Same Dude Same.

Same dude same.

Between Cooper's opening scene and Hancock's opening scene, I can't pick a favourite.

If they ever met that ham off would be immense.

Ghouls need the following:

A Cool Hat. (Tricorn vs Cowboy hat).

A schtick, a gimmick, a persona. (Colonial King of the Zombies vs Good Sheriff gone bad).

A Signature Gun (Sawed off Shot-gun vs Whatever Coops' cool as fuck boom stick is).

A Signature Meele Move (Bowie Knife in the gut vs The Lasso).

Tragic Backstory (Naturally, everyone has one in the wastes but you gotta up the ante for Ghouls).

A Drug Problem (What's in the vials?!)

A Sassy/Sarcastic Attitude towards their Vaultie. (It's bonding to drag your Vaultie across the wasteland in a choke-hold ok? It IS--).

A Dramatic Opening Scene. (I was won over both times, love at first sight, that's my wasteland husband right there---)

Big Dad Energy (...Ok.)

The Riddle

Pairing: Bucky x F Reader 

Summary: [SOULMATE AU] Things you lose start to appear at your soulmates side – most of the time if they’re in need of it. Easy, right? It would be if the existence of Soulmates were still common knowledge. And so you and Bucky can’t figure out who plays this prank on you and why the both of you lose stuff all the time. 

Word Count: ~3.2k 

Warnings: swearing, blood and stabbing of someone (it’s a bad guy), knives and the use of it, kind of matchmaking Avengers 

A/N: I wrote this soulmate prompt once for a HP character, but I really do like it, so I felt the need to give Bucky a soulmate 

The coffee machine was brewing your drink loudly and you turned towards the fridge to get something to eat. Once you decided on something and placed it on the counter, turned around to get your drink – your mug was gone. “Huh?” A glance around the kitchen made you realise that your mug had been stolen from no other than Bucky Barnes. 

“You could have just asked me if I would made you one,” you said. No reaction. “Barnes!” you repeated louder and the man in question finally looked up from his phone. 

“What?” he asked and you almost fell for his confused look. 

“You could have asked for a coffee, you didn’t have to steal mine,” you said and pointed at the mug in front of him. 

“I didn’t steal,” he started but stopped once he saw the ridiculous mug that was yours. He even asked you what it meant once he noticed the mug with the cat that held out their middle fingers and said fluff you, you fluffin fluff. “How?” he asked instead. 

You put a boring mug under the coffee machine and switched the mugs once it was full. “Next time just ask,” you said before you left the room. 

“I’m so sorry! I will bring in my paperwork tomorrow, I had it right there and then,” you started your excuse when you reached the office. 

“Your report has already been handed in,” the accountant said with a bored voice. 

“What do you mean it’s already here?” She tipped the top of a folder to show you it was already there. 

“Mr. Barnes brought it in with his own. He’s a gentleman, right? And handsome too,” she didn’t sound as bored as before and even winked at you. You just nodded and with a last glance on the folder left the office. How did he even get it? You finished writing it and then went to the bathroom. He must have taken it before you came back. It was kind of nice of him – if he had even told you that he would take it and you didn’t have to walk all that way. 

“Thanks for taking my folder too,” you said once you spotted the Winter Soldier with his head in the cupboard. The was a noise and you could have sworn you had startled him and he just hit his head. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he said and let out a sigh. 

“What are you searching for?” you asked and grabbed yourself a water. 

“I could have sworn there had been Oreos stored here.” 

“Yeah, Sam ate them. As always. You have to be quicker than that,” you answered after taking a sip of your cool drink. 

“I noticed,” he grumbled and tried to get his long hair behind his ears, but it always fell forward again. Just to your left laid the scrunchie that Barnes always carried around in the tower. It was pink with unicorns on it and not even Sam teased him about it, because you all had been there when he got it. 

You had been outside, it was a windy day and Tony held a speech that you weren’t listening to. You saw Bucky struggling with his hair as it always flew in his face and once it flew in his open mouth a young girl came forward. She walked up to the barrier and pointed at Bucky. You nudged his side until he noticed and walked towards the girl. The both of them talked shortly and then you saw her handing a bright pink scrunchie – and the once feared Winter Solider putting it in his hair. The glee on the girl's face caused Bucky to smile brightly too and it made you and your friends smile too. 

Just before Bucky accepted his hair tie, he looked confused at his wrist, but you shrugged and walked to another cupboard and took out your hidden package of Oreos before handing them to him too. “You owe me,” you said and left a confused Bucky. 

On your shelf in your bedroom was an empty space which caused your eyebrow to rose as you couldn’t explain why the item wasn’t there. It wasn’t new or anything, you had owed it for a few years. 

The plush tiger was a remembrance of your first visit to a zoo. You were so amazed by the tigers and lions that you got a plushie that used to be your companion for a few years. Afraid that it would break one day it wandered from your bed to your shelf. Until now that is. It didn’t fall down and you didn't take it. Why wasn't it there though? The search took you a while and you were frustrated when you couldn’t find it. You even asked around, but everyone promised they hadn’t taken it. You had to continue with your days, but the lost tiger was still on the back of your mind. 

On your way to the training ground, you stopped when you heard the familiar voices of Bucky and Sam. Whoever thought it was a good idea to send these two on a mission was clearly mental as you could hear their bickering over the grass. 

“Hey guys. How was – What is that, James?” you suddenly stopped your question, your expression saying that you weren’t joking around anymore and Bucky looked more than confused as you were calling him James. 

“What?” he asked confused, but you had already crossed the three steps towards him and opened the duffel bag that was hanging over his shoulder. A small piece of a tiger's tail had found its way out of the bag and you suddenly held the plushie that was missing in your hand. “Why is he with you? Do you think it's funny to just take stuff from other people? I’ve searched for it for days!” 

Bucky looked puzzled at you. “I didn’t take it. It was suddenly there on my bed on the second night,” he defended himself and somehow you believed him. Which only meant one thing. 

“These pranks need to stop, Sam. It isn’t funny anymore!” 

Sam looked as bewildered at you. “Why are you telling me? I didn’t do anything,” he defended himself, but he had been smiling before that so you didn’t believe him.  

“I need to get to training,” you said with your plushie under your arm. “I’m watching you,” you made the motion with your fingers before you walked further to your appointment. A smell invaded your nose, you took a sniff on your tiger and sure it smelled like... Bucky. Did he actually sleep with it? 

“Hey Buck, we want to grab something to eat. You want to come with us?” Steve asked him when you walked past him with Sam and Natasha on your way towards the diner you all liked so much. 

“No, thanks. Can you bring me something though?” Bucky didn’t look up and you could hear the faint noise of a page being turned over. 

“What are you reading that has you so invested?” Sam asked and tried to get a glimpse at the cover of the book that kept Buckys whole attention. 

“Oh, it’s a thriller and I’m almost at the end and we’ll figure out who the murderer is. Although it has been pretty clear from the beginning. Sloppy work. There was a murder in a house with all the relatives there and,” he said and finally looked up. 

“What’s the name of the book? I just read something like that but lost it in the train before I could finish it,” you asked. 

“Why were you even in the train in the first place?” Natasha asked, but you didn’t answer her as Bucky held up the book and you could see the cover. 

“That’s exactly the book I’ve been reading. Where are you? Did they already find the weapon? I bet it was placed under a loose floorboard.” 

“No way! There is a secret passage in the house that not everybody knows off. You can see small hints here and there. The wind that let the tapestry move although the windows were closed?” 

You took a seat next to the man. “No, but they mentioned the floor one too many times. It must have been there,” you said and the two of you started to share your thoughts on the books. You didn’t even notice that the others bid you goodbye and when they came back they found the two of you hunched over the same book while both of you were reading the last pages together. Steve just left the food next to you and you and Bucky thanked him before you continued reading. Steve shared a grin with Sam and they left you alone again. 

