stiff it almost felt like a mannequins hands were placed on your face but then they were quickly snatched away from your grasp and face. You gasped lightly at the action. He took two long strides away from you, his eyes were slightly wide and had a blank look in them as he stared at you.

You wanted to call out to him but his eyes alone were enough to tell you that he was about to run. Your heart throbbed and your stomach began to churn again. More tears began to flow and obscure your vision. “Simon…” You called out to him, you refrained from walking towards him, terrified that one wrong move and he’d run and leave you in the dust. But it seemed to trigger him.

His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes began to show frustration. “No.” He shook his head as you sobbed. “Dammit yn I thought we established this. You promised!” He began to raise his voice, his fear coming to light. Not only was your relationship beginning to strain but you were planning to bring a child into this world. His child. All he could think about was his father and his family something he doesn’t want to experience or risk history to repeat itself.

“I’m sorry Simon but I never made a promise! But I truly didn’t mean for this to happened but it did and when I thought about having an abortion I couldn’t bear that thought of it. I know what we had in mind was to not have any kids but I can’t bring myself to get rid of our baby.”

“No we agreed that we’d have no kids, for Christ sake, I’m always at base and deployed. I can die and leave you to raise a baby alone. And I’m not ready to care for a baby, nor did I ever plan on having one.” He didn’t yell but his voice sounded distant like he was guarded. Like how he used to be when you first met him back in high school, stiff as a stone with years and layers of built up walls around him to keep anybody out from his heart and mind, a troubled Simon who was haunted by his abusive father wanting to save his mother and brother the ones who are now six feet under. One that took you years to slowly tear down and let him trust you with more than one few but big bumble in the road but in the end you never gave up on him and always stuck by his side. “I can’t do this.” He didn’t sound like your Simon anymore. He sounded like Ghost now. The Ghost he separated you from, the Ghost that was cold hearted and never cared about anything or anyone else but getting his priorities done and missions finished.

Your breath hitched. “What do you mean?” Your voice quivered. Ghost didn’t even bother to answer you he made his way to the bedroom. “Simon please!” You treaded after him, your anxiety surfacing again.

You walked into the bedroom to see him reaching into the closet and pulling out his bag, already packed with all the gears and items he needed for his deployment. Slumping the strap over his shoulder as you watched made your throat tighten.

It was nothing but silence the whole time as you watched Simon pack away a last minute items he’d need. You watched as he began to tie on his boots. “You’re right,” you finally spoke. Your voice soft as you tried not to let out a sob. “You don’t have to do this, you can keep doing what you do. I’ll keep the baby without you.” Simon just sat there listening to you as he kept his gaze glued to the ground. You couldn’t see what he was thinking with his Balaclava on now but you could see his fists clenched tightly. “I won’t make you go through this but just know, I still love you Simon, but I want this baby. You won’t hear from me asking you for anything at all. Just know once you walk out that door. I’ll be gone, unless you say something Simon...” you stand there staring at him hoping he’ll say something… anything. A sliver of wanting to be around at least or try to work something out but you know it’ll never come. He’s Simon, Ghost, he’s not, and may never be, mentally prepared nor does he have a lifestyle fit enough to raise a baby. Without a single noise Simon gets up and walks past you to the bedroom door, you watch his back, he doesn’t spare you a single glance before he walks out without another word.

After a few seconds, you hear his boots stomp down the stairs, the door opening and slamming shut. Your que to finally let all your sobbing out easing the pain in your throat. You sat on the floor holding your stomach. You were really on your own now. Just you and your baby.

You were lucky you managed to gain contact with your older sister, Stacy, she and her husband had welcomed you into their home with no hesitation, surprisingly. Granted you and your sister had some mending to do but it was mostly cause by your parents. Your mother had always founds way to turn you and your sister against one another when you two were younger. You both always fought and tried to better the other for praise of your mother she’d always compared one over the other, “Your sister is skinner than you,” “You eat like a pig, your sister eats better than you,” “your sister this” or “your sister that”. You mother always tried to make you two compete against the other that both physically and mentally damaged you both.

Your father never bothered with you two, you could never talk to him without every conversation ending in a some form of abuse or never in the right mindset being constantly high off his mind with drugs. But as you grew older you began to see the things your mother did to you and your sister but you never took the chance to make amends, your sister met her then boyfriend and ran away with him the first chance she got, you did the same when you met Simon.

“Are you alright?” She approaches you as you got out the car. The moment you came face to face with her you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and brushed into tears. “I’m sorry!” You cried out. “It’s okay.” She hushes you and cradled your head. “No it’s not, I should’ve talked to you, we should’ve made up long ago but I ran off…”

“And so did I!” She cut you off. “I was the one that ran off first, I was the one who left you in the dust for some guy that turned out to be a fraud. I chose a man over my own sister but I was too dumb to see it. We both made mistakes but now that we’re here, let’s take this chance to make it right.” She wiped your tears from your face. “Now tell me what wrong?” She asks you as you take a deep breath. “Simon left me.” You say, your sisters eyes widen in surprise and sympathy. “Well technically I left but we decided that we were through.”

“Why, what happened?” She asks you as she began to guide you to her house. As you make your way in you wipe your eyes as you think about the memory.

“I’m pregnant.” You start off, your sister is caught off guard and stunned, but she doesn’t speak and allows you to continue. “I found out not too long ago.”

You sister looks at you in shock. “Is that why… Simon…” she tries to ask, you know what she’s saying before you nod answering her question.

