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Call me Rose. 23 - She/Her

[hellyeahrihannafenty]

Tom Holland does Rihanna’s “Umbrella” on Lip Sync Battle

[dr0wnedperfectionist]

I’m literally zendaya reacting like he didn’t have to go that hard and yet..

[kiera-jpg]

if this comes up on my dash and i don’t reblog it - just assume im dead

[ribbonwrappedneck]

Today I literally had my guts rearranged, however it was just coffee and not him )));

[ribbonwrappedneck]

Today I literally had my guts rearranged, however it was just coffee and not him )));

[luvbabydoll]

simon “ghost” riley is so fucking blunt with his words

you’re not even trying to be sexy. just sat on his couch in that worn old tank top, the one with the frayed strap and no bra underneath. your legs are curled under you, hair damp from the shower, picking at your nails and talking about some show you half-watched.

he’s not listening.

"y’re tits sit nice in that top f’yours," he says, eyes on the tv. voice low, almost lazy, like he’s commenting on the weather.

you blink at him. "what?"

"didn’t stutter, love," he says, finally turning to look. eyes dragging down your chest, slow and shameless. “reckon you wear shit like that on purpose.”

your face goes hot but he just huffs a laugh through his nose, leans back further. spreads his thighs a little wider like he’s settling in.

“saw a porno the other day. girl looked like you. sweet thing, bit mouthy. got fucked face-down in a stairwell.” he pauses. shrugs. “thought of ya.”

your jaw drops.

“what?” he says, tilting his head. “should be flattered. ain’t every day i get off twice to the same fuckin’ video.”

he grins when you throw a pillow at him. catches it. holds it in his lap.

"gonna keep wearin' that top, or y’gonna come sit here and gimme a better fuckin’ view?"

[s-ghost-r]

Rugby!Simon being on the national team means that there are times where he's out of the country either at training camps or matches.

Sometimes you manage to go with him, to be in the stands with the thousands of others cheering on the boys in the field. But most of the time you stay home. You do have a life and responsibilities, after all, and someone's got to hold down the fort.

During the times when you are apart, you don't go a day without hearing from him. You both work around the possible time differences to schedule facetimes so he can hear your voice and see your face. (You tease him that he's like a puppy with separation anxiety. He never refutes it.)

Often he'll send you a picture of something from his day. Whether that be of the boys doing something goofy or a shot of the architecture of the city they're staying in. Sometimes he'll send pictures of things like a little flower in his hand, a pink and orange sunset sky, the view of the clouds from the plane window, a piece of artwork he came across, the way sunlight dapples the street through the trees, or sometimes even just a cool rock he found all with the message: Thought of you.

This time, when he was out of the country, you decided to surprise him. You managed to get some time off work and got things squared away to where you could catch a flight to where the team was staying. You talked with his coach, telling him your plan. He gave you a time in their schedule when they'd finish one of their training days, which is how you ended up standing outside as the sun started setting, waiting for the boys to get done.

When he leaves the building, he walks as stone faced as he usually does, but you can see the moment he notices you. His shoulders relax as his face lights up. Like with most things with Simon, it's subtle and if you didn't know him as well as you do you probably wouldn't notice. But to you, the softening of his eyes and the unclenching of his jaw is akin to a wide, megawatt grin, the sudden pep in his step towards you akin to jumping for joy.

He wraps his thick, freshly worked arms around you and he lifts you off your feet. He hugs you to his chest like a plushie as he buries his face into your neck.

"Hi lovey," he says into your skin with the affect of a man finally coming home after twenty years of war.

Your arms squeeze him back around his neck. He smells like sweat, grass, and gym equipment, but most of all he smells like your Simon and you smother your smile into his shoulder.

With your feet still off the ground, he leans back to place a kiss on your cheek, your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. He finally lets you down so your feet are on the ground once more, but he keeps you against him with his hands clasped behind your back. All while you still stand in front of the gymnasium.

"Awww," one of the boys calls in the distance.

"Fuck off, MacTavish," Simon grumbles over your head, but his eyes still hold that softness as they gaze down at you like you matter more than anything else around, like his entire world is held in his arms.