“This room is safe,” you exclaimed when Steve closed the door and you had checked behind the shelves. “Which is good, because I’m out of ammo and I lost the only knife I had.” You patted down the pants to see if you didn’t forget something, but no, you were out of weapons. 

Steve and you had been separated from the rest of the group. “Let me see,” Steve started but stopped once he heard a movement. His stopping made you aware of something behind you and then went to throw your elbow behind you, you noticed a weight in your hand that hadn’t been there before. Your instinct told you to grab it harder and it was that that saved your life. Your eyes didn’t know where to focus. On the man now in front of you or the knife in your hand with a red colour dripping from it. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked and was at your side a few seconds later. “I thought it was safe?” 

“I was,” you said slowly. Steve took the knife carefully from your grip. “This is Bucky’s,” he murmured. He had seen it in his best friend's hands so often he would always recognise it. “When did he give it to you?” 

“I thought so too,” you stammered. 

“And I thought you were out of knives?” He bent down and checked the pulse of the guy on the floor. 

“He didn’t. It just... appeared,” you said still not so sure about what had just happened. The rest of the mission was more of a blur and you were aware that Steve shielded your most of the time until you were safe in the jet. The next thing you knew was that you were sitting in a chair that lacked some kind of comfort and you could hear Steve’s voice in the background. 

“Hey, you okay? Are you hurt?” This time it was Buckys voice that you were hearing and he was squatted down in front of you. 

In response you only held out your hand which was still holding the weapon. You heard some rustling and before he could ask how you’d get it you told him it had just appeared out of nowhere. “I don’t understand it!” 

“Me neither, but we’ll figure it out. You’re in shock, but I need to know if you’re hurt,” his voice soothed you. 

“I think I’m okay,” you mumbled. 

“Okay, that’s good.” Bucky took the knife from your hands and you heard a clang as if he discarded it without a care, before he took the seat next to you. Your hands didn’t know what to do and so he put his hand in yours and your fingers fumbled with the metal in his hand. 

The Whiteboard looked like a mess. The green pencil in your hand just made a bow towards Bucky’s name when he scribbled hat with his blue marker. 

“What hat? Bucky, are you blushing?” you asked confused and put the cap on your pen so it wouldn’t dry out. 

“Your hat turned up with me,” he mumbled. 

“What hat?” you asked even more confused. 

“Your birthday hat. You know the pink one Natasha made you? The cowboy hat with Birthday Princess on it?” You nodded and pressed you lips together so you wouldn’t snicker. “It turned up while I was showering.” 

There was no stopping you now. Your laugh was loud and you were joined by Sam and even Steve who were also in the room trying to solve the riddle that left you sleepless for a few nights since the mission. 

“Did it appear on your head or elsewhere?” Sam asked between laughs and you’ve never seen Buckys head getting more red. 

“Yes, it did appear on my head!” Bucky proclaimed and the arrow he made aggressively towards his name and the squeaking noise made you shut your eyes as if you wouldn’t hear it anymore. 

“Okay, okay. Back to the topic.” You tipped the marker against your lips. “Well, you know how you were searching for your red Henley?” you asked. 

“No way!” Bucky exclaimed and the red left his face slowly. “You’re the thief? I thought it was Sam the whole time!” 

“I’m no thief!” you exclaimed while Sam complained that you always thought he was the one stealing stuff. “It just laid on my bed when I was really cold and I might have kept it because it’s really comfortable. I know why you keep it,” you admitted.  

Suddenly the door opened and Tony came in. “Hey Cap, our time advisor is here,” he announced and you could see Wong standing behind him who waved. 

“Oh, you’re doing a soulmate chart? Looks like fun,” he said and followed Tony who walked towards another conference room. Bucky and you shared a look before you pushed yourself past Steve and run out of the room. 

“A what?” you exclaimed and run up to Wong who stopped walking once he heard your voice. 

“Huh?” he asked confused. 

“What did you say in the room?” you asked again and were aware of Bucky suddenly standing next to you. 

“The soulmate chart?” He asked and the look in both of your faces made him to continue. ”You know the person you’re destined with? Share a deep connection with? Not ringing any bells?” He sighed and opened a small portal and conjured a book out of it. “I will lend it to you, but I need it back!” he held it out of reach until you and Bucky promised to be very careful with the old book. 

“How comes we have never heard about it?” you asked once Bucky had taken the book. 

“People stopped believing in magic, fairy tales and stuff like that. They turned a blind eye and you would be surprised how many things are forgotten now. That doesn’t make them less real,” he sighed and looked at the time. “I hope they have good snacks,” he finally said and followed into the room where Tony had already went in a few minutes ago. 

Bucky cleared his throat. “Well, we better check this out then.” 

Almost three days you spent with Bucky in the conference room. Old mugs and plates were stashed at one side of the table and you and Bucky occupied the other side with one person at the whiteboard scribbling down what the other person told them. 

“Okay, enough!” Sam walked into the room and you and Bucky looked at him in shock. Except for the two of you you hadn’t really talked to the others. “You go shower, you stink. And dress in something other than sweats and a hoodie. You’ll finally have a dinner with us.” 

“I showered this morning,” you protested, but Sam made loud noises so he wouldn’t hear you. 

“Go,” he said again. 

“Fine,” you huffed. “But only because I’m hungry.” 

“You too, Barnes,” Sam said again and you didn’t stay to watch if Bucky followed Sam's order. 

It didn’t take long for you to find your way to the dining room. You were wearing something comfortable, but at least no sweats, so Sam couldn’t complain. You were stunned when you saw Bucky sitting in a fitting black shirt at the table with plates for two, roses and candles on them. He shrugged as if to tell you he didn’t know either. Suddenly two hands grabbed your shoulders and pushed you towards the table. 

“The two of you are missing the point with your whole research. Soulmates aren’t science. It’s a person who you have a deep connection with. And how will the two of you know about that if the only thing you do is stare at a book? You had three days to figure it out your way, now you’ll try mine. You have the room to yourself – but please remember that FRIDAY is everywhere – and Wanda made you dinner, that will be served shortly. Please thank me later because Steve was very persisted to help and wanted to cook, so please thank him for the good choices of drinks. Enjoy your evening,” Sam had pushed you into the chair and left the room. 

“What is happening?” you asked confused. 

“I have no clue!” Bucky and you stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” you said after a while. “Tell me something that no one else knows.” 

It took a while before he replied. “I don’t like plums.” 

“Huh?” 

He shrugged. “You eat some once and suddenly everyone assumes it’s your favourite thing. And suddenly all you get is plums – jam, pie, even shower gel. I like them fine, but not all the time.” 

“You know that Sam and I were shopping for ages until he found the plum jam, he was so sure you liked so much when he pulled your name for Christmas?” you snorted and Steve walked into the room to bring your drinks and some salad. 

“You cleaned up fine,” you told him. 

“Eyes up here,” Steve said totally serious and pointed at Bucky, which caused you to lose it all and Bucky to start howling in laughter. “Okay, I don’t know why I said that,” Steve finally admitted and laughed also. 

“Why can’t we just all eat together?” you asked and looked at Bucky who nodded. 

“Yeah, Steve this is awkward. Just gather everyone hiding in the kitchen and we eat together.” 

“So, you don’t want to go on a date together?” Steve asked defeated. 

“Oh, I want to. But like on our own terms?” Bucky asked more in your direction. 

“Yup, I could take you out tomorrow,” you smirked at him. 

“Sounds good, doll,” Bucky agreed and Steve seemed more relieved. “So should I tell the others?” Steve asked, but Sam and Wanda stood already in the entry with plates in their hand. 

“Just ourselves, my ass,” you huffed. You shared a glance with Bucky before the others filled the table and the talks started. 

“Want to get out of here? We could get some ice-cream,” you suggested to Bucky when the rest of the team was in the middle of a heated discussion where Sam was almost in Natashas face. 

