"Wo Ist Sie, Verdammt?" [where The Hell Is She?] König Mutters To Himself, His Voice Laced With Frustration

TOO GOOD

You always joked about how you'd find out what's beneath his mask someday. Literally and figuratively.

He'd scoff at your attempts, or suggestions to lift up his sniper mask. Some of them caught him off guard, to the point he almost did it if not for his logical mind. But some of them were downright ridiculous, that he couldn't help but snort.

Maybe you already accepted it from the start, that he would never give in, but it had become a harmless jest at this point, so you might as well keep it going.

Until he gives you permission.

The thing is, it doesn't make you happy—it scares you to death instead. He once bit off someone's finger when they poked it in the place they shouldn't have touched. So what's behind the mask couldn't be worth the pain.

At first, you thought of it as a warning. Yet he wasn't showing any signs of threat. He even pulled you closer, so you'd get a better view of him.

His mask stays on, but he lets you touch his face. Your hands hover an inch away from his veiled visage, before you test the water with a touch.

He doesn't flinch away, or charge at you like a venomous snake. He stays still, letting your hands cup his cheeks.

"Didn't you say you wanna feel my face?" He said as he brought you closer, causing a shiver down on your spine.

"I did," Your lips trembled slightly, "I'm doing it."

"You're not doing it right." He tugged your paralyzed hands onto his chest.

You're confused when he firmly grips both of your hands, before slowly sliding them under the hem of his hood.

"Inside, maus." He commanded you, "Tell me what you feel."

And so, you complied.

You reach into his mask, and touch his neck tentatively. For a brief moment, his muscles tense under your fingertips, before they come down relaxed.

"Oh." You murmured as you pressed your palm onto his nape, "You can certainly survive the fighter jet ride."

He doesn't give you any response, so you take it as a cue to continue.

Your hands creep up higher, until your fingers reach the soft bones of his ears. They seem small in your grasp, smaller than they should, for a man of his height. A quiet smile spreads in your lips, as you imagine the tiny shells that frame both sides of his face.

"I'm surprised you have clear skin." You commented when you caressed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin, "I thought you'd have a problem with it since you always wore a mask."

"Not always." He replied, nudging you to roam further, "I took it off whenever I'm alone."

"Did you take care of it?"

"No."

"How unfair." You chuckled, "I want to have your skin."

He keeps his eyes on you, and you feel the need to clear your throat, before you trace the lines on his face.

"You have a big nose." You mused as you ran your finger down from the bridge of his nose, "It's crooked."

He hums, while his eyes follow your uncertain gaze.

"Why you stopped?" He called you out, and you jumped upon hearing them, "There's one place you haven't touched."

You bit your lips, trembling, as you lowered your hand, until you felt the soft lumps on your fingertips.

They form a thin line, before they split open, inviting your finger inside. Your breathing becomes labored, as he takes a hold on your hand, guiding your thumb into his mouth.

He doesn't break eye contact the whole time, and you're too paralyzed to look away. You feel the sharpness of his teeth as his lips are closing around your digit. You have anticipated the guillotine falling on the head of your thumb, yet what comes after is a soft brush of his tongue.

It was rough, and drenched with his saliva, that it formed a string at the time your thumb left his mouth.

"König—" You gasped when he dragged his lips down to your palm, before stopping on your wrist. Pressing his tongue on your pulse point, where the skin barrier is so thin, that it feels as if he's tasting your flesh.

"Scared, maus?" He muttered, his teeth scraped against your skin, "Are you scared of me?"

You stare at him, as your instinct screams at you to nod. But you shake your head, despite the tremble in your hands.

"Then you'll do as I say." He wraps his arm around your waist, leaving no room for you to run, "Take off my mask."

Your eyes widened, not believing what you just heard from his mouth. Alas, his glare is enough to confirm the truth.

He guides your hands to his mask, pushing it up in a manner that's close to unveiling a white cover. And once the mask is lifted, you have no time to admire him as he slams his lips against yours.

Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, as he pushes his tongue between your lips. You can't do anything but cling to him, as he presses your body down with his, until your back is flush against the cushion.

When you open your eyes, what greets you is a pair of eclipses. Gone was the cruel Colonel, as he's replaced by a voracious brute.

The moment he opens his mouth, you know you'll be devoured by him.

Ghost of A Connection

Ghost and Staff!Reader

In which you work at the nearest store at base, Ghost being your least favourite and unfortunately, most frequent, customer. Is there a connection there, or is it in his head? yALL - all these COD stories on tumblr got me hyped! So here I am tryna catch some clout ;) Be warned, this is possibly a very inaccurate version of military life, but then again, it's just a story. Word Count: 2.5k

Man, post-graduate life is hard.

Graduating top of your cohort of nearly 300 students in your masters degree within Psychology was impressive. Saving enough money from shadowing your senior Psychology professor and moving out to your apartment was impressive. Owing your own car was impressive.

What wasn't impressive though, was nearly hitting the 6 month mark of unemployment.

So here you are, stuck calling all your classmates for any open roles. You're so desperate at this point, you'd go for anything!

"Hey, Mahir! I know we didn't quite end of good terms...um-you know...when you asked for the mid-terms answers last year, and I- um...left you on delivered, and you had to retake the exams...but um, I hear you started working at the University as a Researcher and you're looking for a assistant? Well gee, don't forget how smart I a-"

Disconnected.

"Yooo, Josephine, it's me! From the Psychopathology group project! Yeah, I'm sorry I shouted at you for not doing your part on the project, and filing a complaint against you, haha...although, like, come on, it's your fault - you're 25, not a 5 year old bab-"

Blocked.

Wow. You were not liked.

So one evening, when you were on the phone to your childhood friend, Jordan Biggs, and had managed to slip out how desperately broke you were, he kindly offered a potential role at his workplace.

"Shop keeper? What, like a convenience store?" Remind me where you work again? Aren't you in the navy? What stores are you talking about?" You rambled, I mean a possible job - finally?!

On the line, Jordan chuckles, "Slow your roll, man. I've been been with the army for around 3 years now, I'm currently on a mission but we'll be home soon. Our base has a shop, that sells, you know, tactical gear-"

"GUNS?!" You interrupted.

Jordan laughs, then in shushed by, what you assume to be his teammate, "No, not any weapons. Just, tactical gear, MREs, bits and pieces of uniform. Sometimes you might be asked to clean the base, set up rooms for meetings. And ooh my favourite - work at the canteen. We serve the country, you serve us food." Jordan explains.

So you complied.

I mean, yeah, your degree isn't being utilised, but we're in a cost of living crisis, for Christ's sake.

And here you are, clad in a plain dark grey fleece, and straight black trousers, trying to look as professional as possible.

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

Your first day was silent. You found that you lived only 30 minutes away from the base, so you didn't struggle with the early shifts, working almost full days at the base, with a surprising decent salary.

You learnt you had replaced the previous worker, Katherine, a grumpy senior who quit, being fed up with the stench of these sweaty unkempt soldiers, and their rowdy behaviour after missions.

You also met your staff at the base, being the youngest one there gave you no surprise, with most your colleagues being double your age. You liked it. It was quiet, having met a few of the soldiers.

Your role was relatively simple. Consisting of various tasks such as ordering enough food to satisfy the recruits, more training equipment, when a recruit seemed to damage one. All in all, you were satisfied, especially when the first pay day rolled in.

You also noted that your colleagues, without fail, always seem to talk about a specific group of soldiers, such as Friday evening, when you all found yourself eating an early dinner.

"Soap is so sweet! He's always so generous when we talks to me, although I can't lie, I don't know what the fuck he says half the time." Your colleague rambles, shoving a spoon full of Friday's roast dinner into his mouth.

Another agreed, "Nothing beats the dilf of a man - Captain John Price. I may be chewing steak but that ain't the meat I want in my mouth, if you get what I mean-"

You choked, "Margaret, you're married with grand-kids, lord."

After a quiet but much needed conversation, you learnt about the most well-known team within the base, Task Force One-Four-One, lead by Captain John Price, forming of Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, and the one you were most curious about - Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

"But like, why Ghost? If he's close to this Soap dude, why not call yourself Shampoo or something?"

Your colleagues laughed at your naivety glancing at each other.

"My dear, I don't dare to call him anything other than Lieutenant. He's entered a 10 metre radius of mine, and I've already pissed myself." One stated.

"I've heard he threatened to attack Katherine, just because she overcharged him, long story short, she quit." Another replied.

It seemed you didn't understand how feared Ghost really was...

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

By the time you all had finished dinner, the staff split up, some going back to the canteen to prepare dinners for the soldiers finishing training, some going to clean up the barracks, and you found yourself going back to your designated shop.

Aah, this is peaceful. You mumbled, drinking your hot chocolate, whilst sorting out all the army boots on display.

As the clock strikes 10 p.m. though, the silence is broken and you hear a stampede of soldiers, once you assume had come back from a month long mission. The majority of them, from what you'd heard, sprinted to the canteen to rid themselves of their strictly MRE diet, and finally eat some home cooked food, whilst others ran off to their freshly cleaned barracks to get some well-deserved sleep.

Your little shop also seemed to be quite busy, a long queue waiting to buy water bottles, bandages, blankets, you name it. From nearby chatter from the tired soldiers, it seems most of the teams had arrived back from Afghanistan, a successful mission with no death and a few minor injuries.

An hour goes by and the queue dies down to around 6 people, with one at the till: Jordan.

"So a water bottle, that would be £1.50, payin- my God, Jordan?" You smiled, getting in front of the counter and pulling into a hug. He smelt like dusty and you joked that 1 bottle of water wouldn't suffice to rinse him of the smell.

"I haven't seen you in forever, it's been like 6 months? How's the job been treating you?" He enquiries, placing a kiss against your forehead. By now, the nearly empty shop turns to face the both of you, many assuming the situation to be a couple reuniting.

You and Jordan continue to catch up on everything - his mission, your job...Margaret's obsession with which positions she can take Captain Price in...

"Bro, she was going so in depth into the many ways she can contort her waist for, what she calls, the Price penis?!" You pull your most fake-disgusted face, as Jordan cackles loudly.

But his laugh falls short as a deep scruffy voice interrupts him-

"The only thing being wasted right now, is my time. Hurry the fuck up and pay for your shit. You act like we have all the time in the fucking world."

