Simon “I purposely antagonize the missus so she yells at me” Riley is currently getting reamed a new one in the middle of base, and Gaz- poor unfortunate soul- walks right into the middle of it.
You’ve got Ghost pinned in place with nothing but your voice. No hands on him, no weapons, just fury and sharp words.
Kyle slows. Stares. Immediately regrets having eyes.
And yet he can’t look away.
He drifts over to Soap, who’s posted up nearby like this is a cinema and he paid for premium seating. “Uh,” Gaz says quietly, because volume feels disrespectful in the presence of whatever that is. “What’s all that about?”
Soap doesn’t even glance over. “That’s his missus,” he says, like he’s explaining the weather. “And he must have done some thin’ truly bad this time, ‘cause she’s been going at him for twenty minutes.”
Gaz’s brows shoot up. “Should we… help? Get him out of it?”
Soap makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort. “Help? Mate, look at him.”
Gaz looks.
Really looks.
Ghost’s shoulders are relaxed. Not braced. Not defensive. His weight’s pitched forward, like he’s drawn to you by gravity. Half lidded eyes, head tilted, body language screaming more, please while your words get sharper.
Gaz swallows. “He’s… enjoying this?”
Soap’s grin turns positively feral. “Turns him on. Si’s exactly where he wants to be right now.”
Gaz stares at Ghost like the man just sprouted another head.
And Ghost, like he can feel the judgment, flicks his gaze over, catches Gaz watching, and doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. If anything, his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling under the mask.
my daily affirmation as an author
𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒆
❤️🩹
summary: when you don't stop by your boyfriend's place of work like usual, steve worries something is wrong and goes to see you, where you tearfully tell him your dog has passed away
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
content warning: death of pet, grief, angst (but bf!steve is there to comfort reader)
Steve's fingers tapped in an unsteady, almost frantic rhythm on the counter, the noise small but echoing in the empty Family Video store.
"Do you mind?" Robin exclaims in annoyance, popping up from behind a shelf she had been reorganising. "Some of us are actually trying to work, dingus."
Steve blinks a few times as if coming out of a trance, and when his brain finally starts working again and processes what his best friend said, his fingers cease their movement. "Right. Sorry."
A moment of silence, and then: "Do you think I should call her?"
Robin doesn't even turn her head away from the stacks of VHS tapes. "Call who?" she asks casually, even though she already knows exactly who he's referring to.
"It's just ..." Steve runs a hand through his hair, face pinched in concern and frustration dripping from his voice. "She hasn't come in once today."
"So?"
"So," he stresses seriously, "what if something happened? Do you think she's hurt? Sick? Or maybe she's mad at me? Did I say something wrong yesterday? I knew I shouldn't have made that joke about-"
Robin's groan interrupts his worried ranting. "Steve, please, you're giving me a migraine here."
"Very helpful, Robin, thank you. You know, remind me why we're friends again? Because it's not for the astounding advice and emotional support, I can tell you that."
"Look." Robin stands up, walking over to the counter. "Why don't you just take a break and go over to her house to make sure everything's okay?"
Steve pauses, then looks at her in surprise. "Wait, really? Don't you think that makes me look a little desperate?"
"Totally - but if I have to listen to you whining a minute more, my head is going to implode."
Steve smiles sarcastically, throwing a hand up. "You see? There's that amazing support I was talking about."
"If you don't take your break, I will, and then you can stand here alone for fifteen minutes and keep making up pointless theories and 'what-ifs' - or you can go and see her now."
"I don't know, Rob..."
"Let me put it this way: you are going to take your break, go see your girlfriend-"
"-we haven't officially-!"
"-and," Robin continues undeterred, "you're going to do it for your best friend who is quite literally about to beat you to death with Sixteen Candles if I have to listen to you whine one more time."
Which is how Steve found himself pulling up outside your house in his cherry red BMW. His stomach was in knots as he forced himself to get out of the car and go up to your door, ignoring his sweaty palms as he raises a hand to lightly rap on your door.
A few seconds later and it begins to open; Steve's eyes were already starting to light up, mouth curling upward into a relieved, happy smile, anticipating seeing you-
Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot like you'd been crying for hours.
His smile falls instantly, alarm lighting up inside him. "Jesus - what happened? Is everything okay?"
You sniffle and shake your head, trying to respond but tears begin to well in your eyes as your throat closes around the words you want to say.
Steve doesn't waste a second in stepping forward to wrap you in a hug. He holds your trembling body as you cry into his shoulder for a few minutes, hand gently rubbing up and down your back while he waits for your tears to subside long enough for you to tell him what's wrong.
"It's - it's my dog," you choke out, "he - he's sick and t-the vet said-" a fresh wave of tears trickles down your cheeks, your voice becoming unsteady again. "He, um, he had to be put to sleep."
Steve's heart clenches with sympathy for you. "Shit, baby, that's ... I'm really sorry."
You just give a shaky nod, sniffling and trying to wipe away tears.
Steve's throat bobs as he swallows thickly and tries to think of what else to say or do. Mourning animals isn't something he's ever really done. The Harringtons never had pets; his parents always complained about the 'mess' they'd leave the house in. As a kid, Steve always wanted a dog, especially for the times when his parents would be away and it would just be him and the babysitter hired to look after him.
He knew how much your dog meant to you, how much you loved him and how hard this would be hitting you. To you, losing a pet is the same as losing a family member. The grief is still just as all consuming and devastating.
"Is there anything I can do?" He asks at last, unsure if that's even the right thing to say.
You give a small, watery smile, half teasing as you say, "Any chance you could blow off work and stay with me the rest of the day?"
"Absolutely." Steve squeezes your hand gently, his face serious. "I'll call Robin and ask her to cover for me."
You blink in surprise. "I - I was just kidding, I didn't mean - you can't just ditch work, Steve, that's not fair."
"Don't worry about it. I'll work another day to make it up to Robin. Today you need me so I'm gonna be here."
Your throat closes up as you stare at him, lost for words to properly aritculate your gratitude and love for this beautiful, selfless man. " ... I don't know what I did to deserve you."
Steve lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, mouth curling up in a half grin. "Probably somethin' terrible in a past life you're paying for now."
A quiet snort leaves you as you squeeze his hands. "Thank you."
"Hey - you don't need to thank me. Just let me be here for you, yeah? You can lean on me a little - promise I'm not as fragile as I look."
Another little snort, a quick exhale of amusement, makes him smile and wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, his lips brushing a kiss on your head before he rests his chin on the top of it. "Always gonna be here for my girl."
this was a very cathartic write for me because i'm currently going through a steve harrington phase and one of my dogs is going to be put to sleep tomorrow. he would have been 16 in june, which is a big age for a dog i know, but it still doesn't feel long enough :(
for anyone who has gone through a similar grief of losing a pet, i'm so sorry ♡
(also pls ignore my terrible writing, it's been so long since i last wrote something and i'm more than a little out of practice and i may delete it again another day)
Ghost perks up when he hears you say it, crowded into a booth with soap and gaz.
Soap has just finished telling you about riding some bears face when you comment "I wish I could do that. But I just get so worried I'll crush them...not to mention none of my boyfriends have been keen on it."
Ghost literally appears from nowhere, everyone thought he was out smoking, to loom over the table and offer bluntly "I could handle you, love. Wanna try it out?"
...which is how you end up in the lieutenants room, thighs quivering around his head. His tongue works you eagerly, making you brace your hands on the headboard and moan "fuck! Simon– Simon please– shit. That's good–"
Ghost grunts under you. Hands wrapping around your thighs. He only pulls back an inch from your cunt to speak "c'mon, lovie, full weight. I can handle it."
"But– but what if I hurt you?" You gasp, hesitant. But it's hard to resist when ghost leans up to suck on your clit and lick between your folds. "It's good right now, I don't– ah!!"
Suddenly, ghost is pulling you down, the full weight of you on top of him. Before you can even recover, he's back to shoving his tongue into you hungrily, and god the feeling is so much more intense now.
"Fuuuck– si– ah!" You rock your hips, seeing stars when his nose rubs against your clit just right. You've never been eaten out like this before. He feasts on you with the desire of a man starved.
Your orgasm draws close, knuckles tight on the headboard so you can properly grind against him. Every groan and grunt ghost makes vibrates through you, and you keen "yes! Yes, oh god, yes, ghost–!"
CRUNCH
You freeze at the loud, unmistakable crunch. With a horrible sinking feeling, you scramble off of ghost and oh no–
"It's okay, love, ahm fine." Ghost groans, fingers coming up to touch at the very much broken nose on his face. He looks more blissed out than anything.
"Simon! Your nose is broken!" You hiss, face burning. Ghost is just smiling dazedly, which only worries you more "We are going to the emergency care!"
...cue the most embarrassing moments of you life as ghost happily tells the nurses about how he broke his nose. He insists that it's important to tell the medical professionals everything, wouldn't want them to miss anything, right? Besides, he needs a copy to bring for his file, since he'll be banned from sparring for a bit.
Oh god. You'll have to explain to price how ghost broke his nose.
