tags/warnings: mdni, infidelity (ghost’s marriage sucks), size kink, breeding , unprotected sex, degradation/dumbification, squirting, corruption kink if you squint
Simon is in a loveless marriage.
It’s sad—he knows that. Ever since he got back from deployment, things with his wife weren’t the same. She would stay at work late, come home smelling of someone else’s cologne, trying to hide her swollen lips.
Military service took a toll on him. The torture, the abuse, the loss of life—sometimes it was too much for him to bear. His wife didn’t understand, and he certainly couldn’t talk to her about it. She was too busy being fucked by other men to speak to him anyway. So, he kept his trauma close to his chest.
Then he met you.
You moved in next to him while he was away. When he left for service, the house was empty—vines withering up the creaky wood, yard overgrown and barren. As soon as he drove into his front yard, he knew that changed.
The house was fixed up, vines trimmed. A new coat of paint covered the old wood and made it look new. A hammock hung between two large trees in the yard. And one other thing was different.
Flowers. They were everywhere in your yard. Rose bushes, lavender, tulips, sunflowers—the yard was a rainbow of color. Simon could smell them from his front yard when he went outside to smoke or to get away from the confines of his house.
It wasn’t until he was smoking one afternoon that he saw you. Fresh-faced and young, gloved hands trimming back your rose bushes. It took him a while to say hi, but he did eventually. You were everything his wife wasn’t—kind, bubbly, thoughtful…innocent.
He found himself in your front yard more than he was at home, offering to help you trim your flowers or plant new ones. He was always filling the heavy watering can and watering for you—“I got all this muscle, sweetheart, let me use it for somethin’.”
Simon wasn’t sure when he began spilling his trauma, but one day, he sat on your couch with a glass of lemonade telling you about the war. The torture, the loss of his military brethren—everything. He told you about his past and his present, about his failing marriage; and most importantly, that he trusted you.
The first intimate actions were small. A brush of a hand, a squeeze of a thigh. Lips brushed against an ear. Small actions that made your tummy clench and his face grow hot. Eventually, it led to something more. Soft kisses on tender lips, hands running over scarred skin and muscle, strong arms wrapped around you.
And tonight, you kissed him with a hunger he couldn’t ignore anymore. Your tongue swiped so slowly along his that his knees buckled and his heart slammed against his chest. His fingers gripped your ass so tightly, you thought it would bruise, but it sent heat to your core all the same.
That’s how you find yourself now—on your back in your bed, sheets sprawled around you and Simon eating you like a man starved. His tongue flicks so deliciously against your clit that it makes your toes curl and your grip tighten in his hair.
“Simon,” you whine, hips bucking as he sucks hard on the sensitive nerves. His response is a grunt, his middle and ring finger gathering your juices and teasing your tight entrance.
Your breath stills when he pushes his two thick fingers inside of your pussy, back arching and hips drawing back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon mutters against your clit, tugging your hips down with his other hand and curling his fingers inside of your wanting cunt.
All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch your squelching pussy, juices dripping down to your ass. His tongue rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting a fucking picture, and you can’t help but moan out at the pleasure. His fingers hit that spongy spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure.
“S-Simon, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice breaking off in a moan as he speeds up.
And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you.
Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his hands running up to your waist. Your eyes flutter open—when did they shut?—and you look up at him staring down at you, his lips curled into a smirk.
“Such a nasty fucking girl,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck. “Squirting for me like that. Gonna do that on my cock, too, sweetheart?”
All you can do is moan in response, and Simon chuckles before pulling back and tugging down his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take in his fat cock—thick and veiny and leaking precum. He holds eye contact with you as he moves to hover over you, rubbing his tip along your soaked folds.
You squirm and whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t think it’s gonna fit.”
Simon grins, positioning his tip against your throbbing hole. “Gonna make it fit.”
Your lips part as he slowly slides his fat cock inside you, stretching you out in such a painfully delicious way that you almost forget to breathe. You can feel every vein in his cock, and Simon lets out a guttural groan when he sheathes himself fully inside you.
“Relax, doll. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight and I haven’t even moved.” His voice is strained, and he lets out a breath as you try to relax.
