No More Sex. We Ran Out Of Sex

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 10 ⬅ch.9

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | violence. sexual assault implications. blood. wc 5.4k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | hehe enjoy

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

…uzbekistan…

you woke to arabic voices, your eyes squinting open in discomfort. your head was pounding and your stomach thrummed with a wave of nausea. you quickly remembered you had been hit with the butt of a rifle, right beneath your ribs. you leaned over in the moving vehicle and dry heaved. 

“innahā mustayqiẓatun,” she’s awake .

you sat back up, the realization of what had happened hitting you. you went to wipe your mouth and found your hands were bound together with a rope. you groaned and awkwardly carried out the action with your hands linked. 

laswell . you quickly looked around, not seeing laswell in the the truck with you. you were in the backseat beside a man who was speaking hurriedly to the man in front, driving. you looked out the window, the town rushing by. 

“where’s laswell?” you asked, your voice hoarse. the men ignored you. “my friend. where is she?” you said with a bit more force hoping one of them would answer you. 

they continued to talk as if you weren’t there. you ground your teeth together in annoyance. you rested your head against the window, the cold of the glass helping with the tension throbbing in your skull. 

your body was still pumping with adrenaline and you were finding it hard to sit still. your fingers wound themselves together, your leg bouncing up and down. you hoped laswell was okay. you also hoped she was going to the same place you were… you didn’t want to be alone, as cruel as that might be. you were trapped in this truck with three men—three men who kidnapped you. you had no idea where they were taking you or what they were going to do with you. the panic hit you like a slap in the face.

you tried to breathe slowly, letting out low breaths, trying to steady your nerves. it did little to help. 

would the others be coming to rescue you and laswell? surely they would. shepherd wouldn’t let them give up on you two. at least not laswell, she was far too important. and price wouldn’t stand for it. 

they were coming. you prayed to god they were coming. 

“lieutenant. it’s farah. it’s time.” 

“rog. wheels down in one.” ghost voice was hoarse as he answered farah over the comms. “nik, convoy’s inbound. we’re on.”

“copy that,” nikolai responded. “over the hlz now.”

ghost’s heart rate continued to rise the longer you and laswell were kept hostage. he clenched the gun at his hip and patted himself down, making sure he had all he would need to get the two of you back. he also found it hard to stay still, his body flooded with adrenaline. 

“good. set ‘er down and hold,” ghost said. he walked to the door of the helicopter, looking between gaz and soap. “gaz, you stay in the heli on overwatch. we’ll work our way up the line.”

“roger that. let’s thin the herd, get laswell and iaso back.”

when the helicopter landed only moments later, ghost and soap connected fists with gaz as they hopped out. on the ground, dirt whipping around them from the blades of the helicopter, a woman on a rusted bike sat waiting for the two men. 

“hey, lt., sergeant,” she called out, greeting the men. 

“farah. thanks for the assist,” soap replied when ghost didn’t respond, noticing how he had tensed up.

“we share a common enemy,” farah said, nodding at the men.

“and friends in need,” ghost said a bit harshly. “are you ready?”

“all set. see you down the road!” she slid up her mask and pulled get goggles over her eyes. she looked so self-assured, ready to take down men twice her size. ghost thought about how you would have liked her. 

“all stations… we’re on the move!” ghost called as he and soap jogged up to the beige truck waiting for them. 

the two men jumped in the bed of the truck, ghost slapping the top of the roof to let the driver know they were on board and ready to go. 

the procession of three trucks and multiple motorcycles took off down the dirt road. 

“all stations, we’re up—comms check…” farah’s voice rang in ghost’s ear. 

“good copy,” ghost grunted. 

“check,” gaz responded from 30 feet in the air, his sniper at the ready as he pointed it out the door of the helicopter. 

“loud and clear,” nikolai said. 

“the al-qatala convoy just passed us. we’ll be right behind them,” farah urged. 

“copy. nik, use the ravine for cover. we’ve got one shot to rescue them.”

“roger that,” nik responded to ghost. 

“what vehicle are they in?” gaz asked. 

“al-qatala has iaso in a black suv, laswel in the similar one right in front of hers. near the front of the convoy.” farah’s voice echoed. 

“we hit the escort vehicles first. then we secure laswell and iaso before aq can reach the border.” ghost commanded. “soldiers, move in!” 

gaz began to fire shots at aq that were standing in the back of truck beds. ghost gripped his gun as he aimed the barrel toward the aq vehicles up ahead. he was too far back to get a good shot and growled in irritation. 

ghost leaned over the side of the truck, shouting to the man driving, his window down. “get me up beside one of the aq trucks!”

the driver nodded and stepped on the gas. “what’re ya doin’?” soap asked ghost. 

