burytheruby

[burytheruby]

S W E E T N E S S

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which your dear husband returns home after a long, long week away from you.

OR: Simon never goes a Valentine's Day without you.

WOOHOO VALENTINES SPECIAL!!!

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: fem! wife! reader, ooc, canon divergent, implied smut, nothing else just sweet fluff. WC: 1146

English is my second language.

a cold hearted bastard, is what he gets called by the man below him, the one with the muzzle of the gun firmly against his temple; he gets called heartless and stoic by the recruits around base when he yells at them to train harder and not be absolute bloody muppets; he calls himself callous and brutal when he's out in the field fighting for his life, crawling his way back home to you.

with you he's none of those things, he's not a bastard—well, not in a way to hurt you. he's a bastard when he grins down at you, standing over six feet with your favorite cup over his head. he's heartless when he doesn't let you put your cold feet against his own with a grunt of annoyance and fondness. he's brutal when he's deep inside of you, holding your ankles up as he sets an unforgiving pace to let out the stress of a mission gone wrong.

but he's also soft, gentle as best as a burly man like him can be. soft kisses to your temple every morning and every night that he's home, spinning you around the living room with a smile on late evenings with your favorite music on, hugging you from behind and resting his face on the crook of your neck with soft nips at your supple skin. he's soft when washing your body his calloused hands working through your hair with practiced ease, mumbling sorry's for being too rough with you and leaving a little too many marks over your body.

those are Simon's favorite memories to reminisce on during times like these, miles away from you with a shoulder injury and a snappy Johnny muttering nonsense in Scots language. "English, MacTavish." Ghost grunted, yet his eyes were distant. he missed you, simple as that. Johnny took notice of that, and unfortunately, he isn't known for keeping his mouth shut. "aye, L.T., thinkin'o yer missus?" that only earned him a cold side glare from Ghost, but it was Simon who spoke, the man who came back home to you instead of the big bad lieutenant.

"she..." a pause, and for a moment Johnny swore a flicker of vulnerability escaped Simon. it was short-lived, soon the stoic expression returned to his dark eyes. "focus on the mission, Johnny." it was all he said as he shook his head, sitting up from the cramped space of the safe house's bathroom. "so we can go home."

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

your soft hums were the only sound in the silent living room, laying on the couch with a blanket draped over you and a cup of your favorite beverage on the coffee table. with a book on hand and the soft, warm glow of the tiny lamp (that you asked Simon to buy it off a sketchy vendor) illuminating the words on the pages and the features of your exhausted face. yet you couldn't sleep, not when the clock ticked almost silently on your wall, the hour currently set in the darkest of the night. you couldn't sleep now that it was Friday and also Valentine's, and you hadn't heard from Simon since the day he left a week ago.

but your book slips from your fingers, falling face down onto the floor and you know that once you're back into consciousness you'll grieve the crumpled pages. for now, those thoughts are drowned, buried along with other thoughts and concerns.

the rhythmic thumping against your ear and the sudden warmth engulfs you like an embrace, the familiar scent of Simon's clothes filling your nostrils and bringing you that needed comfort you crave when he's away. but you were sleeping in the living room, weren't you? when your vision returns, with your eyes fluttering open and the cramp of your arm bent in a weird way that only happens while sleeping cuddled up with Simon, you knew

there he was, his balaclava discarded on the coffee table, the frown of his brows permanently etched on his features, and his tattooed arm thrown around your waist, unconsciously pulling you impossibly closer with a low hum. you tried to shift under his weight, barely freeing your crushed arm from his bear-like grip. "Simon," he hummed again, though you doubted he actually heard you.

your hand cupped his jaw, feeling the growing stubble he had grown during that week pricking at your fingertips when you pressed against their growth. "sweetness," his voice caught your attention, glancing down to find his eyes already on you, half lidded and still groggy from sleep, yet always on you. "darling, me dear," he continued, making you smile and roll your eyes playfully when he rolled to be on top of you. "happy Valentines, love." he said, your eyes widened when you realized it was indeed still Friday.

"I've got ya favorite flowers, an' a souvenir, hm..." he was falling asleep again, you could tell by the subtle way his muscles relaxed. "let's go out for dinner, yeah? an' we can finish that bloody show, an' go to the new market." you knew he meant every idea, and he would fulfill them—hell, he'd swim the English Channel if you asked him to.