[cherrycandyhearts]

Valentines day is one of those holidays you either love or hate. This year was the year to try and stop hating it and become a 'proper grown up.' New Years resolution number one was to try and find a social circle, however chatting at work was difficult. Working on a military base doing paperwork to pay the bills wasn't exactly a very social career, redacted information and confidentiality involved. The small desk you worked at was boring and in need of a makeover. A few paper hearts and ribbons made the desk somewhat more festive and it got some people to stop and compliment your work and maybe get to chit chatting and make some friends. However unfortunate side effect was having people pry into your personal life. Namely, whether or not you had a valentine.

No, you did not have a valentine this year. However, you made the decision to not wallow in sadness and cheap chocolates and try to put yourself out there. Perhaps it's old fashioned to want a nice person to approach you instead of having to nervously try to talk with those in bars and clubs. You're not built for that kind of sticky stuff and slippery slopes of lust and drunken touches.

That's why it's utterly ridiculous that you've found yourself in some pub on Valentines day. One of the lovely guests to stop by your desk was a very confident sergent with a Mohawk. He was proudly flirting with you, trying to learn ore about your relationship status, when he invited you to the pub with 'his boys' to drink away your relationship woes (and maybe let him take you home from the tone in his voice and the way he eyed you). Before you could even ask who he was referring to (or his name) the scariest thing you've ever seen at work creeped up behind him.

Tall, broad, covered completely head to toe. This sight did not frighten the sergent, who excitedly told the skeleton mask that you'd be joining them tonight (you didn't even reply yet!). A deep voice came from behind the mask talking directly to the Mohawk man.

"...you're supposted to be handling the mess of papers on your desk, Johnny..." The voice said gruffly, staring intensely at Johnny.

"...Aye...you're right, but I was inviting this lovely girl to join us tonight." Johnny smiled back at the mask, seemly uncaring about the masked man's gentle reminder for him to get back to work. A sigh came from behind the mask.

"...You can chit chat later." The mask said more firmly, causing Johnny to say his quick goodbyes to you. Watching as Johnny made his way back towards their unit, the mask slowly turned to look at you. Pausing to stare at you for a moment before following Johnny. His pace wasn't hastened, he walked casually and confidently.

Now confused, scared, and a bit weirded out, you had to decide whether you'd be joining Johnny and his scary shadow tonight or sliding away to go back home and drown your sorrows in cheap wine, takeout, and candies.

-------------------------------------------------------

Authors notes: Sorry for being gone so long! Ahhh I finally graduated and job hunting is kicking my ass! I am debating where I want to go with this fic, I'm thinking either Ghost x reader or Ghost x Soap x Reader. I could possibly write both or maybe like a choose your own adventure? Hmm let me know what you guys think! I love you 🩷💜💙💚💛🧡❤️🤎🖤🩶🤍 (Also I'm writing this half blind in bed about to go to sleep so I have NOT done a lot of editing on this part, let me know if you see any mistakes or errors or if something doesn't quite make sense)

[cherrycandyhearts]

Of course you went to the bar. Of course in your haste to exit the building Johnny spotted you and wrapped is arm around your shoulders, leading you into his car. Of course he babbled in your ear about how much fun you'd have tonight while you debated jumping out from the passenger side. You aren't even dressed for a night out! Modest dress and cardigan (they keep the offices cold!) and some loafers (heels are NOT good office shoes) isn't exactly the outfit of a single woman hanging in a bar on Valentines. The Mohawk man seems to enjoy it though, helping you out of his car to try and get a peek down the small gap where your dress reveals a sliver of cleavage.

Pervert.

It's not worth trying to argue with a man who has negotiated world ending level threats. Especially when he wraps his arms around you waist and practically drags you into the pub. You find yourself led to a table of three men, including the scary shadow Johnny is apparently friends with - on each side of him are two other men. A man who's a bit older than you, smiling but still seems stern and wise and a man around Johnny's age, who also seemed cheerful. They already had a round on the table as they turned to look at you.

"This is...!" Johnny started to introduce you, forgetting he never even asked you name or if you even wanted to spend you Valentines day in a pub with some random men. "Well she does the paperwork! Have a seat lass!" He chirped excitedly, seemingly proud he found a woman to drag to the pub to entertain with.

Who do you sit with? (Aka who am I writing for first! We're doing this dating sim style kinda hehehe)

Johnny

Ghost

Gaz

Price

Voting ended onFeb 17

[cherrycandyhearts]

Valentines day is one of those holidays you either love or hate. This year was the year to try and stop hating it and become a 'proper grown up.' New Years resolution number one was to try and find a social circle, however chatting at work was difficult. Working on a military base doing paperwork to pay the bills wasn't exactly a very social career, redacted information and confidentiality involved. The small desk you worked at was boring and in need of a makeover. A few paper hearts and ribbons made the desk somewhat more festive and it got some people to stop and compliment your work and maybe get to chit chatting and make some friends. However unfortunate side effect was having people pry into your personal life. Namely, whether or not you had a valentine.