“Yeah okay, but please no...”  

“...plum,” you ended the sentence for him and accepted his outstretched hand and the two of you left the room quietly. “I know that now. So, maybe plain old vanilla?” you offered instead. 

“Come on, that might be Steve’s favourite flavour, but I’m not that boring.” He looked almost offended, but you saw the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Well see about that,” you teased and followed him outside. 

Just because I can:

Masterlist | Library Blog

divider by @fireflygraphics

A/N - Some more action this time around. I don't write too many of those types of scenes, so with any luck they are as thrilling as I hope them to be! Please enjoy, and thank you for your continued support through my Sam Coe Hoe Era <3

WARNINGS: Strong language from reader, space battles.

With the grav drive activated, the threads of space and time shot by in an inspiring painting of bright lights. Distant stars and planets, shooting by as if they were inches apart instead of lightyears. You’d dimmed the interior lights to get the full effect, the silence a fitting backdrop for the show in display. Times like this, you’d often wonder how anyone could go their entire lives not traveling the expanse of space like this. What a view they were missing out on…

Lounged in your cockpit to wait out the travel time to the next system, your eyes watched the black sea fold before the ship as you traveled forward. Cora had stayed up to watch the sight a few hours previously, jabbering on about anything space-related she’d read in her most recent books, but now both her and her father were asleep in the living quarters one deck below. Good. After the non-stop missions you’d run searching for artifacts, they both deserved the rest.

Barrett and Gideon were likely in the rec room just down the way from the sleeping quarters, shooting the shit while you traveled your course to your destination. There was little for them to do while the grav drive was engaged, but you felt it necessary to keep to the day and night shift rotations, if only not to butcher any sort of routine sleep schedule for your crew. Better that than to be unprepared in the case of an ambush from Spacers or, even worse, the Crimson Fleet.

Vasco, of course, didn’t sleep. But you’d set him to cataloguing and organizing the ship’s cargo after your latest expedition dealing with Spacers who’d taken over an abandoned mining facility. To the victor went the spoils, as Sam always liked to say. Better that those damned pirates had less equipment to work with, anyway. Like vultures, they’d eventually flock back to where their dead fell, collecting any supplies left behind and likely picking up where they left off. At the very least, selling off their armaments was an acceptable repayment for the inconvenience of having to deal with them almost everywhere you landed.

Drifting away with your thoughts, three rapid beeps drew your gaze to the navigational projection screen in the cockpit of the Razorleaf. The final stretch of your journey was nearly finished. Sitting up straighter in your chair, you stretch your shoulders and neck, letting out a sigh at the relief it brought.

You press the button to intercom only to the rec room—so as not to wake your two sleeping companions. “Approaching the Sagan system, ETA 20 minutes. Prepare for grav drive disengagement.”

There’s no immediate indication that anyone had heard you, mostly because there was no need to scramble to stations with this much prior warning. Out of habit, you glance over the system statuses. All nominal, nothing of note to be concerned about. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of boots on the rungs of a ladder, and Barrett is the first to speak as he takes his place somewhere behind you.

“Evening, Captain.” His deep, naturally-booming voice sounds all the louder in the small cockpit. You can hear his smile without having to look at it.

“Barrett.” You greet with a small twist in your chair and a nod. Then, a thought occurs to you, and a grin plants itself on your face. “So, who won?”

“I did!” A voice calls from just below the ladder, and Gideon is next to emerge from the below deck. His smiling face says all as he straightens from the rungs. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

“If I recall, it was a stalemate.” The dark-skinned man retorted with a chuckle as he took his seat. “But if it helps you sleep at night, we’ll say you win this time.”

“Stalemate? Hardly.” Gideon took his place at the opposite crew station, turning in his chair to point at his board game opponent. “I was a few turns away from capturing your FOB, and your production facility was surrounded.”

“I think you mean to say ‘strategically positioned,’ my friend.”

You turn back to the command console as they continue debating who in fact had come out victorious this round of Star Frontiers—if memory served right, Barrett was still up 4 to 2 with Gideon—and begin settling in place for entering the system. There were still several minutes to go, so you sat and relaxed as the ship counted down the necessary time left.

Eventually, another beep from the ship’s console alerted you the the immediate, impending disengagement of the grav drives. With a loose grip on the throttle and another on the steering mechanism—it wouldn’t be the first time you’d damaged the hull because of some asteroid field suddenly manifesting into existence in front of you—you watch as the grav drive’s timer ticked down to zero.

As it disengaged, you felt that familiar pull of gravity deep in the pit of your stomach. The ship didn’t falter or shudder, but the painting of lights and lines as you’d traversed through the fold slowly lengthened and morphed until you caught a view of the star system of Sagan. All this in the blink of an eye.

So fast, in fact, it took you a solid two seconds to adjust to the change and notice the fleet of ships now pinging your proximity scanner. Too far away for a solid visual quite yet, but you preferred to be overly cautious in known Crimson Fleet territory.

Gideon’s concerned voice floated over to you. He must have noticed too. “Uh, Captain-?”

“I see them.” You say, eyes narrowing out into the endless black, speckled sea of space. You just manage to see the tail-end of their thrusters against the darkness. With one touch of a screen, you initiate a data scan of the ships. Before the report even comes through, your communication array is already pinging with an incoming transmission. In the distance, you see the group move to face your direction.

You hesitate before accepting it. The voice on the other end is…predictably malicious. “We’re going to make this real simple for you. Let us board and you might all live, or die to the vacuum of space as we blow your ship to bits.”

Probabilities are running through your head, but apparently the silence in those precious few seconds isn’t what he was wanting to hear. “You have until my ship gets within missile range to respond.”

“Barrett how fast can the grav drive re-engage?”

“We’d need about 10 minutes for the fuel tanks to be refilled. Vasco!” He commed directly to his robot companion from his station. “Whatever you’re doing right now, drop it and get us refueled as soon as you can. We’re about to have trouble.”

“Acknowledged.” Is the robotic, tinny response.

Too long on the refuel. The Crimson Fleet ships would be upon you by then. You bite your lip, cursing this whole situation. The math wasn’t in your favor, either in engaging in combat or attempting a retreat. That left you with little choice…

Leaning forward, you tap the button to transmit your own message. “This is Captain Y/N of the Razorleaf. We…will prepare to be boarded.”

You could hear Gideon make an astonished sound behind you, but ignore it in favor of listening to the pirate’s response. “Wise choice.” The transmission cut off with a blip, and the cockpit is silent for all of one second.

“Captain, how-“

“I’m not letting them onboard this ship, Gideon.” You reassure with a firm voice, any and all relaxation leaving your shoulders as you straighten in your chair and strap yourself in. “They’ll find that out soon enough. Redirect some power from the grav drive to shields and engines while Vasco refuels.” You’d sooner die than have them anywhere near the inquisitive young girl you had onboard.

Speaking of…remembering that your two other companions were still sound asleep below deck, you hit the full-ship intercom to wake them. “Sam and Cora, strap into something down there and brace for evasive maneuvers. Five Crimson Fleet ships inbound. Repeat, Crimson Fleet ships inbound.”

Once again, there’s no signal to tell you that they heard your com, but you trusted that Sam had woken up at the very least and sprung to action. The group of ships had continued their way towards you, their hulls painted with the signature skull motif growing more visible as the distance between shortened.

With one slow inhale, and carefully controlled exhale, your hands take control of the steering and thruster throttles. The odds weren’t exactly in your favor here, but with any luck, the element of surprise will give you enough of an edge to make it through.

You weren’t about to let Cora die a gruesome death in space. You weren’t about to let Cora die at all. Fuck that and fuck these pirates.

The fleet of ships drifted closer, their speed now slowing in preparation to connect to your docking bay. Crimson Fleet ships were always designed to intimidate, and you had to admit, they were doing their job. Large guns and missile mounts alongside their hulls made for quite a threatening picture. Had this been a merchant or exploration vessel, you doubt you would have had any chance at all.

