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Caoimhe || 22 Just here to write some bad fanfics and obsess over fictional characters

[caoimhewritesfics]

Welcome to the blog!

Hi I’m Caoimhe! Welcome to my blog! I mainly write drabbles for TF141 & König, but I will write for other COD and multifandom characters too.

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[caoimhewritesfics]

I’m so sorry but I am going to have to ask for some more girl dad Simon Riley!! Maybe he takes his girls on a camping trip?

Simon was never very big on vacation. Usually using his limited time home to relax and help you with your girls. For him, vacation was just another thing to do that took up time and energy.

He had found a nice quiet spot, away from anyone else. He liked it that way. A quiet area for just him and his family. Your girls liked it too. Your oldest was five, your youngest three. Getting time alone with their dad didn’t come often, so they loved it when it did.

Simon showed them how to forage, though they weren’t very good at it, continuously reaching for poisonous plants.

“Ahh ahh no, love.” Simon grunted as he took your oldest’s wrist before she could grab a fist full of poison berries. “Not food”

“But daddyyyyyy it’s a berry,” she complained, stomping her foot in protest at the great injustice.

He shakes his head, sighing, “yes, but you can’t eat this one.”

Your youngest didn’t seem too interested in the whole thing. Preferring to latch herself like a leach to Simon’s leg, refusing to do so much as look at the plants. After about an hour of pouting, Simon finally lifts her into his arms, kissing her hair.

“What’s got you down, sweet’eart?” He asks with a patience that is rare to him, brushing a large hand over her head.

She sniffles, little hands gripping his shirt and face hidden in his chest. “Scared.”

He looks down at her little face, brows pulling together in confusion. “Scared of what?”

She sniffles and wipes her nose on his shirt, snot getting all over his shoulder. “Lion.”

“Lions?” He asks as he pulls her face away from his shirt, just mildly disgusted at being used as a human tissue.

She nods vigorously, eyes wide. She had always been a bit afraid of new places and things. “Yeah. Scary. It eat me?”

Simon looks around seriously, scanning the field before looking over at you who looks equally as confused. “Lovie… there’s no lions ‘ere. Nothings gonna eat you.”

“No lion?” She questions skeptically, like he would ever lie about child eating lions.

He nods seriously, wiping a tear with his thumb. “No lions. Zero.”

She looks incredibly relieved at that, little hands wrapping around his neck. “Oh that very good. I no want to be food.”

Simon can hardly contain his laughter. He takes a deep breath and nods, patting her back comfortingly.

“‘ow about you ‘elp mummy with the tent, yeah? I ‘ear she’s got some candy in ‘er purse,” he says, trying to distract her with something exciting.

At that she detaches from him and bolts towards you, hands outstretched for her candy. “Give! Give!”

“Ask your mummy nicely!” Simon calls out, still standing where she left him.

A/N: this was such a cute idea I lowkey might do a longer drabble of this

[caoimhewritesfics]

Blood Stained Blonde pt1

Simon was your sworn protector. Sworn to serve the royal family, to die for you should he need to. You never expected anything more, but after an assassination attempt, he’s been even more devoted to you. You’re not sure when the line of devotion for duty and devotion for love was crossed.

Tags: knight!simon, fantasy au, royal au, forbidden love, mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of death (no actual death), mentions of blood

WC: 2k

Pairing: Kinght!SimonRiley x Princess!Reader

A/N: Whoooo!! This was really fun to write! I literally cooked this up in just a few hours. Knight!Simon has been on my mind for a while so I knew I had to write him. This is just a little intro so expect much more of this soon! I'm going to focus more on Simon and reader and less of the Makarov stuff so lots of fluff and hurt/comfort coming your way!

Mist rolled over the fields like a thick, suffocating blanket. Your chambers had been freezing all night, the fire doing nothing to warm the freezing shake of your body. The winter had only started, but it had already proved itself to be one of the coldest yet. It insisted upon tormenting you, something you took quite personally. It felt as though the Gods themselves had sent the frost and frigid nights to torture you and you alone. It was penance. Plain and simple, though you did not know what for.

Servants had kept the fire going all throughout the night, but their efforts were utterly fruitless. You had always hated winter. You considered it a cruel type of hell residing on earth. In your most recent years you began to despise it with such a passion that you hardly thought of anything else as you laid in front of the hearth draped in thick layers of blankets and furs.

Each day brought dozens of farmers and city folk complaining to your family of the strife the cold months had brought to them. It only proved to anger you even more. Not only were you serving an unexplained penance, but now there was no ignoring it. Blankets may have been able to shield you from the torment while you lounged in your chambers, but knowing your people suffered was a pain even worse than the persistent chill that clung to your bones and threatened to freeze your blood to solid ice.

Your eyes scanned the rolling fields in search of anything beyond that damned white mist. There was nothing, of course. Just white and cold waiting there for you, a threat lingering so menacingly in its inescapability.

“Sir Riley,” You called out to the man standing just 20 paces away from you, guarding the door as if he himself could keep the world away from you. “Would you please call for the servants? I cannot go on with this cold. I require a bath. Quickly please.”

“Yes, Princess,” he grunts. He kept his eyes down as he obeyed. He hadn’t said much since it happened. You didn’t want him to anyway.

It was best if you didn’t think about the pain, the fear. You had been certain in that moment as you laid alone, blood seeping into the stone ground in the courtyard, knife deep in your stomach that you were going to die.

It had been weeks ago now, but the scars would be etched into your skin forever as a sick reminder. The blood a cruel painting of suffering on your dress.

Simon was never far from you now. Not that he had ever really been far from you. You could see it in the way he stood, the shame of not being there at that one particular moment oozed out of him like tar, threatening to trap him and consume him.

He had sworn himself to you just a few years ago. No one had expected you to pick a knight like him. Older, a bit brash and unfriendly to anyone who stepped in his way. Though, there had been something about him, something about the way that he held himself with confidence but an undeniable respect. For you, it was never a question that he was the most honorable choice.

He was the one who found you there, nearly dead in a pool of your own blood. Much of what he had said you had forgotten now. The disorientation had wiped most of what you remembered. You were grateful for it, but more grateful for him. If he had not come when he did, those surely would’ve been your last moments.

You had told him not to be ashamed. It was not his fault that he had been called away. The fault was only yours. You knew not to wander alone when the price on your head grew every day. Besides, he had been there in mere moments. No one but him had saved your life.