His hand moves to your throat, squeezing slightly as he begins to move. Slow at first—painfully slow. You hold eye contact with him as he slowly ruts his hips against yours, his lips parted as breathy groans slip past. When you start to whimper and moan, he speeds up, his pace becoming almost animalistic in nature.
The tip of his fat cock hits a spot that makes you see stars, and you let out a soft cry as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It feels so good, and you drag your nails down his chest because you don’t know what else to do.
“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip tight on your throat. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out?”
You can’t even answer him, responding with whines and moans, tears sliding down your cheeks from the pleasure. Simon smirks, fucking you faster, and you cry out.
“Didn’t think I’d fuck you dumb, sweetheart. Can’t help it can you? Cock makin’ you stupid?”
You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand moves to your clit to rub in precise circles. Your eyes glaze over and you’re gone—submitting completely to him as he fucks you with his fat cock.
Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake. Simon grunts and groans as you come on his cock, throbbing so tightly around him that you almost force him out. He simply fucks you harder, pressing against your cervix as your juices gush out of your cunt and you whine out, hips jolting.
Simon moves his fingers from your clit to your face, wiping your tears away and leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is hot and surprisingly sweet, and when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.
“Good fuckin’ girl. My girl. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up so good, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his arm hooking through your leg to open you up wider. His hips slap against yours, his breathy moans hitting your skin softly.
“Please, Simon,” you breathe out, voice catching as he fucks into you. “Need it. Please.”
That’s all it takes for Simon to crumble, moaning out curses and your name as his cock throbs inside of you. He gives one, two, three more thrusts before he buries his fat cock inside you, tip against your cervix, and you can feel his hot seed pumping inside of you.
He thrusts lazily for a moment before sliding out of you, pulling you to his chest. Your lips meet in a sweet, lazy kiss, and you feel his cum dripping out of you. Simon’s fingers trace down your back, and he looks at you so delicately, he’s afraid you might break. His hand moves to cup your face, thumb brushing right underneath your eyes. Then he utters four words that make your heart stop.
Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Fem!Reader x Simon “Ghost” Riley
TW: Angst, Romance, Love Triangle, reader injured, hurt/no comfort, “stalking?”
WC: 2.6K
a/n: didn't really know how to end this one icl i hope you enjoy it
not proofread
The base was always quieter at night, a stillness settling over the barracks that felt both peaceful and suffocating. Simon often found himself alone during these hours, taking solace in the shadows where he felt the most at home. The darkness was a refuge for him, a place where he could exist without the weight of his past or the expectations of those around him. But lately, that solace had been slipping away eroded by the presence of someone who had managed to slip past his carefully constructed defences, you.
You had been with the team for over a year now, and in that time, you had become indispensable. Not just because of your skills in the field, they were formidable, but because of your spirit. You were strong but also kind, a combination that was rare in their line of work. You had a way of making everyone around you feel seen, feel valued. Even Simon, who had spent years perfecting the art of emotional detachment, couldn’t help but be drawn to you.
At first, he had dismissed his feelings as a passing infatuation, something he could easily ignore. But as time went on, those feelings only grew stronger, more insistent. He found himself gravitating toward you, seeking her out in the rare moments of downtime they had. It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated him, though you were undeniably beautiful, it was the way you treated him, like he was more than just the mask he wore.
But there was a problem, a problem with a name…. Kyle
Kyle and you had a connection that ghost couldn’t ignore. You were close in a way that Simon had never been with anyone. You shared jokes, whispered conversations and a bond that was palpable even in a room full of people. Simon could see it in the way Kyle looked at you, the way you smiled back at him. It was clear that you cared deeply for Seach other and as much as Simon hated to admit it. You fit together perfectly.
Simon was always on the outside, looking in. he was the one in the shadows, watching as Kyle made you laugh, as you leaned into him for comfort after a tough mission. And it hurt. But he kept his distance, telling himself it was for the best. You deserved someone who could offer stability and warmth, a future and that wasn’t him. He was a soldier, a “Ghost” and he didn’t belong in the light where you shone. You picked Kyle Afterall.
But no matter how hard he tried to distance himself, he couldn’t escape you. You seemed to have a way of finding him, even in the darkest corners of the base. You would sit with him in silence, sometimes talking about nothing in particular, other times just being there. It was in those moments that Simon allowed himself to hope, just for a second, that maybe there was something between them.
That hope was dangerous. It gnawed at him, growing stronger with each passing day until it became almost unbearable. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like if things were different, if he was the one making you laugh, the one you turned to for comfort.
That day, the mission had started like any other, but something in the air felt different that day. The team moved through enemy territory with their usual precision, but the tension was palpable, an undercurrent of unease that none of them could shake. Simon led the way, as he often did, his senses honed to a razors edge. Beside him was you, always steady, always focused. Behind them, Kyle, his gaze ever watchful, not just the surroundings but of you.
Kyle had fallen for you a few weeks after you joined the team. He simply fell in love with you. He admired your skill he admired your intelligence. You would laugh at his jokes even the horrible ones. You were everything that he hadn’t known he was looking for. Kyle loved you with sincerity. But with that love came fear. fear that he couldn’t protect you that the dangerous life they led would take you from him. He kept it buried, knowing that you were more capable of taking care of yourself. Still the thought of losing you was something he couldn’t bear.
And then, the ambush happened
They were close to the extraction point when the first shots rang out, the sharp cracks of gunfire shattering the quiet. The enemy had been waiting for them, and within seconds, the team was pinned down, bullets ripping through the air. Simon’s instincts kicked in immediately. He moved with deadly precision, returning fire as he called out orders to the rest of the team. You were beside Kyle, paranoid, eyes darting, moving as swifty as you could. But before you could even raise your firearm to save yourself. You were hit.
Simon turned seeing you fall before his eyes. Your body crumpling to the ground as blood blossomed across her side.
“NO!” Kyles voice was a broken cry as he rushed to your side. His heart racing with a fear unlike anything he’d ever known. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding, panic gripped him. His thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of disbelief and terror. “Stay with me, love” Kyle begged, pressing down on the wound. “Please, stay with me. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”
Your eyes fluttered open, pain etched across your features, but you managed a weak smile. “I’m fine, Kyle… don’t worry.”
But you weren’t fine. The wound was serious, the blood loss too great. Kyle could see the colour draining from your face, could feel you slipping away, and it terrified him. All he could think about was how he had failed to protect you, how he might lose the woman he loved more than anything.
Simon saw the whole thing, his heart freezing as he watched you fall. Rage and fear surged through him as he fought to clear a path to the extraction point, his focus split between the battle and the sight of Kyle, desperately trying to keep you alive. A part of him was consumed with guilt, but another part—darker, more dangerous—began to resent Kyle for not protecting you.
“Get her to the extraction point!” Simon ordered, his voice a harsh bark as he cut down the last of the enemy fighters. “Now!”
The team rallied around them, forming a protective barrier as they moved toward the extraction point. Simon took point, his movements mechanical, driven by a cold fury that made him even more lethal. Every second felt like a lifetime, every breath a reminder of how close you were to death. And all he could think about was how Kyle had let this happen.
The chopper ride back to base was filled with a heavy, suffocating silence. The medics worked frantically to stabilize you, shouting orders to the pilot to get them back as fast as possible. Kyle sat beside you, his hands gripping yours tightly, his face a mask of anguish and desperation. Simon sat across from them, his eyes locked on your pale face, his heart a storm of conflicting emotions. When they finally landed, you were rushed into the med bay, leaving Simon and Kyle standing on the tarmac. The weight of everything that had happened crashed down on Simon, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He turned on Kyle, his voice low and seething with resentment.
“You were supposed to protect her,” Simon growled, stepping closer to Kyle, his eyes burning with anger.
Kyle looked up, his face pale and drawn, still reeling from the fear of losing you “What are you talking about, Simon?”
Simon’s hands clenched into fists, the rage that had been building inside him for hours finally breaking free. “You were right there, Kyle. You were supposed to have her back. And now she’s in there fighting for her life because you couldn’t do your damn job!”
Kyle blinked, the shock of Simon’s accusation momentarily stunning him. “I did everything I could! We were under fire, Simon! There was nothing I could do to stop that bullet!”
“Bullshit!” Simon snapped, his voice rising with each word. “You let her get hurt! You were too busy being her damn boyfriend to do what needed to be done!”
Kyle’s face twisted with anger, his own emotions finally boiling over. “How dare you say that? You think I don’t care? You think I’m not tearing myself apart over this? I love her, Simon! I’d die for her!”
“You didn’t do enough,” Simon spat, his voice filled with venom. “You say you love her, but you couldn’t even keep her safe. And now she’s lying in there because you failed.”
Kyle’s hands balled into fists. He took a step toward Simon, his voice trembling with fury. “You don’t get to judge me, Simon. You think you know what love is? You think you understand what it’s like to care about someone so much it tears you apart?”
“I care about her more than you could ever know,” Simon snarled, his eyes dark with emotion. “I’ve cared about her since the day she joined this team. But unlike you, I’ve kept it in check because I know what’s at stake. And now look where your so-called love has gotten her.”
Kyle’s eyes widened, the realization of Simon’s words hitting him like a physical blow. “You… you have feelings for her?”
Simon’s jaw tightened, the truth hanging in the air between them like a blade. “Yes, Kyle. I do. But I’ve respected her, respected you, because I knew she was yours. But now, because of you, she’s lying on a table, bleeding out.”
Kyle’s face twisted in a mix of shock and anger. “You think this is my fault? You think she’d ever choose you over me? You’re just a coward, Simon—a coward who hides behind a mask and a rifle because you’re too afraid to let anyone in!”
Simon’s patience snapped. Without thinking, he swung, his fist connecting with Kyle’s jaw with a sickening thud. The force of the blow sent Kyle staggering back, but he quickly regained his footing, his own anger flaring as he launched himself at Ghost.
They collided with a fury that had been building for months, fists flying as they grappled with each other. Kyle landed a solid punch to Ghost’s ribs, but Ghost retaliated, slamming his fist into Kyle’s stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of him.
“You’re not good enough for her,” Simon growled, his voice filled with years of repressed anger and pain. “You let her get hurt. You let her bleed.”
Before Kyle could respond, strong hands grabbed both men, yanking them apart with a force that broke their grip on each other.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Captain Price’s voice was like a gunshot, sharp and filled with authority. He shoved Simon back, his gaze hard and unforgiving as he looked between the two men. “This is how you handle things? Brawling like a couple of schoolboys while She’s in there fighting for her life?”
“You’re both out of line,” Price continued, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “I don’t care what’s going on between you two, but this? This isn’t how you solve it. You think this is what she needs right now? You think this is going to help her?”
Kyle’s eyes dropped to the floor, the shame and guilt weighing heavily on him. Simon stood rigid, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to control the storm of emotions raging inside him.
Price looked between them, his voice softening just a fraction. “You both care about her. I get that. But right now, what she needs is to know that her team is behind her. That means all of us. You two need to get your heads on straight, because she’s the one that matters right now. Not this bullshit between you.”
Kyle nodded; Simon already walked away.
The days following the mission were heavy with tension, the kind that everyone felt but no one dared to address. Your condition was stable, but you remained in the med bay, recovering from your injuries. The team was grateful that you had survived, but the incident had left scars on more than just her body. Simon couldn’t shake the anger that had consumed him during the mission. The fight with Kyle had been inevitable, a culmination of months of pent-up emotions and unspoken feelings. But even after Captain Price had forced them to back down, the rage and guilt still simmered beneath the surface. Ghost couldn’t forgive Kyle for what had happened to you, but more than that, he couldn’t forgive himself.
It was late one night, long after most of the base had gone to sleep, when Simon found himself standing outside the med bay. He hadn’t been able to sleep since the mission, his thoughts plagued by images of you lying on that stretcher, pale and bleeding. The guilt was a constant, gnawing presence, but it was the fear that truly terrified him—the fear of losing you, the realization that he might never have the chance to tell you how he really felt.
He hadn’t seen you since that day, choosing to stay away out of respect for Kyle, and because he couldn’t bear to face you after everything that had happened. But now, something pulled him toward the med bay, a need to see you, to make sure you were okay. He told himself it was just to check on you, just to see with his own eyes that you were healing, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.
The med bay was dimly lit, the quiet hum of machines the only sound as Simon stepped inside. you were there, lying on the narrow bed, your eyes closed in sleep. Even in the Bright light, you looked so fragile, so different from the strong, confident woman he had come to admire. The sight of you like this, vulnerable and wounded, twisted something inside him.
Simon stood at the edge of the bed, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at you. you were safe. you were alive. But all he could think about was how close he had come to losing you, how close he had come to losing the one person who had ever made him feel like more than just a soldier, more than just a ghost.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, just watching you breathe, the rise and fall of your chest the only thing grounding him. But then, as if sensing his presence, you stirred, your eyes slowly fluttering open.
“Simon?” your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep, but there was a warmth in it that sent a jolt through him.
Simon froze, his heart in his throat. He hadn’t expected you to wake up, hadn’t prepared himself for the possibility of having to speak to you, to explain why he was there. But now that you were looking at him, those familiar brown eyes filled with a softness that made his heart ache, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
You offered him a small, tired smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”
Your words hit him harder than they should have, a mixture of relief and something deeper that he didn’t want to acknowledge. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” you admitted, your hand moving to rest gently over the bandage on your side. “But better. The doctors said I should be back on my feet in no time.”
“That’s good,” Ghost said, but his voice was distant, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t control.
They fell into a silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them. Ghost’s eyes traced the contours of your face. the way your lips curved into that soft, familiar smile. He knew he shouldn’t be there, that he should leave before he did something he would regret, but he couldn’t make himself move.
“Simon, what’s wrong?” Lolade’s voice was gentle, filled with concern.
Simon looked away, trying to gather his thoughts, but it was no use. The emotions he had been fighting for so long came rushing to the surface, and before he could stop himself, he spoke. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Your expression softened, your eyes searching his. “I’m still here.”
“I know,” Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But when I saw you get hit… I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
The words came out unbidden, a raw confession of the fear and guilt that had been tearing at him since the mission. He hadn’t meant to say them, hadn’t meant to open himself up like this, but now that the words were out, he couldn’t take them back.
You reached out, your hand finding his. The touch was warm, comforting, and it sent a shiver through him. “Simon, you don’t have to carry this alone. You’ve always been there for me, for all of us. But you don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”
Simon looked down at your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his calloused fingers. It was too much—your kindness, your understanding, the way you always seemed to see right through him. And before he knew what he was doing, before he could think about the consequences, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.
The kiss was soft, tentative, filled with all the emotions he had kept buried for so long. For a brief, fleeting moment, the world faded away, and there was only Lolade, her warmth, her softness, everything he had ever wanted but knew he could never have.
But then, reality came crashing down.
You stiffened under his touch; your eyes wide with shock as you pulled back.
“Simon…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “What are you doing?”
Simon recoiled, the weight of his mistake hitting him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, Simon,” you interrupted, your voice stronger now, though still tinged with shock and disbelief. “You shouldn’t have.” you pulled your hand away from his, your expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “You need to leave. Now.”
Ghost felt his heart sink, the rejection cutting deeper than he had imagined. “I, please, I—”
“Go,” you repeated, your voice firm, even as your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Kyle will be here any minute. You need to leave.”
The mention of Kyle’s name was like a punch to the gut. Simo knew you were right, knew that staying would only make things worse, but it didn’t make it any easier. He had crossed a line, a line that could never be uncrossed, and now everything was ruined. He took a step back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. The silence in the room was deafening as he walked to the door, his heart pounding with a mixture of guilt, shame, and a deep, aching sadness.
The night was still, the kind of quiet that only comes in the deep hours when the world is asleep and even the wind seems to rest. A soft, silvery moonlight spilled through the windows of the modest suburban home, casting gentle shadows that played across the walls. In the bedroom, the only sound was the slow, rhythmic breathing of two people entwined in sleep, their bodies close, their hearts beating in time with one another.
Kyle Garrick lies in bed, his arm draped protectively over you, his wife. In the dim light her face was serene, a soft smile curving her lips even in sleep. It was a face he knew better than his own, every line and freckle, every expression that had captured his heart all those years ago when they first met.
