**CW: My secondary blog is dedicated to dark content!! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Dark romance, Taboo, smut, omegaverse, teratophilia, monsters, hybrids, mostly dedicated to fanfic but may occasionally contain original works, explicit, 18+, MDNI
**CW: My Tertiary (Third) blog is dedicated to monster content!! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Taboo, smut, some fluff/romance, omegaverse, teratophilia, monsters, hybrids, this is a niche blog, mainly erotica, some fluff/romance, dedicated to original works and commissions only, explicit, 18+, MDNI
(CW!! Complete Masterlist is mixed content from all three of my blogs. More about blogs below.)
Complete Masterlist
** Interested in Requests or commissions? See below! (Payment is always optional. Commissions for original works only. Fanfiction requests will always be free.)
Request Rules
** You can also find me elsewhere!
🔗 https://www.linktr.ee/Alkalinewtr
Divider credits: @cafekitsune
** Thank you for allowing the use of your resources. Please go support their work. Like, follow, re-blog.
Still thinking about ghost in the [24-hour diner] that reader works at...
The strange man becomes....not a regular, but a frequent visitor. Comes in twice a week or once a month. Always pays in cash, always heavily overpays. Always when you're on staff.
You've taken to calling him ghost because he dissappears so often. He laughed his ass off the first time you called him that, said you had perfect instincts. Whatever that means.
Without fail, whenever he comes in you're already calling out to the back "code ghost!" Long before he sits down. By this point patty just starts making whatever. Ghost will eat anything and money is never an issue.
He always ends with a vanilla milkshake. Cute.
It's just....today is the one day you don't want to see ghost.
He notices it instantly. The tight press of your lips, the wet sheen in the corner of your eyes. How you don't say hi the second he walks in.
"Whats wrong, kid?" He asks, sitting right in front of you instead of at his usual seat. You purse your lips, try to stop yourself from choking out the words.
"Nothing. It's silly." It still comes out weak, forced, and you take a breath before trying again. "Just....boy trouble. Really thought he loved me, yknow?"
Which is silly, of course ghost doesn't know. He doesn't seem like he's ever even locked pinkies with someone in the last century. you continue at his grunt, tears welling again "well, he said loved me. Just...not enough to stay loyal. I guess."
Ghost makes a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat "want him dealt with?"
...
....what.
"What?! Like...dead? No. No, not–" the sheer absurdity of the statement and the tiny voice in your head telling you ghost is serious is enough to snap you out of your mind. "No! I don't want him dead!"
"Not what I said." Ghost grumbles, but pulls the usual cash from his backpack anyways. He lets you calm down while he eats what you assume is a hundred pancakes.
At the end, ghost asks for two vanilla milkshakes. He passes the second to you, and urges "just fuckin' relax a bit, kid. Life's too short and meaningless to worry about some bloke."
Ghost x reader
Description: Reader struggles with her boredom being stuck alone with Soap.
Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Ghost x fem!reader, 141 x reader, survivor!reader, Graves x fem!reader, angst
WC: 1k
My Masterlist
** Here it is as promised!! Thank you to everyone for their patience. I know I have had a terrible track record with consistency here. Despite that I've still somehow doubled the size of my tag list and for that I am extremely grateful. I want you to know, if you even bother reading this, that I write with my entire being, I think about my readers all the time, and my blog is so important to me. I just moved into my first apartment! So, I have much more free time and motivation to keep writing. I will not let y'all down! I have plenty of ideas, and as soon as this story is done, I will be doing a complete revision and publishing it in full somewhere... Wattpad, ao3 maybe? Here?? IDK but, I hope you like it. I'm having some issues with my laptop at the moment, which is why this wasn't posted sooner, but I promise Chapter 9 will be done very soon. Enjoy.
PS - I've set up a Ko-Fi to hopefully get into doing some commissions or freelance services. If that is something you guys are interested feel free to check it out! I love what I do and have every intention in building my presence here. >> Kofi link
If you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist please, let me know.
<< PART 1 / << PART 7
The hours dragged on. The fact that you'd made it to dusk without banging your head on a tree from pure boredom was a miracle.
You were now sitting opposite Soap. The fire was dying down to embers. Most of the day was spent quietly and alone, pacing around the campsite, unpacking and repacking your bags, and counting your ammo more times than necessary. There truly was nothing to do here besides sit under a tree and wait.