“Yeah, we’ve had the talk before. We agreed on no kids because he didn’t want any, me, I wasn’t too sure at the time but now, now I know, I do want this kid.” You say as you lay a hand on your stomach. “I don’t know what to do know. I told him and shit just went down hill. He made his choice and I made mine. I left home, he left because he’s currently on deployment but he’s made his choice not to be in the baby’s life. I gave him the choice to leave because I don’t want to force him into this since he never wanted any in the beginning.” You say, you sit on the soft couch as you both settled on conversing in the living room.

“He’s in the military?” She asks him a bit surprised, she’s still trying to process all this new information about your current situation and your now ex-boyfriend.

You nod your head and rub your eyes feeling the fatigue catch up to you from the past couple of days. You’ve nearly gotten a wink of sleep ever since Simon left, the past two days you were packing up all your things that you needed and wanted to take with you into your car, and you were stressing about where’d you go and be staying up until your Stacy, thankfully, responded back to you and offered you a place to stay at her house. “Yeah, he doesn’t tell me much about it. But from what I’ve seen every time he came back, it was always bad. He’d come home with bruises, sometimes wounds that sometimes looked to be fatal. It always scares me every time he goes, and I sometimes never know when he’ll be back, or if he’ll come back at all.” You explain to her. You leave out the part where he’d be a shell of himself, like a ghost possessing Simon, so unemotional, and you can never forget how scary it was seeing how empty his eyes looked sometimes.

Stacy looks at you, she’s processing all this and trying to her best to listen but she can tell that’s it’s a lot for her to take in. You don’t blame her, you two haven’t seen each other er for over five years, so there’s a lot of catching up to do. “I promise you I’ll only be here for a few months. I’ll find a place to stay for the baby and I before they’re born, we’ll be out of your hair soon.” You tell her quickly trying to reassure her that it’s only temporary and you’re not going to take advantage of your sister’s kindness and willing to help you out, you don’t wanna have the burden of having her worry about you and have a baby in the house. You’ve already become enough of a burden for Simon with the baby.

Stacy shakes her head and gently takes your hand and gently squeezes it. “Don’t worry about it. Take as much time as you need to get back on your feet. You got a kid to worry about now. And granted, it may be hard but I believe in you. You’re a strong woman, I know you can get through this, you always do. And even if you don’t, I’ll always be here to help you.” She says as she smiles at you fondly.

You feel so grateful for her. Your hormones have you all over the place both emotionally and physically. You’re on the verge of tears as you engulf Stacy into a hug once again. “Thanks Stac.” You say, your voice threatening to crack into a sob.

Stacy smiles at you and hugs you back. “Don’t thank me, you’re my little sister, family looks out for one another. Real family.”

꧁——————————꧂

Im debating if this series should have a twist to it. So stay tuned :)

Brick by Brick

You have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was.  And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

tags: 🔞construction worker simon/neighbour reader, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), size kink, brief mention of simon's childhood abuse

part 1 | part 2

After that things shift, just a little. You still sit with Simon while he works, handing him tools he teaches you the names of; still try to convince him to get pay for his work around the house. 

But you have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was. 

And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

“Thought you might want some leftovers for lunch,” you tell him, holding out two tupperware boxes. “If you're working those long hours you have to eat right, you know?” 

When Simon opens them at home, just before tucking them away in his work bag for tomorrow, his chest clenches. It's not just leftovers. There's dried beef jerky, a pack of crackers that go well with coffee, and a fist-sized chunk of banana bread. And— 

A little note. 

His heart hammers against his chest when he unfolds it. It's nearly dark out, crickets chirping soft and low somewhere beneath the window. The only sound in his kitchen is the ticking of a clock. 

Good luck today! Don't work too hard :)  

“Christ,” he mumbles, fingers tracing over the ink. Pretty. Like you. Like every fucking thing you do. 

Summer is nearing its end, and Simon is running out of excuses. Part of him feels proud to see the house shape up to the best it can be, but over the months the boxes have nearly all disappeared. He knows—has helped you unpack God knows how many books. Helped you put together a new bookcase, even. 

But if he's no longer useful, what's keeping you from closing your door on him? Dread rises sharp and fast in Simon's throat when he thinks about a dark, cold home waiting for him as his only company. He passes your door on the way home, more often than not sees your silhouette against the warm light of your window. Illuminating the hard dirty edges of him.  

You've started feeding him, this big mean watchdog, and he might choke on his leash if you stop now. 

“Hello, what is that?”   

Simon sharply yanks his lunch away from Johnny's grabby paws.  

“None f’your business.” 

“Is that bloody banana bread? You've got to be fuckin’ me.” 

“That's homemade,” Kyle says unhelpfully from just behind Simon's shoulder. 

“Piss off,” Simon grumbles. 

Johnny does not, of course, piss off. Instead he grins, cheeky and wide. “Didn't know y’had a bird, Simon.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle groans. “Is that roast beef? That smells so good. Where'd you get this?” 

Johnny snorts. “More like who's he blackmailin'.” 

Simon glowers at Johnny, then says through a mouthful, “My girl.” 

If there'd been any hope of them dropping it, it's gone now. Simon realises his mistake as soon the words leave his mouth and Kyle and Johnny light up.  

They're incessant. Dog him at every opportunity—who is she? What's her name? What's she look like? Show us a photo, Simon, dinnae be so selfish. 

Simon suffers it for a week until he slams his gloves on Price's table and threatens someone's going to end up in the cement mixer by the end of the day if he doesn't do something about it. 

They quiet down after that, though they can't help but ask after you every now and then—even Price, who despite his congratulatory shoulder clap admits he wishes he had a sweet thing of his own. 