You jump slightly at the harsh words, although this is a military base, you should be used to this foul language.

"My guy, she said waist, not waste-" Jordan begins, before straightening his back and realising who he was talking to.

He turns around to face the man's voice, his back now turned to you, obstructing your view of the unknown soldier.

"Lie-Lieutenant. My apologies! Lemme grab this water and get out of your way," Jordan nervously chuckles, you can't see who he's talking to, but you can tell this was a man of higher authority, given how Jordan stutters. "Ooh, I see what you wanted to buy! Gloves, nice, socks, cool, Coc-Coco pops?!"

"My fucking God Biggs, the only thing big about you is your stupidity and your pussy attitude, grab your shit and go. Stop holding the fucking line, mate." The male's British accent is so prominent with every word enunciated, and you wish to never run into this stranger again.

"Sir!" Jordan turns to you, handing you a fiver and awkwardly side hugging you, "Have fun with this jerk wad." He whispers into your hair, before running out the shop, his water bottle still on the counter.

"Jordan your bottle-"

Holy shit.

After Jordan moves, your eyes feast before you, revealing a godly 225 lb man, standing at an impressive 1.89 metres, dressed in his dark and intimidating casual attire, his face hidden behind a skeleton mask, his piercing eyes squinted and penetrating into your shorter frame, his biceps bulging out of his sweatshirt, his shoulders broad, his trousers failing to hold his impressive bulg-

"Are you going to continue gawking at me like a fuckin' donkey or should I not pay for this shit?" He huffs out in disappointment.

Rude. Plain rude. Sexy...but rude.

Now you know why Jordan couldn't move a muscle when faced with this guy. Putting 2 to 2 together, you clocked. The way other soldiers left the shop as he entered. The way one look from him gets them to shut up so quickly. The skeleton mask-

This is Ghost.

"We- I- Um-" What the hell? Why can't you form a damn sentence?

"I- I- I don't give a damn. My shit, here." He mocks you, slamming his items on the counter. By now, the other customers have scurried off in fear. It's now you and Ghost in the shop.

You nod, humming a yes, eyebrows furrowing at his unkind words.

The next few moments are followed by near silence, the only sounds being the scanning of the items and your quickening breath. His foot begins tapping rapidly, as sign that you're taking to long.

It's uncomfortabl-

"The old hag before you's gone then."

Yes, Ghost, she is. And if you keep acting like this, I will be too. You grunt a response, unable to find the right words.

"£28.50" You say curtly, after a while. He hums in response, pulling his wallet to pay.

You watch him nervously, you did not expect to see one of the most respected soldiers in front of you so soon. Someone so handsome, someone so fucking sexy, but someone so fucking bitchy...

Oh. You said that last bit out loud.

Ghost pauses his actions, his head slowly craning upwards, his gaze drinking you in.

Your eyes meet his, quickly looking back at the counter, unable to meet his furrowed but amused glare.

"'m so bitchy, but you seem to love it, sweetheart. So red, like you're fucking in love with me or something." He scowls, slapping a £20 note on the counter.

"Maybe next time stopping droolin' over other men when you have your own cunt of a boyfriend." He mutters, before taking his shit and leaving. You don't fail to catch the smirk in his voice, as he exits your shop, loud footsteps booming behind him.

Oh my god.

You were at a loss of words. You were also at a loss of £8.50.

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

"Jordy, you don't fuckin' get it! Dickhead left the place, without paying the full fucking price, mind you." Frustration was evident in your voice.

"Bitchy and broke," Jordan snickers.

"And the audacity to call you my boyfriend? Bye." You huff in annoyance, whilst Jordan chokes on his spit. If anything, he was a like a brother to you!

A week has gone by since that first encounter and your conversations with Jordan at the shop, when he passes by, always seem to end up at the topic of Ghost. The way he glares at you as you walk past him in the corridors. The way he sees you struggling when you carry boxes upon boxes- oh he won't help you, by the way. When you ask, he simply scoffs, "You're getting paid and you don't even want to do your job?"

Since that day, you've met all of the Task Force members. Price was as Margaret mentioned, sexy. Soap, comical, Gaz, kind-hearted, Ghost...yeah, he's there.

"But you don't get it man, he's so big- like over 6 foot! And those eyes- man those eyes. So condescending...but so hot..." you continue.

"Damn Margaret wannabe, we get it." Jordan jokes, drinking his can coke - which he didn't pay for. You'll tell him later.

As you both converse, loud footsteps enter the store.

Ghost. Again.

Did I mention he's been in here every day since the first time?

8 a.m. sharp, the moment you clock in for your shift, and 10 p.m. on the dot. Fucker's so annoying, he'll stay around the shopfloor, lazily looking at the various protein bars, even after you state the shop is already 10 minutes past closing.

But you don't mind. His silently stares at you, as if trying to remember the exact location of every beauty spot on your face, the consequent reddening of your cheeks, the slight touches of his rough callous fingers brushing against your own. All this unspoken tension, leads to your every thought being consumed by Simon Riley.

And when he enters the shop, wow. Buys the most random unnecessary shit ever. You notice how he walks in and purchases his singular Coco Pops cereal bar, day after day. This man isn't sick of them?

I mean, come o-

"Your obsession with me is flattering." He states.

Oh, forgot to mention, he's still an asshole. But at least after rehearsing to yourself in the mirror, you can actually speak up for yourself.

"Guh- buh- we- u-" Fuck's sake.

But he actually laughs this time. A loud imploding chuckle exits his mouth, and you actually smile a little at this unfamiliar emotion.

You can't tell what his face is doing under the mask, but his voice suggests a small smile rests on his face, but it soon disappears before he coughs awkwardly.

"Your boyfriend's in the infirmary by the way." He looks away, emphasising boyfriend a little too roughly.

You stare in confusion. Boyfriend? He picks up on this.

"Biggs. Rolled his ankle or some shit. Dunno why he can't just man it up. I've had worse injuries." He mumbles, smiling under his mark slightly, assuming Jordan isn't in fact your boyfriend.

Your eyes widen, "Jordy? Wha-who-how?"

"He-" But before he can answer your question, you're running out the shop to the infirmary, stealing a snack from the shelf for Jordan.

You fail to notice that you'd left a dejected Ghost at the counter, who'd picked up 2 coco pops instead of 1 this time, his smile faltering, as he planned to give you the 2nd, as a token of apology for his impolite behaviour.

In the end, he realised he'd been holding onto a ghost of a connection, overshadowed by the presence of another man.

He winces, being left alone at the till, hoping to actually strike up a conversation with you, as he gathers his (unpaid) belongings and walks out the door, off to shout at any rando that dares get in his way.

yALL its 2.30 a.m. and i'm craving coco pops-

I’m a bit late to “if I meant something to you” but I JUST READ PART 2 & 3 AND OMG IT WAS SO GOOD EJWJSNDNF

I CANT BELIEVE SHE JUST FUCKING SNAPS AT THE END LIKE YES GIRL YOU DID THAT 😍

It was so good I loved it 🫶 keep up the good work!!!

— 🌘 !

Let's be real the girl had to grow a pair - AND THANK UUU

cutest emoji !! 🌘🌘🌘

lord i need part 3 of if i meant something to you to have a happy ending for reader at least 😭🙏 other than that i love tulips and roses so glad i found you

THANK U FOR FINDING ME 😄

What if I fucked around and gave reader a sad ass ending heheheheh-

König und Prinz: Meine Entführer

toxic! König x Reader - [King and Prince: My kidnappers] Your attempts to run away with your son fails, and your husband confronts you. Seems like he's really influencing your little one. Word Count: 2.8k This is intended to be a oneshot :P SHOUT OUT GOOGLE TRANSLATE, RLY CARRIED THIS FIC

The picture of your husband and father of your child of 10 years, with his arm slung around another woman, really was the pinnacle of your disappointment for the man.

The house, once decorated with handcrafted creations by you and your son, Leon, whom König had frequently nicknamed 'mein kleiner König' [my little king] and 'mein kleiner Prinz' [my little prince] was now all packed away, stored in numerous duffel bags and small cabin suitcases.

"Mama, wohin gehen wir?" [where are we going?]

"Your grandparents." You huff.

It's not like König was cheating on you. He really wasn't. He loved you too much for that. But the constant nagging and the berating on your side truly stressed you to a point where you heavily questioned your relationship.

"Take all your belonging Leon, dunno if we're coming back in a while..."

"Und Papa? [and papa?] Do we need to pack his clothes too?" He aks innocently, peering up at you from down below.

He was a smart boy, your son, though he was barely 7 years old, and already at an outstanding height of nearly 140 cm, there was no doubt that he was König's son.

"No." You halt your movements, thinking of an excuse, "His clothes are already there."

Leon nods. He may be 7, but he's not stupid, and he's upset that you think so little of him. It's apparent that he's closer to his father than to you, and although you're grateful to have such a loving family, you can't help but feel a spike of jealousy whenever your Leon visibly preferred your husband over you.

Like his school's sports day, when you and König had cheered him on as he raced to the finishing line quicker than his classmates. It was an easy win, I mean look at him.

As he crosses the finishing line, he rushes to the both of you, and although you're standing in front of König, with your arms wide open to hold your son, he only just makes a beeline, straight to his father, jumping to press his face into König's chest.

It's little things like this that makes you wonder if your son even recognises you as a parent equal to his beloved father.

The drive to your parent's house was long and awkward, with Leon making small remarks like when his father was going to be there, and what his father was doing at that very moment, and why his father wasn't with you guys that very moment.

"Busy with his bitch I presume..." You mumble under your breath, and you know that if König had heard you, he would've pulled you aside and scolded you for using such foul language around his precious son.

The bond was mutual it seems.

"Mama, papa is calling you." Leon mentions, grabbing at your phone.

"Disconnect." You bark.

"But mama, what if it's wichtig." [important]

"Leon. I said, disconnect it."

He hesitates but eventually listens, hanging up König's call. It's the 5th one of the car ride.

The phone vibrates once more.

Kö: meine liebe, wo bist du??? [my love, where are you???]

Kö: schätze [treasure]

Kö: where are your clothes??

Kö: where's everything???

Kö: where's my son.

Kö: Hör auf, mich zu verarschen [stop fucking with me]

Leon looks outside the window, debating whether to tell you about the spam of texts you're receiving, but he ultimately chooses to stay silent. I mean, you don't need to know.

On the other hand, König is shaking with fear. He never met to be near that woman. I mean she didn't mean anything to him, he barely knew her name!

She was just his senior, and he had to do what he did for that promotion in the ranks...schätze, you would understand, ja?

The moment he enters your home, the eerie silence spooks him, considering he's used to being tackled almost instantly by his wife and little one. Instead, he's faced with the empty walls and cupboards. You were even petty enough to take the TV remote with you, so he was restricted from watching from the newly bought TV.

He calls out your name numerous times, then your son's, running up and down the 3 story house. You two were nowhere in sight, and the lack of clothes from the wardrobes confirmed that his two favourite people had left him

He checks his phone to see a message from you.

Schnucki: hallo papa, wo bist du? Schnucki: it's leon papa :-D

It's his son!

Kö: mein kleiner prinz, wo ist deine mutter? [my little prince, where is your mother?]

"What's happening Leon?" You ask your son, your eyes only darting quickly to your son by the passenger seat, who's squinting and tapping away at your phone now.

"...Just watching Cocomelon, mama."

"Boy, your father told you, you're too old for that show..." You mumble once again, and your son mentally notes that he's going to inform his father about all this mumbling that seems to get on both on their nerves now.

Schnucki: we're going on a trip, where are you papa?

König scoffs, "A trip?", he's going to have to discipline this attitude out of you when he finally gets his hands on you. You should know, König plans all these 'trips', your little self isn't as efficient as he is.

Kö: i'm on my way. remind me where we are going again? Schnucki: an Ihre Schwiegereltern [to your in-laws]

König's rushing to his Jeep when he hears this. This reminds him of the previous time you had run off to your parents with his son. 2 years ago, when Leon had just turned 5, König had suggested that you quit your full-time job so you be a stay at home wife for him and his son. You could home school Leon, but also look after the home with all this new time on your hands.

Of course, you laughed in his face. A Bachelor's degree, a Master's and constant slaving away within a male-dominated industry, just to become a housewife? After a fight ensues, you run for your parents with your infant glued to your hip.

And it's happening all over again.

König starts the car, the journey to his in-laws was about 2 hours by car, a little over 1 if you're speeding. He makes sure to shoot a text to his son whilst driving.

Kö: coming. what can you see around you prinz?

Leon looks out of the window, recognising the area to be one where him and his parents would often frequent to. He sees the Wendy's where he spent his 6th birthday at, with his father munching away at his and Leon's burger in front of him. He cried hard that day.

Schnucki: i see wendys :-D and there's a park, and a field, and a roundabout and a traffic jam Kö: coming

König knows where you are, just half an hour away from your home, you're not too far, and he knows if he speeds quick enough, he can catch up to you soon enough.

But he knows that's not good enough. He needs to teach you a lesson this time for running away for what felt like the 10th time, though it was just the 2nd.

"Mama, why are you mad at papa?"

Leon breaks the silence after 25 minutes. He can't sit here any longer knowing you're this upset at his father.

You stay silent. To be frank, you don't know what the exact reason was.

It was König's behaviour first, the way you'd tell him to clean up after himself and him not listening to you. Sometimes it was him forgetting date night just to watch Austrian movies with his son at home, even if you have them once in 3 months.

The breaking point was for sure when he mentioned a possible promotion at his job at Kortac, him running home and pressing wet kisses all over your's and Leon's face.

He warned you that one of the higher-ups was quite touchy with him, though he'd reminded her he was married with a son multiple times, though pulling his ring finger multiples times. He truly was so proud of you for fulfilling his wish for a family.

Somewhere down the line, it got mistranslated, and at the ranking ceremony, he gets promoted by his superior, with her (unprofessionally, might I add) pressing a kiss against his cheek when he had bent down to receive a new badge.

Though he was shocked, he had to suppress his disgust behind his eyes through his mask, and fake a smile for the camera, which unfortunately captured his arm sitting uncomfortably around her waist.

"Your father's getting bored of me." You say nonchalantly, to your son.

Leon scrunches his face. He's used to coming downstairs in the morning to seeing his parents smooching away, or walking in front of his parents, only to look behind to see their fingers intertwined, with a warm red colour flushed against both their cheeks.

There's no way his father was getting bored, in fact the other way round was more plausible.

"Nein." He defends his father. [no.]

"Nein?" You peer at him, still weary of the cars surrounding you.

"Papa ist verliebt in dich, why can't you see that?" [papa is in love with you]

Leon senses slight hesitation in your answer, and he glimpses at your downturn eyebrows.

"If he's so in love with me, why does he not listen to me..." You state plainly.

The phone vibrates in his hand, silent enough for you not to hear, and his attention turns to the unread messages from his father.

Kö: Prinz, do see a petrol bunk?

Leon looks out the window.

Schnucki: Ja

König thinks to himself, trying to pinpoint your exact location, now that his car is closer to yours.

Kö: tu mir einen gefallen [do me a favour] is the fuel light on?

Leon looks at the beeping petrol light.

Schnucki: Ja Kö: Gut. [good] Tell your mother to fill the tank, I'll meet you at the gas station. Don't tell your mother. Schnucki: was ist, wenn du nicht rechtzeitig kommst? [what if you don't come in time?] Kö: then stall her.

"You need to fill in the tank, mama."

You look at the fuel light beeping, humming in agreement. You wonder how your son even knows what the tank light is, let alone how he realised it was on in the first place.

After driving into the petrol station, and parking by a pump, you fill your car up. As you're about to make a quick trip to the shops to pay for the petrol, your son pops his head out of the open window.

"Can I come? I want a Schokoladentafel [chocolate bar]."

It's about 10:30 P.M. when you make your way to the empty till, ringing the bell on the counter to alert a worker. The gas station was dimly lit, with no one inside, no even by the pumps. You question whether the gas station was even open.

"Where are these people..." You grumble to no one in particular. You begin to look at the close to empty trays of chocolate bars and small packets of crisps

"Keine Ahnung [no clue]." Leon replies, holding your hand in one, his other hand still gripping at the open messages on your phone.

Schnucki: We're here papa, und du? [and you?] Kö: Ich sehe dich [I see you].

Leon giggles to himself, he's finally going to see his father!

"Where's the damn cashier..." You groan, spamming the counter bell now.

"Looking for me?" You hear a voice behind you.

Leon let's go of your hand.

"Jesus, dude finally. Can me and my son pay already, we're alread-mHmMmHPh-"

Before you realise what's happening, a wet cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, a large hand supporting the back of your head as you falter on your feet.

"Leon..." You eyes close completely and you faint against a chest musky chest. König smiles, finally having his beloved in his arms, gripping your backside and hoisting you up to his left shoulder, where you rest, motionless.

Leon on the other hand, as if witnessing his mother being drugged in front of him was the most normal thing in the world for a 7 year old to see, was jumping against his father side.

"Papa! Pick me up too!"

König chuckles, lifting his son and carrying him on his right flexed bicep, before snatching a few sweets and walking out of the deserted gas station. He hands one to his son, rubbing his mask against his little one.

"alles für meinen Sohn." [anything for my son]

By the time you wake up, the room was dark and it's difficult for you to differentiate whether it was the same day or the next morning. You turn to find your son, only to find that you can't move a muscle.

Ropes are tied around your waist, arms and legs, so any sort of movement was completely restricted, and you're kneeling on the cold smooth floor, bruising your skin. The ropes aren't tied expertly, so you know it's not the work of your husband, whom you're aware was a professional at the art of knots, given his career.

"Meine Blume..." [my flower]

You squint at the sudden voice. Your ears are mildly ringing so the voice is slightly distorted.

"Papa! She's awake..." A second voice, resembling your son's.

A light is shone in your face, and you put your head down, avoiding the light.

"Leon? K...König?" You're not in the same clothes, having been changed into a black sweatshirt and joggers.

"Schnucki...." [sweetie pie] It's König, you recognise the nickname through your phone contacts, "Why do you keep trying to separate this family?"

You're shocked by his words, separate?

"Why must you take my son away from me?" He demands now, his voice getting louder.

You look up to the figure, slowly adjusting to the light, it's König, with Leon still sitting on his biceps.

"Are the ropes too tight, mama?" Your son interupts.

You look down at the tight ropes, ripping at your skin under your clothes.

"Yes...König, what is this? Let me go...Let go of my son..." You can barely speak, the effects of the drugs stlll present in your system

Leon smiles at you, his dimples poking through, "Gut, I tied them on you!"

You blink at your son. They're working together?

"König- König, what are you making my son do-" you cough, and Leon leaps down from König's arms and hugs your head.

"Mama, aren't you proud of me? We can finally be a family together! You don't have to be mad at Papa, I forgave him alre-"

"That's not how it works!" You scream, interrupting Leon.

"Don't you dare shout at him."

You jolt, as König seethes at you, leaning towards you. "If you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at me. Don't drag Prinz into this."

You laugh nervously, "Me? I'm dragging him into this? Are you listening to yourself Kö? You made Leon tie me up- THAT'S NOT NORMA-"

Leon stops you, "Prinz."

"Leon...Prinz..." You try reasoning with him, he seems like the only sane person in the room, which is worrying given that he's only 7.

"Prinz. König und Prinz." König firms, crossing his arms and standing, dominating you physically.

"König, why -cough- are you doing this?"

He laughs, "Schatz, why must you run from me?"

"You and that lady-"

"Nothing happened between them." Prinz interrupts. You cough, looking at Leon Prinz.

"You told my son?"

"He's my son, not a stranger."

"And me? You think it's normal to kidnap your wi-"

"Like you tried to kidnap my son?"

A pause lingers in the air.

"That's not kidnapping.." You reply defensively, "We were visiting my parents..."

"Don't lie, mama..." Prinz shakes his head, disappointingly. "Papa plans all the trips, you know this."

This kid... You think to yourself.

"I'm sorry...okay. It won't happen again..."

Your husband and his sidekick stare down at you, waiting for you to stop beating around the bush.

"You can...can let me go now..."

"No." You can't tell who said that, your son or your husband.

"You'll sit here and think about what you did-"

"-trying to separate this family-"

"-how dare you-"

"-who do you think you are-"

The light turns off now, and your eyes fail to adjust to the rapid light changes, clenching them tightly to rid yourself of the blaring pain in your head. You can't tell who's speaking and the sudden thought of failing as a mother flashes through your head.

"Kön...my head...my son-"

You hit the floor, head first, laying in front of König and Prinz.

There's a silence between the father-son duo.

"Next time, I'll tie the knots better, papa."

König ruffles his head, "Gut gemacht." [good job.]

König, I volunteer 🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️ lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @chessecakelover, @owkittie, @cheomain, @corvusmorte, @k4es, @mandythemint, @copiasratscheese, @yyiikes, @funkyysho3es

Impressive yet Unimpressed.

König and gn!Reader

In which König overhears gossip about him, and the change in his actions affect you, physically and mentally. yALLLLL i'm back >_< here's some unedited shit for the könig girlies (me) - also why do i get this writing motivation late at night :/

Part 2 ;> Word Count: 2.3k

Everyone knew König was infatuated by his partner. By you.

His closest closest friends, included Horangi, were aware of your slightly secret relationship - considering you were all in the same team.

The way he his eyes found you during training, the way he gently held you in his arms when it came to practicing shooting, the way-

You get the point.

Sometimes when your team went out for missions, König found himself committing slight mistakes, such as being distracted by you leading to a close call of a bomb detonation.

"König are you fucking insane? Where's your mind at, man? You're fucking up the team!" One scolded at him in the aircraft post-mission, flying your team to safety.

But König attention remained at you, his eyes focusing on how you managed to still look good regardless of the numerous scars and fresh bruises littering your face. His hand held a (squished) flower that he found, hoping to decorate your hair once landed.

And his feelings were most definitely reciprocated. Your eyes would roam his large frame, muscles tensing as he gripped a fellow teammate in a headlock (me when König? me when.), and you often found yourself unconsciously leaning back into his chest as he held you protectively during practice.

Walking around the base, recruits recognised you, your hair always sporting a different single flower sitting by your right ear.

But not only as his partner, but you also appreciated him as a friend, training you when you first joined, helping you revise for tests, filing paperwork with you.

And although you both found comfort and love from each other during the long weeks of being at base, König often found wanting more from you. He wanted everyone to know he's yours and that you're his. He wanted to take the relationship to the next step, he wanted marriage, he wanted kids, he dreamed of retiring from the military and moving to cute little cottage in the Austrian countryside with you, content that you would both be no longer affiliated with a workplace that screamed violence and limited possibility of survival.

And although the military was all he knew, given he enlisted into the military freshly 17, he knew it wasn't his future, no.

His future was with you.

König found himself walking towards his senior's office, smiling under his mask as his mind frequently hovered over you. Teams for the next missions had been released during the previous meeting, and König wanted to switch to be in the same group as you - so he'd be at peace that your safety in within his arms.

But as his hand gripped at the door handle, his focus switched to the muffled voices from within the office, his ears perking up at his name being thrown into the conversation.

"...he's got soft, sir!"

"We could've died in the last mission, sir, I mean he's an insertion specialist, but the only thing I see him inserting himself into, is his girl, sir!"

König froze. Soft? He's gone soft? He's been described as a fucking battering ram, the fuck do you mean he's gone soft?!

"Like the last training session, this guy spars everyone, and lord does he beat everyone, but the moment he's paired with them, he's fucking rolling on the mat or he surrenders?! How is this fai..."

"...he lives and breathes them sir, it's putting the other soldiers at risk. Does he have to come with us for this mission?"

König zones out. His entire life is the military. In his bare room in the barracks. Not a little cute little cottage in the Austrian countryside?! His home is at the Kortac base, his mind is with his team, and he definitely doesn't live and breathe you.

The muffled voices pause, as if coming to an agreement, and König hears footsteps, quickly hiding behind the door, which opens to reveal the voices.

His teammates.

The teammates he's grown up with.

They thought he was going soft...becoming weak...

König furrowed his eyebrows in humiliation.

A mission without him? That's like asking for death. He'll show you death.

König naturally found himself coming to you, having overheard this mood upsetting gossip about him.

But little ol' you didn't know any better, when he dashed into the common room only to grab a cold beer from the fridge, without a regular smooch to your head, not even a look in your direction, it didn't register how much deeper the crack in your relationship had become...

The day of the mission had come, and although König had told you that went to talk to the higher ups, you couldn't help but be a bit upset considering they hadn't switched you to his group, finding yourself still in your own.

But you didn't mind. You just wanted this mission to be over, so you could find yourself resting in his arms rather than on this random soldier's shoulder.

The aircrafts that held your group and his, raced over the landscape, planting itself by the safe house in the darkness of the Saudi Arabian night.

As the multiple groups landed, soldiers scattering the group as they exit the aircraft, you find yourself making eye contact for the 6'10 colonel.

You send a slight smile his direction, only to be met with a hidden frown behind his mask. You're confused. Usually, his eyes would crinkle with his smile, but your thoughts are interrupted - you're on a mission.

You're huffing, your vision blurry and you find yourself back onto the aircraft? But this isn't your team, as your look around your surrounding, realising you're lying in the middle of the aisle bordered by soldiers. It's König's team.

To your right, you see König...and he's not even looking your way? And to the left is Horangi, his hand rising for a slight wave.

Why aren't you with your team? Where is your team? Where is the air craft going? Why is König not looking at you???

Your eyes shut in pain, and you wince at the slight pain by your abdomen; it's the last thing you feel as you find yourself losing consciousness, failing to see König falling to his knees to aid you as you pass out.

"...bullet grazed abdome..."

Huh?

"...ight concussi..."

Bright light shines in your face.

"...few days..."

This could be the medics, but the way the lights blind your vision, you question whether your well-being is at safe hands or not.

You open your mouth to speak. You can't.

The dryness of your throat restricts you from speaking, but thankfully, one of two medics catches the movement of your lips.

"Soldier, you're okay! Jus' a concussion and stitches on your stomach, cleaned up, not to fret. 6 to 7 days 'til you're free to go, give or take-"

You raise your hand to point towards the freshly scented bouquet of flowers.

"Oh, yeah. Someone brought them...didn't catch the name, solider. Now rest. You need it."

A week of your teammates visiting you goes by, a week of fresh sets of flowers sat by your bed everyday, and although you're happy to be back with them in training, you're dishearten that König didn't find his way to your hospital bed.

Everytime you asked, you received the same response.

"Not sure dude, haven't seen him in a while, stuck in the gym by the looks of it."

You raise your eyebrow. "So...he never visited me?" Voice quivering.

Your teammates shrug.

"Your guy's gone mad in training. Struck his elbow into my neck, and now I want to be on the bed beside you." One said.

"Missed me so badly, you guys have been sending me so many flowers, 'n this place has become a forest!" You laugh, followed by a painful cough, and your friends rush to your side.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, just wanna be back with the team. Just wanna be back with König..."

The medic ends the visitation, walking your friends out the room, leaving you to close your eyes once again as sleep evades you. Outside the room, a confused group discuss.

"We never got her flowers?"

"Forget the flowers - why is there a medal there?"

Whilst you were resting away in your bed, König was awarded for his bravery, putting himself forward to rescue his soldier, you. He felt selfish for enjoying this familiar attention, being praised by someone other than you.

He was impressive on the field..

He walked into the hospital room, when he knew you were resting, after begging and almost on the verge of bribing the medic to let him in after visitation hours.

He decorated your room with the freshest flowers, arrays of bouquets of roses and tulips, dahlias and peonies, as if it were a room full of boyfriends waiting for their girlfriends on valentines day.

There you rest, your chest heaving as you snore. König leaves a flower in your hair, by your right ear, before leaving your room.

It's been 10 days since you've been admitted into the medical room, and 0 days of being with König. Awake that is...

Your teammates are right, he's busy in the gym. Men's only gym...what a calculated move, you think.

Though you're still questioning your actions. What did you do for him to be ignoring you?

So here you are, walking into the combat room, numerous pairs sparring, including König. You aimed to talk to him, ask him why he didn't visit you during your admission to the medical room, and why a shiny gold medal rested, engraving his name, rested underneath your sweatshirt.

The medic warned you, "No physical combat yet - a few more days 'til the cut on your abdomen closes."

And you weren't here to spar, God no.

You were here for König - who's currently...on top of a recruit, fists beating against the poor opponents bloody face.

You push pass the crowd, surrounding this brutal fight - you call it a fight although, from a third party, it looks just like a murder.

"König! Stop! What the fuck are you doing?" You shout at him, trying to get his attention. But your voice is overpowered by the hollering and whistling of the surrounding crowd.

"König! Enough!" Still nothing.

"Köni-"

His eyes meet yours. But not a look of adoration, no. A murderous look. A look that could kill. His eyes, a gentle blue, now a bloodshot red. Like a madman. Like a man-hunting lion.

A shiver runs down your spine.

Another voice breaks out into a shout.

"Who's next" He looks to his left.

"- to fight -", He looks to his right.

"the big the almighty, the Austrian King, Kööööniiiiig!" He announces, elongating syllables, as if a commentator for an illegal underground boxing ring.

"Any contestaaants?" His voice annoys you, why isn't anyone helping the poor soldier? And why is König behaving this way? All macho?

Normally, a quick spar with König would consist of a few skilled moved thrown around, before continuing to the next opponent according to the rotation. Not like you would know, he usually just rolls on the mat or he surrenders, too afraid to hurt his precious lover.

You begin to scream, "Stop this figh-"

König eyes rest on yours, and this signals the commentator-wannabe to point directly at you.

"The neeeeext opponent-"

Oh no.

"isssss-"

Why is everyone looking at you?

"Youuuuu!"

Me?

In a matter of seconds, the crowd formed around König and the now unconscious soldier moves to border you and König.

König stands up, his 6' 10 self towering over you, even though he stands 7 metres from you.

He steps towards you slowly, and your eyes fall down to his boots.

His left foot moves, then his right foot.

Left.

Right.

And now he's right in front of you, red eyes cutting into you. He scoffs, looking down at you condescendingly.

"Wait-" Your mouth runs dry again.

He steps forwards once again.

"Wait, König, I can't, I was disch-"

But this doesn't stop him.

He grabs your sweatshirt at the chest, unknowingly clutching onto the tucked away medal, and with a swift move, he places his second hand onto your back, and throws you straight onto your back.

He throws you directly onto your back.

Your thankful that you didn't land onto your front, your stitches would have broken immediately, but at this point, you're not too sure, and you're clutching onto your stomach again, curling into fetal position onto the floor.

Something is definitely broken. You can tell, because when you open your eyes, you see people staring from above you, while you lay on the mat, laying in a blood of a deep red liquid.

Your ears are ringing once again, and you lay motionless on the floor, cursing internally for being so weak.

König smirks at you on the floor.

Weak? Him?

Soft?? HIM??

He chuckles as people begin to pat his back, fist bumping and side hugging the soldiers around him.

He turns to you once again.

"Shows over, liebing, get up now." He breathes heavily.

You don't move.

"Schatz...enough acting..."

Nothing.

He steps towards you, kneeling to reach your level, his eyes catching sight of the pool of blood.

"Meine Liebli-"

His fingers touch your skin and his blood runs cold, whilst yours run down the mat from your broken nose.

"Schatz?"

The crowd dissipates and the medic runs into the middle of the scene.

"I told her no physical exercise! König, why didn't you stop her!" He scolded at König.

"Now help me carry her to the medical room - again!"

König, who didn't dare to speak, looks up, eyes wide open.

"König!"

The medic looks down at him.

An unimpressed look rests on his face.

YALLLLLLLL the angst, call me mcdonalds cos i'm loving it :D Quick notes: The move König pulls at the end is written a little confusingly (MY APOLOGIES LMAO), but it's inspired by the wrestling move -> The Arm Throw. I hope this helps you visualise it better. I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

Really likes your angst works! Hoping to see more <3

thank you thank you!!! angst is the best :D

I'm just going thru midterms at uni rn so I'm currently struggling to write at the same time, but more's to come ;)

His name is Ghost.

Toxic!Ghost and ...not you

You're friend wants you to meet a special someone, and he happens to be closer to you than you think. Literally. Word Count: 4.3k

"Yeah he's great, you should come meet him! Although I dunno, he said he wanted to keep 'us' a secret..."

You look up from your laptop at your best friend Michaela, who has blabbering about her new fling for an hour now. You hum in acknowledgment, but come on ... you're not really listening.

"And he has a sick motorcycle, but he's never let me on it..." She drones on.

"Uh huh."

"And he said I would look prettier with longer hair! Which I think means he finds me already a little pretty...?"

"Wow, I agree..."

"And- YO ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

You shut your laptop and focus wholly on her. "Mickey I love you, but this is the eighth guy you've loved this year. Whose to say this is gonna work out?"

Mickey sulks into your bed as you lecture her, finally being able to pour out your emotions.

"The last guy, who you planned a wedding for, you ended up dumping 'cos he reminded you of wet ketchup." You complain, moving your hands around over-dramatically. "And the dick before that, couldn't even pronounce your name correctly-"

"To be fair, Mickey is quite a hard name-" She butts in.

"It's a fucking Disney character, for Christs sake, who the fucks Missy? Listen, Mick, I'm happy for you, but you keep on dating douches, and then a month later, you come back crying to me about it. This isn't good for you or for me, you know how busy I am on this thesis."

Mickey's face contorts to a look of displeasure and betrayal, her eyes squinting as if she's trying to restraint the tears that look like they're about to burst in a moment.

She looks away before recollecting her thoughts, "I- I just thought you'd be happy for me-"

"I am Mickey! I really am! But it's like you search up 'world's most toxic asshat' and decide to bone the dude. They never treat you well Mick...come on, even a blind guy can see that..."

Your friend looks down, playing with the hem of her jumper, as if she's carefully considering your words, but you know her enough to know that she doesn't care for her advice. 4 weeks from now, and shes going to be sitting on your bed bawling her eyes out over another prick.

"You really are the worst, you know that?" She mumbles almost inaudibly, before getting up and heading towards the door of your dingy flat. You call out her name, telling her to come back, but give it a month, she'll come back trying over a different person.

It's a dark stormy Friday night, not even a week since your last contact with her, and there's already a brash pattern of knocks bombarding at your door. You look up from your laptop, almost a quarter into your thesis.

I swear if it's my fucking landlord again... You think as you grab a bat to protect yourself with, Mickey always complains about how dangerous your neighbourhood is.

You sigh out of relief when you peer through the peephole, it's Michaela...but she looks hysterical.

"Mickey...hey listen, I didn't mean what I said..." You start when you open the door to her furrowed eyebrows and hiccuped sobs.

"H- He- He keeps ghosting me-" She tries.

"Mickey, what's going on, who-"

She digs her face into the nook of your right shoulder, and your sharp nose detected the slight smell of booze, "Saw him at the grocery store, b-but he ignored me."

"Michaela honey, sit down. Okay what's going on." You bring her to your bed.

And so she tells you all about it. About the new guy that she's been seeing for 2 weeks now, how she met him at a new bar opening in your area, about how he sweet talked her into buying her a few drinks, and how he drove her home like a real gentleman. Your face scrunches when she accidentally spills about the part how rough he pounded her in her bedroom, with both her wrists tightly gripped and bound by one of his large callous hands, as he bent her over her desk.

The skillful way in which he dug his hips into her ass, 'thrusting into her like God told him to' as she put it. You mumble a little blasphemous when you hear that part.

A few more, 'Oh the dick was so good, I can't, I'm obsessed' and 'He fucked me like my future husband would', and she finally stops, her train of tears coming to a halt and she blankly stares at your ceiling, laying on your bed.

You nod dimly, not knowing whether to use the pep talk that you'd used for the last guy.

"What's this guy's name again?" You question her.

She shrugs, without energy, and the idea of injecting with a tranquiliser faintly disappears from your mind.

You look at her with amusement. "What do you mean-" you shrug, mocking her actions, "Does he have an ugly name like the other guy...what was...oh, Lester?"

Mickey snorts, looking up at you, "Lester didn't know how to eat me out, like he did."

"You don't need to bring up every sexual detail, Mick..."

"Sorry virgin..." She huffs.

You cringe at her, "Okay, so what's his name, it can't be as bad as Lester." She doesn't respond, her eyes tearing up again, "Um, okay, Imma say some names, tell me if I get it. James, John, Joseph, Jeremy, Jeremia-"

"Why are they all J names?" She mutters.

"Uh hello, you barged into my flat at 11 P.M. and you're drunk, considering how toxic this guy is, it's gotta be a J name. Jerome, Jude, Javon, Julius, Jason-"

"G." She stops you.

"G? Jason with a G...what the...Gason? Yeah, girl, if his name was that ugly, I'd be crying just as hard at you-"

"NO UH." She shouts so loudly, dragging her words, that even the gust of wind stops in fright. "His name starts with G...I think it does at least. He wouldn't tell me his real name...just a nickname."

You nod, as if in agreement, but you stop yourself because you've never been in a similar situation. As much as you love Michaela, you despise almost everything she does.

Like how in 2nd year of university, she missed an exam just so she could go on a date with a guy she was seeing. And she wonders why she had to retake that module over the summer.

There was also the time at your 20th birthday dinner, where she uninvitingly decided to bring her fling for the month, and no, you couldn't the food given the amount of time they decided to share saliva right in front of you.

"Wow Mick, your standards be dropping like this economy." You kid, although some part of you really questions how much truth lied behind that, "So, hit me. Who's this guy you've been seeing. Tell me about him."

"You for real?" She smiles sweetly at you, and for a second, every bone of hate towards her actions wash away. At the end of the day, she still is your best friend, and you should support her decision no matter what. That's what friends do, no?

"Yeah. I'm sorry. What's his name...or nickname? What do you call him?" You hold her hands, rubbing above her thumbs.

She sniffs a bit, but her smile doesn't falter, and her cheek blushes at the mere thought of him.

"His name is Ghost."

It's official. This was the worst guy Mickey has dated.

You've made a list of all people she's been with, ranking them with how well they'd treated her.

Okay so, Derek was a pass, he cheated on her with the Philosophy professor...literally worst degree ever. What kinda dumb career can you even go into with that.

Then there's Jonah, reaaaal bad boy, but he screamed like a girl and was way too deep into feminism. Pass, how do you manage to mansplain feminism??

Marc, aspiring footballer. You know what, smash, he was fine, I'll give her that. But then he left to play for Spain and never texted back... But he had dimples, so I'd forgive him.

Oh how did I forget Oliver. Auditioned to be a k-pop idol but lied about being Korean the entire time...pass for sure.

GAAH! There all so trash!

And yet there's another member on this list. Nameless, faceless 'Ghost'.

"What does he look like?" You begin your interrogation.

"Dunno." Mickey shrugs.

"How old is he?"

"Dunno."

"...Career?"

"Dunno."

"Dunno as in you don't know, or dunno as in this freak's unemployed?" You rub your temples in frustration.

Mickey sighs seeing how annoyed you are, she begged and dragged you out of your flat into the bright lights and atmosphere of a cafe.

"I think he's loaded, he-"

You sigh, "You said that about the last guy, and that was just because you couldn't see the minus sign on his online banking app."

"Can you not get annoyed at me for a second? This is my potential husband for all I know." She says exasperatingly.

"Ah yes! Your husband is a nameless, faceless, jobless knobhead who you've had sex with once, talked to...ONCE. Remind me why you're so hooked on this guy? Here's a challenge, don't mention his dick."

An elderly lady sitting on the table besides you two, grumbles and leaves after hearing that.

"...Can I have a sip of your frappe?"

"Oh would you look at that! Princess Mickey DOES know how to ask a question! You couldn't just, I don't know....ASK for his name? Don't act like this was the hardest thing you've done, remember when you considered proposing TO A MAN-"

"The only hard thing about Ghost...was his penis."

The cafe goes silent when she blurts that out.

You sigh for what felt like the 100th time that hour, and you lean in to whisper to Mickey, "Mick, it's been just over a week since you've last seen him- whose to say you'll see him again?"

She rests her head in her hands, clenching her eyes shut at the thought. "I thought I'd run into him again, I don't know...Am I stupid for wanting him so bad?"