"Hungry?"
Soap asks, moving to sit beside you.
"Not really."
You shrugged. Soap had tried a few times to strike up a conversation with you, but you weren't interested in what he had to say. It was probably unfair of you to judge him so harshly. However, his anger towards Phillip was off-putting. At least he seemed lighter today. He often flashed you a goofy grin while he picked at the tree bark and kicked around leaves.
Man, were you both bored. The campsite, if you could even call it that, consisted of a makeshift fire pit Price had dug. Just small enough to warm up next to or use for light. And a couple of sleeping bags.
You remained sitting on the ground, tying two blades of grass together. The sun was almost set, and since it was only the two of you, Soap decided not to risk drawing attention by keeping the fire going. So, once the last bit of light was gone, you'd have nothing else to do but sleep.
You dropped the blades of grass back in the dirt and stood up, dusting off your hands.
"I'm going to use the bathroom before it gets too dark."
You say, taking the little black flashlight from your pocket and heading towards a cluster of trees.
"Holler if ye need me."
Soap replied.
You carefully pushed your way past a few bushes, making sure you were completely out of view, and set the flashlight up against the tree trunk before working to unbuckle the belt at your waist. Squatting in the bushes was less than ideal, but who'd have known that luxuries such as toilets wouldn't be as readily available at the end of the world? Just another thing people took for granted, you thought.
You finished and struggled to force yourself back up with shaky knees from the awkward squatting position you'd been in. As you readjusted your waistband and buckled the belt back into place, the flashlight went out.
"No, no, no."
You grabbed it and smacked it against your palm a few times.
"Shit!"
You hissed.
Luckily, the bit of dim skylight left was enough for you to get back to Soap without too much trouble. But the flashlight had been handy up until now. Without it, you have one less aid in your survival.
The flashlight was suddenly plucked from your hands.
"Thought I told you not to drain the battery."
Said a deep voice that had you jumping out of your skin. You'd known that voice. The fear you'd felt just a second ago turned to anger.
You turned to face the man in the darkness. You could just barely see the white of his mask tower over you.
"Why are you sneaking up on girls in the woods?"
You say snatching the flashlight back from him. It was all you could come up with in the moment. How was Ghost here? Out of everywhere he could have possibly gone he somehow managed to run into you again.
"What are you even doing here? How'd you find me?"
Ghost let out an annoyed yet amused huff.
"That's assuming I was looking for you."
He walked off in the direction of Soap and the camp.
Turning on your heels, you snapped at him,
"Hey! You don't get to do that!"
So many times, you'd thought about what you would say to him if you came face to face with him again... But the cold, uncaring way he was reacting made you draw a blank.
Ghost finally turned as you stammered, trying to think of anything to say. He stepped up to you, his chest just inches from yours. Your lips never pressed together so fast because, despite your anger, this man was intimidating.
"Do what?"
All your mind could conjure up was the feeling of being left alone in that house. Watching Ghost walk out with his back to you. And the fear you felt when he'd suddenly vanished from the street.
The words hardly had time to form before you were saying them.
"You left me... You left me after I begged you to stay, pleaded for you to give me a chance. You left."
Your voice cracked a bit as the anger and sadness melded together. Ghost's eyes stayed on you, unmoving, unblinking.
"Still alive, aren't ya?"
Is that all he could say? The emotions were stomped down by disbelief. Packed into your gut in the most unsettling way.
You didn't have the words to express the disappointment you felt. Of course, you'd expect someone as emotionally constipated as Ghost to act indifferent. To pretend not to care. But this was truly a sociopathic level of contempt.
"I was terrified. And you abandoned me."
You say softly.
The words were forced out of your lungs as your mind settled into nothingness. That angry edge in your voice was replaced with an emotion you can't quite name.
You were too tired to even continue this discussion anymore. There was no winning this argument. He didn't care. He's made that crystal clear. Ghost could hear the hurt and see it in the way your expressionless eyes fell away from his.
Finally, he lets out a deep sigh as if he were about to spill all his thoughts. Apologize and tell you he made a mistake. Was that what you wanted?
Then... he doesn't.
He doesn't say anything as he turns and heads further into camp. That was it then.
You followed behind him. Defeated.