Gideon says something, but in your concentration, you don’t hear him. A few more seconds…they drift closer. You swallow, anticipation and trepidation in equal parts buzzing just under your skin.

There’s no signal or sign to cause you to engage the engines at full thrust with your boost enabled. It came out of nowhere, and the Razorleaf shoots forward out from the group of ships that had been preparing to box you in. You’re pressed back into your chair, the pressure grounding you as you spin the Razorleaf on a tilt, the distant stars shifting in your cockpit’s view.

Gideon half cursed and praised the sudden change in velocity, but otherwise remained quiet and focused at his station. Barrett was unusually silent, but you were thankful for his lack of interruption or witty quip that was so typical of him. Now wasn’t the time as you began your flight away from the pirates.

Another incoming transmission pinged on your communication array, but you simply denied it, not bothering to give the pirate anymore of your attention.

It would be too much to ask to cleanly get away from the fleet without them firing a single shot. It’s less than a minute before you see the first of the laser fire shoot past your ship and out into the space beyond. With a flick of your wrist, the Razorleaf banks and plummets below their firing line, sending them to chase you through the emptiness of the black sea.

Having Sam around had definitely improved your overall piloting ability. The man was a wonder behind a command console, and you silently thanked him for all of the skill and knowledge he’d seen fit to impart upon you on your travels together. You maneuvered the ship with ease, so familiar with its ability that it felt no more than an extension of yourself, in a way.

Your console blared to life an angry red, alerts coming at you full force. ‘Enemy Missile Locked-On’ it spat at you, and you cursed.

“Shields at 86 percent.” Barrett reported, then because he figured you’d ask, “Vasco, how long before we’re topped up?”

“Should current velocity conditions persist, refueling will take an approximate 16 minutes, 39 seconds. Recommendation: stabilize current flight trajectory to decrease time required for completion.”

You feel the rumble and impact of the missile against the ship’s shielding, but your tight grip on the steering mechanism means you barely tilt off your current course at all, weaving around empty space to throw off their targeting as best you could. 

“Shields?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“49 percent. Those things ain’t no joke.” Barrett mentioned.

“Another one of those is gonna put us in a bad spot.” Gideon mentions with worry in his tone. He’s right, though, and you know it.

With few options at your disposal, you make the realization that evading was only going to last you so long. The Razorleaf had superior shields, but under the onslaught of 5 ships’ weapons systems firing upon you at the same time, they would melt away in minutes just the same as any other ship.

Offensive action was now required.

“Gideon, divert all power from the grav drive to main weapons. Keep shields and engines at their current level.” You order, settling as best you can in your chair. “Looks like fighting is our only way out of this now.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

She knows what she’s doing.” Barrett chipped in, just as your weapons all clicked online. “Don’t start doubting her now.”

You release a steadying breath, focusing on nothing but the impending fire fight. The throttle seems to hum in reassurance beneath your fingers, and with a resolute prayer to protect those you loved most in the deck below, you activated the boost and shot forward.

4 seconds, then 5, passed as you gained ground in front of the chasing ships. Then, right at the end of your boost, you addressed Gideon. “Cut all engine power.”

Thankfully, he didn’t voice his confusion this time, and simply followed orders. Just as the engines cut off, you jerked the throttle to the side, spinning the. Razorleaf in a free-floating turn to face your attackers. For all of 7 or 8 seconds you continued drifting forward, but space shifted in your cockpit view. This was a risky maneuver, but one that you had successfully employed before.

And then the pursuers came into view as you finished your 180 degree turn. Seeing the ships coming closer with the lasers still firing your direction, you shout once more. “Engines full power!”

The Razorleaf burst to life, the velocity once more shoving you back into the seat and propelling you forward. With a direct line on the first of the approaching ships, trigger finger clamps down on the gear like a vise, shooting the lasers from your upgraded main guns straight into those of the Crimson Fleet vessel.

“Enemy guns down.” Barrett reported proudly, but you’re already onto the one behind it by the time he finishes his sentence, managing to get a lock-on to the ship. A well-placed EM shot took down their shields, and your follow up laser blast no doubt damaged some parts of their hull on the port side.

At your current speed, you shot past them with a tilt of your steering mechanism. The whole thing lasted barely 12 seconds, but it had slowed down to what felt like a lifetime. Barrett, shields?”

“41 percent. Looks like you disabled the second ship. Only 4 more to go.” He reassured with something akin to pride in his voice. You manage a small grin, but don’t let your attention up from the stars before you.

More laser shots hit your shield and past it off into the black sea. More evasive maneuvers puts you in a better position to return fire, though it’s little more than a dogfight. Time passes strangely; what feels like an eternity is mere seconds and the span of a breath, and in the moments of breathless waiting you swear it happened in an instant.

The second ships sparks and explodes in a shower of metal debris in similar fashion to the first, your EM weapon making quick work of the shields, only to be followed up with a barrage of laser fire. Only 3 ships remained, and your shields had so far held steady at 37 percent.

Another missile lock-on warning blares across your screen, sending the adrenaline up a notch. Another boost and you’re suddenly out of range of the enemy’s targeting. Really, tangible hope begins to blossom in your chest as the third ship falls. Your wing grazes some of the debris, and you grit your teeth against the reverberation it sends through the ship.

“Fuck!” You shout, nearly colliding with one of the remaining Crimson Fleet ships as you attempt another evasive roll and bank to get away from his companion’s laser fire. Something loud bangs as you pass, and Barrett cursed under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. “Status?”

“Shields at 9 percent, Captain.” His sentence is punctuated by more laser fire, and he shakes his head at his screen. “Make that 6 percent.”

“These fuckers…” You mutter, angry that they’d been laying here in wait to begin with. Angry that the Crimson Fleet even existed. Maybe once all this artifact business was done, you’d reconsider the SYSDEF’s offer after all. At this point, you’d do anything to see them all wiped from the universe.

Another swift roll of the ship and you shoot forward through the bits of debris through one of the already destroyed ships, making sure to avoid the biggest parts just in case. Your shields wouldn’t hold up much longer, and especially not with the 2 remaining ships still firing at you. Luckily, one comes into view in your cockpit, and your EM weapon was ready to dole out its deadly effects.

This one doesn’t take out the shields, rather the engine. Just as well, you think, leaving the ship to stall out in empty space as you continue on with the last ship in pursuit. Another angry beeping sound alerts and diverts your attention.

“We’ve lost shields.” Barrett warns.

“Now or never.” You tell yourself, bracing for a risky move yet again. “Gideon, cut engines!”

Once more, you feel the Razorleaf lose momentum just as you pull up sharply on the throttle. The view of space tilts in your cockpit as you circle around to face the final working ship. You feel and hear as your ship takes damage, but you can’t focus on that until later. With another sharp order, your engines are back online and your weapons are full-blasting in the direction of the enemy ship.

Amongst the beeping on your console and the the celebration of Barrett and Gideon as the Crimson Fleet ship suffers an explosion—one of your lasers must have hit something vital—you can barely hear anything at all. Your ears ring, what from no one knows. But you sit there, adrenaline still coursing through you as you slow the ship to a more gentle velocity.

The command console still blares, but you shakily reach for the com. “Vasco, damage report.”

“Shield generator and port-side KE-42 Cannon sustained moderate damage. Left wing sustained minimal contact damage. All other ship systems nominal.”

“Any damage below deck?”

“Habitation units sustained no damage.” Then, as if he predicted what exactly you were trying to get at, he added, “Life signs for Sam Coe and Cora Coe are nominal.”

“Thank god.” You whisper to yourself, finally leaning back and unstrapping yourself from the pilot seat. “Vasco, please resume refueling the grav drive. Gideon, reroute power from weapons back to the drive, and Barrett, do an extensive scan of the area to make sure there aren’t any other ships coming to back up those ones.”