And the lunches keep going. As do the notes, every one of which Simon keeps carefully tucked away in a box at home. He didn't find one last night, and he suppresses the wave of disappointment. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you were just tired, and maybe he's grown too comfortable with your casual affection. 

So when a little piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of the lid flutters onto the ground the next day Simon is unprepared. The two seconds of surprise cost him—Johnny dives after it like a hawk and scoops it before it's barely touched the concrete. 

“You little shit—” 

Simon's at him immediately, and Johnny, delighted by what he thinks is a funny fucking little game, twists and dodges while fumbling the note open with one hand. 

“Looking forward to dinner tonight. Be safe today,” Johnny reads before Simon snatches it from him with a hard shove to his head. “Aww, Simon, you lucky shite. C’mon, give us one o’ those cookies, aye? If you're goin’ home to a candle lit dinner.” 

“Get your own cookies,” Simon huffs, and curls one arm around his tupperware protectively while he eats. 

Looking forward.   

So is he. 

- 

“Simon!” 

Simon whips his head around and catches you stepping out of your car with a wave. You've arrived home just after him today, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees your dress flutter prettily around your legs. 

You're dressed up all nice today—must've been at university, then. Simon doesn't know which he likes better: the shorts you wear at home or the glimpse of cleavage he gets when you wear a nice work blouse. 

His dick throbs when he holds his own hand up in greeting, hanging back just to get those few extra seconds with you.  

He's not sure why today is especially bad. Probably doesn't help that every time he jacks off in the shower you're the one he thinks of, imaging your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It's hard to resist the indulgence after a long hard day of sweating and laying brick, then coming home and only getting to look, not touch. He doesn't want to stain you with his filth, but what's he supposed to do? He wants you. 

And his desire has sat festering in the confines of his rib cage for months. It curls his hands in tight fists so he doesn't reach for you by accident the way he does in his dreams, keeps him from leaning in to taste your lips to see if they're as sweet as your cobbler pies. 

“Alright?” he asks when you get closer. You feel off, distant, and when you nod it feels like it's more for his sake than for the truth of it. 

“Yeah. Um.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder, shifting on your feet. “I wanted to let you know I can't do dinner tomorrow. I'm, um, I have a date, so...” 

The spin of the world stutters for a second.  

Simon sucks in a quiet breath. “That so.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a sad little smile. Not the kind of face you'd expect from someone who just scored a date, but Simon is too wrapped up in his misery to notice. “How was your day?” 

Normal. Unsuspecting. Good, even, until you told him some twat is taking you out to dinner.  

“Fine,” he hears himself say. Adds, “Watchin’ a match tonight.”  

An excuse—an out for both of you. You won't have to feel obligated to ask him if he'd like to come ‘round for a meal, and he won't have to pretend he doesn't feel like throwing up. 

“Go Manchester,” you reply with a smile. 

Just like Simon, they don't score. 

- 

He waits up for you. It's pathetic, really—that of all things this is what gets him to dig around for a pack of smokes. Been mostly clean ever since you moved in next to him, his half-hearted attempts to quit finally mounting up to something with real resolve. 

He doesn't want to taste nicotine when he eats your meals. 

Even threw out his lighter. Which means when he finds a crushed, dust-caked pack with only one cigarette in it behind his couch he has to light it with a match and shaky hands. 

It tastes awful. But it's familiar, and sometimes he craves the burn even when he sees his dad putting out his own cigs on Simon's legs behind his eyelids. 

The evening grows colder around him, late summer skies tinted with dark purples and blues. It's quiet in the neighbourhood. He's the only one out this late—everyone else has retreated to the comfort of their homes, ready to turn in for the night. 

It should feel peaceful, but all Simon feels is anxious and on edge. Not even the smoke calms his nerves. 

Should he back off, leave you to the happiness you deserve? Throw everything away in one last shot, ask to take you out like he's wanted to forever? 

Words are no good, but he's tried so desperately to show you that he'd do just about anything if you asked. To let you know that underneath his gruff silences he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him and that he'd rip anyone else to shreds for raising a finger against you. 

Simon's head lifts when his ears pick up the rumbling of a car. Is it...? 

It is. 

Lamplight flashes over the cobbled street, and then the rumble of the engine turns off with a click. 

You're alone—thank God. Simon doesn't know what he would've done if you'd taken your date home. 

You look worn out, and not the happy kind after a successful lay. Just tired—to the point where you almost don't notice him and jump when you do. You take a startled step back from his hulking silhouette leaning against the stone little fence curling around all the houses along the street you share, before pausing and asking in a soft voice: 

“Simon?” 

And because he's a masochist he asks, “Y’have fun?” 

He expects a yes. At best a non-committal shrug—at worst an enthusiastic smile. But you look down at your shoes, chew your lip, and say, “No.” A breath. “No. It was awful. He was a twat, and he tried to feel me up under the table, and he's been hounding me at university for months, and I got so sick of it I just said yes but now I'm going to have to email HR and ugh—!”  

Your voice breaks on the last sentence and you sniffle, turning your face away from Simon so you can give it a quick wipe with the back of your hand. 

He's up on his feet in an instant, trying to take slow breaths so he doesn't act on the overwhelming urge to hunt down the wankstain and crush his fingers so he can never fucking touch you again. Your dog bites without warning or remorse, and everything in him wants to show your sad excuse of a date just how sharp his teeth are. 

But he can't. You're hurting, and that's more important than breaking some bloke's nose. 

And so Simon tries for softness as much as he's capable of it, large scarred hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder. It's all the coaxing you need to lean into his touch, and when Simon shifts a little closer your head falls on his shoulder. He burns with a different kind of fire. 