"Simon," you caught his attention, and for a moment he lost his breath. you were gorgeous with your hair tousled, the slight redness of your cheeks from being too warm under him and the blankets, and even the tiny frown you seemed to wake up with because you disliked early mornings. everything about you is perfect. "don't got to do all that, dear, as long as you come back home to me, we've got time."

the old Simon, and even the Lieutenant Ghost, would make fun of current Simon for going so soft over a wee thing such as yourself. he wouldn't admit it out loud but damn it he loved everything about you. he loved the way your fingers outlined his sore back as you reprimanded him over the bloody shoulder injury you noticed immediately. he loved the tiny kiss to his cheek, the "missed ya's" and "love ya's" from both of you.

his lips found yours, effectively silencing you. your lips, so soft against his own slightly chapped lips, brought him the comfort he didn't realize he craved like a starved man. his hands found their way under your—his shirt, squeezing your hips and roaming up and down the warm sides of your body. the sound of your laughter when he touched that sensitive spot near your ribs made his heart flutter, and as he always did with you, he smiled. a genuine smile filled with tenderness for you, a look of affection even when he squeezed you under his weight and you squealed in surrender.

a heart that belonged to you, coming back home was everything he needed to fix that heart of his.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

happy valentines everyone 🩷

[burytheruby]

LOVED THIS NEW PARTTT ❤️❤️❤️ i need more!!!

and more will come 🫡🩷 I will be making inappropriate a series! :)

[burytheruby]

loved inappropriate! I remember reading the first one and when I saw you wrote a part 2 I gasped lol

AHHH THANK YOU 🙈🩷 it took me a while, but it got there.

by the way i will be making a valentines special or two ;) unrelated to inappropriate.

and perhaps not just ghost.

[burytheruby]

❧ T A G L I S T

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

if you wish to be added or removed, let me know!

❥ COD

-> nothing to see here…

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

[burytheruby]

❧ M A S T E R L I S T

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

❥ CALL OF DUTY

-> Simon “Ghost” Riley

inappropriate — price’s daughter! series, age gap. total WC: 3158

Part 1

Part 2

sweetness - wife! reader, valentines special. total WC: 1146

One shot

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

[burytheruby]

❧ N A V I G A T I O N

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

REQUESTS: OPEN

❥ welcome to my blog!

this is an 18+ blog, although not everything is NSFW i rather NOT have minors interacting. be responsible.

-> will write anything but overall extreme degrading/demeaning content such as child and/or animal NSFW, subjects that may be dehumanizing or indulges in hate such as racism, homophobia, and the likes.

-> that being said, i can write dark themes (including but not limited to: stalking, somnophilia, and as we know age gaps). just send an ask or inbox :)

masterlist taglist

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

[burytheruby]

HIII CAN WE PLS HAVE P2 OF THE PRICE DAUGHTER AND SIMON STORY??? PLS 😣 THE WRITING IS GOOD AND THE STORY IS JUST *chefs kiss* 💋💋💋 I WANNA SEE THEM LATER ON IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😞😣🩷🩷💕

I N A P P R O P I A T E I I

the answer is YES I CAN 🙈 thank you everyone for the support! I unfortunately have been crazy busy with the holidays, then my birthday (yay 20!), then back to uni 😭 but I did promise I would come back, and so there will be a tag list for whoever wants to be updated!

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which Captain Price is your father, and he has accepted your feelings for his lieutenant.

OR: late night talks and confessions, your father would do anything to make you happy.

Part 1; you're in Part 2

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: age gap, fem! reader, ooc, canon divergent, still learning british slang please bear with me. WC: 1657

English is my second language.

Captain Price had dreaded this day, he never thought he'd see a future where you would come to him and ask him for advice. advice on romance. all because of his lieutenant. damn him. you sat next to him on the couch, shifting awkwardly as you both stared straight ahead at the tv, a game playing in the background. your father's favorite team, you noticed, against the team Simon had mentioned liking himself. almost humorous, Price had noticed the clear tension since your birthday two weeks ago. he appreciated the fact that his lieutenant was being careful, neither acknowledging the very needed—talk, let's call it.

but of course, you were never one to dance around the subject.