Back then, he had been a young man full of ambition and promise, studying hard to make something of himself, to build a future he could be proud of. You had been his anchor, the steady presence that grounded him, the light that guided him through the darkest times. They had been inseparable, two halves of the same whole, moving through life in perfect harmony. Kyle had known that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
They had done everything right, everything by the book, they had taken their time building their relationship on a solid foundation before taking the next step. Marriage had come naturally a beautiful ceremony surrounded by friends and family; vows exchanged with tears of joy in their eyes. It had been the happiest day of kyles life, standing at the altar, looking into your perfect eyes, knowing that they were about to embark on a journey together, hand in hand.
After marriage, they had talked about starting a family, about the joy of bringing a child into the world and raising them together. It was something they both wanted, something they had dreamed about during late-night conversations and quiet moments of reflection. And when you told him you where pregnant, Kyle had felt a joy so profound it had nearly brought him to his knees. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever worked for, coming together in that one perfect moment.
They had been so careful, so diligent. The nursery had been painted, the crib assembled with meticulous care, tiny clothes folded and put away in drawers. Every detail had been attended to, every step taken with the kind of love and devotion that only parents-to-be could understand. They have spent hours together, planning, dreaming, imagining the life they would give their child, the home they would create.
If only that was possible
It had started as a small spot of blood, barely noticeable, a mere hint that something might be amiss. But soon, the spotting had grown worse, accompanied by a sharp, stabbing pain that had caused you to collapse in your own home. The memory of it haunted kyle, replaying in his mind like a nightmare that wouldn’t let go- the way you had crumpled to the floor, your hands clutching your belly, the fear in your eyes as you looked up at him.
He had acted on instinct, scooping you up in his arms and rushing to the hospital, his heart pounding with terror, his mind a whirlwind of prayers and pleas.
The drive to the hospital had been a blur, his mind filled with the sound of your laboured breathing, the feel of your body trembling in his arms. He had begged the doctors to save you, to do anything they could.
The nurse looked up, meeting his gaze with a calmness that seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of his frantic emotions, she offered a gentle smile and for a brief fleeting moment kyle felt a sliver of hope pierce through his terror. “She is in stable condition, Mr. Garrick” she softly said, her voice soothing like a balm to his frayed nerves. “she’s in room 122”
Relief crashed over him, he released a shaky breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, nodding gratefully at the nurse before turning down the hallway she had indicated. Each step felt heavy, weighted with the anticipation and anxiety that had been building since he arrived. But the thought of seeing you, of holding your hand, of hearing your voice. These thoughts drove him forward, propelling him through the sterile corridors.
The number on each door blurred as he passed them, his entire focus narrowing to one goal: reaching room 122. When he finally arrived, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle as if needing to steel himself for whatever could be on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was quiet, bathed in the soft, golden light of the early morning. It was a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. And there, in the centre of it all, was you, sitting up in the hospital bed, your face radiant despite the exhaustion etched in her features. In your arms, you cradled a tiny, swaddled figure- so small so fragile.
Kyles breath caught in his throat. His heart swelled as he watched the scene before him the sound of your gentle laughter filling the room like music. Your eyes, so full of warmth and love, met his as you noticed him standing there. “Kyle” you whispered, voice tender and full of joy. The smile that spread across your face was like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. You looked down at your daughter, then back up at him, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears “do you want to hold her?” you giggled softly, lifting the tiny bundle of joy just slightly. As if to introduce their newborn to the man who had been waiting so long to meet her.
For a moment, everything else faded away. Kyle felt a rush of emotions – overwhelming love, Pure happiness, and a profound sense of completeness. This was the life they had dreamed of, the life they had built together through years of love and commitment he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the small, perfect face of his daughter and reached out to touch her soft cheek, his fingers trembling with awe and reverence, your hand found his, their fingers intertwining as they both gazed down at their child, the embodiment of their love.
But just as he was about to speak, it was gone. It was all gone. The warmth, the light, the laughter it was all gone. The image of you so vibrant and full of life, was gone. Kyle blinked and just like that he was back at the reception desk. “I’m sorry, sir….” The nurses voice trembled, each word landing like ablow to kyles chest, the pit of dread in his stomach widening until it felt as though it might swallow him whole “ it says here she passed due to placental abruption.”
The world seemed to stop. Time, which had been rushing forward in a frantic blurt of anxiety and fear, suddenly slowed to a crawl. The nurses words echoed in his mind, the meaning clear but impossible to accept. Kyle stood there, rooted to the spot, as if the ground had opened up beneath him, threatening to drag him into an abyss from which there was no return. Everything he held dear – his hopes, his dreams, his future – shattered in an instant, leaving him feeling hollow and numb.