“gettin’ the girls back,” he said before stepping onto the top of the truck and running down the front onto the hood, immediately jumping and landing on the back of an aq truck. one of the men stood and came at ghost, but gaz was faster, shooting a bullet through his skull before he could reach him. 

“thanks,” ghost said.

“don’t mention it.”

ghost’s fist came slamming down onto the other aq, shoving him off the back of the truck. he sheathed his gun momentarily, maneuvering himself over the edge of the truck, his hand clutching tightly to the metal, his other hand opening the driver’s door. the man shouted something in arabic as ghost grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped him from the truck. the man went tumbling on the pavement, his hands coming up over his head as the bikes raced around him. 

ghost pushed himself into the driver’s seat with a huff. he yanked the door shut and floored it. 

“jesus, lt.,” soap breathed, watching the events unfold. 

ghost would have chuckled at soap’s astonishment, but all that was on his mind was getting you back unharmed. 

of course ghost cared about laswell. he had worked with her for a while now, and he’d never admit it, but he cared about price too. and price and laswell were close. price had been fuming when he found out what happened on this mission—pissed at himself for not being there, as if he could have done something to stop laswell from getting taken if he hadn’t asked ghost to take his position. 

but laswell wasn’t ghost’s main objective. it was you. you were who he was about to slaughter through walls of men for. it was you his heart pounded in nerves for. he felt so sick when he thought about what they might be doing to you that he almost had to lean over to retch. 

and laswell—while out of practice—was a trained killer. you, on the other hand, had only started to take combat training seriously the past few weeks. the thought made ghost’s chest constrict painfully tight. if they put one hand on you…

he let out a shallow breath, turning the wheel to the truck abruptly, avoiding civilian cars while trying to move up the procession of aq trucks. 

soap had an eye on ghost’s truck and saw the way he was swerving between oncoming cars to get closer to the front. soap almost regretted his conversation with ghost earlier. he was worried it had gotten through to him—that ghost was ready to risk his life, acting far too rashly, to clear his conscience. 

ghost spotted the black suv farah had mentioned earlier up ahead. it was pretty far off in the distance and with aq trucks clogging the road, and oncoming traffic coming from the other direction, ghost slammed his hand on the wheel in frustration. it was going to take too long for him to get up close. 

“throwing molotov!” farah’s voice rang in ghost’s ears, bringing him back to the moment. he saw the truck behind him go up in flames in his side mirror. 

“heh-heh… i missed farah,” nikolai laughed. 

the commotion in his ears faded to a rumble. ghost was focusing on how to get to you before it was too late, everything else was just background noise to him. he heard nikolai and gaz yelling in his ears but nothing was getting through to him. 

an aq truck pulled up beside him and ghost immediately pulled his gun and began shooting. the truck stuttered backward before pulling back up and firing at him again. ghost ducked and swerved the vehicle. he slammed the side of his truck into the other, catching them off guard and using that as an opportunity to shoot back at them. before he could reload, the enemy truck exploded, turning into a ball of flames. 

he heard farah laughing over the comms. jesus, she was intense, and ghost was thankful for it. 

the further he drove, the farther you seemed to get from him. civilian vehicles were only getting in the way, the aq trucks swerving all over the road, preventing ghost and his other men from getting past them. 

a car exploded before ghost, making him grip the wheel tightly, trying to turn out of the way. that wasn’t an aq truck…

“they’re taking down civilian vehicles! blocking the roads!”

shit. 

ou heard the explosions going off somewhere in the distance behind you. you turned to look out the back window and saw a large commotion, vehicles going all over the road, a procession of motorcycles with riders shooting men in trucks. 

a feeling of relief swam through you— they came. 

you continued to watch, unable to do anything else. you observed as a car that was rushing in the opposite direction blew up, rotating onto its back and igniting in flames. 

“wait… those are just civillians,” you muttered to yourself. “hey! you’re killing innocent people!” you shouted. you couldn’t believe it. they were taking innocent lives, completely uncaring, their only objective was to block the roads. 

you turned to the man beside you in astonishment, ready to yell again, when his hand came down on your face, slapping you across the cheek. your head flew in the opposite direction, your lips parting in a gasp. 