Soap was surprised to see Ghost's stature in the last light of day and not yours. He stood immediately. Moving forward like his brain was still trying to determine if what he was seeing was real. Ghost let out a gruff,
"Johnny."
Did Ghost even care that he hadn't seen his friends in so long? Was he really such a cold-hearted man? If he didn't care so much, then why even help you at all? Maybe he should have left you to die on that street in the first place.
You found your place under a tree, back pressed to the bark. Meanwhile, Soap and Ghost were sitting together just feet away.
It was the friendliest you'd ever seen him. Successfully holding up a conversation with another person, making eye contact, if you hadn't been right there to witness it yourself, you probably would've never believed it.
When Soap finally went off to bed, you remained where you were. The anger still simmered in your chest. There was a tension that kept your mind moving.
You knew sleeping tonight was hopeless.
Resting your head back on the tree, the rough bark prickled your scalp, catching strands of your hair. You watched the stars twinkle between the branches above you. It was too dark now to look at much else anyway.
After some time, heavy footsteps found their way in your direction. With a groan, a large weight sat beside you. Of course, you knew who it was, but you paid him no mind.
"Seems you made it out alright."
Ghost says.
It was like he was trying to convince you that your anger was unjustified with his nonchalant response. Maybe to him it was, but you knew better.
When you didn't respond, Ghost looked at you.
It was too dark to see, but you could feel the way his eyes bore into you.
"I... followed the smoke. Wasn't following you."
You lifted your head.
"Must be pretty disappointed then."
You kept your head pointed up at the sky. Ghost was quiet. The silence was long. You had no expectations for this chat. Whatever his intention was didn't matter.
Obviously, he wasn't planning to apologize.
Finally, Ghost spoke again.
"Thanks for finding my team... Glad you're not dead."
With that, he stood and walked off to find his own spot for the night.
You watched his silhouette in the darkness. Something about the half-assed statement stuck with you. Why would he be thanking you? What did he mean by that? Whatever it was, you knew you wouldn't get the answers from him.
The next morning, like every other since this whole thing started, was peaceful. Well, only for a moment before your consciousness kicked in and reminded you of your inevitable doom.
With a sigh, you pushed away the thoughts of existential dread and pulled yourself off the ground. Your hips were stiff from lying too long in the same position.
You lean back and forth a bit to loosen up your muscles. The sun crept through the tree branches warming up your cheeks in small splotches. Soap and Ghost were already sitting around the beginnings of a fire. Ghost watched silently as Soap lay prone blowing at the kindling.
You kept to yourself the majority of the morning, combing through your hair with your fingers, organizing equipment, and beating as much dirt from your clothes as you could before hanging them in the sun to kill off bacteria. It wasn't ideal, but without a water source nearby it was the best you could do.
Footsteps grew closer as you worked to knot a thin rope between two trees. Your best attempt at making a clothesline.
"Need help?"
You clenched your teeth together deciding whether or not to respond. The truth was you did need help. You'd been doing and undoing the knot on this rope for what felt like an hour trying to get the tension right. Maybe when Philip gets back you'll add that to the lessons you need him to teach you
"No."
It was quiet for a moment as you scratched at the knot with your chipped fingernails. The rope once again had too much slack but this time it wasn't budging.
You could feel Ghost's eyes on you. Watching you struggle with the rope.
Finally, Ghost stepped forward pushing you aside. You would've protested, but the sight of him flipping the bottom of his mask up over his nose stopped you in your tracks.
He leaned down to pull the knot free with his teeth. He tugs the rope tighter and ties it back around the trunk.
You hadn't seen much of his face. Especially not under this much light. Right now you have a clear look at his soft jaw adorned in a blonde stubble. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in a while.
Your gaze followed a scar down his crooked nose, to his Adam's apple, bobbing slightly with each swallow. Ghost pulled the mask back in place and stepped back. You almost thanked him. A polite habit. But you stopped yourself. You were still angry. If he didn't care then neither would you.
"Heated some food over the fire... If you're hungry."
You keep your back to him as you smooth a shirt over the line.
"No thanks."
A pause followed. You couldn't see his face but part of you hoped he was thinking about an apology. But,
"You haven't eaten."
Is all he said.
"I did. This morning."
You lean down to pick up another shirt folding it over the tight rope and smoothing over it with your palms.
"No you haven't."