"we need to talk," you said simultaneously, it would've been endearing if it weren't for the fact that the talk was not about what dinner would be tonight, or who you thought would win the game playing on the tv, not even about the professor you loathed and couldn't wait to leave her class.

you turned to face your father, fidgeting with the pendant hanging on your neck—the one Simon gave you, of course. your father really tried to not roll his eyes and scoff at the sight, he has definitely given you prettier jewelry—or at least that's what he thinks. you wouldn't tell him you grew out of the heart shaped jewelry; it would break his own heart. after a long, tension-filled moment of silence, you finally spoke, your voice breaking through. "I think 'm old enough to know, dad." you sighed, as if trying to let go of the tension in your body. "an' s'not like we're not conscious of how this may look." you admitted, looking away as you clenched your fists.

yeah, you guessed it would be weird if the man you knew for most of your life suddenly became your lover. age gaps were taboo, especially one such as yours. but who cared? Simon saw you as a petulant, spoiled child until last year—not like he would tell you that, he wouldn't stand listening to your huffs and scoffs of complaints (acting as if he isn't your biggest enabler). that's beside the point, anyway. right now, your focus was on your father, a pensive look on his features as he looked at you.

and then you felt a little guilty when you recognized the tiniest hint of his eyes glazing—just for a second, just enough to ignite concern in you. "m'not getting sent away, y'know." you tried to lift the mood, and he could only smile a little. you were just as awful as he was when it came to comfort, and that was okay. he placed a hand on top of yours, giving a gentle squeeze as his eyes went to your every feature– from the shape of your nose to the volume of your lashes, you were his perfect girl. he often joked he birthed you, something you hated the imagery of no matter how sickly sweet it was that you were his daughter.

"aye, I know." he said, giving a tender kiss to your temple in a moment of vulnerability. his lips lingered there, feeling his heart squeeze and tear at the fact that he knew he had to let go. it was just hard, from the little girl he'd take everywhere, to the woman you were now. your father knew there was no point in trying to change your mind–or your heart, you were dead set on what you wanted. curse his own self. his hand let go of yours, and he pulled away from you. the gears inside his head were turning, the slow but steady acceptance of the relationship between you and his lieutenant.

"he's been less ratty lately," he admitted, his attention turning back to the tv as the opposing team scored. he scoffed, it was as if the universe wanted to mock him. "never heard him make so many bloody awful jokes in just two weeks." Price couldn't help but smile, seeing the rest of the team so distraught–except for Soap, that instigator–was exhilarating to him.

“yeah? m’sure he got ‘em from ya.” you couldn’t contain the smile on your face, seeing as Simon’s team was winning by a landslide. Price cursed under his breath, the hissing sound of the now opened beer brought your attention back to him, the features of your father illuminated by the light of the tv. his eye bags that become more prominent after every mission, the smile lines barely concealed by his mustache connected to his beard. your father hummed in response, sipping on the awfully bitter beer that your father enjoyed. for a picky drinker, he sure enjoyed the most awful you've ever tried.

"princess," your eyes roamed back up to his face, leaning your head on his shoulder with a sigh. with a tiny hum, expressing your attention, he then spoke again. "don't tell him I told you, but Simon's taking a week off duty." your eyes widened at that, then grew to confusion. Simon? Taking a break? That was new. The thought made your heart flutter, smiling subconsciously as yet another cheer could be heard from the tv, but you couldn't find yourself caring enough to see who had scored.

Instead, you checked your phone as it vibrated, a text on the screen making you sit up with an even bigger grin.

"I'll be back by this weekend, let me take you out on a date."

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

"shite," you cursed under your breath. your room was a mess, with clothes sprawled all over your bed and the wardrobe. it was Thursday, just a day away from seeing him again, and not a piece of clothing convinced you enough for the date. too formal? too casual? too feminine? a dress, or maybe jeans? you sighed in frustration, your fingertips softly massaging your temples as you sat on the chair of your dressing table. it's not like Simon puts much effort into his own attire, but this is a date. where are you going, again?

realization dawned as you realized he did not, in fact, tell you what the date would be. you cursed again, getting up only to slump down in your bed. should I text him? you thought, only to discard the idea almost immediately. he was busy, he's a lieutenant dealing with death's doorstep in every mission, and my father, that's enough stress. at the end of the day, all you achieved was to reorganize your wardrobe, and to make dinner for you and your father—if he came home tonight.

waiting in the dining table, poking at your food until the light sound of the keys jiggling and the door opening made your head snap up, finding your father walking in with something inside his duffel bag. "princess, I've got ya a gift from Simon." he unzipped the bag, and inside was a box–a brand box, your favorite to be specific. you gave a quick thanks to your father as you skipped past him, straight to your bedroom to open the box.

"thank you, Simon." was the text you sent immediately upon seeing what the box contained—a dress, of your favorite style and a color that complimented you just right. Simon knew you too well, or maybe he noticed the small things that others usually would not, such as the neckline of the dress that would look best with the pendant—yeah, maybe he really kept that in mind, and having you show it off for everyone to see that you are not going to be available in the foreseeable future.

