I Just Recently Found Your Blog And Am In Love With Everything About It You Are A Very Talented Writer

I just recently found your blog and am in love with everything about it You are a very talented writer and I look forward to your post so I was wondering what you think it would be like sharing a bed with ghost

I Swear I Asked For Two

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; The Classic 'One-Bed' Trope

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in.

Masterlist

"Don't hurt me." Raises her hands in surrender, taking an exaggerated step away from him as the door to their room clicks shut behind them. "I swear I asked for two."

Ghost, bloody and dirty and exhausted, runs a hand down his balaclava-covered face, dropping his bag somewhere near the wall behind him. "Better than the floor." Is all he manages.

Once she's sure she's not in any mortal danger, she shoves back her bag next to him and kneels down, rifling through it. "Wash up first, L.T. I'll go after." There's no response but he must agree because he goes off wordlessly, a testament to how he must be just as exhausted as she was.

12 days. 12 days they had been trekking through this rural town trying to track down a target. The man had infiltrated their chain of command and had been feeding crucial information to the enemy for over a month, information that had led to quite a few of their operations being compromised. Needless to say, once he was found out he had ran in the middle of the night.

A slippery bastard.

Long stretches of land, a lot of camping out and surveying the area. Days and days of hunting this man until he was finally caught. Secured with the unit that had been traveling with them, they'd relinquished their target and been ordered to wait for exfil the next day.

Until then...well, this shady motel would have to do for the night.

They're lucky they were near a town and not in one of the long stretches between them, that much she's grateful for. Even if she didn't completely trust the room's ceiling to cave in while they were sleeping.

Stains on the walls she doesn't want to think about, cracks in the ceiling, and of course, the one queen sized bed pushed back to the far wall.

The bed.

Truthfully she doesn't know how she managed to keep her voice steady before. Her stomach was rolling at the thought of having to share a bed with him. With Ghost. With Simon.

He was...well, she thought he was extraordinary. Capable, brave, and funny in his own way. It hadn't taken long for her to develop some sort of a crush on him.

And now she was supposed to bunk down for a night with him? On that bed? Alone?

She shakes her head, focusing on rifling through her pack to find a spare set of clothes. They'd slept in worse conditions before, this was no big deal.

No big deal at all.

She curses as she finds her other pair of clothes filthy, mud staining the fabric. She'd forgotten about how she had to use them already after an unsavoury encounter with one of the locals.

"Something wrong?" She jumps at the deep voice, head snapping up to see him.

His hands are stripped of his gloves, his tactical vest off and away. A soft t-shirt takes its place, along with sweatpants that she has to make a conscious effort to tear her gaze away from.

This simply wasn't fair. It's like he's making this whole situation ten times harder for her on purpose.

"Negative." She says instead, standing up. "I'll have to make do with these clothes, forgot my spares were filthy." He studies her in that silent way for a beat, before he leans down and rummages through his pack.

Leaving him to do whatever, she pushes open the bathroom door while wondering how quickly her clothes would dry if she ran them under the tap-

"Here."

Ghost holds out a spare shirt to her. Plain black.

His.

"What?" It takes a second for her mind to catch up.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You're filthy. I'd rather not sleep next to someone who smells like shit."

The insult draws an indignant bark of a laugh from her, "I don't stink." She exclaims, snatching the shirt from his grip. "Not as bad as you do."

"Tell yourself that." He deadpans, but she swears she can see a hint of an amused smirk beneath his mask when she slams the door in his face.

Muttering to herself, she cleans up before slipping the shirt on. It's obviously large on her, just skimming the bottom of her thighs. It smells like him, something so distinct and familiar it makes her relax on instinct.

It's a wonder what good a hot shower can do for you.

Ghost is already stretched out on the mattress when she emerges from the room. He spares her a glance, and she visibly sees something like muted interest snap into his eyes even despite his lack of words.

She'd be lying if something in her doesn't preen at the way his eyes subtly follow her across the room.

Neither of them exchange a word as she slips into the covers next to him. Both of them barely fit on the mattress, but neither having the energy to complain. They don't brush against each other but if she shifted they'd definitely touch.

The room was secure, they'd done a thorough sweep and checked the doors and window, all the locks and for cameras. Nothing of interest, so they allowed themselves to let their guard down.

"Sharp 05:00 tomorrow, Sergeant." He says into the dark.

"Copy." She stifles a yawn and they fall into silence.

His heat is unbearable. She can't push the thought out of his mind, the knowledge that he's right there, a fingertip's distance away. She can hear his steady, quiet breath, almost taunting her.

Despite her exhaustion, she stays awake, turning onto her side away from him hoping that the movement would dislodge the thought from her mind. She needed sleep, needed to relax but isn't that impossible with how all she needs to do is lean back a little to touch him-

She huffs silently, turns onto her back again, rustling the sheets.