“no more talking,” he said in a heavy accent. 

you gulped, looking forward. you licked your lips and could taste the blood from your busted lip. the other men laughed as they looked at you in the rearview mirror, muttering something you couldn’t understand in arabic. 

you were going to have to be smarter about this. you sat silently in your seat. you began to worry that your teammates wouldn’t be able to get to you in time. there were a lot of aq vehicles trailing behind you. you weren’t sure how they’d manage to get through them all. 

you heard the engine of a helicopter and you turned, looking out one of the back windows again. your jaw dropped. oh my god, was that gaz? gaz was fucking hanging from a rope attached to the helicopter, upside down, continuing to shoot at enemy soldiers. you gasped when he almost swung right into a truck. your heart raced as you watched him. 

a bend in the road cut off your vision and you faced forward again. you didn’t want anyone risking their life for you. as much as you wanted rescuing, you didn’t want it at the expense of others. the image of gaz swinging wildly in the air was plastered in your mind. these men were going to get themselves killed. and it was going to be your fault. 

ghost felt like he was running out of options as you rapidly approached the border. 

“gaz, nik—my spotters are reporting an aq roadblock ahead.” farah’s voice came in through the comms in a level-headed voice. 

“affirm, i see it,” nikolai responded. “you might have to ram through.”

“crash it. kill as many as you can,” ghost echoed into his mic. 

ghost gripped his steering wheel, stepping on the gas as he approached the roadblock. he spotted gaz coming up right behind him in an aq truck. 

both men tore through the aq men, trudging past the trucks lined up to block them, destroying anything in their wake. ghost felt beyond destructive. he felt lethal.

“nik, i punched through,” gaz said as him and ghost got on the other side of the roadblock. 

“be advised. there is a situation up the road.” nikolai’s voice sent a shiver through ghost. he was just waiting for someone to say your black suv blew up, or crashed, or they lost track of it. 

“aq is deploying mines on the highway!”

“these are civillains, nik,” gaz said in anguish. “aq will burn for this.”

“i’ll bring the matches,” farah chimed in. 

ghost managed to weave between the charred cars, praying he didn’t hit a mine. 

further up the road, ghost swung open his door, timing it just right so when an aq motorcycle rode up right beside him, with great strength, he shoved the man off and hopped on. he watched as the truck ran off the road and crashed into a rocky hill. 

ghost revved the bike’s engine, gaining far more speed than he ever could in the pilfered truck. 

he heard gaz and nik conversing, then soap yelling over the comms for gaz to get on board the truck bed he was in. 

ghost floored it down the road, watching as the procession ahead of him split off in two different directions. 

“shit! they’re splitting them up!” soap called out. 

“who do we follow?” gaz asked as he picked up the grenade launcher.

ghost grit his teeth. “soap, gaz—follow laswell. i’ll follow iaso.” 

“you sure, lt.?”

“we don’t have time to argue about this, soap. just go.”

soap and gaz looked at one another before nodding. the convoy split up. soap and gaz followed laswell and ghost went off the road, following the black suv you were trapped inside. the car was going too fast for the others to keep up. ghost was glad he got on a bike, it was the only way he’d be able to get up to you in time. 

ghost’s own words rang in his head, the ones he had said to you in the bar. the words that hurt you. the words he had regretted ever since they left his tongue. you were going to die thinking he hated you. thinking he used you. 

ghost clenched the handlebars to the bike tighter, narrowing his eyes as he hurried behind you. he was going to get you back even if it killed him.

you knew you were going off the road the second the vehicle began to bump up and down. you tried to clutch onto something to keep from falling off the seat, but it was difficult with your hands tied. 

the men in the suv with you were yelling at one another. then the stout man beside you leaned out his window and began shooting. 

you turned to look out the window. your stomach dropped. the convoy was gone. you only saw one motorcycle trailing behind you. the others must have split off. this was their plan. to split you and laswell up, thus splitting up the convoy of rescuers. 

you tried not to let the fact that only one person was trailing you to hurt your feelings. now was not the time to be sensitive. but you couldn’t help but wonder if laswell had the rest of your team following her. it made sense, though. she was laswell… and you were just…iaso.

you yelped as the vehicle took an abrupt turn, making you slam into the man beside you. he shoved you off and rushed to reload his gun. you looked behind you in horror, realizing it was ghost on the bike, finally able to make out his mask as he edged closer. 

the man beside you went to lean back out the window, ready to send bullets in ghost’s direction. you acted before you could think, using your tied hands to claw at his back. you gripped onto the cotton material of his shirt and yanked him backward. he was so caught off guard from the sudden attack that he stumbled and crashed back on the seat beside you. 

he said something in arabic then hit you across the face again. your head flew back and hit the edge of the door. you groaned in pain. you squeezed your eyes shut, your head throbbing. 

they took a sharp turn and you were jostled back, opening your eyes in response. the man in the passenger’s seat leaned out his window now and began to shoot his pistol. you heard him make a celebratory noise and you almost broke your neck turning around to look for ghost. 

ghost’s bike skidded out from under him, sending him crashing down. the bullet had blown a hole in his tire. 