You received a smattering of affirmatives from your crew, before slumping forward in your seat. Your legs felt like jelly and the rest of you buzzed with the unused adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Barrett must have noticed your sorry state, because you feel his hand on your shoulder after a moment. When you look up, he’s smiling at you. “That was some damn good piloting.”

“Thanks.”

He gestures to the rest of the ship behind him. “Go on and have yourself a rest, Captain. Gideon and I will handle it from here.”

“But-“

“If we need you, we’ll let you know.” He implies, not giving you the option to refuse. And truthfully, in your shaken-up state, you’re in no position to either. Nodding your acceptance, you somehow manage to stand and make your way towards the ladder to the deck down below. After all of the rolling and moving, it feels strange standing and walking on a static deck. The space seems to sway around you.

However, your head spins before you make it all the way. Dizziness overtakes you, and you sink down onto your cot just feet away. The bed is firm beneath you, but it’s enough to get your bearings on. You plant your face in your hands and exhale a shaky breath, elbows propping you up on your knees.

You’d nearly lost everything. You’d nearly lost your crew. You’d nearly lost Sam and Cora. That scared you more than any number of Crimson Fleet ships baring down on you. It had been too damn close. Too fucking close for your comfort.

Another shuddering breath escapes you, ears still ringing and hollow after such an ordeal. The weight of responsibility, to protect the ones you love most, presses ever downward on your shoulders and back. It would crush you if you let it.

Instead, a gentle hand is upon your back and a gentle voice draws your thoughts from spiraling downward. “Hey. You hangin’ in there?”

It feels like too much to lift your head and look Sam in the eyes. Instead, you simply allow your muscles to shake and shudder as the last of the adrenaline leaves you in a rush. You can’t speak, words failing uselessly at the tip of your tongue. But Sam seems to understand, and simply sits beside you, rubbing smooth circles into your back.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling your arms easily until you’ve buried your face in his leather jacket and wrapped your arms around his back. Maybe he knows where your anxiety was originating, because he whispers all the reassurances he can into your ear. “We’re alright. Cora’s alright. A little motion sickness maybe, but we’re still breathin’, darlin’.”

A deep breath fills your nose with his scent. Familiar and safe and just like home. Hearing him speak, feeling his warmth and the beat of his heart underneath the layers of his clothes…you slowly begin to use them to ground yourself back to the present, away from a possible reality where you all floated lifelessly through the dark empty void of space for eternity. No, Cora was alive. Sweet Cora and her father that you held so dear.

You feel the rumble of the grav drive come to life somewhere on the ship. Vasco must have finished the refueling. That revelation does ease some of your nerves. You lift your face away just enough to speak. “It was so close, Sam.”

“Yeah, but no cigar.” You feel Sam prop his chin on your head and pull you in just that little bit closer. “Five ships…Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“More like crazy…”

“A bit of that too, maybe.” You can practically feel the smile when he presses a kiss against your head. “But hey…Any day we aren’t space debris is a win, right?”

You sigh, deciding to let the man comfort you for once, letting go of some of the stubborn guilt that tried eating away at you. It was warm and comfortable, and right now, nothing sounded better than a nap. “Right.”

“Get some sleep, ok?” He encourages, pulling away so he can finally look you in the eyes. Pride and warmth swims behind them, and you can’t look away. Eventually you nod, and he flashes a wider smile, bringing your head closer to place another kiss, this time to your temple.

“We’ll all be here when you wake up.” Is his promise. One you know he would always keep.

Vulnerable pt.2

A/N: Due to everyone's love for the first installment, here's a continuation! It's not full NS/FW to "completion", however, a third post will finish up the little mini-series if part two does well enough. Summary: After getting Ghost to release his tensions after a harsh mission, you're surprised to see how far things go. Ghost is just as shocked. TW's: sexual content NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, cursing, sexual thoughts, intimacy, not proofread. If I missed something... let me know.

Read Part One Here

Ghost’s eyes flicker in the dim light with something you’ve never seen before. It’s similar to the pain you’ve seen on his face when trying to nurse a stab or gunshot wound. Tinged around the edges with a panic and cracked lines of desperation. For such a strong and self-proclaimed heartless man, his eyes show so much deeper a story. One that calls out happily at the idea of keeping you close to him like this. Interested. Much more than he’d ever felt before.

“If you want to, we could lay down?” You suggest gently, looking at the bed and then back to him. “I’ll keep going.”

Those silently expressive eyes shift all over again. “Yes.”

You stay still, allowing him to choose the pace and tone of this. Wanting him comfortable and feeling safe with you. All of it could stop the second he made it clear, but for some reason, you really couldn’t understand why the Lieutenant was letting you in. And it wasn’t because you were massaging his back. Twisting his lower half onto the bed, Ghost shifted until settled down on the bed on his back, totally open to you. In his relaxed position, you can feel how the invisible magnets between you shift from pushing forces to pulling ones. Body heat radiating off of him and his steady breaths almost acted like a sleeping pill for you as you laid down next to him, careful not to edge into his personal space.

“How would you like to lay?” His eyes wander over your face softly as you question him; head leaning to the side to get a full look at you resting next to him with your messy hair and t-shirt with little holes dotting alone the stretched-out collar. Ghost couldn’t help but realize how pretty you looked right now with your little smile and glowing skin illuminated in the yellow light. It doesn’t take a lot of thought before he gives a very quick and confident answer.

“Facing you.” His dark eyes study you for a response.

One he fears will be hesitation or discomfort. Fuck, maybe even fear. You’d seen him do things even hell would shudder at, yet you always came to him bearing a trusting and happy disposition. Being covered in blood, sand, sweat or mud never deterred you from walking right up to him like some lost little puppy hoping someone would find it cute enough to take home. Genuinely it bothered him. Why do you overlook the danger he presented. How you could be so fucking pleasant and calm in almost every situation you were thrown into. Something he’d been angrily dismissing as nothing more than a passing trend until you really got to know him as well as others had. Yet nothing changed. In fact, you appeared almost excited at the prospect and wiggled yourself into what he assumed was a more comfortable position on your side with one arm propped up under your head.

Ghost shifts himself onto his side with a small grunt, getting into an equally comfortable position that closes a bit more distance between you both. If you had mentioned it, his excuse would’ve fallen somewhere along the lines of you having short arms and that he was only accommodating your size. Nothing could pry the truth that he just liked being close to you out of his mouth. Days in the desert hadn’t nearly touched you. Sure you were a little rough around the edges without time to redo your hair or do any of the other small things… But damn you still looked pretty. With so little space between you, he could smell how sweet you were too. Not that fake shit women always put too much of on. You smelled right. Like a woman ought to. Natural, and… maybe a little on the salty side. It meant you’d been busting your ass in the field, and that thought alone gave Ghost a bit of a shiver as he inhaled deeply.

Face-to-mask with just a little more than a couple inches between you, the closeness felt comforting, reassuring. Ghost at ease, getting to take his time admiring all of the small things he’d never thought to appreciate, while you revel in such a strange yet lucky opportunity to watch him practically melt into the bed all because of your touches and soft words. Perhaps it’s because of all his walls coming crashing down that you’re able to begin trailing your fingertips over his arm. You worked from his wrist to his bicep then over and down onto his ribs, feeling the texture of burns and scars and the small raised edges of tattoos sunk into his skin.

Ghost lets out a low, soft, moan as your hands glide over his stomach. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks directly at you, blinking innocently like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s so eager yet nervous for any sort of attention, and while you have no intention of stopping, you’re careful to not move too quickly. His breath increasing under your hand is a good enough indication that he was feeling something, and strongly, at that.

“More,” he breathes out, nearly panting with his one hand fisting at the sheets under him.