No, this was bad. Her body's tired but her mind and heart are racing. Traitors.

She shifts onto her side again-

"Fucking hell, will you stay still?" He rumbles, startling her. The gravelly, tired voice shoots straight to her head and if she were standing she's sure she'd have to grab onto something to stay upright.

She mumbles out an apology. "Can't sleep. Little chilly, isn't it?" She bluffs.

When he stays silent, she thinks he may have just accepted the answer. Letting out a shaky exhale, she turns again-

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in. Her body stiffens when she hears her own voice, and she's ready to spring up and apologise, tell him she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, ready to banish herself to sleep on the floor.

But then Ghost hums.

His hand starts to drift. She swallows as he traces a slow path down to where his shirt's hem is, toying with the fabric between his fingers.

Dream, this must be a dream-

He tugs her backward into him, into his warmth and his soothing scent and something about it has her going completely boneless. It felt...comforting. Felt nice to be held. Ghost takes to tracing small circles into her skin, soothing and repetitive. "Relax." He orders, albeit with less of a push.

A shiver runs down her spine as she feels his breath fan over the back of his neck. The bastard notices too, if for the way his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

There's no way Ghost doesn't feel her heart pounding against him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the dark that makes the both of them so bold, but she takes in a shaky breath and reaches for his hand, stilling it in place with her own. They stay like that for a moment, and suddenly the silence isn't as unbearable.

Eventually, her breathing evens out, her eyes become heavy and she finds the tension draining out of her. Nothing would happen to her here, she didn't have to worry about anything right now. Just sleep. Just sleep and the warmth that enveloped her, and why the hell was he so warm and why does she want more of it?

Right before she lets the lull of sleep pull her under, she mumbles a whisper of thanks to him.

She doesn't think she imagines the content sound he lets out in response.

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(2/09/2023)

Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 2

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings and tags: fluff and mild angst

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 1 here!

After another day of dirty, sweaty work, you hurry through your shower and grab two bottles of beer out of the conservator, opening them quickly and heading to the front porch for your nightly rendezvous. Mayday hasn’t arrived yet, which is a first, so you settle in to wait for him. The sun dips lazily below the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold, and then fading into a lavender haze, and finally darkening to a field of deep blue dappled by brilliant points of light as the stars blink into view. You finish your beer slowly, and then drink the second as well, wishing you hadn’t opened it so hastily earlier.

It’s surprising and a little alarming how quickly you’ve adopted your evening conversations with Mayday into your daily routine, and how much you miss it tonight. You can’t help but wonder, What will I do when he leaves?

Eventually, once the evening has fully transitioned to night, you stand with a sigh, stretching your tired muscles and making your way into the house. You can’t stay up and wait forever; tomorrow will be another hard day’s labor, and you are already exhausted. Everyone else has already gone to bed, and the house is as quiet as it can possibly be considering the sheer number of clones currently sleeping in your guest bedrooms.

Just as you turn off your bedroom light and settle into bed, you hear the sound of an approaching speeder bike. You rarely receive guests, particularly not in the middle of the night, so you hop out of bed and cross to your window to peek outside. The vehicle slows to a halt in front of your garden, and the rider dismounts and leans against the bike. 

Mayday. You recognize him immediately. He stares contemplatively at the garden for a while, and then he turns his head and looks directly at you. His movement startles you, and you nearly flinch away from the window before you realize that you are standing in total darkness and there is no way he can see you watching him. Can he?

He stares at your window for a long, long time, until at last, he straightens and walks into the house. You don’t hear him enter, and you don’t hear him go to his bedroom, and at last, you return to your bed and will yourself to sleep, ignoring the quiet voice in your head that asks where he had gone. It’s none of my business, you think, and you almost convince yourself.

Rain begins to fall in a steady drizzle the next morning. By noon, the weather is miserable enough to chase everyone indoors. Hexx and Sunni, enthusiastic hosts that they are, round up the rest of the clones for a loud game with incredibly complex rules. You scan the group but don’t see Mayday, so you slip quietly out the door while they’re all distracted. As you make your way to the barn, you hear a rhythmic scraping sound that piques your curiosity. Warm light spills out of the open doors, beckoning you in from the cold, gray rain.

The barn hasn’t housed animals in decades. Instead, you use it to store your farm equipment and agricultural droids when they’re not at work, and as a place to dry the flowers that you sell in the off-season. The familiar botanical aroma washes over you as you enter, along with something new—something at once strange and nostalgic. When you see Mayday, you slow to a halt just inside the barn. 