“Sorry,” you sniffle. “I'm okay, I really am, it was just such a—such a—” 

“S’alright,” Simon rasps. He pets your hair and strokes your back with a clumsy touch, unsure of how far he should, can, is allowed to go. “Y’should've called me. Would've come t’pick you up, maybe sock him a new one.”  

He'd do more than that if you'd let him. He'd take you home and made sure the only time you cried was when he worked his fat cock inside you. 

Christ, he's going to hell. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Sweetheart. You're never botherin’ me.” You let out a shaky sigh, and Simon tucks your head under his chin a little more securely. “Woulda made sure y’got home safe.” 

It's quiet, then, save for the sound of a car driving away somewhere down the road. Simon doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to break the spell that you're under. You feel so soft in his arms, his sweet bird, finally come home to where you belong. 

“I kept wishing it was you.” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but before he can process it you pull yourself out of his embrace, cursing under your breath. “Sorry. Sorry—forget I said that. I'm... I'm gonna go home.” 

Simon's hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You stare at him with big wet eyes that has the pit of his stomach swoop low. 

“Y’wish it was me?” 

His voice is low and rough, strained with want. 

Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes, though you don't pull your hand away. “Sorry. Ignore me, I'm just...” 

“I'll take you,” Simon says a little too quickly. “Anywhere you wanna go. Dinner. Movies.” He pauses, trying to remember what people do for fun. “The library.” 

There. You hiccup a little laugh, finally, and the beginnings of a smile tug at your mouth. 

“The library?” 

Simon smiles a little, too. “Anywhere you want,” he repeats. Even the fucking library. 

Your gaze drops to your hands, and you carefully turn your palm against his. “I think I'd like that.” 

Simon swallows and lets his fingers intertwine with yours. “Yeah?” 

“I don't really care where we go, though. If it's with you.” 

Jesus bloody Christ. 

“Okay,” Simon says, voice tight. “Alright. We'll—we'll figure it out. We'll go somewhere.” A breeze hits you as he says it, and you shiver. “...Right now let's just get you home.” 

You nod, the fatigue overtaking your features again. Simon walks you all the way to your door, squints against the night sensor he installed himself. 

You hover in the doorway before opening your mouth, closing it, then take a small step forward to rise on your toes. Simon's heartbeat kicks up under your hand where you steady yourself on his chest, and then he feels your lips press against his cheek. It's his bad one, the one with the nasty scar from a bar fight long ago. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he manages, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “’Course.” 

The door closes with a soft click.  

- 

When you mention wanting to hike out on a trail nearby Simon, true to his word, makes it happen. It's not so bloody hot anymore and it's nice, hearing the birds chirp overhead. Nice to exist in a world where everything is washed in shades of mottled green, hearing the dirt crunch under his feet.  

It relaxes him. Makes his muscles untense. You promised him a picnic at the end of the trail, and to Simon's delight he succeeds in coaxing you to feed him bites of your homemade sandwiches in the midst of tall grass and meadow flowers. 

When you get home, sweat and sun lingering on your skin, Simon has full intentions of dropping you off at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. Maybe get another kiss if he's lucky. 

And he does—but you linger, soft lips hovering over his cheek. His fingers curl and uncurl against his sides, waiting and wondering. 

“Please kiss me?” you breathe on his skin, and that's all it takes. 

He surprises himself with the intensity of it, but fucking hell, he's wanted you for so long. His shoulders hunch, neck bent low, and he slots his mouth over yours. Your little fingers grab at his shirt for balance, and he pushes you against your doorframe. Every time he pulls away you make a small noise of protest and chase his lips, and though Simon hasn't had a drop of alcohol today he feels well on his way to hammered. 

“Do you want to—please come inside—?” 

Simon groans and rests his forehead against yours. Fuck. “I want to—want t’do this right,” he rasps. 

You exhale with a shaky breath. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering like stars. Simon's stomach lurches at seeing you want him. “Right, um. Of course. I just—I've thought about... about you. For a—a really long timmf—” 

Simon groans into your mouth. He cups your cheeks, one hand sliding to hold you at the back of your neck. A sweat breaks out along his spine when he imagines you at night, in your bedroom, fucking yourself with your little fingers. Whimpering his name... 

“Yeah? Y’want me to take you to bed, sweetheart?” he murmurs, and you shiver. 

The two of you barely make it past the door until Simon is stealing the breath from your lungs again. He's wanted this for so long it's a little hard to stop, even if it's to break apart for air. Miraculously you seem to want it as much as he does, seem as desperate for his touch as he is for yours. 

When has anyone wanted him this bad? When has he ever felt like he'd die on the spot if he didn't get inside you right the fuck now? 

He doesn't need to ask you where the bedroom is. This place has felt his touch almost as much as yours, has shaped up into a cosy little home that is part of him, too. Like he wants to be part of you. 

Simon simply scoops you up and carries you straight to bed, forgetting to be gentle when he deposits on the mattress. His head is buzzing, his heart is thundering, and he needs you now.  

Fortunately you don't seem to mind much. Your hands immediately fly to his belt, tug at the metal impatiently, then fumble with his zipper with trembling hands. Simon pulls your top over your head, throws it somewhere on the floor without a care followed by his own. 

“Lie back,” he husks, and makes quick work of your trousers. Pauses just for a second to take in the growing wet patch of your panties. 

“Simon,” you whine softly. 

He drops to his knees and slides his large hands over your thighs, transfixed. He smooths over the goosebumps on your legs, presses a kiss to your knee. 