Yes, yes you are. You want to say. But you bite your tongue.

"nOoOoO, oF cOuRsE nOt, gah, why'd you say tha- yes. Yes, you are." So much for trying, "You don't even remember what he looks like, are you sure we're not stuck looking for a character out of one of your sex dreams?"

Mickey leans in so close to you, that you can smell the coffee breath.

"I know I was drunk, but I swear, I woke up and there was hickeys all over my neck-"

"But you said he was wearing a mask-" You're interrupting her and you can tell it irritates her, with her eyebrow twitching.

"Yes, but I don't remember-"

"What colour was the mask?"

"Uh, black."

"Was it a surgical mask or a balaclava?"

"Um, a baklava."

"Bitch, that's a pastry dish."

"I CAN'T! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" Mickey screams, standing up so abruptly, everyone in the cafe stops and turns.

You gasp, purposely loud so everyone can hear, "Are you breaking up with me...because I'm homeless?" All of the cafe goers murmur to each other at the scene in front of them.

"We were at your flat an hour ago, you fool- come on we're going." Mickey hisses, dragging you out the cafe, uncomfortably smiling at all the people that looked at you with sympathy, "No, don't feel bad, apparently a thesis is more to important than my future husband."

The walk home was pleasant, with Mickey hooking her arms around of yours, onlookers may have assumed that you two were a couple. But overall, it was nice being in her presence without the mention of any men.

"Hey look, the room next to yours is vacant. Maybe I should move in!" Mickey points out, when both of you have made it down the stairs of your building.

"I don't want you that often, jeez." You joke.

And for a while, your days do seem to be getting better.

It's been a month since your little cafe date, and you're still stuck at home grovelling through your tedious thesis.

The good news is, you're about 3 quarters in, the bad news is, your new neighbour has no apparent spatial awareness, having blasted his rock music through the floor. Unlucky for you, there's only 3 apartments on the floor of your building: you, Mr Feldman (who you're sure is deaf considering he hasn't made any complaint from the noise) and you're new neighbour, whom you've never met but already hate.

"TURN DOWN YOUR MUSIC DUMBASS." You bang on the door of your neighbour.

Yet no one opens the door and apologises.

In the evening, the noises get worse. Instead of rock, it's a combination of Weeknd songs and the loud female moans and bed shaking next door. Once you'd heard voices that had belonged to 2 women, so you deduced that you lived next to a sex-crazed lesbian.

"Mr Feldman, how are you okay with it?!" You complain. You've had enough of the noise, especially the headboard banging since it seems your neighbours bedroom is just a wall away from yours.

"Okay with what, sweetheart?" The elderly gentleman croaks out, standing at his doorstep.

"The noise! You don't hear the loud ass music?" You groan, having being repeating yourself for a 2nd time.

"Yes, the music is ass, but it isn't loud." Mr Feldman says, his finger tapping at his chin, comically pondering with his jurassic-age brain.

You roll your eyes, walking away and towards your own room, "How- I feel forgetting how old you truly are...."

"I heard that."

"I really doubt you did." You shut the door on him.

This is a real issue, not like the ones Mickey has with men, you can't focus on your thesis, this could seriously jeopardise your education.

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: have u talked to ur landlord

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: duh i unleashed my inner karen, but he isnt doing anything cos this dick offered to pay almost double the rent for his flat

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: damn he loaded

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: yet he cant afford earphones apparently

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: why dont u get him some

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: wat

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: as a joke

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: hm thats funny mickey

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: thanks who am i talking to again

So you did just that, you placed a pair of pink wired earphones in his mailbox... which happened to be right next to yours. And you waited.

And waited.

And a week later, and no response.

Your neighbour definitely doesn't know that he has a mailbox does he? A week since you're little prank, and yet you can still hear the music through the walls so loud, you think you've developed tinnitus. The throbbing in your ears is so painful, sometimes you feel phantom drips of blood running down your ear.

"Asshole doesn't even turn down the music. Come on, play some Beyonce at least."

Mickey snickers, she's on your bed texting other people.

"You're not even listening, are you?" You throw a pillow at her playfully to get her attention.

"Babe, it's 1 in the afternoon and I can't hear any music now, let's not start the day like this. Say, there's a lil get together in that bar down the road, you there?" She says, but you're not even sure she's talking to you as she hadn't looked up to you since saying that.

You crack your neck from exhaustion, "Nah I'll pass, need to finish a draft of my thesis and sen-"

"Blah blah blah, all I hear are excuses, thesis this thesis that." She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well you would have failed high school and university if not for me. So you paying with cash or card?" You boast.

Mickey gets up, dusting herself, "Listen I gotta dash, but I better see you there- it starts at 11."

"Woah, wait, which bar, who's going, what's the dress code- Okay you're gone."

And for a first time in a while, you're stuck in your room alone, without the loud obnoxious music and without anyone constantly whining at you. Peace and silence-

Hold on, what's that?

You press your ear against your bedroom wall, which is funny considering you usually complain about the noise. It's not music, it's more sultry and sexual. Deep and gruff moans escaping someone, and this time it's actually enjoyable to listen to. Nothing like those pornstar like squeals you were used to, no. This was more raw.

The way his voice broke at certain points combined with the lazy irregular slick noises, which you imagined to be his dick slipping through his tight, cocooned fist.

"Fuck, mhm."

That voice.

If this was the voice of your neighbour, you would have never complained about the commotion. Was this why Mr Feldman has no issue with the noise? Was he blessed with the intimidating whimpers next door?

You press further, ignoring the growing wetness pooling at your underwear. You could tell he started thrusting faster, his voice increasing in volume just a little bit.

You could tell he's close.

But some part of you wanted to deny him of this pleasure.

So instead of touching yourself with your neighbour, you're standing right in front of his door, banging against the door frame with all the might you can muster, you fear you might break it down.

The door opens.

And you're face to face with your neighbour.

And a minute the warmth between your legs actually makes sense. Because you're neighbour isn't a sex crazed lesbian...you're neighbour is a-

"Sex God,"

"Excuse me?" His voice is deeper when he's talking.

"... I said, oh God. Can you keep the music down?" You reroute your words, drinking in the appearance of this beast in front of you.

He's tall, maybe a few inches taller than 6 foot, with short dusty blonde hair, and a prominent scar running through his thin but well moisturised lips. And his jawline, wow, the Gods above must have spent eons perfecting his jaw structure-

"'m sorry. But uh, hey thanks for the earphones." He pulls out one of the hot pink earbud from his ear.

You blush, he had seen his gift, "Uh huh, how'd you know it's from me?"

"Y' think old man Feldman's gonna buy a bloke hello kitty earphones?" He kids.

"Maybe, it's 2024. Live and let live. Don't be shocked if you see Feldman walking around in a skirt." And you're surprised he laughs your joke, admiring the crease lines by his mouth when he smiles, almost forgetting that you had an imagine in your head that he was the worst possible neighbour alive...

"Cute." He comments, looking down at you.

"Me...? Or are you visualising Feldman....." You drag your words, until he laughs again, leaning onto his door frame and just then you understand why Mickey would chase guys the way she does.

"No, please, he's not my type. I lean towards um...cute, short neighbours."

"You're literally just describing Feldman, dude,"

"That's on me," he smiles widely at you, "If I had known it was you banging on my door, I'd 'ave opened it a while back." He flirts.

You blink at him, no ones ever flirted with you. What would Mickey do? No, she'd just snog him this very moment. I mean, what's stopping you?

"If I'd known you were my neighbour, I'd be banging you a while back. Wait."

There's a pause in the conversation and you're too scared to correct yourself. "I-"

But he cuts you off, letting out the loudest laughs at that you'd ever heard, almost as if he was cursed not to laugh and it had finally been broken. The type where he hand gently grabs your shoulder and you could almost feel the vibrations from his broad chest.

What a sight.

"You know what I meant." You giggle, wait, when did you start giggling?

His laugh ends in a fit of small coughs, "Didn't catch your name, dove."

You introduce yourself, opting not to sticking your hand out like you're in a job interview.

But he does it for you, placing one large callous hand in front of you, for you to shake.

"Simon." He says as he kisses the back of your hand.

You thought when you met Simon, that you two had bonded, like he was about to ask you out bonded, but alas you were wrong.

You laid in bed the rest of the day, intending to complete a draft for your thesis, yet instead you found yourself on Sims creating a family for you and your beloved Simon. And a short nap later, you wait up to over 20 notifications from your friend.

4 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: yoooo wru??? its 11:30

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: HOEEEE WAKE UP

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: fuck ur thesis come hereee im drunk

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: BABE THE GHOST GUY IS HERE NO JOKE

5 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: you better be dead

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: oml he saw me

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: black baklava btw

2 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: hehehehe im going back to his place

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: if i die yk where im at yh

Oh shit. It's past midnight, you try calling Mickey but her phone goes straight to voicemail, curse her and her DND.

You start looking for your keys, there's no way you're attending the party, you're just going to pick her up from whomever's place she's at and take her home.

"Mhm, doll, jus' like that."

You pause in your step. Mickey's safe right? A quick listen wont hurt anyone.

"'lil deeper pretty girl, yeah, like that."

Some part of you wishes it was porn Simon was watching, and that God was playing a cruel joke on you, introducing you to the prettiest guy you've seen, and now suddenly you're stuck hearing him fuck someone else? Yeah, you've heard it before but...this time it made you feel uneasy.

This time you knew who was behind the voice, you knew who was moaning. And forgive me, but you thought you had a connection, no? That talk earlier today...did it mean nothing?

And when did he suddenly become so vocal? What was so special about this girl than the others?

You stand still, with your ear pressed so tightly against the wall, you've probably left a mark against it. And his moans never stop.

And hers start. For a second you feel like you recognise the female voice, but through the slurs and hand-covered whimpers (you presume), you can't figure out if it was familiar to you or not.

You flinch when the head boards banging, and you feel yourself throwing every romantic thought you've had of this man when you hear his degrading tone towards her.

"C’mon, make yourself cum on my cock, dove."

You gulp hearing him use the nickname he gave you on someone else.

30 minutes of torture.

You stood against that wall, with your ear so firmly pressed, someone might have thought it was glued on. The only sounds you were focused on was his whimpers and you caught the way his voice broke when he spoke, and your infrequent breathes.