He’s starting to shake inside. Tingling on every surface you touch and fighting back the desperate urge to just make an observed amount of noise with just how much he likes this. It’s been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately. The overstimulation was nearly enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Yet he swallowed thickly, willing himself to act as normally as possible. For fuck’s sake you hadn’t done anything that should reduce him to such a pathetic excuse of a man on the edge of anticipation waiting to see where you’d touch him next. You made it even harder when you looked up at him with a smile and raised eyebrows.

“Can I try something?”

He can’t nod quick enough, watching those eyes of yours light up. He shivers as your attention moves upwards to the hem of his mask, toying with it a little before tracing long lines from the base of his throat all the way up to his jaw. Working to trace out the shapes and planes of his face under the thin material. It makes him quiver and tighten his fist around the sheets in his hand. Without thinking, he moves his other arm to wrap around your waist tightly and pulls you the rest of the way against him with a small growl of lost patience. Ghost wanted you close, but god you were just too sweet to do it on your own. And with your body heat scalding against his bare skin, he gives a pinched sigh, eyes fluttering closed with you still rubbing his face.

“This okay?” He whispers lowly, his arm still wrapped around you and his hand pressed flat against the deep sway of your lower back; thumb rubbing over your belt loop absentmindedly. Hearing your soft sigh pours over his mind like thick honey in tea.

“Of course, it is,” Your hand curls around the edge of his jaw reassuringly. “You can touch me back if you’d like to.” You offer, reaching behind him to trace a line up his spine. Ghost’s eyes open at your invitation, his gaze -heavy- but fixed on you. His body tenses ever so slightly as you ask. Then, he closes them again and a small hidden smile crosses his lips.

“Yeah…” He answers at a mere whisper.

He moves his hand from its resting place and moves it to the swell of your hip, running it over your waist, fingers lazily catching the edge of your shirt and rolling it up enough that his fingertips brush against your bare skin in a soft gesture. You sense his nervousness in the slight shake of his hands, unsure of where to go, but fighting with the desire to touch everything at least once. Like he’s terrified he won’t get another chance but doesn’t want to scare you away from him either. His arm moves upwards, his hand coming to the side of your face; fingers smoothing back a couple of stray hairs and running across your head. Mentally you stutter for a moment, your arm draped over his side and your hand on his back stilling. Enraptured with Ghost’s rough hand touching you carefully. Treating you no differently than a bomb ready to go off at the slightest wrong move. So gently his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hearing a tender sigh from under his mask.

“That feels good,” You whisper, lips brushing against the edge of his palm.

An answer doesn’t come, but you can see him nod his head. You can almost picture his smile as his fingers continue to run through your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and pulling slightly before repeating the motion over again. Lacing his hand closer and closer to you with every soft touch. Ghost can’t help himself from tracing down the curve of your back again. Absorbing the comfort of your breath fanning over his chest and his hands getting to truly feel every inch of you he never even thought about touching, let alone actually laying next to you this close and feeling your smooth skin under his calloused palms. Experience in this kind of thing was as foreign to Ghost as the idea of working a nine-to-five at some office building typing on a computer or attending one o’clock meetings for a budget report. While that sounded mind-numbing enough to blast his own brains out…. he still felt like he’d have a better grip on living a life like that more so than he did lying next to you…

So fucking pretty always smiling like that.

He feels you lean even closer, resting your head against his bare chest and sinking deeper into the bed. Allowing him total freedom to do what he wished. If you could purr, he imagined you’d sound no different than a little kitten tucked inside someone’s shirt, kneading its paws into your skin. Ghost did smile widely this time, moving just enough to unbind his other arm out from under himself and curl it around your head to toy with the extremely soft strands right at the nape of your neck while the other rubbed at the dimples he felt in the small of your back.

You moan softly when his strong fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, rubbing in circles just at the back of your head to mimic the same technique you used on him earlier. Ghost was a quick study, but having large enough hands to practically scruff you with only one made it easier. Muffled in his chest, it didn’t come out nearly as deep and unrestrained as you’d actually been, yet you didn’t miss the slight shake of Ghost’s chest as he chuckled darkly. Proud that he’d elicited such a response, and already moving his hands more confidently to try and find somewhere else he could touch to make you repeat the noise.

“Does that feel good?” His voice pours over your ears like the bourbon he drinks, flooding your mind with a hazy and warm feeling.

Nodding your head to answer, his thumb runs lightly over your jaw again, this time squeezing affectionately. The Lieutenant on the other hand is relying far too much on his mask to keep his mounting excitement under control. Biting back an instinct to be rougher and see what other sounds you could make for him. Wrestling against the want to fully remove your shirt to see if you felt this soft everywhere. Suddenly hungry and hardly masking it. When you feel him suck in a harsh breath, you look up to see his eyes resting firmly on yours. A silent question lingers in the inch or two gap between your faces. His chest rises and falls quickly, anticipatory.

Swallowing the fucking childish nervousness clawing at his throat he finally speaks. “Should I?”

“I’d like if you did.” You whisper back, looking between his eyes and the painted teeth of his mask where you’ve pictured his lips being. Hoping. Praying. Fucking begging whatever beings could be in the sky above that you’d understood what he was asking for. That he’d give you so much more than you ever expected or dreamed of.

The Lieutenant’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and you can actually hear the thick swallow and deep breath he takes. A moment of anticipation that he couldn’t help but close his eyes for, bringing his masked face closer and closer. No more than a breath away, he can smell your hair and it makes him freeze. Quickly overwhelmed and unsure of how to move forward. So in the depth of his own mind, the presence of his mask still covering his whole lower face escapes his attention. You’re calm enough to help him, reaching between you and lifting the hem of his mask just enough to uncover his lips; Carefully resting the mask on the wide bridge of his nose.

You see deep scars -old and new- all over his lower face. Two of them cut over his lips in wide slashes that differed in color from the rest of his beautiful skin. It made your heart squeeze with sadness. Seeing the first real proof of just why Ghost was so closed off and afraid of letting anyone in. The first-hand experience left him always marching on a fine line between professional collaboration and a real, deep emotional connection to those he protected and those who wanted more than anything to protect him too.

Care about him.

It’s the one thought that brought you to press your lips to Ghost’s. Firm and sure of yourself but still sweet as sugar against his mouth. It takes him far longer than he thought to respond in any meaningful way. The sensation is so different, saccharine and syrupy. His. breath increases in pace, and you can feel his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in curiosity. It’s anxious yet bold. Even his hands are still shaking, they’re already wandering under the hem of your shirt much further than before. Grazing the bottom edge of your bra just like his tongue messily begged for more.

When you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, Ghost feels his inhibitions falling away. Opening his mouth with a low groan and pushing himself deeper, licking against your tongue greedily and tightening his grasp around you to begin rumbling for the hooks on your bra.

He’s nearly panting when he pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours with the hooks of your bra undone without even remembering when he’d done it. The sensation is sending heatwaves through your stomach, flooding your body with heat that rests on your cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbles, pulling at your shirt slowly and guiding it up over your head with care not to let it catch on anything.

Your heart thumps furiously as he kisses you, his tongue grazing against your own, softly and sweetly. His teeth tug on your lower lip, and his hands explore your back, feeling the smoothness of your skin. The warmth of his lips feels wonderful, his tongue exploring you as his movements become more frantic.

You feel his hands leave your back and move to your breasts, running lightly against the plush flesh before squeezing softly. Teasing his thumbs over your hardened nipples, giving you a darkened look when a small whimper slips from you. Ghost's eyes flick down, catching the image of your topless body before him and the almost pinched look of pleasure suddenly shocking your body. He smiles at you, his lips parting slightly as he does so feeling a new sense of accomplishment than ever before.