“Want me t’take these off?” he rasps, snapping the band of your panties. You lift your hips in silent assent. Simon helps you shimmy off your underwear and suppresses a moan when a string of sticky arousal clings to the fabric—then follows it right to the source. 

You gasp when he kisses your folds before gently spreading them with big warm fingers. “Sweet little cunt,” Simon mutters, and then he goes to town. 

He starts with slow, wet licks, feeling out what you like and what's too much. He keeps it light for a while just to feel you squirm and to hear your breathing turn ragged, then backs off just when your knees start trembling. He smiles when you whimper his name with a desperate little “please". 

“Such good manners.” His breath washes over your clit, and your hips try to twitch away from him. “Proper sweetheart, yeah?” 

It's great fun, playing with you, but his cock is throbbing painfully and he's leaking everywhere, and he very much intends for you to end the night feeling so blissed out you let him sleep next to you. 

So Simon hoists you closer, hooks your thighs over his shoulder, and sucks on your clit until you're sobbing his name. He holds your hips down by splaying one big hand over your stomach because you're a sensitive little thing, bucking away from him when he's not nearly done with you yet.  

It's cute, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure. It's also really fucking hot. Simon slowly pushes one finger in you and groans when you clench around him. 

“Simon,” you whimper. “Oh, please, please—” 

Such a good girl, begging without him telling you to. Simon crooks his finger, and your next breath is a stutter of moans before your whole body tenses and you cum on his tongue. 

Simon hums approvingly, keeping his motions slow and steady so you ride it out all the way. When you whine and wriggle away from him he lets up, wiping at your slick covering his chin. 

Best meal you've cooked him by far. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That was... Give me—give me a minute...” 

Simon chuckles and rises from his knees to crawl over you and steal a kiss. “Feelin’ good, princess?” 

“Princess—” you let out a breathless laugh, but even in the low light of your nightstand lamp Simon sees the colour rise in your cheeks. Liked that, did you? You blink up at him, a sweet satisfied smile on your lips. “Mhm. So good. Come here?” 

Your hands trail over his sides, stroke over the light hair trailing down his stomach. Simon shudders when your knuckles brush over his cock and he shucks off his trousers further to give you better access. 

When you wrap your hand around him he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and moans. The twitch of his hips is involuntary, too desperate to chase his pleasure to stay put. 

“Next time,” you whisper while pulling him forward, spreading your legs wider to fit around his hips, “I want to feel you in my mouth.” 

“Jesus,” he groans. It takes everything in him to not just slide in. “We need a condom?” 

“I'm clean,” you murmur against his jaw. “On birth control. If you want we can—” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Simon says, and you laugh. Soft eyes when your hands slide over his shoulders, brush through the short hair on his neck. Simon watches your face while he lines himself up without blinking, and he's rewarded with the flutter of your eyelashes, the parting of your soft lips. 

Your brows scrunch together at the first few inches, and he kisses you sweetly to make you relax. Simon knows he's not small, and he groans when you clench around him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers against your hair. “Good girl. Just like that, yeah? Takin’ it real well. Just like that.” 

He slides in a little deeper. You shiver and mewl and beg him for more, and he gives it to you. Anything you want.  

“Simon,” you whimper. “Feels so—oh, you feel so good. More, please, please—?” 

Simon brushes the hair from your forehead, keeping his thrusts long and slow and making sure to kiss your cervix each time, just because your breath stutters so prettily every time he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you're so—such a tight little cunt. Couldn't wait any longer, could you? Jus’ had to have me?” 

You nod immediately and empathically, eyes glassy with arousal. You try to answer him, but the only thing you manage are airy moans that sound like his name. 

That's alright. Don't need to talk. He knows what you want to say; he feels the same. Simon catches you in a messy kiss while lacing his fingers with yours. Yours. Mine.  

He shoves his free hand between your two bodies and finds your clit, circling it until he's found the right rhythm that has tears gathering in your eyes. He could live on that for the rest of his life, of hearing you mindlessly stuttering his name while your body tenses up and your head drops back and those pretty lips part in a choked moan— 

“Christ,” Simon grits through his teeth, sweat dampening his brow. Your cunt flutters around him, soft little flower in full bloom that, with another thrust or two, has him falling apart as well. 

Both of you moan at the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick in your waiting womb. Simon rocks against you slowly to make sure you get every last drop—birth control or not. 

He kisses you on the comedown. You melt into his touch, butter and honey, running your fingers through his hair until Simon shifts you around so you're curled up against him. 

In another minute he'll get up and get you a washcloth before tucking you in and kissing your bare shoulders. He'll wrap himself around you before sleep takes you, make sure that he's the last thing you see and hear and touch. 

For now he lets himself bask in the present. In having a sweet little bird clinging to him for comfort and giving him more than he could ever ask for in return. 

Simon doesn't think you quite realise what you've gotten yourself into, in giving this big ugly watchdog your affection. He's not a king or a prince; not even a knight, not like the ones you read so much about. Simon wouldn't exactly call himself chivalrous or genteel. 

But he's just as devoted and twice as vicious. He'll belong to you, and you to him, and from the moment he saw you he was oath-bound. 

He'll have to steal a ring or two to measure which size is right. It'll take some work to knock down the walls between your two houses, but he'll ask the lads for help. Simon knows you'll win them over right away if you cook dinner or bake them something sweet. 

And maybe in time he'll have to try his own hand at baking. He always did want to put a bun in the oven, and Simon just knows that if you're the one to do it with him— 

It'll come out perfect. 

think about being father (Ghost headcanons)

★ masterlist here

Having children was never in Simon's plans, nor was it something that was part of your conversations. However, the idea appeared in his head for the first time when he saw you with your nephews, he tried to put that idea aside because you two never talked about it and he didn't want to be the first to say it, but it came up again when he saw you holding your friend's newborn. He noticed it in your eyes, a different look, and he felt it too: something stirred inside him. The idea of ​​seeing you with his own baby settled in his head, he thought it was something momentary and that it would pass, but the weeks passed and he continued thinking about it, imagining starting his own family and having something good for first time, and just like that, he spent a couple of days thinking about how to approach the topic with you.

Villain!Ghost x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Your husband wants your company..

A/n: GUYS OMG, I know it's been 1 month and a little more since my last official work. I've been procrastinating on this for so long since I only have less than a week till school again.. Also everyone I love on this app is just disappearing, like @ghost-cyphera just deleted her account 4 days ago and I got the notif but didn't see it in time, I didn't even get to say goodbye. Just wanted to apologize to you guys after being gone for so long as well. Also, another villain!Ghost drabble? 👀

Finding it difficult to walk was one of the least things you've suspected you'd be concerned of upon conceiving, always needing your handmaiden's help in such a mundane task was shameful to say the least but your husband insisted.

If it hadn't been the hand maiden then it would've been him instead, you couldn't keep him from his duties from the kingdom as he carried even yours. Wanting you to turn your attention to the health of the babe growing in you and especially yourself..

"My lady.." you were pulled out of your thoughts by the voice of your handmaiden. You took in a breath from the cool air that blew on your face as you stood by the stone railing..

"Yes, Leticia?" You turned to her..

"The prince consort has requested your company.." Leticia announced, you nod as you removed your hand from the cold stone. You glanced once more to the people of your kingdom, going about their day and life before gently lifting yourself off from leaning on the stone.

Philomena offered you her arm to help you walk more efficiently..

...

"You sent for me..?" You asked your husband, he was sat and signing another set of documents and scrolls. You closed the door, palms gently pushing till you heard it click.

"No, I told them to announce my arrival to you. How dare they exert my wife by giving her false instructions.." he huffed to which you laughed. He wouldn't do anything violent about it, as he so usually does with staff that don't comply but he knew it'd upset you if anything gory were to happen to them.

"I am quite alright, I need to move around too. It's proven to be good for our child." You said, sitting next to the graciously comfortable chair next to his working desk that he had someone make for you.

You felt relief from the pressure previously on your back, hand on the bump of your stomach and with that a sigh came from your lips. Peacefully watching your husband, the sound of the satisfying scratching of the quill on the crisp papers.

You felt his hand grasp yours, he pulled it, lips resting on the back. His affection made your heart beat faster and he felt it, the pad of his index finger on your wrist. The thumping made him chuckle as you smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

"You should rest for a while, my love. You'd work yourself to sickness at this point." You kiss his cheek softly. He put his quill down, "If that's my wife wants.." he said.

He wrapped his arm around you, the other hand placed on your baby bump. His thumb gently rubbing, you jolted a bit feeling a strong kick..

It made you groan, how restless the rascal is. Your husband adjusted his hand to feel the next kick.. he'd swear it was a girl, not that he'd care for that sort of thing. He'd kill for them either way, especially for you. He could stare at you all day, swollen with his child.

How glowing you looked wrapped in the finest silk and the gold and jewels in your hair and body clicking upon contact with another piece, he wished he could tell you how utterly speechless you'd leave each man by just walking passed them but to him no word is enough to describe you.

At least he could spend these small intimate moments with just you and you alone, free of the world for even just a few minutes as he needed a break from the work he very much was eager to do to be able to receive praise from his wife..

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo @duck-a-doodle

Towers and Thorns

tags: bodyguard!Ghost x royal!reader, older Ghost, first fic, might be crappy idk, multiple parts, might be nsfw down the line, english is not my first language so feel free to correct me. 🌻

Part 1

"Do you have to keep bending the rules", he asks from the doorway to your room. You scoff at the question.

"This is hardly bending the rules. The skirt is just above knee length", you answer, glaring at the balaclava clad man stood before you.

"Not sure I agree with that, your highness", his cold eyes scanning your figure. You groan and shove him out the door. Whats the matter with him anyway.

You walk over to your closet and stare at the skirts. Apparently the light blue one you had on was "inappropriate". You pick out a white, patterned one instead and hope that it is acceptable. You roll your eyes. The bodyguard you had before him, before Ghost, wouldn't have batted an eye at that skirt. But at the same time he was off fucking a maid in some linnen closet while Marshall ambushed you in that corridor and kissed you. The memory makes you shudder.

Marshall seems to think that he is entitled to you. Just because your parents didn't say an outright no when his parents talked about marriage, he's disgusting.

You tried to tell your father that you didn't want the kiss and that Marshall kissed you without your consent but he wouldn't have it. "Think about how this could reflect on your mother reputation. Sneaking off, kissing boys." That's what he had to say about the matter. Speaking about you as if you were a young, rebellious teenager. You are, in fact, an adult. You had been for a good while now. You had gone through your teen years without any major scandals. The same couldn't be said for your cousins.

You open the door and are faced with arms crossed over a broad chest clad by a black t-shirt, tight enough to reveal strong shoulders and muscular arms, and cold eyes staring down at you from the gap in his balaclava.

"Better", you ask, eyes narrowing.

"Much", he replies and steps aside.

Ghost opens the door to the dining hall for you and you nod a thank you to him. Your father is sat near the end of the table,, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. He looks up as you enter.

"Good morning Dad. Good morning Gaz", you say to the dark-skinned man stood behind him.

"Important day today", your father replies, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Im aware", you sit down at the chair opposite his. You scoop a spoonful of scrambled eggs and another of bacon down on to your plate.

"Make sure to behave. We don't need the President or the American press to get the wrong impression", he reminds you for what feels like the hundredth time this week.

"I know", you acknowledge, eyes fixed on your plate. Fork moving the eggs around aimlessly.

"Good. We can't afford a scandal", your father adds and rises from his chair. Hand nudging your shoulder as he walks past you and out of the door. Gaz a few steps behind him. The door shuts with a dull thud. You drop your fork on to your plate with a clink and put your head in your hands. Why does he always always talk about you like you're an accident waiting to happen. You feel Ghosts eyes burning in to your back.

"You don't have to just stand there, you know. You can sit down", you turn your head to look at him. His brown eyes meeting yours before walking slowly over towards the chair next to yours. Pulling it out and turning it so that he faces you. He sits down. Arms crossed over his chest and one of his leggs resting on his knee. You pour some water in to your glass and do the same to his. Ghosts eyes still boring in to yours. You sigh.

"Whats the matter", you ask him. Something clearly occupying his mind.

"Do you have a drinking problem or something, your highness", he questions you.

"What? No", you shriek. How could he think such a thing.

"A guy just kissed me at the last event and my dad thinks Im going to go into a late teenage rebellion. Besides, you would have notised if I had a drinking problem by now", you continue shaking your head.

"Guess you're right", he replies. His voice having and unreadable tone. Your eyes move towards the grandfather clock at the other end of the room. It reads half past ten. Shit. You stand up and the chair almost tips behind you. Ghost rises, eyes darting around the room to find the source of your sudden move.

"Im gonna be late", You clarify and hurry out the door. Ghost a few steps behind you.

You make it to the front door with less than a minute to spare. Your parents are stood talking and turn around when you approach with quick steps. You come to a halt behind them. Smiling at your mother. She smiles back and turns towards the men beside the door. Gaz and Price are on either side of the door. Ready to follow their queens order. Your mother nods to them and the doors open. You face the light erupting from the gap and put on a smile that you hope looks natural. The forgotten breakfast on your plate makes itself reminded as your stomach churns. You feel Ghosts eyes burn into the back of your head and you step outside into the light.

the arrangement.

Summary: you have to ask General Acacius for help and you know that only one thing can convince him

Warnings: anger, mention of attempted rape, Acacius is violent, breeding kink, mention of slavery, meantion of death

A/N: I had a few sentences in my head, I saw a few scenes, and I wrote the rest of the story. scribbles.

The dark sky was covered with shining stars, and the area was silent when you appeared in front of General Acacius' house. The tall and vast building, just like its owner, made its visitors feel respect and a hint of fear. But you didn't have time for that.

You almost ran up the short stairs and banged on the door. The doorman was surprised by your late visit, but he took you deeper into the house without any questions. You both walked along the corridor lit by burning torches until you stood in front of the open door to the main room where, despite the late hour, its owner was supposed to be there.

"General." the servant walked in, bowing, “Lady Y/N has come to visit.”

""Bring her in," a deep and soft voice replied, but you didn't wait a second longer.

"General Acacius, please forgive me." you said, entering the room and nodding quickly. "I shouldn't have visited you this late, but I couldn't wait. This matter couldn't wait."

The room was illuminated by soft light, and the cool evening air flowed in from the open window. The general was sitting behind an ornately carved desk, looking through some papers, but he perked up visibly when he saw you.

The white robes he wore highlighted his sun-kissed skin, and you were surprised at how noble he looked even when he wasn't wearing his armor.

“Y/N, you know very well that you are always welcome in my home.” he replied, standing up and walking over to you, "What did I do to deserve your lovely company on this pleasant evening?"

He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it.

"I'm afraid that the matter I came for will destroy your peace, General." you replied, "But I don't know anyone else I could turn to. Only you can help me."

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you carefully. His brown eyes bored into you so much that you could almost feel him beneath your skin. He always had this effect on you, from the moment you met him you knew you would never find peace again.

"I think you overestimate my abilities." he muttered, smiling lazily, "I'm just an ordinary soldier."

"I don't think so."

"I'm listening."

"General..." you started, but he immediately interrupted you.

"Marcus. Let's drop the titles if we're talking in private."

You nodded.

"Marcus." you started and he tilted his head to the side slightly, listening to your voice. "I'm sure you know my situation and what happened a few days ago. My maid, Margo, has been arrested."

"I heard about it."

"Then you know how unfair it is to her. Meanwhile, as I have been informed, she will be sentenced. During the next gladiator fights. Along with common criminals and scum. It shouldn't..."

"That's the law." Marcus interrupted you, "Your slave broke it by attacking one of the senators. She injured him."

"She was defending herself!" you raised your voice in anger "What was she supposed to do when that bag of dung tried to rape her!"

“Hold your words, Y/N.” he raised his hand "I don't know if you've forgotten, but she's still a slave."

"She's a woman. And my friend."

"It doesn't change the fact that she attacked a free man in a high position."

"Did you explain in the same way what you did to me at one of the last receptions in the Emperor's palace?"

The words fell out of you like arrows that instantly hit Marcus. His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, and his eyes darkened.

The memories of that evening still loomed between the two of you. That was a hard and long evening. Too much wine, music, suffocating aromas from incense. 

Marcus felt intoxicated not so much by the wine he drank but by your presence. You were his unattainable goddess. His fame and heroism meant nothing when he stood before you, and he couldn't even be sure that looking at you wouldn’t bring down the wrath of the Gods upon him.

And then it happened. Marcus found you alone on one of the balconies and his lust finally got the better of him. His lips crashed against yours brutally, strong arms pulled you against his body so tightly that for a moment you felt paralyzed. Even though he felt your resistance and struggle, he thought for a moment that he could take you by force. Here and now.

And then you took advantage of his moment of weakness, freed yourself from his arms and slapped him, hissing that even if he drowned the whole world in blood and threw all the treasures at your feet, you would never be his.

The brutality he was capable of terrified you. And even though you pretended that nothing had happened between you, and Marcus apologized to you for his intrusive behavior, that crack was still there between you.

And now you were standing in front of him, asking for help despite all the resentment you might have felt towards him. Because wasn't Marcus watching your every move? Wasn't he the one who took every possible opportunity to be close? So why were you so afraid of him? He wanted to adore you, honor you on an equal footing with the Gods. He would give you the whole world because he already gave you his heart a long time ago.

“Marcus…” your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Please.. No, I'm begging you.”

Your knees went weak under you as you knelt before him in supplication.

"I'm begging you, do something. I don't know anyone else who could stand up for me..."

“Please get up, love…” he muttered, confused by your behavior.

"Marcus..."

"Get up, for God's sake!" he roared and you quickly got up from the cold floor.

You saw the wildness swirling behind his eyes. He clenched his jaw and thrashed around like an animal in a cage. After a while, however, he sat down in the chair, clasping his hands and looking at you carefully.

"Why this one slave girl?" he hissed, "You can have a new one. I can give you a dozen new ones!"

"I could ask you the same thing." you replied quietly.

Madness.

His blood boiled at the thought of comparing you to this woman. You were more than anything else. Yes, he knew perfectly well that at his beck and call, a dozen other women, hundreds of other women, would take your place. But you were engraved in his heart like words in marble, you became his treasure and blessing in one person.

You walked over to him slowly and crouched down by his lap. Your eyes were shining and your chest was heaving with nervous breathing.

"Marcus..." his name sounded like a prayer on your lips, "I'll do anything... I'll give you anything you want, but try to help me. I'm not asking for more. I don't want you to incur the Emperor's wrath, but you're the only one who can speak to him..."

"You're asking for so much..." he replied calmly, and his hand tentatively moved to touch your smooth cheek, to caress it for just a moment, "What can you give me, Y/N? You know that I would do anything for you, just for your one tender look..."

Your fingers found his hand and you kissed his knuckles.

"I will give myself to you." you whispered, "I'll give myself completely to you..."

His eyes widened in surprise for a second, but then his eyebrows knitted together as if he was trying to understand what you meant.

“Y/N…”

"I will be yours." you continued, staring into his dark eyes, completely determined, "I will be your wife. I will be loyal, devoted, and humble."

"Do not say that." Marcus interrupted you.

"I will give you what you want, General Acacius." your fingers gripped his hand tighter. "I will give you an offspring. Many healthy and strong sons. And as many beautiful and wise daughters. They will be the pride of your house. That's what a man as powerful and wise as you wants, isn't it?"

You knew your words resonated with him. They definitely hit his loins, because his body tensed and his breathing quickened. The general had a soft spot for you, you knew it perfectly well. You were flattered by his attention, but you were afraid of his power and the violence that hid within him. He wasn't like any other man you knew. Maybe if you had met in another time and place…

But the image of you swollen and full of his baby was so tempting for him.

“Y/N, is this what you want?” he asked "Will you put your life on the line for hers?"

You nodded, and Marcus knew he would do the same for you.

"Do you think... Do you think you could ever love me? That you would learn to love me? I don't want you to look at me with disgust and fear..."

Your warm hands cupped his face tenderly. A soft beard laced with gray hair tickled your skin pleasantly. You looked into the eyes of the man who had brought glory to the Empire, and now he sat before you, uncovered and uncertain. All desires were stirring within him and only you could give it purpose.

"I'm sure it will happen, Marcus." you replied "I never thought you were a bad person. Maybe if we had new chances..."

"I will never hurt you, love. I won't let anyone hurt you. I will make you the happiest woman in the world..."

"I know that." you smiled softly.

He leaned carefully towards you. His warm breath touched your lips, and after a moment you tasted them again.

Marcus kissed you tenderly and gently, as if he was afraid that he would lose you again in a moment. But when you kissed him back and your lips parted slightly, he didn't need any more. He immersed himself in you, kissing you passionately, stealing your every breath and almost leaving you breathless.

You were like an antidote to all his pain and fear. The promise of a better tomorrow.

He rested his forehead against yours, sighing softly.

"You make me your servant, and I humbly accept it." he said.

You tangled your fingers in his soft hair and Marcus purred softly.

"I'll talk to the Emperor tomorrow. I can't promise you anything, love."

"That's enough for me. I want to know that I did everything I could for her. I'm leaving our life in your hands, Marcus."

"Don't talk to anyone else about this. Go home." he gave further instructions, looking at you with tenderness. "You must show up at the next gladiatorial games."

"Will you be there too?"

"Yes, I will find you. But listen, you have to be careful now. One wrong move and the Emperor could change his mind. If I can convince him..."

"Thank you for at least trying..."

Marcus stroked your face tenderly.

"If you knew how much I could do for you... Go home. I'll see you soon."

You kissed him one last time and after a while you were escorted to the door by his servant.

The promise to try to save Margo gave you a little hope. You knew you would do anything for her and General Acacius was the only person who could change the Emperor's decision at that moment. Did you also seal your fate? Maybe...

But we will all do anything for the people we love…

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.