When the noises stopped, you stepped back in embarrassment. You felt so shameful practically peering into a man's sex life. How disgusting are you truly?

You reach into your pockets, feeling for your keys and your phone, suddenly remembering Mickey's whereabouts.

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: just woke up

You lied. You couldn't ever tell someone of today.

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: omw wru

You open your door, feeling the abrupt urge to surround yourself within nature after doing something so distasteful. And if it couldn't get any worse...

Simon's door opens.

One part of you wants to turn and see which lucky girl had the opportunity to getting plowed by him, and yet the other part knew you'd immediately crumble at the thought of it not being you.

"Oh my god! That's why this place looks so familiar....!"

You widen your eyes, your breathe getting caught once again.

"Mickey...?" You whisper, not even turning your head to look at the horror next door.

"Yes, it's me silly. Come here, want you to meet someon- oh can't walk, fuck." She giggles, barely conscious.

You turn your head towards her slowly, like a movie character.

It's Mickey in the flesh, wearing jeans and a black tube top that had been worn so sloppily, you were almost scared you were going to get flashed. She smiles innocently at you were half lidded eyes.

"Oh...I-"

A figure walks out, dressed in a blue-gray 3/4 sweater and a hood, and you swear you feel yourself sinking into the ground. Could this get any worse.

And your wishes were answered. Mickey turns back to press a vulgar, almost cringe-worthy kiss against his clothed jaw, and you shift your eyes down... to see his dark jeans... and the zip undone. You turn your head around, almost debating to ignore the couple and lock yourself into your bedroom until death overcomes you. Your darting eyes rest on his face, begging for him to say something to remove the awkwardness.

Yet, something about Simon was different...

His eyes bore deeply into your soul as if trying to read you, his once kind face contorted into a look of pure disgust, like he were looking into the eyes of a killer. This didn't look like the man you talked to this morning...

His eyes drag down over your crooked frame, a raised eyebrow twitching almost in mock sympathy. To make it worse, he had his arms crossed so tightly around him, he looked like the human epitome of a 'side eye'.

You pray to God it's the effects of alcohol. Or maybe you're the drunk one! Maybe you're sleeping and this is all just a dream, or nightmare...

You put your hands on the doorknob, wanting to resign yourself from this situation when your eyes drift back to Mickey, who seems to have taken the liberty of speaking.

"I want you meet the guy I was talking to you about. His name is Ghost."

First of all, thank you all for 6200 likes and 300 followers?!!!! THE BEST <3 Also, my writing schedule is so poor, I'll try to update as much as possible!! tags -> @lilliumrorum , @kxtz3 , @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12 , @restrictionsapply-blog , @lunamoonbby , @nigthmar3moon , @thychuvaluswife , @itsnourm , @bubusi11, @chessecakelover , @owkittie, @cheomain , @corvusmorte , @k4es , @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese , @yyiikes , @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk , @spankmydepression , @yourfavbabigirl

[Part 2] If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Here's part 1 hee hee hee hee Here's part 3 You believe Simon's changed his ways after your sister's engagement. After his actions, you still want him, but does he want you? Word Count: 3.6k

A half naked woman running out of Simon's flat? A surprise indeed it was.

You really thought he reciprocated the same feelings as you did at one point, for once in your life feeling as if someone truly did want you for you, but that fantasy had dried out, and it was clear Simon had no intentions with you.

Your replacement proved it.

Before you began to weep in front of the Brit again, you hurried to your flat door, rummaging through your sweatshirt pockets for your key, wanting to wallow back into a state of depression in the comfort in your own home.

Simon didn't follow you, instead he just leaned against his door frame, sexily might I add, intensely watching you clumsily rip out past receipts and snotty used tissues from your pockets. He wanted to say something, ask you how your day had been, even thought it just turned 9 A.M.

Then it hit you.

You think back to your previous steps. You woke up at 8:30, you read the texts from your sister, made yourself some coffee, which you definitely think had gone off, and left your home, feigning a state of happiness.

You didn't take your keys with you. They sat on your kitchen counter, almost like they were mocking you for being so careless.

Banging your head against the door, you curse, "Fuck's sake...."

You mentally note that this is probably one of the most humiliating scenes you've found yourself in, nearly as bad enough as your 18th birthday, when your parents congratulated your younger brother instead of you accidently.

Simon exhales a puff of smoke towards your direction, you were so fixed on trying to get inside, you didn't catch him lazily eyeing you whilst lighting a cigarette into his mouth.

"You...wanna come inside?" He asks nonchalantly, looking at the sky, avoiding your gaze as if to seem cooler than you.

"Why would I do that? I don't wanna know where that bitch has been..." You scoff, referring to the girl. You want to look away from him, but his blonde chest hair glistens in the sunlight, enticing you to follow his instructions. He's not even all military mode on you but you already find yourself acting submissive around his presence again.

He grunts, thinking about what to say next, "Well for starters, Francesca's no one...and, where else are ya gonna go?" The sarcasm is sharp in his voice.

So you were replaced by a Francesca.

"And listen love, face it, you need something from me, come in so we can talk. Can't guarantee we'll do a lot of talkin' though..." His words trails off, trying to convince you. Boy, is it working...

His eyebrows are raised, and he purposely flexes his still wet pecs.

Fuck it. You think, barging into his room, purposely bumping shoulders.

You finally enter Simon's room for the first time.

Simon wasn't completely heartless.

Yes, his childhood trauma resulted in his avoidant nature, ignoring his team in order to work alone on the field, disobeying his Captain to do what he'd deemed as best, and even ghosting you ever time you tried reaching out to you. What you didn't know though, was that Simon had given you his previous phone number, one he doesn't use anymore...

Late nights in his hospital bed led him trying to stalk you through Facebook, which no one your age uses by the way (don't tell him that), and every time his searches led him to nothing.

Had he not been so foolish, he would have manned up and straight up demanded you for your number. But he didn't, instead he told you he'd find you if he needed you, which was becoming more and more infrequent.

Yet here he lies, now clad in a loose black top and sweatpants, sitting across from you on his couch in his oddly empty room, hearing you out.

"'Kay so, your sister wants you at her engagement and you need a date, and you have no other friends but me, and you want me to be your fake date." He repeats back to you.

You hum, "For someone that didn't finish secondary school, you're quite smart."

Simon chuckles at the reciprocates banter, "And...what's in it for me?"

You scrunch your nose, "What?"

"What's in it for me." He enunciates his word, as if speaking to a baby, "What do I benefit from this?"

"Are you fuckin' for real, you've basically used me for your own pleasure, and you can't even fake a relationship in front of my family for like a couple of hours?"

You stand up, ready to leave, not willing to be disrespected again.

"Love, listen," Simon pulls on your arms, and you begin to notice the fresh scars decorating his forearms.

"Our relationship...platonic of course, it's like a business. You want something, you gotta work for it."

You're stunned, did he just insinuate that you were merely a business partner to you? Can this man be anymore of an ass, than he already is, reducing your relationship to a step below a 'situation-ship'.

"What possibly could I have that you need?"

"Yeah," he gruffs out, contemplating his decision, "not money 'cos I got more of that than you..."

He sits there in mock confusion, but you had a feeling he knew what he wanted from you the moment you spat out your request at his door earlier.

Before you try cursing him out again, your attention shifts to the ping from your phone, another unfamiliar number, but not from your sister.

10:32 A.M. ####:- Hey kiddo, how's life been treating you. ####:- Finally gotta a job? ####:- Can't wait to see you, your brother's been waiting to introduce you to his new girlfriend, good addition to the family this time I think. ####:- You're getting older now, unmarried and unemployed. Chop Chop.

Great, just a monthly reminder from your father that you've already been replaced by your brother's new fling for the week.

Now you really needed that date.

"I'll fuck you." You state.

Simon stares at your new found dominance, standing up to purposely look down at you and tower over you, disliking the sense of authority shifting between you two.

"Once again, dove."

"Just. Fuck. Me. Simon. Get this shit over with." You command.

Okay, now you actually felt used. Blackmailed into having sex with Simon, just for him to get what he wants really was the all time low for you. And you've hit rock bottom multiple times.

You wake up light-headed, in Simon's empty bed. The bedside table held a small note in messy handwriting and a singular key.

Headed out to the pub, got a spare key for your room. You better be out of there by the time I get back. Jesus, you got the hint.

You wonder why and where Simon got a spare key from, realising that this situation could have been rectified from the beginning, instead he basically coerced you into sex just to fulfill his needs.

Your mother would die if she knew what your life was like.

Walking back into your room, you shoot a text to Simon, your now fake date, informing him of the fool-proof plan you'd come up with.

As you rest on your couch, thinking about the future ahead of you, and your head unconsciously drifts to that dreaded question:

What if you hurt Simon like he's hurt you?

The next few days was filled with your evenings trying to explain the dynamics of your family to Simon and teaching him more about you.

"And what, they went to the theme park and just left you there? Ain't that borderline abuse?" He questions, a small guilty feeling arising in the pit of your stomach learning about how similar both of yours fucked childhood was like.

You shrug, used to being kicked to the curb. You stop yourself before making some remark that he has no right to act upset about your parents behaviour when he's acting no better.

You tell him your middle name, hell, you tell him the correct spelling of your first name, and you stare at him, embarrassed that this hunk has pounded at your core but doesn't even know the vowels in your name.

"And last week was my birthday if they ask, and you better tell them I celebrated it by going to the cinema with my friends." You inform him, hoping some of this information gets retained into his pea sized head.

Simon cringes, unaware of your birthday, recalling the numerous amount times you'd shot him a smile that day, urging at least one person to wish you a happy birthday. He cocks his head, "What friends?" before correctly himself, "I mean, names wise."

"....you gotta make them up."

Note to self: Make new friends.

The big day comes and you and Simon had driven to the venue of your sister's engagement party. Extravagant was an understatement. Anyone that would look at this event would assume your parents were millionaires, but they're not considering only 2 out of 3 children received trust funds.

You wore a sleek black dress with a slit by your right leg, and Simon matched with a clean black suit which, by the way, you paid for.

Though you would usually drink in his appearance, his recent brooding behaviour gnawed in your mind, so no matter how many smiles he sent your direction, they couldn't dispel the unease settling in your gut.