Friday morning came around too quickly, waking up in the comfort of your bed to a message from Simon stating he would be back by the evening for your date.

hair up, or down? natural or should you just go bald? your makeup trials seemed to go wrong each time, from too bold of a color for your features, to barely noticeable blush you tried to add. maybe low heels, and maybe a few other jewelries. your head spun from stress, and it wasn't until your heart began to beat a little too faster that you finally took a break. Relax. you scolded yourself, your own reflection looking back at you as this time you managed to make your eyeliner even on both sides.

it was almost ridiculous, you told yourself, to fret this badly over a date. this isn't just a date, is it? it's the man you claimed to your father you would marry way back then, when you were just a child and caught a glimpse of the man wearing those dad-glasses you quietly make fun of. glancing over at the wall, you cursed when the time was past noon and almost evening. you had to finish now.

in the end, you decided to go for something a little outside of what your usual is, but nonetheless you kept getting complimented by your father as you walked back and forth on the living room. "a doll" he called you, and called Simon a bastard under his breath just in case he fucks up tonight. he gave you a reassuring smile and hid in the kitchen when the door was knocked. with sweaty hands and a heartbeat way above the normal speed, you opened the door to Simon with a smile on your face.

"love," he breathed out, his deep eyes roaming up and down how gorgeous you looked—as always. his hand came up to cradle your cheek, his lips just grazing your lips with a smile. "gorgeous, lovely." he all but purred, making your skin tingle and your face grow hot. you smiled in response, just about to close the gap when you remembered that your father was right there, hidden but there.

Well, the make out could wait until the date.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

AUGHHH part two is finally here, everyone do a standing ovation

[burytheruby]

how old do yall think price is to have a daughter old enough to be going after simon...

i don't think he's that old, actually! around simon’s age, mid-late 30s i would feel based on his features. keeping that in mind, i thought of teen or adoptive father price while writing. this was just for fun :)

p.s. that’s why i wrote canon divergence on the warnings ;)

on another note, thank you everyone else for the support!! <3 i will be writing more, and my asks are always open!!

[burytheruby]

I N A P P R O P I A T E

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which Captain Price is your father, and your eyes are set on his lieutenant.

OR: you're down bad for Ghost, and your father isn't too keen on that.

you’re in Part 1; Part 2

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: age gap, fem! reader, ooc, canon divergent tbh, little to no british slang bc i barely know american LOL. written from my phone please bear with me. also, do not get groomed, this is just fiction. WC: 1501

English is my second language, very self indulgent.

"m'gonna marry him, daddy!" Captain Price used to laugh about that, when your eight-year-old self would cling onto his arm while pointing at the twenty-one-year-old man who had just been recruited. it used to be an inside joke between the unit task, your father was oh so confident that you'd get over your childhood crush.

oh boy was he wrong.

every time without fail, when the squad would gather at your home during their leave, you'd take peeks to the living room, kitchen, or wherever they settled to talk. this ritual continued well into your pre-teenage years, right before you turned moody and too shy to even come out of your room. that's when Price thought it was over, what he didn't expect however was how you'd be so damn adamant on having Simon come over almost daily as soon as you turned eighteen. he was a seasoned captain, he wasn't oblivious to the way you'd eye his lieutenant, how you'd give him the coldest beer when it used to be reserved for him, the way you'd come every now and then and sit right across from The Ghost to "join in the conversation and catch up." nothing escaped his sharp eye, not even the way Ghost would sometimes stare your way for a little too long.

"he's emotionally unavailable, princess." he'd tell you, dropping you off for orientation day at your dream university. "he's a good lad, but he's got his own demons to fight." and he'd sigh as you slammed the car door on him. he could never deny your wishes, though, as he created a woman who was too determined—too set on her track who did not know the word defeat. but you were also just a kid—or at least that's the mental image of you in his head, a little girl with innocent thoughts who simply found his comrade to be cute.

"yer young and beautiful, m'sure those college boys are dying for ye." your father would tell you, almost begging for you to enjoy these years and experiment.