A single tear traced a slow. Deliberate path down his cheek, the first sign of the storm brewing inside him. He had tried so hard to stay strong, to keep it together, but now, in the face of this unbearable truth, the fragile damn of composure he had clung to was beginning to crack, His hands, which had always been steady and strong, trembled uncontrollably as he forced himself to speak, his voice barely more than a whisper, “can.. can I see her...?” The nurse nodded; her eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored his own. She turned and led him down a different hallway, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, the silence of the hospital pressing in on him from all sides. Each step felt like an eternity, every fibre of his being screaming at him to turn and run, to escape this nightmare, but his feet carried him forward, one heavy step after another, towards the moment he had been dreading.
When they reached the room, the nurse paused, offering him one last glance of sympathy before gently pushing that door open. Kyle stood at the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in shallow uneven gasps. The frigid air from the room seeped into his bones, making his body feel as lifeless as his soul. He knew what awaited him inside, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him.
The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside him. On the bed, beneath a stark white sheet, lay.. you. For a moment, he could convince himself that you were just sleeping, that if he whispered your name, you would stir, your eyes would flutter open, and you would smile at him the way you always did. But the stillness of your body and the unnatural pallor of your skin, told a different story. The woman he loved, the woman he had planned to grow old with, was gone.
Kyles legs felt like they might give out beneath him as he approached the bed. His hands shook as he reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the cold fabric of the sheet. He hesitated, his mind screaming at him to stop, to turn back, to run from this unbearable reality. But he couldn’t, he had to see you, had to say goodbye. With a deep shuddering breath, he pulled back the sheet, revealing your face. You looked peaceful, almost serene, as if you were merely asleep. But there was no mistaking the lifelessness in your features, the finality of death had claimed you. The sight of you like this, so still, so cold, was a knife twisting in his chest, cutting deeper with each passing second.
He buried his face in your chest, his sobs breaking free in the torrent of pain and anguish. He clung to you, his tears soaking through the fabric of your gown, as if somehow, by holding on tight enough, he could bring you back, could reverse the cruel fate that had stolen you away from him. But no amount of tears, no amount of pleading or praying, could change the reality that you were gone, and with you, the life you had dreamed of together. The dreams they had shared, the future they had planned, were now nothing more than cruel fantasies. He could still see the vision of you holding their daughter, the smile on your face as you introduced their newborn to him. It was now nothing more than a fading echo, a desperate attempt by his mind to cope with the unbearable truth.
Hours seemed to pass in that cold, sterile room, the silence closing in around him like a suffocating shroud. When he finally found the strength to pull himself away from you, to stand on trembling legs, he knew that this was his new reality: a life defined by loss, haunted by the memory of what could have been. The light in his world had been extinguished, leaving only darkness and the unbearable weight of grief.
The days that followed were a blur, each one bleeding into the next, marked only by the rituals of mourning. The funeral was arranged in a haze of numbness, Kyle moving through the motions as if in a dream. Friends and family gathered to pay their respects, their faces etched with sorrow , but their presence brought him no comfort. How could it? Nothing could fill the void left by your presence.
On the day of the funeral, the sky was overcast, heavy with unshed rain, as if even the heavens were mourning your loss. Kyle stood at the graveside, his body stiff with the effort of holding himself together. He watched as they lowered the casket into the ground, the finality of it crushing him. It was real now, you were truly gone, buried beneath the earth, and with you, all of the dreams they had shared. As the last of the dirt was shovelled onto your grave, something inside Kyle snapped. The grief, which had been a constant, gnawing pain in his chest, suddenly flared into something darker, something that threatened to consume him whole. He turned away from the grave, unable to bear the sight any longer, and walked back to the car, the faces of those around him blurring into a sea of meaningless condolences.
When he returned to their home, the emptiness was suffocating. Every corner, every piece of furniture, every photograph on the wall was a reminder of the life they had built together, a life that was now reduced to memories and what-ifs. The nursery, once filled with hope and anticipation, now felt like a tomb, a place where dreams had come to die.