No, you did not have a valentine this year. However, you made the decision to not wallow in sadness and cheap chocolates and try to put yourself out there. Perhaps it's old fashioned to want a nice person to approach you instead of having to nervously try to talk with those in bars and clubs. You're not built for that kind of sticky stuff and slippery slopes of lust and drunken touches.

That's why it's utterly ridiculous that you've found yourself in some pub on Valentines day. One of the lovely guests to stop by your desk was a very confident sergent with a Mohawk. He was proudly flirting with you, trying to learn ore about your relationship status, when he invited you to the pub with 'his boys' to drink away your relationship woes (and maybe let him take you home from the tone in his voice and the way he eyed you). Before you could even ask who he was referring to (or his name) the scariest thing you've ever seen at work creeped up behind him.

Tall, broad, covered completely head to toe. This sight did not frighten the sergent, who excitedly told the skeleton mask that you'd be joining them tonight (you didn't even reply yet!). A deep voice came from behind the mask talking directly to the Mohawk man.

"...you're supposted to be handling the mess of papers on your desk, Johnny..." The voice said gruffly, staring intensely at Johnny.

"...Aye...you're right, but I was inviting this lovely girl to join us tonight." Johnny smiled back at the mask, seemly uncaring about the masked man's gentle reminder for him to get back to work. A sigh came from behind the mask.

"...You can chit chat later." The mask said more firmly, causing Johnny to say his quick goodbyes to you. Watching as Johnny made his way back towards their unit, the mask slowly turned to look at you. Pausing to stare at you for a moment before following Johnny. His pace wasn't hastened, he walked casually and confidently.

Now confused, scared, and a bit weirded out, you had to decide whether you'd be joining Johnny and his scary shadow tonight or sliding away to go back home and drown your sorrows in cheap wine, takeout, and candies.

-------------------------------------------------------

Authors notes: Sorry for being gone so long! Ahhh I finally graduated and job hunting is kicking my ass! I am debating where I want to go with this fic, I'm thinking either Ghost x reader or Ghost x Soap x Reader. I could possibly write both or maybe like a choose your own adventure? Hmm let me know what you guys think! I love you 🩷💜💙💚💛🧡❤️🤎🖤🩶🤍 (Also I'm writing this half blind in bed about to go to sleep so I have NOT done a lot of editing on this part, let me know if you see any mistakes or errors or if something doesn't quite make sense)

[protags-other-husband]

could you imagine an opposite tadc but it's everyone being content with the circus except jax and caine wants them all to leave

[cherrycandyhearts]

Caine sending them on adventures to try and make them hate the circus but everyone ends up having a fun time while Jax fails to convince them it's not as fun as they think it is.

[d0ggyd0g]

[cherrycandyhearts]

i just wanted to say i really like your writing! 🤍

Thank you so much! Planning to write a whole lot more but I got finals coming up soon so its gonna be a bit patchy for a bit!

[cherrycandyhearts]

Pt 1 - Pt 2

Animals learn to communicate without words. They use their actions and the few noises that they can make.

Prey are vocal and pitiful—predators are quiet and observant, ready to pounce the moment they see their prey show signs of weakness.

Simon doesn't mind that you're emotional. He understands that the differences in your lives have led you to be different people.

When you trip and scrape your hands on concrete pavement outside the offices, he has no trouble scooping you up into his arms and finding the nearest first aid kit to clean up your bleeding palms and knees.

He doesn't hush you when you whine over the sting of disinfectant or complain about how difficult it's going to be to have bandaged palms for the next couple days.

He grew up with a father who was a monster. He wanted to grow up to be the opposite. However, the legend that surrounds him and the body he built to be a soldier scares pretty little things like you to tears.

Once he smoothes the bandages in place, he tugs up his mask and kisses your palms gently. It's more than a bit shocking to see the legend himself treating you so gently, but your stunned silence gives him the opportunity to hoist you back into his arms.

He has no trouble walking you outside, taking you to your car. He sets you gently in the backseat, and part of you wonders if you're being complacent in your own strange kidnapping.