"but i don't want a boy." you would roll your eyes, having started your second year of university certainly made you into a character. you were confident—rightfully so, your beauty outshined anyone else. "i want Simon." you'd repeat like a broken record, and if it didn't make him want to strangle his lieutenant. how has time truly passed, he remembered when you'd call Simon by the name of Ghost, the name everyone used instead of his given name. but you weren't a part of the task force, there wasn't really a reason for you to call him Ghost for reason other than his signature balaclava and stitched-in mask.

you soon turned twenty, you were not a little girl anymore. his team had joined later in the evening to celebrate you, bringing you gifts and sneaked in alcohol for later when your friends would leave. it wasn't until Simon's arrival that you suddenly disappeared, but Price isn't a fool. he clutched the now empty can of beer, stopping immediately as he felt Gaz's reassuring touch on his shoulder. you were not a little girl anymore, you were a woman. he repeated in his head, no longer glancing over at the backyard door as he focused on the conversation between his comrades.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

"thank you, Simon." you smiled as he helped you put the piece of jewelry around your neck. a beautiful necklace of the metal of your liking—the one you always used when you dressed up so pretty, so dolled up. he looked at your face, his mouth in a straight line yet his eyes full of unspoken softness for you. he hummed in response, his gaze falling back down to your neck, where the necklace laid so neatly right under your collarbone, before it touched your cleavage. Simon tore his gaze away, he refused to look at you that way—not to his captain's daughter.

your smile faded as you noticed his lack of eye contact, your hand grazing his calloused one with gentleness. his eyes landed on yours once more, one hand moving the stray hair out of your face as he admired you, how you had grown to be a gorgeous woman. "we can't, love, m'way too old for ye." is what he said to you—to himself, to stop the pounding of his heart and the ache of having you so close to him. you shook your head in rebuttal, the frown of your brows making you more enticing to the man who towered over you with ease. you were determined, and he liked that about you—among the many other things that piqued his interest.

"don't care, Simon, i said i'd marry you." too determined, maybe. he scoffed at your words yet couldn't help it as the ghost of a smile appeared on his usually stoic face. "and i don't care about what old man has to say about it, i'm an adult for christ's sake." you held onto his hand, the one that laid so gently on the curve of your neck, feeling your pulse on his rough fingers. your eyes roamed from his eyes to his cheekbones, the scars on his face that added to his charm, and his slightly chapped lips that seemed to beg to close the gap between you. Simon noticed your lingering eyes, and he cursed under his breath as his fingers squeezed your neck softly.

"eyes up 'ere, love." his voice took you out of trance, eyes quickly darting back up to his as you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment at being caught. you smiled in response, your own eyes getting lost on his gaze. a deep shade of chestnut, one that conveyed a turmoil of emotions. surely, he couldn't just court his captain's daughter, it's just wrong. no matter what her sweet eyes silently pleaded for, he couldn't just give in—hell, temptation is too strong. rough digits let go of your neck, reaching down to your waist so tenderly that anyone who looked your way would know.

you couldn't help it, not when he always tried to make you happy, to give you everything you deserved, for treating you the way he just did. with a pull of his jacket, your lips clashed passionately, desperately, as if you were to disappear, like a prayer that had been heard, you clung to him with your arms around his shoulders as he held you impossibly close. you sighed between the kiss, pulling at his bottom lip playfully before you returned to the steamy friction of your lips. a want, one Simon hadn't realized how much he needed, how much he craved. you were a woman, one so, so perfect. "so gorgeous," he hummed lowly against you, letting go of reddened, puffy lips. his words sent a shiver down your spine, relishing on his words, the ones that were only for you, always you.

Simon has never been rough with you– he couldn't even imagine being so, not when you're holding onto him like a lifeline, like he's everything you've ever wanted. he doesn't complain when you bring him up to your face again, breaths mixing in the silence of the yard, so silent you have both forgotten of the people inside your home. "Simon," you gasp in a plead, a withheld plea as the backdoor opened. he pulled away from you in an instant, his hand still on your waist protectively.

"everything alright?" Price asked, and you could hear Simon curse under his breath. you just knew your father did it on purpose, he had that mischievous look on his face you had inherited, one you both used when you planned something. his eyes bore on the point of contact between you and his lieutenant, and Simon found himself forced to let go of you with a grumble. Price's eyes fell on the pendant hanging off your neck, letting out a sigh as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you.

"gorgeous pendant, hun." his eyes found their way to his lieutenant on your side, a look on his face that was no longer a warning– but rather a petition (demand, more like) to keep his treasure safe. do not break her heart. you could almost hear his thoughts, shifting under his gaze as you observed the interaction. Simon gave a curt nod, a wordless promise of affection and protection. "you should hurry, s'getting cold." Price said after a moment, giving you a smile before walking back inside.

Simon found your smile endearing, the way it reached your eyes and made your face bright. his hand returned to your side, giving a playful squeeze before making its way to the small of your back once more. "let's go inside, yeah?" he murmured against your ear, and you couldn't help but think of how neatly wrapped you had him around your finger, always getting what you want.

an unforgettable birthday.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

made an entire account just to write this. i will be doing more, trust.