“no,” you said softly. your lips trembling. he was your last hope. 

you watched full of dread as the truck carried you away. ghost sat up and brushed himself off. he looked out after you, standing in the middle of nowhere, at a loss of what to do. 

tears began to slide down your cheek.

“i lost her,” ghost said over the comms in a newfound sense of defeat. soap had never heard his voice sound quite like that. 

there was a moment of silence before ghost heard ruffling and then soap’s voice. 

“come again, lt.?”

ghost was walking back from where he came, following the tracks in the dirt. “iaso. she got away.”

again there was radio silence. 

“im on my way,” ghost heard farah say. 

“farah—”

she cut ghost off. “i started trailing you as soon as we picked off the remaining aq trucks. we’re almost to you. stay put,” she demanded. 

it wasn’t long before farah was riding up with two other men on bikes. “what happened?” farah asked, her bike skidding to a halt. 

“fuckers blew my tire. they still got iaso.”

farah looked at one of her soldiers and nodded. he hopped off his bike and held it up for ghost. farah laughed as ghost looked confused. “get on. we’re goin’ to get her.”

“laswell?” ghost asked, wanting to know if she had at least made it out okay. 

“soap and gaz got her. she’s safe.”

ghost took in a breath before accepting the bike and getting on. “let's go get her back, lieutenant.”

with a new rush of energy, ghost took off, following the tracks of the suv alongside farah and another soldier. 

“she couldn’t have gotten far!” farah called out. 

when the suv came to a stop, you were quickly escorted out of the vehicle. you stumbled, the men giving you no time to right yourself before they pushed you into a wooden building. the men roughly jostled you through the door, your eyes attempting to adjust to the dark. 

you struggled to make out where you were before the man whose hands were holding your arm shoved you into a small room. you fell to the floor at the sudden force. 

the man spat something at you that you didn’t understand then he slammed the door shut behind him. you were left alone in the room and you tried to sit up. your arm was already bruising from where he held you, and you could feel blood dripping down the side of your face. 

you scooted yourself into the corner and hugged your knees to your chest, your wrists beginning to burn as they constantly rubbed against the binding rope. 

you tried to hold back the wave of tears but you failed. you hoped they made it to kate. you hoped she wasn’t going through the same thing you were right now. though, if she was, she was no doubt coping much better than you. 

you looked around the room, trying to clear your vision from tears by blinking repeatedly. the room was mostly empty except for a chair and a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was an interrogation room. 

the notion plummeted inside your stomach, making you bury your face in your knees. you weren’t going to survive this. you were weak. you were suddenly pissed at price for letting you join his team. you weren’t cut out for this shit. you were a medic, not a damn fighter. 

minutes ticked by and your tears finally dried up. the longer you sat, the more fear was instilled inside you. you regretted cursing price out already, knowing it wasn’t his fault any of this happened to you. usually, you were good under extreme pressure, but that was only when it came to medical stuff. not when you were being kidnapped. 

god, your head was killing you. you hoped you didn’t look as bad as you felt. 

the metal door scrapped along the cement floor as it opened. you looked up in horror as a man stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. he grinned when he looked at you huddled in the corner. 

“you don’t appear to be a soldier,” he said, his accent dripping over every word. 

“i’m a medic,” you said, your voice only slightly wavering. 

the man made a humming sound as he dug around in his pocket. “well, then i’m sorry to have to do this to you, but really, we have no choice.” he gestured around him. the sardonic smile on his face said he didn’t mean any of the words he was saying. he likely couldn’t wait to torture you for information, even when you’d be unable to offer anything useful. he just needed an excuse to hurt someone.

he nudged his head towards the metal chair. “don’t make me have to help you up,” he grunted. 

you quickly got to your feet and sat in the chair, your body shaking with nerves. the man grinned as he dragged the knife he drew from his pocket along your arm. “been awhile since i’ve done this to a woman. i’d be lying if i said i haven’t missed it.”

you swallowed painfully as he trailed the knife up to your neck. “you’re sick,” you spat at him. 

he chuckled. “indeed.”

you knew then that nothing you said was going to help you. this man didn’t care if you knew anything or not. he just wanted to hurt you. you didn’t want to cry, but the tears began to fall again anyway. you tried so hard to keep them in. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

he licked his lips as he watched the tears glide down your cheeks. “pretty thing like you shouldn’t cry,” he said menacingly. 

he took his knife and traced it back down your arm until it reached your hand. “hmm. now, tell me. which finger do you like the least?”

you strangled a sob. he didn’t even interrogate you yet. he was just jumping right to the torture part “please,” you barely managed to get out. 