Ever since that day in his office, he's treated you differently. Stopping by just to observe and being watched so closely made you nervous—which is what ultimately led you to tripping on your way out for the night.

It's hard to see anything other than him as he climbs in with you; you doubt it's comfortable for a large man like him to be squeezed in the back seat with you, especially since he keeps a good bit of distance between the both of you, trying not to crush you beneath him.

Last time, he was more eager, but something had made him decide to take his time. He remembers being told it's considered bad manners to play with your food.

He starts with kissing your tears away, and to his credit, despite his chapped lips and the way he has your wrists pinned to the seat, it is a bit comforting.

He kisses the bandages on your knees before he tears your tights the rest of the way to kiss between your thighs. He doesn't mind your whining, especially when you're pinned beneath him like this.

[cherrycandyhearts]

Pt 1 - Pt 2

Shy, quiet, timid. They act like its a sin to be an anxious person.

Clumsy and forgetful too, what a wreck of an adult. But you find yourself more akin to a fawn than an grown woman.

You drop your files walking through the hall on base, and part of you wants to cry because you messed up right in front of the scariest looking soldier you've ever seen.

You work in the offices, handling the paperwork the civilians can see, but even though you're not military, you know who the man in the skull mask is.

Ghost.

Legends are only gifted to those who are deemed worthy to talk about. As you squat, trying to pile the papers back up in the right order into their respective files, you find yourself tearing up.

Ghost probably doesn't mess up like this, never forgets his keys at home or trips trying to walk down the stairs. He's built like a tank but he's probably more graceful than you.

Before you can wallow too hard in your sorrows, you notice the big man squat down with you, helping pick up the scattered files. It stuns you into freezing, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

"Happens to the best of us..." He says gruffly, not even bothering to look up at you as he stacks the papers together.

After you get your files in order, he walks you back to the offices. It's honestly embarrassing how you've yet to calm down, your heart racing and cheeks flushed from being around him. Prey can't lower their guard when they notice a predator around.

Perhaps you got too comfortable, or maybe your naivete worked in his favor because thirty minutes later, you found yourself in his office. Flattened against his desk as the myth himself pounded into you.

You were a legend too, the clumsy soft thing who works in the offices. He'd heard whispers about the sweet, gentle thing that just couldn't help but get anxious and shy around people.

He needed to see if you were as cute as rumors led him to believe. Once he knew he needed to have you, he hiked your skirt around your hips and told you to relax. He'd do all the work, making sure a good girl like you was taken care of.

[cherrycandyhearts]

I'm thinking of writing this into a series. Ghost x Intern!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone has an enemy, okay, maybe not everyone, but you do. This job was supposed to be easy, just something short to put on your resume to make you look stunning to other employers. I suppose that maybe interning with the military was your first mistake.

Laswell, the polite woman she is takes you as her little intern. Polite and kind, she didn't want anything to happen to you from some sleeze bag who had an eye for young women. Laswell is great, the best boss you've had by far. However, the work you have to deal with comes from more than just her.

Price is a polite older man, sweet. His paperwork is easy to handle. Gaz is the same way, never causing you trouble. Soap gives you shit when you see him, so you ask Gaz to scoop his documents up when he gives you his and like the gentleman he his, he does so nicely.

Simon Riley, however, is a pain in the ass. He never gets his paperwork to you in time. He refuses to even speak to you! He goes directly to Laswell with complaints. You're just some delicate little civilian. His paperwork is too sensitive for you, and you'll bother him if you know too much. It makes you angry.

You've got degrees, signed a novels worth of paperwork confirming that what was a secret was just that. All of your accounts are monitored. They told you they'd have to bug your shitty little home if you even so much as trigger one tiny protocol. So you don't say anything. Your work is just work. But Simon big shot Riley acts like just crossing you in the hall will be his downfall.

The office throws a Halloween party, and you really want to stay home and eat too much candy and watch a totally not scary horror movie but Laswell is so sweet and tells you that you should make some more friends in the office. There's a costume contest and alcohol and her and the boys will make sure no one bothers you.

So here you are, tucked in the corner in some costume that you swore wasn't supposed to be this slutty (seriously, its a princess costume for god sakes! The skirt has no reason to cling to your ass and ride up your thighs. This is your size, right? You triple checked before you bought it).