In the days that followed, Kyle found solace in the bottom of a bottle. Alcohol became his constant companion, numbing the pain, dulling the sharp edges of his grief. He drank to forget, to escape the unbearable reality that you were gone, that the future they had planned was no more. But the alcohol also fuelled his anger, his frustration at the cruel hand fate had dealt him.
One night, in a drunken haze, Kyle stumbled into the nursery. The sight of the crib, the tiny clothes, the toys neatly arranged on the shelves—it was too much. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted, and he tore through the room, destroying everything in his path. The crib was smashed to pieces, the clothes ripped from their hangers, the toys hurled against the wall. By the time he was done, the nursery was in ruins, a reflection of the desolation in his heart.
He collapsed on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of what had once been his hopes and dreams, and let the tears come. They were hot, bitter, and unrelenting, a flood of grief that left him exhausted and empty. The house, once filled with love and laughter, was now a silent, barren shell, and Kyle was left alone to face the darkness that had taken hold of his life.
In the weeks that followed, Kyle became a ghost of the man he had once been. He withdrew from the world, isolating himself from the people who cared about him. He couldn’t bear their pity, their well-meaning attempts to help him move on. How could they understand? How could anyone understand the depth of his loss, the gaping hole in his heart that nothing could fill?
The days blurred into one another, each one marked by the same routine: drink until the pain dulled, sleep, wake up, and do it all over again. But even in his drunken stupor, Kyle couldn’t escape the memories of you, of the life they had shared, of the future they had planned. Those memories haunted him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.
And so, he drifted through his days, lost in a sea of grief and alcohol, a man broken by loss, clinging to the shattered remnants of a life that had slipped through his fingers. The future, once so bright and full of promise, was now nothing more than a bleak, endless void. And in that void, Kyle was left to face the unbearable truth: that you were gone, and with you, the light in his world had been extinguish
They'll have to meet friends and family eventually so of course they're going to talk about work!
Ghost- This man is good in stressful situations. The first dinner you have with your friends and him, you bring up the fact he's very successful in the "shipping business". They ask for more details from him,
"I'm just the face of the company. Don't do much but sign off on things."
He shrugs while cutting into his steak. He will continue to answer vaguely until people leave him alone, and they are thoroughly convinced he's just a normal rich guy.
Gaz- Kyle loves bragging about his job. He's not gonna say what he does outright of course,
"Medicinal chemistry is really rewarding work, love being in a lab all day honestly. And the pay isn't too bad either."
Then he'll go ahead and talk about chemistry until everyone stops listening.
Soap- This guy. He tells everyone he works at some shitty restaurant as a dishwasher when it's obvious what he does. Your friends see him all the time at festivals. He only pays in cash. The restaurant he says he works at hasn't been open in years. But they know he's a good man. Your friends are just happy you're happy.
Price- Just upfront with it. He sells to clinics and helps people. Everything he does is above board(for the most part). Will show pictures of the plants and curing process. He'll also show off his flowers and vegetables too,
"So you have to make sure the pH is right for what you're growing and..."
Your friends love him, even if he's a little older than what you usually date, you're taken care of and that's all that matters to them.
“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it
exboyfriend!kyle putting a tracker on your car once you stop sharing your location with him after the breakup.
exboyfriend!kyle somehow popping up every time you go out on a date. he promises he’s not stalking you.
exboyfriend!kyle changing the passwords and email address to whatever dating apps you use. you should have known not to use the service numbers on his dog tags as a password :(
exboyfriend!kyle threatening your suitors when he finally figures out where they live and/or the places they frequent.
exboyfriend!kyle slashing your tires so you won't go out. if he can't have you no one can :(
exboyfriend!kyle calling you from an unknown number (you blocked him once you realized he was sabotaging your dates) telling you how sorry he is and he just wants you back because he misses you. don’t you and your pussy miss him too?
exboyfriend!kyle setting you up for an awful date by paying someone he knows. you don’t get to enjoy dates while kyle’s out here suffering.
exboyfriend!kyle asking if you two can talk and somehow you end up in his bed with his cock in your drooling hole :(
exboyfriend!kyle making you cum on his cock & his fingers over and over again until he brings you to tears and makes you promise that you'll never go on another date. you, your pussy, and your heart belongs to him.