He has set up a workstation at the open end of the barn, and as you watch, he runs a hand planer over a large beam of lumber, shaving off flimsi-thin curls of pale wood that flutter to the ground. You immediately identify the fresh lumber as the source of the unknown scent. That slow, rhythmic rasping sound comes again and again as you watch him work, and something about it sends tingles down the back of your neck.

Mayday hasn’t spotted you yet, and you take a moment to appreciate the confident way he moves. His bare hands glide over the wood as he feels for rough and uneven spots, and the muscles of his forearms flex and bulge as he drags the planer across the surface. His movements are hypnotic, mesmerizing. He handles the wood with scrupulous care and attention, and you feel a brief, ridiculous surge of envy toward an inanimate object. He stills abruptly, and you raise your eyes from his hands to see him watching you.

“Hello,” you say, feeling a little foolish that he caught you gawking.

He doesn’t look angry, though, or even amused. He regards you with the same intense focus that he had directed toward his project only a moment before. You lick your lips reflexively, and his gaze drops to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.

“I came to see if you wanted to come in out of the rain,” you say, feeling a little proud that you managed to get the entire sentence out without stuttering, even if your voice catches suspiciously.

He looks briefly out the door to the torrential deluge. “I didn’t even realize it had started raining.”

“It’s been raining for hours,” you say. “Aren’t you cold?”

He smiles at that. “This is nothing compared to Barton IV.”

“What happened on Barton IV?” you ask.

“Nothing good,” he replies. “We were lucky to make it out alive. If I never see snow again, it will be too soon.”

“You should be safe from snow here,” you reply. “Even in the winter, we rarely get anything more than rain. It’s what makes Nakadia such an ideal agricultural planet.”

Ugh, am I seriously talking about the weather right now? you chastise yourself. Still, Mayday looks intrigued as he arranges his tools neatly and walks across the barn to join you. 

“Where are the others?” he asks.

“They’re all inside playing a game,” you reply. 

“I’ve never been one for games,” he comments offhandedly.

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve also never been one for standing out in the rain when there’s a perfectly warm house available.”

“We’re not standing in the rain,” he points out, moving subtly closer to you, close enough that you can smell the vanillin of the sawdust on his shirt; the salt of his skin; and beneath it, the faintest hint of something spicy and warm and a little smoky—something uniquely Mayday.

“True,” you admit.

He frowns and starts to reach for you before pulling back. “But you were. Your hair and clothes are all wet. You should go inside and get warm and dry.”

“Will you come with me?” you ask. He hesitates, and you scramble to add, “We can go in the back and avoid the crowd if you’d rather.”

“Is there somewhere we can go where they won’t find us and drag us into their game?” he asks with a smile.

You shrug. “It’s a big house. I’m sure we can find something.”

“Lead the way,” he replies.

On impulse, you take his hand and tug him along with you, dashing across the field through the downpour. Mayday follows at a more sedate pace, and he slows you down as his fingers tighten around your hand to keep you from slipping away.

“Don’t you know you know you get wetter when you run in the rain?” he asks, his voice laden with amusement.

“But we’ll be out of it and into the warm house sooner this way,” you laugh. “Come on!”

He allows you to hustle him along, and soon the two of you slip quietly into the back of the house and kick off your muddy boots. Uproarious laughter bursts from the front of the house, signaling that the game is still in full swing. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you lead him down the hallway and duck into a room, easing the door closed behind you. You turn to see Mayday surveying the room with astonishment.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“It’s my reading room,” you reply.

His eyes widen as he takes in the bookshelves that line the walls; the soft, overstuffed armchairs; the small wood stove that crackles cheerfully in the corner.

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place,” he says. “At least, not paper ones.”

“Holonovels are wonderful, but there’s something so comforting about a physical book,” you say by way of explanation. “I started collecting them when I was little, and I just never stopped.”

“Have you read them all?” he asks curiously.

You laugh. “I intend to read them all, but I have to admit, there’s an embarrassingly large stack of them waiting for me to find the time. You’re welcome to anything that catches your eye, though.”

His gaze flicks almost imperceptibly toward you before he turns to examine the contents of the shelves. “Which one is your favorite?”

“That would be like asking me to pick a favorite child,” you reply. “I can’t choose just one.”

“Humor me.” His voice is a low rumble.

You pull a well-worn volume off a shelf, and then another, and another. Mayday chuckles as you pass them to him.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through all of these in the time I have left here.”

“You can take them with you, if you’d like,” you offer. “You can give them back at the wedding.”

“You’d trust me with them?” he asks.

You think of the care with which he handled the fire lily, the conscientiousness and respect you witnessed as he worked on the planks of hardwood in the barn.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. 

His hair is wet with rain. A strand has fallen forward, and you raise your hand to brush it out of his eyes, but he stops you, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist.