Of course, there are men here, and of course, half of them want a piece of the sweet curvy intern Laswell has, the other half act like the idea of seeing a girl over 90 lbs is disgusting. You're about to tell Laswell you'll see her Monday and grab up the cupcakes you made (seriously, these guys do NOT deserve them) when Gaz stops you. He gets you to sit down and drink with him and Johnny. Ghost stares at you from across the table like you stabbed him, which is saying a lot for a guy you know has been stabbed before. So you drink yourself til you can't feel anger anymore.

When the parties over you are a little too wasted to get home. Laswell and her wife are about to get you to come with them when someone stops them.

"I'll get 'er home." He says oh so confidently. What an ass, how he lifts you up in his arms like your weight nothing. How he buckles you into his car so nicely. He even drives slower when you tell him the way he's driving makes you need to throw up.

He gets you home, and don't question how he knew your address. He lifts you up again like a princess and you scoff at him, telling him you can walk. You're too drunk to even remember his name, so when the tall dark figure in your room lays you down in bed and removes your shoes you chirp at him happily. Trying to tug him in with you.

He sits down with you until you fall asleep. Patting your hair. He doesn't actually hate you, he hates to admit it but he fell heads over heels for you the second you smiled nervously at him and greeted him as 'Mr.Ghost' because you genuinely thought that was his name at first.

He doesn't want you wrapped up in his life though. You deserve someone good, someone who you show off to your friends. A nice bastard who'd take you out to fancy dinners and marry you in front of all your friends and family. He's too secretive, he's got too much baggage.

He writes you a note, leaving you a glass of water next to you. He'll be back tomorrow to help you get your car from work. He can't help how he leans down and kisses your forehead softly through his balaclava.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking of doing a whole 141 x reader here. Like a dating sim :)

[superball7666]

BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN BULKY YEARING MEN

😫🤌

[cherrycandyhearts]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This isn't a spot for delicate people. The fact that men are openly smoking so close to their beers in a little sleezy place like this makes you a tiny bit nervous. This is your first going to a bar looking to find someone for the night, but work has been stressful, and the world is going crazy. Lifes have been hard, and they say rugged men are the best cure for that.

Your parents always condemned these places, they always told you that you're too good for this kind of life. The men here are rough mannered, worked all day in the heat, barely cleaned up before they make their way out for a beer and a smoke. Being 'good' in your twenties isn't necessarily a bad thing, but the stark contrast between the life you've lived and the men here is high. Willing throwing yourself to the wolves to know what it feels like to be feasted on. It's not your fault that the men who are considered 'proper' dates are horrible in bed. They aren't even sweet or loving, just boring and focused on their own pleasure.

But despite the tremble in your hands and feet, you make your way to the bar and sit at the least terrible barstool you find. You order water, okay, it's a bar and you should drink but this is your first time here and you're alone. You need to stay alert, and there's no problem with pacing yourself. It's not loud like other places, so it's easy to stay alert. You take a look around. The men here are definitely older than you by at least ten years. Some are still wearing their work uniforms-mechanics, military men, and various blue-collar workers. Nothing like church boys and sons of lawyers, men who focus more on their stocks and fantasy football leagues. These are men who don't fret over picket fences and politics.

It's considered less than polite for a young lady to approach a man. At least, that's what the old biddies at family reunions tell you. So you stay sat at the bar, prim and proper in pink. Sipping your water, there has to be some wolf hungry enough to try and sink his teeth into a fruit like you.

But it gets late, and it's a little insulting that not one man within a tired establishment like this can find his way towards you. The man behind the bar seemingly picks up on your mood after he calls for the last round.

"If you're not done with drinks for a night, can show you to a more lively joint after I close up. I know it's a bit early to close for the kids, but I'm getting too old to stay up all night." The man says, scratching at his beard. He's at least fifteen years older than you, but he's still handsome with a boyish glint in his eye.

"I don't think I'd find what I'm looking for there, Sir..." Your manners come out in his company, but you really want to say is 'I'm looking for an older man to fuck me like he means it.'

He shrugs in reply, wiping down the bar top. "At least let me walk you home. It's dangerous put there for a girl like you."

You really should turn him down. You don't know him. He's nice, though, and he's plucking at the strings in your brain to get you to sing in tune.

You nod, sipping at your glass of water. "Tell me your name first, Sir?" You mumble softly, trying to hide your nervous edge.

"Price, John Price." He smiles, and its warm, his eyes are filled with life. You realize that maybe you weren't looking for a rugged man, but someone older to show you what pleasure is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Might write a part two if people like this, I'm a bit nervous to write actual smut though!