One of the servant girls pulled you from your stupor, her voice soft, almost anxious. “Princess? The water is ready for you.”

“Thank you. You are dismissed,” you said politely as you moved towards the large opulent tub in the corner of the room.

The girl bows her head and turns to leave you. “Thank you, Princess.”

You hesitate, turning towards her again. “Wait-“

“What may I get you, Princess?” She asks, back straight and eyes focused.

You poured the rose oil into the water as you spoke. “Please bring Sir Riley back in. I require him.”

The girl stammered anxiously, knowing your request was one she must question, even if she didn’t want to. “Princess, he is not permitted-“

“Then I permit it,” you snap, harsher than you had intended, voice quickly softening in apology. “Please, bring him to me.”

She gives you a nod before finally retreating. “Yes, Princess.”

You knew Simon was not allowed in your chambers when you bathed. No man was. It mattered not to you. He was not lecherous, not improper. He was a man of his oath and you of all people knew he would not break it. 

He stands by the door, eyes respectfully downwards. The warm water did little for your comfort. Even the smell of the rose oil, a usual favorite and a luxury even to someone like yourself, did nothing to calm you. Your thoughts still lingered on the developing scar on your abdomen and the frigid winter beyond the stone walls of your keep.

“Sir?” You say as your head turns to him, watching him standing as straight as ever, posture almost statuesque in its severity. 

He keeps his eyes turned away from you as he replies, mindful of his manners, even now. “Yes, Princess?”

“I have meant to thank you,” You say softly, lips hovering just above the water. “For saving me.”

He hardly moves at all as he speaks. “I was only doin’ my duty. There is no need for thanks, Princess.” 

You smile just slightly. For someone so committed, so loyal and in your opinion, brave, he was quite humble. Or perhaps he was smart enough to not boast to a princess. “Still. Everyone in this castle has a duty to me, yet it was you who saved my life.”

He merely shrugs, as if keeping you from bleeding to death was nothing at all. “I was closest.”

You shake your head, though there was no frustration in it. “Accept the thanks, Sir.”

He gives a short, polite nod. “Yes, Princess.”

Even for a knight he was so quiet. You had heard little about his life before his training and the service. He had never been one to share even when questioned. His reservations seemed odd to you, but you refused to push. He would share in his own time. As frustrating as it was to have a huge silent man there, refusing any sort of friendship. Not that that was particularly allowed anyway. You cared not. He was a member of your service, therefore you cared for him. 

“The doctors say you shall heal fine,” he states casually.

You chuckle at him. “With a nasty scar,” you reply. You might be alive, but the physical reminder will always be there.

“Battle wounds. If you were a knight, you would be well regarded,” he says almost reassuringly, though reassurance has never been his forte, or even something he enjoys. It was evident in the look in his eyes. You would almost call it shyness, if you didn’t know better.

You sigh, eyes travelling back down to the now pink gashes decorating your skin like they belonged there. “But I am not one.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he shrugs, voice gruff and blunt in his delivery.

“Sir!” You exclaim in shock, sitting up a bit straighter. You almost laugh at his proclamation. You’ve heard him curse plenty, just never at you.

His eyes finally meet yours, simply blinking as if he did nothing out of the ordinary, as if he did not just curse in the presence of royalty. “I mean it. You survived an attack. Most soldiers can’t say the same. It is a scar worthy of respect.”

You laugh openly now, hand going to cover your mouth. “Quite scandalous to swear at a princess.”

“You won’t tell,” he chuckles, quiet but unmistakably there. 

Your smile grows at the sound of it, delighted. “Fair enough, Sir.”

—

Your father, the king, had been on the search for your attacker for weeks. Committing to a neverending quest to bring them to their knees. There was a tenseness in the keep that seeped through every wall. Everyone inside walked on eggshells, too frightened to do much more than shuffle quietly and keep their heads down. Simon had joined your father and his advisors in their meeting. If anyone was trusted in regards to your safety, it was him. He spent his days with you, protecting you and had been the one to step in and save your life. Hardly anyone’s insight was valued more in your father’s eyes.

“And what do we know? What information do you have for me? A man infiltrated my home and tried to kill my daughter! There better be answers and they better come now!” Your father bellowed, his anger growing into a hulking beast after the weeks of strife.

An advisor is the first to speak, quiet and anxious in the presence of your fuming father, praying his wrath did not turn to him “Well, Your Grace. The servants saw nothing and-”

“That is not an answer!” Your father slams his palms against the table as he stands, chair scrapping back and hitting the floor with a deafening clatter, sending the room into a tense silence.

Seconds pass as the silence stretches, eyes darting anxiously around. “I understand, Your Grace-”

Your father lifts his hand, pointing an accusatory finger in his advisor's direction. “You do not!” His anger was thick and suffocating, so intense you thought he might explode where he stood.

Before the trembling man could speak again, Simon stepped forward from his spot behind you. “Makarov. It was Makarov.”

Your father pauses, head snapping to Simon’s direction, intrigued. “And you know this how, Sir?”

Simon lifts his chin confidently. He has encountered Makarov’s men countless times, he knew they were the type to do this. “He is a long standing enemy of this kingdom, he ‘as threatened the royal family before. He is not above this.”

“Hmm,” your father nods, hands resting flat on the table as he lowers his head. “Yes. I believe you have a point, Sir.”

His advisor scoffs, face scrunching in disapproval as he adjusts his gold embroidered vest in a show of propriety, needing to make it known that he was Simon’s superior. “What does he know? He’s just a knight.”

Your head whips to the side, eyes boring into the pretentious man. How dare he speak that way to your family, let alone about the man who saved your life. “Shut your mouth.”

“Excuse me?” He falters, mouth falling open in shock, the directness unexpected and deeply unwanted. 

“You heard me. Shut your mouth. I don’t remember you ever putting your life on the line for this kingdom, or for me. You know politics, sure, but you do not know what Sir Riley does. You will regard him with respect,” you retort, eyes blazing with a deep fury. 

“Thank you, Princess,” Simon says quietly, eyes glancing at you quickly.

“Sir Riley, how many men can we spare for this? I want us on his doorstep as quickly as we can manage,” Your father continues as he sits again, finally starting to calm. The thought of retribution soothing him, tension dissipating slowly.

Simon doesn’t hesitate. “We can spare 200. That should be more than enough.” Simon wasn’t one to offer his men up willingly. Many were young and still training, hardly even out of boyhood. Sending them off would be a risk.