You turn to face him. Just standing there eyes bore into you expressionless. Why was he paying so much attention to what you do?
"So what? Are you watching me now? Thought you wanted to be alone."
You turn back to your clothes line adding a pair of tall socks.
"You weren't stranded. You had food, a gun-"
"Yeah! One I couldn't even shoot!"
You snapped turning around to face him the anger rising in you again. If he wasn't going to take accountability why bother bringing it up?
"I pleaded with you, and you didn't care! You were content in leaving me there alone. All you care about is yourself, I mean you even said it too."
"I care."
His tone is sharp. Angry. You keep quiet leaving him the space to continue.
But, once again, he doesn't.
It's so frustrating trying to talk to him. Just when it seems he's about to open up he just closes off again.
"Eat. Or don't. Doesn't matter to me."
He stalks off back to the fire where Soap is roasting something on a stick. You turn back to your laundry. It didn't make sense to you for Ghost to be so mad. He seemed frustrated that you weren't reciprocating his attempts to be friendly with you. Almost like he wanted to make up. Not like he was putting any effort into apologizing.
You pushed thoughts of Ghost away and allowed your mind to wander back to Phillip.
You missed him. Without him around you felt defenseless. Alone. At least he was teaching you. He had your back. He wanted you to survive. And most importantly he wanted you around. Now that he was gone you were just surrounded by strangers.
It worried you even more now with Ghost here at the campsite. The guys were off looking for Ghost, and unless they come back soon, they aren't going to find him.
You hoped Philip was okay, and definitely wished phones were still working, you'd have a way to know if he was. There wasn't much here to distract from the anxiety you were feeling since they'd left. You were holding out for the trio's safe return. Strangers or not, you couldn't handle any more people dying.
Another night passed. Luckily this time, Ghost had let you be.
You slept as long as your body would allow. Time moved faster when you were asleep. And there were far fewer minutes to count. The boredom might actually be one of the worst parts about the end of the world.
It had to have been early afternoon by the time you woke to the sound of tires crunching through the layer of duff around you. It didn't take long for you to be on your feet. Adrenaline sobering you from sleep.
The familiar truck pulled in between a couple of trees before the engine cut. Gaz was the first out swinging a rifle over his shoulder. Phillip next with Price stepping out from the opposite side.
Ghost stood as he noticed the captain get out of the truck. It was obvious that this reunion wasn't taken lightly. Though they didn't seem the type to indulge in some sappy moment.
Price clapped a hand to Ghost's shoulder and smiled at him.
"Glad to see you in one piece."
Ghost gave him a nod and Gaz made his way to the pair to give Ghost his own greeting.
You turned away from the men to Philip with a grin. It may have seemed a bit overly eager but you practically ran to close the distance between you throwing your arms around his neck.
"You're okay."
You mutter into his shoulder.
"Don't seem so surprised."
Philip laughs. When you peel yourself away from him you can see Ghost watching the two of you. You almost want to speak up until Philip interrupts your thought.
"Hey. I got something for you."
You raised an eyebrow as he leaned into the passenger door and fished something from the glove box.
"I know the world is a bit bullshit right now..."
Philip wipes off a bit of dust before placing the object in your hands. It's a journal. A smooth navy blue cover with a strap to hold the pages shut.
"Yeah... a bit."
You chimed in sarcastically. Philip chuckled. He was no stranger to the severe understatement in his words.
"Yeah. Well, I thought this way... You could control the narrative. Write the ending you want for yourself."
Tears threatened to spill over your waterline at Philips' words. You turned the leather-bound book over in your hands. You hadn't been expecting anything at all, the gift was more thoughtful and beautiful than you could have imagined.
"Thank you."
You say softly. Your brows knitted together trying to understand what you'd done to deserve this.
"And of course..."
He reaches into his back pocket to pull out a packaged pair of ink pens.
"It's beautiful."
You say finally
"Don't mention it."
Philip squeezes your shoulder and slides the pens into your hand.
"Come on."
He nods ushering you away from the truck.
With the camp full of arms now, the men decided that it was worth the risk to leave the fire going tonight.
The sun had gone down about an hour ago and the orange glow of the flames cast shadows around the small clearing in the trees your group had occupied.
Now that Philip was back, and it was no longer just you and Soap, that anxiety that had been gnawing at your gut settled.