“oh, i like the way you beg,” he remarked. 

you grit your teeth and pulled your hands away from him. “nowhere to go,” he mocked, using his knife to gesture around the small confines of the room.

“im curious. where have you been getting your intel on hassan’s location?”

you shook your head, pulling back as far away as you could from him.

he tisked. then his hand grabbed your jaw aggressively, making you whimper. his knife came up and slid down the side of your face, this time he applied pressure and you squeezed your eyes shut. the blood wept out from the trail he left and you could feel it slide down your face and drip onto your clothes. 

the man shoved your face back as he let go, flipping his knife in his hand as he watched you with fire in his eyes. “now, i’m going to give you another chance to answer. and trust me, you won’t like what happens if you don’t tell me what i want to hear.”

you opened your mouth but nothing came out. that type of information was classified, so even if you wanted to tell him—which you wouldn’t—you didn’t know. medics didn’t get the rundown of information like that.  

when he realized you weren’t going to speak, he looked you up and down. “hm. you’re not going to be of much help, huh?” he prowled you like a cat would its prey. “how about i get some use out of you before i bloody you up too much, then?”

you didn’t like the sound of that. his knife hooked under the straps of your tactical vest and in a swift movement, he cut it away. the vest fell from you and he tossed it aside to the floor. then his knife was back along the collar of your shirt. he grinned as he ripped through your longsleeved shirt, straight down the center. you silently cried as you felt the air rush to your now exposed skin. the shirt was split down the middle exposing your tank top. 

“please don't,” you pleaded. 

you felt his fingers along the neckline of your tanktop now, his knife slipping under the fabric. you closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable. 

just as he was about to slide his knife down your shirt, you heard yelling and the sound of guns going off in the distance. the man stopped all movement and turned around. he clearly wasn’t expecting any sort of interruption. without another word, he exited the room to investigate, leaving you alone again. 

you caught your breath, breathing in and out exceptionally fast. you let out a loose breath and looked up at the ceiling, willing your tears to slow. the loss of his grimy fingers on your skin relieved you momentarily.

you tried to calm yourself as you heard more shouting and the firing of weapons. your legs were shaking as you sat there. you tried to use your hands to pull your shredded shirt back over yourself but it was no use. you swore in exhaustion, sinking back into the chair. 

after several minutes, it was finally silent outside the room. your body set in more unease with the silence. 

the door handle shook and the awful sound of it scraping the ground made you wince as the door opened. your eyes immediately went to the door and you kept them locked on the entrance, feeling them go wide as a large figure took up the space. 

you almost choked on your breathing, a strangled sob leaving you as you locked eyes with ghost. you began to cry in relief. in shock. in horror of what almost happened—you were convinced it was really all over for you. that this was it. 

as your body shook, ghost rushed up to you. his voice was hoarse as he said your name, trying to gain your attention. you looked up at him through hot tears and gave a halfhearted smile, your lips trembling. you had held yourself together as best as you could, but now with ghost in front of you, everything came tumbling down. his mask was covered in blood and he seemed to be out of breath.

he tilted his head to the side as he looked at you, his heart squeezing painfully at the sight. your face was bloody and your shirt had been ripped apart. a newfound sense of anger coursed through ghost. 

he pulled out his knife and you flinched, hitting the back of the chair as you created space between the two of you. he took notice but didn’t stop his movements. maybe in any other scenario, he would have tried to calm you down, letting you know he was only using the knife to free you. but just the fact that you shied away from his knife sent him into a fit of rage. he saw that the cut on your face was a long, straight line. he knew then why you were suddenly acting like his knife was the scariest thing in the world. he wished he hadn’t already killed every fucking bastard in there. he would give anything to string up whoever did this to you and give them a slow death. 

he slid the knife between your hands and cut away the rope, setting your hands free. 

you immediately grasped your wrists which had turned red and rubbed raw from the rope. ghost looked down at you, still unable to say anything. your eyes met his again and you took a moment to take him in before you sprang to your feet and wrapped your arms around him. he didn’t hesitate as he hugged you back. 