Your father sits back in his chair, a distinct look of surprise etched into his face at the offer. “200? You are sure there are enough?”

Simon nods quickly, “without a doubt, Your Grace. I will send our best. There will be retribution.”

“Good,” your father smiles, lips curling at the corners. “I want this problem ended.”

Taglist: @your-internet-tenshi @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid @lostintransist @nicolebarnes @vybzwithjaz @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jimihendrixenthusiast76 @haipasa @vivian-555 @xoxocelestial

[caoimhewritesfics]

Simon’s little girl is unexpected to say the least. No one but the two of you knew about her, besides her pediatrician and even then Simon did not enjoy having another person know of his child.

He was terrified really. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t petrified of the wrong people knowing about her. He had seen too much to foolishly believe that the world would be safe for her. The world would be cruel enough to her already. Being his child came with a risk that wasn’t even her fault.

So when you show up on base with the little baby in her stroller, dressed in a little bonnet, yellow summer dress and the smallest shoes the men had ever seen, it was quite a shock. He had told them about you. Bits and pieces here and there. Never anything concrete. Certainly nothing about your baby girl.

She babbled nonsense as she was lifted out of her floral stroller, the one you insisted upon getting. “Ahhh bahhh bah!” She shrieked as she kicks her tiny legs, recognizing her father immediately, tiny hands clapping together.

He takes her into his arms. It looks ridiculous. Such a small thing compared to the towering behemoth of a man. “Hi, Lovie girl,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head. “You a good girl for mummy?”

You smile at your husband. You loved to see them together. It’s like Simon really became himself when she was in his arms. “The best.”

The team stares, confusion written all over their faces. Johnny looks almost offended at being kept in the dark. “Tha’ thing is yours?” He asks as he pressed a scandalized hand against his chest.

Simon merely grunts in response, adjusting the baby and grabbing her stuffed bunny from your bag.

“Don’t seem like the dad type,” Kyle mutters, though it’s void of judgment.

Simon ignores him. He knew it was true. It had been on his mind since the day you told him you were pregnant. Even now he couldn’t always shake the feeling that he wasn’t cut out for this.

Your girls babbling snaps him out of his thoughts. “Mmmaa buh.” She says with complete conviction, nodding her little head and reaching up to pull on the balaclava covering his face.

Johnny looks nothing short of delighted. He smiles at the baby and tickles her, making her scream in pure anger and try to bite him with her tiny teeth. Your girl hated nothing more than being tickled. “I’m the uncle, right?” Johnny grins as he squishes her cheeks, earning another attempted bite.

[caoimhewritesfics]

Months John had been gone. This most recent deployment had been hell. He didn’t often think he wouldn’t make it home, but the feeling kept threatening to eat him alive.

John Price hated fear. It made him feel weak, like control was not his to own. If John Price ever needed anything, it was control.

Or you. Coming home to you and your daughters always soothed his soul. Home was the one place he felt like he could relax. He was never on guard here, never waiting for the next threat. Here he wasn’t a captain, he wasn’t in charge of keeping his team alive or saving lives. He was just John, just daddy.

Your girls were the first to hear the back door open. Their little heads snapping to the sound, erupting into screams of excitement. The little pool left abandoned as they dash towards him. “Daddy! Daddy home!”

Your smallest moves as quickly as possible, trailing behind her big sister. John scoops them up the second they get to him. “Well hello my little loves. Were you good for your mummy?”

“No! We were bad!” Your oldest giggles in delight, wrapping her arms around her father’s neck in a tight hug.

John laughs, deep and tired, but filled with relief. “Mmm sounds about right. Just like your old daddy, huh?”

You approach, hose still in your hand. “Little monsters they were.” Your smile is wide as you watch your husband and children. There were days you dreamed of this and here it was in front of you.

Your youngest babbles happily, not even two years old yet. She pulls at his beard, smiling and giggling in delight. She had always been a daddy’s girl, following him around and mimicking everything he did.

John kisses their cheeks, brushing wet hair from their cheeks, still chubby with baby fat. “You girls swimmin’?”

Your oldest nods enthusiastically, pointing to the small pool. “Yeah! Mummy say we swim good!” Her smile is bright and a smear of her favorite strawberry jam lingers on her chin.

“Oh I bet you do,” John replies, ruffling the three years olds hair affectionately. Nothing in the world compared to the joy they brought him.

You wouldn’t really call what they did “swimming” let alone well. The tiny round pool was getting too small to fit them both and much too shallow to do much more than splash. They adored it though. It had been a gift from John last year. He didn’t trust public pools. He always called them bacteria filled cesspools. So he got the pool and they loved it.

John stands and pulls you close, giving you a kiss as the girls pull on your skirt. “Mummy! Swim! Swim!”

[caoimhewritesfics]

King!Simon had never been very affectionate. He didn't believe in it. There was no point in being frivolous with his love. It was stupid. It was for the weak.

That was until your child was born. She was small, so small it scared him. He was sure she was ill or something was wrong, but here she was dressed in what he considered to be the world’s most needlessly opulent dress for a little baby girl. She babbled happily and smashed her wooden toy horse into the stone floor of your shared chambers.

He huffs, eyes looking over your happy baby. “She looks ridiculous.”

“She looks royal. Like a little princess should,” you retort. You had dressed her in the finest clothes you could find, sent as a gift from your family. It was customary to show wealth and power with lavish clothing for your people. Simon did not feel the same way.

“Your people are strange. I see no need for this drama.” He mutters, sighing. He would never say it out loud, but he found her extravagant clothing to be entirely adorable.

You turn your nose up at him, scooping the little girl into your lap and adjusting her dress so it didn't wrinkle. “It shows she is important, Simon.”

“Important people have many furs or weapons. Things of strength, not… a little gold dress.” He insisted, patting the girls back as she coughs.

You roll your eyes and hand your daughter over to him when she starts to fuss, little hands making a grabbing motion at her father. “Oh hush. She is darling.”

“Mmm. Sweet child." He nods in agreement, poking her cheek with his finger, earning a squeal and laugh from her.

He indulged her at every chance. Toys and dresses filled the chest he had made for her with his own hands. He had even started a second to fit more of her possessions. In her short 8 months she had already accumulated quite a collection.