The first hour consisted of the pair of you awkwardly standing around, drinking numerous glasses of the finest champagne, with his broad arm hovering over your shoulder.

"Where's the family?" He asks eyeing every guy that even so glances your direction.

You shrug, glancing at your unread messages to your sister.

1:00 P.M. You:- hey :) made it, wru??? You:- looks very grand btw!! 1:29 A.M. You:- hello? where's ma? 1:37 A.M. You:- champagne's tastyyy You:- hi wru 1:59 A.M. You:- bruh did you rly invite me just to ignore me???

Simon winces at your phone, reminding himself to finally get your number so at least someone would reply to your messages.

"You made it!"

You both turn around at the chirpy voice, instantly locking eyes with your sister.

"Hey, you didn't read my texts, been here for an hour now." You question, as you're being pulled into a hug.

"Oh that was you? Sorry, I haven't saved you on my phone," she laughs. You glance at Simon almost offended by that, even though you hadn't saved her number either.

"Introduce me to the big guy!" She nudges you, and Simon interrupts you before you open your mouth.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley, and uh- also boyfriend." He extends his arm, and you can't tell whether he's faking his grin or not.

She drags his forearms, yanking him away from you and ushering him along eagerly., "You need to meet my family, come come!", as they walk off together, and you find yourself standing there, left to socialise with someone else.

At 3 P.M., you navigate yourself to your family and your 'boyfriend', whom at this point, had really seemed to fit in with the community. Your father hadn't believed that you scored a buff military commander, and if he wasn't unhappily married to your mother, you'd bet 10 quid that he'd be all over Simon.

"Served in Afghanistan huh?" He chuckles boisterously.

"Yes sir." Simon actually looks like he's having fun, displaying the look of admiration for having an almost father-like figure in his life. He begins you question why you dislike your family so much, they're great!

"And you watch football lad?" He pats Simon on his back.

"Avid fan, sir."

Your father shakes Simon's hand, immediately surprised by his firm grip, "Good man. Don't let go of this one, love." He nods towards you, his smile twitching at Simon, who's basically gripping the bones through his wrist.

You force a smile hugging into your boyfriend's side, shouldn't he be saying that to your Simon, rather than you? I mean it's either your biological daughter you've sort of brought up her entire life versus a solider you've known for about an hour.

"Son, take some notes from your sister, no wonder you're single every other day." Your father reprimands your brother, who flinches from the sudden sound of disapproval and grips his girlfriend's forearm tighter. For sure the first time you're actually than him, at finding a better fake partner.

Your mother, on the other hand, was virtually glued to the other side of Simon, gripping his biceps and fawning over his muscles to your brother, who's actually looked like the only one who saw through your facade.

"Wow, you must really enjoy the gym, sweetie." She bags her eyes, disgustingly.

"Yes ma'am."

She addresses you, for what you think was the first time in over a year, and mouths sternly, "I was wrong, I approve."

The entire event was a drag to you, something you weren't used to at all, considering the majority of your childhood was mainly you being left home during such big events, but Simon managed to enjoy the evening whilst successfully lying to your entire family.

"Me and the missus have been together for 10 months now. She's very happy." He raises his glass to you, eliciting a genuine smile from you. It was times like this that you wished that you and Simon just tied the knot and just began dating. However, you couldn't ignore those underlying feelings of a simmering anger, a desire to confront him publicly for using you for so long.

"I am..." It sounds more like a question than a reply, kissing him, in mock affection.

"You need to stay over our place, Simon darling," Your mother gleams, with your father agreeing, "You can stay in the study!"

"You mean my old bedroom?"

It's midnight, and your family have finally fell asleep in the place you once called home.

You lay next to Simon on your old bed, inspecting your previous room. The walls were no longer painted your favourite colour, but now was coated in a dull grey, your desk now replaced by a vintage looking oak table, definitely all to accommodate your father's taste. Any speck of 'you' had been wiped out from the room, and Simon wonders what young you was like.

"That was very fun...I like 'em, your family." He whispers almost inaudibly, fatigue evident in his words. His arm is draped comfortably around your neck, your head resting in the nook of his armpit.

You hum. The unfamiliar attention Simon had brought up on the two of you exhausted you, though a small part of you liked it, that now your mother actually cared about what you got up with him on a daily basis.

"Simon..." You begin, "What- what are we? If anything..."

You're anticipating his rejection.

"Neighbours..." He mouths silently.

You nod at him, hoisting yourself up on your elbows, although his eyes are closed.

"Simon. It's just that. I know it's all a show...but today it didn't feel like pretend...And when you said you wanted to marry me to my mum, it's just, I don't know, didn't feel fake you know. Felt real..Simon...Simon?"

He snores in response.

Great. You're just confessing to the thin air.

If he doesn't take you out, socialising for almost 9 hours straight will. You pass out next to him, no longer under his arm. Simon lays next to you, watching the slow rise of fall of your chest, after faking a snore.

He stares at the ceiling thinking about the day.

Come morning, and you find yourself sitting at the dining table next to Simon, who'd found himself in a hearty conversation with your parents, sister and future brother in law.

Across from you is your brother, whom you're sure didn't fall for your ruse.

His expression reveals concern as he gazes at you, almost as if he's silently urging you to unravel the tangled web of lies you've woven.

With a swift motion, he picks up his phone, arching an eyebrow in your direction, just as your phone chimes with a notification.

9:12 A.M. ####:- ik you two aren't dating. ####:- better fess up before i do

He smirks at you, your expression mirrors one of close defeat.

9:13 A.M. You:- ik you mad that she cheats on you every friday. You:- better check her private 2nd insta account before i do

Your brother looks up, hesitant to curse you out in front of everyone.

You 1, your brother 0.

Breakfast was served at this time you actually got the same amount of food as your siblings did, although Simon beat all 3 of you for it. Even though your sister was celebrating her engagement, the entire conversation was stuck on you and Simon.

Credits to your parents, because you were actually learning things about Simon, and you wonder if he thinks you're self-obsessed given that you've forced every fact about you down his throat and you haven't even given a minute for him.

"...and my Captain John Price, great guy. She loves him actually." He nudges you, breaking you from your trance.

"Huh."

Everyone on the table turn to you as Simon rubs your knee softly.

"OH. Um, yeah. Mr Price, John, um, great guy, handsome and so hot. Love him. The best really."

As you stumbled over your words, trying to cover up the slip, Simon gave you a reassuring squeeze on your knee. His eyes conveyed a silent message, telling you that it was okay and that they didn't catch you in a lie.

Your brother, however, shot you a knowing look, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. It was clear that he had caught onto your the slip up.

"Alright, enough about work," your mother interjected, steering the conversation away from Simon's military life. "Let's talk about something more fun. Like the wedding!"

The topic shifted to your sister's upcoming wedding, and you found yourself for once engaged in a lively discussion with your family about venues, dresses, and guest lists. Simon chimes in, his comments light-hearted and filled with humor.

As the breakfast progressed, you couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt gnawing at you. Your brother's text had reminded you that you were deceiving your family, and although it had started as a harmless ruse, it was beginning to feel like a weight on your shoulders.

After the meal, you and Simon got ready to depart, and as Simon and the rest of your family went to his car, you stood back at the front door, watching how perfect Simon fit in with them.

"It's obvious you don't like him."

You turn to the voice: your brother.

Your groan, "You again? Can't you just leave me alone, God's sake..."

"Aren't you a 'lil worried about how easily he lies though?" he taunts, "how'd you get him here? Money? Or you hold him over a secret? Maybe...sex?"

"What's your problem? Can't you just be happy I'm with someone?" You step back from him.

"Of course I am, if he doesn't like who, who else will, no? I'm just looking out for you bro. It's not gonna last, take it from someone who's in and out of relationships like your guy's in and out of other women."

You squint your eyes at him, confused.

"Grace, Josie, Francesca..." he trails off walking slowly towards the rest of the group. Francesca? That name rings a bell...

"Word of advice, don't leave your phone out in the open, I mean the amount of nudes on there, you'd think his gallery was a porn site! And without a password? Didn't know you were into whores, sis." He cackles.

And here you thought the trip had altered the dynamic.

The ride home was 2 hours too long and too silent. You contemplated your next move. Do you beat around the bush or straight up ask him if he's still seeing other people behind your back? You know he doesn't owe you anything, he is your FAKE boyfriend, right? But, why did it feel so real?

"So..." he starts.

You rest your head on the window, "So..."

His hand moves to your thigh, squeezing gently before moving towards your core slowly.

"That was fun." He states.

You hum.

"Real cool family, huh."

You hum once again, unsure what to say.

"We should do that again..."

You look at him confused.

"Are you serious? I think they still think that they have 2 kids, they focused on you the entire time-"

"Well, it's not like you put in much effort to talk, love."

That shuts you up.

He sighs at your silence, "Listen, I've been thinking."

You glance at him, hoping he'd kick you out of his car and let you walk the rest of the way home, too ashamed to be in his vicinity.

"Your parents were hinting us to take the next move you know..."

"Neighbours to friends?" You question.

He laughs, "Your family's great, your sister's and her lad, real cute couple you know, I felt at home...so I was thinking...we should try it you know, going out I guess."

You scrunch your face at him, was he really convinced into asking you out because your parents asked him? And here you were, months of trying to hint to wanting more, and the moment your demanding parents butt in, he's just going to do what they say? And the fact that he couldn't even say the word relationship.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

You cross your arms in annoyance. You were tired of being pushed around like a doormat.

Your brother's words ring through your head, as Simon drives.

It's not gonna last, take it from someone who's in and out of relationships like your guy's in and out of other women.

All the signs point towards rejecting his proposal. He doesn't want you, he just wants the safest route. You being in a relationship with him isn't going to stop him fucking other women.

Why would you waste your time with a guy to whom you meant nothing to?

So you decide to give it to him directly.

"Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

Thank you all so much for the interactions on part 1! Means a lot :D THERE WILL BE A PART 3 LMAOOO i did not intend for this fic to be long but here we are. lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @owkittie

I'm so excited for the Ghost fanfic part3 <333, Also bro you're doing great and your English is actually amazing, thank you for blessing us with your cute fics ♥️

Thank you so much for being here!!!

I'm gonna try harder to get the grammar perfectttt