[cherrycandyhearts]

Debating making a pt 2 where Reader and Price hookup in the bar restroom. :/

[cherrycandyhearts]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This isn't a spot for delicate people. The fact that men are openly smoking so close to their beers in a little sleezy place like this makes you a tiny bit nervous. This is your first going to a bar looking to find someone for the night, but work has been stressful, and the world is going crazy. Lifes have been hard, and they say rugged men are the best cure for that.

Your parents always condemned these places, they always told you that you're too good for this kind of life. The men here are rough mannered, worked all day in the heat, barely cleaned up before they make their way out for a beer and a smoke. Being 'good' in your twenties isn't necessarily a bad thing, but the stark contrast between the life you've lived and the men here is high. Willing throwing yourself to the wolves to know what it feels like to be feasted on. It's not your fault that the men who are considered 'proper' dates are horrible in bed. They aren't even sweet or loving, just boring and focused on their own pleasure.

But despite the tremble in your hands and feet, you make your way to the bar and sit at the least terrible barstool you find. You order water, okay, it's a bar and you should drink but this is your first time here and you're alone. You need to stay alert, and there's no problem with pacing yourself. It's not loud like other places, so it's easy to stay alert. You take a look around. The men here are definitely older than you by at least ten years. Some are still wearing their work uniforms-mechanics, military men, and various blue-collar workers. Nothing like church boys and sons of lawyers, men who focus more on their stocks and fantasy football leagues. These are men who don't fret over picket fences and politics.

It's considered less than polite for a young lady to approach a man. At least, that's what the old biddies at family reunions tell you. So you stay sat at the bar, prim and proper in pink. Sipping your water, there has to be some wolf hungry enough to try and sink his teeth into a fruit like you.

But it gets late, and it's a little insulting that not one man within a tired establishment like this can find his way towards you. The man behind the bar seemingly picks up on your mood after he calls for the last round.

"If you're not done with drinks for a night, can show you to a more lively joint after I close up. I know it's a bit early to close for the kids, but I'm getting too old to stay up all night." The man says, scratching at his beard. He's at least fifteen years older than you, but he's still handsome with a boyish glint in his eye.

"I don't think I'd find what I'm looking for there, Sir..." Your manners come out in his company, but you really want to say is 'I'm looking for an older man to fuck me like he means it.'

He shrugs in reply, wiping down the bar top. "At least let me walk you home. It's dangerous put there for a girl like you."

You really should turn him down. You don't know him. He's nice, though, and he's plucking at the strings in your brain to get you to sing in tune.

You nod, sipping at your glass of water. "Tell me your name first, Sir?" You mumble softly, trying to hide your nervous edge.

"Price, John Price." He smiles, and its warm, his eyes are filled with life. You realize that maybe you weren't looking for a rugged man, but someone older to show you what pleasure is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Might write a part two if people like this, I'm a bit nervous to write actual smut though!

[rawme-price]

You swear ghost is the sweetest guy you've ever met.

It just sucks that no one wants to believe you. Kyle leans forward in his seat on the sofa, a disbelieving grin on his face. "Ghost? The guy who glares daggers at people in the hallways for fun? The guy who laughs whenever recruits eat shit on the field? Him?"

"Yeah!" You nod, smiling to yourself at the memory of simon. "He's just so sweet! He's nicer than any guy I've met before, I feel like he actually listens to me, yknow?"

Soap grimaces at your words, clearly in disbelief. He raises a brow, knocking his food against yours "how do we even know we can trust ye? Ave never seen ye in the same room as the guy."

Just as you're about to respond, the door to the rec room creeks open and the familiar shadow of ghost slides in. Of course, you completely abandon your conversation with soap and kyle to greet him "ghost! Hi! How was your run?"

Ghost's eyes crinkle behind his mask in the way you know as soft affection. His voice is subdued and quieter than soap has ever heard when he responds "good, love. Better now that I get to see you. How was that diner you wanted to visit?"

"Oh! Si' you would've loved it, they had these omlettes–" as you continue to ramble, ghost stands close with a hand hovering just over your bicep. As if shielding you from anyone else, keeping you in his orbit.

Of course you though ghost was sweet, you didn't realize he was only nice to you.

Kyle and soap share a look, and soap says without prompting "no more than a month."

Kyle snorts, raises a brow "you have too much faith. I say two weeks."