Simon took her everywhere, even if it wasn’t deemed “appropriate." Your little baby sat in on war meetings, happily chewing on her father’s collar, interrupting the council with happy shrieks or hungry screams. He even took her to the training ground, letting her watch the young soldiers train and practice their swordsmanship.

For Simon, there was no place that she didn’t belong. He has her on his lap while he tears his food apart, relishing in the large plate delivered to him. She also is very enthusiastic, shrieking and trying to take bites from his hands. “No, little one. This is not yours.”

“Bahhh bahh!!” She shrieks in growing frustration, tiny little hands slapping at his chest.

He shakes his head, adjusting her away from the food. “Yelling will not make me give you any. You are spoiled enough."

Your little, furious girl wails, face turning red as she starts to cry, confusion and anger overriding her usually calm demeanor. Her chest heaves as she tries to throw herself backwards in her dramatic display.

"Oh fine, child." Simon huffs and pulls her closer, handing her a piece of cheese that is far too big for someone so small. Her shrieking halts immediately, using her tiny little teeth to bite a chunk off of the wedge. She shakes the cheese up and down in delight, tilting it for you to see as you watch.

"Daddy spoils you again, I see," you joke, smiling at the exchange.

He looks scandalized by the claim, putting a hand to his chest. "What? She is a princess. She must be strong."

"And cheese will make her strong?" Sometimes you swore he said things just to justify gifting her things and spoiling her beyond reason.

He nods with full conviction. "Yes. Besides, she wants it. Best to keep 'er happy."

He lifts the girl so he can look at her chubby little face. He smiles as she takes another bite of her cheese. "She knows good food when she sees it." He plants a kiss on her cheek and adjusts the little bonnet you had put her in. "There we go, princess."

[caoimhewritesfics]

Continuation of this

Today was your company picnic, which Simon always refused to go to. It was tacky, boring, and he was forced to socialize with strangers. It was nothing but a nightmare for him.

But you had begged and begged, big eyes and batting lashes. He caved after just two days. So here he was, miserable as can be in a nice sunny park, surrounded by your co-workers.

Knowing that he was here didn’t help. Ever since we went banging on your boss' door, work had been much better for you. You got all sorts of special treatment and as many paid days off as you wanted. You didn’t have a clue why, but it made you happy, so he didn’t say a word.

After being introduced to who he believed was everyone on earth, he finally spotted your boss, Mr. Burton. Fucking son of a bitch. Simon detested him with every ounce of his being. He didn’t give one single shit about whether he was nice to you now. He knew it was just because he was scared of him, not because he respected or valued you.

You nearly drag him over to say hello. He goes unwillingly, cursing himself and this day as he stalks along beside you.

Burton looks like he might shit himself then and there when he spots Simon at your side. “Mr- Mr Riley. Hello, it’s a… it’s a pleasure to see you again… Sir.” Burton stammers anxiously, standing as tall as he can, but the anxiety is unmistakable.

You turn to look up at your husband, the surprise plain on your face. As far as you were concerned, Simon had never seen this man in his life. “You two have met?” You tilt your head curiously at him.

Simon grunts in response, shrugging once. “You could say tha’.”

“Y-yes yes we have… spoken. Once,” Mr. Burton stammers, nodding quickly. His lips curling into a false smile.

You look between the two men, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Something wasn't right here and you wanted answers. “Mhm. That’s nice.”

Simon sneers down at the frightened man, satisfied with his trembling. Stupid little prick. Getting what he deserved. “Glad to see you took my advice to heart, Burton. Smart man.”

Mr. Burton let out a startled, pained laugh. He put his arm around his very confused wife, pulling her closer on instinct. “Yes, Sir. You- you make very compelling points.”

“I know.” Simon said flatly, his face void of expression, which only seemed to make Mr. Burton's skin crawl more than it already was. If such a thing were even possible. Simon loved it.

Your mouth hangs open just slightly, unsure of what to do or what is even happening with these two men. “Simon what doe-“ You can't even finish your sentence before Simon is retreating from the conversation.

“Good to see you again, Burton.” Simon says with daggers in his voice, eyes narrowed tight and unyielding. He clasps your hand and pulls you away to the snack table.

You scoff, staring at him in disbelief. “Simon, what on earth was that about?” Never in your years together had you seen Simon react that way to anyone.

He looks away, going to grab a sandwich off the table, but you snatch it from his hand. “Nothin’. Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you do something to that man?” You cross your arms, looking up at him. "Look at me, Simon." You loved him more than anything, but God was he stubborn.

“No. Just gave him a talkin’ to is all, Lovie. Little reminder on his manners.” He shrugs nonchalantly, refusing to give you what you're looking for.

“Simon Riley! I can’t believe you.” You gasp, shoving the sandwich back at him, but there isn't any real anger in it. As long as it kept Burton off your back, you couldn't be mad.

[caoimhewritesfics]

When you were pregnant, Simon was so worried she would be huge like he was. He lived in terror that the birth would be horrendous for you. He felt so guilty, blaming himself for a scenario that he made up. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was torture for him.

But, when she came out, she was tiny. Little fingers and just over 5lbs. Simon had never held something so little. He could hardly even believe it when he took her into his arms for the first time. This tiny little thing was his and yours. Perfect and ridiculously miniature.

Her little fingers wrapped around his thumb as she makes little frustrated sounds. “Don’t think she’s a big fan o’ me, Lovie.” It comes out as a joke, but for him, it’s a half truth. One of his biggest fears coming out, trying its hardest to damper his mood.

“She’s just hungry, Si. She likes you plenty. She’s only about an hour old.” You smile tiredly as you look at your large husband cradling your impossibly tiny little girl.

Your daughter pulls his thumb forward, trying to nurse on him. “Ah wrong one, darling. You’ll need mummy for that.” He laughs. You swear if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was crying.

[caoimhewritesfics]

Why Are You On Hinge?

TF141 + König getting pranked by reader by doing the “I found (best friend) on hinge” trend from TikTok

Tags: fluff, mentions of cheating, but no actual cheating

WC: 1417

A/N: I'm so behind on this trend, but I couldn't get it out of my mind. Bon appetite!

Ghost just stares at you. His face is blank, not even blinking when you say you saw Johnny on hinge.

He sits back slowly in his chair, dinner forgotten in front of him. “You lyin’?”

You smile, thinking you have him right where you want him. “I’m not lying! I saw it today. Even saved it for you”

“Saved it for me?” He asks, his brows starting to pull together.

Shit.