Hurting people felt natural to him after so many years alone and fighting to survive in every moment that came to pass. Rhythm and attention to the enemy's detailed reactions made him a lethal weapon against anyone his talents were directed at. With you in his hands though, the act of fighting was similar yet so very polar opposite. He watched and listened to every pretty little sound you made, but instead of that unending desire for retribution, he was being satiated with the knowledge that he could make you melt with nothing more than his mouth and hands.

Fuck, that thought almost ended Ghost. He couldn’t imagine just how many sounds he could rip out of you if he could use his hands or mouth somewhere else. God, if he ever had the chance to give you his cock, there’d really be no way of going back. He looks you in the eyes for a moment, then back to your lips, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring you as his hands run up and down your body.

He's so fucking eager now, and it shows, his excitement building in every movement of his hips beginning to roll up against yours. He's making you feel so hot and desperately needy for anything that could be given to you, and that's all he wants. Make you feel everything possible… all under his hands. His body, his touch. Only him. It couldn’t be anyone else now that he’d been given a taste of you.

The stone-cold Lieutenant Ghost is ready to give you everything all in the pursuit of making you feel absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure.

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Awww

Ride- s.r. x reader

totally didn't spend an hour sobbing to Ride by Lana Del Rey in my car. Either way, I made this for y'all

It was late—later than you had intended to stay at the BAU. The bullpen was eerily quiet, most of the team having left hours ago. You had just finished up your paperwork, filing away the last report of the day. Glancing at the clock on your computer, you realized with a sigh that dawn was closer than the sunset. You mentally prepared yourself for the drive home, downing the cold coffee in your mug. 

As you gathered your things, you noticed Spencer lingering near his desk, seemingly engrossed in a book. He was the only other person still there, apart from you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but every so often, you noticed his eyes flicking up to check the time or perhaps to glance around the empty office.

You hesitated for a moment. You’d never really had a chance to talk to Spencer one-on-one outside of work, and despite being part of the same team, you’d never been alone with him before. But something about the way he was lingering made you wonder if he was in the same situation as you—stuck with no easy way to get home.

Clearing your throat softly, you stepped over to his desk. “Hey, Spencer.”

He looked up, surprised, as if he hadn’t noticed you were still there. “Oh, hi,” he said, closing his book and setting it down. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Yeah, just wrapping up,” you said with a small smile. “It’s pretty late, though. I was about to head out, and I was wondering if you needed a ride home.”

Spencer blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. “A ride home? Are you sure? I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, waving off his concern. “I’d feel better knowing you got home safely. It’s pretty late, after all.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding slowly. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you’d offered. “Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”

The two of you walked to the parking garage together, the silence between you comfortable but charged with a sense of unfamiliarity. You couldn’t help but notice how Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax as he fell into step beside you. He was always so focused, so intense at work, that it was almost strange to see him in a more casual setting.

Once you reached your car, you unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat, waiting as Spencer settled in beside you. The car was filled with the soft hum of the engine as you started it up, and you turned to him with a small smile.

“Where to?”

Spencer gave you his address, and you nodded, pulling out of the garage and onto the quiet streets. The night was calm, the usual hustle and bustle of the city muted at this late hour. You drove in comfortable silence for a while, the soft strains of music playing through the radio.

After a few minutes, Spencer spoke up. “Thank you again for the ride. I didn’t mean to keep you so late.”

“It’s really no problem,” you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the road. “I’m glad I could help. It’s nice to have some company for the drive.”

You fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to a radio commercial play softly. The city lights streamed past the windows as you navigated through the streets. Spencer shifted in his seat, setting his bag between his feet and leaning back slightly.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the quiet, “I’ve noticed you’ve never really gone out with the team after work. We usually head to a bar nearby, but I don’t think I’ve seen you join us.”

You smiled, keeping your eyes on the road. “Yeah, bars aren’t really my thing. I don’t mind a drink every now and then, but the whole bar scene just doesn’t appeal to me.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. “So, what do you usually do after work?”

“Honestly?” you said with a small chuckle. “I like to drive around. I’ll just pick a direction and see where it takes me. Sometimes I find a new café or a bookstore. Other times, I just enjoy the drive, listening to music or thinking about the day.”

Spencer’s interest was piqued. “That sounds… peaceful. Do you do it often?”

“Pretty often,” you admitted, glancing at him with a smile. “It’s a good way to unwind. Clears my head.”

A moment passed before you felt a burst of spontaneity. “If you’re not in a hurry to get home, I could take you out for a bit. Show you how I spend my evenings.”

Spencer’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but a small smile curved his lips. “Sure. I’d like that.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of excitement at the prospect of showing him your side of the city. Reaching over, you rolled the windows down a little, letting the cool night air flow into the car. The breeze brushed against your skin, and you sighed, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away.

With Spencer agreeing to your impromptu adventure, you relaxed into the drive, cruising through the city with no particular destination in mind. The streets were quieter now, the typical bustle of the day giving way to a more serene atmosphere. The city lights flickered like stars on the pavement, casting a gentle glow that made everything seem a little more magical.

Spencer leaned back in his seat, seeming to unwind as well. “So, where are we headed?” he asked, his tone lighter than before.

“Anywhere we want,” you replied, smiling. “That’s the beauty of it. No plan, no rush… just enjoying the night.”

He chuckled softly. “I could get used to this.”

You drove through the winding streets, taking turns here and there without much thought, simply following the flow of the city. You passed by a few late-night diners, a couple of bookstores with their lights still on, and a park that looked inviting in the moonlight.

After a while, you found yourself near the waterfront, where the city’s lights reflected off the gently rippling water. You slowed down, rolling the windows down even further to let in the cool breeze from the bay. The sound of the water lapping against the shore was calming, and you could feel the tension in the air dissipate completely.

Spencer turned to look at you, his expression relaxed. “This is really nice,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the peace.

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, parking the car and turning off the engine. “I end up here a lot.” 

You both sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the view. The city skyline was a dazzling array of lights, and the water below reflected them like a mirror. There was something so serene about the moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Spencer said softly, breaking the silence. 

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore filled the silence between you and Spencer as you wandered down the path by the waterfront. You hadn’t planned on stopping, but when you spotted a large log near the water's edge, something about it seemed inviting.

Without a word, you reached out and took Spencer's hand, pulling him gently toward it. His hand was warm in yours, and you felt a slight tingle run up your spine at the simple contact. He followed you without hesitation, his eyes curious as you approached the log.

When you reached it, you nudged it with your foot, testing its stability. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you gave him a small smile before sitting down. He joined you, and the two of you settled in, side by side, the night sky stretching endlessly above you.

The silence that fell between you was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was as if the world had quieted down just for the two of you, leaving only the distant hum of the city and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the breeze.

And then, as naturally as the night turned into day, you began to talk.

There was no rush, no pressure to say anything in particular. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything and nothing all at once. You found yourself sharing things you hadn’t told anyone before, stories from your past, hopes for the future, small secrets that had always felt too personal to share. But here, in the quiet of the night, with Spencer beside you, it felt right.

He listened intently, his gaze soft and attentive. Occasionally, he would share something in return, and you felt a deep sense of connection growing between you. There was something comforting in the way he opened up to you, revealing parts of himself that you had never seen before. It was as if the night had stripped away the barriers between you, leaving only honesty and vulnerability in its wake.

Time seemed to slip away unnoticed as you continued to talk, the darkness of the night gradually giving way to the first hint of dawn. The sky began to lighten, a soft blush of pink and orange spreading across the horizon. You noticed the change in the light, the way the world around you was beginning to wake up, but neither of you made any move to leave.

Eventually, though, as the sun began its slow ascent, you both fell into a companionable silence. The words had all been spoken, and now, there was only the quiet understanding that had formed between you.

You glanced at Spencer, noticing the way the early morning light caught the edges of his hair, giving him a soft, almost ethereal glow. His expression was peaceful, a small, contented smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the water.