Philip walked over to you his hands full with two steaming cans. You were sitting under your tree, the furthest you could get from the group while remaining safely in their line of sight.
The journal Philip had gifted you sat open in your lap just a few scribbles on the first page.
"Hungry?"
He asks finding a seat in the dirt beside you.
"Thanks."
You take a can from his hand, surprised to see something other than soup for once.
"How's the writing?"
Philip asks. You take a bite of the savory beans in the can. You couldn't bring yourself to put anything on the paper, the pages were too pristine to mess up with your thoughtless ramblings.
"Don't really know what to say."
You admitted. Swallowing your bite.
Philip looks ahead at the group feet away, sitting at the campfire. Each of them looked more relaxed than they had since you met them. Save for Ghost who still sat with a tension, like he was ready to beat the crap out of the next guy that looked at him funny.
"Just write anything that comes to mind."
You shook your head.
"My words need to mean something."
Philip didn't respond as he picked at his food.
"Then write about the important stuff."
You took in his suggestion. What was important enough to write? There were a lot of things that you felt were important, but what would it matter to anyone else?
You listened to the distant chattering of the men mixed with the soft sounds of crickets. It was nice to know, that even in a world so empty, it wasn't all silent.
You thought about it more as the two of you ate. You wanted whatever you wrote down to be important enough that anyone else could pick up your journal and feel like what they read mattered.
Philip nudges your arm.
"Big boy with the skull mask hasn't looked away from you since I got here."
You followed his nod to Ghost whose gaze shamelessly, never wavered from the two of you.
"Guess they really dislike you."
You say tearing your eyes away from his intense stare. Philip shakes his head.
"I don't think it's me he's looking at."
You scoff.
"Well, I don't know what he'd be looking at me for."
Philip thought for a moment before leaning in a bit.
"What happened between you? You said he was with you before."
You look at Philip his eyebrow raised in question.
"I don't know. I- I just didn't want to be alone... But I guess he didn't want me in his way."
Philip wraps an arm around your shoulder in a friendly gesture pulling you into his side.
"You're not in anyone's way."
You keep your eyes trained between your knees on the ground below you. He was always so kind. It was hard to imagine that anyone else here would think otherwise.
"Philip? Why were they so mad at you? When we stopped them on the road?"
He sucks his teeth searching for the best way to respond.
"Let's just say... The captain and I had a difference in opinions."
The answer was vague, but you guessed it made sense. From what you'd seen Price liked to be in charge, and Graves certainly wasn't the type to just lie down and take it. They were bound to have some pushback.
"Well... It's stupid. Holding a grudge and all."
Philip sighed.
"It doesn't matter much now. The past is the past. Can't change any of it... You should get some sleep."
He changes the subject before you could think of pushing the conversation any further.
"You're right. I am a bit tired."
Philip smiled standing up.
"Goodnight, sweetheart."
He starts to walk away.
"Night."
You replied shortly.
Philip was right. The past didn't matter now. If these men were unwilling to overlook something as trivial as a disagreement in opinion, then you and Philip would be better off just going it alone.
Then again. Maybe you were no different.
You settled under the tree your backpack crushed underneath you to support your head.
If you ever expected the group to overlook their differences with Philip maybe you'd have to learn to do the same with Ghost.
PART 9 >>
Tag list
@yourfavbabigirl @keiraslayz @dcnocap207 @nicolebarnes @jupiternighties @misspendragonsworlds @etherealinthewoods @shadowcompanygirl @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @xxsithisxx @mad-die @igotshot @nbdblogger @msmongoose
It had been a few weeks since you’d seen your husband. John had been gone on a mission, and now that he was home, you couldn’t wait to see him. It took some convincing to pull him away from his mountain of paperwork. But how could he say no to that low-cut top and bright, glossy lipstick?
His beard scratched your cheek as he kissed your neck,
“God, I’ve missed ya,”
he breathed against your sensitive skin, sitting you on the edge of his desk.
“I missed you too, ‘Captain.”
you teased, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He moved to pull it off, and you tossed his hat on the floor. Your fingertips explored his muscular chest, combing through the dark hair trailing down his stomach.
John’s calloused hands pushed under your shirt, grazing the soft skin. You worked at his belt as his hands kneaded your breast through the fabric of your bra.
Bang.
He was halfway undressed when the door flew open.