“Yeah. Figured you might get a laugh,” you continue, voice hitching slightly as you try to keep the act up, fighting the urge to tell him it's all just a joke. At least that would get that look off his face.

His lips press together as his hands drop from the table. “Get a laugh? You thought I would get a laugh from knowing my bird is fuckin’ around on hinge? That’s funny, huh?”

Oh. Oh he looks… hurt. Angry sure, but the hurt is unmistakable in his eyes. If you didn't know any better you would say he looked like he might cry.

“No! No no, Si. It’s a joke. From TikTok, I swear!” You scramble for your phone, nearly dropping it in your haste. "See? It's just a joke."

He observes the phone like it's radioactive, the compilation being the only sound in the room.

"Not funny, Lovie," he grumbles but there's no heat to it now, understanding washing over him. He sits back in his chair, refusing to look at you now. 

"It was supposed to be," you shrug shamefully, feeling much more guilty than amused now. Your hand reaches for his and his fingers instantly curl around yours, desperate to be close to you even when you piss him off like this. 

"You're lucky I love you," he says lightly, a small smile forming on his lips.

König is having none of it. He crosses his arms, already onto your stunt. You’re not exactly the most slick of pranksters. Your smile and horribly hidden laughs always give your schemes away. 

He rolls his eyes and he turns his face towards yours, arm slung lazily over your shoulders on the couch. "Liar."

You scoff dramatically, mouth falling open in feigned offence. "Am not."

He smirks slyly, leaning his face in closer to yours. "Are too." His hand rubs your shoulder gently. He loves your little pranks. He finds it sweet that after all this time together you still want to mess with him, but today he wants to give you a hard time. A little revenge for his entertainment. 

You smile, eyes meeting his. "And what makes you think that?"

He kisses your cheek softly and brushes loose hair from your face. "You're always trying to trick me. I know your game, Schatz." 

"It's not a game, Köni." You insist, though you know he’s got you. You’ve pranked this man so many times in the years you two have been together that he was impossible to fool, even if he pretended for you. 

His smile widens, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "It’s always a game with you, Hasi.” 

Price's face had fallen from suspicion and growing anger to sadness in a matter of seconds, eyebrows pulling in and the corners of his mouth falling into a melancholy pout. Sad John was not what you wanted. Making your sweet man think you were really cheating, making him genuinely think you didn't want him sounded like a nightmare come to life when you saw the look on his face. 

His voice is low and pained when he finally speaks. "You better be jokin', Lovie. Please." His eyes practically looked through you, desperate for an answer.

Fuck.

This had gone so wrong. So fast. It was a joke, of course it was. There was no way in hell you would ever be unfaithful, in any way, but that look on his face destroyed any desire you had to mess with him.

“No no baby! It’s just a tiktok prank I promise!” Your words leave you quicker than the speed of light, falling over each other and jumbling together in your haste. “See!” You shove your phone in his face with the saved videos that inspired you to prank him in the first place. “It’s just a joke, baby”

"Just a joke? Yeah?" He chuckles in relief, grabbing your face and kissing your cheek.

"Yeah, I swear, John."

To your surprise he pulls you into a tight hug and takes a deep inhale of your hair. "Don't go scarin' me like that. Evil little thing." His hands fist in your shirt as he pulls you closer.

Gaz is initially super excited and interested, ready to gossip with you four HOURS over this, but Kyle is… hurt?

“Wait… you saw John where?” He asks with a suspicious raise of his eyebrow.

“On hinge” you repeat, playing completely innocent.

“Mhm… hinge?” He asks again, face starting to fall and the reality of what you had just said to him started to settle in. He shifts in his seat on the couch, unsure what exactly he should do. 

“That’s right,” you nod, smiling. 

“So let me get this straight… you, my girlfriend of I can’t even remember how long has been on hinge for, again, who knows how long and you bring this up as casual conversation?”

The look on his face gave you pause. He hadn’t looked at you like that since he told you he was going away for 8 months for deployment when you were pregnant with your first baby. “I-.” You didn’t know what to say now, basking in the shame of the moment. 

“No. I get it.” He stands from his spot on the couch and goes to grab his keys. “I’ll… I’ll just call Johnny or something. I Won’t-”

“Kyle baby!” You launch yourself off the couch, following him with the videos halfway pulled up already. “It’s just a joke! I saw it on TikTok. I’m not messing around on you. I promise”

He turns towards you and looks at the videos. “Serious?”

You nod and reach to cup his face in your palms. He leans into the touch instinctively. “Super. You can even look through my phone to prove it. And honestly I think John is too damn old to even know how to make a hinge profile”

He laughs at that, smiling at you with that sweet little crooked smile. “I’m telling him you said that, love.”

Soap is so ready for the tea on Simon that he doesn't even think about why you would be on hinge. Simon on hinge is far too interesting to be in any way concerned as to why his partner of many years is on dating apps.

“Let me see, let me see!” He begs eagerly, nearly frothing at the mouth so get his eyes on Simon’s profile. He’s been needing new material to tease Simon with. What better than his dating profile?

“Oh I- uh I didn’t save it.” You lie, realizing there was no proof. You should have known Johnny would be all over you, desperate to feast his eyes on what he was too excited to question. 

Johnny looks borderline offended, “didn’t save it? Hen- c’mon. I needed that.” He pouts dramatically, eyes going big and pathetic, as if that would pull the imaginary profile from the ether and present itself to him. 

Your brain works quickly to find a believable excuse and to get the Scotsman off your trail. “Yeah. Guess I didn’t think about it.” It wasn’t your best lie, but it was something. Hopefully enough to keep it going long enough. 

Johnny frowns and gestures towards the phone sitting in your lap. “Pull up the app. I’m searchin’ for it myself.”

You freeze. You’ve never downloaded the app, let alone have a profile. If you hand over your phone, the prank is over and you’re busted. And there goes all your fun.

His hand reaches out to snatch the phone before he pauses.“C’mon lemme- Wait.”

The smile is hard to fight, but you use every ounce of will you have to keep it down. “What is it Johnny?”

“Why in the fresh hell ‘re you on HInge?” His face morphs into horror, eyebrows shooting up and nose scrunching.

You can’t hold it in any longer. You break into uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in your eyes as you cover your mouth. Johnny stares at you blankly, not amused by the prank whatsoever. “Fuckin’ bullshit, lassie.” He grumbles in displeasure.  

Taglist: @your-internet-tenshi @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid @lostintransist @nicolebarnes @vybzwithjaz @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jimihendrixenthusiast76 @haipasa @vivian-555

[caoimhewritesfics]

Continuation here

Simon Riley is the type of man to go to your mean boss' house in the middle of the night to “scare him straight” after he hurt your feelings.

He canceled your office birthday party. "Purely budgetary" was what he said, but Simon didn’t give a fuck. That bastard hurt your feelings, and as your husband, it’s his job to fix it and make you happy.

He waited until you were asleep to track the man down. He drove with the headlights off, wanting to be completely undetected. The house was nice. Too nice. Just another thing that pissed him off. This muppet didn’t deserve a house this nice. 

His large fist pounds the door hard, ready to kick this prick's ass straight into the ground. Your boss answers the door in his robe, looking tired and annoyed.

His face changes quickly when he sees your gigantic, furious husband on his doorstep, masked and all in black. “Who- who are you? I don’t have any money.” Your boss stammers in terror, lips trembling. 

Simon huffs and pushes the door open fully. “I don’t want your fuckin’ money, prick. I’m here for my wife.”

“I don't have her! I swear, Sir! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The pathetic wanker was nearly in tears already just at the sight of Simon. To his credit, Simon was a sight to behold, especially when he showed up ready to throw fists and ask questions later.

“Shut up!” Simon bellows. “You hurt 'er feelings today, canceled 'er party. She’s been excited about tha', been talking all month about it.” It was true; you really had been excited for that stupid party. It was nothing but a small office party with a cake and maybe some streamers, but Simon knew it meant the world to you. 

“What? That… that was budgetary. I had no choice.” Your boss faltered, pulling the fluffy robe tighter around himself like it would save him from the soldier in front of him ready to strike. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Simon growled, standing taller and grabbing the man by his collar. “I’ve killed men for less than this.” 

“Please, Sir.” Your boss whimpered, trying to pull away. 

“Be quiet, you pathetic shrew.” Simon rolls his eyes and shoves the man inside, towering over him. “You’re gonna do exactly what I say, or we're gonna have problems.”

Your boss scampered away quickly, trembling now. He pressed himself into a corner like a frightened animal. “Okay okay I swear I’ll do whatever you want.”

Simon sneered at him, satisfied with the pathetic display. “You’re gonna give ‘er the party. You’re gonna make it the best damn party she’s ever been to. There will be gifts, an apology, and whatever cake my wife wants. Got it?”

“Y-yes yes I understand.” Your boss nodded rapidly, eyes wide and pleading.

Simon couldn’t help but smirk. He deserved this. Deserved this for making you sad, taking something special from you. Your boss was not going to get away with it. “Throw a bonus check in there too.”

“I can’t just-“ Your boss sputtered pitifully. It was bullshit. Simon knew it. The company was doing better than ever, especially considering the lavish state of this man's house. He would find the money for your party whether he liked it or not. 

Simon was having none of it. He wouldn’t actually kill him. You would never allow that. But that didn’t stop Simon from crouching for effect, needing to really give this little shit a good scare. “Do it. Or I’ll be back, yeah?”

Your boss looked down, nodding in surrender. “Y-yeah… okay.” 

Simon slipped back into your house without a word that night. He tells you nothing when you come home with that bright, beautiful smile, saying that your boss gave you the party and you got a raise to go with it. Seeing that look on your face would always be worth terrifying a man in the middle of the night. 

[caoimhewritesfics]

ANYTHING WITH GAZ PLSPLSPLSPLSPPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPS

Knight Gaz

Tags: Fluff, forbidden love, royal au

WC: 274

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Reader

A/N: Anon how did you know I was desperate to write for Gaz? He’s so cutie pie I love him. Anywayyy here’s some Knight!Gaz!!!!!!!!

Knight!Gaz who is your sworn protector. By law he must do as you say and die honorably for you, which for him is a dream come true. Ever since he lay eyes on you, he was smitten. You want to walk in the garden? He’s there with you, listening to your soft melodic humming as you enjoy the freshly blooming flowers.

Knight!Gaz who knows his love for you is wrong. As a knight, he is sworn to never take a wife, never have children. But when he’s with you, he can’t help himself but imagine it. Small babes with your eyes, his smile. The thought distracts him greatly.

Knight!Gaz who entrenches himself in training, trying desperately to keep you out of his mind. It does little, of course. But he won’t allow himself to abandon his sword for the day, knowing that if he did, he may abandon this life all together just to be with you.

Knight!Gaz who is filled with pure disgust when your potential suitors come to see you. He deems them pathetic, not nearly of the necessary quality to be anywhere near you, let alone a husband. He hates them all severely, wishing that he could do as he pleased and pitch them right off the nearest cliff.

Knight!Gaz who sits with you in your chambers at night, listening to you complain about the men who came to see you. He can’t help the small smile that creeps onto his lips. He can’t tell you, he never can, but to know that in some universe, he could be yours and you his, he is happy.

Taglist: @your-internet-tenshi @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid @lostintransist @nicolebarnes @vybzwithjaz @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jimihendrixenthusiast76 @haipasa @vivian-555

[caoimhewritesfics]

It had been far too long since you fucked with Johnny.

Nothing felt right. Nothing that you came up with would give him an aneurysm and you couldn't be doing with that. It had to be good. It had to be downright evil.

It struck you while you were sitting in your car during your oil change. You had seen videos on tiktok about pranking boyfriends by buying "premium air." It was perfect. Just the right amount of stupid while still being reasonable enough to get him to believe it.

Johnny looks like his head might fly off and leave steam seeping from his neck where his head used to be. But he's not mad at you. No, not you. He was going to hunt this prick down.

"Where'd ya go? Hmm? Wha' slimy bastard made ya shill out £300? I just wanna talk to 'im. That's all." He trembles as he tries to cool his tone, the last thing he wants is for you to feel guilty about being tricked. Little does he know he's the one getting scammed here.

"What do you mean? Premium is good right? I figured it was worth the money." You bat your lashes at him, playing up the innocent act as hard as you can. You know he’ll fall for it easy.

“Premium AIR? AIR?” Johnny looks so utterly bewildered and borderline homicidal you almost feel guilty. Almost. “That son of a bitch is playin’ tricks, Love. He’s swindled ya. I’m killin’ ‘im. That’s it, I’m killin’ ‘im.”