he felt you sobbing into his neck and his arms tightened around your waist. “you’re okay,” he cooed softly. “you’re safe now. i’ve got you.” his heart pounded harshly in his chest and you could feel it against you.

one of his hands slid up your back and got lost in your hair as he cradled you to his body, your frontside flesh with his, wanting you as close as he could get you. he shut his eyes for a brief moment, letting reality hit him full force. he got to you in time. you were okay. you were going to be okay. 

he sank to his knees in sharp relief with you still wrapped tightly in his grasp. he let you take what you needed from him, his presence bringing you nothing but a sense of safety. he let out a long breath of relief. 

you pulled back slightly, ashamed to look at him. “i-i’m sorry,” you muttered, your hand loosening around him. 

sensing your doubt, he clung to you tighter. “stop,” he said in a voice so soft you felt your heart pinch. “this isn’t your fault.”

you felt like he was reading your thoughts better than you were. his few words hit you harder than he could ever know. you sank back into him, letting yourself go limp as he held you. 

when you both finally separated, ghost helped you to your feet. he appraised your figure and you saw the anger behind his eyes. he moved too quickly for you to take in what he was doing. he slid his vest off and then removed his longsleeved shirt, leaving him in his black undershirt. you watched in astonishment as he pulled the shirt over your head. you slid your arms in as ghost picked up his vest and put it back on. 

your eyes traced his tattooed arm and his scent immediately filled your nose. his shirt was far too big for you, hanging down over your thighs, but you were thankful. you knew it wasn’t your fault, but you were still embarrassed to have your shirt ripped and exposed like that. you didn’t want everyone else to know what happened to you. you almost felt ashamed.

ghost clenched his fist before reaching up and running a finger over the bruise above your eyebrow. “i’m sorry i couldn't get to you sooner,” he said distractedly. 

you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “ghost, don’t. it’s not your fault either.”

he wished you had called him simon. 

before he could think more on the topic and read into your every word, he scooped you up and held you in his arms bridal style. you squealed but settled into his arms quickly. his hand rubbed soft patterns on your back as he carried you out of the building. your arms hooked around his neck, your body shaking less violently, but still shaking nonetheless. 

ghost held you closer and you felt like everything was going to be okay. you rested your head on his chest and let the tears fade out slowly. 

No Vacancy - Day One

Relationship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, nothing spicier yet

Summary: Separated from Dean and Castiel, you and Sam are on your own. Now paired up, you spend a few days in a motel. The only problem? The last room available only has one bed.

A/N: shout-out to all the Sam lovers, this one’s for y’all (me included tbh) **forehead kiss**

————

“Well,” Sam said, his hands gripping the steering wheel, “I think this is literally the only motel in town.”

And he was right. The two of you had scoured the area for over an hour, driving block after block for any other place to stay. This lone motel was far from where you needed to be for the case, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“That’s what you get in a small town, I guess,” you reply, grabbing your backpack from the floor of the car. Of course, Dean couldn’t fathom letting the two of you borrow Baby, so you had to get another ride. Thankfully, Sam had his own car in the garage of the bunker, a newer one with polished leather seats yet less flashy than the Impala.

Sam parked the car and cut off the engine, letting out a sigh.

You looked at him, tilting your head in concern, “At least we can rest, now. We can shower up and turn in for the night.”

Sam nodded in relieved agreement - the past few days had worn you both thin, exhausted and in need of proper sleep. The two of you stepped out of the car, grabbed your duffles from the back seat, and walked to the lobby of the motel to rent your room.

The clerk at the desk was not a talker, the silence in the room feeling uncomfortably thick. Sam nodded to the man with a terse smile and guided you back outside.

“That guy definitely wants to go home,” joked Sam. At last, you reached room 115, your final spot for the day. You stretched your aching neck as Sam unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Crap.”

“What is it?”

“I think we were given the wrong room,” Sam continued, stepping out of the room to let you peer inside. A single king sized bed sat against the wall, with no other place to sleep. You turned to Sam, who had already made his way back to the main office. You waited for him for a few moments, seeing him return with a remorseful look.

“What’s up?”

“That’s the only room left,” Sam explained, “you wanna stay here anyway? They didn’t have a cot, but we can figure something out.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You waved dismissively, giving Sam an embarrassed smile, “Don’t worry, we’re both adults here. Sharing a room doesn’t bother me.”

Sam looked at you for a moment, contemplating the next step. He shrugged and opened the door to 115 again, leading you inside.