Reluctantly, you shifted, breaking the spell that had held you together throughout the night. Spencer turned to you, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, it felt as though the world stood still. There was an unspoken understanding in that look, a recognition of the bond that had formed between you.

Without a word, you both rose from the log, your hands brushing together briefly before you stepped away.

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a gentle glow over everything. Spencer turned to you, his eyes reflecting the soft morning light, and he gave you a small, genuine smile.

“That was nice,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent in the stillness of the early morning. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

You smiled back at him, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “Anytime,” you replied, standing up and brushing off your clothes. The simplicity of your response carried all the unspoken things you wanted to say.

Together, you began walking back to the car, the world around you slowly waking up. The grass was cool and damp beneath your feet, the earth soft from the dew. As you walked, your mind was still wrapped up in the serenity of the night, lost in thought.

Suddenly, your foot caught on a lump in the grass, and you stumbled slightly. Before you could fully regain your balance, Spencer’s hand was there, steadying you with a gentle yet firm touch on your lower back. The contact sent a sudden jolt up your spine, a spark that made your heart skip a beat.

You glanced up at him, a little surprised by how much the small gesture affected you. His hand lingered for a moment, warm against your back, before he slowly let it fall away.

“Careful,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice a bit breathless as you regained your footing.

The walk to the car continued in a comfortable silence, but the simple touch seemed to hum in the space between you. It was a small moment, yet it felt significant, like an unspoken promise that whatever had started between you tonight was just beginning.

Nothing fucks with my baby

Simon Riley x wife reader

Summary: Simon is the Earth orbiting your sun and he'll do anything to keep you safe and happy, even if that means resorting to bloody means.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: attempted non-con (not by Simon)

@ghosts-cyphera for you pookie, hope you enjoy!

Eight months. It’s been eight long, tortuous months since Simon saw you in person. Eight months of living off brief Skype calls interrupted by work schedules and shitty internet cutting out mid-call, an age since he’s touched you. Since he’s breathed in your scent and cradled you against his muscular chest, since he’s tasted you. Pictures of you weren’t enough, even if you’d gifted him a set of delectable Polaroids showcasing your gorgeous body decorated with black and white lingerie.  

Long deployments had never bothered him, not until you’d become the central part of his life. Simon was the Earth, orbiting your sun reverently and fervently. He’d worship you on his knees for eternity if that’s what you desired.

His appetite for you has always been ravenous, but his need for you has been greatly nourished after months of no contact. The door to your shared home swings open with a bang, the anticipation coursing through his veins diminishing his control in a way he knows you’ll scold him for. His bag is dropped carelessly in the foyer as he stalks through the space, a man on a mission to find you. Not even the weary exhaustion after months of shit sleep and shared communal spaces would deter him from his mission. 

You’re not in your home office or the bedroom and Simon’s frustration simmers under his skin as he marches straight back out the door. It’s only the knowledge that you’ll be devastated to have missed his surprise homecoming that tempers his annoyance. 

Ghost is beyond irritated by the time he arrives at your work, not necessarily at you, he knows how seriously you take your career, it’s one of the reasons he was so drawn to you. Once some lowly private had made a snide remark about you being the breadwinner, scoffing at Simon for letting his wife ‘emasculate’ him like that. It was only Price playing damage control that kept him from a dishonourable discharge that day. He had no regrets, especially after the incident taught people to keep your name out of their mouths. 

It’s late, well past working business hours when he keys into the building using the code you’d given specially for him. So it shouldn’t surprise him how empty it is, most of the lights turned off as he made his way to your office, but Simon hadn’t survived over a decade in the military without learning to trust his gut. A distinct uneasiness settles in his body, narrowed eyes surveying the space for anything out of the ordinary as he increases his pace to get to you. 

The light in your office is on, the door is left open carelessly and gives Simon a clear view of the sight of you bent over your desk trying not to cry as a man holds a gun to your head and fumbles with your sleek dress pants. Simon thought he knew rage, but any anger he’s ever felt is drowned in comparison to the sheer righteous fury that alights his veins. 

He closes the gap in record time, red filtering out the corners of his vision and spraying over his knuckles as he rips the interloper away and viciously lays into him. Any slurred words pleading for mercy are ignored and shut down as Simon’s fist renders the man’s mouth an inoperable bloody mess. 

His arm aches furiously by the time he pulls back, chest heaving with breaths that have long since been silenced from the scumbag that now lay dead on the floor of your office. It’s the sound of your shaky sobs that pulls Simon back from the brink, immediately darting towards you, shaky hands stained with blood cradling you against his bulk gently. 

He’s vibrating with an explosive cocktail of fury, fear, outrage and relief. You press yourself tighter against his chest like you’re trying to burrow into the safety of his ribcage. Simon can’t bring himself to speak, mouth dry and tongue heavy as he buries his face into the top of your head. The silence is broken by the shaky inhales of your rattling breaths and sobs. 

All too soon you’re pulling away, even when he fights to keep you safe and sound against his chest. “Simon? What… what’s going to happen with-” You try and turn your gaze towards the corpse staining your carpet but Simon prevents you with a hand grasping your jaw, preventing you from getting a glimpse at the carnage. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head darling, I’ll take care of it. But first, let's get you home yeah?” He walks you from the building to your car with a supportive arm wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you against his side before sliding you into the passenger seat of your car. It’s a testament to how shaken you are that you don’t protest, remaining silent and clutching the hand that grasps your thigh like a lifeline. 

It doesn’t take long to tuck you into bed, wrapping you tightly in the blanket like it will protect you from the horrors of the outside world. The adrenaline had faded from your body making way for the exhaustion. Simon doesn’t leave your side until he’s sure the clutches of sleep have pulled you under, and even then, it's with extreme hesitation that he stands and leaves the bedroom, reaching for his phone to make a call. 

Luckily, you don’t wake even once in the hours that follow as he waits for news of the cleanup. He spends that time alternating between checking in on you, watching you breathe peacefully and pacing the linoleum floors that you’d insisted on. 

A single knock on the front door pulls him from the spiral of thoughts that threatened to pull him further and further into darkness. He opens the door to an unimpressed Price, who pushes his way in with Gaz and Soap trailing after. Expectantly he stares at them, watching as Price lights a cigar and takes a long drag. 

“It’s done. Did you have to make such a mess though son?” It’s an innocuous enough comment but one that raises Ghost’s hackles anyway and he shoots a venomous glare at his captain that would never have been acceptable in any other circumstances. His shoulders tense and it takes everything in him to keep his voice somewhat level. 

“That fucker laid his hands on my wife!” He inhaled shakily as he remembered what he’d almost been too slow to prevent, unable to prevent the rise of volume as he yelled at his captain, “My wife! He’s lucky I didn’t paint the room with his insides!” The baritone of his booming snarl is loud enough that even Soap flinches slightly with widened eyes. 

There’s a tense silence but his captain nods, something like approval in his gaze before his eyes slide towards the right and Simon turns just in time to witness you call his name, voice hoarse with sleep and eyes red from tears. 

He crosses the space and curls you against him in record time, nonchalantly throwing a dismissive wave towards his team who simply nod in understanding and file back outside. “Were those the boys? You didn’t have to kick them out” you murmured though Simon was already hushing you, leading you back to bed with a firm hand on the small of your back. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout them lovie, they were leavin’ anyway” he waved away your concerns, finally kicking off his shoes, trapping you in his arms and pulling you down onto the mattress. You squeak at his actions, giggling as his stubble tickles the skin of your neck. 

Despite how pent-up and desperate for your touch he is, Simon makes no move to escalate the situation, settling you in his arms and simply breathing you in. Neither of you speak about the earlier incident, not willing to shatter the peace. Though Simon lets out the occasional hum when your hands trace gentle circles over his heart, focusing on the steady beat of his pulse beneath your palm. 

Inevitably the lingering emotions of the day would have to be dealt with, but not yet, Simon would allow himself to relish in the peace just a little longer.