You can’t hold it in any longer, the giggles escaping and turning into a hardly contained snort. “Johnny just- just relax” you choke out, trying desperately to school your face.

“You- you’re fuckin’ with me.” He turns away petulantly when the realization settles in. “You’re the absolute worst, ya know that? The absolute worst.”

“I’m not that bad” you chuckle, turning him around.

“You’re pretty damn bad. Absolute menace. I’ve no clue why I love you.” He smiles despite himself, knowing he would let you mess with him as much as you like.

[caoimhewritesfics]

Sleep Deprivation

I loved my sleepy Simon thought so much I just had to turn it into a longer piece

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, implied past trauma (non-graphic)

WC: 1.1k

Pairing: Boyfriend!Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

A/N: Thank you guys for all the love on the original post. I hope y'all enjoy!

Simon’s sleeping habits were a mystery to you. Sleeping in bed like a normal, well adjusted person wasn’t exactly one of his strong suits, but to his credit he isn’t well adjusted.

That wasn’t going to stop you though. You had been at it for months now. Ever since he moved in with you. Your mission was simple, slowly condition him to sleep in bed with you like any normal boyfriend.

Today was another failure.

8am. Your alarm goes off, blaring into the quiet room, rays of sunlight fighting through the curtains, drenching the room in a warm yellow haze. It was beautiful. Perfect really. Except for one thing. Simon wasn’t there.

Again.

It wasn’t his fault. You had stopped blaming him a long time ago. He never told you exactly what he did when he was away. He never told you exactly what his childhood had been like with a father like that, in a home like that. He had never known peace, you knew that much.

You didn’t need to know the specifics. You knew sleeping was hard for him. Sleeping was vulnerability and for Simon vulnerability was a threat. Vulnerability meant capture. Vulnerability meant death.

Finding him in a random part of the house, looking like he had gone limp where he stood was a common occurrence. More common that you would like to admit. More common than made you comfortable.

Today was no different. Reluctantly you forced yourself out of bed. Your trek down the stairs was always quiet so as to not startle Simon. Where you will find him was always a mystery.

You shuffle through the living room passing the few pictures he’ll allow of himself in your house. You had done what you could to make it home. A place where Simon could feel safe. You knew it wasn’t your fault either. Sometimes no matter how hard you tried, Simon would always need a little help. Help he would never ask for himself.

You find him in the bathroom, in the tub with a book open on his chest. One of those long, boring novels that you never understood what he saw in them. Something old and classic probably about war or other terrible things you didn’t wanna think about.

He looked sweet like this. Not that he was ever anything but sweet to you. His choppy blonde hair was messy and sticking out in directions that nearly defied gravity. His eyes were closed, long lashes resting against his soft cheeks. He hadn’t bothered to change, still in his jeans and the black T-shirt that he insisted was plenty fashionable enough for a man like him.

You knelt beside the tub and reach out to touch his soft locks. Just the gentle brush of air from the movement of your hand startles him awake.

His shoulders tensed and his eyes snapped open, hand lifting to reach and defend himself. “Fuck, Love. Didn’t realize that was you.” His voice was low and rough, adrenaline bleeding through the lingering sleep. It took him a second to focus, to see you instead of whatever his mind had dragged up.

“It’s always just me, Si.” you remind him gently, giving him the smallest smile.

“Can’t be too careful.” It’s half a joke, half serious. Even now. Even here he is always cautious.

You huff a small laugh and kiss his temple “Paranoid”

He laughed then, warm and deep. Simon‘s laugh always did something to you. A soft warm feeling spreads through your chest as you take in the crinkle of his eyes and the way his eyebrows knit together just slightly.

- - -

The head scratches seemed to work the most. Lulling Simon into a somewhat relaxed state. You did that each night when the sun started to dip and the dark cold night crept in.

Every night you would track him down and sit with him, running your fingers through his hair until he started to slump into your side. Even then it didn’t work right away. You’ve been at it for several months now. Sometimes he’ll follow you up to bed, but most of the time he'll insist that he has something to do, something to fix and he will putter off again to busy himself.

And of course, in the mornings, you’ll find him somewhere strange like you have now. You never felt discouraged though. You knew going into things with Simon that it would be hard.

So tonight you try again.

By 8 your plan is in motion. Just like it always is. Simon is perched on the sofa, beer in hand while he watches the Man U game he missed earlier. This is as relaxed as he gets. It’s your time to strike.

“Hey, Si” He doesn’t look away from the screen, but his hand reaches blindly for yours like it always does. “How’s the match going?”

“Quite shit actually” he grumbles and sips his beer, trying not to let the loss get to him.

You plop into the seat beside him and reach over to rub his neck. He sighs and leans into the touch. He’s been complaining about it for days, some injury from the field, but of course he’s too stubborn to ask you to help him.

“That’s nice, Love”

“I know.” you murmur softly and rub a bit harder. “Magic touch”

“Mhm sure”

You move your hand up to scratch at his scalp, earning another sigh and a slow content blink. Simon’s hand comes to rest on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles.

“I know what you’re up to” he says as he leans even farther into your warm hand.

You smile, playing innocent  “And what am I up to?” you were always a terrible liar, but that never stopped you from teasing him.

“You’re brainwashing me”

You let out a small, playful gasp “Now that’s a baseless accusation, Mr Riley”

“Is it now?” His mouth curves into a lazy smirk. “I think I’m riiiight on the money”

“Completely false. I am not brainwashing you into sleeping in bed”

He turns his head just enough to look at you properly, eyebrow lifting. He’s got you now. “Ahh I never said why you were doing it.” He gives you a shit eating grin and leans closer, nose nearly touching your own. “You’re telling on yourself now”

You huff, but your hand never stops moving. “Not fair. You baited me”

“Maybe so, but you still let it slip”

“Fine. I admit it. I want my boyfriend to sleep in bed with me.” Your voice softens and you press your lips to his quickly. “Will you at least try it? For me?”

He considers this, the side of his mouth pulling up just slightly into a petulant smirk. “I’ll try it. Just to see.”

Taglist: @your-internet-tenshi @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid @lostintransist @nicolebarnes @vybzwithjaz @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jimihendrixenthusiast76 @haipasa @vivian-555

[caoimhewritesfics]

Boundaries and How to Request

HI!! My name is Caoimhe! I typically write for TF141 & König, but I do also write for other multifandom characters. Below I have some information about my boundaries and how to request!