“Don’t.” 

Startled, you meet his eyes. They blaze with intensity, but he steps back to put a little distance between you. 

“Mayday?” you whisper.

“Don’t do something we’ll both regret,” he says quietly.

“Sorry,” you stammer as mortification floods you. You pull away from him. “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t try to stop you as you retreat and close the door behind you. You hurry to your bedroom, pressing your cold hands against your burning cheeks. How could I have misread the situation so badly? No wonder he would have preferred to stay in the barn.

You don’t bother going to the porch that night. With all the rain, there’s no sunset, anyway.

It’s easy enough to avoid Mayday after that. He keeps to the barn, and you have plenty of work to do elsewhere. You miss watching the sunset each night, but it’s a small sacrifice for your peace of mind. Before many days pass, the wedding preparations are complete. The rest of the wedding party arrives, and your farmhouse is absolutely at capacity, but at least by tomorrow everyone will be gone and you’ll have your farm to yourself again until the wedding day. All that remains now is the rehearsal.

It is awkward as kriff. You subtly keep your distance from Mayday as long as possible, forcing yourself not to look at him. You try to focus on literally everything else: the wedding planner, Sunni’s lovely dress, the way Hexx’s eyes light up when he looks at her, the excited chatter of the other bridesmaids. Anything except him. He doesn’t approach you, either, so at least that makes your life infinitesimally easier, even though it stings.

Unfortunately, you can’t evade him forever, and as the wedding planner hustles the bridal party into position, you brace yourself for impact. Mayday moves to stand beside you, and you meet his eyes briefly. He looks so kriffing handsome, it’s unfair. The late afternoon sunshine glints in his dark curls and lights his eyes in shades of gold. You paste a bland, polite smile on your face as he holds out his hand to take yours. You walk down the makeshift aisle on Mayday’s arm—maid of honor and best man, as bad luck would have it. That unmistakable warm, spicy, smoky Mayday scent washes over you, and you breathe shallowly as you try to ignore it. It’s a simple ceremony, thank the Force, because you are too distracted by trying to appear nonchalant to pay much attention to the officiant’s instructions.

The ceremony is set to take place with the expansive fields of flowers as a backdrop, and at the entrance to the garden, a gorgeous wooden archway has been constructed. You realize with a start that this is what Mayday has been building since he arrived. The workmanship is stunning. Up close, you can see that the entire structure has been crafted to fit together so perfectly that it requires no screws or fasteners.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sunni sighs happily.

You nod, unable to speak.

“I had him install it permanently as a thank you for letting us have our wedding here,” she says with a radiant smile. “Our gift to you.”

Your breath catches as Sunni envelops you in a crushing hug. Wonderful. A perpetual reminder of how badly I messed up with him. Just what I needed.

By supreme force of will, you make it through the rehearsal and the dinner party afterward. The food is beautiful and by all accounts delicious, and you don’t taste a single bite as you eat. After the meal, the group dances and drinks and parties late into the night as tiny lights twinkle in the trees overhead. Veetch pulls you onto the dancefloor and spins you around until you are giggling and dizzy, and for a moment, the ache in your chest eases.

Mayday doesn’t dance, to the visible disappointment of several bridesmaids. He is wrapped up in a discussion with a few other clones—also commanders, if you remember the introductions correctly. You refuse to give into your impulse to eavesdrop on their conversation, instead smiling brilliantly at Veetch, who is both charming and a surprisingly excellent dancer. The music changes to something slow and romantic, and he pulls you closer and settles a hand on your waist.

Because you are not totally devoid of common courtesy, you focus on your dance partner instead of looking back at Mayday. Had you looked, though, you would have seen the way his eyes, unreadable as ever, follow you across the dancefloor as you sway in Veetch’s embrace. Veetch flirts in a harmless, meaningless way that you know better than to take seriously, even if you were interested. Everything about him screams that he’s enjoying the single life and has no intention of giving it up any time soon.

So you dance with him and with Hexx’s other groomsmen, and by the time you stumble, alone, into your bedroom, you are so exhausted that you fall asleep almost immediately. When you awaken, nearly everyone has gone. Hexx and Sunni are still there, but Sunni tells you that Mayday had ordered the men to wake up early and ensure the house was spotless before they departed. Sunni and Hexx only stay long enough to hug you goodbye before they, too, leave for Coruscant, and then you are alone.