“Oi! Price, have you seen-”
You both froze and John grasped at his pants, now loosely sitting at his knees.
Gaz went pale, stammering at the sight. John grunted.
“…Kyle,”
he said slowly, voice flat.
“Get out.”
Gaz turned away, staring at his shoes.
“Of course. Sorry, Cap… Sorry.”
He stepped out of the room, leaving to door wide open in his haste.
“Shut the door!”
John’s voice boomed, full of irritation and embarrassment.
“Sorry!”
Gaz called, slamming it behind him.
You couldn't hide the smirk on your face as John closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. There was a long silence. He shook his head.
“I’ll never live this down.”
You chuckled, cupping his scruffy cheeks in your hands.
“Neither will he.”
A muffled voice came from beyond the door.
“Didn't see a thing!”
Kyle exclaimed, unconvincingly. John huffed
“Next time, we’re puttin’ a sock on the door.”
You shrugged.
“Or a sign? ‘Private Briefing.”
John smirked and leaned forward, his palms resting on either side of you.
“Oh, I'll brief you, alright.”
You smacked his arm playfully as he kissed you again.
** Been busy with school, so I’m cleaning out my drafts. I didn’t proofread this, but it’s something I guess. Enjoy!
It was one of those rare mornings, the rain tapped against the window, sheer curtains pulled over to dull the grey sky as it lights the room. You and Simon were tangled together by your limbs. A sheet woven between them. Simon’s calloused hand ran over your skin. Warmth radiated from each fingertip as he caressed your side.
Suddenly he paused leaning in to squint at you.
“what’s this?”
He asked, smoothing his thumb over a spot on your chin.
“Huh?”
Your fingers came up to touch the spot confused.
“Looks like a scar.”
He explained rubbing at it again with the pad of his thumb. His brows were furrowed almost like he’d been trying to figure out when it had appeared and why he hadn’t seen it before.
“Maybe an acne scar?”
You shrugged. Simon grunted.
“Too pretty to be marked up like that.”
You chuckled, a small blush forming on your cheeks.
“Yeah, well I’ve got plenty. Maybe not as many as you, but…”
Simon scoffed,
“No way you’d have more than me.”
He shifted onto his back and raised his arms in the air twisting them around to show of the glittering slivers of silver littering his skin.
“This one here, I got from some airborne shrapnel after an explosion.”
He points to his forearm were a thin line ran across it. The scar was clearly old and faded.
“And this here from a bullet.”
He says pointing to a circular scar on his shoulder.
“Got quite a few of those.”
He smirks. You smile propping yourself up on your elbow.
“Well mine aren’t as spectacular. I got this one here after a nasty fall while riding my bike as a kid.”
You say pointing to a barely visible pink patch of skin on your knee.
“Road rash. Burned like hell and I couldn’t bend it for 2 weeks.”
Simon smiled taking in the sight in amusement. His eyes flitted back up to yours.
“And this is from the time I got bit by a dog.”
You say pointing out a small oval shaped scar on your hand. The scar was so old it hand blended into your knuckles and if you’d never pointed it out even Simon, as observant as he is may not have ever noticed.
“Well, not all my scars came from battle.”
Simon says offering you his hand, between his thumb and forefinger was a deep scar.
“Got that one when I tried to do a trick with a throwing knife after a couple drinks.”
You gasped at the thought, your shock morphing into laughter.
“Remind me not to leave knives around when you drink.”
You teased. Simon shook his head and pulled you into his side with a deep sigh. His lips gently pressed to your temple.
For better or worse, no matter where or how you’d gotten your scars, they all told stories and they all played a part of making you who you are. Besides, scars or not, Simon still found you to be the most beautiful person he’d even had the privilege of knowing.
hiiiiiii if you don’t mind me asking will the story we will survive have new chapter? because i love it sooo much
Yes! I'm actually working on the next three. I've just been struggling to get them done with school, work, and writers block lol. I just want it to be perfect, but as soon as they are done I'll be dropping them all as an apology for taking so long. 🥴
I'm glad you are enjoying to story and showing it love. Thank you. 🫶
I feel like Simon is the type of guy who would use dish soap in the shower because it’s cheap, versatile, and a single large jug lasts him a pretty long time. Besides, if it’s good enough for the plates he eats off of, it’s good enough for his hair right?