What I Write: - FLUFF! We love fluff here! - AUs - Hurt/comfort - Canon typical violence (on the non-graphic side)

I have an 18+ blog @konig4eva with more adult themes (smut, death, etc)

How To Request: 1. First, please check what I write. If your request is outside of what I am comfortable writing it will be deleted.

2. To request just send an ask!! Anon requests are on as well.

If you are unsure if I write for a specific fandom or character, feel free to send an ask to make sure!

Not sure if your request will be accepted?:

I accept requests for headcanons and one shots (2.5k words max).

I often will accept requests for an additional part of an existing post.

If you have a COD request that isn’t TF141 + König don’t be afraid to request! I will include other characters if requested.

Multifandom requests are accepted! As stated above don’t be afraid to check if I write for that fandom or character.

Taglist:

To be on my taglist please send an ask or message. It’s much more likely that I will see it there as opposed to a comment because sometimes those get missed.

Boundaries: This blog is not a place to spread hate. If I receive comments or asks that are disrespectful or harmful to myself or others it will be deleted and you will be blocked. I have a zero tolerance policy for hate and harassment.

If you don't like my content, that is fine. Instead of leaving hate, scroll away and don't interact.

If you have any questions about my blog or the information here, please don’t be afraid to send an ask! I am always open to answering questions!

[caoimhewritesfics]

Husband!Price HATES your cat.

To be fair to him, Pickles is evil. There’s no better way to put it. She has an aversion to compassion, fueled purely by hate and rage. If she’s not stalking him around your house, growling and hissing, she is trying to tear up his arms and face.

He’s complained for years about Pickles. You won’t hear any of it. Pickles loves you and only you. She’s your baby and you will not allow him to slander her name.

To you, Pickles is an angel. You’ve had her for years and she’s been nothing but sweet to you. She sleeps on your chest, meows for pets, and makes biscuits on you.

John calls her “The Demon”. Each night once you’re asleep with her on your chest she just stares, growling low in her throat, tail flicking angrily. He’s tried to reason with her. He’ll bring her treats and blink slowly. He read somewhere that that’s supposed to make a cat trust you, but really it just seems to make her more blood thirsty.

Everyday is a battle between them and John is definitely losing.

[caoimhewritesfics]

Simon was used to sleeping alone. If you could even really call it sleeping. Passing out from pure exhaustion, body unable to handle being awake any longer wasn’t your definition of “sleeping”.

Simon saw no issue. The less time he spent unconscious and vulnerable the better. So when he moved in with you? Yeah, you had to do something about it.

The first night you found him he was face down on the couch, phone just barely dangling from his hand.

You wanted to be angry, to be frustrated that he didn’t come to bed with you, but you understood. The man had never had a moment of peace his entire life, no wonder he wouldn’t be able to relax. Sleep was vulnerability and for Simon, vulnerability meant death.

You started small, lingering around him when he clearly started getting tired. You would just talk and touch his hair, trying to make him feel relaxed and safe. Eventually, he drifts off with your hands in his hair.

It takes months of slowly conditioning helping him to feel like he really can relax in your home. Each time you found him somewhere strange, clearly having knocked out there you start all over again, determined to get him to properly rest.

Finally FINALLY one night when you are deep into your skincare routine do you hear him shuffling into the room, setting his phone down and crawling into bed.

You can hardly contain yourself, nearly leaping onto him when you get into bed, sheet mask halfway falling off your face as you pepper him with kisses.

[caoimhewritesfics]

I Want To Go Home

How TF 141 + König react to nonsocial!reader saying you want to go home

Tags: Fluff

WC: 368

A/N: I haven't written anything for months so this was really fun. Hope y'all enjoy!

Ghost wants to go home too. This party wasn’t even his idea. How you and Price convinced him to go, he will never understand. The lights are too bright, everyone is too loud, and he doesn’t even like these people. They shouldn’t take it personally, Simon doesn’t like most people. The second you say those words, her perks up like a dog hearing it’s name called. He doesn’t bother with goodbyes and certainly not any hugs or “it was so good to see you” or “we should do this again”. No, not with Simon. He takes your hand and books it to the door. His large frame nearly knocks a few people to their asses in his haste, but he doesn’t care. His mission is to get the both of you out of this party no matter who he has to take down on the way out.

König doesn’t know who to thank when you tell him you want to go home. Home goods shopping isn’t exactly his idea of a fun and relaxing Saturday, especially when the alternative is laying around at home with you, the dog and being as far away from random strangers as possible. Like Ghost, he barrels through the aisles, cart full and eyes set on the self check out. Good luck to the poor employee who tried to stop him, reminding him of the 15 item maximum. König doesn't care, he never has, but now? Now anyone who tries to stop him is enemy #1.

Price is very understanding about it, even if he doesn’t want to go home himself. He might try to convince you to stay just a little longer so he can give a few people goodbyes or grab an extra snack for the road. He is always putting you first so the second you are clearly over it, eyes impatient and head gesturing subtly to the door, he is on his way back to you and out the door. An old mate stops him on the way to the door? Sorry, gotta run. Door knob spontaneously falls off? He is breaking that door down himself.

Gaz doesn’t want to go home at all. He is always so social and friendly that he can have a hard time understanding when you are ready to go. When you two first got together he would get frustrated, still wanting to be out and socializing but as time went on he would come to understand. It was crowded, loud, and not your scene at all. The club was the last place you wanted to be. Kyle knew that. That's why he brought you; to get you out of your shell. Maybe have a good time that wasn't spent on the couch with the cats and all 20 seasons of Gunsmoke. But, no. This just wasn't you. Kyle is beside you immediately, making sure you are alright. He can see the discomfort all over your face. He knows it's time to go, maybe even grab your favorite Chinese on the way home.

Soap just wants you to be happy, so if you want to go home, he wants to go home. The "get together" as Johnny called it was much to loud, people everywhere, music three notches too high, and the food wasn't even that good. You didn't last long; only twenty minutes in and you're ready to get out of there but you tough it out for Johnny, you always do, but Johnny is too damn smart. He is clued into very movement, every expression, every single twitch of your brow. He knows, you don't even have to say it. He makes some excuse to your hosts about errands or doctors appointments, whatever he can come up with to get you out of there and back home to your cat and knitting.

Taglist: @your-internet-tenshi @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid @lostintransist @nicolebarnes @vybzwithjaz @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jimihendrixenthusiast76 @haipasa @vivian-555