Warnings: none, pure fluff<3, proofread but I’m dyslexic so probably some mistakes>:[

Simon Riley is a huge teddy bear

Of course, as everything with Ghost, it takes time. Simon needs to trust you wholeheartedly to let you touch him so intimately. But once you’ve broken through all of his walls? This mountain of a man is literally all over you. This man is touch starved and he will not let you leave him any time soon😤

Simon lives for soft moments with you. At night, when you cuddle him from behind, your soft cheek squished against his muscular back as you cradle him closer to yourself - his nightmares finally go away, leaving Simon in the softest embrace of slumber, him snoring quietly until the noon of upcoming day as your loving hands keep caressing his scarred skin.

Simon was never an affectionate person - avoiding hugs at family meetings, wiping away kisses his mom left on his cheeks and forehead. But only after loosing it all - being lonely for so fucking long - does Simon start appreciating all the small kisses you scatter all over his stubble-covered cheeks, specks of your lipgloss shining in the sunlight.

Simon loves attention, craves it even, he just doesn’t know how to ask for it. But knowing him so well, you just feel when he needs it the most. And the moment your loving arms warp around his strong stoic form? This man melts like a popsicle under hot summer sun. He’s as palpable as plasticine between your fingers - do whatever you wanna do with him just please, give him your love.

And no matter how much Simon grumbles and huffs, he is your teddy bear. All cuddly and lovely, for you and you only<3

can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

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(1/09/2023)

Not a Good Place

Fandom: Bad Times at the El Royale, Miles Miller, f!reader

Word Count: 2967

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Reunion, Nightmares, Mentions of Drug Use,

Note: Thank you to @skvatnavle, @green-socks, and @callsign-phoenix for beta reading for me and giving me the encouragement to finish this fic! 💖 I love you guys!

I tried changing up my writing style a little with this one. Also focused more on descriptions and "showing, not telling" so I would love to know what people think!

As your car rolled to a stop in the parking lot, you looked up at the sign and sighed. The El Royale. You remembered hearing about the gimmicky hotel many years ago when it first opened, but you never once imagined you would ever visit. Honestly, it made little difference to you which state you lodged in for the night so you did not understand the appeal. But you weren’t here for the location.

Turning off the engine, you sat back in your seat. For the entire three-hour drive, you had tried to prepare yourself for what could happen next. Yet after running through every scenario you could possibly think of for how this might go, you still didn’t feel prepared. But there was nothing more you could do now.

As you climbed out of the car, you glanced up at the laden clouds above you. Trying not to take the low rumble of thunder and the ever-darkening sky as an ominous sign, you hurried through the parking lot until you reached the door to the main lodge.

The lobby was completely empty when you entered, with only the soft trickle of the coffee pot in the corner breaking the eerie silence. You stood in the doorway for a few moments, uncertain of what your next move should be. Outside, you noticed the clouds had finally given way and rain was beginning to gently fall. Unless you were planning on getting wet, there was no turning back now.

You approached the counter and rang the bell placed there. Pausing for a moment, you still didn’t hear the faintest hint that someone had heard you. Ringing the bell again with more force, you called out, “Hello? Is there anyone here?” But once again, you were met with silence.

Slowly, you began wandering around the room as you examined the photos on the walls. The smiling faces of some very well-known celebrities stared back at you, but they were all old and out of date. It seemed as if the hotel hadn’t had any guests of note in quite some time.

Just as you were reaching up to brush some dust off of a photo of Dean Martin, you heard a door open behind you and an all too familiar voice exclaimed, “Oh! Forgive me. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

You had tried your best to prepare yourself for this moment, yet at the mere sound of his voice, you were frozen in place. Silently, you cursed yourself for coming but it was too late to change your mind. Turning to face him, you breathed a soft, “Hi.”

You watched his already pale skin go white as all the blood rushed from his face. He stared at you as if seeing a ghost or, worse yet, one of his demons come back to haunt him. But as Miles tried to come to terms with your presence in his place of work, it gave you time to examine him.

He had drastically changed in the two years since you had last seen him. The Miles you had known was strong and brave and confident. Yet the man standing before you now was anything but. He fidgeted nervously as he shifted from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at you. You saw the slight tremor in his hand, his rapid blinking, and the constant bob of his throat as he swallowed anxiously. It broke your heart to see what was left of the man you had once loved….. the man you still loved.

Finally, he managed to stammer, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

You gave him a small smile as you took a few hesitant steps towards the counter. “I came to see you. I heard you were working here now and when I saw the hotel was on my way to visit a friend in California, I had to stop.” You paused before softly adding, “I’ve missed you.”

He stared at you long and hard before shaking and lowering his head. When he looked back up at you, his face had hardened and he bluntly said, “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not- I mean, you can’t stay. You have to leave.”

You were slightly taken aback. You had known there was a chance that Miles may not be as excited to see you as you were to see him, but you had never expected this reaction. Now it was your turn to shift uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… I was in the area and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you again. Even if only for a moment. Miles, I-” You reached out for him, but he quickly withdrew.

Slowly, you lowered your hand as you tried to hide the pain on your face. Now that you thought about it, his reaction made perfect sense. He had rejected and left you two years ago, why would things be any different now?

If he noticed your change in demeanor, he didn’t react to it. Instead, he simply reiterated, “You have to go.”

You nodded softly, knowing now with all certainty that it had been a mistake to come. But there was one other reason you had felt the need to see him. Crossing the rest of the lobby (flinching slightly as he backed away from you), you reached the front desk and laid your hand on the counter. When you removed it, your diamond engagement ring remained.

As Miles inhaled sharply at the sight of it, you whispered, “I needed to come and return this. I guess in the end, it was never meant for me.”

Then you turned to walk out the door when suddenly an earth rattling clap of thunder shook the building, promptly followed by a brilliant flash of lightning. You jumped, letting out a small squeal and ducking your head at the display.

Instantly, you felt a pair of arms encircle your body as Miles drew you into his chest. It felt so comforting and familiar, like coming home after far too long away. Though you were no longer startled by the storm, you buried your face into his neck as you clung to him. If this was the last time he would ever hold you like this, you wanted to treasure every second of it.

He had lost quite a bit of mass since the last time he held you, his hard lines and firm muscles seemed to have withered away leaving only his lean frame beneath. However, you didn’t mind. He was still your Miles and that was all that mattered.

You gazed up at him just as another clap of thunder boomed outside and another streak of lightning lit up the room, briefly casting dark shadows across Miles’s face. You felt him sigh beneath you. “This storm doesn’t seem like it’ll let up any time soon. I guess you better stay after all.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll take the room farthest from the lobby if you prefer. That way I’ll keep my distance from you.”

He softly shook his head, his fingers reaching up to ghost across your cheek. “It’s not you. It’s this place. This is a very bad place, where very bad things happen, and I don’t want you to get tarnished by it.”

“What do you mean? Miles…. Are you in trouble?”

He almost seemed to not hear you as he continued, staring straight ahead with his eyes slightly out of focus. “I’ve done things… I deserve to be here. But not you. Never you. You are too pure for this place.”

“Miles-”

But then he seemed to come back to himself as he shook his head and cut you off. “Take room one. It’s, uh, it’s the honeymoon suite but that way I’ll be right close by if you need anything.”

You nodded as you took the key from his outstretched hand. Wrapping your fingers around the red, Nevada-shaped keychain, you drew it close to your chest. “Thank you. And I’m sorry again. I shouldn’t have come. But I’ll leave first thing in the morning so as to not cause you any more trouble. After that….. I guess it’ll be goodbye.”

You gazed longingly at his face one last time before turning and hurrying towards the door once more. Just as you reached for the shiny gold handle, you heard the faintest whisper of your name followed by a soft, “Sleep well, my angel.”

The room was larger and nicer than any you had ever stayed in before. There was a hot tub and couch in the small living area when you first walked in, but you quickly walked past both without giving them a second glance. Placing your bag on the floor next to the opulent bed, you hurried to the large mirror stretched across the far wall.

Though your room was the nearest to the lobby, the storm had still soaked you on your short trip here. Examining your appearance in the mirror, you sighed heavily. You had tried to look your best for when you saw Miles again, but now your previously perfectly coiffed appearance more closely resembled how you were feeling inside. Dark, smudged mascara ran down your cheeks, giving the not-so-inaccurate allusion you had been crying. Your soaked hair clung to your face as water dripped in puddles around you. And for the first time, you realized that Miles wasn’t the only one whose appearance had changed since he left.

Staring deeply into the mirror, you wondered how things could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Miles never talked about what had happened overseas. All that you knew about that time you had learned from his desperate pleas in the middle of the night as you tried to wake him from his torturous nightmares. Every night since the day he returned home to you, it would be the same ritual. He would stay up as long as possible, fearing what he would see when he closed his eyes. And when he would inevitably succumb to his exhaustion, he would begin screaming and crying mere hours later as he was unable to wake from the terrors that were bombarding him. You would then cup his face in your hands as you tried desperately to coax him awake with soothing words of love and reminders that what he was seeing was no longer real. Some nights he would snap out of it immediately, while others were an arduous struggle to bring him back to consciousness.

Then one night, everything had gone wrong. Miles was fighting more than normal and as you tried to comfort him, his hand shot out and struck you firmly across the face. You fell back as he opened his eyes to see you clutching your cheek, your tear-filled eyes staring back at him. You tried to reassure him that it was just an accident, that he hadn’t truly harmed you in any way. But later that day he had left, and you hadn’t seen him since.

You were so lost in the past that, at first, you didn’t even realize you had started crying, your tears mixing seamlessly with the rain still scattered on your skin. Yet it soon became impossible to not realize as your shoulders began to tremble, and a sob tore from your lips. You caught a brief glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and the sight just made you sob harder. With your arms wrapped tightly across your chest, you managed to stumble to the bed, and you curled your body into a tight ball.

Moments later, the soft click of the lock turning on the door barely registered through your sobs. Yet there was no way to miss the way the bed sunk down as someone climbed into it with you or when a pair of lean arms wrapped around your shaking form. Without a second thought, you rolled over and clung to Miles. He drew you in tighter as one hand rested on the back of your head while the other clutched tightly at the back of your blouse, his fingers digging into the damp material. You didn’t know how he knew to come or how he got in, but all you cared about was the feeling of his skin on yours, inhaling his faint scent as you buried your face deeper into his neck. It had been so long since you had felt this safe or this relaxed and you craved even more.

He had removed that hideous jacket from before and was now only wearing his ill-fitting short-sleeved button-down that swamped his slim frame. You ran your hand down his arms but then froze as you noticed something. Before he could stop you, you lifted the edge of his sleeve to reveal the crook of his arm. His skin there was darkly bruised and littered with a multitude of small, scabby holes. While you had no personal experience with this, you knew enough to recognize the marks for what they were.

As far as you knew before he had left you, Miles had never even smoked a cigarette, let alone done something like this. Yet, based on the number of marks on his arm and the condition of his skin, it was obvious that had changed quite some time ago.

Glancing up at his face, tears in your eyes, you whimpered, “Oh, Miles. What have you done?”

His gaze lingered on the sheets between you as he muttered, “It’s the only way I can sleep. The only way I don’t dream. I can’t- I won’t hurt anyone again because of my dreams and if this is the only way to make sure that doesn’t happen….. It’s just like how you were the one good thing in my life, but I would have rather let you go than ever cause you pain again.”

You looked at him sadly as your lip began to tremble. “But you did cause me pain. Don’t you know the sorrow and the agony I’ve lived with every day since you left? How I still wake each morning aching for you like a lost limb? That for the first few seconds when I stir back into consciousness, I forget that you left, and I have to relive it every morning. Knowing that I failed you-”

“Never!” His eyes shot to yours as his hands reached up to cup your face. “You could never fail me! Even when I begged you to go, you stuck by my side while I was too weak to leave. I’m just sorry it took me hurting you to finally do what was right.”

“Leaving me behind was never the right thing to do, Miles. And I think, deep down, you know that.” He hesitated for a moment before he nodded, tears filling his eyes. You smiled softly and ran your fingers through his hair. “Good. Now, how are we going to fix that?”

He shook his head, “There’s nothing we can do. I can’t leave this place. I’ve done terrible things for the owners of the hotel and they have proof. If I try to go, they’ll use it against me, and then we still won’t be able to be together.”

Without hesitation, you said, “Then I’ll stay here.”

“No!” Miles said firmly. “I told you, this place is not meant for someone like you. Sweetheart…. you were always my angel, and I will not drag you down to Hell with me.”

You smiled at him before placing a soft kiss on his brow. “Miles, I’ve been apart from you for two years and I would rather live eternity in Hell by your side, than spend one more day in Paradise alone. So, if this is where you are, then this is where I want to be too. No matter the cost.”

It was only then that his first tears began to trickle down his face. “Please… think about what you’re asking. You know my demons already and now with this-” he gestured to his arm “-I may not be the same person who you knew before.”

“I have thought about it. Before coming here, I told myself if there was even the smallest chance you still wanted me, I would take it. So please, don’t make me walk away.”

 He stared at you for a moment before softly bobbing his head. “Okay…. okay.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes. I can’t lose you again either. Not when I know that you can still love me after everything.”

“Miles, no matter what happens, I will never stop loving you.”

He cupped your face and drew you close. As his lips brushed against yours, your heart swelled in your chest. It was awkward (the two of you still laying on your sides on the bed) and hesitant, yet his lips still felt like home after all of this time. His hand slid behind your head until it grasped the back of your neck and he drew you in closer. Some of his newfound timidness fell away and you caught a glimpse of your old Miles. The one from before the war, the one who had first won your heart all those years ago. Beneath the broken shell he had become lay the soul of the man you loved. And at that moment, you knew despite all the difficulties that may lay ahead of you, it was going to be okay.

Miles pulled away from you for just a moment as he reached into the pocket of his trousers. With a soft smile, he pulled out the engagement ring you had returned less than an hour before. As he took your hand, he whispered, “And you were wrong. It could never be meant for anyone else.” 

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @ed-baldwin, @lacontroller1991, @lorecraft, @green-socks, @skvatnavle, @mayhem24-7forever, @hederasgarden, @callsign-phoenix, @lt-natrace, @wildbornsiren, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

heya! I'm not sure if your requests are closed, and by no means do I hope to overwhelm you further with more requests :'D feel free to ignore this especially bc it's more of a negative request aaa

so as context: sometimes I zone out and due to my childhood I will flinch if I see a movement coming at me which at the time I thought was understandable/normal but my bf has already expressed his disappointment every time I flinched or denied physical affection and left me being the one who apologizes for a reflex and I was wondering how the batch (platonically) would react to the reader (preferably female) telling them that story if the reader was the batch's bffs or smth? :'D (plus Cody if that's okay!) I'd be curious to know if they would just try to calm me down or if they would try to encourage me to get that specific thing fixed maybe?

argh I'm so sorry for the long ass text cRIES

again no pressure whatsoever with this waaah

Aloha! 😊

Interesting question. Personally, I think personal space should always be respected, no matter how close we are with someone. In a relationship, most people tend to loving physical contact in many different forms, and I see how this reaction can be surprising or off-putting for some. But with a little empathy and patience, that really shouldn't be a problem for a partner to get used to and accept. If my partner is jumpy with such reflex reactions, I should be able to adjust. There is a reason for this reaction and I think you shouldn't be, or feel pressured to apologize for it. All in all, communication (and an understanding, open mind) is key, as it almost always is. Then there is also the option to try and get that out of your system, so to speak. Therapy might help, it's worth a try or two. After all, it would possibly make things easier for you as well, giving you more comfort in everyday life. Easier said than done, I know. But that's just my two cents. Either way, I'm wishing you all the best 😊 Let's see...

The Bad Batch/Cody x Reader HCs - The Flinch

Warnings: Implied Trauma / Traumatic Reflex Reaction

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Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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>Masterlist<

Hunter

It can happen casually, maybe he doesn't really think about it, just wants your attention for a moment, but you are busy, and your mind is elsewhere. A brief touch on the shoulder, innocent, gentle, without ulterior motives. Still, you flinch and turn around so quickly, startled, that he flinches briefly himself.

Hunter in no way intended to scare you or offend you, he would never do that consciously. Of course, he apologizes, you are close friends, he knows your past that you confided in him.

"I should have known better, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He is patient, gentle and forgiving. Hunter tries his best to be sensitive to you and respect your boundaries. He is careful in his interactions with you, considerate.

Echo

The first time it happens, he is so startled by your reaction that he backs away and looks at his hand as if he expects to see it red-hot, or spiked. He blinks a few times, then says, "Sorry, did I scare you?"

Whether you confide in him or not, Echo will never hold it against you. He can understand that your reaction has a background, and he can respect that you don't want to share it with him. This does not change the fact that he will take it into consideration.

He sometimes seems strict and so serious, but he has an antenna for the sensitivities of others. It is in his nature to be considerate.

Wrecker

He is a bit impetuous and very affectionate. Scaring you or triggering a reaction is never his intention, but it can still happen quite a few times. You can speak openly with Wrecker, he is happy to listen to you, he is understanding even if you don't tell him everything.

He will always apologize if it still happens accidentally, and he will never blame you for these reactions. He will rather make sure that others around you respect your personal space as well.

Tech

He is not a particularly physical guy. On the contrary, Tech values his personal space and usually respects that of others around him. In combat, this may not be possible at times, but in general everyday life, Tech tends to keep a polite distance.

If he does trigger that automatic flight or defensive reaction, he apologizes immediately, and you can assume it won't happen again. He himself is not a fan of surprising touches, which is why he doesn't like Wreckers' little nudges at all and usually lets them pass with rolling eyes or critically furrowed brows.

Crosshair

As almost always, his first reaction is a bit grumpy. He doesn't immediately understand what's going on, but he's a good observer and a bright guy. Of course, he notices that you have these reactions more often, even with other people.

Crosshair reads your body language and realizes that this is a learned, habitual reflex reaction. He understands that there is a real, possibly deep-seated reason behind it. Of course, he adapts, even if he doesn't like to admit it, he can be considerate and very understanding.

So you don't have to worry about him. He certainly doesn't respect or appreciate you less than before because of that. In fact, it awakens a certain protective instinct in him.

Cody

At first, he is surprised, but he is neither offended nor annoyed. But he is attentive. As a soldier, he's learned to read body language, to interpret reactions, and even though you might not say anything about it, Cody understands pretty quickly what makes you tick.

You can count on him to pay attention to that in the future. You don't have to apologize to him, you can just be yourself and relax. Cody is always a safe haven.

He also won't let other people maybe cause you problems because of it. Anyone who teases you about it or makes fun of you should be prepared to get in trouble.