Or at least that’s what he said the first time you stayed the night at his place. You looked at him with a mix of disgust and disbelief.
“You can’t be serious…”
Your eyebrow is quirked and your lips parted as you searched for words. Simon just looked down at you where you stood beside him a towel draped over your arm.
Both of you stood in front of his shower. A large jug of dish soap propped up in the corner with a loofah hanging from the faucet. It was a sad sight.
You and Simon had only been seeing each other a short while, but this certainly wasn’t going to do if you planned to make this a regular thing.
Within the hour you were at the store leading Simon, who pushed the cart, down the toiletry aisles. By the time you got back to Simon’s place he was hauling bags of shampoos, conditioner, body soaps, lotions, scrubs, face wash, and of course a new shower caddy to hold it all.
He didn’t seem to mind that you were making a space for yourself here so soon and even suggested you shower together after getting everything put away.
“So, you can show me the proper was to use all this stuff.”
But, his smirk told you he was just using that as an excuse.
Ever since you heard that ghost is...interested, in you, it's been odd. You have no idea if he's aware that you're the one transcribing his comms, it's supposed to be a secret to avoid black-mailing, after all.
But you swear sometimes you pass him in the halls, and he has this gleam in his eyes. As if he can tell that you know. You want to act on it, but what if he was just talking shit with gaz? What if he doesn't mean it?
Those are the questions running through your head as you get your next audio booted up. A ghost solo op, the kind you usually look foreward to because he's much more vocal by himself. Right now, though? You can hardly focus on the grunts and hums, too caught up in your dilemma.
Which is why the sudden moan makes you nearly spill your drink.
A rough exhale over your headphones, you crank the volume up to max and– that slick, slapping noise...no way. No fucking way.
Ghost is jerking off with his mic on.
You knew he did it on the field, most guys do, but he always mutes. This...this is rare. You slip on both sides of your headphones and lean back to enjoy, not at all guilty about the way your thighs rub together.
"Mmhhh, fuck–" his voice is low, restrained and quiet. Obviously he doesn't want to be found. You try to imagine ghost in all his bulky gear, palm wrapped around his dick. "Yesss....there we go...."
God, did he bring lube? Sounds like it, you think, listening to the slick sounds of his pumping. He likes it fast, then. He grunts particularly loud, "shit– hey. B13, I know yer– mmhhh– listening."
What.
"I know it's you, lovie, I see the way you've been lookin' at me." Your face is burning hot, stomach pooling with arousal at being directly spoken to. "Fuckin' hell...makes me wanna bend you over, show you a nice time."
You subconsciously rock in your seat, eyes half-lidded as ghosts rough voice fills your awareness. "C'mon, love, touch yerself. I want you to, please–"
You've never unbuttoned your pants faster, glad that your office is the only occupied room in the hall. Your hands slip under your waistband, and you try to imagine it's ghosts.
He makes it easy, rumbling "I'd be nice an' sweet at the start. Mmnh, Get you warmed up– ah– and ready." He groans particularly hard, the slick sounds pausing. You imagine him trying not to finish too soon. "Wouldn't want– hah– to break you on the first night."
Ohh god. The idea of ghost looming over you, moving you as he needs. You imagine how impress he'd be that you can take all of him...you probably wouldn't mention you bought a dildo after hearing size during mission audio a month ago.
"Fuck, lovie, ahm' close–" you speed up, desperate to finish at the same time. Ghost moans into his fist, gear rustling. Then, in a deliciously unexpected move, he whines loud and high. "fuck! Fuuuckkk– yes–! Haahhhahh...shit. come talk to me."
With that, the audio cuts off.
...you silently pull out your personal thumb drive and reason that it's not really a federal crime if the audio is meant for you...right?
The way the sweat darkens the fabric of his tee shirt, a deep ring around his collar that trails down the broad planes of his chest.
Muscular arms flexing with every swing of his hammer, the veins pronounced as his brows knit tightly in concentration. The sharp clank, clank of metal rings out, sparking as he works to flatten it against the anvil.
Orange firelight illuminates his hardened features, as he plunges the glowing steel into the quench with a hiss.
Simon nods at his work, with a flicker of satisfaction. He casts the hardened blade aside, already preparing for the next piece, not a hint of exhaustion in sight.
2087
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
dailybridgerton