The room was small and sparsely furnished - just the bed, an armchair, and the TV sat on a minuscule set of drawers. You placed your bag down next to the lonesome armchair, and sat down to remove your shoes.

In front of you, Sam paced at the foot of the bed.

“They, uh… didn’t have a cot, so I’m not sure how you’d want to go about this.”

You kicked your boots to the side and glanced up at him.

“Scared of sharing a bed, Sam?”

If you were being honest, you were petrified of the idea. Ever since joining this self-proclaimed ‘Team Free Will’, Sam had been the one you’d gotten closest to. Before they took you in, you had been more reserved and quiet. A more nerdy type of person; Sam was the perfect guy to buddy up with. You both had a passion for research, to Dean’s dismay.

“So we finally have a chick on the team, and we get another nerd?” He had teased.

Despite Dean giving you shit for it, you had never felt more welcome into a group. There was a sense of purpose, a motivation to save people from monsters. With your help, the world would be a safer place for those unaware of what lurks in the shadows.

Bringing you back to reality, Sam cleared his throat.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You retorted, “And why would I be uncomfortable with you?”

He quipped, “I mean, how often have we been forced to share a bed?”

He had a point, and your brave façade of nonchalance wouldn’t last much longer. Sure, if you both kept to a side of the bed, fully clothed, it would leave the fewest issues. But the butterflies in your stomach told you that this may not be something you could handle easily.

Your mind raced back to a memory of a case three months back, out in Tennessee. It was another shapeshifter, and it was hard for Sam and Dean to gather intel about much of anything. It was Dean’s foolish idea to send you and Sam to question the local townsfolk, masked as a tourist couple to keep your anonymity to a maximum. That time spent with Sam opened your eyes to what you had been missing for a shamefully long time. Love, or at least what felt like it.

Although it had been an act, the sweet gestures Sam had to uphold for the charade won your heart. He opened each door for you, kissed your cheeks, held your hand, the whole nine. Everything he had done drove you wild. Except, the one thing he never did was press his lips to yours. It seemed like a sick game of Dean’s pairing you up like that. You made sure to give him shit for it, telling him how embarrassing it was to have two friends act like a couple. What Dean didn’t know was the secret gratefulness you had for his plan.

At one point Dean did suggest you liked Sam, to which you denied, fumbling over your words like an idiot. He had shrugged it off, but now you wondered if that interaction inspired him to cut you off from him and Castiel. You silently cursed that damn Winchester for it.

“Never, but it’s just for a couple nights, right? We’ll share ghost stories and braid each other’s hair. It’ll be fun,” you joked, having walked over to Sam and patting his arm.

You went to the bed and furiously fluffed each pillow - the ones in motels were notoriously limp. Next you shook out the blanket. You hated the way it stayed cold when it’d been pulled taught to the mattress all day. Of all fun facts about you, Sam found that the most endearing. He hadn’t told you before, but he’d always been keen on your quirks. Simply put, he loved that he wasn’t the ‘weird one’ anymore.

Getting comfortable on the bed, Sam flopped down, still fully dressed in those tough denim jeans and signature red flannel. Your eyes grazed over him as he closed his eyes from exhaustion. Your pajamas were in your duffel, so you fumbled for them before heading to the bathroom to change. The sound of the TV muffled against the door - it seemed to be one of those dramatic crime shows you and the brothers scoffed at.

Pajamas was a loose term for the oversized t-shirt and mid-thigh sleepshorts you wore to bed. If you were alone maybe you’d have worn far less. Sam had removed his shoes, at the very least. You dimmed the lamp in the corner of the room and settled onto the bed. Then that was it, the exhaustion of today had finally gotten to you. It took everything in you to not let your mind drift off to sleep.

“We gotta go into town tomorrow?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah,” his voice honeyed with a groggy softness, “we should talk to the families of the victims. Figure out if these really were ‘accidents’.”

“FBI? Police? Ooh, maybe church officials?”

Sam let out a breathy laugh at your joke, the husk of his voice reverberating through you. God, it could be absolute torture to be around him at times. When the stress of hunting melted away, and you two could be your real selves.

“Just FBI, Cas is on standby as our ‘supervisor’.”

You looked to him fully, “Cas is our supervisor? And Dean actually trusts he can do that? Cas doesn’t know the first thing about the FBI.”

“Eh, Dean thought it could be good for the ‘people skills’,” Sam replied, finally opening his eyes at turning his head to you. Suddenly the two feet between you felt like mere inches. Your breath caught in your throat; you couldn’t reply even if you tried, so you opted for a small smile. Sam countered it with one of his own - the flashy grin that melted your heart more each time.

“We’re gonna have to get up so early. I’m not too excited for that.”

Sam’s face softened, his voice lowering, “We should get some sleep, then. You good with that side of the bed?”

You nodded, rising out of bed to switch the lamp off. The light from the TV drew Sam’s sights to you, loosely shrouded by your shirt and shorts. His eyes raked over your bare legs, wandering up your thighs until your shorts stalled his imagination. Sam followed suit and stood, but walked to the bathroom with a handful of clothes plucked from his bag.

A moment later he returned to see you under the covers, hunched over from the cold. Whatever those shitty detectives said on the TV drowned out as you noticed Sam. Just then you realized you had never seen him wear anything but a suit or his regular garb. Even in boxer shorts and a black t-shirt, he managed to catch your eye.

He caught your eye contact and smiled once more, that familiar ache in your chest growing stronger. You reached over and lifted the covers for him, letting him settle on his side of the bed.

“Do you sleep with the TV on?” You asked softly.

“No, do you?”

You gave him a small laugh, closing your eyes, “Nope. Keeps me up too late.”

Sam smiled. A part of him was relieved that he could get some proper rest with you here. Dean had the habit of leaving the TV on, depriving him of countless hours of sleep.

Even though they were rare, Sam appreciated these moments alone with you. It was easy to be with you. It was easy to laugh, to open up, to ramble on about whatever lore he had obsessed over. He loved the way your eyebrows tugged together when you didn’t understand something, and the way you tried piecing words together before asking your questions.

The A.C. unit cranked on beside the bed, pumping freezing cold air on your back. You shivered, curling into yourself to keep the warmth in.

Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Hey, are you cold? I can turn the A.C. off.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll warm up in a minute,” you insisted. Sam sighed, knowing you wouldn’t say yes, and turned the unit off.

He quickly settled back into bed, letting out a shuddering exhale. You waited until he shifted under the covers to speak.

“You cold, too?”

“Maybe just a little bit.”

In the faint light of the TV you could make out his smile. A part of your mind drifted off to a place where that smile met you every day, lounging around in bed. Sam’s hands would run across your skin and tangle into your hair, pulling your mouth to his before making you breakfast.

The room dimmed as the television went silent. You and Sam shifted under the covers for a moment before getting fully comfortable, the silence of the room felt like a bated breath.

Sam broke it first, “These blankets don’t really do their job, do they?”

You replied to him, “Not a damn bit. It’s freezing in here.”

“You can, uh… move closer if you need to,” his voice wavered. The silhouette of his form moved to face you, dimly lit by the light from street lamps in the parking lot. You could make out his sharp cheekbones and the chestnut brown hair draped around his neck.

When another shiver won your body over you took the offer, moving closer to Sam until your arms touched. Now inches from one another like you’d wished, your mind went blank.

It took everything you had to remind yourself what this was, well, wasn’t. This wouldn’t be the lust-driven breakthrough you had hoped for. Nor would it be the time for Sam Winchester to take you the way you ached for. An awkward, strictly business sleeping situation.

You let your mind wander off, the waves of exhaustion turning into the gentle lull of sleep. You could’ve sworn you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you warm.

————

By the time you woke up, Sam was still fast asleep. You had never seen him like this up close, with his eyes fluttered shut and breathing slowed. The image painted itself into your memory.

You were right, though, Sam had laid his arm over you. And now both had enveloped you close to his chest, rising and falling steadily against your ear. It took twenty more minutes for Sam to wake up.

He stirred until he noticed you flush against him, and he stilled completely. You wiggled in his grip to look up at him.

With a groggy smile you greeted him, “G’morning.”

“Hey,” he said, voice still thick with sleep, “sleep okay?”

You gave him a simple nod, regaining your composure. You scooted yourself away to give him the space that should’ve been there all night. Even though a part of you crumbled as you did, you padded out of bed to the bathroom.

“At least we know to turn off the A.C. tonight. Maybe a room with two beds will open up while we’re out, and we can switch.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak before you closed the bathroom door. What he was going to say escaped him.

He just hoped no other rooms opened up before the evening.

Thank you for your support, everyone! Day two will be here soon

- Bunny

THIS ONE

More people need to watch Supernatural

Actually no, scratch that. More fan fiction writers need to watch supernatural. I am a fiend and I need more material.

You think body hair on women is unattractive? I'm so sorry to hear that. Get well soon.

him and his slutty ass walk😭

the father, the son and the holy spirit

*These three just existing*

Me: